Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series

by Christopher Vale

  Ashleen walked over to Terrwyn and squatted down to be eye-to-eye with her. “I am so very sorry about your…” Ashleen began but Terrwyn cut her off holding up her hand. She did not want or need any more condolences. She wanted revenge. Revenge for the death of her father, her people, and now her sister. She wanted to slice a sword through the Wizard’s bony neck and watch his head plummet to the ground at her feet, his eyes wide in horror.

  “Do you have spare pants that I could wear?”

  Ashleen nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “Good,” Terrwyn said, her eyes no longer filled with sadness, but with anger. “I want to be a warrior—like you.”

  Ashleen placed a hand on Terrwyn’s shoulder. “Well, then,” she began, “we shall have to get you a sword as well.”

  Chapter 14

  Sir Terrance rode at the head of his cavalry. They moved through a long valley, with steep inclines on each side. It was a perfect place for an ambush and it was the location that Sir Terrance had shown Lady Anne on the map, explaining how it would be ideal to obliterate the Greynault forces.

  Steep, rocky hills rose on either side, giving excellent cover for men to hide and for archers to rain death upon their victims. When ambushed an army had two choices: run away or assault through. The terrain here would make it nearly impossible to assault through.

  Sir Terrance had formed his men up into six columns as soon as they entered the valley, nearly stretching his lines completely across the road from hillside to hillside. This would be considered tactically ignorant by anyone with any basis of knowledge in strategy and tactics because it bunched the men together to make them easier targets. No reason for doing so was readily apparent. He also ordered the drakmere following him to form up into six columns (as best as draks could form up into anything) with the ridiculous explanation that it would make for a smaller target for archers. Of course that was preposterous, and actually made them a larger and easier target for archers, but since no drak understood military tactics they readily agreed.

  Sir Terrence kept his eyes on the hills as he rode very slowly through the valley. Soon he held up his hand, halting the columns. He said nothing as his men and the draks waited a mere moment before the arrows came down. The arrows only fell on the drakmere, however, and Sir Terrance ordered his cavalry to about-face. They turned around to face the draks, watching the draks fall in waves as hundreds of arrows rained down upon them. Sir Terrance’s men lowered their lances and it was then that the smartest of the draks realized they had been double-crossed. They began to shout to run the other way, down the road, when they heard the thunder of hoofs as Sir Galt led the Greynault cavalry in a full charge toward them.

  The drakmere panicked. Some ran toward the assaulting cavalry and were trampled under hoof. Others ran up the hillsides and were either shot down with arrows or impaled by the lances of the waiting infantry. The rest turned toward Sir Terrance’s men, but had no better luck there. Sir Terrance’s cavalry slaughtered them all. The Greynault infantry charged down the hill as both cavalry pushed in, crushing the draks in the middle. Every man continued fighting until the last drak laid dead on the ground. The men looked at one another and suddenly an enormous cheer arose from their ranks.

  The slaughter was absolute. A few men laid dead beside the draks, mostly from Sir Terrance’s cavalry as the draks had been somewhat successful in yanking some of his men from their horses. Overall, however, the human losses had been extremely small.

  Sir Terrance navigated his horse around the dead bodies until he rode up beside Sir Galt. He extended his hand and Sir Galt accepted it, both men shaking hands excitedly. They were still smiling, congratulating each other on the victory when Lord Breston and Sir Stanlas galloped up to them.

  Breston looked at Sir Terrance for a long while without saying anything. He finally spoke. “I had my doubts about your loyalty,” he said. “But my sister Sephene assured me you were on the right side. I am most glad that I took the risk and listened to her,” he said as he reached out and slapped Terrance on the shoulder.

  “Thank you, My Lord,” Sir Terrance smiled.

  Breston then turned to all of the men. “For Avonvale!” he shouted and the men echoed: “For Avonvale!” Cheers rumbled through the valley as they celebrated their first major victory of the war.

  ***

  That evening everyone celebrated. Lutes appeared among the men and music filled the valley. Groups of soldiers from Sir Terrance’s forces and the Greynault forces intermingled, exchanging stories of the victory and boasting about the fear they saw in the draks’ eyes as they cut them to pieces. It was an extremely jovial atmosphere and even Sephene appeared from her tent to accept the many requests from the soldiers to dance. It was an old tradition that a Lady of the House could not refuse a victorious soldier a dance. In more recent memory, a few soldiers were selected to dance with the Lady, thereby keeping the tradition while limiting her dancing. No such limit was placed on Sephene that night and she happily danced with every man who requested it.

  Sir Terrance joined Sir Stanlas, Sir Galt, and Lord Breston around a fire to discuss strategy. The four men were excited about the victory of course, but they understood that it was simply one small battle in a much larger war.

  Lord Breston stared across the fire at Sir Terrance. “Your first plan worked to perfection, Sir Terrance,” he said. “What do you propose we do next.”

  “Well, I will return to Avonvale, My Lord,” he said. There was a grumble from Stanlas and Galt.

  “You cannot be serious?” Sir Stanlas asked.

  “Of course I am,” Sir Terrance replied. “If I do not, they will determine that I was either defeated or have betrayed them. In either event they shall send a much larger force, most likely led by the Black Knight. They will come out of the shadows while you sleep and destroy you all.”

  “But how will you explain the lack of prisoners and the death of every drak?” Sir Galt asked.

  “Do not fear. I have a plan,” Sir Terrance said confidently.

  “But what are we to do? Ride for Elophborne?” Breston asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Terrance said. “Elophborne has joined the Wizard.” The other three gasped at this piece of news. “Return to Castle Greynault. You will take a hundred of my men with you. It would look suspicious if I suffered such minor losses. I shall tell Morgan and Anne that I razed the castle. No one will look for you there. Not for a while, anyway. They have many other matters to attend to. Let them think that they have won. The Wizard’s plan is to move against the other kingdoms soon. Once he and his drak army have left Avonvale, I shall send word to you and we shall pounce and retake the city.”

  “Will we have enough men for that?”

  “I believe so. There are other nobles still loyal to Prince Erec who will assist us, and there are soldiers that survived the battle of Avonvale still hiding in the city and in the forests. Once the battle begins, the people will join us and rise up. You will already have a sizable force on the inside. I can make sure the gates are open to you.”

  Breston smiled. He liked the plan. He also liked that he would get to return to Castle Greynault to check on his mother and other brother and sister. He looked at his military advisers Sir Galt and Sir Stanlas. They were both nodding.

  All four men were concentrating on the strategy and did not notice Sephene walk up among them When she spoke they all jumped, startled.

  “Sir Terrance,” she said. All four men stood when they recognized it was Sephene.

  “My Lady,” Sir Terrance said with a bow of his head. “I am greatly relieved that you arrived here safely.”

  “Thanks to you,” she said and rushed over to him, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. When she pulled away she could see that he was blushing. It made her smile. “Anne would have had me a dinner for draks if you had not saved me.”

  “It is much worse than that, I am afraid,” he said. “She ordered that I bring you back alive. She in
tends to make you a concubine for her soldiers.”

  The others gasped. Breston seethed. “When this war is over, I intend to put that whore’s head on a pike!”

  Chapter 15

  The streets of Elophdale were mostly empty, but not completely. Those who were not prepared still needed supplies and some brave, or stupid, merchants remained to sell them at triple the normal price. Word had just arrived that the army was abandoning the city and that all who could should evacuate immediately as an army of drakmere was marching toward Elophdale.

  Tallah was ten years old and the only person who could care for her ailing mother as her father had been dead some five years and her older brother had left home to find work on a ship a year ago. He had sent some money home, but not enough. Tallah’s mother had fallen ill and Tallah had been forced to earn money begging in the streets of the capital.

  Tallah ran through the streets to the market. She gripped a golden pince tightly in her hand as she ran. She had held on to that small piece of gold for weeks. She did not want to spend it; she wanted to save it. She knew that as long as she held that pince, she and her mother were not destitute. A gold pince would easily provide for her and her mother for a week, and as long as she did not spend it, she knew they could always afford another week of life.

  There was another reason to hold it, though. The pince had been given to her by Prince Willem himself. The sweet, handsome prince had pressed the pince into her hand with a warm smile. It had made her feel special, like they had a unique bond. They didn’t, of course. Prince Willem had always been generous to the poor and he gave coins away almost daily to those in need. But to Tallah he was a savior—a protector—and she loved him.

  She would lie on the straw mattress on the hard floor in the little room she shared with her mother, stare at the ceiling and dream of the day when Prince Willem would ride to her on a white horse, his silver armor glistening in the sunlight. In her dreams, he had fallen in love with her the day his eyes met hers in front of the castle gates when he had pressed the gold into her hand—the very same day she had fallen for him. She imagined him sending his men throughout the city in search of her, his long lost love. Eventually they would locate her house and Prince Willem would rescue Tallah and her mother and bring them to the castle to live. He would ask for her hand and when she was old enough, he would marry her.

  Tallah knew that it was only a dream, but for people as poor as she, all hopes are nothing but dreams. She clutched the precious gold pince tightly as she neared the market. The price of everything had tripled and she needed the gold to buy bread and meat for her and her mother before the drakmere arrived.

  The sun was setting as she turned the corner into the market. She ran to the butcher first, but the door was closed and locked. Tallah pounded on the door, but there was no answer. She turned and ran down the street to the baker’s. She found the baker and his family loading a wagon in front of the store. Tallah rushed up to him.

  “Sir, I need to buy some bread,” she said stopping beside the baker as he loaded a sack into the back of the wagon. Tallah looked up to see the baker’s two young children huddled close together in the back of the wagon, clearly terrified. The baker’s wife came out of the door, with another sack and tossed it into the back of the wagon.

  The baker spoke without looking at Tallah. “We’re closed, my dear,” he said. “We’re leaving the city and I suggest you do the same. Damn draks will be here soon.”

  “I can’t leave,” Tallah said. “My Ma is very ill.”

  The baker’s wife walked up behind Tallah and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come with us little darling,” the wife said. “We will get you out of the city.”

  “Mirium,” the baker said, but his wife hushed him with a sharp glance.

  Tallah shook her head. “I cannot leave my Ma,” she said. “She would die.”

  The baker’s wife knelt down and looked Tallah in the eye. “If you do not leave the city, you will both die. An army of drakmere is on the way here now.”

  Tallah looked down at the dirt. She clutched the gold pince in her hands and squeezed it tight wondering where Prince Willem was and why he and the soldiers had abandoned them. She considered the woman’s offer to flee. She wanted to run, to escape the drakmere, to escape the city, but she could not leave her mother alone with none to care for her. “I cannot leave my Ma,” she said again and the baker’s wife nodded smiling. She reached up into the wagon and pulled out a sack of bread and handed it to Tallah.

  “Take this,” she said handing the sack of bread to the little girl.

  “Miriam, what are you doing?” the baker asked. “She has no need for bread, she’ll be drak food long before she starves to death.”

  Miriam spun around, glaring at her husband. “Custis, so help me if you do not silence your tongue I will brain you with my rolling pin!” she threatened angrily. The baker made no response but simply turned away and continued loading the wagon. Miriam turned back to Tallah and patted her head. “Go on, girl. Run home to your ma.” Tallah nodded.

  “Thank you,” she said and ran off back down the street in the direction she had come. Miriam watched her go and then turned back to the wagon, but not before shooting her husband one more angry glance.

  The sun had disappeared behind the hills before Tallah reached the neighborhood where she lived on the other side of town. The streets were deserted, most having either fled or holed up inside hiding. Tallah turned the corner and saw some local urchins, a group of rough young boys and girls roaming through the streets toward her. She stopped. She knew them of course, they were always causing trouble in her neighborhood.

  The oldest boy, who was probably fifteen, saw her and smiled. “What have you got in the sack, Tallah?” he asked. Tallah did not respond. Then three of the younger ones, those closer to Tallah’s age, ran over to her and surrounded her. “I asked you a question!” the older boy shouted at her. One of the boys nearest her snatched the sack of bread from her arms.

  “No!” Tallah shouted. “Give it back!” Another boy pushed her down to the ground.

  “It’s full of bread!” the boy who had snatched the sack shouted back to their leader.

  Tallah pushed herself up to her feet, glancing around the streets to see if there was anyone about that might help her. She saw no one. “Give it back!” Tallah demanded. “I need that for my Ma, she’s sick!” The gang of urchins laughed at her and mocked her pleas. Tallah ran toward the boy who held her sack and punched him with a closed fist. She punched him again and again and he dropped the sack in the dirty street, holding his arms up over his face to protect himself.

  Suddenly, Tallah felt herself grabbed from behind as she was flung to the ground dropping her gold pince into the dirt. Several bare feet began to kick her in the stomach, the ribs, and the face. Then she heard one shout, “Gold!”

  A girl not much older than Tallah scooped up her gold pince and ran back with the others holding the coin up high over her head victoriously. Tallah coughed and winced through the pain as the urchins ran off laughing to find more loot to steal. After they had gone, Tallah pushed herself up to sit in the dirt, sobbing. She had no food, no gold, and nothing to show for her trip into town but cuts and bruises. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to go back to her mother empty handed. She wished she had taken the baker’s wife’s offer to leave the city. What was she going to do?

  After a long few moments, Tallah stood and dusted herself off. She slowly began to walk back toward her house, but suddenly froze with terror as she heard a blood curdling shriek pierce the night, followed by screams of children. Tallah watched the streets ahead and saw the young group of urchins turn a corner and run toward her. They did not make it far, as directly behind them came a horde of drakmere. The draks pounced on the children, easily overtaking them as they ran.

  Tallah turned and sprinted back down the street in the direction she had come, away from the drakmere. She was panicking, not sure what to do
, so she simply ran as fast as she could. She saw more draks running through the streets and others entering homes and dragging people out screaming. Tallah darted around a corner and came to a stop just before colliding with an enormous black charger, upon which was mounted the most terrifying man she had ever seen, a knight dressed in black from head to toe, the visor of his helmet molded into the shape of a human skull. She stared at him and he appeared to stare back at her. Then her eyes darted to other men, unmasked humans on horseback behind him. Draks walked around the Black Knight’s horse toward her and she spun around and fled with the draks giving chase.

  Tallah noticed some old wooden crates at the back of the cobbler’s house and scurried over to them, climbing inside of one and pulling the lid closed. She crouched inside of the crate trying desperately to remain completely still, willing herself to stop trembling. She held her breath as she heard footsteps outside of the crate. The footsteps passed her by, but more followed and more after them. Then one set of footsteps stopped beside the crate. Suddenly the lid was ripped off and Tallah glanced up to see the bare teeth of a drakmere. She screamed in terror as the drak jerked her from the crate.

  ***

  Willem awoke with a start, bolting upright and glancing about the Vagabond camp. It took him a moment to realize where he was. In his mind he was still in Elophdale with the little girl as she hid from the drakmere. He could smell the drak’s breath and taste the girl’s fear. Willem calmed himself and tried to convince himself that it was only a dream no matter how real it felt.