Keep of Dragons (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 3)

by Daniel Adorno

  His father, however, seemed to be used to these processions. Living in the desert brought many hardships for the Uwadi people and over the years, they became accustomed to the ever present specter of death in their everyday lives. As a result of living among them, Simeon too had embraced the grim reality of death’s power in this forsaken land. Both he and the Uwadi had lost family and friends. It made all the sense in the world that the charismatic Aldronian outsider found commonality with these desert nomads and their grim rituals.

  Outside his chamber, Lucius heard a faint song among the low, melancholic dirges echoing inside the pyramid. He rose from his cot and listened closely. The song was pleasant, not at all sad like those playing outside. He walked into the dark hallway, turning to glance inside Siegfried’s chamber. The room was dark and presumably empty. Siegfried likely stayed with the others to mourn the dead while Lucius slipped away unnoticed. He thought perhaps the temple would be empty and afford him some time to pray alone, but now the faint voice singing had his undivided attention.

  The song sounded like a lullaby and the voice came from inside the pyramid. Lucius walked out of the hallway into the circular chamber with the numerous columns surrounding the central throne. There sitting on the throne was his father, who sang the lullaby just loud enough for him to decipher the words.

  Gone the shield that defends us

  Lost with old King Cervantes

  Yesu blesseth he who finds it

  For the shield, the shield is gone

  Oh whence cometh the dawn?

  To defend ye brothers and sisters

  Forevermore we travel to Caelum

  Lucius walked closer to the throne. His father's back was turned to him as he continued the melody

  When he was a few feet from Simeon, the man stopped singing and reared his head up.

  "Sabu, is that you?" Simeon questioned. He turned around and saw Lucius standing there in the dim light.

  "It's just me, Father," Lucius said.

  "Well, don't just stand there in the shadows. Come and sit with me." Simeon indicated the stone dais that held the throne and Lucius obliged, taking a seat at his feet. But realizing how awkward it would be to have a conversation like this, Simeon stepped down from the throne and sat next to Lucius on the dais.

  "What was that song you were singing?" Lucius asked.

  "Oh that. It's an old lullaby. You might recognize it — your mother sang it to you when you were an infant. It tells the story of Yesu's shield," Simeon explained.

  "Yesu’s shield?"

  "You've never heard the story? Long ago, when Yesu was King of Aldron he forged a shield from iron and gold. But he also imbued it with a divine power that made it indestructible. Whenever he used it in battle, his enemies could never land a stroke against him. Like the Requiem Sword, it played a large role in vanquishing dragons and Draknoir," Simeon explained.

  "What happened to it?"

  Simeon shrugged. "Nobody knows. It's another powerful artifact lost over the centuries. Now it's mostly a metaphor for needing his help. That's what the lullaby is about, anyway."

  Lucius nodded. A long silence passed between them as they both listened to the mournful songs outside. He glanced at his father whose eyes were closed now, focusing on the grim music. Lucius considered leaving him to mourn, but then his father spoke.

  "Lucius, I have given this proposition to fight the dragons a great deal of thought," Simeon began.

  Sensing where the conversation was going, Lucius cut in. "Father, I know the Uwadi have endured much loss these past days. I don't think any of the Drachengarde, least of all me, would blame you for sitting out this mission. It was probably too presumptuous of us to ask you to go," he said.

  Simeon gave a wry smile and nodded in appreciation of Lucius' statement. "That's all fine and good. But I was going to say that I have decided to come with you. Sabu is skeptical as always, but he will come with his men as well."

  Lucius was taken aback by the decision. After the heavy casualties at the Draknoir's hands, he fully expected his father to refuse to commit his followers. He had nothing to gain by helping them. Now Lucius wondered if he only wished to do so to appease his only son. He couldn't help but feel guilty if his dad embarked on this harrowing journey to please him.

  "You're certain you want to join us? I don't want you to feel obligated. You have a responsibility to the people here and I'd hate to come between that," Lucius said.

  Simeon placed a hand on his shoulder. "Lucius, I'm not doing this simply because you're my son. I won't lie and say that I don't wish to spend as much time with you as I can to make up for years lost. But I also cannot shot idly by while Memnon and his lackeys overtake the world. Going to Ghadarya is the right thing to do. And that's why I have chosen that path."

  Lucius sighed deeply, comforted that his father committed himself out of a sense of common good. The dragons were a threat to all of Azuleah and if they could crush Aldron the world would be hurled into darkness.

  "I'm glad to hear that you'll be coming, Father." Lucius smiled, but could find no further words to say. They sat together for a few minutes enjoying one another's company despite the melancholy playing outside. When there was a pause in the music, Lucius rose from the dais and said good night to his father. As he walked away to his chamber, Simeon called out to him.

  "Lucius, I've been meaning to ask you. Did you ever befriend any pretty elven girls in Evingrad?" Simeon asked, a smile forming on his lips.”

  “Eh, not really,” Lucius said, surprised by the question. He knew several elven maidens who he wished to court, but none would ever reciprocate his advances on account of his race. That all changed with Avani, who loved him despite their differences.

  “Hmm. So no women hold sway over your heart then?” Simeon asked.

  Lucius felt his cheeks flush. Thankfully, the dim light in the chamber was dark enough to keep his face obscured. “Well, there is a girl who might,” he said sheepishly.

  “Ha! I knew it,” Simeon said, standing from the dais. “Is it an Aldronian? Or no, a Sylvanian girl perhaps? Your mother and I had a running wager on who might be a suitable match for our boy.”

  Lucius frowned. “You bet on who your infant son might be paired with?”

  “It’s a thing that parents do. You’ll understand someday.”

  “Right.”

  “So tell me about this girl. What’s her name? Where does she hail from?”

  Lucius hesitated a moment. He wasn’t sure how his father would react to the news that his son was in love with the crown princess of Numa, a powerful elf nation. But he had a feeling the man wouldn’t stop bothering him about it if he said nothing. “Her name is Avani. She’s... Numan.”

  Simeon’s eyes widened, and he grinned broadly. “An elf girl. Your mother would’ve won the bet! She bet that her son would be attracted to the fair ladies of the wood.”

  “Well, she’d be even happier to know that she’s royalty,” Lucius said, unable to resist offering his father that juicy tidbit.

  “Ho, ho! That is definitely a surprise, my son. But you know, royalty attracts royalty and we Nostras are a regal bloodline,” he said proudly. “It will be a diplomatic victory for Aldron to be royally linked to Numa.”

  “What do you mean?” Lucius said, puzzled at the statement.

  “You plan to marry the girl someday, right? That will mean you have control over Aldron and Numa as the ruling king on Aldron’s throne.”

  “But I’m not the king. Silas Dermont is the rightful heir to the throne.”

  Simeon scoffed. “Alfryd’s son? He’s a steward like the rest of the Dermont line. The Nostras are the blood heirs, Lucius. Everybody knows that. Once this ordeal with the dragons and Draknoir is over, you must claim what is rightfully yours.”

  Lucius took a step back, astonished at his father’s words. The issue of royal succession had come up in his conservations with Silas several months ago. He had communicated to Silas then that he had n
o intention of staking a claim for Aldron’s throne. The idea of being a sovereign ruler held no allure for him. In fact, the prospect terrified him. He could hardly govern his own life, much less the lives of thousands.

  “I don’t want to be king, Father,” Lucius whispered.

  “Of course, you don’t. It’s a monumental undertaking, and no heir is truly prepared for it. But royalty is in your blood, Lucius. You must take hold of what is—”

  “No! You don’t understand. I didn’t grow up among the nobility like you and mother. Navigating matters of state and making decisions that affect the lives of countless people... these aren’t burdens I want to bear. If it were up to me, I would’ve stayed in Evingrad and lived my days reading books and shooting a bow for sport with Sigfried. I’m only here because Yesu told me I need to be. But nobody ever asked me to be king. I will not do it,” Lucius declared.

  Simeon’s eyebrows furrowed and Lucius could sense the disappointment in his father’s face. Though he had not known the man long, the expression still crushed him. He had let his father down.

  “Very well, Lucius. It’s not the answer I expected, but who am I to judge? I haven’t been a part of your life for a long time,” he said, a sad note in his voice. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll plan our advance on the dragon dens.”

  Lucius nodded absently.

  Simeon gave him a weak smile then turned back to the solitary throne in the center of the room. Lucius sighed then walked back to his room. As he put out the sconce in his room and lay on his cot, he listened to the mourners outside for a time. Amid their songs, he heard the faint voice of his father singing the lullaby again and he drifted to sleep.

  Chapter 15

  The dawn came slowly in the city of Aldron. Low hanging clouds were rebuffed by the sun's rays and gave way to a clear sky and a warm spring day. A light breeze blew through the top of the castle walls as Silas looked out onto the city. Generally, he avoided being in such a high position on account of his discomfort with heights. It was a fear that stayed with him since he was a boy. In his adult years he’d endeavored to overcome it by putting himself in uncomfortable positions like this. He swallowed hard as he watched merchants in the streets below putting out their stalls. Local tradesmen also rushed to their shops to prepare for the new workday. In an hour’s time, the quiet that dominated the empty streets receded and gave way to the bustling, busy masses of the large city. Silas smiled to himself, proud of the work ethic and heartiness of the Aldronian people. His father truly impacted the citizenry, inspiring them to work hard and to be involved in the daily affairs of their kingdom. He hoped to do the same during his reign, but the shoes of Alfryd Delmont were not easily filled.

  "Your Highness, please excuse my interruption. But Lord Blaise and Duke Weifar are here," Ruben, his valet, said.

  The middle-aged man looked more nervous than Silas on the castle wall. He was a thin man with a protruding belly whose outer jerkin accentuated the paunch. Silas had known him for many years and respected his calm, austere presence. Now he realized the older man also had a fear of heights. A bead of sweat raced down Ruben’s forehead while he tried not to look over the battlements to the city below.

  "Do you not care for the view, Ruben?" Silas asked.

  "I'm sure it's fine, sir. But if it's all right with you, I'd rather not look down," Ruben said, clenching his fists at his sides.

  Silas felt a pang of guilt for keeping the man up here longer than necessary. "Go tell Blaise and Weifar they may come up."

  "Right away, sir!" Ruben turned around quickly and walked a few paces on the wall before coming to the stairway that led down into the main keep. Moments later, Blaise and Weifar ascended the same stairwell to join Silas on the battlements.

  "Have you been up here long, sire?" Weifar asked.

  Silas nodded, keeping his gaze steady. He had risen a couple of hours before the sunrise to think. Though he had all the privacy he needed in his bedchamber, sometimes the room which once belonged to his father could be mentally stifling. After the truth came out about his sister, he struggled to sleep the past few nights. Although his advisors convinced him to withhold an execution, he confined Becca to the dungeons and hadn’t spoken with her since their initial meeting.

  "Do you still wish to see what our engineers have created for the defense of the city?" Blaise asked, sensing Silas’ despondent mood.

  "Yes. My personal matters will not impede our plans. Lead the way gentlemen," Silas said.

  The three men advanced on the battlements until they reached the intersecting point of the southern and eastern walls of Gilead Palace. At the juncture stood a soldier next to a siege device which had been recently constructed. The siege engine appeared to be a large crossbow fixed to a wooden post that swiveled on a metal base. A single bolt the size of a javelin sat on the frame fixed tightly on a bowstring. The lathe of the bow was at least six feet across. A large crannequin in the center of the device controlled the tension of the string. Along the side of the crossbow was a metal lever that Silas assumed released the giant bolt at the intended target.

  “Sire, this is Sergeant Wallace,” Blaise said, indicating the broad-shouldered soldier next to the crossbow. “He has trained extensively with crossbows and is ready to demonstrate the bolt tower.”

  “The bolt tower?” Silas replied, eyebrow raised.

  “The name is a work in progress,” Weifar admitted.

  “Hmm. Very well, show us what you're about, Sergeant,” Silas said.

  The soldier saluted him eagerly then took hold of the tiller to control the position of the device. He pointed it toward the east then lowered it so the tip of the bolt aimed at the clear sky.

  “I hope we're not waiting for a bird to pass over anytime soon,” Silas said dryly.

  “They'll provide us with a target.” Blaise pointed to a group of men in the courtyard below who were placing a watermelon into a catapult. They aimed the catapult to the exact coordinates and awaited the command to fire. Blaise lifted his hand then paused for a moment before letting it fall.

  The catapult shot the watermelon high into the air. Wallace reacted quickly and swiveled the crossbow ten degrees to the left to follow the target's trajectory. He looked down his sights then yanked the lever. With a metallic snap, the bolt flew at breakneck speed. Silas followed its flight and watched in amazement as it skewered the fruit and embedded itself into one of the crenellations on the eastern wall.

  “Magnificent!” He couldn't help smiling at the excellent display of marksmanship.

  “We've erected ten more of these bolt towers on critical defensive points along the palace wall and the city walls,” Weifar said.

  “We've also assigned teams of three to each tower. One man to load the bolt, another to shoot, and a reserve for casualties,” Blaise added.

  Silas nodded. “It's a fine idea. I'm glad I assigned you both to plan the city's defenses. Defensive strategies aren’t my strong suit,” Silas said.

  "We pray it's enough to withstand the dragons," Weifar said.

  "The bolts are reinforced with orichalcum to puncture the dragon's scales. Thankfully, Broughlin supplied us with enough of the metal for several hundred bolts," Blaise said.

  Silas nodded. "It'll be a hard fight, but we're more prepared now than we've ever been. Now if only Sangre would show up, I'd be less nervous about a Draknoir force invading."

  Blaise and Weifar exchanged glances. Blaise cleared his throat then spoke. "My lord, what if we postponed any attack to the north and consolidated our forces in Aldron? We would stand more of a chance against the dragons and whatever Memnon throws at us," he said.

  But Silas shook his head at the thought. "No. If we let them put us on the defensive, it'll take us much longer to mount an attack to retaliate. And by then, Memnon may have recruited others to his cause. There are still giants and rebels in Northerwyld who would gladly join him to see our demise. If we must fight on two fronts to win this war, so be it."
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br />   Blaise opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. He nodded and said nothing further.

  "So you're still planning an attack in the next few days?" Weifar asked.

  "Yes. I’ve received word from Admiral Ellis that a fierce storm has hit the Quinland Ocean, delaying many vessels coming north. If Sangre’s forces don't arrive in the next two days, we will move out to meet Balfour’s army and attack Arkadeus. Our scouts have reported no major Draknoir movement toward us, but that could change at any moment. We can't be trapped in the city or else any offense will be stalled," Silas said.

  They watched another demonstration of the bolt tower displaying the speed by which a bolt could be loaded and shot by a three-man team. It took less than twenty seconds for the bolt tower team to load, draw, and shoot a target. It was an impressive display and Silas felt confident in the weapon's ability to take down a dragon from the sky. After a quick discussion about the city's defenses, Silas excused himself from his two advisors and descended the wall into the keep.

  He walked with speed through the upper level of the castle then descended one of its many stairwells down into the courtyard. The semicircular area allowed for a battalion of soldiers to train with adequate space. Though on this morning, only fifty men were in the courtyard practicing drills led by an over-eager dwarf.

  "No! You want to stab the training dummy here, not here," Ulric commanded a Drachengarde recruit. "Now watch me."

  The dwarf stepped back a pace then swung his heavy axe at the wooden figure. A sharp thwack accompanied the strike as the blade planted itself into the dummy's torso just below the clavicle.

  "See? Like that. Now do it again! The rest of you do the same maneuver and also the cuts and ripostes we went through earlier," the dwarf commanded.