Reading over the manuscript, Marc chuckled ruefully. "They really had a… complicated… relationship, didn't they?"
Nath nodded, arching an eyebrow at him. "They were on opposite sides of the war, but they really do seem to have respected each other. Or at least, in his stories Opa always considered himself to be in his debt, on the few times they met."
"I get the reasoning," Marc mused. "Still, a bit strange, given that he was a Nazi."
Caen, July 1942
"Intelligence reports suggest that the British will attempt to put an agent ashore tonight, probably near Caen. You are to intercept and destroy."
"Acknowledged, Command," der Ritter responded, banking to the north and racing in that direction, away from the squadron of fighters with whom he had been watching the coast for night bombers. "I will be in position shortly."
"Very good. Inform me when the mission has been completed. Heil Hitler, Herr Ritter."
Der Ritter gritted his teeth. "Heil Hitler." As the portable communication device they had wedged into his ear disconnected, he sighed, his stomach clenching with the same anxiety and stress that had been festering for the last four years. Below him, the darkened French countryside stretched in all directions. Scanning the ground carefully, he could barely make out the shapes of houses and barns by the dim moonlight. A gap opened up in the field beneath him; with a start, he realized that it was a road. Automatically, he turned to follow the road – this one looked like it would lead him straight to Caen. Silently, he flew over towns and villages, with only the occasional light visible from a vehicle on the road, or else the flicker of a candle peeking out from behind a curtain. So many towns and villages throughout the country had been given blackout orders – not for their own protection but to deprive the British and American bombers of landmarks for navigation. But how many more were dark because the German Army – his army – had darkened them?
And yet, when it got right down to it, Sigmund preferred his position here in France over any of the alternatives. While he was here, on the front lines, leading troops into battle, rallying the soldiers to fight off their enemies, he was not being forced to pose for posters and act in those absolutely absurd films. While he was actually fighting, he could pretend that this was just another war fought in service of his nation. He could pretend that he was helping, defending, and healing the innocent and helpless. He could pretend that he was not doing all of this on behalf of a mad tyrant who cared nothing for the Teutonic Order and its ideals and had suborned the image and iconography of the Teutonic Knight to his own purposes. That he was not being used as a propaganda arm of a corrupt and tyrannical government. Out here, he could pretend that he was fighting for Germany, and not for Hitler.
Even if today they seemed to be one and the same.
The French coast appeared out of the darkness ahead of him, a handful of pinpricks of light the only indicator of where Caen and its surrounds were, before the glimmer of starlight glimmering off the waves revealed the edge of the shoreline. Slowly, der Ritter turned to fly east to west, a few hundred meters in from the shore, alert for any ripples on the surface to indicate the presence of a boat or submarine. Once, twice, at least a dozen times he traced the same circuit, covering a distance of at least twenty kilometers, without seeing anything. He blinked, stifling a yawn, and tried to continue his patrol, even as the ground below began to run together, hilly crags and sandy beaches, lapped by dark water. Finally, he sighed, shaking his head sharply to work loose the cobwebs. Perhaps he had arrived too late, or perhaps the intelligence they had received had been wrong – it wouldn't have been the first time. He could stay all night and find nothing. And yet, if he turned back, he would be court-martialed for dereliction of duty. Nothing for it but to continue his patrol.
It was well after midnight when a flash of light from the east caught der Ritter's attention, and he turned slightly away from the channel, scanning for the source. A brilliant blue figure, a red beret on his head and golden Star of David emblazoned on his arm, rocketed up from the ground and stopped, a dozen meters away from der Ritter, hovering in midair, a golden short sword sheathed at his hip. "Waiting for something, Herr Ritter?" the man asked in German.
Raising his eyes in surprise, der Ritter placed one hand on the hilt of his own sheathed sword. "I suppose I could ask you the same question… Davidstern, is it?"
"That's what they call me." Davidstern cocked his head, eyes narrowed, and eyed der Ritter carefully. "I just watched you fly in circles for hours."
"Good way to clear one's head." Der Ritter sighed heavily. "I assume you are here for the same reason I am – or at cross-purposes, to be precise. Perhaps we ought not belabor the point."
"Then you are here to stop it." Davidstern's mouth set in a thin line, and he drew his short sword and brandished it toward der Ritter. "You will find that to be a more difficult prospect than you had expected." As he finished speaking, his grip tightened and a pulse of golden light traveled down his arm from the shoulder and erupted out of the sword tip, toward der Ritter.
"Wehren!" Drawing his own sword with one hand, der Ritter held his free arm up in front of his chest as a shimmering white shield manifested over his forearm. He turned the shield slightly, placing it at an angle toward the beam of light, and spun in that direction as the light deflected off of the shield, using the force to his advantage. Swinging around, der Ritter closed the gap between them rapidly. Davidstern's light beam vanished in an instant, and he raised his sword to parry as der Ritter slashed wildly down from above. Metal sparked, and der Ritter pressed Davidstern downward with the force of his blow. Davidstern pushed back against their locked blades and drifted away from der Ritter, shifting his short sword to raise the blade, and sent a pulse of light from his other hand at der Ritter. Dropping below the light, which resolved into a starburst only a meter from his head, der Ritter surged upward toward Davidstern, sword first. With a yelp, Davidstern spun into a backflip, flying backward away from der Ritter and allowing der Ritter to sail harmlessly over him. As he flew past, der Ritter spun sideways and swung again at Davidstern's back, only for a flash of light to appear out of his waist and form into a translucent shield, turning the sword aside.
Back and forth they fought. Gritting his teeth, der Ritter let out a growl, propelling himself quickly through the air after Davidstern. Glancing over his shoulder at der Ritter, Davidstern dropped and rolled to one side, just as der Ritter rocketed past him. Bringing his sword up, Davidstern sent a pulse of energy at der Ritter, hitting his armor and deflecting off, up into the sky. Lights sparkled high above them, dancing in der Ritter's eyes and playing havoc on his vision. Clenching his eyes shut, der Ritter brought his arms up to protect his face, even as sparks flashed all around him.
"Wehren!" A shade immediately interposed between der Ritter and Davidstern's starbursts, and he blinked several times, trying to recover his sight. Something struck the shield and deflected off. Lowering the shield, der Ritter scanned his surrounding quickly for Davidstern, ready to clench his eyes shut at any moment. Davidstern had drifted back away from him, almost over the water, and held his sword up in one hand, pointed straight at der Ritter. His grip tightened, and der Ritter dropped the shield, throwing himself toward Davidstern as fast as he could. Light flashed around and off the shield, slowing der Ritter momentarily; he pushed his feet back, propelling himself forward as hard as he could. Suddenly, the light disappeared, along with all resistance against the shield. Der Ritter's stomach lurched as he flew past the spot where Davidstern had to have been, and he spun around, raising his shield just in time to catch a quick stab from Davidstern's short sword. Hovering on his back, der Ritter jabbed his own longsword up at Davidstern, only for it to deflect off of a glowing golden bubble that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Davidstern pushed up away from him, drifting higher up into the sky.
"What… are you?" demanded der Ritter, breathing heavily.
Davidstern arched an eyebrow and indicated his armband. "I would have thought that was obvious," he pointed out.
Der Ritter waved a hand dismissively. "Aside from that."
He shrugged. "Someone who would prefer to see less swastikas in Europe."
You're not the only one. Der Ritter clenched his jaw and hurled himself up, after Davidstern, With a yelp, Davidstern swung upright and pushed away from der Ritter, tripling the space between them in seconds. Without slowing down, der Ritter pursued Davidstern, slashing wildly at his head. Davidstern drifted backward and dropped a dozen meters in seconds, well below der Ritter. Before der Ritter could bank and dive after him in pursuit, Davidstern had already turned sharply in a dead sprint, racing away from der Ritter. He grinned. "Now I've got you."
Davidstern glanced back over his shoulder, and his eyes widened, just before der Ritter pounced. The sword came up, and Davidstern spun away from it, pushing away from der Ritter. Grabbing him by the shoulder, however, der Ritter drove his knee into Davidstern's gut. Davidstern let out a painted grunt and wrenched his shoulder out of der Ritter's grip, rocketing away from him in a high arc. Der Ritter raced to follow him but paused, spotting a pair of dim lights peeking out of the gloom below.
"Le Havre Harbor." Der Ritter blinked in surprise, freezing in midair. Turning in confusion, he stared back toward the vague outline of Caen, far to the west. His mouth fell open below his helmet. "You… tricked me. You pulled me out of position."
Davidstern halted his wild flight and twisted around to hover a little above der Ritter, grinning. "It worked, didn't it?"
Gritting his teeth, der Ritter threw himself headlong at Davidstern, whose eyes widened in shock. A golden bubble appeared around Davidstern, moments before der Ritter drove the tip of his sword into it with all the strength he could muster. Davidstern yelped, pushing himself backward, and his bubble was propelled upward, der Ritter in hot pursuit. Another slash, and the bubble remained in place, hurtling Davidstern out of control. Clenching his jaws, Davidstern pulled all the energy back into himself and out through his short sword, which suddenly lengthened to twice the length of der Ritter's sword. Eyes widening, der Ritter immediately halted, still within range of the lengthened short sword. Slashing wildly, Davidstern knocked der Ritter aside, even as he himself was launched in the opposite direction, deeper inland. Der Ritter caught himself first, spun around, and lunged inside the longer sword's reach. Davidstern sucked in a breath, just before der Ritter stabbed at his chest. The material of his suit deflected the blade aside, but his eyes widened in pain. The longer sword faded, and he swatted at der Ritter's shoulder, but without mustering any force behind it. Der Ritter punched him, hard in the gut, and he toppled backward, out of the sky.
Der Ritter watched for a long moment as Davidstern fell. He could let him die – all laws of martial honor allowed an enemy to be killed in combat in such manner. And yet… He groaned. "Wehren." A white shield appeared beneath Davidstern, catching him a dozen meters off the ground and arresting his fall. The shield dropped lower; Davidstern slid off of it to the ground, tried to stand up, and fell back with a groan. Sighing, der Ritter dropped down to land beside him and placed a hand on his chest. Davidstern looked up at him in fear. "Heilen," der Ritter whispered. Davidstern's expression turned to relief and then confusion. Der Ritter gave him a curt not. "Helfen," he called, rising up into the air. "We are now even," he told Davidstern as he flew away, back toward his men's camp.