Dragonvein

by Brian D. Anderson

  “What did it look like?” asked Ethan.

  “It’s a long green crystal tube about three feet long and a foot in diameter. They have it mounted on a wooden frame. Looks kind of like an old cannon.” Now it was Jonas’ turn to look confused. Only Ethan understood the reference.

  “Have you seen one being used?” Jonas asked.

  Markus shook his head. “All but two are at the Emperor’s palace. The others are used more for intimidation than anything else. There’s one that sits at the gates of Kytain. The other gets moved around from city to city. Scares the hell out of the locals whenever it shows up.”

  “To rule by terror is a sign of weakness,” Jonas remarked.

  Markus chuckled. “It works though. Only those fools in Ralmaria are stupid enough to defy Shinzan. And all they do is raid Imperial caravans, then run away into the hills.”

  “At least there is some resistance,” said Jonas.

  “From time to time you’ll see bands of rebels springing up, especially lately with the drought. But the Empire is quick to crush them. If you’re thinking about looking for help, I wouldn’t be looking there.”

  “I don’t know what or who we’ll be looking for,” Jonas responded. “But it is good to know that someone might be willing to fight with us if needed.”

  Markus gave a hollow laugh. “If you go up against Shinzan, you’d better hope they’re willing to get slaughtered. In the years I’ve been here I only know of one time the Emperor ventured out of The Eternal Palace. The King of Traxis was having difficulty putting down a rebellion and finally had to ask the Emperor for aid. By the time Shinzan arrived the rebels had grown to an army of almost twenty thousand men. Not that their numbers counted for much. From what I hear, he didn’t take a single soldier with him when he went to fight them.”

  His expression darkened. “That was twenty years ago. I was in Traxis last summer. The field where Shinzan destroyed the rebellion is still in ruins. The ground is just soot and ash. Nothing grows for miles around. And incidentally, he also killed the king and his entire family for their failure.”

  “How can one man take on an entire army?” mused Ethan.

  “The Emperor is powerful,” said Jonas. “Though such a feat is more than I would have thought possible. It would have taken the entire Council of Volnar to manage such a thing.”

  “But didn’t the Emperor destroy the Council?” asked Kat.

  Jonas cocked his head. “So you’ve heard the story.”

  She nodded. “When I was a little girl. They say the whole of Lumnia trembled during the battle. All the mages of the world aligned themselves against the Emperor. But he was too strong for them and sent all of their souls into oblivion.”

  “The world did shake,” agreed Jonas. “I remember the day it happened very well.” Kat looked at him in wonder. “And I remember when word came of the Council’s defeat.” He turned to Ethan. “That was the day I fled with you and your mother.”

  “If he’s so powerful, how do we fight him?” Ethan asked.

  “Who says we will?” Jonas replied. “I have no idea what we will do after we reach the dwarves. We’ll figure that out when the time comes.”

  Ethan tried to imagine what could kill so many men. He had seen what bombs and artillery could do. But that was the concerted efforts of soldiers, tanks, and aircraft. What Shinzan had achieved alone was almost impossible to comprehend. The only magic he had witnessed up until now was Jonas lighting small fires, and even that tiny feat had hugely impressed him.

  Markus had said that Masi was only a few days away. Once there, they would be able to purchase supplies and mounts – though it was unclear how long they would be able to stay mounted once reaching north of Tulia. From there they would need to leave the roads completely, and the rocky terrain was not suited for riding.

  Each night before bed, Ethan asked Kat to show him how she managed to vanish. Unfortunately, she was not fully aware of how she achieved it herself. And there were times when she was completely unable to do it at all.

  “It helps when I’m excited or afraid,” she told him. “But if someone is in direct contact with me, I can’t do it.”

  Nonetheless, she did her best to show him. But he had no better luck than when Jonas tried to teach him fire starting.

  “Magic is something you feel,” Jonas explained after yet another frustrating failure. Kat had been patient, but with no frame of reference, she was unable to communicate what it felt like.

  “I don’t feel anything,” he grumbled. “Maybe I just don’t have the ability.”

  “Then you would be the first person in history with two mage parents not to have it,” Jonas stated emphatically. He thought for a moment. “Perhaps your time on Earth has affected you somehow.” He waved his hand. “Little matter. You’ll get it eventually.”

  “It might be better if he doesn’t,” said Markus from his bedroll. “Then Shinzan wouldn’t be after him.”

  Jonas shook his head. “He’ll kill him anyway. Just to be certain the Dragonvein line is dead and buried. The Emperor would never allow any potential challenge to his power. That was true even in my time.”

  “You see, Ethan,” Markus said, giving a lopsided smile. “Even if you don’t learn magic, there’s no need to worry. You’re dead no matter what.”

  Jonas was not amused by his remark, but Ethan shook his head and gave a soft chuckle. Markus had always possessed a dark sense of humor and it was good to hear him use it again.

  By the time they reached Masi, Ethan had all but given up hope that he would ever be able to use magic. Jonas, on the other hand, had easily been able to teach Kat how to light a fire.

  They entered the small village from the south, choosing to appear as if they had taken the road from Santfaliso. Without the shade of the forest, the morning sun was more oppressive than ever. The heat baked the dung strewn streets, filling the air with its stench. The few townsfolk who were about took little notice of the newcomers. Markus explained that Masi was simply a stopping-off point for travelers to resupply, and of little interest to the Empire. The nearest garrison was several hundred miles to the south.

  The unpaved main street was riddled with holes and ruts from countless wagons passing through. A narrow sidewalk in front of the single story wooden buildings was in equally poor repair, and much care was needed not to step into the gaps where the wood had rotted away.

  They made their way down a side road to a small tavern.

  Just before they entered, Markus handed Jonas a scrap of parchment. “Here’s a list of what we’ll need. You and Kat see to it. Ethan and I will wait here. Try not to be too long.”

  Jonas stiffened, clearly not liking the way that Markus was giving him orders. But Markus paid him no mind and led Ethan on through the door.

  Inside was much as Ethan expected. It was similar to the tavern in Jaobin, though far less crowded. A lone bartender was serving tables. He looked at Markus and Ethan with displeasure before waving a hand to indicate that they should sit wherever they wanted.

  Markus chose a table at the far corner of the room, sitting with his back to the wall. Ethan took the chair opposite and ordered a pitcher of ale.

  He told Markus about his encounter with Durst, and the subsequent beating he had received.

  “No wonder Kat feels like she owes you,” he remarked. He leaned back, scrutinizing Ethan for a long moment. “I can’t get over seeing you like this. You’re so…young.”

  “It’s been only a few days for me,” Ethan said. “I can still hear the Kraut tanks rolling up the streets of Carentan when I sleep at night.” He pulled open his shirt collar to reveal a two-inch wound that had only recently scabbed over. “I got this when that mortar shell hit the building, just before you…” His voice trailed off.

  “Before I ended up here,” said Markus, finishing his sentence for him. “Don’t worry. It’s all right to talk about it. I’m done with all that…”

  He stopped short and leaned in clos
e, his voice suddenly a whisper. “Don’t turn around. Three Imperial soldiers just came through the door.” He pulled his hood up over his head. “Don’t do anything unless I do.”

  Ethan could hear the stomping of their boots and the rattle of armor drawing closer. He fingered the dagger in his belt nervously.

  “You!” shouted a gruff voice. “Turn around! And you, remove your hood.”

  Ethan felt a gloved hand grip his right shoulder. Markus pushed back his hood and smiled.

  “Spirits take me, you’re ugly,” said the soldier with a jeering laugh.

  Ethan turned in his seat and looked up at the guard. The foul stench of the man’s breath combined with his body odor caused him to grimace.

  “Where are you two coming from?” he demanded.

  “Santfaliso,” Markus replied.

  “What was your business there?”

  “Guarding a fat merchant’s cargo.”

  The soldier regarded Ethan and snorted. “This one doesn’t look like he’d make much of a guard.”

  “He’s my son,” Markus explained. “And he’s tougher than he looks.”

  “Your son is he? We’ll see about that. Show me your papers.”

  Ethan fought to keep his hand from shaking as he reached inside his pocket and held up the papers his friend had provided. Markus handed over his also.

  The soldier ran his eyes over them. “Says here you’re from Ralmaria.”

  Markus nodded.

  “A long way to go just to guard a merchant’s wares.”

  Before Markus could respond, the door burst open and a third soldier hurried inside. He handed over a folded parchment, then whispered into his comrade’s ear.

  “I think you two should come with me,” the first soldier told them sharply. His hand slipped to the hilt of his sword.

  Markus gave Ethan an almost imperceptible nod. “Of course. Whatever you say.”

  As both he and Markus rose from their seats, Ethan’s eyes located a gap beneath the first soldier’s armpit where the breastplate of his armor was connected to the back. Here, a thin shirt was all that protected him.

  Markus rounded the table and the two other soldiers moved toward him. “Now!” he shouted.

  Reacting instantly, Ethan drew his blade and plunged it deep into the first soldier’s ribs. He could feel the steel scraping across bone as it sunk in. By now, in a blaze of movement, Markus had already whipped out his own dagger and slashed it across the exposed throat of his nearest opponent. The remaining soldier’s eyes shot wide as he fumbled frantically to draw his sword. But panic was making him far too clumsy and slow. Pausing only to flash the man a sinister grin, Markus jammed the dagger up through the bottom of his chin and into his brain. He was dead even before he crumbled to the floor.

  Ethan jerked his dagger free from the first soldier, then shoved him onto the table with all his strength. Blood was pouring from the gaping wound in his side. His face was contorted with pain and fear. But there was also a pleading expression in his eyes that made Ethan pause for a split second.

  The glint of steel was a blur as Markus came in and finished the man off.

  “You can’t hesitate,” he scolded, pointing to the soldier’s outstretched arm. In his hand was a knife ready to plunge into Ethan’s back.

  Ethan stared, unable to speak. It was a lesson he’d had drummed into him during Airborne training, and one he should never have forgotten. But though he had killed before, he had never done it this way. Up until now his battles had always been at a distance. This was so…personal.

  The screaming and shouting from the other customers around them snapped him back into the moment. People were racing from the tavern and into the streets. In seconds they were alone.

  Markus unbuckled a scabbard from one of the dead soldiers and tossed it to Ethan. “Put this on,” he ordered. It was small – only twice the length of a dagger – yet solid and heavy.

  While Ethan did as instructed, Markus picked up the paper the first soldier had been given and read it carefully. A deep frown formed on his face. “It would seem word has spread faster than I imagined. We need to find Jonas and Kat and get the hell out of here.”

  Having completed the attachment, Ethan drew the sword from its scabbard. It felt awkward and ill-balanced in his hand.

  “Just swing it hard,” instructed Markus. “If we get out of this, I’ll teach you how to use it properly.”

  At that moment Ethan was dearly missing his M-1 carbine. Hell, a .45 would do.

  Markus approached the door and pushed it open just wide enough to peer out. He spat a curse.

  “Three more are headed this way,” he said grimly. “And this time they’ll be ready for us.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Markus gave a pessimistic chuckle. “We fight. What else can we do?” He crouched down against the wall next to the door and gestured for Ethan to do the same on the other side. “We’ll take them as they come in. Go for the legs.”

  Focus, Ethan told himself, doing his best to keep his adrenaline from running away with him. He felt much like he had on D-Day. With heart pounding, he gripped the hilt of the sword so hard his knuckles popped.

  “Take it easy,” Markus said. “Don’t lose your head. You can do this.”

  Ethan had heard these words from Markus before. His reassuring tone and steady nerves had bolstered his courage the very first time they had seen battle together. Now, they were having a similar effect. He drew in a deep cleansing breath. As if to order, his hands ceased trembling and his heart rate slowed to an even rhythm.

  It was still beating steadily a few moments later when the door burst open and slammed into the wall just in front of him. As a soldier rushed inside, Ethan swung his blade hard. His steel split the cuisse wide, cutting deep into the enemy’s thigh. The man let out a cry and fell forward, his sword falling to the floor.

  Markus leapt into the doorway to thrust his blade hard into the second soldier’s chest, forcing him outside. After pulling it free, he spun left to attack the third who was just a few feet behind.

  Ethan looked back to the man he had wounded. He was scrambling for his lost weapon, a look of pain and terror in his eyes. This time Ethan knew what he had to do – but not exactly how to do it. With a heavy grunt, he struck at the soldier’s outstretched sword arm. The blade cut deep and there was the crack of bone breaking. He stepped back and saw that his blow had very nearly severed the limb completely at the elbow. The soldier thrashed and writhed, desperately clutching at his wounded arm. Blood was spewing everywhere, soaking the floor and showering the walls. The stricken man tried to mouth the word please, but Ethan struck again, this time at his exposed neck. The blade lodged in his spine and Ethan was forced to plant his foot on the man’s chest and pull hard to remove it. The scraping of his blade on bone made his skin crawl. He looked down at his handiwork. The soldier was still twitching and shuddering, blood spurting from his neck in time with the remaining beats of his heart.

  The loud ring of clashing steel from outside tore his attention away from the macabre scene. As he exited the tavern he could see that Markus was engaged in fierce battle with the remaining standing soldier. The other was on his knees a few feet away, clutching at the wound in his chest. Ethan moved in to finish him off. He raised his sword high, but the soldier saw him coming and rolled to one side just in time. The blade thudded into the ground and his momentum sent him stumbling forward. Even though the soldier’s face was contorted with pain, he still managed to struggle to his feet and lift his weapon. Blood covered the front of his armor, obscuring his crest.

  Ethan struck again, but the soldier skillfully deflected his attack and stepped back. After a few more unsuccessful attempts it quickly became clear that, even wounded, the soldier far outmatched him. Had he not been injured, the fight would have already been over.

  The soldier countered – and though his blow was accurate, the loss of blood was slowing him down, allowing Ethan to jump clear. How
ever, his opponent’s longer blade was preventing him from doing anything more than moving left and right, feigning attacks and then withdrawing.

  Frustrated, he reached for his dagger and threw it as hard as he could. The hilt smashed into the soldier’s brow. For a moment he simply stood there, stunned. Then his legs wobbled and he dropped to one knee. Ethan charged in, swinging his sword wildly. The blade struck the soldier’s collarbone, forcing him down onto both knees. Another swift blow settled the matter.

  Meanwhile, Markus was still fighting hard, though by now he had managed to inflict several small wounds on his opponent. Ethan was just about to move around to the soldier’s back when he spotted another one appear from the corner of a building a few blocks away. His heart sank. He had only been able to defeat the two men he’d faced so far through sheer luck and surprise. He would not get either of those advantages against this one. But unless he could prevent him joining the fray, Markus would surely be overwhelmed.

  The soldier was closing on them rapidly when Ethan spotted a horse galloping along behind him. At first he could see only that the rider was holding a sword aloft. But as the animal drew closer he realized that it was Jonas on its back.

  Hearing the rapidly closing hoof beats, the soldier spun around. But Jonas was already upon him. Swinging his blade, he struck the man mightily in the chest, the impact sounding much like a hammer striking an anvil. The sheer force of the blow ripped the weapon clean out of Jonas’ hand, at the same time yanking him from the saddle. He landed hard on the street and rolled on for several yards. Some distance behind, the soldier lay motionless on his back – his breastplate split in two and a tremendous wound dividing his chest.

  Ethan wanted to run to Jonas, but knew he needed to help Markus first. He moved to the soldier’s right and raised his sword high. This alone proved to be sufficient, distracting the man just long enough for Markus to slip beneath his guard and ram his sword into his gullet. The soldier gasped and clutched at the blade. It was his last action. In a single fluid motion, Markus pulled the weapon free and took his head from his shoulders.

  Without pause, they both ran to where Jonas was still lying face down in the street. Markus rolled him over.