Scipio crafted the gauntlet during the initial outbreak of hostility between Nasgothar and Aldron. With the blessing of Nergoth, he was able to create a weapon that amplified his magical abilities. The gauntlet enabled him to save the dying soul of Kraegyn just before Cervantes struck him down. A spell of confinement held Kraegyn’s soul partly within Arkadeus and partly within the Abode of Shadows. It was a brilliant move, Memnon had to admit. No soul could be summoned from the Abode by anyone, but if that soul was somehow affixed to the physical plane, then it was possible to revive it with a host.
Unfortunately, the Gauntlet of Iniquity was Memnon’s only means to amplify his magic to summon Kraegyn. Urbengal’s failure to retrieve the artifact had set them back considerably. Thanks to Dermont’s offspring, the goblin died in Neroterra and the gauntlet remained with the orcs. His only course of action now involved more intense training and increased focus.
In his dark heart, he knew eventually he would break the magical barrier and perform the spell successfully. But could he convince the dragons of that? He frowned and pounded a fist on the table.
A rapping on the door took him by surprise.
“Who is it?” he asked with an edge to his voice.
“It’s me, my lord. Genghis,” the voice outside said.
“Come in,” he replied, watching his second-in-command stroll inside.
General Genghis was one of the uglier Draknoir under his command. He was a bulky, brown-scaled beast with a slight underbite that allowed his lower fangs to edge out above his scarred lower lip. The general bowed his head slightly, then saluted Memnon by pounding the talons of his right hand into his chest.
“What is it? Can’t you see I’m busy?” Memnon said, turning to the window of the room where the sun had finally set.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I’m just here to summon you—”
Memnon whirled around to face Genghis, a cold stare aimed at his subordinate. “You came to summon me?” he asked slowly.
“Yes—that is, I was told to come to you with a message from the Black Dragon,” the general said, cowering.
Memnon frowned. He didn’t like being summoned by anyone. It was true that Kraegyn was incredibly powerful and a force to be reckoned with, but Memnon had always viewed their relationship on equal terms. After all, they were both the rulers of impressive armies.
“What is the message?” Memnon said, crossing his arms.
Genghis shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “He did not tell me exactly. Just that he wants to speak with you in his chamber.”
Memnon let out a low hiss that caused Genghis to flinch slightly. “Fine. Lead the way,” he said obstinately.
They descended the narrow spiral staircase into the main keep of Arkadeus. Bricks, mortar, and debris littered the interior of the keep. Memnon had instructed his generals to go forward with total reconstruction of the keep and the fortress wall. They needed Arkadeus to be well-fortified again before any attack from Aldron. It was unlikely that the Dermonts would mount an assault soon since the king would be dead any day now. But he liked to be cautious in matters of war.
Walking down another set of stairs, Memnon followed Genghis into the aviary chamber situated at the heart of Arkadeus. The chamber had a dozen metal perches built to hold the massive weight of at least ten dragons. Currently, only the three dragons in the pen outside used the aviary for their slumber, while the rest of the dragons continued to nest in Ghadarya with their mates. Eventually, all of the dragon tribes would make the trip to Arkadeus and stand alongside their master, Kraegyn.
They entered the archway of the aviary, where a single spot of light shone in the center of the room. A large round hole above allowed light to pour down into the massive chamber, and the shadows of perches situated in the long cylindrical spire were cast on the stone floor. Genghis stood near the entrance, allowing Memnon to walk inside.
A light fog hovered in the room, swirling slowly around him. In mere moments the fog moved of its own volition into the light at the center and formed into a giant cloud. The cloud turned into the face of a dragon with shimmering blue eyes that stared intensely at Memnon. The sorcerer drew himself up for a moment, then bowed his head in respect.
“You wished to see me?” he asked in a disinterested tone.
Kraegyn’s cloudy brow furrowed. “I did, sorcerer. You have not been down in several days since the last attempt at the binding spell. I hope your allegiance to me has not shifted.”
“Not at all, Lord Kraegyn. I have simply been busy ordering my troops to fortify our stronghold and communing with Nergoth to…prepare for the next attempt to draw you from the Abode,” he said hesitantly.
“Excuses! I must be unleashed from this prison, Memnon. Our mutual gain depends on it,” Kraegyn growled.
Memnon balled his scaly hands into fists at his sides. “I assure you, I am taking every measure to see that you are released. The incantations are complex and the physical strain is—”
“I see a pattern developing here, Memnon. You continue to make excuses for your failures,” Kraegyn interrupted. “And you have not taken every measure. There is a weapon that could bolster your meager efforts.”
Memnon drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly to relax his increasing anxiety. He had expected the conversation would go in this direction. What he hadn’t expected was how difficult it would be to control his anger. He swallowed and composed himself before speaking.
“You mean the Gauntlet of Iniquity, of course. We tried to acquire it, but our ally was eliminated, and it remains in Neroterra.”
“And why haven’t you taken it?” Kraegyn said, his fog lips snarling.
“Because I have been busy making preparations for war, and, as I said earlier, communing with Nergoth to unbind you,” Memnon replied with a snarl of his own.
Kraegyn’s face contorted into an expression of rage, but slowly the Black Dragon’s anger subsided and he smiled. “Yes, you have been busy as of late. Why not send a contingent of your Draknoir to retrieve the gauntlet? The orcs are no threat to your legions, Lord Memnon. You can overtake them easily,” the dragon said in an encouraging tone.
Memnon raised an eyebrow, surprised at the dragon lord’s sudden shift of mood. The idea had merit. He wouldn’t need to be directly involved in a campaign to the Marsolas province, and taking the gauntlet by force rather than subterfuge was more to his liking. Previously, he utilized Urbengal because he did not wish to raise suspicion among the Aldronians about his plans for the gauntlet. But now that the dragons had openly attacked Joppa and razed the city of Evingrad, the time for secrecy was over.
“Genghis!” Memnon bellowed at his top general. Genghis stepped up beside him and gave a customary bow of respect. “Mobilize a battalion of your best warriors and send them to Neroterra. Kill the orcs and raid the mine where the gauntlet is kept. Do not fail me like Urbengal or you will share his fate.”
“Yes, my liege,” Genghis replied, bowing again. He swiveled toward the door and left his master with the dragon cloud.
“Excellent. I admire your willingness to take action, Lord Memnon,” Kraegyn said, grinning.
Memnon allowed the barest hint of a smile on his lips. “Like you, Lord Kraegyn, I am eager to see our time come to its fruition. Azuleah belongs to the dragons and Draknoir. And anyone who opposes the new order will be crushed.”
CHAPTER 19
SECRET ERRAND
Lucius tried desperately to keep up with Siegfried, who kept waving him to move quicker through the winding halls of Gilead Palace. He’d fallen asleep in Avani’s room the previous night, and she decided not to wake him when Siegfried broke the news that the assassin who poisoned King Alfryd was found and imprisoned in the dungeon. Shortly after he learned that fact, they received a summons from Silas himself to meet in the throne room. Early in the morning hours, the Four Houses had convened, but nobody seemed to know for what reason. Presumably it dealt with the matter of the assassin in the dungeon, but Siegfried believ
ed the meeting was to discuss the royal succession in Aldron.
Alfryd’s condition was worsening, and the physicians weren’t entirely sure why. Violet, who had stayed with the king the entire night, had created healing potions and salves that kept him stable. But as of this morning, the king was unresponsive to the physicians’ remedies. According to Violet, who looked visibly tired and upset when she came back to Avani’s room, the king’s heartbeat was weakening, and his breathing grew shallower. All they could do now was pray to Yewa for a miracle, but Lucius had a feeling Alfryd’s reign was at its end.
Lucius and Siegfried stepped close to the guards barring the way to the throne room. Both men recognized Siegfried, who apparently was on a first-name basis with many of them.
“Siegfried, good to see you. Prince Silas is expecting you both,” the guard named Claude said. He stepped aside and opened the door for them.
“Thank you, Claude,” Siegfried replied with a nod.
Inside the room, Silas stood on the dais, speaking with one of his administrators, Lord Weifar. On the steps below, Brandewulf, Felix Gryn, and Avani were chatting about the politics of Numa. To the far left of them, Baron Demeter and Baroness Georgine of Sangre were speaking in hushed tones. All of them looked up when Lucius and Siegfried approached.
The last time Lucius had been in this room, there were at least a dozen more nobles in attendance. Only the ruling families of the Four Houses were present, which meant whatever Silas wished to share was of grave importance.
“Lucius, Siegfried, thank you for coming,” Silas said quietly.
“Of course, your Majesty,” Lucius said politely.
Silas raised a hand. “Let’s just keep it at ‘Silas’ for now, shall we?”
Lucius nodded apologetically, embarrassed at the minor mistake.
“I’ve gathered you all here for a pressing matter that we discussed previously. As many of you are aware, my father…” Silas said, pausing abruptly. From where he stood, Lucius could see the man’s red-rimmed eyes. He doubted the prince had gotten any sleep, and now he struggled to say the words everyone anticipated.
“My father is dying. One of the matters he wished to see resolved involved the retrieval of Scipio’s gauntlet—or, more infamously, the Gauntlet of Iniquity,” he explained.
Many of those gathered nodded their agreement, except for Lucius, who was unaware of the significance of this gauntlet.
Seeing the confused look on his face, Siegfried whispered in his ear. “The gauntlet was an amplifier to Scipio’s dark magic. He used it to contain Kraegyn’s soul in Arkadeus.”
Lucius nodded, but still didn’t understand why they needed the weapon.
“Last winter, Governor Gryn and I saw the gauntlet’s power firsthand in Neroterra when the goblin shaman, Urbengal, tried to kill us with it. He was a mere shaman, and yet the gauntlet placed him on the same plane as a powerful sorcerer,” Silas said. He crossed his arms and descended the dais, looking at each of them earnestly. “We believe that Memnon wants the gauntlet for the binding ritual. If he gains possession of it, Kraegyn’s rise will be a reality we must contend with.”
“What are you proposing?” Gryn asked.
Silas took a deep breath. “I’m proposing breaking our treaty with the orcs, but not outright. We infiltrate Neroterra and take the gauntlet covertly before Memnon has an opportunity to do the same.”
“Should we really try to risk hostility with the orcs at this venture? We’re already at war with Nasgothar and the dragons,” Baron Demeter argued.
“I would not propose this plan if it weren’t our highest priority to prevent the fall of our world by Memnon’s hand. He will destroy us if he possesses the gauntlet and resurrects Kraegyn. We’ve already agreed that we must fight together to put an end to the Draknoir, so please let us agree to do the one thing that would shatter their plans from the start,” Silas pleaded.
There was a pause in the conversation as everyone considered the plan.
Seeing an opportunity to speak up, Lucius took it. “What about the Requiem Sword? Will we still be reforging it in Numa?” he asked.
Silas nodded. “Yes. Avani will go to Numa as planned, but I do not think she should go alone.”
“I won’t be alone. Violet will come with me,” Avani corrected.
“No, Violet will stay here in Aldron. Her skills as a healer will be needed if we suffer casualties on this errand to Neroterra. Lord Brandewulf has volunteered to be your escort, and I’m inclined to grant that request,” Silas said, causing a flurry of conversation among the group.
Brandewulf stood tall and said nothing, seemingly pleased with the assignment. Lucius didn’t like or trust the man, and felt a pang of jealousy that he would be spending weeks on the road with Avani alone.
“I object to this plan,” Avani said, glowering at Silas. “Numa is not friendly to outsiders, especially in its current political state. Violet could at least pass for my servant, but Brandewulf will undoubtedly rouse suspicion. And if you’ve forgotten, I’m already in a bad situation with my father for leaving as I did. I don’t need additional barriers to impede the forging of the blade.”
Silas nodded respectfully to the princess’ misgivings, but Lucius could tell his mind had been made up on the issue. “Princess Avani, Brandewulf has traded with your country in recent years, and as far as we know, your father is on good terms with Allesmeade. If Brandewulf could represent our cause, I think everything will go well.”
Avani frowned and glanced at Brandewulf, who was nodding in agreement to Silas’ words. She sighed, but did not dispute the matter further.
“Now that we’ve settled that, I want to go over the details of the mission in Neroterra. But first, are there any objections to this course of action?” Silas asked, glancing around the room. When nobody voiced opposition, he continued into an elaborate briefing of the plan.
Lucius learned that Silas had decided that he and Siegfried would venture into Neroterra with the Drachengarde. In the last two days, Lucius had been training for hours in the courtyard with the elite group. He’d received a fair amount of bruises from Wesley, the senior officer of the Drachengarde, while sparring with a wooden sword. In Evingrad, he learned to use the thin, slightly curved blades the elves carried, but the weapon was not strong enough to pierce a dragon.
The scales of a dragon’s hide were essentially impenetrable to most conventional arms, except the claymore swords the Drachengarde carried. They were long, heavy blades made of steel and sharpened meticulously for maximum damage. Lucius learned that thrusting the sword in specific parts of a dragon’s body caused the most harm to the beasts. The fleshier parts of their anatomy were the best targets, specifically the nape, the joints beneath their wing arms, the belly, and the eyes. Though he was grateful for the knowledge he’d amassed in such a short time, he felt wholly unprepared to take on a dragon or join the Drachengarde on a full-fledged mission.
The number of people Silas wanted on the mission numbered less than a dozen. His reasoning for such a small group was to avoid detection from the orcs. They would sneak into the city and descend into the mine situated near the city’s walls. Apparently the orc leader, Banupal, kept a hoard of treasures from around the world inside the abandoned mine. Silas was confident that under the cover of darkness they could retrieve the gauntlet and get out without causing a stir. He also opted to select Drachengarde warriors who weren’t very tall, which Lucius found to be a peculiar decision.
When he pressed Silas on the matter, the prince explained, “Smaller soldiers are less likely to be seen, and they can move quicker than taller men.”
“But Siegfried is quite tall,” Lucius noted.
Silas smiled. “Siegfried is an elf. He’s more lithe than anyone on our team, and could easily sneak in the cover of the Neroterra forest.”
Lucius nodded, conceding the point. The discussion of height reminded him of Ulric, the battle-eager dwarf who was pining for another fight with the dragons. He wonde
red whether Silas might consider allowing the dwarf to come along. When he brought up the idea, Silas had already considered offering an invitation to the dwarf after he heard of his spectacular dragon-slaying feat.
“I’ll send one of my men to recruit him. If he’s like any dwarves I’ve known in the past, he’ll be ready to use his axe at a moment’s notice,” he said. “It’ll be interesting to have an elf and a dwarf on the same side.”
Siegfried rolled his eyes at the comment, and Lucius heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like, “Interesting? More like torture.”
“Do you mean to come with us then?” Lucius asked Silas as they huddled around a map of Azuleah.
“I do. I’ve been to the orc stronghold before and I’m familiar with the layout of the city,” he replied.
“My lord, do you think it wise? Aldron will look to you for leadership now, militarily and politically. We cannot lose you on a covert field mission,” Weifar said, frowning.
Silas smirked. “Do not worry, Weifar, old friend. We won’t be getting our hands dirty this time. Easy in and easy out.”
After going over more of the particulars, they all agreed to set out that evening and ride for Neroterra in haste. Avani declared that she and Brandewulf would set out the following day, but she gave no concrete reason for the decision. Silas, who seemed distracted throughout the entire meeting, did not object, and they moved on to the subject of who would remain in Aldron to oversee the city in Silas’ absence.
“Your father has very short time left, Prince Silas,” Baron Demeter said. “If he is to pass before you return, how should we proceed with the funeral and succession—”
“I don’t wish to discuss that now, Demeter,” Silas interjected, his face stern.
“My lord, I realize this is a sensitive subject, but we must plan for your imminent reign in Aldron. The people must be confident that everything is in order,” Weifar explained.
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