“Yes, and Willem’s mother simply handed Elophborne over to the Wizard and his draks,” Eamon added.
“Andrick betrayed his own brother in Libetha…not to mention Andalynn Valestead.”
Eamon shook his head. “She broke Terrwyn’s heart.”
Lisabeth turned to look at him. “A lot of hearts are broken because of that witch,” she spat. Suddenly emotions built up inside her and she placed the palm of her hand to her face and sobbed. Eamon put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“I, too, miss Ashleen,” he said softly.
Lisabeth nodded. “I know,” she said.
“She was a shining light.” There was a long moment of silence before Eamon finally broke it. “You know, Ashleen thought we would be good together,” he said.
Lisabeth turned to look at him doubtfully as her sadness was replaced by an amused smile. “Did she now?”
Eamon smiled a toothy grin. “Well, she said she had ten younger sisters and felt confident one of you would make a good match for me.”
Lisabeth crossed her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Ashleen was confident one of her sisters would make a good match for you?” she asked.
Eamon’s eyes dropped to the stones at his feet. “Well, not exactly,” he said. He then glanced up, his face bright as he peered into her eyes. “She said ‘perhaps’ one of you might make a good match for me.”
Lisabeth threw back her head and laughed. She shook her head amused as he stared at her. “I am afraid if I keep interrogating you, you’ll admit that you have never actually spoken to Ashleen in your life,” she chuckled.
Eamon laughed as well. “We spoke quite often, actually,” he said. “She was a good friend.”
Lisabeth nodded.
Eamon suddenly turned serious. “You are going to be Queen of Caerwynspire, Lisabeth. The first legitimate female sovereign in the Middle Realm. With the war we have all been through, you need a husband strong enough to back you, yet, with no designs of his own on your throne.”
“What are you saying, Eamon?” she asked.
“I am a Caerwyn by blood. In fact, I could have a legitimate claim to the throne myself if a fight broke out over the legitimacy of a woman ruling Caerwynspire. A claim I have no intention to assert, I might add. Why should I? In two years, I will take the throne of Ephenee. I have my own kingdom.”
“How does that help me?” Lisabeth asked.
“A marriage to me would not only secure your crown in Caerwynspire, it would make you Queen of Ephenee. Our children would rule both Caerwynspire and Ephenee.”
Lisabeth stared at him for a long moment. She placed the palm of her hand on Eamon’s cheek. “You’re a wonderful young man, Cousin, and you are going to make some girl very happy.”
“You are not listening,” he said.
“I am, but…” she began, but he interrupted her with a firm kiss. She was startled at first and her immediate action was to pull away. But she realized she liked it and she kissed him back. They kissed for several minutes before he finally pulled away, leaving her leaning forward wanting more.
“It is a good match. Think about it,” he whispered and then stepped backward, slipping away into the darkness.
Lisabeth had never been kissed before and it took her a moment to recover. When she did she turned back to the city and leaned upon her elbows on the battlements of the wall.
“He’s right you know,” came a voice, startling her and Lisabeth stood straight as Tomfrey walked along the wall. He reached her and leaned against the battlement staring into her eyes.
“Were you eavesdropping on me, Tomfrey?”
Tomfrey chuckled and shook his head. “Not exactly,” he said. “I was coming to find you. To see how you were holding up. I stopped when I saw you speaking to Eamon and then…” he smirked. “It looks like the lad is quite the kisser.”
Lisabeth turned bright red as her eyes opened wide. This caused Tomfrey to laugh.
“Stop it,” she shouted at him. “You are indecent!”
Tomfrey stopped laughing, but the smirk remained on his face. “I humbly apologize, Your Highness,” he said with a flourishing bow.
“Stop that!” she said, punching him in the shoulder as he straightened.
“Ouch!” he shouted as he rubbed his shoulder where she had hit him.
“That didn’t hurt, you big baby,” she replied. Tomfrey frowned at her playfully. “Why do I even put up with you?” she asked.
“Because you love me,” he said causing her to blush again.
“W-what are you talking about, Sir Knight, I-I…” she stammered causing Tomfrey to laugh.
“I did not mean it like that,” he said, then stopped and stared at her, suddenly realizing that she did love him that way. He swallowed hard and took a step back. “Anyway, your cousin’s argument makes sense,” he said. “Our first priority must be securing your throne and the stability of the kingdom and the realm as a whole.”
Lisabeth stared at him. “You want me to marry Eamon?”
“Marrying Eamon would go a long way to accomplishing your goals,” he said. She just stared at him. “I am sorry to have given the appearance of eavesdropping,” he said and then backed away and out of sight.
Lisabeth stood on the wall staring after him for a long time. She sighed. She wished more than ever that Ashleen were there. She needed her big sister.
Chapter 3
The throne room at the castle in Beagonia was kept dimly lit as candles flickered, casting eerie shadows along the walls. Lilit sat upon the throne wearing long, black robes that fell just above her ankles. Her bare feet, hardened and gnarled from years spent living in the Great Swamp rested upon the severed head of the former queen.
Orlaith had been beaten and eaten alive by drakmere at Lilit’s command, but the old witch kept her head. She ate the eyes, believing they gave her strength, and then sewed up the eye sockets and mouth. The head served as a footstool for Lilit and a reminder to the subjects of Beagonia of what would happen if you crossed Lilit.
There had been rulers from time to time throughout the centuries all across the Middle Realm who were cruel or despotic. All of them would gasp at the level of cruelty inflicted upon the subjects of Beagonia by Lilit. Lilit’s wickedness would have shocked even her own son, the Wizard Tamesis.
Lilit was surrounded by Shebath worshipers and Beagonia had become more-or-less their holy center, the capital of their dark magic. The Beagonian nobility had all been fed to the drakmere and replaced by Astroffs—priests in the cult of Shebath.
The new Astroff nobility would snatch pretty young men and women from the villages and keep them as sex slaves, raping them over and over until they tired of them. Once tired of them, the slaves became the evening supper entertainment. They were stripped naked in the center of the dining hall to the applause of the gathered “nobility” handed a small club and told to recite the epic poem Darkest Night about Shebath’s conquest of the Middle Realm. All of the slaves had been made to memorize the poem as it was considered one of the holiest of documents in the cult of Shebath. They were assured if they were able to complete the poem through the final verse, they would be released—free to go on their way. As soon as the slave began to recite the verses, three drakmere entered the hall for their supper. No slave ever completed the poem before stopping to scream as the drakmere pounced upon them, sinking their fangs into the slave’s flesh.
Tonight, however, Lilit was enjoying her favorite ceremony. A young virgin had been brought to the castle where she was told she would be sacrificed upon the alter of Shebath. The girl began to weep, of course, and Lilit told her she could join the cult of Shebath. The girl immediately asked to join the cult thinking it would save her. Lilit made her beg. Oh, how she loved making them beg and she was enjoying it at the moment!
The sweet, soft skinned young lady lay naked on her belly on the cold stones, her arms out in front of her, begging and pleading Lilit to allow her into the cult of She
bath. Lilit was about to get to her favorite part, the part where she commanded the virgin to crawl to her on her stomach and kiss her gnarled toes as they perched upon the disgusting dismembered head of the former queen.
Something was distracting her, however, a pounding sound and in the distance the sound of voices, many shouting. Lilit finally had enough of it. “What is that infernal noise?” she snapped at the Astroffs, stopping the ceremony and the girl’s begging.
“I shall go and see, Your Grace,” one of the Astroffs said and exited with a bow.
Lilit turned back to the virgin still on her belly, but staring up at Lilit. “What are you staring at!” she shouted angrily. “Crawl to me. Crawl like a worm to your Queen and kiss her feet.”
Lilit smiled with pleasure as she heard the girl sob before beginning to slither along her belly toward Lilit. The virgin was not quite to her feet yet, when the Astroff who had gone to determine the source of the commotion returned even paler faced then usual.
“What is it?” Lilit asked.
“A mob, Your Grace,” the Astroff said. “A mob attempting to break down the castle door.
“Well, have the drakmere eat them,” she cackled.
The Astroff swallowed hard. “The drakmere are all gone, Your Grace,” he said.
Lilit’s smile disappeared. “Gone?” she asked. “Gone where?”
The Astroff shook his head. “I don’t know, Your Grace. I imagine back to their swamps. We have only a handful of soldiers loyal to Shebath here to protect us.”
She scanned the room and realized all of her “nobility” were as terrified as she. How was this happening? She had heard the news of Anne’s defeat at Caerwynspire of course, but realized that even if it were true it would take some time for anyone to march against her in Beagonia, if they ever even would. After all, few cared about this backwater kingdom on the edge of the Great Swamp. She was confident that her Dark Lord Shebath would bring his armies of shedom and se’irim into the Middle Realm to either save or avenge his Queen, Andalynn Valestead, long before any army invaded Beagonia. Besides she had thousands of drakmere to guard her. She never dreamed that they would abandon her so easily. She certainly never thought the people of Beagonia would gain the courage to rise up against her.
“Don’t just stand there!” she shouted to the Astroffs, “Go and find weapons.”
The Astroffs scattered in all directions. In the confusion, the virgin recovered her clothes and fled. Lilit stood alone in the throne room. After a few minutes she realized that the Astroffs were not coming back. They were all likely searching for ways out of the castle to save their own skin instead of defending their queen. No honor!
It was not long before she heard the voices of the crowd grow much louder and soon the doors to the throne room burst open and hundreds of people armed with axes, pitchforks—whatever they could find—stormed into the room. They stopped and stood for a moment, staring at the witch standing before the throne all alone staring back at them.
“Shebath shall avenge me!” Lilit hissed at them. “Anyone who touches me shall be tortured for eternity in the darkness of Abaddock.”
The warning did not save her, nor did it even frighten the mob. They moved as one, snatching her with dozens of arms. She was jerked to the center as everyone wanted a piece of her. Everyone had suffered under her evil rule. Lilit screamed as she was literally torn limb from limb by the mob.
Chapter 4
Willem leaned over the table staring at a list of soldiers currently comprising Elophborne’s army. It had been a rough transition, but there had been no bloodshed, so it could have been worse. The problem, of course, was deciding who was loyal and who was not. Many of the soldiers had been in the army under Willem’s father, had remained so under Willem himself, then Edward and finally Geoffrey. But who were those men really loyal to? Anyone at all? Could they be counted on? Were any still loyal to Geoffrey?
Willem’s return to Elophborne had been welcomed by the people with great cheers. Crowds rushed to greet him from all over Elwood when news spread that he had returned on the back of a flying dragon. Many came with improvised weapons such as axes and pitchforks and it was clear to Willem that they were ready to fight for him should Geoffrey attempt to remain on the throne.
Fortunately that had not happened. The Elophbornt soldiers and guards acted as if Willem had always sat upon the throne. Of course, word had already reached Elwood that the drak army had been defeated and Anne had fled and was presumably in hiding. Backing anyone but Willem then, especially with him flying down on the back of a dragon, would have been foolish.
Willem’s mother, Griselda, had greeted him warmly with a tight embrace and Willem knew that she was genuinely glad to see her eldest child alive and well. That made punishing her all the more difficult, but it had to be done. His first action was to march her to the balcony overlooking the courtyard where a crowd had gathered and declare her a traitor. There were several shouts to execute her, to string her up from the towers, to chop off her head and leave her body in the city square.
Willem turned to his mother and saw genuine fear in her eyes. Thus, he expected her to be grateful when he spared her life, sentencing her instead to imprisonment in her apartments for the remainder of her life. Instead she shook her head in disappointment, declaring what she had done had been to save her family and her kingdom from certain destruction and had she not, all of those people shouting for her head would likely have ended up meals for drakmere.
Geoffrey, of course, posed a much more delicate situation. He was young and easily influenced. Though he had colluded with the enemy, it had not been his idea. He could not be reasonably punished for doing so. He had been shipped off to Avonvale and the Wizard’s court against his will. It was only natural that he would form relationships with those who were kind to him there. And once the Wizard was killed, why would he not ally himself with Anne?
Thus, Geoffrey was not punished. Yet his eyes burned with a hatred when he looked at Willem, as if every bad event that ever befell Elophborne—including the deaths of Ella and Edward—were Willem’s fault. In the weeks that had passed, Geoffrey seemed to hate him less—he even spoke to Willem now—but Willem knew there was still a long way to go to undo the brainwashing Anne, Morgan, and Griselda had done.
Willem had more pressing problems, however. He needed to rebuild his kingdom. The destruction of the capital city of Elophdale had been devastating. The rampages of the drakmere throughout the countryside had depleted farms and the subjects. There were still draks roaming around out there, hiding in the Great Forest now that no elophim existed to kill them off. Not nearly the numbers that had existed in the Stromland before he and the others destroyed them, but enough that Willem needed to deal with them. That left him with the problem of rebuilding an army that had already been torn apart a couple of times.
Willem had a list of men he knew to be loyal from Erec, however, most were dead or gone. At the top of that list was a farmer named Maxin who had proved to be a valuable warrior while Erec and Hansel built up a resistance in the Great Forest. Once a simple farmer, Maxin had turned to the resistance after his wife and young sons were killed and eaten by drakmere. Willem wasted no time in seeking him out and bestowing a knighthood on him.
Maxin stood beside Willem as Willem poured over the paper. Willem had asked Maxin and others he knew to be loyal to make notes about the soldiers on the rosters. Which soldiers had worked with the drakmere against the people. Which soldiers had assisted in killing his uncle, Hansel. Who could be counted on to defend the people of Elophborne instead of feeding off of them?
As they read over the list, Willem heard Maxin shush him and glanced up to see Geoffrey entering the room a bright smile upon his face. Willem stood up straight and picked up the papers, rolling them up and handing them to Maxin. He did not want Geoffrey to know anything about what he was doing.
“Good afternoon, Brother,” Geoffrey said with a smile.
Willem returned
the smile, happy to see his youngest brother in a cheerful mood for a change. “Good afternoon, Geoffrey,” Willem replied. “You certainly seem chipper.”
“I am,” Geoffrey replied as he approached Willem, stopping just a few feet away. Willem noticed he had a folded piece of paper in his hand. “And why shouldn’t I be when news comes of a wedding from our closest friends in Avonvale.” Geoffrey handed the folded piece of paper to Willem.
“Ah, so Erec and his cousin are getting married are they?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” Geoffrey said. He could barely contain his glee as Willem opened the paper. “But even better, it’s going to be a double wedding. It seems Terrwyn is going to wed Prince Tybalt after all. Excuse me, King Tybalt.”
Willem looked down at the paper. He felt a pang of disappointment when he saw Geoffrey was correct, but he knew there was nothing to be done. Terrwyn loved Dylan and Dylan loved her. He would take good care of Terrwyn.
What pained Willem much more was that Geoffrey was delighting in his pain. Oh, how the lad had changed since the beginning of the war! Geoffrey had been such a sweet boy, but time spent with demons like the Wizard, Anne, and Morgan were enough to turn anyone.
“What excuse are you going to make this time, to skip their wedding?” Geoffrey asked with a chuckle. “There is no war or ailing father to blame our absence on.”
Willem forced a broad smile as he looked up at his brother. “Miss the wedding?” he asked with shock in his voice. “Never. These are some of my best friends. I am going.” Then Willem produced a knife of his own. “And you are coming with me, Brother.”
Geoffrey’s smile vanished immediately. “I can’t,” he stammered.
“And why not?” Willem asked.
“Um, well, Mother needs me,” Geoffrey said. “Yes, I cannot leave her.”
“Nonsense,” Willem said as he stepped toward his brother and placed an arm around his shoulder. “It’s been too long since we’ve all been together. It will do you good to see them again. Remember who your real friends are.”
Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series Page 78
