She smiled up at him. "I really am a princess you know. That's why the Rakasa came to my house. One day I'll prove it."

Ethan returned her smile. "Like I said, I believe you."

Kat's smile slowly vanished. "No you don't. No one does."

Chapter Twelve.

A sharp pain in Ethan's ribcage shocked him awake. The clatter of steel and the sound of gruff voices surrounded him even before his eyes were fully open.

He tried to stand, but the blunt toe of a boot thudded into his stomach, forcing the breath from his lungs. Gasping for air, he sank back down.

His sword was missing from its place beside his blanket, but the dagger was still in his belt. Apart from the soldier standing over him, he could see three others in the background. Two of them were holding Markus, and the other was pressing his heel down hard on Jonas' chest. There was no sign of Kat anywhere.

"Don't move, boy," he was told. This order was punctuated with another swift kick.

He looked at Markus, but his friend's eyes were wide and fixed on something else. Risking another blow, Ethan shifted his head to see what could be affecting him so. A few yards away stood a cloaked figure with its hood pulled down low. Although it was impossible to distinguish its face, the ghostly pale hand gripping a long curved blade was all too visible.

Rakasa, he thought.

The thing move forward with unnaturally even strides and stood beside Jonas.

"It's been a long time...Jonas," it said.

As Kat had described, its voice was hollow, yet bore an unnatural resonance that sent waves of fear into Ethan's heart.

Jonas looked up. "Who are you?"

The Rakasa bent down and grasped his left ankle, raising the pant leg sufficiently to expose a ring of pink scar tissue the mark of a whip. "It really has only been a few weeks for you, hasn't it?" the hollow voice uttered.

Jonas' eyes shot wide as realization dawned. "General Hronso," he gasped.

Hronso hissed a sinister laugh. "Yes. And I see you have brought the young Dragonvein with you." Releasing Jonas' leg, he looked across at Ethan. "I must admit, he's not what I expected."

"How can you be here?" Jonas demanded, his voice a mixture of terror and confusion.

"You were always clever," Hronso replied. "Too clever for your own good, as I recall. Clever enough to elude me. And clever enough to escape with the Emperor's prize. Surely you can figure it out."

He paused, but Jonas said nothing. "No? Well, I'm sure the Emperor will be more than happy to explain it to you. Though I must admit, I think he should just let me kill the lot of you right now. But he's always been a bit sentimental. Why he wants to see you again, I just don't know."

"What are you talking about?" asked Jonas. "I've never met Shinzan."

Hronso's laugh this time sounded more natural...almost human. "Is that right? He seems to think you have. And I do not question my master's word." He cast his gaze upon Markus. "However, he made no mention of this one. So at least we will have some sport today."

Markus glared defiantly. "I'm not afraid of you."

With inhuman speed, Hronso spanned the distance between them. Ethan saw his friend's hands ball up into tight fists, suppressing his fear.

"Of course you're afraid," the general told him. He touched Markus' facial scars with a pale finger. "A very fine piece of handiwork if you don't mind me saying so. It gives you character."

Markus curled his lip. "Don't toy with me. If you're going to kill me, get it over with."

"Ah. It seems that the great and terrible Specter has courage. A pity that you cast your lot in with this rabble. You were a useful tool." He turned to Ethan. "But alas. All things have their time." He waved his hands casually. "Cut Specter's throat, then bind the other two."

"No!" Ethan scrambled to get up. The soldier tried to kick him down again, but he rolled away and managed to gain one knee.

His guard took a step toward him, but Ethan had already drawn the dagger from his belt. Seeing the steel thrusting at his gullet, the soldier attempted to back away but was too late. Ethan threw himself forward. His dagger found flesh and sank in deep.

He tried to pull the blade free, but a crushing blow to the head sent him sprawling. The Rakasa was standing over him, his fist clenched.

"That's quite enough out of you, young Dragonvein," Hronso chided.

He turned away to briefly regard the wounded soldier. "Careless," he murmured, raising his sword with effortless skill. Only the whistle of the deadly steel cutting the air told that he had actually struck.

Ethan stared in amazement. Hronso was so fast, he appeared not to have moved at all.

For a moment the soldier remained utterly still, as if unaffected by the strike. Then, in an almost graceful movement, his head rolled slowly from his shoulders and bounced onto the forest turf. Even now, with blood spurting from its neck, the body continued to remain upright for a few seconds longer before finally collapsing in a heap.

"I can't abide carelessness," Hronso said without a trace of emotion. He glared at the men holding Markus. "What are you waiting for? I said cut his throat."

"Please!" begged Ethan. He attempted to rise, but Hronso moved close, looming over him.

With tears streaming down his cheeks, he watched in horror as the soldier on his friend's right drew a small knife. With the deadly blade only inches from his neck, Markus displayed no fear. Instead, he merely nodded in Ethan's direction and gave him a sad smile of farewell.

A hiss split the air, freezing the soldier's hand. Hronso spun to one side and an arrow buried itself into a tree just behind where he had been standing only an instant before. From all directions, feral yells and unintelligible screams suddenly sounded. Clearly intended to terrify, they reminded Ethan of the Indian war cries in cowboy movies.

The soldiers holding Markus threw him to the ground and drew their swords. A second arrow pierced the throat of the man guarding Jonas. He clutched desperately at the shaft for a moment before falling to the ground, his body still jerking.

"Run!" shouted Markus.

The two remaining soldiers were crouched down low, fearfully scanning the surrounding forest for a sign of their attackers. But Ethan was still frozen with shock.

"No time to argue, d.a.m.n it," Markus shouted. "Get moving!" He was crawling toward where his sword lay on the ground several yards away. "We'll be right behind you."

Shaken out of his stupor, Ethan glanced over to Jonas. He was still on his back.

"I'll get Jonas," Markus called over. "You run."

Ethan scurried to his feet and did as instructed though he had no idea of where he was heading. The cries of the attackers seemed to be all around him. He expected to feel the stinging bite of an arrow at any moment. But it never came, so he kept running blindly on. Low hanging branches from the trees clawed at his face and arms, leaving behind dozens of tiny scratches.

Eventually, with lungs burning and legs unable to support him any longer, he collapsed behind a thick pine. The voices were now distant and less frequent. Slowly, he managed to catch his breath and calm down. But every second that ticked by compounded his guilt for having left Markus and Jonas behind. And Kat. Where was she? He fervently hoped that she had heard their attackers coming and used her magic to disappear.

"Fortune smiles on us both it would seem," said a voice just behind him.

He spun around and saw Hronso standing a few yards away. Pressing his back against the tree, he reached to his belt. But his weapon was gone. He cursed himself for failing to retrieve his dagger before fleeing. Not that it would have done him much good against Hronso.

"Don't run, Dragonvein," the general warned. "There is no escape. If you resist I'll be forced to injure you, and the Emperor wants you brought to him in one piece. By now the elves will have slaughtered your friends...and unfortunately my soldiers as well." He let out an insincere sigh. "Poor souls. I suppose I'll have to take you along alone and unaided."

Ethan's eyes darted from side to side, desperately searching for some way of escape. But unarmed and against someone...or something...that could move as fast as he'd witnessed, there was no hope.

Hronso produced a thin rope from beneath his cloak. "You will forgive me if I bind your hands. I have no intention of taking a chance with a Dragonvein. Even one as unimpressive as..."

The sudden flapping of wings cut him short. From above, the tiny dragon Ethan had seen at the farm slowly descended, landing just by his feet. Clearly startled, Hronso took a pace back. The rope slipped from his grasp, but he made no immediate move to draw a weapon.

The dragon craned its neck and let out a high pitched screech. Ethan stared in wonder at the creature. Its black scales glistened in the sun like polished ebony. Its spines glittered like diamonds.

It turned to face Ethan, its piercing blue eyes bearing the look of both intelligence and recognition. Something inside him stirred. Something that he knew had always been there, but only now was becoming aware of. A voice in his mind was speaking to him, though its language contained no words only emotion and intent. It compelled him to kneel. Hronso was all but forgotten as he stretched out his hand. The dragon moved forward and rested its head on Ethan's palm.

The heat of its flesh was almost painful, yet it filled him with a joy he had never known. It was as if bliss had become tangible something he could wrap himself within.

The threatening song of steel sliding free from its scabbard broke the spell. He looked up and saw that Hronso had now drawn his sword.

The dragon flicked its long black tongue and let out a contented purr. At that moment, a wave of emotion washed over Ethan. He knew what the dragon intended. He let out a gasp and his eyes shot wide.

Hronso charged, sword held high. Then all was dark.

Ethan's eyes fluttered open. At first he couldn't see anything, but slowly he regained focus and a night sky peppered with the twinkling of a million stars appeared. The crackle of a camp fire and the scent of cooking meat helped him to further gather his senses. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but a delicate hand touched his forehead and gently laid him back down.

"Be still." It was Kat.

Ethan tilted his head back and smiled. "I'm so glad you're all right. I was afraid that you'd been hurt."

"I escaped just before the Rakasa and his men arrived," she explained. "Sorry I left you, but there wasn't time to give you a warning."

"No need to apologize," he said. "Are the others with you?"

"Yes," she replied. "They're not far away."

With each pa.s.sing second he was becoming more aware of his surroundings. Something wasn't right. He looked at Kat more closely. Her face was tight and her eyes were darting back and forth nervously. Then something else occurred to him. Cooking meat. They had not brought anything to cook, only dried foods and bread.

He brushed her hand away and sat up. "What's wrong with you?"

The fire behind him was burning gently, a pair of rabbits roasting on a spit above it. Further back, he was just able to make out the silhouetted figures of Jonas and Markus. They were seated and motionless. Ethan's face lit up.

"Thank G.o.d you're here," he called out. "I was afraid the elves had killed you."

Neither man moved or responded.

He looked back to Kat. The tension in her expression had increased.

"They may still die," said a voice from beyond the firelight. "And so may you, mage." The voice was musical and clear, yet bore the timbre of neither male nor female.

Ethan scrambled to his feet. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Come out where I can see you."

Kat stood and grabbed his arm. "No sudden movements," she whispered.

"Your friend gives wise council," said the voice. "Twenty bows are trained at your heart. Lift your hands or try to cast a spell and you will all die. Am I understood?"

"I can't cast spells," said Ethan. He kept his arms by his side and remained still. "I'm not a mage."

"Lies will only anger us," it warned. "We saw what you did to the cursed one."

Ethan frowned. "The cursed one? I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know him as Hronso. We saw you unleash your magic and drive him away."

Ethan tried to recall what had happened. He could remember the dragon, and then Hronso charging in. But after that his memory was a blank.

"I still don't know what you're talking about," he repeated. "I swear it."

"And I suppose you don't remember the dragon either."

"Yes, I remember that," he admitted. He could still clearly see its tiny head resting in his palm. But there was something else. Something important that he was missing. As he pictured the dragon's eyes staring up at him, he was overcome by a wave of inexplicable sorrow. A tear spilled down his cheek. Suddenly, it was all he could do not to break down and sob his heart out.

"Why do you weep, mage?"

"I...I don't know." He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes.

A tall figure appeared from out of the darkness. Though its voice was not distinctly male, its features most certainly were. He was at least a full head taller than Ethan and much broader in the shoulders. His silver hair was tied into a series of tight braids that fell down his back and over his shoulders. The outside corners of his eyes were turned up, giving him an otherworldly stare. This was compounded by ears that curved into a high point very nearly reaching the top of his head. He was clad in a deep green shirt and pants made from a material that barely reflected the firelight - a feature that allowed him to blend almost perfectly into the background. On his feet he wore what reminded Ethan of Indian moccasins, though without the beads and fringe he had seen in the past. His frame was muscular without being overly so, and his movements were fluid and graceful. Around his waist he wore a long sword with a hilt of ivory, inlaid with gold and onyx. A bow and quiver containing silver fletched arrows was strapped across his back.

Ethan's mouth fell agape at the sight of him. Something completely...inhuman. Strange and terrifying, yet beautiful to behold. The elf stopped a few feet away.

"Does my appearance disturb you, mage?" he asked.

"Yes," he blurted out before he could think. "I mean...no. It's just I've never seen..."

"Why do you weep?" he asked again, cutting him short.

"I don't know. I just...when I thought about the dragon I...I felt sad. I can't explain it."

The elf's eyes narrowed and he folded his hands in front of him. "What is your name?"

"Ethan," he replied. "Ethan Martin."

"Martin?" The newcomer took a step forward and his hand slid to his sword. "I have never heard that name a.s.sociated with dragons before. Who was your father?"

Ethan glanced over to where Jonas and Markus were sitting. He waited to see if Jonas would speak, but quickly realized he would not.

"Answer me," the elf demanded.

"My father was Praxis Dragonvein."