Chapitre Vingt

Le Rêve

Leon

The sun's bright heat kissed the right side of his face, waking him ever so kindly. All of the pain was gone, and in its place was comfort. Leon rose from his bed. There was a strength in his limbs he'd not felt in so long. His bare feet hit the tile floor, which was both warm and smooth on his heels.

Golden flowers sat in a vase on the windowsill. The mansion was so quiet that even though the window was shut he could hear the birds singing outside, along with the sound of running water.

Leon changed from the white sleeping gown into his day-time clothes and left the bedroom. He'd been so near death for so long he couldn't wait to tell everyone that he was healed. It must have been a miracle, the will of Lyr himself, that brought him back from death's grasp.

In the halls he saw his father's servants. At least, that was how they were dressed. He was confused by their faces, for they only looked vaguely familiar.

"Excuse me," he said to one. "Where is my father?"

"He hasn't returned yet," one of the servants said, smiling at him serenely.

Wasn't he on his deathbed just minutes ago? Hours at the most? Why were none of the servants reacting to his recovery? All they did was smile at him and whisper to each other. Not one of them ran off to report the news of his miraculous recovery.

Well, no matter. Really, how important was it that everyone make a big to do about his recovery? He was just happy the sickness was gone.

"What about Cecile? Andre?" Leon asked.

"They haven't returned yet either," said the servant. "But your mother is waiting for you on the front porch."

Beatrice! He dared not make her wait any longer to see that he was well. She'd stayed by the side of his bed almost the whole time while he recovered. "Thank you," he told the servant, before he rushed off.

With every step it felt as if the house shifted ever so slightly, like he was walking on the deck of a ship. His strength had returned to him, but it seemed he was still disoriented.

He threw open the front doors, and for a moment the light from outside blinded him.

In the light he could barely make out a woman's silhouette, and he raised his hand to shield his eyes. "I've recovered! I'm alright!" he said.

But as his eyes adjusted to the light he saw that where the front yard should have been there was a great ocean spread out in every direction, with waves gently lapping against the edge of the porch. The ground under his feet shifted ever so slightly with each wave.

And the woman on the porch was not Beatrice. She had long, blonde hair in spiral curls, green eyes, and a kind face. She stood much taller than Leon, and held in her hands a white parasol. Her dress was sky-blue with aqua-green trim.

When he finally remembered where he'd seen her before he caught his breath. "Mother?"

"Hello, Leon," she said, folding up her parasol. She looked just like she did the day his father had taken them all on that picnic. His last happy memory of her, personified before his very eyes. Her smile was so calm, and it made Leon feel so peaceful.

"Mother... how..."

His mother pulled him into her embrace. He felt her warmth and smelled the lavender in her hair again, just like he remembered. "You're a smart boy, Leon. You always were. Surely you don't need me to explain it."

She was right, he didn't. His house afloat on the ocean? Servants he'd not seen since he was a child? His mother here to greet him? There was no doubt in his mind where he was, and he silently thanked Lyr for his infinite mercy.

Leon looked up into those loving, green eyes and beamed widely. "All that time I spent praying to recover... Suddenly it seems so foolish."

"It's never foolish to want to live, Leon," said his mother. "We all struggle to keep what we're familiar with, even when change would be for the better."

Leon stepped away from his mother and out to the edge of the porch, where he looked out across the vast ocean surrounding them. The sun's light warmed his body to the core, a welcome relief from all the cold he'd felt when he was sick.

"Are there other houses out there?" Leon asked, turning back to his mother. "Or is this house all there is?"

His mother nodded. "Many more houses out there, beyond the horizon. There are more people here than there are in all of Salia. All the world, really. And everyone is at peace. Even the barbarians are kind."

"There are barbarians here?" Leon asked.

His mother giggled. "Not really what they prefer to be called, but yes. Salians aren't the only ones who worship Lyr, after all."

"I suppose that's true."

His mother rested her hands on both of his shoulders. "Oh, Leon... it feels like it's been so long! Now we both get what we really wanted. You get to see me again, and I get to see the young man you grew up to be."

BANG!

Leon jerked upright in his bed. The room was dark, and pain shot through his body. His heart was racing and his hands shaking.

BANG!

Another gunshot. Leon forced himself out of his bed, then slipped and fell face-first onto the cold, hard tile floor. His teeth rattled in his mouth, and his head was throbbing.

The sound of screams. More gunshots.

He looked around the room. Yes, this was definitely his bedroom. He climbed to his feet, holding onto the windowsill. No flowers sat there, and when he'd risen high enough to look out the window he could see that there was no ocean surrounding his house.

Leon roared and beat his fist against the window, splitting the pane in two. He was alive, there was no question about it.

And his home was under attack. Was it bandits? Criminals looking to steal his family's wealth?

As a Renart man it was his responsibility to defend his home. He stumbled over to his wardrobe, hastily threw off his sleeping gown, and scrambled to dress himself.

The world was spinning, but he managed to get a shirt and trousers on, followed by a belt, and a saber to accompany it.

The mansion was under attack, that much was obvious, but by whom? Bandits? Barbarians who had somehow gotten past the Salian borders?

As Leon poked his head out into the halls he saw servants ducking behind whatever they could find for cover.

From down the hall he heard Pepin, his tutor, shouting, "Are they insane? What about the Treaty of Fausspaix?"

Cecile shouted back, "They probably forgot. Go give them a history lesson! While you're at it remind them that people die in battle!"

Keeping his head low, Leon rushed over to where they hid, behind an overturned table. On the way he struggled to keep from falling. It was as if the ground had hundreds of invisible hands, reaching up to pull him down.

"Leon!" Cecile said as he slid up to them. "You've recovered! Thank Lyr!"

"What's happening here?" Leon said.

"Magnus and two dozen of his brothers in arms are attacking us."

Pepin shook his head. "They must be out of their minds! The Empress and every house in Salia will crush them for-"

"Not sure they care," Cecile snapped.

"Where are the children?" Leon asked, concerned for his youngest siblings.

"Lucilla took them to the cellar," said Cecile.

"Good." Leon nodded as he drew his saber. "They'll stay out of the cross-fire, then."

Just as Leon tried to rise to his feet again, Cecile grabbed his arm. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Magnus is attacking because of me," said Leon. "I need to face him."

"Like Hell you do!" Cecile yanked hard on his arm, and Leon tumbled to the ground. "You've just recovered, you can barely even stand!"

Leon shoved her away and pushed himself to his feet again with a painful groan. "I have to end this."

"No!" Cecile seized him by the arm a second time, but this time he resisted the pull and stayed on his feet. "You're not going out there to die!"

Leon yanked his arm away from her. "You're right. I'm not."

Without another word, Leon ran down the halls of his family home. Broken glass littered the floors, bullet-holes lined the walls. As he ran he could feel strength returning to his limbs. Was this what Magnus always spoke of? The heat of battle that got into a man's blood and made him capable of things he never thought possible? With any luck, it would be enough to see him through this crisis.

It wasn't too hard to figure out where most of the battle was taking place, all he had to do was follow the sounds of gunshots.

"Leon!" a voice called from behind him.

"Fitzroy!" he called back over his shoulder as he slid to a halt.

"Your father's bodyguards and my agents can handle this!" said Fitzroy.

"I have to do my part!" said Leon.

"No." Fitzroy reached out and grabbed Leon by the shoulder.

"Excuse me?" Leon tried to pull away, but was surprised at just how tight of a vice-grip Fitzroy had on him.

"It's my job to keep you safe, and that's what I intend to do." Fitzroy tightened his grip on Leon's arm, so much so that Leon could feel his own veins furiously pushing blood against Fitzroy's fingers. "Get back to your room. Now!"

"That hurts..."

Leon tried again to pull away, but Fitzroy twisted his arm and forced him onto his knees. "This time you listen to me, boy! I've saved your life more times than you know, and you will do as I say!"

Bang!

Fitzroy toppled over backwards, letting go of Leon's arm in the process. A soldier stood in the nearby doorway, a smoking pistol in his hand. Just as he reached for his sword, Leon leapt at him and ran him through.

Leon snatched the pistol from the soldier's hand and rushed to Fitzroy's side.

The bullet had struck Fitzroy's shoulder, and he lay on the ground groaning.

"Don't go!" Fitzroy begged as he held his shoulder, applying pressure to keep blood inside the wound.

Leon shook his head. "Sorry." He took powder and a single bullet off the body of the dead soldier. "I have to do what I believe is right."

With Fitzroy shouting after him, he ran off toward the sound of the gunshots, loading the pistol as he went.

Soon he found the foyer. That very same place where he'd often rested, reclined his head on the couches. The room in which he and Magnus had talked and laughed so many times before as friends.

Now it was the center of a battlefield.

Magnus and his comrades took cover behind an assortment of furniture while the Renart family's guards hid behind doorways, or at the top of the stairway. Leon rushed over to those standing overlooking the stairs.

"Leon?"

"Yes, I know," he said. "I shouldn't be here. Spare me."

When one of the soldiers below popped up his head Leon took the shot and caught his target in the arm.

"Magnus!" Leon shouted. "Magnus, I'm here! Let's settle this like men, not like beasts!"

Shots from both sides ceased, and there was an eerie silence for a few moments.

"I wish to settle this like a soldier," Magnus called back from behind cover.

"I'm the only one who should have to die!" Leon shouted back. "I'm the one who killed your brother, remember?"

Magnus popped up from behind cover. Leon dropped to the ground as the pistol went off, followed by several more shots from those standing on either side of him.

When Leon looked up again it seemed Magnus must have gotten behind cover again quickly enough.

"You can't expect to survive this!" Leon yelled. "You and all of your comrades will die if you continue to fight!" Silence from Magnus. Was he getting through to him? "Why let them die for nothing? You can at least have your revenge if you come out and face me!"

"Order your bodyguards to stand down!" Magnus called back.

Leon turned to his household guard. "None of you will fire a single shot unless he shoots first, do you understand?"

Hesitation.

"Do you understand?" Leon repeated, more forceful this time.

He got a collective, "Yes, my lord," from the guards.

Magnus stepped out from behind cover, his saber in hand. The look in his eyes was an intense hatred, and Leon's heart broke all over again. This man, his best friend for so many years, had betrayed him first, and now hated him more than anyone else in the world. How was it that they had fallen so far away from each other in so short a time.

Leon started his descent down the stairs, his own sword at the ready. He stumbled on the first step and caught himself on the rail. Had the fire in his blood already burned out? He found himself dizzy again. "Magnus, when I went to Senon it was my intention to forgive you, try to make peace." Leon held the rails tight as he struggled with every step. "Your brother wouldn't have it... he insisted on fighting me..."

"And so you killed him," said Magnus, his face still contorted in rage.

"He would have killed me if I hadn't," said Leon. For a moment he tripped on his own feet, but he held fast to the rail as his legs went out from under him. Magnus' comrades chuckled. Magnus was not amused. "We can still make peace... There doesn't need to be any more bloodshed!"

"You damn aristocrats!" Magnus roared. "You think you can win us over with your honeyed words? The Empire's soldiers have dealt with enough! We will not be disrespected anymore! You say there need not be more bloodshed? I say we need to paint the damn Empire in the blue blood of you people!"

Leon's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe the sheer madness he'd just hear from his friend's lips. Neither could he believe the applause he was hearing from the soldiers behind Magnus. Leon stepped more carefully, determined not to make a fool of himself anymore, lest it bolster Magnus' courage.

"I... I thought you said you'd never start a revolution without me." Leon cracked a smile, hoping the joke would bring some hint of the friendship he and Magnus had back into the soldier's mind.

But Magnus said nothing.

Leon's foot touched ground at the bottom of the staircase. There was no more getting out of this, no more trying to talk Magnus down. He was going to have to slay his best friend himself. Why had the stars seen fit to be so cruel? What sin had Leon committed to deserve this?

Leon raised his saber as high as he could, finding that his shoulder ached when he lifted the blade too high. "If you cannot be swayed... let us begin."

"Indeed," said Magnus, raising his own blade.

Magnus lunged at Leon, and Leon parried the best he could, but the impact knocked him flat on his back. The world spun around him, and his vision blurred. Already he'd fallen. Surely, he was about to die.

BANG!

A gunshot? Leon turned his head to look up at the source.

Magnus lay dead on the floor, a bullet wound in his forehead.

Beatrice stood in a doorway nearby, a smoking pistol in her hand.

"Open fire!" Beatrice commanded.

The household guard obliged, pelting Magnus' comrades with bullets before they could again take cover.