Fallen Princeborn: Chosen

by Jean Lee

Darra’s dress is torn from ankle to hip, exposing one bombshell gam. A strip of her train, torn and almost jewel-less, slithers about her arm like a snake.

  Keller steadies his breath, smooths his face.

  But his eyes, still upon Charlotte…they contain such bottomless depths of vengeful, raging cold…

  Charlotte’s heart pounds, pounds against Keller’s knee. Charlotte stares at Darra hard while the Voice presses upon the bellows. You’re ready. Rose House is ready. We just need that moment—

  Keller looks over his shoulder. “Never. Laugh. At me.”

  “Why?” She sends the strip slithering along the ground and around Charlotte’s legs. Dammit! But I’m quick, I will be quick. “Pathetic bastard like you—”

  Keller lunges at her, hands on her throat pressing her against a tree in a flash.

  The ground beneath Charlotte cracks open. Charlotte flips as she falls, tearing the strip from her legs. She hits the tunnel running, the ground not even yet fully carved to reach the lakeshore.

  “CHARLOTTE!” Keller’s arm punches through the closing earth, and he tumbles in, the light shining upon his head, shadowing his face, a shadow stalking her again, a fucking shadow—

  “Back off, or get buried!” Charlotte yells over her shoulder. Rose House complies, filling the tunnel with earth between Keller and her—

  —burying her, if she doesn’t outrun it—

  The crimson mountain rolls up and ROARS, but Liam flies round the sound and rakes the beast with his talons. He looks down at Dorjan brushing feathers off his coat while Vincent loses a fight to mangled thorn bushes. He screeches at Dorjan and jerks his head.

  “Oh pfft, you’re doing fine.” Dorjan calls up to him.

  Bearnard spots Dorjan.

  Charges.

  “Shit!” Dorjan launches into a slide, leaving Bearnard to a mouthful of grass. He transforms and slides again, but too close to Arlen, and both fall upon each other.

  Treasa flips. Dives.

  Liam folds his wings. He cannot get high enough to cut off his mother’s plummet…No, by Charlie I will NOT fail. I will singe the grass with my breast feathers and crack the air with my speed as I turn up—Liam arcs up just over Arlen and Dorjan’s bodies and rolls, exposing his talons to his mother’s, grabbing those talons, and jerking those talons as hard has he can beneath him, hurling her into the ground.

  But Liam loses control in the force of this throw and lands among the tree line. He transforms, struggles to catch his breath. Treasa rolls upright, flanking one side of Arlen while Bearnard charges upon the other. Dorjan growls, lunges for one of Bearnard’s legs and grips it tight, but his flank’s exposed, and Bearnard’s jaws are wide—

  Liam races, bringing his blood sword to bear as he goes, but Treasa lifts herself, readies to crush Arlen in her talons—

  Arlen takes one glance at Treasa. Runs for Bearnard. Blood sword pointed forward while Bearnard’s distracted to bite Dorjan’s flank, he drives his sword cleanly into Bearnard’s shoulder. Some of Bearnard’s teeth tear Dorjan’s flesh, but he reels back before a lethal bite can be given.

  Arlen pulls the sword out, swings it under his other arm and right through Treasa’s leg. Both mighty princeborns fall into clouds of dust, emerging with bleeding flesh.

  “So proud of our father’s skills,” Bearnard froths more than ever, clenching and unclenching his ringed hand as blood spills down over it. “And look where those have gotten you.” His ring wails with panic. “Eternally imprisoned, living with certain death. You’ll never escape this place, not while my embers burn!”

  Arlen smiles behind his blood sword’s flame. “I still have Cairine.”

  “WHERE IS SHE?!” Bearnard’s ring shrieks higher than it’s ever gone, and Liam transforms in time to grab Arlen before heaven’s strike lands upon him. The strike cuts the ground open like a wound.

  The wound bleeds black oil.

  The lake the lake the lake

  Roars and paws blast through any dirt Charlotte escapes. Keller is a bear, and that bear is so strong he cannot be buried alive.

  This is just a little terrifying.

  But sand begins to trickle down the dirt ahead of her, and at the first hole of light Charlotte jumps with hands outstretched, grabbing whatever ledge she can to hoist herself back to the surface. The ground’s ridged behind her where Keller pounds forward, relentless, roaring—

  “CAPTAIN!” Charlotte screams just as a silk snake wraps around her throat. Dust rains down, and Darra hits the ground as Charlotte’s lifted, choking, legs swinging wildly.

  Darra pulls out her blood dagger. “I felt sorry for my pets when Vincent gutted them for breakfast. But you,” she kisses the delicate curve of her blade, “I haven’t a drop of pity for you.”

  Green luminescence spirals out of the water and wraps tight around the lower half of Darra’s body. She screams, giving Charlotte the chance to whip out her bone knife and slash the fabric free. It fizzles into gold and silver dust upon the sand.

  A bear’s paw shoots out and clamps down on Darra’s arm. Keller’s head emerges, oozing sand from between his teeth. His ice-eyes blink away the grit, see Charlotte. He rises out of the ground like a Halloween ghoul.

  Sergeant breaches the surface, kelp hair still knotted back. “About time you found your way here!” His voice may struggle in the air, but not his strength. He takes long, steady pulls upon the net, tightening the slack. Darra attempts to transform, but hardly a talon appears before fireworks erupt around her, shocking her to stop.

  “Keller!” she screams, her elegant blood dagger stabbing the sand.

  Six nautili pop up out of the water with riders, with seven guards floating around them. Captain leads them, bone spear high, chainmail gleaming. “Your kind is a welcome sight, princeborn.” she calls. “Our sovereign will be keen to speak with you.”

  “Dry up, you fucking pollock!” Darra stabs again, but the ground’s too loose, and Sergeant begins to drag. “Keller!” she claws the sand with her free hand. “Help me!” She tries cutting the rope with her dagger but is only shocked in return. Her feet enter the water.

  Keller ignores her. He pulls out one back leg with his gaze fixed on Charlotte. She staggers back—too little shoreline, dense forest around, path blocked.

  “Come to the water!” Captain dismounts, hand outstretched to her. Charlotte takes a few steps in—

  “CHARLIE!”

  Charlotte’s breath freezes. She clasps her ring, sensing panic from Liam, but dammit I can’t SEE.

  Charlotte takes one look at Captain. Shakes her head. Kicks one of Keller’s front legs out from under him as she runs back towards Rose House. Darra screaming, “Get back here! Keller, help me! KELLER! KELL—” Silence.

  Blood stinks up the air so badly that Charlotte gags as she runs, nearly tripping and rolling into Vincent.

  He stands just a couple feet away, with a charred gash across his chest and arm, blood dagger drawn. “I dunno what it is about you that drives Keller mad,” he says, swaying back and forth. “You’re just veli in meat. And I’m still hungry.” He licks his upper lip as his hair falls about his face.

  Charlotte growls. “Outta my way.”

  Keller roars. A sea-scream snaps unseen trees at Charlotte’s back, and they crack, crashing to the sound of Keller’s thunder. Liam’s forward, Charlie, focus forward—

  Vincent stalks a step closer. “You’re gonna taste real good.”

  Charlotte thrusts forward, blocks his clumsy swing with the blood dagger, and spins around him to drive her elbow into his neck, her knee into his side. Left cross to temple. Down.

  A windchime sounds from the lake—Captain talking? Charlotte can’t tell. She spits on the the ground next to Vincent. “I ain’t got time to bleed.”

  The Voice in her heart groans.

  Vincent rolls upright just as Keller’s bear stomps onto the path.

  The windchime sounds again, but this time several join and form words above the din: “H
e’s coming!”

  “GONE!” Charlotte calls, bolts, doesn’t look back as the ground shakes beneath her.

  A chorus of sea-screams shreds a column of trees on either side of the path. Trunks shatter and fall behind Charlotte, around Charlotte, muting Keller’s roars and Vincent’s weak screeches.

  Something black whips through the sky above Rose House. Its bud-shaped head drips oil.

  Shee-it.

  The Hisser’s bud breaks through the ground first, sniffing. A low cicada buzz fills the air.

  Liam runs to Dorjan’s side. Dorjan transforms with a burst of dust and curses, and no small wonder—his leg’s mangled. Not severed, but there’s no way he can run without serious healing.

  Treasa staggers to her feet, hands at her hip. “What is that?” she says hoarsely.

  “Your signal to leave,” Arlen says, “if you still wish to live.” His eyes grow steely upon the crack. “Get Dorjan to Rose House,” he calls to Liam.

  “No you bloody well aren’t! I can fight!” Dorjan tries to turn Liam around. “See these pointy things?” He waves his fingers around. “Damn, forgot my claws are gone.”

  Bearnard only laughs. “Leave now when this friend comes to kill you? Perish the thought.” He flicks his blood at the tip. “Come along now, little friend, don’t be shy.”

  A forked tongue peeks out. Licks Bearnard’s blood. The buzz slows.

  It responds. Considers. This is not like the hunt and strike of the Wild Grasses.

  This is different.

  Treasa’s eyes widen. “Bearnard, let us finish this another day.” She reaches for him, but he slaps her back.

  “No, woman! Not when I finally have them cornered.” Bearnard watches the oily bud emerge, larger, larger, even larger than he. “Yes, beautiful, beautiful! And you thought my ring weakening. Clearly it has found new strength in this land. We must tell the other Houses and encourage them to visit River Vine to increase their powers. For a price, of course.”

  Liam gets Dorjan across the threshold and cries, “Charlie!” but hears only silence in return. He grabs his ring, feels her strength in its metal, her anger... “CHARLIE!”

  “The lake, remember?” Dorjan heaves himself towards the stairs. “Dammit, man, do something about this, will you?”

  Liam nods. Better she stays at Captain’s side with the portal for escape. He runs into the garden, scraping his feet as he slides to a halt before he crashes into Darra’s servants—these loathsome gods cannot even treat their own humans with respect—and throws himself at the foot of the garden bed where a clump of goldenseal’s survived the rose butchering. He wrenches the plant out, knotted roots and all, stands to run back—

  Wings flutter above him—Vincent’s returned, talons out, wings stretched high behind him—

  Liam doesn’t hesitate. He dives into a roll before Vincent can catch him, grabs his blood dagger as he rises to his feet, turns just as Vincent does to face him, with a wing of fire narrow and quick upon its target. It strikes the hawk Vincent upon chest and wing, knocking him to the ground.

  Dorjan’s torn the remnants of his trouser leg off. The thigh’s a bloody mess, skin in strips, muscle exposed with blood and veli dribbling onto the floor. Liam’s neck aches as he swings his head back and forth from Dorjan’s leg to Arlen standing on the veranda. He tears the seven-pointed leaves to spread them and the roots best as he can about the leg, pressing their little white flowers into Dorjan’s wound. Dorjan pants heavily but does not flinch.

  “Liam.” The name on Arlen’s lips chills both young princeborns.

  Liam spins his blood sword from one hand into the other, transforming it to a dagger for the healing, and runs to the door.

  Arlen stands upon the stoop beneath the portico staring at the forked tongue hovering a foot away from his face.

  It vibrates, its cicada noise loud enough to mute Bearnard’s cries. “Get him! GET HIM!” Yet the tongue never comes beneath the portico. It seems to taste the air, looking for something, its search taking the tongue away from Rose House. It bobs, down and up, back towards Treasa and Bearnard. “No, NOT me, THEM! They’re in there, sitting ducks, you stupid plant!”

  Liam slides across the hall floor to allow Arlen entry and begins the Gaelic the moment his blood dagger touches Dorjan’s skin. Water trails down from Dorjan’s blue eye as he howls, but he keeps the leg still as Liam does the working as fast as he can. Arlen backs up enough to glance into the dining room, spots a half-empty carafe, and takes a swig before pouring the rest down Dorjan’s throat. “You need any veli you can get right now.”

  The ground trembles as Liam finishes the spell. He joins Arlen at the doorway in time to see the bud jut into the sky, ten, twenty, thirty feet. The Hisser whips back and forth, raining its poison upon the clearing. Some drops fall upon Treasa’s arm, burning her. “That is not your ring’s doing, Bearnard! Find Keller so we can get out of here!”

  But Bearnard’s pale from blood loss, his giddiness echoes in his laughter. “My ring will sing you up to the very heavens! We’ll see what the Celestine make of you, my lovely”

  A squelching pop, and four needle-thin fingers poke out of the thorned vine at their eye-level. The fingers pry the split farther, farther, and more fingers worm their way into view. When the slit is long as a sword, arms follow the fingers in a choked, halting movement.

  From the oozing poison coursing beneath the skin comes a face, torn and crooked, framed by oiled knots of hair Liam is certain were white once upon a time.

  Orna.

  What remains of her.

  “Constantine…” The mouth does not move, yet the whisper echoes agains and again. “Constantine…”

  The patio doors blow open from behind Rose House and splinter as a chorus of sea-screams sails through the air. Debris strikes the back wall in a million places, but only one part flails, laughing and flying through the doors, sliding into the kitchen’s blue arch.

  “Holy SHIT, did you guys see that? The Stellaqui took out a huuuuge chunk of trees!” Charlotte totters into the hall, shaking noise and leaves from her head. All shaking stops when she sees Dorjan’s leg, the thorned vine outside. “Aw double-dog dammit.”

  A roar erupts from the leveled part of the woods. The white-fired bear lands upon the patio, swats the human carcasses aside like bugs. He transforms as he walks, teeth still grinding as he kicks what remains of the patio doors out of his way.

  Liam shoves Charlotte towards Dorjan, braces himself just in time to catch Keller and roll him onto the floor. Keller crooks his leg in between their bodies and kicks, sending Liam flipping, but Liam’s not let go, and they both tumble out of Rose House. Arlen grabs at Liam but gets Keller’s fist instead, sending all of them falling into a heap in the clearing.

  “Constantine…” A new forked tongue floats lazily from Orna’s mouth hole.

  “What the deuce is the matter with this thing?” Bearnard shakes his ringed hand. “Come now, take the House of Constantine my son has placed at your feet!”

  A strange, sticky sound—flesh, peeling. The forked tongue splits four ways and slips into the grass.

  Treasa cries out in disgust and rushes over to the huddle, hands sharp around Liam’s collar. “Come with me, Liam, at once! Listen to your mother, this is not your way to die!” She shakes him loose, her own hair flying about her face. “I’ve such glorious plans for you—”

  “No!” Liam jerks himself free and holds his dagger between them. “I have chosen my family, and I will stand by it until my dying breath.”

  “Constantine…” The whisper slithers around Bearnard, Arlen, Liam, Keller. The cicada buzz blends with the sssss moving through the grass towards the men. Three spread out, blades drawn, while one shakes his ringed hand for a song.

  52

  Constantine

  Charlotte stands with Dorjan, his arm around her shoulders. “Where the hell did that thing get Orna’s face and arms?”

  Dorjan tries to put weight on his injured le
g and fails. “She had them in the Wild Grasses, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah, but no, she had them after…” Think, Charlie!

  The tongues shoot up. They split and split until they become nets, sickening webbed clouds raining oil wherever they float.

  “Constantine…” The nets fall.

  Liam, Arlen, and Keller all lunge and strike the tongues from behind, leaving the nets writhing in the grass.

  Bearnard is not so fortunate.

  It falls upon his arm. He screams, calls up a wailing note from his ring to snap one of Orna’s hands. The net sucks onto the ringed hand and spreads its oil, sticking Bearnard’s fingers together, coating the sad ring with goo… “Treasa, get this blasted thing off!” He cries.

  Goo…AHA! “The atrium, that thing got Orna’s parts in the atrium!” Charlotte shouts.

  Arlen and Liam share a look. “Where else does one kill a weed?” Arlen says.

  “At the root!” Liam chimes in.

  Oil rains down.

  They look up.

  The bud has opened to reveal six petals lined with thorns into its utmost center. The bud spins one way, another.

  Strikes.

  Arlen slashes two petals, barely stopping the thorns from piercing his legs, while Liam sends a wing of fire behind the bud, severing it from the vine. Oil erupts, and it’s all they can do to dodge the poison.

  “Keller, for Aether’s sake, get me free!” Bearnard cries.

  Keller runs to his father and slices through the tongue-net spreading to his father’s feet. But the oil on Bearnard keeps sucking him together, preventing him from wriggling free. “What is happening? What is happening, Treasa?”

  Treasa remains on the fringe, silent, sneering. “I told you to leave. You did not listen.”

  “Get me out of this, woman! NOW!” The oil touches his chest, and Bearnard arcs back in pain.

  Oil stops spurting from the vine. The vine merely peels back, revealing a new bud of six thorned petals.

  The severed bud rolls onto the ends of its four remaining petals like feet. The thorns begin to push out, covering every inch. The severed tongue-nets creep upright like spiders, skittering quickly towards them.