The Blade Heir (Book 1)
Page 26
Silas clutched his aching ribs and dashed toward the dragon's head. He heard the creature suck air into its nostrils for another fiery blast, but he prevented the attack by cutting the monster's scaly face with his sword. When it reared back in pain, Silas jumped and grabbed one of the horns to hoist himself onto the head. The red beast shook its head frantically to dismount him, using the small claws on its wings to scratch him off. But Silas held on to the horn and avoided the dragon's talons long enough to get a firm grip on its neck with his legs. He let go of the horn, and with his sword in both hands, plunged the blade into the base of the dragon's skull.
The red dragon's wings shot up into the air as its body heaved in spasms. Silas pushed the sword further into the dragon's cranium and with a final gurgled wheeze, the beast's head fell to the ground and its body slumped forward. Silas twitched nervously from the vicious ordeal and his muscles tensed with pain. He dismounted the dragon's head, closely watching the fallen creature for any sign of life. When it made no movement, Silas dropped to his knees and exhaled deeply. The surviving Aldronians nearby came to his side, lifting him away from the dead dragon. His ribs twinged when his men helped him sit on a rock to rest.
A disheveled, lanky esquire walked over to him with Rainier, who leaned against the esquire for support as he walked. The lower right side of the marshal's face had been badly burned. He looked at Silas with dreary eyes and talked in a pained whisper.
"You have defeated a great dragon of Ghadarya, sire. A feat not performed in ages and worthy of remembrance," Rainier said, forcing a smile.
"It is not a great enough feat, Rainier. There are still more to be slain before this war is over," Silas replied. He watched as tired, wounded soldiers limped about and sobbed at the loss of their friends in battle. The urge to raise their spirits tugged at him. He painfully rose to his feet and stood on the rock.
"Men of Aldron, take heed of my words!" Silas shouted. Every man on the field turned toward him. "It was by Yéwa's hand that the Draks and this dragon fell before our feet. And by his will Ghadarya and Nasgothar will fall!" Silas raised his sword into the air. "Long live Aldron and the servants of Yéwa!"
"Long live Aldron!" the men yelled in unison.
His heart was strengthened by the soldiers' restored morale and resolve. The future looked bleak with the return of the dragons, but he chose not to despair. Not when a dead dragon lay on the battlefield and the Draknoir no longer held sway in Ithileo. Aldron will stand strong and his triumphant return to the grand city would bring hope of victory to all.
"Gather what provisions and weapons from the dead you can. Tonight we rest and bury our dead. Tomorrow we march back to Aldron." Silas said to all the men. He sheathed his sword and watched them scatter to search the area. His stomach wrenched at the sight of so many dead Aldronians. He feared the sight would be a common one in his future.
Do not leave us, Yéwa ... not in our greatest need ...
Giant plumes of black smoke rising from Aldron frightened both Violet and Avani as the city came into view from the Barren Road. When they reached the city gates, Violet witnessed frenzied Aldronians running around tending to small fires and badly burned citizens. They both dismounted their horses amid the chaotic scene and managed to find a stable hand willing to take their horses.
"What's happened here?" Avani questioned the stable hand.
"It's awful, my lady. Two dragons attacked the city. I heard one of them fell in the Eastern Yards. The other flew off back to its hellish kin in Nasgothar, no doubt," the shaken stable hand recounted.
"One of the dragons was killed in the city?" Violet asked.
"Aye, madame. Felled by a dwarf no less."
"Thank you for your help," Avani said, handing the stable hand two decas.
Violet turned to the winding street behind them and covered her mouth to avoid the stench of burnt flesh. Gray houses on the street stood ominously with no signs of life stirring inside. They rounded a corner on their path and Violet gasped in horror. The once royal square before the gates of Gilead Palace was a charred mess littered with ash and burnt corpses. The luxurious houses of the city's wealthiest patrons were reduced to rubble. Beyond the square, buildings in the southern section of Aldron still burned like large candles in the distance.
Violet ran to the edge of the square and looked over the walls at Gilead Palace. To her relief, it still stood as prominently as before, but its bastions and eastern wing were tarnished by the black scars of dragon fire. Tears streamed down her cheeks at the thought of how many innocents died in the pillage.
"The dragons have risen from their slumber," Avani said, walking up beside her.
"Then our errand has become much more dire," Violet said, wiping her eyes.
"We must find what we need for the Requiem Sword and leave this place, Violet. Or more cities will be razed by the dragons."
"Yes, you're right, Avani," Violet replied. She turned and looked at the elf princess, tightening her expression. "But first, we will find King Alfryd."
Epilogue
High above the ruins of Arkadeus—the former stronghold of Nasgothar and Ghadarya—Albekanar rode the wind currents then descended with three dragons from different tribes. On his backside rode Lord Memnon, jubilant to see the desolate fortress of his ancestor. Despite their massive size, the dragons landed gracefully in the courtyard. Vines and lichen covered the stone walls of Arkadeus, reminding Memnon of how long the glory of Nasgothar had laid dormant.
Albekanar lowered his head to the ground, allowing Memnon to dismount. The Draknoir sorcerer spun around slowly, gazing at every corner of the courtyard and finally settling his eyes on the dry fountain in the center. He walked up to the fountain, placing his scaly hands on the brim and sniffed the air.
"This fountain once ran with the blood of our enemies. I can still smell the stink of their flesh," Memnon said, turning to Albekanar.
"Yes, in the days of our ancestors, this was our altar to Nergoth," Albekanar replied
Memnon nodded and walked to the arched doorway between two staircases on the opposite end of the courtyard. His green robe flowed elegantly along the cracked ground as he strode. Peering into the darkness beyond the doorway, he saw a faint blue mist hovering above the ground at the end of the corridor. He bared his sharp teeth in delight.
"Kraegyn's spirit still lingers in these halls." Memnon stared at the mist, mesmerized by its glow.
"Ever has our lord haunted this place, waiting for release from the Abode of Shadows," Gerudos, the green-scaled dragon, said.
"He waits for you, son of Scipio," Albekanar said, eyeing the sorcerer.
Memnon turned to them and narrowed his eyes. "I know ..."
The Draknoir lord entered the corridor and followed the mist to its source. He descended in the bowels of Arkadeus, and when he approached a large dungeon-like room, he felt a dark presence inside. His excitement could not be contained as he entered a great chamber reeking of smoke and things long dead. The nocturnal nature of the Draknoir allowed him to view the darkness easier than a human or an elf. Chains hung along the walls of the circular room and dried bloodstains covered many places. He glanced above and saw steel perches intersecting each other all the way to the top of the Eastern Tower, where the dragons would escape their roost.
The blue fog was thickest in the center of the room, which he knew as the Great Aviary of the Sacred Dragons. He approached the mist, and it whirled around to create a thick cloud before him. The cloud shifted to create the face of a creature he had longed to see.
"Kraegyn," Lord Memnon said, bowing before the cloud.
The dragon opened its cloudy eyelids and two radiant blue lights stared back at Memnon.
"Lord Memnon, the hour has come for my ascension from the abyss."
"Indeed it has, my lord. You are Nergoth's chosen and I graciously accept this task appointed to me," Memnon said.
"Muster the dragon tribes of Ghadarya and prepare Gerudos for the summoning. I long
to be free of this hell!" Kraegyn's voice echoed in the darkness.
"Right away, my lord. Tell me, is there anything else you desire?"
"Yes ... find the heir of Cervantes—Lucius Nostra. I wish to burn his flesh!"
Note from the Author
Thank you for taking the time to read my book, I sincerely appreciate your readership and I hope you enjoyed The Blade Heir as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Want to know more about the world of Azuleah or my current projects? Then please check out my website at http://danieladorno.com for updates.
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About the Author
Daniel Adorno is an author of fantasy and science fiction, and he occasionally dabbles in poetry. He was a finalist for the 1st Annual Faith Radio Writers Contest. Daniel lives in Farmington, Minnesota with his wife and 2 year-old son.
Visit Daniel’s website at http://www.danieladorno.com.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Into the Deep
A Test of Skill
Revelations of Lineage
The Path of the Ellyllei
A Grand Escape
Dragon Slayers
A New Dawn in Sylvania
The Healer and the Assassin
Lumiath
The Shores of the Dulan
The Blacksmith’s Cottage
Nearing Death’s Door
Machinations
Friends and Allies
Dark Alliance
In the Realm of Faeries
Siegfried’s Trial
The Southern Passage
Golem
Hidden Royalty
A Dark Errand
As the Crow Flies
The Magpie’s Roost
Bitter Wine
Aldron’s Bane
The Approaching Army
The Wretched One
Trial by Fire
Epilogue
Note from the Author
About the Author