The woman turned her attention to her new foes, yet the flames continued to find fresh victims as if they had minds of their own. She raised her left hand and snapped her fingers. The veteran braced himself for the pain he was certain was about to come. But instead of suffering the same burning fate as the villagers, the ground beneath his and the boy’s feet suddenly became soft, sinking their boots to mid-ankle depth. The young man fell forward, frantically clutching at the veteran’s shirt to remain standing. For a pace or two they struggled to keep moving forward, but the earth hardened, trapping them securely.
The lad let out a feral scream, hurling his rock at the woman and watching it land harmlessly several feet wide of its target. By now, all but a few of the villagers were naught but piles of ashes peppering the barren field. The handful still alive were fleeing with the desperate abandon of the condemned back toward their village.
The ball of foul magic dissipated. For the briefest of moments, it appeared as if the woman were going to allow some to keep their lives. But then her eyes glowed red. With a flick of her wrist, six wolves appeared and immediately began to run down those who remained.
The veteran and the youth could only watch helplessly as people they had known for years were torn to pieces, ravaged by the malevolence of this evil in human form. As the screams of the villagers died away, she walked casually up to the trapped pair and knelt before them. The sweet smile on her lips infuriated the veteran far more than anything else she could have done in that moment.
Her eyes fell on the youth. “You remind me of my son,” she said, her tender voice that of a kind and gentle soul.
The boy glared and spat. “You’re a monster.”
She reached up to touch her cheek. “Am I? I don’t feel like a monster. But perhaps I am. It doesn’t really matter, does it? Your people are dead, and in a moment you will join them. That is, unless you can give me a good reason to allow you to live.”
Seeing the defiance in the youth’s eyes, the veteran quickly spoke. “Let him go. If it is fear you wish to spread, you must allow someone else to live.”
Slowly she turned. “And you would sacrifice your life for him?”
The veteran steeled his nerves. “My life is over anyway. To the Empire, I am a traitor. There is nowhere for me to run.”
The woman scrutinized him carefully, her smile never once dimming. “A very good point. A very good point, indeed. And as I said, he reminds me of my own son.”
The idea of this demon having children was unimaginable. He readied himself for what he was sure would be a painful end.
“But then,” she continued. “I am to kill my son very soon. Perhaps I should grow accustomed to the idea.”
Before the veteran could protest, she snapped her fingers. The lad’s head was instantly engulfed in a swirling green haze. His eyes popped wide and he opened his mouth to cry out, but no sound came forth.
“Stop…please,” begged the veteran.
But the woman ignored him...utterly. Rising up, still with a ghastly smile on her face, she began strolling easily toward the village. The veteran watched as the flesh on the boy’s face began to fall away in large bloody chunks. In spite of all the horrors he had witnessed over the years, he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to witness the agony the innocent youth was now enduring.
“Tell Lord Dragonvein that I am coming for him,” came the woman’s voice. “And that I am most certainly excited to be seeing him again after so long.”
The veteran could feel the ground begin to soften. Without opening his eyes, he scrambled up and crawled a short distance before rolling onto his back. His breaths came in short gasps, and his heart was thudding loudly in his ears.
He forced himself to look over to the young lad. Nothing of his flesh remained, only a bare skull sitting atop a completely untouched body. The stories he had heard of Shinzan’s cruelty paled in comparison. This was evil in its purest form.
Yes. He must warn the mages of this woman’s coming. He could only hope that the ‘Ethan Dragonvein’ he had heard about was truly as powerful as the stories suggested.
And if this devil witch really was Lord Dragonvein’s mother, he prayed that her son would be willing to use whatever means necessary to stop her.
Chapter Two
The exhilaration of the wind and the rush of excitement into the pit of Ethan’s stomach as Maytra went into a sharp spiraling descent was unbelievable. Not even jumping from an airplane could compare with this feeling. But much as he was relishing each moment of the flight, he knew Maytra was not equally thrilled to be bearing him as a burden. Dragons were not horses. She had made this point quite clearly from the onset. However, time was a factor, and what he must accomplish could not be delayed.
Queen Berathis might have said she was willing to rise up against Shinzan, but her allegiance was not yet assured. None of her forces had been mustered, and she had made no public declaration supporting the dwarves and elves. King Yularian had told him that she could be a difficult woman, so likely she first wanted to ensure her nation’s status – as well as her own – once the war was won. It was widely assumed that with the return of the mages, the kings and queens of Lumnia would return to their vassal-like positions, governing according to the wishes of Lord Dragonvein.
This sentiment was held even among the elves and dwarves, though not by King Halvar and Keira. For this he was grateful. He had no intention of assuming the mantle of leadership, and he certainly had no desire to return the world to the way it had been in Martok’s time. But for now, he had to show strength and resolve. He needed to assure the queen that she was not casting her lot in with a doomed cause, and for this he would need to use much of the political savvy he possessed thanks to Martok’s memories.
Below him, the courtyard of the palace was filled with stunned onlookers, their jaws slack and fingers pointing skyward at what to their minds must have been a legend made reality. The surrounding city of Jar’ Malifica was in utter chaos. People were scurrying about with a combination of terror and excitement, their condition certainly exacerbated by the number of low passes Maytra had made before climbing above the clouds in order to make a more dramatic entrance.
The packed space below left no room for the landing. If they didn’t move, Maytra would certainly crush several people. Not the introduction Ethan would prefer. Fortunately, as they came level to the curtain wall – which was lined with dozens of archers, their bows trained directly on both him and his mount – the crowd began shifting back to make room. Ethan searched for the queen, but the doors leading into the palace remained firmly shut. It was a common measure for a monarch who would not want to appear overly eager. Even so, Ethan was willing to wager that she was looking on from one of the many narrow windows lining the palace façade. The chance to lay eyes on a dragon would be too much for almost anyone to resist.
Maytra landed heavily on the slate yard, arching her neck and letting out a mighty roar. Ethan had to suppress a laugh. She was showing off. And to great effect. Gasps and screams rippled through the crowd in one continuous wave as the panicking people struggled to back off and distance themselves even further from the terrifying new arrivals.
He could see that those at the rear were being forced against the wall and were in severe danger of being crushed. The old Ethan would have been merely concerned for their safety. But now, he could also view it as an opportunity. Spreading his arms, he focused his mind. A globe of pure white light appeared just above Maytra’s head. Unnecessary glamor, to be sure. But this was as much to do with presentation as substance. Of course, if he was wrong and Queen Berathis was not watching, it would all be for nothing.
“Bartilio Vamonza!” His voice boomed out, shaking the very ground.
The light flashed with blinding intensity, further terrifying the assembly. For the people at the rear, however, it was a lifesaving spell. Speedily yet smoothly, they were lifted above the increasing weight of those in front. As they dangled helplessly but safely a
few feet above their fellow citizens, Ethan slid from Maytra’s back.
Keeping his voice magically enhanced, he thundered: “If you have no business here, leave now!” Though his tone bore no anger, it nonetheless carried extreme authority.
The people needed no second bidding. Immediately, they began racing toward the open portcullis, many stumbling and falling in their eagerness to get away, only to be lifted to safety by Ethan’s magic just in time to avoid being trampled to death. Once all those still on their feet had made good their escape, he allowed the rest to descend and hurry off in the same direction.
The guards along the wall, awestruck by what they had witnessed, were no longer aiming their bows. But the chime of a bell from high above within one of the tall spires brought them back into the moment. The creak of bow strings issued forth, drawn by scores of unsteady hands.
Ethan turned to Maytra and gave a quick nod. After snorting a blast of hot air, she leapt skyward, her massive wings pounding loudly until in no time she was a mere speck against the blue sky.
“Lower your bows,” ordered a voice from the palace’s large double doors.
Atop the steps there stood an elderly man clad in blue and gold robes. With a thin silver rod capped with a blue crystal in his right hand, his severe expression and piercing gray eyes drilled directly into Ethan. After holding this gaze for several seconds, without another word, he made a slow turn and disappeared inside.
No longer threatened by the bowmen, Ethan started toward the palace, on the way taking in the intricate friezes and colorful banners decorating its façade. Along the bottom edge, spanning the entire breadth, were evenly spaced statues of horses carved from a rich blue stone and polished to a mirror shine. Al’ Theona was renowned for its high-quality horse flesh, for countless years providing half of Lumnia – including the Imperial army – with some of the most magnificent steeds ever born. Their speed and endurance was legendary.
Once inside, he paused to take stock of his surroundings. The foyer was certainly impressive. From the high ceiling hung six magnificent crystal chandeliers. The floor and walls were of polished white marble that was veined with silver and gold. More statues of horses lined either side, while a great fountain served as a particularly eye-catching centerpiece. The echo of the water was almost musical. This initial sighting of the palace’s interior was clearly meant to display the wealth and power of the queen to its utmost. Ethan could easily imagine a foreign noble being both impressed and intimidated.
Three archways were positioned between the statues both to his left and right, while a much larger archway lay directly ahead. The old man was waiting beneath this, an impatient expression on his face. With a brisk movement of his hand, he gestured for Ethan to follow and moved on.
Ethan knew better than to hurry. Martok’s experience told him this. One must never appear overly anxious in situations when you have come to appeal for help. Behave as if you are completely unconcerned and have all the time you need. Be relaxed and in control. And most of all, never allow people to read what is in your heart by looking at your face. He concentrated on his expression, forcing it to take on an almost arrogant appearance. Perhaps not the best way to come across, but he had only Martok’s knowledge to work with, and his ancestor had frequently met with many powerful leaders in his time. Personally, he had experienced very few meetings of this sort before. It was much like having read countless volumes on politics and decorum, but without having any of the practical experience to go along with it.
He passed through the archway and continued following the old man through a series of rooms and corridors. The palace was vast – every bit as large as King Yularian’s. Another common tactic. If you have it to display, show your wealth to your opponent long before you meet. And that is what he and the queen were at the moment: opponents. This was being made perfectly clear.
Ethan sighed inwardly. He hated politics as much as Martok had. Maybe even more so.
Eventually, he was shown into a small parlor. The furnishings were elegant and, in Ethan’s opinion, feminine. The pastel chairs and rugs were arranged in such a way that the occupants could easily converse with one another regardless of where they were seated. But in this instance, there were no other occupants. The absence of the queen was glaring.
“Her Highness commands that you wait here until summoned,” the man instructed him.
Ethan sniffed. “Then you shall fetch me refreshment while I wait.” He punctuated this with a sharp snap of his fingers.
The man stiffened. “I will have you know that I am Her Majesty’s –”
Ethan’s eyes glowed bright red and his features hardened into a mask of absolute authority. “I do not care in the slightest who you are. If I am to be kept waiting, I will have refreshment. Am I understood?”
The man jumped sharply back, eyes wide and mouth agape. “I…I beg your pardon. I will see to it at once.”
Ethan released the magic and allowed his face to return to a state of impassive arrogance. “My Lord,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You will address me as My Lord, or Lord Dragonvein.”
The man bowed awkwardly, his hands trembling as he rubbed them together. “Yes…Yes, My Lord. I do apologize.”
Taking a seat, Ethan waved a dismissive hand. The man did not hesitate, spinning quickly on his heels and very nearly stumbling into a chair before exiting the room. Ethan sighed heavily. He did not enjoy behaving in this arrogant manner. But given the situation, it was required.
He waited patiently until a servant boy entered bearing a tray of fruits and bread, along with a bottle of wine and a crystal goblet. The lad could not bring himself to look Ethan in the eye, clearly afraid to be in the same room as their awe-inspiring visitor. Ethan wanted to reassure him that there was nothing to fear, though he knew to do so might possibly work against him. Every move he made and every word he spoke would surely be reported back to the queen.
He pretended not to notice the servant’s activity. He wasn’t really hungry or thirsty anyway. But again, every action served a purpose. Once the boy was gone, he sat at a small glass table to examine the fare. With prudence dictating that he take care, he cast a small spell to check for anything that might have been added to the food or wine. Though he didn’t expect to find anything, to his surprise he discovered that the wine had indeed been tampered with. A mild sedative had been mixed into the bottle. Though not fatal, it would certainly have made him drowsy and lethargic. Ethan allowed a slight smile to creep to his lips. Clever.
With a wave of his hand he purified the wine and began his meal. No sooner had he finished when the door opened. This time it was the elderly man returning. After giving a formal bow, his eyes darted to the half-empty wine bottle.
“The queen will receive you now, My Lord.”
With a show of great nonchalance, Ethan leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “Tell Her Highness that I will be along shortly. I need to digest my food.”
The man furrowed his brow. “My Lord, may I suggest you come with me now? The queen does not like to be kept waiting.”
Ethan gave him a stern sideways look. “I do not like it either. But as I was kept waiting, I will see the queen when I am good and ready.” He flicked his wrist. “Run along.”
Obviously unwilling to debate the matter any further with such a powerful mage, the servant did as instructed.
Ethan thought back on the first time he had met with King Halvar. He had been terrified and in no small measure intimidated by the prospect of meeting an actual king. But had he possessed the knowledge that was now a part of him, he would have easily seen through the dwarf monarch’s tactics. He would have even likely foreseen his attempts on his life as well.
Enhancing his hearing, he listened for the old servant to return. He shouldn’t overplay his hand. Putting the queen off-balance was one thing; to infuriate her beyond measure was an altogether different matter. According to King Yula
rian, she was not the type to show her emotions easily, though when pressed too far, it was said that her anger could easily match that of a drunken soldier.
The approaching footsteps told him that it was time. Rising from his chair, he smoothed down his clothing. He had deliberately chosen attire that was far from befitting a noble – just a simple cotton shirt and pants. By contrast, the elegant blade that Jonas had passed on to him spoke clearly of wealth and power. This incongruous mix would serve to further confuse the queen’s perceptions.
He had already started toward the door when it opened. The servant jumped back a pace, scurrying out of the way as Ethan strode straight past him. Quickly regaining his composure, he hurried along until he was in the lead.
Ethan followed him through another series of chambers and corridors before finally reaching the throne room. He thought this unusually small – no more than fifty feet square. The walls were draped with tapestries and ornate weapons, and the domed ceiling was painted with images of the five great kingdoms. Positioned in the very center of these was a crimson raven – the sigil of the Empire – though a thick black line had been painted directly across this as if to discount its importance. Ethan smiled inwardly. That must have taken courage.
The throne was of black stone inlaid with gold and etched with intricate letterings in the ancient language of the dwarves. Clearly it was they who had crafted it, probably as a gift to the reigning monarch of ancient past.
Sitting proudly upon it now was Queen Berathis. Ethan was immediately struck by both her youth and beauty. Her raven hair was woven into thin braids, with white and silver threads interlacing each one. These were all held neatly in place by a thin circlet with a single diamond at its center resting on her brow. A flowing gown of white satin and violet lace hung perfectly from her slender shoulders, and her delicate features looked set and resolute. In spite of her youthful appearance, she truly exuded strength and confidence.
Dragonvein Book Five Page 4
