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  Markus had responded by laughing. “If a skinny little whelp like you can get into the Airborne, then I suppose God wants you here for some reason. And who am I to argue with the Big Guy?”

  From that moment on they became firm friends. Moreover, Markus made it his mission to watch Ethan’s back. Rarely was one seen without the other being somewhere close by.

  Ethan was from Brooklyn. Or at least, that was his guess. His parents had adopted him as a baby. His adoptive mother was unable to bear children, a fact that nearly broke her heart. She desperately wanted to give her husband a child, and his father, who owned a bakery in Bay Ridge, could not bear to see his wife unhappy. Ethan had often wondered if his adoption had been far more for her happiness than for his. For sure, his father was uncomfortable around children and always had difficulty in showing his emotions.

  His mother was quite the opposite, and doted on Ethan constantly. Not that his father ever treated him unkindly. In fact, they didn’t even tell him he was adopted until he was twelve years old. And by then it didn’t matter. His father told him that he was found wrapped in a blanket on the boardwalk in Coney Island. There was no note or anything else to give a clue as to where he was originally from.

  His father had died of a heart attack three years prior to the war starting, so he and his mother moved to the South Bronx to live with her older sister. And though at first she still tried her best to be a good mother, the death of her husband was more than her heart could bear. She became increasingly withdrawn, eating little and rarely emerging from her tiny bedroom. Before long she had wasted away to a point where she could hardly stand without assistance. Ethan tried to ease her pain, but only succeeded in eliciting angry outbursts and wild accusations that he had always hated his father and was glad that he was dead. He knew she didn’t mean it, but when war broke out, he thought it might help her condition if he was no longer around for a while. At least, that’s what he told himself. The truth was a little more direct. He was hurt and angry, and the Army was the only escape he could think of.

  He looked up at his friend. “Come to watch over me?” he asked with a smirk.

  Markus settled in and tossed a half loaf of stale bread onto his lap. “If I don’t, who will?” He held up two fingers and grinned devilishly.

  Ethan took a deep breath while tearing off a hunk of bread. “Two? How do you figure that?”

  “Once in the bar and once in the barracks?”

  Ethan frowned. “I’ll give you the bar…but I could have taken Lenny.”

  Markus laughed loudly. “Lenny would have beaten you bloody if I hadn’t stopped him.”

  “Lenny’s a big jerk,” he muttered.

  “Lenny’s a dead jerk,” Markus added. “Remember? He bought it on D-Day.”

  Ethan suddenly felt guilty for speaking ill of the dead. “Yeah. I remember.” He looked over at Markus, who was still holding up two fingers. “Okay, okay—two,” he admitted.

  They ate quietly, then settled down and tried to get some sleep. The sun had not yet set. Even so, if the pair of them had learned anything about being in combat, it was that when you had an opportunity to rest, you sure as hell took it.

  But the respite was short-lived. Ethan’s eyes snapped open. The all-too familiar sound of German tanks approaching from the east had him scrambling to his feet.

  “We have to go!” he shouted.

  But it was already too late. Shells were exploding in the streets that led back to the rest of their platoon.

  Markus stepped in front of Ethan. “Follow me!” he ordered. He could see the tension in Ethan’s eyes. “Don’t worry, mate. We can make it.”

  They bolted forward, hoping to get beyond the shelling range by sheer luck. It was a risky strategy. The already severely damaged buildings along the avenue were now being pounded anew. Dust and tiny bits of brick flew through the air, biting spitefully into the exposed flesh of their faces like a swarm of angry hornets. With the brim of their helmets the only thing protecting their eyes, they lowered their heads and pushed on. Each new blast created a shock wave that drove nearly all the air from their lungs and turned their legs to jelly. At times, merely remaining on their feet became a major achievement.

  Then, all at once, it stopped.

  Not willing to question their good fortune, Markus picked up his pace. But Ethan, who had always possessed keener eyesight than his friend, reached out and grabbed his collar, jerking him to a halt. A short way ahead, from behind the corner of the next street, the long steel barrel of a panzer was slowly peeking its way out. They could now hear orders in German being shouted both in front of them, and from not too far behind.

  With no other options, they ran full speed back the way they had come and threw themselves flat behind a high pile of rubble.

  “We’re right in it now, mate,” Markus panted.

  Ethan could only nod in response.

  Markus reached over and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not worried,” he replied unconvincingly.

  They scanned the area for a better place to hide, but there was a major risk of being seen whichever way they headed. However, if they stayed where they were so close to the road, once the infantry followed the tanks, someone was bound to spot them.

  The shelling resumed, hammering the town just beyond the panzer they had nearly run into. Ethan couldn’t see the building where their platoon was holed up, but smoke and ash was rising from that direction. His heart sank.

  “They got out,” said Markus, sensing his thoughts. “They’re probably back with the rest of the company by now.”

  The high-pitched squeal and clatter of tank tracks raked at their ears as more panzers closed in. The dust-filled air obscured their vision, but the monstrous silhouette of the nearest enemy vehicle could still be seen steadily drawing closer.

  It was then that something directly in the path of the tank caught Ethan’s attention. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. But another hard look confirmed his initial impression. A man was lying flat on his back, apparently unconscious.

  Markus spotted him a moment later and grabbed Ethan’s arm, already realizing what his friend was thinking. “Don’t!” he said. “They’ll see you.”

  But Ethan was resolute. He couldn’t just hide while an innocent civilian was crushed to a pulp. And he knew that the Nazis wouldn’t hesitate to roll right over anyone in their way.

  Snatching his arm free, he scampered over the rubble and ran into the street. On drawing closer, he noticed that there was something odd about the helpless man. It was his clothes. His shirt and pants were somehow different – made in a style and from a material he had never seen before. More than that, attached to his belt was a sword. Judging by his gray hair and deep facial lines, Ethan guessed him to be in his mid-fifties.

  Markus slid in beside him and seized one of the man’s arms. “Idiot. You’re going to get us both killed.”

  Ethan grinned. “Yeah. You’re probably right about that.”

  The man was surprisingly heavy for someone of only medium height and quite slender build. They dragged him as fast as they could manage and had just made it to the sidewalk when there was the sound of German voices shouting out. This was quickly followed by rifle shots. Bits of concrete exploded around their feet as bullets pinged and whizzed through the air. One passed so close that Ethan felt the wind of it on his cheek.

  Once they reached the pile of rubble, Ethan glanced over his shoulder. The panzer had pulled forward and the main gun was turning slowly toward them.

  “Move!” Ethan shouted. His muscles burned as he tried to go faster. Though conditioned by tough Airborne training and far from weak for his age, he was at his limit.

  He felt the blast before he heard it. It was like a sledgehammer striking him in the back, and it took him a moment to realize that he had been thrown forward about ten feet. At first, all he could hear was a hellishly loud ringing banging against
his eardrums. This shrill sound smothered out all other thoughts. Then, with a rush, he became aware that his arms and legs wouldn’t move. For a terrifying moment he wondered if they were gone. He had seen too many men, stunned from artillery fire, completely oblivious to the fact that they had lost an arm or a leg…or both.

  “Are you all right?” It was the voice of Markus coming from within the thick gray dust and smoke.

  Ethan tried to answer, but his breath was still gone.

  Markus drew closer and shook his head with a smile. “How in the hell do you keep surviving?” he asked, relief written all over his face.

  After managing to lift his head and seeing that he was none the worse for wear, Ethan allowed himself a weak grin. He gulped in a deep breath and reached out for Markus’ hand.

  “Can you walk?” his friend asked.

  Ethan nodded and allowed himself to be pulled up. He gripped Markus’ shoulder while looking around for the man they had saved.

  “We have to leave him,” said Markus.

  Ethan shot him a fiercely determined look. Markus sighed with sheer exasperation. He knew his friend well.

  “A bloody Boy Scout, that’s what you are,” he grumbled. “Come on then.”

  They grabbed the man by the arms and continued to pull him down a nearby alley. At the end, immediately before reaching the next street, they spotted a small wooden shed. The roof was gone, but the walls were still intact.

  From behind them, more orders in German were being shouted as soldiers began checking the area where they had last been seen. The dust was still very thick, making it almost impossible for the advancing men to have spotted them fleeing. Ethan hoped they would assume that their targets had been buried somewhere beneath the newly created mound of rubble.

  The door to the shed was barely hanging by a single hinge. Taking care not to detach this completely, Markus eased it open sufficiently for them to drag the man through. Once inside, they lifted him into the corner. The shed was empty aside from a few crates and a broken broom, and was just large enough to accommodate all three of them.

  “If they come looking, it won’t take long for the Krauts to figure out where we are,” Markus said. “And if this bloke doesn’t wake up….”

  “If he’s not awake by nightfall, we’ll leave him here,” Ethan told him. “I promise.”

  The next few minutes were spent tensely listening out for danger. Eventually though, the voices of the Nazi soldiers faded and the shelling doubled in intensity. The Germans were throwing everything they had at the Americans, and were obviously not prepared to give up Carentan without a fight.

  As the setting sun began to fade, Ethan noticed a blue glow pulsating from beneath the man’s shirt.

  “What the hell is that?” whispered Markus.

  Ethan reached for the man’s collar, but just as his fingers were about to make contact, the stranger’s eyes popped open. He shrank back, a frightened and confused look on his face.

  Ethan grabbed him firmly by the shoulders. “Take it easy, fella. We’re not going to hurt you.” But this did nothing to calm the startled man. He wrenched himself free and tried to crawl to the door.

  Both Markus and Ethan grabbed him and pulled him back.

  “Yemina et alhethra!” the man cried out.

  Ethan clamped a hand firmly over the stranger’s mouth. “Quiet. You’re going to get us all killed.”

  “I told you this was a bad idea,” remarked Markus angrily.

  “Do you understand him?” Ethan asked. Markus spoke Spanish and French, and was in the process of trying to learn German.

  Markus shook his head.

  Ethan locked eyes with the man. “You need to calm down.” His voice was soothing and reassuring. “We’re not going to hurt you. Understand?”

  Gradually, the stranger settled down. Cautiously, Ethan removed his hand.

  “Yemina et el atheha?” His voice was much quieter now.

  Ethan shook his head and touched his ear. “I don’t understand you.”

  The light from within the man’s shirt grew brighter. He reached inside and withdrew a gold chain. Attached to this was a jewel about the size of Ethan’s thumb, set in what looked like a silver animal’s claw. Its pulsating blue light was accompanied by a low hum.

  “Ena mote…” the man said in a half-whisper. Reaching up, he snatched Ethan’s hand and pulled it toward the jewel.

  Ethan blinked in surprise. “What the hell are you doing?” He resisted the pull, but the stranger tugged even harder.

  Markus joined in and grabbed the man around his chest, but there was nowhere to go. His back was already tight against the wall.

  Ignoring both of their efforts, the stranger let out a heavy grunt and tried to lean forward. Then, suddenly changing tactics, he grabbed hold of the claw with his free hand. Thrusting that arm out toward their still locked hands, he touched the pulsating jewel onto Ethan’s flesh.

  Ethan immediately went rigid, eyes wide. It was as though he’d been electrocuted. He fell back hard against the opposite wall, nearly collapsing it with the force. Markus released his hold and caught Ethan’s collar, pulling him forward.

  “What the hell happened?” he asked.

  Ethan took a moment to steady himself before rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m okay. Just a little dizzy.” He glared at the man, who was looking back at him with a serious expression. “What did you do?” he demanded.

  “Only what I had to,” the man replied.

  Ethan was stunned. Somehow, he now understood what the stranger was saying.

  “I am Jonas,” he continued, before Ethan could respond. “And I’m here to protect you.”

  “I’m Ethan.” So great was his shock, it was all he could think to say.

  “You can speak his language?” asked Markus.

  Ethan nodded. “Yeah. But don’t ask me how.”

  “What did he say?”

  Ethan did not take his eyes off the stranger for a second while repeating what he had been told.

  Markus burst out laughing, then stopped himself when he realized how much noise he was making. “Then he’s definitely insane,” he said.

  “I don’t know,” Ethan countered. “How do you explain that I can understand him?”

  Markus had no reply to that.

  It was Jonas who spoke next. “How old are you, boy?” he asked.

  “I’m nineteen,” Ethan lied.

  Jonas scrutinized him for a long moment, then sneered. “You can’t lie to me. How old are you really?”

  Ethan leveled his gaze. “I’ll tell you how old I am, if you tell me how it is I can understand your language.”

  Jonas shrugged. “I don’t know that myself. This amulet was given to me by your mother. It was the only means I had of finding you. Other than that…”

  He reached inside a small purse on his belt and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. After running his eyes over the page, he grumbled with dissatisfaction. “This doesn’t help very much either. It explains how to get us back home, but nothing else.”

  Ethan took the parchment. The letters and words were like nothing he had ever seen before. Even so, he was still able to read them.

  Jonas,

  When the time comes, smash the jewel. It will open a portal that will allow you to return to Lumnia. But you must enter together. I am sorry I cannot tell you more, but they are coming and I am out of time. Tell my son that I love him with all of my heart…and please watch over him.

  Illyrian

  Ethan returned the note, a heavy frown on his face. “What the hell is all that supposed to mean?”

  “I answered your question,” Jonas shot back. “Now you answer mine. How old are you?”

  He paused. “Seventeen. I lied about my age so I could join the Army.”

  “You’re a soldier?” Jonas asked, with obvious disapproval.

  “Am I a soldier?” Ethan scoffed. “Why do you think I’m dressed like this?”

  “Sold
iers where I…where we come from…dress very differently.” He noticed the rifle slung across Ethan’s back. “Is that some sort of dwarf weapon?”

  “What’s he saying?” Markus chipped in. “Did he explain what he’s done to you?”

  “He says he doesn’t know,” replied Ethan. “But I think you’re right. He’s nuts. He asked me if this is a dwarf weapon.”

  Markus rubbed his temple. “A dwarf weapon? Brilliant! We risked our necks to save a lunatic.”

  The sound of tanks rolling down the nearby street silenced them. This was soon followed by the voices of the German infantry. Ethan gestured for Jonas to remain quiet.

  “You are at war?” asked Jonas, after the enemy had passed.

  Ethan’s mouth twisted. “You really are crazy, aren’t you?”

  “I need to get you out of here,” Jonas insisted, ignoring the insult. “This is no place for the son of Lady Illyrian.”

  Ignoring his words, Ethan moved over to the shed door and peered out. The sun was almost completely gone. “We can’t stay here,” he told Markus.

  His friend nodded in agreement. “Are we taking the fruitcake with us?”

  Ethan thought for a moment. “I guess so.”

  Markus sighed, then chuckled. “So he’s your good deed for the day, is he? Your scout master would sure be proud of you.”

  On the far side of the avenue at the end of the alley, Ethan could see a bombed out office building. The top floor was completely blown away, but the large piles of broken bricks and wood would provide them with decent cover. Also, most of the surrounding buildings appeared far too damaged to be of any use to the Krauts.

  “Follow us,” he said to Jonas. “And keep up.”

  Jonas looked like he wanted to protest, but Ethan was already moving out. Markus grabbed the older man’s arm and forced him to Ethan’s back.

  The sounds of battle echoed through the streets. Ethan guessed that the enemy’s main force was about half a mile to the west. That meant they would need to head south and then try to sneak past their lines, at the same time hoping not to get shot in the dark by their own men.