Lesser Prince (Guardians of Gaeland Book 1)

by Jamie McFarlane

  As Tig rounded the corner of the house, Laux hopped out of a new, dual-wheeled, four-door pickup truck. Tig estimated the fifth-wheel trailer attached to the bed to be at least forty-five feet long. The trailer looked like it had never been used a day in its life. On the back of the cab, a long light bar flooded the trailer and immediate vicinity with bright light.

  Dust swirled and Tig’s head started to spin. The entire scene felt so alien, as if a space ship had just landed in his back yard, its inhabitants invading his whole life. He couldn't help himself. "We come in peace," he shouted in a stilted robot voice. Laux looked up at him quizzically, not getting the joke at all.

  A loud commotion erupted from back near the pens. Laux spun toward the noise, crouching defensively in front of Tig, a long-bladed knife in his hand. From the shadows, one of Tig's goats came bucking into view, with Naminee being dragged behind, somehow able to keep her feet. She was either too stubborn or scared to let go of the rope attached to the goat's neck. Laux barely contained a laugh as Tig ran forward. "Let go, you’ll hurt her!"

  It was an order Naminee was all too glad to obey and she dropped the rope. The goat bucked once more and then settled down. Tig walked slowly toward the animal, talking in quiet, soothing tones. He then picked up the lead and walked the animal into the back of the trailer, tying it off in one of the front stalls. As he reemerged, Laux and Naminee stood staring at him with questioning looks on their faces. Smiling, Tig said, "The thing about goats is that you don't force them to do anything. It is either the goat's idea or it is a bad idea."

  Tig's head snapped up and his face became rigid as he scanned the surroundings. Danger had arrived. At the edge of the yard, a dark figure appeared. An older, almost elegant looking woman, with grey-streaked dark hair and a black cloak stared intently at Tig. The look of confusion on her face turned to resolve. Before Tig could act, she pulled her hand from beneath her robe, throwing several small objects on the ground causing puffs of black where they landed. From the smoke, three immense wolves appeared, their gaping mouths sporting enormous canine fangs which shone brightly in the waning light.

  Laux and Naminee saw the change in Tig's face and turned in unison. In their hands, identical long bladed knives appeared, glowing light blue. They positioned themselves between Tig and the wolves.

  Laux, with a calmness that belied their predicament, quietly said, "A crone and her worgs – it’s a hunting party." In a commanding voice, he addressed her. "Leave us, Crone. There is nothing here for you."

  She was unimpressed and advanced several yards, the worgs pacing back and forth impatiently. As the creatures ventured further into the pool of light, they seemed to grow larger. These worgs were enormous - bigger than the largest dog Tig had ever seen. Four feet at the shoulder with heads as big as his torso, their teeth were each the size of one of his fingers.

  The crone’s face was that of an old woman, once attractive, now grudgingly losing a vain battle with time. Her eyes, however, were alive with the tension of the moment. In one hand, she held a gnarled staff resembling a small sapling ripped from the ground and inverted. On the top of the staff the roots were woven into a rough spherical shape, open at the top. Within this rough sphere, tongues of blue and orange flames flickered.

  "What do we have here?" she asked in a mocking voice, "A couple of elven servants and a child? Where is the prince? Did he die from his wounds?"

  Fear shot through Tig's veins. What did she want with them? And what did she mean about elves? He wanted nothing more than to call a time out, sit down and process everything that was happening. Unfortunately, his senses informed him that he was in a very dangerous situation that was about to get much worse.

  "The prince has been taken away. You are too late," Laux responded evenly, watching the worgs intently.

  "Interesting. You speak the truth, yet it is a lie. What could that be about?" The crone was clearly thinking hard now, "What are you hiding from me?"

  Under his breath, Laux instructed the group, "Tig, get to the truck and flee. We are no match for this group. Do not wait for us or all will be lost. Naminee, you know what must be done."

  "Who is this child you are protecting? Ah well, no matter." At this she swept her free hand forward. The worgs, who had been impatiently waiting, sprung forward, rushing the threesome.

  Naminee and Laux also sprung forward with daggers high to meet the incoming rush. Laux shouted, "GO, TIGERIOUS! NOW!"

  Tig, who’d felt rooted at the sight of the rushing wolves, ran for the truck. He didn’t know what he would do once he got there, as he’d never driven before and had only the most basic idea about how a truck operated.

  "Not so fast, boy," the crone cackled, dark laughter in her voice.

  Tig felt something grab his ankles and his forward momentum sent him smacking hard into the ground. Breath jarred from his body and rolling to his side, he realized that roots entangled his calves and feet. Tig panicked in his struggle to free himself.

  Naminee met one of the two worgs headed toward her at full charge. As their bodies were about to collide, she sprang to the side, and careened off the body of the beast, her dagger embedded just above the animal's collar bone. Gracefully, she rolled on the ground and back to her feet, pulling a smaller blade from her belt. The beast howled and started madly spinning, trying to remove the source of its pain, but the blade was too near the animal's neck for its jaws to be able to dislodge it.

  At the same time Laux leapt toward the second animal. Feinting with lightning fast reflexes, he slashed at the flank of the beast, making minor contact but retaining his blade. As Laux rolled away, he unknowingly put himself in the path of the third wolf. Not wasting the opportunity, the huge animal barreled into Laux, teeth raking his back and opening deep wounds. Laux spun to face the snarling monster.

  Tig heard the pitched battle occurring mere yards away, yelps and howls from the animals and then an agonized scream from one of his two defenders. The chaos spurred him on and fear tightened his chest. He clawed at the bindings holding his feet. Tig wasn't sure what was happening, but his hands began to glow, first a faint green, then building in intensity until they were as bright as a light bulb. Whatever it was, Tig was grateful, for the roots withered and retracted back into the ground. In seconds, his feet were free and he scrabbled over onto his stomach, clawing at the ground, legs churning, as he propelled his body forward. He desperately needed to reach the truck.

  The crone’s attention was focused on the fight her worgs were waging, confident the boy was secured. The bright light caught her eye and she swung her gaze back toward the child. When she saw the bright green glow and her conjured vines disappearing back into the ground, she roared, “No!” He had actually countered her rooting spell with elven magic. Impossible! There were no wizards in this area, not for hundreds of miles, or she would have sensed them. Whoever he was, he was now the priority - he must not be allowed to escape. She screamed new instructions to the worgs, who turned and chased after the fleeing boy.

  Tig barely made it to the open door of the truck before the worgs got to him. For a moment he struggled, trying to close the door on the snarling beasts. He gave a strong pull and felt the door latch tightly, momentarily separating them. The beasts rammed their bodies into the side panels of the truck, causing it to rock.

  He frantically tried to remember what he knew about driving. In his favor, the truck was already running. He had some idea of the brake and accelerator, but no firsthand experience. Initially, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator causing the engine to rev loudly. The truck remained motionless except for the rocking motion caused by the beasts’ relentless assault. On the passenger side, the window exploded and black fur was all Tig could see in the opening. The wolf retreated briefly and then tried to launch itself through the window, but its shoulders were too wide.

  Tig heard Laux yelling at him to put it in gear. He correctly guessed that it had something to do with the arm extending from the steering wheel
. He pulled the lever back a notch. Since his foot was still on the gas, the vehicle slammed into reverse and the dual wheels of the truck started digging into the soil. The four large tires didn't take long to start the entire rig careening backwards. The trailer headed straight back for a moment and then jackknifed behind the truck. It swung sharply and rammed right through the porch into the kitchen.

  As the out-of-control metal monster flew backward, Laux, Naminee and the crone all dove madly out of the way. The worgs weren’t even slightly fazed by the crazy movement and gave chase. The truck and trailer ground to a halt, the truck’s back wheels still spinning wildly in the dirt. Two of the worgs jumped onto the hood of the truck, pounding at the windshield. If it shattered, Tig knew the opening would certainly be large enough for them to get through.

  Reverse wasn’t working out very well for him, so Tig pulled on the shifter again and managed to get the truck into first gear. Adrenaline had kept Tig’s foot on the accelerator this whole time and now awful noises emanated from beneath the truck, as the wheels changed direction and tore great holes beneath them, throwing dirt and clawing forward. The truck bucked against the hitch, not making much progress as the trailer had been embedded well into the structure of the house.

  The back of the truck jumped up and down until finally the trailer tore free, shooting the truck forward and dragging bits of house along with it. The abrupt acceleration flung the worgs over the top of the cab. One was completely thrown from the truck, the other landed in the bed. A great crashing sound and a cloud of dust accompanied the collapse of the porch’s roof.

  Tig jerked the wheel back and forth in an attempt to guide the truck between the trees and out of the back yard, away from the attackers. The truck made it through just fine, but a tree caught the side of the trailer as it swung around. The trailer bounced off the tree and tilted precariously, just short of going completely over on its side. Before gravity could bring the trailer back down to the ground, it slammed into the next tree. Metal screeched as the trailer bucked wildly but with few other options, Tig kept the accelerator jammed to the floor.

  The trailer wheels ran into an old tree stump which was the final straw for the coupling that held the trailer to the truck. The tongue, while incredibly strong, couldn't take this kind of wracking and it popped from the bed of the truck and ripped through the tailgate.

  Freed from the weight of the trailer, the truck accelerated at an alarming rate, heading out of the back yard and toward the road at the edge of their property. The worg still in the truck bed gave a yelp but regained its footing and started battering the rear window. It took all of Tig's concentration to ignore it and turn the truck onto the road.

  The engine was screaming, but the truck wasn’t accelerating any more. Tig figured he would have to try one of the other settings on the gear shift. He needed more speed and some way to get the animal out of the truck.

  In desperation, Tig turned the wheel hard and jammed both feet onto the brake pedal. The truck's rear end slid violently around, hopping as the large wheels grabbed at the pavement. The wolf's purchase on the metal frame was not strong enough and it flew from the truck. Tig stepped on the accelerator and headed down the road, fighting the panic that threatened to overtake him.

  As his heartbeat slowed, Tig was finally able to focus on his surroundings again; the scream of the truck's engine running full-out in low gear and the wind whipping through the holes in the front windshield. His thoughts turned back to the two defenders he’d left back in his yard. The last time Tig had seen Laux he’d just been knocked down by a charging black beast – one of the same beasts that had nearly destroyed this hefty truck. He shuddered just thinking about it. Steeling himself, he swung the truck around in the road. Tig vowed that no matter what, he would not let it end like this. He would not run away and leave them to die alone.

  Reprieve

  The old woman surveyed the wreckage. One of her worgs was on the ground with a mortal wound. Its whimpering was piteous. "What a loss," she thought.

  It looked like someone had dropped a bomb into the back yard. The boy had rammed a metal wagon into the house with such impact that the enclosed porch was stripped away and the kitchen wall had been completely obliterated.

  The crone admitted to underestimating him. She remembered the surprised look on the child’s face when he broke her rooting spell. The wizard boy had no idea of his own power. She cursed, regretting not having used a more powerful spell to detain him. It was true that she’d had no idea he was a wizard at the time, but that didn’t help her now.

  At least the worgs had dealt a fatal blow to one of the elves. She didn't take much solace in that, but it was something. She was counting on the others to stop the boy.

  The crone made her way over to the dying worg. She grabbed the hilt of the dagger firmly in both hands and placed her foot on the great beast's shoulder. Its eyes rolled in its head, pain sharpening its focus for just a moment. With great effort she yanked the blade out, causing the beast to scream in pain and snap at the air. With a nimbleness that belied her age, the crone swung her leg over the back of the beast and quieted it for good.

  The elf groaned, drawing her attention. Elves were a tricky lot. One could never be too careful with them, especially those who were trained defenders. It had been bad luck to run into two of them, but it would have been much worse if the young wizard had been trained. The elf was clearly not from around here. His blade gave him away, it was quite beautiful and very ornate. She chuckled as she considered the irony of killing him with his own weapon.

  The two worgs returned as she was making her way over to the elf. Since they weren't dragging the boy back, the crone had to assume the vehicle had provided enough protection for the boy to get away. She missed the good old days when people tried to escape on horseback or in a wagon. Those conveyances were easily overrun and destroyed by a worg. Gigantic trucks with massive engines and metal skins were a fair defense against the half-demon, half-wolf beasts she’d created. The old woman sighed in a dejected sort of way, knowing they could pick up the boy's trail, but for tonight at least, he’d evaded her. There was also no sign of the one they’d actually been tracking.

  In her frustration, she desperately wanted to hurt someone, hear them scream and then die. "It’s the simple pleasures." She cackled.

  Critically wounded, the elf lay motionless, face down in the grass, blood seeping from his wounds. "You’ve been very naughty," she said in a tauntingly cruel voice. The crone grabbed a handful of blond hair and jerked the elf’s head up, exposing his throat. Laux tried to resist, but he’d lost too much blood.

  "I haven't had the pleasure of killing an elf in nearly a century. You should feel honored," she taunted in her low raspy voice. Laux choked as she pulled his head back, causing the crone to laugh. She was clearly taking great pleasure from his discomfort. "I hope protecting that boy was worth your life. I will find him anyway, you know." She drew the dagger back.

  Distracted by her glee, the crone was taken off guard when the worgs, who had come to sit beside her, jumped to their feet growling, their posture ready for an imminent attack. Almost too late, she saw a small knife whistle through the night air, targeting her chest. Dropping the fading elf and his dagger, she dodged with unexpected agility, rolling to the ground and back to her feet in a low crouch. "Pesky elves," she thought. The other one had apparently returned. "Kill," she commanded and the worgs bounded off in the direction from which the knife had come.

  At that moment, the back yard erupted. A cloud of dust and a thundering racket heralded the arrival of the truck, once new, now almost unrecognizable. Still in first gear, the engine smoking and screaming, the battered vehicle bounced onto the scene, spewing sod and dirt at all angles.

  Tig saw the worgs charging after some new target away from the old woman who crouched near the unmoving body of Laux. He made the easy decision. Laux was in mortal danger. The old woman had either just killed him or was certainly preparing to
do so now. Tig pushed the accelerator to the floor as a fresh spray of sod flew from under the great machine's wheels. It accelerated at once. He wasn't sure what he would do when he got there, all he could think about was separating the woman from his new friend.

  The crone hadn't expected an attack. The worgs were too far away and without them, she was at a disadvantage. Retreat was the only plausible solution. Having lived for centuries, her innate sense of survival took over. This boy was going to be a problem, but one she would have to deal with at another time.

  The crone stood her ground as the truck approached. He had only wanted to run her off, not kill her, but it was too late. There was no way to stop the truck in time. Even though he brought both feet to bear on the brake, the hood of the smoking truck punched into the body of the crone as the great wheels hopped on the rough ground, brakes slowly grabbing hold. He watched the hood make impact, but there was no sound. Her body had turned to smoke and whipped up over the cab of the truck, gathering itself just behind the truck and disappearing into the night.

  Tig jumped from the cab and ran to Laux's side. He sat down and rolled the limp body into his arms, tears flowing down his face. A low moan escaped from Laux’s lips. The wolf had shredded the man's arms and face. Not understanding why, Tig instinctively placed his hands on the deep wounds. As he held the skin together, his hands emitted green light again. Tig actually saw and felt the wounds and destruction that had been wrought in the body of the fierce protector. In his mind’s eye, with damaged flesh beneath his fingers, he instinctively willed the wounds to knit together. To his surprise the flesh obeyed, closing up and healing. Laux passed from a tortured, fitful consciousness into a peaceful sleep.

  ***

  Naminee was disappointed that the blade missed, but she wasn't really surprised. Even if the blade had found its mark, she doubted it would have ended the crone’s life. She needed to draw the hunting party off of Laux, anything to give her friend a chance. The worgs weren't particularly worrisome. Sure, they were effective at guarding the crone, but they weren’t smart enough to keep up with her. They would only find Naminee if she wanted them to. She would lead them well away from her fallen comrade, send them off on a false trail, and then circle back to help Laux.