Cursed Prince (Night Elves Trilogy Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  I gritted my teeth, mastering control of myself.

  When I lifted my hand from the root, I saw that it had healed over where I’d stabbed it.

  I rose, my eyes on Ali as I prowled over to her. I’d only drunk a tiny amount of Yggdrasill’s soul, but magic was already simmering and crackling in my body. I felt more compelled than ever to pull Ali to me and press my mouth against hers.

  Instead, I pulled out my notepad and wrote, I need your help. I know a spell for finding, but you will have to incant it.

  “Okay. What do I say?”

  Carefully, I wrote the words to the spell on the notepad, then continued, While you incant the words, I’ll inscribe the runes.

  Ali nodded, her eyes gleaming like silver coins.

  Slowly, she spoke the words, and I began to move my fingers, drawing the shapes of the runes as I’d been taught a thousand years ago. It felt good to be doing magic again: the familiar hum of power building in my veins, the magic between us working together with a delicious thrill. I could sense her soul and mine electrifying each other in her body.

  And what was more, the power of Yggdrasill was exceptional. Streams of light trailed behind my fingers, while next to me, Ali carefully read the words on my notepad. As she enunciated the final word of the spell, I drew the final rune. At last, I felt the magic rush out of me and disappear into the darkness. I felt its loss like an ache.

  For a long moment, nothing happened. Maybe the magic didn’t work between worlds.

  But as soon as the thought had entered my mind, light blazed in the darkness. Strong and piercing, it shot straight up, all the way to the cavern’s ceiling.

  “That’s where the ring is?” whispered Ali.

  I nodded, a low growl of pleasure rising in my throat. The spell had worked.

  Together we clambered over the massive roots toward the magical beacon. When we finally got close, I could see that it was coming from the very top of the pile of bones.

  “I can get it,” said Ali.

  I nodded. She was smaller, lighter, and, as a trained assassin, the obvious choice for this particular task. She hopped down from the root and ran to the base of the pile.

  It was huge. Even larger than I’d initially realized, a giant pile of osseous material that towered above Yggdrasill’s enormous root system. Ali climbed the pile, pulling herself up even as bones scraped against each other, slipping and tumbling beneath her feet.

  She had just reached the top when something large moved in the shadows at the edge of the light. I turned to it, trying to make out what it was. A looming, dark form in the shadows.

  Suddenly, it screamed, “Kuk kuk tztztztztztzzzzzttt!”

  A chittering scream so loud that my entire body vibrated, and I wanted it all to end. It was worse than Ali’s singing. While I resisted clamping my hands to my ears, the creature charged toward the bone pile.

  Covered in reddish fur, the creature scrambled forward on four massive feet. The thing resembled a cave bear—but much, much larger. No cave bear was two stories tall.

  When it reached the bone pile, it sat up on its haunches, and I realized what it was: Ratatoskr, the immortal squirrel compelled to climb up and down Yggdrasill and deliver messages to the gods. With the gods dead, who knew what it did now, but one thing was clear: it was angry. I needed to get it away from Ali.

  Ratatoskr chittered again, opening its mouth. I’d expected a pair of giant incisors, but instead, its maw was filled with thousands of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. As the squirrel screamed, its teeth vibrated, clattering against each other.

  I didn’t care what it was, or what gods it had once served. I’d rip its head from its body if it left so much as a bruise on Ali.

  I charged toward the squirrel, smashing through ossified remains like a wrecking ball. I needed to distract it. Get it away from her.

  As I moved, I could see the huge shape of the squirrel as it tried to climb the bones, chittering and screeching like a banshee. Panic and rage clutched my heart as I realized the danger Ali was in.

  My blood began to steam, and my skin turned fiery. Another effect of the curse: sometimes, powerful emotions made me burn.

  But now, I relished the pain, because it cleared my head. I savored the taste of the creosote that filled my mouth, the smoke that rose from my skin. I allowed an uncontrollable rage to take me, because I needed to get to Ali.

  I shouted, my ragged vocal cords producing an unearthly scream. In my fists, my daggers glinted like dragon’s teeth.

  The squirrel whirled to face me, its eyes red—a deep scarlet the color of blood. It chittered again, opening its mouth to reveal the rows and rows of teeth. The teeth spun around in its mouth like mechanical things, and at last, I understood the meaning of its name: Ratatoskr—drill tooth.

  I only had the pair of daggers, but I held my ground. My only hope was to serve as a distraction. To give Ali time to escape.

  When the mammoth squirrel lunged at me, I dodged its mouth, my daggers swiping at its fur. Bones clattered down beneath me. I rolled to my feet, but not before I saw a familiar silver gleam.

  From the wreckage of the bone pile, Ali stared at me. Hope thrilled within my cursed heart. She was alive.

  Then the squirrel charged, shrieking so loudly I could hardly think. I moved to leap out of its way, but it plowed by me like a bull past a toreador, charging through the bones.

  The beast slammed into one of Yggdrasill’s roots at full speed. I expected it to fall stunned, but instead, its whirling teeth shredded the wood like a buzz saw. Pearly sap sprayed through the air like rain.

  I crouched among the remains of the bone pile and let out a shout. Ready to fight, I watched as Ratatoskr’s eyes focused on me.

  Good. Now come and get me.

  The squirrel charged, head down. But this time, instead of dodging to the side, I leapt straight up, grabbing his ears.

  Ratatoskr thrashed beneath me, bucking and scratching, but my grip was solid. I swung my leg over the top of the beast’s head, then slid down toward the top of its back, out of reach of its teeth and claws.

  After a few minutes of enduring its bucking and thrashing, I attempted to soothe the squirrel a little, petting it behind its ears. Its breathing started to slow. Really, he wasn’t vastly different from the rats I’d kept as pets, except he’d still eat us if given the chance.

  When I looked behind me, I saw Ali climbing the rump of his fur, moving for me. I reached for her, shifting her into place in front of me.

  She’d understood. The only safe place right now—away from this creature’s teeth—was on its back.

  Chapter 22

  Ali

  Sitting in front of Marroc, I clung to the beast’s fur as it bounded between Yggdrasill’s roots. With Marroc’s steely chest behind me and his arms wrapped around me, I felt strangely secure.

  Where the Helheim was this thing bringing us? We’d climbed on it to avoid its gnashing jaws, but now it was taking us on a wild chase over the tree roots.

  Despite being as big as a house, the squirrel was surprisingly agile. Even with my magical eyesight, it was hard to see in here. I could just about make out the roots beneath us, but the squirrel leapt from one to another with the ease of a monkey. I was pretty sure we needed to be going down, beneath the roots. Instead, we were on a frantic journey above them.

  As the squirrel moved along, I held on tight with my thighs. Slowly, the roots gave way to an enormous tree trunk so wide that I could just barely make out its curvature. Around us, the air warmed, and green light began to filter down from somewhere high above.

  Then the situation took a turn for the worse. The squirrel began to ascend the giant trunk itself—the opposite of where we needed to be going. But he was moving too fast, too high for us to jump off. I slid back further into Marroc, but he held his position steadily, arms locked around me. His body seemed like pure steel against mine.

  Even climbing straight up the trunk, the squirrel moved swiftly, its claws
digging into the thick bark as it raced toward the light. It climbed until we reached a branch nearly as wide as the Citadel and long enough to taper off into shadows, where I couldn’t see the end.

  Hardly pausing, the squirrel ran along the branch, and I clutched tight to its fur. I tried not to look at the black abyss below me. Instead, I closed my eyes, thinking of Barthol. He’s never going to believe this.

  When I opened my eyes again, I saw a fork in the bough. The squirrel turned onto a smaller branch, and after a minute or two, massive green leaves began to appear.

  It chittered again as it slowed to a stop. Now, we were among a thick clump of leaves, each as large as a small car. Their shape was familiar, and I recognized them after a few moments. Ash leaves. The squirrel’s nose twitched with excitement.

  Suddenly, it scurried forward and pulled something large from under one of them. A giant seed. The squirrel’s mouth buzzed as it began to eat the kernel. From behind me, Marroc touched my shoulder, then nodded at the branch. With the squirrel distracted by its snack, this seemed a good time to make our getaway.

  Letting go of the squirrel’s fur, I slid down to the branch. Marroc landed behind me while the squirrel ate. At last, it turned and, without even a glance in our direction, sprinted down the branch and into the darkness.

  My arms and legs were shaking with fatigue, and I slumped, cross-legged, down on the branch. Marroc crouched next to me, eyeing me with concern.

  “Do you know what that thing was?” I asked.

  He pulled out his notebook and began to write. It’s called Ratatoskr. The immortal squirrel of Yggdrasill. Bigger than I imagined.

  “Understatement of the day,” I murmured, closing my eyes. My arms throbbed, and I thought there were still bits of bone in my hair.

  Marroc touched my shoulder gently.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” I opened my hand, showing off the golden ring with a brilliant smile. “I got this.”

  Happiness streamed over me. This was it. They key to setting the Dokkalfar free forever.

  Chapter 23

  Marroc

  I stared at the ring, almost disbelieving that she had it. Through dust, shattered bones, and a very angry squirrel, Ali had somehow managed to find it. On one hand, I was exceptionally impressed, but on the other, I felt a strange twisting feeling in my chest. A lump in my throat. Was this… sadness?

  No. Guilt.

  The problem was that the ring was useless. My soul was no longer within the golden circlet that Ali looked so pleased with herself for finding. It was within her.

  And worse, she’d risked her life for a trinket.

  If she put together the truth—that she held my soul, and who I truly was—it would all be over for both of us. So, I schooled my features into a charming smile, as though I was happy she’d found this little bit of gold.

  “We need to get back down again, don’t we?” asked Ali. “The Shore of the Dead is supposed to be at the base of the tree, beyond Yggdrasill’s roots.”

  I nodded. Instead, we’d been carried upward into the tree’s canopy.

  I was reaching for my notebook when a gust of wind shook the leaves. As it did, the branch trembled violently, and Ali and I both grabbed hold of a leaf to keep from being thrown off.

  But as soon as it had come, the gale passed.

  “Okay, my dead friend,” Ali said. “Let’s get down there fast before we’re blown out of this tree.”

  I held the notebook up as I quickly wrote, We’re going to have to keep moving.

  I heard a low rumbling noise, and it took me a moment to recognize what it was, to remember that feeling. Ali clutched her stomach, and it came back to me. Hunger. Not for souls, the way I felt it, but for food.

  Of course she needed to eat. Even Night Elves needed sustenance. I’d spent so many years undead that I’d nearly forgotten how a normal body worked.

  Quickly as I could, I wrote, I’ll find you something to eat.

  She wrinkled her nose. “In the land of the dead? I might wait till we get back to Boston, just grab a muffin or something.”

  Just then, another gust shook the tree, and we both lurched forward.

  Chapter 24

  Ali

  I grasped the stem of a leaf to steady myself, my arms around the base. When the gale finally stopped, I turned to look at Marroc. He was beckoning me toward the main trunk.

  As I walked behind him, I looked at the branch under my feet. Here, there were plenty of leaves to grab, but further toward the trunk, there was a long, bare stretch of bough.

  “Marroc,” I began, “when we get to the bare part of the branch, we won’t have anything to hold on to if the wind comes.”

  He held up his pair of daggers. His meaning was clear: he’d use them to catch hold.

  Guess I could do the same. “Skalei.” My knife appeared in my hand.

  With Marroc in the lead, we walked along the branches, moving back to the main trunk. My muscles were tense, and I was ready to snatch for one of the nearest leaves at any moment. I stayed close to Marroc, too, in case I needed to grab him.

  Luckily, we reached the fork without any gales threatening to topple us. And as the branch grew wider, I felt a bit more secure. Nearly as wide as one of Boston’s streets, this bough itself was bigger than any tree I’d ever seen.

  When we reached the main trunk, Marroc looked at me, his pale eyes gleaming in the darkness like the blades of his daggers. With a seductive smile, he motioned me closer, and I hesitated. The look in his eye was always that of a predator, which made me want to keep my distance. But when he pointed at his shoulder, I understood I was supposed to get on his back again.

  “Like at the Citadel?” I asked.

  He nodded and crouched, offering me his massive shoulders. I climbed on, wrapping my arms around him from behind. His smoky scent whispered over me.

  From there, he took one of his daggers and jabbed it into Yggdrasill’s trunk. Then he stabbed the other dagger into the bark. We were still above the main branch here, so I gathered this was some sort of test.

  Good thing, too, because after a moment, both daggers tore out, and we slid back to the branch.

  Marroc growled with frustration. When he shot me a look, I saw his eyes glowing, and I felt heat emanating from his skin.

  Before I could say another word, he leapt up and slammed his daggers into the trunk. We hung for a moment, but again the bark crumbled, and we dropped back to the branch. It was obvious that the bark of the main trunk wouldn’t support our weight.

  Side by side, we stood on the main branch, peering off into the darkness.

  Marroc let out a sigh, then wrote in his notebook, I’ll jump down and find another tool to help us.

  Immediately, I thought of the yawning darkness below us. “You’d survive a fall that long and be able to get back up again in one piece?”

  He looked unconcerned as he shrugged.

  “That doesn’t instill a lot of confidence. Besides, how are you going to get back up here?”

  You need food and water.

  I looked at Marroc, my thoughts whirling. “There must be another option. Could you do a spell that would help us float down?”

  He shook his head.

  I pointed at the tree branch beneath me. “But you have plenty of magic—you can drink magic from the tree, right?”

  I’ve never memorized a levitation spell.

  “So, what other options does that leave us? We can’t climb down the trunk. We can’t climb up the trunk. We could go back out on the branch, but that doesn’t lead anywhere, and even if it did, the wind might blow us off.”

  Marroc took a step closer to the edge of the branch, and my heart sped up. He wore a sly smile, eyes twinkling as he held his notebook up to me. I will find a way to come back for you.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He sheathed his daggers. Falling… the fastest way to the bottom.

  And that gave me an idea.

  “Wait!” I
shouted, so loud it could wake the dead. “There’s another way.”

  I hummed the Rick Roll song under my breath, walking in front of Marroc. We’d carefully made our way back to the leafy section of the tree. I called Skalei to me as I knelt next to one of the leaves.

  “Help me hold on to the leaf,” I said.

  Marroc arched an eyebrow, looking very doubtful. But still, he gripped the leaf in his massive fist as I began to slice its stem. After I’d cut through, he helped me balance the leaf on a crook of the branch.

  I knelt, Skalei in one hand, and pulled the vergr crystal from my pocket. Carefully, I laid it in the center of the leaf. Then, using the edge of Skalei’s blade, I sliced strips from the leaf. I used them to lash the crystal to the leaf.

  When I was sure that it was secure, I stood back.

  “All right,” I said. “We can release it anytime. Our homemade airplane.”

  Marroc arched another quizzical eyebrow—and with that one dubious look, I started to have my doubts. Yes, it was risky. I had no way to control where the leaf drifted. It could get caught up on a lower branch, or wedged in a crack high on the cavern wall. It could even be blown higher by cosmic winds. When I teleported us to it, we could end up appearing in midair. Plummeting to our deaths was a possible scenario.

  Before Marroc could hesitate any longer, the air stirred. I instinctively grabbed on to a nearby leaf as a gust shook the branch.

  And as the gale blew over us, I watched the leaf with my crystal fall free. It hung for a second as though taking a final look at us, then glided silently into the darkness.

  Chapter 25

  Marroc

  Ali stood by my side. We watched as the leaf drifted off into the shadows.

  She had a habit of humming to herself quietly. It had annoyed me at first, but it was starting to grow on me. I found myself wanting to learn things about her. What had led her to become an assassin? How long had she lived in Boston?