Gauntlet of Iniquity: The Azuleah Trilogy, #2

CHAPTER 1

THE GREAT TREE

The light inside the small study waned as the wax candles atop a large oak desk melted to their golden bases. Helmer Silverhart turned to the last page of the tome he was reading and, with a quick skim over it, closed the book and yawned. Outside, the darkness had enveloped the city of Evingrad as the mid-autumn sun disappeared behind the thick branches of the Breninmaur.

Four months had passed since Lucius and Siegfried left the Silverhart house. Each day he tried not to worry over them, but it was a futile exercise. He hoped by now the two brothers had reached the city of Aldron and found the blacksmith who would reforge the Requiem Sword. But no word had come from his sons. Only Lumiath had sent a letter informing him of their arrival at Sylvania and their subsequent departure. That was a month ago.

Now in the dim study he worried over them again. Siegfried was capable of surviving the harsh winter and long journey ahead, he knew. His only son had proven himself on numerous occasions over the years. He had nearly secured a place as a Protector of Evingrad for his skills in combat, but he chose to relinquish it to defend his adopted brother, Lucius—a man.

The relationship between elves and men had always been a tortured one. Helmer never understood the centuries-old enmity. The War of Verdania was long ago, yet the prejudices still existed. But welcoming a human into his home changed perspectives considerably. None more so than Siegfried. When Lucius first became part of their family, Siegfried was intolerant of the child, but in time he grew to love his adopted brother. The two formed an inseparable bond, and despite his limitations as a human, Lucius still aspired to the same goal as his older brother in becoming a Protector.

Helmer knew Lucius was safe in Siegfried’s care, but he still felt anxious about the entire quest. Much was at stake in forging the Requiem Sword. Evil forces would be seeking the sword that once slayed Kraegyn. He only hoped his sons could acquire it with few complications.

After singing a quick sonnet to D’arya to alleviate his worry, he blew out the candles on his desk.

Helmer exited the room and locked the door. Nobody ever entered the study without his permission, but locking it had become habit over the last three hundred years. As he walked down the narrow hallway of the manor to his bedroom, a rush of light footsteps startled him. Turning around, he saw Peniel, his family’s servant. She had served the Silverhart estate since the time of Helmer’s grandfather, nearly two millennia ago. Peniel was a fair-skinned elf with high cheek bones and an austere disposition. She bowed quickly before answering the unspoken question on Helmer’s face.

My lord, Kiret is at the door asking for you, she said.

Kiret? This late in the evening? Helmer questioned, more to himself than Peniel.

Shall I send him away until the morning, sire?

No, that’s quite all right. Send him into the sitting room. I will meet him there.

With that, Peniel whirled around and walked away. Helmer walked past his bedroom into an adjacent sitting room where he entertained friends and conducted official business. It was an airy room, with windows overlooking the courtyard outside with its lush garden.

In a few seconds, Peniel walked into the room with Kiret following closely behind. The Protector of Verdania looked flushed and somewhat exasperated. After Peniel left, he took a seat by Helmer on a couch made of oak and adorned with wildflowers.

My Lord Helmer, we’ve had very disturbing news recently from one our scouts, he said.

What news? Helmer asked, his interest piqued.

It seems there has been an attack on Aldron…from a dragon, Kiret replied. A shadow of terror passed over his face when he said it.

I see, Helmer said, looking outside toward his garden. He put a hand to his lips, processing the enormity of this news. The dragons had not attacked any settlement in years, much less a heavily fortified city like Aldron. He always knew the dragons would return, but he never expected it would be this early. Their time was running thin. Lucius and Siegfried were in greater peril than he previously thought.

Did you inform the Cyngorell of this, Kiret? Helmer asked as he stood from the couch.

No, I did not.

You don’t trust them? Helmer asked, knowing the answer.

Kiret pursed his lips and looked away for a moment. I trust you, Lord Helmer. The Cyngorell has become very stubborn in its ways. I don’t believe our ancestors would approve of our sheltered existence these past few years. You seem to be the only elf who openly disagrees with that notion.

Not the only one, he replied, a smile played on his lips.

Kiret nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. He stood up from the couch and clasped both hands behind his back while he paced the room. The Protector’s face settled into a frown. Like you, I worry for the boy. He is a man, but ever since I found him those many years past, I feel…an odd connection to him. I would hate for any ill to befall him or your son.

Helmer nodded. I appreciate your concern, Kiret. Truly I do. But they are where they need to be. I only hope we can stop our enemies before it’s too late.

A loud pounding interrupted their conversation. Helmer turned toward the sound and realized it was coming from the front door of the estate. Before he could attend to it, Peniel, quick as lightning, rounded a corner and walked toward the entrance beyond the hallway. A minute later she emerged with another Protector at her side. It was Athri.

The tall slim elf warrior approached and saluted Kiret, her superior.

Protectors on the borderlands have sent a message of an approaching enemy in the sky, she said grimly.

Kiret’s eyes widened. Dragons?

Athri swallowed hard and nodded. We believe so.

How far from here? Helmer asked before Kiret could speak.

Not more than a few miles, sir.

We must warn the Cyngorell and the guardians at the tower. Gather every Protector in the city and rally archers to the ballistae! Kiret ordered.

Athri bowed quickly, then turned on her heel toward the door.

Athri! Kiret yelled. She turned to face him. Take care of yourself and the others. I’ll be there soon.

The young Protector nodded, then sprinted out of the estate. Helmer ran a hand across his face before turning to Kiret.

The short and stocky Protector looked stoically at him. Don’t worry, Helmer. We’ll take those dragons down before they know what hit them.

He shook his head emphatically. No, Kiret. Evingrad cannot defend against a dragon attack. The last time we endured such a thing, we lost an entire grove of elvish oaks.

That was long ago, my lord. We have trained fiercely for a day such as this. We can stop them.

The Protector clenched his fists as he spoke the words. Kiret lost his family in the last dragon attack in Verdania over a millennium ago. He hated the beasts more than any elf in Evingrad. Helmer knew the Protector would not rest without killing one or more of the dragons. Although he knew Kiret and the archers of Evingrad were equipped to fight their airborne enemy, the dragons’ fire was an indefensible threat. They lived in a large tree that would burn easily, like dry kindling. The supporting branches of the Breninmaur held the entire circular pedestal that served as Evingrad’s foundation. A barrage of fire would eventually weaken the supports and the city would collapse.

There was only one solution to a raging firestorm in Helmer’s mind.

"We must evacuate, Kiret. All of the elf clans must descend the Breninmaur and avoid possible extermination," he said, rubbing his forehead lightly.

Kiret stepped back, as though he’d been struck in the face by the words. Are you mad? You truly doubt our resolve to rid the world of these flying monsters?

Kiret, I have full faith in you and your Protectors. But I am not confident that a fire borne of dragons will be put out before massive damage is done to our city.

Understanding came over Kiret’s face, now realizing the gravity of the problem. At first, Helmer thought the elf warrior might change his mind about evacuating. But Kiret looked away and shook his head, dashing Helmer’s hopes.

We must fight, Lord Helmer. Our ancestors would not have run from these beasts. And if Evingrad falls in its defense, so be it. His cobalt blue eyes were resolute. He marched out of the sitting room and headed for the door, but stopped abruptly. I have faith that Lucius and Siegfried will help us stop these fiends. We must continue to ask that D’arya safeguards them on their journey.

Indeed, Helmer agreed. He wondered where this conversation might go, but Kiret said nothing more and walked out.

Helmer turned to Peniel, who remained in the room during the talk, waiting for a command from her master. He straightened and released a heavy sigh before saying, Come, Peniel. We have a city to evacuate.

*

Evingrad was in an uproar after the Cyngorell learned of the imminent dragon attack. The guards of the tower were scrambling atop the defensive structure, manning the turrets and barking commands to elves situated in the lower levels. Three hundred Protectors of Verdania assembled in ranks in the city square, listening to orders from their captains. Strategic positions were laid out throughout the city for multiple points of defense. Every elf family in the city equipped themselves with bows to shoot, but Helmer did his part to convince them otherwise. With Peniel’s help, he urged his fellow elves to flee the city, and after an hour of convincing he managed to persuade others to follow him.

The Cyngorell, of course, was not pleased that one of their elders was participating in such a treasonous act. Quetulya lashed out at Helmer before the general call to arms was issued. First you turn against us by permitting your human son to ignore our orders and flee. And now you want us to surrender to the dragons of Ghadarya? You are more warped than that outcast, Lumiath!

In the past, the other members of the council would have disagreed sharply with Quetulya’s words, but now that their beloved city was under attack by dragons, they lauded his accusations. Helmer was left to fend for himself and try to convince more elves to join him in evacuating Evingrad. The cause became more futile with each passing minute.

Fighting through the crowds of elves and armed Protectors, he tried to reason with anyone who would listen. The dragon’s fire will consume our city and kill everyone. We must leave—for the sake of our survival! he pleaded with an elf maiden and her children. They shook their heads at him, walking off to find their place in the battle.

But some listened to his warnings. In all, he and Peniel persuaded a dozen elves and their families to evacuate and avoid the imminent slaughter.

As he gathered more elves to the exodus, a loud horn blasted from the top of the tower. A hush fell upon the crowd as everyone looked toward the marble spire situated in the town square.

Here they come! Draw your bows! yelled Kiret to his league of Protectors.

Thousands of arrows were nocked to bowstrings as elves drew and faced the eastward sky. It was nearing dawn, and the sky had turned a bluish pink. Near the horizon, where the smallest traces of sunshine peeked, Helmer saw three dots approaching. His elvish eyes focused in on the dots and he discerned the large wingspans of the dragons. He turned and waved his hand at the nearly two dozen elves he’d assembled.

Let’s go! They’ll be upon us in a few minutes, he cried.

He weaved through the multitude of elves gathered in the town square, making his way to the tower entrance. Once they reached the interior of the tower, the halls descending into the heart of the Breninmaur would be open to them.

He suddenly felt a hard tug on his forearm. Wheeling around, he came face to face with an elf around the same age as him, who held a stone-faced expression.

Quetulya’s disapproving gaze bore into him, and the Cyngorell leader shook his head slowly.

If you and your group leave Evingrad, you prove yourselves to be more than cowards. You’ll be traitors to this city and forever banished from the lands of Verdania, he said.

Helmer frowned. Quetulya, do you really think I am doing this lightly? I would be honored to stay and fight alongside my kin. But our great city cannot withstand an attack from three dragons. We will all die in vain. Tell me, who will remain to stop the dragons then?

Quetulya scoffed, then waved a hand at him. Be gone then. You always were a fool, Helmer. Leave us and scurry away like frightened mice.

With that, Quetulya turned around and ran toward a rampart in the square where a group of eager archers awaited the dragons. Peniel, who ran beside him, had a worried look on her face.

Are you sure we’re doing the right thing, my lord?

Helmer sighed as he stood upon the rampart, looking at the group of elves following him. They watched him in anticipation, hoping to hear this whole idea was a mistake. Many of them would not only face dishonor among their families, but also the pain of exile from the only home they knew. He wanted desperately to be wrong. Yet in his heart he knew the fate which awaited them all. Evingrad would no longer exist as it once did. His heart ached at the realization that the Breninmaur, the Great Tree of D’arya, would be lost to the flames of those wretched beasts.

He steeled himself and turned to his followers, tightening his jaw in preparation for his next words.

My friends, we are doomed if we stay here. We must survive not only for the sake of our race, but also to combat the terror in the east. The combined might of both dragons and Draknoir will require the strength of all peoples in Azuleah. Today should not be our last stand, but our first act in defense of our legacy. Come with me now and let us take refuge so we may fight another day on our terms.

The elves’ faces brightened, and they looked confident in their decision now. Others in the crowd who heard Helmer’s speech watched them with contempt, but their indignation did not last. A sharp bestial cry erupted in the air above them.

The dragons had arrived.

Helmer turned on his heel with amazing speed and grabbed Peniel’s arm. He led their group to the gates of the tower, dodging the cascade of arrows that now flew all around him. Another bellow descended from above as he grabbed the handle of the double-door entrance. Then he felt it. A wave of searing heat surrounded them. Turning around, he saw a stream of fire falling upon the green seal where elves stood outside of the tower.

Elves screamed in agony as the flames consumed them, longbows and all. Peniel looked on in horror with the rest of the group. Helmer tugged on her arm to shake her from the sight. They ran inside the tower where the once calm atmosphere was thrown into complete chaos at the arrival of the dragons. The foyer filled with a cacophony of cries and yells from the tower guards above. Each elf in the upper levels unleashed a barrage of arrows at the hulking masses that darted overhead.

Position yourselves to the east! Draw! Fire! a senior officer yelled at his subordinates. The commands continued as they rushed to the tunnel entrances that descended into the bowels of the Breninmaur.

Helmer glanced around him and saw that more elves had joined their coterie. Some bore burn marks on their arms and faces from the torrent of flames. He eagerly opened the large oak door of the southern tunnel, holding it open for everyone. After Peniel and a few others entered, a loud crash came from overhead. The roof of the tower had collapsed. One of the dragons ripped it apart with its massive talons. Wooden support beams and marble bricks fell down around them. The bodies of half a dozen elf guardians crashed onto the marble floor in front of him. A pillar of fire rained down from the exposed rooftop, igniting the oak beams holding the broken structure together. Helmer watch helplessly as a chunk of marble wall toppled down onto the elves racing to get inside the tunnel.

Despite the destruction, he held the door to the tunnels open, waving every living elf in the tower through to safety. The seconds felt like hours. Smoke filled the tower, making it difficult for Helmer to see if another was coming.

With no one else left in the tower, he turned to enter the tunnel.

Help! a muffled voice cried.

Helmer ran toward the cries and scanned the smoldering rubble around him. Ten feet from the tunnel, he found an elf maiden pinned under a beam. Grasping her forearms, he pulled with all his strength, but she barely moved from beneath the heavy beam.

A loud crack from above startled him. What remained of the western tower wall was quickly buckling: the ravaging flames were consuming the woodwork supporting the wall.

Helmer wasted no time.

He gripped the thick beam and heaved it off the woman in a desperate feat of strength. Come on! he yelled, pulling her up. She put an arm around his neck as he led her toward the tunnel.

Large wingbeats flapped nearby. The dragons were coming back for another attack on the tower.

Helmer ran to the door, flinging it open just as a breath of fire hit the careening wall. An ear-splitting roar filled the air followed by a thunderous crash that knocked him to the ground. Then there was darkness.

CHAPTER 2

CONVALESCENCE

Lucius awoke to the sound of birds chirping and twittering above him. His eyes opened to a dull hazy light pouring down from the ceiling. As his vision adjusted, he realized the light was coming from a hole in the roof where the trunk of a large tree had sprouted through. The sunlight cascading on his body felt warm and comfortable, and for the moment he didn’t care where he was. He only wished to slumber and enjoy the warmth.

The noise of approaching footsteps alarmed him. He turned his head toward the sound.

A tall figure in a flowing robe approached the bed he laid upon. The man was elderly, and as he grew closer, Lucius saw that his robe was quite dirty—almost as if this was the man’s sole article of clothing. Then he noticed something curious. The old man had only four fingers on each hand, not as though he was missing a digit on each, but his aged hands naturally had four.

And then the memories came flooding back to Lucius. He remembered coming to the Grey Swamps with Siegfried, meeting the druid, Alistair, and the brutal fight with the bear in the forest. He remembered Sêrhalon. The demon’s gray eyes specifically. Those cold eyes that shone in the moonlight.

Lucius, you have finally woken, the tall druid whispered, bending over to look at him.

Finally? How long have I been asleep? Lucius said in a low voice. He felt dizzy all of a sudden, uncertain whether the memories had caused the vertigo or the ache he now felt in his head.

You have been incapacitated for three weeks, Alistair said coolly.

Lucius rose up at that. Three weeks!

The quick motion proved to be too much for him, and he nearly collapsed onto the floor. Alistair held out an arm to steady him.

Easy, boy. Easy, he said in a calming tone. You are blessed to have survived such a vicious encounter with the Wretched One.

Lucius cringed at the mention of the name. Where is Siegfried? Is he all right?

Yes, yes, he is quite well. Worried about you, of course. He spends most of his mornings scouting the forest. I think he is concerned the darkness will return and cause you harm again. He should be back by midday. Elves are very much married to their routines, you know. Alistair smiled briefly.

I’m well aware, Lucius agreed.

Throughout the conversation he noticed something peculiar while Alistair spoke. Lucius’ right ear did not intake the speech well. He heard a muffled sound when the druid spoke rather than actual words. Lucius tapped the ear a few times involuntarily, and Alistair noticed.

You’re still deaf in that ear, I’m afraid, he said with a frown. "Siegfried told me he used the bywydur, but I don’t think it’ll work in this case. You were harmed by banshees’ magic—a very dark sort of magic. Although the bywydur is highly potent in healing injury and providing vitality, it is insufficient to deal with such dark conjurations."

Lucius’ forehead creased in a deep frown. In the week following his encounter with Siobhan and her sisters, he had foolishly hoped that the elixir would eventually heal his deafness. Now the reality that he would be half-deaf for the rest of his life severely depressed him. The intense headache he felt gave him little reason to hope for better days.

Alistair noticed his sullen mood and patted him on the shoulder. Do not despair, my boy. Be thankful that you are still alive and are able to hear at all. You’ve been through a great ordeal: banshees, dark forces, and a treacherous journey. And yet, Yewa has found favor in you. That should be something to cherish.

The druid rose from a stool near Lucius’ bed and grabbed a glass bottle filled with a familiar drink. He poured a glass into a small goblet and handed it to Lucius. Lucius took it reluctantly, knowing the bitter wine was not the most pleasing drink to ingest. He placed the cup to his lips, but Alistair raised a finger to stop him.

Sometimes the wine we think is most bitter to drink happens to be the most helpful for us. Remember that young Nostra, he said. Then the old druid poured himself a glass and they drank together.

As Lucius expected, the wine was indeed bitter, but the drink gave him a warm feeling inside. It wasn’t merely the alcohol causing the feeling, but a reassuring sense that everything would be all right. A feeling of hope—though small—that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

By midday, Siegfried had arrived at Alistair’s cabin. He entered the small cabin holding two hares he caught in a field nearby. Apparently his morning jaunts included hunting small game for Alistair, who had subsisted for most of his life on nuts and berries that the birds brought to him.

Once Siegfried realized that Lucius was awake, he ran to him and grasped him in a tight embrace. Elves seldom showed such overt affection, but the Silverharts were different than most elves.

I have been anxious for weeks over you, Lucius. Your fight with the bear was hard-won and left you near death’s door. I’m glad to see that Alistair’s skill in healing has helped you regain your strength, he said, beaming with a smile extending to each ear.

Lucius returned the smile, but his was noticeably feebler. I’m happy to be back in the land of the living. Now what’s this business about hunting? You’ve always hated killing animals for food.

In the past, I have. But our survival is crucial now and our friend, Alistair, was very persuasive about his need for meat on his plate, he explained.

Alistair raised an eyebrow at the statement. You cannot hold it against me that occasionally a good bit of meat is helpful for the stomach. And I somewhat respected your convictions against hunting. I forbade you to harm any birds or fowl, after all. For fairly obvious reasons.

Siegfried laughed. Quite obvious.

Lucius was surprised to see the casual manner between Siegfried and Alistair. His brother rarely smiled or chatted so freely with strangers. Alistair must have had a profound impact on the elf during Lucius’ convalescence.

So what’s our plan now, Siegfried? I’m almost recuperated. We should start planning our next move to unite with Violet and Naomi.

Everything in due time, Lucius. You’ve only just awoken from your slumber. Let’s have a few more days of rest before we set—

I don’t need any more rest, Siegfried! Lucius snapped, louder than he expected.

Alistair turned to him with raised eyebrows, puzzled at the outburst. Siegfried didn’t say a word for a moment. Then he finally added, I understand you don’t want to be idle.

Do you? You weren’t the one who nearly got himself killed fighting a possessed beast. And remind me, did you nearly die fighting off a pack of banshees who screamed away all sense of hearing in your ear? Lucius asked, fighting off tears. He knew the words were childish and petty, but he couldn’t help it. What had started as a distracting adventure from Evingrad had quickly turned into a painful slog. He no longer wished to be an injured weakling who couldn’t accomplish his task. But at the same time, he resented being the Ellyllei. If so much must be sacrificed to reforge the Requiem Sword and defeat the dragons, he wondered if he should have any part of it at all.

Alistair, would you give us a moment? Siegfried said, turning to the druid.

Alistair nodded and walked across the room to his pile of books and a group of birds anxious for a snack from their master.

Siegfried crossed his arms, shaking his head in disapproval.

What? Lucius asked, meeting his brother’s gaze.

I’m surprised at you, Lucius. You’ve never struck me as the kind of person who would dwell in self-pity and loathing.

Lucius’ anger fumed at the comment. Well, get used to it. I’m tired of being beat up on this journey of ours. I’ve just about had enough, Siegfried.

Lucius, we’ve both seen a share of toil since we left Verdania. We may experience more trials before we reach Aldron or find the Requiem Sword. But know this: I will always be by your side, brother. No matter what we face…we will face it together.

Siegfried placed a hand on Lucius’ shoulder and squeezed it gently.

Lucius felt like a fool now. He looked up at his older brother and nodded. Forgive me, Siegfried. I’m just so very tired.

As well you should be! You took on a dark creature in that forest. I don’t expect you to be galloping like a spring deer anytime soon, Siegfried said, another smile forming on his face.

This time Lucius grinned at the joke, rekindling some of their jovial ribbing. He pointed at the dead rabbits Siegfreid held in his hand. Well, are you going to make a meal out of those hares or what? I’m starving.

After a few more days of rest, Lucius regained much of his strength and began taking walks around the area surrounding the cabin. Siegfried cautioned him not to go too far, fearing that the Wretched One might still return to torment him. But Alistair made it clear to both of them that the demon lord’s presence had forsaken the Grey Swamps. Neither Lucius nor Siegfried was skeptical about that, but they did relax a little knowing the former darkness of the place had lifted.

On the fifth day of Lucius’ recovery, they all sat inside the cabin, discussing old folklore about the Requiem Sword. Namely, the origins of the sword which Alistair knew more about than either Lucius or Siegfried.

As Alistair discussed the history of Siegfried’s great-grandfather, Irribu Silverhart, a loud screeching call came from overhead. Craning his neck to the opening in the ceiling of the cabin, Lucius saw a peregrine falcon descend from the hole and perch itself onto a branch of the tree that filled the space.

Archibald, you’re home early. I don’t normally see you until the springtime. What are you doing here? the elder druid asked, looking at the bird curiously.

The falcon chirped a few times, and Alistair nodded in comprehension. For a few minutes the two carried on what seemed to Lucius like a perfectly normal conversation, except neither he nor Siegfried understood the unintelligible chirps and squawks. Finally, Alistair stood erect and turned toward them. His eyes were opened wide with mouth agape.

What’s the matter? Lucius questioned.

Aldron has been attacked, Alistair whispered. A dragon from Ghadarya attacked Gilead Palace more than a fortnight past.

Siegfried took a deep breath, ready to respond, but Lucius started first. How is that possible? The Drachengarde defend the city. Surely they would have stopped any dragons from attacking before they were within a mile of the castle.

Alistair shook his head. Archibald says the Drachengarde were away, fighting in the forests of Ithileo against the Draknoir.

Siegfried and Lucius looked at each other quizzically. Now it was the elf who shook his head. This doesn’t make any sense. Are you sure we can trust…a falcon to give us accurate information?

Alistair’s eyebrows knotted in a deep frown. I have never had any reason to doubt Archibald. He has been quite reliable in all the years he’s come to me.

The falcon gave out a sharp cry in agreement with the druid. Siegfried raised an eyebrow, but let the matter rest.

So how much damage has been done to the city? Were there many casualties? Lucius asked, feeling a sudden weight growing in his stomach. He thought of Silas, Violet and Naomi. They would all have been in Aldron during the time of the attack. Could they have lost their lives to the dragon’s fire? He tried not to speculate too much, but the thought of their deaths was persistent in his mind.

From what Archibald tells me, the damage to the city was extensive. Most of the wooden structures and settlements have burned down. The east wing of the palace has also suffered some damage, Alistair said grimly.

The mention of the palace only increased Lucius’ fears about Naomi and the others. He imagined they’d stay at the palace with Silas once they reached Aldron.

He shook the dreadful thought from his mind and tried to stay positive.

But the city was not razed, correct? Siegfried asked. The elf remained calm and collected throughout this revelation, as elves often did in most stressful situations. If there was any hint of worry or despair, Lucius could not see it on his brother’s face or body.

No, most of the city is still intact, and they even managed to kill the dragon. I’d never believe such a thing was possible without the Drachengarde on watch, Alistair said, tapping a finger to his chin.

Really? The dragon…killed? By whom, I wonder? Siegfried said in utter amazement.

Archibald flapped his wings and screeched lightly. Alistair nodded in what looked like agreement with the bird. Yes, yes. It’s very peculiar indeed.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, hoping for some elaboration between the druid and the falcon’s exchange.

It seems a dwarf killed the dragon in the town square, he said. I don’t think in all my years traveling and reading numerous histories have I ever heard of such a thing. Dwarves are very solitary creatures. They don’t care for leaving the comfort of their mines or caves.

Isn’t that the truth, Siegfried said, rolling his eyes. Elves and dwarves shared a mutual enmity.

Lucius learned of the elves’ distaste for dwarves under Helmer’s tutelage. The wars between elves and dwarves in the Archaic Age were nasty affairs. Neither the D’aryan elves nor Ulric’s kin showed much restraint in the atrocities both races unleashed toward the other. It was a brutal era, and Lucius was happy that both peoples had settled far from each other to avoid further conflict.

Do you mean to say that there’s never been a dwarf who’s combated a dragon? Lucius asked, now curious at the thought.

Not that I’m aware of. The closest beasts to dragons that the dwarves of Ulric have fought are wyverns: great flying snakes which would descend into the tunnel passageways of dwarven mines to eat their gold and silver. For obvious reasons, the dwarves loathed the creatures and slaughtered them in droves. I don’t believe any exist today.

None that I know of, Siegfried affirmed.

All right, so a dwarf killed the invading dragon in Aldron. Were there any other attackers, Archibald? Lucius said, unwittingly looking in the falcon’s direction.

The bird turned an eye at him and almost seemed to give a shrug—in so far as falcons were capable of shrugging. Alistair interpreted the motion and shook his head. No, it was only the lone dragon.

Why send a single dragon to fail in destroying the capital of Joppa? Siegfried mused.

To send a message, Lucius said. He didn’t mean to speak the words aloud, but the thought had just come to him. It seemed logical that the dragons would not send their entire force to destroy Aldron just yet. If he guessed correctly, Kraegyn was still not raised.

His dreams of the black dragon had continued, but their intensity had diminished recently. Perhaps the dragon leader had other concerns on his mind besides tormenting him—namely, finding a way out of the Abode of Shadows. With that in mind, Lucius surmised that Ghadarya wished to make their presence and power known. And the best way to do that would be to attack a stronghold of men—their most hated enemy.

Lucius relayed his thoughts to Siegfried and Alistair. Both of them nodded their agreement that this strategy was exactly what the dragons and