Heir of Dragmoore- The Veiled Haven

by Jennifer Ann Schlag

  Heir of Dragmoore

  The Veiled Haven

  By Jennifer Ann Schlag

  Heir of Dragmoore

  Copyright © 2019 Jennifer Ann Schlag

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, or recording without the permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Original and modified front cover by Dark Unicorn Designs

  Everyone believes very easily whatever they fear or desire.

  —Jean de La Fontaine

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  The forest floor crackles under the heavy hooves of the Brimbar stallions. Their dark-brown bodies, blonde manes and tails, and light brown eyes makes them a striking sight. The sun breaks through the dense treetops, hitting a shattered lantern and igniting the undergrowth that it covers. Smoke rises out of the Wilderness. The stallions gallop over and through the tall bushes into the vast farmland.

  The farmers drop what they are doing and grab giant buckets. They move swiftly across the uneven land to the river. Back and forth they go, dumping the buckets of water onto the fire. Lucky for them that they have such impressive muscles and unequal stamina to carry such heavy loads in haste. As the fire gets under control, the farmers stomp on the remaining bits, extinguishing all embers. Hardly anyone will venture into the Wilderness by choice, but seeing that the farms are so close to it, they can’t risk a fire spreading and burning every crop and home. The Wilderness is not a safe or forgiving place, and they respect that.

  The female farmers almost match the men in size, save for their feminine shapes holding them back. Don’t let their feminine shapes deceive you though; they will take you down faster than you can blink.

  There is no discrimination with gender in Dragmoore. Any job is open to whomever fills it best. Everyone must work, whether it be strenuous physical labor, or up in the royal court. Everyone must be useful in one way or another. Dragmoore’s work ethics is one of its positive traits. The only negative trait is its inability to make happy marriages.

  Large wood cottages form a circle around the crops. Each farmer is given a large patch of land that holds six rows for growing vegetables and their choice of two fruit trees. Since Dragmoore is far from other cities and the five ports, it is essential that the city be self-sufficient. With a touch of magic bestowed upon them by an elder mage, they will never have to endure bad weather in the farmland. Two abattoirs sit in the middle of two cottages. Run by the biggest and greasiest of men—they are the best butchers you can ask for. A solid choice of meat ranging from cows, chickens, lamb, to pig. Born and raised and killed right on property—the meat is slaughtered for order to ensure absolute freshness.

  Beyond the farms lies a valley rich in tall grass and bogs. Four caves jet out from the valley’s walls. One of the caves is said to be filled with treasure but no one has ever found it. The other three caves are used mostly by children who find it funny to hide from their parents.

  Dragmoore’s shining star is its Hunters. Throughout the world of Dranir, no one has such a fine group of men and women with talents unmatched. They patrol and hunt in the vast Wilderness for the king’s pleasure while also ensuring the city has the best furs to keep warm for winter. The Hunters’ homes surround the outside of the palace’s grey stone barrier wall. Their modest, small wood cabins create a lonely atmosphere. It’s a lonely life to be a Hunter since they have to leave behind their old lives. Interaction with family and friends is limited. Their duty to the kingdom must be unwavering. Their loyalty to the king must be unquestionable. The Brimbar stallions are their only means of transportation. A pact had been made during the creation of the Hunters over a hundred years ago. They looked far and wide for horses that can withstand long rides and endure the harshness of the Wilderness. They found the only breeder of Brimbar horses deep in the South Isles. In order to take two mated pairs back with them to Dragmoore, the Hunters had to give a drop of blood infused with magic to the Graken: a sea beast that is known to all as the assassin of the sea who waits to kill wayward sea travelers. If ever they should let their horses die from unnatural causes, the Graken will lure them to the sea and kill them. The mares are not allowed to be ridden and so live the life of luxury in their prestigious stable. The process of binding oneself to a Brimbar stallion is not to be taken lightly. By joining the Hunters, one must be prepared for a long-term commitment that isn’t easily broken.

  Their weapons are mostly a bow and arrow but they must also carry a dagger for close range fighting as well as skinning animals. They may choose any dagger they want. The blacksmith will even custom make a dagger for a Hunter. The Hunters weren’t trained by guards or generals back in the day. They learned on their own. However, today their trainer, who is simply called the Marksman, has given them an abundance of knowledge and combat training. He is very prideful in thinking that he has brought the Hunters to a new pedestal. He has made it part of his life to ensure that every animal hunted is done for only food or clothes, never for sport. His arrows are pure black and fly through the air at such a speed that their prey never hears or sees a thing. It is rumored that the elder mage, before he died, made the Marksman’s arrows. But as to who continues to provide him with new ones—is a mystery yet to be known.

  For their services, the Hunters are granted certain privileges above the common folk. Such as attending all the royal banquets, choosing the best men and women for marriage, and not having to answer to anyone but the king. Although they live more in isolation, their line must be expanded to create more potential Hunters. It’s best to choose a new Hunter from a strong lineage, so it is imperative that they marry and make an heir, whether it be male or female. Their absence in the marriage is made up by all the lavish gifts the king will bestow upon the significant other and the children, should they wish for a lavish life.

  The Hunters will never back down to a threat. Even a dragon, who is the most sacred of the seven beasts. Although keeping the sacred beasts safe is a priority, exceptions are made if a beast poses a serious threat to a city. Before dragons ceased to roam the sky over Dragmoore, a rogue dragon went on a killing spree. The Hunters then were forced to kill the dragon. A few years after, the dragons left and were never seen again. Still, their birthplace waits for their return. And the Hunters of today will ensure their safety. The sacred beasts hold together the balance that keeps things moving in the right direction. To disturb that balance by eliminating an entire group of sacred beasts, risks releasing a dark omen upon the world.

  So says the Masters at least. They are the ones that everyone looks to when things turn very dark. For they are the only ones who can destroy the world or ultimately save it from itself. No one has seen a Master since they closed off their home around the time the dragons disappeared. Belonging to a world of their own, their set of rules and laws are much different from anyone else’s, and those who dare to seek them are
usually never seen again.

  Lining the inside of the grey barrier wall are homes made of white stone and dark green roofs. The nobles occupy these dwellings. With a substantial amount of land to do with as they please, they care more about their stables for their precious horses and carriages. Through their businesses abroad, with different forms of trade, they keep a steady amount of gold coming into the city. Once a month they send one of their squires and a royal guard to collect the gold from one of the five ports. It often takes them nearly a month to return. Many stops along the way to replenish the needs of the body and belly.

  In the city center are two blacksmiths, three leatherworker shops, and five dressmaker shops. Three of the dressmakers are for the nobles and the royal family. The other two take care of everyone else, all at the king’s expense. The city center is known for always being lit with colorful lights. The candles are infused with magic and will change the color of the flames at random. The city doesn’t get many visitors, so often the city center is rather quiet. When the guards become rambunctious, things can heat up. Especially at the Nighborne Inn: where a few gold coins will get you a night with either a very pleasing woman or man.

  The palace is built into the side of a mountain and features pale grey walls with green roofs and ivy covering the frames of the windows. The king’s private quarters is in the tallest of six towers. The prince’s private quarters is in the next tallest tower. The two advisors, one for the king and the other for the prince, reside in the next tallest tower. The other three towers are royal guest bedrooms. A giant red rose was painted on the front doors years ago, symbolizing the beauty of the deceased queen since red roses were her favorite.

  A group of six men and four women come into the city center dressed in black leather with identical bows and arrows across their backs. The craftsmanship on the bows is exquisite. A rich mahogany with a blonde string and arrows that match. Their hoods keep much of their faces covered. Here be the Hunters of Dragmoore. They must report to the king after their long hunting days are over. They have returned from their hunting trip empty-handed, but they haven’t returned without news. They have no leader but they do follow one man’s advice during their hunts. The tallest of them walks in the middle. Gavin Dragniss. He ran one of the farms with his wife, until her death. One of the beasts from the Wilderness came into the kingdom and slaughtered countless women and children. Gavin never fought a beast like it before and was unable to save his wife. He gave the farm to his brother and moved into one of the Hunters’ homes. He was the only Hunter allowed to retain his claim on his previous life. The memories of his dead wife is still too painful, so he visits the farm rarely. He comes from a long line of Hunters, with his great-grandfather being the one who started the group. His biggest fear is that his daughter will want to become a Hunter. He wants to see her have a normal life.

  They cross the uneven cobblestone road to the front door of the palace. Two soldiers stand guard. They click their heels together in recognition of the city’s protector and then open the double doors. The guards don’t feel inadequate compared to the Hunters. In an all-out war, the guards would be the ones to take on another’s army. The Hunters may assist in battle but their primary goal is to keep beasts where they belong.

  The entrance hall is grand with wood paneling on the walls and stone accents in between. Oak and iron chandeliers hang throughout with tall candles lit. Banners hang in between the chandeliers with a brownish-red dragon against a bright green background. On the back wall sits the many heads of beasts that Gavin recognizes as kills he made. He points to some of the others and points to specific Hunters indicating that they are responsible for those kills. They don’t need to be reminded. The king does this out of respect, or so he calls it. They know better.

  Two men are arguing in one of the connecting corridors. One of them is wearing a cherry-red vest, dark-grey pants, and a white collared shirt. The other man is dressed in a dark-grey hooded robe. The king and his advisor normally don’t walk around the palace discussing things where servants might overhear them. But today both are stressed out to the point they don’t care. He pulls down the hood of his advisor, exposing a bald head and a sunken face full of tattoos. He taps the top of the advisor’s head and the red circle sitting in the middle glows. Then the king notices the Hunters and his attitude completely changes.

  “Ah, Gavin and his fine Hunter kin. I’m so happy to see you, Gavin.” The king walks over and looks down at Gavin. His lanky body against Gavin’s muscular body might give off the impression that they body swapped.

  Shouldn’t kings be the more beefy ones? Wouldn’t a Hunter benefit more from a skinnier body? Easier to move about with smaller frames. Not in this case.

  Gavin and the others bow. He lets down his hood, showing off a large scar that goes from above his left eyebrow to the side of his nose. Aside from the scar, he is a good-looking man approaching the age of fifty. He has one turquoise eye and the other a light purple. Many know how he got the scar but never talk about it. As for the different colored eyes, only one person knows how that happened and they aren’t talking. The other Hunters take down their hoods to reveal a stone-faced bunch. They all have attractive assets but they aren’t in the mood to care about that today.

  “My king, I’m afraid we have failed you again.”

  “Still nothing to be found? That is strange. Do you think all of the beasts have moved on?”

  “It is possible that they have grown tired of being hunted. There hasn’t been any attacks in months.”

  “Good riddance then. I have enough trophies.”

  “But we need the skins of certain animals to survive the winter months.”

  “We can make do.”

  One of the female hunters grunts her displeasure.

  “Not everyone agrees.”

  “Bessy is just a woman deep down. She cares about how all animals feel.”

  “Come, Gavin, I want to talk to you about something interesting.”

  The king walks back to the corridor that he came from. Bessy bangs into Gavin.

  “Don’t do me any favors, ass.”

  “What is your problem?”

  “Always aiming to please your king. You will not always be his favorite.”

  Gavin makes a slap gesture. Bessy sticks her tongue out at him. Gavin walks in the direction of the king.

  The king takes Gavin into the library. Thousands of books reach far and wide.

  “My son is to celebrate his twenty-fifth birthday next week. What a pathetic heir I have. He couldn’t even stab himself correctly.”

  “You are too harsh on your own son.”

  “Am I? At least your daughter has some use.”

  Gavin makes a face that the king doesn’t see. He is angry that the king thinks little of his own child, but he doesn’t expect the king to ever favor his son the way he should. The prince has his faults that most people like to make fun of.

  “Speaking of your daughter. She is the same age as Remy, isn’t she?”

  “She is. She actually just turned twenty-five.” Gavin looks over the selection of books that talks about the beasts in the Wilderness.

  How inaccurate they are. Only the Marksman has the most up to date book that is worth the read. The Marksman wrote one of the books in here as more of a teaser to what is really out there in the world.

  “Would you say that she is past the age to be married?”

  “No. There have been women who married at thirty.”

  “Yes, I know. We need the women to be married sooner rather than later.”

  “Bessy is forty and she is not married.”

  “Bessy is more of a man than a woman. Men have it easier.”

  “My king, I beg of you not to force my daughter to marry someone.”

  “Did I say I would force her? I can line up a few noble suitors though. My Hunters will always marry well. Their children too.”

  “But she runs the farm with my brother. No noble will see her as a
nything but a farmer’s daughter.”

  “Nonsense. They know of your lineage. Being a Hunter is almost on par with being a noble. And everyone knows how regal your family line is. If it weren’t for you and your band of brothers and sisters, this kingdom would never be safe.”

  “And when our skills are no longer needed, what becomes of us?”

  The king is not without praise. He gives it when it is due. When it is not, he finds a way to send positivity out. He knows he can’t afford his people to be unhappy. Especially his Hunters. He needs them above all others. People may end up unhappy in marriage, but that’s why he has other things lined up for distraction. The monthly tournaments between his guards brings in a huge crowd. It’s all friendly dueling but the people love to bet on who will win and lose. The dancing triplets down at the inn satisfies women and men. But if ever his people had to remain unhappy with no outlet for release, the outcome would be grim for everyone.

  “You remain as soldiers of Dragmoore. Join the ranks of my army. The Marksman will gladly welcome you.”

  “He is a very old soul living in a past that can’t be borne.”

  “The benefits of immortality from an ancient form of magic. We would all love some of that, eh?”

  The two share a laugh.

  “You know better than that. He is only a human, not an elf.”

  The two share a look that is only meant for them. There is trust, understanding; maybe too much understanding. It’s clear they share a secret or two and it shines in this look.

  “Seriously, though, I will gather up some suitors close to your daughter’s age. We will see which one she likes best and take it from there.”

  “And for your son? Will you wrangle up some fine women for him to choose from? I know you want him married.”

  “He’d probably run mad into the Wilderness if I forced him to marry, so I will let him choose as well. In fact, I’ll throw a party. Invite your daughter and we will watch them make fools of themselves trying to impress their suitors.”