***
Verd stared at Dillan. “A rumor will be arriving at port that Avonvale has fallen too.” Dillan raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. “But its more than a rumor,” Verd continued, “I saw the battle myself as we sailed down the river last night.” He then pointed out the window. “See that royal ship out there?”
Dillan turned and looked at the large warship sitting at port. “Yeah, I see it,” Dillan responded.
“Notice anything odd?” Verd asked.
Dillan stared at the ship trying to focus his eyes through his drunken haze. Nothing seemed unusual. The ship’s sails were furled and its colors flapped in the cool night breeze. Then it hit him. “There are no sailors on deck,” he said.
“Have you ever seen any ship at port, much less a warship, with out at least a watch on the gangplank?” Dillan shook his head as he turned back to look at Verd. “So…?” Verd began, allowing the word to hang in the air as a question.
“So, where are all of the sailors?” Dillan finished for him.
“Exactly.”
Dillan looked up as two large men practically carried a young, clean-shaven man in a long fur coat toward their table. Despite his clothing Dillan could tell the young man was nobility, probably high nobility from the look of him. Verd turned to look at them. He smiled at Erec and then turned back to Dillan. “This here is the Prince,” he whispered.
Dillan’s eyes widened. He looked up a Erec. “You’re alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” He then stood and leaned over the table and whispered in Verd’s ear. “The Wizard has probably already put a bounty on this kid’s head big enough to buy a castle. Let’s get back to the ship—we can talk to him there.”
Verd nodded and stood. He turned to look at Erec who reached out and kicked Verd between the legs. The old man sank to his knees as Erec stomped on one of his captors feet causing the man to release him and Erec elbowed him in the face then swung and punched the other. He spun to see the boy with the knife back up in fear, eyes wide, not wanting to stab Erec. Erec pushed past him and ran.
This all happened so quickly that Dillan, drunk for two days, did not have time to react until Erec was almost to the stairs. “Catch him!” Dillan shouted at his men, all of whom were at least as drunk as their captain and even slower to react. Dillan knocked over the table as he ran after Erec, pushing through the crowd of sailors that filled the tavern. Dillan almost fell down the stairs and saw Erec run out the front door onto the quay. Dillan and his men forced their way through the crowd and finally made it outside the tavern to see Erec running up the gangplank of the royal ship.
***
Erec ran up the gangplank of the royal ship shouting, “I am Prince Erec, men are after me and I am coming aboard!” Once on the deck of the ship he stopped, suddenly realizing that something was terribly wrong. In his haste he had failed to notice the deck was deserted. “Dung!” he said and drew his sword. He started to back toward the gangplank when the hatches opened all over the ship and drakmere poured out. His eyes opened wide in terror and he turned and fled. Erec reached the gangplank and had taken a few steps down it when he was snatched from behind by large, green-skinned claws.
The drak pulled him back onto the ship and threw him down onto the deck. Erec slammed the deck hard, but it barely fazed him as his adrenaline was pumping fast and he immediately regained his feet. He tossed the fur coat aside and moved into a fighting stance. There had to be at least thirty draks on the deck of the ship and he knew he could not win, but he would not be eaten alive. He would make them kill him first and, hopefully, he would take a few of them with him. He waited, ready for the attack. But the draks did not move in on him as he expected. They encircled him so that he could not flee, but then they just stood there hissing and baring teeth.
Then the circle parted revealing a man dressed in black from head to toe including his armor and a long flowing black cape. His face was covered with a black helmet. Erec knew immediately that it was the Black Knight. He had heard stories about him, but did not believe he was actually real until that moment. Erec faced him. The Black Knight did not hold his sword. What was he doing?
“Prince Erec,” he hissed through his helmet, “Welcome to Lattingham.” The Black Knight was so fast that Erec did not even see him move. Suddenly, he was on Erec with a black gauntlet punching the Prince in the jaw and lifting him into the air. Erec landed on his back hard against the deck of the ship. He saw the Black Knight standing over him just before everything went dark.
***
Dillan glanced around at his men who all stood on the quay, drunk and confused having chased after a man they did not know on the orders of their captain. They were in no shape to set sail. “Get back to ship,” Dillan said. “Sober up, we sail at dawn.”
The men began to walk off down the quay to the Vagabond. Dillan stood watching the royal ship as Verd limped out of the Ale Sea to stand beside him. “We had him, Verd.”
The old man nodded and placed a hand on Dillan’s shoulder. The captain turned to look at him. “Don’t despair my boy,” Verd smiled. “He told me his sisters escaped the castle as well.”
“Where are they?”
“Still on the road I imagine. They were separated, but the Prince says they are heading here. If we keep an eye out and grab them before the draks do, this night won’t be a total loss.”
Dillan nodded.
Chapter 14
The Wizard sat in the king’s chair in the great dining hall of Avonvale. It was a magnificent room with great tapestries depicting fierce battles of the Realm Wars, fire-breathing dragons, and Ehren. The tapestry which hung on the great wall behind the Wizard depicted Ehren wearing a crown of gold, sitting on a magnificent golden throne, holding her small child while a winged seraph stood behind her looking at the babe adoringly. Ehren was the great ancient matriarch of the House of Valestead and the royal family’s grandmother several generations removed. Legend had it that she was the bride of a seraph and they had a child who founded the House of Valestead here in the lush river valley. Seraph blood supposedly ran in the veins of the royal family of Avonvale, just as it did in the other eight kingdoms of the Middle Realm.
Morgan sat to the left of the Wizard. Morgan, of course, would have the seraph blood as well, the Wizard realized. To the Wizard’s right sat Lady Anne. She too had seraph blood, which is the only reason he was even considering her advances. She clearly desired him, but he was not a fool, and realized that it was not for any romantic reasons. He was much older than she and she was certainly not attracted to any physical characteristics he may possess. No, Anne was attracted to his power. She, like her brother, sought a crown. The Wizard was already beginning to consider making her his bride and giving her one. Then his offspring’s powers would be enhanced by her bloodline as well. Besides, she was quite beautiful and she had a cunning, if not devious, mind.
The Wizard turned to look at Anne. She stared back at him, her beautiful green eyes intoxicating him. She slid her hand under the table and let it rest on his leg while she smiled at him seductively. The Wizard allowed her to keep her hand there, but turned to Morgan.
“Do you anticipate much resistance to your rule?” he asked the new King.
Morgan considered the question for a moment. “The only real threat will come from Theron Greynault, now that the Prince and his sisters are dead.”
“Oh they are not dead, yet,” the Wizard said with a chuckle.
“But you said…”
The Wizard interrupted him. “I know what I said. I wanted Alexandeon to go to the pyre believing I had destroyed his line. Also, if the nobles believe the children are dead, they will be much more compliant. You would then certainly be the rightful heir.”
Morgan nodded.
“Do not concern yourself with Alexandeon’s offspring. We will have them soon enough. Tell me about Theron Greynault.”
“He was the Queen’s brother,” Morgan explained. “My uncle, Alexandeon, was closer to Theron
than he was to my father, his own brother. Theron’s army is smaller than mine, but not considerably. If the people support him, then he will be able to defeat me.”
“Why would the people support him? He has no claim to the throne,” the Wizard observed. “You have a legitimate claim and are the rightful king once Erec is out of the way.”
“Yes, but ascending to the throne on the back of an army of draks will be viewed by many as the worst kind of treason. Treason not only to my king and country, but also to my species.”
“The drakmere will come with me when I leave,” the Wizard said. “You will not require any to remain in support, will you?”
“The threat of being eaten by his Majesty’s draks would certainly discourage any from opposing you, brother,” Anne chimed in.
The Wizard turned to her. “Would it not bother you to see your countrymen eaten by drakmere?”
“Those that refuse to bow down before their Emperor and their rightful King deserve whatever punishment they receive,” she replied coldly.
The Wizard turned back to Morgan. “Where is Theron Greynault? Why did he not come to Alexandeon’s aid?”
“He could not possibly get here in time. He lives out west, a few days ride. He may not have even received word yet.”
***
Lord Theron Greynault had received word of the impending attack on Avonvale earlier that morning. It would take him at least two days to get his cavalry to the city, and another two days if he waited for his infantry. The day before, just as he and his family were preparing to journey to the castle to attend Terrwyn’s wedding, he had received word that Riversmeet had fallen, and he immediately began mobilizing his men. This upstart, known to most simply as the Wizard, would most likely be marching to Avonvale next. Theron did not know how long it would take the Wizard to get to Avonvale with his army and wanted to be there with his brother-in-law, the King, to fight it. Earlier in the day, Theron received his answer when word arrived from Alexandeon that the Wizard was moving on Avonvale. Theron was amazed at the speed which the draks could apparently move. It was at least twice as fast as any human army.
Theron made the decision to take his cavalry ahead. He would order his infantry to meet him at a predetermined point west of Avonvale. This would give his cavalry a point of retrograde to fall back to in case things went badly. However, if he needed his infantry to rendezvous with him at the city, he could simply send a rider to meet them with orders to do so. He had the utmost faith in his infantry commander, Sir Stanlas. The knight had served Theron since the two were both youths and was an accomplished military tactician.
Theron stood in the great room of Castle Greynault. He was dressed in his battle armor, a dark gray colored plate outlined with gold trim and a golden wolf’s head emblazoned on the breastplate. A long, gray cape hung over his shoulders and was clasped with the same golden wolf’s head. He stroked his gray beard as he stood with his wife and three sons. His daughters were not present as his eldest daughter, Sephene, was in Avonvale, a lady-in-waiting to Princess Terrwyn. His youngest daughter, Merdith, also his youngest child, was only eight. He and his sons had already said their good-byes to Merdith and the governess had taken her to pick berries, as watching them ride off to battle would be too upsetting.
Theron’s wife, Lady Azaleigh Greynault, stood beside her husband in a long dress of crimson—her hands clasped together just above her waist, her chin held high and confident, her long black hair pulled back into a bun kept in a golden cage atop her head. Her eyes darted between her three sons. The two eldest, Auguston, twenty years, and Breston, seventeen years, were dressed similarly to their father, except instead of gold trim on the armor, they had silver trim. The youngest, Staphon, thirteen years, wore a golden tunic over a white shirt. He was not dressed for battle. He ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair as his father began to speak.
“Boys,” Theron began, “you all know that we have received word from your uncle, the King, that an army of draks is marching on Avonvale. The Greynaults have been defenders of the kingdom for a millennia and my own sister was Queen of Avonvale. We will ride to the relief of the city and we will destroy this army of monsters.” He looked at Auguston. His eldest son was cocky, perhaps too cocky. He was too eager for a battle such as this. But, Theron had to admit that Auguston was a capable swordsman and horseman. “Auguston, you shall accompany me and the cavalry. We will ride ahead of the infantry to reinforce Avonvale as quickly as possible.”
Auguston smiled at his father, excitement beaming on his face. Theron then looked at Breston. The young man stood straight and proud, but the anxiety could be seen clearly on his face. He was not as cocky or brash as his older brother and would have been quite content if war had never come. Theron knew, however, that Breston had a brilliant mind for military strategy. His strategic understanding far exceeded Auguston’s as the elder son was more concerned with the thrill of the fight and not the planning of it. “Breston, you shall accompany Sir Stanlas and the infantry,” Theron said. “Should the cavalry be defeated before you arrive and your brother and I are killed or captured, you will be in command of our forces. Listen to Sir Stanlas. He is an experienced soldier.”
“Yes, Father,” Breston said, his voice cracking just a bit.
Theron then looked to his youngest son, Staphon. He patted the boy on the head. “Staphon, I need you to remain here at Castle Greynault to defend your mother and sister.” Staphon looked down at his feet. He had asked Theron if he could accompany the men to the battle, but his father had refused. “Look at me,” Theron said and the boy slowly lifted his head to look at his father. Theron knew he was not quite old enough for battle. “There should always be a lord here at Greynault. If the worst happens and your brothers and I are killed, you will be lord of our House. You will be the one to protect our family. Will you do that for me?”
Staphon nodded. “Yes, Father,” he said.
Theron smiled down at him and then pulled the boy close for a hug. He then looked at Azaleigh. She stood strong, but Theron knew she was torn apart inside. He took her hands in his and raised them to his lips, kissing her fingers. “We will see you soon, my love,” he said.
“Take care of my boys, Father, and bring them back to me,” she said sternly.
“I will, Mother,” Theron said to his wife. The two had begun addressing each other as mother and father, the same as their children, when Auguston was born. Azaleigh stepped past Theron to stand in front of Auguston. She took his face in her hands and kissed him on the cheek. “Take care of your Father, Auguston,” she said.
“I will, Mother,” Auguston promised.
“And you come back to me,” she said. He nodded. She then stepped over to Breston and kissed him on the cheek as well. “Be safe, my boy. Take care of yourself and your Father,” she said.
“Yes, Mother,” he said. She stepped back, wrapping an arm around Staphon’s shoulder and pulling him into her. She watched as Theron led Auguston and Breston away and out of the doors. She crossed the room to the window where she watched her husband and sons. Staphon joined her and she draped her arm around him.
Auguston climbed up into his saddle. Theron remained on the ground holding his horse’s reins. He placed a hand on Breston’s shoulder. “We shall see you in Avonvale in a few days, son.” Breston nodded. Theron turned and pulled his helmet on over his head. He then climbed into the saddle of his massive gray warhorse and cantered off for the front of the column of cavalry.
Auguston lingered for a moment. “See you, little brother,” he said to Breston.
Breston looked up at him. “You take care of yourself, Auguston,” he said.
“Do not worry. We’ll have those dirty draks cleared out long before you arrive,” Auguston smiled and then spurred his charger into a gallop after his father.
Breston walked back to the infantry, where he found the men already formed up into double columns. Sir Stanlas was at the head of the columns sitting atop a large brown mare a
nd holding the reins of Breston’s bay gelding. Breston accepted the reins from the knight and placed his left foot in the stirrup and climbed into the saddle swinging his right leg over the horse. He watched as the cavalry trotted off with his father and brother in the lead.
“Are you ready, lad?” Sir Stanlas asked. Breston nodded without speaking and Sir Stanlas shouted the order to march and the infantry moved forward.
Azaleigh stood in the window fighting back tears. Staphon watched his father and brothers leave, longing to go with them.
***
The Wizard sat in his room at Avonvale in a high-backed chair lined with velvet cushions and silk pillows. He was waiting for the knock on the door he knew was coming. He leaned upon the left arm of the chair, his chin resting on his thumb, his pointer finger against his cheek. He held a fine green glass filled with sweet red wine in his right hand. He took a sip of the wine and licked the lingering film from his gray lips.
The Wizard heard a light tapping at his door. “Come in,” he called invitingly. The door opened and Lady Anne stepped into the room. She had changed from her supp dress into a green velvet robe and slippers. It was the attire a lady would wear only in her chambers and for no man other than her husband. Her straight, reddish-gold hair hung loosely down her back. She stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind her. The Wizard took another sip of wine as he watched her without speaking a word. She lowered herself to her knees before him. He let her stay in that position for a moment taking another sip and then said “You may stand, My Lady.”
Anne slowly and elegantly rose to her feet in one smooth motion and then raised her head to look the Wizard in the eyes. He returned her gaze. “What can I do for you, My Lady?” the Wizard asked pretending not to know her true purpose in his bedroom. Anne did not say a word, but simply unbuttoned her robe and let it drop to the floor at her feet. She wore a sheer, silk gown underneath and the Wizard could see her beautiful breasts through the fabric. He took another sip of wine.
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