Something flew past her on the left. Bodies thudded together. A grunt of surprise. A scream of pain. Denton was sprawled on his back. Ian lay on top of him.
“No!” the bloody lord roared straight in Denton’s face.
Denton’s fists uncurled, and he raised his palms upward in surrender. Theodora pulled loose from her slack-jawed captor just as the bedroom door crashed open knocking Roy aside. Kylpin barged into the room with Philson and Garett on his heels. Kylpin glanced around the room, his gaze finally landing on Ian lying atop Denton and his expression darkened. “What the HELL is going on in here?”
“Rescued My Love,” Ian muttered. “Now save . . . Lumist . . .”
Josephine rushed to Ian’s side, pulled him off Denton and cradled him in her arms. His eyelids fluttered, and his gaze wandered but his face brightened when he looked up and saw her holding him. “Come closer. Something I . . . must tell you.”
She bent down, and he began to whisper in her ear. When he was done, Josephine nodded. “Do you think that will work?”
“Only one way . . . to find out. . .”
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
Ian closed his eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry to leave you . . . my love.”
Josephine swallowed the growing lump in her throat. “And I’m sorry to lose you, my love.”
Ian’s lips twitched. “I know I’m asking so much . . . of you already . . .” He sucked in more air and winced. “But will you marry me?”
“Marry you?”
“It seems I’ve recently been made . . . available again . . .” Ian glanced at Kylpin. “He can perform the ceremony.”
“I can, my friend?”
“You’re a . . . ship captain . . .”
“Without a ship, and we’re not at sea.”
“Just say the words . . .” His eyes found Josephine’s again. “If you’ll have me.”
“I will.”
“What’cha doing, Jo?” Edgar asked.
She heard the hurt in her friend’s voice, but there was no time to explain. Ian was fading fast. She held him gently and nodded to Kylpin. “Go ahead.”
Kylpin shuffled his feet, cleared his throat. “We’re gathered here-”
“No time . . .” Ian gasped. “Skip to the end.”
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Kylpin complied. “You may kiss your bride.”
Josephine pressed her lips lightly against Ian’s.
“One last request, my . . . beautiful . . . wife,” Ian struggled with the words. “Can you . . . make sure . . . Tyran . . . my family . . . Gyunwar . . . safe . . .?”
“Of course, my husband, but no one knows where he is.”
“He’s . . . with . . .” Ian’s voice faded to little more than a whisper again. “Lord Master . . . Vincent . . . Donner . . . at . . . the . . . Acad . . . emy . . . my . . . love . . . Tell him. Tell him . . . I love . . . him . . .”
And then he went still and said no more.
chapter 45
At the sound of the noon-time carillon bells, Lord Master Vincent Donner rose from behind his desk and joined Tyran at one of the open eastern-facing windows. His office was located on one of the Belyne Military Academy’s upper floors with views facing both east and south. On any other day, the view of Belyne sprawled across the gently rolling hills rising from the sea was spectacular. Sunlight glinted off the many spires stretching toward the cloudless blue sky. The temperature was balmy with a pleasant breeze swirling in off the coast. All in all, it would have been a gorgeous day, if not for the execution of his dear friend and the mass exodus of his fellow countrymen. Out the south facing windows, he saw the long line of overloaded coaches, carriages and other assorted wheeled carts steadily moving westward. Back toward Gyunwar. Tomorrow, he’d be joining them, he supposed. Even his rank as Lord Master of the Belyne Military Academy would not provide him safety in this country by week’s end. He’d heard the king’s proclamation. If he didn’t leave voluntarily, he’d no doubt be stripped of his title and imprisoned.
Plumes of gray smoke rose from Little Ryerton. Throughout the night he had stood at this window and watched the fires grow, his mind constantly working out various scenarios where he’d sweep out of the Academy with fifty of his best students and turn the tide of violence in his old district’s favor, but prudence had won out over bravado. Even if every student attending the Academy had backed his bold scheme, it would have been a difficult fight with many casualties on both sides.
And realistically, he wasn’t sure if even a third of the students would have sided with the Gyunwarians. Yordicians made up more than half the student population with the rest a mix of Gyunwarians, Dardynians, Seneicians and Euclacians. Presumably, most of the Dardynians would have sided with the Gyunwarians, and perhaps half the Seneicians would have too, but the scaly Euclacians would have likely backed the Yordicians. And the split would have been two-to-one against him.
He’d accept those odds for himself, but he wouldn’t force them on his young students, not when he could save them instead. Already, many of them were packing their belongings and assembling on the training grounds. They would ride out this afternoon and join the other exiting Gyunwarians, serving as guards for the long trek back to their homeland.
Vincent Donner placed a reassuring hand on Tyran’s shoulder. The boy flinched. Understandably, he hadn’t slept at all the night before. For an hour, Tyran had tossed and turned in his bed before finally rising and going up to the roof deck. Vincent had followed him, had offered to listen if the young lord had wanted to talk. Tyran shook his head. He just wanted to be left alone for a while. Vincent had agreed on the condition Tyran promised not to leave the Academy grounds.
“I’m on a roof,” Tyran had said. “Where would I go?”
Vincent eyed the adjacent building still under construction. A short leap would have taken him over to a long, narrow beam. The basic structure had been completed, but the roof had not been finished yet. A sure-footed youngster could scamper across the beam and climb down the ladder on the far side.
Tyran followed Vincent’s gaze and shook his head. “I don’t like heights . . .”
“You chose an odd spot to be alone then,” Vincent had tried to lighten the mood, but Tyran would have none of it.
“I’m just sitting on the roof deck, not standing on the edge.”
Vincent nodded and took his leave. Now, standing here with the young man, listening to the sound of the carillon bells, and knowing Ian was being led to his death, he wished he’d spent part of last night preparing some sort of speech. But what words could he possibly offer now to comfort Tyran? Everything that came to mind sounded trite and useless.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Tyran’s voice cracked. “I should have gone. I should have stood witness to what those . . . those . . . bastards will do to my father!”
“You’re where your father wanted you to be.”
“Am I?”
Vincent Donner grimaced. He did not do well in these kinds of situations. He might be a teacher, but he had no children of his own. No wife either. He taught martial skills and battle tactics. When students were ill, they were sent to the infirmary. He had no real experience with fixing broken hearts or comforting grieving young men.
“I’m sure knowing you are safe is a small measure of comfort for your father.”
“Safe? I’ll never be safe.”
“Do not fear, young master. We’ll leave for Gyunwar tomorrow morning. Once we cross the border-”
But Tyran was shaking his head. “Do you really think they’ll let me go?”
“They?”
“The king. Lord Ragget. My . . . the Princess.” Tyran stared out over the city. “No, as long as I’m alive, I’ll always be a threat to the legitimacy of their reign.”
“But I thought you said the king declared you non de’herytae.”
“Do you still believe I should one day be King of Yordic?”
Vincent Donner stared dow
n at the young man. “Yes, of course, but-”
“There is your reason.”
“But I understand it is an impossible dream. Short of war, you will never sit upon the throne.”
“Some are not as understanding as you, Lord Master Donner,” Tyran said. “And others, I fear are too understanding of the situation. They would be eager to stir up such a war.”
“How did you come by these conclusions?”
Tyran shrugged. “You weren’t at the courthouse, yesterday. You didn’t hear what I heard.”
“What did you-?”
“Lord Master Donner!” a voice cried out from the courtyard below. “Lord Master Donner!”
Vincent stepped forward and looked out the window. A young Dardynian runner was far below staring up at him. “Yes?” he called out. “What is it?”
“Riders at the gate, Lord Master,” the red-headed boy cried.
“Very well,” Vincent said. “Show them in.”
“But Lord Master,” the Dardynian shouted. “It’s Captain Wolfe Straegar and he has a warrant for your arrest.”
“A warrant for my arrest?” Vincent’s brow furrowed. “On what charge?”
Captain Wolfe Straegar galloped into the courtyard on his white stallion followed by twenty riders. The young Dardynian boy ran for the Academy’s front doors. Before he got there, one of the riders brought up a bow and shot him in the back. The boy dropped face-first on the school’s front steps.
“What is the meaning of this, Wolfe?” Vincent demanded. He shot Tyran a quick glance and under his breath added, “Go down and secure the front door.”
“But . . .”
“Now.”
Without another word, Tyran ran from the room.
“Come down, Vincent,” Captain Wolfe Straegar called up to him. “You’re under arrest.”
“And this is how you serve warrants now? By riding in and killing young boys?”
Straegar waved a hand in the air as if dismissing Vincent’s words. “You say he was a young boy. I say he was a fleeing criminal.”
“Criminal!” Vincent said. “He was a student here! What crime did he commit?”
“He disobeyed a direct order from a superior officer,” Straegar said.
“A superior officer?” Vincent made a point of searching the courtyard. “I don’t see one present?”
A touch of red brightened Straegar’s cheeks. “I told him to open the gate. He did not. He came to warn you of my coming instead.”
“He came to announce your arrival,” Vincent countered. “We normally don’t allow just anyone entrance onto the Academy grounds though I see we’ve made an exception for you and your men today.”
“I am here on official business.”
“Yes, and I’m still waiting to hear the charges against me.”
“Come down and we can discuss them.”
“I can hear you just fine from up here.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you like this.”
“Then go away, I’m very busy.”
“Come down now with no further delay and I’ll consider sparing the lives of the foreign-born criminals you’re harboring here on these grounds!”
“Foreign-born criminals? Wolfe, your xenophobia is confusing you again. Just because some of the students are foreign-born doesn’t make them criminals.”
Straegar’s ears reddened. “We have on good authority that you are housing foreign-born murderers and thieves. Give yourself up immediately and order all foreigners to do the same, or . . . I will see you all hanged!”
“Your bias is leading you astray, Wolfe. There are no criminals here. At least, none inside here with me.”
“Perhaps in savage Gyunwar, murder is so commonplace it does not garner any special attention, but here, in Yordic, we take such violent acts seriously.”
“I’m gladdened to hear you say that, Wolfe. Please see to it your bowman down there is arrested for murder. I’ll gladly testify against him, if you need a reliable witness.”
“I’m talking about Hans Mesbone.”
“Mesbone?” Vincent frowned. “What about him?”
“He’s dead. Murdered.”
Vincent paused. He had thought it suspicious that the Bloody Fist’s leader hadn’t performed the job Lord Ian had hired him to do a couple of days ago and now he knew why.
“You’re investigating the death of a hired merc, Wolfe? Men in that line of work die every day on the docks and across the world. You must be bored. Have you finished kicking all the puppies in the city?”
Straegar’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Mesbone’s body was found this morning on the grounds here, on the far side of the construction site. It was wrapped in this.” With a dramatic flourish, he flung a robe on the ground. It flapped open revealing Vincent’s personal sigil.
“That doesn’t prove anything.” Vincent laughed. Tyran ran back into the room. He was breathing hard, but he gave a quick nod and made a gesture that resembled a bar being thrown. Vincent smiled. While not exactly a fortress, the academy’s main building would not easily be breached now. “Anyone could have stolen one of my robes.”
“I’m not going to debate the merits of your case, Vincent,” Straegar said. “Your guilt or innocence is for the courts to decide.”
“Is this the same biased court that found my father guilty?” Tyran found enough breath to shout. Vincent winced. He had hoped to keep Tyran’s presence here secret.
“Is the traitor’s bastard up there with you, Vincent? Good! Bring him out too, won’t you? I have a warrant for his arrest as well.”
“On what charge, you pompous windbag?” Tyran snapped.
“Theft of royal property, you little brat! You took some items belonging to the Princess.”
Vincent glanced over at Tyran. “Did you take something from her?” he whispered.
Tyran shook his head. “I only packed a few clothes and . . .” His eyes widened. “My great-grandfather’s journal. I’ll bet that is what they are after.”
“Why would they want that?”
“Alan Weatherall was a great adventurer and father said some of the secrets contained within his journal are clues to the land route to Scylthia.”
Vincent wasn’t a merchant, but he knew such information would be worth a fortune. “Where is it now?” he asked.
Tyran patted his coat pocket. “Father said to keep it with me at all times.”
“Vincent!” Straegar shouted. “Surrender now and come down with that bastard, or there will be blood!”
A squad of twenty young Gyunwarians appeared on the far side of the courtyard. Half were armed with swords and spears, half with bows.
“Vincent!” Straegar shouted again. A few of his riders wheeled their mounts around to face the new arrivals. “Tell your students to stand down before my men kill them!”
“Odenar,” Vincent Donner called out to the oldest of the twenty students. “Stand down!”
“But Lord Master, this isn’t right!” Odenar shouted back. “I was there when they found the body. It wasn’t wrapped in anything.”
“Why didn’t you come to me with this news, immediately?”
“Captain Yardley said he would handle the matter.”
Vincent’s lips pulled into a thin line. When he had been promoted to Lord Master over Wolfe Straegar, many of the Yordician lords had insisted on having a fellow countryman named as his second. As a compromise, the deal was struck. Straegar had been the Yordicians’ first choice, but he resigned almost immediately. Malcapin Yardley, a sycophant with high aspirations, had been their second choice. Vincent had never liked the big-nosed young man, not because he was Yordician, but because of his constant superior attitude and his ever-changing opinions. If Vincent ever cared to know what the prevailing thoughts of the most powerful lords and ladies in the city were, all he had to do was ask Malcapin.
Now, it seemed the young captain had seen a chance for further advancement and had seized the opportuni
ty with both hands.
“Vincent, you are trying my patience,” Straegar shouted. “Come down, NOW!”
“Just a moment . . .”
“You’re not going down there, are you?” Tyran gave him a wide-eyed look. “You won’t receive a fair trial.”
“I know,” Vincent said, “But to refuse will give Captain Straegar the opportunity he wants to attack the school. Besides, I need to buy some time for your escape.”
“Escape? By myself?”
“Alysea, Gertrude and the rest of your household staff are in the mess hall. You remember where that is, right?”
Tyran nodded. “The big long building on the west side of the campus. But . . . you want me to bring Gertrude?”
“I know she’s old, but she’s crafty too. She’s survived a lot in her time.”
Tyran shrugged. “Where should we go?”
“Head north into the woods first, then west toward Gyunwar,” Vincent said hastily. “Stay clear of the caravans for now. The Yordicians will no doubt search for you there first.”
“Vincent! I’ll give you to the count of three before I come up and drag you out of there! One . . . two . . .”
A great boom shook the city and drowned out Captain Straegar’s ‘three’. Vincent scanned the Belyne skyline and immediately spied a new plume of smoke. It rose from the area over the Tower Square. A moment later, he caught a glimpse of something huge and red and . . . and . . . “The One save us! It’s a dragon!”
“What?” Tyran rose on his tiptoes. “Where?”
Vincent pointed. A massive fire-breathing dragon was attacking the Tower Square. Was this . . . he couldn’t believe he was thinking this . . . somehow Ian’s doing? Legends held that thousands of years ago dragons once roamed the world and that some Gyunwarians could call them down from the skies, bend their will and force them to do their bidding. These people were called Dragon Wranglers. Others, without this ability, became Dragon Hunters, bent on ridding the world of the great beasts thus ending the tyranny of the wranglers. Had this summoning ability passed from generation to generation to end up in Ian’s control?
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