Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series

by Christopher Vale

  “The Wizard said we are to accompany you,” hissed one of the draks.

  Anne looked down at them as one might a footstool. “And you will serve and obey me on this journey,” she commanded.

  “We are not servants,” hissed the other.

  “Shall we discuss this with the Wizard?” she asked. “Or with General Rayfen? This mission is for him,” she lied.

  “No need for that,” the first drak said.

  “Very good,” said Anne. “Then let us go.” She squeezed her knees against Isabella’s flanks and the palfrey began walking forward, relieved to be moving away from the draks. The monsters walked beside the horse until Anne scolded them. “You shall stay behind me,” she ordered and the draks dropped back.

  As Isabella walked across the courtyard, Anne turned back to look at the castle. She saw the Wizard standing in the window watching her. She stared at him for a moment and then turned away and pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head obscuring her face from view. She wanted to play a little hard to get this morning. After all, she had made herself very easy to get the night before and she had to keep him desiring her—longing for her. The last thing Anne wanted was to be replaced while on a mission for the Wizard.

  Once they were through the castle gates, Anne urged Isabella to a canter and the draks ran to catch up. If Anne was nervous about the task at hand, it did not show. She seemed completely calm as she cantered through the city. The streets were mostly deserted with the city’s residents preferring to stay out of sight of hungry drakmere. The city would liven up once the draks left, Anne told herself. And then, once this war was over and the Middle Realm completely under control, she would convince her brother to throw the largest ball in the history of Avonvale for the Wizard and his Empress, Anne.

  But that was in the future. To get there, she had to perform a task for the Wizard. It was a fairly simple task. Kill Theron Greynault. She knew she could get close to him—close enough to kill him. The tricky part would be escaping with her life once she had done so.

  The Wizard stood at his window and watched as Anne cantered away through the city. He smiled to himself. He liked her and hoped that she would not be captured or killed. But if she was, she could be replaced. He turned away from the window to face Lord Rayfen. The Black Knight stood on the opposite wall, far from the light of the windows. He had arrived a few moments earlier with news and the Wizard had sent for the new King. He enjoyed summoning kings to him. There was a timid tap on the door and the Wizard knew that it must be Morgan.

  “Enter,” the Wizard said as he sat down in his chair and leaned back against the velvet cushions.

  Morgan opened the door and stepped inside. He saw that Rayfen was there as well and shuddered a bit. He closed the door behind him and stepped over in front of the Wizard. “You needed to see me, Your Majesty?” Morgan asked. The Wizard did not respond. He stared at Morgan and then his eyes cut to the floor at his feet. Morgan swallowed and then dropped to one knee.

  The Wizard let Morgan remain kneeling for a moment to remind the boy who his master was. Eventually he said, “You may rise, King Morgan.” Morgan stood. “There is news from General Rayfen,” the Wizard said motioning to the Black Knight. That forced Morgan to turn and face Rayfen, making him even more uncomfortable.

  Rayfen stood close to the wall completely out of the sunlight. He looked at Morgan and then back at the Wizard. “We have captured Prince Erec,” he hissed.

  The Wizard smiled. “Where is he now?”

  “A group of drakmere are bringing him from Lattingham,” the Black Knight informed him.

  “And the Princesses?” the Wizard asked.

  “They escaped,” Rayfen hissed.

  “How?” asked the Wizard.

  “Sailing south on a ship called the Vagabond,” Rayfen said.

  “Then we must capture that ship,” the Wizard commanded.

  “Of course,” said Rayfen. “I will see to it at once.” He turned and left without waiting to be dismissed.

  Morgan watched him go and waited until the door shut behind him. He then turned back to the Wizard.

  “Your Majesty, have you seen my sister this morning?” he asked.

  The Wizard stared at him. “Yes,” he replied. “She just left the castle.”

  “Left?” Morgan asked confused. “Where is she going?”

  “To kill Theron Greynault,” the Wizard said with a crooked smile.

  ***

  Theron Greynault’s cavalry halted by a stream to water the horses. They had ridden through the night and were going to make camp for a few hours to let the horses and men rest. An army too exhausted to fight was no use to anyone. A command tent had already been set up for Theron and his staff and he stood over a table examining a large map spread out before him. To his right stood his son, Auguston. He too looked at the map, but was unsure what his father was trying to find. After all, they knew how to get to Avonvale. What did they need a map for?

  To Theron’s left stood his cavalry commander, Sir Galt. Sir Galt pointed to a spot on the map northwest of Avonvale that indicated hills. “If we ride north of these hills, we can circle around any forces that may be laying siege to the city,” the knight said. “That should give us a vantage point without actually engaging the enemy. From there, we can determine if we want to wait for the infantry or ride to the relief of the city.”

  Theron nodded. “If we choose to attack from there, we would be at the enemies’ rear and could gain the element of surprise.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Sir Galt. “And, if they were already weakened to the point of not wishing to resist us, we could push them southward.”

  “Right into the lances of our infantry,” Theron smiled. He straightened and slapped Sir Galt on the back. The knight returned the smile. Theron looked at Auguston. “What do you think of the plan, son?”

  Auguston nodded. “It makes sense to me,” he said.

  “But what is missing?” Theron asked his son.

  “Sir?”

  “What don’t we know that we would like to know and should know at this point?”

  “The number of the enemy?” Auguston said confidently.

  “It is not uncommon to be ignorant of an enemy’s strength at this stage. How could we possibly know it?”

  “The status of the battle?”

  “True, but the status could certainly change by the time we arrive,” said Theron. “But, what is something that we do not know that a commander should always know before going into battle?”

  Auguston stared at him blankly.

  “We should know the size of our own forces,” Theron said. “Even if we knew the size of the enemy and the status of the battle, we could not finalize a plan of attack until we knew how many men were with us. Where are the other lords’ armies? Where is Lord Morgan? Likely making similar plans to ours. He has a very large force and if we can coordinate our plans with his and those of the other lords, we have a greater chance of success.”

  Sir Galt sniffed. “Lord Morgan has likely already bumbled and lost us that opportunity,” the knight said, clearly not impressed with the military acumen of the King’s nephew.

  Lord Theron ignored the remark. It would not be proper for him to insult Morgan at this point. Not until he was sure Sir Galt was correct, which Theron had to admit to himself at least, was likely. “Let us get some rest. We shall move again in four hours.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Sir Galt replied and went to relay the order to his men.

  “I should have seen what you meant, Father,” Auguston said.

  “It’s alright, son,” said Theron as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’re getting there.” Auguston nodded. “Now go get some sleep. We’ll have a rough few days ahead of us.”

  ***

  Captain Dillan stood on the foredeck of the Vagabond as it sailed down the Ehren River southward toward the port at Elwood. He leaned against the rail holding his hat in his hand and enjoyed the wind blowing ag
ainst his face and through his brown hair. He adored sailing as an almost spiritual experience. Dillan closed his eyes and cleared his head of all concerns, all the events of the past few days. Exhaling a long breath he was finally able to relax.

  Dillan’s relaxation was interrupted when he heard the sound of boots tapping against the deck. He sighed to himself and opened his eyes as his lips formed into a frown, but he did not turn.

  “Sir?” he heard a female voice behind him. He slowly turned and saw Terrwyn standing there alone. He glanced around the ship wondering where the little one was, and then noticed her leaning over the starboard rail watching the river pass by beneath the ship. Her large gray wolf was beside her, up on his hind legs with his front paws atop the railing, his tongue hanging out and flapping in the breeze. Dillan could not help but smile to himself.

  He forced the smile to remain on his lips as he turned to Terrwyn. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “Well, sir, as you pointed out, you did save my life and I was hoping I might have the honor of knowing my rescuer’s name,” she said.

  His smile broadened as he dropped into a dramatic bow, bending deeply at the waist, his arms outstretched at his sides. “Captain Dillan of the Vagabond at your service, Your Highness,” he said and then straightened and replaced his hat upon his head.

  Terrwyn was taken aback. It was her intention to hide her identity from these sailors. “You know who I am?” she said.

  Her shock and surprise tickled Dillan and he laughed out loud. “Forgive me, Princess,” he said when he realized that his laugh might have offended. “It does not take a seer to put it together. You and your sister arrived by carriage under the protection of two royal guardsman attempting to board a royal ship, shortly after a battle where the castle and city were lost. You were then pursued by drakmere and the Black Knight.”

  “I guess it was sort of obvious,” she admitted.

  “Don’t feel too bad, Your Highness. It helped my deduction when I saw your brother captured earlier in the evening.”

  “Erec?” Terrwyn almost shouted. “He was captured?”

  “Yes,” Dillan said, suddenly regretting the cavalier manner in which he had released that information to her and he quickly changed his tone. “I am sorry to be the one to have to inform you.”

  “Was he taken alive?”

  Dillan nodded. “As far as I could tell he was,” the captain assured her. “I would assume it would make more sense to capture all of you alive than to kill you, at least for now. So, I suspect the Prince lives.”

  The news of Erec’s capture was shocking to her. She had hoped that he would meet her at the royal ship, but at least he was not lying dead in the woods beside the river as she had feared. She also knew there was nothing she could do to help him. She had to get to Dracengard. Above all else. She could not save her brother. She glanced over her shoulder at Taite and smiled. She could still protect her sister. That is, unless they were already captured, prisoners of a pirate who intended to sell them to the Wizard.

  Terrwyn turned back to face Dillan. He was leaning back against the rails, arms crossed over his chest, smiling at her. “Were my guardsmen correct?” she asked.

  “About what?” Dillan returned.

  “Are you a pirate?”

  Dillan chuckled and considered the question for a moment. “I prefer the term privateer,” he said with a sly grin.

  “And what are your intentions?” Terrwyn asked staring at him, her face devoid of any emotion.

  “Intentions, Your Highness?” Dillan asked.

  “What do you intend to do with my sister and me?”

  Dillan raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. “What is it you would have me do, Your Highness?” He then bent at the waist to bow again. “Is there somewhere we can take you?”

  “Take us to Dracengard,” she said without hesitation.

  He straightened, then scoffed. “Dracengard?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “It will be worth a chest of gold to you. A title, lands, whatever you want.”

  “And what would a scurvy sea rover like me do with a title or land?” he asked. She said nothing and after a long pause he continued, “But, I will take you wherever you would like.”

  “Dracengard,” she said.

  “Dragons’ Keep,” he corrected her.

  “Excuse me?” she said indignantly.

  “If you are going to attempt to hide the fact that you are royalty, perhaps you should start speaking in the common tongue. In the common tongue, Dracengard is known as Dragons’ Keep.”

  Dillan walked past her to where he could look over the entire ship. “Men!” he shouted and his crewmen stopped whatever task was being performed and looked up at him. “We sail for Dragons’ Keep!” The sailors cheered loudly as if he had told them he had just discovered buried treasure. Dillan turned back to Terrwyn, his arms spread wide.

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said and began to walk away. She stopped and looked at him. “This is a ship full of men,” she observed.

  “Aye, ‘tis,” he replied.

  “Where shall my sister and I be quartered?”

  Dillan pondered the question as he stroked his goatee. “I suppose the crew’s berthing area would not be up to the standards of a princess,” he frowned. “You may have my cabin,” he stated, obviously believing himself magnanimous.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Terrwyn replied and then climbed down a ladder to the main deck where she retrieved Taite and Valko and went below.

  Dillan turned back to the river. Starron came up beside him.

  “Dragons’ Keep, Captain?”

  “Yes, Mr. Starron,” Dillan replied. “The Princess wants to go to Dracengard.”

  The two sailors smiled at each other as the ship sailed down the river.

  Epilogue

  Jon stood terrified in the darkness of the tunnels. He could hear the rustle of Rayfen’s long, black cape as the Black Knight moved down the tunnel toward him. Jon’s knees hit the cold stone and he bowed his head as Rayfen stepped out of the darkness. Rayfen ignored Jon and stared at the carvings Jon had discovered deep in tunnels of the Scorched Mountains. He held no light and needed no light. He saw better in the dark. Jon could hear his deep breaths in the darkness. A drakmere, the one that was overseeing Jon when he made the discovery, timidly stood behind the Black Knight without saying a word.

  “Do you know what these are?” Rayfen asked through his skull shaped helmet, without taking his eyes off of the carvings.

  “No,” answered the drakmere.

  “I was speaking to the human,” Rayfen snapped at the monster.

  Jon swallowed hard, a chill running down his body. “They are seraph symbols, m’Lord,” he whispered, barely able to speak through his terror.

  “Yes,” said Rayfen, drawing the word out into a long hiss. “Do you know what they mean?”

  “N-no, m’Lord,” Jon stuttered.

  Rayfen smiled to himself. “This is a great seraph seal,” he said simply.

  Jon’s curiosity overcame his fear and he looked up at the symbols squinting through the darkness. “A seal for what, m’Lord?” he asked.

  “It seals the gateway to the Realm of Darkness,” the Black Knight replied. “We must break the seal so that my brothers may join us here.”

  Jon was sorry he asked. The fear seized him so suddenly that he almost soiled himself. He was kneeling in front of a gateway to the Realm of Darkness? The Black Knight was from the Realm of Darkness? Suddenly, Jon felt very cold, as if all of the heat from all of the world had gone out.

  “We will pound it day and night until it is broken,” promised the drak still standing behind Rayfen.

  Rayfen turned and looked at the drak. “No,” he said. “You will not touch it. Keep excavating around it, but do not bother the seal. It is a magic seal and cannot be broken so easily.” He then looked down at Jon. “You,” Rayfen said to him. Jon did not answer. “You shall be in charge of the e
xcavation.” He turned back to the drakmere. “You will do as the human says and get him anything he needs.” The drak nodded and when he looked up again Rayfen was gone as if he had simply melted into the darkness.

  TURN THE PAGE TO BEGIN BOOK TWO

  Dracengard Book Two

  Chapter 1

  The sky was a bright orange as the sun rose in the east, breaking dawn in the kingdom of Caerwynspire. As she limped along the rocky road, Ashleen could see the White Fortress in the distance, its highly polished walls glowing in the morning light. Ashleen walked barefoot, wearing only the skin of a cave bear draped over her right shoulder and tied at her waste with a cord made from the bear’s dried entrails. Her hair, ordinarily a shining gold, was caked in dirt and blood and hung in matted strings over her bloody face and down her neck, clinging to the black fur of the bear skin. Three long cuts gouged deep into her left cheek, but the blood had been clotted for days. Her feet were cut and bruised and she left a trail of bloody, red footprints behind her. She carried a primitive spear fashioned from a long tree branch and a chipped-stone spearhead in her left hand, using it as a walking staff to assist her along the road. In her right hand, she clutched a beautiful shining sword. Though she gripped the sword by its golden hilt, the point dragged along the road, leaving a long line in the dirt beside her bloody footprints.

  Ashleen eventually reached the steps to the city, which began at the base of the mountain and spiraled upward to the walls of the White Fortress. The fortress encompassed the entire city, which was carved out of the mountain. It was beautifully constructed and had existed for thousands of years. According to legend, the White Fortress was strategically placed in the southern Scorched Mountains by the seraph as a formidable military outpost to defend against forces from the Realm of Darkness. Ancient lore claimed that the gateway to the Realm of Darkness was located in the northern Scorched Mountains and thus, any dark army would have to pass the White Fortress in order to conquer the Middle Realm.