Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series

by Christopher Vale

  ***

  The music was merry and the alcohol was flowing inside of the hall. Gwyndalin kept her eye on the door. She knew that Lisabeth had gone out to speak to Eamon—to accept his proposal. She wanted to announce their engagement tonight while everyone was gathered. It would do well to strengthen Lisabeth’s hold on the throne, if all of the nobility realized that not only did Lisabeth have the backing of the Paladin, but of Ephenee as well—that a male Caerwyn would be marrying her.

  Suddenly, Sir Rodrick was at her side. “Good evening, Your Majesty,” he said.

  “Hello, Sir Rodrick,” she smiled. She could tell he had had a bit to drink. “Having a good time tonight?” she asked.

  “Oh yes, quite a good time,” he said.

  “I am so glad,” Gwyndalin smiled.

  “I was hoping to speak to the Queen,” he said.

  “Well, she is not here right now. She’s speaking to Prince Eamon.”

  “Ah, excellent.”

  What did you need to speak with her about?” Gwyndalin asked.

  “Well, um, I was uh, going to ask her if it would be alright if I danced with her mother.” Rodrick smiled a toothy grin causing Gwyndalin to laugh.

  “Well then, I think the person you should be speaking to is me,” she said.

  Rodrick chuckled. “Of course.”

  He straightened and then bowed with a low flourishing bow. “May I have the honor of this dance, Your Majesty?” he asked.

  Gwyndalin stared at him for a moment. It was neither inappropriate nor uncommon for the Queen to dance with one of her knights during a celebration. The King normally gave his permission, but Artur was dead. That made this a bit more uncomfortable. More so, however, was the feelings Gwyndalin had for Rodrick. Feelings she never allowed to show, or even really recognized until this moment. This moment when he asked her to dance, holding out his hand expectantly.

  Her first thought was to say no. It would hurt his feelings, of course, but she could make up some excuse or another. Her attraction to him would simply make it too uncomfortable. But she really did want to dance with him and there was certainly nothing wrong with it. Even if it were not appropriate for the Queen to dance with a knight, she was no longer the Queen, nor was she married.

  “I would be most honored, Sir Rodrick,” she smiled nervously.

  Rodrick took her hand and kissed her fingers gently, straightening. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Rodrick led Gwyndalin onto the dance floor just as the song was beginning. He bowed and she curtsied. The dance was a blur to Gwyndalin. Before she knew it an hour had passed. Her feet were aching. “I need to rest a bit,” she whispered.

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” he said and led her from the floor toward her chair.

  They halted suddenly—in fact everything halted—as a beautiful melodic sound echoed through the hall. It did not come from the musicians. They were as perplexed as everyone else. The crowd looked around, wondering about its origin. Rodrick glanced at Gwyndalin who looked back at him. Then they heard the sound again. It was like a beautiful voice echoing throughout the Fortress. Like the voice of an angel.

  Gwyndalin’s eyes popped wide as she suddenly realized what it was. “I’ve got to go!” she said and rushed away.

  “But…” he began.

  “No, stay here, we’ll speak later,” she insisted as she left the hall. She heard the sound again and lifted the skirts of her dress to run. She was met halfway by a servant girl.

  “Your Majesty!” the girl shouted to her. The young woman looked frantic and terrified.

  Gwyndalin nodded, that she knew what was happening. “Take me to her,” she said.

  The servant girl nodded and turned and hurried back in the other direction. She led Gwyndalin up the steps. Up higher and higher to the top of the tallest spire. The girl opened the door and Gwyndalin stepped inside to find two midwives and another servant standing with their hands over their ears unsure what to do.

  On a bed laid Aura, her wings fully extended which crashed over two tables set up inside the room. The seraph gripped the sides of the bed, the wooden frame cracking and about to splinter. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open wide. The sound that came out, however, was not a scream of pain, but was like that of a beautiful singer, though many times louder.

  Aura ceased crying out after a moment and opened her eyes. She relaxed when she saw Gwyndalin. Gwyndalin rushed to the bed as Aura loosed her grip on the sides and relaxed her wings.

  “My darling, the entire kingdom can hear you,” she said.

  Aura’s eyes opened wide. “Oh no. I am sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about it, but we might want to try and muffle it before you bring down a host of seraph searching for the source.” Aura nodded. Gwyndalin turned to one of the servants. “Bring me a pillow,” she said. The girl obeyed and quickly fetched a pillow and took it to Gwyndalin.

  Gwyndalin handed the pillow to Aura. “Hold this over your mouth, next time,” she instructed. It was just in time too, because just as Aura took the pillow, her mouth opened and Aura began her song again. She buried her face in the pillow and it was mostly successful in muffling the sound.

  Gwyndalin motioned for the midwives to join her. They did so quickly. “Push, Aura,” Gwyndalin instructed. “Push.”

  Aura screamed into the pillow as she pushed with all her might. She pushed again and again.

  Suddenly, there was a bright light. A light that blinded the humans, but not Aura. The pain was gone. Aura lowered the pillow and stared at the midwife. When the light faded, the midwife opened her eyes and saw that she was holding a small child. She would not call it a baby, because it appeared to be closer to a year old.

  Everyone stared at the child with golden hair and skin that glowed brightly, though the brightness was already beginning to fade. It was a little girl. The baby began to cry and Gwyndalin took her from the midwife, and whisked her over to the bed where she sat down beside Aura. She handed the child to the seraph.

  “This is your daughter, Aura,” she said as Aura took her. Aura noticed tears in Gwyndalin’s eyes. This caused Aura to cry as well.

  “Does she look alright?” Aura asked, concerned. “She seems much too small.”

  Everyone in the room began to laugh. “No Aura, if anything she is big,” Gwyndalin said.

  “Oh?” Aura asked with a happy smile. She smiled.

  “She is a beauty and needs a beautiful name,” the midwife said. “What shall we call her?”

  Aura looked up at the midwife and then back down at the baby. “I don’t know,” she said. “I was planning on a boy and would call him Alaric after my brother, but now…” She glanced up at Gwyndalin. “Do you have any suggestions.”

  Gwyndalin ran her fingers of the child’s golden hair. “I think Ashleen would be a beautiful name,” she said.

  Aura nodded with a smile. “Me too. We shall call her Ashleen.”

  Gwyndalin began to weep and laid her head on Aura’s shoulder as she wrapped her arms around the seraph’s neck.

  Ashleen stared up at her mother and smiled.

  Chapter 7

  Dillan knelt atop the roof of a building in Riversmeet hammering away. The reconstruction of the city was going well. It would take decades, if not longer, to return to its former glory, but it was certainly better than before. Being made from stone, most of the castle’s structure had remained intact, and thus Dillan was able to make it habitable rather quickly. The castle did not boast the splendor of days gone by, but it would keep the rain off the heads of his family. In fact, he had left Terrwyn behind in Avonvale so that he could reconstruct the castle before sending for her. As soon as the castle was habitable, he wrote asking her to join him in Riversmeet.

  Once the most pressing work was completed on the castle and it was at least livable, Dillan turned his attention to the city itself. The citizens of the Stromland were considerably fewer in number these days, but with villages and farms destroyed, mos
t didn’t have any place to go. When word spread that most of the draks had been killed or run off and Prince Tybalt had survived and returned to claim the throne, the Stromish survivors began to arrive in Riversmeet in droves.

  Most of the buildings in the city had been destroyed, and the first returning subjects stayed with Dillan inside the castle. As more of his subjects arrived, Dillan realized that they needed to start rebuilding the rest of the city. Everyone worked together concentrating on a couple of buildings at a time to raise them quickly. Then everyone would move to the next.

  Men not constructing buildings chopped down trees for lumber and women and children planted vegetable gardens and tended to any animals they could find. Avonvale, Talisaria, Ephenee, and Elophborne had all been generous in sending animals, crops, and building supplies to Riversmeet. The Vagabond, with newly promoted Captain Starron at the helm, made continuous trips south along the river to the Glass Sea, up the Western coast of the realm and then back down the river through Talisaria into Riversmeet. Mash production was encouraged and the brown liquor was shipped off in trade for anything they could find. Dillan was determined to rebuild the economy any way he could.

  As Dillan hammered, he heard Bran’s voice echo excitedly in his head. Dillan sat up and stared at the castle where the dracen was perched atop the highest tower. “They’re here!” came the voice which only Dillan could hear.

  Dillan scrambled to his feet, pushed himself up on his tiptoes and peered south along River Road, but he could not see anything. Not yet. He glanced back at Bran, and could feel the dracen’s excitement. “Well let’s go greet them,” Dillan said and watched as the blue dragon leapt from the tower and soared down to the city. Dillan laid his hammer upon the roof and looked at the other men working. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised to their quizzical glances. They felt a sudden rush of air as Bran flew past, snatching Dillan from the roof and placing the nephilim upon his bare back. It was not Dillan’s first time flying bareback, but it certainly was not the most comfortable way to ride a dracen.

  Bran flapped his giant wings soaring faster and soon Dillan spied Avon above the tree tops. He smiled knowing that Avon would be accompanying Terrwyn, though he wondered why she did not fly upon his back. Bran released an excited squawk as they flew past Avon and the caravan on the road below making its way north from Avonvale. Dillan smiled as he noticed a curious head poke out of the window of one of the carriages immediately recognizing it as Taite.

  Bran circled back around as Avon gave chase. Bran rose straight up into the air, twirling as he went and Avon followed. “Be careful,” Dillan said. “I don’t have much to hold on to here.”

  “Oh, alright,” Bran said with a pout before diving back toward to the ground and landing in the castle courtyard. Dillan climbed down from the dracen’s back as Avon landed beside them. The two dracen began to chatter simultaneously and Dillan pressed the palms of his hands over his ears, even though he was hearing it directly in his head. He sighed and jogged away toward the gate. He stood there impatiently waiting for what seemed like an eternity, until he finally saw the first lancers wearing the blue of Avonvale and flying a flag with an eagles head trotting through the city.

  The lancers rode through the gates followed by a carriage and then another and another. Wagons full of provisions also accompanied them. The caravan finally halted and Dillan ran along trying to find his wife. The door of a carriage popped open and Taite leapt out. She ran toward him as soon as her little feet hit the ground. “Captain Dillan!” she shouted as she flew into his arms.

  Dillan squeezed the girl tight, but glanced past her to see Terrwyn stepping out of the carriage. His Queen was smiling as she released the hand of the coachman and Dillan noticed how big her belly was. His mouth fell open as she rubbed it.

  “Terrwyn’s going to have a baby!” Taite shouted, unable to contain her excitement. Dillan released Taite and ran toward Terrwyn, stopping just short, and scooping her up into his arms, kissing her. He pulled away and then placed a hand on her stomach.

  “Why didn’t you tell me in your letters?” he asked.

  “Because I knew you would immediately come to Avonvale. You needed to be here with your people, rebuilding your home,” Terrwyn replied. “Our home,” she corrected herself.

  Dillan kissed her again, but was interrupted by the sound of Azaleigh’s voice. “So, this is Riversmeet?” she said. Dillan pulled away to see not only Azaleigh, but Merdith standing there staring up at the castle.

  “They came to help me,” Terrwyn said.

  Dillan smiled at Azaleigh as he released Terrwyn. “Aunt Azaleigh, welcome,” he said as he stepped over to her. “We are still rebuilding, but I am sure you will be comfortable here.” He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He then bent down and kissed Merdith as well. “Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

  As they began to walk to the castle, Valish servants unloaded trunks from the carriages. Terrwyn pulled a folded piece of paper and handed it to Dillan. “Here, before I forget,” she said.

  Dillan unfolded the paper and began to read. “Erec’s eager to get back to war, eh?” he asked.

  “He wants Andrick’s head. So does Willem. And apparently Lisabeth has been eager to finish this as well, but we all want to stand united.”

  Dillan rubbed Terrwyn’s belly. “I don’t know how I’m going to fight without you there,” he said.

  Terrwyn laughed. “Honestly, I’m happy to have a reason to sit this one out. Battle is exhausting.”

  “Erec says he’ll be here in a month,” Dillan frowned. Terrwyn nodded.

  “He’s arranged to converge with Lisabeth and Tythan in eastern Talisaria. From there, the allied armies will march as one on Libetha.”

  “Doesn’t he realize my wife is having a baby?” Dillan asked.

  “I think he noticed, but one can never be sure,” Terrwyn chuckled.

  Chapter 8

  The wind whipped the blue banners of Avonvale as Erec sat astride his chestnut gelding surveying the frantic enemy before him. Libethan troops scurried about the walls of Melveena preparing for the imminent attack as panic gripped the city. Erec glanced to his left flank to see King Tythan at the head of the army of Talisaria. He glanced to his right flank to see Queen Lisabeth at the head of the united armies of Caerwynspire and Ephenee. Mixed among the Caerwyn were members of the free armies of Libetha—men who resisted Andrick’s overthrow of their rightful king and wished to assist in liberating the kingdom.

  Erec’s men—composed of the united armies of Avonvale, Elophborne, and the Stromland—were at the center of the lines. “The men are ready, Your Majesty,” Erec heard Lord Galt say. Erec nodded and turned to Sir Maxin of Elophborne.

  Maxin smiled. “Elophborne’s bravest await your command, Your Majesty,” the knight said. Erec nodded. He knew Maxin well, the knight having been a part of Erec’s and Hansel’s resistance forces hiding in the Great Forest. Maxin was one of the few people that had escaped the slaughter by Rayfen and the drakmere.

  Though Erec technically led the united armies of Avonvale, Elophborne, and the Stromland, Maxin had been placed in command of the Elophbornt forces. The Stromish soldiers, less than a hundred in number, simply supplemented the others. They had no commander of their own—not on the ground anyway.

  It had been over a year since the Battle of Caerwynspire, when Andrick had slipped away with Anne and Morgan. While no one knew where Anne and Morgan had disappeared to, it did not take long to realize that Andrick was holed up in his castle in Libetha. Now the armies of the Allied Kingdoms were marching against him and Erec yearned to avenge the murder of his betrothed, Princess Ella of Elophborne.

  Erec was technically in command of the combined forces of the Allied Kingdoms, but could not give the order to attack until he saw the dracen riders. He waited impatiently wanting Andrick’s head so badly it consumed him. Where were they! A blood-curdling roar pierced the air and Erec smiled as he glanced up into the blue sky. There
he saw three dracen soaring above and knew that Dillan, Willem, and Eamon rode them. It was finally time.

  Erec held the sword of light given to him by Metatron high in the air. As it fell, the trumpeters blared their horns signaling the various commanders to begin the attack. Erec urged his gelding forward flanked by Lord Galt and Sir Maxin.

  ***

  Andrick stood atop the castle battlements staring out over the city of Melveena at the enemy troops assaulting the city walls. Ordinarily, the city walls could hold for some time and there would be a protracted siege. These were not “ordinary” times, however. Winged dragons swooped down upon his men, scorching the battlements and sending his soldiers fleeing for their lives. Dragons! How could Andrick and his people ever hope to defend themselves from dragons?

  His people? Much of the citizenry had already fled, showing absolutely no loyalty to their king. Andrick shook his head in disgust. He had been abandoned by his people. That was the way he remembered it anyway. He conveniently ignored the part where he overthrew his brother, the rightful king, with an army of man-eating drakmere.

  The relatively small number of soldiers that had remained fled from the walls of the city, abandoning their posts to save their own hides. Andrick’s stomach turned when he saw the city gates destroyed by one of the dragons and the enemy lancers pouring through. It would not be long now. He had finally achieved the one thing he had desired his entire life: to rule as King. Yet now he was on the verge of losing everything, including his head.

  “Your Majesty, they have breached the city walls!” shouted one of his knights.

  Andrick spun toward him. “I can see that, you idiot!” he spat angrily. He then saw the fright in the knight’s eyes as the man stared out into the sky. Andrick turned back around to see a dragon diving toward them. “Kill it!” he shouted to his men as he sprinted from the battlements, ducking inside of a door and down wooden steps. He paused briefly when he heard the shrieks of his men and smelled the flames, smoke, and burning flesh.