The clatter of metal interrupted their conversation. The abbot rounded the hedge’s corner, struggling with the load of a sword, shield and the reins of a saddled steed. He placed the armour on the bench. “These are for ye. They were left by a young knight who died.” The abbot nodded towards the abbey cemetery. “He lies yonder in our consecrated ground. The dragon was too much for him. I pray they will help ye protect the babe and defeat the scourge that plagues us.”
Hawkyns lifted the blade and checked it. He turned the shield. A wave of pain rolled off him and hit Derry. Cringing, she dropped to her knees. Hawkyns knelt beside her, concern covering his brow. She placed her fingers on his cheek. “Ye knew him? The knight whose shield that is.” She nodded towards the bench. “I felt yer pain.”
“Aye. I know this shield.” He held out his hand and helped her stand. “He was a brave knight. See, these interlaced annulets and shafted arrow. This is the shield of my younger brother, Adon. It will be an honour to carry his weapon.”
Screams filled the air. Derry gripped her head. The rage was too much. She could not push it away.
A monk raced to the side of the abbot. “People at the gate. With torches and knives and… and… The monastery is attacked. They want the babe.” He clutched at his chest, trying to inhale air.
Hawkyns slipped his arm through the shield’s straps and gripped his weapon. Derry could sense the anger building in him. It wasn’t evil anger. It was the anger of a knight knowing he must right an injustice.
“Derry, stay back here. Take the horse and hide in the herbarium. I will get the child and return.”
The abbot stood in front of Hawkyns, barring his attack. “Ye cannot kill anyone within the walls of the abbey. This is a place of peace. Of God.”
Hawkyns flinched. “But if they kill yer brothers?”
The monk lowered his head. “'Tis God’s will.”
Hawkyns’ knuckles turn white from the grip on his sword. Frustrated anger filled his brow.
Father Jacobus raised his hand. “Do not fight me on this, my son. Swear, in the eyes of God, that ye will not kill within the walls of Baswich Abbey.”
Hawkyns knelt and placed the point of his sword on the ground and rested his forehead on the cross-shaped hilt. “I swear I will kill no one on abbey grounds.”
The abbot made the sign of the cross over him. “Go. Save the child.”
Hawkyns stood then raced around the hedge and disappeared.
What do dragons, knights and romance have in common? Grab a copy of multi-published author Daryl Devore’s medieval fantasy romance – The Last Dragon and discover the answer.
A sorcerer craving dominance merged with a dragon, the power overwhelmed him causing him to split into three dragons. Demora ruled thought, but was lost in time. Yidithe offered protection, shining like the light of the sun. Ayrradex craved chaos, revelling in destroying souls.
Many knights died, attempting to slay the devil beast. One knight, Prince Hawkyns, did not fear death. He’d lost everything. Away on a mission when Ayrradex attacked his father’s kingdom, Penrythe, Hawkyns returned to find his noble father – feeble and defeated. His wise mother – crazed. His beautiful wife and unborn child - dead. Only a pile of ashes remained for him to bury. He knelt before his King and vowed to slay the devil-beast or be slain.
Derry was born with powers that terrified her parents. They delivered her to a nunnery to be raised in secret. Jathe, a wise sorceress, discovered the young girl and trained her to one day use the secret hidden in her soul.
Legends spoken around campfires hinted the sole way to destroy Ayrradex was when the hearts of a knight and a golden dragon became one. But after a vicious battle with Ayrradex, the golden dragon was thought to be dead.
Can Prince Hawkyns’s bravery and Derry’s powers end the reign of the devil-beast’s terror?
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