The trees overhead were parted, giving access to the sun. The elf looked up before closing his eyes Wind stirred around them, as if calling to the man. A chill worked its way over Hugh’s spine as he glanced around the quiet forest.
A low sound began in the back of the elf’s throat. Hugh couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He reached forward, trying to calm him. “Easy. What are you doing?”
The sound only grew. Suddenly, another cry rang over the forest. It was a hoarse, painful call coming from the direction of William and Nicholas. The earl assumed it was Nicholas. The elf instantly began to scream as well, covering his ears as he fell to the ground. Hugh reached to where he normally carried his sword, but he had no weapon.
“What’s happening?” Hugh demanded. The elf only screamed louder. Backing away, he didn’t know how to help him. Turning, he ran for his brother, “William! William!”
Finally, Thomas thought, not for the first time since King Ean awoke him at dawn to look for his brothers. Waiting had been hard and he’d almost left the encampment several times. Only with no sense of direction, no weapons and no horse, it wasn’t prudent for him to take off on his own. He understood that, being immortal, elves and such did not feel the need for urgency. To them, a day was nothing out of their eternities. To a human searching for his brothers, a day was everything.
The horse he rode was thinner than the Bellemare stallions, but it was a fine animal that turned nicely and was light on its feet. In every way the unicorn mounts looked like mortal realm horses with brown, black and white coats and large eyes. The only difference was they had horns protruding from the top of their foreheads, tipped with sharp, deadly points. Undoubtedly, the horn would make for very useful weapons in battle.
King Ean and two of his elfin guards escorted him through Mystic Forest. None of them said how they knew where to go and Thomas didn’t think to ask. They’d given him back his sword and he reached to feel it as they rode, drawing comfort in its familiar weight.
Not saying a word, he followed the others’ example and took the mount by its horn. He lightly nudged it to the side, directing it to turn. The beast nodded its head, following the direction, and they rode on in silence.
“Ahh!”
Thomas tensed. The scream came from the distance, loud and harsh. He’d heard such noises before—on the battlefield after a fight, when men lay dying in agony. “Who is that?”
“Sh,” Ean waved his hand. “I sense Bellemare blood.”
“What?” Thomas thought of his brothers, dying and bleeding in the forest. He kicked his stallion, holding it by the horn to direct it toward the sound. He had no weapon, no magic, but it didn’t matter. His family was out there and he needed to save them.
“William!” Hugh yelled over the loud screams, looking for his brother as he pushed past the trees. “William!”
“Here,” William called. He pointed, directing his attention at Nicholas on the ground several paces away from him. The man rolled back and forth, holding his head. “I do not know what happened. One second he’s saying ‘bed’ the next he’s screaming on the ground.”
“It is the same with the other,” Hugh answered, his heart wildly beating. He was glad to see William safe, but didn’t let down his guard. “What’s happening to them?”
“I know not.” William pulled his robes closer. “Where is the elf?”
“Back in the forest. I did not want to touch him.”
“You wanted to save me.” It looked as if William gave a small laugh, but Hugh couldn’t hear the sound.
“Nicholas!” Hugh leaned over him.
The man turned at the sound, his green eyes red and the skin around them swollen. He screamed louder, moving his hands to scratch at his eyes. “I did it! I did it!”
Hugh grabbed the man’s wrists, wrestling them away from his face. Bloody trails were left over his cheeks where he’d clawed himself.
“William? Hugh? What is happening?”
Hugh turned, seeing Thomas swing off a strange horned horse. William answered, but Hugh couldn’t figure out what he was saying. The youngest wasn’t exactly the most helpful during physical skirmishes. Hugh tried to stand, but Nicholas thrashed and he was forced to hold on as the man flung his weight to the side, dragging Hugh to the ground next to him.
“Thomas,” Hugh yelled. Thomas was instantly by his side. With his help, they pinned Nicholas, keeping him from hurting himself.
“I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you,” Thomas said. “When that witch took you… Is this Nicholas?”
Nicholas managed to slip a leg free while Thomas was stunned with surprise. He jerked his knee, slamming it against Thomas.
“Ow,” Thomas growled, locking his leg over Nicholas’ to hold him still. Then, he put his hand over the man’s mouth, pressing down to muffle his screams. “My ears cannot take this noise. What’s wrong with him? How is he even here? Methought you said he was dead.”
The thundering of horse hooves prevented Hugh from answering.
“Ow,” Thomas drew his hand away. “He bit me.”
Ean rode up followed by two others. He instantly lifted his hand toward them, saying, “Whoa, calm.”
Nicholas jerked and went limp. Hugh pushed up from the ground. Thomas was slower to follow, shaking his hand. The sound of screams still penetrated from the forest where the elf lay. William hovered in the background, looking worried. Hugh wasn’t surprised. William wasn’t much of a fighter. He never had been.
“Thomas,” Hugh instantly hugged him. “You are safe.”
“Aye,” Thomas returned the affection. “I was about to say the same to you. What happened?”
“Long story,” Hugh said. Thomas went to William. The earl bowed to the king. “King Ean, I thank you for the safe return of my brother and for whatever you did to quiet Nicholas.”
“You must tell me this long story, Lord Bellemare.” Ean motioned him to stand.
“I would like to hear it as well,” Thomas answered. “I was sure you were captured by Lucien.”
“Aye, we were,” William inserted. “But then Lucien gave Hugh to Tania and she tried to trap him to her, but he would not hear of—”
“William,” Hugh interjected to get him to stop talking.
“Oh? Right, right,” William said, sounding mildly distracted. “My apologies, my manners are…” He stopped to bow to King Ean. “It is an honor, King Ean, my brothers have told me of your blessing on Bellemare, well to speak truthfully, I knew of the blessing and told them of the blessing, but they told me of you confirming the blessing.”
“William.” Hugh gave a small shake of his head to get him to stop rambling.
“Ah, right,” William said. “Pleasure, my king.”
Ean started to speak, only to turn to look at the surrounding forest. “Who else is screaming?”
“I do not know.” Hugh motioned toward where he’d left the elf. “William found Nicholas and an elf in King Lucien’s dungeon. He rescued them.”
Ean arched a brow and glanced at William, who was grinning profusely. “An elf you say? With Lucien?”
“Aye,” William and Hugh said in unison.
“Let us see if we cannot quiet him so that we may speak.” Ean began walking, his two guards right behind him.
“I would be careful, your majesty,” Hugh warned. “He speaks of nothing but blood.”
“Actually, he says nothing but the word ‘blood’,” William corrected.
“Right,” Hugh agreed.
Ean didn’t pause as he walked into the forest. Hugh turned to Thomas. “Tell me everything.”
“Actually, brothers,” Thomas glanced down at Nicholas, “methinks you’d better speak first.”
Ean trudged through the forest, glad to have found Hugh and William safe. He’d sensed them, but it had been a faint call and he didn’t want to tell Thomas they were close until he was sure. The man on the ground concerned him, as did the screaming man he now went to calm. Lucien’s dungeons
were a hideous place and it was hard to know what had been done to them while they were prisoners.
“My king, do you wish me to go first?” Laurent asked.
“Nay,” he answered. “I feel no danger.”
The cries became louder. Suddenly, Ean stopped, finding the man huddled on the ground. He lifted his hand to shower the poor elf with peaceful emotion when suddenly the man stopped yelling on his own. Dirty hands fell away from the man’s head and slowly he rolled, turning so Ean could see his face.
The king froze, unable to move. The man’s eyes met his, stroking a memory as distant as a dream but as real as his own hand. He couldn’t breath, couldn’t move.
“My blood,” the man said softly, his hand shaking as he reached out toward Ean.
Ean stumbled forward, falling onto the ground next to him. He took the elf’s chilled fingers. A tear came to his eye, as he whispered, “My brother.”
Chapter Nine
Lucien tapped his fingernails, deliberate and steady, against the arm of his throne. A great heat came from the center fire pit, illuminating the faces of the demons he’d summonsed to him. They filled his hall, awaiting his command.
Lucien let his eyes roam over them—so many hideous faces and even darker hearts. These were the pure breeds, demons spawned in pacts with evil, torn from their mother’s thighs as soulless beasts. There was no hiding what these creatures were, not like half demons or the possessed who could appear like another race only to conceal the truth inside where none could see.
Nay, these demons were pure. Some had gnarled bodies, ravaged by time and hate. Others were like corpses, their rotting flesh peeled off their bones. Then there were the daimon, demons with flesh as red as blood and eyes as black as night. Those were to be truly feared. For the red daimon had the greatest power, the utmost hate, the largest appetite for destruction. They were unstoppable once they set to a course, so long as they had the means to fulfill it. Their only weakness was that they were trapped in the evil fires of his palace. They could not live in the immortal realm for long before being called back and, like Lucien, they could never travel to the mortal world—none of the pure demons could unless they attached themselves to the soul of a mortal. The daimon couldn’t attach to a soul, for to touch a soul would be to kill it instantly.
“A new army will be raised,” Lucien said. “A powerful army that will march across all lands raining death and destruction like a torrent from the skies.”
“What kind of army?” a breathy, hairy lycanthrope asked, his fangs bared and dripping red.
“An army of half-breeds,” Lucien said. “An army of your sons and daughters. An army created with your seed.”
The statement got the excited reaction he expected it might.
“How might we do this?” a small, ghostly figure inquired.
Instead of answering, Lucien lifted his hand. He motioned leisurely to the floor, bringing forth a creature from the bowels of his dungeons—a tiny girl with long blonde hair and soulful blue eyes. When she smiled, the color of pale roses came to her cheeks. She was adorable, disgustingly so.
“Mmm, what a tasty treat,” the hairy beast said, drooling.
“This will carry our seed?” A tall, thin ghoul snorted in disbelief.
“She is the soothsayer,” one of his daimons snarled, putting out a hand to stop another from going forward to the child. The daimon bowed. “My lady.”
The soothsayer giggled, the sound of happiness sending chills over the hall. Following the red demon’s example, the other demons kneeled to the child, murmuring, “My lady,” in respect.
“Tell them, Anja,” Lucien ordered the child.
Anja smiled and curtseyed, gently lifting the skirt of her burgundy tunic gown. When she again stood, her eyes were filled with fire. Her voice rang innocently over the hall, happy and light, “I see a great ruler taking a dark throne. I see a great army of half-breeds marching through realms, conquering all races.”
“What half-breeds? Elves?” a daimon asked.
“Half demon, half mortal,” Anja answered. A series of grunts and whispers filled the hall.
“Mortals?” the ghoul asked. “How?”
“Magic.” The soothsayer giggled. “Dark magic. Fire magic. Strong magic.” She turned to Lucien, batting her now blue eyes. “And I see a dark prince.”
Lucien froze. She hadn’t told him that when they’d spoken before. The demons cheered. His gaze lifted up to the ceiling. Mia was in his bed, chained.
A prince?
“Now, let me go back down,” Anja demanded, like the spoilt girl she was. She stamped her foot. “I want to play with the prisoners. Let me play.”
Lucien motioned his hand, putting her back down into her playground in the lower dungeons. To his demons, he said, “You have heard the prophecy. I have brought you here for you are my most devious warriors. Contact your mortal priests and priestesses. The magic must be summonsed. Tell them to watch for the signs and tell your legions that any who father a half mortal child will rise in my favor. And, needless to say, I expect each of you to father a child of your own.”
A couple temptresses in the corner huffed at the comment.
“Or mother them,” Lucien amended. “My apologies, ladies.”
“Seducing mortals is easy enough.” A temptress bowed her head.
The group of women disappeared in a blink. Fire roared violently in the center pit, sucking the daimons in. A few ran for the door, others disappeared into a puff of smoke. He was left alone in his hall.
A dark prince. Anja saw a dark prince in his future. Lucien sat back on his throne, again tapping his nails in a slow and steady rhythm. Now that he was alone, he called the soothsayer back to him.
Anja appeared, her arms crossed over her thin chest and her lips in a pout. “I knew you would call me again.”
“What do I have to do?” Lucien narrowed his eyes on her.
“You are doing it,” Anja said, giggling. “Queen Tania. She is weak and she cannot find another to take her place. If you finish her, the faeries will join you or die. The faery rings will be left and they can call the mortals through. They will fall unsuspectingly into our world.”
“You said a dark prince,” Lucien clarified, though Anja’s words about Queen Tania were enlightening. He would pay her a visit just as soon as he was done with Anja.
The soothsayer laughed as she swayed back and forth, lifting one hand into the air and then the other as she danced. Lucien let music fill the hall. So long as she was happy, Anja would help him.
“You are doing what you need to do,” she said. “All will happen in time.”
Tania felt as if the floor spun beneath her in slow circles. Faces drifted by like a dream, but still she didn’t move. Her hands lay above her head and her legs sprawled out over the floor, stiff and straight. She stayed in the main hall, unable to find the energy to leave it.
Faeries came and went, sprinkling flower petals around her like she was already dead. She let them, hoping with each new visitor a worthy successor to her throne would appear. Tania told herself that is why she waited, why she held on to each breath.
One never came.
“My queen,” Lily whispered. “We found the old spell. It will tell us who should take the throne.”
Even though it was what she had to do, she still felt a pang of sorrow at the thought of ending her rule. This is not what she wanted. Worse was her sorrow over losing Hugh. She loved him, desperately, and she wanted him back. But just because that is what she wanted, didn’t mean that it would happen. Hugh had to want it too and it was clear he didn’t. Not once did he say he wanted her. Well, once, but he’d been under the euphoria of her pheromones.
“Should I cast it?” Lily asked.
Tania moved her eyes, unable to speak.
“All right, my queen, I will cast it. I will do it,” Lily said, nervously. “Roslyn, come, please.”
Roslyn instantly appeared.
“Here, read this
,” Lily thrust the piece of parchment at her.
“I…?” Roslyn hesitated, before reciting the ancient words to cast the spell by herself. Lily backed away, not helping her sister.
Tania watched Roslyn’s lips, not really hearing what she said. Suddenly a soft glow illuminated the parchment. Roslyn dropped it. The light moved, settling over Tania. She felt the tingling of faery power on her, but was unable to control it. Slowly the glow concentrated on her hips and disappeared.
“There is no one else,” Lily whispered. “The magic picked you, my queen. There is no one to take your place.”
“We are lost,” Roslyn said, stumbling back. “Lost. Queen Tania, what will we do?”
“The magic has nowhere else to go,” Lily continued. “What will happen to us, my queen? Please, what will happen to us? The magic will be lost.”
Tania wanted to scream with frustration. They were right. The magic was in her. She was the last faery queen.
“What will we do?” Lily’s cry echoed over the hall. Tania wasn’t sure if Lily was screaming at her or the other faeries. A low murmur of panic swept over her court. She couldn’t lift a finger to stop it.
“What will we do?” Lily repeated, falling down to rest next to the queen on the floor. Roslyn lay behind her sister, her cheek pressing against Lily’s so both faery ladies were staring at her. “Tell us what to do.”
“We need you,” Roslyn whispered. Tears welled within their troubled gazes. “If you do not tell us what to do, who will? We need a queen.”
Tania closed her eyes, unable to look at their pleading faces. She had never realized how dependent they really were on her and her magic. How ironic that the one time she took something for herself was the one time she was failing them. Was it wrong to want happiness? To want Hugh? Why couldn’t she have one thing for herself?
A cold chill swept over her and she felt the flower petals blowing. When she opened her eyes, it was to a dark, shadowed hall. Lily and Roslyn were no longer next to her.
“Such changes.” Lucien’s voice sounded moments before he appeared to stand above her. His feet were on either side of her hips as he leaned over to study her face. “You look beautiful.”
Faery Queen Page 16
