Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series

by Christopher Vale

  “Who’s the lucky girl?” the whore asked as she took Walish’s hand and pushed it further up her leg.

  “The Princess,” Walish said.

  The whore laughed. “Well then I hope you bed me tonight, so that when the bells ring on your wedding day I can tell my friends I had you first.” Walish and his companions laughed boisterously at that and Walish took a long swig from his cup.

  Despite the foul taste, Thomas was beginning to drink more and more of the mash, enjoying its warmth as it flowed down. He was having an easier time now and began to feel better about things as his head swam a bit. When he was about halfway through with his cup he felt the strong urge to relieve himself. He stood and walked across the tavern, stumbling a bit. When he returned he saw that Walish was gone, but his three companions remained. He sat back down and returned to his drink. After about twenty minutes, Walish returned without the whore.

  “How was she?” Davees asked.

  “She had nice round breasts that filled my hands,” Walish laughed as he opened up his hands spreading his fingers wide to demonstrate the incredible size.

  “Well, I hope you enjoyed that, because your future bride has breasts the size of a walnut,” Davees laughed. The others laughed as well.

  Walish leaned forward on the table and drained his cup of ale. “Whores will always be here to satisfy me,” he said. “I am not marrying Sarah for her beauty. I’m marrying her for her dowry and so that my children will be a part of the royal bloodline. Of course, to produce those children I’m going to have to put a sack over her face,” Walish said laughing uproariously at Sarah’s expense.

  Thomas could not believe his ears. He threw back the cup draining the last swallow of mash down his throat. His sight became foggier as he continued to listen to the men’s laughter.

  “I’ve seen twelve year old boys more shapely than she,” Walish laughed about Sarah. Thomas could not take it anymore. He leapt to his feet, but almost fell down again and had to catch himself on the chair. Was this what people meant by drunk? He was not thinking clearly, but he was thinking clearly enough to know he would not sit by while Sarah was insulted like this. Especially not by her future husband, a man who should be loving and defending her. This man was fortunate to have such an angel, but clearly did not seem to realize how far beneath her he really was.

  Thomas pushed the chair aside and stumbled over to Walish’s table. He fell forward catching himself on the table. “Take that back,” he said to the four men staring up at him.

  “Excuse me?” Walish asked.

  “Take back what you said about Sarah,” Thomas demanded.

  “Wait, you’re the little bastard the King keeps around,” one of the men said as he pointed at Thomas.

  “Ah, yes,” Walish smirked. “Sarah told me about you. You grew up together. You’re like her little plaything or dog or something.” He chuckled as he placed a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “Look, lad, you seem a little too high strung. Let me buy you a drink and a whore so you can relax a bit. They have boys here if you are into that sort of thing. From what Sarah tells me, you are,” he said and could not contain the laughter. All four of the men laughed drunkenly at Thomas’ expense.

  Thomas slapped Walish’s hand away from his shoulder and then reared back and landed a punch across Walish’s left cheek. The thrust was sloppy though, barely fazing Walish, yet infuriating him. Walish had found the drunken bastard’s defense of Sarah’s honor amusing at first, but he had gone too far. To strike a lord, a powerful lord like Lord Walish no less, was an unforgivable affront. Walish and his companions all leapt to their feet as Walish brought an uppercut landing solidly on Thomas’ chin sending the young man stumbling backwards and then falling to his back. The men were quickly on him, kicking him in the stomach and ribs. Thomas cried through the pain as each blow landed. Then Walish drew his sword and placed the blade against Thomas’ throat.

  “You’re never going to speak to Sarah again, boy,” he said. “But I think I might convince the King to let us take you back to my castle to work in my stables. You can lick the dung from my riding boots while I bed Sarah upstairs.” The other men snickered. “You do know how to lick boots, don’t you?” he sneered as he slid the toe of his brown leather boot against Thomas’ face. “Show me.” Thomas sobbed as he laid drunk and broken on the floor. Walish dug the blade of his sword into Thomas’ skin, and a trickle of blood began to appear. “If your tongue does not clean my boot, I will cut it out,” he said. Slowly Thomas’ tongue emerged and he drug it across the toe of Walish’s boot. Walish then lifted the boot again and kicked Thomas in the stomach one last time.

  Thomas moaned as Walish retook his seat. “Get him out of here,” Walish commanded the two men that had accompanied him and his brother. They reached down and lifted Thomas off the ground by his arms and dragged him across the tavern before opening the door and tossing Thomas outside in a lump. Thomas lay in the dirt and mud sobbing from the pain and his humiliation before finally passing out.

  Thomas awoke a couple of hours later, still lying in the dirt outside of the tavern. He had sobered up a bit, though he was still drunk and his head was pounding. He pushed himself to his feet and felt the tremendous pain in his ribs. He shook his head to clear it and then began walking slowly back to the castle.

  Thomas was still covered in dirt and grime as he stood pounding on Princess Sarah’s door. He heard her voice and after a moment the door slowly opened and Thomas saw Sarah standing in the doorway looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her. She wore a light violet robe and her red hair hung loosely upon her shoulders. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she looked at him.

  “Thomas, what in the Three Realms are you doing here at this hour?”

  “Come away with me,” Thomas said.

  “What?” asked Sarah, confused.

  “I love you, Sarah. He’s a monster. You should have seen him tonight.”

  “So it’s true,” Sarah said, more as an accusation than a question.

  “What?”

  “Lord Walish came here an hour ago and said you attacked him while he was having a few drinks with his brother to celebrate our engagement. It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Sarah, but I was just defending you.”

  “You wreak of mash,” she said. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “He told me you were drunk. He said you were so angry, because you were in love with me and you attacked him. He said he tried to be nice to you, but then you struck him.”

  “Sarah, he is not the one for you. He doesn’t love you. He just wants his children to have the royal bloodline.”

  “How could you do this to me Thomas? You were my dearest friend!” She slammed the door and Thomas heard the bolts slamming shut on the other side.

  Thomas pounded on the door again and again. “Sarah, please. Hear me out!” he pleaded at the heavy oak, but received no response. Suddenly he was snatched from behind, a sack thrown over his head, and dragged away. A few minutes later he was thrown to the floor and the sack was yanked away from his head. He looked up to see Queen Orlaith standing above him, looking down at him a sneer upon her face.

  “Your Grace,” Thomas said as he began to rise, but immediately felt a boot against his back as he was forced back down.

  “You will not stand in my presence, you little worm,” the Queen said. “I never wanted your darkness in my home. But now that you have attacked Lord Walish and attempted to use sorcery to ensnare my daughter and drag her off with you, I see my instincts about you were correct.”

  “Your Grace, I…”

  “You are the bastard son of a witch and I begged my husband to cast you out into the swamps the day he brought you home. But he took pity on you. He even let you live in the castle. A little demon like you growing up that close to my children…” she shivered in disgust. She looked at the two guards. “Take him out into the swamps and kill him. I don’t want his body found—chop
it to pieces. Everyone will assume he was drunk and wandered off where he was eaten by drakmere. Do not breathe a word of this to the King or anyone else.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the guards said in unison. They reached down and lifted Thomas up off of the floor, slid the sack back over his head and dragged him away.

  The guards carried Thomas deep into the swamps before again removing the sack from his head and tossing him to the ground in shin deep water. They each drew their swords and stepped into the swampy water. “Please,” Thomas begged. “Please don’t kill me!”

  “Sorry, Thomas,” one said. “It’s nothing personal, but you heard the Queen.” Thomas closed his eyes as the guard raised his sword high above his head. Suddenly, the guard felt something grab his ankle and was just able to release a scream of terror before he was yanked under the water. Thomas leapt to his feet as the other guard quickly glanced around searching for his friend. Then they both spotted several eyes glowing in the water. They had wandered too far into the swamps and had been discovered by drakmere.

  The guard fled and Thomas scampered behind. They hurried as quickly as they could, splashing and stumbling through the murky water. They could hear the splashes of heavy foot steps behind them as the draks pursued. The two men soon came upon a cabin built high on stilts up above the water. The guard led the way up a set of wooden stairs until he reached the door at the top. He pounded and pounded. “Let us in!” he shouted. The door opened and he and Thomas dashed inside quickly.

  The cabin had only one room and it was sparsely furnished. There was a cot, a small table, and a chair—all constructed from sticks that could be gathered in the swamp. No one stood by the door, but an old woman stood on the far end of the cabin near what appeared to be an alter. Thomas was pondering how she had opened the door from across the room when the door suddenly slammed shut behind them, startling both men and causing Thomas to leap forward. He glanced at the door and then back at the old woman as a chill ran up his spine.

  The woman appeared worn and haggard. She wore tattered rags, with good cloth obviously hard to come by out in the swamps. Thomas could tell that she had been more attractive in her younger years, but life in the swamps had been very hard on her. Thomas and the guard stared at her and she stared back.

  “It is a late hour to be in the swamps,” she said eventually, breaking the silence.

  “Yes,” the guard mumbled. “Thank you for opening the door and letting us in. We were being pursued by draks.”

  “I did not open the door,” she smiled. Thomas and the guard looked at one another. “Why are you in the swamps so late?” she asked as she stared at the guard. He said nothing. “The only reason I can think of to risk a trip to the swamps at this time of night is to commit murder. This is a good place to lose a body, is it not?” she said with a laugh. Thomas swallowed hard. “Tell me, who were you going to murder?”

  “No one,” Thomas stammered. The woman crossed the cabin and placed a rough and bony hand upon his cheek. “I believe you,” she said. “You have no sword. You were the one to be murdered.” Thomas quickly glanced at the guard. The woman followed his gaze. “You were to murder the boy?” she asked. Something in her voice compelled the guard to confess.

  “I was ordered by the Queen to execute him,” he said.

  “In the swamps? Why? Why not have him killed by the royal executioner?”

  “Because the Queen does not want the King to know,” the guard said.

  “Ah,” the woman smiled. She turned her back on the two of them and walked back toward the alter. She crooked her finger and the guard followed her. “Kneel down,” she instructed the guard and he obediently fell to his knees before of the alter. “Give him your sword,” she said referring to Thomas. The guard held the sword up. The woman pointed at it. Thomas stood frozen in disbelief. “Take it,” she said to Thomas. He hurried over to the guard and took the sword. “This is an alter to Shebath, the Lord of Darkness,” she said to the guard. You should feel honored, because your death will be the first in a great war that will herald his conquest of the entire realm.” She then looked up at Thomas. “Kill him,” she said.

  Thomas’ eyes opened wide. “I-I cannot just kill him in cold blood,” he stammered The woman cackled.

  “Cold blood?” she asked. “He confessed that he had brought you out into the swamps to murder you.”

  “Yes, but he is defenseless now,” Thomas said.

  “Weren’t you defenseless, Thomas, when he dragged you into the swamp to kill you in cold blood?”

  “How do you know my name?” Thomas asked.

  “Haven’t you always been defenseless? Since the day you were ripped from your mother’s arms and taken to the castle to be raised by your father, the King?”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Yes, Thomas. You are the King’s firstborn son and rightful heir to the throne. But that bitch he married refused to allow him to admit it. Refused to let him raise you as his own.”

  “No, that’s not true,” Thomas said, his emotions reeling and swirling and everything from the day before, through the night and now this began to all bubble to the surface. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were, before Sarah told him she was to marry Lord Walish. He was happy in that moment.

  “Kill him, Thomas. Do it and begin your journey to become the great king you are destined to be,” she said.

  Then Thomas remembered the Queen’s words. That he was the son of a witch and how she had begged the King to leave him in the swamp. He then realized how this woman knew his name. “You’re my mother, aren’t you?” Thomas asked meekly.

  “Yes, Thomas. I am your mother.”

  “So the Queen was telling the truth. You are a witch?” Thomas asked as tears began to build in his eyes.

  “Oh, my child. I am so much more than that, and so are you. We are gods,” she said.

  “You abandoned me,” he said. “You left me all alone.”

  “No, Thomas. The King sent his soldiers to take you from me. I was convicted of witchcraft and Shebath worship and sentenced to death, but escaped with the help of others who serve our Lord. I escaped into the swamps and have lived here nigh on twenty-one years. Your twenty-first birthday is today my son.”

  Thomas had forgotten. The sun was not yet up, but it was morning. His head dropped and he began to cry. His mother stepped over to him and wiped the tears from his cheeks. She then wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “You are my son, but they stole you from me,” she said. “But Shebath has brought you back to me and you will reclaim your birthright. No one will ever harm you again. All you have to do is kill this man and you will be safe. If you do not, he will certainly kill you.” She pulled back and stepped away. “Do it Thomas. Kill him.”

  Thomas knew she was right about the guard. He told himself that it was not murder, but he knew it was. Still, he raised the blade of the sword, staring down at the guard kneeling silently before the alter as if hypnotized, and swung with all his might, aiming for the back of the man’s neck. He saw the head topple to the ground as blood splattered across the alter. Thomas felt his stomach bubbling, spun around quickly, and retched in the corner of the cabin. After a moment, he raised his head and saw his mother standing beside the alter. A dark figure, like a shadow, stood behind her. Then everything went black and Thomas passed out.

  ***

  Thomas awoke with a start to see light streaming in through the wooden shutters. At first, he was not sure where he was, but then he slowly started taking in his surroundings. He was lying on his mother’s cot. He opened his eyes and sat up, glancing around the cabin. The guard’s body was gone and he assumed his mother had disposed of it in the swamp. He saw no sign of his mother and swung his feet down to the floor. He rubbed his aching temples. Was the pounding from the alcohol? Thomas stood, his whole body sore. He walked across the room and opened the cabin door. He stepped out into the sunlight and found his mother boiling stew over an op
en flame in a small pit on a little patch of ground at the bottom of the stairs. He slowly walked down the stairs, pain jolting through his body with each step. Thomas eventually reached the bottom and stepped out onto the small patch of ground, walking over to his mother.

  “I suppose you are famished,” she said without turning to face him.

  “I am quite hungry, yes,” he replied. He looked out over the swamps amazed that his mother had been living here for twenty-one years. Then he saw several eyes in the water, watching him. “Mother,” he whispered. “There are drakmere everywhere.” She glanced up casually and then her attention returned to her stew.

  “Yes, this is their swamp. We are simply guests here.”

  Thomas stared at her in amazement. “How is it that you have survived so long? Why haven’t they eaten you?”

  “My Lord Shebath protects me,” she said. “And I bring them food.”

  “What kind of food?”

  “Their favorite kind. Human. Like the man you beheaded last night.”

  “You bring people down here and feed them to the draks?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Yes,” she said. “Normally travelers passing through or brutes that get too drunk at the tavern. People that no one will miss.”

  “How do you get them down here?”

  “It’s certainly not my youth or my great beauty. Seduction spells work wonderfully,” she said with a sly smile as she scooped a helping of stew into a wooden bowl. She stood and handed the bowl to Thomas along with a piece of hard bread. He thanked her and used the bread to scoop the meat out of the stew. He did not recognize the flavor and decided it was probably best not to ask what it was.

  “What is your name?” he asked instead. She smiled up at him as she scooped stew into her own bowl.

  “Lilit,” she said.

  “Last night before I passed out, I thought I saw someone standing behind you. A dark figure, like a shadow.”

  “A shade,” she said. “An act of darkness by your kind can call them forth.”