Dragonvein Book Four (21 page)

Sliding from the bed, he stepped close. Her perfume was intoxicating - like lilacs after a Spring rain. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, the heat of her body sent his passions into an inferno of desire. Their lips hovered on the very edge of a kiss for a painfully long moment. He wanted to savor every second. Then, in a flurry of lust, Miriam crushed their lips together, her tongue searching desperately for his.

Martok's self-control was now virtually gone. He was on the point of tearing the nightgown from her body, but Miriam eased him backwards until he was seated on the edge of the bed. Standing before him, with a succession of slow seductive movements, she allowed the gown to slip from her shoulders and settle around her ankles. Martok swallowed hard. She was everything he had dreamed of. To his eyes, her naked form was perfect. It was as if she had been created specifically to stoke all the passion and love buried deep inside him.

As he began pulling off his nightshirt, Miriam moved in close and kissed him again, this time with a gentle pressure that gradually increased until it was almost ferocious in power. He felt her hands sliding slowly down his chest, ever closer to his engorged member. Her fingers paused for a tantalizing moment when only inches away, both of them breathing much quicker in anticipation of the touch. Finally, she ran her palm up and down its length.

She pushed a still gasping Martok down onto his back. “Do you love me?”

“I do,” he replied in what was no more than a whisper. “I have loved you for so long.”

Miriam smiled. “Then I will love you in return.”

After pulling off his cotton pants, she crawled onto the bed. Martok rolled and hovered over her naked form. He did love her. And though she would soon be lost to him, she was his for the moment…in this truly wonderful moment.

Not caring to delay any longer, Miriam pulled him fully down on top of her, wrapping her arms and legs around him, kissing him furiously. The instant he felt himself slipping inside her most intimate place, he became lost in desire. Her cries of passion further fueled his own desire, sending him to heights of pleasure he had never before experienced. Again and again they reached thundering, simultaneous climaxes, each one further feeding their lust.

Martok had no idea how long had passed by the time they were both finally spent. Nor did he care. He simply closed his eyes, bathing in the afterglow with Miriam lying alongside, her arm draped across his chest. When he opened them again, he knew she would be gone. But he refused to allow even this knowledge to ruin the delight of what he had desired for so very long.

Though he would soon do things that she would be unable to forgive, there still remained a glimmer of hope buried deep in the recesses of his mind. Perhaps there was a way. Perhaps he could find something to make her truly love him.

He laughed inwardly, scolding himself for his own childishness. Seconds later, he drifted into the world of contented dreams.

Martok stared out over the field. It was littered with bodies of the dead and drenched in their blood. Witnessing such carnage brought back the words of one of his generals.

'Seeing too much death can change a man. It makes him hard inside. Hard and cold. And once that happens, he’ll never be able to go back to what he was before.'

He tried to remember how many battles he had fought thus far. More than twenty for sure. This time he had arrived late, delayed by an ambush of dwarves. Their pathetic attempts on his life were laughable. And their trinkets they passed off as weapons even more so. They had sent men to die merely in the desperate hope of achieving an impossible victory. And impossible it had proved.

The enemy had retreated from the battlefield as soon as Martok arrived, unwilling to face him. But the damage was already done in any case. They knew the end was nearing.

“Martok!”

He turned to see Gracio racing toward him through a throng of soldiers still reeling from the battle. The moans and cries from the wounded and dying had all but prevented his friend's voice from reaching him.

“What news?” he asked as Gracio drew close.

“The rumors are true,” he gasped, then paused for a moment to catch his breath. “And they plan to make use of this to compel your surrender.”

Martok spat. “Bastards! Are you certain?”

“There is no doubt. Miriam has borne twins. A son and a daughter that she claims to be yours.”

A dull pain formed in the pit of Martok’s stomach. “Twins. Where are they now?”

“That we don’t know yet. They are in hiding. But I have sent word to the Urazi. They have agreed to find them for you.”

Martok nodded sharply. “Good. Then we must wait for them to do their work.”

“That may take time. Should we pull our forces back until then?”

“No. But we will not advance any further either. Let them wonder what I will do next for a while.” He could see the look of concern on his friend’s face. “Don’t worry. We have not come so far only to be defeated now.”

“That’s not what troubles me.”

“What is it then?”

“It is the changes I’ve seen in you. I feel you are losing sight of what this war is all about. I fear that even if you are triumphant, nothing will have changed.”

A look of astonishment crossed Martok's face. “Nothing will have changed? How can you say that? For the first time in its history our world will be united. One land. One rule. With all the people working together toward a common goal.”

“But can such a thing really happen?” Gracio persisted. “You have seen the same things I have. Elves are hated more than ever now. People blame them for turning you against your own kind. And you…they call you Martok the Destroyer. Did you know that?”

“Yes. Of course I’ve heard.” He flicked a hand. “But that is only because all they see is war. When it is over, people will feel differently.”

“Will they? Can people forget all the death and pain so easily? I’ve seen you lay waste to entire cities, Martok. And I’ve seen the joy in your eyes while doing so. When we began, it was not there. Where once there was regret and sorrow, I now see only pleasure.”

Martok’s anger began to surge. “Do not presume to know my mind,” he growled. “You have no idea what this war has done to me.”

“I think I do. And I am deeply troubled by it. With each victory you grow more distant. More callous. And I am sorry to say this...more arrogant.”

Martok glared at him, his hands balling into tight fists. No one else would dare to speak to him in such a way. “You talk as if you are somehow separate from the fray, Gracio. Remember, you have caused nearly as much suffering as I have.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I suffered along with them. I weep at the prospect of more blood. When was the last time you wept? Do you even remember?”

His friend's words struck a chord. The memory of an empty bed: the one that Miriam had shared with him for one night. “I remember,” Martok said. “But the man who shed those tears is no more.”

He drew a deep breath and relaxed his posture. “I hope that one day I can become that man again, Gracio. But I cannot fulfil my destiny with a soft heart. I have become what you see before you, not because I wished it, but because there was no other way. You, my friend, must shed my tears for me. The death I have dealt has long since dried any that I might have had.”

“And what of Miriam? What will you do when you find her…and your children?”

“I'll send them to the Dragon Haven until this war is all over.”

He paused to place his hands firmly on Gracio’s shoulders. “And should things go poorly, I ask that you protect them. Should my enemies defeat me, they will then come for you and your family. Go to the dragons and take my children with you. You will be safe there.”

Gracio forced a laugh to break the sudden tension. “I doubt it will come to that. In a month's time the other mages will have no choice but to surrender. I only caution you now because soon you will possess what you have fought so hard for. I only want you to rule with the same kindness and wisdom that you have shown throughout most of your life.”

Martok smiled warmly. “With you by my side, I will. Whenever I might forget the gentle nature of my youth, you will serve to remind me.”

Gracio chuckled. “I will try.”

The hall was empty. Only the sound of Martok’s fingers tapping lightly on the arm of his chair penetrated the silence. With his children now safe and the enemies driven to the sea with nowhere to run, he should feel elated. His victory was all but complete. There would be peace in Lumnia. True peace. The mage houses who had been with him had already begun talks with the dwarves in Gol’ Shupa to arrange for trade to resume. Those who had tried to remain neutral had been sending gifts of gold and gems, hoping to gain his favor. Even the kings and queens of Lumnia, most of whom had sided against him, were preparing to step aside to make way for a new order. Martok’s order.

Yes. He should feel happy in this moment. But despite all of this success, he did not. His wards told him that a mage had stepped through his gates; though not just any mage. This was a meeting that would determine much. Often he wondered what it would be like to see her again. Before the war he would have given anything just to hear her voice. But now…

Miriam entered through the tall archway and made her way across the polished marble floor. Martok had arranged for this meeting to be private, and the stone look on her face told him that this had been a wise choice. Her demeanor was hardly surprising. After all, he had taken her children and spirited them away to a place she could not go.

On reaching the throne, she dropped to one knee and lowered her head. “Your Majesty,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “That is the title you prefer, is it not?”

“I thought it fitting,” he replied casually. “Are you here on behalf of the other mages?”

Miriam rose and met his eyes. “I am here as their emissary, yes. But also as a mother.”

“I see. I was saddened to hear about the death of your eldest child. I want you to know that I had no hand in that.”

“I know. The king’s youngest son was responsible. He wanted the throne for himself.”

“Yes. That’s what I heard. I assume he has been dealt with. If not, I can always...”

“I have already dealt with it. But I thank you for your most kind offer.”

Martok could see the hate etched into her face. Understandable. And though he did not hold the same affection he once did, he could not help but remember the way she had touched his heart. Did he still love her? Perhaps. Was he even capable of love? For his children, certainly. But for a woman...that was debatable. She had betrayed him in a way he could never have anticipated. She had come to his bed that night intending to bear his child so that she could one day use it against him. Though she had never admitted to this, there was no other reason for her actions. Gracio strongly disagreed with him whenever the subject arose. But Martok knew better.

“What message do my adversaries wish you to convey?” he asked.

“They beg for terms, Your Majesty. They know they are defeated and are prepared to accept your rule.”

Martok raised an eyebrow. “And they send
you
to deliver word of their surrender? Why? To disarm me of my wits?”

“No. I insisted I come, even over their many objections.”

At this point, her iron composure cracked. Her voice trembled as a single tear spilled down her cheek. “You have my children, Martok. Please. If you have any kindness at all left in your heart, let me see them. I know what you think of me. But I am their mother. They need me.”

He leaned forward. “And what is it that
you
need?”

“Just to be with them,” she replied.

“And should I refuse to make peace with your compatriots?”

“I don’t care. Do as you will with your bloody war. Kill them all if that is what makes you happy. I only desire to be with my children.”

Martok regarded her for a long period. He wanted to believe what she was saying. In truth, he regretted that it had been necessary to take the little ones away from her in the first place. He could still vividly recall his feelings after losing his own mother. And being only three years old, the twins would not be able to understand the reasons for the separation.

“I only want what is best for them,” he said. “I hope you understand this.”

“Yes. I know you took them to ensure their protection. But the war is over. Spare what remains of your foes or slaughter them, it makes no difference to me. Either way you have won. But there is no longer any need to keep me away from our children.”

It did not pass unnoticed with Martok that this time she used the word
'our’
rather than
'my'
when referring to their offspring.

“It is true that they would be better off with you in their lives,” he began after a brief consideration. “So I make you this offer. Be my wife. Then you may raise them here…with me. Once this business with my enemies is settled, of course.” He could see the shock on her face. “I think the children would be pleased about such an arrangement, don’t you? However, I do not expect an answer today. Give my proposal all the consideration you need.”

After only a brief moment of hesitation she straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I need no time. I will be your wife, if that is what you truly want.”

Martok smiled. “Good. Then we will not delay. The ceremony will take place in the morning. Once we are wed, I will send word to your friends that I accept their surrender and set about drawing up terms immediately. In the meantime, you should prepare.”

He leaned back and folded his hands, smiling. Miriam bowed and turned to leave.

As she was about to pass through the archway, she paused to look back. “I don't understand why you would want to marry me. I know you don’t love me as you once did.”

His smile did not dim. “Whatever gave you that impression? My heart has hardened, true. So much bloodshed and pain has seen to that. And it is also true that my feelings for you are not as they once were. But I do love you. And perhaps in time, you will love me in return.”

“Perhaps,” she called back. “I can only promise to try.”

“I can ask no more.”

Martok closed his eyes and listened to her footfalls fade. He had not intended this. In fact, in many ways he had surprised himself with his impetuosity. But seeing her again - knowing that her love for their children was undeniable - had softened his heart. He
did
love her. How could he not? She was strong in ways that the mages who'd opposed him could scarcely imagine. He doubted she would ever love him back. But he had lived without love until now. Perhaps a companion was all he could ever realistically hope for.

The ceremony would be brief. Following that, once the war was officially over, he would send word to Gracio and Helen to bring his children home. Dragonvein Manor would once again know laughter. It would become something other than a place where the death of thousands was carefully planned. He would rebuild his house so that his children could grow and play without the fear and agony of war casting a shadow over the very stones that sheltered them. As much as he had begun this campaign with a burning passion to unite the world, he now desired only a safe place to live in peace with his family.

Martok the Destroyer would be no more.