“I guess it’s like every royal court,” Elathan added in a pensive tone, shrugging. His thoughts seemed to be far away, in another time, another place. “Honorable knights, haughty lord and ladies who like to display their wealth, parents who try to arrange profitable marriages for their daughters, the low-born courtier who hopes to gain the king’s favor to obtain a title. They come and go like the seasons. It is strange. Despite all the people around me who were trying to get my attention at court, I felt … alone, even more than during all the years in exile.”
“Are there others like me?” Igraine asked.
“Humans? Only a few, mostly servants and … slaves.” He tightened his arm around her waist. “Forgive me, Igraine. But when we’ll arrive at court, you will have to appear as my …”
“Slave,” Igraine finished for him. “A very honorable one, but a slave nonetheless.”
“Yes. If I openly show my …” he hesitated, searching for the right word, “affection for you, I will lose my face and endanger you, mo gráh. Ruadan will be looking for any sign of weakness he can use against me. If he finds out the deep connection we share, he will try to harm you, even kill you. So in public, I will act indifferently to you, and you will be my lowly human slave who serves and attends to her master’s needs. That is, if you accompany me at all. I wonder if I should not keep you away from all this?”
“And what should I do without you, alone in a world that deems my race as inferior and worthless? No. I’ll go where you go, whatever it means.”
Elathan nodded shortly, but he didn't answer. Yet his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to him while he steered the horse into a gallop so fast they seemed to fly. Calatin following them closely on his own steed. They rode on for a while silently, and Igraine felt sleepy. Her head rested against his broad chest, and the sound of his regular heartbeat made her feel safe. Right at this moment, she couldn’t care less about what would happen to her in the future.
What an irony of fate that just now, when she finally had found a reason to live, she was doomed to die. But she did not regret her choice. Her worst fear was not for herself, but for him. Nothing was as terrible as the possibility that she would have to live on after that strong elven heart stopped beating, never to feel his touch again, never listen to his voice again, even if he commanded her to leave him forever. Maybe the unicorn had been wrong about her death, but eventually it would happen anyway. He would send her away. But at least she would know that he was alive. After they had shared their blood, he was a part of her, and she would sense his presence as long as she lived. She would know if he was happy or felt pain, if he was excited or angry, and it might be enough to feel this connection inside her very soul.
Igraine must have slept for a long time, for when she awakened with a start, they stood on the top of a hill, looking down on what at first sight looked like an endless ocean to her, a sea of the most beautiful blue water. Elathan and Calatin talked to each other in their elven language, their melodic voices deep and calm, although when she looked at the prince’s face, it was tight with sorrow and anger. Clearly he did not like what Calatin was telling him, undoubtedly about the happenings at court.
She decided to ask Elathan later about it and turned her attention back to the amazing landscape enfolding before her eyes. When she took a closer look, she saw that it was not water but endless fields of grass that stretched to the horizon with just a few soft hills diverting one’s gaze from the disturbingly even vista. Surprisingly, it was not green but a lovely, iridescent shade of turquoise that changed constantly while the wind moved over it and created rippling waves, some in a silvery, lighter tone, others so dark they looked almost black. She was almost sure that colors like these were not possible in her human world, but she could not deny what she saw.
Suddenly she remembered something her grandmother had told her once, about a dream she had had when she was young. It had been shortly after the dead of her father, and he had appeared to her in a dream. He had stood on a hill and gestured to his daughter to show her the lands on the other side where he resided now, to let her know that he was happy. Granny had never told Igraine exactly what she had seen there, but she had sworn that there were colors that simply did not exist on earth.
For a moment, Igraine asked herself if she was already dead. Maybe she just didn’t remember that she had actually jumped from the bridge and was in the place her grandmother had spoken of, wandering these strange lands as a ghost, not knowing that she had crossed the borders to the afterlife, not accepting what had happened. A shiver ran down her spine, and she felt Elathan’s body tighten in the saddle behind her. Doubtless he felt her sudden distress, instinctively tightening his arm around her waist. His warm breath grazed her ear when he protectively bowed closer over her, and she felt his strength, his powerful presence protecting her. So very much alive, she thought. If this mighty warrior was not by chance a ghost, surely she had to be among the living, too?
“The Blue Plains of Debethea,” he murmured into her hair. “A beautiful place, but at the same time deadly to the stranger who crosses these peaceful-looking fields, not knowing that certain death awaits him once night has fallen.” When Igraine turned her head to meet his eyes, he stretched out his arm and pointed to the fields with his gloved hand. “Look,” he said. “But look closely.”
She narrowed her eyes and watched the sea of grass that moved in the breeze. At first, she did not see anything extraordinary. She could not imagine what could be so dangerous about a grass plain. But then she saw something, only for an instant. It was half hidden behind one of the rare hills, and she almost missed it. There was a movement that clearly wasn’t caused by the wind because it went in the other direction, so rapidly that it was hardly recognizable before it stopped abruptly. It was a large, rounded form, maybe some animal that crouched there, but it had exactly the same color as the blades of grass around it. Some kind of animal, maybe? She tried to look harder, but the creature seemed to have noticed her attention and became so still it was indistinguishable from its natural environment.
“What … is that?” she whispered. “You have exceptionally sharp eyes for a human,” Elathan answered. “It’s a grass demon, not very different from a troll. They live in holes and tunnels they dig in the ground, they can move very fast and are true masters when it comes to hiding themselves. In size and shape, they resemble their kin who live high up in the mountains, far away, but they are predators, very strong, clever, quick and cunning, and have sharp claws and teeth. Usually they stay among themselves, hunting the game that feeds on this fertile plain, but from time to time they like to eat something with more … substance. They stay underground during the day, but when they come out at night, the hunt begins. Oh, and they don’t like being disturbed by strangers. You would be well advised not to fall asleep in this soft blue grass after the sun goes down.”
“But … do we have to go this way?” Igraine asked, frightened. “And how long will it take to cross the plains?”
Elathan chuckled. “It is not the only way to reach my father’s castle, but by far the fastest. On horseback, it should take us three days and nights.” At the sound of Igraine’s sharp intake of breath, he continued, “Don’t worry, sweet Igraine. I know a safe place for us to spend the night – if we reach it before sundown, that is.” Before she could ask more questions, he turned to Calatin. “I assume the inn still stands after all this time?”
A bright smile appeared on the copper-haired elf’s handsome face. “You can bet on it. If there is something consistent in this world, it’s Eamon’s house. It has been there forever, always a safe haven for those who try to cross the plains. But it’s not easy to reach. Some old protective spell seems to make it hard to find. Every time I went there, it seemed to be at a different place in the plains.”
“Then ride ahead like the wind, friend, and have them prepare their best rooms for us. I want to avoid too much attention before I reach the castle. You may tell th
em that I am a distant member of the royal family and that I do not want my identity to be known. Order him to shield us from the other guests’ curiosity.”
Calatin bowed his head. “As you wish, Sire. Though I doubt he’ll recognize us. It has been a very long time. Do you think he still remembers a certain elf who was drunk enough to get into a brawl and demolish his whole guest room?”
Elathan grinned. “If so, I bet he also remembers how well I paid him for the damage. However, tell him that I want his best room, and I want it clean. If I find just one bug in my bed, I’ll hold him personally responsible. And tell him that I trust in his discretion. Here,” he drew out a small leather bag from behind his belt and threw it to Calatin, “this will make sure that he keeps his gossiping mouth shut.”
The copper-haired elf bid them goodbye and, with a bright smile and a wink in Igraine’s direction, rode downhill, right into the sea of blue grass. Igraine held her breath but when she tried to see if the grass troll followed the elf, she noticed that it was gone.
“He’s the fastest rider I know. It will take us much longer to reach the Inn, for Ahearn has to carry the two of us,” Elathan remarked while he brought the horse to a fast gallop. Igraine held her breath when they broke the treacherous peace of the grass plain that lay so undisturbed before them, not raising suspicions about its deadly inhabitants. But nothing happened, and she did not see the strange form moving in the grass again.
They rode across the fields at breakneck speed for what seemed like hours. The prince stayed silent, with his gaze directed to a faraway point over her head, so Igraine mused that he was occupied with thoughts and memories she could not even imagine. She thought it wise not to disturb him, content to feel his warm, protective body behind her. But after a while, she noticed that the clear blue sky had grown darker, and the winds felt cold on her skin, no longer a soft breeze but a howling over the grass that had become a deep, dark shade of blue now. Elathan felt the sudden tension in her body and nodded behind her.
“You are right, Igraine. Night will fall very soon, and I believe we will not reach the inn before the sun goes down. I am afraid we will have to spend the night here in the open. Do you see the large rock? It will give us a certain amount of shelter. It is still far away, but we should reach it just in time to start a fire before they come out.”
Igraine did not have to ask him who ‘they’ were. “The grass demons,” she whispered. Instantly she regretted having spoken the words out loud, for in that very moment, some distance to their left she saw something move under the surface of the grass.
Darkness fell over the plains so swiftly that Igraine asked herself if she had been asleep for a few minutes for she had not noticed the sunset. But Ahearn took them safely to the large rock awaiting them, the only solid thing in this sea of treacherously soft blue grass. A part of the stone formed an overhang just wide enough to give them both a limited amount of shelter from the icy winds that now lashed the surface of the ground, giving it the appearance of a troubled sea.
Elathan dismounted as soon as they reached the formation and pulled Igraine down with him. The steed snorted, ears laid back. Even he seemed to sense the danger approaching them from all sides. Wordlessly, the prince gestured Igraine to stay behind his back before he started murmuring elven words. After a while, a golden light emanated from the prince’s hands. Igraine cried out with surprise when a line of fire lit up around them, but then she saw that it was a circle Elathan’s magic had created, seamlessly enclosing both of them and Ahearn for protection. The horse nervously stomped his foot on the ground, then moved nearer to the rock, pressing his quivering side to the hard stone.
“Back to back, Igraine,” Elathan commanded roughly, drawing his sword. “No matter what happens, stay in the circle. Once they smell our presence, they will attack us. Fire is the only thing these creatures fear, for it threatens the grass. They have adjusted so well to their surroundings that they can exist in no other place.”
She nodded wordlessly and pulled her own elven sword from its sheath. If the prince fell, she would not stand a chance against those ferocious beasts, but she would not surrender easily. It was so dark now that she could hardly see, but when she narrowed her eyes and directed her gaze to the grass, she saw something moving under the surface again, something that dug tunnels through the earth with an incredible speed. All her senses where heightened, her body tight with fear. The warmth of Elathan’s strong, tall body against her back was the only comfort she could hope for, but it gave her courage while she watched the grassy fields starting to move all around them, and whatever it was that disturbed the peace of the landscape, it drew nearer and nearer until it surrounded them from every side.
She asked herself if her opportunity for a noble death to save the prince had come earlier than she had expected. Well then, if that was her fate, she would welcome it with open arms. But should she tell him how she felt in the face of almost certain death? Would he laugh at her foolishness, that she, a mere human slave, had fallen in love with an elven prince? But maybe he already knew. His mental powers were much stronger than her own, and she could only guess how much he had seen while entering her mind.
Forever lost, her thoughts drifted away like flotsam on a wild river when the first creature rose before her like a demon from deepest hell, a huge black shadow that seemed to grow rapidly from the ground like a gnarled tree. But it was nature’s cruel mistake, for it ripped the earth apart with brutal strength, making its way as it forced its own birth from the grassy plains. Igraine cried out with fear and blindly grabbed for Elathan’s arm although she knew she should not hinder him while he prepared himself for the fight that awaited them.
Igraine had not seen many creatures of the elven world yet, but the grass demon looked like nothing she had ever laid eyes upon before. Not in her wildest imaginings could she have dreamed up the horror that hid in this mockery of life, those dead, blood-red eyes that pierced her from deep inside their sockets, the black, leathery skin that had a disgusting wet shine to it, the deep blue fur on its back that was the result of adjusting to the beast’s natural environment, for it looked treacherously similar to the grass that grew on the plains. Its sniffling sounds that made her feel sick when she noticed what they meant, something that could only described as longing ran through the demon’s body like a violent shudder.
It smelled her blood, and obviously she was its favorite kind of dinner. The creature looked faintly like a distorted human form after breaking all limbs several times, but there was no face apart from the gruesome eyes or the gaping hole that had to be the mouth, for it was filled with razor-sharp teeth that waited to dig into living flesh, drawing blood. When the demon shook its head with excitement, hot, stinking saliva sprayed all over her and burned on her skin. Its arms ended in huge claws, clearly made to rip flesh and bone into pieces.
Trembling, she raised her sword. It was very clear that her swordsmanship was not expert enough for her to survive more than a few minutes – if she was lucky - but she would not stand there like a frightened deer while her prince fought for both their lives. She was unable to avert her gaze from the demon before her, but from the corner of her eyes she saw that several of those creatures had risen from the grass like grotesque flowers, swaying softly from side to side while they seemed to be waiting for something. The prince did not move at all, but she felt his strong, flexible body at her back, ready for the attack.
Then a high-pitched screaming started, and it sounded like the dying cries of a thousand souls. The noise did not seem to come out of the demons’ mouth openings, but seemed to surround them, as if it came from all of them simultaneously. Igraine cringed at the terrible sounds, but before she had time to even cover her ears, the creatures attacked as one, their movements suddenly very smooth and targeted – the way predators moved. Holding her breath, she moved her arm to hit the first one when the beast came to an abrupt halt at the edge of Elathan’s magic fire that protected them, roaring with fury.
The demon was so near that she could feel the heat of its breath, smell its rotten, sickeningly sweet stench. It reminded her of blood, and maybe it was and the remains of the demon’s former victim were not wholly digested, causing this foul smell rising from its bowels.
Igraine heard a low chanting behind her back and turned shortly to see that the prince had closed his eyes. He murmured words in an unknown tongue that didn’t sound even elven, strangely guttural and melodic at the same time. Shivers raced down her spine, and she sensed that something old was awakened, a force that seemed to arise from the deepest bowels of the earth.
With the bloody sword in his right hand, Elathan held up his left hand as if trying to stop the demons advancing on them. Igraine felt that his muscular body trembled with power before a bright beam of fire erupted from his palm. It pierced the air with the speed of light and hit one of the grass creatures. It cried out with pain, grabbing its chest while the magic fire started to burn the demon mercilessly from inside out, consuming and killing the thing quickly.
The grass creatures seemed to be unable to move for a moment, mesmerized by the old magic that made the air crackle with energy all around them. It grew stronger with every moment and crawled under Igraine’s skin like an electrical shock. With a quick move of his wrist, the elf shot another red-hot arrow of fire towards their enemies. It hit the first row of demons, and they burst into flames like heaps of dry straw.
The silence broke, and the monsters shook off their paralysis. Fiercely, they threw themselves against the magic ring, not seeming to care that their blue fur burned and their black, leathery skin melted until the raw flesh lay bare. Elathan’s flames did not work as natural fire did. It didn’t go out when the demons tried to roll on the ground to extinguish it, and it found its way through hair, flesh and even bone, consuming them in an instant. Not even a heap of ashes remained when each demon went down, it was as if they had simply never existed.
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