Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series

by Christopher Vale

  “You tell us,” Metatron said as he kept a watchful eye on Dillan.

  “How should I know? I was asleep in my bed, dreaming,” Dillan said shaking his head. “Dreaming of my family.”

  “You attacked me,” Willem said. Dillan’s eyes popped wide.

  “Attacked you?” he asked. Why would he attack Willem?

  “And you were moving like a seraph,” Eamon added excitedly, not sharing the others’ fear of what had occurred.

  Dillan’s eyes shot up and met Metatron’s and he saw the seraph nod. “That’s impossible,” Dillan said

  “Trust me, it isn’t,” Willem said. “You nearly killed us. If Metatron hadn’t arrived…” he let his voice trail off as he looked down at Eamon. He smiled as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Metatron did come,” Willem said as he brought his eyes back up to meet Dillan’s.

  Dillan knew Willem was telling the truth, but was still having a hard time believing it. “I’m sorry,” he said. He looked at his friends, everyone’s eyes were on him and it felt like the entire world was collapsing in. He suddenly bolted for the door, pushing past Metatron, and grabbing his shirt as he passed. Ashleen and Terrwyn moved quickly out of his way. “I need some air,” he told them.

  Metatron began to follow, but Ashleen stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Give him a moment,” she said softly. Metatron met her eyes defiantly, but something he saw there convinced him to relent. He nodded to her.

  Dillan made his way through the Keep until he came to the top floor where the dracen all slept soundly. All except Dillan’s dracen, Bran. Bran lifted his head as Dillan entered and watched his human closely.

  “Are you alright?” Dillan heard Bran ask the question in a voice that sounded exactly like Dillan’s little brother, for whom the dracen was named. Dillan heard the question in his head, but to him, it still felt as though he heard it with his ears.

  Dillan nodded as he came to stand beside Bran and placed a hand on the young dragon’s snout, petting him as one might pet a horse. Dillan and the others had been in Dracengard for four months and they had grown very close to their dracen, sharing a psychic bond with them. “Did you see the dream I had?” Dillan spoke the words, but he knew Bran would understand them telepathically.

  “It woke me,” Bran replied. “I am sorry about your family.”

  “Thank you,” Dillan said as he fought the tears that welled up in his eyes.

  “It’s okay, Dillan,” Bran told him. “There is no one here but us.”

  Dillan nodded and then stepped closer to Bran, turned and lowered himself down to the floor, leaning his back against the dragon’s deep blue scales. Bran laid his head in Dillan’s lap and wrapped his tail around the human as Dillan sat there and wept for his family for the first time since he had heard of their deaths. Through choking sobs, Bran clearly made out the words, “I am going to kill the Black Knight if it is the last thing I do.”

  Chapter 2

  Anne stood on the balcony outside of her room overlooking Avonvale and watched as the lights of the city and river twinkled in the darkness. She shivered slightly as a cool breeze cut through her thin gown causing a chill to dance up her spine.

  Anne had always enjoyed the night. While others feared the dark, Anne found the darkness comforting, like a soft blanket. She breathed in deeply as she leaned upon the balcony’s railing and surveyed her empire. Well, it would be her empire soon. Her wedding to Tamesis was just days away and then she would be empress of the entire realm, and everyone would bow to her. Everyone but Tamesis, anyway.

  The thought of his cold, bony fingers running over her skin sent a shiver of disgust through her. Luckily, the beautiful Queen Ariana had arrived and taken Tamesis’ physical affections away from Anne. So Anne was free to share her bed with warmer, handsomer men like Duke Andrick—brother of King Warren of Libetha—who even then lay naked, asleep in Anne’s bed.

  Anne smiled to herself. She greatly enjoyed lying with Andrick. He was so warm and strong, yet gentle and passionate. He was all of the things the Wizard was not. Suddenly she felt a cold chill run up her spine and then heard a voice whisper in her ear.

  “He is handsome. My Lord will not like you bedding him,” Asmodeus said in a hoarse voice.

  “Tamesis won’t find out. He is too busy with his own bedroom conquests.”

  “I am not referring to Tamesis.”

  Anne turned her head to look for the dark figure she knew always accompanied the voice, but it was gone.

  She leapt, slightly startled, as a pair of strong hands slipped around her waist to meet in the middle upon her belly. At the same time, lips gently caressed her neck. It was a sweet and tender action, but did not elicit the response that was intended. Anne quickly grabbed the hands and pushed them away from her body as she spun to face their owner.

  Andrick took a step back in surprise at Anne’s unexpected response to his touch. “Are you insane or just stupid?” Anne demanded. Even as she angrily insulted him, she could not help but admire his handsome features. Andrick was probably old enough to be her father, but was still quite attractive. His shirtless body was toned and his chin chiseled.

  “What?” he asked defensively as he raised his hands. In the months since he had arrived from Libetha with that kingdom’s Dracenstone in hopes of the Wizard unseating his brother in Andrick’s favor, the Duke had grown accustomed to Anne’s childish outbursts, but tonight was the first time she had ever accused him of being stupid. Something was obviously bothering her tonight more than usual.

  Anne quickly glanced over her shoulder and then back at Andrick. “Go back inside before somebody sees you!” she commanded.

  “Alright,” he said as he backed off of the balcony and into the room. Anne followed him.

  Once inside, Anne did not soften her tone. “If the Wizard finds out about us, we will both be killed. I shall not let your acting the fool be my death sentence.”

  “I am not scared of that bony, little man,” Andrick said boldly with a dismissive wave.

  “You should be,” Anne said. “I saw him kill King Alexandeon with nothing but a touch of his hand.” Andrick frowned skeptically at her and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, you fear his Black Knight and drakmere, don’t you?”

  Andrick’s eyes dropped down to the floor. Of course he feared Rayfen. Everyone feared Rayfen. And certainly no one wanted to end up a meal for drakmere. He looked back up at her and smiled gently. She was gorgeous standing in the moonlight, her reddish gold hair falling over her milky white skin and her fiery eyes flashing. “I’m sorry,” he said, his tone soft and soothing. “It won’t happen again, My Lady.” He stepped to her and placed his hands on her hips. He leaned in to try and kiss her, but she moved her face away.

  “You should go,” she said coldly and then pushed his hands away from her hips and turned and walked back outside onto the balcony. Andrick watched her, staring after her, shaking his head. Then he shrugged and retrieved his clothes.

  Anne shook her head and rolled her eyes. Men could be so stupid and arrogant sometimes. She did enjoy Andrick’s company and he was wonderful in bed, but there was no need to flaunt it, especially when doing so could get them both killed. He wasn’t worth dying for. Anne certainly was not in love with him. She had only been in love once, years ago, to a knight from a far off land. She smiled to herself at the thought of Sir Orrick, as she remembered that day three years prior.

  ***

  It was a beautiful summer morning and Avonvale was celebrating Valley Day, the annual festival of the founding of the Kingdom by Ehren’s son, Avon. The legends claimed that Avon had fought many wars and killed many men to claim the lush valley where the city of Avonvale now sat as it had been his mother’s home before her people were killed by a roving band of brigands. Avonvale, which literally translated to Avon’s valley, was built on the shores of the river that later bore Ehren’s name. The river not only provided food and water, but also a convenient trade and
transportation route. The lush valley provided valuable hunting and farming ground. Each Valley Day, the kingdom celebrated its founding and the fortunes of living in “the vale.”

  Valley Day consisted of numerous celebrations, balls, feats of strength and athletic ability, but the grandest of all was the Tournament of Ehren. The Tournament was one of the most famous in the Middle Realm and pitted brave warriors from across the eight kingdoms against each other, fighting for the honor of being Ehren’s champion. The sitting Queen played the role of Ehren each year and would choose a champion, normally the previous tournament’s champion if available, and bestow a flower upon him. If he was defeated in the tournament, custom held that the warrior that defeated him would present the flower to the Queen and beg the honor of becoming her champion, which of course she would graciously grant, and bestow upon him a new flower, until there was but one victor remaining.

  Queen Genevieve had died in childbirth a few month’s prior to the celebration and thus, Princess Terrwyn was playing the role of Ehren. She sat in the royal box to the left of her Father, King Alexandeon. Erec sat to his right and their younger sister, Taite, was seated to Erec’s right. At least, she was supposed to sit there. In reality, Taite, only five at the time, took turns sitting in the lap of her father, brother, sister, and Lady Elizabeth, who sat to Terrwyn’s left and a level down along with Sephene and Anne.

  The warriors stood in a line facing the royal box. They were introduced to His Majesty, “Ehren,” and the crowd one at a time. The crowd was filled with excitement when the knight in golden armor was introduced as “Sir Rodrick, a Paladin from Caerwynspire.” No Paladin had competed in the Tournament of Ehren in over a decade and King Alexandeon smiled to himself as he realized King Artur must be out drumming up support. The Caerwyns were a warrior people, living in tough terrain and relying heavily on the other kingdoms for large amounts of food, cloth, and other necessities of life. This was considered fair payment for the defense of the entire realm from the forces of darkness. Of course, these days it was harder and harder to justify sending goods to Caerwynspire, so Artur liked to remind the rest of the realm who they were.

  Sir Rodrick stepped forward and bowed deeply to the royal family. “Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, Lords and Ladies, and citizens of Avonvale,” Sir Rodrick said, “King Artur and Queen Gwyndalin wish that they could have made the journey to Avonvale to celebrate the day of your great Kingdom’s founding with you, but alas other duties have prevented it. Thus, they have sent me in their stead, and it would be a deep honor to be the champion of such a beautiful Lady as Princess Terrwyn,” he said with another bow, causing Terrwyn to blush.

  Anne rolled her eyes, but then they fell on a tall, handsome knight with dark eyes and hair which fell in perfect black curls about his head. He was staring at her and she blushed as she quickly looked away. She could only keep her eyes from his for a moment, and when her gaze returned to him, he was smiling at her. She bit her bottom lip and smiled back, but quickly covered her face with her fan.

  The knight was introduced as Sir Orrick, but no kingdom was given. “Your Majesty,” Orrick said, “I am quite certain none have heard of my home, it is a very distant kingdom.” The King nodded with a smile. It was not uncommon for hopeful young men to invent a knighthood in order to enter the tournament. Technically, no knighthood was needed, but few outside of Avonvale realized that.

  Finally, the previous year’s champion and home crowd favorite, Sir Gwillym, was introduced and the crowd erupted in a loud cheer. Gwillym raised his arms to the crowd and then bowed gracefully to the royal family, smiling broadly at Terrwyn.

  Terrwyn was asked to choose a champion and, of course, she chose Sir Gwillym. The knight jogged to the royal box as Terrwyn stood and presented Gwillym with a blue bloom. The knight accepted it with a flourishing bow as the crowd cheered even louder. Gwillym took the flower to his squire who attached it to the knight’s breastplate.

  The warriors were split into multiple groups and fought all morning. Sir Gwillym faced challenger after challenger, but retained the blue bloom at the dinner break. Only four warriors remained at the break. Sir Gwillym of Avonvale, Sir Rodrick of Caerwynspire, Sir Terrance of Avonvale, and Sir Orrick.

  As the box emptied for the break, Anne rushed off to find her brother to escort her to dinner. She detested the thought of having to spend the meal listening to how it was an honor to fight for the beautiful Terrwyn, or how Terrwyn must outshine Ehren herself, blah blah blah. If she had to listen to it she at least wanted to sit by Morgan so that she could make snide remarks.

  Anne made her way around behind the box and found Morgan already speaking with Sir Terrance. Terrance was nodding as Morgan gave him advice. Anne smiled at the thought of Morgan advising a seasoned knight such as Terrance. Not that Morgan did not know how to fight, he was certainly well trained, but Terrance was their father’s most trusted warrior. In fact, much of Morgan’s training had come from Terrance. Terrance, of course, was too well mannered to say anything about that and simply nodded politely as Morgan offered him advice on how to win the next match. Anne thought Terrance would welcome her interrupting the conversation and stealing her brother away to dine, and had begun walking toward them when a large figure stepped into her path. She stopped suddenly and glanced up to see Sir Orrick smiling down at her. He bowed lavishly at the waist and swept her hand up into his, kissing her fingers gently.

  “My Lady,” he said in a deep yet soft voice, a foreign accent clear. “I am Sir Orrick,” he smiled.

  “Of course,” Anne smiled as his eyes peered over her hand to meet hers. “You fight valiantly, Sir Knight.”

  Orrick straightened and his lips turned down into a scoff as he waved his hand dismissively. “There is nothing valiant in a tournament such as this. No blood spilled, no beautiful lady to rescue,” he said turning back to her with a suggestive smile. Anne glanced away as she tried not to blush. “I noticed you in the royal box,” he continued, “and was hoping to have the pleasure of your name.”

  “I am Lady Anne of the House Valestead,” she replied with a curtsy. Then for some reason she felt compelled to explain further. “Well, actually it is Andalynn, but everyone just calls me Anne.” She stopped suddenly, surprised at herself. Such explanations were unlike her.

  “Why would anyone call you Anne?” Orrick asked. “Andalynn is the most beautiful name I have ever heard.” Anne smiled giddily, but did not reply and Orrick continued. “My Lady Andalynn, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to dinner?” he asked as he turned and offered her his arm.

  Anne forgot all about her brother as she smiled back at the knight and reached up to accept his arm. “It would be my pleasure, Sir Orrick.”

  Orrick escorted Anne to a large pavilion under which sat the royal family, the lords and ladies of Avonvale, and the four remaining warriors. Anne and her escort sat at a table perpendicular to the royal family’s. Orrick was cheered as he entered the pavilion. Sir Gwillym even raised a glass to him and Orrick nodded his thanks.

  Orrick pulled the chair out for Anne and allowed her to sit before lowering himself into the seat beside her. He poured wine for them both and they each helped themselves to the food which filled platters situated up and down the tables.

  As the King’s guests ate, a harlequin told tales of Avon’s greatness and the greatness of the kingdom he founded. Then he strummed his lute and sang “Ehren’s Song,” the sad tale of Ehren’s life, that ended in her near deification and her son’s founding of the Kingdom of Avonvale.

  Following the song, everyone cheered and pounded their cups upon the wooden tables. Then as was the custom, Sir Gwillym stood and bowed lowly at the waist to Terrwyn, stating that it was indeed an honor to fight as her champion and that her beauty must certainly rival that of Ehren herself, to which the crowd cheered. Then Sir Rodrick stood and agreed that Terrwyn must be the spitting image of Ehren, as her ancestor’s beauty was legendary throughout the realm, and he would find
it a great honor if she would allow him to be her champion after he defeated Sir Gwillym in the next round. The crowd laughed at that, and Sir Rodrick slapped Gwillym on the back with good humor. “We shall see,” Gwillym chuckled as he waved a finger at Rodrick.

  Orrick leaned over and whispered into Anne’s ear. “Are you not also a descendant of Ehren?” he asked.

  “I am,” Anne nodded.

  “If anyone here has inherited her legendary beauty, I would think it is you,” he said before sitting back and sipping his wine. Anne smiled at him brightly. She was quite accustomed to being overlooked in favor of Terrwyn. It was not that Terrwyn was more beautiful, few would honestly say that, but rather she was the princess and Anne, though a Lady of the House of Valestead, was Terrwyn’s lady-in-waiting.

  Dinner was soon finished and swarms of servants swept through the pavilion clearing the tables as the guests returned to their seats for the next rounds of the tournament. Anne was beaming brightly as she found her seat and her eyes danced around the tournament grounds searching for Sir Orrick.

  Anne felt someone close to her and turned to see Morgan leaning over into the box to whisper in her ear. “I think our man Terrance has a real chance to win this,” he smiled excitedly and then hurried off to watch the fight. Anne found Morgan’s excitement amusing, but understandable. There was a friendly rivalry between Terrance and Gwillym since both were knights of the House of Valestead, just as a rivalry existed between King Alexandeon and Anne’s father. But Anne did not care about those family rivalries. She wanted the handsome Sir Orrick to win today, even if that meant he would become Terrwyn’s champion.

  The first fight of the afternoon was between Sir Orrick and Sir Terrance. The two men faced the royal box standing with their helmet’s held in the crook of their respective arms as they bowed to the King and “Ehren.” Orrick winked at Anne as he straightened. Anne was impressed by how much taller Orrick was than Terrance, standing at least a head above the other knight.