The Dragon's Oath: A Dark Fantasy Romance Adventure Page 2

  Lord Lockwood watched his son for a moment before turning to the opposite side of the corridor. Walking along, the lord let memories flow, filling his mind and his heart. A confidence swirled as he knew deep down his son would rise to the occasion.

  Lockwood stepped to the double doors at the end of the corridor. Knowing the servants were just on the other side, he prepared to ask them to bring up a flagon of mead and those tasty corn cakes he liked so much. Hand reaching out for the handle, the lord’s brow creased as the door clicked and opened before he touched it.

  The lord’s eyes moved up as the door slowly opened, a dark outline just outside and one of the servants on the stone floor, blood pooling. Red eyes glowed as fingers curled around the door edge and a blade shined in the dim torchlight.

  “Death has come for you,” leered the shadow as the blade shot forward.

  Two

  The air stood still like a pond during the deepest of winters. Lord Lockwood gazed at the red eyed shadow, the world spinning to a halt. The figure grinned like a demon, twisting the blade. The lord felt warmth spill from his side but could not bring himself to look down. A fire lit and blood pumped. The lord’s shocked expression melted away and was replaced with a growing storm.

  Muscles flared with power as the lord took hold of the door and slammed it shut on the arm that was through it, dagger buried in his side. The rage swelled as Lockwood grunted and soon growled his fury. The door slammed twice until bone snapped. The third slam ruptured veins and black ichor spurted. Upon opening the door, the fourth time, wild grunts spilled in and dark violet hands took hold, preventing the lord from slamming the door again.

  Lockwood pulled back, stumbling for a moment before turning and running. At the end of the corridor, Dorian stood at the library entrance, eyes the size of saucers. Lockwood grabbed at the dagger still buried in his side and pulled it out, tossing it aside.

  “Lock yourself in! Do not open it until I say so!” Lockwood shouted as he ran and stumbled to his bedroom chamber door.

  Dorian was rooted to the spot, watching his father lift a hand and paint the edge of his doorway with red. The lord stumbled into his bedroom and was gone from sight. At the end of the corridor, the doors slammed open and dark figures stepped into the torchlight. Red eyes focused on the prince as he stood, frozen.

  “We are coming for you too, prince,” A violet skinned elf with long flowing white hair grinned.

  Dorian could see their leather armor, short swords and daggers. Bodies spilled in with murderous intent as they made their way down the corridor. The prince knew shadow elves when he saw them. Chaotic thoughts filled his mind as he tried to move. They held towns and kingdoms all over Navarr but the ones north of the Shadow Tip Mountains were mad creatures, bent on conquering and hoarding dark magic.

  Dorian woke from his trance as a throwing dagger slammed into the wood frame by his face. The prince looked to the dagger still vibrating. Inaction withered away as he knew the danger he was in. Hands grabbed at the door and he began to pull them closed when something flashed from his father’s bedroom.

  “Enter my home!” Lockwood screamed like a monster from abyss.

  The shadow elves turned their attention as Lockwood raised his sword, Splitter. The sword glowed with ethereal light before slashing across. Green energy whipped out as two shadow elves raised their swords to parry the incoming emerald force while several others dove for the floor.

  Dorian stood transfixed, the door partially closed as the two shadow elves cried out for a moment before the tops of their blades flipped into the air and their bodies fell in two halves. Dark blood spurted, filling the corridor with a sickening smell.

  “Barricade the doors!” Lockwood commanded his son as he took a battle stance.

  Dorian could not do as he was told as he stared in disbelief. Shadow elves poured into the corridor as the remaining ones closest to the lord, stood up. Lockwood growled his contempt as he launched himself into the fray. Splitter glowed with greenish light as the lord drove his body into the shadow elf invaders. Blades slashed outward, trying to parry the lord’s sword but they too shattered on impact. Daggers slipped silently through the air, sinking into the lord’s robe and flesh underneath.

  Lockwood never slowed down as Splitter sliced hard across a neck and sent a head crashing into a fellow invader. Blood sprayed as the lord cut through them like saplings in spring time. Dorian stared in horror as limbs flew and blood splashed onto his father. The shadow elves fought on like rabid monsters, trying to further their edge but the powerful lord cut them down, one swing at a time.

  The shadow elf numbers doubled and they converged on the lord. Lockwood roared like a caged beast, slicing the enemy in half or cleaving off a sword arm for good measure. A dagger slipped through and punctured Lockwood’s back. The lord spun around, sword slicing outward and slashing the back stabber across the stomach. Red eyes widened as he tried to hold his insides from spilling out. A second slice separated his head from his neck.

  White hair glowed in the torchlight as the shadow elves pressed their attack. Lockwood stood, gore and elf blood soaking his robe and mixing with his own blood. Chest heaving, he looked to the next elf to take their head when a tremble filled his hands.

  Dorian watched as his father swayed, eyes turning from rage to fear. Falling to one knee, he heaved with heavy breath but kept his sword up. The shadow elves moved in closer, their numbers falling to ten.

  “Dorian…..I love….you….” Lockwood heaved as his arms began to shake.

  “Kill him and kill the whelp!” One of the shadow elves shouted before they attacked the kneeling lord.

  Several broke away and ran silently toward the prince. Dorian stared as swords rose up over his father. Lockwood stabbed his blade into an unguarded stomach before slashing across and severing another elf’s leg. It was the last action he took before bodies jumped on him and stabbed with swords and daggers, over and over again.

  Dorian’s heart cracked as several elves raced toward him. The prince grabbed the door and slammed it shut just as they reached it. Hands pounded as the prince slid the bar across and stepped back. The door bounced and cracked as the sound of several more assassins attacked the thick wooden door.

  Dorian turned and darted to the glass doors on the other side of the private library. Opening them, he stepped onto the wide balcony and stared out at the kingdom. He was at the highest point in the castle. Moving to the edge, he looked down and knew if he jumped, there would be little chance of survival. A cold wind washed over the young man as the bar holding the door cracked. The sound of bodies ramming into the door continued as the prince tried to think of something.

  The door to the library buckled and the wood bar shattered. Doors swung open as leather clad shadow elves stalked in, eyes focusing on the prince where he stood on the balcony.

  “Royalty dies and the kingdom falls,” A shadow elf taunted as he led the group.

  Dorian stood at the edge of the balcony, eyes glancing over the edge.

  The shadow elf leered, “Jump little one. Jump and lose your honor. Your father died like a true warrior. If you jump, your legacy will live on as a coward.”

  Dorian gripped the stone railing, a dread creeping over his spirit.

  The shadow elf stepped closer to the balcony edge, “Why take on that burden? We can make it quick, keeping your honor intact. Step closer so we can end this properly.”

  Dorian climbed up onto the edge, heart beating like a contained typhoon, “I’d rather die on my kingdom’s lands then let one of you foul creatures touch me!”

  The shadow elf gave a sardonic chuckle, “So ends the Lockwood dynasty. Jump to your death so the Tower Edge kingdoms know their time has come to an end.”

  Dorian watched as the shadow elves moved closer, white smiles all around. The prince wanted to cry. He wanted to shout how unfair the world was. Sadness touched his heart and a tear streamed down his cheek. He wanted to say “I love you” to his dying fa
ther and now that moment was forever lost. Fingers curled into tight fists. The soreness he felt before was gone as his heart raged with new purpose. Images of his father fighting to the end filled his young heart and he knew, he could never end his own life.

  The prince glared at the shadow elves before letting out a roar. The elves stopped in their tracks as a shadow loomed behind the prince. Dorian leapt down, an uncompromising storm in his eyes as the elves backed off. The shadow flapped once with power before barreling into the library.

  Dorian looked up, astonishment filling his eyes. A dragon the size of a large horse folded its wings back and landed before the prince. The creatures’ power shook the very foundation as it growled. Green and black scales gleamed in the torchlight as the serpentine monster gazed down at the elves falling back. Anger flashed as it stalked forward a few steps on all fours.

  The dragon looked past the elves as Lockwood lay in a pool of his own blood, parts of shadow elf bodies surrounding him. The dragon let out a sad growl before shifting her serpent eyes on the ten shadow elves in the room.

  “Nypha….” Dorian whispered as he gazed at the dragon.

  Time slowed to a crawl. Several shadow elves gathered their courage and attacked the dragon while others turned to flee. Nypha let out an annoyed grunt as her hand flashed forward, fingers curling around an elf’s body. The elf screamed before fingers tightened and eyes burst from their sockets. Bones crunched and blood burst from constricted organs. Nypha let the elf drop as she reached for another.

  Panic bloomed as the elves hacked at her body. Blades hit scales, sparks flying. The dragon grabbed another elf and silenced his screams with a horrific crush of her fingers. Razor sharp mouth open, the dragon lurched forward and closed teeth on the top portion of a shadow elf. The body convulsed as the top part was ripped off and fell to the library floor, blood soaking into the rug. The remaining elves pulled back with their fleeing brethren, knowing they could not damage the scaled monster.

  Nypha charged, hand grabbing a fleeing elf and crushing him with one squeeze of her long fingered hand. Staying on all fours, she chased after the remaining elves, moving into the tight corridor with greenish flames leaking from the sides of her mouth.

  At the end of the corridor, the elves stopped short as General Strum and guards closed in. Bodies covered in cuts and blood, they showed no fear despite a dragon filling the other end of the hall. The shadow elves put their backs together, their number a paltry six. Blades out, they readied themselves.

  Dorian stepped from the balcony into the library, dazed. Eyes drank in the dragon as she glanced back, her serpent eye connecting with his. The flames at her mouth died as sorrow leaked into her oval eyes. General Strum shouted his orders and the guards surged forward, at the general’s side. Nypha turned to the elves, her head snaking out and crunching down on a shadow elf.

  Blades clashed for only a moment before elves were cut down. In mere moments, it was over. Bodies slumped but the guards continued to hack at them, turning them into bloody trunks of flesh. Tears fell from Strum and the guards as they screamed and shouted, stabbing and cutting at the dead shadow elves.

  Dorian stepped beside the dragon and looked down at his father. Lord Lockwood lay in a pool of red, eyes staring up at nothing but his sword still in his hand. Pain welled up as the prince fell to his knees, throwing his body on his father and sobbing uncontrollably. Body shaking, he held his father’s cooling form, wailing and sobbing like a ghost lost in the night.

  Nypha’s body shuddered and convulsed, shrinking smaller and smaller. Scales retracted along her skin as horns shifted to the front. Green hair sprouted and rolled down her shoulders. Tail shrinking as she knelt in her half dragon form. Scaled hands reached down to the sobbing prince. A tear ran down her cheek as she touched the wailing young man.

  Dorian turned his head to the dragon woman, tears blinding him. Without a thought, he flung himself into her chest and arms. Nypha’s eyes widened for a moment before she held him close and rested her head on his. The prince’s cries sang on as Strum and the guards surrounded the dragon and young man, a sorrow filling their collective hearts and a weeping taking hold of the entire kingdom in the cool night air.

  Three

  The sound of clanking metal filled the corridor. General Strum stepped along with urgency, down the main corridor to the thick double doors of the private library. A hand reached out and took hold of the well worn handle. Giving it a pull, light spilled into the darken hallway.

  Sunlight filled the library, the glass doors to the balcony open with a warm breeze flowing in. The general squinted as he walked in, eyes adjusting to the bright light. Looking from right to left, Strum’s eyes landed on a shadowy corner. Booted feet rested on a small table. Lord Lockwood sat in the chair with his feet up and an open book on his face. Arms dangled at his sides as his chest rose and fell with a calm rhythm.

  Strum stepped over, clearing his throat and gazing down at the sleeping lord. Dorian didn’t stir. The general cleared his throat once again, adding a gruff cough as the end. Dorian’s hand twitched and his head shifted, the book sliding off his face and into his lap. The general gazed on the lord as he slumbered with his mouth open and clear drop of saliva dripping down from the corner of his lips. Dorian was in his royal attire but he kept his armored boots on. Strum grinned for a moment, knowing the lord liked the idea of being grounded at all times. Keeping his heavy boots on gave him a comfort the general could understand but thought it was a little strange.

  Strum cleared his throat one more time while lifting a hand and smacking the boots off the table. Dorian’s eyes shot open as his feet landed on the floor and the chair tipped forward.

  “I’m awake!” Dorian yelled in a thick haze.

  The general nodded, “Good to hear it my lord.”

  Dorian looked up at the general and gave him a lazy smile, “Good morning.”

  Strum let a sigh slip, “Its early afternoon, my lord. I would have let you continue with your…reading, but something has occurred that requires your attention.”

  Dorian wiped the clear drop from his chin and looked himself over, “Is it that serious? I’m back one day and the kingdom needs me?”

  General Strum gave a tired nod, “The kingdom will always need you.”

  Dorian’s eyes sagged, “I suppose it does.”

  The lord was to his feet, smoothing out his leggings and shirt. Strum admired the prince now turned lord. Dorian had grown to a six one stature with strong shoulders. He carried his father’s youthful appearance, almost as if they were carved by the same angelic artists. The general had seen him grow over the last six years to become a fine and intelligent lord, even if his laziness appeared from time to time.

  “Alright, out with it, what is so serious that I must show my face?” Dorian said as he stood up straight.

  Strum was silent for a moment, picking his words carefully, “We have visitors. I would ask you to have an open mind before we make any rash judgments.”

  Dorian eyed the white haired general, “You often say that when it’s something dire.”

  “I cannot say it is. It’s your decision if it is dire or not,” Strum said plainly.

  The lord was about to say something when he closed his mouth. Strum was an incredible general, tough as nails but carried the spirit of a poet. Dorian had known him long enough that if a situation presented its self and Strum already knew the outcome, his eyes would grow dark, as they did now.

  Lord Lockwood began walking and the general followed. The two left the private section of the castle tower and made their way down the winding stone stair cases. Dorian’s heart beat steadily as he made his way down to the main floor. Strum said nothing as he followed his lord. Corridors twisted and turned and soon they reached the majestic main hall.

  Dorian stepped through the doors to see his men gathered along the edges of the throne room. Xoli stood by the throne with her hood down, displaying her long golden hair and pointed ears. The cou
rt sorceress turned her almond shaped eyes to Dorian before turning her gaze to the throne room floor.

  The lord followed her gaze as he stepped to her side and then to the stone throne. Dorian’s gaze hardened when he witnessed several of his guard creating a semi-circle around three shadow elves. The entire throne room was silent as two females and a male turned their red eyes up to Lord Lockwood. Sunlight filtered through the clear glass, painting sections of the throne room but even its light didn’t touch the three dark skinned elves at the bottom of the throne dais.

  Dorian’s fingers curled into tight fists as he stood with his back to the throne. Xoli noticed he didn’t sit, which was never a good sign. The three shadow elves bowed their heads. A shadow elf woman stood before the younger male and female, eyes looking up but head bowed. General Strum took his place on the right side of the throne while Xoli stayed at the left. The guards watched with a burning intensity. Dorian’s rage touched the edge of his eyes as his blood began to simmer.

  “Thank you for seeing us…” The shadow elf woman began before being cut off.

  “State why you are here and breaking the agreement,” Dorian asked harshly.

  The shadow elf woman bowed her head again, a sliver of fear in her eyes, “We have come for mercy, to impart information and ask for shelter.”

  Dorian gazed on the elves with contempt, “Mercy cannot be earned.”

  The shadow elf nodded, “I would agree but what we have discovered may aid in your decision. My name is Fenna and this is my daughter, Gella and my son, Noss. We have come to ask for your protection and mercy. Our kingdom north of Demon Pass has been plagued by unseen monsters, stealing our people nearly every night. My husband was one such victim. We could not bear living in the Shadow Tree forest any longer while unspeakable creatures snatch my people.”

  Fenna knelt down to both knees and bowed her head, her grown children doing the same, “It is not safe in our home. We ask to pass through Uboria and continue on to the forests to the south so we may begin again.”