Draeken’s features hardened. “I don’t need your broken family.”
He pressed the rune, and silver light took shape inside the arch. The liquid rippled with the rising shriek, and the Gate gained a dull whine, but the material of the arch did not crumble. Cracks formed and expanded. As the shrieking curse wailed, the Gate vibrated, and dragons roared, the first fiend stepped into view . . .
Chapter 20: Sacrifice
The Dark seeped through the opening like smoke, passing around the armored fiend, only to wither in the air. The Dark crumbled to dust and the cloud tried again, pressing outward, reaching for Draeken, coiling about his arms, its words piercing Draeken’s consciousness.
. . . Your will is mine . . .
The voice of the Dark carried a disturbing timbre, like the dark laughter of a murderer on a cold winter night. But the voice faded as the Dark again withered. Even that brief touch sent a shudder through Draeken’s body. The voice threaded into his consciousness, subverting his will, and Draeken was shocked to find himself terrified.
He clenched a fist as the Dark withered, his vision returning to the battlefield and the fiend standing in the opening. A kraka. He knew the name because the Dark had provided the name, because for one small moment their thoughts were linked.
The towering warrior had once been a dakorian, and still had the bone armor over much of his body. But the bone armor had gone stark white, his flesh turning black, like paper pulled from a fire. He carried a giant obsidian sword, the blade hanging behind him, still inside the Gate.
It did not move or look at Draeken, the disturbing stillness a contrast to the raging conflict on the top of the citadel. Shouts and cries, angry and pained, and still the thrum in the Gate mounted. The kraka captain stood like a statue, an appendage to the Dark.
“The cleansing worked,” Serak said. “The Dark knows it cannot enter Lumineia.”
“How do we claim the army of fiends?” Draeken asked.
“You must speak to the Dark,” Serak urged. “Subdue its will, and the army will yield to you.”
Draeken stepped in front of the kraka and the eyes dropped to him. Red and glowing, they seemed to burn through him like a branding iron. Draeken sneered and reached out with his consciousness.
I require the fiend army for—
YOU THINK TO CONTROL ME?
The voice returned like thunder in his skull, mighty and everlasting, the voice of a mind so vast Draeken could not comprehend its power. The Dark possessed an entire world, and who was he to offer challenge? He was an insect demanding a monstrous dragon to be its servant.
Bound by fear, Draeken trembled in place as more krakas appeared, followed by the smaller creatures. Quare. Once human and krey, the Dark had twisted them into spindly creatures, their bodies muscular and humanoid, but lacking any semblance of humanity. Their features were sunken onto their skulls, their fingers like hooked claws.
Draeken wanted to shrink before the Dark, to flee and never hear that terrible voice again. But three other minds were touched to his own, his three generals. The warmind, the assassin, the devourer. Their will was his own, and with their aid he gathered his courage, finally understanding why Serak had planned four generals.
More fiends poured from the opening, and large doglike creature appeared. Sipers. They were the size of lions, their skin shaped in thousands of triangular scales. Rising and flaring red, the beasts snarled and spread outward, circling Draeken.
Distantly he was aware of the raging battle, of Fire and Water attempting to reach him, but the thickening ranks of fiends forced them back. Serak stepped to the fragments and forced them to retreat. But still the Dark Gate vibrated, the cracks widening. The ranks closed about Draeken until he stood alone, a solitary figure in a sea of black and red creatures. They snarled inches from his flesh, only his will keeping them at bay.
The dragons leapt to the wall and launched into the sky, the Order members fleeing in terror. Still the fiends came, pouring from the Gate and filling the breadth of the fortress, spilling into the interior and crossing to the outer fortifications. Still they came, expanding and taking positions. Thousands. But the Gate continued to vibrate, and the cracks were deep and chunks began to fall off the sides.
“We must stop the curse!” Serak’s voice was distant.
The Dark’s will crashed against Draeken, mightier than a hurricane and just as fearsome, rending his vaunted strength to shreds. If he fell to the Dark, he would be destroyed, and the rest of Lumineia would suffer a brutal fate. He needed a fourth general, but it was too late for that, and he could only fight or fall.
Your army is mine, Draeken snarled.
The Dark recoiled, and Draeken growled in savage pride. The Dark was mightier than any normal being, but Draeken was the fragment of Power, and before him the Dark would kneel. He took a step forward, and the krakas parted, allowing him to reach the Gate.
“No!” Serak’s voice barely touched his ears. “Do not touch the Gate!”
Draeken ignored him, and reached to the Gate, his fingers passing into the silver liquid. He reached to the world on the other side, and imagined all he could do if he possessed the Dark as his servant . . .
YOU THINK TO MASTER ME IN MY OWN WORLD?
The thundering voice crashed through his body, ripping his pride to shreds, a thousand times stronger than it had been before. Draeken instinctually realized the Dark’s strength was diminished through the Gate. He lurched back, sweat beading his neck and forehead, and the fiends leaned in, eager for the kill.
Claws grasped his arms and throat, but he burst to his feet and they recoiled once again. They fell back into their ranks, all facing him, and he realized the truth. The Dark had twisted the army and reshaped them to its will. He’d even taken their minds. But instinct could not be taken, and when the Gate opened, the fiends saw the opportunity to escape Kelindor. The moment they passed through, Draeken became their master.
The fiends poured from the portal, sipers, quare, kraka captains, and giant skorpians. Draeken’s army. His weapon of victory. He sensed their will, their desire for blood and battle, and he gave them a goal. At the base of a mountain a conveniently placed army had come, and they needed to be humbled.
“Draeken!” Serak’s voice seemed distant. “The Gate will not last! We must stop Erisay’s Magic!”
But Draeken could not hear, his thoughts weighed by the weight of so many minds. He gloried in his newfound power, reveled in the might at his fingertips. No army could defeat him. No warrior could defy his rule. And the fiends poured through the Dark Gate, driving the allied vanguard back.
“And my reign will be endless,” Draeken said.
A hand caught his elbow and yanked him about. The anger was quick and vengeful, and he raised a hand to kill the offender. Then he recognized Serak, the man’s eyes wide with panic and fear.
“Draeken!” Serak shouted in his face. “If we do not stop Erisay, the Dark Gate is going to shatter!”
All at once Draeken saw the top of the fortress. The fragments fought for their lives but they were isolated, and half their allies were dead. The waves of fiends hardly paused in their rush out the gates and down the outer road. But it was the Dark Gate that commanded attention.
The trembling arch emitted a whine as if in pain. Cracks marred the stone, and with each passing second the cracks expanded, the wounds threatening to destroy the entire arch. Tens of thousands of fiends had entered Lumineia in just the last few minutes, but they were a fraction of Draeken’s army.
