The Tuskan Prince (The Caine Mercer Series Book 2)

by Cale Madison

  “So why haven’t you gone to see for yourself?”

  “It’s not that simple, Caine. The forests of Avenwood sit between us and Gorgon, and the elves that live there despise humans. Think of us as petty thieves who stole their land. Our alliance with their king isn’t strong enough to allow even a hint of intrusion. Marching an army into their forest would be seen as a declaration of war. My hunch is not enough...I need clear evidence.” Darius replied, turning back towards the open veranda.

  “So you believe your son was kidnapped? By who? The giant?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. Could be the giant, could be a thousand bandits from here to Fortaare. No ransom note has been posted so I fear the very worst. Ask the chambermaids and cooks. I’ve tried all I can behind these walls. Ask Malachi’s valets, his fencing instructor and all thirty-seven of his servants and you’ll come up with the same information as me. Nothing. The only irregularity is that our House’s blade and some of my armor is now missing. I kept them on a wall mount in here.” he explained, nodding towards a glass case beside the hearth.

  I noticed the empty mount and studied it carefully. I then asked, “How does a child escape from a castle without anyone noticing? Did he not have guards watching over him?”

  “That’s what I find strange about it all. Malachi is a sleepwalker. Always has been. Many nights we’ve found him walking along the palace walls or meandering through the kitchens. To keep him from hurting himself, Isabelle and I lock him in his bedroom each night. Someone had to of let him out and showed him one of our secret tunnels that leads to the moors. That’s the only other passage in and out of the palace.”

  “Where does this secret tunnel end?”

  “The southernmost edge of the castle. It’s tucked away between two boulders. We built it as a means to escape in the event of a raid. I’ve checked and found nothing but a piece of red cloth. Here...” Darius said and then presented me with a shred of torn fabric, the same color as the cloak that Cassius wore the night before, “...this is all that we found down there.”

  I examined the cloth and then asked, “How will I recognize your son when I find him?”

  “He has blonde hair, like mine. It was long, the last night I saw him. He has my eyes - blue with a touch of green from his mother’s side. She’s locked herself away in our bedchamber, refuses to come out.” he answered, “I will pay you fifteen-thousand crowns. Twenty if alive and I will personally give you one of my estates here in Tuskan.”

  “Very generous of you, sir.”

  “Please find my boy, Caine.” the king said before turning towards the window, “I’ll not rest until he’s safe.”

  ***

  I spent some time questioning manservants and those who knew the young prince, personally. All of those in attendance the night that Malachi vanished had the same story: either he became lost climbing the castle walls or ventured too far into the concealment of the night. Many would benefit from kidnapping the son of a king; a stupid, moronic plan but the world is full of men who would call it genius. Skalige and I discussed the motives and options while we stood on one of Darius’s chamber verandas.

  The baron was dressed in Tuskan garb, a tight-fitted, red tunic with the Lockmour sigil. He appeared rather uncomfortable, fidgeting against the wall until I asked, “What are you doing?”

  “It’s this damned shirt. Can’t scratch my back without tearing it.” he grumbled as he relieved his itch on the cobblestone behind him, “I’ll never understand why the rich and powerful choose to wear such insufferable clothing. Tight and itchy.”

  I peered over the ledge and surveyed the courtyard below: thirty bowmen lined the outer walls, marching in designated routes while armored guards secured the vacant ward. Endless possibilities ran through my head; I imagined the prince creeping between the high shrubbery, narrowly evading the watchful eyes on the wall. I could not see how anyone could have crept past twenty men on post.

  “Perhaps someone nabbed him? Arrigon would pay a hefty amount of coin for that kind of leverage.” Skalige suggested. I shook my head, having already considered it.

  “Darius says that no notice has been posted, but it’s possible.”

  “So where do we start with this mystery? Where do we look now?” he asked. I folded my arms on the veranda railing and pressed my chin into my knuckles as I thought. A cool wind whipped through the air, reminding me of Mercia’s winters. The baron picked at something in his teeth before flicking it into the darkness.

  “Cassius wore a similar red fabric that Darius found in the escape tunnels beneath the castle.” I said, molding an idea inside of my head, “If we mention anything to anyone, we might close doors that need to stay open. We need to look in places that a soldier wouldn’t have considered.”

  “What’re you thinking? Interrogate the bald cunt?”

  “No, we ask Malachi’s friends or ladies in waiting...anyone who might have heard something before he disappeared. Tomorrow, come with me to Brunson. We’ll ask around in the village and the portside. Something has to come up.”

  After the baron left for his quarters, I returned to mine. Aketa lay asleep on the soft bed, exhausted from the days of traveling by ship with her eyes partially open. She only slept this way when she was truly tired: mouth half-open, drool puddling on the pillowcase and her hair matted on her forehead. This was when she looked the most beautiful to me.

  I sat down beside her and placed the palm of my hand on her freckled cheek; I could feel the warmth of her skin and the soft pressure pushing back as she clenched her teeth in her sleep. I wondered what she dreamt of. Did she dream of us? Did she dream of adventures and traveling the world?

  Draped around her still neck was her broken heart necklace, the completed half to mine. She always clutched it and held it close to her chest as a means to help guide her mind to a peaceful rest. I gripped mine in my fist, looking into the soul of my wife who lay there, vulnerable and yet impenetrable as ever. The softness of the silk bedsheets felt refreshing after sleeping in the baron’s ship. Her soft snores broke the silence.

  “I’m glad you came with me.” I whispered into her ear.

  She stirred but did not wake. I returned to my feet, then walked over to a table beside our bed to remove my clothes. The open window of our bedchamber welcomed a chilling breeze that blew the red curtains around, allowing me to better hear the packs of wolves as they howled from miles away. Their songs of loneliness echoed throughout the hills, sweeping across the sandy beaches to finally reach my ears. God, I missed this.

  “Do you always watch me sleep?” Aketa asked, one of her eyes opening slightly. I laughed and joined her in bed, pulling her warm body close to mine. I pinned her shoulders beneath mine and trapped nothing but heat between us, letting her feel the energy surging within my body.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not as interesting as you think.” I replied with a smile. She wiped the drool from her mouth, saying, “Clearly not. What did the King say?”

  “Details about the last night he saw Malachi. It’s strange, he found a piece of red cloth in one of their underground tunnels. It was the same cloth the priest was wearing tonight. I don’t know. It just feels peculiar.” I whispered, wrapping my arms around her breasts.

  “Don’t rule out any possibilities yet. I saw many servants wearing red too.”

  “You’re right.”

  “You always leap head-first to conclusions, dear. You’re impulsive. You won’t find the prince that way.” my wife said with a smile, “Remember when you used to sneak into my room, back when I lived with my father? You climbed two stories and over a barn to reach my window. You used to hold me like this. It’s nice.”

  “I remember all of the nights we made too much noise and he’d chase me into the fields with a pitchfork.” I replied, recalling the memory differently, “Never caught me, though. Always one step too fast for the old man.”

  “Hard to believe we’re honored guests in a castle.” she changed the
subject, pulling me close, “Who are we, anyway? Just two Mercians invited to stay at the Tuskan Palace. Alyssa and Tameria would lose their minds if they found out. I wish my mother could’ve seen this. My father wouldn’t have believed it.”

  “We’re definitely treading new ground for all Mercians.”

  “For anyone.” I said, twisting her blonde locks between my fingers.

  “Aketa.”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  She stirred, turned her head and replied, “I love you too, stupid. Where did that come from? Why would you say that out of nowhere? You must want something. Something vile, I’m sure.”

  “Just wanted to say it.”

  “I know you better than that. You always want something when you say it. You say it when I have leftover potatoes on the stove, when there’s not enough steak for the two of us...come to think of it, it always involves food.” Aketa whispered, coming to her own conclusions in her head, “Everything about you involves food.”

  “I love you, Aketa. That’s all. Goodnight.”

  “No, you don’t get to fall asleep after getting my thoughts riled up. Hey! Wake up! Don’t pretend to sleep, Caine, I know when you’re faking it. Nobody falls asleep that fast.” she snapped, rolling over to face me as I snored loudly.

  She thumped me on the forehead with her knuckle until I opened my eyes.

  “I’ll thump you back if you keep doing that.” I muttered, aggravated.

  She laughed, heartily and kissed my cheek.

  “I’m starting to think I’m in over my head here.” I confessed, “I’ve never tracked anything more than a wounded deer in my life. Besides the vampire, but that was mostly luck. They’re expecting me to find a prince and I don’t know where to even start?”

  “It’s not much different than trailing a deer, Caine. Follow the tracks from where they start and go from there. Improvise a bit. You’ve always found the does I never could. When the blood trail went thin, you always found the hoof prints in the mud. I believe in you, darling. Shut up. Don’t make that face. I’m being serious.” she smiled, unable to maintain her composure.

  “After the tunnels, the trail goes cold. Darius said so.”

  “I love you, stupid. You’ll find the prince. Now, stop thinking and love me.”

  ***

  “Where’s Aketa today?” Skalige asked as I joined him in the Grand Palace courtyard. He looked like a different man after spending a night with chambermaids and palace whores, not including the clean clothes and much needed bath. He had neglected to shave his pirate beard.

  “Good to see you’ve cleaned yourself up a bit.” I said with a chuckle, “She won’t be coming with us. She’s elected to eat with maidens and explore the castle instead of interrogating children and villagers.”

  “Smart for making her stay worthwhile. Did she say that or have you even told her?”

  I sighed, knowing that Skalige could see straight through a lie, “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. Rather than let her worry, I left a note in our room and a flower from the queen’s orchards.”

  “Not a wise move, my friend. Learn from experience,” he replied with a reassuring slap on my shoulder, “My wife would’ve boiled my cock if I slipped away without telling her first. She still trusts you. Don’t ruin that. As for useful information, I’ve learned from a few guards that, in the past week, two bodies have turned up outside of Brunson, butchered like pigs.”

  “Bodies? Who?” I asked as we began walking.

  “One was an errant from Arrigon and the other was one of the Tuskan Guard. I’ve tried connecting them but there’s nothing there.” the baron said with a frown, “The Arrigonian’s throat had been sliced open and the guard was fished out of the Aruga River, bloated with stab wounds. You don’t murder an errant sent by a king or duchess. That’s considered an act of war, should the killer be tied to the Tuskan military. Many people have gone missing in the past year, apparently. Too many to count. This is getting interesting.”

  We crossed the courtyard and reached the palace bridge, which extended for a far distance over a moat of dark, churning water below. I spotted several slender bodies moving, realizing suddenly that the churning water was actually hundreds of slime-covered monsters. Skalige noticed my inquiring glances and explained, “Wanna know what ol’ Darius keeps in the palace boat? Down there, mucking around in the water and mud...well, in the Isles, we call ‘em ‘water ghouls’ but these northern boys call ‘em by their real names, ‘alkimars’.”

  I could barely see the physical details of these creatures, only their thrashing bodies as they swam about in the muddy water. I could hear their hissing and snarling, as if they knew that we were talking about them. My friend winced as one of them pounced upon the other, nearly drowning it in the mud.

  “Filthy, vile creatures,” the baron continued to say, “but there’s a story to their miserable existence. People say that alkimars were once traitorous humans, cursed to eternal damnation by the Gods. It’s a sad tale, really. They hunger for flesh and blood but can’t breathe further than a minute from water. They look like us, but they are far from human.”

  “That might scare most from attacking his palace.” I said.

  “Scare most from leaving.”

  ***

  Gavin’s head swooned as the blonde strumpet climbed on top of him. He could smell a powerful aroma lingering in the air - a hue of freshly-cut roses and lavender. Her brown eyes met his in the light of the sun as it crept through a panelled window beside them. Around her slender neck, she wore a braided necklace made of river twine and string. She whispered into his ear, “What would you like, my Lord?”

  “Help me forget where I am.” he answered and watched as she smiled and bit her lip, seductively. His full, bushy eyebrows raised as she pulled him closer, placing his hands on her hips.

  The baths of the whorehouse released clouds of steam, which poured over the thin barriers between each room. Gavin felt her soft lips press against his neck, reminding him of past lovers and faded memories. The feathered pillow beneath his head was far from comparable to those found in the palace. As the woman returned to meet his gaze, he noticed a faint mark above her hairline. He then inquired, “Where’d you get that scar? That one, there.”

  “You’d rather hear about that?”

  “Scars reveal more about people than words ever could.” the lord replied, becoming fixated on her eyes, “What was it? Unsatisfied customer?”

  “I do have some semblance of a life outside of this place, you know.” she answered before straddling his waist and pressing his wrists together above his head, “My sister gave me this little memento, long, long ago.”

  “Play fight turned rough?”

  “You could say that...are you sure you want to talk about thi-”

  “Tell me what happened. I’ve paid for your time. We could sit here and shuffle a deck of cards for two hours if I wanted to.” Gavin interrupted with a smirk, feeling the soft touch of her fingers as she ran them through his short, black hair.

  The woman breathed a heavy sigh and continued kissing his neck as she explained, “We never had much money growing up. While our father was working, mother would make these little dolls made of old buttons and wool. The ones that she didn’t sell in the market would go to us. My sister wanted my newest doll and hit me over the head with a wooden plank when I wouldn’t give it to her.”

  “Over a doll?”

  “Exactly. Now, shh.” she whispered and placed her finger against his black mustache. Her bare breasts slid across his chest, knocking against a medallion that hung around his neck: the Tuskan crest, engraved in pure silver. When her attention became drawn to it, he asked, “Recognize this?”

  “My uncle had one of these. Something to do with the Tuskan Guard?”

  “See this, here.” Gavin said, pointing towards the crest’s dragon wings, “They say that Prince Dyrian the Sky-Rider once fought off ten thousand soldiers on a dragon’s
back. One of Tuskan’s most infamous tales. It’s the reason our sigil is the sword and dragon. You’ve heard of the Battle of Quato? You must have.”

  She shook her head as she began to ride him. She then moaned loudly as she felt him thrust inside of her.

  “That’s why the city is still a pile of smouldering shit to this day. Dyrian, son of the first Lockmour to take the throne, sought revenge for the assassination of his advisor. He learned how to mount and ride on the backs of dragons, then ambushed them as they slept. Rode in under the cover of moonlight and set fire to the whole damned place.” the Hand explained, gradually becoming lost in his own story.

  “No man can ride dragons.” she argued through heavy breaths.

  “Dyrian could. And he did. Destroyed the entire city in a single night. For some time, neither Ataman or Arrigon has dared raise a finger to us. Tuskan was untouchable.” Gavin said as he wrapped his arms around her waist, “We controlled the ground, the air and the waterfront for decades. He commanded tens of thousands of men in his army. What I wouldn’t give to have that kind of power...”

  “But all of the dragons flew north? Besides, that was years ago.”

  “Well, we live in a different time now. Control and strength were replaced with politics, wine trade and land negotiations. It used to depend on the size of a nation’s army...now the biggest squabbles are between vineyard owners. They don’t fear us anymore. That’s the problem. What are we if we’ve lost respect among our neighbors?”