Oberon's Dreams - By Aaron Pogue Page 0,93

men die every day. Take Avery and raise a toast to the noble yeoman. I have my work to do.”

“Your work is wasted. You kill yourself to preserve a twisted dream.”

“I kill myself to save some handful of those lives you hold so dear. And I will spend my last breath returning you to a world that dies without you.”

Corin drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. His gaze sank down to the bundle in his arms. It was Kellen’s scabbard, part of his uniform, and far too small for the legendary sword. Corin sniffed. “You may keep that breath.”

“What?”

“I have no intention of going back. Not until I’ve dealt with this.”

“I’ve already warned you of the risks.”

“I cannot bring myself to care. I know the traitor will never have to pay in the world I know, but I can make him pay in this one.” He tore the scabbard free and held the naked blade before him.

“Please, refrain from this,” the king said. “No good can come of it. I need you here, alive.”

“Any authority I might have granted you died with Kellen.” Corin turned to Avery. “What say you? Will you serve your glorious king, or will you help me kill the monster?”

Avery showed his teeth. “I would like nothing more.”

“Then come. We will make plans on the way.”

“Stop!” Oberon called behind them. His voice was weak and worn, his brow creased with the strains he bore. Corin raised his eyebrows, waiting for some compelling argument.

“Stay,” Oberon said. “Stay here, with me, or I may not be able to send you home at all.”

“I like that world little better than this one.”

“But it will die without you! Come. You needn’t wait. Come before my throne, and I will send you now!”

Corin shook his head. “You need that power to move the city.”

“What is one city compared to a world? I will…” His voice cracked, but he shook his head and pressed on. “I will sacrifice them all for you.”

Corin spat. “You are a wretched king. I thank sweet fortune that you are not my liege.”

He turned and left the throne room, Avery at his heels, while behind them the elf king wept upon his throne.

They were past the Midnight Grotto before Avery found his voice again. “What are we about? Corin, I saw the soldiers rushing through the city. I heard a call for the fire brigades. What is happening?”

“Ephitel is on the march. He has a regiment all armed with guns, and he means to contest Oberon for the throne.”

“He will win.”

“The king won’t even fight him.”

Avery shook his head. “Why should he? What could stand against such power?”

Corin gripped the sword Godslayer until his hand ached. “I will stand.”

“You said before that this was not your war.”

“Ephitel made it so when he murdered Kellen. You said before that you would follow me to battle. Will you still? For Kellen? For Maurelle?”

“Maurelle? Has he—”

“No. The king gave her a pretty title, just like yours, and she is hard at work preparing our retreat.”

“Retreat.” The word sounded bitter on Avery’s tongue.

Corin nodded. “Aye. The court and all the pretty lords and ladies will run away and hide, while Ephitel and his followers divvy up the land of men.”

“This is Oberon’s plan?”

“Aye.”

“But you think we should challenge Ephitel.”

“I think we should plant him in the ground.”

Avery rolled his shoulders, loosening up for a fight. “I like your plan better.”

“I thought you might.”

“But it will take us half a day to cross the city on foot. Even longer if a panic’s growing in the streets.”

Corin stopped. He glanced back over his shoulder, toward the distant throne room, then he gave a shrug. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes and come with me.”

Corin fixed his mind upon the task at hand. He thought about the city gates near Moneylender’s Lane, where he had first met Aemilia and Ephitel. He fixed his mind on that place and the fight he meant to take to the lord protector. Then he turned around, opened his eyes, and gasped.

Moneylender’s Lane was empty, almost as he remembered it from another life. But here, a noonday sun burned hot and bright above, and it was a graceful gate of iron that surrounded the city, rather than ten paces of solid stone.

Avery shouted when he opened his eyes. “Age of reason! Where’d you learn to do that?”

“From the king,” Corin said, a little numb.

“Why haven’t you been doing that all along?”

Corin barked a laugh. “I didn’t know

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