Keep of Dragons (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 3)

by Daniel Adorno

  As was her habit, she memorized the entire layout of the fortress over the last few days. If she took a right at the bottom of the stairwell that led to a tunnel which descended deeper into the keep. Beyond the tunnel was the dark chamber formerly inhabited by the Black Dragon. On the other side of the chamber was a small culvert. The culvert acted as a drainage system—a primitive sewer. Although she was not eager to wade through the Draknoir's filth, it was the quickest way out of Arkadeus.

  Ravenmane reached the bottom and heard shouts at the top of the stairs. The Draknoir were descending toward her. Her burned leg was slowing her down and they would catch up to her before long. She could handle two or three Draknoir in combat with a dagger. But half a dozen might prove to be impossible, especially with the injury. Thankfully, the prospect of such a fight never came. Siegfried appeared outside the tunnel and released a rapid succession of arrows at her pursuers. The arrows struck the legs of the Draknoir causing many to stumble down and knock others headlong with them. She felt relieved that she shared the layout of the keep with Siegfried earlier.

  "Come on," Ravenmane yelled. "More are coming and Memnon is behind them!"

  "It's nice to see you too, Ravenmane." The elf said wryly.

  "We wouldn't be in this mess if that arrow killed him," she snapped.

  Siegfried shook his head just before releasing another arrow that pierced the neck of another Draknoir. "You stabbed him remember? It did nothing. I told you that gauntlet is unstoppable."

  She ignored his comment and continued into the tunnel with him closely behind her. Darkness covered this area of the castle much like everywhere else, but here it was far more ominous. Despite the lack of light, they both raced down the hallway until a faint light from Kraegyn’s chamber illuminated the path. To their left lay the large chamber and several feet ahead, she could make out the small culvert.

  "Get inside. We'll have to be quick to outrun them," Ravenmane said.

  Siegfried nodded then examined the culvert. His face contorted in disgust. "Is that what I think I smell?"

  "I'm sorry did you have a better way to escape this fortress?" she asked sardonically.

  They ducked and entered inside the culvert. It was darker than the tunnel and much wetter. More than once, she lost her footing and nearly fell headfirst into the putrid slime that lined the floor. In the distance, the angry cries of Draknoir filled the tunnel.

  "How long is this sewer?" Siegfried asked.

  "Not much longer. The drainage will lead us close to the edge of the forest. From there, we can disappear."

  "You’re quite optimistic," Siegfried said. "We are in enemy territory. They have the advantage."

  Ravenmane smiled in spite of herself. "Yes, but you forget. I was once the enemy."

  As they reached the mouth of the culvert, Siegfried exited first, arrow nocked to the bow and bowstring fully drawn. When he saw no one, he signaled that it was safe. Ravenmane stepped outside the low culvert and drew herself to full height. It was a mistake. A surge of pain emanated up her leg, and she stumbled for a moment.

  "You're hurt," Siegfried said, examining her leg.

  "It's nothing. Let's get to the tree line," Ravenmane said.

  They ran toward a row of pine trees several yards away. The twilight hour made it difficult to see outside, but she hoped it would hide their movement from the guards on the battlements. The timing of her meeting was deliberate. A nighttime escape would give them the best chance for success. At least, she hoped so. From their position, the fortress looked like an impregnable monolith amid the tranquil landscape. She noticed a faint light coming from the culvert. Panic welled up in her chest.

  "They’re coming!"

  "Can you run?" Siegfried asked.

  She nodded. They increased their pace to a sprint. The elf was much quicker than her, covering a few yards in seconds. She struggled to keep up, the pain became excruciating as she exerted her leg muscles in the effort.

  "Ravenmane! Do you really think you can escape me?" Memnon bellowed.

  She glanced behind her and saw the Draknoir sorcerer standing on the battlements. Flashes of light emanated from the gauntlet he wore. She ran faster, but her unsteady gait caused her to lose her balance on the slippery snow. She careened toward the half frozen ground, striking her face on it.

  Memnon laughed wickedly.

  "I will show you mercy if you turn back now. Or I can burn you to ash where you stand. I leave the choice to you."

  Siegfried ran to her side and pulled her from the ground. He released a shot from his bow at Memnon, but just as before it was pointless. The Draknoir slapped the arrow aside like a gnat bothering him. He then released a torrent of energy from the gauntlet. A blue and purple fireball flew toward them like a fierce creature ready to devour its prey. Siegfried grabbed hold of her and jumped away from the fireball as it decimated the ground. Ravenmane nearly lost her footing again from the explosion that rocked the earth. The awful sound of Memnon's laughter both angered and frightened her. She had never saw him in such a frenzy. He had always been merciless, but exuding control. This was madness and evil unfettered.

  "Let's go! The Draknoir are nearly upon us," Siegfried said.

  She nodded, but was unsure whether she could run anymore.

  "Here, let me help you,” the elf said. He put his arm around her waist and placed her left arm around his neck. She shifted her weight which gave her injured leg some comfort. Together, they ran in a hobbled manner toward the woods. The warriors from the culvert raced after them, thirsty for blood. Siegfried didn't bother with his bow anymore, he focused on getting them to safety. Another fireball struck the ground ahead of them. The blinding flash and resultant tremor nearly knocked them down. But Siegfried pressed on and his unwavering strength motivated her to press forward. The trees grew closer even as she heard the Draknoir grunting behind them. In a few seconds, they reached the cover of the trees and escaped the shadow of Arkadeus with the beasts in pursuit.

  Chapter 3

  The king's war room filled with nobles as Lucius sat down at the table in the center of the small chamber. Located in the lower level of the castle, the war room was a meeting place for all the military commanders throughout Aldron’s history. Despite its importance, the room itself was not lavishly furnished like other rooms used by the royal family. It was a square room with a round table and a dozen chairs. The king's place at the table was easily recognizable. Silas Dermont was the only person sitting in a richly embroidered chair with gold lace and a purple cushions. The other chairs were simple wood furnishings. The walls of the room were stone brick and mortar adorned with the king's standard hanging from one wall and a large map of Azuleah hanging from another. In one corner, a bookshelf held various tomes on military strategy and history.

  The young king looked rather haggard these days. Silas’ tousled blond mane and his bloodshot eyes revealed how little sleep the monarch had gotten over the past few nights. He exchanged glances with everyone in the room, noting their anticipation for the news he had promised to relay when he called this council. Lucius took stock of everyone assembled around the table. To his right sat Lord Blaise, the quintessential military man with an uncompromising sense of duty and deference. To his left, his father Helmer Silverhart sat and lightly drummed the table with his fingers. Across from him, he gazed into Avani Rubiwind's eyes who gave a slight smile as he did so. As always, she looked absolutely beautiful in a jade dress with elvish patterns of brocade adorning the neckline, shoulders, and bust. She wore the Numan crown on her head which also pulled back her dark hair though occasional strands escaped like stray vines from a tree. Around the rest of the table, Lucius noted the presence of Dudley Alden, captain of the Drachengarde, and his second-in-command, Darius Tawfeek. Dressed in rugged military attire, they both looked out of place among the other nobles, except perhaps Duke Weifar, whose ragged appearance skirted the edge of noble sensibilities.

  "I suppose we should get to it then," Silas sa
id with a sigh. He picked up a small scroll sitting on the table and waved it in his hand. "A few nights ago, I received this letter from a merchant escaping Sylvania. He was a friend of Lumiath, the exile from Evingrad, who penned this letter. It seems the neutral city has been razed by the dragons."

  The news elicited a gasp and whispers around the table. Lucius, surprised as everyone else, could not believe the town he'd visited a few months ago was no longer standing. He voiced the question in everyone's mind. "Does that mean Lumiath–"

  "I'm afraid so, my son." Helmer frowned.

  Quetulya, seated on the other side of Helmer, shook his head then slumped his shoulders. "Is no place safe from these beasts?"

  "Although the news is tragic and unexpected, that is not the worst of it," Silas said grimly.

  Everyone looked up at him expectantly. A sudden dread hung in the room as they prepared for whatever revelation might come next.

  "Lumiath had a vision of an imminent attack upon Aldron. We have been preparing for such an attack since the previous incursion by constructing special defenses to thwart the dragons. But we are not ready. The promised reinforcements from the Sangre Isles has yet to arrive to assist us in the war. Without their reinforcements, Memnon, and Kraegyn will have the upper hand."

  "Your Majesty, my contingent of Numan warriors stand ready to help you defend the city," Avani said confidently.

  Lord Blaise nodded. "My lord, the Numan elves can serve us wonderfully in this regard. They number three hundred and would bolster our weakened ranks splendidly."

  Silas stroked his beard and sat back in his chair. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Yes, but I anticipate the dragons will not be our only problem. The Draknoir will probably provide ground support to those flying beasts. We've had scouting reports from earlier in the winter that showed a significant force still in Nasgothar. Estimates are around five hundred Draknoir."

  Lucius tried hard not to appear disheartened at the revelation, but he and everyone else sighed heavily at the numbers. He had only fought a handful of Draknoir during his time as a Drachengarde recruit. The reptilian warriors were formidable foes and facing a large horde of them gave him pause.

  "Which brings me to another subject I wish to address,” Silas continued. "Memnon is already using his position in Arkadeus to gain an offensive advantage over us. We must know exactly what he is planning. I'll need to send another scouting party north. The Drachengarde and Princess Avani's forces are best suited for this task."

  Everyone shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. Duke Weifar was the first to speak. "My lord, our scouts in Arkadeus have not reported back in weeks and it is unlikely that they avoided detection so close to the Ithileo border. Another expedition might bring a similar result. We know very little of Memnon's plans save for what Lumiath has told us."

  "Precisely my point! According to Lumiath, this attack will come before the harvest. If Memnon plans to sic the dragons on us, I am certain he will send his minions along with them. He failed to take our city on two occasions. I doubt he intends to fail again, so he will mobilize every warrior against us. All the more reason for us to know what we face in Arkadeus and mobilize an offensive," the king explained. He stood from his chair then turned to the map on the wall, pointing at the spot Arkadeus held. "We know any attack from the north or east will fail. The terrain is too treacherous for a sizable force and too heavily fortified by the Draknoir."

  "What about an attack from Jun-Jun Pass?" Quetulya asked. "Or the Burning Woods? Those groves would give your forces plentiful cover."

  "That's too close to the Eastern Passage," Lucius objected. "I've been there. The banshees control that area and are appearing more and more in recent months," he said.

  The thought of having to fight a swarm of banshees stiffened the hairs on Lucius’ neck. Although he eliminated the threat of Siobhan and her ghastly sisters months ago, rumors spread that the loss of the three banshees had goaded the remaining apparitions to further aggression. Travelers and farmers around the area had spoken of attacks on their livestock and families. He felt a pang of guilt that his noble efforts had caused further complications for the faeries and locals.

  "Then an attack from the south is our best approach," Silas continued. "Obviously, Memnon will expect that, but if Sangre’s army can bolster our own, we can still push hard against him. And lest we forget, we also have the Requiem Sword."

  The mention of the weapon brought everyone's gaze onto Lucius, who slumped in his seat. Everyone around the table was familiar with the prophecy and had become more confident in his abilities after the battle with Brandewulf and the Numan rebels. That he had died and resurrected also made his status in Aldron increase all the more.

  "Lucius, we know the burden of the Ellyllei is great, but I am supremely confident in your capabilities. I do not question that Yéwa has chosen you," Helmer said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  Others around the room nodded their approval, except Quetulya who merely crossed his arms. The former Cyngorell leader was not as abrasive these days toward Lucius or other humans, but he remained skeptical of Yéwa’s involvement in an elven prophecy.

  "And as Ellyllei, it is crucial for you to be properly trained to fight dragons, Lucius," Silas added. "I've arranged for Dudley and Darius to take you this afternoon to meet our dragon lore master, Phineas Broughlin, who will teach you all our methods for killing dragons."

  Lucius furrowed his brow. This was the first time he'd heard of Broughlin, but he knew of the Drachengarde’s tactics for slaying dragons. Dudley had hinted that after his initial combat training, Lucius would learn the slayer techniques. For centuries, the ways of the Drachengarde were a safely guarded secret. The secrecy added to the group’s mystique in Aldron and throughout the continent. But dragon lore? Lucius had to admit there was precious little he knew about the history of dragons except what Helmer had taught him. And that could barely fill one of the elder elf’s dusty tomes.

  "So this Broughlin fellow will teach me how to fight dragons and kill them?" Lucius asked.

  "No, that will be our job," Dudley said, gesturing to himself and Darius. "Broughlin will just bore you with all the details of dragon history and how they've mucked up our lives over the centuries."

  Silas nodded. "More or less. But it is important to know our enemies if we wish to defeat them."

  "I see," Lucius said unenthusiastically.

  He thought hard about his next question which strayed from the subject at hand, but seemed pertinent if Silas intended to organize another scouting mission.

  "Your Highness, if you are planning to have a scouting party observe the area near Arkadeus, is there any possibility we might infiltrate the fortress itself and rescue Siegfried?"

  "Lucius... we've been through this," Silas said in that fatherly tone that annoyed Lucius. "I cannot risk the lives of my men and the Numans for a single elf. I know he is your brother and you desire to see him freed. But our objective is greater than one person."

  Lucius prepared to argue the point, but he felt Helmer's hand grip his forearm. His father shook his head slightly and the look of disapproval put to rest any argument on the matter. Lucius sighed quietly and nodded.

  Silas strolled back to his chair and sat down. "Avani, I'm placing you and Dudley in charge of this mission. Take as many soldiers as you deem necessary. The spring is nearly here so I expect travel will not be too perilous. Try to return before the buds are in bloom. We will need all of your help if Lumiath's vision comes to pass. This meeting is adjourned."

  The lowest level of Gilead Palace was damp and reeked of stale wine. Lucius followed Dudley and Darius closely through the labyrinth of halls in the bowels of the main keep. They descended below the war room and palace kitchens. Here in the cramped, dark corners of the castle, Lucius felt a bit uneasy. He grew accustomed to the bright and airy interiors upstairs and found nothing welcoming down here. Perhaps this was why most dungeons were below ground. Although he hadn't stayed in Gilead
Palace for long, he learned an extensive cell infrastructure existed here for the criminals of the kingdom. He expected to hear the rattling chains and agonized yells of some convicted murderer or thief very soon.

  Thankfully, the image of such poor wretches was left to his imagination. The trio turned a corner into a similar hall, but this time a warm light greeted them from two large sconces on the wall. The sconces held torches that flanked a wide oak door on either side. Dudley rapped on the door several times and they waited in silence for a response. On the door, a small sign hung by rusty nail. It read: Keep Out & Keep Quiet!

  Lucius felt a pang of nervousness upon reading the warning. He hadn't gleaned much information about this Broughlin person, but he was beginning to think he might be an old crank much like Quetulya. With so much preoccupying his mind theses days, Lucius hadn't given much thought to this meeting.

  "Knock again," Darius said. "You know he's hard of hearing."

  Dudley sighed. "Yes, I know."

  The Drachengarde captain knocked again. A faint muttering came from inside. After a few seconds, someone shuffled slowly toward the threshold.

  "What do you want?" A brusque voice asked.

  "Broughlin, it's Dudley. We brought the boy."

  Lucius frowned at the use of the word "boy" to describe him. Although he was the youngest recruit in the Drachengarde at nineteen years of age, he didn't appreciate the moniker that Dudley bestowed upon him. In truth, he felt nothing like a child these past few months. Participating on the expedition from Evingrad and facing numerous battles along the way contributed to that. But the youthfulness of his appearance coupled with his relative inexperience as a warrior probably disqualified him from being seen as mature in any sense.