Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series

by Christopher Vale

  Sir Gelispee surveyed the faces of the men. They all stood stone faced and emotionless. “Does anyone else have anything to add?” he asked. No one spoke. “Very well. Sir Tomfrey, you may present the candidate.”

  Tomfrey stepped forward and marched up the center of the rows to stand before the King. “Commander, I present Ashleen of the House of Caerwyn for initiation into the Order of the Paladin.”

  The King looked around the room. “Does anyone speak against her initiation into the Order of the Paladin?” No one spoke. “Then we shall vote. All in favor?”

  “Aye!” was shouted in unison.

  “All opposed?” the King asked.

  Silence.

  “The Order has unanimously accepted the candidate, Sir Tomfrey. Call her forth.”

  Sir Tomfrey turned to look at Ashleen who stood silent and rigid. “I call forth Ashleen of the House Caerwyn to be initiated into the Order of the Paladin.”

  The bannermen stepped out of the row and turned toward the King. They began to walk forward, marching in step, and Ashleen followed behind. Ashleen faced forward and did not turn to look at the faces of the Paladin watching her. When they reached the end of the rows of Paladin, the two bannermen parted and stepped past the King and upon a dais, then turned and faced the Paladin.

  “Ashleen of the House of Caerwyn, is it your desire to join the Order of Paladin?” asked the Sergeant at Arms.

  “Yes,” said Ashleen.

  “Will you live your life with honor and integrity?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you obey the orders of your Commander?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you follow the Code?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you defend the Kingdom of Caerwynspire to the death?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you defend the Sovereign of the Kingdom of Caerwynspire to the death?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you defend the Middle Realm from the forces of darkness?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you keep hidden the secrets of this order?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you swear all of this on your life and honor, and the life and honor of your children and your children’s children?”

  “I do.”

  Sir Gelispee turned to the King. King Artur drew the Sword of Light from its scabbard. “Kneel,” he commanded and Ashleen lowered herself to one knee and bowed her head. “Ashleen of the House of Caerwyn, Princess of Caerwynspire and heir to the throne, I initiate you into the Order of the Paladin,” the King said as he tapped the sword on each shoulder. “Arise, Sir Ashleen of Caerwynspire.” Ashleen stood. “Brothers,” said the King, “I present Sir Ashleen, the newest member of the Order of Paladin.”

  Ashleen turned to see the Paladin applauding and cheering her. Then one by one, each Paladin walked over to and greeted Ashleen by embracing arms. As the Paladin were welcoming Ashleen to the Order, the King sent for the food. Soon the doors were flung open and servants began to fill the tables with a succulent feast. The wine, ale, and mash soon began to flow. Ashleen sat at a table with her father, Sir Gelispee, and Sir Tomfrey. They ate, drank, and sang merry songs of the glories of battle.

  Just as the Paladin seemed ready to retire for the night, it became very quiet and a voice from the back of the room shouted, “Tell us how you slew the beast!” Then another, “How did you get that pretty scar on your face?” The second one she recognized as Sir Tomfrey’s older brother, Sir Carson. Then all of them began to chant together, “Tell! Tell! Tell!” as they banged their cups and goblets on the wooden tables. Ashleen looked at her father who was chanting right along with the rest of them, banging his goblet on the table and spilling red wine everywhere. Ashleen nodded and stood from her chair as she held her hands up to silence the crowd. Some began to hush the others.

  “You want to know how I got this?” she asked the crowd as she raised her left hand dramatically to softly caress the three scars streaking her left cheek.

  “Aye!” shouted the men.

  “And you want to know how I got that fine bearskin rug that lies before the hearth in my chambers?”

  “Aye!” laughed the men.

  “Well then, I’ll tell you. But it is not a tale for the faint of heart among you,” she cautioned. “Therefore, Sir Rodrick, you may be excused,” she said to uproarious laughter. Sir Rodrick smiled and raised his goblet in salute to her jest. He had been named as her mother’s personal guard after Ashleen and the Queen had been captured by pirates and Ashleen had come to know him well over the last couple of years. He was also known as one of the mightiest warriors to ever live and all knew Ashleen meant only good humor in ribbing him. “I had found the cave and stood at the mouth, tired, hungry, my feet bloody and bruised.” Everyone stared at her silently now, their eyes wide with anticipation. The tale of how the initiate recovered the sword and escaped with his life was always thrilling and the highlight of every feast, but this time the men were particularly interested in the tale of a woman, the Princess, doing so. There were few in the room who had not looked at Ashleen with lustful eyes since she had matured, and these men wanted to know how that pretty little princess, whose face no longer belonged to a soft girl, but a warrior woman, survived to tell the tale.

  “I could hear the cave bears snoring inside,” she continued. Suddenly she stopped, her eyes opened wide and then rolled back into her head, her face turned a ghostly white and she fell to her knees.

  “Ashleen?” the King said. He stood and ran over to her. Just as he placed a hand on her shoulder, she began to speak.

  “Riversmeet burns,” she said. “They are killing them. They are killing all of them.”

  “Who?” her father asked.

  “The draks. They are killing everyone.” Then Ashleen’s face twisted with revulsion. “And they are eating them! The King has been slain, the Queen too. Everyone! No, not everyone. He’s alive! Thank the seraph he’s alive!”

  “Ashleen what are you talking about?”

  Suddenly the door at the far end of the hall flung open and Lord Tarlton entered. Gelispee stood. “You cannot be here, My Lord. This is for Paladin only.”

  “Oh, shut up you old bastard! We do not have time for your silly secrets,” Lord Tarlton snapped. He looked at the King. “A messenger just arrived, Your Majesty. Riversmeet has fallen to an army of drakmere. They have razed the city.”

  Everyone gasped and then looked at Ashleen as she stood, her eyes now back to normal. She looked at Lord Tarlton and shook her head. “Not just Riversmeet. Avonvale has fallen as well.” Silence filled the room as the Paladin all looked at each other.

  “How do you know, dear?” the King asked.

  “I saw it,” she said. “I felt it.”

  The Paladin looked at each other. Then the murmurs began. “She has the Seraph Sight.” The Paladin all stood and began to move in toward her. She took at step back. “She has the Seraph Sight!” someone shouted. “We all witnessed it!” Then one after the other they began to kneel down before her and chant in unison: “Seraph! Seraph! Seraph!”

  Gelispee nodded and looked at the King. “You must send her to Dracengard,” he said. All of the Paladin cheered. The King nodded his agreement. “Give me one hundred men to escort her!” he shouted to the Paladin still kneeling before his daughter. “Who will volunteer?” Every Paladin stood and offered his sword.

  ***

  Ashleen stood stoically beside her white mare as her mother and sisters remained at the bottom steps of the castle, weeping uncontrollably. Gwyndalin and her daughters had come to see Ashleen off, much to Artur’s displeasure. The King looked over at his blustering wife and daughters and shook his head before catching Ashleen’s eye. She was trying not to laugh at her father’s discomfort and he couldn’t help but smile at her.

  All of the Paladin rode white chargers and one hundred of the knights sat in two columns upon their horses. The King approached Ashleen carrying a sword in scabbar
d. He drew the sword and handed it to her. “Take the Sword of Light with you,” he said. She held the sword. It was almost as light as air and its blade shone more brilliant than any she had ever seen.

  “This is not the sword I recovered on the quest,” she said.

  The King chuckled. “Do you really believe I would place the actual Sword of Light all alone in a cave full of bears?”

  Ashleen shook her head. “I suppose not,” she answered. “Thank you, Father.”

  He nodded and then handed her a plain brown satchel. “The Dracenstone,” he said. “Take it to the Keeper.” Ashleen nodded. “And give my regards to my brother,” he said.

  “I will, Father,” she promised.

  The Queen could not hold back any longer. She rushed forward, pushing the King out of the way and wrapping her arms around Ashleen. Ashleen was suddenly engulfed by her ten, sobbing sisters as well. “Alright, let her go,” shouted the King after a few moments and the girls slowly backed away.

  “I cannot believe your father is sending you away from me again so soon,” the Queen sobbed as she kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Take care of yourself and come back safe.”

  “I will, Mother.”

  The Queen then turned to the Paladin mounted behind Ashleen. “You bring my daughter back to me!” she shouted at them. The Paladin nodded.

  The King stepped forward and embraced his daughter. “Take care of yourself,” he said.

  “I will Father,” she replied, then turned to her mare and climbed into the saddle. She smiled down at her parents and sisters one last time before squeezing her legs lightly against the horse’s flanks, urging the mare forward. She cantered down the street which was lined with thousands of people, just as when Ashleen returned from her quest. Only this time, no one made a sound.

  Chapter 2

  A soft breeze blew in from the water rocking the ships gently against the dock. The Vagabond had arrived at the port at Elwood earlier that morning to finish provisioning, for in their haste to leave Lattingham, the crew had not fully stocked the ship. Elwood was the largest port city in the Kingdom of Elophborne, some two days journey south along the Ehren River from Lattingham. Captain Dillan did not know how long of a journey he had before him—calculating the distance to a mystical island no one had ever visited was always tricky—and he wanted to ensure that the ship was well provisioned.

  Princess Terrwyn and Princess Taite stood on the foredeck of the ship staring out at the port and enjoying the sun and fresh air. They wore the same clothes they were wearing when they escaped Avonvale—Terrwyn wore a blue riding dress and Taite wore a green riding dress. Taite’s pet wolf, Valko, laid on the deck nearby, apparently asleep. Terrwyn stared up into the surrounding hills. Atop the highest hill was a vacation palace of the royal family of Elophborne. Terrwyn had stayed there many times and was very close to the royal family. As she gazed at the familiar hills, she saw a long procession marching down toward the river. She noticed one of the Vagabond’s sailors, Ramo, walking along the dock toward the ship carrying a barrel of smoked pork.

  “Ramo!” Terrwyn shouted and the sailor looked up at her. “Do you know what is going on?” she asked as she pointed toward the procession.

  Ramo turned and looked at the procession. He then looked back up at the Princess and nodded. “The King has died,” he shouted. “It is his funeral procession. They travel to the river to launch the funeral pyre.”

  Terrwyn could not believe it. King Ulrich was a very kind man and she was quite saddened by the news. Her family had been close to the royal family of Elophborne for as long as Terrwyn could remember. Ulrich’s eldest son Willem, who would now ascend to the throne, was seventeen—just a year younger than Terrwyn and Erec. The three of them played together as children.

  “Come Taite,” Terrwyn said. “We are going to pay our respects.” She took her younger sister by the hand and began walking toward the gangplank. Valko stood and followed them. Just as Terrwyn was about to step onto the gangplank, Stark, a large gruff sailor, moved to block her path. Stark wore a white shirt with open collar. He had no hair, but wore a brown thrummed cap on his head. He had a jaw like a chiseled slab that was covered with a long, rough beard.

  “Sorry m’lady,” Stark said. Dillan had instructed his crew to refer to Terrwyn and Taite as ladies. It would be impossible to hide that they were high born, so the goal was to simply cover up the fact that they were princesses. “Cap’n gave strict orders that you and your sister are forbidden to leave the ship,” he said.

  “He did, did he?” Terrwyn asked as her eyes sharpened on Stark. She whipped around and surveyed the ship, but did not see Dillan. “Captain Dillan, may I have a word?” she shouted.

  “The Cap’n is below,” one of the crew informed her.

  Terrwyn frowned at the sailor. “Well then, kindly fetch him for me,” she said.

  “Yes mum,” the sailor said and scurried off to fetch the Captain.

  A few moments later Dillan arose from below deck followed by his first mate Starron. The Captain walked across the ship to stand before Terrwyn, his thumbs stuck lazily into his belt, his face reflecting a mixture of annoyance and boredom. Terrwyn despised his arrogant mannerisms, from his dismissive laugh to the way he often wore his tricorn hat cocked to one side. “You summoned me, My Lady?” Dillan asked flatly.

  “Yes,” Terrwyn responded tersely. “I have just learned that King Ulrich has passed and a funeral procession is currently making its way to the river. We intend to pay our respects, but your man here will not let us pass,” she said motioning to Stark with a scoff.

  “Quite right, My Lady,” said the Captain and then lowered his voice to a whisper. “I do not want you wandering off to be captured by some pirate and sold to the Wizard.”

  Terrwyn narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you intend to do? Sell me to the Wizard? Are you afraid another pirate might steal your booty?”

  Dillan chuckled at Terrwyn’s unfortunate choice of words, but quickly composed himself when she shot him an angry eye. He cleared his throat. “If that were my intent, I should maroon my navigator, for we have been sailing in the wrong direction. The Wizard is in Avonvale,” he said as he pointed north, “which is that way.”

  Dillan’s condescending manner caused Terrwyn’s blood to boil and her face to flush with anger. She turned and looked at the funeral procession. It had descended the hill and was much closer to the river now. “Do you think Prince Willem will hear me from here if I shout loudly enough?” she asked and then turned to face the Captain. “Would you like him to send his lancers over to investigate? I have known him my entire life. He would put your head on a pike if I told him you kidnapped me.”

  Dillan stared at Terrwyn coldly, his jovial tone now gone. “Fine,” he said sharply, “but I’m coming with you to ensure your safety.” Dillan leaned over to Starron and Terrwyn watched him whisper something into his first mate’s ear. Starron nodded his understanding before Dillan turned back to Terrwyn with a smile. “Shall we go?” he asked.

  “We shall be quite safe without you,” Terrwyn assured him.

  “Nevertheless, if you wish to go ashore, I escort you,” Dillan said as he defiantly crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Very well,” Terrwyn replied as she turned back toward Stark who quickly stepped to the side and out of her way. She began to walk down the gangplank and Taite stepped forward to follow her, but halted when Valko growled. Taite stopped and looked at the wolf.

  “Valko says that it is not safe to go ashore,” Taite said as she turned to look back at Terrwyn.

  Terrwyn stopped halfway down the gangplank and spun to look at her little sister. She was in no mood for one of Taite’s little games. “Do not be silly, Taite,” she said. “Come on.” Taite shook her head and refused to follow her sister. Terrwyn began to walk back up the gangplank, completely exasperated.

  “She’ll be quite safe aboard,” Dillan assured Terrwyn. “Besides, no one will get near her with
that wolf lurking around.”

  Terrwyn had to admit that few things were more terrifying than a giant snarling wolf. She knew that if she stayed to fight with Taite she would miss the funeral and, thus, allow Dillan to have his way. She, therefore, relented. “Be careful,” she instructed her sister, “and keep Valko with you at all times.” Taite nodded.

  Then Dillan looked to Stark and added, “Stark, if anyone harms the little girl, rip his arms off and beat him to death with ’em.”

  “Aye Cap’n,” Stark replied in a serious tone.

  Dillan walked past Terrwyn with a smirk and stepped off the gangplank onto the dock. Terrwyn lingered a moment watching her sister and then turned and followed Dillan to the dock, ignoring the hand he held out to assist her. Dillan shot a glance back up at Starron who watched him from the deck of the ship, shaking his head in amusement.

  Dillan fell in beside Terrwyn, but she refused to look at him. She simply marched regally down the dock, nose in the air, hands clasped in front of her waist. The two walked along in silence until they caught up to the funeral procession. Thousands of mourners lined the bank of the river. Terrwyn stepped over to the water’s edge to watch the funeral. She could barely see the royal family up ahead. She watched as a raft, presumably the pyre carrying King Ulrich, was pushed out into the water. As it floated down the river she saw someone, presumably Prince Willem, shoot a flaming arrow high into the sky. It landed on the raft and the pyre, doused with oil, erupted into flame. Words were spoken, but Terrwyn was too far to make them out. The crowd began to disperse once the pyre, reduced to cinders, smoldered out and sank beneath the water.