Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2)

by Daniel Adorno

  Siegfried rolled his eyes, but allowed the dwarf a respite from the hard chasing they’d endured. He found himself tiring as well, not having eaten or rested for almost a full day. But his resolve was indomitable. He kept a strict watch on the Draknoir camp, peering from the shadows of the trees. The snowfall had stopped and the clouds above dissipated, revealing the moonlight and stars. He could view the river clearly now, its gentle current flowing from the north into a vicious torrent at the whitewater leading to the waterfalls.

  Near the falls, he saw the dark tents of the Draknoir swaying in the breeze. They were crude dwellings that served only to provide minimal protection from the elements. At this distance, he could decipher the movements of the guards in the camp. His elven gift of nocturnal sight came particularly handy in situations like this. He studied the four guards making their rounds in the camp. A few of the Draknoir were still milling around their tents, meaning the order to rest hadn’t been given yet.

  Siegfried’s eyelids drooped slightly as he kept his vigil. Then they snapped open when he saw the Draknoir overlord exit his tent at the center of the camp. With the moon shining down, he scrutinized the brute leader carefully. He was larger than the rest of his followers, and he wore crude bronze armor with protruding spikes on the pauldrons. One of his nostrils was pierced with a silver ring, and numerous scars marked his dark green face. He was yelling orders at the rest of the beasts. Siegfried’s hearing was more acute than humans’, and he’d learned at an early age how to read lips like most elves. It was a useful skill for Protectors who spied on enemies below while perched high in the trees of Verdania. But even equipped with such a skill he could not make out the guttural words of the Draknoir.

  More minions came out of their tents and began taking down their dwellings now. They were preparing to move out. Siegfried glanced at the moon, realizing that they’d barely rested a half-hour.

  He poked Ulric with the end of his bow. “Wake up, Ulric!” he whispered.

  The dwarf snored loudly, not bothered by the numerous pokes. Siegfried stood up and kicked the dwarf’s side just hard enough to topple him into the snowy ground.

  “Oy! What the blazes are you doing?” Ulric snapped, blinking several times to focus in the darkness.

  “They’re on the move. Come on, we must get going,” Siegfried said, nocking an arrow to his bow.

  “For goodness sake, we’ve only just arrived here. I was having a pleasant dream about the beach in Allesmeade—”

  “Then stay and sleep; I can do this alone,” Siegfried replied, glancing at the camp again. They had torn down all the tents now and started to assemble on the river bank.

  “Oh really? And just how do you expect to get that ugly leader now that we can’t surprise them?” Ulric challenged.

  Siegfried sighed. “We can attack them while they cross the river. I can send a dozen arrows while they’re chest-deep in the water,” he said.

  Ulric stroked his beard thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea, elf. But what can I do?”

  “What you do best: attack them in the water. Here’s your chance to splash around in your beloved sea,” Siegfried said sarcastically.

  “That’s a river, you dimwit. And judging by the current, it’ll be very hard for me to keep my balance and swing this axe,” Ulric retorted.

  “The same is true for them. That’s why they’ll be crossing along the stones of the whitewater,” Siegfried said, squinting his eyes to focus on the shiny boulders that protruded along the edges of the waterfall.

  “You’ve got to be joking! You mean to attack those infernal creatures along those slippery rocks? It’s suicide,” Ulric protested.

  Siegfried shrugged. “As I said, I can do this myself.”

  With that, he took off at a sprint along the snow-covered hills toward the river. He heard a curse from behind him, then the sound of crunching snow as Ulric joined in the pursuit.

  They covered the distance quickly, but slowed their pace when Siegfried saw the first dozen Draknoir stepping on the rocks. A few yards before the pass, he spotted the perfect vantage point for loosing arrows on the party. It was an outcrop overlooking the river and a stone’s throw from the waterfall. On the outcrop Siegfried would have a clear shot at the Draknoir, but the disadvantage was he’d be quite visible. Although the Draknoir did not utilize ranged weapons like crossbows or longbows, once they discovered his position he’d have to abandon the tactic. He was confident he could take at least a dozen with the remaining arrows in his quiver, but they were quick on their feet and would be upon him before they lost too many warriors.

  Still, Ulric could hold them off long enough for their numbers to take a significant hit. Any way he pondered it, this was a delicate situation that would require the best of his skills to attain victory. His skills with the elvish dagger would certainly be tested. Especially if he faced the unnaturally fast overlord. But he still had another trick he could utilize.

  The elvish incantation for speed.

  He’d used it before in Sylvania when two thieves tried to rob him and Lucius. The spell had its uses in a pinch like this, but it also had the horrible effect of causing him to tire easily once the effect wore off. He’d have to use it as a last resort. Otherwise, if he didn’t kill the overlord while using it, he’d make himself extremely vulnerable to any counterattack.

  “All right, I’ll take a position over there,” Siegfried said to Ulric, gesturing at the outcrop ahead. “Once I’ve loosed a few arrows and they charge from the bank, hit them hard before they double back on me.”

  “Oh, I see. So you get to sit comfortably on that hillock, far from the danger while I bust my rump against the whole lot of them?” Ulric argued, again in that horrible whiny voice that grated on Siegfried.

  “I’ll be picking them off for you at a distance, practically making your job easier. But if they charge me before I’ve released all the arrows in my quiver, we’ll be in for plenty of danger,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

  “Fine, but if we live through this, you owe me a whole round of beers at the nearest pub!” the dwarf said, lifting a finger defiantly.

  Siegfried sighed, then ran toward the outcrop. He crouched as he ran, keeping his body low to avoid the eyes of the enemy. When he crested the outcrop, he glanced down and saw the last trail of Draknoir climbing onto the rocks of the river. The scouts at the front of the line were still hopping warily from stone to stone, trying to keep their bodies steady amid the raging torrent splashing along the rocks. They had about a quarter-mile to go yet before they’d reach the opposite bank, and they were taking their time.

  Siegfried searched the group of warriors until he caught sight of the leader. He was at the center, urging those in front of him to move faster with the tip of his scimitar. Looking to the river’s edge where the camp had been, he saw the small dark outline of Ulric creeping along the bank. The moonlight highlighted some of the dwarf’s features, particularly that overgrown beard of his. But the Draknoir were keeping their sight focused on the difficult task of maneuvering through the whitewater, which kept Ulric safe from any detection.

  Siegfried recited a calming sonnet to D’arya, then counted a few times to ease his breathing. Taking the bow in both hands, he pulled the string to full draw and sighted his first target. Down the sights he aimed at the heart of the overlord, waiting for the large warrior to jump onto the next rock. He adjusted his aim to account for the slight wind moving across the river, then he focused in and released the arrow. The bowstring slapped the inside of his arm with a satisfying thwack and the arrow flew into the darkness. He watched the gleaming arrowhead in the moonlight for a moment before it disappeared in the distance.

  The only indication that it had found its mark was when the overlord tumbled backward into the whitewater with a resounding splash.

  “That’s for Lucius,” Siegfried said to himself.

  He quickly nocked the next arrow, aimed at the next target, and released in a fluid motion.
Down below, another Draknoir crashed into the water. The war party was searching the river banks now and scrambling for either side of the river. Another arrow struck a warrior in the neck, causing him to careen unsteadily and hit his head on the rocks beneath him. Siegfried watched as the beast slid off the rocks and into the torrent that plummeted down the waterfall.

  The Draknoir had spotted him now, and one of them pointed in his direction, commanding the others to attack. There were at least sixteen of the warriors left. He aimed at his next target. But this time, he had trouble finding a mark. The Draknoir were jumping around wildly along the rock bridge, often slipping against the slick rocks and catching themselves just before falling into the raging water. Siegfried shot three arrows, but two missed and the last ricocheted off the stones.

  He only had seven arrows left and the Draknoir were now on the riverbank again. Ulric was waiting in the shadows as they climbed up the incline leading to Siegfried’s position. He nocked an arrow just as the dwarf swung his axe in a downward arc. The move cut down one of the Draknoir easily, then he turned to the next one and whirled the axe blade at the warrior’s midsection. The lead Draknoir realized another attack had come behind him, so he turned to face the new threat. But before the beast could attack Ulric, an arrow pierced his crude armor and stuck into his heart.

  “Good teamwork, elf!” Ulric shouted, whirling around to meet the next wave.

  For the next few minutes, Siegfried and Ulric held their ground and brought down three more Draknoir. They had three more of the warriors to face, but those odds were significantly better than when they started.

  Siegfried nocked the final arrow to his bowstring, aiming at the last wave ascending from the riverbank. He was just about to release the arrow when a blur of movement passed in front of him and knocked the bow from his hands.

  It took him a second to recover as he searched around for this new threat. To his left, he saw the hulking Draknoir overlord. Siegfried’s arrow was still embedded in the creature’s neck, and a trickle of dark blood covered his scaly chest. Hanging from the Draknoir’s waist was a familiar burlap sack that held the Gauntlet of Iniquity.

  Siegfried’s dagger hissed as he pulled it from its leather sheath. The dagger was long and curved at the tip, perfectly balanced and suitable for throwing if needed.

  The overlord smiled wickedly as he held up his scimitar in a challenging pose.

  The Draknoir lunged at him with the long blade. Siegfried barely dodged the attack; the overlord was just as swift as him. He slashed at Siegfried’s head, but the elf brought up the dagger to block the cut. Steel rang on steel as he tried a riposte on the beast. But the Draknoir was too quick: he hopped backward then executed a flurry of strikes. Siegfried managed to defend against the barrage, but the scimitar cut a gash into his forearm. He was on the defense again as the large warrior sliced downward in a vertical cut. Siegfried parried the blow, but barely had the leverage to do so. Stepping back, he glanced around to check on Ulric’s efforts down below.

  The dwarf was also facing overwhelming odds. His small form was weaving in and out of the sword strikes of multiple foes. Without Siegfried’s arrows amplifying his attacks, the dwarf was constantly on the defensive. At this rate, they would both be dead soon.

  The Draknoir hissed and slashed horizontally at Siegfried’s chest. The elf planted his feet to the ground and prepared to block the scimitar with all his strength. But it was a feint. At the last moment, the Draknoir dipped his blade lower and cut into Siegfried’s ribs. He staggered backward, feeling warm blood ooze onto his clothing. Instinctively, he clutched his side with his free hand, and before he knew it, the Draknoir was attacking once more.

  Siegfried dodged another vertical cut and turned on his heel to run. The Draknoir moved quickly after him, faster than any Draknoir could move. In a fluid movement, the overlord sliced a ribbon across Siegfried’s back. The elf careened forward, lost his footing and fell in the snow. He tried to stand, but only managed to raise himself to a sitting position. The warrior was advancing for another attack. Siegfried turned the dagger around and gripped the blade. When the Draknoir moved in close, he threw it at the beast’s head. Seeing the glittering blade flying in the air, the overlord brought his scimitar up to block it. And once more, Siegfried saw the blazing speed this monster could conjure forth. His blade knocked the dagger out of the sky, and it flew somewhere in the darkness where Siegfried could no longer retrieve it.

  Behind him, he heard Ulric’s war cry and a flurry of movement as the dwarf battled against the trio of Draknoir warriors. Siegfried watched as Ulric, weary from battle, was easily knocked down by one of the warriors. On the ground and panting furiously, the dwarf managed to rise to a half-crouch. He was swiftly kicked down and then rendered unconscious when the Draknoir struck him with the hilt of the scimitar. Siegfried waited helplessly for the killing blow, but curiously, it never came. The Draknoir attackers looked up at Siegfried now, slowly making their way up the hill.

  “You are finished, elf filth,” the overlord said in his guttural accent. He stood about a foot away from where Siegfried sat, standing confident of his victory. But the elf had one more card to play in this game.

  Closing his eyes briefly, Siegfried muttered an elvish incantation quietly. He had memorized it long ago in his youth. His mother, a proficient warrior who tutored him in archery and swordplay, taught it to him. The incantation granted him speed, focus, and strength.

  As he said the last word in the elvish language, he felt a surge of energy flow through his body. His eyes manifested that energy, glowing white in the darkness and bringing a shadow of fear upon the Draknoir overlord. It was a momentary fear though, and the warlord soon recovered. He let out a fierce growl and charged. But Siegfried was on his feet now, dodging the combination of strikes that the Draknoir unleashed. Though he was unarmed, Siegfried used his fists and legs to strike the Draknoir in a multitude of weak spots.

  He struck the neck, ribs, and stomach of his attacker repeatedly. The warlord stumbled more than once, but somehow the Draknoir matched Siegfried’s augmented speed with ease. For a minute, they were at an impasse, each combatant issuing strikes and the other blocking or dodging them. Then the remaining Draknoir joined their master’s side and Siegfried struggled to hold them all off. He ducked a swing to his head and punched one of the Draknoir in the neck, causing the warrior to lose his balance and crash in a heap. But then a hard kick nearly dropped him to the ground. He recovered and kicked wildly at his attacker’s legs. The Draknoir fell to his knees, giving Siegfried an opening to pummel him with a right cross. The creature slumped backward and Siegfried wrested his sword from his hand.

  Now the Draknoir overlord was on him again, slashing and swiping in a furious rage, but Siegfried parried and countered the attacks. They were at a stalemate once more, each flicking their swords in quick swipes at the other, but neither breaking through. Finally, Siegfried led with a feint overhand cut. The Draknoir moved to parry, but Siegfried swung his arm to the left and cut a deep gash in the overlord’s arm. The beast howled in pain and Siegfried smiled in spite of himself.

  The other Draknoir warriors were up again and they rallied around their leader. Siegfried prepared to defend against their combined attacks. For a minute he handled them with ease, parrying, striking, and even thrusting his blade into one of their necks.

  The elvish spell coursed through him as he fought the overlord and his subordinates, but then he felt the power subsiding. The glow in his eyes started to fade and a heavy weariness racked his body. His movements became sluggish, and he knew it would be over soon.

  The overlord noticed the decline in the elf’s energy and seized on it. Despite his injury, the Draknoir swung hard at Siegfried, and the power behind the blow broke Siegfried’s scimitar in two. Another Draknoir kicked Siegfried’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He doubled over onto the ground.

  I’m sorry, Lucius.

  He gazed up at the Draknoir overlo
rd, and the last thing he saw was the creature’s large foot kicking him in the face before darkness shrouded the world.

  CHAPTER 28

  RETURN TO DWYFOLTÍR

  “Mother?” Lucius said, his eyes wide and mouth gaping.

  His mother looked at him with a slight smile, and she clasped his hands into her own. “Yes, Lucius. Look how big you’ve grown,” she said.

  “I—I have so many questions,” he said, unsure where to begin. But then the single most pressing question came forth in his mind. “Why did you leave me?”

  She frowned, looking hurt by the question. “I didn’t want to leave you, Lucius. It was not something I chose to do lightly. I was being hunted by the Draknoir. For years, your father and I had outrun them. We hid in remote places in Azuleah. We lived off the land, in forests, and wherever anyone would take us in secretly. But few people wanted to shelter those who were marked,” she explained.

  “Marked?” Lucius asked curiously.

  “Yes. The Draknoir marked the heirs of Nostra through their worship of Nergoth somehow. We always needed to be on the move before one of their shaman or warriors would track us down. Nobody wished to endanger themselves by hiding us,” she said.

  “But if you and my father were marked, wouldn’t that mean I was too?”

  She shook her head. “No. You were born after the markings were conjured. We didn’t think the Draknoir knew of your existence, so we decided to keep you safe by hiding you away.” She glanced at the ground and took a breath. When she looked up again, Lucius saw tears forming in her eyes. “Believe me, Lucius, that was the hardest decision I ever made in my life. I didn’t wish to be parted from you. But your father insisted it was the only way you could be out of danger. Being with us, constantly running for survival, was not the life we wanted for you. So we trusted that Yéwa would care for you by means of the elves.”

  Lucius felt her squeeze his hands reassuringly, and he nodded his head to assuage her guilt. He always wondered whether or not his parents had left him at the Marble Gates for a good reason. Helmer had guessed the reason was to protect him since the heirs of Cervantes were hated by the Draknoir. But deep down, he could not shake the sense of abandonment. To be left alone to fend for himself had been difficult. Though Helmer and Siegfried had stepped in as his family, they still could not erase the longing in Lucius’ heart for his true parents. But knowing his mother’s true intentions at last—to protect him and not abandon him—was salve to a grievous wound.