Anne smiled down at the black egg in her hand.
“Later, we shall take it to the most ancient of all drakons and yours shall be born in the drakon flame.”
“Later?” she asked, disappointment evident in her voice. “Why not now?”
“Because now, I want you to show me your appreciation.” With that he pressed his lips to hers.
“Thank you, My Lord,” she whispered.
Epilogue
Queen Gwyndalin sat in the darkness of her room, staring at the fire flickering in the hearth. The death of her husband had depressed her, but the death of Ashleen had crushed her. The two deaths combined had nearly caused her to have a mental breakdown. If not for her ten other daughters, she did not believe she would have been able to go on living.
Gwyndalin stared into the flames with a blank gaze upon her face as she had most nights since the battle. She did not move, she barely blinked, she just stared. Suddenly, she heard a tapping on the door which jostled her from her trance. She cleared her throat. “Come in,” she said.
The door slowly opened and she saw Sir Rodrick there. “Excuse me, Your Majesty,” he said. “You have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” the Queen asked, surprise evident in her voice. “At this hour?”
“Yes,” Rodrick said and stepped to the side to reveal Aura.
Gwyndalin stood. “Do come in General,” she said. Aura stepped inside and Rodrick closed the door behind her leaving Aura and the Queen alone.
“May I warm myself by the fire?” Aura asked.
“Of course,” Gwyndalin said. Aura smiled and stepped close to the hearth, staring into the flickering light. “Thank you for coming to Caerwynspire’s aid in our time of need,” she said.
Aura nodded. “I was sorry to hear of the passing of your husband and daughter,” she said. “I knew Ashleen. She was a fine warrior.”
“Well, not fine enough,” Gwyndalin said before choking back a sob. She quickly composed herself. “Would you care to sit?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” Aura replied. “But please do not stand on my account.”
Gwyndalin nodded and sat back down in her chair. “What may I do for you, General?”
“I find myself in quite a predicament, Your Majesty,” Aura said.
“What kind of predicament?” the Queen asked.
Aura turned toward her and placed a hand on her belly. Gwyndalin noticed the bulge for the first time. A hand went to her mouth.
“You are with child?” she asked.
“Yes,” Aura said. “I do not know what to do. I cannot return to Auraehalis in this condition. Even if Hae’lel spared my life he most certainly would not spare the child’s,” she said using the name for the Father for the first time in her life.
Gwyndalin immediately leapt to her feet and crossed over to Aura. She threw her arms around the seraph. “You poor dear. Do not worry. You may stay in Caerwynspire for as long as you need.”
Aura felt tears running down her cheeks and she suddenly lost all control of her emotions. She sobbed onto Gwyndalin’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
TURN THE PAGE TO BEGIN BOOK SIX
Dracengard Book Six
Chapter 1
The castle ruins were dark as Dillan made his way through the halls, his footfalls echoing in the emptiness surrounding him. Dillan knew the castle well, as it was his family home at Riversmeet. Riversmeet had been set ablaze when the Wizard conquered it, but most of the castle’s stone structure remained.
As Dillan strolled through the empty corridors, he noticed the charred remains of both humans and drakmere throughout the castle. He saw the blackened skeleton of a child and knelt down beside it. He placed his fingers on the child’s forearms and felt the teethmarks from where the drakmere had ripped his flesh from his bones. Dillan placed his fingers over his eyes as he choked back a sob.
Suddenly, the child snatched Dillan’s wrist causing Dillan to pull his arm away while leaping to his feet. Dillan stared down at the child which was no longer a skeleton, but a bloody little boy. “Why did you leave us?” the boy cried.
Dillan backed away, stumbling down the corridor. He quickly turned and ran as fast as he could. Somehow he found himself in the throne room. Dillan gasped. There, standing in front of him was his father, King Tybalt. Tybalt stared down at three burnt corpses and Dillan knew that it was his family. He walked toward the King.
“Father,” Dillan said with surprise ringing in his voice causing Tybalt to glance up at him. The old king smiled pleasantly.
“You have avenged us, son,” the old King said. “Rest easy.”
Suddenly, the shadows throughout the room came to life and engulfed Tybalt.
“No!” Dillan shouted as he drew his short sword and charged toward his father and the menacing shadows, his sword swinging wildly. It was no use, however, the blade just whooshed through the darkness making contact with nothing. His father disappeared into the black as Dillan was helpless to save him.
Dillan felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Ashleen standing beside him in her golden armor, a smile upon her face. She held the Sword of Light, the weapon forged in Auraehalis and given to her great ancestor a thousand years before. “Take this!” she shouted as she offered it to him. “Your sword cannot defeat the darkness.”
Dillan reached out, accepting the sword from her hand. Ashleen stepped closer and pressed her lips to his. “I have always loved you,” she said, “but I know your heart belongs to another. It is alright. She can have you.”
“Ashleen, I…” he began, but just as the words left his lips, Ashleen’s eyes turned black and tendrils of darkness crept through her skin. “Ashleen!” he shouted. Her mouth was open as if to scream, but no sound came out. Soon Ashleen faded completely into the darkness surrounding them and Dillan screamed as he realized the shedom, Rayfen, stood in her place holding his black, jagged sword.
“No!” Dillan shouted as he collapsed to his knees. “It’s my fault. Everything is my fault!”
Rayfen threw back his head and cackled as Dillan screamed into the darkness.
***
Dillan bolted upright to find Terrwyn’s beautiful face staring at him. “It is alright, Dillan, it’s just a dream,” she said.
“Keep screaming like that and you’ll let every drak in the realm know our position,” he heard a voice off to his right say and he turned to see Willem staring at him.
Dillan nodded. “Sorry,” he said.
“It’s alright,” Terrwyn said with a sympathetic smile. “Dreaming about your family again?”
Dillan nodded as he glanced around trying to refamiliarize himself with their surroundings. They were in a patch of woods in the Stromland several miles northwest of Riversmeet. They had spent the last month cleaning drakmere out of Dillan’s kingdom. When the Wizard ordered the entirety of the Stromland razed, it gave thousands of drakmere the go-ahead to roam the countryside terrorizing the citizens. Dillan, Terrwyn, and Willem were assisted by Erec and a force of cavalry from Avonvale. Together with the dracen, the drakmere had been wiped out or forced to flee quite easily.
Most of the draks were dead now, but the dracen had scouted a holdout in a boggy area just twenty miles south of the Beagonian border. The drakmere holed up in the bogs presented a unique challenge. It would be extremely difficult for the cavalry to charge into the bogs and they would be fighting on ground that drakmere were most comfortable in. In other words, eradicating the draks in their swamps was not feasible. Thus, they devised a plan to drive the beasts out into the open.
The plan was quite simple. Dillan, Terrwyn, and Willem would fly their dracen into the bogs scaring the draks and causing them to flee—right into Erec and the waiting lancers who would run them down.
“It’s almost time,” Willem said as he saw sun light beginning to peek over the tree tops.
Terrwyn stood dusting herself off before offering Dillan a hand, pulling him up from the ground. Dillan t
hanked her with a wink as his hand fell instinctively to the hilt of his sword to ensure that it was there.
They all carried light swords now. Not just the four that rode dracen, but all of the nephilim that had fought against the Wizard and Anne. Following the Battle of Caerwynspire, Metatron presented each of them with a sword forged in Auraehalis. He realized that had they been armed with light swords during the battle, Ashleen might still be alive.
“Let’s mount up,” Terrwyn said as she jogged over to Avon who still rested his head on the ground, lazily. “Come on sleepy head, it’s time to kill some draks.”
Avon lifted his head and smiled at her. “Alright, but when this is done and we return to Avonvale, I expect to take a long, long nap.”
“Fair enough,” Terrwyn laughed as she climbed into the saddle on his back.
Willem mounted Shimmer, Dillan mounted Bran, and soon all three dracen were flying up into the sky above the tree tops, carrying the nephilim to battle. The dracen flew wide of the bogs, far to the west and out of sight from any draks on the ground. They wanted to get north of the bogs so that when the attack began, the drakmere would flee south into Erec’s lances instead of north into Beagonia.
It did not take long to circle around the bogs and soon the dracen began to flap their great leathery wings, propelling themselves higher into the sky. Avon and Terrwyn flew in the center with Dillan and Bran on their left and Willem and Shimmer on the right. Soon they were so high in the sky that they would not even be discernible from the ground. The dracen, however, could clearly see what was below.
They flew on until they were directly over the bogs. “I see them,” everyone heard Avon’s voice in their heads. “A few hundred at least.”
“Destroy as many as you can while pushing them south,” Dillan said. “The last thing we need is to inadvertently send an army of draks toward Erec that is too large for his men to handle.”
“Ready?” Avon asked and received affirmations from the dracen and nephilim. “Dive!”
All three dracen pointed their snouts toward the ground as they tucked their wings close to their sides and dove toward the bogs below. Terrwyn, Dillan, and Willem ducked low, holding themselves tight against the scaly necks of their dracen as they streaked downward at incredible speeds. As they neared their target, Avon released a terrifying shriek. He was joined by Shimmer and Bran, the three dracen hoping to scare the drakmere from their swampy water to flee in terror.
The strategy worked. Panicked, the drakmere rushed from the water and ran as fast as they could as the dracen extended their massive wings, slowing their descent and presenting a terrifying appearance. The great dragons shrieked again and the drakmere fled even faster.
The dracen were soon on top of their prey and each released a burst of flame from his or her mouth, engulfing the drakmere. Bran and Shimmer glided away from Avon as they attempted to keep draks from fleeing east or west. They wanted all of them to run south into the waiting lances of the Valish troops.
The dracen continued to spit fire as the drakmere fled on all fours as fast as they could. The beasts were soon out of the bogs and running through the woods. Fire continued to rain down as scores of drakmere perished shrieking in agony.
When the drakmere erupted from the trees, they numbered no more than one hundred. They dashed through the fields until they saw they waiting lancers on horse back. The draks began to slow, but the three dracen landed in the meadow behind them and pushed forward, continuing to burn those draks in the rear. The drakmere chose to face the lancers instead of the dracen and charged toward Erec and his men as the Valish cavalry rode to meet them.
There was a thunder of hooves as Erec led his men into the horde of drakmere, their long lances ripping through the beasts. The dracen attacked the draks on their rear. Too close to the Valish cavalry to breath fire, the dragons attacked with their mouths and claws, tearing the draks apart.
The battle was fierce, but quick. In a matter of minutes, all of the drakmere lay dead on a blood soaked patch of ground. While several of the lancers were wounded, only four lost their lives. It was a nearly perfect victory and it rid the lower kingdoms of the last sizable force of drakmere.
Terrwyn recognized her brother cantering his horse toward her, his armor covered in green blood. Erec’s eyes met hers and he smiled happily. Suddenly, Terrwyn began to laugh and Erec joined her. The laughter was contagious and soon everyone joined in, an excited, almost hysterical laugh at the fallen remnants of the Wizard’s once powerful army of drakmere. The war was not yet over as all of the northern kingdoms, save Caerwynspire, were still in the hands of the enemy, but they could rest a bit easier knowing that the great majority of the drakmere had been wiped out in the southern kingdoms.
***
Willem was ready to leave. He had been happy to help his friends rid their kingdoms of drakmere, but he needed to get home to Elophborne to start putting things right once again. Terrwyn wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“I shall miss you, Willem,” she whispered into his ear.
“I will miss you as well, Terrwyn, but do not forget, Elwood is but a short dracen ride from Avonvale,” Willem replied.
Terrwyn pulled away and nodded. “Then we will see each other soon and often, I hope.”
“Of course,” Willem said. He then turned to Erec and held out his hand. “Farewell Erec. Thank you for everything you did for my Kingdom.”
“Of course, Willem,” Erec replied. “And I will do so again if needed. If there is any resistance to your return, let us know.”
Willem nodded. “Thank you for that,” he said. “However, I am confident that there will be no resistance. The Wizard is dead, Anne is missing, and the draks have already been run out of Elophborne. My people are likely eager for peace. But, there will still be the task of determining who is loyal and who is not.”
“You have the list of those who helped your uncle and I resist the Wizard’s rule,” Erec said to Willem’s nod.
“Thank you, Erec.”
Suddenly, Lord Galt and Sir Stanlas appeared from behind them, each carrying large cups. Galt had a small barrel tucked under his arm. “Excuse me,” Lord Galt said interrupting them and shoving a cup into each of their hands. “His Majesty cannot be returning to Elophborne without first toasting our victory over the draks,” he smiled at Willem.
Galt pulled the cork out of the small barrel with his teeth and then filled each of the cups with the foaming beer. He returned the cork to the barrel and then held his cup high. “To victory over those green-skinned devils. And may the Wizard’s headless body burn in the dracen’s fire for all eternity.” They all drank from the cups of beer.
Willem coughed a bit as he wiped foam from his upper lip. “Hearty,” he smiled causing Galt to slap him on the back, knocking him forward.
“It’s an old recipe that the Greynaults have been drinking for generations,” he laughed.
Sir Stanlas frowned. “I only wish Lord Theron and his boys were here to drink it with us,” he said.
Terrwyn raised her cup. “To those we’ve lost,” she said and everyone nodded, drinking to her toast.
Galt turned to Stanlas. “Young Staphon should be ready to fight soon,” he remarked.
Stanlas nodded. “Another year perhaps,” he said. Erec had offered Stanlas a lordship at the same time he’d granted Galt his. Stanlas had declined. He had no heirs and thus, no need for a lordship, he had told Erec. He would remain in the service of Greynault and with the passing of Lord Theron and his two eldest sons, the family would need him more than ever.
Willem drained his cup and handed it, now empty, back to Galt. “Thank you, Lord Galt,” he said. “I must be going now.” Willem turned and walked to Shimmer who stood with her head close to Avon’s. Willem climbed up into her saddle as his eyes scanned the surroundings before meeting Terrwyn’s. “Please tell Dillan and Bran good-bye for me,” he said.
“Of course,” she replied with
a smile.
“Look after the old man. I think he’s taking Ashleen’s death especially hard,” Willem said. Terrwyn nodded. She knew it. He was different since the Battle of Caerwynspire. “He loves you, you know,” remarked Willem as he looked at Terrwyn with raised eyebrows.
Terrwyn glanced down at the ground, but then her eyes rose to Willem’s. “I know,” she said softly.
“You two were a good match from the beginning. I believe your fathers knew what they were doing.”
Terrwyn felt tears build in her eyes. “You are an incredible friend, Willem,” she said.
Willem nodded. “I know,” he said with an arrogant smirk. “So long, Terrwyn.” Everyone waved as Shimmer beat her great wings, lifting off the ground and flying off into the air.
“Where is the young Stromish king?” Galt asked as he glanced about the camp. “I have a cup for him as well.”
Terrwyn shrugged. “I don’t know,” she replied, but she would find him.
***
Dillan stood at the edge of the river tossing rocks into the water and watching them fall with a plunk. Bran was partially submerged in the water as the current washed past him. Bran lifted his head. “Here comes Terrwyn,” he said.
Dillan turned to find Terrwyn walking toward them through the trees—cup in hand—its top overflowing with foam. He smiled at her. “What are you doing out here by yourself?” she asked.
Dillan frowned. “I’m not by myself, I have Bran with me,” he said as he motioned to the dracen lying in the river.
Terrwyn looked at Bran. “Shimmer is gone,” she told him. “You didn’t say good-bye.”
Bran laughed. “I did. Dracen don’t need to be together to communicate, remember? Besides, I plan to see her soon.”
Terrwyn turned to Dillan. “Did you say good-bye to Willem telepathically as well?” she asked with a hint of chiding in her voice.
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