The Fugitive Prince Page 15

  This was not some lost monument to the gods. This was a memorial for one Hero of Old. Cass sat up and stretched out the rest from her muzzy limbs. In her expansive motion, she moved her head to the left. A body of a slumbering prince sprawled itself on the other bench. One lazy arm dragged against the stone floor as most of the rest of the royal limbs spent their time attempting to build a human pretzel. The hard stone bench did little to deter his prodigiously heavy slumber. He would not be waking soon.

  Cass walked to the altar and the ancient statue beyond it. The sun’s influence rose to the altar bringing more light to the shrine. Time had not been kind to it, nor had many people. The few offerings left here had decayed to dust and had long withered away. The coins on the surface dared not shine anymore under the gaze of the morning sun, and the old silver bore faces and insignias of a past age and crown. Cass moved closer. Her eyes looked over the leveled stone table. A thick layer of well-experienced dust covered a metal rectangle embedded in the altar. Cass wiped the dust off the inset inscription. The words had fared only a little better.

  “For she brought freedom for all through kindness…”

  Cass read the carved letters before their meaning unraveled and became indecipherable. She looked up at the hidden and shadowed face with deep curiosity. Some said the heroes of old were the gods among us while others thought they were just exceptional people. Regardless, all records and beliefs agreed: they could perform acts beyond understandable reality. They could perform miracles. Gifts and abilities granted by the gods themselves.

  Magic.

  Cass smiled at the thought letting her imagination play. She turned her palms upwards as she looked down into them. The calloused wrinkles ran up and down her palm showing their frequent work. She raised them up before the statue. Cass gestured her fanciful hands as she aimed to conjure a bowl of fruit. After several absurd movements and no practical results, Cass shrugged. No miracles this morning.

  “What the heck are you doing?”

  Cass swung around as Valente grabbed his head in hopes the light would relax its bright endeavor. A burning embarrassment rumble in her cheeks.

  “I was just-”

  The sheepish huntress pointed to the statue as she tried to form words that would not come. Valente closed one eye to help ease the sun’s assault. He smiled at Cass.

  “Casting a spell?”

  Cass ashamedly nodded. Valente laughed.

  “Didn’t realize you were a witch.”

  Cass raised her hands once more this time outstretched towards the prince.

  “I’d be careful if I were you. We can turn princes into frogs.”

  Valente wiped his eyes with the ends of his fingers. A smirk peeked from behind his hand.

  “Well, judging by how you cast spells. I’d die of laughter before you could finish.”

  “Hey!”

  Cass cast a smile at Valente. The prince rubbed the remaining sleep from his face in a circular motion. His eyes explored the gradually lifting shadows.

  “A monument to the heroes?”

  Cass nodded as she turned back to the aged statue.

  “Yeah. I’m not too sure which one it is. The inscription is worn off.”

  Valente rose from the bench and stepped past Cass. He stretched his arms over his head as he stepped to inspect the statue. The prince nodded with confidence.

  “It’s Lady Galandel.”

  Cass looked to Valente for answers.

  “How do you know?”

  Valente pointed out focal areas of the statue as his eyes took in the lost piece of history.

  “The carvings on the robe are of a priest. There was only ever one hero priest or rather a priestess.”

  Valente pointed his finger at the statue’s hands.

  “Those gloves. They bear the Olde Speake runes. Never thought Arthan would be right about teaching them to me.”

  Valente leaned closer looking over the stone chains.

  “To top it all off, those chains. Those are the Chains of Oppression. Symbolic.”

  Valente raised an open palm presenting the statue to the huntress.

  “She was one of the Heroes of Old that freed humanity from the Dark Tyrant.”

  Cass stared at Valente and his historical enthusiasm impressed. However, she would not let him know that.

  “Bookworm.”

  “Witch.”

  Valente and Cass broke their jovial banter to look at the statue. Both were once again taken in by its hidden grace. Cass nudged Valente out of his studious analysis.

  “Arthan teach you all that?”

  Valente somberly nodded. The weight of his loss continued to linger.

  “He taught me most of it… but my first history lesson was from my father.”

  Cass pulled more of her attention to the prince. Valente looked at the statue his head slightly tilted. His memories built up before the historical monument.

  “He told me stories about the heroes. How they helped kingdoms and continents and even empires. How they would perform miraculous deeds and exceptional feats. They were unstoppable.”

  Valente’s eyes ran over the hooded face of the stone figure.

  “No matter how the stories ended. No matter how the hero won the day or how they learned a valuable lesson he would always end it the same way. At the end of every story, he would always tell me this one thing: ‘you need not be a hero to change the world.’”

  Valente brought his gaze downward as he rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I guess it’s a little stupid if you think about it, but I guess I was six seasons so I didn’t know any better.”

  Cass nudged the prince again pulling his gaze from the ancient slabs below.

  “That’s not stupid. Doing things doesn’t mean you have to fill that role. You can protect people but you don’t have to be a soldier. You can be generous, but you don’t have to be rich.”

  Valente saw a familiar spark of passion glint in the huntress’s eyes.

  “I guess you’re right. You don’t have to be a prince to inspire people.”

  Cass bounced a querying brow off her eye.

  “You are a prince though!”

  Valente nodded with a smile that would make a certain Liosian knight jealous.

  “I know. I was just reminding you.”

  Cass retorted with another painful nudge delivered by her fist. Valente rubbed his arm with a distinct lack of regrets.

  “You know… I think my father would like you.”

  Cass twirled her braid as she simpered.

  “I hope so. He might give me more gold when I deliver you to him.”

  Valente let his cheeks have their rest. A thought burning in the back of his mind swirled forward.

  “Gregor. We have to find him.”

  Cass let the reminder sink in. She had let the chaos of the prior night slip from her mind. She nodded.

  “Let’s get going. Now that there’s light I can try to track him.”

  Valente and Cass stepped out of the lost ruins into the morning sun. The flash of sunlight forced the two to shield their eyes. A horse hoofed the ground and greeted them with a hearty neigh. Valente lowered his hand and planted it on the horse’s neck. The horse stepped forward leaning into the prince’s pat. Valente gripped the horse’s reins and threw himself onto the steed. He leaned from his seat as he outstretched his hand to Cass. Cass moved her hand forward with heavy hesitation. A jitter tapped Cass’s heart as the horse lightly reared in front of her. Valente noticed and invited Cass once more, as he offered his hand.

  “Come on.”

  Cass grabbed onto the prince’s hand and hoisted herself up. Cass landed behind the prince and instinctively gripped onto his chest. The horse galloped in place as it adjusted to the new passenger. Cass squeezed tighter already ill from the minor movements. Valente groaned from the familiar clutch, as he kicked the horse sending it into a steady gallop. Cass did her best to keep her eyes alert and her grip from being constricting
. She hoped one day there would be a horse with wheels.

  -13-

  The menace of the gnarled wood seemed to evaporate in the rays of the rising sun. Unfortunately, the stench did not. The mushrooms and branches hung out as intriguing abnormalities instead of the monstrous fingers they appeared to form the night before. Valente guided the horse through the trees and vines. The task had little difficulty now that the trees stood in the daylight. However, Valente’s mind was not on the woods he navigated it was on Gregor. Valente pulled on the reins leading the horse along an outcropping of nettle ash. His eyes ran over the landscape doing their best to recall where they had last seen the knight.

  “I think it was somewhere around here.”

  Valente pulled the horse past a grove of short and spindly trees.

  “It all looks so different. Maybe it was further…”

  The prince mumbled on as he did his best to find his bearings and any clues towards the lost Liosian knight. Cass’s grip lightened as she raised her hand in front of Valente’s scouring vision.

  “There.”

  Cass pointed from the horse towards the grey earth. A large pair of heavy imprints furnished the barren soil. Valente pulled on the reins to turn the horse. It snorted a complaint, but the leather and metal pulled its gallop in the tracks’ direction. The prince tugged once more forcing the horse to hover above the deep tracks. The hoof prints before the riders aptly hid in the uneven, root-riddled ground. Cass peeked over Valente’s shoulder at the recent trail.

  “They’re deeper than usual. It has to be five men on a horse… or it’s Gregor.”

  Valente hummed his consensus as he led the horse along the tracks north. Cass grip tightened on Valente regardless of the slow pace. Valente pulled on the reins bringing the horse to a halt.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Cass had deep worry etched into her brow.

  “Those tracks are Gregor’s, but they’re not alone. Two others.”

  Cass pointed at the ground towards a pair of imprints that ran along Gregor’s. Two small ovals pointed forward. Small crescents surrounded both in the dirt. At the peak of each was a claw shape that tore the ground.

  “Morpus.”

  Cass looked to Valente just as he finished her thought.

  “He’ll need our help.”

  Valente swallowed his hesitation as he sent the horse sprinting into the woods.

  The near fresh scent of iron cut through the stench of the Deadwood. Its scent caused Cass and Valente to slow. The sight caused them to stop. A small pair of gnarled trees stood in a small clearing beneath the grey and grimy canopy. Large nettle ashes surrounded them creating a small arena in the Deadwood. Inside this wooden coliseum was what would be expected from any proper Farlosian one. Blood was liberally splattered on the ground in a mixture of wet shimmering and dried flakes. Against the two trees lay a maimed and desecrated horse. Massive claw marks and bites riddled its legs and flank. Cass jumped off the horse keeping her eyes alert and her bow ready. Valente uneasily dismounted and pulled on the leather reins of the steed. The horse mulled over her dead kin and snorted her disapproval as she fought against the prince. Valente tugged and led the fretful steed to a tree to be tied.

  Cass approached the horse in hopes the corpse may grant her answers. The horse had suffered many grievous wounds, but it was not the gnashing bites that had forced it down here. The huntress traced her touch above the large gash on the side of the downed horse’s neck. A massive weapon and incredible strength could only make such a wound. The huntress looked beyond the creature and to the tree behind it. A large patch of black fur lay embedded in the bark. A streak of blood pointed towards it.

  He used the horse’s dead weight to push a morpus into the tree?

  Cass looked towards the spindling branches above with little belief the knight would be there. A large portion of bark had been stripped from a hefty overhanging branch. Following the image of a swinging gargantuan knight in her mind, she searched the ground for the bark. A few torn and scattered pieces of the tree found themselves near the edge of the clearing. Cass moved to the perimeter following the Gregor’s hidden trail.

  A large corpse lay on the ground and sent a shock to the huntress. Valente approached with his hand hovering over his blade. He stopped next to Cass in similar shock. A morpus lay dead among the nettle ash roots. The knight’s massive blade had pierced this creature chest sending its steel through the monster’s heart. The prince moved closer taking in the black beast in the light of day. It was hideous and covered in thick and mangy fur. Its smell burned the already fume-filled atmosphere into a mortal miasma. A near-black blood dripped in globs from its fatal wound. Valente moved closer with his blade fully drawn. He waved the point over the pitch black fur testing the beast’s demise. He stabbed it with his sword in a fierce jab just to make sure. Cass gave him a skeptical look before continuing to use her mind to follow the phantom knight.

  The teeth of the beast were vile and covered in filth, but a sliver of fresh red blood lingered on their tips. Cass committed her eyes scanning the grey surroundings. They landed on a faint trail of blood hidden in the dirt. It led onwards away from the small clearing. The huntress quietly moved through the tree as she tracked. Valente stabbed the fallen beast once more before he pursued.

  The trail continued for a few hushed minutes. Valente kept his hilt in hand and its blade outstretched as Cass stepped along the path of chaos. Valente stumbled into Cass as she abruptly stopped. He swung his sword madly forward ready to defend against the worst. He lowered his blade and jaw as he turned. The drooping branches and the stagnant vines pulled up before them revealing a brutal scene. A small rock jutted from the ground and pointed up towards the obscured heavens. Upon it was skewered the second morpus. It had been rammed onto the stone with such force its body was aberrant even for the vile creature’s standards. The ground around the stone was littered with splinters of bark and wood. The grey bark was all soaked in a blackened crimson. Just past the stone, a familiar looking mass lay motionless on the ground by a bloodied and shattered log. Cass and Valente raced to the fallen giant.

  “Gregor!”

  The large Liosian gave no obvious response as the two approached him. The knight lay silent on a wet patch of grass. Gouges and cuts ran along his limbs and chest. Red streaks reigned rampant over the knight’s body. Upon his flesh was a chaotic mix of fresh and dried blood accompanied by an onslaught of new scabs and scars. Despite these dreadful injuries, the large chest slowly rose and fell.

  “By the gods, he’s still alive.”

  Cass knelt down beside the collapsed knight and searched her satchel for anything that could help. Procuring a small bundle of cloth, she tore it into small strips and bandaged the giant’s wounds. The cuts reddened their new shelter of bandages. Valente watched Cass chew a familiar stalk of herb and spit her product onto some deeper lacerations. The substance seemed to meld with the knight’s flesh as it sealed the wound.

  Cass had covered many of the crucial wounds as she cleaned the minor bruises and cuts with a spare cloth. The large mound of a man groaned as he brought his hand towards his head. Valente jumped back in surprise. Cass dropped her cloth as she pulled back giving the knight some room. Gregor’s body heaved upwards as he sat and met the bewildered gaze of the prince and the huntress with an exhausted smile.

  “Glad to see you guys made it too.”

  The knight looked down at his body. The few tatters of red cloth held their own against his wounds. Gregor weakly chuckled.

  “I hope you weren’t worried.”

  The giant placed a hand against his forehead holding his thoughts still.

  “I’ll be fine. I need some water is all.”

  Valente quickly grabbed the flask he had taken from Gregor’s hut and handed it to the knight. Gregor grabbed the bottle and drained the contents. A large smile returned to his face.

  “Thanks, Val,”

  Gregor inspected the bandages over his
many wounds, “and you too Cassy.”

  Cass and Valente moved back as the Liosian knight stood up on his feet. His body cast a shadow over them as he swayed to keep his balance. Cass moved forward and steadied the knight’s wobble.

  “You should rest! How are you even walking around? You fought two Morpus! Alone!”

  Valente did nothing but stare at Gregor as Cass’s question lingered in the air. Gregor grinned as he stretched letting the color return to his skin and further dampening his bandages.

  “I’ve been through worse. I’m a royal Liosian knight. Our training exercises were more grueling than this.”

  Valente and Cass were lost for words in the face of such incredible vigor. Valente shook his head in an amazed recollection. His mind bounced back to the Lost Men’s camp.

  “Before they said you were LeFane. Did they mean the Gregor LeFane?”

  Valente’s eyes sparked as his thoughts fell into place.

  “You’re the Winter Knight.”

  Gregor smiled and faux posed at his potential fan.

  “Ah, so you caught that one? Was hoping Tychan wouldn’t spill the beans, but I suppose that’s the lesser of the trouble he’s caused.”

  Gregor’s biceps flexed as he folded his arm onto his chest and lightly bowed.

  “It’s true I am that LeFane.”

  Cass looked at the men talking men as a slow confusion grew in her mind. Valente looked at the huntresses recognizing her uncertainty and faced her with a keen flicker in his eye.

  “You haven’t heard of Grand Knight LeFane?”

  Cass remained baffled. Valente put an excited hand towards the knight.

  “He was the first man to earn freedom in the Liosian Battlepits.”

  Gregor rubbed his crimson beard.

  “Pretty sure they release a fighter every year…”

  Valente continued in his historical fervor.

  “King Ezra chose him to become the Grand Knight of Lios. They even say he has never lost a battle!”

  The old knight chuckled.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”