Dragonvein Book Four

by Brian D. Anderson

  “What message do my adversaries wish you to convey?” he asked.

  “They beg for terms, Your Majesty. They know they are defeated and are prepared to accept your rule.”

  Martok raised an eyebrow. “And they send you to deliver word of their surrender? Why? To disarm me of my wits?”

  “No. I insisted I come, even over their many objections.”

  At this point, her iron composure cracked. Her voice trembled as a single tear spilled down her cheek. “You have my children, Martok. Please. If you have any kindness at all left in your heart, let me see them. I know what you think of me. But I am their mother. They need me.”

  He leaned forward. “And what is it that you need?”

  “Just to be with them,” she replied.

  “And should I refuse to make peace with your compatriots?”

  “I don’t care. Do as you will with your bloody war. Kill them all if that is what makes you happy. I only desire to be with my children.”

  Martok regarded her for a long period. He wanted to believe what she was saying. In truth, he regretted that it had been necessary to take the little ones away from her in the first place. He could still vividly recall his feelings after losing his own mother. And being only three years old, the twins would not be able to understand the reasons for the separation.

  “I only want what is best for them,” he said. “I hope you understand this.”

  “Yes. I know you took them to ensure their protection. But the war is over. Spare what remains of your foes or slaughter them, it makes no difference to me. Either way you have won. But there is no longer any need to keep me away from our children.”

  It did not pass unnoticed with Martok that this time she used the word 'our’ rather than 'my' when referring to their offspring.

  “It is true that they would be better off with you in their lives,” he began after a brief consideration. “So I make you this offer. Be my wife. Then you may raise them here…with me. Once this business with my enemies is settled, of course.” He could see the shock on her face. “I think the children would be pleased about such an arrangement, don’t you? However, I do not expect an answer today. Give my proposal all the consideration you need.”

  After only a brief moment of hesitation she straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I need no time. I will be your wife, if that is what you truly want.”

  Martok smiled. “Good. Then we will not delay. The ceremony will take place in the morning. Once we are wed, I will send word to your friends that I accept their surrender and set about drawing up terms immediately. In the meantime, you should prepare.”

  He leaned back and folded his hands, smiling. Miriam bowed and turned to leave.

  As she was about to pass through the archway, she paused to look back. “I don't understand why you would want to marry me. I know you don’t love me as you once did.”

  His smile did not dim. “Whatever gave you that impression? My heart has hardened, true. So much bloodshed and pain has seen to that. And it is also true that my feelings for you are not as they once were. But I do love you. And perhaps in time, you will love me in return.”

  “Perhaps,” she called back. “I can only promise to try.”

  “I can ask no more.”

  Martok closed his eyes and listened to her footfalls fade. He had not intended this. In fact, in many ways he had surprised himself with his impetuosity. But seeing her again - knowing that her love for their children was undeniable - had softened his heart. He did love her. How could he not? She was strong in ways that the mages who'd opposed him could scarcely imagine. He doubted she would ever love him back. But he had lived without love until now. Perhaps a companion was all he could ever realistically hope for.

  The ceremony would be brief. Following that, once the war was officially over, he would send word to Gracio and Helen to bring his children home. Dragonvein Manor would once again know laughter. It would become something other than a place where the death of thousands was carefully planned. He would rebuild his house so that his children could grow and play without the fear and agony of war casting a shadow over the very stones that sheltered them. As much as he had begun this campaign with a burning passion to unite the world, he now desired only a safe place to live in peace with his family.

  Martok the Destroyer would be no more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  At first Martok thought he was dreaming. He could not move, and whenever he tried, pain shot through every muscle in his body. The faint light of a lamp in the corner of the bedroom was enough for him to catch shadows moving somewhere to his left.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded. “What the hell is happening? Release me at once!”

  Instinctively, his tried to cast wards around himself, but fear took over as he realized he was completely cut off from magic.

  “It’s useless to struggle.”

  It was Miriam’s voice. She had somehow made him completely powerless. It was then he felt something around his neck. “What have you done to me?” he growled.

  She sat on the bed and leaned over to look at him directly. For six months she had shared his bed. And for three of those he had seen love slowly growing whenever their eyes met. Now though, there was nothing there but hate and malice.

  “I am ridding the world of you, my love. And I am taking back my children.”

  “What are you talking about? I've already promised you. They will come home as soon as the treaties are signed.”

  “The treaties will never be signed. Your rule ends now. And I will raise my children as I see fit.”

  “Please, Miriam. Whatever you are thinking of doing, you must stop. You cannot find them without me. And Gracio will not return unless I summon him. Release me and I promise to take you to them.”

  She sniffed. “No more empty promises. No more lies. And no more of this madness with which you have tried to infect the world. The other great houses will aid me in retrieving my children. I no longer need you.”

  “They are lying,” he insisted, doing his best not to allow the fear to seep into his voice. “They cannot find them, no matter what they have told you. They are using you to get to me.”

  “Stop wasting your breath. You have precious few left to take. It is done, and nothing you can say will change it.”

  Martok could hear boots stomping their way toward his room. They were only seconds away, and whatever she had placed on him had rendered him utterly unable to defend himself.

  “Do not be the murderer of your children’s father,” he told her. “Let me go before –”

  He thought he saw a hint of indecision pass over her, but it was too late. The door flew open and three men in leather armor bearing the standard of the House Goldsong stormed in.

  Shoving Miriam aside, they jerked him up from the bed. Just before a cloth sack was thrown over his head he caught a final glimpse of Miriam's face and knew the awful truth. The love he had believed he had seen in her eyes was never anything but a clever ruse. Nothing was there now but anger and contempt.

  He had been defeated by his own carelessness. A soft heart - the very thing he had told Gracio would prevent his victory - had been the instrument of his downfall.

  He was a fool. And soon to be a dead one.

  * * * * *

  “Do you have anything to say, Martok Dragonvein?”

  The sack was removed and tossed aside. The soldiers had not taken him far. Barely beyond his wards, in fact. His hands were now securely bound behind his back and he had been forced to his knees. It took a few seconds to see who was there in the darkness. Only the light of the quarter moon revealed the face of his enemies.

  “Vrundin Kurigan,” he spat. “I should have known you were behind this.” He spotted Miriam standing several yards back, glaring spitefully. “Only you would have thought to use my wife's love for her children to capture me. I just wish I could be alive to see the look on her face when she learns the truth: That you know full well you cannot fi
nd them. And even if you could, you would never have the courage to make such a journey.”

  “If that is all you have to say…” Kurigan remarked, flicking his wrist and ignoring the accusation. “Then we should proceed.”

  Martok straightened his back. He would not cower. His children would live. Through them the Dragonvein line would endure. “I add only this,” he said. “What you have done will one day be the doom of Lumnia. Your petty hates and prejudices will undo this world. And when it does, I will be laughing among my ancestors.”

  “Then let us not delay your reunion,” Kurigan replied, his expression like stone. “As leader of the Council of Volnar, I sentence you, Martok Dragonvein, to death for crimes against Lumnia and her people. Know that your name will be spoken as a curse from this day forward. Nothing will be known of you other than that you were a blight on this world. Furthermore, it has been decided that your line will end with you. Your seed must not be allowed to spread and infect Lumnia with its poison.”

  For an instant it was as if Miriam was too stunned to react. The words then exploded from her mouth. “No! You gave me your word!”

  She made to rush forward, but before she could take a single step, two of the mages close by wrapped her in a coil of green light, preventing any movement.

  Martok smiled. Kurigan's words were an empty threat. Gracio, Helen, and the dragons protected their children, and they would be impossible to find. Moreover, though a group of powerful enough mages might overcome a single dragon, there were hundreds of the creatures living in the Dragon Haven. No one would ever risk their life on such a quest. He could have brought comfort to Miriam by telling her this. But he did not. Rather, he took solace in the fact that she was now suffering as he did.

  A soldier standing to his right unsheathed his sword and moved in behind him. He felt the tip of the blade touching his back, sending a wave of fear through him. But he would not snivel or weep. Kurigan then nodded to his waiting executioner.

  The pain was intense, but very brief. The life drained from his body before he was even aware he was dying. He had heard of how the gravely wounded would try to cling to life. But there was nothing for him to hold onto. The darkness encompassed him as if all the light of the world had suddenly blinked from existence.

  * * * * *

  “Where am I?” Martok called out to anyone who might hear. No one answered.

  Everything around him was blurred, nothing but swirling formless colors. There was ground beneath his feet, but it felt odd…somehow unreal, as though it had no actual substance. He smelled the air. Nothing. He realized that there was a complete absence of any sound bar that of his own voice.

  Over and over he kept asking himself how he had got to this strange place. There was something…hazy memories of faces and voices...but they were all far too vague to recall properly. Had he been asleep? Was he possibly still dreaming even? No. Whatever this place was, it was definitely real.

  He called out again. “Is anyone there?”

  This time, a soft feminine voice that seemed to come from all directions responded. “Yes, we are here. We are with you, and you have nothing to fear. You are safe with us.”

  “Where are you?” he asked. “What has happened to me?” He was not afraid. Somehow he knew that the voice was telling the truth. Nothing could hurt him here.

  The swirling mass of colors gradually began to settle until Martok found himself standing in an open field of tall grass. The sun was high in a cloudless sky, and a warm breeze made the field appear like an ocean of gently rippling green waves. A few yards ahead stood a large oak tree, beneath which was sitting a young woman. He recognized her instantly.

  “Heather!” he cried. “You are here. But how?”

  Smiling, she gestured for him to join her. Martok was only half the way to her when a face flashed into his mind...Miriam. She was looking at him with utter disdain. But why?

  “The memories will come back to you,” Heather told him. As when he was a child, her voice was musical and kind. “Sit. Let us talk for a while.”

  He settled beside her. To his surprise, a glass of wine appeared beside him. “What is this place?” he asked. “And why can’t I remember how I got here?”

  “This is where all who are of our line come when their time arrives,” she replied. “It is the gift bestowed upon us by our dragon kin. Here, anything is possible. You can rest and be at peace.”

  Martok frowned. “Are you saying that I’m…I'm dead?”

  “In a sense, yes. Your body is no more. But your spirit lives on. We spoke of this when you were a child.”

  “Yes…I…I remember.”

  As if a dam had suddenly ruptured, all of his memories then burst forth at once.

  “No!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet and backing away. His eyes searched desperately for a way out. “They…the bastards...they…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the rest. If he did, he knew he would have to accept the truth.

  “It will become easier with time,” Heather assured him. “Those who lived turbulent lives often find this place difficult to grasp at first. And you lived a life of great and terrible deeds.”

  She rose gracefully to her feet and regarded him with the compassion of a loving mother. “But your struggles are over now. Here you can have your heart’s desire. All the Dragonvein line through the ages will be with you. Here, all sins are forgiven.”

  Martok clawed at his face, shaking his head violently. “No. It’s not my time. I was so close.” He felt a pair of soft hands on his wrists. Heather’s touch was calming in a way he could not fully comprehend. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Please. Help me go back,” he sobbed.

  “There is no going back, Martok. You are here with us. The troubles of the world are no longer yours to solve.” She produced a handkerchief and wiped his tears. “I know it’s hard. But I give you my word that you will soon feel differently.”

  He buried his head in her shoulder, clinging to her in sheer despair. How long he wept, he did not know. But after a time he was able to let go and look her in the eyes.

  Heather was still smiling. “Come. Your kin await. They are very excited you are here.”

  “Is my father here too?” His voice sounded almost childlike.

  “Of course he is.” She took his hand, but after only a few steps, Martok resisted.

  “And what of Sylas?”

  “Yes. But as I told you, all sins are forgiven here.” She flicked his nose playfully with the tip of her finger. “You will understand soon enough.”

  As they walked, Martok could see a massive gathering awaiting him at the top of a low ridge. Their welcoming faces and bright smiles told him that there was nothing more to be troubled by. And though he still desired to return to the realm of the living, he had to trust that the feeling would fade in time.

  Just as Heather had promised him it would.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kat regarded Martok with what appeared to be genuine sorrow. “I’m sorry it has to be this way,” she said.

  He could not take his eyes away from the platform. After all the long centuries of waiting to be free again, he would not be delivered back into the abyss by a child. He would arise victorious.

  “As I have told you many times already, this is a waste of time,” he responded.

  “If that is so,” Lylinora cut in, “Why do you look so afraid?”

  “Because I have no desire to destroy Ethan’s spirit. And that is precisely what you are forcing me to do. The place where he now dwells is one of tranquility. In time he would come to accept it there.”

  “Like you did?” Kat pointed out.

  “Do not compare me to Ethan. He is a boy without ambition or purpose. Whereas I…”

  “You are a ghost,” said Kat. “One who should have never come back. Whatever purpose you had, it died with you a long time ago.” With a wave of her hand, she levitated Martok’s body onto the platform. “Now it’s time for you to go back to where you c
ame from.”

  “And when I return?” he challenged. “Be warned that you will no longer have any control over me. This cursed collar will cease to function the moment I cross the barrier. With all my magic restored, I will be able to discard it by thought alone if I wish. Think on this while Ethan’s spirit is being sent into oblivion.”

  Kat merely turned her back on him, making it impossible to know how deeply this threat had struck. Martok dropped to his knees. He could feel the barrier weakening. In seconds he would be faced with the choice he had been praying he wouldn't have to make: Whether or not to actually destroy Ethan for all eternity.

  Heather had told him long ago that the place where the Dragonvein family dwelt was one of forgiveness. This was true, even with Sylas. The moment he had seen his uncle, he no longer cared what the man had done. And it seemed that his father didn’t either. In time, his children had joined him…and their children. No crimes committed in the living world were of any consequence. The only thing that mattered was that they were together.

  Despite all this, one thing that Heather had told him was certainly not true. His desire to return to the living world had never weakened in the slightest. For centuries he had sought a way to regain his life. And in his quest, he had become as powerful in the world of spirits as he had been in the world of magic. Ethan could not hope to stand against him. Only Heather was his superior. And he knew she would do nothing to stop him if he was forced to carry out his threat.

  * * * * *

  Ethan could see the haze thinning. The barrier which prevented him from returning was weakening. Kat must have somehow managed to bring his body to the platform.

  “Do not underestimate Martok,” a voice from behind said.

  Ethan turned to see a tall man with close cropped black hair and a grim demeanor staring at him. Though he was sure he had never seen him before, he somehow knew his name.

  “Sylas. You…you’re Martok’s father.”