Dragonvein - Brian D. Anderson Page 0,71

to help you, but the elves captured me. They must have been watching the whole time because they knew everything.”

Ethan strained his mind, trying to remember, but he could still recall nothing. “Did you see the dragon?”

“No,” she replied. “But the elves did. And they seemed pretty upset about it. They kept arguing back and forth over whether or not to kill you. The one you spoke to was against it.”

“Why?” asked Jonas.

Kat spread her hands. “I don’t know. But he won out in the end. I got the feeling he thinks Ethan is important somehow.”

“What difference does it make what those savages think?” growled Markus. He threw a twig into the fire. “They’re gone, we’re alive, and we should be grateful.”

“Indeed we should be,” agreed Jonas. “But I think it would be wise to understand their motives.”

Markus spat. “Bah! They probably think that sparing us will give them a chance to kill more humans later.”

“I doubt that,” said Jonas, rubbing his chin. “I don’t know much about elves. But I was surprised that they knew of the Dragonvein family. Praxis never spoke about them, and as far as I know, dragons never had anything to do with elves either. But then, I only know what little Lord Dragonvein told me.”

“You think the dwarves would know?” asked Ethan.

He nodded. “If anyone would, it’s them. Elves hate dwarves even more than humans. And I do know that the feeling is mutual.”

“What about Hronso?” Ethan asked Kat. “What happened to him?”

She shrugged. “I assumed you killed him. The entire area was burned to cinders and I didn’t see his body anywhere.”

“The elves seem to think he’s still alive,” remarked Jonas. “He said that Ethan drove him away, not that he killed him.”

There was a doubtful frown on Kat’s face. “I don’t think anyone could have survived what I saw.”

“I hope you’re right,” Jonas said. “General Hronso was responsible for killing dozens of mages – even members of the Council of Volnar.”

He looked directly at Ethan, his jaw tightening. “He also killed your mother.”

“My mother?”

Jonas nodded. “It was Hronso who tracked us down. His pursuit forced her to open the portal and send you through.”

Ethan wasn’t sure how to feel about this new piece of information. The only mother he’d ever known had been on Earth. He had no connection to the woman Jonas was mentioning.

After a short silence, Jonas sighed. “There are too many mysteries to figure out in one night. Like Markus said, for now we should be grateful simply to be alive.” He glanced over at the rabbits cooking on the spit. “And it will be nice to eat something other than jerky and bread.”

“Why do you suppose the elves left it for us?” asked Ethan.

“Never question a gift,” said Jonas. “Perhaps it’s just their custom. Better a rabbit in the belly than a knife in the heart.”

Once thoroughly cooked, they distributed the meal – though Markus refused to eat any. This did not stop Ethan from enjoying it. The warm meat felt good in his stomach and helped to lift some of the weight from his heart.

He replayed the day’s events in his mind while lying beside the fire. What made him so sad every time he thought about the dragon? And what had really happened with Hronso? For now, these would have to join the many other questions to which he desperately needed answers.

He sighed. It was clear that he had been mistaken about Jonas when they first arrived. Though he believed that he was still withholding secrets, he understood now that the old man had been every bit as lost as he was.

His mind shifted to Markus, and how Hronso had taunted him about his terrible scars. Who or what had inflicted these on him was still a mystery. Though there were times when the friend he once knew would surface, far too often it was still Specter who was speaking with Markus’ voice. He hoped that once they reached the dwarves, things would become clearer.

Of course, there was always the chance that Markus was right and they simply were marching to their deaths.

Chapter Thirteen

THE FOLLOWING MORNING Ethan was the first to wake. The sky was painted in the orange and violet of the coming dawn, while all around large drops of dew rolled off the pine needles and oak leaves. The only sounds aside from the occasional snort from a sleeping Jonas came from the chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of a few small

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