After stripping off his clothes, he plopped heavily onto the bed and buried his head in the pillow. Kat straddled his back and tickled his ribs until he rolled over and held her wrists.
“You know I hate that,” he told her, pretending to be irritated.
“Liar.” She pulled one arm free to goose his ribs again.
He drew her close. “I wish every night could be like this,” he said.
She kissed him tenderly. “I think you might change your mind in the morning when you wake up to an enormous hangover.”
Ethan groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“I think we should do this every year,” Kat suggested after a moment.
He nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “Me too.”
“What’s wrong?”
Smiling, Ethan pulled her closer. “Nothing at all. I was just thinking about Jonas. I wonder what he would say about all this.”
“I’m not sure about the party. But I do know he’d be proud of you. Just like I am.”
Ethan reached over and dimmed the lantern on the nightstand. The morning would come soon enough, bringing back with it the problems and challenges still to be faced. But in this moment, feeling the warmth of Kat’s body next to his and hearing the laughter of his friends still echoing in his mind, he felt like he had truly achieved victory. He had faced the greatest of evils and not shied away. And now he had all he could ever hope for.
How long would it last? There was no way of knowing. The world could plunge into another war tomorrow. But at least he had this moment – this victory. And that was more than any man could ask for.
Epilogue
Jonas heard the keys rattling the lock at the front door. “I’ll call you later,” he said.
“Wait. Just a few more questions.”
Jonas looked to the door, then back at the old man on the screen of his laptop. “I can’t talk right now,” he said. “Tomorrow, okay?”
Without allowing any time for objections, he closed the screen and scrambled over to the kitchen island. The margaritas in the blender had already begun to melt. Jonas grunted. He had talked to Professor Hoffman far longer than he’d intended. Racing to the refrigerator, he grabbed a glass. The whir of the ice dispenser masked the sound of the opening door, though he felt the hot air rushing inside.
“I was just making you a drink,” he said, forcing an innocent smile.
The woman standing at the threshold was wearing a set of medical scrubs. Her salt and pepper hair was tied into a short braid, and her dark eyes were bearing down on him.
“You were talking to that guy at the college again,” she said, one hand planted firmly on her hip.
Jonas’ eyes darted over to the laptop and he could see immediately that he hadn’t closed it completely. His shoulders sagged. “Yes, Nurse Vera. You caught me.” He poured the ice into the blender. “But I really did make margaritas.”
He pushed the start button before Vera could scold him further.
Unfortunately, this was only a temporary reprieve. The moment the blender stopped, she stalked over to the laptop and shut the top all the way down. “You keep this up and you’re going to have the men in white coats banging on our door,” she told him.
Jonas cocked his head. English was often a confusing language, and he hadn’t yet mastered all of its nuances. Many common expressions other people easily understood still escaped him. “It’s not what you think,” he said.
“And how would you know what I think?”
He poured two drinks. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
Vera’s mouth was still twisted into a frown. “Told me what?” She accepted the drink and headed toward the back bedroom.
“Professor Hoffman and I are going to write a book together.”
She paused. “A book? About what?”
Her expression had softened. She was always a bit edgy at the end of a shift, though he knew once she’d finished her post-work cocktail, she would relax. “I’ll tell you outside.”
Before she could object, he turned and exited onto the rear deck. The house itself was small, perched on pylons with only a single bedroom and one bathroom. But the furnishings were extremely well made and quite expensive. It also had all the best appliances. The deck overlooked the Gulf of Mexico, where they had more than two acres of white sand beach to enjoy whenever they wanted. Not that Jonas actually cared very much for the sand. Still, Vera liked it, and it afforded them a decent amount of privacy.
Plopping down onto his lounge chair, he sat his drink on the side table. The smell of the salt air and the sound of seagulls never failed to make him smile. He had fallen in love with the location the very first moment he laid eyes on it. Vera loved it too. It was that as much as anything which had prompted him to purchase the house.
Vera came out a few minutes later wearing her white two-piece bathing suit. Though in her early fifties, she exercised regularly and took excellent care of herself. Jonas often told her she could pass for a woman in her thirties….and he meant it.
She had already finished the drink he had poured and had made herself a second. “Now tell me why the heck you are still talking to that kook Hoffman,” she began. “You know how I feel about that. Wherever Lumnia is, you live on Earth now.”
“We’re not trying to find it anymore,” Jonas assured her. “The other astronomers he works with were starting to think he was losing his mind, so he had to stop.”
“What then?”
“He wants to write down the stories I told him,” he replied. “I don’t know English well enough to do it myself. So he thought maybe we could do it together.”
Vera looked at him skeptically. “You promise that’s all you’re doing? No more running off in the middle of the night searching for home?”
Jonas reached over and took her hand. “This is my home now. Here. With you.”
She smiled. “That’s good to hear.”
“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was wanting to go back. I swear that even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“You know, since that first moment I saw you lying there in the ER with a bullet in your stomach, not speaking a word of English and scared out of your wits, I knew you were trouble.” She winked at him over the rim of her glass. “I just didn’t know how much.”
“You should have known me before I came here,” he said. “I was about as stiff and proper as you can imagine.”
“You still are,” she teased. “Much too stiff and proper for a young thing like me.”
Jonas made a show of acting hurt. “So you just married me for my money?”
“That and your sexy accent. I’ve always been a sucker for exotic men.”
Jonas stood up and took her now half-empty glass back to the kitchen. For all her teasing, he knew how much she loved him. She had been by his side through everything: First at the hospital during the long and painful days of recovery from his wounds, then with practical support through all the legal process, until he was finally cleared of the murders that Markus had committed.
Briefly, he thought back to the moment he’d been shot. It had been agonizing. At first, he’d thought it was fatal; he’d certainly collapsed like he was dead. Markus had probably thought he was. He wondered for a moment what had happened to him and Ethan. And all the others. There were so many possibilities, it was impossible to guess.
His mind shifted back to Vera. She was his life now. Even after seeing him through all the early problems, she still wasn’t done. Following that, she had helped him to stay in the country by taking him to the best immigration attorney in Massachusetts. And the amazing thing was, not once, despite safely looking after a fortune in jewels for him until he had recovered from his wounds, had she ever asked for anything in return. That told him everything he needed to know about her character. When he was finally on his feet and able to watch out for himself, she simply returned to her job as a nurse. It wasn’t until Jonas had learned enough English to have a decent conversat
ion that he returned to ask her out on a date. It wasn’t exactly love at first sight, but they enjoyed each other’s company, and the rest soon blossomed.
Once back on the deck, he knelt beside Vera and handed her the refilled glass. “I just want you to know that I really meant what I said just now.”
She took her drink and sat it down beside her. “What are you talking about?”
“I never want to go back.”
Vera kissed his fingers and pressed her cheek to his hand. “I know. It’s just that some of the stories you tell make it sound so much more exciting than this place. I mean…I didn’t even believe you at first. It was just too crazy. But I know you’re not crazy. And I know you don’t lie to me. So if you’re not crazy and you’re not lying…”
She shook her head and leaned back. “I think I might have drunk too fast.”
“Careful,” said Jonas. “I might end up taking advantage of you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “If you think you can keep up, go for it.”
Just then, six children came running up from the beach. Jonas recognized them immediately.
“I think it might have to wait,” said Vera. “Your fan club is back.”
“I can get rid of them,” he offered.
She blew him a kiss. “No. I can wait. For a while, at least. Just don’t make it a long one.”
The pounding of feet running up the stairs from the beach shook the entire deck. A few seconds later four boys and two girls, all of them about nine or ten years old, ran up and surrounded Jonas.
“Aren’t you tired of this by now?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
All six children shook their heads.
Jonas sighed and sat on the lounge chair. “Very well. I suppose I know one more.”
“Does it have a dragon?” asked a young girl with wild brown curls and a face filled with tiny freckles.
“Not this one,” Jonas replied. “Today I’ll tell you about how I came to Earth from a faraway world. And how I ended up marrying the fairest princess in all the land.”
The two girls smiled, but the boys looked as if they had just smelled something foul.
“Don’t worry,” he added quickly. “It has chases and gunfights, and magic too.”
This was enough to satisfy the boys. As the entire group sat in a row in front of him, Vera got up and took his glass.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then whispered: “Just leave out the part that happens after the wedding.”
“Of course, my love,” Jonas said. “That’s the story I’ll tell you later.”
He cleared his throat and turned back to the children. “Now where to start? Ah, yes! Far, far, away, beyond the very farthest star in the sky, is a world filled with magic, elves, dwarves and dragons…”
The End
Akiri
The Scepter of Xarbaal
Brian D. Anderson & Steven Savile
Prologue
Serhan closed his eyes and took a long cleansing breath.
Drawing deep into his mind, he touched his center – his merkesh. He felt it rising within him, but after only a moment of bathing in its awesome power, he allowed the vibrations to subside. It was not time. Not yet. Soon, though; very soon. And when it arrived, all his many years of training and discipline would be tested to the full. As would his courage and resolve.
The steady thumping of Ragnir’s huge wings fell into rhythm with the beating of his own heart. He ran a hand over her muscular shoulders. Her awesome power never failed to send a chill down his spine. Her flesh – hard as iron, yet still pleasing to the touch – rippled and tensed. She was ready. Ready for battle. Ready to kill. And ready to die if needs be. Without opening his eyes, he leaned forward and placed an ear against the base of her neck.
“Once more, my love,” he whispered. “Then it will finally be over.”
In response, Ragnir’s rumbling growl resonated through his entire body. Yes. Once more. I am ready, the dragon told him, though not in words that anyone save Serhan could comprehend.
He sighed, allowing his mind to fully absorb the peace of the moment: his oneness with Ragnir; the breeze against his flesh while riding high above the ravages of the world where only the Tul’Zahar dared to climb; and finally, the incredible sense of freedom. Up here, he was truly his own master.
The distant clamor of steel and fire dragged him away from the perfection of the moment. He opened his eyes to see the glow of flames reflecting off Ragnir’s deep blue scales, making her appear as if she was wrapped in a cloak of cloudless night sky. He cast his gaze downward. Such a spectacle had not been seen by human eyes in more than three hundred years. Vast oceans of warriors were pitted against one another. More than three hundred thousand of them was his guess. Five mighty nations had sent their best and bravest to do battle.
He tried to make out the individual armies, but after six straight days of fighting, it was impossible to distinguish one from another. By now, the alliance had merged into one massive force pressing forward against the power of King Zemel the Conqueror, ruler of Acharia.
Rings of fire erupted as the battle mages went about their deadly work. Serhan sneered contemptuously. Battle mages. Bah! Half-wit weaklings unfit for the Tul’Zahar, that’s all they were. Even so, King Zemel had found a use for them where other kings had not. But of course, unlike Zemel, other kings were fearful of magic. King Zemel feared absolutely nothing. Not even the Tul’Zahar.
His desire to press Ragnir into a dive and dispatch these pathetic battle mages was strong. The thought of the terror they would know when faced with genuine power almost elicited a laugh. But Serhan knew it would have to wait. The task he was about to undertake was far more important. The battle mages would taste justice soon enough.
He placed the tip of his finger to the large gem set in the pommel of his sword and smiled. The sword had been forged for him, perfectly weighted and balanced for his hand. It had taken a month to fashion, tempered in the crucible of Tul’Zahar’s greatest smiths, and given in exchange for the oath of loyalty he swore to the order. The jewel itself, though, that was a gift from his wife, given when she first discovered that she was carrying his child. Fondly remembering Leona’s aspect, he allowed a small piece of his essence to leave him to create a faint impression of her within its facets.
Ragnir let out a booming huff and shook her head.
“I know, my love,” Serhan said. “I must keep my focus. But this may be our final battle, and I would have her with me.” He patted the dragon’s neck. “After this, we’ll find somewhere far away from the madness. Somewhere my son can grow up in safety without being surrounded by fields of blood.” When Ragnir hissed and whined, he smiled and then added: “Yes. I’m sure there will be plenty of sheep and wild pigs to feast on, too.”
Serhan shifted his eyes to gaze north. There, less than twenty miles away, loomed the ominous black spires of Gol’Naruth – King Zemel’s stronghold. Should the vast forces of the five nations manage to advance that far, that would be the absolute limit of their achievement. They could lay siege for a hundred years and never so much as scratch a single stone of the city walls. These were protected by the magic of the Sulmarian Guild. Not even the mighty fires of the legendary elder dragons – were there any still alive to try – would be able to make the slightest blemish on them. Serhan smiled briefly. It was just as well for him that he would not need to test his strength against such an indestructible defense.
A blast of heat rose up from the battlefield. A small group of battle mages had joined together to form a protective wall of fire around themselves, but inch by inch they were being pressed back by the determination of an enraged foe. Serhan’s keen eyesight could see that bowmen had already decimated the battle mages’ shield bearers, leaving them exposed and vulnerable. Fire could roast a man and was a highly effective defense against advancing soldiers, but it was next to useless against arrows and bolts. Little by little the flames diminished as the archers contin
ued to send forth their deadly attack. Serhan smiled. Good riddance.
Again he cast his eyes toward Gol’Naruth. The heat rising from the battlefield distorted the light, giving the fortress an even more forbidding appearance.
It was time.
Reaching to his belt, he withdrew a small silver horn, the rhylatite infused within making it glow in his hand. He raised it to his lips and blew three times.
The pure, clear call pierced the air in every direction, making all other sounds dull and distant by comparison. He chuckled softly. The king would have undoubtedly heard it too. He would know they were coming.
Three specks approached rapidly from the west. It took only a matter of seconds for him to recognize Drewin, Sadich, and Thradus. Astride their dragons, they drew their blades and held them high in salute. Serhan raised the horn aloft in reply.
Both Sadich’s and Thradus’s mounts were lean, their heads covered in razor sharp spikes, but Drewin’s dragon was broad and powerful – just like Ragnir. Also like Ragnir, it had shed most of its spikes long ago.
They brought the dragons to a halt only a dozen yards away, coming into position in front of Serhan, their immense bodies rising and falling as they trod air to hold their position. The red flame crest was splashed magnificently across their polished black armor. Drewin – second only to Serhan himself in rank – boasted the red sash of the Tul’Zahar. Removing his helm, he shook loose his shoulder-length brown curls, dark eyes fixed on his commander.
Serhan noted the blood soaking Drewin’s arm and spattered on his face. This had obviously been a hard-fought day. “Are you injured badly?” he asked.
He glanced down at his arm and spat. “Goddamn battle mages had me distracted for a moment. I took a crossbow bolt as a reward for my stupidity.”
“Can you continue?”
Drewin threw his head back, laughing. “Are you joking? You think I’d miss my chance of glory over such a small matter?”
Dragonvein Book Five Page 34
