Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series

by Christopher Vale

  Dillan looked down at the muddy bank of the river. “I should have been there,” he said, but then brought his eyes back up to meet Terrwyn’s. “But in my defense the kid could have told me he was leaving.”

  Terrwyn chuckled. “I suppose you are both to blame.” She held out the cup of beer to him.

  Dillan raised his eyebrows as he accepted it. “What is this?” he asked.

  “A special Greynault brew,” she laughed. “Lord Galt brought it especially to celebrate the defeat of the drakmere.”

  Dillan took a whiff and his eyes popped open wide. He brought the cup to his lips and took a big gulp. He cleared his throat as he pulled the cup away from his lips. “Hearty,” he said.

  Terrwyn threw back her head as she laughed boisterously. “That is exactly what Willem said.”

  Dillan laughed too, but then his face turned back to his now typical somber expression. Terrwyn tilted her head as she stared at him. “What is wrong?” she asked, the concern clear.

  “He still blames himself for Ashleen’s death,” Bran volunteered.

  Dillan turned to scowl at his dracen. “You know sometimes it’s a real pain to have you in my head all the time,” he said. Bran humphed and laid his head back down on the bank. “Why don’t you give us a minute, Bran,” Dillan suggested.

  Bran lifted his head and stared at Dillan. After a long moment he humphed again before pushing himself to his feet and slogging out of the water. “Alright,” he said compliantly, though Terrwyn could tell he was frustrated. The dracen walked past them and into the tree line, back toward camp.

  Terrwyn turned back to meet Dillan’s eyes. He threw back his head and drained the remainder of the beer, then turned back toward the river with a sigh. Terrwyn took a step forward and placed her hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s not your fault that Ashleen died,” she whispered.

  “Yes, it is,” he said before turning back to face her. “I was so eager for my revenge, to kill the Black Knight…” he stopped. “Had I not taken her light sword she might still be alive.”

  Terrwyn nodded. “Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps not. Perhaps it would be you that died and Ashleen standing beside a river blaming herself.”

  Dillan smiled. “She would, too,” he said.

  “What?” asked Terrwyn.

  “Blame herself. She would have gladly died for any of us.” He wiped tears from his eyes as he looked away from Terrwyn.

  “She loved you, Dillan. Everyone knew that,” Terrwyn said softly.

  “Yeah,” Dillan nodded.

  “And you loved her,” Terrwyn said.

  Dillan nodded again. “It is true, I did,” he said, “but not the way you think.” His eyes met hers. “Not the way I love you.”

  Terrwyn quickly looked away. Dillan reached out with his fingers and turned her face toward him. He saw the tears in her eyes. He reached out his arms and she fell against him and buried her face in his chest. “We made a promise to each other,” Terrwyn said. “Ashleen and I.”

  “Oh yeah?” Dillan asked. He felt Terrwyn nod against his chest.

  “That day she saw us kiss atop the Keep. We promised each other not to pursue you until the war was over.”

  Terrwyn pulled back and looked up him. They peered into each others eyes for a long time. “I know the war isn’t over, not really, but it feels like it to me,” she said. “Right now it feels like there is nothing that can harm us. All the death and destruction, the loss of our families and friends, and yet I am happy, right now here in your arms.”

  “Me too,” Dillan said as he leaned down and kissed Terrwyn firmly on the lips. He pulled slightly away. “Tell me you love me,” he whispered.

  “I love you,” she said and he kissed her deeper.

  “I have loved you since I first saw you standing on the docks at Lattingham,” Dillan said with a laugh.

  “When I first realized that you were Prince Tybalt, my heart leapt that I was betrothed to you,” she said.

  He laughed. “Before you remembered you hated me,” he said with a good-natured smile.

  She laughed as well. “I didn’t hate you,” she said. “But I was incredibly angry at you. Furious really.” Dillan bent over and pressed his lips to hers once more. “Come on,” she whispered as she pulled away. “If we go around back, we can sneak into my tent.”

  “Really?” Dillan smiled as Terrwyn took his hand and led him through the trees.

  “Really,” she said with a coy smile.

  Chapter 2

  The bells were tolling as King Baltus lay in bed in his castle at Bien, the capital city of Talisaria. His physician had just left after shedding no more light on Baltus’ ailment than Baltus already knew himself. The old King had been dying for over a decade. Every year he said it would be his last, but every year he lived on.

  Word had reached Talisaria that an army of drakmere had invaded Caerwynspire, but had been repelled. According to the peddlers who spun the tale, the drakmere were defeated by angels flying on the back of winged dragons come down from the Realm of Light. Of course, Baltus knew that to be preposterous. There were no such things as angels or dragons.

  Baltus was wise enough to realize, however, that there was probably some truth to the tales. The drak army most likely did invade Caerwynspire and was quite probably defeated, albeit by human soldiers, not fantastical creatures. After all, Artur had the finest warriors and the most defensible city in the realm.

  Just a few days after the peddlers’ tales reached his ears, the battle was confirmed by the hand of his own son, Tythan, whom Baltus had dispatched to Caerwynspire. Tythan’s letter was quite disconcerting. It stated quite plainly that Tythan would be arriving with an army that included not only his Talisarian troops, but also Caerwyn soldiers—including Paladin—and Baltus would be expected to relinquish the throne to Tythan. The letter added that Ariana was dead, killed by a drakmere.

  Baltus was very much upset by the news. Not so much of the death of his wife—he felt bad for her, but he had never really loved her anyway. Besides he strongly suspected that she was being unfaithful to him with his own son, and the fact that she was in Caerwynspire when he had ordered her to Avonvale only confirmed his suspicions. As much as the thought of her infidelity with Tythan pained him, Baltus was much more upset about his son’s betrayal to Caerwynspire.

  If Artur were sending Caerwyn troops, including Paladin, to Talisaria to displace Baltus in Tythan’s favor, then Tythan must have struck some sort of deal with him. The fact that Tythan had not revealed the specifics of that deal in his letter vexed Baltus even more. To Baltus that meant that Tythan struck the deal not to save his kingdom and his family, but because he was in league with Artur in some sort of sinister conspiracy. What truly puzzled the old king was why his sweet Gwyndalin would allow such a thing?

  The ringing bells were maddening and made it difficult to think. The old king was just about to shout for someone to go and cease the ringing when to Baltus’ great relief they stopped as suddenly as they had begun. In the new quiet, Baltus closed his eyes and drifted away to sleep.

  Baltus did not know how long he slept before he was awakened with a jolt, his eyes popping open to see his son, Tythan, standing above his bed staring down at him. Tythan was dressed in armor as if for battle, his helmet held in the crook of his arm.

  “Hello, Father,” Tythan said, without the hint of a smile touching his lips.

  Baltus sat up in bed and stared at his son. He took a deep breath and then cleared his throat. He pointed to a pitcher and cup on the bedside table and Tythan turned and lifted the pitcher, pouring a cupful for his father. The Prince set the pitcher back on the table and then lifted the cup and handed it to his father. Baltus drank deeply, draining the cup before handing it back to Tythan. Tythan returned the now empty cup to the table beside the bed.

  “Is it really you, son?” Baltus asked.

  Tythan nodded. “It is, Father.”

  Baltus smiled. “Back from the bat
tle a hero, eh?” he said with a proud laugh which quickly morphed into a cough and further degraded into a coughing fit. Tythan quickly poured him another cup of water, but Baltus waved it away as he managed to get the coughing under control on his own.

  “How are you feeling, Father?” Tythan asked.

  Baltus nodded his head. “I’ve been better. I’m dying you know,” he said.

  Tythan chuckled. “You have been dying for years, but I fear that Death may not want you.”

  This caused Baltus to chuckle, but the good humor was short lived. He looked upward at his son and his face turned serious. “So you are here to take my throne, are you?” he asked.

  Tythan nodded reluctantly. “It is the only way, Father. You made a deal with the Wizard and surrendered our Dracenstone.”

  Baltus waved Tythan’s words away with a gruff. “That old rock is worthless. So, I guess you are in league with Artur now.”

  Tythan shook his head. “No, Father,” Tythan said. “Artur is dead.”

  Baltus’ eyes popped open wide. “Dead you say?” he asked almost happily.

  “Yes, killed by traitors in his own kingdom.”

  Baltus cut a sharp eye to his son. “Then I guess he and I have more in common than I thought.”

  Tythan frowned, but determined to change the subject. “There is someone else who would like to see you, Father,” Tythan said before stepping over to the door and opening it.

  Baltus smiled when he saw the beautiful young woman step inside and toward his bed. “Ashleen,” he said as he held out his arms to greet her.

  “No, it’s Lisabeth, Grandfather,” she said as she walked to his bed and bent down allowing him to hug and placed a kiss upon his cheek.

  He pulled away and stared at her face. “The two of you always looked so much alike,” he smiled. He narrowed his eyes as he noticed the scars on her chin and the hole in her lip from a drakmere’s claw and let his finger touch it. It was just a moment of concern before his eyes brightened, meeting hers once more. “Did your mother come?” he asked hopefully. Lisabeth shook her head. “Well, how about Ashleen? She is with you, isn’t she?”

  Lisabeth opened her mouth, but tears came to her eyes and she choked on a sob, preventing her from speaking.

  “Ashleen was killed, Father,” Tythan said. “During the battle.”

  Baltus stared at his son, his mouth hanging open, his eyes unblinking. After a long moment he finally spoke in a voice that was not much more than a whisper. “Not my sweet Ashleen,” he said and broke down crying. Lisabeth threw her arms around him once again. He cried onto her shoulder for a while, but eventually straightened and looked Lisabeth right in the eye.

  “Please tell me your mother survived,” he said, his voice hoarse. Lisabeth nodded, causing Baltus to breath a sigh of relief.

  “Ariana did not, Father,” Tythan said.

  Baltus began to turn red. “And whose fault is that?” he asked as he shot Tythan an angry glare. “I sent her to Avonvale, but she went to Caerwynspire with you, eh? You were bedding my wife, weren’t you? And now she is dead!” he spat at Tythan.

  Tythan cleared his throat as he stared at the ground. “Ariana was in Caerwynspire because she was sent there as an agent of the would-be empress Andalynn Valestead.”

  “What?” Baltus asked, a look of confusion on his face.

  “Ariana was a Shebath worshiper, Father,” Tythan said.

  Baltus’ face distorted with anger and confusion. “That’s impossible. How dare you speak such ill of the dead, boy!”

  “She admitted it to me, Father. She tried to get me to come away with her and join the dark army. Her father is a Shebath worshiper, too.”

  “Lord Teigan?” Baltus asked incredulously. “Preposterous, he is my closest military adviser.”

  “Nevertheless…” Tythan said. “Are you well enough to stand?” Tythan asked. Baltus nodded. “Good, there is something I want you to see.” Tythan assisted his father from his bed, while Lisabeth fetched the old king’s robe. They helped placed it upon Baltus’ shoulders and then walked the old man to the double doors leading out onto the balcony. Lisabeth stepped forward and swung the doors open. Tythan assisted his father outside onto the balcony overlooking the castle courtyard. Baltus shielded his eyes from the glaring sun with his hand as he stepped out into the daylight.

  Baltus heard a terrifying roar and moved his hand so that he could see. What he saw took his breath away. In the courtyard was a gathering of citizens and soldiers from Talisaria. There were Paladin as well. From his position, Baltus could see more soldiers outside of the gates. But the thing that startled him was the green-scaled dracen that stood perched upon the wall directly across from Baltus.

  Tythan leaned over and spoke directly into his father’s ear. “That is Lisabeth’s cousin, Prince Eamon Sommerarcher of Ephenee, and his pet dragon, Jade.” Baltus turned to look at Tythan, then back to Jade. “But what is really important is down below,” Tythan said as he pointed to a group of men in black armor on their knees, hands bound at their backs, with Tythan’s men standing behind them with swords at the ready.

  “Lord Teigan,” Baltus said.

  “Yes,” Tythan replied. “It is important that the people realize that we speak with one voice. That we are not having a civil war that will tear the kingdom apart. For the benefit of the other kingdoms, including Caerwynspire we shall blame any misfortunes that may have occurred from this war on that devil worshiping Teigan and his men. Do you understand?”

  Baltus nodded. He did understand. Even if he did not believe that Teigan and Ariana were Shebath worshipers, he realized Teigan needed to be the scapegoat used to save their family and their kingdom.

  Tythan raised an arm and waved at the people, all of whom cheered him. “My dear citizens of Talisaria. I have discovered that the once Queen Ariana and her father, Lord Teigan, have been poisoning my Father’s mind against his people and the other kingdoms of the Middle Realm. Ariana has been revealed as a witch.” The crowd gasped. “But fear not, for she perished in Caerwynspire.” Tythan stopped there and choked back a sob. He pushed on. “Her Father and his men shall be executed this day, in front of all of you.” Tythan’s eyes fell on Teigan. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked.

  “It’s lies, Your Highness,” Teigan shouted. “I swear!”

  “You own daughter admitted as much to me, traitor. She admitted that you and she worshiped Shebath.” At that, another gasp arose from the gathered crowd.

  “No, Your Highness!” Teigan shouted.

  Tythan ignored him. “Due to my father’s failing health he is stepping down as King and I shall be assuming the duties.”

  Tythan let that sink in. He saw a few sympathetic faces, but overall this seemed to go as expected. “As my first act, I order the immediate execution of Teigan and his men.”

  The crowd began to boo and curse Teigan and his men as they were dragged away to be executed. Everything began to swirl for Baltus, his vision blurring before he collapsed. Tythan and Lisabeth caught him before he hit the ground and carried him to his bed.

  ***

  Lisabeth stood on the wall of the castle at Bien staring out over the small town that comprised the capital city of Talisaria. Compared to Caerwynspire, a fortress city carved out of the side of the mountain with its highly polished white walls and towering spires, Bien was very banal. Still, the simpleness of it, far from the war that had torn the rest of the realm apart, had an appeal to Lisabeth. After so much loss, including the lives of her older sister and father, Lisabeth was ready for peace and calm.

  Following the Battle of Caerwynspire, or as the Caerwyn referred to it simply as the Battle, the gathered nephilim began to make plans to rid the realm of their enemies once and for all. The immediate priority for the southerners was ridding their lands of roaming bands of drakmere. Lisabeth and Tythan were more concerned with retaking the northern kingdoms. The first, of course, would be Talisaria. Thus they agreed to split up w
ith Eamon, the lone dracen rider, joining the north. Once the drakmere were dead or scattered and Tythan placed upon the throne of Talisaria, they would all join their armies together to remove the Wizard’s witch, Lilit, from power in Beagonia and then seek revenge upon the murderous King Andrick in Libetha.

  However, now that they had secured her uncle upon the throne of Talisaria—fortunately without bloodshed—and rid the kingdom of the Shebath worshipers, Lisabeth was lacking motivation to continue the war. She was tired and she realized that if she were tired then Dillan, Terrwyn, Erec, and Willem, all of whom had been struggling against the dark forces much longer than she, must be completely exhausted. Would this war ever end?

  Lisabeth heard footsteps along the wall and turned to see Eamon walking toward her. He smiled pleasantly when he reached her and she stood up straight, returning his smile.

  “Good evening,” he said as he stopped beside her and turned to look out over the city of Bien as well.

  “Good evening to you,” she said.

  “How is your grandfather?” he asked.

  “He’s still alive,” she said. “Uncle Tythan says Grandfather has been ‘about to die’ for years and has no fear that he actually will this time.”

  “This has had to come as quite a blow to him I am sure,” Eamon said.

  “Yes,” Lisabeth nodded. “This war has been hard on us all.”

  Eamon shrugged. “I suppose,” he said. “We were fortunate that Ephenee was spared.”

  “Yes,” Lisabeth agreed. “So was Talisaria, for the most part, but when I look into Uncle Tythan’s eyes, I don’t see relief. I see only pain.”

  Eamon chuckled. Not an amused chuckle, but one that conveyed an almost nervous sympathy. “I suppose finding out that the love of your life was a Shebath worshiper using you to place a dark spawn on the throne of your kingdom would do that.”

  “Can you believe how infiltrated the realm was with with agents of darkness?” she asked rhetorically. “They say the Wizard’s mother was a succubath who seduced the King of Beagonia. Lord Teigan and Ariana in Talisaria…even Caerwynspire was betrayed by Lord Tarlton.”