Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series

by Christopher Vale

  Hearing footsteps moving quickly down the wall, Alexandeon turned to his right to see Sir Tam come to a halt beside Erec. “A message from the Wizard Your Majesty,” Tam informed the King between breaths as he held out a rolled piece of paper. Erec took the paper from the knight, unrolled it and read the message.

  “The Wizard offers to let you keep your throne, Father,” Erec said amused at the man’s arrogant brashness. “All he asks,” Erec relayed sarcastically, “is that you swear fealty to him and give him our Dracenstone.” The other men on the wall gruffed at the Wizard’s audacity.

  The King stood staring at the Wizard who sat upon his mount, perched atop the hill. After a moment he turned, meeting his son’s eyes and reached out and took the paper. “Sir Tam, who is your best long bowman?” the King asked as he glanced down at the Wizard’s message.

  “That would be Turk, Sire,” Tam said without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Summon him,” the King responded and Sir Tam shouted the command for Turk to report. The men echoed Sir Tam’s call through the ranks until Turk acknowledged the summons. The rows of archers standing in the streets below parted as the large bowman made his way to the wall. Turk bounded up wooden steps to the top of the wall and jogged along the parapet, carrying his longbow and quiver of arrows to report to Sir Tam as commanded. Turk stood well over six feet tall with stringy black hair falling to his broad shoulders. The King looked him up and down. “You are the one called Turk?” Alexandeon asked the bowman.

  “I am, Your Majesty,” Turk said as he bowed his head toward the King.

  “Do you see the men atop the hill?” asked the King pointing toward the Wizard and Rayfen.

  Turk turned to look at them. “I do Your Majesty.”

  “Do you believe you can hit a target at that distance?” asked the King.

  “Farther, Your Majesty,” Turk said with an arrogant smirk on his face.

  The King laughed at the boast as he handed a scrawled note to Erec. “Attach this to his arrow,” the King instructed his son. Erec reached into Turk’s quiver, removed an arrow and tied the message to the shaft. He then handed the arrow to Turk. The King looked Turk in the eyes. “If you kill the man on the right with this arrow, I will give you as large a chest of gold as you can carry out of the castle.”

  Turk’s broad face parted in a large toothy grin, though at least three of those teeth were missing. “I can carry quite a bit, Your Majesty.” He then notched the arrow into his long bow. He pulled the bow string back, aiming it into the night sky. He adjusted for the wind and mentally took the air moisture into account and then loosed the arrow. The arrow flew high into the air.

  ***

  The Wizard Tamesis sat upon his white stallion, his robes of deep purple flowing in the wind, a short conical hat perched atop his head. His gray eyes glanced over his army of drakmere. More than enough to take Avonvale—if necessary. However, it would be so much better for everyone if the King would realize the hopelessness of his situation and surrender without a battle. Seeing the army of drakmere before him, coupled with the generous terms offered by the Wizard, might very well entice Alexandeon to surrender without a fight, thought the Wizard.

  Beside the Wizard, General Rayfen sat on a black warhorse, armored in black steel. As always, Rayfen was dressed completely in black. He wore black plate armor over a black tunic and a black cape donned his shoulders. Upon his head sat a black helmet which completely covered his face, the face mask molded into the shape of a human skull. No eyes could be seen in the helmet’s eye-holes, only darkness.

  Suddenly, Rayfen’s arm shot out in front of the Wizard and snatched an arrow out of the air before it could strike. The Wizard jumped, startled as his horse reared up in fright. “What is that?” asked the Wizard as he calmed his horse. Rayfen untied a small piece of paper from the shaft of the arrow and unrolled it to reveal a note. Rayfen quickly read the note and handed it to the Wizard.

  “It appears the King has refused your terms of surrender,” Rayfen hissed.

  The Wizard read the note quickly. “Very well,” he sneered as the paper burst into flame in his hand. “If a battle is what they want, then a battle is what they shall receive. Begin the attack.”

  General Rayfen reached into his cape grabbing his sword by its hilt and drew it, thrusting the blade high into the air. The metal was a dark gray color that reflected no light. The blade was long and jagged. He hissed a command even the Wizard did not understand and the great battle horns began to sound, spurring the drakmere forward into attack. The drums resumed their heavy beat as the hordes of armored drakmere moved forward.

  The ground shook as the Wizard’s army marched toward the city pounding their drums. Archers atop the city walls rained arrows down on the drakmere, but large wooden shields did their part to protect the beasts. Soon, the draks were at the walls. In an instant, the creatures dropped their shields and slung their weapons over their backs, freeing their hands to begin the ascent of the city walls.

  The Wizard smiled.

  ***

  King Alexandeon gasped as he watched drakmere climbing the city walls. The monsters had no need of ladders or grappling hooks as they could climb straight up the walls more rapidly than a man could climb a ladder. The King’s soldiers were not prepared for this. All of their warfare and siege training centered on fighting men, not monsters. Men would find it very difficult to assault and surmount a defended wall.

  Archers fired directly down at the draks. Soldiers threw stones over the side. The men were doing everything they could to prevent the draks from reaching the top, but there were simply too many drakmere ascending to adequately defend the wall. Thousands of drakmere were climbing up on all sides and hundreds began to reach the top.

  Lancers thrust their long steel-tipped lances through the first draks that crested the wall, but there were not enough men to stop them all. Drakmere began to pour over the walls and fight hand-to-hand with the soldiers. Many lancers and archers on the parapets drew their short swords and engaged the drakmere in close combat. The soldiers were quickly overpowered—many simply pushed off the wall—by the larger and stronger draks. Archers on the ground shot arrows at the draks coming over the wall, but could not loose their arrows quickly enough to prevent the wall from falling to the draks.

  Alexandeon stood upon the parapet, his great sword gripped in both hands as he slashed downward at a reptilian head which appeared at the top of the wall. The sword split the drakmere’s skull and the creature fell from the wall to the hard ground below. Sir Gwillym stood beside the King, a sword in each hand, cutting and slashing at the monsters coming over the wall. One leapt over the battlement and Sir Gwillym used the drak’s own weight and velocity against it, pushing it over the other side of the wall to the city streets below, where lancers quickly stabbed it.

  Erec was on the King’s right, fighting valiantly. A drak towered over the Prince and swung its large mace downward at him. Erec raised his shield just in time to block the blow. He then countered with a thrust of his sword just under the drak’s chain mail, puncturing the beast in the gut. With a jerk, Erec removed his sword from the belly of the monster causing dark green blood to splatter his face and helmet.

  Turk had remained on the wall loosing arrows at the assaulting drakmere with great accuracy. A drak crested the battlements and Turk shot an arrow through its head at point blank range. Just as the archer was reaching into his quiver for another arrow a drakmere’s battle axe removed his head from his broad shoulders. Beside him, Sir Tam, was lifted into the air and tossed over the wall where thousands of drakmere below crushed his bones beneath their massive feet.

  The King quickly surveyed the wall and realized that the current situation was hopeless. The city wall was too low to be adequately defended from the thousands of draks ascending it and it was too vast to be heavily defended at all points. The castle offered a superior defensive position and the King decided that in order to save his army and, therefore, his people, h
e would need to abandon the city—at least temporarily. He detested the idea of ceding the city wall to the Wizard’s forces, but if his men remained in this hopeless position they would surely all become drak food.

  “Fall back!” Alexandeon shouted to his men. “Back to the castle!”

  Archers on the ground held their position covering the lancers’ retreat down the stairs to the city streets. They shot their arrows quickly as the drakmere continued over the crest of the wall. The King descended the wooden steps to the street below where a squire helped him into the saddle of his large, black, armored charger. Erec was right behind his father and quickly mounted his brown mare. Sir Gwillym followed Erec and mounted his own brown mare and spurred the horse forward after the King.

  Although the city walls had never been taken in the entire history of Avonvale, the King’s regulars had rehearsed the scenario over and over again as part of their training. The men knew exactly what to do. Lord Bryan, captain of the archers, and son of the city commander Lord Bannistar, formed his men up into two battle lines. The first battle line was ten yards in front of the other. The front line shot arrows as the drakmere continued to climb over the wall until the order was given to fall back twenty yards. Then the first line fell back behind the second line which shot its arrows until given the same order and thus the archers covered their own retreat.

  “How many arrows do the men have left?” Lord Bryan asked Sir Patrick.

  “Only a few, My Lord,” the knight replied.

  “Last two!” Lord Bryan shouted and the order was echoed down the line. The men would loose two arrows apiece and then retreat. Both lines of archers shot their arrows and began falling back. They scrambled quickly as the drakmere ran after them, some of the beasts dropping to all fours to give chase. Drakmere were amazing sprinters and could run as fast as a horse over short distances.

  Lancers formed up behind the archers as the last line of defense. These armored soldiers stood hidden behind their heavy shields and their long lances extended in a type of phalanx. The lancers allowed the archers to slip through their lines and then closed ranks quickly as the drakmere approached. The lancers stood their ground as the drakmere impacted their lines. The first wave of drakmere were impaled on the long lances, but the second wave leapt over the the lances to attack the men themselves. Every lancer carried a short sword and the swords were quickly drawn as drakmere burst through the lines and the men fell back.

  Archers on the castle walls began raining arrows down on the drakmere as the lancers fell back to the castle fighting every step of the way. The lancers formed a semicircle around the castle gate as they fell back inside and the heavy iron gate was closed. Three drakmere made it inside the gate with them, where they found themselves trapped between an iron gate and the sharp point of a hundred lances. The three were quickly impaled. Only eleven lancers of the rear guard made it back into the castle walls alive and three of those were seriously wounded. However, inside they joined the ranks of hundreds more.

  With the outer wall now completely undefended, the drakmere swarmed over it and through the city gates which were now wide open. Citizens who had been unable to find shelter inside the castle walls huddled in buildings throughout the city, hiding from the windows, hoping not to be discovered and eaten by the drakmere now roaming the streets of Avonvale.

  ***

  King Alexandeon was accompanied by Sir Gwillym, Erec, and Lord Bannistar—the King’s senior most commander—as he climbed the steps to the castle keep, a high tower in the center of the castle from which he could direct the battle. He stepped onto the parapet of the keep and peered out over the city. Draks were everywhere.

  Alexandeon walked along the parapet scowling at the situation. “How are our defenses?” he asked Lord Bannistar.

  “We are in a much better position than at the city walls, Sire,” Bannistar replied. “We shall put up a formidable defense of the castle.”

  “Our only hope,” Alexandeon said, “is to force the draks to break themselves on the castle walls. We do not want a siege. We do not want draks roaming the city for weeks feeding on our people. We want them to attack and attack and attack, until there are none left to send against us. Then we shall send the men out to retake the city with heavy cavalry to crush any of the foul creatures that remain.” His companions nodded their agreement. “And kill this bastard, this self-proclaimed wizard, and his black knight.”

  Alexandeon heard female voices and turned to see Terrwyn and Taite running toward him along the parapet followed by Taite’s pet wolf.

  “Father!” shouted Terrwyn. “What is happening?” she asked.

  The King looked away not wanting to look his daughter in the eye. He waved his hand toward the city below as drakmere flooded the streets of Avonvale. “Look for yourself, daughter,” he said. “Avonvale is overrun with draks.”

  Terrwyn gasped as she surveyed the scene. Thousands of drakmere ran up the city streets toward the castle. “What are we to do, Father?” Terrwyn asked, clearly terrified and confused.

  “You and Taite are to go below,” the King instructed her. He motioned for two soldiers. “Escort my daughters to the strongroom,” he commanded. “Stand guard there until relieved.”

  “I want to stay with you, Father,” Taite protested as she wrapped her arms around the King’s waist.

  Terrwyn pulled Taite away. “We must go. Father’s right, we’ll be safe there.” Erec bent over and kissed Taite on the cheek and she hugged his neck. He then straightened and Terrwyn hugged him as well. “Take care of yourself, brother,” she said.

  “I will be fine,” Erec assured her. “I shall see you soon.”

  Terrwyn nodded and then followed the soldiers inside. The King turned to Sir Gwillym. “Post your ten best men outside of the strongroom,” he said.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Sir Gwillym and then turned to obey.

  “Sir Gwillym,” Alexandeon called after him. The knight turned back toward his king. “Be so good as to fetch the Dracenstone and take it to Terrwyn, please.” The knight nodded, spun on his heel, and walked away, as the King turned back to the battle below.

  Chapter 4

  Sir Gwillym moved quickly through the castle with ten of his best royal guardsmen marching in two columns behind him. They marched past a child huddled in fear, clinging to his mother’s skirt. They marched past an old woman kneeling beside the stretcher of her infirm husband. They marched past men and boys who had never swung a sword before, now outfitted for battle and trying to put on a brave face, but unable to hide the terror in their eyes. One such boy, who could be no older than thirteen years, stood alone in a corner gripping the hilt of a short sword tightly in both hands. The boy shivered uncontrollably from fear as tears streamed down his face. Gwillym stopped briefly and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The boy looked up at the knight and wiped the tears from his eyes. Gwillym nodded with a confident smile and then continued on his way.

  The hallway opened up into an antechamber on the far side of which was a large oak door that led to the strongroom. In front of the door stood the two soldiers sent by the King to escort Terrwyn and Taite to the strongroom. Sir Gwillym dismissed the soldiers, ordering them to return to their posts on the wall, then stepped up to the door and pounded on it loudly with his fist three times. There was a short pause before a small window at the top of the door slid open revealing Terrwyn’s blue eyes. She stared at him without saying a word or opening the door.

  “Tis I, Your Highness,” Gwillym said with smile. “Your father sent me.” He had known the King’s children all of their lives, but with everything going on he understood Terrwyn’s caution. Terrwyn slammed the window shut and Gwillym heard her slide the bolts open, unlocking the door. With a loud creak the heavy wooden door swung open into the strongroom. Terrwyn stood behind it, peeking around at Sir Gwillym. She beckoned him inside with a wave of her hand and the knight stepped into the room.

  The strongroom was roughly the size of
a large bedroom, though the stone walls were devoid of any decoration. The room had chairs to wait in, four small cots for sleeping, a small table for eating, and weapons on a rack standing near the wall. Candles provided the only light as there were no windows in the room and no fire burned in the large fireplace. Taite sat on a plush maroon rug in the middle of the floor, stroking Valko’s gray fur reassuringly, though it was clearly to reassure herself more than the wolf.

  Terrwyn quickly closed the door behind Gwillym and slammed the bolts home, apparently afraid drakmere might be lurking just outside in the hallway ready to pounce on her at the slightest opportunity. She fidgeted with her dress nervously. “How goes the battle?” she asked as she looked down at her feet. Sir Gwillym shook his head as she looked up at him. She nodded her understanding, smoothed her dress with her hands, and walked over to the table where she sat down in a chair. She placed her elbows on the table, leaning forward to bury her face in her hands. Gwillym walked over to Terrwyn and stopped beside her. He then set a brown leather satchel on the table in front of her.

  “What is this?” the Princess asked looking up.

  “The King asked that I bring you the Dracenstone.” Terrwyn’s eyes widened. She glanced back over her shoulder at her sister whose eyes had also widened. Neither had ever seen the Dracenstone, but everyone knew the legends of its power. Taite pushed Valko’s head from her lap, stood, and skipped over to stand beside Terrwyn. Both princesses stared at the satchel.

  “I’ve heard the stories, of course, but I did not know Dracenstones actually existed,” Terrwyn said in barely more than a whisper.

  “Well, have a look,” Sir Gwillym said. Terrwyn glanced over at Taite who nodded eagerly, then slowly opened the satchel and peered inside. She reached in and pulled out a large, oval stone. It was quite heavy and took both hands to pull it from the satchel. The stone was dark red with specks of gold and felt rough to her touch. Taite reached over and felt the stone, touching it delicately with the tips of her fingers. Suddenly wary of its power and not certain that they should be handling it, Terrwyn slid the stone back into the satchel, taking care to close and clasp the flap.