The Corin Chronicles Volume I: The Light and the Dark (2 page)

“ZOATANS!” he screamed. But it was too late. A loud wail went up around him, as a number of his men were suddenly snatched from their saddles and dragged into the skies by the flying reptiles, many more than the sole one Kraipo had noticed.

Chaos spread across the entire frontline of riders. The sight of flames from the flying beasts and the screams of the warriors engulfed in fire caused Kraipo to flinch momentarily and almost fall from his horse. Half his army was now in disarray, and within seconds, he found himself on his back, with no sight of his mare.

By the time he returned to his feet, his men were completely surrounded by the might of Baran’s army, led by the Akarai, who easily cut down his own brave soldiers. Desperately trying to avoid the hoofs of the many horses around him, Kraipo prepared himself for death, which seemed as certain as the approaching Akarai that had apparently singled him out for elimination.

Navigating through every gap he could find, he ran in the opposite direction of the more intense fighting. Sparing occasional glances backward, he saw that there were now four Akarai headed in his direction. Above him flew at least eight hundred Zoatans, many flying unmanned, with many more carrying Akarai riders. The beasts continued to rain down flames from their nostrils, scorching Kraipo’s men. He was powerless to help them. He had hoped that the battle between the gods would not have reached such a juncture, but he had sworn his life to the God of Gods, Auphora.

“For Crazar!” he shouted. “For Tyranis! For Shoraux!” He repeated it as a chant, and hearing his men echo it back gave him hope, displacing all fears of death. Looking back at the galloping horses of the Akarai, he remembered the courage he had shown on numerous occasions, earning him the right to lead the army of the gods, which helped him spur on his battalion with progressively louder chants.

Charging forward, he noticed Melot’s brown mare approaching from the west, prompting him to rapidly change direction. He saw that Melot also had the reins of his own horse, which revitalized his spirits.

“Quickly, General,” Melot said. “The Akarai will be upon you in an instant.”

Kraipo leapt onto the white mare, reining it around to face the approaching Akarai. Sensing what his general prepared to do, Melot screamed before charging the opposing army, which had merged with a host of their own riders, as the battle became fragmented.

Kraipo’s army began to reform their lines, strategically eliminating the threat of the Zoatans with well-timed arrows in the air. Kraipo found himself in the thick of numerous duels, each one made easier by Melot’s presence by his side.

The dust from the ground blinded many. The sight of death triggered fear. The constant shifting of the lakes continuously interrupted several duels. Kraipo continued to lose men at a rapid rate, still disadvantaged by the threat of the flying Zoatans. They had to eliminate them. “Melot,” he shouted. His right-hand man signaled that he had heard, but his eyes stayed fixed on the battle. “We must mount the Zoatans,” Kraipo ordered, breathing heavily. “We must decrease their numbers in the sky.”

As Melot opened his mouth to respond, Kraipo saw the frame of an unmanned Zoatan behind his friend. Its eyes maintained the deadly glare he had become familiar with. Observing the worry cross Kraipo’s face, Melot spun around, swinging his sword at the same time and striking the creature’s head. The beast screamed, spraying flames into the air.

Slowing his horse, Melot continued to strike at the Zoatan, until a wing caught hold of him. He tried to hang on to his galloping horse with his legs, but he suddenly felt the powerful grip of the Zoatan, as it lifted him from his mare and into the air.

Having advanced as close to his friend as he could, Kraipo stood on his horse, holding on to its reins at the same time. Melot realized what his friend was about to do. “No, General!” he shouted. “Do not risk your life. You must live.”

Kraipo leapt from his horse and partially landed on the Zoatan, with one leg still hanging loose. The scream from the creature quickly transcended into a stream of fire, as the beast desperately tried to throw him off. Using its scales to continue climbing, Kraipo swiped at the talons that held Melot, but the creature did not release him. Now completely astride the creature, Kraipo seized its reins and jerked them from side to side, causing a disjointed movement and continual exhaling of fire. A few seconds passed, and Melot was loose and falling to the ground. Observing this, Kraipo continued to wrestle with the creature, trying to get it under control as it continued to fly over the battlefield.

The scene beneath Kraipo was carnage and destruction. Men and Akarai fought on dry land and in water. The lakes emerged on numerous sections of the desert, almost as if multiplying with time. The deathly cries of his army continued to ring in his ears. It became obvious that the might of the Akarai would overwhelm his people, but the shower of flames from the Zoatans remained the biggest threat.

Still trying to gain complete control of the flying beast, he caught a glimpse of a blur that fizzled past him. He rested his palm against the side of his face and felt dampness—blood. A stinging sensation pulsed from the edge of his ear, where something had just grazed him. Something flashed past him again, but this time he managed to get a better look at it. It was a long arrow with a thick blade at the edge. Realizing that he had become a target, he looked around him, managing to keep the Zoatan beneath him relatively steady.

It seemed that most of the Akarai that flew in the sky had not yet realized his intrusion, as they continued to throw spears at his troops on the ground. But a sole Zoatan approached, with an Akarai rider. The warrior had its bow aimed straight at Kraipo and released another arrow in his direction. A slight weave to his left put him out of harm’s way. Tugging hard at his Zoatan’s reins, he directed it toward the approaching Akarai, and the flying beast complied.

With both creatures flying toward an immediate collision, Kraipo continuously maneuvered his transporter to avoid the sea of other Zoatans in the sky. The closer he got to the Akarai, the more he had to weave to avoid the constant stream of incoming arrows. Steadying himself, he drew his sword. Another shot came toward him, but it was completely off target, so he spurred the Zoatan on.

Realizing how close Kraipo’s Zoatan had progressed, the Akarai quickly dropped his bow. It drew its sword a second too late as the general swung his own blade, catching the Akarai in the midsection, just as his Zoatan flew past. Although deflected somewhat by its thick armor, the sword caused some damage, and the Akarai’s sword fell to the ground. Kraipo quickly reined his own Zoatan back around and charged again at the now struggling Akarai. He didn’t slow down, even when a number of Akarai, now alerted to his presence in the air, began to approach and fire arrows in abundance. With both hands on his sword, he stood upright, taking advantage of the steady flying of the Zoatan.

The injured Akarai was still looking around in every corner of the sky before their eyes met. The beast abruptly stood up on its Zoatan, but Kraipo was already upon it. With all his strength, he swung his sword directly below the Akarai’s helmet, catching it right in the center of its fangs, dislodging a number of them. The wail that followed quickly died down as the creature fell to the ground, with the Zoatan letting off occasional shrieks and blasts of fire.

Kraipo sat back down on his Zoatan, just in time to see a blade swinging in his direction. A quick roll across the creature kept him away from the sword, but he found himself hanging on to the Zoatan’s thick scales to stay in the air. Trying to recover his balance, he saw the frame of an Akarai jumping from its Zoatan onto his. He desperately sought his sword, but he could not reach the hilt.

Looking into the yellow eyes of the Akarai, he thought of shutting his eyes and embracing death, but a spear flew through the air, straight into the chest of the Akarai. Although blocked by the Akarai’s armor, the force of the blow unbalanced the warrior, allowing Kraipo a second to see Melot still fighting just below, along with a number of his own soldiers.

Still clinging to the now unstable Zoatan, Kraipo could only watch as the Akarai edged closer to him. He knew that death would most certainly befall him if he stayed in the air. He shut his eyes, released both hands, and let himself fall. His landing did not bring as much pain as he thought it would. The face of the soldier whose horse he landed on was as frightened as he had seen anyone during the entire battle.

“Are you hurt, General?” the soldier asked, dumbfounded.

“You have done well, Maddy,” Kraipo said. He held on to the soldier’s right arm. “Take me to Melot at once.”

Maddy reined his horse, which shot off at a blistering pace toward the front of the conflict, as Kraipo eased himself into a more comfortable sitting position. The battle raged around them, and the aerial advantage posed by Baran’s army continued to dominate the escalating conflict. Watching man after man fall, Kraipo knew that the fight could only end in defeat for him and his men. “We must retreat at once,” he shouted.

Advancing beside him, the bruised hands of Melot held on to his, as a number of their men watched. “We cannot give up now, General.” His voice remained unsteady. “To the death we must fight.”

“But what good is death when our gods cannot learn of what transpired here?” Kraipo shouted above the noise of the battlefield.

Melot nodded his head firmly. “If it is your will that we leave this place,” he said, “then I will ride with you.”

“Sound the horns,” said Kraipo. “Retreat at once.”

The emergence of a deep, muffled sound shot across the land, nearly bringing the battle to a temporary halt, followed by the continued chants of “RETREAT,” by the hundreds of men in Kraipo’s army that still stood. In the midst of the fleeing army, Kraipo and Melot rode side by side, occasionally glancing back. Only a fraction of Baran’s army had given chase. The rest held back, cheering their victory.

“Why do you think Auphora offers us no further help?” Melot asked. He realized that Kraipo did not seem completely interested in what he had to say. “Baran wields the power of the Akarai and Zoatans,” he continued, “but the God of Gods remains passive, while we fight to our deaths.”

Kraipo bit his lower lip and ran his fingers against his bright red hair as he held on to his helmet. “I know to never question the gods, my friend,” he said distantly. “My life is in their hands, and I will always trust their judgment.”

1.2

T
HE
F
URY OF THE
G
ODS

W
ithin the depths of Mount Pyro, the God of Gods, Auphora, considered declaring war on his eldest son, Baran, but the small doubt in his mind was enough to halt his charge. Sitting within the burning mountain he called home, on the planet Shoraux, he pondered on where it had all gone wrong.

“We must act as once, my Lord,” said the great lord Sebitatus, god of the ringed planet, Tyranis. “Every added breath he takes mocks you.” He rose as he continued to speak. “General Shamana brings word of a Baran victory on the shores of the last remaining stronghold we had on Crazar. It would seem that his invasion of that planet is now complete.” Sebitatus walked toward a gap in the wall, looking down at the gathering masses of men on the ground below, arming themselves with weapons and shields. “All I see is more men, about to walk into certain death.” He spoke almost to himself. “We can no longer sit here, my Lord, while he unleashes the power of the Akarai and the Zoatans against our humans. We must use the strength of the Noboros and the Monoroi. The time to end this is now.”

Auphora ran his hands through his hair, pondering every course of action that could be taken. “You have been very quiet, Feliath,” he said. “What do you make of all this?” He looked over at his second-born son, curious as to why he remained in such a calm state. His short-cropped hair was an unusual choice, compared to the flowing hair of the other gods, but Feliath always believed in having his own identity, and Auphora was proud of that.

“Yes, Feliath,” said Craxin, god of Crandor. “You seem to have no opinion whatsoever, which I find strange, considering that this conflict started as a result of your own problems with Baran.”

“I have but one concern here,” snapped Feliath. He walked toward the center of the room, the fury on his face clear to all. “And that is the safety of my citizens on Earth and our subjects in the rest of the galaxy. If Baran continues down this path, there will be little chance of defeating him. He already has control of Sontana and Grogdor. And now it would seem Crazar is also his. There is no apparent end to his obsession for intergalactic domination.”

He carried his gaze around the chamber, unable to shake the feelings of guilt. He knew his ongoing feud with Baran was somewhat to blame for the catastrophes plaguing his father’s universe. Looking at the broad frame of Auphora, he admired his father’s patience during times of such despair. His brother Sebitatus, god of Tyranis, was not so calm. His slender frame and pale skin hid his explosive temperament, unlike his other brother Craxin, whose olive skin hinted at a fiery character that was anything but. As the god of Crandor, Craxin normally remained calm, even during times when aggression could be justified. But not now.