Keep of Dragons (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 3)

by Daniel Adorno

  KEEP OF DRAGONS

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Daniel Adorno

  Lost Coin Press

  Books by Daniel Adorno

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Note from Author

  About the author

  Daniel Adorno

  Lost Coin Press

  Keep of Dragons

  Daniel Adorno

  Copyright © 2017

  All Rights Reserved.

  Lost Coin Press

  St. Paul, MN

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are

  products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

  resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is

  entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or

  any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and

  punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions,

  and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted

  materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any

  manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the

  publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  http://www.danieladorno.com

  Books by Daniel Adorno

  The Azuleah Trilogy

  The Blade Heir

  Gauntlet of Iniquity

  Other Works

  The Shaman of Neroterra

  Thy Kingdom Come

  Carpe Tempus

  >>Visit Daniel’s Amazon Page for details.<<

  To Julian.

  Be bold and courageous in all you do, my son.

  Prologue

  Theodore Greimane rushed to the end of his small shop and grabbed unguents and potions from the shelves. He accidentally dropped one of the rare elixirs, spilling its contents all over the wooden floor. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed another bottle on the shelf more gingerly than before. Then he hurried to the other end of the room where a wooden chest was quickly filling with various contents including vials of the most expensive perfume in Azuleah. He gazed around the room, searching for any more items of considerable value that he could pack into the already overstuffed suitcase.

  A knock came upon the green door of the shop, startling Theodore. The hour was late—just after supper time. He had closed the shop early today after he’d received word that an imminent attack would come to Sylvania. Although he would never turn away a customer who might buy his high-priced goods, he didn’t need any distractions right now. He ignored the knocking and turned his attention back to the suitcase, struggling to think of what else he might need on his trip. Another round of knocking at the door caused him to lose his concentration. He gritted his teeth angrily then faced the door once more.

  “We’re closed for the day. Come back some other time if you wish to buy potions for your stock,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil.

  “My lord, it is Jarvis, your coachman. Are you ready to be taken out of the city?”

  Theodore stepped toward the door and swung it open. Outside, he saw the blanch face of a young man in his twenties. He wore a blue coachman’s uniform which had many dirt stains from the constant riding the man’s profession required. Beyond the coachman, Theodore spied a dark carriage with a pair of chestnut mares tied to the front. The horses stamped the dirt with their hooves, eager for their next journey.

  “Just give me a few more minutes! I’m almost done packing,” Theodore said. He shut the door on the coachman before the man could reply. There was no time to bandy words with a commoner.

  As he pondered what else he should bring, Theodore strolled into the storeroom and gazed around absently at the vast assortment of elixirs and potions organized inside. He sensed a presence behind him and spun around. There in the doorway of the storeroom was Lumiath, the elf seer who lived upstairs with him for quite some time. Theodore furrowed his brow in annoyance.

  “What is it?” Theodore asked.

  “Why are you still here, Theodore? I told you to leave hours ago,” Lumiath said. The elf gripped his oak walking cane and thumped it on the ground twice. This was a common gesture of his frustration at Theodore. He had tried to ignore the annoying thumping over the years, but the elf wouldn’t stop unless Theodore halted whatever spurious behavior he engaged in.

  “I know, I know. But I am a merchant I must have my goods! There is no one as proficient in the medicinal business as I.”

  Lumiath’s gaze turned deadly serious. His hazel eyes bore into the man before him. “A dragon approaches as we speak. The city will burn in a matter of minutes. You must go.”

  “All right,” Theodore said resignedly.

  The shopkeeper walked past the elf and turned back to his large chest on the floor. Beside it, an iron strong box held the majority of his profits from the store. The rest of his earnings sat inside three coin purses hanging from his belt. His ample belly shook the purses, causing the coins to clink noisily with his every step.

  “Where do you plan to go?” Lumiath asked.

  “The Sangre Isles, of course. My brother lives on Rolen’s Island—a veritable treasure cove for merchants. There's more competition in the port city, but I might turn a good profit.”

  “No, that will not do. You must go to Aldron first. I have a letter which you must deliver,” Lumiath said as he reached into his robe and procured a sealed envelope.

  “Am I a courier now?” Theodore asked incredulously.

  “You will take this letter to Helmer Silverhart,” the seer said, ignoring Theodore’s protest. “He will likely be staying at Gilead Palace. It is of utmost importance that this gets to him. Now get out of here, Theodore. The dragon is here.”

  Before Theodore could reply, the entire shop shook violently. A strong gust of wind rattled the door and outer walls. The building creaked and swayed like a vessel rocked by turbulent waves. Outside, he heard cries of panic and a deafening roar that made his blood run cold.

  “Is that–”

  “Yes! Now take this and go,” Lumiath said, shoving the letter into Theodore’s hand.

  Theodore nodded and took it. The coachman suddenly barged inside the shop. His face was ashen, and he looked as if he had seen a banshee. “My Lord, there’s—there’s...”

  “A dragon?” Lumiath asked absently.

  The young man nodded, eyes wide.

  “The chest and the strongbox! Load them onto the carriage!” Theodore snapped.

  Without hesitation, the coachman grabbed the items and hauled them out of the store quicker than a bandit. Another roar outside set Theodore’s teeth on edge. He turned to Lumiath who was now
ascending the staircase to the upper floor.

  “Aren't you coming?”

  “No, my home is here,” Lumiath replied.

  “But you prophesied this entire city would be burned to the ground. Please Lumiath, there's no need to be a martyr!”

  Lumiath turned to face him on the steps, a faint smile touching his lips. “My time has come, Theodore. Even elves cannot live forever. Not on this plane of existence, anyway. Deliver the letter. It is my dying wish.”

  “You're not dying, you fool! Come with me.”

  “My lord! Your effects are all stowed. We must leave — I see flames spreading in the southern corner of the city,” the coachman yelled from outside. He was already sitting on the buckboard, clutching the reins of the two agitated horses.

  “It is Yesu’s will for me to stay. And for you to leave,” Lumiath said, continuing up the stairs. “Goodbye, old friend.”

  “You are a fool, Lumiath!”

  Theodore turned on his heel and strode out of the shop. He jumped into the carriage and the coachman immediately snapped his whip to get the horses moving though they hardly needed the motivation. All around them there was the shrill sound of women screaming and men shouting orders to the city watch. Sylvania was on fire and burning wildly. Theodore held onto his strong box, fearful of looters who were taking advantage of the chaos surrounding them.

  “Ride fast and hard! Get us out of the city—away from here as fast as possible,” Theodore ordered the coachman.

  The horses broke into full gallop as the coachman flicked his whip at their backsides once more. A rush of wind swept past them. The dragon flew low overhead, allowing Theodore to glimpse the winged beast. Golden scales covered the creature’s massive body. Its large wingspan allowed it to glide effortlessly through the air. Theodore gasped when he saw its yellow eyes darting in every direction, searching for its next target. For a moment, Theodore feared this would be his end. He imagined the fire pouring forth from the creature’s mouth and setting the carriage aflame. But the dragon flew beyond them, unleashing another breath of fire into the Scarlet Quarter. The flames licked the rooftops of several buildings, including his former store. He swallowed hard when he realized Lumiath was still inside.

  “You stubborn fool.” Theodore whispered.

  He felt a stinging sensation in the corners of his eyes. Throughout his lifetime, many had called him a greedy, vain merchant—a man who valued money more than compassion or friendship. He couldn’t dispute such accusations. He'd spent his whole life seeking profit and easy living not caring who he might've hurt in the process. That is until he met Lumiath, the outcast of Evingrad. There were no two people in Azuleah less inclined to find friendship than he and the elf seer. Though he was loath to admit it, Theodore esteemed Lumiath highly. The elf was his only friend. And now as they rode away, avoiding the masses of people struggling to escape the onslaught, he realized too late just how much he cared about him.

  In a few seconds, they were clear of Sylvania and the dragon’s pyre. His shop in the Scarlet Quarter became indistinguishable from the other buildings engulfed in the flames. Large tongues of flame lit up the night for miles around. The carriage sped away while Theodore watched and sobbed. After a time, the fire became a tiny speck of light in the distance. Then it was no more.

  Chapter 1

  Lucius Nostra walked down the cobblestone path toward Seacliff Temple which sat on the jagged cliffs overlooking the Sea of Lagrimas. A gentle breeze swept through the area, tousling his hair and filling his nostrils with the salty smell of the waves crashing below. He wrapped his wool cloak around him tighter as he ascended the steps of the temple. The winter thaw was nearly underway, and the air had less bite than in previous weeks. Water dripped from the icicles hanging on the eaves and most of the snow covering the temple’s rooftop had melted.

  He stepped up to the door, knocked several times, and waited. A wind chime hanging nearby played a haunting melody as he sat on a bench next to the door. Siegfried entered his thoughts for perhaps the hundredth time that morning. Over the last few months, Lucius had tried in vain to meet with the king of Aldron, Silas Dermont, and formulate a plan to rescue his elf brother from Arkadeus. But the aftermath of fighting both Allesmeade and the insurgent faction of elves from Numa had overtaken Silas’ time. Aldron’s forces were regrouping during the winter for the next phase of the war. Ambitious defenses were being constructed to protect the royal city from any further attacks from either dragon or Draknoir.

  Lucius hoped to at least join a scouting party to Arkadeus. But Avani reminded him that the bitter winter would thwart any efforts to scout the Draknoir fortress or free Siegfried. Now with the imminent thaw, Lucius planned to redouble his efforts, with or without Silas’ help. Though he was an ensign in the Drachengarde now, he had no qualms with defying the king's orders. His brother was in dire need and if their places were reversed, Lucius knew Siegfried would not hesitate to find him.

  The door of the temple creaked opened and the gaunt face of a bald monk peered outside. It was Claude, one of Elendon’s proteges.

  “Oh, hello Lucius,” he said, a smile on his face wrinkled the corners of his eyes. “You're here to see Brother Elendon, I presume?”

  “Yes, Claude. He sent me a letter yesterday saying we should meet.”

  Claude nodded. “Indeed. He is holding a prayer vigil with some of the brethren, but do come inside. You may wait in his office.”

  Lucius followed the monk inside the temple and they walked through a dimly lit corridor. After they descended a short stairwell, Claude opened a door at the end of the short hallway. Inside, three stained-glass windows allowed a myriad of light to pour into the small room. A short table sat in the middle of the room with stacks of books, scrolls, and vellum placed upon it in a disorganized mess. In a corner was a washing basin and a simple wicker chair. Another large stack of books were on the seat of the chair, nearly reaching Lucius in height.

  "I will go fetch brother Elendon for you. Please make yourself comfortable until he arrives," Claude said, then walked out of the room.

  Lucius looked around the humble study and saw no other chair where he could sit. He thought about moving the stack of books on the wicker chair, but he thought better of it, not wanting to cause any offense by touching Elendon’s belongings. Thankfully, he didn't wait long before Elendon strode into the room and looked somewhat surprised to see him there.

  "Lucius? I didn't expect to see you so soon," Elendon remarked. He quickly glanced around his office and a look of shame passed over his face. "I'm sorry. I should have cleaned up before you arrived."

  "Oh, it's no trouble. My father, Helmer, has a similar habit of collecting books and failing to organize them." Lucius realized too late the veiled insult in his statement. "That is, your study is not unorganized—what I meant to say, is that men of studious nature tend to have many books to care for and catalog. If you catch my meaning."

  Lucius grimaced. He was probably better off not speaking any further. Elendon smiled and made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

  "Do not worry, Lucius. I know you meant no offense. We clerics are quite disorganized. It's all the solitude. I don't have many visitors, save for my fellow clerics. And their rooms are just as chaotic as this one. So the precedent for organization is lacking."

  Lucius allowed himself a grin.

  "Please, move those books and take a seat won't you?"

  Lucius placed the stack on the floor and sat. The cleric pushed a few scrolls off his desk then propped himself up on the makeshift seat. He pulled a small pipe from a hidden fold in his robe. On the desk, he procured some sweet-smelling pipeweed from a tin and stuffed it into the mouth of the pipe. Elendon took a few puffs after lighting it then released a stream of smoke from his nostrils. The pungent odor was reminiscent of incense.

  “Do you mind?” Elendon asked, lifting the pipe. “I find it helps me think and form the right words in my mind.”

  “Not at all,”
Lucius replied, trying to breathe through his mouth to avoid the strong smell. “So, I'm here. What did you want to talk about?”

  Elendon frowned, but more to himself than at Lucius. He looked hesitant to speak. After another drag on his pipe, he placed it on the desk and folded his arms.

  “Do you remember the first time you came here?” He asked.

  "Of course, I came to learn more about Yéwa and Yesu."

  "Yes, yes you did," Elendon said. "And since then we have met several times. You've had more questions about Yesu. I must admit I’ve learned more about him after your... death and revival. But I’m always eager to answer whatever inquiries you have."

  Lucius furrowed his brow. He wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but he could sense Elendon was hiding something.

  "Is something wrong, Brother Elendon?"

  Elendon swallowed hard. "There's no easy way to say this so I'll just be blunt. I've been keeping a secret from you for quite some time now, Lucius. Since you first arrived here and revealed you were a descendant of Cervantes, I knew your identity almost immediately."

  "I'm not quite sure I understand."

  "I knew your father, Simeon Nostra. He came to me many years ago."

  Lucius stood from his seat, his eyes widened.

  Elendon raised a hand, motioning for him to remain seated. "Please, let me finish and you will have a chance to ask whatever questions you wish."

  He sat back down and waited intently for the priest’s next words.

  "Your father was desperate to leave Aldron and protect your mother and his unborn child from harm. So like others before him, he came to the temple for help. We strive to help the helpless and provide refuge for the oppressed. He knew the Draknoir were hunting him, and spies were likely tracking his movements.

  Knowing the danger he was in, I offered sanctuary for a few months. But he caught wind of a spy asking questions at one of the inns nearby. He knew they could not stay. I did my best to convince him to lie low and have patience. But Simeon—Yesu bless him—was not optimistic. They left when your mother was very close to the birthing month. He told me he desired to go to Und, but I imagined he would not get there before your mother would be in labor. Several weeks after he left, I sent a letter to a colleague who resides in Und. I wished to know if they had arrived safely. But the reply confirmed what I had feared. Your parents had not made it to the city and had likely perished,” he said sadly. Elendon picked up his pipe and took another puff before releasing the smoke into the air.