Andrick continued his descent. His mind was racing. Was there a way out of the castle? He had successfully escaped Avonvale. Could he escape Libetha as well and live to fight another day? Suddenly, he thought of an escape—at the rear of the castle was a drainage tunnel. He could swim out of the rear.
Andrick quickly moved down the steps until he emerged in the castle courtyard. He saw scores of men rushing to secure the castle gates. “Hold them men! If they enter, the dragons will feast upon us all!” he shouted to motivate them further. He then turned and scurried across the courtyard to the castle keep. He glanced over his shoulder one last time to see dracen diving down and attacking his men in the courtyard. He knew the gates would not hold much longer. “Close the door,” he instructed the soldiers inside. They closed and bolted the heavy oak door as he ran further into the keep.
Andrick rushed to a staircase and then descended. He hurried lower and lower until he finally arrived at the door leading to the tunnels carrying storm water beneath the castle. Two sentries stood guard. “Open the door,” he commanded and the sentry on the right complied turning around and sliding the bolts open before swinging the door inward. “Come with me,” Andrick said as he stepped past the guards and through the doorway.
The two sentries followed Andrick down another set of stairs that ended near two drainage ditches that had been dug beneath the castle. The ditches were filled with water and stunk of the human waste and other nastiness that filled them. Andrick began stripping off his armor. He turned to the two guards. “Remove your armor,” he said. “We’re going to swim.” Neither began removing their armor, but instead glanced at the water and then back at their King. “What are you waiting for?” Andrick demanded.
“I cannot swim, Your Majesty,” one of the guards said.
Andrick frowned and then looked at the other. “What about you?” he asked. The other guard simply shook his head. Andrick rolled his eyes. “Very well,” he said. “Go back up and secure the door.” The two guards rushed to obey, leaving Andrick alone as he removed his armor.
Andrick removed his tunic as well, stripping down to his shirt, pants, and boots. He left all of his weapons except for his sword. He would likely need his sword. He also carried a pouch of gold coins, realizing he would need money while fleeing.
Andrick sat down on the edge of the ditch and slowly lowered his feet into the slimy water. He gagged from the smell as he let his body sink down. He waded to the small opening in the wall where the water flowed out from the castle. Then he lowered his head below the water, closed his eyes, and swam. He allowed the top of his head to lightly touch the stone above so that he would realize once he was out of the castle and could come up for air.
He felt the end of stones and lifted his head out of the water, taking a deep breath before opening his eyes. When he did so, he noticed a large contingent of soldiers. He immediately recognized one of the faces. Someone he had seen in Avonvale. The man smiled at him.
“And where are you going…Your Majesty?” the man asked with a snicker.
Andrick sighed. There was no where else for him to go. He was caught.
***
Andrick’s hands were bound behind his back as he was dragged into the courtyard of his own castle. His breath quickened when he recognized Erec Valestead standing rigid, the young King’s arms crossed over his chest as he fixed Andrick with a wrathful glare. Andrick heard an ear-piercing roar and his eyes were drawn skyward. He swallowed hard as he saw the dragon descending to the courtyard. As it landed tossing dust into the air, its rider leapt from its back and rushed to Erec. “Is that him?” the rider asked as he motioned to Andrick. Erec nodded. This must be King Willem, thought Andrick. He certainly had plenty of enemies here today.
Andrick was forced down to his knees upon the hard, packed dirt of the courtyard. Erec drew his sword. “Duke Andrick,” he said, refusing to use the title of King. “As King of Avonvale and Commander of the forces of the Allied Kingdoms of the Middle Realm, I hereby sentence you to death for the murder of Princess Ella of Elophborne and for conspiring with the dark Wizard Tamesis and his little witch, Andalynn Valestead.”
Erec stepped toward Andrick, but Willem took hold of his arm. “Erec, I shall carry out the sentence,” he said.
Erec turned toward his friend. “No, this duty falls to me, Willem.”
“Ella was not only a subject of my kingdom, but my sister,” Willem protested. “I shall execute the murderer.”
“Ella was betrothed to me,” Erec retorted. “I witnessed the murder first hand. Furthermore, she was murdered in my kingdom and…” but before Erec could finish, he was interrupted by a gruff from Willem’s dracen, Shimmer. She reared back her head and blew a blast of flame past Erec and Willem which completely engulfed Andrick. The would-be king’s agonized screams were short-lived as he died rather quickly—burnt to an unrecognizable charred corpse.
“You two would have argued until the return of Shebath,” Shimmer exclaimed in a scolding voice that reminded them both of Ella.
“Well, I guess that settles that,” Lisabeth’s voice rang out with a boisterous laugh. Her laughter caused a somewhat stunned army to join in. Soon they were all laughing mightily. Erec turned to Willem and saw the tears in his eyes. He reached out, grabbed his friend, and pulled him close. “It’s alright, Willem,” he said. “It’s over. The war is finally over.”
Erec felt a pat on the back and turned to see Dillan and Eamon. Lisabeth joined them and Dillan wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. He placed his face on her shoulder and she could hear him weeping. She knew why. He was not crying for his family, though he had a right to. He was crying for Ashleen. Once again. He blamed himself for her death and Lisabeth knew it.
“I am so sorry,” he said to her. Words he had spoken many times. “Had I not been so focused on my own vengeance…” his words trailed off.
She patted his head. “It is alright, Dillan,” she whispered into his ear. “It was not your fault. The shedom killed her and there was nothing that you could have done. Besides had it not been for you, she would have died on that pirate ship years ago. Instead, she received the warrior’s death she deserved—defending her home from the forces of darkness.”
Dillan nodded as he pulled away and wiped the tears from his eyes. He felt an arm around his shoulder and turned to see Eamon smiling broadly at him. “It’s over,” Eamon said.
One by one the nephilim wrapped their arms about one another. Lisabeth glanced over to see her uncle, Tythan, standing alone, smiling at them. “Come here, Uncle,” she shouted as she opened her arms wide beckoning him. Tythan joined them and they all embraced. There were laughter and tears. They had all lost dear loved ones, but they were all relieved and overjoyed that the great war was finally over.
Chapter 9
A cloud of dust filled the air from the beat of Bran’s mighty wings as the dracen landed in the courtyard of the ruins of the castle at Riversmeet. As soon as Bran was on the ground, Dillan leapt from the dragon’s back and rushed toward the castle.
The rebuilding process had come a long way since Terrwyn had arrived and she and her people had added much more homey touches to the castle. They were truly rebuilding a home here. Dillan was not concerned with any of that at the moment, however. His primary focus was on Terrwyn and the child he knew may have already arrived. He rushed up the large, stone stairs.
“Welcome back, Your…” he heard one of the guards say as he blew past him, swinging the doors wide as he rushed inside. He climbed more steps, up floor after floor until he arrived at the one housing Terrwyn’s bed chambers. Dillan jogged along the corridor. As he did so, he heard the cry of a babe and his jog turned to a sprint. He rushed into the anteroom of the bed chamber and then flung open the doors of the bedroom itself.
Terrwyn’s eyes met his as he stepped inside the room. She smiled brightly. “Daddy is home,” she said as tears of joy filled her eyes. Dillan barely even noticed that Terrwyn’s aun
t, Lady Azaleigh Greynault, her cousin Merdith, and her sister Taite were in the room as well. In fact, his attention was completely focused on the two children Terrwyn held in her arms. Two.
“Twins?” Dillan asked with a wide smile. Terrwyn nodded.
“A boy and a girl,” she told him. Dillan moved to her bedside. “Would you like to hold them?”
Dillan nodded. “Maybe we’ll just start with one though,” he chuckled. He reached down and took the tiny boy from her. He smiled at his son. “What are their names?” Dillan asked.
“I would like to name them after my parents, Alexandeon and Genevieve,” she said. “If that is alright with you.”
“Of course. They are beautiful names,” Dillan smiled.
“You have two very healthy children, Your Majesty,” Azaleigh smiled warmly. “Come girls,” she said to Taite and Merdith. “Let us give mother and father some time alone.” She winked at Terrwyn as she hurried the girls out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“How are you feeling?” Dillan asked Terrwyn.
“Tired,” she replied. “I assume we won the battle.” Dillan nodded. “Erec and the others are safe?” she asked.
“Yes,” Dillan smiled. “It could barely be called a battle. Andrick is dead. The last of the collaborators have been dealt with.”
“Good,” she smiled. “Hopefully our children can live in a time of peace.”
***
Erec slid down from the silver dracen’s back onto the courtyard at Avonvale. He shook hands with Willem. “Give Sephene my best,” Willem said.
“I shall,” Erec replied. “Do not stay a stranger my friend.”
Willem nodded. “No. I shall see you all soon, I hope.”
Erec turned to look at the dracen. “Take him swiftly home, Shimmer,” he smiled.
“Farewell, Erec,” the dracen replied in Ella’s voice. Erec stepped away and watched as Shimmer beat her giant wings, flying upward into the sky. Erec remained there staring after them as Willem and Shimmer disappeared in the distance.
“Erec!” a voice cried out and he turned to see Sephene standing in the doorway of the castle. He smiled at her as she rushed down the steps and into his waiting arms, wrapping her own around his neck and pressing her lips to his. “I’ve missed you, my love,” she said as she pulled away.
“I have missed you as well,” he replied and then lowered his voice. “I want to get you into the bed as quickly as possible.”
She smiled sweetly. “Me, too,” she whispered into his ear. “It is a good time to plant your seed.” She then crinkled her nose. “But let’s get you a bath first.”
***
Lisabeth’s arms were wrapped tightly around Eamon’s waist as they flew with Jade over the ocean waves toward Ephenee. The island was a brilliant green shining in the bright blue water. Jade descended, soaring toward it.
“To the castle!” Eamon shouted above the whipping wind, though he had no need to use his voice. Jade turned and glided over the crashing waves and to the castle. The dracen flapped its mighty wings as it lowered itself to the ground just outside of the gates.
“Welcome back, Your Highness!” came a voice from the Captain of the Guard. Eamon and Lisabeth dismounted as men and women rushed from the castle to greet them, all bowing and congratulating them on their victory over the traitors of the Middle Realm.
Soon the crowd parted making way for Eamon’s mother. Karissa was beaming as she rushed from the castle to greet her son, her arms open wide.
“Mother!” he cried happily when he saw her. He wrapped his arms around her. He had been half a head shorter than Karissa when he left for Dracengard. Now, at fifteen, he was almost a head taller. It had been months since he had last been in Ephenee and she had missed him terribly.
Karissa kissed Eamon on his cheek before pulling away. She had barely moved when his grandmother, Sibilus, pushed her way forward and wrapped her own arms around the boy. “I have missed you, my boy,” she said.
“I have missed you too,” Eamon replied.
Sibilus pulled away and turned to see Lisabeth. “Oh darling, let me look at you,” she said. Lisabeth stepped forward. “I barely got a chance to see you at the coronation. My how you have grown into a beautiful woman,” Sibilus said as she pulled Lisabeth into a tight embrace.
“Thank you, Aunt Sibilus,” Lisabeth said. “It is good to see you again.”
“Well, Mother are you going to ever let me greet her?” Karissa asked. “After all, she is going to be my daughter, not yours.” Sibilus released Lisabeth allowing Karissa to wrap her arms around her. “You are very welcome here my darling,” she said. “I know it is different from our home in Caerwynspire, but I think that you shall learn to love it as much as I.”
“Easy, Mother,” Eamon said. “We are only visiting, she is not moving into the castle yet.”
“I know,” Karissa said. “But in a year, after you turn sixteen and ascend to the throne, you shall be married.”
Eamon took Lisabeth’s hand and guided her away. “It has been a long war, Mother. We are tired and hungry,” he smiled.
Karissa smiled at her son and his betrothed. “Then rest well my loves. Tonight we shall feast.”
***
Tythan dismounted his gelding as a young man took the reins from him. “Welcome home, Your Majesty,” came the pleasant voice of Lady Becca. Becca had been the lady-in-waiting to Tythan’s mother, Queen Fysee, before her death and had run the castle for years. She was like family to Tythan and Gwyndalin.
“Thank you,” Tythan replied with a warm smile. “It is good to be home.”
Becca reached him and threw her arms around him. “I’m glad you made it when you did, Ty. Your father is not well. I don’t know how much longer he will last.”
Tythan nodded. “Thank you, I shall see him immediately.” Tythan followed Becca into the castle and through the corridors past bowing servants who welcomed him home. They eventually arrived at Tythan’s father’s bed chambers. The old king had grown very ill following Tythan’s “assuming” the throne. Baltus still refused to believe that Teigan and Ariana were Shebath worshipers. He refused to believe that his marriage to Ariana had been engineered from the beginning to produce a dark spawn to sit upon the throne of Talisaria.
Tythan opened the door and slowly stepped into the room. His father’s physician was there beside the bed patting the old man’s head with a damp cloth. The doctor stood when he saw Tythan enter. Tythan raised his eyebrows as if to ask “How is he?” The doctor frowned and shook his head.
“Let me have a moment,” Tythan said softly and the doctor left the room. Tythan closed the door behind him and made his way over to the bed, sitting down in the chair the doctor had vacated. “Father, it’s me. It’s Ty.”
Baltus turned his head to look at his son. “Back from the war are you?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
Tythan nodded. “Yes, Father. The war is over.”
“And I suppose Artur rules the entire realm now, eh?” Baltus asked.
“Artur is dead father. He died a year ago.”
“Then Ashleen will rule it!” Baltus said with angry eyes. “You gave her my kingdom. Our blood should have remained on the throne.”
Tythan frowned. “Ashleen is your granddaughter, Father. She is your blood. In any event Ashleen died too, remember?”
With that, Baltus’ angry eyes turned sad. Tears built up in them as his hand flew to his face. “Oh, my sweet Ashleen,” he cried. “My darling angel.” He turned back to Tythan. “You killed her!” he shouted accusingly.
Tythan shook his head. “No Father. The shedom killed her.”
Baltus stopped crying suddenly and stared at his son. He then turned away. “There are no such things as shedom, boy!” he said. “Quit jumping at shadows! You’ll never be a warrior or king if you’re scared of everything. Why I have half a mind to give the crown to your sister. Gwyn’s got more balls than you ever will.”
Tythan fought back the tear
s. He did not want his father to see him cry, not even now. “Rest, Father,” he said as he stood. He kissed Baltus on the forehead and then turned and left.
***
Griselda sat in a chair by the window in her room staring out over the river below. Soon she heard the light tapping upon her door that she had been expecting. “Come in,” she said without turning. The door opened and Willem stepped inside.
“Hello, Mother,” he said as he closed the door behind him.
Griselda turned her head slowly to face her son. “Hello, Willem,” she said without rising to greet him.
“I trust you are well,” he said as he stepped toward her.
“As well as can be expected for someone imprisoned in her quarters by her own son,” she said with a sigh.
Willem stopped midway between the door and Griselda. “Your ‘imprisonment’ as you call it, is as much for your protection as anything. The people of Elophborne are not exactly pleased with you, Mother.”
“Of course they aren’t!” she snapped at him. “You declared me a traitor to the kingdom when you returned from Dracengard. Me! Your own mother.”
“You did not give me much choice, Mother. You invited the enemy into our midst.”
“I made them our allies, Willem. Otherwise they would have destroyed us.”
“The Wizard razed Elophdale, Mother. He sent his monsters to destroy the largest city in Elophborne.”
Griselda was on her feet. “That was your fault!” she spat.
“My fault?” Willem asked. “How in the Three Realms was it my fault?”
“The Wizard raised Elophdale as punishment for your treachery!” she cried. “All because of Terrwyn. You were always so infatuated with that girl and would do anything for her. But where did that get you? She’s married to King Tybalt now. She doesn’t love you Willem, but I do. Your mother will always love you.”
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