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“Let me out of here!” she wailed desperately. “Please, somebody let me out of here.” The princess continued to sob and moan, ever pleading, “Let me out of here, please.”

Avalana slid down the door. Her face was red and streaked with moisture. Many strands of her white-gold hair clung to her puffy cheeks. Her gown was ripped and tattered.

Loric’s heart went out to the Princess of Regalsturn, whom he loved. Even her current pitiful state could not sway his mind from what he knew in his heart. Loric had never welcomed a person as warmly as he now welcomed the sight of this lonely, frightened woman. He longed to run to her rescue.

The door opened, just a crack, so Avalana moved, allowing it to open further. The hideous King of Nindronburg burst in. His hair was dark brown, like his fierce, angry eyes. Hoops dangled from his ears, which had been pierced many times. His chest was bare, but for the wicked dragon tattooed upon it. A set of bulging breasts boasted nipples with gold rings through them. He was built as solidly as rock and his appearance made him look as rough as a

mountainside.

The barbarian dragged his servant Ne’te in behind him, in naught but her thong. Black ringed her left eye, with its white lined bloody red, where her master had struck her. The brute raised his hand toward her, and she let her battered face hang toward the floor. She did not look up again, only stood there with her hands folded meekly at her waist.

Turtioc grinned at Avalana from within his thick, bristly beard and taunted her in a pouting tone. Ne’te translated, saying, “My king wishes to know what is the matter, princess?”

Avalana pouted sympathetically at Ne’te. “Your poor face,” she remarked, moving for a closer look.

Turtioc slapped her hand away and snarled at her in his twisted tongue. “My king says not to touch his property,” said Ne’te. “My king also says the time has come for him to take you to his wedding bed.”

Avalana eyed Turtioc fearfully and began squirming away from him.

The barbaric warlord laughed at her as he closed the door behind him. Then he muttered harshly as he slowly stalked toward her. “He says he will take you by force, if you will not come willingly.”

Avalana rolled onto her hands and knees to crawl away from the warlord.

Turtioc rumbled in speech once more, grinning like a wolf, but Ne’te did not translate. Then he ran to Avalana, grabbed a thick handful of her beautiful hair and dragged her to her feet. She shrieked as he pulled her toward the bed. In return, he laughed and spoke his guttural garble at her, again without interpretation.

Avalana lashed out at her attacker with her fingernails, leaving three bloody trails flowing down his forearm. He cursed her and let her go. She tried to run, but there was no way out of the room. Before she could open the door, Turtioc grabbed her again.

There was indistinct muttering from the villain. He growled as he forced the princess toward her bed and tossed her onto its cushioned mat.

“Please, help me!” Avalana shrieked to Ne’te.

Ne’te only translated for Turtioc, saying, “My king says he will have you, and he will enjoy it. You.... you should welcome him to your bed and enjoy it too.” Tears streaked the sides of the servant’s face.

Avalana stood and turned to face Turtioc. Then she placed her hands nervously upon his chest. “All right,” she said.

Loric was stunned.

Turtioc smiled and spoke gently in his animalistic tongue, as the princess began caressing his muscular breasts.

“Anything you ask for, lord,” Avalana began obsequiously, her voice souring into hissing defiance as she quickly seized the rings in his chest to finish, “that is what you will get!” With that said, she applied torque to both nipple rings and ripped them out.

Turtioc cursed in pain and rage. He backhanded Avalana across her face. She fell hard to the floor. The warlord jumped on top of the dazed princess, grabbing her about her neck, yelling hotly.

Loric needed no interpreter to know the barbarian king was going to choke the life out of his dazzling princess. “No,” he whispered against the vision.

Avalana tried to scream, but she could not. Turtioc let go of her throat and taunted her.

Avalana seized her moment to shriek as loudly as she could. Turtioc just laughed hideously.

Ne’te translated portions of what the wicked king had to say, mostly to sooth Avalana, to keep her from being beaten, Loric guessed. “It is no good to scream. My king says that thanks to Hadregeon the fool and Marblin the Traitor, there is no one in all of Beledon more powerful than he is. You will be his wife, so save yourself from abuse and accept him.” Turtioc’s insane cackle rang out against the stonework.

Suddenly the door flew inward. There stood King Hadregeon, glaring at Turtioc. The King of Landolstadt was tall and thin. His shiny black hair fell straight to his lower back. He was fair-skinned, with handsome features and blue eyes. His face was cleanly shaven, giving him a civilized appearance that his unruly ally Turtioc lacked beyond recovery.

“What is going on here?” Hadregeon inquired, enunciating each word with the precision of a learned man.

“My king says he and the princess were planning their marriage,” Ne’te translated for the sneering Turtioc. “He says to leave him to his fun.” She cast her eyes to the floor beneath her bare feet.

“I do not think that would be appropriate,” Hadregeon replied, eyeing the bloody trails on Turtioc’s chest with a satisfied smirk. “I have no wish for the lady to come to harm, which means you cannot be trusted alone with her. Besides,” he added, “the princess could still hold substantial value for us. After all, I am sure her father has an army. As long as beautiful Avalana is our guest, he will not likely misuse his host.”

“My father will never join you!” Avalana objected.

“I am inclined to disagree with you,” Hadregeon shared charmingly. “I have met King

Avalar. You are but a token by which the man would buy an ally. Right now, Turtioc and I are the powers that control this land. Avalar will do what is right for his kingdom. We will reward him for placing his trust in us, as your hosts. Of course, once I am crowned King of Beledon, I will strongly have to consider making you my consort. You are quite a decorative flower, after all. You could dress up my throne room nicely.”

“Never!” Avalana shrieked.

“So be it, princess,” Hadregeon said. He then turned and left the chamber, calling, “Come along, Turtioc. We have battles to fight.” He stopped long enough to say, “And don’t forget your mouthpiece, else I will never understand you.”

Turtioc hissed quietly in Avalana’s ear. Ne’te mumbled, “My king warns that you will not be so lucky next time. Once he arranges the Long Hair’s accident, there will be no one to keep you from your appointed union.” The barbarian king laughed aloud.

Turtioc exited the room, yanking his translator out with dislocating force and slamming the door behind him with a resounding
clang.
Avalana turned onto her side and cried. “Loric, where are you?” she sniffled.

I am here,
he mouthed back at her. He started to add,
I have the Dragon’s Eye from the
Great King’s Sword. I will come to you as soon as I am able.

****

“Did you see something in the stone?” asked Warnyck, who was looking over his shoulder, directly into those red facets.

“Did you not see?” Loric questioned.

“Then you did see something,” Warnyck inferred. His excitement was evident, as he

continued shifting positions, like a boy who could not stay still.

“Yes,” Loric assured him. “I saw many things--interesting things,” he admitted.

Loric told Warnyck some parts of the vision he had seen in the Dragon’s Eye. In the

abridged version of what he saw, Aldric and Garrick were trying to break through Hadregeon’s forces and win their way to Emerald Spires, but Avalana was in grave danger as Turtioc’s captive. Loric made no mention of personal things, like Aldric’s secret power play, his love for Avalana or Turtioc’s passing mention of
Marblin the Traitor
. He chose to focus on details that were pertinent to his immediate quest, as well as things that would spur his party on in pursuit of its successful end. The first two omitted items were irrelevant to the group, and new questions surrounding dear old Marblin the Moonwatcher were too troubling to reveal at present. Loric wished to give that matter greater consideration before he broached it on a party level. In the meantime, he promised himself that he would peek in on Turtioc and Hadregeon more

frequently, so he could discover what else they might have to say of his loyal companion, fumbling, bumbling Marblin.

Perhaps it was Turtioc’s implication of the Moonwatcher in his plot with Hadregeon, or perhaps the brutal stench of the lair that prompted Loric to say, “I need fresh air to flush the rot from my nose, friend scout. Let us climb out of this hole and wake the others. Then we can plan our next march. Now.... How do we get out?”

“Follow the water, and we will find our way; unless you want to try getting out the way we came in,” Warnyck suggested with a twist of a grin.

“I suppose you are right,” Loric agreed, as he and the scout started moving.

Warnyck placed a hand on Loric’s shoulder and questioned, “Where will this next march take us?”

“Woodhall is close. That is where Donigan met the fell dragon Andokandazur, so we might as well see what clues we can find there. If we find nothing to help us, we can venture into the Wyrm Mountains, or we can take the long road to Emerald Spires. Given my first choice, I would not return to war without the Sword of the Dragon’s Eye.”

“Agreed,” Warnyck said with a grin. “Follow the short road first,” the scout reasoned. He pondered aloud, “It will be interesting to see what awaits us at Woodhall.”

“Legend has it that the spirit of Andokandazur dwells there--or, so Marblin has said--but we will have to wait to find out,” Loric answered.

“Do you suppose bards and scribes will name their lays and books
The Spirit of

Andokandazur?”
Warnyck half-joked. “Perhaps
The Rise of the New King
would do....”

“I will hear no more of this kingship talk!” Loric scolded the scout. “We should not presume to be so important.” He sighed. Then he humored Warnyck, suggesting, “If ever they write about our adventures, it will largely depend on who survives, for that is the way history is logged. So my Da said, upon a time,” he added, remembering. “He told me that losers write in grave markers and victors live to forget how the losers came to fill their graves, so they tell the stories as they like them to be.”

Those two men shared a hearty laugh and walked on to find the exit, chasing the water channel until they emerged under the full light of the morning sun. The brilliant green moss that clung to those rocks above the Venom Fall added proper contrast in color to give the site a majestic beauty all its own. In places, patches of tall grass flourished, while several wondrous poplars with thick clusters of foliage openly declared this a separate territory from Dimwood Forest. To complete the divinity of nature’s glorious work, there were plants with long slender leaves and bulbous fuchsia-shaded flowers hugging the bases of those rocky walls all around the gurgling pool that drank down the Venom Stream. After the black lair of Ungertakkus, this place was paradise. Loric and Warnyck drew in fresh air and laughed with the joy of victors, even knowing of the hard road before them. Neither man knew what their journey to Woodhall would entail, but both of them were satisfied to know that one day, bards would sing of the man who had slain Mighty Ungertakkus to reclaim the Dragon’s Eye. He was Loric son of Palendar, the Blood of Logant.

About The Author

David S. Wells first took to fantasy literature as a boy of eight. He made his first attempt to write fiction two years later. However, it was not until 1997 that he first authored The Blood of Logant.

The Blood of Logant has grown into The Dragon Eyes Chronicles, which includes The Fire of Kings and The Sons of Donigan. The series has a fourth manuscript under revision, with a fifth awaiting rework and more novels in the planning. Wells has written several unpublished manuscripts apart from his story about the heroic warrior, Loric of Taeglin, including To Be King of Anthemhar; about a prince who yields to the ruthless survivalist nature of his wicked family, ere his goddess rejects him and forces him to learn humility en route to redemption. The Last King of the Rock, a novel about three young people and a murderer battling the forces of evil to restore balance between swords and sorcery, humans and elements of nature, inspired Wells to create his website,
David S. Wells Short Story Collection.
It also encouraged him to revise his other works. That tale likewise restored his belief in pursuing publication. In 2012, Wells published Infinity’s Star, his first e-pub novel, about a wizard’s apprentice, who makes a big mistake brewing the essence of a spell for capture, resulting in the loss of her mentor’s staff to the Shadow King, and then follows her quest to recover it. His current projects include “The Harpist’s” and “The Box of Endless Horizons” series, which are published on his website. A science fiction, action-adventure called “Awakening” is the current centerpiece of the blog page