Dragon of Eriden - The Complete Collection

by Samantha Jacobey

  His feet crunching on the gravel, a spring formed in his step as he approached the great hall. Crossing to the left, he took the tunnel that would see him straight to his target, only hesitating for a moment as he approached the main entrance.

  “I must see my uncle,” he announced firmly with a small wave of his hand, not stopping as he marched by the stunned dwarf.

  “HEY!”

  “Look, I don’t have time to argue,” Hayt insisted, shaking his fist at him. “I assume he’s still in bed?” he supplied, pointing the direction he intended to go as he kept walking.

  Staring after him, the guard blinked rapidly, unsure if what he had seen was real. Looking around as he licked his lips, he was still considering his options when their previous heir to the throne disappeared into the palace halls.

  Glancing over his shoulder as he arrived at the king’s chamber, Hayt chuckled at his success. “Poor bugger thinks I’m a ghost,” he presumed. Giving the entrance a firm knock, he pushed against the door and announced, “Are you asleep?”

  “What?” Baeweth grumbled, rolling over and fighting to sit up on the pliable surface. “What’s going on?” he shouted, assuming there had been some kind of trouble.

  Joining him as he removed his covers and stood by the bed, Hayt grinned, “Tis I, uncle. Hayt, in the flesh.” Pushing his chest out, he stood tall and waited to be recognized.

  The light of the single candle dim, Baeweth growled, “Who ever came up with this trickery is going to regret it.”

  “It’s no trick, uncle,” the blond replied, losing a bit of his confidence. “Here, light the lamps and have a good look,” he offered, marching across to start the small fires. The illumination growing with each one, he had lit four before he paused to see his kin staring at him.

  “Uncle?”

  “Hayt,” the old man breathed.

  Looking him up and down in the dancing light, his nephew faced him. “Yes, it’s me. I’ve come with a message I must deliver. I’m afraid it can’t wait until morning.”

  His hand shaking, Baeweth raised the appendage and rested it against the intruder’s chin. “Hayt,” he repeated.

  Grasping his palm, his heir snickered, “It’s been a while. Perhaps you thought I would never return.”

  “Are you a ghost?” the king gasped.

  “No, I’m not a ghost,” he snapped. “I told you we don’t have much time. Please, get dressed, and let’s go to the throne chamber, or the meeting hall, or somewhere we can talk.”

  “Hayt?” Asyng asked in disbelief, her short round form standing at the door.

  His back to her, the younger dwarf froze. Turning slowly, he met her gaze, his eyes drifting top to bottom as he took her in. “Hello, grandmother,” he managed in a weak voice. He hadn’t expected to see the woman who had raised him, at least not this soon after his arrival.

  “How did you get here?” she breathed, pulling her nightgown around her to hold out the draft.

  “That is a long story,” he replied with a smile. “If the two of you would like to get dressed, I’ll wait for you in the garden and I can tell you all about it.”

  Unlikely Comrades

  Standing next to the glowing pond, Hayt’s mind drifted back to the day he had explained it to Zaendra. The day we moved into the palace, he sighed. Things had moved pretty quickly between them, being married after only knowing each other five days.

  His eyes darting around the open chamber, he recalled her reaction vividly. So much has changed, and yet so much is the same.

  “Hayt,” Baeweth interrupted his thoughts. Entering the room, he pulled his favorite robe around him. “It’s really you.”

  “Yes, uncle,” the younger dwarf replied with a sheepish grin. “I was not devoured by the daemons of Asomanee,” he offered, his arms wide to present his evidence of the claim. “Although we did lose one member of our group in the crossing,” he confessed.

  Joining them at that moment, Asyng swept into the room, her robe flowing around her as she met him, throwing her arms around him as she gasped, “I knew you would return.”

  Accepting the hug, he smiled, glad their greeting had at least been civil. “I must speak with you,” he assured. “We have a party in the woods. An army, really. I have come to ask you to join it,” he informed them, getting right to the point.

  “An army,” Baeweth rasped, still taken with the notion they had survived their escape. “You break away with our prisoners and flee into the darkness only to return and ask such a thing?”

  “Yes, uncle. All of Eriden is at stake, and we have need of your assistance.”

  “Eriden seldom concerns itself with our affairs here under the mountain,” Baeweth denied.

  “But this is different,” Hayt insisted, pulling a golden orb from his pocket. “You recognize this?” he asked pointedly.

  “Oh,” the king breathed, “where did you get that?” His hand trembling at the thought of touching it, he waited for the reply.

  “The gnomes. Once our allies,” Hayt explained. “We came out of the far tunnel to Asomanee and have resided there in the marshes since our escape. They have awakened the use of magic within me and taught me how to control it.”

  Swallowing, Asyng recalled their decision to allow magic back into their kingdom, second guessing their choice. “Where is your wife, Hayt?”

  “With the others,” he assured, lighting the globe to search for her. “See? There she is,” he grinned, the morning sun on her ebony skin as she and the others walked towards the mountain. “They will be here soon to hear your reply.” He cut his eyes over at the king, his pause pregnant with expectation.

  Glaring at the image of the girl, trolls could be seen in her company. “You bring the beasts to our door.”

  “They’re not beasts,” his heir denied. “They are not so different from us, actually. The wolves on the other hand,” he chuckled. “And the elves. If we don’t pick a side and make some friends, they will tear us apart,” he predicted.

  “Rubbish,” Baeweth snapped, turning his back on the scene. “We are safe within the mountain. No harm will come to us here!”

  “Yeah, I’m sure your father thought the same thing,” Hayt sneered. “The elves sent the daemon. One in our company knew of the treachery and told us how she was sent to destroy us.” He inhaled deeply, his argument growing momentum along with his tone. “If we stay here, they will send another. And another. Until there are no dwarves left to hide beneath the mountain.”

  “This is madness,” Asyng countered. “They steal you from us, and what have they done? Your mind is cursed to believe such things!”

  Shifting his search, Hayt hunted the elves. “I can prove it to you,” he promised. “Oh God,” he gasped. “Shit!” Looking around wildly, like a trapped animal, he practically shouted, “I have to go.”

  “You’re not going anywhere!” Baeweth bellowed. “Guard!”

  “No, uncle, you don’t understand,” Hayt stammered, holding out the orb. “Look. The elves are coming. They are so close they may beat my friends here. Oh no,” he paused, licking his lips. “How is the new vista?”

  “The vista?” Baeweth snapped. “You have more pressing matters to worry about.” Turning to the guard, he instructed, “See my nephew to a cell.”

  “No, uncle. Listen to me!” Hayt shouted, shaking the orb in desperation. “If the vista isn’t finished or well-guarded, they may use it to get inside!”

  “We have guards there watching the forest. That’s what it was designed for, after all,” the king snapped.

  “What about the cliffs above? Do they watch those as well?”

  “None could come that way,” the king’s sister laughed. “It would be suicide.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t put it past them,” Hayt sighed. “Take me to a cell if you like. These are your people, and you do what you see fit with them. I came and said my piece, the rest is up to you.”

  His eye dropping to the warm glow of morning sun in the palm of his
hand, his uncle followed the motion. On the smooth surface, the image of elves crossing an expanse of stones and jagged rocks was clearly displayed.

  “Have you conjured this scene?” Baeweth growled.

  “No, uncle,” Hayt breathed, shaking his head. “I’m not that clever with my powers. Otherwise, I would simply transposition and be gone at this point. And even if I was, I would never deceive you.”

  “You did deceive me,” the older dwarf spat. “You married that girl and then ran away with her!”

  “I’m sorry,” Hayt sighed. “We had to. We couldn’t let the dragons get their hands on Amicia. And,” he paused, shame coloring his cheeks, “I really didn’t want to take your place as king.”

  Staring at him, Baeweth considered the confession while his sister focused on the previous statement.

  “She’s a dragon,” Asyng gasped. “I knew it!”

  “Well, yes,” her grandson shrugged. “She even took her form back for a few hours, but she’s a human again,” he paused, rolling his eyes, “and actually missing right now. The point is, we have to do something about these elves!” he stated emphatically, shaking the orb.

  “What do you think, dear sister?” the king asked in a subdued tone, hurt that the boy had run away rather than accept his place as heir.

  “I think we have had our share of hard times, dear brother,” she replied. “Prudence dictates we at least listen to what his friends have to say. They made it through Asomanee after all. They have some knowledge, or a bit of luck about them. We could use either of those things at this point.”

  “Very well,” he groaned, turning to his guard. “Forget the cell. We are going to have some visitors at the gate shortly. See them inside. I want the ones in charge brought to the dining room for breakfast,” he added, heading out the door and mumbling to himself as he went.

  “Well, it took you long enough,” Hayt chided as he met Piers and Yaodus at the front gate. Tilting his head back, he searched the sky, spotting Lamwen’s massive form circling to the south. “Is he coming in or staying outside?”

  “Coming in?” Meena question, joining them. “Are we invited?”

  “Yes. As unlikely comrades as we seem, my uncle has agreed to an audience,” the dwarf explained, producing his orb. “He took a bit of persuading, but these guys did the trick.”

  “Oh, that’s not good,” Rey observed, pulling at his hand for a better look. “Where are they?”

  “Somewhere over the mountains, above us perhaps. We’ve added extra guards at the vista to keep an eye out in case they decide to come over the top and down the face of the cliffs,” he assured. “But they are too close for comfort, and that is all that matters.” Glancing at Animir, he sighed, “I’m sure he realizes you’re still with us, but please don’t be offended if I ask you to remain outside.”

  “No,” Piers snapped. “Last time we were here, Baeweth was a complete ass. Animir is one of us, and he stays with us.”

  “My uncle is the king of the dwarves,” Hayt retorted. “He’s allowed to be an ass. But if you insist, then he can come. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Beckoning them with a wave of his hand, he added, “Yaodus, you should as well.”

  “I wish to bring my son,” the troll clipped.

  “Yeah, him too. There are plenty of chairs,” the dwarf agreed, turning his back and leading the way inside.

  The gravel crunching noisily beneath their feet, they soon arrived at the dining hall, where a large spread had been placed upon the table.

  “Well, this looks familiar,” Piers growled. “I believe all dwarves do is eat.”

  “Come and sit,” Baeweth invited gruffly, noting the trolls and the elf with a shake of his head. “We are keeping odd company as of late.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” the Mate paused.

  “Nothing,” the old king sighed, still shaking his head. “We used to keep to ourselves, that is all. Trolls, elves, wizards. Where’s the siren?” he demanded, noticing Zaendra had returned without her.

  “We have helped them escape Riran, and she is with her kind, for now,” Zae explained, greeting her new kin with a bow.

  “The elves have taken Riran?” Asyng asked doubtfully. “How could the dragons allow such a thing?”

  “The dragons are caught up in a civil war, or so it seems,” Rey explained, taking a seat to her left and serving his plate. “We thought it would be us fighting to get Ami’s place back as queen, but some others on the council want the seat for themselves. While Gwirwen is squabbling with them, the elves took Riran and have a contingent battling for the glen.”

  “Plus the ones coming here,” Meena observed, also taking a plate.

  “How does she have so many troops?” asked Yaodus, standing behind the chair at the king’s right hand.

  Looking up at him, Baeweth sighed, “You might as well sit. I assume you are the sovereign?”

  “I am,” the old troll agreed, offering the chair next to him to his boy. “This is my eldest son, Traok.”

  Nodding slightly, Baeweth turned to Animir, certain he would know. “How did she come by such an army?”

  “Well,” the elf offered, taking his seat next to Traok, “Cilithrand has been on the throne for two centuries. Over that time, we have filled the armory at Jerranyth to the brim with weapons, and I dare say it is not the only one. The villages higher up in the mountains are sure to house a few more, and the people there could have produced a sizable population, perhaps fit for an army of thousands.”

  “I thought you said you only had a few children even if you lived hundreds of years,” Piers recalled.

  “Normally, I would say that is the case, but as we have seen, the queen has been planning this for a while. Who knows how or when it started, but obviously our population has been growing in secret for some time.”

  “The smaller elves,” Rey recalled. “Not the ruling class such as yourself. That’s who were at Riran when we paid them the visit.”

  “Exactly. Village elves… servants, soldiers, merchants, and the like. The mountains behind Jerranyth are full of them. Overfilled with them, would be my guess,” Animir explained.

  “Ok, we know where they came from. How do we stop them from overrunning the dwarves?” Zaendra asked, her concern genuine.

  “Did you say they are above us? Up on the mountain?” Piers asked.

  “From what we can tell,” Hayt agreed.

  “Oh, that’s beautiful,” Piers grinned. “We push in behind, through Asomanee.”

  “Through Asomanee!” Asyng gasped. “Are you mad? The daemon would have you all!”

  “The dark elf has been removed,” Animir informed them calmly. “When I realized what she was, I knew I could trap her, and we did. Amicia even convinced her to help us if the need arises. The only problem is, they can’t be exposed to the sunlight, or moonlight for that matter. It would have to be in the caves or a moonless night for them to do us any good.”

  “But still,” the Mate insisted, “we could go through the tunnels and surprise the elves from behind.”

  “What about all the minions?” Zae countered. “The halls were filled with them even with the ones we destroyed.”

  “They can’t reproduce without their queen,” Animir stated thoughtfully. “If we moved through, wiping them out, they would be eradicated. In theory, you could even reclaim the halls once it was done,” he offered as incentive to the king.

  Pushing his empty plate back, their host looked at each in turn, recalling the first time they had eaten at his table. “Call me an old fool, but you’ve beaten them once. I believe you could do it again. We’ll gather our forces and prepare for the battle at once. Let’s hope we’re not too late.”

  Honor of Old

  “If we are going to go through Asomanee, we should go right away,” Meena observed. “It is quite a distance to the barrier, and even farther to the exit on the other side, even without stopping to clear the halls.”

  “I’ll prepare my f
orces,” the king agreed, pushing his chair back to stand. “Finish your breakfast and meet me in the great hall,” he called over his shoulder to the rest.

  Looking down the long table, Yaodus asked, “Are you the queen?”

  “No,” Asyng coughed. “Baeweth is my brother. I’m his advisor, I guess you would say.”

  “Our family has suffered for many generations,” Hayt offered.

  “Your family?” the troll asked in surprise. “I was not aware you were of royal blood.”

  “I’m Baeweth’s nephew. I was heir to the throne before I chose to run away,” he sighed.

  “I wouldn’t put it like that,” Zae defended. “He didn’t give you a lot of choice, now did he?”

  “It broke his heart that you left,” Asyng informed him.

  “I still don’t want to be king,” Hayt replied, getting to his feet. “We need to bring our forces inside and join with the others,” he suggested, hoping to change the subject.

  “Agreed.” The Mate also stood.

  Reluctantly, the rest of the group followed, calling in the trolls and marching through the halls to the giant chamber where Hayt and Zaendra had exchanged their vows. Taking his hand as they entered, the girl smiled, tilting her head back to admire the high ceiling. “I’m glad that I chose to be your bride,” she breathed.

  “As am I,” he agreed, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Later,” Piers grunted, pushing his way past to get to the front.

  The room already filled with dwarves, the trolls lined the walls as they came in. Up on the small platform, Baeweth was addressing his troops.

  “And so, we are going to cleanse Asomanee as we push our way out to flank them and take them by surprise,” he finished.

  “Are we all set?” the Mate asked when he reached him.

  “I’ve just finished briefing the troops, and my captains have each been assigned a section of the old halls to sweep with their teams.”

  “Good. Might I suggest long clothing and plenty of light,” Piers added, rubbing his hands together anxiously. “Honestly, I’m not looking forward to being down there –” He stopped abruptly. “We will come upon Bally’s body.”