The Source: Observer Chronicles, Book 3

Chapter 45: The Battle of the Sahara

Reetho stood in front of a winged bird made of fire and flame, lighting the dark all around them, though revealing nothing but space, and a dark energy swirling, making up some kind of mist or fog that the dimension might have been from.

"I am glad you have finally found me." The fire-wielder's eyes widened in disbelief.

"You know my name?"

"I know your name, among other things," replied the firebird.

"How?"

"Because I am a part of you. The last part you seek on your journey. But the others, they still have their part to play. I will be the one to help control the being inside, the one that would take control one day. The more you use, the quicker they can claw their way to the surface and take your shell."

"I hoped you would have been some help in this." He looked down to the floor, scrunching his face up in disappointment and heartache, thinking of his love amidst the battlefield, not wanting to proceed with thoughts and where they would take him.

"Oh, but I can help. For a price."

* * *

The Furies in the desert started to move closer. Thousands against four was hardly fair, but what choice did they have?

They stood and waited as their enemies moved closer, even though there must have been at least twenty thousand strong.

"Come on, come on, come on," whispered Drage. He tapped his foot on the camel, making it run in front down the hill.

"Drage, no," screamed Clarabelle. Annette got ready to go after him, but Clarabelle yelled, "don't you dare move" at her. And she didn't. Instead, she watched the enemies get closer to the hill, Drage heading to the bottom.

Annetteʼs eyes fixated on Drage as the Furies marched towards him, looking as if he was about to be swallowed by their great number. "I can't stand here and watch him," she said.

"He isn't stupid. He's up to something. Wait," said Clarabelle, holding her hand out to signal and stop her going to him.

Drage spread out his arms, his palms facing the sand as their numbers were about to lash into him, a rumbling emerging from the ground. Specks of sand rose into the air and covered the warriors' sight.

"The ground is moving," said Annette.

"He has been holding out on us," said Darryl, sounding surprised. The ground shook and caused the camels to become frightened, the sand starting to disappear from the air, leaving the sight of a gap before Drage in the earth. A deep hole had taken more of the bodies, them falling down uncontrollably, though many had still stood above, looking at him. The numbers lost did not feel as if they mattered to the Edeolon Warriors.

"I have an idea," said Annette.

Darryl turned to hear. "What is it?" asked the water-wielder. She told him. "That might work. Do it. Do it now and Iʼll help." Darryl shouted out, "get back. We have something planned."

Drage heard Darrylʼs words and kicked the camel to take off back up the slope.

"For all you Shadows," clouds formed: Dark, thick clouds that roared and grew angry, growing above, "I owe you this for the pain you have caused. For the death, you have given. For the evil that you are . . . I—owe—you—this."

Heavy rain spat over them, hitting the warriors and the hole in the earth.

The children became soaked on their battlefield; its sand was dark from the liquid it absorbed and the pit of earth was soon flooded. Many of the Furies who fell into the hole floated atop the liquid.