by John Goode
He felt the wash of magics move over him as reality itself turned inside out. He closed his eyes, knowing the danger of The Nowhere that one passed through with magic. Some people, mostly Senders, loved the sight, sometimes growing addicted to the vista to the point of insanity.
He counted in his head to three and then opened them again.
Hawk had seen Spike in many different moods before. The Changeling had been his guardian since Hawk’s infancy. Hawk had thought himself well versed in the shape shifter’s mercurial emotions. As he stared down the murderous intent in the creature’s eyes, he knew he had thought wrong.
Changelings were a rare breed, the very few ever seen at all having sworn loyalty to the royal family in one way or another. Rumors surfaced every so often of feral Changelings, posing as other animals in the wild, savage things that were mistaken for werewolves and centaurs but were, in fact, just mindless beasts ignorant of their abilities.
Hawk had to admit, he had never believed such stories. Spike and his sire had been fixtures in the palace for so long, he had honestly thought it not possible for any Changeling to be less than human.
They said nothing as they stood across from each other. Spike’s nostrils flared in anger as he fixated on Hawk now as the reason for his rage. Hawk knew the creature was looking for a sign of repentance on his part, an acknowledgment he had somehow slighted his guardian by having feelings for the human. He searched the prince’s eyes for that emotion, for even a tiny glimmer of apology. The Changeling wanted Hawk to share the same feelings for him as the creature harbored for its master.
Hawk’s eyes stayed hard and cold.
“You Charmed me,” Hawk said, an accusation not a question.
“I was trying to protect you,” Spike pleaded.
“Protect yourself,” Hawk said as he readjusted his grip on the sword.
They both instinctively knew what came next.
Without another word spoken they lunged at each other, sword and claw extended. Hawk worried about rushing into battle clad only in pants, but he knew the creature wasn’t going to allow him to change into proper attire. He also knew that Spike could toughen his skin to the point of sun-cured leather, meaning anything, save actual piercing, would be useful against him. Under his breath, he recited the words for a spell of swiftness as they engaged.
Though he had little aptitude for The Arts themselves, Hawk had found an affinity for what his people referred to as Blade Dancing.
Blade Dancing was a form of combat magic that temporarily enhanced the attributes of a warrior, giving him martial abilities such as speed and strength, exceeding those of even seasoned warriors. As he repeated the short form of a series of mantras that increased concentration and focus, Hawk felt his body begin to loosen. His agility multiplied. Knowing that brute force was not going to win the battle, he used his opening attack as a feint, drawing Spike in as he nimbly flipped over the creature’s back to land behind him. Caught flatfooted, the Changeling attempted to halt its charge and turn back toward his prey.
Hawk began incorporating a spell of strength into his recitation before snatching a cheap picture frame off the wall and hurling it at Spike’s head. The Changeling had just managed to turn its face toward Hawk when the corner of the frame caught him on the bridge of its flat nose. Spike’s head snapped back as he staggered away, his claws morphed into hands as he covered its bloody nose in what sounded like audible agony. Without a moment’s hesitation or thought of mercy, Hawk reduced his body’s density by almost half and launched himself upward, Truheart’s hilt clutched in both hands for a killing blow.
Kane, seeing the intent, stepped out. “Hawk, no!”
Startled, the prince canceled the spell and felt his jump shorten by almost a foot as his mass returned. He landed on the floor and skidded to a halt in front of the creature’s defenseless body. Kane’s eyes were red-rimmed with tears, no doubt from terror. He held his hands out over Spike.
“Don’t!” he pleaded. “He’s down! You don’t have to kill him!”
Hawk, never taking his gaze off Spike, snapped, “He’s a servant, a servant who dared attack his master. Death is the least he deserves.”
“He’s a living being!” Kane countered, trying not to think about the fact that he sounded like every other PETA loving hippie freak in the town complaining that eating meat was murder. He knew Spike had just tried to kill him, but he also knew he was a living being, flat on his back, defenseless.
“He’s just a creature,” Hawk replied in an icy tone of voice, each word a shard of ice, his will icy strong.
When Kane said nothing in reply, Hawk glanced up and was shocked to see the look of abject disgust on Kane’s face. It was so raw, so unexpected, Hawk felt the tip of his blade waver for a moment. “What?”
Slowly Kane took a step back from him, his expression darkening to revulsion.
“What is wrong?” Hawk asked, his voice strained, taut with emotion and the remains of battle rage. “He’s a beast! A servant! I am its master! He attacked you, betrayed me! It is my right to take his life!” With each declaration the human took another step away from him. When Kane reached the stairs, he turned and fled up them, silently.
“You’re losing your pet.”
Hawk looked down just in time to see Spike jump up and slam his shoulder into the unprepared prince. Hawk forced himself not to cry out in shock as he went flying away from the creature, crashing into the large box that had made pictures for them earlier. He scrambled to his feet again, sure that he was about to be struck by a follow-up attack….
The room was empty, the front door open wide.
“Where did he go?” he asked Ruber, which was still floating in midair.
“Spike fled outside while you were incapacitated. It appeared wounded.”
Hawk knew how Spike must feel. As he clambered to his feet, he felt several pangs lance through him and realized he was in no condition to give chase. He cursed himself for his moment of weakness as he sank down onto Kane’s couch. He should have killed the thing when he had a chance. Now, a furious Changeling roamed loose on the streets of Athens, and he had no idea what it would do next.
But he knew it wasn’t going to be good.
THE NIGHT air clung cool to his hide as Spike ran as quickly as he could away from the house. He could feel the trickle of blood flowing from his nose start to diminish as he began to heal.
The physical pain didn’t affect him; what hurt was the pain in his chest where his heart should have been. Hawk’s rejection of him for that ridiculous human was so great an insult Spike couldn’t formulate words to express it.
Spike had been so sure that the prince shared some measure of the feeling he had for him, but he’d been wrong. Disastrously wrong. Worse was that his sire had warned him against harboring feelings for the royal family. He had told Spike that, in the end, he would earn nothing but heartache for his effort, and here heartache was, exactly as foretold.
In a blind rage, oblivious to everything but his fury, Spike ran to the outskirts of the town. He vowed vengeance, swore to exact retribution, vowing that the prince would one day beg for forgiveness. Even if Spike had to beat him senseless before he did so.
I SAT in my room and waited.
Remember the moment I said that I had reached my limit of things I couldn’t handle and that from then on I’d be numb to anything new? Next time I say that, smack the shit out of me, okay? Hawk had meant to kill Spike, as clear and simple as buttering toast, he had been going to kill Spike with his sword. I wasn’t Spike’s greatest fan. I mean the—whatever it was—had just tried to kill me, but he was a living creature! I had been so sure that Hawk was a good guy—I mean what happened to arresting someone? Throwing them in prison? Who just kills someone who is defenseless on the ground?
Well, Spike had tried to do just that to me, but isn’t that the point?
If Spike is a monster for trying to turn me into a happy meal, then what does it make Hawk for trying to s
lice and dice an enemy who was lying on his back defenseless? I wasn’t mad, I was just sad because I really thought Hawk was better than that.
No—that wasn’t all of it. I thought I was better than that and that had been what really stung.
Through the whole fight, all I’d hoped was that Hawk would cut that thing’s head off. I was so scared, so outright furious, I wished for blood. Then, when I saw the same fear in Spike’s eyes that I know had been in mine, the thought had hit me. That one second, that look of complete confusion on Hawk’s face, though? That had been the worst. He literally had no idea why I would stop him, why I would bring up mercy. Is his whole world so different that those concepts are foreign to him? Then I stopped thinking about anything more than Hawk.
Silence filled the house, and I decided I couldn’t keep hiding up here hoping everything that had happened would go away. I sneaked down the hall as quietly as I could and peeked downstairs, just knowing that Spike was going to leap out at me from the shadows. The room was empty, trashed, but empty. The front door gaped open, and I could hear the wind beginning to pick up outside. I went down a few more steps and I heard Hawk say, “He’s gone, it’s safe.”
I saw him lying on the couch and gasped in shock.
He was cut up, badly. I ran toward him, and the damage looked worse with every step. Where he lay against it, the couch was stained with blood, meaning his back must be sliced up too. I settled on my knees next to him, wishing I could ignore how beautiful he looked, even wounded. “You’re hurt,” I said, afraid to touch him.
“I noticed,” he said with a chuckle and then winced from the pain.
“How can I help?” I said, completely ignorant as to how to treat injuries like his.
He looked over at me, and I felt the weight of those perfect eyes again. “I thought you were mad at me.”
I waved off the statement. “I am, but that doesn’t mean I want you to die!”
He half smiled. “So you do care?”
I blew out a sigh in exasperation. “Is this really the time?”
He shrugged and winced again. “Might be all the time I have.”
For a second I felt a stab of panic and then thought better of it. He was taking this much too well. I looked over my shoulder at Ruber. “Is he going to die?”
The ruby flicked slightly. “Eventually. But not from those wounds. The spell of healing he has cast on himself is more than capable of staving off death for another day.” Ruber uttered the last words so cynically that Hawk winced.
I looked back at Hawk, pissed. “You were lying?”
“Exaggerating?” he offered.
“Why would you do that?” I said, punching him in the stomach. I was shocked to find it hard as a rock.
He flinched anyway and grabbed my hand. “I wasn’t lying about the pain,” he said softly.
“Why would you lie like that?”
He looked like a scolded puppy. “Two reasons. One, because you were mad at me.”
“I still am,” I corrected him.
He nodded and continued. “And two, you’re beautiful when you’re angry.” He ran his hand down my cheek, and I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest like it was an alien embryo struggling to break free.
“You like me?” I asked after seconds of stunned silence.
He rolled his eyes and pulled me in toward him slowly. I felt that I could pull away and he’d let me go, that this wasn’t something insistent but a question.
I leaned in toward him, the smell, the touch of his skin, everything overwhelming. I felt my head begin to spin as he leaned up. “I am Hawk’keen Maragold Tertania, prince and heir to the Arcadia throne,” he said, this time a bit mockingly. “I do not like.” His lips drew close to mine.
“What do you do then?” I asked, holding my breath.
His lips pressed to mine, and he showed me.
I had to admit, it felt a lot more than just like.
Interlude
THUNDER RUMBLED in the distance as Spike huddled over the puddle of his own blood he’d collected. It had been easy enough to do; he merely let the wound Hawk had inflicted flow free. He buried the anger and hurt of the betrayal as he concentrated on the summoning spell. He began to incant in the guttural language that made up his people’s magics, opening a connection to Faerth. When he felt the bond snap into place, he uttered his sire’s true name.
The blood boiled rapidly as an image coalesced.
“Father! Hear my cries!” he said, peering deep into the pool.
His reflection shimmered slightly before it spoke back to him in the voice of his father. Without pause or preamble it asked, “It happened. Didn’t it? Just as I predicted.”
Spike’s head bowed in shame, but the reflection did not move. He stared at him with piercing eyes as it chastised him. “I warned you that sharing feelings for those beings would gain you nothing! They hate everything that is not like them.”
“I thought Hawk was different,” Spike pleaded, knowing the moment he spoke the words how stupid he sounded.
“None of them are!” his father snapped. “The Fairies care for no one save themselves, why do you think it was so easy to manipulate the Dark to turn on them? Trust me, they have no friends.”
Spike looked back into the blood, his eyes furious now. “I was wrong, Father. I should have joined you when you asked. Please, how can I help?”
The smile in the reflection was chilling as the parent reveled in its son’s declaration. “You have two tasks ahead of you. One, you must find the key of Ascension; he carries it somewhere and it is the key of everything. Second, you must kill the prince. He is the rightful heir to the throne, and when we overthrow his parents, Arcadia will turn to him as leader. That’s why the lord and lady sent him away, to keep him safe.”
Spike nodded fervently.
“The people of Arcadia will never serve under the Dark, which is why they will need a new leader to turn to once the Lord and Lady of the realm are dead,” the reflection explained. “And who better than I to lead them?”
“But you don’t need him dead, you just need the key,” Spike argued.
There was a long pause as his father’s gaze bore into him from a world away. “Kill the prince, bring me the key. Those are my orders.”
Spike nodded, breaking eye contact. “Of course, my sire.”
“Once I have the key I can ascend and rule the realms once and for all.”
“What of the Dark?” Spike asked, breaking his father’s contemplation.
His reflection shrugged. “Who cares for the under dwellers? I simply need their numbers for now. When I am in power I will turn the full force of Arcadia against them and decimate their entire species.”
“And you know the people will follow you, Father?”
“Of course they will. What choice would they have? Besides, it’s not as if I do not share royal blood. Who better to rule than the royal family’s regent?” The words were harsh and bitter. The topic obviously held great pain for the elder Changeling.
“I am at your command, Father,” Spike said, prostrating himself to the blood.
“And soon, all of Faerth will be as well,” the reflection boasted. “Think on it, my son, you will be known as Prince Spike, heir to the throne. And I, well, I’ve been thinking about my title. How does Lord Puck, ruler of the nine realms sound to you?”
The reflection began to laugh as the first drops of rain began to fall.
The storm had finally arrived.
Chapter Ten
MY EYES flew open when thunder crashed outside.
Startled, caught somewhere between dreaming and waking, I stared into the dark of the room. The only illumination was provided by lightning, and the irregular flashes highlighted things in strange ways, making the room I had grown up in an alien place. Confused, I tensed and started to sit up.
He shifted slightly. I felt his arm pull me closer, and everything came back to me.
We were lying on my bed in each other�
��s arms, and I had never felt so safe in my life. I nestled back into him and could feel his breathing slow as he fell back into the deep sleep I had stirred him from. I watched the rain hit my window as I traced a circle on the taut skin over the hard muscles that made up his forearm. He was warmer than anyone I had ever felt, so much so that even above the covers I was as hot if not hotter than bundled up in a blanket. The fingers that pressed me near widened as if he was checking me even in his sleep, and I relaxed, completely safe.
We had stayed in the living room, resting on the couch, not saying a word, for several minutes after he kissed me. I sat next to him, his arm around me, his gaze never breaking with mine. I began to shiver and not from the bitter cold that rushed in through the open door. After the hectic noise of battle—I’d been in a battle!—silence flowed smoothly into the room, slowing everything: our breathing, the memories of shouting and furniture crashing. Leaving room for thought: the realization I had almost died finally began to sink in, and my shivering intensified. He shifted me even nearer to him so he could encircle me with both arms. His whisper came when I needed it the most. “Shhh. You’re safe. I have you. I have you now.”
I had never felt so happy to be had before.
“Y-you must think I’m a wimp. Shaking like a girl after everything’s done.” I gulped, pressing my face against his chest. I could hear and feel the deep, steady sound of his heart beating, and it reassured me that he was a real, flesh and blood person and not some fantasy guy I had dreamed up as a result of terminal loneliness.
“I heard the word ‘wimp’ which I am unsure of, but if you are afraid I think less of you for shaking after combat, you’re wrong.” He placed his hand over mine, and I could feel the slight tremor move through both of our limbs. “It is the adrenaline wearing off, nothing more.” His lips brushed the top of my head as he whispered, “You’re the bravest thing I have ever seen.”