The Legend of Drak'Noir

by Ploof, Michael James

  “You have had a great journey,” said her mother. “Now you should rest.”

  “I bet that you could sleep for a hundred years,” said her father with a wide smile.

  “I had a baby,” Willow blurted.

  They both stared at her, wide-eyed.

  “Her name is Fern.”

  “But…” her father stammered.

  “Why would you keep this from us?” her mother finished for him.

  “Her father is a blue-skin from the South Swamp. And I thought that if you found out, you would kick me out.”

  “Why would you think such a thing?” said her father, who looked crestfallen.

  “Well, you’re always saying how the blues are nothing but a bunch of onion eaters, and how we should have run ‘em out of the swamp back during the mudslinger wars. But now I don’t care. I gotta see my girl, I just gotta.”

  “Oh, Willow,” said her mother, hugging her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Willow, I don’t care if your baby is purple, I’d love her all the same,” said her father.

  “You two mean that?” said Willow, choking up.

  Her parents hugged her, and a teary-eyed Dingleberry flew down from the mantle and joined in.

  Chapter 46

  The Return of the Champion of Vhalovia

  “Father,” said Akitla, and the words were like music to his ears. “You said that you had no intentions of returning to Vhalovia. Yet we just passed a sign that said it was eighty miles ahead.”

  “I have changed my mind.”

  “But I thought that if you returned, the king would have your head. You’re not suicidal again, are you?” she teased.

  Sir Eldrick gave a sour laugh. “Damn, you have the same sense of humor as your mother.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not at all. The reason that I have decided to return is because I owe it to the people, and I owe it to the king. My absence, when it is rumored that I have been victorious against Drak’Noir, will only open old wounds for the royal family. Even those who never believed that I slept with the queen will be convinced if I do not return.”

  “Ah, so the king will not have you killed, because that too would indicate that the affair took place.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You know, you’re a pretty smart man.”

  Sir Eldrick glanced at her with an arched brow. “And that comes as a surprise?”

  She shrugged. “It is rare to find brains and brawn in one man.”

  “Ah, there is the old ice elf sexism coming out. You have done well so far; I had thought that perhaps you were above your matriarchal society’s discriminatory beliefs.”

  “In ice elf society, the males cannot perform ice magic, therefore they are inferior.”

  “Sure, they are inferior in one regard. But they are still bigger and stronger.”

  “Do not act as if you come from a society without such ideals. Are not the females of your race treated as inferiors?”

  “I suppose, but not all men believe that it should be so.”

  “And you are one of these men?”

  “I am,” said Sir Eldrick. “I believe that we all have our strengths and weaknesses, and judging a person by their race and sex is a big mistake. Not only is it a simple-minded thing to do, one might also miss out on a great friendship. Take my dear champions for instance. At first glance, they, no, WE might appear to be fools. But aren’t we all fools? Really? Show me a person who has not acted a fool in his lifetime, and I will show you a three-breasted bar wench.”

  Akitla leaned closer to Sir Eldrick with all seriousness. “Do you really have three-breasted females?”

  “What? No, of course not,” said Sir Eldrick with a laugh. “It is a figure of speech.”

  “Ah, good. Because I find it hard enough having two here in Fallacetine. Males are always looking at them when they think I’m not paying attention.”

  “Don’t ice elf males enjoy the sight as much as humans?”

  “I suppose, but to blatantly gawk at a female’s breasts in Shivermoore will get a male a flogging.”

  “If that was the law here, every man would have whip marks on his back. No, the laws are not so harsh here. Just don’t steal a horse, or anything for that matter, and don’t kill anyone unless it is in self-defense…or there are no witnesses.”

  The road from King’s Crossing to Vhalovia’s capital city of Utorrus was two hundred miles long and brought Sir Eldrick and Akitla all the way to the southern tip of the kingdom. The farther south they went, the warmer it got, which tested Akitla’s claim that she liked the warmer weather.

  The pair made the trip in less than a week, and on a bright, sunny afternoon, Sir Eldrick stopped on a hill overlooking the valley and the coast beyond. The ocean breeze came in swiftly, which Akitla welcomed.

  “There it is,” said Sir Eldrick. “Utorrus. You know, I never thought that I would lay eyes on it again.”

  “It is a beautiful city. And larger than I had pictured.”

  “Indeed, wait until you see the harbor. Why, people come from all over Fallacetine and outlying islands to trade in the Golden Gulf. And her navy is unmatched.”

  “Her?” said Akitla.

  “Yes, the city, well, the kingdom really.”

  “Why do you call it a her?”

  Sir Eldrick shrugged. “It is easier to love a woman than a man I suppose. And it is too impersonal.”

  “Humans are so weird.”

  “You haven’t seen the half of it.”

  “Half of what?” said Akitla, quite seriously.

  Sir Eldrick shook his head. “Never mind. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  They took the road down toward the city gates as the sun began to set behind Winterthorn Castle. As expected, guards approached them at the gate.

  “State your name and your reason for visiting our fair—” began one of the four guards. But then he must have recognized Sir Eldrick, for he stopped dead and glanced at the others.

  “Sir Eldrick?” said one of the guards, a man that Sir Eldrick knew.

  “Hello Marcus,” he said with a deep nod of respect.

  “The Champion of Vhalovia has returned!” the first guard cried, and his call was repeated by a dozen men.

  Sir Eldrick cringed. “You know, I was hoping to slip in a little quieter.”

  Marcus shook his head and smiled. “Then the rumors are true. You defeated Drak’Noir.”

  “Once and for all.”

  “Please, enter. I will lead you to the castle. Surely the king would like to see you.”

  “I know the way, if it is all the same to you.”

  “Of course.”

  The guards saluted Sir Eldrick as he and Akitla rode through the gate, and word of his arrival quickly proceeded him. Soon the city folk were gathering about the streets, trying to get a glimpse of him. They cheered his name and laid roses and other flowers on the street before him. Sir Eldrick smiled to himself, for no one called him queen-shagger or Slur Sirsalot. Not tonight.

  They arrived at the castle gates with a cheering crowd at their heels, and when the guards recognized Sir Eldrick, the gate was lifted immediately. The guards fought to keep the people outside as Sir Eldrick and Akitla rode in. They were led to the large wooden double door and dismounted as it opened.

  “Greetings, Sir Eldrick,” said the head butler. “The king has been informed of your arrival and will meet with you in the library. Please, follow me.”

  “Thank you,” said Sir Eldrick.

  Akitla looked worried, and Sir Eldrick tried to impart an air of calm. But he was worried as well. He believed what he had said to his daughter, but then again, the king was only human, and while it might play better if he treated Sir Eldrick like a returning hero, he might just as easily decide to have him killed like he had threatened the last time they spoke.

  They were led up the wide stairs leading off from the great hall, and memories of his time in the service of the king ca
me rushing back to Sir Eldrick. He had spent so much time in the castle that he could have made his way through it blindfolded, but somehow, the place now seemed strange to him. While once he had felt at home here, now the dark halls and cold stone offered no warmth. Perhaps the castle had a mind of its own and hated him for betraying the king. Then again, it might have just been all in his head. One thing was for certain: Sir Eldrick couldn’t wait to leave.

  “Please wait in here,” said the butler. “The king will be along shortly. Might I offer your friend a tour of the castle? I expect that the king will want to speak with you alone.”

  “She’s my daughter,” said Sir Eldrick. “And I believe that I should like her to wait just outside the door, if it is all the same to you.”

  “Of course,” said the butler, though his disapproval was apparent by the sour expression just below the surface of that cordial smile.

  “You’re fidgeting,” said Akitla, as she watched the butler leave.

  “I am?” said Sir Eldrick, realizing that he had been spinning his helm around with his fingers. “I am,” he said, tucking it under his left arm. “How do I look?”

  “Like a man who has been to hell and back. You could have at least shaved.”

  “Yes, well. I suppose it is fitting to look like I have been to hell and back. No one trusts a hero who has returned from a dangerous quest looking shiny and new.”

  “Hail, King Winterthorn!” cried a guard from around the corner, which gave Sir Eldrick a start.

  “Breathe,” said Akitla out of the corner of her mouth.

  He took three deep breaths as the king, accompanied by four armed guards, rounded the corner and marched straight at him. Sir Eldrick dropped to one knee and laid his fae blade on the stone at his feet. Beside him, Akitla did the same.

  “My king,” he said, and watched as the men’s feet stopped before him.

  “Rise,” said the king, in a voice even and cold.

  Sir Eldrick did so, and when he looked into those familiar eyes, he saw neither hatred nor sorrow. Instead, he saw nothing. The king’s eyes were as blank as a dead man’s.

  “Who are you?” the king asked, sweeping his dull gaze over to Akitla.

  “I am Akitla Glacius, daughter to Astrila Glacius and Sir Eldrick van Albright, and Princess of Shivermoore. It is an honor to meet you, King Henry.”

  King Henry offered her a lazy nod, as though he wasn’t surprised in the least that Sir Eldrick would have an ice elf daughter, and strode by them both into the library. “Follow me, Eldrick.”

  Sir Eldrick offered Akitla a reassuring nod, to which she responded with a wink. The guards began to follow, and without turning around, the king said, “Everyone else wait outside.”

  Sir Eldrick closed the door behind him, and the king stopped in the middle of the room. After a time, he turned and met Sir Eldrick’s eyes, and this time they held emotion. “I told you that if you ever returned to Vhalovia, I would have your head,” he said with bridled anger.

  “I know, my king,” said Sir Eldrick, crossing the room to stand before him. “But please, hear me out. If I had heeded your command, the old rumors would only swell. Old wounds would have been opened to bleed anew. I thought that if I returned, as would be expected from the victorious Champion of the Dragon, then perhaps it would quell the rumors.”

  “So, you came back for my sake. Is that it?”

  “Yes. I think that it is the least that I could do.”

  “You bed my wife, and now you wish to do me favors?” said the king.

  “Henry—”

  The king backhanded him suddenly, and Sir Eldrick’s head snapped back from the force of the blow. He took it stoically and faced the king again, fully prepared for another blow. Instead, King Henry grabbed him by the throat with two hands and began choking him. Sir Eldrick did nothing; he simply took the abuse and stared into the king’s eyes regretfully. The king surprised him then. His grip softened, and his face twisted from rage to sorrow in a heartbeat. Henry’s eyes filled with tears and his hands dropped from Sir Eldrick’s neck to his shoulders as he bowed his head, defeated.

  “My king—”

  “I have thought about killing you so many times that I cannot count,” said King Henry, turning from him with hunched shoulders. “My jealousy has been poison in my mind, slowly eating away at my sanity.” He turned and straightened. “I meant to kill you just now, but the sense of retribution was not sweet, but sour. I felt no thrill of vengeance, no sense of victory. I felt only sorrow. For you have died in my heart and in my mind already, and I have buried you. I thought that surely you would not return from this quest, for no one ever has, save Kazimir. Yet, here you are, standing before me as strong and glorious as the day I met you. You are not only the kingdom’s greatest hero, but also a reminder of my greatest failings. And why wouldn’t Elzabethalynn fall in love with you? Everyone loves you.”

  “Sire…”

  “Let me finish,” said the king, moving to the bar and pouring three fingers of amber liquor. He turned and held the glass, but he did not drink it. “I have realized that I was as much at fault as anyone. I didn’t give my wife the affection or attention that she deserved. I bedded other women and made no attempt to hide my indiscretions. I have been too proud. I realize that now.”

  King Henry let out a long sigh and tossed back his drink. Putting it down, he strode across the room to stand before Sir Eldrick once more. “I forgive you, Eldrick, just as I have forgiven the queen and myself. I forgive you.”

  “Sire…I don’t deserve…” Sir Eldrick’s voice quivered, and he swallowed hard the sorrow choking him.

  “Whether you believe that you deserve it or not is irrelevant. I am doing this for me. I am doing it for my marriage.”

  Sir Eldrick nodded understanding. “I have many regrets,” he said, voice shaky. “But betraying your trust will always outweigh them all.”

  The king slapped his cheek lightly, and his hand lingered there. “I know, but that is all in the past.” He returned to the bar and poured two glasses this time, and Sir Eldrick joined him.

  Henry raised his glass and stared thoughtfully into the distance for a moment before lowering it. “Answer me this, and answer truthfully. Are you still in love with her?”

  “You should know that she was never in love with me, Henry. I realize that now. I loved her once, it is true, and I still love her, but only because she is my queen. I believe that she was trying to hurt you, and I was her mindless weapon. I should have been stronger. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “The child is yours,” Henry said calmly.

  “You don’t know that…”

  “We had not slept together in a year when she became pregnant.”

  Sir Eldrick was speechless. He had suspected, but to have it put so bluntly by the king made him feel naked and ashamed.

  “Edwin is still my wife’s child,” the king went on. “And though I have known all along that you were his father, I have raised him and loved him as one of my own. I ask that you lay no claim to him now or ever. The gods know that you have enough children across the lands.”

  “I will lay no claim to him, now or ever,” said Sir Eldrick.

  “Good,” said the king, raising his glass. “To putting behind us what is in the past, and looking forward to what lies ahead.”

  Sir Eldrick raised his glass, but he did not drink. Seeing this, the king offered him a knowing grin. “On the wagon again?”

  “Yes. It has been a few weeks now.”

  “Well then, I’ll drink for the both of us.”

  “How did it go?” Akitla asked as they followed the butler to their quarters.

  “Well, I’m still alive.”

  “I can see that.”

  “He forgave me,” said Sir Eldrick, and hearing the words made it that much more real to him.

  He forgave me.

  Sir Eldrick felt light, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. One that had been bogging him d
own since the first time the queen kissed him.

  “This is good, no?”

  “What? Yes, yes, it is good.”

  They were led to lavish adjoining rooms where a host of servants waited, ready to bathe, groom, and dress them for the coming celebration. Akitla was well accustomed to such niceties, and she eagerly followed the women to the bathing room. Sir Eldrick took a steaming hot bath and enjoyed a good straight-razor shave by a skilled hand. His hair was trimmed and styled, though Sir Eldrick ended up ruffling it up to suit his own taste.

  A shining new suit of golden armor waited for him when he returned to the bedroom, and he looked to the butler. “Where is my old armor?”

  “In a sack in the stable next to your horse. This evening you will wear this. And we have provided a decorative sword as well.”

  “Decorative?” said Sir Eldrick, moving to the headboard where hung his weapon. He unsheathed his fae blade, which hummed and crackled with mystical energy. “This is the blade that I used to cut off Drak’Noir’s head. I think I will be wearing this tonight.”

  The butler gulped deeply. “Of course, Sir Eldrick. As you wish, as you wish.”

  Akitla joined him shortly, wearing a tight suit of white leather and an icy-blue robe with many folds worn over one shoulder.

  “Beautiful,” said the butler, snapping his fingers obnoxiously rather than clapping. “But, we need to find you a ceremonial weapon. Perhaps twin daggers.”

  “I already have weapons,” said Akitla wryly.

  “Where?”

  “Here,” said Akitla as she held her hands out in loose fists. They frosted over, and two long swords of dense ice sang into existence like crystal chimes.

  “Oh!?” said the butler, jolting back and clutching his chest. He tried to play off his surprise. “Yes, of course, an ice elf. Surprise!” He laughed nervously.

  Soon the time came to join the king, and Sir Eldrick turned to Akitla. “How do I look?” he said, rolling his shoulders in the slightly too-tight armor.

  “Like a hero,” she said, smiling.

  He offered his arm. She took it, and together they followed the butler down the hall.