Lost Prince

by M. A. Roth

  “Be careful where you walk or I will gladly make sure you never walk again.”

  Tristan’s threat is uncalled for. If he was in a pub from where I came from, he would be making threats the whole night. The man sobers from fear. He’s just an old drunk.

  “Tristan, you made your point,” Mirium says, his voice holds no warmth like it usually does when he addresses Tristan.

  Tristan lets the old man go aggressively and the man scurries off before any harm can come to him. He looks back to make sure he isn’t being pursued and falls over some empty wooden crates that lie outside another alehouse. He gathers himself quickly and takes off again at full speed.

  Tristan sheathes his knife and continues to walk as if nothing happened.

  We move quietly through the settlement; Mirium had told us not to draw any attention to ourselves. Tristan is doing a great job at keeping a low profile. We keep moving through the small village until we come across stables—they will shelter us for the night—and the sky rumbles with a warning of a weather change. Up to this point it has been dry and a warm breeze keeps us warm.

  I’m eager to lie down and sleep so tomorrow will come quickly. The straw actually looks inviting, and no one is around at this hour. Still, we had to take watch and I volunteer to take the first as everyone picks an area to sleep in. No one disagrees with me so I settle near the door of the stables.

  Mirium settles himself not far from me, maybe worried I might drift off, but his eyelids soon shut closed. Tristan is checking all his weapons, extracting them for examination and then re-strapping them onto various parts of his body. Once he seems happy that he has all his weapons, which in my opinion is overkill, he walks past me.

  “Where are you going?” I ask. He looks like someone who is ready to pick a fight.

  Tristan stops short of the threshold but doesn’t turn around. “Just to check the area. I won’t be long.” He raises the hood of his cloak as he leaves the stables. I’m tempted to stop him and ask him what’s happened but I let him step out into the rain. I hope it cools his hot head.

  The rain makes its way in the door and I move further back to protect myself from its cold and harsh impact. It is coming down in buckets and still there is no sign of Tristan arriving back.

  Noise outside the stables makes me go still. I stand and creep to the side where the wooden slates allow me to see out.

  I can see a big hairy man leaning against a young woman; they stand under a small shelter at the side of the stables.

  “Oh, come on, Dea, a few minutes in the stables and I’ll buy you a drink.” The man pulls the woman closer. She doesn’t look afraid but seems uninterested.

  “You know my rates, Saul,” she says, swinging her full body into him.

  His eyes grow wilder, hungrier. Great, a prostitute. I just hope she is a hard bargain and they leave. If they enter the barn, they might not notice us, but I wasn’t up to listening to their activities.

  The woman runs her hand along Saul’s chest until it touches his private parts. He grabs her waist angrily. But the woman shakes her head. She’s brave to play games like that but Saul drops his hand from her waist, his eyes darkening. He seems to be losing interest.

  “A beer and that’s it.” He spits on the ground beside her, letting her know their little conversation has come to an end. She walks off in the sultriest way, shaking her hips and leaves Saul alone. He growls in frustration and follows her. That was a close call. I wait until they are completely out of view before I return to the door.

  Where the hell is Tristan? I stand by the entrance for a few moments longer; throwing my eye on Mirium’s and Alana’s sleeping forms. I don’t like to leave them unprotected but I’m only going to take a quick look to make sure Tristan hasn’t run into any trouble. Is that really all or is it jealousy of seeing the likes of Dea around? I shake that thought off. No, I’m just concerned.

  I move along the stables until I can see the burning of candles in small windows that light up a small portion of the ground. The rest sits in darkness, except for pools of rain water that reflect some light.

  It doesn’t take long before trouble finds me; five men stand in my path. Saul is amongst them. I put my head down against the rain and hope they will let me pass. No need to panic yet, I tell myself. As I draw closer, Saul steps closer, his fists hanging at his side. Rain has soaked the men, but they don’t seem to notice or care. I stop a few feet away and look up as they circle around me.

  “Are you lost, lass?” Saul asks. He doesn’t look as if he has drunk anything. “Give us all your money and you can be on your way.”

  “I don’t have anything,” I answer honestly.

  Saul removes a small dagger. “You don’t want me to mess up that pretty face, so do as I say.”

  The others tighten the full circle around me, barricading me against escape. Their breaths fill my breathing space; alcohol hits me like a slap in the face… along with the knowledge that drunk men are dangerous men.

  “I said give me your money now!” Saul warns me one last time.

  I look around, trying to see if I can spot anyone, but their large forms block my view. I try to relax my racing heart and feel for my dagger. I had to keep it together.

  “I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you, except…” my stomach turns as I mimicked Dea’s actions, running my hand aimlessly along his chest, but that’s as far as I go.

  Saul laughs. “You don’t interest me.” His face turns into a snarl as he grabs my wrist, bringing his knife closer.

  I’m out of options. I slide my knife with my free hand out of my waist band. A large hand tightens around my other wrist. I turn to the man behind me. He squeezes my wrist until I drop the knife.

  “Not so fast,” his words are hissed close to my ear. The sky lights up with lightening and a rumble rips through the night. I feel it vibrate deep within me. I wasn’t sure how to use my so-called powers, but there was no time like the present. I look at Saul and raise my hands slowly. I let the fear of the situation become alive on my face.

  “Okay, I’ll give you everything I have,” I say.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SARAJANE

  I keep my hands held high and Saul gives me a toothy smile before he turns to his comrades as if to say now that’s how it’s done.

  “Good choice,” Saul says, still smiling. I feel the storm build up inside me, as well as around us. The rumble of the thunder roars overhead, giving a deafening crash. The men jump as the lighting flashes across the sky. The storm is growing angry now.

  Saul lifts his knife again to my throat. “Hurry up!” he shouts as the storm continues to grow. The tip of his blade cuts me, releasing a singular red droplet of blood. I will the lighting to strike, and it does, three feet away, causing the men to fall with the impact. Two of them run for their lives, but when Saul looks up at me from the ground, his eyes hold suspicion. So much for going under the radar. But he isn’t done. He rises and makes a leap for me. His large meaty hands tighten around my throat. I react quickly and stamp on his toe hard. He yells but doesn’t loosen his grip.

  I reach up and try to yank his hands off my neck, but I can’t make them budge. Instead, I reach for his eyes and push them in with my fingers. He screams and lets me go as lighting strikes beside him, blasting him off his feet. My chest tightens as I look down at his unmoving form. He slowly opens his eyes and stands while shaking his head, as if to make sense of what is happening. The next fork of lighting strikes his friend, whose screams are covered by the loud rumbles of thunder and the crack of more lighting. The smell of cooked flesh fills the night air. The men lie on the ground, convulsing. Saul races toward me and hits me with as much force as possible into the face, knocking me to the ground.

  I can feel the gush of blood from my nose, and my head swims from the impact with the ground, but I fight to stay conscious. I feel the storm leaving, moving on, as I lose contact with it. Rolling my head to the left, my dagger lies only a foot away. I sta
rt to crawl each movement has my stomach heaving, my vision tilts and I fight not to pass out.

  “Running away are we? Had your fun?” Saul’s voice is right above me. I look up as he makes his way towards me, rain pours down on top of him. He hasn’t seen my knife; he thinks I’m trying to crawl away. I continue to crawl and when I reach the knife, I lay my body on top of it. Saul’s heavy foot comes down on my back, pushing my face into the soaked ground. He lifts his foot off me and grabs me by my head of hair, forcing me to look at him. My hand feels for the knife and I tightened my fingers firmly around it.

  Saul’s hand tightens around his own knife, and he brings it to my face.

  “I’ll mess up that pretty face of yours.”

  His snarl twists his face and I know I need to act now. I drive the knife into his foot that’s planted beside me. He screams and there are no rumbles of thunder to cover his cries. My head lulls back as his grip falters. A figure moves toward us swiftly and quietly, the person’s face is covered by a hood, but I know who it is. I could identify Tristan anywhere. His movements and build are too familiar to me. He silences Saul by snapping his neck in one brief movement. Saul’s body hits the ground. Tristan removes my dagger from Saul’s foot and races the few paces to me. His arms wrap around me as he pulls me from the ground. My head still spins and warm liquid rushes from my nose and drips down my chin onto my rain-soaked clothes.

  Tristan’s grip tightens on my waist as he half carries me towards the stable in silence. Tristan’s grip on me or his footing never falters as we move along the shadows. My face aches and shivers assaults my body I’m not sure if it’s the cold or the shock. Once we reached the barn, Tristan finally stops and spins me so I’m facing him. He holds my face gently and uses his cloak to wipe the blood slowly off my face.

  “You are so brave,” he says, as he pauses cleaning my face. His jaw clenches as he continues cleaning it.

  My heart swells at his words and I smile, but immediately I wince at the pain.

  He studies me for a bit longer, his eyes telling me he wants to say more, but his mouth remains firmly closed as he continues to clean my face gently.

  Once Tristan is happy with cleaning my face, he brings me into the barn and sits me down.

  “Wake up.” He hovers over Alana, who’s eyes snap open she’s up and ready for action. Mirium stirs.

  “What happened?” Alana reaches me and I try to wave her off but I hurt everywhere. “You need clean clothes.” She leaves me and my eyes meet Tristans. I want to thank him for saving me but I’m soon faced with his back as he tells Mirium what happened. Alana listens in as she helps to get me dressed.

  “There is no need to leave. We can’t. Morrick won’t know where we are,” Mirium says, as Tristan demands we leave now. His agitation has him pacing the barn like a trapped animal.

  “When they find the bodies, Mirium, they will search for us.”

  “We need to stay calm. They have no evidence anyway, and if they come too close, we will move then, but I think we should stay here for now.” Mirium seems to get through to Tristan.

  Tristan nods slowly in agreement but he isn’t completely happy staying in Gaul.

  We settle in, no one asks anymore questions and I can’t stop thinking about what I did. How I really controlled the lightening. The more I think about it, the more I feel maybe it hadn’t been me. I toss and turn as Tristan takes first watch sitting at the door. I try to fight the sleep as long as I can, but it finally captures me and drags me under.

  The next morning brings the knowledge that we have gone unnoticed the whole night. Tristan isn’t happy; he thinks it is odd that no one is searching for whoever killed the men. I cringe at the word ‘killed’ It was self- defense, but I know he means that, so I don’t linger on his words. Staying in the barn is getting the better of us, it’s too small of a space to breathe in.

  “Maybe someone knows something in the town?” Alana says, before glancing at me. “I think me and Sarajane should go in and see what’s happening?”

  I don’t want to stay in the barn, but I really don’t want to go into the town. Is Alana crazy?

  “No!” Tristan barks.

  Mirium raises a hand. “She’s right. We need to know what’s happening, and two women won’t draw attention like we would. It’s best we know if anyone has alerted the authorities, then sitting here thinking about it.”

  Alana smiles and hooks her arm into mine. She doesn’t do anything else until Tristan nods his head in approval at her. We move for the door. Tristan’s gaze trails across my face as he steps closer to me. I can see he doesn’t want me to go. “Open your hand.”

  I do as he asks and he places coins in my hand. “Buy something so you don’t look suspicious… and please don’t go too far.”

  I nod aware at how softly he’s speaking to me in front of Alana and Mirium.

  The town is different the next morning, with no signs of last night’s deeds visible. The streets are busy with trade of all sorts—fresh baked goods, fruit and vegetables, jewelry, all colors of clothing, even an array of weapons. I take a stroll with Alana, making us look like two women out buying goods. The children who run around are clean and clothed, laughing as they run through the stalls annoying traders. There are no signs of the dirty children from last night.

  I spot Dea from last night, her body is fully covered as she moves through the stalls. I hide my face as best I can, not that she saw me last night in the barn, but just in case.

  She doesn’t seem upset or fazed that one of her customers is dead. She hums to herself while gathering fruit from the seller.

  “What’s wrong?” Alana asks as I hide my face.

  “Nothing.” I gave her a look that I will explain to her later; the vendor is looking at us suspiciously, as if we might be thieves. I quickly pick up a dagger and place a coin in his hand, one that Tristan had given to me.

  We leave, weaving through the growing crowds. A lone stone structure rises in front of us. There are no walls, each side is done in a large arch, and white candles sit on every step that rises up to the concrete floor.

  I look at Alana. “What is it?”

  She looks as curious as me. “I don’t know.”

  We make our way toward the small building. Everyone seems to be moving around it, as if it isn’t there.

  Nobody approaches the steps. I make my way up quickly with Alana following fast on my heels. It’s a small room that is open on all fours; the steps come in every direction. Large candle holders lay all around the room in the center sits a large concrete slab. On top lies a body of an old man. Nothing protects him, yet he looks as if he’s alive.

  Footsteps sound behind me. I fire a quick glance over my shoulder; it is Dea, and she kneels down at the concrete bed and blesses herself.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want to leave abruptly and draw attention to myself. Alana stands across from me on the other side of the concrete bed; I catch her eye and raise an eyebrow.

  “Was he close to you?” Alana asked Dea in a kind voice.

  Dea looks up as if we have materialized out of thin air, she gathers herself and clears her throat, forcing down a sadness that is promising to spill.

  “Yes, we were close. I hope one day we will be close again. It was a long time ago, but they say the soul always remembers.” Dea smiles, but it doesn’t touch her eyes. I’m surprised at the sweet sing-song tone to her voice, the sultry and inviting voice that she had used last night is gone.

  “He looks like he’s asleep,” I say, speaking my thoughts aloud.

  Dea glances at me. I hold my breath, but no recognition shows in her eyes.

  “He is asleep; he has been for nearly a hundred years.” Her eyes narrow with suspicion that she diverts between myself and Alana. “You’re not from around here?” Dea rises off her knees.

  “No, were just passing through,” Alana says as casually as possible.

  I decide it’s time to leave now. I’m tempted to bless mys
elf, but I’m unsure of their tradition here so I rise and turn away. My face connects with a solid wall of flesh. I crane my neck back until my gaze clashes with Tristan’s. His lip tugs up into a grin.

  “I was looking for you and Alana,” he says softly.

  Alana appears beside us as I step away from Tristan and his attention leaves me as he looks to Dea, and gives her nod. Dea’s face blossoms with colour and she stares at Tristan. Immediately I want to stand in front of him and block him from her searing eyes. A hand circles my wrist and Tristan leads us from the small building. His movements are slow as we move down the steps but there is an air of urgency surrounding him.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask as we weave our way through the growing crowd.

  “They’re looking for us,” he whispers without turning his head to face me. He releases my wrist when we are forced into a single file with the growing crowd. I glance over my shoulder to make sure Alana is behind me. She is.

  Mirium is waiting for us in the barn, all our small bags are packed and ready to go. Without a word, Tristan hands us our bags and we slip out of the small village and back into the doom and gloom of the mountains.

  Once we are out of ear shot, I ask what happened.

  “They only noticed that the body had a stab wound to the foot. Before that, they were putting it down as a freak accident in lightening, so now they are looking for the person responsible. So there was no point hanging around to be caught.”

  I let out a wavering breath. The image of Saul and his men convulsing on the ground has my stomach turning sour. I push the image aside as we continue to trudge through the mountain until the light gives way to the dark. Mirium stops and leans heavily on his staff; our steps start to slow. Sometimes we forget what age he is. I take off my knapsack and rest beside Mirium, giving him some water.