Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series

by Christopher Vale

  “Lady Anne, what are you doing out here, alone?” Lord Theron asked.

  Anne tilted her head to the side. “Coming to find you of course,” she said in a voice hinting at exasperation. “Avonvale has fallen, the King is dead, my brother either captured or killed,” she stopped as she began to weep, placing her face in her hands and sobbing.

  “What about Sephene?” demanded Lord Theron. “Where is my daughter?”

  “I do not know. She evacuated the castle with Princess Terrwyn and Princess Taite. I think they were going to Elophborne,” Anne lied.

  “So she is safe?” asked Auguston, Lord Theron’s eldest son.

  “I have no idea. I stayed behind with my brother. I never thought Avonvale would actually fall.” She stopped as she began to weep again.

  “It is alright, you are safe now,” Lord Theron assured her. He then turned to Sir Galt. “We shall make camp here for the night and reassess our strategy in light of this new information from Lady Anne.”

  “As you command, My Lord,” Sir Galt said and turned to issue the orders to the men.

  Lord Theron and Auguston dismounted and Auguston stepped quickly over to Anne to assist her in dismounting her horse. He reached up toward her with both hands and she slid from the saddle into his arms, intentionally pressing her breasts against him as he lowered her to the ground. He smiled at her and she smiled back shyly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  ***

  Prince Erec sat in a large tub soaking. The warm water felt good to his sore, aching body. Drakmere had captured him in Lattingham and carried him back to Avonvale slung over a drak’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Once they arrived at the castle, the drak had taken Erec directly to the Prince’s chambers where a large iron tub of warm water awaited. Erec was ordered to clean himself as the Wizard wanted him to look his best when he went before King Morgan. At first Erec considered refusing, he would not bow to the wishes of this upstart. But then he reconsidered. After all, he really did need a bath.

  As Erec sat in the tub, he considered his predicament. Apparently, his cousin Morgan had been crowned king and, therefore, his father was most probably dead. He did not know where his sisters were, but knew that it was unlikely they had escaped. If they had somehow made it to Lattingham, they would have been captured attempting to board the royal ship, just as he had been. Erec placed his head in his hands and fought back tears. For all he knew he was the only one of his family left alive. And how long would he be left alive?

  Erec cursed himself for his own stupidity. How had he not realized that the royal ship had been captured by the Wizard’s drakmere? There were no men aboard, not even a guard on the gangplank. Of course, he had been in a rush to escape the pirate that was chasing him. “Who was that pirate?” Erec wondered aloud. He looked so familiar.

  Erec shook the thoughts from his head. No sense dwelling on what was already done, and being the captive of a pirate would not be a better situation than the one in which he currently found himself. He needed to focus on what he could do now. Could he escape? At the moment he did not posses the strength to run anywhere and his best chance was to be smuggled down the river somehow. To do that he would need help, but he did not know who he could trust. There were clearly collaborators everywhere, but surely some in the castle, probably many, would support him. He just needed a way to determine who, but unfortunately, he doubted he had the time to do so.

  Erec’s thoughts were interrupted by the squeak of hinges as the door to his chambers slowly opened. A human guard stepped through the opening followed by Morgan and then another guard. Morgan was dressed in a fine golden doublet and wore Alexandeon’s crown upon his head. He smiled at Erec kindly. Erec remained seated in the bath.

  “Cousin, I am so glad that you are alright,” Morgan said with a look of relief on his face.

  “You wear my father’s crown,” Erec snapped. “Did you have the courage to kill him yourself?”

  “I did not kill Uncle Alexandeon, Erec.”

  “But you accepted his crown. You are a traitor!”

  Morgan looked at the floor and shook his head sadly. “The Wizard discovered some papers in Uncle Alexandeon’s desk which proved that he was actually a bastard and not Grandfather’s son. Therefore, he had no right to the crown.”

  “Yes, Morgan, our grandmother was a whore who bedded every buck in the kingdom,” Erec snarled sarcastically. “You can tell yourself whatever lies you wish, but you and I both know the truth. You are a power hungry fiend who has betrayed his own family, his own kingdom, and even his own species to get a golden crown upon his head. You did all of this even though the crown means nothing, because it is the Wizard that truly rules. Tell me Morgan, does he make you beg to lick the dung from his boots?”

  Morgan grew angry. “What would you have me do, cousin? End up dead like your father? Do you know what happened to the Stromland when none of the nobles would swear fealty to the Wizard? He ordered everyone killed. Not just the nobles, the entire kingdom was razed and everyone either killed and eaten by draks or taken off as slaves. Is that what you want Erec? Your stupid pride would cause your own people to become drak food. Well, I am not going to allow that to happen. I have saved our people from that fate! And you sit there and chastise me for accepting the crown. The only reason it was not already my crown is because your father just happened to be born before my father. So, because of an arbitrary order of birth I am supposed to just accept my death, my sister’s death, and the death of everyone in the entire kingdom?”

  Erec shook his head. “You can attempt to justify your actions ‘til your last breath, Morgan, but you and I both know your words are nothing but dung. You have always craved the crown. You have always desired power above everything else. What you did has nothing to do with anything so noble as protecting our people. You are a greedy, selfish little monster, just like your weasel of a father and your whore of a sister!”

  Morgan pulled the dagger from his belt and took a couple of steps toward Erec before thinking better of it and halting. He swallowed hard and suppressed his anger. “You had better take care with your tongue, cousin. It would be a shame if someone cut it out.” With that, Morgan turned and stormed out of the room, the guards following closely behind.

  ***

  Lady Anne stood under an open tent staring at a map laid out on a table. Lord Theron, Sir Galt, and Auguston also stared at the map. Lord Theron pointed to a place on the map southeast of Avonvale and southwest of their current position.

  “This is where we intended to rendezvous with the infantry if we needed to before moving onto Avonvale,” he said. “Lady Anne has informed us that the Wizard’s forces came from the north and there is no indication that they have moved to the south. We may encounter small bands of drakmere, but should not encounter any sizable force.” Sir Galt and Auguston nodded.

  “We should stick to the initial plan and rendezvous with the infantry,” he continued. “Then we move south together to Elophborne.”

  “What?” Anne shouted and all three men turned to look at her. “You have to ride to Avonvale and retake it, now!” she said trying her best to play the ignorant and overly emotional girl they all took her to be. “You must save my brother and the rest of our people before it is too late!”

  “Lady Anne, we do not have the forces to retake Avonvale,” he said.

  “How many do you have?”

  “Some four hundred horse and less than a thousand infantry. Had I more time I could have called up another thousand, but we were in a rush to relieve the city.”

  “But what about my brother?” asked Anne.

  “If he is still alive, we shall free him,” promised Lord Theron. “But not yet. We need to regroup and seek assistance from our allies, namely Elophborne.”

  Anne nodded. Then she glanced over at a table set up behind them with wine and food. “May I pour myself a glass of wine, My Lord?” she asked.

  Lord Theron smiled. “Of course,” he said gently and the
n turned back to the map.

  “May I pour you gentlemen some wine as well?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Lord Theron replied.

  Anne walked over to the table and poured a glass of wine for Lord Theron. She glanced back over her shoulder to ensure the men were still looking at the map before reaching into the pocket of her dress and withdrawing a small vial of white powder that had been given to her by the Wizard. She popped the cork from the vial and poured the white powder into the wine where it dissolved instantly. She then dropped the vial back into her pocket. She poured another glass for Auguston and took both glasses over to the map table, handing the one with the poison to Lord Theron and the other to Auguston.

  “Thank you, My Lady,” they each said smiling and Anne smiled back before returning to the table to pour two more glasses of wine. She took those glasses back to the map table handing one to Sir Galt and keeping one for herself. The men drank the wine as they continued to discuss strategies. Anne sat in a chair behind them watching and sipping her wine as she waited.

  Lord Theron drained his glass and then turned and walked back to the table to pour himself another. He returned to the map while drinking from the new glass. Anne began to wonder if the powder would work when suddenly Lord Theron stood straight up gripping his chest.

  “Are you alright, My Lord?” Sir Galt asked.

  “My heart just…” Lord Theron began, but stopped as he fell down against the table.

  “Father!” Auguston shouted as Lord Theron dropped to his knees gripping his chest and screaming in pain.

  “Fetch the doctor!” Sir Galt shouted to nearby lancers.

  Anne stood holding a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide open, doing her best to appear surprised and alarmed. Auguston and Sir Galt helped Lord Theron to his feet and carried him past Anne to his tent, where the doctor quickly joined them. Anne sat back down. Should she flee? Would they know she had poisoned him. The Wizard said the powder would make it look as though he died of heart failure, but Anne was suddenly nervous. She shook her nerves away. They had no reason to suspect her, but would if she fled. She would wait. Besides, once Lord Theron died there would be a new lord of Greynault. Anne suddenly decided she should take this opportunity to eliminate him as well. She smiled at her own brilliance as she sipped her wine.

  After about half an hour Auguston emerged from the tent with Sir Galt and the doctor. Anne stood and Auguston looked at her and shook his head. “Oh, Auguston,” she said as she ran over to him and threw her arms around his neck, tears flowing from her eyes. “I am so sorry,” she said. She pulled away and looked at him. “What happened?”

  “It was his heart—it failed,” the doctor said.

  “I cannot worry about that now,” Auguston said as he turned to look at Sir Galt. “We have a war to fight.”

  Sir Galt nodded. “We do indeed, My Lord.”

  “Then I shall retire for the night, and leave you men to plan for the war,” Anne said with a bow. The men returned the bow and watched her walk away before returning to the map table.

  Chapter 4

  Two columns of Paladin rode southward along the Strom River. They were in the Stromland now and watchful for draks. Ashleen rode at the head of one of the columns and Sir Auberon rode at the head of the other. Sir Auberon was the senior most member of the Paladin accompanying Ashleen to Dracengard and would act not only as an adviser to the Princess, but also as her second in command. Sir Tomfrey rode directly behind Ashleen and his brother, Sir Carson, rode beside him.

  As they rode, Ashleen noticed two men galloping toward them astride white chargers. “It’s the scouts, Commander,” Auberon said to Ashleen.

  “I see them,” Ashleen said. “Halt the columns.” Auberon held up a hand as he and Ashleen began to slow their chargers. The men behind them slowed as well. They reined in to a stop as the scouts approached.

  The two scouts rode up to the formation and halted their horses. “Report,” Sir Auberon commanded.

  “We have found a little fishing village about a mile down the river,” said Sir Evanger as he pointed southward over his shoulder. “It’s crawling with draks.”

  “What of the villagers?” Ashleen asked.

  “It looks like they are being held captive—at least what remains of them—in a little shack.”

  “How many draks?” Auberon asked.

  “Twenty or so,” replied Sir Aggravane.

  “We found a way to ride around the village without being noticed,” Sir Evanger volunteered.

  “No,” said Ashleen shaking her head and frowning. “We will not leave those people to suffer such a horrible fate. We are Paladin. We do not leave people at the mercy of monsters. We will attack and free the villagers, and kill every last one of those draks.”

  “As you say, Commander, but we should hurry,” Auberon said. “The sun will be setting soon.”

  Ashleen nodded.

  ***

  From the angle of the light shining through the cracks in the walls, Tompkin knew it was supper time. He also knew that the draks were hungry. He huddled with his wife, Korey, in the corner of the little shack trying to hide. Everyone was trying to hide in that same room and no one was having much luck. Forty or more people were crammed together. Twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, the people were allowed to leave the shack. They were fed food from the grain stores. After all, the draks wanted to keep meat on their bones. Once the villagers had eaten, the draks chose five or so villagers and ate them alive while the others watched.

  The draks would come to pick out their evening meal soon, but they would not eat until they had tormented the victims. Tompkin’s two boys, Marcus and Luke, had been killed and eaten days ago, as were all of the other village children. The draks enjoyed making the parents listen to their children’s screams, so the adults were saved for last. Korey had not spoken or eaten a bite since that day. She simply stared wide-eyed into nothingness. Her boys were only four and six when they died.

  Everyone heard the footsteps approaching the shack. Some began to weep from fear as they heard the door being unlatched. Light filled the room as the door swung open. Draks stood in the doorway and the villagers recoiled, trying to get as far from the monsters as possible, but there was nowhere to go.

  “It is supper time,” hissed one of the monsters as it began to grab people and pull them out of the door. One by one, each of the villagers was eventually pulled out of the shack.

  The villagers were led to the green in the center of the village where their nightly helping of porridge was waiting, still steaming in a giant kettle. Two men stood by the kettle. They had prepared the meal and would serve it. Each villager received a bowl and was instructed to line up to receive their porridge. Each villager filed by the cooks who scooped a spoonful of porridge into each bowl.

  Korey received her porridge with a blank stare just like every other night. She followed Tompkin to a spot on the green and sat down on the cool grass and crossed her legs. Tompkin ate hungrily but, as usual, Korey did not touch her meal. Tompkin tried everything he could think of to get her to eat. He spooned it out and pressed the spoon to her lips, but she was catatonic. Finally, like at every other meal, he gave up and ate it himself.

  Tonight a drak noticed that Korey was losing weight rapidly and saw that she refused to eat. It made its way over to Korey and snatched her up. She did not make a sound. “This one,” it said. “She will waste away to nothing if we do not eat her soon. Tonight!” Tompkin leapt to his feet and rushed after the drak slamming his body into the monster’s back. The drak fell forward and dropped Korey. It regained its feet and spun to face Tompkin. “We have a volunteer tonight,” it hissed and slammed its massive claw against Tompkin’s head knocking the man to the ground. It then lifted Tompkin up by the back of his shirt and picked Korey up in the other hand. Three more were chosen, including the village elder—Cliven.

  The five villagers were taken to the center of the green as all of the drakmere gathered ar
ound in a large mass waiting to devour them. “We will start with her,” said the drak carrying Korey as he tossed her to the ground. “I want her mate to watch,” it hissed with glee as it tossed Tompkin down beside her. The draks gathered around Korey and Tompkin.

  Suddenly, arrows flew into the mass of drakmere, penetrating it and killing five or six of the beasts. The others stopped and looked around. They quickly realized that armored soldiers galloped in from both sides astride white chargers. The few draks that were carrying weapons drew them and lunged forward to meet the attackers.

  One drak charged at Ashleen, swinging its sword through the air where it met Ashleen’s sword. The force of the contact was such that Ashleen was knocked from her saddle to the hard ground with a thud. She watched as Sir Tomfrey, who rode directly behind her, rammed his lance through the beast’s middle. The drak shrieked as it was impaled.

  Tomfrey leapt from his horse, drew his sword, and rushed to Ashleen standing over her protectively. Ashleen regained her feet. “I’m alright,” she said to Tomfrey.

  “I know,” he replied. “I’m just trying to make sure you stay that way.”

  He was not the only Paladin to do so. Four more Paladin saw Ashleen on the ground and dismounted forming a guard around her. Ashleen watched as Sir Auberon galloped through the draks swinging his great sword over one side and then the other chopping the monster’s heads. The battle was going well. In a matter of minutes the draks had been reduced to only four or five, those quickly retreating toward the woods as the Paladin gave chase. Ashleen smiled happily at their victory until she saw two Paladin lying on the ground motionless. They had not been as fortunate as she.

  Ashleen walked briskly over to the first and knelt beside him. Sir James was dead. A mace had caught him in the forehead knocking him off of his horse and crushing his skull. As the daughter of the King, she knew all of the Paladin. But to see James dead was especially hard as he was about her age and she had known him since childhood. His father had also been a Paladin and had died several years ago. She closed his eyes and stood. She wiped the tears from her eyes. She did not want the men to see her cry.