Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  GAUNTLET

  OF INIQUITY

  Daniel Adorno

  Lost Coin Press

  Gauntlet of Iniquity

  Daniel Adorno

  Copyright © 2016

  All Rights Reserved.

  Lost Coin Press

  St. Paul, MN

  Cover design by Sevenlives Designs

  Printed in the United States of America

  First printing, 2016

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  http://www.danieladorno.com

  To Gabriel.

  Walk upright and never fear, my son.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  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 ste
eled 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.