Lynial burst into laughter.
“You find this amusing?” she snapped hotly.
“Indeed I do.” After calming himself, he leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Let me explain to you why. Having met Katyana, I know full well that there is no possibility – no chance whatsoever – of her ever being with another man.”
“She may feel differently once she learns of Ethan Dragonvein’s promise to me,” Bera contended.
“She already knows. That she didn’t come here and burn you to ashes is a true wonder.”
The queen’s aspect darkened. “She could try.”
“Believe me, she would do exactly that if she thought Ethan had any intention of keeping his promise to you. She loves him in a way few people ever experience. And he loves her every bit as much in return.”
“Then why would he agree to the union?”
“Because he knows he will not survive. Ethan’s journey will end with his death. That is the only reason he would agree.”
The queen’s hand flew to her mouth. Slowly, she sat down again. “You cannot know this. Not for certain. Why would he not…?”
“He feared your delay in sending aid to our army. Agreeing to a union when he knew he was already doomed to die was the only logical thing to do. I do not know my cousin well, but I do know the type of man he is. I saw the very same look in the eyes of my uncle when he decided to fight Shinzan. It is the look of the condemned. When Ethan is gone, I will be all that remains of my family. Thousands of years of Dragonveins…all of our history reduced to one solitary man.”
“All the more reason to wed Katyana.” Bera’s tone had now noticeably softened. There was a profound sadness in her expression.
“I do not love her. Nor she me. That will never change.” Lynial met her eyes. “But I do not wish you to despair. The world has changed, and it will continue to do so. For the better, I hope. The decadence of the mages will not return. At least, not within my lifetime. We must begin anew, and you can play a vital role in the molding of a new age. You do not need Ethan as a husband to help you remain strong and secure. You have managed that quite nicely on your own so far. And while under the yoke of Shinzan, I might add.”
“Is that what you think I want? To be alone?”
Lynial smiled. “Of course not. Neither do I. And I do understand the need for a political marriage. I was born into an age when love was a luxury only the common people were allowed. However, as you will be the architect of a new age, perhaps that can change as well.”
“You live in a dream if you think that is possible,” she scoffed. “Without alliances, a kingdom cannot endure. And the strongest alliances are always made through marriage. I have remained unwed for far longer than I should have as it is. I must choose the best match. Love has nothing to do with it.”
“That may be true. But I would not lose hope that you might achieve both.”
The hint of a smile came to Bera’s lips. “Very well. What if Ethan does somehow manage to return and I choose to release him from his vow? Would you stand by my side in his place?”
Lynial was completely taken aback. She was beautiful and capable. Had she been of suitable heritage during his time, she would most certainly have been courted by all the greatest mages in Lumnia. Yet, from his point of view, there was one vital thing missing.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he began, speaking as soothingly as possible. “House Dragonvein is no more, so I have no need of alliances. At long last the luxury of the common people can be mine. I fully intend to have a family, but I will wed for love, not power or position. I suppose I envy my dear cousin too much to do otherwise.”
The queen appeared crestfallen for a moment, though she quickly recovered. “I see,” she said softly, starting to rise.
Lynial caught her by the hand, keeping her in her seat. “That said, I would be very happy to know you better – and allow you to know me in return.” He grinned sheepishly. “Unfortunately, I do not know the customs for becoming a potential suitor outside of the mage families.”
Bera’s expression remained blank, and for several seconds she said nothing. When she did speak, however, her tone was surprisingly light. It was almost as if she were mocking herself. “Customs are what I say they are. After all, I am the queen, am I not?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. You are the queen.”
“Then I say we begin by me giving you a small gift.” She pushed the book she had brought with her across the table. “This is a record of the Dragonvein family as far back as I could find in my archives. I had intended it as a wedding gift for Ethan, but now I am thinking it would be better for you to have it.”
Touched that she had gone to the trouble of preparing such a gift – albeit one meant for Ethan – Lynial picked up the offering. “Thank you,” he said. “This is most thoughtful.”
“I’m afraid it might not be complete,” she told him. “The information was from our family’s private collection. Books on the mages have been illegal under Shinzan’s rule, but we did our best to piece it together.”
He examined a few of the pages. The words had been expertly scribed upon the finest quality gilded paper, while written in striking golden dwarf characters right across the face of the leather cover was the name of Dragonvein. “It’s splendid,” he said. “But to my shame, I have nothing to give you in return.”
“Your company at the banquet this evening will be more than sufficient,” she informed him, putting on a sudden air of formality. With that, she rose and began her exit of the garden, pausing halfway to smile over her shoulder. “And you are not permitted to refuse. I am the queen.”
“Yes, indeed you are,” he muttered to himself after she had gone.
He sat there alone for a time, recounting their conversation, and found himself smiling. So absorbed in thought that he didn’t notice Vanix approaching. It wasn’t until the servant cleared his throat that he bothered to look up.
“Allow me to show you to your chambers,” Vanix said. “I’m sure you will find them to be far more comfortable than those dusty old barracks. No doubt the opportunity of a proper bath will also be to your liking.”
Lynial sighed at the thought. Yes. A hot bath and a good rest in a soft bed.
“The banquet is to be of considerable magnificence,” Vanix continued. “I think you will be pleased that you stayed.”
“Yes, I think you’re right,” he replied, his smile returning.
Chapter Fourteen
The muffled crackle of what sounded like automatic weapons gradually filtered into Ethan’s consciousness. His head was throbbing, his ears were ringing, and a cloud of gritty dust was stinging his eyes, obscuring his vision. What the hell had happened to him?
Wiping a hand across his face, he blinked hard. Familiar heavy booming sounds from somewhere in the distance reached him. Artillery! No, that was impossible. How could he be hearing artillery? He was still asking himself this when the explosions that followed a moment later made the question irrelevant. He was not mistaken.
As his vision began to clear a little more, he felt a pair of hands tugging at his right arm. “Are you okay?” a voice asked.
Turning his head, Ethan was confronted with the impossible yet again. For an instant, he was paralyzed with astonishment. “Markus?” he eventually gasped.
Seemingly oblivious to his confusion, his friend repeated the question. “Answer me. Are you hurt?”
“I…no. I don’t think so.”
“Then get on your feet. We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”
Markus jerked him roughly up, so bringing a wider area into focus. He blinked again. Half buried beneath the rubble of a freshly blasted hole in a nearby wall were two bodies, both in German uniforms. Markus was gathering up their weapons. Bits of memory then started to return.
“Jonas!” he shouted. “Where’s Jonas?”
Markus tossed him a rifle. “Who?’
“Jonas,” he repeated,
waving an arm around in a wide sweep. But there was no one else in the shattered remains of the room. “You know...the old man. The one I pulled off the road.”
Markus grumbled with impatience. “Pull it together, Ethan. There’s no one like that here. There never was. I think you must be dreaming, mate.”
The sudden whine of a stray bullet ricocheting off ruined bricks only a few yards away had them both crouching low. Ethan blew out a gasp. That was close – too damn close for comfort. He watched Markus creep over to the newly made hole and peer out. He immediately withdrew again. A second later they heard the squeal and rumble of a Panzer approaching from the west, along with the shouting of several German voices. Markus reacted by darting through a nearby door, waving for him to follow
Something is wrong, Ethan told himself. I shouldn’t be here. I should be…
The memory was just beyond his grasp. Markus poked his head back into the room, a furious look on his face. “What are you doing? Are you trying to get us both killed?”
The heavy blast of a shell landing just outside the building shook Ethan out of his stupor, punctuating their need to get moving. Keeping as low as possible, he hurried after Markus. As they scrambled along over the rubble, everything around him looked to be familiar... and yet at the same time it wasn’t. How weird was that? It must be the blast from the shell that had knocked him out. Yes, that had to be it; something in his head had been shaken loose. He’d be fine soon. All he needed was a little time to recover.
After making their way through the abandoned office building and out onto the street, the ominous rumble and clatter of tanks was getting closer. Still feeling bewildered, Ethan instinctively slid behind a pile of bricks and splintered wood.
“No time to be careful now,” Markus told him. His friend was not bothering to take any cover at all. “It’s time to run, buddy. The Krauts are right behind us.”
“But...”
Ethan looked west, then to the east. An explanation was just at the edge of his mind. A boot to his backside stopped it getting any closer.
“Move it,” Markus barked. “Whatever’s wrong with you, we’ll sort it out later. Okay?”
The urgency in his voice together with the force of the kick galvanized Ethan back into action. Hard on his friend’s heels, he ran full tilt into the building directly across the street. Like most of the town’s businesses around here, whatever purpose the place once served had been made unrecognizable from Allied shelling. The destruction had carved a clear path straight through to the back and on to the next block.
For the better part of the next hour, they threaded their way through a succession of shattered buildings, all the time heading for the church where Markus told him they had last left the platoon holed up. Ethan still had no recollection of this himself, but his friend would get him there. That was the one thing he knew he could be sure of. Several times they came perilously close to being hit by artillery fire, but this did nothing to slow them down. Survival mode had taken over completely, even in Ethan’s confused mind. On they pushed, without so much as a moment’s hesitation. For now, there was no time to stop. No time to think. No time to do anything at all but get to a safe position.
At last they rounded a corner leading to the church they were looking for. Relief had barely formed in Ethan’s mind when the ping of a bullet exploded just above Markus’s head, sending bits of mortar and brick flying in all directions.
“Fuck!” Markus hit the ground, dragging Ethan along with him.
“Holy shit!” cried a voice from just outside the church.
Markus recognized the voice at once. He glared up. “Leibowitz, you bloody idiot.”
A skinny kid with shaggy red hair and his rifle now pointing down emerged from behind a low wall. He wore a stunned expression. “You’re lucky I didn’t blow your damn heads off, running up on us like that. Where the hell have you two been, anyhow? Sarge is pissed.”
“Good thing you can’t shoot straight,” snapped Markus, leaping up and shoving Leibowitz roughly aside.
Ethan followed him through the church doors. Inside, the place was a mess, with a partly collapsed ceiling and all the pews heaped into an untidy pile against the left wall. Most of the relics and ornamentation had been stripped away, and the once-elegant stained glass windows were all either badly cracked or shattered completely. Even so, it would have seemed like a good enough place to shelter for a time.
Three men were sitting near what had once been the altar: Brown, Ballard, and Trent. Their platoon sergeant was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is everyone?” Ethan asked them.
Brown, a rough-looking guy from Texas, stood up and scowled. “Gone east. We were detailed to stay behind and go looking for you.”
“Yeah. Good job, guys,” Markus remarked sourly. “How hard were you looking?”
Ethan stopped dead in his tracks. East! Why would they have gone east? That didn’t make sense. And if these guys had been sent to look for someone, they would have done it. They would have followed orders, no matter how much they didn’t like it. They sure as hell wouldn’t be just sitting around inside here waiting. And Markus…
“Flash,” he muttered.
Markus turned. “What?”
“You knew they were here,” Ethan said. “Why didn’t you say flash?”
His friend sniffed and gave a shrug. “I forgot, okay? I fucked up. What? You going to rat me out to the sergeant?”
Ethan took a step back. Markus would never have been so careless. “What’s the sarge’s middle name?” he asked.
The sound of enemy tanks suddenly grew much louder.
“We don’t have time for this,” barked Ballard. He and Trent were grabbing their weapons and moving toward him. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”
Shells shook the ground and the shouts of German soldiers could be heard as clearly as if they were immediately outside.
“What is Sergeant Baker’s middle name?” Ethan insisted, his hand drifting to the trigger of his rifle.
“What?” exclaimed Markus. “Have you lost your mind? The Krauts are right outside and you’re standing there asking me stupid questions.”
Ethan could not fail to notice that the others were now wearing completely blank expressions. Only Leibowitz was to the rear and blocking his path to the door. He listened hard, trying to determine the man’s exact position, but the constant shelling and noise from ever nearing tanks was making it tough.
“Just tell me his name,” he said to Markus.
His friend took a step forward. Ethan could tell from his expression that he didn’t know the answer. And he should. In fact, every man here should. Sergeant Baker was a genuine hard ass. Ivan was his middle name. The men called him Ivan the Terrible.
For Ethan, this was the clincher that something was badly wrong. In a blur of motion, he spun around. Leibowitz was three paces back, his rifle gripped in one hand. Quickly spanning the distance, Ethan smashed the butt of his weapon into the man’s jaw and then ran headlong toward the door. As he burst through it and into the open, the shouts of Markus telling him to wait easily cut through the noise of the battle, but nothing was going to stop him now. Whatever the danger from the Germans, his instincts told him there was a greater danger coming from behind.
With each rapid pace he took, tiny bits of memory returned. Places and people he knew he should recognize flashed through his mind. So too did images of fantastical beasts, the like of which he could scarcely have imagined existed.
He was back on the street in moments. Only twenty yards away, a Panzer loomed large against the bursts of light from exploding artillery shells. The German soldiers advancing alongside the tank spotted him and immediately opened fire. He was a sitting duck. But to his amazement, not one single bullet hit the mark.
Even more miraculous, with rounds pinging and whining all around him, he was still unscathed by the time he reached the other side of the street. Diving through the first door he came to, he raced to t
he back of the building, desperately searching for a rear exit. It quickly became apparent that there wasn’t one.
“Ethan! Stop.”
It was Markus. He was inside the building. Ethan sucked a deep breath. For both of them to have made it across the street in the face of such intense fire was bordering on the insane. A small movement to his left then caught his attention. From beneath a toppled bookcase crawled a dragon. A tiny white dragon. Ethan could only stare in wonder and astonishment as the creature craned its neck and let out a purring growl. Then, in a burst of blue light, it vanished.
It was as if every bit of air had been sucked from his lungs. With his head swirling, he pressed his hands to the wall for support. For a moment thought he might pass out completely.
“Ethan!”
Markus was getting much closer. At the same time – strangely – the sounds of battle were starting to fade.
“Stay away from me,” he shouted. Ducking behind the bookshelf from where the tiny dragon had appeared, he leveled his rifle at the doorway.
For several seconds, there was silence. Then the crunch of boots continued their approach.
“I should have known better.” Markus’ voice had changed. It had become deeper and more commanding. “You lack the warrior’s lust for battle. I misread you. My apologies.”
“Who are you?”
“Don’t you know? I assumed you would.”
“Shinzan,” he said, in a half-whisper.
“Of course. I must say that I am surprised you are so difficult to read. Most mortal beings give away their desires freely. But not you. You are a riddle.”
“You talk like we’ve never met.”
Shinzan chuckled. “Well, in a sense this is our first meeting.”
A lone figure stepped into the doorway. Without hesitation, Ethan squeezed the trigger. The click of an empty chamber sent a chill into the pit of his stomach. Dropping his rifle, he drew a knife from his belt.
Dragonvein Book Five Page 19