Lesser Prince (Guardians of Gaeland Book 1)

by Jamie McFarlane

  The three of them followed Tempra to the adjoining room. Amber started replacing her weapons. “Sam, if all is lost, you come find Tig and me and get us out of here. You hear me?”

  “Duh.” Sam replied smartly and before Amber could respond, turned to his wind-walk form and flowed out of the window.

  ***

  Marmy squealed with delight when Tig and Amber pushed open the door to the infirmary. She hugged Tig so tightly he thought he might pop.

  “You’re a bit prickly there, my dear,” she said to Amber as she carefully wrapped her arms around the weapons.

  They’d no more embraced when a badly wounded elf was brought in and laid on the table. Tig instinctively reached for him and saw the damage that had been done and the demon poison left behind. He pushed out the poison and knitted the wound back together.

  For the next several hours the scene repeated itself over and over again. Even healed, most of the elves had little capacity to rejoin the fray, although many of them did anyway. Tig was grateful not to have seen Sam or Elder Triest among the wounded and hoped it didn’t mean something worse for them. They’d lost more than fifty who had been brought in, either already dead or their wounds too severe to be healed.

  Finally, at sunset the following day the fighting lessened and the flow of wounded stopped. It was a war of attrition and they were losing badly. The elves hadn’t successfully slain even one of the attacking demons, yet their mortality rate was at nearly twenty percent.

  Tig was surprised when Sam, a battered Tempra, and Elder Triest appeared at the door to the infirmary. Tempra pushed a bound woman at Tig. He was shocked to see it was Kestra.

  “She says she knows you,” Tempra said, “and that she has a message for you from Blackhall. He’s given us an hour to respond. Normally, I’d have just dispatched her.”

  “She’s a wyrdling, Tempra. We will not take her life,” Triest admonished.

  “She’s in the employ of our enemy,” Tempra responded angrily.

  “Mysterious are the ways of the wyrdling, but I can tell you that she is most certainly not in the employ of our enemy,” Triest said. “Unbind her and let her speak. She must be allowed to follow her path.”

  Tempra pulled a knife from her belt and freed Kestra’s bindings. For her part Kestra didn’t seem overly offended by the exchange.

  “Finias would like to bargain with you,” she said to Tig.

  “No chance.” Tempra stepped between the wyrdling and the boy.

  “Let her speak, Tempra,” Triest said, calmly as usual. “Kestra is one of us, she’s just taken an unusual path.”

  Kestra turned her attention from Tig to Triest, “That’s the second time you’ve spoken up for me and now you say I’m one of you? How can that be? I don’t know you.”

  “Dear child, how long have you been wandering?” Triest asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered. If she was upset about the events she wasn’t letting on. She was obviously curious, though.

  “Elder, we don’t have time for this,” Tempra pushed.

  “Perhaps, but I believe you said we have an hour and you’d planned to dispatch this one. I understand your angst, but you need to understand, wyrdlings are closer to Faerie than we are. They don’t operate under the same rules of morality as we do. Some would say they answer to a higher calling, although more would say differently.”

  “What does Finias want with me?” Tig asked.

  “I believe he would trade you for these people,” she said.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He did not say, but I believe him to be truthful in this. He is impatient and does not wish to be here.”

  “Take me to him,” Tig said.

  “I will not allow it,” Tempra said.

  “It is not your decision, Tempra,” Tig replied, “I am Prince Tigerious Parnassus. If I can stop this war before he kills us all, I will do it.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Amber said.

  “That’s ridiculous, Amber. You need to take care of Sam,” Tig said.

  “I’m your Bulwark,” Amber said.

  “What?”

  “Let me rephrase. Do you think you can stop me?”

  “I care about you, Amber. I don’t want you to die,” Tig said.

  “Are you going to allow this?” Tempra directed her question to Elder Triest.

  “You have the instincts of a warrior, Tempra, and they serve you well most of the time. Take care of my people.”

  “You’re going too?” Tempra looked like her head might explode.

  “Sam, you’ll stay with Tempra,” Amber instructed.

  “I will for now, no promises though,” Sam said.

  At the end of the allotted time, the four of them: Kestra, Tig, Amber and Triest squeezed through a narrow opening where much of the fighting had occurred. Bodies of dead elves lay past the opening, recovery too dangerous to undertake.

  “Prince Tigerious, so good of you to join us again,” Finias Blackhall said. He was flanked by Lyka Parnassus and the host of demons that had been attacking the Glade. “You’ve really messed up my plans. But we’ll end that tonight.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Tig asked.

  “I’m finishing my great, great grandfather’s work and restoring the name of Blackhall.”

  “But the demons, can’t you see they’re using you?” Tig pled.

  “Don’t be fooled by appearances, you simpleton. I’m more powerful now than I’ve ever been. I just need Lyka here to be first in the line of Parnassus. If you’d died back at the Crux, all this would have been unnecessary.” Blackhall spread his hands wide to indicate the carnage that surrounded them.

  “You mean delayed, don’t you?” Sam appeared at Tig’s side. “I’ve read the history. The demons will kill or enslave all of Gaeland.”

  “I suspect that’s probably right. Only thing you’ve forgotten is that I will be their leader, but I can see your point. Join the winning side, I have nothing against Elendahls.” He seemed to enjoy the conversation.

  Amber spat at his feet. “Never.”

  Blackhall turned his attention to her. “Do you know why you’ve been allowed to keep your weapons?” Amber stared back hard, without responding. “No? It’s because you’re of no threat. I know what you’re thinking. You’re The Bulwark. You’ve got super-human speed. Blah, blah, blah.” Amber had a difficult time containing her shock. It was her ace in the hole. He already knew about it and wasn’t concerned.

  “Why do you need Tig?” Amber asked hotly.

  “We’re going to open a portal from Kaelstan, so we can bring an army through, and to do that I need the head of Parnassus to help me. Now, I suppose if Prince Tigerious would consent to helping, we could consider keeping him around, but then Lyka would have come all this way for no reason. I just don’t see that working out,” he said glibly.

  “You’ll destroy Gaeland,” Elder Triest said with her normal quiet reserve.

  “Agreed. Now I’ll make you a deal. The three of you,” He indicated Triest, Sam and Amber, “you three can go. Prince Tigerious and I have destiny to fulfill. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  “Sam, take Triest back. You have to warn the gnomes if we fail. I’m not going anywhere and it’s about to get ugly.” Amber was surprised when Sam actually listened to her and grabbed Triest, taking her back inside the Glade.

  In a single blistering motion, Finias Blackhall pulled out his long-bladed falchion and swung it down at Tig. Anticipating his move, Amber grabbed the twin hand axes off of her back and stepped between them, deflecting his blow. Blackhall turned his head toward her with a smile and allowed the weapon to continue on its deflected path, dragging Amber off balance.

  She didn’t waste time trying to reposition the second axe, but simply kept it tucked and smashed her fist into Blackhall’s jaw. His head snapped to the side, but he didn’t go down. He’d been holding the falchion with two hands, but released his left and swung it back, impo
ssibly fast. Amber barely dodged the blow by ducking and rolling beneath his clenched fist.

  When she popped back up and turned to face the dark prince, she was dismayed to find he’d somehow recovered his falchion. Then she realized that he was moving almost as quickly as she was. His weapon, however, appeared slow in his hands and she suspected he hadn’t carefully chosen one that matched his magic. Amber waited for him to commit to a strike. It would give her the advantage she needed.

  Blackhall was both confident and lacking in patience. After a single feint he brought his weapon down and across where Amber had been standing. A normal person, operating at normal speed would have been cut in half. Amber, however, had been expecting the move. She ducked beneath the slow weapon and spun into him, dragging her axe across his mid-section. Dark blood started to seep from the wound.

  He spun, moving more quickly than she’d have thought possible and brought his elbow crashing into her neck. The blow stunned her momentarily. Blackhall capitalized on the opening and kicked his foot up into her midsection, throwing her backward.

  She stumbled, reeling from his vicious kick, trying to shake off his blows. Mercilessly, he thrust his blade into her abdomen and followed her to the ground.

  Tig hadn’t been able to follow the combat and was startled when he heard the host of demons cry out as one, cheering as Amber fell to the ground with Finias Blackhall’s weapon protruding from her stomach. He ran to her, tears streaming down his face.

  He pulled the falchion out and sank to his knees. With his mind’s eye he saw the damage that had been done. She was in serious trouble. He wasn’t sure which organs had been pierced, but knew she had precious few moments of life remaining.

  “Not so fast little prince,” Blackhall said, grabbing Tig by his hair and pulling him off her body.

  “You can’t … let me help her.” Tig was beside himself.

  “She died a good death,” he said.

  “She doesn’t need to die. I can save her,” Tig pled and pulled against Blackhall.

  “Poor choices. Not my problem,” Blackhall drug Tig away.

  Tig felt the familiar breeze of Sam’s wind-walk graze him, but with no change.

  Blackhall glanced at the passing cloud, “Predictable, but ineffective.”

  He leaned down and grabbed the weapon from the ground. Tig thrashed and tried to free himself from Blackhall’s grasp. The older man’s strength far exceeded his own and his resistance was to no avail.

  Blackhall raised the weapon to finish his grisly task when a collective growl rolled through the watching demons. The sound caught Blackhall’s attention and he stayed the blade.

  “Drop the boy, Finias,” Kestra said. She’d wrapped an arm around Lyka Parnassus’s neck and held a blade at his throat.

  Blackhall shook his head in disbelief. “Are you stupid? The same demons who captured you will kill you where you stand.”

  “Not before I kill Parnassus,” she said coolly.

  “What could you possibly stand to gain?” he asked, his voice full of incredulity.

  “Your plans will not work without a Parnassus,” she said.

  “You think you know my plans?” His voice grew louder. “You think you can stand in front of me?”

  “I will kill him. Release the boy and tell your demons to back off.”

  Finias Blackhall began to shake uncontrollably. Dark figures appeared from within his body as if ghosts were trying to escape. He dropped to a knee and his face contorted in pain, arms bent at odd angles. Long claws broke forth from the ends of his hands and his arms extended to twice their original length. He screamed in anguish as his face dissolved, giving way to a great horned head. When his transformation was complete, Finias Blackhall was no longer. A demon, greater in size than the others by at least fifty percent stood in his place, its massive clawed hand still holding Tig by the hair.

  “I despise you elves,” the demon’s low gravelly voice growled. “Always making demands and last minute noble stands. You of all, a wyrdling, dare threaten me, the Lord of the Great Valley?”

  The demons in the clearing cowered and backed away, which caught its attention. It harrumphed. “My Kaelstan brothers know in whose presence they stand. Let me show you what I think of your ridiculous threat.”

  It deftly reached around with its free hand and grabbed one of Tig’s legs, lifting him into the air. Tig was forced to reach back and hold the demon’s massive forearm to reduce the pull on his scalp.

  “I’ll feed you and that petulant Parnassus to my host this very night. We’ll roll across Gaeland like a plague and feast on every living thing. So, I’ll put it to you; step away from that idiot and I’ll make the boy’s death quick. Otherwise, I’ll pull off his arms and legs, one at a time while you watch.”

  For the first time in the exchange, Kestra’s resolve waivered. She’d gambled and it was clear that she’d lost. She dropped the knife and pushed herself away from her hostage.

  Tig watched the exchange and was gratified to see that before anyone else could act, she disappeared in a puff of smoke, Sam having zipped through the clearing at just the right moment.

  A demon from the crowd started after them.

  “No, my brother, do not waste your time. You should be allowed to witness our victory. We’ll have fun hunting them down.” It turned its attention to the struggling Tig. “Now to you, Prince Parnassus. I lied. Forgive me, but it’s in my nature. I have no intent of killing you swiftly.”

  Tig felt a sharp increase in the pull on his leg. The demon was clearly planning to make good on his threats. He started to scream as the pain reached an unbearable level, but had the wherewithal to see a small shape fly up onto the back of the demon.

  “Off, you pest,” the demon roared. It dropped Tig’s leg and swatted at Filbert who had landed on its thick shoulder and bitten an ear just beneath the horn. But Filbert had gotten a good clean bite and tore a chunk of the demon's flesh away.

  The blood from the torn flesh splashed across Tig’s face. He recoiled at the black liquid, pushing his feet into the ground to pull away from it.

  The demon swiped at the Faerie dragon and connected, sending the little dragon sailing out of the clearing and into the woods, clearly unconscious.

  A moment of perfect clarity hit Tig in a way he’d never previously experienced. The demon lord’s blood oozed across his face and the smell reminded him of all the carnage he’d witnessed that night and so many times before. It was the demon’s most significant weapon, but also its Achilles heel. Tig focused, pulling energy from the earth and pouring it into the demon’s arm.

  “What is this?” It bellowed, unwilling to let go of Tig’s hair but now also unable to lift its feet from the ground.

  Tig expanded the sphere of his concentration, forming a glowing green ball of Faerie energy around the demon’s arm. The demon released him, clearly hoping to place distance between itself and the boy. Tig gestured, pulling his hands apart, and surrounded the demon lord with an egg-shaped green aura. The demon roared in defiance.

  “You cannot hold me like this for long, boy. My host will destroy you,” it said.

  A demon stepped forward. Tig recognized the red-band on its arm. This was the beast that had harried them so many times before. “Do you submit to this elf?” It asked, its head still bowed, but standing straighter than the rest of the demons.

  “Of course I do not. Dispatch it.”

  “It appears that this elf has bested you. Prove otherwise.”

  Tig had no idea what sort of power struggle he’d stepped into, but knew that he would have difficulty if the red-banded demon suddenly turned on him.

  “I will pull your...”

  The red-banded demon interrupted, “Yes, yes, we heard the whole diatribe. Pulling legs, arms, guts and everything. You need new material. So get to it or don’t. We do not follow weakness.” A rumble of agreement flowed through the demons.

  The demon lord attempted to reach through the Faerie confinement
Tig had wrapped around it. Energy flowed from the earth through Tig, but the strain was nearly too much. He wouldn’t be able to hold the magic in place for long. He had hoped to reason with his attacker, but that was a vain hope. If this demon were allowed to go free, it would be the end of everyone he loved.

  Tig slapped his hands together which caused the field to collapse on the demon, who exploded in a great green mist. Tig said a grateful prayer to Faerie. A tremendous howl erupted from the remaining demons, who clawed at their bodies as they came into contact with the cloud.

  No sooner had the demon exploded and the mist settled to the ground, than Sam reappeared with Amber in his arms. Tig was amazed at the turn of events and the quick thinking of the smaller boy. By pulling Amber into the wind-walk, he’d effectively placed her wounds into stasis. It was a gamble, but had clearly saved her life.

  Tig fell to his knees and pulled her body to his own. He had to work quickly and was relieved when he was able to isolate the demon’s poison and push it out. After that it was a matter of repairing the damaged organs and knitting the tissues back together. Amber would live, but it would take several days, if not weeks, before she felt a hundred percent again.

  Where the Heart Is

  After fleeing in terror, the demons regrouped, exiting from their own wind-walk over a small pond. As they emerged from the water, the caustic effects of the green mist was evident. Leathery skin was grotesquely marred where exposed. It was easy to identify which had been closest to their exploding leader. The red-banded demon had been affected he most.

  “You have led us to ruin, Qulork,” a demon spoke through badly melted lips.

  “Would you challenge me this evening? Because I would find it a pleasure to eliminate your pain,” the red-banded demon retorted.

  “It is a simple statement. Your gambit was successful in eliminating Lord Petalax, but you have awakened a destroyer. The consortium will not be pleased.”

  “We must destroy the boy,” Qulork said.

  “I, for one, will return to Kaelstan and take my punishment.”