“A tasty meal tonight,” one of them hissed.
“Yes,” the others agreed. The farmer swung his torch at them causing them to leap back in fear, but then they circled closer again. They continued circling, getting closer and closer as they walked around him. He spun as he could not watch all of his sides at once.
“Get out of here!” he shouted at them. The panic gripped him now and he cursed himself for leaving the house. Could he make it back? He turned to the drak behind him and charged him with the flame. The drak leapt out of the way and the farmer ran past him toward the house as fast as he could.
He ran but a few steps before he felt a drak slam into him from behind causing him to fall face first onto the ground. He released a blood curdling shriek as the beast’s fangs sank into his flesh.
***
The sun was peeking out over the hills surrounding Elwood as the sky glowed brilliantly in the morning light. With the breaking of dawn came the return of the drakmere from their nightly hunts. They were under strict orders not to kill humans without the consent of King Edward, but few obeyed. Those that did would often do so because capturing a human was too dangerous as they often fought back. Instead the draks would attack cattle, sheep, goats, whatever was ripe for the pickings. They had grown lazy and fat in Elwood. Stalking prey was no longer necessary and they could basically pluck food directly from a farmer’s pen or sometimes even from a farmer’s house. Humans stayed close to home after dark and doors were secured, but sometimes the draks’ hunger for human flesh was too great and worth the risk.
After a long night of feasting on beast and man alike, the drakmere always slunk back to their camp near the castle with full bellies and sleepy heads. There they would sleep through much of the day, rising again to hunt that evening and terrorize the countryside.
The draks were returning as the sun rose in the morning sky. They laid out in the sunshine to warm their coldblooded bodies and one-by-one, fell asleep. As they slept, armored men began to emerge around them until hundreds of Elophbornt soldiers surrounded the beasts’ camp. Edward and Hansel soon arrived at the head of two columns of Elophbornt cavalry. The sounds of the soldiers and horse awakened the drakmere. They groggily glanced around, their feeble minds not yet grasping what was happening.
Edward turned to Hansel and then back to the draks. “Kill them all,” Edward shouted as he drew his sword and all at once instinct took over the drakmere. They quickly prepared to fight as Edward’s sword raised and fell.
With excited battle cries, the cavalry charged first with Edward and Hansel in the lead. They galloped into the mass of drakmere slashing and slicing, killing the monsters where they stood. The draks fought back fiercely and soon the cavalry began to falter. That is when the infantry charged in to finish them off.
Edward smiled as he watched the hundreds of infantrymen charge the now much smaller force of drakmere. He turned back to the fray just as a drak’s jaws snapped at his horse causing it to rear up in fright and toss him to the ground. Edward rolled to his feet, sword still in hand and turned to thrust into the open mouth of a charging drak. The drak died almost instantly, but the force of the charge and the weight of its large body knocked Edward to the ground, the drak collapsing on top of him.
Edward grunted under the weight. Relief swept over him as he noticed his men rushing to assist him, his uncle among them. Hansel pushed the drak’s body off of Edward, but as the young man was regaining his feet he turned to see a shrieking drak burst through the line of soldiers. The crazed beast’s jaws clamped down upon Edward’s head before he had a chance to defend himself. With a jerk, the drak ripped Edward’s head from his body.
The Elophbornt soldiers ran the beast through and Hansel released an agonizing cry as he watched his nephew’s decapitated body collapse dead upon the ground. Hansel stood staring down at Edward’s corpse, not sure how to react. He was in complete shock. He glanced up to see the few remaining drakmere being slaughtered. Suddenly, a new fear terrified him. Who would now rule Elophborne?
Chapter 9
Dillan was beaming excitedly as he stood behind the wheel of the sloop, sailing it across the smooth waters of the Glass Sea. With the assistance of Ashleen’s uncle, Caius, Dillan had convinced the Priests of Avalon to loan the small sailing vessel to him for a day trip around the island. He was so excited to have his sea legs again that he had almost forgotten to grab his tricorn hat. He had not worn it in months but knew that he would feel quite naked out on the waters without it.
Dillan smiled at his “crew” down on the foredeck—Terrwyn, Ashleen, Willem, and Eamon—enjoying the breeze and the gentle salty mists. They all needed a day like this. A day to simply enjoy themselves without concerns for the Realm War or their homes or loved ones. They needed a day where they could relax and release some of the stress and anxiety that had built up in them over the past year.
“Captain!” a voice called to him and Dillan glanced down to see Ashleen smiling up at him. “How about a swim?” she suggested.
“Aye, me fair lass, we shall,” Dillan said in his best pirate voice causing all aboard to laugh. He slowed the sloop and commanded Willem to drop anchor. The anchor fell with a splash, while Eamon helped Dillan furl the sails. Once the task was complete Dillan glanced about the ship and saw the others stripping off their clothes, the modesty they had first experienced on the beach long since gone.
Ashleen and Terrwyn stood near the ship’s rail and just as they had stripped down to their undergarments they found themselves in Willem’s arms, being heaved over the side with a squeal. Willem laughed as he followed them into the cool water.
Dillan strolled over to the rail, peered down into the sea and laughed at his friends splashing playfully below. Willem laughed excitedly, clearly delighted to be in a splash fight with Ashleen and Terrwyn. Suddenly, Eamon was at Dillan’s left, about to leap over the side into the fray.
Dillan thrust out his arm halting the young man. “Easy lad. Give Willem a moment or two to enjoy himself,” Dillan said.
“But I…” Eamon began, but Dillan interrupted him.
“Just a minute,” Dillan smiled and then turned back to find Willem completely submerged as Terrwyn and Ashleen held his head beneath the water. “On second thought maybe you should save him before he’s drowned.”
Eamon smiled and leapt over the side into the water with a splash. Dillan applauded and cried out encouragement as Eamon pulled Ashleen beneath the sea. Terrwyn turned to see the captain watching them and splashed water up toward the deck, spraying Dillan.
“Aren’t you going to join us, Captain?” she asked expectantly.
“Never a good idea to have the entire sailing party in the water,” he smiled.
“I think you are scared of us,” she taunted.
“There is that as well,” Dillan laughed. Suddenly, he ceased laughing as he caught sight of something in the sky. He straightened as he stared at it. The distance was too great to make out any details, but it was clearly a seraph, slowly flapping its massive wings as it more or less hovered over the sea. At first Dillan thought it was Metatron, but after looking more closely he was sure it wasn’t. Could it be the General? Dillan squinted as he stared. He could not tell, but was certain of two things: the seraph wore armor, as it was glistening in the sunlight, and whoever it was watched them intently.
Dillan quickly tossed the ship’s rope ladder into the water. “Climb aboard quickly,” he shouted down to his friends.
“What is the matter?” Willem asked.
“I’m not sure, but hurry.”
The others scrambled to obey and as they dressed Dillan cranked the anchor back up and secured it. He returned to the bridge as Willem and Eamon quickly unfurled the sails. Ashleen and Terrwyn joined him.
“What is wrong,” Ashleen asked.
“We are being watched, and it is making me a bit uncomfortable,” Dillan said.
“Watched?” Ashleen asked. “By whom?”
Dillan poin
ted to the seraph still hovering in the sky.
“Who is that?” Terrwyn asked.
“I don’t know, but it isn’t Metatron.”
Willem and Eamon joined them on the bridge. “Do you know who it is?” Willem asked as he followed their gaze to the seraph.
“No idea,” Dillan replied.
“Let’s go see if Metatron knows,” Ashleen suggested as they sailed toward the island.
***
Metatron stood fixed as a statue, his muscular arms crossed over his massive chest, his face emotionless, his eyes clear. Dillan and the others stood in front of him inside the Keep, explaining what they had seen.
“You are certain it was a seraph?” Metatron asked in a calm voice.
Dillan turned to the others who nodded and then back to Metatron. “I certainly do not know what else it could have been,” he said with a shake of his head.
Metatron’s eyebrows raised slightly. “There are many things in the three realms that fly, Dillan.”
“It was definitely a seraph,” Ashleen said and the others nodded in agreement.
“Wearing armor,” Willem volunteered.
“Armor?” Metatron asked, surprise evident in his voice. His expression giving the slightest hint of nervousness. “Was it a female?” he asked.
“It was hard to tell at that distance, but it certainly could have been.”
“Maybe it was General Aura,” Eamon suggested.
“Certainly possible, but unlikely,” Metatron said as he stared off into nothingness.
“Why do you say that?” Terrwyn asked, calling Metatron’s attention back to them.
Metatron cut his eyes to hers. “Why would she be watching you without speaking to you? And why would she have not stopped at Dracengard?”
“You know something,” Dillan said as he narrowed his eyes to stare at Metatron. “There is something you are not telling us.”
The hint of a smile touched the corners of Metatron’s mouth, but quickly disappeared before he spoke. “You know what happened to your seraph ancestors when it was found out that they had bedded human women and produced offspring,” he said.
“The Father burnt off their wings,” Willem said matter-of-factly.
“Yes. So if the Father was willing to do that to them…” he let his voice trail off.
“What would he do to us?” Ashleen finished for him.
“The Father made a deal with Alaric and the others that if they agreed to judgment and accepted their punishment without resistance he would leave their offspring alone.”
“And they did,” Terrwyn said.
“Yes, but that was not the only consequence. Seraph were forbidden from going to the Middle Realm further than the Island of Avalon without a command of the Father. He did not want seraph mixing with humans anymore. Further, it was believed that male seraph could be too easily seduced by what many seraph considered harlots. Thus, the Father, in his wisdom, created an all female military order known as the Valkyrie, or more commonly as Shield Maidens. They are separate and apart from the rest of the military and answer directly to the Father himself. Over the millennia, the Valkyrie have become the Father’s most trusted warriors and guardians. They not only protect Auraehalis from the forces of darkness outside of the realm, but also from those inside. Soon the Valkyrie began to become suspicious that seraph were traveling to the Middle Realm and visiting harlots. They tightened up their security, paying more attention to their fellow seraph than to shedom that may be coming for them.”
“And you think one of these…Valkyrie…was watching us?” Dillan asked.
“I do not know, but it appears that whoever was watching you wanted you to know it.”
“But why?” Willem asked.
“Nephilim in Dracengard,” Metatron answered with a tilt of his head. “It has to be an unsettling thought for them.”
Dillan glanced at the others. He was unsettled himself.
Chapter 10
Anne was perched regally upon the soft, velvet cushions of a high-backed chair in the strategy room of the castle at Libetha. Standing before her were Rayfen, Morgan, and the newly crowned King Andrick. The other chairs, those of King Warren’s former war council, had been removed from the room. Anne felt that there was no reason to sit in her presence—if one grew tired of standing, one could kneel.
She sat with her chin held high in the air as Rayfen sought to convince her it was time to march on the White Fortress. They had delayed long enough.
“According to our spy in Caerwynspire, King Artur has already begun preparing his defense of the fortress upon hearing the news of our having conquered Libetha,” the shedom informed her.
Anne’s eyes cut to him and she raised her eyebrows. “I have heard the same, General,” she said dismissively.
“The longer we wait the more difficult it will be to conquer the fortress.”
“As you have said, we have a man on the inside. I do not know him, but if you believe him trustworthy, then we should have nothing to worry about. And if that fails we have Ariana.”
“I would have preferred to have attacked them unawares,” Rayfen hissed.
Anne stared at him coldly. “He should not speak to you that way, Your Majesty,” she heard Asmodeus’ voice whisper in her ear. The shade was right. Anne was growing tired of Rayfen’s whining about the White Fortress. She was the Empress—not him.
“Kneel before me,” she said softly, yet firmly. Andrick glanced at Morgan who returned his worried look. They had never seen Rayfen kneel before anyone.
Rayfen did not kneel, but did take a respectful tone. “Your Majesty…” he began but Anne cut him off.
“On both knees!” she shrieked at him as she leapt from her chair. Rayfen slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of Anne. She smiled and took a step toward him. “That is better, General,” she said sweetly as she stepped in front of him. “Now, kiss my ring,” she said as she held her left hand in front of his face.
Rayfen bent his head toward her hand but she stopped him. “No General.” She then reached forward and lifted his helmet from his head and dropped it casually to the floor at her feet with a clatter. She smiled as she heard Morgan and Andrick gasp.
She held her fingers in front of him and felt the coldness as he leaned forward and kissed her ring. If one could call it kissing. He had no lips. His face looked like darkness pulled tight over a skull. There did not appear to be eyes in the sockets, but Anne knew that was just the effect of having black eyes against black skin. Shedom were made of darkness and thus everything seemed to blend together.
“From now on you shall show me my proper respect, is that clear?” she asked as she stared down at his face. He nodded. “I asked you a question,” she almost shouted, expecting a verbal answer.
“Yes,” he said, “Your Majesty.”
Anne smiled.
***
The wind blew over the walls of the White Fortress of Caerwynspire as Tythan strolled along with Ariana clinging to his arm. Though life had improved for Tythan since his arrival—he no longer feared King Artur would have him murdered in his sleep—he and Ariana still felt like outsiders at court and took advantage of opportunities to escape the confines of the castle whenever possible.
Life for everyone in Caerwynspire had changed drastically since news of Anne’s conquest of Libetha had reached the White Fortress. The city was on high alert and patrols rode out into the hillsides daily scouting for any signs of impending attack upon Caerwynspire. Citizen soldiers had been mobilized and had begun drilling for the war everyone seemed to feel was a certainty.
Arguments raged from the city taverns to the court halls about whether Anne’s army of drakmere would march north to the White Fortress or south to Avonvale. If they marched south, the question became whether King Artur should take his forces south as well. Could they coordinate their efforts with those of Avonvale to trap Anne’s forces between two armies and crush them? Alternatively, should the army remain in Caerwy
nspire, ready to defend the city from the eventual assault? If Anne marched her drakmere north, strategies became much clearer.
Ariana had been questioned at length by Artur, his war council, and Paladin about Anne’s intentions and the size of her forces. Tythan was allowed to attend these meetings, but was never consulted. In fact his presence was mostly ignored, which irritated him. He was, after all, well studied in the art of war and felt he could contribute to the discussions. However, anytime he spoke up, his thoughts and comments were dismissed, if they were even acknowledged at all.
During their time in the White Fortress, Tythan had fallen even more in love with Ariana than before. After all, she was his only friend at court, other than his sister, and without her almost constant company he would have been quite lonely. Tythan turned to stare at the raven haired beauty on his arm. Her soft white skin contrasted with her dark blue dress and sparkling gold necklace. She was certainly the most stunningly beautiful woman Tythan had ever seen.
“Artur is dangerous,” she said softly, breaking the silence they had shared up until that point.
“How do you mean?” Tythan asked with an amused smile. He adored the way Ariana felt compelled to voice her opinions to him, knowing she was safe from the retribution she would receive from her husband had she voiced them to him.
Ariana turned her head to face him, but did not return his smile. In fact, Tythan felt certain he saw genuine concern in her eyes. “I have heard rumors that he wishes to march south and take Libetha from Anne.”
Tythan shrugged. “Even if those rumors are true, that is a natural response.”
“Is it?” Ariana asked.
“Of course. Libetha was a friend and ally. They were conquered by an enemy.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps Artur wishes to rule Libetha himself. After all, the outcome of the conquest was simply placing Duke Andrick on the throne. So was it not more of an internal struggle?”
“Yes, but…” Tythan began, but Ariana interrupted him.
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