Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series

by Christopher Vale

  She silently prayed that they would not give chase, that they did not care about a lone, naked girl running through the mountains. The hisses and howls she heard over her shoulder dashed her hopes of a clean getaway.

  “After her!” she heard one drak shriek. “She’ll make a fine meal!” cried another.

  Lisabeth ran faster. She heard the drakmere’s footsteps as they closed in on her. She glanced over her shoulder quickly and saw that they were not very far away and gaining quickly. A question flashed through her mind: What are draks doing here?

  Lisabeth entered a tree line and continued to run. She could almost feel the beasts’ breath on her neck and stuck out her arm to snag a tree, spinning her quickly to the left as the draks dashed past. She turned and ran down the mountainside as quickly as she could. The drakmere recovered quickly and sped after her.

  As Lisabeth ran, she heard the bubble of running water. She turned sharply to her right, again causing the draks some difficulty in capturing her. She noticed a mountain creek, the one that had been nourishing her while on her quest, and sprinted for it. She leapt into the water. It was not deep and she had to float on her back to keep from hitting the bed, but the waters carried her away. She heard the draks splash into the water after her. They were too large to swim or float down the side of the mountain, however, and were forced to run. Splashing through the water of the creek bed slowed them down considerably, and Lisabeth smiled to herself as she watched the beasts fall further and further behind.

  Lisabeth continued to float down the creek until it emptied into a larger one. There she decided to climb out, but her limbs were so numb from the cold water she had great difficulty doing so and slipped back into the water, rushing away. She began to panic as she flowed further and further away. Suddenly, she heard shouts and soon saw a branch extended out over the creek as she heard a man cry out “Grab hold of this!”

  Lisabeth reached up and took hold of the branch with wet fingers and held as tightly as she could while she was pulled to the bank. Soon she was safely on rocks and gentle hands reached beneath her to pull her up entirely out of the water.

  Lisabeth looked up to see a handsome gentleman smiling down at her. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Yes, kind sir,” she said through shivering lips. His eyes went wide as he appeared to notice then for the first time that Lisabeth was not wearing any clothing.

  “A blanket quickly!” he cried over his shoulder.

  “Thank you sir, you shall be rewarded I promise. I am Princess Lisabeth of Caerwynspire.”

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness,” the handsome man smiled, careful to keep his eyes on hers and not upon her naked body. “And I am King Morgan of Avonvale.”

  At that Lisabeth’s eyes went wide with fright and she leapt to her feet. She stared past Morgan and saw an army of drakmere watering by the river. Tens of thousands of them. Then she saw another man riding toward them on horseback. She started to back toward the water again, but Morgan grabbed her wrist.

  “Do not fear, no one shall harm you,” Morgan assured her. At that moment Andrick arrived on horseback carrying the blanket Morgan had called for.

  “And what is this?” Andrick asked.

  Lisabeth sneered at him. She needed no introduction, she knew Andrick’s face well as he had come to court at Caerwynspire on many occasions. Once he even attempted to arrange a marriage between himself and Ashleen.

  “Welcome, Your Highness,” Andrick said. “Forgive me, but I forget which of Artur’s many girls you are. Not Ashleen, she has golden hair.”

  “It does not matter, for when I cut out your traitorous tongue you shall not be able to say my name.” As the last words left her lips she dashed toward Andrick as if she were going to kill him. Morgan wrapped his arms around her holding her tight. Andrick laughed.

  “Release me!” Lisabeth screeched.

  “Calm yourself,” Morgan said. “I am not going to harm you. Andrick, the blanket,” he said and Andrick complied, tossing the gray blanket to Morgan who wrapped it around Lisabeth as he spoke softly. “You have no weapons and we have an army. Take your time and wait and perhaps you might have a better opportunity to kill him later.”

  Lisabeth saw the logic in his words and suspected there was a bit of hope in his voice that she might actually succeed. This caused her to actually calm down.

  “Her Majesty will want to meet her,” Andrick smirked. “So that she can crawl on her belly and lick her shoes.”

  “I’d rather die!” Lisabeth shot back.

  “Easy, Your Highness,” Morgan said. “Anne means you no harm either. But perhaps we should get you some clothes and maybe a meal first, hmm?”

  ***

  The tent flap was pulled back as Morgan led Lisabeth into Anne’s tent. Lisabeth hated to admit it, but being captured did have advantages. She had been given a bath, a warm meal, and a soft yellow dress from Anne’s personal wardrobe.

  As she stepped inside of the tent she saw the “Empress” sitting regally upon a small, yet finely carved, wooden chair which was set upon a dais and covered with a red velvet cloth. Anne was stunning as usual in a blood red dress which came off of her soft, white shoulders. Standing on a step lower and to Anne’s right was Andrick—a smirk spread across his face. To Anne’s left stood a man in a black robe, his hood covering his head. A Shebath worshiper no doubt. As much as his presence repulsed her, it was the four creatures standing on the ground on either side of the dais that caused Lisabeth to halt in her tracks and long to bolt for the door. Though she had never seen one, Lisabeth knew from their hoofed feet, hair covered legs, swishing tails, and large rams’ horns that she was seeing se’irim. Real life se’irim, like straight out of a nightmare. Lisabeth forced her eyes away from the monsters and back to Anne as a shiver ran up her spine.

  Anne stared down at Lisabeth, even as her nose was lifted high into the air. “You should bow to her,” Morgan whispered in Lisabeth’s ear. Lisabeth shot him a sideways glance. She had no intention of bowing to one marching to invade her people. On the other hand, it would do no one any good if she were killed here and now and eaten by the se’irim. She had been afforded an opportunity by being this close to the witch and she did not want to spoil it. Thus, Lisabeth curtsied with a slight bend of her knees in a polite fashion, the way one princess might formally greet another. Certainly nothing about the greeting would convey a willingness to submit to Anne’s rule. The gesture seemed to satisfy Anne, however, and a smile spread across her face.

  “Your Majesty, may I present Her Highness, Princess Lisabeth of Caerwynspire.”

  “You are most welcome here, my dear,” Anne said sweetly, irking Lisabeth with the way she talked down to her, as though she were a child. Lisabeth was smart enough to show no emotion, however.

  “Thank you,” Lisabeth replied.

  “My brother tells me that he pulled you out of the river, stark naked and dying of starvation.”

  “Your brother has relayed my predicament quite accurately, except that the only reason that I was in the river was that I was fleeing your drakmere.”

  Anne frowned at this. “Yes, I must apologize for their behavior. They have little more brains than a dog and generally act on instinct you see.” Anne seemed to consider the statement a moment longer. “However, they do serve their purpose. They make fine soldiers.”

  “We shall see,” Lisabeth replied. This remark caused Anne to narrow her eyes as she stared in silence at the young princess for a long moment.

  After an uncomfortable pause that had Lisabeth wondering if Anne was going to command her se’irim to strike her down and gobble her up right there, the smile returned to Anne’s lips. “What could have placed a lovely young princess like you in such a precarious position?” Anne asked as if she were talking to a girl many years her junior, when in fact there was scarcely two years difference between their ages.

  “I was on the Paladin Quest,” Lisabeth replied as she thrust
her chin proudly into the air.

  Anne gasped at that. “The Paladin Quest. We, of course, have heard of this trial of Caerwynspire’s famed knights all the way down in Avonvale. Why would a princess be going on the quest?”

  “To become a Paladin of course,” Lisabeth said with an amused smile.

  “They would allow a woman to become a Paladin?” Anne asked.

  “My older sister, Ashleen, has already completed the quest. She is a Paladin.”

  Anne clapped her hands together gleefully as she stood and took Lisabeth somewhat off guard by quickly descending from the dais to stand beside her. She slipped her arm into the princess’ arm and leaned over close. “I have been without feminine company for far too long. Come let us go for a walk and you can tell me about this exciting quest.”

  Lisabeth nodded, thrown off by this turn of events and Anne’s cheerfulness and hospitality.

  Chapter 16

  Taite sat straight up in bed, jerked awake by the blaring of trumpets. She glanced at the window, but saw no light peeking through. She turned to the other beds in the room and saw Tallah and Merdith waking as well.

  “What is that noise?” Tallah asked.

  “Trumpets,” Taite answered.

  “Why are they blaring them?” Tallah asked as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

  “It generally means something very good or something very bad is happening,” Taite said as she tossed back the covers and leapt from her bed.

  “Well, which is it?” Merdith asked through a yawn.

  Taite flung open the window to look out over Caerwynspire. There she saw large groups of soldiers hurrying to the walls. “I’m going to guess bad,” Taite replied.

  ***

  King Artur stood tall behind the battlements of the white polished walls of Caerwynspire staring out over the mountains to the south. His golden armor glistened in the flickering light of the torches as they bounced along the top of the walls in the hands of the King’s soldiers. Earlier that day Artur’s scouts had reported the approach of an army of drakmere and now it had neared the city. The trumpets had sounded, alerting the entire city to man their positions. Every man, woman, and child in Caerwynspire was trained in the art of combat and everyone but young children, the feeble, and elderly would be expected to contribute to defending the White Fortress.

  Artur watched his people man the walls, assuming the battle positions that they had drilled and drilled and drilled over the centuries. There was no panic or chaos in Caerwynspire as in other kingdoms faced with the threat of this army of drakmere, for every Caerwyn knew his or her position and his or her duty.

  Artur was flanked on the right by Sir Gelispee and on the left by Sir Auberon. Other Paladin lined the wall on either side of those knights. From his scouts’ reports, Artur realized the drak army was positioned just on the other side of an opposing hill. Soon they would be cresting it in waves, assaulting the city. He knew the beasts would scale the walls as his intelligence had suggested had been done in other kingdoms. However, Artur also knew that the White Fortress was the most impenetrable city in the entire realm. This self-proclaimed empress would break her army on the walls of Caerwynspire and then Artur would ride his cavalry out and finish it, sending the beasts scrambling back to their swamps in Beagonia.

  Artur heard the footsteps behind him, but paid them no mind until he heard the voice of his wife accompanying them.

  “Artur!” she shouted.

  He turned to see Queen Gwyndalin rushing toward him with Sir Rodrick close behind. “What is it?” he asked a bit too roughly, anxious for the coming battle.

  “Lisabeth!” Gwyndalin reminded him. “Did your men find her?” she asked, anxiously referring to the patrol that Artur had dispatched to locate his daughter once they received word that the drak army was close.

  Artur, though a loving father, had forgotten the patrol in his haste to prepare to defend the fortress. He turned to Auberon for information.

  “The patrol has not yet returned, Commander,” Auberon said.

  “Who leads it?” Artur asked.

  “Why Sir Tomfrey, of course,” Auberon said, “as you ordered.”

  “I shall go and find them,” Rodrick volunteered.

  “No!” the King snapped. “I need you here. Tomfrey and his men are capable enough and so is Lisabeth.”

  “Artur…” Gwyndalin began, but her husband interrupted her.

  “They are likely holed up safe in a cave far away from any danger. Tomfrey would know that it would be more perilous to attempt to return to the city than to hide in the mountains.” Artur placed a comforting hand on his wife’s cheek. “Do not fear, my love, trust that Lisabeth is safe.”

  ***

  Lisabeth sat upon a small cot in a tent that had been erected especially for her. She had accompanied Anne and the army of drakmere toward Caerwynspire. They had made camp in an area Lisabeth recognized as not far from the city and Lisabeth was politely told to remain in her tent. To make sure she complied, a guard was posted outside. She was relieved that it was a human guard as there was a constant fear of being eaten by a drakmere.

  Lisabeth heard footsteps approaching her tent and glanced up with surprise as she heard Morgan’s voice outside. “May I enter?” he asked politely.

  “Of course,” Lisabeth replied as she stood. She watched as the tent flap was pushed back and Morgan ducked inside smiling broadly.

  He glanced about the tent. “I hope these humble accommodations are satisfactory,” he said with an amused laugh.

  “I have been sleeping on the ground for many nights, so yes, a cot and tent are more than adequate, thank you,” she replied.

  “Good,” he said and then changed the subject. “Her Majesty requests the pleasure of your company.”

  “Requests?” Lisabeth asked with raised eyebrows.

  “Yes, but firmly,” Morgan said with a friendly smile.

  “Very well,” Lisabeth replied and followed Morgan outside of the tent into the darkness of the night. He led her through the camp and up a hill where they found Anne gazing out at Caerwynspire, its white walls shining in the moonlight.

  Anne turned to see Lisabeth as she heard her approach. She smiled and took her hand. “Look at your home,” she smiled and Lisabeth watched the bustle of the city preparing to repel an attack. “Many people shall die tonight,” Anne remarked somberly then turned to face Lisabeth. “Of course, if you could convince your father to surrender, no one would have to die. I would leave your family on the throne. Your sister Ashleen could become queen as planned, when your father dies.”

  Lisabeth looked away, back at the White Fortress.

  “Or would you prefer to be Queen?” Anne asked with a sly smile. Lisabeth turned back to Anne. “Broker your father’s surrender to me and I shall name you his successor.”

  Lisabeth shook her head. “Father will never surrender.”

  “Not even to save his own life and those of his family and people?” Anne asked.

  Lisbeth chuckled. “My father refused to pay a ransom to save the life of his wife and eldest daughter from pirates. He shall not surrender his kingdom. He will fight to the death.”

  Anne drew a deep breath. “That is disappointing,” she said. “Not unexpected, however. But you could still be queen,” she whispered as if relaying court gossip, and Lisabeth fixed her with a quizzical gaze. “Once the White Fortress falls, someone must sit on the throne. It would go over easier with the people if it were a member of the royal family.”

  Lisabeth considered this for a moment. “What would I have to do in exchange?” she asked.

  Anne smiled. “Simply kneel down before me and swear allegiance to me.”

  Lisabeth narrowed her eyes. “That’s it?” she asked. “If I swear allegiance to you, you will name me Queen of Caerwynspire?”

  “Yes,” Anne replied.

  Lisabeth gazed over at the city. She then turned back to Anne. “Very well,” she replied. Anne smiled as she watched Lisa
beth slowly lower herself down to her knees. She was quite surprised at how easy it had been. Perhaps this one was jealous of her older sister—tired of being forgotten in the midst of eleven daughters. Perhaps she and Lisabeth had something in common and could become friends.

  “Now swear…” Anne began, but before she could finish Lisabeth leapt up and slammed her shoulder into Anne driving her backward toward the cliff. Anne screamed as she realized Lisabeth meant to kill her. Lisabeth drove her nearer and nearer the cliff. Anne felt herself falling, but she had hold of Lisabeth and would not let go. If she was going to fall to her death she would take Lisabeth with her.

  Anne shrieked in terror as she and Lisabeth tumbled over the side. Lisabeth was clearly willing to sacrifice her own life to take Anne’s. Just as her stomach was rising up into her throat, Anne felt herself jerk to a stop. She dangled above rocks below as she clung desperately to Lisabeth. Suddenly, she felt herself begin to rise along with Lisabeth, as the young princess shook her hands violently trying to detach Anne and send her falling to her death.

  A moment later, the dark red arm of a se’irim reached down and clasped Anne pulling her up and setting her gently on the ground. Lisabeth was tossed to the ground at her feet. Anne reared back and kicked Lisabeth in the side. Then again and again.

  “Shall we kill her?” asked one of the se’irim as it licked its lips.

  “No,” Anne replied. “I will kill her last, after she has watched as every member of her family is slaughtered and eaten. Then she will be slow roasted over a fire as she screams for mercy!” Anne spat. She heard the se’irim laugh with pleasure. “Take her back to the tent!”

  Anne was furious. She would have no mercy on Caewynspire. They all must die!