Contents
Title Page
Dracengard Book One
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
Epilogue
Dracengard Book Two
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
Dracengard Book Three
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
Dracengard Book Four
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
Dracengard Book Five
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
Epilogue
Dracengard Book Six
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
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
The Forgotten Knight
Blitzkrieg
Glossary
About the Author
Dragon’s Keep
The Complete Dracengard Series
Christopher Vale
Copyright © 2016 Christopher Vale
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
Cover image by:
Kanea, licensed from Shutterstock.com
Dracengard Book One
Prologue
The darkness of the tunnel engulfed the workers as they swung their picks against the hard, gray stone, digging ever deeper into the mountainside. They were slaves, dressed in tattered rags, working endlessly, night and day, and receiving just enough food and rest to stay alive and continue working.
Jon knew he was somewhere in the Scorched Mountains, but did not know anything beyond that. He and the other slaves had been snatched from their homes in the middle of the night and taken down into the tunnel. Jon did not know exactly how long he had been there because determining the days would have required seeing the sun, but he believed he had been at it for months. None of the slaves knew exactly what they were doing digging in the tunnel, except that they were searching for something. What they were searching for was unknown, but they were assured that they would know it when it was found. Jon picked away at the rocks endlessly, driven by the crack of the drakmere’s whip.
The drakmere, reptilian humanoids from the boggiest areas of the swamps, were vicious and cruel creatures with dark green skin, powerful tails, and elongated snouts, not unlike those of alligators. The beasts typically towered over men, standing between six and eight feet tall when upright on their hind legs. Their mouths drooled over their long, sharp teeth as they watched the slaves, and it was widely known that human flesh was their favorite food. The slaves were worked mercilessly by the drakmere, motivated by the knowledge that the least able among them would become the monsters’ dinner.
Humanity had fought with the drakmere, or draks as many called them, for as long as anyone could remember. Until recently, the draks had never before organized into anything more than small raiding parties, and those raiding parties never ventured far from their swamps. In the last few months, entire armies of drakmere armed with iron and steel weapons marched out of the swamps and against the kingdoms of mankind.
As dark, cruel, and evil as the drakmere were, there was none as terrifying as the Black Knight. Even the drakmere, who referred to him as Lord Rayfen, cowered in fear at the mention of his name. The mere thought of him evoked horrible feelings of dread and despair and he would often appear in the tunnels seemingly from nowhere. He always wore the same black armor, with long black cape flowing behind him. None of the slaves had ever seen his face as it was hidden behind a black helmet which formed the shape of a skull. Jon shuddered and tried to turn his thoughts away from the Black Knight.
Jon swung his pick, shattering rock and stone. He swung again, but this time, after the dust cleared, he saw something unusual on the rock wall. He squinted in the darkness to try and make out what it was. As he stood staring at the wall, he heard the hiss of a drakmere behind him. “Keep working, slave, or I shall have you for my dinner,” the monster threatened.
Jon turned around and bowed his head to the drakmere, respectfully. One never knew when a drak might fly off the handle and simply kill a slave for any reason, or no reason, at all. It was certainly best to tread lightly around them. “I think I have found something,” he said. The drak snatched a lan
tern from the wall and shoved Jon out of the way. Holding the light up, it peered at the wall looking directly at what Jon could only describe as writing.
“I see nothing,” it hissed at Jon, its small reptilian brain clearly unable to decipher any difference between the cracks in the stone wall and what clearly, to Jon, was intentional carving.
“There,” Jon said pointing to it. “That looks like writing, though not any language I am familiar with.”
The drakmere squinted in the dark and leaned in closer. “It looks like nothing more than a crack in the wall to me,” it hissed. “Get back to work!” It turned to walk away.
Jon swallowed hard. “Sir, if you will allow me a small hammer, chisel, and brush I can be sure,” he said through dry lips. The drakmere did not respond, but cocked its head to look at Jon. “If it is nothing, then I can go back to picking, but if it is something, Lord Rayfen will be pleased,” Jon explained. “Pleased with you.”
The drakmere considered this for a moment, its small brain taking longer than a human child’s would to realize that there was no downside for it to acquiesce to Jon’s request. It then nodded its approval and sent for a hammer, chisel, and brush.
With tools in hand, Jon began to lightly hammer at the wall, tapping gently so as to preserve the carvings hidden behind the mountain rock. For hours Jon tapped and chiseled, brushed and cleared, until finally he had uncovered an area along the wall about five feet in diameter. He stepped back and took a lantern from the wall to cast more light onto his project. He heard the crunch of rocks behind him as the drak returned to inspect his work as well. It leaned over and Jon could feel the creature’s breath on his neck. What Jon had discovered was so clearly carvings that even the drak recognized it as such.
“What is it?” hissed the beast.
“It looks like seraph symbols to me,” Jon replied.
“What is seraph?” the reptile asked.
“Some call them faeries or fae,” Jon replied. “Others call them angels.”
“Angels?” the creature hissed in fear and took a few steps back. Clearly it had heard of angels. “Are you certain?” it asked Jon.
“Yes,” said Jon. His mother had been deeply religious and he spent many hours of his childhood with the Priests of Avalon learning of the seraph and the Realm of Light—learning of the Realm Wars and how the seraph, as they called themselves, had saved humanity from eternal darkness.
According to ancient lore, there were three realms. The First Realm, or Realm of Light, was perpetually light—darkness never fell. The Second Realm, or Realm of Darkness, was perpetually dark—dawn never broke. And the Third Realm or Middle Realm, spent half the day in darkness and half the day in light. That was where Jon and all other humans lived.
Legend claimed that over a thousand years ago, the seraph—rulers of the Realm of Light—fought the last of the Realm Wars against the shedom and their demonic forces from the Realm of Darkness. These wars were fought in the Middle Realm where the forces of darkness were defeated and humanity was saved. Of course, that was just myth. Jon had not really believed in the seraph, shedom, or the Realm Wars in several years—not since he was a child. At least, not until he stood in a dark tunnel, deep inside of a mountain, staring at seraph carvings. Could it be true? Could it all have really happened?
The drak ran off, screeching that it had found something and someone should get word to Lord Rayfen. Soon, other slaves crowded around Jon to see the find, but they moved quickly out of the way when more drakmere marched down the dark tunnel to see what it was that Jon had uncovered. All of the drakmere clearly feared the seraph and Jon smiled at their discomfort as he explained again that they were seraph symbols. His enjoyment was short lived, however, because the drakmere soon discussed sending word to Lord Rayfen of Jon’s discovery. That meant that the Black Knight would come to see what Jon had uncovered for himself. Jon might even have to speak to him. A chill ran up his spine. He looked again at the seraph carvings and wondered what it all meant and why the Black Knight would care.
Chapter 1
The horse’s hooves clattered on the cobblestones as Sir Bryn rode his brown gelding down the hill from the castle walls to the docks. Sir Bryn was a large man with an impressive mustache, which covered much of his mouth and lower cheeks. He was commander of the City Guard of Riversmeet, the capital of the Stromland. Sir Bryn wore brigandine armor—overlapping steel plates—covered with soft green velvet and embroidered with gold thread. A long, dark green cape draped over his shoulders and was clasped below his neck with a golden shield. Upon his head sat a golden helmet without a visor.
It was late, but as Commander of the City Guard, Sir Bryn felt it was his duty to patrol the streets on a semi-regular basis to ensure all was well and to inspect his men. More than once he had caught one of his guardsmen asleep or drinking in a tavern when he was supposed to be on duty. Depending on the infraction and the Commander’s mood, such derelictions of duty could be punished by any number of means, from simply being relieved of duty to being sent to the stockade.
Sir Bryn had not intended a patrol this evening, but he had laid in bed unable to sleep, his wife snoring gently beside him. He decided not to waste the night away staring at the ceiling and rose, dressed, mounted his horse and rode off to inspect the city. As he rode through the streets, he saw nothing amiss. All of his men were awake at their posts or dutifully patrolling the streets. All of the reports assured him that everything was peaceful.
He then decided to ride down to the port to inspect the docks. As the name implied, the city of Riversmeet was established along the junction of the Ehren, Dracen, and Strom Rivers, and was a major trade port. While the occasional smuggler was apprehended at the port, the guardsmen stationed at the docks mostly broke up fights between drunken sailors and arrested pick-pockets and other petty criminals.
Sir Bryn directed his horse down a short ramp that led from the cobblestoned street to the wooden dock. He rode along the dock, observing that the night was very quiet and he could hear the water lapping against the ships and pier. He saw that the lights still burnt brightly at the Merry Mermaid, a popular tavern with the sailors. Music floated from the tavern and down to his ears, but no trouble appeared to be brewing there. He rode past the tavern realizing that the dock was mostly deserted, but he soon came upon four of his men out on patrol. He reined in his horse as the patrol halted in front of him. The men were dressed similarly to Sir Bryn, but carried long lances in addition to their short swords.
“Good evening, Commander,” said Lance Corporal Cerys, the senior-most guardsman on the patrol.
“Good evening,” Sir Bryn replied. “All appears quiet?”
“Yes, sir, no trouble so far this evening,” Cerys replied.
“Let us hope it remains so,” Sir Bryn said as his horse began to snort. The gelding danced around nervously and looked as if it were about to bolt. “Settle down,” Sir Bryn said softly as he patted his horse on the neck.
“Must not like the water,” Cerys volunteered.
“He has been down here numerous times, but has never acted like this,” Sir Bryn said as he looked about trying to find the source of his horse’s unease. Sir Bryn saw something near the river, a dark shape crawling out of the water and onto the dock. “What is that?” he asked and the four guardsman followed his gaze to see the large, dark shape rising from the dock. Then another came out of the water, followed by another.
“You there,” Cerys shouted, “halt in the name of the King!” Cerys began to walk toward the large shape followed by the other three guardsmen. As they approached the shapes, Sir Bryn noticed more and more of the things climbing out of the water up and down the dock.
“Cerys!” he shouted.
“Yes, sir?” the Lance Corporal responded and turned to look at the Commander.
“Fall back!”
Cerys turned back toward the shapes and heard a hiss before they leapt toward him and his men with a terrifying shriek. By the time Cerys rea
lized what they were, he and his men laid dead on the docks. Sir Bryn spurred his horse to a gallop and the gelding was more than happy to flee down the docks.
“Sound the alarm!” the Commander shouted. “Sound the alarm!” He rode on, shouting until he finally heard the alarm bell ring. He reached the ramp that led up from the docks to the city and guided his gelding up to the cobblestones once again.
He rode toward the city walls as he saw torchlights moving through the streets, the guardsmen rushing to action upon hearing the alarm. He met a dozen of his men coming down to see what was the matter, his nephew Bendal with them. “Bendal, wake everyone and find General Trapp. Tell him we are under attack,” the Commander ordered.
“By who, sir?” Bendal asked.
“By drakmere!” the Commander shouted.
Chapter 2
Terrwyn was flying. The Princess soared high above the sea, then dipped down to feel the cool, salty mist on her face. She knew that she was in the midst of a dream—a wonderful dream—and her awareness of that fact enthralled her for she knew that sometimes, just sometimes, she could control what happened when she knew she was dreaming. As Terrwyn flew just above the waves, she began to think of a playful group of dolphins and a school of dolphins suddenly appeared in the blue water swimming along with her. The dolphins took turns leaping out of the cool water, squealing with delight as they jumped beside Terrwyn. Terrwyn glanced up from the water and dolphins to see the beach rapidly approaching. She reached the beach and continued to soar above the white sands. Enjoying the dream’s path thus far, she decided to fly further inland over fields and forests until she eventually crested snow-peaked mountains.
Terrwyn peered down at the tall mountains and green valleys enjoying the magnificent beauty from the clouds. Soon she came to her home, Avonvale, the capital city of a kingdom with the same name. Avonvale was nestled along the Ehren River in a beautiful valley of lush forests and green fields. The river was very wide, almost half a mile at this point, and easily accommodated large ships. Avonvale and the smaller port at Lattingham, south of Avonvale, were always busy with trading ships heading south, often all the way to the Glass Sea. The city climbed foothills which led to the high snow peaked mountains further west. The river ran down from the north and wound east of the city. Much of the city was built along the river but outside of the walls that protected it. The old city, that portion protected by the walls, was now less than half the total size of Avonvale. The castle, home to Terrwyn and her family, stood atop a hill in the center of Avonvale, like a sentinel overlooking the city. The castle’s high stone walls and beautiful spires formed a comforting presence in the sky and filled Terrwyn with pride as she flew overhead.
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