by K. L. Thorne
“A significant layer of fresh snow is covering those tracks.” One of Zelrus's men joined in, crouching to look at the prints. “She's been gone from this point for at least an hour, maybe two.”
“We could catch up to her, but we'll have to move – now.” Lephas spoke with urgency. “Karn...”
The wolf pricked his ears and looked in his master's direction.
“Find!” he commanded.
The wolf hurriedly sniffed the trail once more before setting off at a sprint. The large creature disappeared into the snow storm in seconds.
Lephas turned to address the group. “We jog on, follow the wolf prints. Karn will reach her before we can ever hope to.”
“Uh, what will he do when he finds her?” Haros asked with a nervous laugh.
“What he's been trained to do – he'll fetch.” Lephas grinned.
CHAPTER TWO
I wish I had worn comfier shoes...
Lori Goldwyrm huffed and blew a long golden strand of hair from her face. She hadn't been walking for that long, but it felt like years.
She knew it was impossible, but it felt like it had gotten colder and colder the further from Awrelwood's protective stone walls she got. Lori shivered and pulled her short fur coat up around her neck.
Though she was wearing her thickest serpent-hide garments, the icy wind still managed to penetrate them, chilling her to her bones. It was so cold even the metal piercings she adorned herself with – several studs in each ear and a small jewel in her nose – burned at her skin.
Yet still she continued to trudge forwards. Lori was impressing even herself. She never had been one for sticking at anything once the going got tough.
And this was tough. Tougher than she had thought it would be.
Large snowflakes began to fall, slowly at first but gradually gathering momentum. She glowered at the sky above her.
The faerie pulled her hood up over her head and tucked her long braid out of the elements.
Just a little further...
She was kidding herself; she had no idea where she was going. Whenever sanity loomed and she wondered what the hell she was thinking, Lori pushed on harder and lied to herself with sentiments of encouragement.
Almost there...
What time was it? She had left Awrelwood in the early hours; it had to be at least late afternoon now. The sun had been present earlier that morning but now the snow had set in, the sky was an endless expanse of grey.
She could worry about where she was going and what she was going to do later. For now, she just needed to focus on getting far enough away from Awrelwood, but not too close to Banesteppe. Surely, she would come across a small tavern somewhere along this blasted road sooner or later?
Whilst she remained in the castle's ominous shadow, Lori could still feel her father's presence looming over her. He was undoubtedly sending soldiers to retrieve her.
She muttered to herself angrily and aimed a vicious kick at an innocent snow drift. She tucked her heavy silk satchel back securely onto her shoulder, though it had long since begun to make her ache.
Lori had never been an obedient girl. She had memories as far back as two years old, climbing curtains solely because her mother had told her not to. Whilst she had gotten smarter, she hadn't gotten any better with age.
She knew why her father kept them locked away night and day. He called her and her two sisters – Sivelle, the eldest and Faye, the youngest – his buried treasure. His protectiveness came from a good place but, as with all good things, left unchecked they often became sour.
He was terrified beyond measure of the demons finding his daughters. Lori feared their father's concern outweighed his love for them.
As in all matters where Lori felt like she was being told what to do, she had fought back... And kept fighting.
Lori and her father often butted heads. He loved nothing better than telling people what to do and Lori loved defying authority. They fought constantly.
It was when her father over-stepped his mark by trying to tell her he was arranging for her to be married off to some toffee-nosed snob that things had become serious. He expected her to be happy about it, like Sivelle had been.
Her eldest sister had longed for the day when their father would offer her an arranged marriage; she seemed all too keen to begin her new life as her husband's prisoner, as opposed to her father's.
Lori scowled to herself. She didn't let her father, King of the Faerie people, tell her what to do. Some twit from a 'well-to-do' family didn't stand a chance.
Really, she'd had no other option in the end than to run away, but she needed to move. Lori glanced over her shoulder for the thousandth time, delicately pointed ears straining for the drum of heavy hooves approaching.
Undoubtedly her father would know she was missing by now. He would send his men after her. They were probably scouring the countryside for her right now.
Thankfully she had seen only one other person on her journey so far. She had been frightened, far more than she'd have ever let on, when she saw the young demon boy at the side of the road in the early hours of that morning.
The sun had just been rising, casting a calming pink glow across the fresh snowfall.
He had been out hunting, a brace of pheasant tossed casually over his shoulder. Lori's heart had been in her mouth as she'd passed him, keeping her head down and her hood up. So as not to betray her nerves, she had forced herself to keep her walk slow and relaxed.
Though he'd regarded her curiously, the demon boy hadn't said a word. He had just walked into the depths of the woods and disappeared from view.
She was sure some nearby village hovel was burning her effigy and calling her a witch by now. Her attire was hardly a disguise but she doubted the young lad had ever seen a faerie in the flesh. If his simple, tatty leathers had been anything to go by, the stories of demon poverty were true.
Little had he known, he wasn't alone in his curiosity. He was the first demon Lori had ever seen, outside of pictures in her father's books. He had looked different than she had expected... She supposed demons got more hideous with age.
The snow began to fall harder still, obstructing what little view she had from underneath her heavy hood. Her fur-lined boots' buttery soft leather was not designed for hiking. Her feet slipped against hidden rocks and roots beneath the snow.
She hadn't been travelling at any great pace before but now every step had become arduous.
Lori hissed curses as she struggled on, panting heavily into the frozen air. She had to keep moving; her father's men mustn't find her.
She stumbled, losing her footing and crashing down into the snow. Her possessions spilled from her over-stuffed satchel around her.
Lori growled under her breath and gritted her teeth with frustration. Despite wearing her thickest pair of winter gloves, her fingers were numb from the cold. She fumbled clumsily and gathered her things together.
Her teeth chattering was all she could hear above the howling winds. She had been a fool, a complete buffoon, to believe she could do this.
What did she know about outdoor pursuits? She had lived her entire life inside a stone box, never wanting for anything.
Maybe marrying some short, fat, rich man wouldn't have been so bad after all.
A deep growl rumbled and Lori froze. She had been so concerned about her father's men catching up with her that she hadn't spared much thought for who – or what – else may be looking for her.
She slowly brought her eyes up.
Just a few feet in front of her was the biggest animal she had ever seen. A huge silver wolf stood before her, with its head low and fangs bared. Lori swore she could feel it’s growl vibrating through the snow.
If she hadn't been in mortal danger, she may have spared a moment to appraise the beautiful creature, but fear blinded her.
Lori sat completely still in the snow, unsure of what to do. She had to get out of there but she knew the second she moved that wolf would pounce �
� its muscles were tight and bunched. Prepared.
She racked her brain; she had to do something and quick. The princess may not have been any expert at traversing the countryside, but even she knew wolves didn't travel alone. Wherever this one had come from, others were surely on their way.
Her lower lip trembled. Was this really how her short, pathetic life was going to end? Ripped to shreds by wolves, alone in the woods? All because her father had deigned to ask her to marry someone.
This whole endeavour had been colossally stupid, even by Lori's standards, but she shrugged helplessly. She was dead meat either way; she might as well go out fighting.
As quickly as the deep snow would allow, Lori sprang to her feet and shot a blast of bright majick at the wolf.
The princess had never been trained in offensive majicks, but she had attended defensive majick training classes for a short time. The blast would not do any damage, but should stun the creature for a moment.
Lori doubted it would do her any good, but she had to hope. She refused to die, sad and alone in the snow, like a coward.
The wolf yelped with surprise, leaping back from the blast, and Lori set off at a sprint. She ran as fast as she could, giving no thought to the satchel she had left discarded in the snow.
The faerie pumped her arms by her sides, fighting the pain in her frozen muscles. She needed to hide.
The thought was stopped abruptly as the large wolf circled around to stand before her yet again. She screamed as she skidded to a halt and her feet slid out from underneath her. Lori landed on her back with a heavy thump.
Well, this is it...
She gasped and floundered for breath like a fish out of water. Lori screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the teeth and claws...
Which never came.
Lori cautiously raised her head. The wolf was stood with its fangs still bared, but it didn't make a move.
“What the...?” She scowled.
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Lori got to her feet again. This time she turned about tail and ran back to where she'd come from. She had passed an old abandoned farm house a few hours back. Maybe if she could get there...
Who was she kidding – outrun a wolf?!
Lori pumped her arms again, desperately trying to put ground between herself and the beast. The snow crunched and creaked under foot as she ran headlong into the blinding snow. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, but the desire to keep her guts inside her body pushed her on.
The wolf had given chase. Lori could hear it crashing behind her, even over her own thundering heart.
She attempted to dodge away into the undergrowth but the wolf headed her off. She skidded and ran hastily in the opposite direction. She was headed off again.
Lori paused, panting hard. The fine sheen of sweat on her forehead chilled painfully against the bitter winds.
Still the wolf did not advance, just circled around her with its head low.
“What do you want?!” Lori screeched. “Just kill me already!”
The wolf looked at her curiously and its pointed ears pricked. Lori swore she'd seen a flicker of understanding in the creature's expression.
Without warning, the wolf lunged at her. Lori screamed and darted away. Again, the wolf thundered just behind her, its heavy panting driving her onward like a frightened lamb.
Every time Lori tried to change her tack, the wolf blocked her and drove her back.
She was being herded... But towards what?
Lori halted, heaving for breath. She flopped forwards at the waist to lean her hands against her knees. The wolf circled incessantly.
“Enough of this,” Lori huffed. “I'm not taking another step, you brute. You finish this! I'm not playing your games any more. Kill me and be done with it!”
The wolf slowed and tilted its head at Lori's words. She swiped sweat from her brow, eyes wide with surprise. The animal did understand her.
Before she had a chance to contemplate her unusual companion's motive, the wolf threw its head back and let out a long, harrowing howl. The sound pierced the frozen air, eerie echoes howling back in response.
When the wolf brought its muzzle down, it pinned her with its dark intelligent eyes. Lori stared back, still fighting for breath.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
The wolf just snarled in response, causing Lori to startle. She began to run again.
To her surprise, the creature leapt forwards and grasped her thick fur jacket with its huge jaws. She was pulled to the ground.
The princess screamed, eyes squeezed shut, as she hit the ground with a heavy thud. A sharp pain radiated through her skull and her mouth filled with snow. She coughed and spluttered, thrashing out against the wolf's heavy body.
The world seemed to go dark, everything in slow motion. She scrambled to escape and fought the tight grip the creature still had on her.
“Get off me! Help! Someone, help!” she screeched desperately.
“Karn! To me!” a deep voice called out through the chaos. Instantly, the wolf released her and bounded away.
Lori's arms shook as she weakly attempted to right herself. Her vision swam and dark spots danced across the snow before her eyes. She had barely got to her knees when she was roughly tugged to her feet. Her heavy, sodden hood fell over her face.
“On your feet,” a second voice, raspier than the first, spoke.
Lori hurriedly tried to swipe the snow out of her eyes. She couldn't see.
“Unhand me!” she growled, weakly fighting against the hold her assailant had on her.
“I don't think so,” the figure laughed. “Lephas – is this her?”
“It must be. Look at her clothes,” a third voice piped up.
Lori was dragged forward a few paces, her legs lolling beneath her.
“She's injured. There's blood on the snow,” the first, deep voice spoke again. “Karn – here.”
There was a heavy pause.
“It wasn't the wolf; there's no blood on his muzzle. She must have cut herself on something as she fell.”
Lori's hood was pushed off her. The bitter wind whipped at her anew and she whimpered, squinting against the assault of bright white.
There was a low whistle.
“What do you know? She's a babe – even if she is a faerie,” the second raspy voice mused. “Definitely older than we thought.”
Lori let her head fall forwards, hanging low. She could feel her pulse pounding at her temple.
“Let me see her head,” the deep voice asked. A large gloved hand pushed the hair that had come loose from her braid away from her face.
She hissed and sucked in a pained breath as fingers were pressed against her wound. Her vision tunnelled. Everything felt so far away.
“Hm, not good.” Her hood was pulled up over her head again. “We need to get her out of the snow and have a proper look at that.”
“Who cares if she's injured?” another unknown voice asked angrily, joining the conversation
Lori fought to stay conscious. How many men were there? Her stomach churned.
“Look at her – she's out of it. We need to sort that out before we can hope to get her to answer any questions. Zelrus won't want her killed... At least not yet,” the raspy voice said.
Zelrus... Where had Lori heard that name before? She couldn't think.
“Please... Let me go,” she whimpered.
“Afraid not, Little Dove,” the raspy voice spoke to her, softer this time. “You don't stand much chance out here without us now.”
“My father... Please, take me to him,” she pleaded. “He'll pay you handsomely for my safe return.”
There was a short laugh.
“Somehow I doubt that. Besides, why would you run away from home and then beg to go back? You've made your bed, faerie. Now you're lying in it.”
How did they know she'd run away? Who were these men? She shivered... Demons? She had never even seen a demon in the flesh before that morning, and he
had only been a child. The sketches of their horrifying horned visages in her father's books wavered before her eyes.
Her father's books... With a flash, she remembered – Zelrus! The new King of Demons.
Demons. Demons had captured her. Lori fought anew.
“Hey, hey – calm yourself. You're going to–”
Lori felt her assailant’s grip on her falter. She tried to remain standing but her legs failed her. She fell forwards into the snow again.
“Haros...” the deep voice chastised.
“Sorry, boss – she was thrashing,” the raspy voice – Haros, was it? – replied.
“You – seeing as you don't care about our prisoner being injured, you get the pleasure of carrying her until we find shelter,” the deep voice commanded.
Lori felt herself being heaved up from the ground again. As if she weighed no more than a feather, she was thrown over a wide shoulder. A well-muscled arm held her legs, stopping her from slipping off.
Lori groaned as blood rushed to her bruised head. She felt sick and dizzy.
“Not a bad view for the journey home though, eh boys?” Her captor laughed. There was a heavy slap on her rear.
Silence fell over the group. The snow whistled ominously.
“...Sorry, Lephas,” her captor mumbled.
“You will be when we get back,” the deep voice – Lephas – said. His tone dripped with anger.
“A bit of professionalism, yeah?” Haros muttered quietly beside them.
“I know, I'm sorry but–” the demon carrying her stuttered.
“Save it for Lephas... And keep your fucking hands to yourself,” Haros snapped.
Without another word she felt her captor begin to walk.
She had been in some scrapes before, but nothing like this. Lori felt a hot tear track down her nose, dripping silently into the snow. She allowed her eyes to close as exhaustion overcame her.
How am I going to get myself out of this one?
CHAPTER THREE
“Thoughts?” Haros approached, walking side by side with Lephas.