How to Save a Fae (Heir of Dragons Book 2)

by J. A. Culican

  Alla gave the chain another tug, nearly knocking Minx off balance. “She attacked numerous soldiers. I've had her bow and arrow confiscated. Your orders, sir?”

  “You've done well, Alla,” replied the hunter, regarding his prey with a chuckle. “I know this one—a talented little Fae she is. In fact, last I met her, she was hanging around with you, wasn't she?”

  The half-Fae lowered her gaze, troubled at his questioning.

  “I'm glad you finally came to your senses,” continued the hunter gruffly, taking the chain from her hands. “We're going to have some fun with this one.” He nodded to the tent entrance. “Tie her up out there, good and proper. She's crafty and we don't want her escaping. Then, when you're through with that, Alla, I'll need you to head out on a dragon hunt. Bring me one of those scaly things—big or small, I don't care. It could even be a common hatchling. Understood?”

  Alla nodded, still unable to meet his piercing gaze. “Yes, sir.” With that, she took Minx's shoulder and guided her silently out of the tent, toward the fire.

  Minx was urged to take a seat on the ground, and the chain linked to her shackles was attached to a thick stake, which was them hammered into the earth. She had limited mobility as a result, and would only be able to take a few steps in any given direction before she ran out of slack. Testing the chain and finding herself unable to pull the stake from the ground, she chuckled darkly. “You're pretty committed to making this as convincing as possible, huh? You didn't have to hammer it in that hard, you know?”

  The half-Fae drew away from her, glancing at the tent nervously. “I'm sorry, Minx. I have to go for a bit. I'll be back, though.” She spoke under her breath, in a whisper that was barely louder than the stirring of the breeze or the popping of the fire.

  Sitting in the grass with her knees tucked up against her, Minx studied the shackles on her wrists, searching for vulnerabilities she could exploit. Finding them well-made, she lowered her arms and sighed. You know, this may just have been the stupidest idea ever, in retrospect. It doesn't feel like I'm any closer to winning this war. It feels like I just walked into an obvious trap.

  Alla slipped out of the camp, doubtless on her way to complete the errand the hunter had tasked her with. Would she really go out and hunt a dragon on his orders? Alla, despite being half-dragon herself, didn't seem to share Minx's attachment to the stubborn creatures. A chill ran down her spine as she wondered whether Alla would run into Kaleb in the wild—and whether the half-Fae would seek to hunt him down. She put the thought out of her mind and tried to soak up the heat of the fire, instead. It would do no good to worry; she'd put her own trust in Alla, after all, and Kaleb could take care of himself.

  She spent several minutes staring into the raging campfire without a word, and only looked away from it when she found the hunter exiting the tent. The barefooted savage, armed with a bow and full quiver, looked to her immediately and whistled at his men to get their attention.

  The entire camp fell silent, turning to the steely-eyed chieftain.

  “Alla brought us a gift—a Fae huntress, of all things!” The hunter motioned to his Zuscha henchmen with a grin. “I'm sure you remember her, don't you? She was quite the thorn in my side.” Taking an arrow from his quiver, he gingerly nocked it and took aim.

  At Minx.

  Without warning, he fired the arrow, which swept past the tongues of flame and whipped the campfire into a momentary frenzy of sparks. The shot streaked toward her, and Minx only avoided it by rolling aside. She dove onto the ground and fell into a barrel roll—though she didn't get far because of the chain keeping her tethered to the stake. Stopped violently when she ran out of slack, Minx's eyes shot wide open and her heart skipped a beat.

  “We're going to play a little game with this new friend of ours,” announced the hunter. “Place your bets, lads! We're going to make the Fae dance and see if she can avoid every shot!”

  The mass of ruffians all around her clapped and clamored, gathering around the fire to watch.

  Minx gained her feet, ready to spit a torrent of insults at him.

  The hunter, though, brought a grotty finger to his lips before seeking out another arrow and taking aim. “I wouldn't speak, if I were you. You'll need to focus all of your mental energies on moving those little feet of yours!”

  The Wuffs and Zuscha hollered and laughed, breaking into claps, stomps and bawdy songs while the hunter took his next shot.

  With no alternative available to her, Minx staggered to the left, her wrists still bound, to avoid it. The arrow sank into the still-warm grass where she'd been seated only a moment ago, meeting the ground with a jarring thwack. Another arrow came flying before she had time enough to find her bearings, and it was through sheer clumsiness that she fell to her knees and avoided being pierced in the neck. Every shot brought with it great hoots and peals of laughter from the assembled warriors, though she could scarcely hear them for the pounding of her pulse.

  The hunter, for his part, was very careful in his aim. If he wished to kill her outright, Minx presumed it was within his power. She'd fought against him before and knew he was more than capable with the bow. Even so, his shots proved again and again to fall just short of their mark. He seemed to allow Minx a modicum of wiggle room, knowing which way she would dive to avoid his attacks, and would then delight in seeing his predictions come true. He did not join in the singing or mockery, but simply took one arrow after another from his quiver with an eerie calm. His stony eyes never seemed to change—to blink, even—and his movements remained unhurried.

  Minx was panting, wrists raw for the friction of the shackles, by the time the hunter had gotten his fill of this cruel game. She watched as he lowered his bow, the quiver now empty, and leveled a wicked smile at her. “What a good sport!” he announced. A few of the Wuffs complained loudly that the huntress was still standing, and he quelled them with the promise of more entertainment in the future. “Don't worry. She survived this time. I applaud her. But next time, I'll shorten that lead a bit.” He grinned. “Maybe she'll be able to catch the arrows with her teeth!”

  The Fae huntress was left by the fire, drenched in sweat, as the group dispersed and returned to their respective places. The spot where she'd earlier been sitting was now riddled with arrows, and she plopped down amongst them, furtively yanking one from the ground and inspecting its tip. It proved to be an arrow of quality; the well-hammered steel of the tip had kept its shape. With great care, Minx snapped the shaft near the arrowhead and quickly stuffed the sharpened portion, a few inches in length, into her boot. Later, if she found some time alone, she'd be able to use the arrowhead to pick the lock and free herself, if Alla didn't come through for her.

  With the hunter back in his tent and the other warriors carrying on amongst themselves, Minx was utterly ignored. She remained by the fire, arms draped over her knees, studying the sky. I wonder where Kaleb and Mau are. She hoped to see the dragon soaring overhead, wished to watch him swoop down from the black clouds and lay waste to this camp with one of his signature fireballs. No such shape appeared, however—there were only thin clouds crawling against the tapestry of dark sky.

  More than an hour passed before Alla returned to the camp. She climbed the hill from another direction and passed briefly into the tent, ostensibly to report her progress. From there, she exited the tent and went rummaging around in a small sack she kept tied to her waist. “Here,” she said, kneeling beside Minx and offering a handful of food. “It isn't much, but... please, eat.”

  Minx had been offered a large crust of stale bread and a water skin, and she grabbed them up without the least hesitation. Tucking into the bread like a mad woman, she fought past its staleness and scarfed it down within minutes. The water skin, too, was promptly emptied. Her stomach seized, shocked at the sudden infusion of food, and she handed the water vessel back to Alla with as contented a sigh as such a meager meal could inspire.

  “I found the amulet,” said Alla, taking a seat near the
fire and pretending to warm herself. She watched the nearby warriors closely, and only spoke when she was certain none of them were eavesdropping. “It's not good.”

  Minx waited a moment before responding, and when she did, she made sure not to look directly at Alla, lest they appear to be engaging in unsanctioned conversation. “What's the problem? Is it not here?”

  “Oh, it's here,” was the half-Fae's reply. “But the hunter... he keeps it around his neck at all times.” She paused, looking at the arrows sticking out of the ground. “It won't be easy to take it from him. In fact, it may be impossible...”

  Minx snorted, giving her chains a little jangle. “Take these off of me, give me my bow and I'll show you what's possible.”

  Alla looked deeply into the fire, her cloudy eyes seeming pained. “I'm sorry. For everything. You see... I'm being pressured into this.” She spared Minx a quick glance, but then looked suddenly away as a Wuff wandered by. A few moments later, she continued, “I'm being pressured into helping the hunter... into helping Torrent. I have no choice. The amulet won't allow me to disobey. I can't even run from here. I've been under its sway for so long I can't resist it. I know that's no excuse, but... I'm sorry.”

  “I see...” The Fae huntress sat on these words for a long while. “So, what do you plan to do about it? Will you live like this for the rest of your life—a slave? Or will you fight?”

  Alla had no response to this question. After an uncomfortable silence in which she ran her scaly fingers through her long hair, she said, “We'll be breaking camp at dawn. We've only been here since nightfall, and tomorrow we plan to reach our destination. There's another large contingent of Torrent's forces a little to the east. When we've met up with them—and possibly Torrent himself—we plan to make another run on Pandling Grounds with any other warriors we find along the way.”

  “You don't say.” Minx stretched out in the grass, tonguing her molars. “I guess there isn't much time to lose, then. I need that amulet.”

  The half-Fae nodded. “Please, Minx, get some rest for now. I'm not sure when the opportunity will arise for you to take the thing, so use this time to relax, if you can. We'll march come morning.” She stood and wandered briskly from the fire, disappearing into a small tent on the other side of the hill.

  “Relax?” Minx muttered to herself, peering about the ground, still littered with arrows. “Fat chance...”

  As she'd earlier suspected, Torrent's forces were more organized than the Fae had given them credit for. The Wuffs and their dark allies had suffered a stunning defeat during the great battle, and bands of roving stragglers had committed themselves to further attacks in the weeks since. In the background however, much was being done to rally a new force—to stage a new offensive against the Fae.

  And unless Minx was successful in interrupting their tactics, the Fae would likely lose this battle.

  Meditating on what Alla had told her—on the half-Fae's inability to resist the call of the amulet—left Minx ill at ease. She hadn't yet seen this promised amulet. Did it even exist? Had Alla bluffed about the existence of such a thing only to lure her into custody without a fight? Alla wouldn't do that, would she? She claims that she can't resist the pressure that's being heaped on her, but... what if someone put her up to this? She sifted through memory, trying to recall her most recent interaction with the hunter. Was he wearing it? She was uncertain. She hadn't been looking for an amulet around his neck while he'd been emptying his quiver; her only concern then had been survival.

  Unless she saw the amulet herself—and took it personally from around the hunter's neck—these doubts would continue to linger. She wrapped her arms around her knees and loosed a long sigh. Come morning, they're going to march me out of here. And if they do, it's possible Kaleb and Mau will lose my trail. She watched the fire narrowly and hoped she would soon be presented with an opportunity to glimpse this much-discussed amulet. To know that it was real, that her presence in the camp was worthwhile, would have brought her great comfort.

  It fast became clear that she wouldn't be getting such an opportunity any time soon, however. All about her, the camp fell into stony silence. The mutterings of Wuffs and Zuscha became scarce, and the whole mob was gradually overcome by sleep. She looked to the hunter's tent, sensing no movement there.

  They're all going to sleep, she thought.

  Perhaps she'd have to consider making her own opportunity, then.

  Chapter 11

  The Wuffs and their savage leader were too occupied with their own rest to much pester her throughout the night. A few of the watchmen kept an eye on her from time to time, but when they were sure that Minx wasn't attempting to escape, they relaxed and left her alone. With so little going on about the camp, she fell prey to her own fatigue. Her eyes grew heavy as she awaited an opening; she canvassed the hunter's tent and the activities of the night guards between brief lapses into unconsciousness.

  Alla remained in her tent the whole night; whether she was sleeping or engaged in some other work remained to be seen. The hunter, after having his fun with her, had not left his tent again that night—though warriors occasionally ventured inside, presumably to report off to him.

  The Fae huntress was nodding off in the warm grass when she felt a familiar voice reaching out to her from a distance.

  Minx. Are you there? Can you hear me?

  She sat up with a sharp inhalation, her tired eyes shooting open. Clearing the sleep from her face, she panned about the camp.

  The words had not been audible.

  Rather, they'd come through her mind.

  Mau? Minx peered up and down the hillside excitedly. Is it really you? You can speak again?

  Yeah, the Wuffs put another one of those collars on me. Kaleb helped me remove it. He's not so bad, I guess—and he managed to sniff his way out here, following Alla's scent.

  Minx laughed to herself. I thought he might! I'm so glad you guys are here. Things at this camp have been difficult. I don't know where to begin.

  How about you start by explaining to me why you thought this was a good idea? demanded the Faelyr. When you surrendered to Alla, I wasn't really sure what you were doing. Was it worth it?

  Minx hesitated. Well, I'm not certain. You see, Alla informed me of this amulet that the hunter is using—

  The hunter? interrupted Mau. The hunter who was hanging around with that group of dark Fae?

  Yes, that's the one. Minx peered narrowly at the hunter's tent, as though expecting him to emerge at any moment. He's in possession of a special amulet—an amulet, I'm told, which allows him inordinate control over the races. Alla is being compelled by the amulet to comply with the hunter's orders. Torrent's, too. If we can swipe the amulet, we'll be able to throw a wrench in Torrent's plans. You see, this group is planning to march at sunrise. They're going to meet up with another force and stage a new attack against Pandling Grounds. It's possible Torrent himself might be at this meet-up spot. So, I want to take the amulet. Doing so will disrupt their strategy and possibly make it more difficult for Torrent to control his forces.

  Excellent, replied Mau. So, where is this amulet? Have you seen it?

  I haven't seen it, said Minx. And... I've been told that the hunter wears it around his neck at all times.

  Oh... Mau was silent for a time. What is it with you? You always have to do things the hard way, don't you?

  Minx sat upright, carefully plucking the arrowhead from her boot and preparing to pick the lock of her shackles. What are you planning to do? Are you going to crash the camp? If Kaleb can shift, I think he'll be able to handle these guys. I just need to break out of my shackles and find my bow.

  That's right. Kaleb plans to swoop in and rescue you. All we need is for you to get ready. You're chained up, aren’t you?

  Minx slid the arrowhead into the locking mechanism and began turning the edge of the broken shaft in her fingers, like a key. Not for long, she promised. The pins in the lock clicked as she worked the arrowhead, and wit
hin a minute she was able to loosen them. A few more clicks and they'd been noticeably widened. She easily pulled her wrists out of them and gently lowered the shackles to the ground to avoid making a racket. I'm ready when you are... Just help me get ahold of that amulet before we leave, will you?

  Waiting for Kaleb to make his move, Minx sat attentively, her arms held low to keep her bare wrists out of view. She surveyed the scene, looking at the crates and wagons full of supplies strewn about the camp. Her bow and quiver had been placed in a leather pack—Minx recalled watching Alla hand it off to a stout young Wuff to carry.

  Are you guys on your way? chanced Minx.

  You can expect us any minute now, promised the Faelyr.

  Sure that she wasn't being monitored, Minx rose to her feet and crept away from the fire. She darted behind a wagon full of goods and began rifling at once through a pack of weapons. It didn't take long for her to find her bow and quiver—along with enough spare arrows to top off the latter. Strapping the quiver to her back, she preemptively nocked an arrow and hid behind one of the large tents, waiting for Kaleb and Mau to arrive.

  She only had to wait a few moments.

  The dragon shifter's arrival was announced by a brief yelp. One of the night watchmen, evidently catching sight of an unauthorized presence marching up the hill, called out in a gruff voice—only to be promptly cut off by a strike to the throat. It was the cry of another Wuff, stationed near the hunter's tent, that alerted the rest of the camp to trouble. “H-Hey, who goes there?”

  Minx slipped out of the shadows and dropped him with a well-placed arrow before anyone could answer him.

  The fight was on.

  Kaleb stood on the far side of the hill, elbows-deep in a brawl with the amassed night watchmen. From his rear, Mau suddenly ascended the top of the hill, snarling at the Wuff battlers who were stumbling groggily from their tents. Their approach had been silent and efficient, leaving the Wuff horde unprepared. Soon, though, the Krah camping on the hill opposite would surely take notice of the commotion. Speed was of the utmost importance.