Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2)

by Daniel Adorno

  “Keep your distance, lass,” a shrill voice called to her left.

  She turned and saw a small band of riders on dark horses approaching. Two of them rode prominently ahead of the rest. They were elves bearing the same facial appearance: dark hair tied behind in a knot, with caramel skin and bright green eyes that resembled Avani’s looks.

  “Let our sister fight her own battles,” one of the duo said.

  Violet turned back to Avani, who fared poorly now against Brandewulf. The veteran warrior swung again at her, but this time it was a feint. Avani went to parry and Brandewulf kicked at her stomach. She doubled over and nearly dropped her sword. Brandewulf smiled wickedly. He was enjoying this. The duke punched her in the face, then pushed her to the ground. Avani crawled hopelessly away from him, trying to reach the Requiem Sword that now lay in the snow. He kicked her again and spat.

  “You’ve lost, princess,” he said, grinning. He bent down and picked up the Requiem Sword, studying it like a prize won in a gambling match. Violet felt tears streaming down from her eyes as she watched her friend struggle to stand up. Brandewulf chuckled at the effort. The brute kicked snow in Avani’s face, then turned to the insurgents watching the display.

  “She’s all yours,” he said.

  CHAPTER 31

  THE HEIR AND STEWARD

  The throne room of Gilead Palace shone from the sunlight cascading through the large vertical windows along the southern wall. Light fell on the king’s standards that hung from the ceiling, giving them a vibrant life along with the rest of the room. The red carpet leading to the elevated dais also soaked in the warm glow of the midday. One would scarcely believe winter dominated the landscape while sitting within these walls. Nestled several feet from the dais, Lucius sat on a bench set aside for anyone seeking an audience with the king. He’d waited for almost two hours for King Silas to return from a meeting with his royal staff in the war room on the other end of the hall.

  A fortnight had passed since his unexpected appearance at the late Alfryd’s funeral. The length of time had not helped how everyone treated him. Many people viewed him as some kind of warlock who managed to evade death by a clever spell. A minority revered him as a holy man who Yéwa had restored to life. Silas’ view fell somewhere in between. His natural skepticism of a resurrection in this day and age prevented him from acknowledging the miracle, but he also knew Lucius. He didn’t believe the rumors of an evil conjurer stalking the graveyard.

  Lucius wished he would share that opinion with the guards who were stationed at the doors to the throne room. Both men turned pale at the sight of him earlier. In truth, he wished he had some kind of special power. Perhaps that would aid them in the current predicament with the Draknoir. Instead he had to rely on the success of Avani retrieving the Requiem Sword, which some would argue was a miracle on its own.

  He stood up from the bench and paced the room for the sixth time since coming here. Siegfried, Violet, and Avani were all on his mind. Silas had told him how his brother and the dwarf, Ulric, had chased after the Draknoir who’d killed him. But no one had heard any word of their success or failure on that foolish mission. How could his brother be so stupid to give in to revenge?

  Elves are more enlightened than that, he thought.

  Despite the bleak outlook of the pair’s survival, Lucius prayed that they were still alive. He couldn’t accept a reality where Siegfried had perished. The elf was too excellent with a bow to be killed by brutes like the Draknoir. And with Ulric’s eagerness to split skulls with his axe, he doubted they could run into any trouble they couldn’t handle.

  Avani and Violet were a different matter though. They were traveling in hostile territory with a man of questionable repute. Lucius trusted very little about Lord Brandewulf. The man had a reputation for arrogance at court, and a penchant for brutality. But Silas had trusted him with the task—Lucius had to respect that. Still, they hadn’t heard any word from Numa about their arrival or departure. That was certainly troubling. Many nobles were concerned about enemies like the Rubiwind twins, Balavan and Eshan, who might steal the Requiem Sword en route. A valid concern, to be sure, but not the fear that bothered Lucius most.

  He worried more about Avani.

  She was a capable warrior from what he’d heard. Her tenacity and boldness certainly revealed an indomitable strength that could be any man’s ruin on the battlefield. But it didn’t relieve Lucius’ fears. He should be there with her now, protecting her. It seemed a silly notion for a commoner like him to safeguard a princess. And yet, he could not shake the feeling that she needed his protection.

  He had given up denying that there were deep feelings in his heart for her. Whether or not she felt the same was insignificant to him, and that was why he needed to speak to Silas.

  The doors of the throne hall opened. Duke Weifar and Lord Blaise entered the room with a retinue of nobles. At the end of the line stood Silas, who listened intently to his royal secretary on some matter related to weaponry. Lucius stood up, trying to establish eye contact with the king, but Silas kept his attention on his officials. They strode down the room where Silas sat on his throne. He looked weary and older in the purple doublet and flowing cape that signified his high position. The crown of Aldron sat a bit askew on his head as he propped his arm up to hold his head. The constant chatter of advisors seemed to bore the king, and he listened with mixed interest.

  Lucius cleared his throat, hoping to get their attention, but the disparate conversations continued. He coughed loudly, then muttered, “Excuse me,” when heads turned in his direction. Silas glanced at him then sat straight on the throne.

  “Lucius? What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I was hoping to hold an audience with you, your Majesty,” he said, fidgeting with his hands as the other men looked on.

  Silas’ eyes narrowed. “Is this about going to Numa again?”

  Lucius sighed. “Yes, my lord, it is.”

  “I’ve already made a judgment on that course of action, Lucius. The answer is no. I need you here with the Drachengarde. We’re in the middle of planning a large-scale attack against Nasgothar. I don’t need more of my good warriors missing,” he replied.

  Lucius knew he meant Siegfried and Ulric, of course. Although the elf and dwarf weren’t officially members of the Drachengarde or the king’s army, they were experienced warriors. He felt flattered that Silas should feel the same way toward him. But then he did manage to come back from the dead, so that was a feather in his cap if anything.

  “I understand, your Majesty. But it’s been a week since you rendered that decision and Avani, Violet, and Brandewulf haven’t returned,” he argued. Silas opened his mouth to refute the point, but Lucius pressed on. “And we haven’t received any communication from the Numans about their arrival or departure. Please, my lord, let me go with a party to search for them.”

  “You really don’t seem to understand how the chain of command works, do you?” Lord Blaise interjected. Lucius had a strong dislike for the man. He was a proud noble who lorded his pedigree over the common folk. Though his loyalty to the throne was unquestionable, his manners were in dire need of adjustment.

  “I’m sorry. I meant no offense to the king or any of you…gentlemen,” Lucius said, keeping his tone calm. “But I must voice my disagreement with our lack of action on this matter—”

  “Lack of action?” Silas said, his voice rising in pitch. The advisors around him looked warily at the monarch, some shuffling nervously from side to side. Sensing the discomfort he had caused, Silas took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Weifar, would you please escort everyone to the council room. I will meet you all there shortly.”

  “But my lord, we still have much to discuss—” Blaise interrupted again.

  “Now, please. I wish to speak with Lucius alone,” Silas said.

  Weifar put a hand on Blaise’s shoulder and gestured for everyone to leave the hall. They marched out briskly. From the corner of his eye, Luciu
s detected a scowl from Blaise as the man walked past.

  When the doors closed behind him, Silas motioned for him to approach the dais.

  “I know you’re not accustomed to how things work in a sovereign kingdom like Aldron, so I will excuse insubordination this time. However, in the future please do not disrespect my authority in this hall by openly disagreeing with my orders,” Silas warned.

  Lucius clenched his hands into fists. He took a breath, trying to keep his anger in control. “Your Highness, I meant no disrespect. I am simply concerned about my friends…about the Requiem Sword—”

  “And you think I’m not?” Silas bellowed. A look of embarrassment crossed over his face. He leaned back in his chair and placed a hand on his forehead. “I’m sorry, Lucius…I did not mean to shout.”

  Lucius said nothing, allowing himself only a nod at the apology.

  “I’ve been anxious over Violet. Questioning why she left my father’s side—why she put herself in such danger. I sleep little most nights, wondering whether we will win this war,” Silas said. He waved a hand around him. “I’m not cut out for this, you know; being a king and ruling a nation. Ask me to lead men into battle, and that I can do. But the endless affairs of state and the pomp of this position are truly not my forte. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but few nobles like the thought of an anxious king.”

  Lucius nodded. “From where I’m standing, your Highness, I think you will be a great king. You’ve been a good friend to me and Siegfried. Despite being a prince at the time, you didn’t hesitate to believe us all those months ago in Avani’s cottage.”

  “That seems so long ago,” Silas said with a bemused smile. “How things have changed.”

  “They have. But they needn’t change for the worse,” Lucius replied. He steeled himself for the next words. “Your Highness…please let me go find our friends. I’m tired of training with the Drachengarde and staring at the walls of my bedroom. Let me do something.”

  Silas sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Blaise is going to hate that I’m telling you this,” he said.

  “Pardon?”

  “There’s nothing we can do about Violet and Avani. At least, not presently. I received a report from our scouts in the Golden Plains that Avani’s brothers, Balavan and Eshan, captured them on their way from Numa. We don’t have much information, but if I had to guess, the insurgents are holding their sister ransom until Sikahr abdicates the throne,” he said.

  Lucius heart sank at the news. “Captured? That would mean they also have the sword. We have to help them.”

  “We will,” Silas said, a firm resolve evident in his voice. “I’m mobilizing three hundred men to take on the Numan insurgent force. King Sikahr may hate the idea, but I don’t care. They have Violet and a duke of Allesmeade. It’s a clear declaration of war against Aldron.”

  Lucius nodded. “What role will the Drachengarde have?”

  Silas chuckled, then stood up. “You really are persistent, aren’t you?”

  “It’s a trait you develop when you get killed,” Lucius replied with a smirk.

  “I’ll add a contingent of the Drachengarde to the main force. Dudley will take the lead now that Wesley is gone, so you’ll be following his command.”

  “Yes, your Highness,” Lucius said.

  “Stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Stop calling me ‘your Highness’ or ‘your Majesty.’ At least, when nobody else is around. We’re friends, Lucius. A crown and a fancy throne won’t change that,” Silas said ruefully.

  “Very well,” Lucius replied, bowing slightly. He turned his thoughts to another matter pressing on his mind. “Would Avani’s brothers know they are in possession of the Requiem Sword?”

  Silas frowned. “It’s a possibility. Avani left Numa because of her role in the prophecy. Her brothers knew about that. My major concern is not whether we can retrieve the sword. It’s saving Avani and the others with no loss of life.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lucius agreed. He glanced back at the closed double doors. “I suppose you want your court back inside. I’m sure Blaise is having a fit not being in here.”

  “We should talk about something else for a little longer just so I can keep him out of here,” Silas groaned.

  Lucius laughed. He bowed again and said his farewell to the king, then turned to the doors. Before he could reach them, they burst open and the nobles piled inside like a pack of rabid wolves.

  “Your Majesty, one of the forward scouts from Ragnara has returned with an unsettling report,” the royal secretary, Draven, reported.

  “What’s the problem?” Silas asked.

  “My lord, we have news of six galleons sailing from Allesmeade on the Lagrimas,” Blaise said grimly.

  “The scout’s report indicates there are men-at-arms, pikemen, and knights aboard the ships,” Weifar added.

  Silas descended the dais. “Brandewulf’s army? What the devil are they crossing the Lagrimas for? It’s the middle of winter.”

  Blaise clenched his jaw firmly. “Sire, we believe they mean to make war on Aldron.”

  “That’s impossible. What quarrel does Allesmeade have with us? They are one of the Four Houses, and Brandewulf is loyal—” Silas’ voice trailed off.

  Lucius watched him for a moment, and then understanding dawned on him too.

  Brandewulf’s family had a score to settle with the Dermonts. Alfryd exiled his uncle for being sympathetic to the Draknoir. Since the time Brandewulf arrived at Gilead Palace, Lucius had witnessed the brash nature of the Duke of Allesmeade. Yet all of that dissipated in the presence of Silas. He had volunteered to escort Avani and Violet, a job for a lowly sergeant to handle, not a duke of the royal court. And he’d foiled the assassin—his personal cook—who snuck inside Alfryd’s bedroom. But curiously, the woman escaped soon after Brandewulf departed Aldron and Alfryd had still perished. The circumstances were too coincidental.

  “I’ve been a fool,” Silas said softly. “Brandewulf. This is all his doing. He means to take the sword and descend upon Aldron while we are weakened by the loss of my father. I’ve been a fool!”

  Silas kicked a planter at the foot of the dais, knocking it over and spilling dirt over the floor.

  Everyone remained silent for a few minutes as he paced the room.

  A disturbing thought formed in Lucius’ mind. If Brandewulf’s forces were moving in to fight from the east, that would leave them vulnerable to attack from the north.

  “We’ll have to delay the rescue mission to deal with this new threat from Alleasmeade, my lord,” Blaise said. “We’ll need every man available to us.”

  “You won’t have a choice,” Lucius cut in.

  Blaise and the rest of the men glanced at him, suddenly realizing he was still in the room. “What are you talking about, boy?” Blaise said impatiently.

  “Don’t you see? While Aldron’s forces are engaged with Allesmeade’s army to the east, the insurgents from Numa will attack us from the north,” Lucius explained.

  The room grew eerily silent.

  Silas’ shoulders slumped. “Brandewulf means to fight us on two fronts.”

  CHAPTER 32

  THE ESCAPE

  The door of the cell creaked open, allowing a small vestige of light to pour inside. A Draknoir guard snorted derisively as he walked inside the dark room. The creature held up a lantern to find the two prisoners inside, sitting in a corner. Both Siegfried and Ulric watched the Draknoir set the lantern on the ground before he grunted and left. The heavy cell door slammed behind him, and the lock clicked to remind them of the hopeless situation they were in.

  Days had passed since Siegfried was first thrown in this dungeon. He’d lost considerable weight from the meager food they were given each day. The black slop tasted like mud mixed with a rodent’s carcass. Ulric called it an acquired taste, but eating it every day hadn’t made the food more palatable. During the hours spent in near darkness, Siegfried stret
ched his muscles and engaged in some sparring matches with Ulric. The dwarf hated all the needless exertion, especially in their malnourished state. But Siegfried wanted them to be ready for their eventual escape from this hellish place. If they merely sat around, their muscles would atrophy and make their getaway that much harder.

  The lantern left by the Draknoir began to glow a bit brighter, and a familiar voice called out from it. “Siegfried, Ulric? Are you awake?” Lya said.

  “Aye. It’s hard to sleep if you can’t tell when the day ends and the night begins,” Ulric said.

  “Any news you’d like to share today?” Siegfried asked.

  Over the last few days, he had commissioned Lya with memorizing all the routes the jailers and guards patrolled when they carried her around. Along with learning the multiple passageways of Arkadeus, Lya listened to whatever gossip or plotting the Draknoir let slip in her presence. So far, the most significant news they’d heard was about Memnon. The Draknoir sorcerer had holed himself up in one of the towers in the south wing of the fortress. Apparently he was learning to become adept with the Gauntlet of Iniquity. Siegfried guessed the time was soon approaching for the binding ritual to be performed. The ritual would be their best chance of escaping their cell. It would be a large spectacle for every Draknoir and dragon in Arkadeus. With their attention fixed on Memnon’s display of power, their escape would go largely unnoticed.

  “I learned the binding ritual is set to take place tonight,” Lya said, anxiety evident in her voice.

  Siegfried sat up from the ground and crouched near the lantern. “Really? Do you know what time?” he asked.

  “I heard one of the guards tell his subordinates to be at the front courtyard when the sun sets. The Draknoir love to perform their worship at night, so I assume that’s when it’ll happen,” Lya said.

  “Luncheon was served a few hours ago, so that means it’s the afternoon. That only gives us an hour or more before Memnon’s show,” Ulric said grimly.