by JD Cole
“Is she really going to be okay?”
“Yes, she should be. Thankfully, the faeries who manage to survive a leeching like that make full recoveries.”
“I thought he stole faery life force?”
“He does, but it replenishes naturally, except of course after death. I am not an expert, you would need to consult someone more knowledgeable on the matter for a comprehensive explanation.”
“But we’re immune. So he’s immortal –how does that work?— and he can suck the life out of faeries. Are those his only advantages? Is he tough to fight?”
“I would say immortality is advantage enough,” Lumina snorted. “However, he is very strong physically, very swift, and commands legions of undead soldiers.”
“Zombies? In my world, we tell stories of fictional monsters, people rising from the dead without any intellect, just violent instinct and a taste for human brains.”
“That is not far off,” Lumina frowned. “Necromancers create goblins that match what you speak of, except for the part about eating brains. But it is widely believed the Goblin King can create much more powerful creatures from the undead. He can use goblins as an extension of his consciousness. He has an unparalleled tactical advantage using them in combat.”
“Battlefield networking, terrific. Is there a way to jam his link to the goblins? Maybe Undine can help.”
“I doubt that, Hood,” the elemental whispered. “I can destroy goblins, but I cannot defeat the dark element.”
“Or maybe not,” Derek corrected himself. He looked at Lumina. “What is the ‘dark element’?”
“That’s what the mystics call death, as understood by necromancy. Magic has five primary, natural elements that can be manipulated for spellcasting: earth, wind, fire, water, and blood. The Goblin King somehow twists blood element, polarizes it to create an unnatural twin element that feeds on life rather than restoring and sustaining it. In the beginning, he was the source of the dark element, but he has apparently been able to pass the skill to a few of his most loyal sorcerers.”
“Okay, so we’ll need a strategy to counter his strengths. He’s gotta’ have vulnerabilities. Something, anything?”
“He does have a crucial weakness,” Lumina offered. “The reason he never leaves the Shadowlands is because he has a famously low tolerance for pain. His body is overly sensitive to injury, despite being able to heal rapidly like the queen. I have heard stories of a mere smack to his skin causing him no small anguish.
“We have video records of him battling our ancestors during the war. It has been well established that he cannot endure injury. He fears pain like we fear death. I shot him several times; the way he moved, I could tell that it was only his need to destroy the queen that kept him on his feet. It could only be that same need that prompted him to assault her in her own castle in the first place. I had to hold my fire when he took the queen’s father as a shield. That was when Undine saved me from his goblins, and he escaped before the sprites could counter attack.”
“Why does this jackass hate her?” Derek asked.
“Jackass?”
“Sorry, English word. I don’t know any insults or curses in your language yet.”
“Why he hates her so much more than the others, I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t really matter, I guess. Do you need to go to Tirapan to speak to the Dominion?”
“I believe I can arrange something with the mystics here in the castle,” the Paladin replied, relieved that Derek had not asked him directly whether he had a radio in a hallway full of sprites. It was believed most faeries didn’t know what radios were, and if so, the Paladin saw no need to create an interest in finding out.
“Could you get that ball rolling while I talk with this engineer?”
“Roll a ball? Ah, I understand. Ha. Yes, I will see about contacting Tirapan. I do not think the faeries will begrudge me warning my people that the Goblin King is on an apparent rampage.”
Lumina requested for one of the sprite guards to escort him back to Brevha Moniscii. Derek continued down the hallway, passing one guest-room-turned-cell, and finding Dr. Valentine sitting on a fine chair in the next. “Hello, Doctor,” he greeted, stepping inside. “We keep meeting like this.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Tom Ingram sat slumped on the stone floor of his cell. He had calmed somewhat, having been imprisoned now for about an hour, with nothing to show for it apart from a few scrapes and bruises. The cell was against the wall of a nightmarish chamber, full of items that could only be used for torture. The devil-looking thing that had attacked Kelli and abducted him had thrown him into the cell upon arrival. The monster then simply paced before Tom, muttering unintelligible things and pausing every so often to study him before finally leaving Tom alone in the enormous torture room.
~
Several more hours had passed before Ercianodhon finally managed to calm the panicked shaking from his ordeal. Where had that Paladin come from? Surely the sprites were not allowing the queen to sign new treaties with Tirapan already? Whatever the reason, the Paladin had been there, and he had hurt the King, badly. Ercianodhon had wanted tear the Paladin’s limbs off, but every movement had been a searing agony after being hit repeatedly by that infernal beam weapon those cursed humans all seemed to carry. And Undine! What was she doing there, in the guise of a human? Of all the times for the sprites to reacquire Veylsa…
Returning to the blood chamber, Ercianodhon growled and took another look at the pathetic human he’d claimed. This was not the prize he’d wanted, but the queen’s father was not worthless. The king drew Incerra from his wrist-sheath, turning the blade to study it in the light while darting his eyes to the human and back. There was little pleasure in unnerving the man, and he wondered why he had the urge to do it as he watched him shrink back in fear.
“What do you want?” the man shouted, but the king did not understand him. Not yet. There were several ways to rectify that, but only one that anybody would expect the Goblin King to use. He threw the dagger down, its blade piercing the floor as he summoned its guardian.
“Kirama!”
The two white pearls on the hilt seemed to blink, and an image of the red sprite child began to shimmer over the top of the weapon. Thanks to the curse he had placed on her, as long as the weapon was manifested, she could not run from him. Once Incerra had depleted the power he had fed into it, she would be able to hide the weapon again, but he would simply toss Kirama back in the dungeon until he had need to force Incerra out of her once more.
Her voice was soft, but determined. “What do you want, monster?”
The king pointed at his prisoner. “I should like to speak with him before I kill him and his daughter.”
“So cast a language spell,” Kirama muttered, turning her empty eyes to inspect the frightened man.
“That’s no fun. Come now, little one, what are my options? Surely you can come up with a more interesting method?”
She looked up at his towering form, a look of hatred on her face. “You can find an old, angry volcano and throw yourself into its depths. That might work.”
The Goblin King laughed, then pointed at the man again. “Bite his heart. Drink of his blood.”
Fear mixed with her hate. “You could just use the blade for that-”
“I want you to do it.”
“Don’t do this,” she whispered, shaking her head. She looked at the prisoner, her eyes watering with pity.
“You will obey me,” he said, his voice calm but firm.
The little elemental took physical form and walked to the cage, sliding her slim frame through the narrow gap between two of the bars. The man stood and backed against the wall. “What are you?” she heard him ask, though she did not understand the words. Yet. She stood level with his stomach and looked up at him. “I’m sorry,” she told him. Lunging forward, she sank her fangs into his sternum, and he screamed. He tried to push her away, but she was stronger and threw him to the ground, leaping onto
him to return to the wound she’d created. They wrestled violently, but her razor sharp teeth tore into him, and blood spurted until the floor, bars and walls were stained with it. The man finally ceased struggling and screaming, having no strength left to fight Kirama. She released him and scooted away, and heard him wheeze a single word. “Monster.”
“Yes,” she answered him, and he blinked at understanding her. His hot blood dripped from her lips, and shame filled her. “But I was not always a monster.” She turned to Ercianodhon. “I grant you power over his blood. You own him now! Let me heal him! Give me the command, I beg you!”
The king stood with his arms crossed, his great wings half-stretched behind him. His eyes moved between Kirama and the prisoner. He was tempted to taste the man’s pending death, but finally nodded. “I have his blood,” he acknowledged, pulling Incerra from the floor. “Make him whole. I still need him.” With that he turned and left the room.
Kirama immediately knelt over the man, placing her hand gently on the bite marks. She’d chewed right through the bone to get at his heart, unable to stop herself, compelled by Ercianodhon’s curse on her. “Forgive me,” she pleaded. “I know who you are. I’m supposed to be protecting you,” his eyes began to flutter as he lost consciousness, “but this is all I can do for now.” The damage she had done to him began to repair as she forced every drop of healing magic she could muster into him, pulling him back from the brink of death. “Sleep,” she whispered. Sleep, she thought to herself, not daring to mindspeak where Ercianodhon might hear, my fool master does not know what I know of healing. You humans are allergic to blood magic. You will sleep for a very, very long time. My master will soon mutilate you to harm your daughter, but I have managed to do this small duty for the True Throne. You will suffer no more.
I pray I have the strength and cunning to help the queen at least as much.
« CHAPTER 14 »
Diplomacy
“We are in a land of faeries.”
“Yes.”
“With magic, pixie dust, unicorns, the whole shebang.”
“I haven’t seen unicorns yet,” Derek admitted. “But I can’t imagine they’d be more impressive than the Dragons I’ve met.”
“Right.” Dr. Valentine pinched the bridge of her nose, sucking in a deep breath. “So you want me to believe a fantasy?”
“You wanted me to believe you were being sexually assaulted.”
“That was a huge mistake,” she looked down at the ground, quite obviously traumatized by the memory. “I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. And,” her voice became timid, “I wish you could unsee that. I wish I could go back and undo that whole stupid plan. Even if it sort of worked. Almost.” She tugged absent-mindedly at her shirt before crossing her arms with a shiver.
“It’s where our feralmen come from,” he said, changing the subject. The woman was beet-red and clearly uncomfortable talking about what happened that night. He figured that was punishment enough for her idiocy and let the matter drop, and her expression confirmed she was grateful for it. “Apparently in our history there were times when faeries and humans got romantic, and sometimes humans wind up inheriting magic powers, even generations removed.”
Dr. Valentine sighed. “And Kelli Ingram, a Hawaiian coed who, as far as I remember from intel reports, was an ordinary girl until she got a plane with you, she’s the Queen Faery, and she defeated the genocidal extra-terrestrial that we needed to interroga... question you about.”
“Nice catch, double-oh-seven. The queen had help, but yeah, you got the basic run down.”
“What I got is a headache,” Valentine retorted. “Not that any of this makes sense, nor do I believe any of it, but in the interests of moving forward, what is this proposition you have for us?”
“Is it the case that Mr. Tritt takes his orders from you?”
“That’s not quite how it works. We’re still making it up as we go, and I’m not what you would call military-minded. But I suppose as far as strategic planning goes, I would be the advisor he comes to when they need intel or perspective.”
“If you’re not the decision-maker,” Derek stood, “then I’m talking to the wrong person.”
“The decision-maker,” Valentine stopped him, “doesn’t decide anything before talking to me. And I can’t advise him if I don’t have any facts to work with.”
The Hood studied her face for a moment, recognizing the familiar look in her eyes. Knowledge was her opiate and nutrition, just as it was for him. He could see her mind working out further arguments to convince him to tell her whatever he was going to say about his proposition. Derek decided he would rather talk to an engineer than a soldier. The war-talk would come soon enough. He took a seat once more, noting the relief on Valentine’s face.
“I need to make something very clear first,” he opened. “I do not trust you. None of you. I met with you in good faith, and again you tried to capture me. That,” he waved his hand to cut off her protest, “is why you were all taken prisoner. I can be a valuable ally to you against aliens, or I can be an enemy who will make your life more difficult than you can imagine.” He held up two fingers. “Third strike, and you’re out. Understand?”
The petite woman nodded.
“This does not make us allies. The proposal I have leaves all the chips on my table, because if you do not do exactly as I say, none of you will ever go home. There is no truck, no boat, no aircraft that can reach this place. The sprites are the only ones who can send you home.”
“Where are we?”
“The Faery Realm.”
“Where?” She demanded, more forcefully. Derek looked down and away for several moments, during which Dr. Valentine believed he was simply contemplating her demand.
The Hood looked up at Dr. Valentine with a subtle nod. “Humanity will probably find this place within the next century. They can’t get here now, but in a few years there will be a mission launched from the lunar base, and that will open the floodgate for travel-”
“Mars? We’re on Mars?” Dr. Valentine stood, regarding her surroundings again. Then her eyes narrowed, boring into the Hood. “No, I don’t believe it.”
The Hood spread his hands. “I really don’t care. You asked, I answered. Denying it won’t make it any less true. But the fact is it doesn’t even matter, because even if you manage to get out of this castle, you can’t leave, period. You don’t have the means. Go ahead and find out for yourself if you want, but helping the sprites is your only way out of here.”
“Then take me outside.”
“Excuse me?”
“I will agree to whatever you want, but first you have to take me outside. Show me where I am, John Carter.”
Crap, Derek thought. How could he perpetuate his lie? Dr. Valentine could see that his eyes narrowed as his mask mimicked his expression, but she could not know it was less out of suspicion than angered frustration at what he knew he had to do. “Give me a minute,” Derek said, then stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind himself.
“Undine,” Derek thought at the elemental, cursing himself for needing to call on her and her magic once again.
“Yes, Master?”
“How well do you understand mathematics?”
“I would judge my knowledge to be minimally basic.”
“Then that’s no help. Nevermind-”
“However, if I had your permission, I could share your understanding of any given subject.”
“How?”
“We are bound. I can share in anything that is you, Master, just as you can share in anything that is me. Your skill, my magic, your knowledge, my experience... I can even share in your physical pain or pleasure. This is how I acquired your fighting skills. But I have given my word not to intrude into your mind, and I will not unless you ask it of me.”
“You would retain all of my skills and knowledge if I shared them?”
“Only for as long as you are alive. When a binding breaks, the elemental reverts to
their natural state. I will remember my time with you, but I will become as you saw me the first time we formally met, frightened and desperate to bind again. None of your skill or knowledge will remain with me.”
“So you reset to factory-default, huh? Okay, what if I shared one specific skill with you?”
“The math you asked about?”
“It won’t be just math, per se, but yes.”
“That is possible, I suppose, though I have never needed to limit myself like that before.”
Derek quickly weighed the gamble he was taking in even considering to trust Undine, but decided that he needed to protect the faeries, and protect Kelli, from humanity. Quickly, he returned to Kelli’s temporary triage room, just in time to see Dufangen and Brevha leaving.
“Counselor?” the mystic turned to his voice, enacting her language spell.
“What is it, Master Hawkins?”
“Um,” he winced at his name. “Would it be okay if you just called me Hood? Especially around the other humans?”
“Certainly, my apologies. Could this wait? I have a matter of some import to attend.”
“I can get the human prisoners to aid us, but I need your help. As a condition, they demand to know where we are. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them anything, in fact, I lied. I told them we are on the planet Mars.”
The sprite and mystic both raised their eyebrows.
“I can cement the deception, but I’d need to let the senior people outside to do it.” He elaborated on his scheme, but Brevha and Dufangen both took several moments to decide they would allow his request.
Derek thought at the elemental again. “All right, Undine, I give you permission to take the knowledge and skills I am focusing on right now, to use as I instruct. But nothing else.”
“I will obey, Master.”
With his plot shared out to Undine, Derek refocused his attention on Dr. Valentine and the deal she’d just offered him. I will agree to whatever you want, she’d told him. He would never offer a blanket agreement like that without even knowing what he’d have to give up in return. But then again, he remembered this woman was an academic, not a diplomat or a leader. She was in over her head. He momentarily held her in contempt for what he viewed as epic stupidity, but quickly brushed it aside with the satisfaction that he’d won this round.
