Divided (#1 Divided Destiny) (22 page)

“Well if it’s hearing, we should shut up,” Leo pointed out, softening the reprimand with a tight smile.

He got Nick’s point; dragons were mythical creatures, and they knew nothing about what weaknesses they could exploit. Leo looked curiously over at Mathis, who was staring up at the sky in fear; either he hadn’t heard Nick or he didn’t know the answer. Leo thought it was likely the former; he had never expected to see the otherwise brave knight so terrified.

Another roar cut through the air, and then Leo picked up the wind beating with the flapping of wings. He looked up at the blue sky and waited, his gut clenching more and more the longer the sky remained clear. If they could hear it this clearly, how big was this thing?

Then the dragon appeared, and it was huge.

It was flying reasonably low, just a dozen feet above the treetops, and it seemed to block out all the light, casting a great shadow that covered the land. The scales shimmered crimson in the daylight. Its long, barbed tail swished in the air. The wings were easily twenty feet across, perhaps even more—it was hard to judge with it just in the air and nothing next to it for comparison. They were slightly transparent, like a blind over a window; they allowed light through, showing up every vein and bone ridge. It truly looked like a dragon from legend.

Don swore. Mathis drew his sword; the metal sliding through the scabbard was muffled under his labored, panicked breathing. His hand shook as he held the sword outstretched. Leo touched him lightly on his gauntlet.

“Relax, I’m sure it will pass us by,” Leo muttered softly. Nick raised his weapon. Leo touched the barrel and forced it down. “Hold your fire. We don’t want to fight this thing now; we’re not ready.”

“Copy that,” Nick breathed.

The dragon almost seemed to be hovering above them. Leo’s anxiety climbed. Perhaps it had spotted them, perhaps it knew they were there. An errant thought flashed across his mind—perhaps it was waiting to see who blinked first.

It was a long, torturous minute before the shadow on the land started to drift. The dragon was flying forward again. Leo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. That had been close, and it certainly looked like a real dragon. He hadn’t seen any holes in the illusion, but it had been a couple of dozen feet up in the air—it might have still been a machine or a hologram disguising a machine. However, it had felt real. He certainly understood the terror it inspired in the local residents of Kaslea.

“I think it’s gone,” Don said, theatrically slumping against the nearest tree in relief.

Mathis smiled faintly at his antics and returned his sword to his scabbard. He still looked shaken, but he was a knight of the realm, and he would be fine.

“We must continue to the city. If the dragon is active today, I do not wish to travel far after dark,” Mathis stated.

A shiver of fear went up Leo’s spine. He imagined them riding towards the city, the sun having set, and their path only illuminated by the light of the moon. They would suddenly hear the distinctive thumping sound—similar to that of helicopter blades—of the dragon’s wings beating in the air. Its dark scales would make it near invisible in the moonlight; the first they would see of it would be when it was upon them, its sharp claws raking them in two, its fiery breath turning their bones to ash. No, Leo wasn’t keen to chance that either.

They led their horses back onto the path and remounted. Mathis dug his heels deeply into his horse’s flank, causing it to gallop forward. They would not be able to maintain that pace, but putting some distance between them and the dragon made sense.

“Yee-hah,” Don called out.

Next step: the city, and hopefully finally some answers.

Chapter Seventeen

Eleanor swept through the corridors of her castle. Head raised, shoulders back, eyes flashing in anger, she didn’t slow her stride for anything. Any servants or knights she encountered swiftly got out of her way, in one case falling to the ground as they stumbled to the side in haste.

Nobody wished to get in the queen’s way when she was in this kind of mood.

A wooden door straight ahead, opening off the adjacent corridor, barred the entrance to the dungeons. Two armored knights stood guard on either side.

“Open it,” Eleanor snapped the second they came into view.

The guard on the right snapped to attention. He fumbled for the key hooked to his belt. Eleanor didn’t slow down. He pushed the large, ornate silver key into the lock and pushed the door open just in time.

“Out of the way.” Eleanor pushed him with her magic, sending the knight tumbling to the floor and sliding several feet until the wall stopped him.

The wooden door had hidden a set of stone, circular stairs. Eleanor descended carefully; lanterns were hung along the stairway, but the soft golden light didn’t cut through much of the gloom. She raised her palm and formed a ball of flame. She casually tossed it into the air where it turned into a soft ball of white light. It led her way down the stairs and to the dungeon.

There were a number of prison cells down here, thick black metal bars instead of doors. Inside, there were beds of sorts made of straw. Vermin were rampant. Several rats squeaked and scurried in front of her, much to Eleanor’s disgust.

She hated coming down here, though her prisoners deserved no better. They had earned her displeasure and they deserved what they got. Everyone had to live with the consequences of their actions. She had no sympathy for those who would do her harm.

Gaunt, dirty, and malnourished prisoners, both men and women, huddled back into the depths of their cells, pressing themselves against the damp stone walls. One stepped forward, wrapping their hands around the bars that imprisoned them.

“Oi, your Majesty,” he yelled, causing his fellow prisoners to gape or whimper in terror.

“You dare,” Eleanor hissed.

“Yes, I do.” The man’s voice trembled, but he stood up straight, staring at Eleanor defiantly. “You seem a little angry today. Female trouble, is it? Must be hard being a woman…”

The bars were spelled against magic. However, there was no spell to stop her from pulling her razor-thin dagger, which doubled as a hair accessory, and plunging it into the man’s throat. She removed the dagger; it dripped blood on the floor. The man clutched uselessly at his ruined throat and stumbled to the ground. Unable to draw breath, he drowned in his own blood.

Eleanor watched him die, his body twitching impotently on the ground until he went still. She knew that he had goaded her into killing him, that death was his only release from her dungeon and he had finally grown desperate enough for it. However, she didn’t care. The screams of a broken man were not nearly so satisfying; his death had always been inevitable.

The cell she had come to visit was at the end of the row. She moved until she was outside it, blood still oozing from her knife, leaving a thin trail on the floor. Staff Sergeant Ortiz eyes flicked to the knife, but to his credit he didn’t obviously react. He had been sitting on the floor, back ramrod straight. He slowly rose to his feet.

“Something I can help you with, your Majesty?” Ortiz asked calmly.

“Your friends have been busy,” Eleanor told him.

When the latest messenger from the front had arrived with news of the most recent battle, which had taken place the day before, she had been both furious and elated. Her envoy had traveled all night, and swapped horses several times, to bring her the news by the afternoon. The knight had spoken of three strangely garbed men who wielded unknown magic in the defense of a small village just inside Kaslea’s border.

Eleanor had known instantly it must be comrades of her newest prisoner—men from another world. She now had a location for three more, which was why she was pleased. However, they were already in the service of Kaslea, which was why she was furious.

“Good for them,” Ortiz replied evenly.

“The weapons you carry. How do they work? I know it is not magic,” Eleanor began.

She looked again at her surroundings in disgust. She had been tempted to order Ortiz brought to her, but blood took a long time to clean up; there would be maids in her throne room for hours if she had to demonstrate to Ortiz why he should answer her.

All of Ortiz’s belongings had been taken from him upon his capture; three of her knights had died investigating them. Eleanor knew exactly the power these strangers carried. She wanted that power for herself. Knights were expendable; trial and error would easily discover how the weapons operated. Their operation wasn’t what interested her—the ability to replicate the weapons did.

While she could attempt to bluff Gatlan into believing she had more of these weapons than she did, that gambit was fraught with danger. Ortiz had not been carrying enough to make such a bluff convincing.

“I’m a soldier. I use them; I don’t build them,” Ortiz said bluntly.

“You said you were from Earth; I know that is not a kingdom in this world. You are from another. To quote you, you arrived ‘not through the normal travel route.’ How did you get here?” Eleanor pressed.

With a twist of her wrist, she conjured herself a chair. It was simple, plain wood with a high back and no arms. She never had been able to conjure anything more complex. It was something Yannick loved to mock; she wielded her magic with far more brute force than finesse. Thus far, no amount of practice had helped her improve her control.

Ortiz shifted uncomfortably. Eleanor narrowed her eyes; his indecision was plain to see, and that thrilled her. She could capitalize on that. He wasn’t sure what to do, which meant he could be convinced; she just needed to find the right words to persuade him.

She had not lain eyes on him since their brief initial meeting, and had not been able to take his measure until now. Unfortunately, she could tell that he was going to be difficult. Pain wouldn’t loosen his tongue; that would just lead to defiance. She’d have to do this the hard way, see if she could earn his trust.

“You have to understand, you are a stranger here. We know nothing of you or where you come from. I have to be careful; I have to protect my kingdom. I have not ordered you kept in the dungeon because it pleases me,” Eleanor explained smoothly.

“Yeah, we’d do the same,” Ortiz allowed.

“You said you were looking to make friends, not enemies. While this is not the best beginning, if you are honest with me, then perhaps my kingdom can help you,” Eleanor added sweetly, trying to look as demure and unthreatening as possible. Then she caught sight of the dagger she still held. A flash of flame licked along it and it disappeared. She’d forgotten she was holding it.

Ortiz looked almost amused for a moment, but then he shook his head. “My world is already under threat from one alien invasion. We don’t need another.”

Eleanor laughed. “I am not interested in going to your Earth. I would be the stranger there; I would have no power. No, your kingdom is safe from Sintiya.”

“Then why do you want to know how we got here?” Ortiz frowned, suspicious.

“There are many reasons. First, to protect my kingdom; it concerns me greatly that strangers can appear with no need to cross any border. You said you are a soldier—that is like a knight of the realm? I’m sure you can understand,” Eleanor explained.

Her real reason was because she wanted leverage. She wanted a reason to make the other strangers work for her. They could be so useful if they were under her control. If they could not be persuaded, then they would have to be eliminated, but she did so despise wasted potential.

Ortiz sighed. Eleanor watched his indecision play out across his face. She could only guess at what he was thinking; that he didn’t trust her was obvious. However, if he wanted out of this cell, he had little choice but to tell her something. Hopefully she had twisted the situation enough that he would think that trust begot trust. After all, Ortiz had no idea that no matter what he said, she would never order his release.

Eleanor smirked. She could see in his eyes the moment she had him, the moment he decided to talk. First step was to find out how they got here. Second step was to learn what they wanted to find.

Everyone had their price, and this Staff Sergeant Ortiz was about to tell her all she needed to know to get his comrades to work for her. She would have her leverage and a new weapon in her arsenal. Gatlan and Kaslea would fall, then the Northern Kingdoms, and then…well, there were many others in the unknown regions just waiting to bow down to her as their queen.

Her kingdom would stretch from here to the end of the lands. It would be the greatest kingdom there ever was, and she would be the queen, the most powerful queen ever, exactly as she had always dreamed. Then she would finally have the security and respect she craved.

*****

When they arrived at Termont, it was after nightfall, and too late for an audience with Prince Edmund. Mathis saw to it that the three marines were assigned quarters in the knights’ barracks. A squire roused them at daybreak the following day. Leo was nervous. What happened next depended on Prince Edmund. They’d now been in this world for a week, with no clear end in sight, and that weighed heavily on him.

Mathis led them into the palace, through the winding corridors to the same room where they had met the prince previously. This morning, the throne room was empty aside from the young prince himself. The knight standing guard pushed open one of the doors. They strode in. The prince was standing at the war table, studying some maps. He turned at the sound of their approach.

“Mathis, I was not expecting you back from the border so soon. What has happened?” Prince Edmund asked, concern etched upon his face.

Mathis sank to one knee, bowing his head in fealty to his sovereign. “Your Majesty, I bring news of a small victory. The forces of Gatlan and Sintiya clashed again, their battle spilling over into another of Kaslea’s border villages. I was unable to evacuate all of the villagers in time, which is when these strangers stepped forward. These devices they carry”—Mathis gestured to the assault rifles clipped to their vests—“they have great power, and they frightened away the forces of Gatlan and Sintiya, saving the village.”