Into Oblivion (Book 4) (20 page)

Erenoth dove over the side, flying alongside the ship to look for any openings in the hull. There were several ports near the top that led into the interior; probably for cannons, he thought. He reached out with his claws, catching onto the hull to peer inside one of the ports. Seeing nothing, but smelling oil, he fired a jet of flame into the hole. The flash of an explosion that resulted nearly blew him off his perch. He laughed and moved on to the next one.

Above, the priests were making short work of the sails and slamming into the ship’s masts. As they toppled, the deck, already weakened from the flame, shattered under their massive weight. They flew high out of the way when Erenoth’s explosions began to shake the ship. Flash after flash of oil explosions began to blast through the hull and set the remaining timbers on fire. The thick clouds of smoke were nearly blinding.

Erenoth returned topside, flying up to meet his priests in the air. They circled above as they watched the massive warship disintegrate and sink beneath the waves. The other ships, disabled and unable to flee, simply burned dead in the water.
The Priests of Drakkar had completed their task.

“That was fun!”
Erenoth growled.

Chapter Eighteen

Imbra opened his eyes as he felt the power of his ancient gem. Somewhere nearby, he was being called upon through the magical device that he had created thousands of years ago, and had lost. Somehow, it had been found, and was now in the possession of some soul who sought his wisdom. Though he longed to speak to one of his children, the chance of escaping his prison seemed the most important possibility at the moment. He could better serve his children if he were free.

He reached out with his consciousness, feeling out the immediate area around his temple. His awareness, though in an extra-dimensional prison, was still acute, and he was able to get an accurate vision. What he felt reviled him.

There was a great darkness wielding the gem. It was a darkness that seemed familiar to him, as if someone or something he knew of called for his presence. For what purpose, he could not guess. Though the farther inward he focused, the more apparent who the being was.

Sulemain.

Imbra gasped when the name flashed in his mind. Sulemain was long dead; he had died before Imbra’s gem had even been cut. How could this be?

“Absu,” Imbra groaned.

As he focused harder, his anger began to grow. His most faithful child was now a tool of the darkness, and he dared to defile his father’s temple with his presence. The Firstborn struggled against his magical bonds, his rage adding to his immortal strength. His power grew, and he felt his body begin to be drawn away from the prison. He would escape because of the gem, but he now knew why Sulemain had summoned him.

“Sulemain,” he growled, allowing his rage to flow through him; to change him.

The Enkhatar gathered around their master as he held the gem in the air. It glowed brightly, with rays of red and blue illuminating the shadowy chasm where the temple was carved. They hissed in delight when the rays of color began to coalesce into a single beam that swirled and snaked its way in the direction of the temple entrance.

Soon, Imbra would appear and the Enkhatar would destroy him.

Suddenly, the temple doors exploded outward, shattering into dust, and jagged shards of limestone that shot through the air. The Enkhatar hissed once more, each drawing his weapon as Sulemain lowered the stone in triumph. Within the temple’s dark opening, the sounds of shuffling signaled Imbra’s appearance. The Enkhatar stepped forward in anticipation, their weapons poised.

A massive head came through the door; blue faced, red-eyed, and armored in a formidable golden helmet. The Enkhatar, expecting the benevolent Imbra to appear, looked at Sulemain. The Lord of the Enkhatar growled, not familiar with this beast that came in Imbra’s stead.

As the massive creature exited the temple fully, Sulemain drew his own weapon. There stood the giant figure of a divine warrior, naked and blue, armored with only a waist plate, golden boots, his helmet, and golden gauntlets guarding its six wrists. Each of the creature’s six arms drew a heavy, curved blade, and the red eyes glared at its enemies as they brightened and narrowed.

Gone was Imbra’s former benevolent self. He was now
Imbra the Destroyer.

Sulemain charged.

Imbra immediately became a spinning wall of blades as the Enkhatar attacked. He easily parried their strikes, blocking with one sword and countering with another. The Dark knights surrounded him, but Imbra could not be taken so easily. His six blades and his fierce, red eyes cast fear into their blackened hearts. Imbra stepped back, raising all of his weapons into the air, and let loose a keening of rage that echoed for miles around, and caused the Enkhatar to writhe in pain.

Kronos stopped in his tracks when he heard the distant roar. He looked to Yin-Kai, who returned his curious glance.

Kronos grinned.

“Imbra!!!!!” Yin-Kai growled. “Come, brother! He is in danger.”

The two Firstborn bounded off into the valley, racing to reach their brother’s temple in time.

Sulemain struck with his sword, attempting to cripple Imbra with a hack to the knee. The Firstborn swatted his sword away, and triple-slashed in a blinding counter attack. All three blades connected, knocking Sulemain into the sand.

“You were my child!” Imbra roared. “I gave you life! I gave you love, and this is how you repay your father?”

The remaining Enkhatar charged, each swinging his weapon. Imbra roared as he blocked, striking back with each blow. Two Enkhatar caught the strikes, and they fell back into the dust. Imbra charged them, knocking the standing Enkhatar out of the way. With another roar, he skewered the prone
creature, fending off rear attacks with his remaining four swords.

The two Enkhatar exploded with a massive
shock wave that blew their armor to pieces. The darkness that drove them coiled away and dissipated, leaving nothing but the empty husks of black, twisted armor.

Sulemain summoned the power of Absu with a deafening screech. He leaped into the air, grasping his sword with both hands. He chopped downward, hoping to
finish Imbra with a beheading strike. The Firstborn dropped his top two swords, catching Sulemain in the air. He pulled his former child close to his massive, fearsome face, fending off the remaining four Enkhatar with his other swords.

He squeezed with all his might, hearing the dark armor creak and groan under the pressure. Sulemain dropped his sword, using his bladed gauntlets to cut Imbra’s relentless fists.

“I will withstand all of the pain in creation to destroy this perversion I see before me!” Imbra growled.

With all of his might, Imbra slammed Sulemain into the side of the chasm. The thunderous clanking of metal on stone shook the chasm. Sulemain rolled down into the sand, his armor damaged, but still intact. Imbra turned to the other Enkhatar, clanking his swords together and urging them to attack.

Behind him, Sulemain stood, summoning a whirlwind that enveloped him fully, sweeping him away in its shadowy arms.

The Enkhatar charged, seeing their master safely escape.

Imbra leaped to the side, slashing with three swords as the dark knights passed. They dodged, positioning themselves around the Firstborn. They screeched menacingly as Imbra took up his defensive stance.

Then, one of the Enkhatar was cleaved in two as a massive katana appeared from nowhere and chopped downward. The Enkhatar fell in two pieces, strands of darkness stretching between them in an attempt to hold it together. Another Enkhatar was bashed with a giant hammer; crushed like a flimsy helmet into the sand.

Imbra struck the remaining two, spinning his six blades in a blinding attack that sliced them into metallic ribbons. The dark energy that filled the air was overwhelming, and Imbra stepped back as it swirled and faded away. When the light returned, Imbra laughed at what he saw.

There stood two of his brothers.

“Imbra!” Yin-Kai growled. “It is good to see you, brother.”

The giant ogre rushed to Imbra, clasping him in a tight embrace that lifted his massive body off the ground. When the ogre released him, he looked to Kronos, who humbly smiled and nodded.

“Yin-Kai, Kronos, thank the Great Mother you have escaped. How was this possible?”

“It was Farouk,” Yin-Kai replied. “He is a powerful Druid now.”

Imbra nodded proudly. “That is good,” he said.

“He freed Kronos and helped to defeat the Jindala in the Northlands. Kronos then freed me.”

Imbra approached Kronos, who still looked up at him and smiled. Imbra embraced him, patting him on the back with all six of his hands. “Thank you, brother,” he said. “I am happy to see you both.”

“Come!” Yin-Kai said. “Absu awaits! I have the feeling we will see Sulemain again.”

“He will return to Absu to heal,” Imbra said. “But when he is whole again, he may seek out my new Child, Hamal.”

“If he is a child of yours,” Yin-Kai replied. “Then I have faith he will triumph.”

“Indeed,” Imbra said. “Let us march forth and prepare the way for our children.”

The Queen of Garret’s dreams sat on the small of his back as he lay prone on the extravagantly-dressed bed. She ran her hands across his tightly-muscled shoulders, massaging the day’s tightness away. It had been a rough day for her guardian, she knew, as he had spent the majority of it dealing with a local group of bandits that had been terrorizing merchants along the northern half of Eirenoch’s major trade road. Now, after a hard day’s work, she had offered to show her appreciation by rubbing away his stress.

It was working.

Garret knew that he was dreaming, but he could still feel her gentle touch, and the affection that almost seemed to pour out from her skilled hands. He resisted the urge to turn over and look into her eyes, as he knew it was her eyes that triggered the strange, heart-wrenching feelings.

There was just something about her eyes.

“How many men did you have to kill?” she asked softly.

“Three,” he replied. “The rest surrendered and were arrested by the guards.”

Siobhan sighed. “I hate to think that my own people would cause so much trouble,” she said. “But I suppose no matter how well I keep them fed, there will be some who want more.”

“Don’t see it as a sign of your failure,” Garret assured her. “The greedy will always be greedy, no matter what.”

“What was this group’s major interest?”

“Weapons,” Garret replied. “Swords and daggers from a smith in the south kingdom.”

“My weapons?” Siobhan asked. “Weapons for my guards?”

“No. Just simple arms for the farmers. Nothing more.”

Siobhan scooted back, making room for her hands to rub lower, above his belt.

“Good,” she replied. “I’m glad they made it to their buyers. The farmers need good weapons.”

Garret was silent, still tempted to turn over. The urge was powerful, but he knew as soon as he did, he would awaken. He did not want that. He wanted to lay here until the end of time, feeling the touch of this woman whom he loved more than anything.

A love he could still not fathom.

“He is coming, Garret,” Siobhan said.

Garret scowled. What did she mean?

“Who?” he asked, stiffening up.

“Wake up, Garret.”

“What?”

He turned over quickly, seeing Siobhan fade away as his mind awoke. Before she disappeared, he distinctly saw a trail of blood that ran from her perfect lips, and a great sadness in her eyes. It was a great sadness that seemed like betrayal.

“No!” he pleaded. “Come back…”

Awaken, my son,
the Great Mother’s voice echoed.

Garret shot up in his bed, his breath shallow and quick.

“What is it?” he shouted.

There is someone here, outside my garden. I do not know who he is.

“What?” Garret asked, rubbing his eyes and rising from his bed. “How can someone…”

Then, he remembered Siobhan’s words.
He is coming, Garret.

He reached for his trousers, snatching them up and pulling them on as he hopped out the door to his armory. When he reached out to grasp the door handle, he gasped.

His hands were stained with blood.

He looked down at the areas where he had grasped his trousers. No blood. It was only on his hands. And now, as he held them before his eyes, the blood was gone.

“What the hell?” he asked the silence.

Hurry. He cannot enter the garden, but his presence frightens me.

“Who?” Garret shouted, strapping on his leather jerkin and pulling on his boots. “Who is Siobhan?”

No answer to that question… again.

When Garret had fully dressed, he drew his saber and rushed out the front door of his cottage. Beyond the garden lay the mist he remembered stumbling through when the Great Mother had first brought him here. Though he did not desire to traverse the strange realm again, he felt the need to eliminate whatever threat had entered his safe realm; his home.

Swallowing hard, he plunged into the mist.

The darkness came quickly, brought on by the presence of some unknown force. He felt the great power it exuded, and saw how it affected the realm. Jagged stone monoliths jutted from the cracked and barren ground. They were arranged in some macabre fashion, as if forming some kind of maze. They were of various shapes and sizes but had one thing in common; upon their surfaces were carved the faces of demons. There were horned creatures, faces that were oddly stretched as if in torment, and ghastly animalistic hybrids that gave Garret an unearthly chill.

“Who are you?” he called out to the fog.

There was no answer. Garret crept forward, his saber ready. He looked up at the sky, which was grey and rolling with dark clouds. The ground was the same; grey, cracked, and covered in the cold mist. It seemed like a bizarre Hell had drifted into his realm, and its carrier was hunting him.

“Show yourself, demon!” he shouted again.

Akharu,
the Great Mother said.