Grand Redemption (D'Vaire Book 1) Read online

  “A body could only believe that strong magic could create such a wonder, yet I sense nothing from inside. Perhaps this D’Vairedraconis is not at home,” Latarian spoke quietly, as she clutched the edges of her cloak.

  Ayden had not ventured this far to turn back and return to where they had come. “I sense something from inside, but I know not what to make of it. We should make our presence known and see if there is not someone inside who can assist us.”

  When Latarian continued to stand there with her knuckles now white from the strain of her hold on her clothing, Ayden raised his fist and gave the door a hearty knock. Next to him Latarian offered him a hateful stare; Ayden was sure she was about to pour a stream of angry words atop his head when the door whipped open.

  “Hello, can I help you? Hey, I like your clothes. They are really awesome. I haven’t seen anything like that in centuries. Kind of strange for a Wednesday in April, you look like it could be Halloween. Seriously, that would be a kick-ass Halloween costume. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a big Halloween party? Too bad it’s so far away. Are you hot in those clothes? Those cloaks look pretty heavy. Hey, you want to come inside?”

  Ayden knew his mouth was hanging open. A quick glance to his side and he was assured that Latarian was in very much the same state of shock. The woman who had spoken was tall. Indeed, she towered over Latarian. Her dark brown hair was pulled back away from her face, and if she were not so prone to what surely had to be excessive speech, her orange eyes with the hint of something almost scaly in their depths would give a body pause. Even more startling was her manner of dress; her legs were encased in a deep blue coarse looking fabric that left little to the imagination. Pushed into the top of the blue hose was a bright blue tunic whose sleeves ended far above the elbow.

  Slowly closing his gaping jaw, Ayden looked away from the woman and gave Latarian his full attention. Taught long ago that he should always cede to Latarians' authority, he waited for her to make the necessary introductions and inquire about her grandfather’s whereabouts. Much to Ayden’s disgust Latarian just continued to stand there; she had not even come to her senses enough to close her mouth and was still slack-jawed. Clearing his throat quite loudly Ayden tried to garner Latarian’s attention, but instead got the full awareness of the orange-eyed woman standing in the doorway.

  “Hey, do you need a drink of water or something? Come on inside, Noirin made cookies earlier. We could have some and get you something for your throat.” Before Ayden could so much as blink, the strangely dressed female grabbed his upper arm and all but hauled him inside her glass and wood castle. The inside of the castle was but a blur as he did his best to match her long strides as she had yet to loosen her grasp upon him. At least Latarian had finally been released from her stupor and had quickly followed them inside. Ayden was near breaking into a run to avoid landing flat on his face when his captor finally came to a halt inside an immense room full of light. The light shone from the massive windows in the room onto a seemingly endless board next to which several stools stood.

  “Hey Noirin, can we have some of those cookies you made this morning? Oh and we need drinks. Drinks first probably since the little guy has a dry throat or something.” The woman labeled as Noirin was even taller than the woman who still had a hold on Ayden’s arm. Noirin’s hair was black with strands of violet mixed in; it matched her dark violet eyes that also seemed to be scaly somehow. Her clothing was similar to that of her friend, except her tunic had no sleeves at all and was black as night.

  “Larissa, who are these people?” Noirin asked, and Ayden was glad that the orange-eyed woman had finally released his arm.

  “They knocked on the door. No one ever knocks on our door, so I invited them in. They don’t look at all dangerous,” Larissa explained, as she opened a door looked to be made of an unbelievably smooth metal that had a bright light inside. These people had magic indeed.

  “They are complete strangers and why are they dressed like it is still the Dark Ages?” Noirin asked, as Larissa poured milk from a strangely decorated container into what appeared to be a cup made of glass.

  “I don’t know. They haven’t said anything. Maybe they can’t talk. Hey, you guys aren’t mute, are you? Oh wait, how could you answer me if you are mute? Do we have any paper? They could write down their answers. I sure hope they can write otherwise I don’t know what to do. I would like to know their names at least,” Larissa said, as she searched for what could only be the paper she spoke of.

  Latarian was still silent, and Ayden was tired of being so, he liked this strange woman of too many words, “Ayden. I am called Ayden,” he announced to both strangers.

  “Hey, you can talk! Awesome! So Ayden, what’s with your clothes? You still want cookies or do you need the milk first? I don’t know about you, but I always drink milk with my cookies.” Larissa looked at him expectantly, but he was given no chance to respond.

  “Ayden, you must wait for me to make introductions. It was terribly rude of you to offer your name first, and you know you should be standing behind me until I give you leave to stand elsewhere,” Latarian declared angrily. Ayden’s arm was once again grabbed as he was dragged behind her.

  “Wow. Um, should you really be talking to him like that?” Larissa dared to ask after she and Noirin had exchanged wide-eyed glances.

  “Ayden is my familiar. His status is way beneath my own. He relies on me; his better to counsel and lead him,” Latarian informed the women archly.

  “Okay,” Noirin said slowly and shrugged at Larissa.

  “So then what’s your name?” Larissa inquired.

  “I am Latarian. I am the granddaughter of Carvallius. We come here seeking D’Vairedraconis. We were informed that this D’Vairedraconis would lead us to my grandfather.” Ayden maintained his silence as Latarian stretched the truth of her words. He was still mortified by the way she had spoken to him in front of his new friends.

  “Nice to meet you Latarian. Uh, D’Vairedraconis is our last name, so everyone that lives here is actually D’Vairedraconis,” Larissa explained and commenced her pouring of the milk into the glass vessels.

  “How many call this castle home? If I must have speech with all of them to learn of my grandfather I am up to the task,” Latarian stated haughtily.

  “It’s not a castle. It’s just a house, but there are only five of us right now. Usually, it is six, but Brogan is traveling again,” Noirin offered and opened a container of the most fragrant treats Ayden had ever had the pleasure of smelling.

  “Brogan. I take it he is your leader. I assume the rest of you are his servants. I must know of his whereabouts,” Latarian continued, as Ayden tried to move subtly closer to the food prepared by the tallest woman Ayden had ever seen.

  “Actually none of us are servants, but we do have a leader, King Aleksander. Brogan is one of his two dukes.”

  “A king? Are you human then? This must indeed be a mistake. My grandfather would not bother making his whereabouts known to a mere human.” Since he stood behind her Ayden allowed himself an eye-roll at Latarian’s words, he did not feel any race was below him, but Latarian believed every race was beneath warlocks.

  “We are not human. We are shifters,” Noirin stated stiffly.

  “What is a shifter?” Ayden blurted out and was not surprised when no admonishment came from Latarian. She was most likely grateful that he had asked the question so she would not have to ask herself. Latarian hated to admit when she did not have knowledge of a subject.

  “A shifter is someone who shares their soul with a beast and can transform into that beast whenever they want. The Draconis part of our last name represents our beasts; we shift into dragons,” once again, Noirin provided the explanation, and her words rang with unmistakable pride.

  “Truly you share your soul with that of a dragon?” Ayden asked in astonished wonder. He had always been fascinated by tales of dragons, but he had believed them to be no more than fables even though he possessed a dragon mira
ge of his own.

  “Yep. Dragons. We are the coolest shifters ever. Our emperor is the ruler of everyone; he leads the Council of Sorcery and Shifters,” Larissa boasted with pride about her dragon nature.

  “I thought it to be the Council of Sorcery,” Latarian retorted, her tone suggesting disbelief at all the news that these dragon women had imparted.

  “It was until a couple of hundred years ago when basically all the cool people left Europe and came here. Then they invited shifters and the dragons were placed in charge.” Ayden had thought to leave the cottage, but did not realize that they had left all of Europe behind them.

  “A king leads you; he must have great power amongst the council. Surely this is how he must know my grandfather.” Ayden almost let loose a groan at her words. Latarian did not seem to be even trying to find esteem with Ayden’s new friends.

  “I am indeed a king, but I am afraid I have no power to speak of, I am considered cursed amongst the council and the world at large ignores the six of us. You are looking for your grandfather?” A man, that somehow managed to be even taller than the dragon women, entered the large room where they stood. He was dressed similarly to the women and had black hair, with what appeared to be a layer of dark blue hair underneath, that fell sleekly to just past his shoulders. The dragon king had eyes that bore the same mix of black and blue found in his hair. They too had scales and around the pupils a tiny ring of silver and one of gold showed in their depths.

  “Cursed? What kind of curse has befallen you?” his curiosity once again overcame his manners as Ayden blurted out the question.

  “It’s a long, boring story of misunderstandings, bad timing, and superstition. Not really all that interesting. I am Aleksander, by the way,” the exotic looking man offered.

  “It is indeed a pleasure, Your Highness.” This time it was laughter that almost managed to escape as Ayden watched Latarian bat her eyelashes at the truly enormous man. Aleksander seemed oblivious to her fluttering eyelids; clearly he was a man of sense.

  “We don’t really use titles around here. You can just call me Aleksander.”

  “Of course, Aleksander. This is my familiar Ayden. I must apologize that he is not any taller than what he is; clearly he is no match for my power. It would be best if it were not mentioned again, he is overly sensitive about not representing me well.” While it was true that Ayden was shorter than everyone he had ever met, he did not feel ill at ease about it. It was Latarian who never let an opportunity pass to show her displeasure over the fact.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who apologized for someone else’s height before, but then I don’t get out much.” Ayden decided at that moment that he quite liked this king who didn’t feel the need for titles. Not more than an hour’s time outside their former home and already he boasted three new friends.

  “I was merely trying to help you understand the peculiarities of my familiar. I am quite sure you have never encountered a warlock with power strong as my own. You must find it astonishing that my familiar is so lacking in stature,” Latarian’s explanation ended with a pitying look at the familiar in question, who was still standing behind her.

  “Did you say warlock?” Aleksander asked, as his dark blue-black eyes widened in shock.

  “Indeed. Are you aware that it was our leader that created the council your emperor now finds himself ruling over?” It had to be the very first time Ayden had ever heard Latarian boast about anything besides her own accomplishments or those of her grandfather.

  “Yeah, everybody knows that, but you can’t possibly be a warlock,” Aleksander returned.

  “What would cause you to say such a thing? Of course I am a warlock.” Latarian was truly affronted at Aleksander’s words.

  “Because warlocks haven’t existed for hundreds of years. They were all wiped out in a war.” Ayden watched as Latarian began to sway at this bit of news, for himself he truly could not make sense of them. Surely the entirety of their race could not have perished.

  “Lies. These are lies you speak!” Latarian insisted.

  “Larissa, can you grab the history of races book from the library?” Aleksander pushed a flat vessel of what Larissa had labeled as cookies towards Ayden, who had taken a step away from Latarian. It certainly could not hurt to try the treats while they awaited Larissa’s return. He could tell from Latarian’s red cheeks that she was too angry to be concerned with the likes of him. Ayden was already enamored with these dragons, but they could not possibly be correct about what had become of warlocks.

  When Larissa returned with the book, she handed it over to Aleksander. He flipped through its pages until he found the one he sought, “Here, read this.” Aleksander turned the book around and set it on the counter so both Ayden and Latarian could read it together. Ayden quickly swallowed the cookie, whose sweet taste he had been thoroughly enjoying, and pressed close to Latarian to read what Aleksander wanted them to see.

  The Coven of Warlocks were the most powerful of the magical races and the original race to which all known modern races can be traced. Warlocks, unlike other magickind, were unlimited in the different schools of magic. Adequate study and practice would allow a warlock to weave an almost unimaginable scope of varying spells. It is unknown when the first warlock lived, but their demise is well-documented. Shortly after Grand Warlock T’Eirick created the Council of Sorcery in the late 1300s a dark warlock named Carvallius incited a feud between hi race and the notoriously violent cwylld elven.

  Well known for their propensity to destroy anyone they considered a rival, the majority of races did their best to steer clear of the cwylld elven. Unphased by their malevolence, Carvallius decided to use their dangerous reputation to bring down Grand Warlock T’Eirick and his mate Grand Summoner Saura. Carvallius began what eventually would bring down his entire race, by burning down a cwylld elven holding which killed many innocent elves. Carvallius’ plan was to undermine T’Eirick and Saura, by forcing them to hand over whatever tribute the cwylld elven would demand in reparation, making them appear weak to the Coven of Warlocks. Believing that that kind of weakness would make them seem ineffectual, Carvallius assumed that the Coven of Warlocks would demand their leaders’ resignations. T’Eirick and Saura’s twin sons would have been next in line to take over the duties of grand warlock and grand summoner. But, the eldest twin mysteriously vanished a few weeks before Carvallius put his plan in motion. It was Carvallius’ ultimate goal to be named as grand warlock himself. However, the likelihood of this occurring was virtually nonexistent because he was a dark warlock. While historically it was once common for the grand summoner to practice dark magic, every grand warlock has been a practitioner of light. Carvallius also had an untrustworthy reputation among his kind, and many of his activities were shrouded in mystery. The death of his only son and his mate were even rumored at the time to have been carried out by his own hand.

  Carvallius’ plot to ruin T’Eirick and Saura began to unravel quickly, when they refused to pay the gold and hand over the land that the cwylld elven felt owed to them. The grand warlock had been convinced that no warlock would commit such a heinous act, and therefore they would not be emptying the treasury. The cwylld elven were enraged and attacked. With the cwylld elven’s ability to absorb magic, the warlocks were soon dying in large numbers. Within less than a year, the cwylld elven had managed to end the war by killing the last known warlock.

  Grand Warlock T’Eirick and Grand Summoner Saura fought bravely and used their vast personal wealth and many holdings to house and protect as many of their people as they could. But in the end the cwylld elven proved to be too strong to overcome. The cwylld elven suffered colossal losses as a result of the war, and they were never again the terror of magickind. Today they are believed to be living in small isolated communities, and their numbers are believed to only amount in the dozens. Carvallius himself was killed not long after the conflict began, it is unknown who dealt the fatal blow, but his body was found in an abandoned c
abin in a deep forest. His magic was so dark and nefarious that it leached the life from the nearby land for several miles. Even today nothing grows and no wildlife ventures near the blackened soul where a lush forest once grew.

  The Council of Sorcery was in its infancy and was unprepared to deal with a threat like the cwylld elven. It was Arch Lich Chander Daray, the leader of the Order of Necromancia, who helped establish the Order of the Fallen Knights who police and protect the people of what is today the Council of Sorcery and Shifters. Arch Lich Chander Daray continues to rule over necromancers, and Reverent Knight Drystan Kempe oversees the fallen knights.

  The Coven of Warlocks left behind a single mystery, the fate of T’Eirick and Saura’s twin sons who were around the age of eighteen when the war broke out. Neither of their bodies were ever found. Both seemed to have vanished, the eldest before the war and the younger of the two disappeared within days of the war’s start. In the centuries that have passed no one has seen or heard from either of the twins. Their magic was indisputably greater than any warlock to have lived before them; it would be near impossible for that kind of power to remain unnoticed and undetected. They are both believed to have perished.

  Ayden felt weak in the knees and sat heavily on the stool next to him. He had not even begun to organize his thoughts when Latarian began screaming, “These are lies! Horrible lies! Who would say such things? Grandfather was a wondrous man and most certainly did not begin a war! He was on his way to see T’Eirick to counsel him to do what the cwylld elven wanted to prevent a war. I cannot allow the world to continue to believe that my grandfather was anything but a brave and powerful warlock who would have made a tremendous leader for our people.”