The Fugitive Prince

by Daniel Arndt

  She dragged her gaze up to meet Gregor’s. The heavy grimace nodded before the smith took the knight’s hand in a heavy shake. Gregor adjusted to balance his body as the force from the action tipped him on his heels. The smith smiled with what appeared to be a warlike snarl.

  “Well I don’t like visitors and you ain’t like any merchant I have seen, but the husband would yell my ear off if I turned you away in this weather.”

  Valente and Cass smiled in relief as the smith released Gregor’s hand. Gregor subtly pulled back his hand and rubbed it with his free palm. The woman pivoted towards her anvil as she wrapped her iron grip around her hammer’s handle.

  “I gotta finish things up out here, but give the door out front a knock and tell that slacker inside to make you something warm. Just make sure you knock off those boots before you enter.”

  The woman pulled the hammer up. Her muscled arm flexed as she reacquainted her grip.

  “Name’s Bellie by the bye. Now get inside before you silly Grasslanders catch an early death.”

  Gregor’s gratitude was drowned out by the sudden din of battered iron and hot sparking thunder.

  The knight turned to his companions with his usual gleam as he nodded to the two.

  “Well my children, shall we?”

  The three circumnavigated the large building in search of a door and their promised shelter. The home appeared to be a large gathering of grey bricks stacked atop each other reaching up to two floors. A few thick windows poked out of the grey and behind them, an orange and welcoming glow flickered against the growing shadows. A dark spruce door rewarded their search. The heavy wood slab capped the end of a small trail of stone that snaked through what remained of a desolated garden as it stood on the other side of the stone smithery. The heavy drops of the hammer against the anvil still rang out clearly.

  Gregor strode up the path and to the front door with Valente and Cass close in tow. The knight raised a fist in the air as he brought it against the door in successive and hefty knocks. The door lightly bent under the assault. Clang of metal continued its call behind the house. It filled the moments of unease. A cold minute passed. Gregor rose his fist once more. Muffled steps against wood reverberated behind the solid oak entrance. The knight lowered his hand as the door moved ajar. A tender face and a warm smile appeared from behind it. His brilliant, brown hair ran long and elegantly down his slender and kempt shoulders, his eyes were dazzled with a charm and warmth that brought more comfort and welcome than the burning furnace outside, and his smile caused the tired pain and searing aches to forget their purpose. His delightful and soothing voice cast away the group’s worries and fears as he greeted them at the door.

  “Oh!”

  The man’s surprise washed over them like sweet honey.

  “Hello there! I don’t recognize your faces. You must be new in town.”

  The beautiful man’s excited yet graceful smile turned inquisitive as he held the door ajar.

  “What brings you to my humble home?”

  Gregor opened his mouth but even his stoic composure could not bring forward the right words as he stuttered with uncertainty. Valente could not make the attempt as his jaw had fallen through the mountain propelled with surprise, shock, and a healthy pinch of envy. Cass blinked for a moment as she did her best to tear away from the charming spell the stunning man had cast. The huntress lowered her eyes as she took off her hood. Her mouth turned dry as she forced herself to speak.

  “Pardon our… intrusion, but your…”

  Cass’s eyes fought against the huntress herself as they looked at the elegant tunic that was tight on the man’s torso,

  “uh… your wife said we should see you. We got caught out in the cold when… uh… wolves attacked us. We lost most-”

  The dazzling man swung the door fully open. He eagerly beckoned the group in with his fanciful hands.

  “Please come inside. You must all be cold with clothes like that. You can tell me all about everything after I get you warm and fed!”

  Cass did not mind being interrupted by this man. His fluent movement drew Cass and the two awestruck men bumbling inside the smith’s home.

  The fragrant aromas of fresh bread and stewed meats teased Valente’s nose as he sat at the table. Cass sat next to the prince as she fiddled with her golden braid and silver clasp. Gregor sat at the head of the table with an eager smile. The rich scents were not lost on the knight. A door creaked open as the beautiful man walked from the adjoining kitchen at the end of this room. His very presence lifted morale as his hair flowingly trailed behind him. In his graceful hands, he held a large slab of wood. Though the man’s movement was as smooth as rich silk, it was the contents of the platter that captured the group’s eyes. Upon the wood were three large bowls. Each graciously accompanied by a large wedge of steaming bannock. Within the vessels rose a shimmering steam from a deep and rich stew bubbling with flavor. Large portions of meats and vegetables floated happily on the surface causing the three’s collective stomachs to growl in unison. The smith’s husband elegantly placed a bowl in front of each of his guests with uninhibited dexterity. The minor action was done simply yet beautifully. The man placed the wooden platter onto the table’s edge before sitting down across from Valente and Cass and to Gregor’s right.

  Valente pivoted on the wooden bench he sat on. Though his stomached ached for the warm sustenance of the stew, the man transfixed him. His beauty matched that of a king’s courtesan or even matched the fables of Goddess Shor herself. The man turned his slender neck and gaze towards the prince. Valente embarrassingly gulped as to take away from his stares. He awkwardly searched the table for his spoon as he armed himself with it and ate the stew. He was not disappointed. The flavors were brilliant and exotic even though the ingredients appeared nothing more than tough meat and shriveled roots. Even royal chefs would struggle to achieve such immense taste with the castle’s stock at their disposal let alone the little scraps of a mining village. The heat of the meal enveloped the body as it clung to the ribs bringing strength to the prince’s tired bones. Valente could not restrain a deep and satisfied chuckle as he drained half the bowl in his first assault.

  “This is excellent!”

  The beauteous man bowed his head a fraction. The gesture inspired poetry into the prince’s thoughts. The man’s smile gleamed like a sun.

  “I am glad you are enjoying it.”

  A jealous twinge ran under Cass’s cloak and grew tight around her neck. The prince and the smith’s husband were sharing too long of a moment. She placed down her spoon as she turned her attention from the pleasant stew to the overly pleasant man. His charming demeanor and his quick turn of his gaze towards Cass caused the huntress to blush out of necessity. She fumbled out her words as she tucked her hands into her lap.

  “Thank you for letting us in. We appreciate it.”

  Gregor pulled the enticing gaze of the man away from Cass as the knight raised his utensil like a joyous banner.

  “Indeed! You truly are a caring and considerate man with a strong and kind wife!”

  The handsome fellow brought his small pale hands over his mouth as to compress the lovely laughter coming from it. As his soft chuckle subsided, his grin glowed passed his hands and onto his rosy cheeks. He lowered his hand to accompany the other in a firm clasp in front of his chest. His naturally groomed eyebrows rose as he addressed the group.

  “So, how did you come to our small little village dress up in clothes like that?”

  The kempt and inquisitive brows curved in concern.

  “I’m glad you made it here. If you were out there too much longer the night wind would’ve frozen you to frosty bits!”

  Gregor settled himself and his spoon down as he met the question with his fond smile and explained.

  “We got attacked by wolves. A whole pack.”

  The knight exaggerated with his hands sweeping the above the table.

  “They forced us away from our cart and our thicker wi
nter clothes. Almost got me as you can see by my clothes!”

  Gregor raised his hands up to the two sitting on the side of the table.

  “I’m just glad my son and daughter got out alive.”

  The man’s fluent locks drifted across his shoulders as he turned from Gregor and towards the two eating youths. His eyebrows continued their skeptical dance of intrigue.

  “Your son and daughter? I thought they were a couple.”

  A burning tide flushed the prince’s and huntress’s faces. Even Gregor’s smile twinged at the unexpected statement. Their host laughed at their sudden silence. The beautiful man ran a dainty hand through his wondrous locks as his titter subsided.

  “I am only playing the fool.”

  Gregor joined in with his bright smile and louder laughter as Valente and Cass sat indignantly between the laughing men. The glamorous host slowed his laughter. He brushed off the front of his tunic and bowed his head.

  “How silly of me. I’ve let you in my home and I haven’t introduced myself!”

  His shimmering hair lowered more. He faced each of his guests with a humble bow.

  “I am Elan! The simple husband of a wonderful blacksmith.”

  Gregor bowed from his chair creaking the floor underneath him.

  “I am Gregor.”

  Cass took her hands away from their nest in her lap as she curtly nodded.

  “Cass.”

  Valente almost lost himself in the bowl of stew and the embarrassment that burned on his face as he swallowed an inadvisable mouthful.

  “Valente.”

  Elan giggled with a bout of pleasure at his new acquaintances. As he nestled his hands onto his legs, he continued on with his questions.

  “We rarely see many merchants up here so close to season’s end. What were you trading?”

  A large clump of meat splashed Gregor’s bowl as he brought a new spoonful to his mouth. Valente and Cass tensed as they watched the knight lowering his spoon. Gregor smiled.

  “We were looking to buy. We needed some iron for our shop, but there’s a shortage. Seems like the king is buying up as much as he can.”

  Elan brought up his hand and nestled it onto his supple cheek. He nodded in thought. The simple action was lustrous causing Cass to bite her inner lip. She pulled her gaze away. Elan ran his hand across his jawline as he spoke.

  “I see. We’ve received a personal order from the Iron Stars.”

  Valente’s teeth met his tongue. Taste of iron invaded the flavors of the stew. Elan’s bright eyes darted over the three as he spoke.

  “A small group of them are staying here as we prepare a final shipment for them. They wanted our little village to prepare for them five ladened ore carts. For what I do not know. My wife would know more than I. She deals with them.”

  The mention of the mercenaries invited a trickle of dread to Valente’s meal. He swallowed his uneven mouthful. Elan’s observant eyes settled their attention on the prince.

  “Is everything alright?”

  Valente sputtered as he did his best to talk around the ill-swallowed stew and recent pain of his tongue.

  “It’s just very good…”

  Cass bit her lip harder punishing herself for the missed opportunity. Elan had gracefully inquired about Valente, and all she had done was watch. She was Valente’s guide. Cass looked into the bowl as she tossed head side to side in a quick shake.

  Why am I jealous of some man?

  A quick glance from Elan’s intense eyes at the edge of her vision startled the huntress and blew a quick answer over her question. Elan was gorgeous and handsome at the same time. Cass pulled back into her stew trying to focus on the meal.

  Elan’s perfected visage bore a blemishing crease along his brow. The air seemed to thicken as the man shot more gazes around the table. His inquiring eyes settled on the knight.

  “Gregor?”

  The knight’s grin sensed the unease as it half-retreated away alongside the spoonful of stew Gregor held.

  “Yes?”

  Elan’s eyes looked up and down Gregor and leaped over to Cass and Valente with a quick and scanning glare.

  “Your wife, what color was her hair?”

  Gregor could not find the answer, as the question brought up an indisputable point. A deep tension flashed across the table. Cass shot a glance towards the weapons they had left in the foyer. They were a couple meters away at most. Valente’s hand hovered over his empty hilt. If the Iron Stars were here, they could not risk raising the alarm. He did not climb up this mountain to be turned in so soon. Elan sighed piercing past the grave thoughts of his guests as he pushed off from the wooden table.

  “I don’t enjoy the company of liars.”

  The phrase coming from Elan brought on guilt regardless of the tension. Elan stood up tall and closed his deliberate eyes as though the action made it easier to be so direct to his guest.

  “By the way you reacted and the state you all arrived here, you are in trouble with the law. At the very least the mercenaries were asking about you.”

  Elan’s blemishing wrinkle flared as a vein of subtle anger popped beside it.

  “You best tell me why you’re running or I’ll not be harboring outlaws any longer.”

  Gregor placed his heavy hands on the side of the table and went to push off, but Valente intercepted him as he shot up in his stead. The prince’s outstretched hand beckoned the Liosian knight to sit down and settle in his chair. Valente bowed his head in humble regard to his host.

  “I apologize.”

  Valente pulled up from his bow.

  “Our intentions were not to deceive you, and for those lies, I hope you can excuse us. We are here because we are running.”

  Valente looked at his companions and shook his head. He turned to face Elan’s piercing and potent eyes.

  “I am wanted by the Liosian King. I can’t easily explain it, but he wants me dead. And despite all this, I must make it across the border to Tharia as soon as I can.”

  Valente’s eyes lowered to the table.

  “I did not mean to abuse your kindness or put you or your village in danger. We just needed help.”

  Valente stood for several heavy seconds before lowering himself into his chair once more. He had said what he needed to. Elan stood over them all in weighing silence. Even in his deep consideration, his image was statuesque and inspiring, but tension continued to boil beyond this. A bead of sweat formed on Valente’s brow. This man could prove as dangerous as his looks. Elan pushed his escaped strands of hair back over his ear and behind his shoulder.

  “I see…”

  Elan retook his seat sending a crashing wave of relief through the sea of tension. Time seemed to stretch on as the man sat in thought. The silence sending small shivers of stress throughout each of his guests. The strain that filled the room lifted for a moment as Elan lightly smiled and nodded to the prince.

  “You are welcome to stay here for the night. But leave early before the break of morning. The captain of the Iron Stars will come here then and I’m sure he will recognize the prince.”

  The three sat stunned by the revelation. Cass pushed her eyebrows further up in the surprise.

  “You knew?”

  Elan nodded as he gestured to the stupefied prince.

  “He fits the description. The captain mentioned it in passing. Something about a runaway royal.”

  Elan tapped the delightful point of his slender nose as he pondered.

  “A large reward and a king’s favor were offered for your return.”

  Eyes drifted once more to the weaponry placed in the foyer. Elan stopped his finger on a final tap on the peak of his nose. He nodded as a small and endearing grin grew on his face.

  “I’d never turn away such an honored guest,”

  Elan turned and curtsied at Valente,

  “or a fellow Tharian. Especially, when it’s my prince.”

  The news brought warmth back into the room as the flavorful steam of th
e stew built on the appetites again. Cass exhaled a thankful chuckle under her breath. It was soon drown under the reverberating din of Gregor’s hearty laugh. The knight smashed his fist against the table sending stray stew into the air. He picked up his spoon and pointed it at Elan.

  “You had us going there, pretty boy! A loyal Tharian among us! That’s a relief.”

  Elan nodded a dazzling smile to the knight. The man’s hair drifted across his torso once more. He turned towards Valente who lowered himself into his seat. His eyebrows and suspicions of the man remained raised. Liosian courts had taught him not to be so naïve. Elan brushed his hair behind his ear and noticed the prince still on edge. Elan pulled his sleeve backwards as he placed his arm on the table. As the cloth pulled back, a small charm dangled from his wrist. The elegant silver dazzled upon his skin. An old crest lay deep into the metal. The prince had only seen it a few times in the old tomes Arthan had brushed off and stacked onto the prince’s study-work. It was unmistakably the symbol of hope. A symbol of the ancient god Celestion. The stew swirled in Valente’s stomach. The marked metal was sacred in almost all sects and beliefs, yet rarely used or even more rarely owned. Only those marked by fate were considered allowed to carry them. Only those who were descendants of the Heroes of Old. A true Tharian would know this symbol would command respect from those who knew about it. Cass slurped on the stew.

  “That’s a beautiful trinket!”

  Valente winced at the disrespect, but his manner returned to him. A commoner like her could never know. Valente lowered his brow as his eyes collided with Elan’s. Liosian or Tharian, it did not matter. The gods blessed this man’s future and it would be unwise to oppose. Valente’s caution and distrust subsided as he turned to his stew. Elan smiled and turned to the huntress with a bright grin.

  “This little bracelet was a gift from my mother. Her gift and blessing from her when I left for Lios.”

  Cass involuntarily leaned in to absorb more of Elan. The graceful man smiled as he flourished his arms towards the two men.

  “See, I grew up near the Little Greene in a small village north. They call it Breev. An adorable little town full of large lumberjacks.”