“It is hard to deny it, that’s for sure,” Dillan said before calling out to the Pilot.
“Yes, Cap’n,” came the Pilot’s reply.
“Take the helm,” Dillan commanded.
“Aye, Cap’n,” the Pilot said. Dillan took Ashleen by the hand and led her down the steps to the deck of the ship and across to the bow. The ship sailed on toward the island as the crew and passengers stared out at the majestic sight of the mystical Island of Avalon.
Chapter 19
The wind swept across the high peak of the keep rising out over the island of Avalon. Metatron stood like a statue peering down on the sea far below, his long golden hair whipping in the breeze, his white wings tucked close to his body. He watched as the ship sailed toward the port at Avalon and knew others were arriving to join the boy who had come the day before. “Nephilim,” he said, wanting to spit the taste of the word from his mouth.
Metatron did not despise the nephilim in the same way some seraph did. He knew humans. He had spent the last thousand years among them and counted many of the clerics of Avalon as his friends, but he blamed the nephilim for the rift in Auraehalis. His fellow elophim—his brothers—could not resist the temptations of human seductresses and thus the half-breeds were born. The Father was rightfully angered by this when he discovered it—angered by the abominations that walked the realm of man.
The first nephilim were strong and powerful, having many of the attributes of their seraph fathers. Many were worshiped as gods and goddesses and they set up powerful kingdoms through which they ruled mankind. His elophim brothers not only permitted this, but encouraged it. They believed it was beneficial for mankind to have rule and order, and the best way to do that was through their offspring, whose blood was part seraph and part human. The Father did not share their view. After all he and the seraph had done for humanity, after so many seraph had died protecting the Middle Realm from the forces of darkness, the humans had begun to worship these half-breeds.
It was clear to the Father and most other seraph that there was no choice but to destroy the nephilim before they destroyed the entire Middle Realm. He organized his troops for battle, but Alaric, leader of the elophim, begged the Father for mercy. The mercy was not for himself, but for his child and the children of all of the elophim. He spoke so eloquently of the joys of being a parent, something no other seraph had ever experienced, and the love he had for his wife and child, that he touched the hearts of many seraph. However, it was when all eight of the Watchers came and offered themselves to the Father’s judgment, willing to accept any punishment if he would spare their children, that the other seraph were so moved that the Father had no choice but to accept the deal. Thus the nephilim were spared, the elophim were severely punished, and for the first time, a rift formed in Auraehalis between those who agreed with the Father’s punishment and those who opposed him.
The Father commanded that henceforth the seraph would no longer interfere in the affairs of men. That seraph, other than the elophim, were forbidden to travel to the Middle Realm beyond the Island of Avalon. Uriel remained to guard the gate to the Realm of Darkness and Metatron remained to guard the gate to the Realm of Light and act as Keeper of the Dracen. Only one dracen remained in the Middle Realm, the great Queen Chaundra. She and Metatron would defend the gates to the Realm of Light against any attack by the forces of darkness.
When the seraph abandoned them it was as if mankind was suddenly thrust into darkness and the barbarism that had blossomed before the Watchers intervention once again consumed the realm. The nephilim built large armies and impressive castles to protect their people, and then the wars with the other nephilim began—one tribe against another.
When the nephilim boy had arrived on the island the day before, the priests reported to Metatron that he brought a Dracenstone with him and requested an audience with Metatron. Metatron had refused, but now that others were also arriving, it was clear that Metatron would have to speak to them, to determine what was happening in the realm of man.
***
Prince Eamon sat by a window in the room he shared with his grandmother in the great seraph temple of Avalon, flipping through the pages of his “Book of Gnomes and Other Wee Folk.” His father’s father had begun writing the book when he was a boy after claiming to see a gnome and Eamon’s father had continued writing it, having also claimed to see a gnome. Eamon had not yet seen a gnome or any other wee folk, but desperately wanted to and always had an eye out for them. His grandfather’s writings had claimed that gnomes could travel to any realm they wished through secret gates or portals and he had even claimed to have accompanied them through many adventures in many different realms. Eamon had never known his father or grandfather and he felt that seeing a gnome and continuing the book would somehow provide a connection to them.
Eamon glanced up from the pages to the window overlooking the sea, and stood when he noticed a ship sailing into port. The long wooden dock stretched from the white sandy beaches out into the sea. Eamon’s own ship was docked at the same pier. He had arrived the day before, having sailed down the coast. Their ship, unlike the Vagabond, had carried a priest with them as Sibilus was deeply religious, and the priest had the heading to safely enter Avalon.
Eamon watched as the ship was tied off to the pier. Soon a contingent of golden armored knights marched down the gangplank to stand on the dock. “Grandmother, it’s Paladin!” Eamon shouted excitedly to Sibilus. Sibilus crossed the room and stood behind her grandson and peered out of the window at the golden knights.
“Shall we go and greet them?” she asked. Eamon looked up at her and nodded excitedly. She smiled. “Come, then. I imagine you will meet one of your cousins today.” Sibilus held out her hand and Eamon took it and walked with her to the door.
***
The Paladin escorted Ashleen, Terrwyn, Dillan, and Willem down the long dock which stretched to the beach. When they reached the beach, a group of men awaited them, their flowing white robes flapping gently in the breeze. The men kept their hair long and wore it in a braid down the back of their necks. They bowed slightly at the waist as the nephilim approached.
“Welcome to Avalon,” the leader said as he straightened. “My name is Haider. We are but humble priests. Whom do we have the pleasure of meeting?”
“I am Prince Tybalt Calder of the Stromland,” Dillan said. He motioned to the others and introduced them all. “This is Prince Willem Magnus of Elophborne, Princess Terrwyn Valestead of Avonvale, and Princess Ashleen Caerwyn of Caerwynspire. The honor guard are Paladin from Caerwynspire.”
“What brings such distinguished persons to our humble island?” Haider asked.
“We are traveling to Dracengard to speak to the Keeper.”
Haider stared at them for a long moment before finally speaking. “We shall send a message to the Keeper, Lord Metatron, that you request an audience. In the meantime, come. I am sure you are weary from your long journey. You may rest at the temple.” He turned and began to walk away, motioning for them to follow.
The temple was a large, golden building with a tall spire rising into the heavens. The walls were decorated with depictions of seraph and the Realm Wars. A large golden statue of a winged god looking out over the land stood before the doors.
Haider and the other priests led them up the high marble stairs to the large metal double doors. The doors stood open. Two clerics—priests of the warrior class—wearing scarlet robes and shaved heads, stood beside the doors.
The four priests led them through the double doors and into the great hall, which they found to be mostly empty. Large tapestries depicting seraph and the Realm Wars adorned the walls and statues depicting seraph lined the floors.
Footsteps echoed in the large hall and they turned to see a boy running toward them. “Eamon, not so fast!” his grandmother called out to him, but he paid her no attention. He stopped just before reaching the others. They stopped as well.
“This is Prince Eamon of Ephenee,” Ha
ider said. “He arrived yesterday.”
Ashleen stepped forward. “Prince Eamon?” she asked and he nodded smiling. “I am your cousin, Ashleen,” she said.
“I know,” he smiled at her. Sibilus soon arrived beside her grandson. She was out of breath, clearly she had been chasing after him for a while.
“Ashleen, my dear, you are more radiant than I could possibly imagine,” Sibilus said as she stepped over to Ashleen and wrapped her arms around her.
“It is good to see you, Aunt Sibilus,” Ashleen said. Sibilus released her and looked her up and down.
“That’s a nasty scar on your cheek, though. Drakmere?” she asked as if discussing the color of a dress.
“Cave bear,” Ashleen said. Ashleen then turned to the others. “This is my Aunt Sibilus. She is my grandfather’s youngest sister and mother of Queen Karissa of Ephenee.”
“Yes, and I presume you are all here for the same reason we are,” Sibilus said. “To bring your Dracenstones to Dracengard and the Keeper.”
“Yes,” Ashleen said.
“Have you seen him?” Dillan asked.
“No, not yet,” Sibilus answered. “But it is good that you have come. He cannot ignore us all forever.”
“Shall I show you to your rooms?” Haider said, wishing to hurry things along.
“I apologize for the interruption. We shall see you all later, I am certain.” Sibilus placed her arm around Eamon and led him away.
Eamon turned his head for a moment and waved back at them, “Bye, Ashleen.”
“We shall speak later, Eamon,” she said returning his wave with a smile.
“I think someone has a crush on you already,” Terrwyn whispered to Ashleen.
Haider showed them to their rooms. Willem and Dillan shared one and down the hall Ashleen and Terrwyn shared another. Ashleen ordered Sir Auberon and the other Paladin to return to the ship and await further orders.
After bathing and dressing in fresh clothes, they rendezvoused at the dining hall for supper. The priests served them bread and bowls of mutton stew which they consumed hungrily, all quite tired of salted fish and pork.
Just as Ashleen was scraping the last morsels of mutton from her bowl with a piece of bread, she heard her name. She turned and saw her father’s brother standing behind her wearing the scarlet robes of the clerics.
“Uncle Caius!” she shouted. She stood and stepped over to him, wrapping her arms around him in a big hug. She then turned to her companions. “Uncle Caius is my father’s youngest brother.”
“We seem to have arrived in time for Ashleen’s family reunion,” Willem whispered and Terrwyn and Dillan could not help but laugh.
Ashleen ran her fingers over her uncle’s shaved head. “You look good without hair,” she smiled.
“It does not matter. There aren’t many ladies on the island to try and impress,” he said returning her smile.
“Won’t you join us?” Terrwyn asked with an inviting smile.
“Yes, thank you,” Caius smiled and he and Ashleen took seats at the table.
“How are your father and mother?” Caius asked.
“Good. Father sends his regards.”
“And your sisters?”
“Well.”
He smiled and then brushed his fingertips lightly over the scars on her cheek. “Those are cave bear claw marks,” he said and Ashleen nodded. Caius smiled at her. “Don’t tell me you attempted the quest.”
Ashleen smiled broadly. “I completed the quest, Uncle.”
“You’re a Paladin?” he asked and she nodded. He hugged her once again. “I cannot believe those old bastards let a woman into the Order.”
“Well, they did not have much of a choice,” she said. “I shall ascend to the throne.”
“Very good,” Caius said. “But I do not envy you. There is a reason I exiled myself to Avalon.” He continued to stare at her for a long moment, but finally his smile faded. “Why are you here?” he asked.
“We have brought our respective Dracenstones to the Keeper.”
“I was afraid of that,” Caius said. “How bad is it?”
Ashleen turned and looked at her companions. Terrwyn spoke first. “Beagonia, the Stromland, Elophborne, and Avonvale have all fallen to a self-proclaimed wizard and shedom who lead an army of drakmere.”
Caius placed his hands over his mouth. “Seraph help us,” he whispered.
“That is what we are counting on, Uncle.”
Caius shook his head. “I’ve never met the Keeper. As far as I know, he stays in Dracengard and does not venture down here.”
“But he’ll help us,” Terrwyn said. “That is why we are here.”
“I hope so, child,” Caius said. “The way I understand it, he does not like our kind very much.”
“Our kind?” Willem asked.
“Nephilim,” Dillan answered.
“Exactly,” Caius replied.
They all stared at him, worry appearing on their faces. It had never occurred to any of them that help may not exist at Dracengard.
Chapter 20
It was late afternoon when Anne heard a knock at her door and was informed that “His Imperial Majesty” would soon be arriving in Avonvale. Anne stared at her reflection in the mirror of her vanity. She was hoping he would be gone another day, forced to camp overnight, but his caravan moved more quickly than expected.
Anne’s hair was tied up in a bun atop her head and her elegant magenta dress with bright yellow trim came off of her shoulders and revealed her long, slender neck adorned with a ruby amulet hanging from a golden chain. She knew the Wizard would find her beautiful, but her face betrayed the disgust she felt in seeing him. She could not face him like this, for as much as she hated him she still wanted the power a marriage to him would bring. If he saw her face twisted in hatred, it would certainly reveal her true feelings for him. She wanted to wear the crown of empress at any cost, even if it meant bedding that bony, pale and cold man every night. Thus, she had to pretend to love him, or at least tolerate him. She doubted that he thought Anne actually loved him, and knew that he did not love her.
Anne had only been in love once, a few years ago, with a ruggedly handsome knight from a far away land. He had charmed her and stolen her heart before disappearing forever. With great effort, Anne pushed the memories of the knight—and the resulting scandal—from her mind. Now was not the time to dwell on her past love. The knight was gone forever, but the Wizard was not. In fact, he would be there soon.
Anne closed her eyes and inhaled long and deep. She held her breath a long moment before exhaling, releasing her disgust and hatred along with the air. She slowly opened her eyes to see a smiling, happy girl staring back at her in the mirror, replacing the angry, disgusted one that was there before. “That’s better,” Anne told herself before standing gracefully and straightening the skirt of her dress. She turned toward the door and left to greet her fiancé and Lord.
Anne made her way through the castle slowly and gracefully, as a queen would. The people she passed bowed and curtsied to her as if she were already empress. She met King Morgan on the stairs and could see he was just as unhappy as she that the Wizard had returned. Unlike Anne, however, Morgan was not even attempting to hide it. “You look upset,” she said softly as they descended together.
“Do I?” he asked, the contempt evident in his voice.
“Take care to conceal your emotions, brother,” Anne cautioned him and his frown turned into a smile. “Much better,” she said as she patted his cheek. “We are very happy to have his Imperial Majesty gracing our halls again.”
“Of course,” Morgan replied.
The two soon reached the bottom of the stairs and turned and walked down the long hallway toward the courtyard. It was the same hallway the drakmere had fought their way through to take Alexandeon and his men in the throne room, but from the look of it, one could not tell a battle had ever occurred there. The blood had been scrubbed clean and new tapestries and paintings adorned
the walls.
Soon they came to the main door which opened into the courtyard. The door was new, the old one having been chopped to splinters by the battle axes of the Wizard’s drakmere. Two armed guards opened the double doors for the King and his sister with a bow and Anne and Morgan stepped out into the fading sunlight, descending the steps to the courtyard. They arrived to find a small gaggle of nobles and stewards awaiting the return of the Wizard and everyone bowed as Morgan and Anne stepped down onto the cobblestones below. Anne’s eye caught Sir Terrance’s and she smiled gracefully at him. He returned her smile with a respectful bow of his head.
The gates at the castle wall swung open just as Morgan and Anne arrived and the first lancers cantered through, followed by an elegant carriage and a force of drakmere. The lancers broke away as the carriage was driven up to the steps of the castle. It stopped just in front of the crowd gathered to greet their emperor and Anne had to wave dust away with her hand.
A steward from the castle quickly descended the steps to open the door to the carriage. Anne saw a bony white hand reach out and grip the door as the Wizard emerged from the carriage. Everyone bowed low as he stepped down. He smiled as he turned and offered his hand back to the carriage. Anne watched as small, delicate fingers reached forward and clasped his. She was surprised to see Princess Ella descend the steps of the carriage to stand beside the Wizard. What was his intent? She was too young to marry, wasn’t she? Did he want to bed her? Anne felt her cheeks redden. The Wizard escorted Ella forward as her brother, Geoffrey, followed her down the steps and walked behind them.
The Wizard strolled past the crowd all but ignoring them as he made his way to Anne and Morgan, both of whom continued to bow. “Welcome back, Your Majesty,” Morgan said.
“Thank you,” the Wizard replied. “It has been a long journey.” He turned to look at Ella who still held his arm. “I trust the two of you know Princess Ella and Prince Geoffrey of Elophborne.”
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