Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2)

by Daniel Adorno

  Suddenly Silas’ hand shot up in a stopping gesture. Everyone reined in behind him, looking around cautiously.

  “What is it?” Lucius asked first.

  Silas shushed him as he scanned the area. “There’s a sentry close by. I hear footsteps. Siegfried, can you see anything?” he asked quietly.

  From the corner of his eye, Lucius registered movement as his brother craned his neck to see ahead of them. “Yes, there are two of them. I’d say forty yards north and another ten yards beyond the first. They’re following a specified track, I think,” Siegfried guessed.

  Silas nodded. “It’s their guard trail. Thank Yewa Morton and I remembered it. The orcs aren’t prone to change their sentry routes,” he said. Lucius imagined a grin forming on his face even though he couldn’t see more than the outline of the prince’s head. “It’s time to split up, gentlemen…and elf.”

  “And dwarf!” Ulric cried.

  “Yes, yes! Quiet now, you oaf,” Dudley admonished. The comment received a derisive snort from Ulric.

  “Are you both quite finished?” Silas asked sardonically. Both of them shut their mouths and allowed him to continue. “As I was saying, Siegfried, Morton, Dudley, and Wesley—get to your scouting positions and keep a close watch on the sentries. Sound the horns if we need to retreat. Ulric and Lucius, follow me. We have a gauntlet to steal.”

  CHAPTER 21

  THE GAUNTLET

  The city of Neroterra was eerily quiet as Lucius, Silas, and Ulric descended the wooden wall onto the grassy ground below. Scaling the wall of the city had been tougher than Lucius imagined. Silas used a long, thick rope affixed to a grapnel with three flukes to climb the thirty-foot barricade. Even with the use of crampons on his feet to aid in the climb, Lucius struggled to keep his grip on the rough hemp rope. His arm muscles burned after he descended the wall then followed Silas through the knoll inside the northeast perimeter of the orc stronghold. There were no settlements on this corner of Neroterra, but in the distance Lucius could see fires burning from the tents the orcs slept in.

  They skulked in the darkness, stopping every few feet to peer around them for any signs of guards. A few yards ahead, the entrance of the old mine became visible. The mine was a large rocky mass that resembled the misshapen head of a golem. Approaching the entrance, Lucius gazed around again to make sure no sentries or prying eyes were watching them.

  “Once we get down a few feet, I’ll light the torch,” Silas said, tapping a thick wooden stake strapped to his belt. “Ulric, can you lead the way? I trust your dwarvish instincts will lead us down to the gauntlet rather than me stumbling along.”

  Ulric scoffed. “It’s been years since I’ve been down this mine. But we dwarves are good at listening to the rocks.”

  “Listening to rocks?” Lucius asked incredulously.

  “Oh yes. The earth vibrates, you see. Dwarves can feel those vibrations. It’s like a language all its own. You learn to listen for the right vibrations to lead you toward veins of precious metals. It’s in our blood, it is,” he said, smiling.

  “Well, lead on then, Ulric Rockwhisperer,” Lucius said sarcastically.

  The dwarf scowled at him and muttered something unpleasant under his breath.

  They entered the mine shaft and Lucius found himself groping the rock walls to his right in order to keep from stumbling in the darkness. He felt a gradual decline in the ground as he followed the sound of Ulric’s steady gait in front of him. The gravelly ground gave his feet ample purchase, which he was grateful for. The dwarves must have put down gravel to make it easier for miners to descend the shaft without falling headlong into the rocky surface.

  The claustrophobic nature of the shaft reminded Lucius of his descent down the tunnels of Evingrad inside the Breninmaur. Naturally, the harrowing escape out of the Great Tree brought back fond memories of his time there and how much he wished they could return. Now that his home had been razed by dragonfire, he wasn’t sure where he and Siegfried would reside. Aldron seemed the best place, but Siegfried likely hated that prospect. He was an elf, after all. And his race felt most at home in the clustered safety of the woodlands. A close proximity to nature was part of their innate being. Dwelling in the urban environment of cities like Aldron simply did not suit his brother.

  “I think this is far enough from the entrance,” Silas said, interrupting Lucius’ thoughts. He heard the prince fumbling around in the dark for something, then saw sparks light up the chasm they stood in. A few more sparks flew in the air and one finally lit the oily rag wrapped around the torch Silas held. Lucius’ eyes grew accustomed to the bright orange glow, and he studied their surroundings. The shaft was narrow, as he expected, and familiar markings covered the walls: dwarvish runes nearly identical to those he had seen on his excursion in Djoulmir.

  “What do those symbols mean, Ulric?” Lucius asked.

  Ulric craned his neck to look at the walls and nodded. “Dwarves are superstitious, my friend. The runes ward off evil and grant luck to the miners searching for treasure.”

  “Let’s keep moving,” Silas ordered, taking up the lead position again.

  They descended for several feet and encountered a bend in the track. Lucius noticed various mining tools littered throughout the floor. Pickaxes, mine carts, and sifters were left behind unceremoniously by the dwarves. It was as though they’d left in a rush without any thought to taking their belongings.

  As they wound deeper into the mine, Lucius noticed something peculiar up ahead: a faint light in the darkness ahead of them. At first he thought it might be his imagination, perhaps a reflection of their own torchlight on a reflective surface. But no, it was definitely another light ahead.

  “Look!” he said, pointing ahead of them.

  “I see it too,” Ulric replied.

  “Could there be someone else inside the mine?” Silas asked, more to himself than anyone in particular.

  “It might be a sentry guarding Banupal’s hoard,” Ulric suggested. The dwarf loosed his warhammer from his belt.

  Silas put a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “There’s no need for that yet,” he whispered, then added, “Care to go scout it out? You’re smaller and can probably move quieter than either of us.”

  Ulric nodded. The dwarf hurried toward the light, stepping lightly on the gravel path as he did so. Lucius and Silas watched anxiously. Ulric became a blur as he grew closer to the faraway light and further from their torch.

  A few minutes passed where Lucius wasn’t sure what was happening. He shuffled uncomfortably on his feet while they stood in silence.

  The waiting finally ended when he saw the familiar silhouette of a small figure approaching.

  “Well?” Silas prompted.

  “The light is coming from torches inside the chamber up ahead. Looks like no one is guarding the treasure room,” Ulric said.

  “Treasure room?” Lucius said.

  “Aye, that’s the treasure hoard up ahead. Don’t know why the orcs have left it unguarded, but we may be in luck tonight. So let’s get on with it then,” Ulric said impatiently.

  Silas raised an eyebrow at the dwarf, unappreciative of his candid manner.

  They moved toward the light quietly. Though no guards were posted here, it seemed logical to keep a low profile just in case.

  The treasure room was brightly lit in comparison to the rest of the mine. Three torches hung at intervals along the oval-shaped room and the light reflected on numerous pieces of gold, silver, and gemstones strewn on the floor or packaged in small crates. Lucius noticed another tunnel was set at the end of room, likely continuing lower into the depths of the mine.

  “Split up and search the room. The gauntlet should be here somewhere,” Silas said.

  “Can we take a few souvenirs?” Ulric said, smirking.

  Silas frowned and shook his head, adding an audible, “Dwarves,” under his breath.

  Lucius made his way toward the end of the room and began searching through the piles of loot th
ere. Various coins of different denominations and regional markings filled the space. He saw luxurious pieces of ceremonial armor crafted by both men and dwarves piled on wooden crates. Moving the armor aside, he sifted through the contents of the crates which held polished gems like rubies, sapphires, and amethysts. The temptation to swipe some of the items took a strong hold on him, but he resisted, remembering Silas’ admonition to Ulric.

  They spent the better part of an hour scouring the room for the gauntlet, but everyone came up empty-handed.

  “Could it be further down the mine?” Lucius suggested.

  “Perhaps,” Silas said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “What do you think, Ulric? Would the dwarves have built more rooms like this further down the mine?”

  “Not likely. Mine-builders always placed the treasure stores higher up the shaft for easy access, but it’s not unheard of. Especially if the mine held more untapped veins or deposits further down,” Ulric replied.

  “We might as well explore further since we’re already down here,” Silas said. He led the way toward the shaft continuing down into the depths of the mine.

  The rock walls once again were adorned with numerous dwarvish runes, and equipment lay all around them. They did not need to descend too far to find the next chamber. This room was cut into the side of the shaft almost as an afterthought.

  “This doesn’t look to be done by dwarves. It’s sloppy and rushed,” Ulric said, a disgusted look visible on his craggy face.

  They entered the small recess alongside the shaft, and inside Lucius saw an altar with a black effigy over its brazier. The effigy was a horned demon snarling in rage at them. Its two rubies for eyes reflected the light, further highlighting its macabre features.

  “An altar to Nergoth,” Silas said, glaring at the effigy.

  Next to the small altar was what looked to be a square shelf cut into the roughly hewn wall. Within the small shelf, Lucius saw it. The Gauntlet of Iniquity rested on the shelf beside the altar like an object of worship.

  “There it is,” Lucius said, gesturing at the dull metal glove.

  Silas grinned and pulled out a burlap sack he had carried with him. He placed the gauntlet inside and pulled the drawstring shut. “Here, Lucius. Be careful with it,” he said.

  Lucius took the sack which was surprisingly light and slung it over his shoulder. Ulric, looking disappointed at the discovery, sighed in exasperation.

  “Is that it then?” the dwarf said. He was clearly looking forward to some kind of fight on this expedition.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet, Ulric,” Silas replied.

  “Literally,” the dwarf quipped. The remark elicited a scowl from Silas.

  Silas checked the small chamber once more for anything else of significance, and then they ascended up the shaft.

  When they entered the treasure room, Lucius heard a disconcerting sound. It was indistinct at first and died away almost as soon as he heard it. Then it came again, louder and more recognizable. The blood drained from his face when he realized it was the sound of a horn outside. He turned to Silas, and upon seeing the prince’s widened eyes, his suspicions were confirmed. The orcs had discovered their scouts.

  All manner of subterfuge was quickly abandoned as the three companions raced out of the mine into the cold night outside.

  The previously peaceful city of Neroterra was alight with activity. In the distance, Lucius saw the hulking forms of orcs scrambling among their dwellings as another horn blared in the forest.

  “It’s coming from the eastern perimeter. That’s Morton’s position,” Silas said, his breathing ragged. He dashed toward the wall which still held the rope they used to climb the wooden fortification. He grabbed the rope and planted his feet on the wall without putting on the crampons for added purchase. He was hurrying upward, pulling his muscular frame higher and higher. Lucius, eager to follow, grabbed the rope and also neglected the crampons. But he realized that was a mistake after he climbed a few feet. He didn’t have the dexterity Silas possessed, and he flailed hopelessly as he tried to gain his footing on the wall.

  Below him, Ulric was beginning his ascent, but a noise from behind them made the dwarf turn around. About a yard from their position, two figures approached at rapid speed. Lucius’ heart raced at the thought of facing orcs in his highly vulnerable position.

  “Ulric, climb up here now!” Silas ordered from above. The prince was already at the top of the wall, looking down at them.

  The dwarf ignored him, opting to unsling his axe from his back and wield it in both hands in a defensive stance. Lucius was only halfway up the wall, and he worried whether or not he’d be able to climb up to Silas in time. He also considered Ulric, who would soon be outnumbered below. With Lucius by his side, the dwarf had a much better chance against the hulkish orcs.

  He came to a decision and slid down the rope. Silas cursed from atop the wall and began climbing down to meet them.

  “I can’t wait to split their skulls!” Ulric yelled as the figures finally approached close enough to see.

  To his shock, Lucius realized these weren’t orcs at all. Before him stood two Draknoir warriors holding spears and scimitars. The scaly reptilian creatures hissed at them defiantly and lunged toward Ulric first. The beasts probably assumed a dwarf was an easy target to dispose of. But the assumption was clearly a foolish one.

  Ulric swung his battle axe mightily and cleaved the exposed side of the first Draknoir in his path. The second one, who had a ring protruding from one of his nostrils, squealed in anger at his companion’s demise. Lucius parried a pair of blows from the scimitar, then lunged his sword at the creature’s belly. He was too slow, however, and the Draknoir dodged the maneuver. It swung hard at Lucius’ head, but he ducked just a second before the blade swiped the air above him.

  Ulric was on the beast now, swinging his axe like a weightless stick. The Draknoir blocked the dwarf’s attacks, then slashed at Ulric with his claws. Ulric grunted and lost his footing slightly when the slash cut across his shoulder. The momentary disruption in his attack gave the Draknoir an opening to thrust his spear into Ulric’s ribcage. But the move never came. A dagger from above struck the Draknoir between the eyes, allowing Ulric to slam his axe in the creature’s chest. The monster fell without another movement.

  “Thanks for the save, your Majesty,” Ulric said in a slightly bitter tone. Then he added, “I had the situation well in hand, you know.”

  Silas frowned from behind him, then began climbing the rope again.

  “Why are the Draknoir here?” Lucius asked, placing his crampons on the soles of his boots.

  “Why else? They’ve come for the gauntlet,” Silas grunted as he climbed the wall.

  “Well, I know that, but why are they here now?” Lucius pressed.

  “I’m far more concerned about our men right now than why the Draknoir have attacked Neroterra at this particular moment, Lucius. Now let’s go before more reach us,” Silas ordered.

  The three warriors climbed the wall in double time and descended onto the other side before another horn blast resounded in the forest. They were on the northeast section of the wall, which meant they were about a half-mile from Morton’s position. Lucius raced through the forest with Silas and Ulric, wondering if Siegfried was also in danger. His brother could easily take care of himself against orcs or Draknoir, but Lucius thought of Helmer. He had always taken for granted that his adoptive father would live forever like every elf in Evingrad. The elf sage was so resourceful and invincible in Lucius’ mind. And yet he met a tragic end when the Breninmaur fell. A similar fate could doom Siegfried, and that fear propelled him to run faster.

  Sprinting through the darkness turned out to be a dangerous affair. Besides the obvious inability to see what lay in front of him, Lucius also found it difficult to follow his companions. He occasionally struck his face against low-hanging branches or tripped on logs and thick underbrush.

  “I see something up ahead,” Silas said
, weaving between the dark masses of trees ahead.

  “Draw your weapons! It’s probably more of those scaly beasts,” Ulric said, excitement audible in his voice.

  They slowed their pace as they neared a clearing ahead. Lucius peered at what looked to be a prone figure on the ground within the clearing. His stomach wrenched at the thought of Siegfried lying dead on the floor. He increased his advance, looking around him for signs of any movement besides that of Silas and Ulric. But as he did so, he tripped over something at his feet and fell headlong into the dirt. Turning over quickly, he rose and saw the distinct shape of a Draknoir’s head lying on the ground.

  “Look!” he said, gesturing at the dead warrior at his feet.

  “Yes, there’s more in the clearing,” Silas said, turning to Lucius. “Let’s see if Morton is here.”

  Moving quicker toward the open space within the trees, Lucius could see more dead bodies around them. He counted at least eight Draknoir. In the darkness he couldn’t tell how they were killed, but he guessed either one of the orc sentries was responsible, or one of their own company.

  “Over here!” Silas yelled, running toward the edge of the clearing.

  Lucius and Ulric followed the prince and found Morton lying with his back against a tree trunk. The young soldier was still breathing, but just barely. His head lolled from side to side as he looked up at them.

  “Morton, what happened?” Silas asked, feeling the man’s chest for wounds.

  “The Draknoir…they’re here,” he said in a subdued voice. “Siegfried…followed them.”

  Lucius’ heart raced at the mention of his brother. “Followed them? What do you mean? Where did he follow them?”

  Morton coughed and didn’t speak for a moment.

  “He’s been stabbed. It doesn’t look fatal, but he’s in bad shape,” Silas said. “Someone’s bandaged the wound. I’d suspect it was Siegfried.”

  Morton roused again, then continued speaking as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “The horses…Wesley and…Dudley ran to get them,” he said with a final breath before leaning back and resting again.