Their high, painful screams made Igraine want to cover her ears, but instead she raised her sword and began to attack the beast nearest to her. The demon hit her with a mighty stroke of its front paw, and the razor-sharp claws dug deep into her naked shoulder. She cried out with pain and rage. A sudden feeling of strength and courage took hold of her and made her forget her fear, and she rammed her sword deep into what seemed to be the throat of the creature. Crimson blood emerged from the wound like a fountain, and it went down to the ground right at her feet.
Behind Igraine, the elf sprang into action. His sword whirled through the air and hit another demon, cutting off its head in one single blow. The absurd creature was too surprised to know that it was dead. Its limbs twitched wildly in the air before it dropped to its knees and hit the ground. The others hesitated for just a short moment before they attacked, jumping right into the fiery barrier the prince had erected. Elathan fought several of them at once, his sword a deadly flash of lightning in the darkness while he continued to burn them down with his magic flames. He moved so quickly he seemed to dance, his glorious hair flying around his head like a silvery cloud. Angel, Igraine thought. He is my dark angel.
His deadly beauty had hypnotized Igraine just for a short moment, but it gave a huge demon enough time to cross the ring and strike her down. His claws ripped apart the soft fabric of elven cloth over her chest, cutting deep into her skin. The creature grabbed her ankle and drew her nearer to the stinking hole that was its mouth. Long, sharp teeth gleamed up in the moonlight.
The prince roared with fury, and a flash of his fire killed the demon instantly, burning diagonally through its high, dark shape. The monster went down, severed into two pieces like a broken doll. Heavily breathing, Igraine looked up to the prince who now stood over her. He protected her with his life while he fought as many demons simultaneously as he could, bleeding from several wounds now. She heard nothing but the horrible screams of the creatures. There seemed to be dozens of them approaching now, maybe hundreds, she didn’t know. She only knew that even Elathan could not save them from certain death. There were just too many of them.
But once again, Igraine had underestimated the prince. Closing his eyes again, he raised his arms above his head as if to draw power from the heavens. Suddenly, there was fire, fire all around them, spreading over the plains to all sides and burning everything it touched in the blink of an eye. Igraine screamed and clung to Elathan’s leg, sure to feel the flames touching her at any second. But instead, nothing happened, so she dared to look around. She realized that she and the prince seemed to be in a safe bubble while everything around them, even the air above their heads, burned.
She took a few deep breaths, then slowly stood up. She embraced Elathan’s waist and pressed herself as close to him as possible. He did not seem to notice her movements, evidently carried away by the incredible force of magic that was his slave now. Fire, fire all around them.
As quickly as it had started, it was suddenly over, and there was nothing but silence. She let her gaze wander over the grass plains, but all she saw was the black, burned ground. Not a single blade of grass was left, and not a single grass demon – it was as they had never existed. Behind her back, there was a soft sound, and she turned her head, afraid that one of them had survived after all. But it was just Ahearn, still standing under the rock. The horse looked nervous, stomping the burnt ground with his hoof and shaking his head, but otherwise, he was perfectly fine.
But Elathan wasn’t. He swayed for a moment, then went down like a felled tree before Igraine could catch him. Still too shocked to think about what had just happened, she sat down beside him and cradled his head in her lap, studying his pale, handsome face. His eyes were closed and he did not move, but to her relief he was breathing steadily.
It seemed as her prince had just fainted.
And he would kill her for sure if she ever breathed a word of this to a living soul.
Chapter 21: The Inn
Horses were incredible creatures. If not for Ahearn, Igraine would have never managed to take Elathan to the inn on her own. The steed had knelt down at his master’s side and pressed his body flat to the ground, so she could drag Elathan’s heavy, motionless form across his back. When Ahearn stood up, she took his reins and started her long walk over what used to be the blue grass plains of Debethea, now nothing more than vast fields of burned earth.
The sun had already risen after she had sat for hours with Elathan’s head in her lap, unable to move or think. Hanging face-down over a horse’s back was not a very dignified way to travel for the prince of the realm, but for now, it was all she could do. His armor was covered in blood, and she did not know how much of it was his own. Even if she had examined him further, it wouldn’t have helped him much, for she neither had enough water to clean his wounds properly nor clean cloth to bind them.
Looking down at herself, she saw that she was a mess. Her clothes were not much more than rags, torn by the demons’ claws, she was covered in dirt and dried blood. Her skin was marred by several wounds, the worst of them the one on her shoulder and the deep cut over her chest, which was still bleeding when she moved too quickly. Probably it would need stitching. She was glad that Elathan had told her about the inn somewhere on the plains, so at least she had an idea where she was going. After the fight with the demons, she had lost all sense of direction and the landscape looked the same wherever she turned her head.
Maybe such things as compasses didn’t exist in this world, and the elves traveled with the help of some magical instinct. But as she had no other fixed point, not even a single tree or mountain, she followed the direction of the moon which was already faintly visible in the clear afternoon sky. A ridiculous thought crossed her mind, and involuntarily she grinned. Back in school, maybe I should have joined the girl scouts after all and learned something about survival in nature. You never knew when you would get stranded in a once-grass-plain-desert, dragging an unconscious elven prince along with you.
The cold wind over the plain tugged at her torn clothing and made her shiver. Her feet hurt, and she felt weak from her loss of blood. But if she climbed into the saddle behind Elathan’s heavy body, the horse would not be able to proceed much longer and without him to carry his master, they would never reach the inn in time. The sun was very low already, and who knew if some of the grass demons survived, already lurking in the ground to have their revenge?
Igraine decided to stop for a short moment to take a sip of water from Elathan’s leather bottle. When she checked on the prince, took his hand and called him by his name, he was still unconscious. She lifted up his head and tried to make him drink a little, but it only served to wet his lips. They had to find some shelter, and very soon.
She directed her gaze to the horizon, narrowing her eyes to see if there was any change in the landscape, a hill or a mountain maybe, or a tree, so she could tell where she was going. But there was just the same, barren land wherever she turned her head.
Suddenly, something happened to her eyesight. She did not see anything, not even darkness. It felt like the blinding spots that you see when you close your lids after staring too long into the sun. But before she had time to contemplate why she had gone blind, she could see again … and jumped back with an cry of surprise.
Just a few paces from where she stood with Ahearn at her side, the outline of a large structure had appeared on the plain. It looked exactly like you’d imagine a medieval inn. There was a two-storey main building with straw thatching and two smaller houses to the back. An outside ladder led up to the upper floor that was completely surrounded by a wooden balcony, probably where the guest rooms where located. The stables were to the right of the yard which was enclosed by a narrow stone wall, covered with ivy. To Igraine’s utter astonishment it was surrounded by a circular area of intact blue grass that was softly moving in the breeze. Undoubtedly this place had a strong magic of its own since it hadn’t been touched by Elathan’s devastating fire. A
nd it had allowed her to find it just when what she needed most was a safe place to spend the night.
She began to wonder about the foolishness of her own thoughts – how could a building ‘allow’ itself to be found – when suddenly the front door opened and Calatin came running out like the hounds of hell were after him. He was protecting his red-haired head with one hand, which was wise because several heavy clay dishes came flying after him, a plate, a bowl and a jug full of ale, then even a wooden chair. Igraine had to acknowledge that he moved very quickly despite wearing his silver chainmail. He ducked just in time before everything fell to the floor and smashed into pieces, then hurried out of the yard. At a safe distance to the inn, he paused, laughing with what could only be described as elven mischief. When he finally spotted her standing beside the horse carrying his prince’s motionless body, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Then a bright, happy grin enlivened his handsome face, and he ran to Igraine to capture her in a bone-wrenching embrace. Before she could say anything, she felt his mouth on hers in a kiss that couldn’t in the least be called brotherly. For a short moment she was so shocked that she let it happen. His lips explored her passionately, so soft and sensual that it took her breath away. She did not even think about what a great kisser he was but raised her hand to slap him. He broke away first and caught her wrist, laughing. “Now, now, lovely human!” he said. “I just wanted to express my joy over seeing you alive and well.”
“Did your joyous feelings also include your prince here who’s actually more dead than alive right now?” she asked, gesturing to Elathan.
“Oh, him.” Calatin glanced at the sleeping prince and absently patted his shoulder. He didn’t seem to be overly moved by the poor state his friend was in. “I was never really worried about him, actually. He’s stubborn as a bulldog when it comes to dying, so he simply keeps fighting until everyone else is dead. He’s just a little worn out right now. But when you did not reach the inn by nightfall, I wasn’t sure if he’d manage to fight against so many demons and keep you safe at the same time. Humans are so fragile.” Gallantly, he bowed before her and kissed her hand. “I am very happy to find you unharmed, my Lady.” When he lifted his emerald eyes to her, their expression was earnest so she knew that he meant it.
“Who threw all those dishes after you – and the chair, by the way?” she asked innocently.
He shrugged. “Just a small game of dice with trolls. They are not very bright, you know. I won all their gold.”
“You cheated?”
“How could you ever believe me capable of such misdeeds, Lady Igraine?” he said with a wounded look on his face. When she sweetly smiled at him, he laughed. “We should get you safely inside the inn now. Offering her his arm to walk with him, he took Ahearn’s reins with the other hand and led them into the yard. When he saw that none of the guests were outside, he took the horse around the house to the back entrance, where they found a second, smaller stable. Before he lifted his prince off Ahearn’s back, Calatin turned to Igraine and gave her a boyish, pleading look that would have gotten him every wish fulfilled by any woman, young or old. He must have successfully used it many times before, she surmised.
“I assume you won’t tell Elathan that I kissed you? It was meant as a sign of my friendship and chaste admiration. I don’t think it necessary to bother him with such trivialities now that he has so much to worry about – saving his kingdom, for instance.”
Igraine gave him a sharp look, skeptically lifting one brow. “He would kill you if he knew, wouldn’t he?”
Calatin’s grin revealed a row of perfect white teeth. “I had no choice but to take advantage of the situation. After all, he’s not unconscious every day.”
* * * * *
Elathan had been resting on the large, crude wooden bed of the inn’s best room for two whole days and nights now. After Eamon, the innkeeper, had been informed that a member of the royal family – he did not manage to conceal the surprised expression on his face when he recognized him - had been wounded and lay unconscious in his stables, the burly elf had prepared his best room in a hurry and personally helped Calatin to carry the prince up the back stairs, so none of the guests had the chance to have a closer look at him.
With Calatin’s help, Igraine had removed the prince’s heavy armor and undressed him so she could wash his wounds before cleansing him of the demons’ dried black blood that stuck to his pale skin everywhere. She blushed when she tended to Elathan’s naked body in Calatin’s presence, but the copper-haired elf did not joke this time. His eyes held real sorrow for his friend when they realized that Elathan was not just weak from the magic he had summoned, but also in a fever, caused by too many deep wounds the demons had inflicted upon him with their poisonous claws and teeth. Obviously Calatin had the ability to heal, for he closed the minor cuts with magic, chanting spells while his hands seems to glow with a faint silver light when he moved them over the wounds. That done, he stitched up the last few gashes with a fine needle and thread he took out of a small leather bag attached to his belt. “Some more scars for you, my friend,” he murmured, but he didn't smile.
When the prince’s wounds were bound up with clean linen, Calatin covered him with the sheets and turned to Igraine. “I have done everything in my power to heal him,” he said. “But he has to fight the fever on his own. He is strong, my Lady,” the magician added, when he saw the fear in her eyes. “But what about you?”
“Me? What do you mean?” Igraine answered, not knowing what he was talking about.
“The demons hurt you, too … let me have a look at that.” He made her sit on a wooden stool and knelt down beside her. Cautiously, he pulled down her bodice until her shoulders were bare. He examined the wound at her shoulder and healed it with his hands as he had done with Elathan. Then, he looked at the gaping cut that reached from the upper part of her breast almost to her throat. The worst bleeding had stopped, but some blood trickled out from time to time.
“I will have to stitch this up, my Lady,” he said. “But do not worry. You will feel nothing, and my stitches are said to be finer than those of the castle’s best seamstresses. There will be no trace left to mar your soft skin.” He smiled a roguish smile at her indicating that healing her wounds was not an unpleasant task at all, so she assumed that her injuries were not as serious as Elathan’s.
Calatin had told her the truth. The elf started to murmur soft elven words while he worked on her. Indeed she didn’t feel a single stitch while his long, elegant fingers sewed her skin back together, applying the finest stitches she had ever seen – very tight but so tiny that she had no doubt that there would be no scar left as he had promised. When he was finished, he took her hand in his and looked up into her eyes. But to her surprise she saw not a flirting glint in them, only sincere sorrow.
“Igraine, there are things you need to know. I have to be honest with you – I am not sure if Elathan will survive this fever. The wounds alone wouldn’t have been enough to kill him, but the poison is in his blood now. I did everything in my power to help him, but he has drawn back so deeply I can’t reach him anymore. It’s his decision alone if he will fight to live or not. But he has lived a very long time, and sometimes immortals … well, they just choose that they have had enough and that it’s time to move on.”
He paused for a moment while she tried to understand the terrible meaning behind his words, her face ashen. “There are so many things I would like to tell you about our world if I only had more time. About Ruadan, Elathan’s half brother. He is not crowned yet, but because the old king had grown weak, he has been ruling the elven realms for years now. Yet he’s only a puppet on a string for his ruthless mother and fulfills her every wish. Among other countless crimes, they have forbidden all magic unless with their permission – which is never granted. I wish I could explain to you what this means to my people. The human world never knew magic so they found other ways to make life easier. But the Fae are helpless without it, for it is all the
y know. Without magic, they have to watch their children die if they fall ill. Their fields will be barren, and there will be nothing to eat. They will not be able to disguise themselves with glamour, to protect themselves from their enemies.”
“Like humans?” Igraine asked thoughtfully.
The elf lowered his gaze. “Forgive me, my Lady. I did not mean to offend you. But you have to be aware that there will be war if Ruadan is king, first against our own race, then he’ll try to subdue the human world. But not all is lost since he has not been crowned yet. Once a king, no one can take the right to the throne away from him, not even the rightful heir. This is the reason why I must leave immediately and reunite Elathan’s army. Most of his men reside in the woods around the castle and have been eagerly awaiting his return. I protected their hiding place with my magic so Ruadan won’t find them, no matter how hard he orders his own guards to look for them.” He grinned, then his expression grew earnest again. “Without Elathan, we’ll do all in our might to prevent this coronation until my prince has recovered and can join us to reclaim the kingdom.”
After giving her exact directions where to find the hidden army in the woods and to overcome the magic barrier he rose and bowed before Igraine. “Farewell, my Lady, until we meet again. If you need anything, call Eamon, the innkeeper. You can trust him. And remember, it is of the utmost importance that the prince lives. His people need him. You know, as you are his slave of pleasure and took his blood, you have become a part of him. If the need should arise …” to her disbelief the elf blushed deeply, right up to the roots of his copper hair, “I am sure that you know how to give a part of your strength to him. It would be the most powerful healing possible, much more than my own magic can achieve.”
Bound to the Prince Page 22