The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “This one tried to marry into wealth and change all of her new husband’s children,” Mab explains, earning a proud smile from the halfling. The temptation to tear the woman’s mouth off causes the stronger vampire to snarl. “You have a point about the threat since you probably lack the ability to consciously access your aura. It’s always been accidents and I doubt you’ve noticed every time your power has appeared. Has there ever been a moment where you survived something that you know you shouldn’t have? Like a lethal wound that seemed to bleed slow or going for days in a harsh environment.”

  “It’s happened before, but I never really thought about it,” Delvin admits, his mind running through a lifetime of bizarre incidents. He remembers telling Nyx about surviving on an ice floe for a month and how that led to her realizing his role as a champion. “So we need to find a way to make me think I’m in danger. What about dropping me off a cliff or tying rocks to my ankles and tossing me into the ocean?”

  “First of all, this one isn’t a threat, so we’re done with her,” Mab explains before slicing the halfling’s head off with her claws. She catches the long-haired body part and shoves the entire corpse back into the abyss. “I doubt founts can fly and that other idea is pure idiocy. We need to have threats that are more controllable. Dropping you into an ocean runs the risk of something eating you before you can escape. There’s the other issue that we need to have you wield it as a weapon and not just a knee-jerk reaction. That would only work if all of your enemies are planning to take a drink from you like I tried that one time.”

  “I’m starting to worry that this isn’t even possible,” the warrior admits, taking a seat on a stump. As if the answer is in the metal of his weapon, he stares down the blade and searches for a hint of its former power. “This used to be a cursed Reflector Blade, which I cleansed before it consumed my humanity. It just happened and I never really thought about it again. Always figured my abilities would appear when I needed them. That’s what happened with the others . . . except it really didn’t. Luke and Sari were tortured before their powers appeared and Nyx has been training since childhood. I don’t think I have the time to go through such a trial to reach the level you need me at.”

  Mab walks over to the mortal and puts her hands on his knees to look him in the eyes. “Then walk away from everything.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Then stop whining and get back to training.”

  “I’m just wondering if we’re wasting our time.”

  “No, you’re trying to rationalize quitting.”

  “I never said I would quit. Only that I had doubts.”

  With a casual shrug, Mab paces by weaving through the nearby trees. As she returns to the resting warrior, she plucks another Dawn Fang out of the shadows and severs the chain. The fanged ogre roars before charging at Delvin, who scrambles out of the way. He slashes at the monster’s muscular, greasy hide and deflects one of its spiny elbows. The shallow cuts only make the creature angry as it uproots a tree with one hand and swings it like a club. Delvin drops to the ground and rolls to avoid a crushing slam, the outer branches slapping him in the face. He hops to his feet in time catch the ogre’s horns on his shield, which is only saved from destruction due to its magical nature. The impact is enough to send the champion flying through two trees and landing so far away that he can barely see his enemy.

  Focusing on his aura, Delvin hears the vampiric ogre snorting through its square nose. The sound is getting closer by the second, but nothing the warrior does seems to bring his energy to the surface. Before he is grabbed by the monster, Delvin ducks and slices off the burly arm that sails over his head. With a roar that scares every bird into the sky, the ogre kicks the armored man away and presses the lost limb to the stump. Nothing happens due to the sun sapping the Dawn Fang’s abilities, which enrages it even more. Using the arm as a bleeding club, it chases Delvin and knocks down several trees until they abruptly come to the edge of a cliff. The ground drops steeply and crumbling pieces of rock fall to the distant forest as the pair anxiously wait for the other to attack.

  Delvin darts in to stab the ogre in the chest, his blade passing through the pimply, hairless flesh. There is no heart to strike, so the attack does nothing more than get his sword stuck and leave him open to the vampire’s macabre club. For a terrifying moment, the warrior feels weightless as the limbs hits his side and sends him off the cliff, the bastard sword sliding free with ease. A wave of anger rushes over him when his aura still refuses to awaken even in the face of a plummeting death. Delvin is so upset that his mind barely registers the hand that catches his wrist and hurls him to safety. Landing in the low branches of a pine, the warrior watches Mab leap off the end of the ogre’s unattached limb and flip off its shoulders. She embeds one of her clawed hands in its back as she hacks away at the monster’s thick neck. It takes several awkward chops to cleave through the leathery flesh and thick bone, but the corpse eventually topples off the cliff.

  “That’s it!” Delvin shouts as he drops from the trees. He lands on his butt and hops to his feet, his face red with anger. “This is ridiculous! I’m through with this training because it’s simply not working. If that didn’t awaken my powers then nothing you do to me is going to get the job done. Let’s go back to the encampment and focus on something else.”

  “So you’re giving up?” Mab asks with a yawn. The champion surprises her by turning away and marching toward the forest. “The tribes can plan off the ideas you gave them, so we’re not leaving until you make progress or the battle is about to begin. Go cool off and I’ll be here when you want to continue.”

  “I’m not coming back!”

  “Then you’re a coward!”

  Delvin stops and turns to stare at the vampire through the trees. “If that’s what you want to call me then go ahead. I’m done wasting my time. Come back to the encampment when you realize I’ve made good on my threat. Thanks for trying, Dark Mistress, but there are some things I simply can’t do.”

  Mab watches him disappear into the distance and shivers at the sensation that someone is yelling at her from far away. She takes off her cloak to stop the voice from contacting her, accepting that she will be screamed at with full force once her powers return. Glancing at the ogre corpse below and the trail of broken trees, Mab silently admits that she may have gone too far with her training.

  “After all, he’s only human,” she whispers before putting her cloak back on. The woman cringes when a head-splitting roar makes her ears bleed. “Shut up. You would have been infinitely worse with him if you were in my shoes. I don’t care if he has potential. It doesn’t matter if he isn’t able to access it or . . . really? That’s unexpected. Thanks for telling me. Guess I’ll tail him and see what happens.”

  Reaching into her cloak, she drains a bottle of dwarf blood to satisfy the hunger pangs that have been making her sluggish for the last hour. She feels a rush to her head and wonders how much the donor drank before someone took a pint or two. The Dark Mistress grins and runs into the forest, choosing a path that will bring her within sight of the frustrated warrior.

  *****

  Delvin sits at the base of an old fir and searches for any scraps of trail rations that he might have had in his bag before Mab took him. All he finds are a few pieces of dried meat and two palatable rolls that he moistens with leathery water. The meal tastes terrible, but he manages to keep it down with a cup of coffee that relaxes his muscles. With a yawn, Delvin takes in his serene surroundings and realizes that he has been among chaotic noise for so long that his ears are ringing from the quiet. A rustling of branches draws his attention to a pair of wrestling squirrels that fall to the ground unharmed and race over his legs. Birds begin to sing as the summer sun emerges from behind the clouds, its warm light falling on his face and making him sneeze. It is hard for the warrior to believe that so much bloodshed has occurred in the last week when Windemere seems to be at peace.

  “This must be what forest track
ers think when they get to relax,” Delvin whispers, his voice sounding louder than he expected. Sipping at his drink, he stands and groans at the aches in his body. “Mab had a good plan, but I can’t get this to work. I’ll have to find a way to fight with what I have, which can’t be too hard. She said beheading can disable a Dawn Fang, so I need only do that and strike the heart later. Unless she means removing and destroying the heart instead of merely damaging it, which would be another issue. I really wish Gerdo was here to tell me more about this. Not that I don’t trust Mab, but she always seems to be holding something back.”

  “Well that paranoia has kept her alive for centuries,” Gerdo mentions as his ghost-like form appears next to his old leader. Scorpion and Pelo materialize behind their friend, followed by a larger haze that swiftly disappears. “Sorry about Tavris, boss. He took his defeat pretty hard and is having trouble facing you. We told him he lasted longer than the rest of us and gave you time to escape, but you know how he is.”

  “Is this really you or am I dreaming?” Delvin asks while passing his hand through the other man’s body. He chuckles when Pelo taps him on the head with his scimitar, the weapon gently bouncing off his hair. “I owe all of you an apology. You may have been prepared to die, but it is . . . was my responsibility to protect you. Think you can forgive me for failing?”

  Scorpion removes his mask and tucks it into his pocket, a broad smile on his face. “That’s why you made a great leader and an average mercenary, boss. We’d follow you anywhere because we knew you cared. That sentimentality and empathy really doesn’t mesh well with the lifestyle though. It really makes us wonder how you got so far in the trade. One would expect a person like you to get eaten alive instead of becoming the Mercenary Prince.”

  “That’s because the boss was kind and tough,” Pelo states, putting his arm around Gerdo’s shoulder. The weasel-faced man flips a coin to the vampire, the ghostly disc vanishing above their heads. “He bet me that you would ask for forgiveness within the first five minutes. I said it would be the first thing you said and Scorpion was banking on you doing it later. So how did you make it so far when you were so weak, boss?”

  “I was never weak,” Delvin argues, glaring at the laughing mercenaries. The three men turn into mist and move around the area, each one reappearing in a new location. “My enemies were given a chance, but I made sure they knew I was in control. I showed compassion and fairness, which is what drew people to me. Just because we were mercenaries, it didn’t mean we had to be immoral bastards. Sure, my nature seems to be more suited to the adventuring life while my mind is that of a military man. The two can stumble over each other from time to time, but I’m adapting. At least mentally and physically. This whole thing with my aura, which is why I assume you’re here, is beyond me. You guys know I’ve never been into magic.”

  “Good point, boss,” Scorpion says while hanging from a branch. The chaos elf nods his head before floating to the ground and juggling his daggers. “It’s always been about your sword and shield. You’re a man who thinks more about the physical than the things you can’t see. Probably for the best that you don’t try to find the catalyst for your abilities by force. As you said, they’ll awaken at some point.”

  “Unless Stephen kills him,” Gerdo interjects, snatching a dagger from Scorpion as he walks by. He picks at his fangs with the phantom blade before tossing it back to his companion. “That would end his journey pretty quickly. Probably be the end of Nyx too because she won’t be able to hold out for much longer. Stephen will break her eventually after all of her potential rescuers are dead. Still I’m sure your plain, average sword can do something.”

  “I vote for a grave marker,” Pelo announces with his hand raised. With a few graceful flips, the phantom passes through the trees to land on a rock next to Delvin. “Sorry about teasing you like this, boss. It’s just that we’re not sure why anybody thinks we can help. After all, how can we give advice if you don’t even know what you’re really fighting for?”

  Delvin opens his mouth to argue, but stops when he cannot think of a way to defend his actions. For weeks, he has believed that everything he has done since leaving Nevra Coil has been to become stronger for his friends. Yet whenever he has been faced with Pelo’s question, he has hesitated or rambled various answers that never rang entirely true in his head. For the countless time, Delvin is tempted to say the first thing that comes to his mind and hope that his friends accept his reasoning. He stops himself because such a response would be empty and could lead to advice that makes his situation worse. Staring at his scuffed boots, he feels like the confused child that followed a legendary warrior to her academy and did whatever he was told because he thought it would make him stronger.

  “To beat the bad ones,” Delvin whispers, the old phrase bubbling up in his memories. He touches his chest, his fingers tracing the outline of his unfinished brand. “I always wanted to be strong enough to beat the bad ones. They were the bullies from my tribe and those I met on the streets, but also those who hurt others. It’s why I wanted to be a warrior and why I became a mercenary. The life was rough and had immoral aspects, but I always felt like I was able to help others by doing the jobs that nobody else wanted. Remember how little of my money I actually kept and how I tended to borrow from you guys when we went for too long without a job? Guess I really was a terrible Mercenary Prince.”

  “Definitely. Still, you got the prince part right, boss,” Scorpion says with a smile. His friends smack him upside the head for the corny remark, causing all of them to laugh. “You told us that Kevin Masterson always told you to fight for a reason. It could be anything and you could have more than one. Maybe it’s time you listened to him.”

  “Guessing you have a pretty long list, boss,” Gerdo admits, his translucent body starting to fade away. “Mind telling us what you’re going to fight for before we go?”

  “My friends, my family, the tribes, Windemere, and everything else that might be in danger if those Dawn Fangs win,” Delvin replies, saluting his three friends. The trio of mercenaries evaporate, leaving wispy footprints that are blown away by a stiff wind. “Thanks for coming back for me, guys. I promise not to see you again too soon. I have a world to save and not much time to awaken the power to do it.”

  The champion sprints back through the forest, hoping that Mab is still where he left her. He is sure the vampire will make him work even harder now, but he is determined to unlock even a spark of his aura. Delvin is so busy trying to think of ways to achieve his goal that he fails to notice the nimble form bounding through the trees to his left. By the time he glances in that direction, the cloaked figure has darted ahead to make it look like she has been angrily waiting at the cliff.

  *****

  “How are we going to get back to the haven?” Delvin asks as he finishes repairing his chainmail. Glancing over his shoulder, he swiftly turns back around to avoid seeing Mab finish cleaning herself in the nearby waterfall. “For that matter, how did you return to the mesa without following the path? Samara told us that it was the only way to reach it.”

  “It seems once you find it the first time, you can travel back without a problem,” the vampire says, her voice drifting out of the warm water. Her lithe form is nothing more than a silhouette in the pounding water, a pale limb occasionally emerging as she moves. “I think I got all of the blood out of your clothes. This is me apologizing for pitting you against that ogre. The plus side is that you didn’t die and it seems you learned a few tricks. Your powers didn’t awaken, so I’d say the last day and a half was a failure.”

  Delvin shivers as a cold wind from the north weaves through the trees and bites at his naked body. “I’ll figure something out. Can I have my clothes back? I’m feeling very exposed like this and I think I’ve learned my lesson about packing before an adventure. We should be heading back to the tribes because they need to start the march soon. Just don’t look when you come over here. I haven’t been looking at you out of respect.”
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  “I really don’t care if you see me naked or not,” the vampire snaps while casually walking over to their small camp. She tosses the damp clothes to her companion, his eyes scrunched closed. “I’m centuries old, so I’ve better things to worry about. As for not looking at you, I’ve seen my share of naked everything. There’s nothing you have that I haven’t seen before and we’re in a rush. So save your modesty for that channeler and hand me my pants. They’re to your right.”

  The warrior blindly gropes for Mab’s clothing and offers it to her before attempting to get dressed. He puts his shirt on first and cringes at how tight it feels, but figures it is because the fabric is still damp. Once he gets his pants on, Delvin opens his eyes and turns to speak to his companion. He immediately whirls around when he sees that she is standing across the fire with her arms across her bare chest. At first he thinks Mab is covering up, but her posture and expression is one of irritation.

  “You’re wearing my shirt, mortal.”

  “Sorry about that. I thought it didn’t fit right,” Delvin admits while taking it off and handing it to the woman. He breathes a sigh of relief when she finishes getting dressed, the top looking tight on her body. “Strange that it fit me even though I’m bigger than you. Does that material mold to your form and act like a second skin? I know someone who might want some undershirts like that. Probably makes mobility and hand-to-hand combat easier.”

  Mab ignores him while sitting to put on her boots and cloak, the enveloping shadows helping her relax. “So we promised the tribes that you would be their secret weapon. At least I feel like we made such a promise. Now you can probably defeat a Dawn Fang brat in a one on one fight, but not four of them at once. Your reflexes and form have adapted to handling a faster opponent and you move as soon as you’re touched. Considering you kept up with me at half speed, I would give you three minutes against your enemies if they attack at the same time. Five if they decide to play with you and take turns. Did you dream up any tactics that you refused to use against me in our matches?”