Lesser Prince (Guardians of Gaeland Book 1)

by Jamie McFarlane

  “I feel like we're just wandering around and getting nowhere.” Tig complained while staring up at the high ceiling.

  Amber let Tig’s words hang for a couple of beats. “This whole thing is crazy. Elves and Faeries, Gnomes and Demons. Seriously? But here we sit in a Wizard’s Tower waiting to go meet a Dwarf in the morning.”

  Sam appeared from one of the many book stacks he had been lost in for most of the afternoon. He gently placed two volumes on the marble table, keeping another to himself. “I don’t think we’ve seen the worst of it.”

  He got both Amber and Tig's attention with that one.

  “What do you mean?” Amber’s voice was concerned.

  “I’ve been reading and I think something really bad is happening.” Sam paused to make sure they were listening. “Basically, from what I can tell, there are three worlds; Ours, Gaeland and one other called Kaelstan. Gaeland is the source of Faerie, our home basically has no magic, and Kaelstan is the source of Demon power.”

  “If our world has no magic, why do you suppose I was able to do it at my home?” Tig asked peevishly.

  “I have no idea. Maybe because your family, and ours for that matter, is actually from here.”

  “Faeries, Demons and home, we’ve seen all of that. So?” Amber asked.

  “A long time ago, I can’t really tell how long because time is tracked differently here, there was a war between elves and demons. The demons entered Gaeland through three large openings between the two worlds, each on a different continent. Back then there were hundreds of thousands of elves but they were no match for the demons and got completely slaughtered. Unlike the elves of the Glade, these had never seen war and lived in peace. Look at the pictures.” Sam laid the open book he was holding on the table.

  The demons in the picture looked similar to the ones they had run into recently and were showing no mercy to the families they were destroying. The pictures depicted horrific scenes of butchery and worse. Tig had to turn away.

  Amber took a short breath of air as she turned the pages of the book. Each new page showed similar scenes of debauchery, later pictures showing beleaguered elven troops being decimated by scores of demons. “This is horrible. How did it end?”

  “The story suggests that somehow they closed the rifts. After that the elves just threw themselves on the demons. According to this book, it nearly wiped out the elves." Sam’s voice trailed off.

  Tig sat forward, “Was there no other way? It seems so pointless. Why were the demons invading?”

  “No idea. The point is, there shouldn’t be demons here. The elves closed the portals. What if someone reopened them or something?”

  “I hope we can get home before we have to figure out that mystery,” Amber said glumly.

  ***

  The next morning Tig, Sam, Amber and Kestra stood with Jar under the massive entry gate. The ground was paved with rectangular grey and white granite blocks laid out in a herringbone pattern. The pavers covered the ground from the entry gate to the beautiful lake that stretched for a couple miles in both directions.

  Toward the water’s edge, a series of bronze poles connected by heavy chain, marched into the water.

  “Skiff, please,” Jar requested, grasping the nearest post. A moment later, a small door opened in a low shack sitting half in and half out of the water on a nearby shore, and a brightly painted boat with a white hull lurched forward into the lake. The empty boat made its way to the edge of the granite platform and came to rest next to the chain fence.

  “Saweet!” Sam could hardly hold in his astonishment.

  “We don’t get much call for the skiffs. It’s nice to see them out and about,” Jar said. “They will take you anywhere on Clear Lake … or even Blue Lake. You can’t make it all the way to the sea, however. Go ahead, hop in.”

  “Clear Lake?” Sam asked.

  “Yes,” Jar responded, “this is Clear Lake. An hour away are the rapids that lead to Blue Lake. You’ll want to get off on the pier in Blue Lake. After that you can take the Great Lift up to the plains and follow the road to Gestal.”

  “Got it. I can see it on the map.” Sam nodded and jumped into the skiff.

  Tig, Amber and Kestra joined him. The floor of the boat was flat and there were five cushioned benches lined up front to back. Each person took a bench to themselves and laid their packs on the floor boards.

  “Thank you for your assistance, Jar. Hopefully, we’ll see you again. Please give our best to Kat.” Tig said.

  “Very well, Sir. It has been our honor to serve the House of Parnassus again. Safe travels.” Jar bent deeply at the waist, holding his hat in one hand.

  Tig was uncomfortable with Jar’s formal gesture, but decided that nothing could be done about it. He sat down on the bench seat, leaned to the side, grasped the gunwale and requested, “Please, take us to the Great Lift.”

  The boat lurched backward and a light scraping sound was heard beneath the boat. Jar remained bent over while the bow of the boat rotated around to point into the middle of the lake. Slowly, the boat gained speed until a bubbly wake followed it.

  “Do you think Filbert will be okay?” Amber asked idly. “I haven’t seen him since we first got to the castle.”

  “Don’t worry, Bert. They knew him there, he’ll be just fine.” Sam said.

  ***

  “Can you hear that?” Sam asked.

  “Sounds like thunder,” Amber said.

  “Worse. I think that’s the rapids Jar mentioned. This is where Clear Lake and Blue Lake come together. Look there.” Sam pointed directly over the front of the boat toward the approaching shoreline. “Notice how you don’t see any trees more than twenty or so yards past the shore?”

  “What do you mean?” Amber sounded perturbed.

  “Either the forest stops right there or the land drops away so quickly that the tops of the trees just can’t be seen.”

  Tig and Amber exchanged worried glances.

  “I’d hold onto your packs if I were you,” Sam said as he put his pack onto his back, “I also think a lower center of gravity might be a good idea.” He slid from his bench and sat on the floor.

  The boat didn’t slow as it approached the rapids. To everyone’s amazement, the water ahead started churning as it rushed around large boulders, plunging downward away from the lake and the shoreline.

  “This is crazy!” Amber shouted. “Make it pull over!”

  Tig nodded his head and grabbed the gunwale as he instructed, “Pull to the shore, please.”

  The boat attempted to do as it was asked, but whatever propelled it wasn't strong enough to break away from the current. The boat perilously closed in on the great rocks at the top of the rapids.

  “Okay, Sorry! Please, take us safely down the rapids to the Blue Lake.” Tig’s voice was strained.

  The boat turned and headed back toward the center channel of water.

  “Hold on!” Tig yelled as he slid to the floor of the boat, finally taking Sam’s advice.

  The noise was deafening as the boat nosed downward between two boulders the size of Tig’s home in Iowa. Water sprayed over the boat’s sides and smashed the craft into rocks under the surface. For a moment the boat slowed and fought the current, but pressure from the water behind it built up and hurtled them forward. They cleared the larger boulders and saw a short stretch of clear water before more rocks signaled the next drop.

  Instead of heading directly toward an open channel, the boat stalled and floated sideways. It was obvious that, left uncorrected, the stern of the boat would hit a clump of rocks ahead. Tig started to doubt the boat would correct itself in time.

  Two arm’s lengths away, Tig could take it no longer. He grabbed the gunwale and shouted, “Straighten out and move to the left!”

  The boat complied and pushed the stern around just in time to miss the boulders. The bow crossed over the lip of the small falls and Tig clambered to the front of the boat and looked into the river. The front of the boat forme
d a ‘V’ shape and Tig grasped both gunwales in his hands and peered down the river. He had absolutely no experience guiding a boat through rapids and panic rose as he realized it was up to him to do something.

  They were headed for a wide flat rock barely covered by the water. Tig could see that the boat wouldn’t clear it. To the right was open water, but going that way would position the boat poorly for the next drop. “Left!” The boat slid to the left and a sickening scrape was heard beneath the right side.

  The boat nosed over falls and dropped them nearly a yard. Tig crouched low and held on, peering forward through the spray, trying to make out a clear route. “Right!” he shouted and the boat veered.

  For the next ten minutes Tig’s mind was a swirl of sunken rocks, standing waves and drops. The boat finally cleared its way past the last of the boulders and out into a quiet lake and Tig uncurled his fingers from the sides of the boat. Painfully, blood started to flow back into his hands and he shook them in an effort to minimize the sting.

  “I thought we were goners … again!” Sam said breathlessly, pulling himself up onto the bench.

  “I wonder if it was supposed to go like that?” Amber mused aloud.

  ***

  A few hours later, the boat smoothly pulled up to an old wooden pier, two hundred feet long and completely abandoned. The four of them jumped out onto the platform. Once they were clear, Tig reached down to the boat and said, “Return home, please.” He wondered how the boat would make it back up the rapids.

  A dirt road led up a small slope away from the lake's edge. Half a mile ahead, the road terminated at the base of a series of bluffs. A wooden elevator rose two hundred feet to the top of the bluff, its heavy support beams anchored to the cliff wall. At the bottom they found a steel cage large enough to hold half a dozen people. The entire area was otherwise barren.

  “Easy enough,” Sam said smugly and stepped into the cage. The other three followed him. Sam grabbed the side of the cage, “Up, please.” Nothing happened. “Up, please,” he repeated louder, with still no effect.

  “Hold on there, squirt. I'm not sure this is what you’re thinking it is.” Amber chuckled as she reached through the side of the cage, and pulled on a thick worn rope. In the distance, at the top of the bluff, they heard a bell ringing in synchronicity with the bobbing of the rope.

  Still nothing happened. “Anyone have any ideas?”

  “If you think about it, Jar didn’t mention the boat trying to kill us either,” Sam added.

  “Hello, the elevator,” a voice sounded from a small bronze tube that ended in a small open cup pointed at the cage.

  “Hello,” Tig responded.

  “How many do you have?” The disembodied voice asked.

  “Four of us,” Tig responded into the mouthpiece.

  “That be eight coppers,” the voice said.

  “Fine,” Tig replied.

  “Be a few minutes, the horses are in the barn,” the voice said.

  Amber pulled the door of the gate closed and they sat for nearly twenty minutes. Finally, they heard noise from the top of the lift, and the chain attached to the top, tightened. Groans and creaks accompanied the rise of the cage and halfway to the top they passed a similar cage being lowered. Four barrels sat on the floor.

  It took a full five minutes to reach the top of the bluff. A burly man in a dirty shirt and greasy leather pants snagged the edge of the cage with a hook and pulled it tight against the thick wooden platform.

  “Don’t get many through here nowadays. The horses had to be roused from the barn. That’ll be eight coppers, if you don’t mind,” he said once they’d exited the cage.

  The man’s face was poorly shaved and dirty. Tig had located the coppers in the money pouch he received from Elder Triest. The elevator keeper inspected the coins and grunted mostly to himself. “Strange days.”

  Sam curiously, “How is that?”

  The keeper grunted again but didn’t reply further.

  “We might as well get to it,” Tig said.

  After less than a hundred yards, they passed a small shack. A wooden sign planted in the ground twenty yards beyond, read, “Gestal – 100 fur.”

  “That’s helpful,” Sam said sarcastically, pulling out the bone case which held his precious dwarven map. “My best guess is about half a day’s walk. It won’t take long to get out of this hilly stuff and into the plains, maybe at the top of that hill.” He pointed forward up the road.

  The terrain on either side of the path was rocky with low growing shrubs. Dust stirred while they walked and soon the reddish brown dirt covered their shoes and lower legs.

  Half an hour later, they reached the top of the rise. The road continued forward into a valley of rolling hills and extended as far as they could see. The valley was dotted with small homes and tilled fields. In the distance they could see the outside wall of a large town. A weathered signpost read ‘Gestal – 87 fur. Lift – 12 fur.’

  An hour later Amber perked up, “What’s all that dust up there?” She pointed to small clouds of reddish brown dust being kicked up where the road disappeared behind a small hill.

  “Horses?” Tig responded. “Let’s get off to the side of the road so we don’t get run down.”

  They walked toward a plum thicket and waited for the cloud to approach. Moments later, two horses appeared on the road. One of the horses bore two men and the other a single rider. The riders slowed as they neared the group.

  The single rider was a man with unkempt shoulder-length black hair. He wore a grimy, stained grey shirt and leather trousers, and a short sword was strapped to the side of his horse for easy access. The man’s face wasn't unpleasant and the way he sat in the saddle screamed ‘man in charge.’ The fact that he probably hadn't washed in a number of days only made him look more dangerous, rather than desperate. On the other horse sat a heavyset man dressed in the same manner and a skinny blonde-headed youth not much older than Sam.

  Tig stepped forward uneasily, knuckles turning white around his oak staff.

  “What be this, a bunch of children wandering about?” The leader’s voice was mocking. He kneed his horse forward toward Tig, forcing the boy to step back.

  “We are just headed to Gestal. We don’t want any trouble,” Tig said.

  The rider looked over his shoulder to his companions, “Hear that Bernd? They don’t want any trouble.” The rider looked down at Tig, “How about we just collect our road taxes and we’ll make sure there’s no trouble. Say, a silver each?”

  Amber stepped forward, even with Tig, and said calmly, “We don’t have any silvers. How about you let us be on our way.”

  As Amber spoke, the blonde-haired youth slid off the horse, pulling a small bow from his back. He didn’t aim the bow at them, but the appearance of a weapon caused a surge of energy in the conversation. Bernd, the larger of the two by far, stayed where he was.

  “There’s the problem. If you’re coming up this road, you came through the lift, and that costs money. A lot of people like to suggest they don’t have money when asked. So understand why I might not just be taking your word.” The leader grinned mockingly.

  Amber felt revulsion pass over her. The man looked at her with the same eyes as Ardt Fenhall had on their last encounter.

  Two more riders appeared over the hill and slowed to join the group, pacing their horses back and forth, but staying within hearing range.

  “So, like I said, we’ll be needing those four silvers, or perhaps we can find another way to take our payment.” He leered at Amber.

  “Alright, I don’t know if we have quite that much, but let me see.” Tig pushed his staff to Amber and fumbled with the money belt. He knew he had more than they requested but didn’t want to give that away. His hands trembled a little as he finally pulled three silvers and ten copper pieces out. “There, there it is.” He placed the coins in the outstretched hand of the heavyset Bernd who had kicked his horse forward.

  “Ain’t that interesting? But,
you know, I think we need to inspect your packs too. Seems like we might have underestimated the road tax,” Bernd pressed with a leer.

  “Uhh.” Tig didn’t want to relinquish their entire savings. The odds were currently five-to-four but he didn’t really believe that he or Sam counted for much in a fight.

  “Boys!” The leader spoke sharply. Swords appeared and Bernd grabbed a heavy iron-banded club that had been strapped to his back. The lanky blonde nocked an arrow in his bow.

  Without warning, Kestra fled into the underbrush. The blonde loosed an arrow, but to Tig’s relief it flew far and wide. The two latecomers spurred their horses in her direction.

  Tig took advantage of the distraction and swung the oak staff around, bashing it into the knee of the leader, who yelped. The horse startled, backing up into Bernd’s mount, but both men stayed in the saddle. The leader drew his short sword. “You’ll pay for that!” His face twisted with pain.

  The heavyset man dismounted from his horse with his wicked club in hand.

  "Plento Swanum," Tig exclaimed, pushing his hands toward the blonde who had taken aim at Amber. The gust of wind pushed a cloud of dust into the youth’s face. The arrow flew several yards above them.

  Sam called out, "Plento trunda" and a small fireball roared straight into the chest of the greasy-haired leader, causing him to fall off his horse.

  Amber wasted no time, closing the distance between her and the club wielder. This time, she easily slipped into the time-shifted combat mode. She observed how he telegraphed his intended strike, and in her heightened awareness she had time to consider the encounter. She needed to control the entire fight since neither Tig nor Sam would be able to defend themselves for long. It was up to her to resolve this and she had to dispatch the slow moving club wielder first.

  The arc of his club was outrageous. He clearly enjoyed smashing things and had stretched his arm far back in order to gain the maximum swing. Amber lunged forward and with a closed fist, struck hard up under his jaw in his soft neck. The crunching sound indicated contact with the larynx. She rotated into his body and pulled a dagger from his belt, slicing it across his leading arm. The dagger cut deeply and Amber turned her attention away from him.