Free Onyx Dragon (Book 1) by Shawn E. Crapo Page A

younger brother had always been easy going, much like their father, and never treated those below him with disrespect. He was a great soldier, a loving husband to his wife back home, and a wise and fair father to his children. He was an honorable man.
    Both brothers were unlike the other leaders within the ranks of the Jindala; having never been cruel or violent to a defenseless enemy. Even when capturing cities and converting their citizens to the worship of the Lifegiver, they both did so by non-violent means; offering to let the people retain their freedom if they willingly submitted. Such were his ways, and Azim’s.
    Now, however, since the god that they had worshipped their entire lives, Imbra, had come to the Earth in the flesh, both Azim and Farouk had noticed a vast difference in his ways. Their loving and merciful god was not as he was perceived or described in scripture. He was, in reality, a cruel and violent god; commanding his flock to spread his word by the sword. He had reversed, it seemed, the gift of free will that he had bestowed upon his people.
    Such thoughts disheartened the Jindala Captain, adding to his inner turmoil, and slowly draining his faith. It was a prospect that terrified and repulsed him at the same time.
    What was this land doing to him?
    “Farouk!” Azim called to him. “The cliff ends ahead. Should we cross there?”
    Farouk looked past his brother to the end of the shore, where the cliff gradually sloped downward to meet the level ground.
    “Yes,” he replied. “And prepare the men for prayer. The time is approaching.”
    Azim nodded, commanding the men forward. They would rest at the water’s edge and cross the river after prayer. It would be another grueling day of marching before reaching Gallot. Once there, the remaining soldiers that had garrisoned the city would provide the hospitality Farouk’s men needed. Perhaps the native women of the city would be hospitable, as well.
     
    Wrothgaar admired the unique architecture of the ancient bridge that crossed over above them. Though crumbled and ruined, it still retained its elegance, craftsmanship, and beauty. Even from below, the Northman could appreciate all of these qualities.
    “How old is it?” he asked Eamon, attempting to take the Prince’s mind off of the millers.
    “I’m not sure,” Eamon replied. “Maedoc says it’s at least three to four thousand years old. I believe it was built by the Firbolga when the river was wider.”
    Wrothgaar continued to admire it as they passed underneath and approached the river’s rapids. The river came from the mountains surrounding Dol Drakkar and, at this point, ran downhill to an area near Jodocus’ tower miles away. From here on, the journey would be uphill.
    “We will stay alongside the river,” Eamon said. “It comes out of a spring near the temple, and if we follow it, we should be riding straight for Dol Drakkar.”
    “Sounds easy enough,” Wrothgaar replied.
     
    The rapids continued increasing in strength as Eamon and Wrothgaar made their way up the slope. From this distance, Dol Drakkar came into view, its tower visible over the peaks. Both men stared in awe at its strikingly dark stone, made even darker and more foreboding by the gray, overcast sky. The tower’s peak was missing, having broken off many hundreds of years ago. It was indeed an ancient tower, from a time when worship of the Dragon was more commonplace, and its brutal architecture served as a reminder to the Dragon’s power.
    As they reached the peak, where the river became a low waterfall, the two men could make out the remains of an ancient set of stairs. Once elegant and skillfully carved, the steps were now cracked and crumbled with age. Stray weeds poked up from in between the various cracks, and vines had grown along its short, narrow walls. To their left, the spring that fed the river spewed from a large crack in the mountainside.
    Eamon stopped short at the top, urging Wrothgaar to follow