Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2)

by Daniel Adorno

  “She’s a faerie,” Siegfried said.

  “Who…who are you?” the faerie asked.

  “I am Siegfried Silverhart of Evingrad. My…friend here is named Ulric, of the dwarvish realm of Djoulmir. Who are you and how did you come to be imprisoned?”

  The faerie walked up to the bars, regarding them with some suspicion. “Did they send you to…to torture me?”

  Siegfried and Ulric exchanged looks. The elf shook his head several times. “No, we are prisoners here like you. We are not here to harm you,” he said. “Please, tell us who you are.”

  “My name is Lya. I was once a faerie of the Burning Woods before…before they took my wings. Years ago I was captured by the Draknoir on the fringes of my homeland. I flew away from my family after my father died. My brother, Klik, is the sovereign lord these days. But I imagine he has given up on ever finding me. None of my kin have ventured to rescue me from this hellish place,” Lya said, tears forming on the edges of her eyes.

  Siegfried frowned deeply at the mention of Klik, the faerie king of the Burning Woods. Months ago he had been imprisoned and ordered to be executed by the king for his senseless killing of the faerie’s father as a youth. Although Lucius had brought about his freedom from the king’s vengeful sentence, Siegfried knew that justice had not been served for Klik, nor his family. Lya had deserted her home on account of the tragedy he had inflicted upon her. Although he longed to ask forgiveness of his crime, he knew the issue would have to wait given their current predicament.

  “Where exactly are we? Do you know?” Ulric asked brusquely.

  Lya nodded. “Oh yes, I do. We are in the lower levels of Arkadeus, near the chamber where that…monster lives.”

  “Monster?” Siegfried asked.

  “‘Kraegyn,’ they call him. The Black Dragon,” she replied.

  A shiver ran up Siegfried’s spine. The Black Dragon lives here. “Have they kept you captive here all these years?” he questioned.

  “No. The Draknoir only recently moved their forces to these ruins. They’re rebuilding the fortress and mobilizing for war, I think. Every so often I hear them talking about their plans.”

  “Oh?” Ulric said, his interest piqued.

  “Genghis, the Draknoir general who just left, allows his subordinates to carry me around like a lantern on their patrols. I’ve come to know the full breadth of this awful place. But one of the advantages of being small is that bigger creatures hardly notice you’re around, listening. I eavesdrop all the time. They’ve spoken about attacking the elves, and recently they’ve been going on about finding a gauntlet.”

  “Aye, we’re privy to that information,” Ulric said, frowning.

  “Lya, do you know why the Draknoir have kept you alive so long?” Siegfried asked.

  She drew a long breath before speaking. “Yes. The Draknoir are a superstitious race. They believe that faerie folk bring good omens to those who enslave them. When I was captured, Memnon kept me in his quarters and told me many times that my life was only spared because of the good fortune I could bring upon him.

  “Of course, I took advantage of this superstition and tried many times to convince my jailers that I should not be caged. Such a thing would bring about bad luck, I’d say. One of the more gullible jailers believed me and let me loose,” she said with a hint of a smile. “I didn’t get very far before Genghis and his minions caught me. Nasgothar is a maze of tunnels and dungeons. Before they placed me back in this cell, Memnon cut off my wings. So now I am deprived of the pride of my kind. A disfigured, useless prisoner in the deepest of hells.”

  Lya stifled a sob and forced a smile, apologizing to them for her tears.

  “You needn’t be sorry. A great injustice has befallen you…and much of Azuleah because of Memnon and his vile kind,” Siegfried said.

  Lya nodded and sat down in her tiny cell.

  Her story of escape had still left an unanswered question on Siegfried’s mind. Not wanting to probe deeper and unsettle her, he asked gently, “Did you happen to hear any mention as to why Ulric and I are being held captive?”

  “Aye, they’ll only have bad luck with me around.” Ulric chuckled. The dwarf winced and held his injured ribs.

  “To be honest, I don’t know why they haven’t killed you yet. Besides me, they have no other prisoners here,” she mused. “But there is a disturbing rumor circling among the jailers about a sacrifice of some kind. Some ritual to please Nergoth and aid Kraegyn.”

  Siegfried tapped a thumb to his chin. Memnon’s plans included the resurrection of Kraegyn—he was certain of that. Now that the Gauntlet of Iniquity was securely in his possession, it would only be a matter of time before the Black Dragon arose from the Abode of Shadows. He wondered if the arcane ritual included a live sacrifice, in which case they were the candidates. They had to find a means to escape the prison before that occurred.

  An idea began forming in his head as he considered Lya’s words.

  “Lya, you said you became familiar with the interior of Nasgothar?” he asked.

  Lya’s tiny eyebrows furrowed. “That’s right.”

  “How long have you been held here in Arkadeus?”

  “A few weeks I suppose.”

  “So you know the layout of the interior, correct?” he pressed further.

  Lya caught on to his questioning. “I do.”

  Siegfried grinned slightly. “And you could lead us out of here if we were to escape?”

  Lya nodded several times.

  Ulric looked up at Siegfried with a question in his eyes. “You want to try to escape this fortress? The stronghold of Memnon’s entire army?”

  Siegfried’s grin broadened. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”

  CHAPTER 30

  REBELS IN THE WILDERNESS

  The sparse woodlands of the southwestern border of Marsolas were blanketed in snow from the first snowfall of the winter season. A cold breeze whisked Violet’s hair as she pulled her scarf tighter around her face. Homer was not fond of the winter air, snorting obnoxiously any time the cold wind swept through his mane. Behind her, the silhouette of Numa was quickly fading in the foggy morning light. Three weeks had passed since she’d first arrived in the elvish city—her first foray into a world filled with elves. Prior to meeting Avani, she had little experience with the beings, and even had a slight fear of them. Elves kept to themselves and were rarely seen in a metropolis like Aldron. Stories of their barbaric acts and bizarre religion were often exaggerated by childhood friends who were only perpetuating the tall tales of commoners. Though they had their idiosyncrasies, she found that her time in Numa had only increased her affection for their race. Despite Avani’s blunt and at times abrasive manner, she considered the Numan princess a loyal friend and found that her better qualities were present among her people.

  Avani and Brandewulf rode next to her on their horses, quietly scanning the trail ahead of them. Sometimes the silence and lack of conversation bothered Violet, but she was becoming accustomed to it on these long journeys.

  She glanced down at Avani’s hip for perhaps the tenth time and saw the elegant black scabbard hanging there. The scabbard itself was impressive, crafted from camel hide and inlaid with an embroidered leaf pattern that signified its elvish origin. But the true craftsmanship lay in the weapon sheathed in the scabbard: the Requiem Sword. Its embossed hilt gleamed in the morning light. She’d already seen the full blade, of course, when Avani had beaten the tempered metal continuously in the Sky Forge. Two elf sages of Evingrad, Helmer and Quetulya, had overseen the princess’ smithing work, and both had been impressed. Avani had labored over the smithing process for twelve hours, covered in black soot and wearing a dirty smith’s apron. It was a side of Avani that Violet had rarely seen. She offered to help her friend with the forging, but everyone adamantly refused her. The task could be Avani’s alone if the prophecy were to be fulfilled.

  Now as the sword hung casually at her friend’s side, Violet could hardly believe tha
t it was the restoration of King Cervantes’ former weapon. If the legends were true, this lavish sword was the answer to all their prayers.

  She frowned, then amended her thought. The Ellyllei and the Requiem were the answer to all of their prayers—or so they hoped. Although she admired Lucius and his courage to carry the burden laid upon him, she wasn’t quite sure whether he alone could slay Kraegyn, Requiem Sword or not.

  “We should stop and feed the horses soon,” Brandewulf said, breaking the silence among them. Violet nodded, happy for a respite from their boring trek through the snowy-covered landscape.

  “There’s a thicket up ahead that might be suitable for that,” Avani offered, gesturing toward a collection of pines and bushes nestled along a hill.

  Brandewulf agreed and silence fell over them again. Violet sighed quietly. She had hoped the trip to Numa would allow Avani to open up more around Brandewulf. Although the man could be brash and match Avani’s assertiveness, Violet enjoyed his company. He was a bit vain, but otherwise likable in that he had a sense of chivalry about him that was honorable. Obviously he didn’t possess the same humble qualities that attracted her to Silas, and he boasted more than any man she knew. But the duke of Allesmeade was their protector on this journey, and eager to follow Silas’ orders despite whatever previous tensions existed.

  Avani was not so easily swayed. Her suspicion of Brandewulf only increased with each gesture of friendship and helpfulness he proffered. The elf princess simply couldn’t afford to put down her guard for anyone—except Lucius. Violet noticed a certain admiration for the young man in Avani’s eyes whenever the two were in the same room. She previously thought it was nothing more than Avani’s excitement at meeting the fabled Ellyllei. Then she learned of Lucius’ visit to their room in Gilead Palace. He and Avani spent hours by the fire. That was an uncharacteristic of Avani. Violet suspected something else might be going on between them, and she smiled delightfully at what it might be.

  The trio reached the thicket and dismounted their horses. Brandewulf took Homer’s reins along with his own horse, Edgar, and tied them to a low-hanging branch. He offered to do the same for Avani, but as usual she refused and did it herself.

  After lighting a small fire, Violet sat down and ate some flatbread and cheese they’d procured in Numa. The hickory sweet taste of the cheese and soft flatbread was blissful.

  “Care for some coffee?” Brandewulf asked, glancing at her.

  “I’d love some, thank you,” she said, chewing on another piece of flatbread.

  He poured a cup of the coffee from his kettle and handed it to her. The strong, hot beverage warmed her insides, and she soon forgot the chill all around her.

  “Avani?” Brandewulf said, offering the kettle to her.

  The princess, who stood several feet from the fire, shook her head. She seemed preoccupied with something out of Violet’s line of sight. “I don’t care for coffee,” she said without turning toward him.

  Violet frowned. “Well I care for it. Top me off, Brandewulf!” she said, holding out her cup.

  Brandewulf smirked as he poured more of the hot brew in the cup.

  They sat chatting for a moment as they enjoyed the warm drink. Violet mused about the weather while Brandewulf listened. Every so often she glanced at Avani, who had no interest in their conversation. What was wrong with her lately? She seemed more distant than ever. Had she done something to offend her? Had Brandewulf? They’d all been together in Numa for the forging, and Avani seemed normal during that time. But ever since they left the city, Avani had become much more disengaged. Now she kept staring out at something outside their humble camp. Violet bit her lip in frustration.

  “What’s so interesting out there, Avani?” Violet said, louder than she expected.

  The princess turned and glared at her. The expression communicated more than annoyance. Violet saw a rebuke in her eyes, and it made her blood boil.

  “I’m keeping watch, Violet. We’re alone out here without any reinforcements, and in case you’ve forgotten, my treacherous brothers are still out there—”

  A bird call in the distance cut her short. Avani snapped her attention back to the snow-covered landscape surrounding them. The sudden motion put Violet on edge. She hadn’t seen her friend so anxious. Her body was rigid and tense. Avani clasped the hilt of the Requiem Sword and scanned the area again.

  “It was just a nuthatch or sparrow, Avani. Sit down and have a drink. You’re making us both nervous,” Brandewulf said, sipping his coffee. His demeanor exuded boredom at the princess’ heightened state.

  “That was not a bird,” Avani whispered. “It was a signal. They’re out there.”

  Violet stood up, her blood coursing through her veins now. “Your brothers?”

  Avani nodded, keeping her gaze to a tree line south of their location. She gestured toward it. “Something is moving behind those trees.”

  “For goodness sakes, it’s probably just an animal. Do you plan on being this skittish for the entire trip back?” Brandewulf said.

  Avani shot him a furious look. “If you want to be ambushed by a rogue elf army then sit here and drink your coffee. But I’d like to avoid being killed and losing our only hope in defeating the dragons,” she said, clutching the sword once more.

  “There’s nothing out there, princess. You need to relax,” he replied.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to lower my guard. You’ve tried to do it the entire time we’ve been together.”

  Violet’s eyes furrowed. “What are you talking about? He’s only been trying to keep us safe and occasionally engage in conversation. But you’ve been so engrossed with forging that sword that you haven’t been yourself.”

  Avani seemed taken aback by the words. For a moment, Violet thought she might apologize, but it didn’t last. The princess’ eyes grew fierce as her jaw set tightly. “I haven’t had time to engage in vapid conversation because I had an important task to complete, Violet. The fact of the matter is I don’t trust Lord Brandewulf here. Any man who has been spurned by Aldron and who volunteers to escort the swordbearer of the kingdom’s most important weapon is someone to be wary of.”

  Brandewulf stood up and laughed. “You Numan elves are truly paranoid. I can’t blame you, seeing as your family has practically turned against you,” he scoffed.

  Violet’s blood ran cold at the slight. She understood if Brandewulf were offended by Avani’s accusations, but no gentleman would insult a royal’s family so flippantly. “That was uncalled for, Brandewulf,” she replied.

  “Sorry,” he said, shrugging. “I can’t help but be truthful.”

  “Is that right? Then why are you really here? Admit it: you want the sword—that’s the only reason you came,” Avani said, boring into the man with her fearless stare.

  “Yes, I do want the sword, but not for the reasons you think. I want the Four Houses to defeat this dual threat posed by the dragons and Draknoir. And that sword is our best chance to do so.”

  Avani opened her mouth to argue, but another bird called out. Nearer this time. Violet turned toward the sound and saw a flash of movement in the snow just outside the tree line. A dark silhouette hid behind a hedge.

  “Did you see—”

  Violet’s words were cut short by a loud thwack. An arrow shaft struck the tree near Avani.

  “They’re here!” Avani yelled. She grabbed hold of Violet, pulling her to the ground as another arrow struck close to them. “Get to the horses; we have to move!”

  Brandewulf was on his feet in an instant. He poured his coffee onto the fire then ran for their steeds. Violet kept herself at a crouch as more arrows whizzed through the trees. She jogged toward Brandewulf, who had untied the reins. She reached out for the reins in the large man’s hand, but he pulled them away from her. Before she could question the move, he slapped the rear ends of both horses. The animals whinnied at the sudden impact, then took off at a gallop out of the thicket.

  “You’re no
t going anywhere,” Brandewulf said, his eyes set in a malicious expression.

  “I knew it. You traitorous wretch,” Avani said. She unsheathed the sword and ran at him.

  Violet stepped out of her way, still stunned at the events transpiring around her.

  Brandewulf unhooked the large club he carried on his belt and blocked Avani’s first strike easily. The elf whirled around, cutting low with the Requiem Sword. Brandewulf parried the move, then swung his giant mace in a vertical arc. It came inches from Avani’s skull. She was faster than the big warrior, but his strength could not be matched. One wrong move from Avani and Violet knew Brandewulf would kill her.

  The sound of hoofbeats nearby alerted her to the danger approaching. Violet looked around for something to protect herself with, but all she possessed was the small dagger tucked in her dress. She unsheathed it then circled around Brandewulf, hoping to stab him so Avani could get the upper hand. He noticed her action immediately despite Avani’s flurry of sword strikes. After he pushed his offense on the princess, he doubled back and swung at Violet. The fast swing caught her by surprise and she slipped in the snow as she dodged the blow.

  Avani pressed her small advantage by lunging the sword at Brandewulf’s side. He shifted on his heel to sidestep the move, but the sword cut through his outer tunic. He grunted in frustration. Violet spied a trickle of blood from the wound, but it did little to halt his attack. Swinging the mace with superior skill, he pushed hard against Avani. Though the princess parried the attacks successfully, Violet could see the perspiration on her face. Each block of those hard strikes came at a price. The sheer strength of Brandewulf’s blows was tiring her friend.

  Violet stood up from the snow and ran toward the fight, dagger held out in front of her. Before she could reach Brandewulf, two arrows landed on the ground at her feet. She squealed and jumped back at their sudden appearance.