The Legend of Drak'Noir: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 3) Read online

  The Legend of Drak’Noir

  Epic Fallacy

  Book 3

  Michael James Ploof

  Copyright © 2017 Traveling Bard Publishing

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  The Legend of Drak’Noir

  Other Books

  Special Thanks

  Would you like a free eBook?

  Map of Fallacetine

  Chapter 1

  The Hangover

  Chapter 2

  The Search for Sir Eldrick

  Chapter 3

  Dancing Gods and Yeti Dens

  Chapter 4

  The Prisoner of the Twisted Tower

  Chapter 5

  Rubic’s Triangle

  Chapter 6

  Is That a Wand in Your Pocket?

  Chapter 7

  Tired of Being Tired

  Chapter 8

  A Raving Reunion

  Chapter 9

  Farewell to the City of Ice

  Chapter 10

  The Magic of Love

  Chapter 11

  Escape Artist

  Chapter12

  Angry Wizards, and the Birds and the Bees

  Chapter 13

  A Dark Lullaby

  Chapter 14

  Tales From the Crow’s Nest

  Chapter 15

  The Eye of the Storm

  Chapter 16

  A Hero’s Tale

  Chapter 17

  Witch Hazel

  Chapter 18

  A Gathering of Magi

  Chapter 19

  Giving it the old College Scry

  Chapter 20

  Yo-ho-ho and a Pocket of Seeds

  Chapter 21

  The Lair of the Beast

  Chapter 22

  Into the Dark, Dank, Dreary

  Chapter 23

  Guaka’Moley

  Chapter 24

  Shellington Slidesmore the Third

  Chapter 25

  Mountains out of Molehills

  Chapter 26

  United We Stand, Divided We Are Food

  Chapter 27

  Benjamin Rimizak

  Chapter 28

  Into the Petrified Plains

  Chapter 29

  The Tribe of Stone

  Chapter 30

  Summoning Great Turtle

  Chapter 31

  The First Champions of the Dragon

  Chapter 32

  The Queen’s Golden Rules

  Chapter 33

  The Backbone Mountains

  Chapter 34

  Late for an Important Date

  Chapter 35

  Raining Cats and Dogs

  Chapter 36

  Not Another Speech!

  Chapter 37

  We Get by with a Little Help from Our Friends

  Chapter 38

  The Legend of Drak’Noir

  Chapter 39

  The Calm After the Storm

  Chapter 40

  Return to the Wide Wall

  Chapter 41

  All Roads Lead Home

  Chapter 42

  King’s Crossing

  Chapter 43

  The Return of the Champion of The Iron Mountains

  Chapter 44

  The Return of the Champion of Halala

  Chapter 45

  The Return of the Champion of Fire Swamp

  Chapter 46

  The Return of the Champion of Vhalovia

  Chapter 47

  The Return of the Champion of Magestra

  This trilogy is dedicated to my grandfather, Murland, who always reminded me to put my boots on the right feet.

  Edited by Holly M. Kothe. https://espressoeditor.com/

  Other Books

  By

  Michael James Ploof

  (Legends of Agora Novels)

  Whill of Agora

  A Quest of Kings

  A Song of Swords

  A Crown of War

  Kingdoms in Chaos

  Champions of the Gods

  The Mantle of Darkness

  Talon

  Sea Queen

  Exodus

  Blackthorn Rising

  (Orion Rezner Chronicles)

  Afterworld

  (Epic Fallacy Novels)

  Champions of the Dragon

  Beyond the Wide Wall

  The Legend of Drak’Noir

  Visit Michael’s Amazon Author page for links

  Special Thanks

  I would like to thank my Legend of Drak’Noir proofreaders: Lindy Kreger, Sharon D. Bryant, Beverly Leonard, Ken Howell, Michael L. Cole, Nana Meg, Jonathon Hunter Hill, Bill Paliwoda, Elaine Prime, Marie McCraney, and finally Marshall Mutch. I really appreciate it.

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  Map of Fallacetine

  Chapter 1

  The Hangover

  Sir Eldrick awoke with a start, shivering violently. He opened his eyes and was blinded by the glare of sunlight reflected by ice. He felt himself bobbing and realized that he was on water. His pale blue hands clung to the edge of a raft and refused to move when commanded. He turned his head from the glare, and as his eyes adjusted, he found that he was not on a raft but rather a piece of driftwood. There was other debris floating along with him, tangled up in what looked to be sail rigging.

  Had he been on a ship that hit an iceberg?

  The blood on his hands and sleeves told a different story.

  Sir Eldrick thought back on his last memory and faintly remembered the fire at the pub on Atlas. Then there was a gap, and in the next memory he was sailing with pirates. There had been a battle. He remembered the victory vaguely, and the spoils of war. There had been a young girl captured. The pirates had wanted to…

  Then the last memory came to him, one of blood and flying limbs and bodies stacked three feet high…a burning ship…the girl on a raft. She had gotten away.

  Good, he thought.

  Sir Eldrick tried once more to move his numb hands, but they were hopelessly cramped around the wood like the skeletal claws of a dead man still clinging to his treasure. There was no feeling in his right foot, which he found to be dangling in the water off the side of the narrow lumber that he floated upon. With great effort, and pain that made him grind his teeth, he lifted his foot out of the water.

  Where the hell am I? he wondered as he stared at the chunks of ice floating in the still waters—there was so much of it.

  Voices suddenly called out.

  Sir Eldrick glanced around but saw nothing but the floating ice and pieces of debris. Again, the voices spoke, but not in the common tongue. The language was that of the Shivermoore elves of the Eternal Ice. He knew some of the ice elf tongue, which was rooted in the wood elf language. But unlike that musical, elegant speech, the Shivermoore dialect was quick and to the point, with sharp syllables and hard vowels.

  “Dead? Leave him to Mother Water?” one of the elves was saying. The speaker was male and spoke his words as questions, like all Shivermoore males did.

  Sir Eldrick raised his head shakily. “Not dead,” he said in his best ice-elvish.

  “He’s alive?” said the male.

  “Gather him quickly!” said a female, who, given her
tone, was clearly in charge.

  Something hit the raft, which began to rotate. As he was turned from the glare of the ice, Sir Eldrick saw his rescuers for the first time. Their skin was blue, darker around their lips and tips of their long ears, and their slanted eyes were bright aquamarine. The males wore only seal hide boots and fur loincloths, but the lone female wore the white furs of the northern bear, one that she had likely killed herself. Her outfit was a testament to her station and not needed as protection against the cold. It was said that the blood of the ice elves of the north ran hot, and if not for the climate, they would soon perish. But on the Eternal Ice, they thrived.

  Two males gathered up Sir Eldrick, prying his hands from the raft roughly before tossing him onto the elven vessel. It had no sails, but was made entirely of chiseled ice and powered by the lone female, who used her ice magic to propel it north.

  “C-c-cold,” Sir Eldrick managed to utter as he lay curled up on the icy floor.

  A few males glanced at him and then looked to the female questioningly. She gave a disgusted nod, and a fur was tossed over him. He rolled himself up in it and swiftly passed out.

  When Sir Eldrick awoke again, he was riding in a sleigh being led by a team of five large dire wolves. Ropes bound his hands and feet, and his weapons were gone, but the fur was draped over him, giving him protection from the biting cold. Fat snowflakes were lazily falling. He strained his eyes, trying to see through the flurries, and saw the outline of Shivermoore glimmering in the sun.

  Sir Eldrick had only been to Shivermoore once in his long and illustrious career, and he hadn’t liked it much the first time around. Back in those days, when he was just a young recruit fighting for Vhalovia, the kingdom had been at war with the ice elves. It hadn’t been a long or particularly bloody war, as it was simply over fishing territory, but it had been bad enough for young Sir Eldrick. He had seen firsthand the powers of the female ice elves, and he shivered with the memories.

  The ice elf society was a matriarchy. Although the males were larger, the females had the power to conjure and control ice, which made them the dominate sex in Shivermoore. It was said that they were cold-hearted bitches, and the only reason they didn’t take over the world was because they could not withstand the warmth of the south.

  The vegetation in and around Shivermoore was sparse, consisting mostly of dwarf shrubs, graminoids, lichens, herbs, and mosses red and green, which covered the exposed earth like grass. The land was flat and white, accentuating the dramatic contrast of the city’s jutting towers as the sled ferried Sir Eldrick toward the main gate.

  The walls of the city were smooth and high, and upon crystal-clear battlements the outlines of guards could be seen. Beyond the wall, pristine towers of ice loomed above the city at odd angles. There was no uniformity to the monolithic shards looming overhead, which refracted the light of the noonday sun like prisms, creating a brightness that left Sir Eldrick nearly blinded by the brilliance. Outside the city walls stood hundreds of frozen men, elves, dwarves, ogres, beasts, and even giants. The warriors, long dead, were forever frozen amid a valiant charge. Some of them were missing limbs, or heads, or lay in a dozen icy pieces at the feet of their comrades—a warning to any who might attempt to take the northern city. Sir Eldrick remembered clearly the day that he and his regiment had attacked, and he wondered how many of those unfortunate men stood in this field, shrouded in ice.

  He was soon led through the gates, which opened at the command of a female elf standing atop the battlements. Small igloos littered either side of the road, and Sir Eldrick knew that these must be the males’ abodes. Great ice sculptures lined the path as well. They stood over twenty feet tall, depicting the many varieties of wildlife found in the north, both on land and in the ocean. The igloos and statues soon gave way to elaborate palaces of ice, spiraling sometimes one hundred feet into the air. Bridges connected the many towers, along with thin, spiraling chutes used to quickly reach the ground. No fires burned in the city, for the ice elves did not cook their food but lived off seaweed and raw fish. The lack of fire did not mean the city was dark, however; it was lit by a bright multicolored inner light, the source of which was still a mystery to even Fallacetine’s most learned scholars.

  Sir Eldrick was led to the palace at the center of the city, which shot straight up out of the ground like a king’s crown, pristine and shimmering. He remembered the palace well and the many cold nights he had spent as a prisoner before being ransomed back to King Henry of Vhalovia.

  His captors brought him swiftly down a long corridor off the antechamber and into the throne room of the queen of Shivermoore. He was let down and forced to his knees before the steps to the throne. Slowly, he raised his head, shivering violently, and smiled at the elf seated there.

  Astrila Glacius, Queen of Shivermoore, scowled down at him from her icicle throne. Like her city, her beauty was ethereal and radiant. She had eyes like blue diamonds, and wore her dark blue and silver hair in a tight braid that hung down over her right shoulder. She wore only a white fur stole, draped over her lithe shoulders, but was covered in a fine layer of ice crystals and frost turned blue by the skin beneath.

  “Queen of mine,” said his female captor. “I found this human in Mother Ocean, floating with wreckage.”

  Astrila regarded him thoughtfully, looking disturbed. “Sir Eldrick van Albright, Hero of Vhalovia, you were told never to return to Shivermoore.”

  “What can I say,” he said with a shrug. “I guess I’m a sucker for punishment.”

  One of the males socked him in the gut with the end of a club, and Sir Eldrick doubled over, laughing through the pain—he still felt a bit drunk.

  The lead female of the group backhanded the elf, conjuring ice to her hand at the last moment, which shattered against the male’s face. Blood speckled the sleek ice floor red, and the male dropped to his knees and kowtowed before his mistress.

  Sir Eldrick laughed even harder, and the female slapped him as well.

  “Why have you returned?” the queen demanded.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about your perky blue nips.”

  “Ungat!” cried the female, and she produced an ice dagger in her hand in a heartbeat. She grabbed Sir Eldrick by the hair and yanked his head back, pressing the blade to his neck and looking to her queen for confirmation.

  Queen Astrila let the seconds pass and the tension build. At length, she raised a staying hand. “You have one last chance to answer my question. For if memory serves, your tongue is skilled, but it need not be used flippantly.”

  “I have not returned by choice,” he said. “I was captured by your elves.”

  “He was given to us by Mother Ocean,” said his captor.

  “You have done well, Pukak, and you will be rewarded with two strong males,” said the queen as she waved her off. “Now unbind the prisoner and leave us.”

  Pukak cut Sir Eldrick’s ropes and roughly pulled them loose before turning on her icy heel and motioning to her males to follow. The doors fell shut smoothly, and Sir Eldrick waited for the queen to speak.

  Astrila rose, regarding Sir Eldrick with an unreadable expression, and said in the common tongue, “I ask again. Why have you returned?”

  “As I said. It was not intentional.”

  “Yet, here you are.”

  “Here I am. Do with me as you wish, for I no longer care what fate befalls me.”

  She regarded him quizzically. “You are very different from the eager young man that I met twenty years ago.”

  He shrugged.

  “Your spirit once shone like the northern lights. Has life been so cruel to you?”

  “No. It is I who have been cruel. Do with me as you will. And if I am to be turned to ice, then so be it. I only ask that I am left facing south, toward Vhalovia.”

  “I should kill you,” she said, diamond eyes piercing his cold flesh.

  He only nodded concession.

  She let out an indignant huff. “How boring you are no
w. I feel that it would be a mercy to put you out of your misery. But, alas, I had a vision of you three nights ago. It seems that the gods have returned you to me for a reason. Come, I have something to show you.”

  The throne melted, slowly lowering the queen to the floor. She held out a hand and Sir Eldrick reluctantly took it. The queen opened her other hand, palm down, and a column of ice erupted, lifting them swiftly toward the crystalline ceiling. A hole opened overhead, and the column rose through it and stopped flush with the floor of the queen’s personal chamber.

  He thought that she would lead him to the large bed. Instead she beckoned for him to follow and walked out into a hallway. Intrigued, Sir Eldrick followed. The queen spoke not a word but continued for a few silent minutes, leading Sir Eldrick upstairs and down another hall before stopping at a large circular door. She waved a hand, and the door opened. To Sir Eldrick’s surprise, the room beyond was furnished with couches, chairs, desks, and tables of human make. Paintings adorned the walls as well as maps and portraits of humans. And to his shock, a fire burned in the corner.

  A female elf, uncharacteristically dressed in thick furs, stood with her back to the room, facing the flames. Sir Eldrick stopped abruptly and took in a shocked breath, for the elf had raven-black hair. “Oh, my gods, Mother! Don’t you know how to knock?”

  “Akitla,” said the queen, “come and meet your father.”

  “Say again?” said Sir Eldrick, wide-eyed.

  The young woman turned, and Sir Eldrick straightened, for she was beautiful, and clearly half human. Her ears, while longer than a human’s, were more rounded and shorter than an elf’s. In a society where everyone had blue hair, skin, and eyes, Akitla’s black hair, pale blue skin, and green eyes stuck out like a black tulip in a field of blue hydrangeas.

  “What did you say?” said Akitla, almost whispering.