“So Lumiath was right. D’arya is only your servant?” Lucius asked.
“Yes. She resides here, spending a good deal of her time in the library and the atrium,” Yesu said with a wry smile.
“And what about Helmer?” Lucius said, anxious to know about Helmer. “Is he here?”
“No, he is not, Lucius. The vision you saw is of the present time in Numa. Helmer survived the burning of the Breninmaur, as did Quetulya, Peniel, and many other elves who were wise enough to flee,” Yesu explained.
Lucius grinned broadly. The news of his father’s survival brought him great joy. But then melancholy overtook him again as he thought of Avani, Siegfried, and the rest of his friends. They were still in Dwyfoltír, risking their lives to bring about Kraegyn’s end, but he would not be able to help them. The Ellyllei had fallen.
“What’s wrong, Lucius?” Yesu asked, watching him intently.
“It’s my friends. They are preparing to war with the Draknoir and the dragons, but I won’t be there to help them. In a way, I’m saddened by that and yet I’m also relieved. I can’t imagine the task they face will be easy. By the time it’s over many of them will likely have joined me here. At least, I hope they will,” Lucius said.
“War is never easy on the living, Lucius. But you needn’t fear for your friends. For soon they shall have you by their side once more,” Yesu said, a smile playing on his lips.
Lucius’ eyebrows raised, prepared to ask a question, but Yesu raised a hand to silence him. “We will get to that, but first, look into the river again. There’s something else you need to see.”
Lucius frowned. Leaning over the riverbank, he peered again into the shimmering water. Images began to form, and he saw the distinct shape of a dragon. The beast was clouded in fog with familiar eyes. Those blue eyes that haunted Lucius’ dreams, and the booming voice which deafened all tranquility around him. Unlike the previous vision, this time he could make out words being spoken by the Black Dragon.
“Memnon! Have you found it?” Kraegyn bellowed.
The chamber where the dragon’s form hovered was dark and empty for a moment, then the darkness was pierced by torchlight. The Draknoir lord strolled into the room. He gazed up at the ghastly apparition, then bowed slightly.
“Well?” Kraegyn prompted.
“My Draknoir have not yet returned from Neroterra, Lord Kraegyn. I expect they will be along soon. The gauntlet will be ours, do not worry,” he said calmly.
“Do not tell me not to worry!” Kraegyn yelled, his voice shaking the chamber that was his prison. “We have worked too hard for this moment, Memnon. I needn’t remind you that a single command from me will bring the dragon tribes upon you and your kind.”
Memnon sighed in exasperation. “I assure you, that will not be necessary. The Gauntlet of Iniquity will soon be ours. Please be patient. Your time is coming…and so is mine.”
The cloud that served as Kraegyn’s face grimaced, but the dragon said nothing more.
As soon as the images appeared, they faded from the surface of the river.
Lucius turned to Yesu, a deep frown lining his forehead. “Is this another vision of the present?”
Yesu nodded. “It’s just after you fell in combat. You shouldn’t have taken that gauntlet, Lucius,” he said, the smile disappearing from his face.
Lucius’ shoulders sagged. “I know.”
“The gauntlet’s power is intoxicating to all who come near it. That voice you heard inside your mind was Nergoth, one of Sêrhalon’s trusted minions,” Yesu explained. “Nergoth is quite fond of mind control and deception. He will do anything to dominate the world alongside Sêrhalon.”
“If Memnon acquires the gauntlet…does that mean Kraegyn will rise again?” Lucius asked.
“Yes, but that is not the greatest danger,” Yesu said.
“It’s not?”
“No. The danger will be the power Memnon will wield against death itself. Once he has breached the Abode of Shadows and released Kraegyn, any number of evil things could be unleashed. Kraegyn is evil, to be sure, but there are ancient forces banished in the abode that Sêrhalon will enjoy manipulating to his ends,” Yesu said.
“What kind of ancient forces?” Lucius asked, fear creeping inside of him for the first time since he’d been in Caelum.
“It’s best you not know of such things now. You’re already of interest to Sêrhalon; you needn’t become a target. The less you know about his aspirations, the better,” Yesu said.
“If that’s the case, why can’t you just stop whatever he’s planning? Or stop Kraegyn and Memnon for that matter?” Lucius said, an edge in his voice coming through.
The problem he’d always had with Yesu and Yéwa was their seeming dispassionate approach to the problems of mortals like him. He’d suffered immensely since he left Evingrad. The banshees had hurt him, he’d lost his hearing, and the demonic bear Sêrhalon set upon him nearly killed him. Throughout all those ordeals, he’d turn to Yesu for assistance. And although he’d survived, he always came out worse for wear. He thought it was a fair question to pose to the lord of Dwyfoltír.
Yesu was not amused by the question, and his expression seemed to shrug it away as nothing of consequence. “Lucius, do you know how long time has existed on Dwyfoltír? Do you know the full breadth of every ocean and land mass in the world?”
Lucius shook his head, confused by the questions.
“You are mortal and do not fully grasp the enormity of eternity or the knowledge of Yéwa. The fact is I am always about my father’s work. Right now I am about to set in motion a way to bring about Kraegyn and Memnon’s end—though you do not see it nor understand it. Nevertheless, it is happening despite your unbelief,” he said.
“I…but…how?” Lucius asked.
Yesus crossed his arms, the smile reappearing on his face. “You will soon see, but first there is someone you should meet.” The man gestured with his chin behind Lucius.
He turned around and saw the woman who was sitting on the rock approaching him. She wore a simple robe cinched at the waist with a satin cord. A hood covered most of her face save for her nose and chin. Pulling back the hood, she stood face to face with Lucius. He studied the woman’s face, noting her deep green eyes and prominent nose. Crow’s feet and faint lines around her mouth aged her, but her flowing blond hair and warm smile exuded a youthful countenance.
“Hello, Lucius,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice. “I’ve waited so long to finally meet you.”
Lucius frowned, then turned to Yesu. “Should I know her?” he asked.
Yesu shook his head. “No. I don’t expect you would since she died while you were yet an infant.”
“An infant?” Lucius said absently, looking at the woman again. Then he recognized the eyes, the prominent nose, and the slim shape of her face. Those features were very like his own.
“Lucius, this is your mother.”
CHAPTER 27
DRAKNOIR HUNT
Snow fell in sheets that blanketed the forest of Neroterra, creating a peaceful white environment all around Siegfried and Ulric. Despite the cold and the heavy snow underfoot, Siegfried ran through the woods with the same speed, as if the ground was unencumbered by the thick white powder. Ulric, in contrast, struggled through the mounds of snow that were accumulating on the forest floor. His frequent yells for Siegfried to slow down were grating on the elf, but he stopped to wait for the dwarf regardless.
“Can’t you slow down for just a few minutes?” Ulric said, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “My legs aren’t as long as yours, you know!”
“I’ve noticed,” Siegfried said, frowning. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. This was my errand, not yours.”
Ulric looked up at him and nodded. “Vengeance is always a solitary errand, isn’t it? But you wouldn’t survive long against an entire battalion of Draknoir, never mind three…or was it four? I can’t remember how many of them we killed,” he said, counting his finger
s absently.
Siegfried took a deep breath and scanned the area around him. The snowfall was quickly covering the tracks of the escaping Draknoir and their swift leader, the overlord who killed Lucius. He gritted his teeth, feeling the pain in his jaw as he thought of that moment. For the last few hours, he’d hidden the pain away in his mind, trying hopelessly not to blame himself for not saving his brother. The Draknoir was quick and he hadn’t seen him. He couldn’t excuse his lack of awareness though. No matter how much he tried to justify that he simply couldn’t have stopped the Draknoir before its blade pierced Lucius, he knew it was all his fault.
His mother, father, and now his only brother were dead. The Draknoir would pay for that. He managed to numb the grief inside by pushing himself headlong into this pursuit in the woods. Though the Draknoir now had the Gauntlet of Iniquity, he could still stop them—take back the weapon that brought about Lucius’ demise and perhaps find some measure of peace through grieving.
Not everyone understood his actions though. Silas was especially disturbed by the fact that Siegfried decided to chase the Draknoir rather than return to Aldron to bury Lucius.
“But he’s your brother. Don’t you want to see to his burial?” Silas had asked him.
“Of course I do. But he would want me to chase the Draknoir who killed him and stole the gauntlet. He was the Ellyllei. He would want us to see this through,” Siegfried replied.
The rest of their conversation was a blur. He was trying to focus on the tracks left by the Draknoir, and then, quite unexpectedly, Ulric volunteered to join him on the hunt. Silas approved of the pairing and promised to bring Lucius’ body back to Aldron.
“He was an heir of Nostra, and that deserves a proper burial among the kings of Aldron,” the prince said grimly. He then gave the elf Lucius’ bow and an extra sack of rations for the trip. Siegfried thanked him, then set off with Ulric to pursue the infernal beasts that had destroyed everything in Azuleah that mattered to him.
Now as he watched the snow come down in thicker flakes in the gloomy forest, he felt his chest heave with the loss of his family. He gritted his teeth again and clutched his bow harder. “Enough rest, dwarf,” he said bitterly. “Let’s go!”
He shot off at a run, thrusting himself into the hunt and leaving all sadness behind. If he concentrated on the single task of finding the Draknoir horde, the pain would be numbed. Behind him, Ulric shambled through the snow and thick tree cover of the forest. The dwarf tumbled through bushes and undergrowth like a lumbering bear while Siegfried flew through the woods like a fleeing deer.
Their fast pace continued for well over an hour with little respite. The tracks were becoming fresher now, and Siegfried guessed they were only a mile behind the beasts. They had left the forest in haste, traveling on foot through the hills bordering Ithileo. To Ulric’s eternal dismay, Siegfried had opted to leave their steeds behind. Riding on horseback in the night made it difficult for the elf to track the Draknoir. Not to mention, the horses had already ridden hard on their journey to Neroterra and could not endure a fast chase like this without rest. Despite the logic in Siegfried’s decision, Ulric continually complained about the matter.
“That pony would have been a great companion on this sprint you’ve got me on,” he whined, stumbling through another set of hedges on their path.
“I already told you, he wouldn’t have made it for this long at the speed we’re going,” Siegfried replied, turning his head so the dwarf could hear him from far back. “And besides, the Draknoir would have smelled them easily.”
“What about us? Can’t they smell us too?” Ulric asked incredulously.
“You perhaps, but not me. Elves don’t give off the pungent odors you dwarves are capable of,” he said wryly.
Ulric grunted, and Siegfried distinctly heard him mutter, “Elves,” under his breath.
Cresting one of the hills of the countryside, Siegfried stopped and surveyed the world around him. The Dulan River was five miles from their position, and the city of Sylvania lay to the north. It seemed logical that the Draknoir were fleeing to Nasgothar through the woods of Ithileo. They had recently suffered a defeat there at Silas’ hands, but they probably still utilized the maze of woodlands to infiltrate Joppa’s border for their numerous skirmishes. Peering closer through the dark expanse beyond, he saw the light spray of water coming from the river, specifically where the Dulan dipped into vicious whitewater then dropped from a dizzying height down Zemek Falls. In all his travels of Azuleah, he’d never crossed this section of the Dulan. He’d heard stories of men daring to cross the river too close to the waterfall and drowning or getting knocked hard against the rocks only to plummet to their deaths down the impressive falls.
If he had to guess, the Draknoir would likely camp near the river to have access to an abundant water supply. It was impractical for them to cross the river during the torrent of snowfall. Though the onset of winter had come, the temperatures had not dropped sufficiently in the season for any freezing to occur. If they remained unnoticed by the Draknoir, he and Ulric could launch a surprise attack on the encampment. Judging by the time of night, they had another four hours before dawn. The Draknoir would need to rest before undertaking the long journey back to Nasgothar, and the river’s edge seemed the best place for that.
Ulric climbed up the hill to meet him, his incessant breathing fogging up the air around him. “Ulfr’s beard! My legs are burning from all this chasing. I’m no jackrabbit, elf!” he said.
Siegfried allowed himself a thin smile. “You seem to be out of shape, Ulric. The running will do you good,” he quipped.
“Bah! Dwarves don’t need to run. We’re spry in our own ways. Besides, I’d rather sail on the open sea to get to my destination than sprint in the snow like you. Crazy elf,” he said with a grimace.
Siegfried was intrigued at the dwarf’s obsession with sailing. Up until that point he hadn’t met anyone of the dwarvish race who had shown the slightest interest in boating or nautical endeavors. Dwarves were rooted to the ground and earth. Their homes were made in caves, but ever since Ulric had joined this expedition he had talked of nothing more than his love of the sea. It was an odd quirk, but then as Siegfried reflected on it, dwarves were odd in general.
“Do you think they’re camping on the river there?” Ulric said, pointing to the glittering line of water cutting across the horizon.
“Yes. They need to rest after their siege on Neroterra. Traveling in the snow will impede their progress, so they’ll need their strength to cross the river at this juncture and make the long journey to Nasgothar,” Siegfried said thoughtfully.
Ulric pursed his lips. “So you mean to plan a night raid?”
“Something like that, but we should wait an hour or so before any attack. Let them get settled and careless before we hit them hard,” Siegfried explained, a shadow of hate crossing his face.
Ulric nodded. “Although there is one minor detail you’re ignoring. We’re just two, and they number at least twenty or more.”
The dwarf was right of course, and frankly Siegfried hadn’t considered their obvious disadvantage. He’d been too caught up in chasing down that Draknoir overlord and avenging Lucius to think critically of how the two of them could pull this off. Placing a finger to his lips, he weighed the options in front of them. If they attacked in an hour when the Draknoir were slumbering, they would have the advantage of a surprise attack. The Draknoir likely weren’t aware that they were being trailed, so a night raid was the best course of action. On the other hand, the numbers were stacked against them. A surprise assault would only provide a momentary advantage. Once the Draknoir realized what was happening and how few attackers they faced, their resolve would increase and Siegfried’s plan could easily collapse. He pondered the fact for a moment, clenching his jaw in frustration. Then it came to him.
They didn’t need to kill all of the Draknoir even though it was preferable to do so. The main thrust of their attack needed to be aimed at
the leader, the Draknoir overlord. His death would significantly reduce the morale of his minions. Additionally, he was the one who had taken the gauntlet, and that was really what Siegfried was after. The best way to ensure success was for him and Ulric to kill the overlord, retrieve the gauntlet, and flee. He hated committing to such a cowardly battle strategy, but capturing the gauntlet was essential. And he’d still have a chance avenge his brother’s death by killing the Draknoir responsible.
Siegfried explained the plan to Ulric, who frowned and shook his head several times. “Are you out of your mind? We stand a better chance killing them all than targeting a single Draknoir,” he said in that whining tone that Siegfried had come to hate.
“You said it yourself, Ulric. We’re outnumbered. Best to get what we came for and leave,” he replied.
Ulric shrugged indifferently. “Get what you came for perhaps. I came to kill some Draknoir. All this subterfuge is best suited for men,” he said ruefully. Despite his reluctance, he agreed to the plan and they made their way down the hill to inspect the river’s edge closely.
As Siegfried had suspected, he saw movement about a yard from the river bank. The Draknoir were setting up their camp, and soon Siegfried would retrieve what he came for.
*
Under the cover of a copse, Siegfried and Ulric waited patiently for their time to strike the camp. Ulric sat with his back leaning against one of the mature beech trees and closed his eyes. “Let me know when you want to go bash some Draknoir skulls, elf,” he said with a yawn.
Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2) Page 26