He could hear the men outside talking, some with angry raised voices. A few minutes later there was the sound of departing wagons, followed by the quartermaster spitting curses under his breath. He crossed over to his desk and began rifling through a stack of papers.
Markus tensed, ready to leap out and strike, only to stop himself when the man abruptly ceased his rifling and turned toward the rear door. “Marlow!” he shouted. “Get yourself in here. I’ve got a job for you.” After a few seconds, he slapped the desk top impatiently. “Where is that bloody idiot?”
Grumbling with irritation, he picked up the oil lamp and set off toward the rear. Markus waited until he had passed his position before falling in silently behind him. They were well on the way to the rear door before the lamp’s weak glow picked out the sentry’s body.
The quartermaster froze. “What the -”
That was as far as he got. This time Markus didn’t bother to draw his dagger. Like a striking snake, his powerful arm shot out and wrapped around the man’s neck. With his hold firmly in place, all it took then was one clean jerk. A sharp snap told him that the deed was done. All over in less than three seconds.
The lamp that had fallen from the quartermaster’s hand rolled dangerously close to a stack of crates containing wool blankets. A perfect way to cover all trace of his visit, Markus decided on the spot. He searched his victim until finding what he had come for – a large iron key with the raven of the Empire etched at the top. Shoving this into his pocket, he returned to the body of the dead soldier and dragged him next to the quartermaster. Using the paper Guri had given him, he then set about lighting several small fires before smashing the lamp onto the pile of wooden crates.
Markus allowed a smile to form. The air here was dry and the timbers old. There would be no evidence of how these men had died. It would look like an accident. Any trace of murder would be extremely difficult to detect, not that he imagined anyone would bother to look very hard anyway.
He left through the back and followed the road just inside the tree line. It took only a few minutes of running to catch up with the single file of heavily loaded, slow-moving wagons. By now the smoke from the fire was already visible in the light of the setting sun, not that the men driving would be able to see much of this even if they did happen to look back. Not with the high boarding directly behind them to prevent their loads from sliding forward.
Still staying within the tree line, Markus followed the wagons until it was fully dark. Now was the time to make his move. Crouching low and with silent steps, he positioned himself directly behind the rear wagon. This would be the tricky part. The top edge of the tailgate was just high enough to force him into making a jump, while a canvas tarp covering the highest part of the load had left only a narrow gap in which to squeeze through.
He heard the next wagon ahead jostle and squeak as it ran over a pothole in the road. Markus readied himself to act. The moment his wagon hit the same hole, he made a leap for the gap. The erratic swaying almost made him miss, but his fingers just managed to grab a tenuous hold on the tailgate’s edge. After strengthening his grip, he swung his legs up and under the tarp. A moment later he had wriggled the rest of his body through and was out of sight.
With no light and very little room to move, he felt his way around while searching for a good place to hide. Eventually, he found a half empty crate of cloth with just enough space to curl up inside. He settled there and temporarily tried to put what lay ahead out of his mind.
Though the journey would only take a short two days, he knew it would feel like an eternity.
* * * * *
It only took a day for his legs and back to start feeling the effects of his confinement. Were he to be discovered while in this condition, he wondered if he would be able to move well enough to mount a proper defense. No point worrying over it, he told himself. Likely he would be finding himself in far more trouble than dealing with a few wagon drivers. Though he’d performed similar feats of endurance in order to eliminate a target before, he had not done so in many years. At this moment, the resilience of youth was something he was missing quite badly.
A thought that hadn’t occurred to him in years developed. He recalled his father groaning loudly while dropping into his chair at the end of a hard day. “Even the statue of David is getting old, I suppose,” he would say. “Why should I be any different?”
As the trip wore on, more memories continued to flood in – mostly about people and places he had not seen since his youth. It served to keep his mind off the growing ache in his joints, not to mention help control his bladder. Though he was taking only small sips of water to fight off dehydration, there were limits as to how long he could control himself.
The foul air seeping into the wagon told him when they had crossed into the wastes. He could hear the driver frequently complaining to himself about his dislike of the desert, the wastes, and for his job of delivering supplies to the palace.
Markus had heard many stories about Noel – the city of nightmares. Up until now he’d avoided going there himself, but knew people who had. Apparently, it was a city of much outer beauty, though with a foul darkness living just beneath the surface. Reports had reached the Urazi just before he’d set off on his mission that the city’s inhabitants had all been slaughtered. How many people had lived there? he wondered. Ten thousand? More? All killed on a whim. Why the Emperor would do this had caused much speculation. Markus was convinced it must have something to do with his inevitable fight with Ethan.
He had almost reached the point where he was prepared to risk leaving his hiding place to stretch his limbs – if only for a brief moment – when he heard the driver rambling on about the trip being nearly over. An hour later they stopped, and he felt a heavy jostling as the horses were detached. This was soon followed by a succession of heavy grunts as the wagon was pushed backwards for several yards. Finally, a few minutes later, there was a loud boom of closing doors. After that there was complete silence.
He waited for a few minutes before attempting to rise. His legs felt totally numb and his back unwilling to straighten. At first all he could do was push open the crate’s lid and move inch by painful inch until sitting upright. Once in this position, he began massaging his legs. Though the pain was quite intense for a time, he sighed with relief as normal circulation was restored. Now able to move, he climbed out of the wagon. After relieving his bladder, which by now was near to bursting, and allowing his eyes to adjust, he tried to gauge his surroundings.
Enough light was filtering in through gaps around the massive double doors for him to see that he was inside a large holding area roughly one hundred feet across. All four wagons had been lined up side by side to await unloading.
He felt for the iron key in his pocket and, satisfied it was still safely there, eased his way to the far-right corner. Here he saw a wooden door with a chair placed just off to the left. This was where the instructions had told him to go.
The key fit the lock perfectly. Beyond was a room piled high with boxes and various items of value. Markus was familiar with such places. This was where a quartermaster would hide the goods he intended to keep for himself, or perhaps sell for some extra coin. One of the boxes was stuffed full with bits of paperwork from past deliveries; it was usually easy enough to divert a few pages of this amongst the chaos of a large consignment. A clever quartermaster could make himself quite a lot of extra gold if he was careful and didn’t get too greedy.
He locked the door behind him and settled down beside a large box to wait. For how long, he didn’t know. The instructions had not said.
In the dark, what with the air being so stale and hot, Markus struggled to keep his eyes open. Having had only a few fitful short naps during his long journey, almost inevitably, he did soon begin slipping in and out of consciousness.
The clack of the lock snapped him to attention. He had no idea how long he’d been dozing. It could have been hours – it could have been minutes. The doo
r opened, and he saw the shadow of a man standing in the doorway. He was holding a lamp turned down to the bare minimum.
“Are you in here?” the man whispered.
“I’m here,” Markus replied, now fully alert.
The newcomer breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the spirits.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“Who are you?” asked Markus.
“My name is Vraylic,” he replied. “I do not need to know yours. I need only to know that you have a way to kill him.”
“That all depends,” Markus said.
“On what?”
“On how close you can get me.” Markus fingered the pendant still secure around his neck. “And how much you are willing to risk.”
Vraylic locked eyes with him. “I can get you close enough. As for what I’ll risk, I have nothing left to lose other than my life. And after what I have seen…and done, I place no value on that whatsoever.”
“Then we have a chance,” Markus told him. “A slim chance. But it’s better than nothing.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kat found herself standing beside a pile of rubble on an unfamiliar street corner. The concussive blasts from the explosions were making it nearly impossible to stay on her feet. Men in uniforms were running about in all directions: some shouting orders in a strange language, some tending to wounded comrades, and others firing their rifles almost non-stop at the enemy. This was strange enough on its own. Yet the strangest thing of all was the scale. The men were enormous – like towering giants. One very nearly stepped on her. She would have been crushed underfoot had she not jumped out of the way just in time and scrambled over to a pile of debris near a burned-out shop. Dust was hanging in the air like a thick fog. Her mind felt equally clouded as it struggled to make a glimmer of sense out of all this. Then a man fell just a few feet away from her, a savage wound in his chest. Though the insignia he wore was unfamiliar, she recognized the unique shape of his helmet from her studies when living on Earth. It was unmistakable. He was German.
“What the hell?” she said. But rather than words, a guttural growl issued from her mouth.
The squeal of a tank penetrated the chaos. It was advancing down the street straight toward her. Her eyes searched desperately for somewhere to run, but the street was clogged with soldiers. There was no way she could get through them unseen.
A lone soldier slid to the ground beside her, frantically trying to fix something that was wrong with his weapon. Kat was paralyzed with fear. Then the man’s eyes drifted over to where she was standing and she realized…he couldn’t see her.
A dream, she thought. It had to be. There could be no other explanation. But this was one hell of a dream. Never had she experienced one that felt so real, right down to the acrid smells and ear-shattering sounds. It was all so unlike the vague, detached way she normally experienced dreams. Then there was the fear. She’d had nightmares many times, and always there was something in the back of her mind that kept her from losing herself in the terror. It was as if she knew subconsciously throughout that it wasn’t real. But this time, there was no such reassurance. Nothing whatsoever to say that, in reality, she was safely in her tent snuggled up between Keira and her father.
Whatever this was, she had no intention of staying put. A bullet pinged off the ground just in front of her, sending bits of concrete flying up into her face. Automatically, she shielded her eyes. But it wasn’t with her hands. It was with…a wing. A white wing.
“What the fuck!” Yet again her voice came out as a high-pitched growl.
She looked down at herself with astonishment. From what she could tell, she was a tiny dragon. Why in the hell would she dream that? And why a white one? An image of Maytra entered her mind, along with the memory of what Keira had said. Her elf friend was convinced that when the Imperial weapon had struck the dragon, it had somehow created a closer connection to the power of Lumnia.
“After all, it’s just the contained energy of the world,” Keira had pointed out. “And dragons have always had a mysterious relationship with Lumnia.”
Kat tried to think. Was Maytra trying to speak to her through her dreams? Another bullet hit close by, raising more dust and debris to pepper her face. This time, without thinking, she took to the sky. In seconds, she was well above the bombed out buildings and the chaos of the battle.
Momentarily, she felt a rush of fear. But this was quickly replaced by a feeling of sheer joy. Never had she felt a sensation remotely like it. The absolute freedom was exhilarating. Her wings seemed to know precisely what to do even before she had thought it. She was climbing, turning, and diving by sheer instinct alone.
Below, the men continued to scurry about. From her lofty position, their war seemed petty and insignificant. As she picked out the details of the battle below, she realized her eyesight was unusually keen. Dragon’s eyes, she thought.
She circled around, contemplating where to go next. Surely there were better sights than this to be seen. It was a dream, after all. She might as well take advantage of it. She started to turn into the direction of the sun, but then turned sharply. Something inside was telling her it was not time to leave. Not yet.
Kat swooped down until she was no more than a hundred or so feet above the tops of the buildings and began to glide, allowing the wind to keep her airborne while reducing her speed. A sense of urgency was creeping into her mind. But what it was she needed to do, she had no idea.
Then, at the corner of a block, she saw him. Ethan! He was running headlong across the avenue with ten or more German soldiers accompanying a tank all firing their weapons at him. Given that they were so close, she couldn’t imagine how they were missing. But miss they did. And to her great relief she saw him make it safely to the other side and into a ruined building. A moment later, Markus appeared and attempted the same dash across. A cold chill shot through her. It was just not possible for him to avoid the bullets as well. However, to her confusion, the soldiers ignored him completely. Still bemused, Kat circled to the back of the building, but there was no sign of Ethan emerging on the other side.
Help him.
The words came to her from somewhere far away, like a voice carried on a breeze. She flew to the front of the building and landed near the door. Upon entering, she quickly spotted Markus. He was peering into each room as he passed, calling out Ethan’s name. Why did Ethan not answer? Then, as she scurried past, she saw precisely why. It was no longer Markus. His flesh had turned to a black smoke that swirled and fell away, dissipating the moment it separated from his body.
Kat hurried on, now desperate to find Ethan before the thing masquerading as Markus did. She had to warn him of the danger. She found him at the rear of the building, obviously searching for another way out.
She cried out his name. But as before, only the harsh croak of a baby dragon came out. Moreover, he hadn’t heard her. Nor could he see her.
Kat ran to the door. The creature behind was getting closer. She hurried over to a pile of broken furniture and bricks in the corner. “Ethan!” she called out again.
This time he looked directly at her. And now he could see her. But in this form and unable to speak, there was no way to let him know who she really was.
As if someone had flicked a switch, the world around her suddenly went dark.
“No! I have to warn him,” she cried out.
But she had no idea how to get back.
“It’s just a dream,” she said, trying to calm herself. “It’s not real.”
Gradually her anxiety lessened. A gentle wind bushed across her face, and then a star-strewn sky appeared above. Her dragon’s eyes gave color to the night that she had never seen before. Subtle shades of red, violet, green, and yellow danced on the wind like threads of a rainbow.
Below was a vast expanse of open grassland, dull and unremarkable when looked upon with human eyes, but spectacular in its beauty and texture as she saw it now. She wondered if dragons really viewed the world th
is way. Or was this just part of the dream?
A stone spire surrounded by four smaller towers came into view. Two figures had climbed into the adjacent courtyard through a breach in the curtain wall that had once served as its protection. As before, the pair below were Ethan and Markus.
No sooner had she spotted them when a gale force wind sprung up, striking her head-on and driving her further away. She fought to resist it, but this was no ordinary wind. Like something evil, it washed away the beauty of the night, leaving the world cold and gray instead. The harder she struggled against its force, the stronger it blew. Unable to overcome its power, she went into a dive. The wind followed her, as if seeking to crush her hard into the ground. When only a few feet high, she pounded her wings furiously to slow the descent. Despite this, she landed with a mighty thud and rolled several feet before coming to a halt.
The impact sent pain shooting through her ribs and legs, and for more than a minute she was unable to move. How could she feel pain in a dream? Normally, something like this would have had her sitting bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. But not this time.
Ethan.
Her overwhelming desire to help him drove away the pain. Struggling to her feet, she saw she was still a good distance away from the spire. The tiny dragon’s body was now nothing but a hindrance. Nonetheless, she ran as fast as the short little legs would carry her. The wind continued to plague her progress, but with her body so low to the ground it could not stop her completely. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally reached the wall.
The door to the towers was closed and the windows too high to reach without being caught by the wind again. She raced to the other side, all the time looking for a small crack in the stone to squeeze through. None presented itself. As she passed a marble mausoleum, she noticed that the gate was wide open. Perhaps luck was with her after all.
Footprints in the dust and an opening in the floor told her that at least for the moment, it was going her way. Then she looked down through the opening and quickly changed her mind. She could clearly see how long a drop it was to the floor below, and descending the ladder with four legs would be tricky at best. Perhaps even impossible. Taking a deep breath, she instead opted for the simple solution and stepped in.
Dragonvein Book Five Page 23
