Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2)

by Daniel Adorno

  He hurried through the wilderness on the direct route toward Neroterra that the tracks led. Once or twice he scanned the area for any signs of orcs or Draknoir, in case they meant to ambush him. Usually he would have slowed his pace and been more careful on this pursuit, but time was of the essence. The thought of losing Lucius on account of being overly cautious gnawed at him. He quickened his pace, snapping branches and rustling bushes as he ran through the woods.

  A few yards ahead he could see the looming gates of Neroterra. He heard the clamor of fighting once he was a stone’s throw from the entrance. Using the cover of the trees, he examined the fight ahead. A dozen orcs were fighting off two battalions of Draknoir. The fighting between the two races was vicious. Orcs brandishing thick swords and large clubs pummeled the Draknoir invaders. The Draknoir, in turn, clawed the towering orcs and sliced at them with their scimitars. Neither side showed the other mercy, and blood spilled freely in the skirmish in a gruesome display.

  Siegfried chose to wait until the fight was over before emerging from the woods. The Draknoir had bested the orcs, but before they tore through the gates of the city, Siegfried loosed multiple arrows from the shadows.

  Confused and unsure of their new attacker, the Draknoir were easy targets. Siegfried managed to kill half a dozen before the beasts decided to push forward into Neroterra.

  Following them inside, Siegfried witnessed the chaotic warfare all around him. The orcs were fighting off at least six battalions of Draknoir. The garrison at Neroterra was not equipped to defend against such overwhelming numbers. Although orcs had the advantage of brute strength in relatively small numbers, the Draknoir were fearsome fighters in their own right. Without care for loss of life, the reptilian warriors would commit as many numbers as possible to secure victory. For their part, the orcs were fighting hard to beat back the Draknoir offensive line, but little by little Siegfried saw the line breaking as the Draknoir advanced further into the city.

  Keeping to the shadows around the wall, Siegfried skulked around the main area of fighting. Every so often he picked off Draknoir from his vantage point, but kept a low profile to avoid being embroiled in the conflict. He wasn’t here to help the orcs or fight against the Draknoir. His purpose was to find Lucius and the others before the Draknoir line reached the mine to the north.

  A few feet away from the hard fighting, he saw a familiar figure running past a number of slain orcs. It was the Draknoir overlord he’d faced in the clearing. He had two of his group still with him, and based on the direction they were running toward, Siegfried guessed they were headed toward the mine.

  He gave chase, zigzagging through fallen combatants and deflecting attacks from both sides. A raging fire had taken light along the southern wall, and soon more structures were in flames. Thankfully, the fire and the confusion of the battle helped him to weave through the city mostly unnoticed. When he had cleared the mass of fighting, he advanced through the orc dwellings scattered across the city. Neroterra had once been a dwarvish settlement and then a human city with wattle houses built centuries ago. The orcs were the most recent occupants of the ancient city, and they had demolished most of the buildings to make room for their oversized tents crafted from various animal skins. They affixed the large horns of mammoths and other wild beasts to the top of their tents, giving the dwellings an air of hostility. But as Siegfried approached through the monstrous tents in pursuit of the Draknoir, he noticed an old building that hadn’t been demolished. It was a chapel to Yéwa that had been repurposed as an orc shrine of some sort.

  In the shadow of that chapel Siegfried saw the Draknoir tracks had suddenly diverged all throughout the area. He realized a second too late that it was a trap. The Draknoir overlord jumped from behind a tall statue and attacked with his scimitar. Unprepared for the assault, Siegfried blocked the attack clumsily with his bow. The blade cut through the yew bow like butter, leaving Siegfried without his best weapon.

  He unsheathed the dagger at his belt and parried another strike to his chest. The next attack came at his head with blazing speed. He barely blocked it, and the long scimitar nicked his temple, allowing a trickle of blood to run down his cheek.

  Siegfried was in shock at how quickly this Draknoir leader moved. Most Draknoir were quicker than humans, but not as swift as elves. To add to that level of speed was the monster’s brute strength. The dagger that Siegfried was wielding was inadequate for defense against the long scimitar. He was constantly on the defensive, parrying and deflecting at the last moments, but soon he’d be overwhelmed by the Draknoir’s offense.

  Before that moment arrived, the two remaining Draknoir of the overlord’s group ran out to meet Siegfried. Panic set in as he sidestepped another powerful swipe from the leader. At his sides, the two Draknoir advanced. He parried one of their attacks and dodged to the left in a delicate dance to save himself. Unfortunately, that move opened him up for a swift kick from the leader at his back.

  Siegfried fell face-first into the ground. The impact of the fall caused him to lose hold of the dagger. He quickly rolled onto his back and watched the Draknoir gather around him confidently.

  “Now you die, elf vermin!” the leader bellowed in a thick hissing accent.

  Before Siegfried could think of his next move, an explosion of electric energy lit up the night several yards away at the gates.

  CHAPTER 23

  SEED OF POWER

  “They’re following me, Silas,” Dudley said, breathless. “The Draknoir will be on us soon!”

  Silas set his jaw and turned to Lucius and Ulric. “Get in the saddles and let’s ride to the clearing for Morton,” he said. As they did so, he looked around and noticed the lack of another member of their group. “Where’s Wesley?”

  A shadow passed over Dudley’s face and he shook his head grimly. The loss was deeply felt among them, especially Lucius, who had received instruction for the last few days from the man. He hadn’t known him long, but there was a kindred spirit in Wesley that he connected with. But the time for grieving would come later. He heard the unsettling cries of the pursuing Draknoir.

  Silas and Dudley led the way back, forcing their steeds into a full gallop through the forest. Penna’s breath fogged the cold air in front of Lucius as they barreled down the hillside toward the clearing. The cries behind them subsided as they widened the gap between their horses and the enemy.

  Racing into the clearing, Silas dismounted and helped Morton up from the ground. Four horses and Ulric’s pony had survived the attack that cost Wesley his life. Morton’s horse was one of the casualties, but seeing as the man was near death’s door, Dudley opted to put him on his saddle. Morton mumbled incoherent words as Dudley secured him onto the pommel with some rope.

  “We’ll be riding fast and hard. No sense in him suffering more injury,” Dudley said wryly.

  Silas mounted Arabella and scanned the area quickly. “They’ll be here soon. Let’s head south and clear the distance. We can lose them on the hills. The horses can run much faster on the open plains,” he said confidently.

  “What about Siegfried?” Lucius said, gesturing toward the only horse missing a rider.

  Silas frowned. “Lucius, we are outnumbered and Neroterra will soon be overrun by Draknoir. We cannot hold out for your brother. I’m sorry.”

  His temper flared at the callousness of the statement. In truth, he knew that Silas was merely trying to minimize more casualties by abandoning Siegfried and saving the rest of their group. But Lucius could not follow that course of action. As a newly appointed Drachengarde member, going against the order of his commander and future king was treasonous. Normally the ramifications of such an action would give him pause and force him to reconsider, but he had already lost Helmer and the few friends he knew in Evingrad. He could not flee Neroterra without at least trying to save Siegfried.

  He wheeled Penna around in the direction of the oncoming Draknoir and nudged the horse forward into a full gallop.

  “Lucius! Stop
!” Silas yelled, but the command came too late.

  Lucius rode into the woods again toward the burning city of Neroterra. Penna covered several yards in a matter of minutes before he saw them: dozens of yellow eyes glowing in the tangle of forest ahead. His heart beat faster as he considered how foolish this decision had been. He was only one man facing an entire battalion of Draknoir.

  “Please, Yéwa, if you care about me, help me through this,” Lucius prayed. He nudged his knees further into Penna’s flanks and she increased her gallop. Unsheathing his sword, he prepared for the imminent clash with the first few Draknoir in his path.

  The impact came quickly. He swung the sword to his right, where a Draknoir stood. The blow connected and knocked the warrior back into the underbrush. Penna trampled one or two of the beasts in her advance with little effort or loss of speed. Another wave came at the galloping horse, and Lucius prepared for a swing along his left side. But it was a foolish move. He hadn’t been accustomed to fighting and riding a horse on his short journey to Neroterra. He overcompensated by shifting his weight too far to the left, and his swing was clumsy and slow. Missing the Draknoir entirely, he opened himself for an attack to his right. A warrior swung his scimitar at Lucius and cut a gash across his shin. He winced as the pain flared throughout his entire leg.

  The Draknoir pressed their attack, and Lucius nudged Penna to go faster, but the horse was tiring from the rising slope they were on.

  Another Draknoir swung at him from the right. He pulled the reins to avoid it, but the blade sliced Penna’s side. The horse cried out in pain and bucked hard. Lucius, unable to keep his injured leg in the stirrup, found himself losing his balance.

  Another Draknoir came at him from the left, and Penna had enough of the beasts. She bucked hard once more and Lucius fell from the saddle. He ducked his head in midair and managed a half-roll into the dirt, but the impact knocked the wind out of him. Penna rode on, frightened by the whole affair and leaving him to fend for himself against the Draknoir.

  The first of the warriors were only a few feet away. Lucius stood up quickly and regretted the decision immediately. His left leg nearly buckled under the weight of his body. The pain was excruciating, but somehow he found the resolve to bear it. Searching the ground for his sword, he picked it up and saw a familiar object nearby. The burlap sack that he carried on his back lay in the dirt at his feet.

  The Gauntlet of Iniquity.

  A sudden desire came over his mind that he could neither explain nor comprehend. A distant voice, dark and foreboding, instructed him to put it on.

  A sharp cry rang out ahead of him. He looked up and saw the Draknoir charging up the hillside, ready to bring an end to him. Dropping his sword, he tore at the drawstrings of the sack and fit his hand into the gauntlet. It was light, though far too big for his arm. But as soon as his fingers were inside, he felt the metal contract and secure the fitting around his sleeve.

  A surge of energy pulsated inside his body unlike anything he’d experienced before. The darkness around him faded, and everything took on a purple aura. The trees, the ground, and even the Draknoir were washed in the bright hue.

  He heard that dark voice again.

  Kill, Ellylei. Kill them all.

  He raised his hand at the six Draknoir approaching and released a blast of energy that lit up the forest around him. The move felt effortless and satisfying.

  After the dust settled, six charred bodies lay in front of him, and the surrounding trees and foliage were in flames. He shuddered at the thought of what he’d unleashed from the gauntlet. A distant voice in his mind told him to take the glove off, but he ignored it. The power felt good. It felt right.

  An urgent thought roused him. Siegfried. He still had to save his brother. With inhuman speed, he rushed through the forest to the burning gates ahead. He covered the quarter-mile stretch at the same speed Penna would have at full gallop. Somehow a fire had started in the city: the gates and part of the outer wall were now in flames. A wooden tower built into the wall as a lookout point collapsed after the fire burned through its support struts.

  Inside the city, he saw the slain corpses of orcs and Draknoir alike. A few yards away, the battle raged on between the two races. The outcome was all but determined. Neroterra would fall to the Draknoir. Their numbers were greater than the few remaining orcs who continued the one-sided fight.

  Lucius felt rage flare up inside of him at the sight of the lizard-like warriors as they decimated the orcs.

  His hatred for them prompted the voice again.

  Kill them. They deserve death.

  He hurled another blast toward the scores of Draknoir fighting ahead. The explosion sent them flying in all directions. Some orcs also felt the blast, but Lucius didn’t care. The desire to bring his enemies down was greater than any reasonable decision. Some of the Draknoir scattered around him, but others foolishly attacked him. He easily dodged their attacks with unnatural speed, and killed them with more bolts of purple energy.

  As he disposed of the Draknoir, something caught his eye in the distance. It was Siegfried! He was on his back on the ground. A trio of Draknoir were gathered around him.

  Lucius charged them before they could react. Torrents of energy were released from the gauntlet, and he sent them reeling. One of the Draknoir evaporated into dust before him. He grinned in spite of himself. The gauntlet held unparalleled power. By merely succumbing to that voice which did not seem so dark and foreboding now, his abilities increased.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the three Draknoir had survived his assault and was limping away.

  “Where do you think you’re going, filth?” Lucius said, smirking.

  The Draknoir turned to face him, and for the first time, Lucius saw fear in those yellow eyes. Somehow the gauntlet channeled the creature’s fear within his own mind. It was an exhilarating feeling to hold the Draknoir’s life within his control. He blasted it and watched it fly several feet from where he stood. A contented laugh escaped his lips.

  “Lucius, what are you doing?” Siegfried said, still lying on the ground.

  Lucius turned to his brother, puzzled at the question. “I’m saving you, of course.”

  Siegfried stood up and looked at the gauntlet he wore. An expression of disgust passed over the elf’s face. “Why would you put that thing on? Don’t you know it stands for everything we’re against?”

  He scoffed. “So this is the thanks I get for saving your life?” Lucius said incredulously.

  “Take it off, Lucius…please,” Siegfried pleaded. “Don’t lose yourself in that darkness.”

  Suddenly the words became clear in his mind, and the distant voice he’d heard before was louder now. He looked down at the glowing gauntlet on his arm and felt ashamed. This was a weapon made by Scipio, Memnon’s forebearer. Nergoth, the demon the Draknoir worshipped, had commissioned the sorcerer to craft it. He couldn’t believe how naive he’d been. But before he could pull the cursed glove from his arm, a blur of movement knocked Siegfried to the ground.

  Lucius turned to face the new threat, but he was too slow. A sharp pain erupted in his chest. His attacker was a large Draknoir overlord, staring at him with a fierce malice in his eyes. Lucius glanced down and saw the creature’s scimitar plunged within his chest.

  In one swift motion, the Draknoir pulled out the blade and kicked him to the ground.

  He couldn’t feel the hard ground. Most of his body was numb now as he watched the Draknoir wrest the gauntlet from his arm. A sinister smile formed on the creature’s face. He let out a fierce grunt in his native tongue, and a handful of Draknoir rallied to him. Then they ran out toward the gates.

  The last image Lucius saw was the burning gates of Neroterra crumbling to the ground.

  In the distance, he heard a voice calling his name before darkness overwhelmed him.

  CHAPTER 24

  NUMA

  Snow flurries flitted about the entryway to the Eternal Bridge on the out
skirts of Numa. The bridge was about five miles long, extending from the grassy hills at the edge of Joppa’s northwest border into the secluded highlands of the warrior elves of D’arya. Ornate arch canopies made of glass covered each quarter-mile of the bridge as small refuges from the elements. Violet had never seen such craftsmanship in her life. But the bridge also bore the marks of warfare. Along it she saw bloodstains and broken arrows where small skirmishes had been fought. She was thankful that the corpses of such battles were carted away. Not that she couldn’t stomach death. As an apothecary she grew accustomed to seeing dead people. But such imagery seemed so contrarian to the serene nature of the bridge and the surrounding greenery.

  Violet, Avani, and Brandewulf departed the kingdom of Aldron nearly a week prior, and her guilt had not abated in the least. Avani had persuaded Violet to come with her on this journey with Brandewulf. The elf princess did not trust Brandewulf and desired a friend’s company on such an extended trip. Avani’s lack of trust for most beings was perhaps her greatest flaw. The princess was deathly afraid of anyone knowing her true identity or role in forging the Requiem Sword. She guarded those secrets with a tenacity that Violet both admired and resented. Normally Violet would have acquiesced to Avani’s request without reservation. But this time she had broken her promise to Silas.

  Before the prince had left on a secret mission to the north, he entrusted her to stay in Aldron and help the physicians attend to the city’s numerous wounded. Although he hadn’t said it outright, Violet also suspected he wanted her to stay at his father’s side. King Alfryd was just a few days away from death. The old king was a fighter, and despite the prognosis the royal physicians had rendered, he’d defied the odds given for his survival. But the monarch’s will to live could not prevent his body from eventually succumbing to the poison’s fatal effects.