The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [131]
A puff of smoke appeared on the soldier's chest and he threw up his hands, tripped back a few steps, and fell.
“Ben?” someone said.
He turned groggily. “I was looking for you,” he said stupidly. “I was looking for you.”
Lenka knelt by him. She wasn't wearing a hat, and her long brown hair, matted with mud, trailed down the front of her justaucorps. But her face was Lenka's face, her voice Lenka's voice.
“Listen,” he said. “Listen—I love you, and I—”
“No time for that,” she said. “Come on, we have to go. That thing is—” She broke off, staring someplace beyond him. He turned to follow her gaze.
The farthest trees were missing. They had been there a moment ago. And it was hot, incredibly hot, like standing in front of an alchemical furnace at its highest pitch. As he watched, more trees vanished, and beyond was nothing but a black wall.
Lenka yanked frantically at him, and together they got him to his feet.
“I love you,” he repeated.
“I love you, too, you great, thick idiot,” she said.
They made it a few steps, but she wasn't strong enough to hold him up, and his legs weren't working. They collapsed together, breathing hard.
“Go on,” he said. “Kiss me and go on.”
“You fool,” she said, and sat down by him. She took his hand, and they watched the black wall approach. It was hard to breathe and very, very hot.
And then, as they watched and gripped their fingers tighter, the darkness paused, and the wind died, and the trees stopped disappearing; and aside from the occasional gunshot in the distance, all was quiet.
They were still there an hour later, though Lenka had bandaged his shoulder with a piece of his torn shirt. Through the trees, the western sky was as orange as bricks in a kiln, illuminating a featureless wasteland that resembled black snow.
Night birds welcomed the moon. All but the most distant gunfire had stopped.
“Can you walk?” Lenka asked him.
“I can try.” He struggled up under her supporting arm, and together they limped along, this time with more help from him.
“Embarrassing,” he said. “I meant to rescue you.”
“Well, I can't mislike your intentions. Your part in things must have gone well.”
“I suppose, seeing as how the engine stopped. I left before things were completed.”
“To look for me?”
“Yes. I was … worried about you.”
“And as you see, you had no cause to worry. Is that all there was to it?”
“You know better, I think. I hope you do.”
She sighed. “Maybe I do, Benjamin, and maybe I don't.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I didn't put on this uniform to make you come after me or to punish you—but because it needed doing. I did not do it for your attention, and I will not do this sort of thing to try to catch your attention in the future. It must merely be me, Benjamin, that attracts you. Not my life in danger, not because you think I need you—but because you love me. If it can't be so, it can't, and I think I had best seek my own way.”
Franklin digested that a bit. “It may be we married too young,” he said at last. “A man is always wont to think that the best valley is over the next hill. Old men know better, I think, and remember the places where they ought to have rested. I've been foolish, Lenka. In all of the world there is no woman like you, nor ever will be. I doubted my luck. How could I have found the best so early? And yet ‘tis so. And I'm a bit lazy, too —I think once the garden is planted, it ought to grow again the next year without tilling, and—”
“Enough!” Lenka said. “Did you rehearse this?”
“Of course.”
“Just tell me you will treat me better and mean it.”
“I will treat you better.”
“I accept your word.”
“Good, for—” He stopped when she placed her hand over his mouth, he thought perhaps, to further hush him with a kiss. But then he, too, heard the voices approaching.
They hid behind a tree and waited, until they made out a few words in French. There, in the dim light, was King Philippe and twenty carabiners.
“By God, it is Benjamin Franklin,” the king said when they stepped forward. “Our wizard lives.” “I am honored His Majesty was so concerned,