Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5) (17 page)

Eamon searched his thoughts for a moment, going over the equations in his head. Every time he did so, they became clearer. It was almost like another person, Farouk perhaps, were helping him to understand them. A few of them pointed to the answer, he knew; the answer as to why Faeraon had been spared, and why he and his people were allowed to return—albeit on a different world. Also, why was Theia’s spirit suddenly discovered? Why would the Powers allow a dead world to be resurrected with her spirit; a world that was in an entirely different dimension, no less?

“Faeraon’s people have long suffered,” Eamon said, finally. “To suffer and persist is noble, and shows strength. He resisted for as long as he could. Those on other worlds may have given up, or succumbed to the Lifegiver’s influence and destroyed themselves. But here Faeraon stands; forever in defiance of the darkness that he need no longer need resist. There was definitely a reason Farouk found him, and I do not believe that it was simply to help us. His world and his people were given a second chance, it seems.”

“Then we shall not waste that second chance,” Faeraon said. “My warriors will fight at your side, and I will face the Lifegiver with you.”

Eamon looked at Traegus, who smiled from one corner of his mouth. The wizard was correct; Faeraon would go with them.

Clapping his hands together, Eamon took on a stern demeanor. “Then we fight. And we fight now. Let us get assembled and ready to depart.”

“I told you not to eat that,” Azim scolded Daryth, who spat out a wad of cactus flesh. “Now you’ll probably vomit all over the place.”

Daryth wiped his tongue on his sleeve, attempting to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth. “It’s awful!” he said.

Azim chuckled. “It is. I made the same mistake when I was younger. It really does look edible, but it isn’t.”

“The rangers have scrolls and books detailing all of the edible plants,” Daryth said. “Even those that grow in the desert. This looked just like one of them.”

“It does,” Azim agreed. “But the edible plant of which you speak has white flowers, not red.”

“I’ll remember that next time.”

“Don’t be surprised if you start seeing things,” Azim said.

Daryth stopped short. “What?”

Azim laughed, patting Daryth on the shoulder. Suddenly, his gaze wandered and fixed on a place to the southeast. Daryth turned to look.

There, standing in a line across the peak of a large dune, were several odd-looking figures. They were silhouetted against the edge of the sunrise; tall, slender, and dressed in rags that billowed in the wind. Azim’s lips pursed when he saw them, and Daryth felt that the strangers were not friendly.

“Who are they?” Daryth asked.

Azim took a deep breath. “Djinn,” he said.

Daryth remembered the efreet that had attacked during the liberation of Bray. It was a fiery, evil creature that used magic. These did not even look similar; they appeared as men.

“What kind of djinn?” Daryth asked.

Azim shook his head. “Janni,” he replied. “They are lesser djinn; not considered noble or divine by the other orders. They are simply those who have an actual earth form. But they are still elemental spirits.”

“Are they hostile?”

“Sometimes,” Azim said. “But not always. They are neutral by nature, but can go either way.”

Daryth gripped the hilt of his katana, feeling the uncertainty he always felt with strangers. If the djinn were hostile, he and Azim didn’t stand a chance. Perhaps fleeing would be the best option. However, if the djinn had come to present themselves in peace, allying with them would be beneficial.

“What do we do?” he asked.

Azim shook his head. “I think maybe we should tell Eamon and Hamal,” he said. “They can speak with them.”

“What if they leave, or attack as we turn away?”

“They are doing nothing,” Azim pointed out. “I would assume if they were planning on attacking, they would have done so by now.”

“Then we should go meet them,” Daryth suggested. “Time is running short.”

Azim nodded. “Alright. But let me do the talking.”

Daryth shrugged. He couldn’t speak the language of Khem anyway.

The two approached the group cautiously. There were five djinn, each armed with a variety of weapons, and dressed the black robes of the nomadic tribes of the desert. They were tall; each one at least seven feet tall and as slender as corpses. Their faces were wrapped in veils, with golden bands surrounding their heads above eye level. Through the gaps where their eyes should be glowed dim red orbs; barely shining through in the morning sun.

The awe they inspired was great, and Daryth found himself overwhelmed.

Beside him, Azim bowed to the djinn in respect. Daryth mimicked the gesture, keeping his eyes on them as he did.

“
Anakh-ta uhm te Azim al-Fayid,”
Azim said. The djinn lowered their heads slightly to acknowledge him.

“We will speak in your friend’s tongue, Azim,” the tallest djinn said, his voice a dry, yet noble whisper.

“Forgive me, great ones,” Azim replied. “This is my friend, Daryth. We serve the Dragon, and the king of Eirenoch.”

“The Onyx Dragon,” the djinn said.

“Yes.”

The djinn turned to Daryth. The ranger-knight felt its stare burning through him, yet it was not uncomfortable; only odd. It felt as if the djinn were staring into his very soul, but approved of what it saw there. However, he was relieved when the djinn turned back to Azim.

“You have come to destroy the Absu,” it said. “We have long suffered under his will.”

“The world has suffered,” Azim replied. “It is time to end his reign. Do you come in support of our cause?”

The djinn reached up to grasp its head wrappings, pulling down the veil that covered its face. Underneath, its flesh was mummified—dry and cracked—its teeth exposed and broken. “We have been trapped in these husks for several decades,” it said. “We seek to be free of our prisons, and return to the realm of Imbra.”

“Then we share a common cause,” Daryth said. The djinn turned back to him. “Together, we can defeat the Jindala.”

Beside him, he saw Azim acknowledge his statement. The djinn reached out its hand, displaying it palm down. The other djinn did the same, covering the leader’s hand with their own. Azim placed his hand on top, looking to Daryth.

“We will join you,” the djinn said.

Daryth placed his hand over Azim’s, looking up into the djinn’s glowing eyes. The creature almost seemed to smile as he met the ranger’s gaze.

A new alliance had been forged.

“Take us to your king,” the djinn said.

The Onyx Dragon rode forth from the fortress with the kings at his side. The sun was beginning to peak above the horizon, and the desert heat was returning. It was a pleasant change from the frigid night, but he knew that the heat would become unbearable as always.

As he looked to the east, he saw his scouts returning with a small group of taller men. He squinted as he looked, still not able to make out much detail, but he felt something strange in the air. It was unmistakable; although unknown.

Prince Hamal rode up next to him, staring at the group as they neared. Eamon heard him grunt, and looked in his direction. “What is it?” he asked.

Hamal grinned. “We have more allies, it seems,” he said.

“Who are they?”

“Not who; what.”

Eamon turned back to them curiously, his horse becoming hesitant as he and the kings came closer to the group. He could see that the strangers were dressed in desert garb, and were unusually tall. Their faces were covered, and they carried more weapons than he had ever seen a single person carry. The strange feeling became stronger, and his curiosity was piqued.

“Alright,” he said. “
What
are they?”

Hamal stopped his horse, dismounting. “Come,” he said, prompting Eamon to dismount.

He followed Hamal to the group, acknowledging Daryth and Azim. “What have you brought?” he asked.

Hamal bowed low to the strangers. Eamon looked at him in confusion, but saw Azim grin.

“Welcome, great ones,” Hamal greeted them. He motioned to Eamon as he spoke. “May I present to you the Onyx Dragon; king of Eirenoch and the son of the Dragon Himself.”

The strangers acknowledged Eamon with a nod, and the tallest of them stepped forward. He was wrapped in desert clothing, and his face was covered. Eamon could sense right away its divine nature. “Greetings, King Eamon,” the stranger said. “I am Shemya, Amir of the janni.”

“Well met, Shemya,” Eamon greeted him.

“The janni are djinn of the desert,” Hamal explained. “They have no love for humans, but they hate the Jindala even more.”

“Then we are allies,” Eamon replied. “And from what our scouts tell us, we need as many as we can get.”

“The Jindala are closing in on this location,” Shemya warned. “Their numbers are great, and it would seem to be a war that cannot be won.”

“We have the Firstborn on our side,” Hamal said.

Shemya nodded. “And they will fight as well. But we have come not as mere warriors. It seems that we were fated to meet.”

“What do you mean?” Eamon asked.

The janni held out his hand. Sitting on the palm was a tiny, bright pinpoint of light. Eamon studied it carefully, feeling a strange sense of familiarity. The equations in his mind began to flash again, and he felt a slight wave of dizziness come over him.

“The puzzle you seek to solve,” Shemya began. “It disturbs you; bewilders you.”

Eamon nodded. “The equations,” he said. “Yes.”

“This knowledge I hold in my hand will complete them.”

“I don’t understand.”

Shemya closed his fist around the light, bringing it close to Eamon’s forehead. The king felt it vibrate against his skin, sending waves of equations into his mind. Suddenly, Shemya quickly opened his fist, pressing the light into Eamon’s forehead.

A brilliant flash of light appeared in his vision, knocking him down. He propped himself up onto his elbows, opening his eyes as his head spun. Around him, there was nothing but void; black, featureless, but with small pockets of energy that glowed a dim bluish color. Before him stood a being he knew was Shemya, but in his true form. He was tall, blue, and muscular. He wore red silk pants with a gold belt, a golden sash, and a golden turban upon his noble head. His beard was pointed and short, and the thin wispy mustache over his top lips was long and curled at each end. His eyes were deep set and glowed with a pale red color.

“Now that we have some privacy,” Shemya began, his voice deep and rich like Mekembe’s. “I can take a few moments to explain to you some things I have learned.”

“Where are we?” Eamon asked, standing.

Shemya laughed. “We are nowhere,” he said. “And everywhere.”

Before Eamon’s eyes, Shemya summoned a massive web of strange forces around them. It was a network of purplish strands that stretched as far as the eye could see. Within the web, small pockets of brilliant light swirled and glistened. They were whirlpools; each containing billions of tiny dots of light. Eamon looked at them with awe.

“This, my friend,” Shemya said, “is the universe. These pools of swirling light are little islands of stars.” He pointed at the nearest whirlpool. “We are in this one.”

Eamon nodded, not quite understanding; but confident that the djinn would explain. “The sun that you see in the sky is but one of these tiny dots. It is part of a larger group.”

Shemya then motioned toward the purplish web, waving his arms around him and causing the entire network to shrink to a smaller size. “This,” he said, “is Absu; the great void. His presence throughout all of the universes gives each its shape. It holds everything together, giving it strength and order. This is Absu’s nature. He is nothing but dark matter and dark energy. His matter exists outside of our realm, but is still present in a way. His bulk influences everything we see, but we cannot see him. The matter of which he is made cannot exist in our realm, for it is a combination of matter and its opposite. If it were to leak into our realm, it would annihilate itself; cancel itself out, so to speak. That is why only his energy truly exists here. It is this strange material that is responsible for creating everything we see. In the beginning, a large amount of Absu’s mass entered this empty realm, annihilating itself in a brilliant burst. Only a small amount of true matter remained, as there was more of it than its opposite, and this is what the entire universe is made of.”

Eamon furrowed his brow. So in destruction, there was creation. He nodded, following along so far. It was an eternal cycle of birth and death.

“This is the key to Absu’s defeat,” Shemya continued. “And this is the final equation to the spell you have been given. The spell as a whole gives you the power of creation, to a small extent. This Lifegiver is a small pocket of the greater Absu that has traveled through the realms through Gaia’s spirit, always appearing on her world. It is his energy—this dark energy—that is his spirit. Your power, now complete, will allow you to transform this dark energy to dark matter.”

“Where it will be annihilated,” Eamon guessed.

Shemya laughed. “Yes,” he said, banishing the vision. “But a small piece of normal matter will remain; just as in the beginning. It is this true matter that you will fight and banish.”

“Banish how?”

Shemya floated closer to him, pointing to his pocket where he carried the gem that Jodocus gave him. “Your gem, called a soul gem, is a tool,” he said. “Jodocus told you only what you needed to know at the time he gave it to you. It allows the transfer of energy from one realm to another. It is a gateway. With the power of Theia’s spirit, a small part of which Farouk gave you, a portal can be opened back to Absu’s realm; the great void. You must open this portal using the gem, and then use the spell to transform the Lifegiver into material form.”

“How do I cast this spell?” Eamon asked.

“Traegus will assist you in activating the gem,” Shemya replied. “Once this is done, the spell will be cast from within you. You need not do anything but destroy Absu’s material form. The wizard is capable of doing the rest.”