Vikings battle Zeppelins while forbidden desires spark! (Swords Versus Tanks Book 2) by M Harold Page Read Free Book Online Page B

were here to help him find the right words.
    Hjalti sighed. "Not very statesmanlike -" He used the Western word, since Northern had no equivalent, "- brother."
    Ragnar curled a giant hand around his delicate glass and slowly raised it to his lips. "I was aiming for regal ."
    Ranulph glanced around the Council Chamber. The panelling must have come from Kinghaven, as had the ‘portraits’ of Ragnar’s ancestors. Another generation, and the Rune Isles would be just another kingdom, albeit one with a colourful past. How long before they invited back the missionaries?
    Hjalti stalked over to the chamber door. He opened it a crack. "Thorolf. Lord Lowenstein is to have no formal escort, but keep an eye on him."
    Ranulph leaned forward. "I..." He said, and trailed off.
    Prince Hjalti stooped and threw a lump of peat into the fire. A cloud of embers rose from the grate. "So, Sir Ranulph," he said, still facing the flames. "You’ve bagged yourself a Royal Princess."
    Ranulph opened his mouth, then closed it. The prince was his best friend’s brother. He should save his sharp words for real enemies. "Under my protection, Sir, not in any manner ‘bagged.’"
    Hjalti turned and grinned at him. With Ranulph still seated, they were almost eye to eye. "Even so, it puts you closer to the throne."
    "I am King Edward Lowther’s man!"
    Hjalti slipped back onto the bench. "Are you sure your Edward lives?"
    Ranulph frowned.
    "Go on, Ranulph," rumbled Ragnar between mouthfuls of mead. "It is a good question."
    Ranulph’s shoulders slumped. "I do not know. My place was at his side, but…" The room seemed too warm. He loosened his doublet. "The battle was somewhat confused."
    "What of the Royal Duke of Highcraig?"
    “Clifford?” Ranulph grimaced. Why had he not asked Colonel Klimt? "Clifford was alive when last I saw him."
    Ragnar harrumphed. "How alive?"
    "Alive,” said Ranulph, “as in I had not quite finished killing him when we were both run over by an ironclad war engine."
    Ragnar laughed. "Next time I'll help you. There's this traditional practical joke we call the Blood Eagle…"
    Hjalti held up his hand for silence. "If he survives, and Edward does not – what of your loyalty then?"
    Since King Edward had no issue, Clifford would… could… inherit the throne. Ranulph grinned mirthlessly. "A crown requires a head to place it on."
    Hjalti’s eyes narrowed. "But if you slay Clifford, since you have already slain his son, you would be consort to the heir."
    Ranulph half rose from his seat. "Enough!" He turned to Ragnar. "Can you really picture me as a king?"
    His blood brother laughed. "Not I, Toy Knight. But then…" He pointed both index fingers at himself then shrugged. "So, what is it that you want of us? More than just a refuge?"
    "The Greater Runes," said Ranulph. "Flying ships, tame thunderstorms… all the wonders from your sagas."
    Ragnar laughed. "I have seen but one flying ship, and that belongs to your Invaders. If the Dragon Twins ever flew from the Rune Isles, they never returned."
    "I thought…"
    "Ragnar!" snapped Hjalti. "Some secrets are not yours to share."
    The giant king thumped the table. "Ranulph is my blood brother."
    "But not mine!"
    "My friends!" barked Ranulph.
    The royal pair snapped their heads around to look at him, then laughed.
    "Little Brother," said Ragnar. "Let the Toy Knight speak."
    "Look…" The peat hissed in the fire. From behind the ornate door came muffled drinking songs and laughter. Ranulph struggled for the right words. "The Invaders will attack your people sooner or later. You won’t keep any secrets then."
    The brothers exchanged a glance. Hjalti sighed. "The Great Runes are lost."
    "Guthrum Hairshirt stole them in order to please your White Priests," added Ragnar. "And the Gods did not return the magic, even when our forefathers sacrificed him to Odin."
    "No Great Runes," said Ranulph. It was like one of those dreams where he reached for his sword, only to find an empty