The Fugitive Prince Read online

  Found you.

  Valente’s numb grip nearly slipped from its perch as Captain Rythor spun and turned to his men on the slope above.

  “Shoot them all.”

  The captain’s plume cut through the white swirls of snow.

  “Try your best not to kill the prince, but I’m sure the queen will understand that accidents happen.”

  The unforgiving position and low hum of chuckles showed favoritism to accidents. The men on the ledge began drawing their crossbows and loading the bolts. Valente did the only thing he could do and shouted downwards.

  “Cass, we have to get moving!”

  The huntress did not offer up much banter as a bolt clipped the back of her cloak. The lower ledge was still out of a safe drop. A bolt whizzed by.

  Safe enough.

  Cass leaped from her footholds. The burning rush of wind flew against her skin. The snow below leaped up to catch her. Tucking in, Cass threw her back forward and into a roll. Tossing up her hope and prayers to the gods she landed with a heavy thud. Her world seemed to shatter and spin apart as her head violently bobbed. Her body flung in all directions as she twirled in the snow. The momentum had not fully left her as she scrambled back onto her feet. Her hands flared outwards to balance the huntress out. Cass’s lungs feebly gasped for air that had quickly left from the fall. In a fragmented and gasping voice, she called up.

  “Get as low as you can then jump. The snow is thick enough.”

  Cass bit her lip against the aching pain in her body hoping her lie would not be as fatal as the barrage of bolts. Gregor struggled against his size and the required haste betrayed him at every step. Valente was a few steps above him, but he could not possibly get past the knight. Impassable rock and an open free fall down the mountain were his only options. Cass watched a bolt skip against the stone surface above. In its vertical bounces, it skipped over the two climbers and it narrowly nicked Valente’s leg. The prince grunted through clenched teeth as blood trickled down his leg. The wind and the fog of snow were the only things keeping Valente and the knight alive as several bolts fired in near misses. Valente stepped on Gregor’s hand as he fiercely apologized and recoiled upwards.

  “I’m so sorry, I just-”

  Gregor met him with a nervous grin and nod. A bolt whistled over Valente’s ear and lodged itself into Gregor’s right shoulder shattering the knight’s grin. The force surprised the knight pushing his hands away from the small ledges his massive hands had desperately clamped to. His hands waved through the air as he tried to regain his footing. The knight fell from his perch down towards the lower ledge. Cass gasped in sudden shock as her eyes followed the dropping knight. The mountain itself shook as Gregor landed in the snow below. A sickening crack rumbled from the new crater in the snow. Valente clung to the stone stunned for an extended moment. Bolts pierced the snow bouncing off the nearby stone. From the fallen knight a rushing cloud of snow flew up engulfing the prince and the cliff from view. In the moment’s chaos, Cass ran towards the fallen knight. Looking into the cloud of snow above, she shouted for the prince.

  Watching the smile fade from the knight’s face as he fell into the lower ledge, the experienced hands reaching out in the air for salvation tore a part of the prince down with them as they fell. The hands reached towards Valente. The prince instinctively moved out his hand to catch the knight. A burning tingle danced along his fingertips as he reached out to the falling knight. The gesture was far too little. A heavy thud and the cloud of snow spun Valente into a trance. The snow whistled over him trapping the prince in a sudden, white lonesomeness. He looked down at his boot. He was hovering in the air above where the knight had just been. There was nothing but emptiness in its place. He had stepped on Gregor’s hand. Valente’s mind lost itself in the cold flurry. If he did not move so impatiently Gregor would not have moved his arm so far out. He would not have caught the bolt. Valente’s eyes lost focus in the blinding frost.

  I killed him.

  A fracturing shiver shot through his body, but it was not from the cold. A hungry void that he did not realize was there. A dark hole that had no meaning or purpose. A pit with no bottom, yet full of despair. A shout echoed behind him. This dark abyss reached out for Valente, and he could not move. The voice pulled him out.

  “Get off that wall!”

  Her voice brought him back to reason as he obeyed its call. His hands moved in a blur, but they were numb. Reaching the point that Cass had leapt, he peered through the cloud of snow. He brought his eyes to the voice. Cass had miraculously lifted the knight onto her shoulder by herself. Valente blinked. Gregor weakly stood up as Cass’s kept him balanced. The knight’s body desired to droop downward. Valente leaped. The wind rushed through his hair and against his back as the ground met him. Blunt and heavy pain shot up his legs as he tumbled forth into the snow. The wind continued to blow as the snow and drifting fog concealed the entire ledge above. Through the chilled clouds, the bolts continued to wildly fall from above. Valente pushed over his screaming legs and grabbed the other side of the knight. The weight seemed unreal as the three dragged onwards. The wind whirled up creating a large sheet that twisted in the wind as it blanketed their escape. The shouts and bolts on the cliff stopped their descent for a moment. A unison of metal blades sung out from the frozen wind. To answer it a piercing and powerful howl loomed over the mountain. The sound seemed to brush aside all others as the mountain stood in a moment of commanded silence. Gregor mumbled under his laden breath. Valente heaved Gregor’s arm higher onto his shoulder. The knight’s light breath carried his weak voice and words.

  “The White One…”

  The wisping mess of snow and fog twirled above them. The weight of Gregor’s shoulders increased with each step as the knight wavered in and out of a battle for consciousness. Each moment dragged through time and the snow, as even in their labored haste it was doubtful fast enough. Cass’s eyes and focus were directly ahead. She would not afford any distractions. Valente bit down clenching his jaw against the strain as he heaved the knight forward. Valente and Cass had made a considerable distance considering their heavy load, but the mercenaries were still gaining ground. The dangerous climb for the three would be a very simple task for a trained soldier fully prepared for the cold and trails of the mountains. Valente grunted. Gregor’s legs lost strength and shifted their weight onto the prince’s. The wind blasted flurries of snow against them. Valente tightened his hands around the knight’s log-sized arms as he pushed up against the overwhelming weight. He had carried a fallen comrade before; he could do this. His enthusiasm was quickly belittled. The howl called again. So powerful and commanding the whirling winds dare not rise to oppose it. It provided a just clarity in the hectic gusts and bouts of noisy wind. Whatever made this sound was close, and it was massive. Shouts of men came again much closer in the white chaos behind than expected. On the edge of the white veil that blew around them, a faint voice called out.

  “Footprints. They’re this way.”

  Valente heaved once more against his knightly burden and pushed on, doing his best to stay ahead of the voices lost in the snow. The howl called out again forcing a shiver through the sheer whiteness the prince waded through. The sound settled a near permanent shudder in the bones of the mountain. Shouts behind escalated in alarm, but their intent still put duty on the chase. These mercenaries did not let up so easily.

  The crunch of snow came dangerously close threatening to step on the prince’s heel. Valente swiveled his head. His eyes fiercely squinted to pierce the whiteness to no avail. The sounds of biting footsteps were so close they intermingled with Valente’s own however the blinding blanket of frost continued to conceal their source. Valente hovered his numbly screaming hand over his blade as his eyes constantly darted behind him. An obscured armored shadow reached out to emerge from the sheet of snow behind the prince. A glint sparkled from a frosted blade past the veil. Valente shifted his legs ready to turn and fight. Cass grunted from the shift as Greg
or’s body leaned dangerously lower to the ground. The sharpened glint grew closer, then hesitated at the cusp. The piercing howl cut through the winds and echoed over the mountain again. It rattled Valente’s mind and wrenched his stomach A blurred figure turned in the snow. Its shining blade was sent swinging deeper into the unseen flurry. The shadow stepped back as it swung wildly into the storm. The wind picked up forcing Valente to blink his drying eyes. The mercenary that had been behind them had vanished leaving nothing but the glow of his blade marking where he had stood. Valente turned back letting Cass’s impatient and bewildered stare move him forward. The hilt of the mercenary’s blade disappeared into the snowy fog as they forged on.

  The shouts behind tapered off into a stilted silence of spinning ice and tearing wind. In that moment, the gusts seemed to blast the very existence of other sounds away along with the men’s constant threatening march for the three in the snow. The triumphant gusts of wind were crushed once more. The howl rose as tyrant again. This time it sent an overwhelming shudder down the prince’s back freezing his hairs upright as though it were as cold as the storm that surrounded them. The mighty call fell back to earth and the shouts of hired men returned in a frightening manner. They sounded burdened by something deep in their scattered voices. It was a shivering and fatal desperation.

  The song of steel echoed behind them. The wild bite of weapons against stone and snow broke out as a spirit-wrenching scream cried from the blinding veil. More shouts and more cries were fast to accompany the first. Blades and crossbows rose and fell lost in the mountain’s snow. Their owners likely to find similar icy fates. The beast deafened the mountain’s whim. The sound formed a looming eye within the chaotic storm of men and metal. Valente’s gut quivered as though it was near starving though it was absent of hunger. Whatever was coming was making quick work of the Iron Stars. Some of the most notorious mercenaries, tossed so easily into their final throes as though they were the snow caught in the storm. Valente was rich with distress and looked to Cass for guidance.

  The huntress had her eyes directly forward. They transfixed themselves as though she was looking beyond the vast tumble of snow and fog towards a destination just out of reach. She did not look back at the calls or howls and she did not look at the weight she shouldered. Even in the impending unknown she did not falter. The weight of the knight receded from the determination’s presence. The prince cast off his fear, his worries, and his woes. He matched the march of the huntress. His eyes joined and affixed themselves ahead. He looked north beyond the blizzard of snow. To the only point that had kept him going for this long. That had kept him from losing himself among a court of enemies. That kept him moving on past the tears and sweat and the blood. He looked to his home. A snaking thought passed his mind as his eyes darted to his side once more at the huntress. Shaking his head free from the inkling of a revelation he focused forward. A new slithering formation formed however now as an obscured blur in his vision. Fresh and frothing fluid crashed down the back of these stone curves.

  A river?

  A strengthened surge of hope tapped at Valente’s heart.

  The Araheil.

  A massive river cut through the back of the mountains. The brilliant and frigid water crashed down like millions of crystals against the rocks as it all tumbled towards the distant valley and fields below. The thrashing moisture fought against the blinding storm in a twirling and everlasting battle. A crisp crunch of snow mumbled under the river’s rumbling. The sound tore Valente’s gaze away from the border as he spun around. The steps approached quicker than the others had. From out of the now dwindling cries dispersed in the snow, an adamant trudge moved towards them. Past the overwhelming howl and through the crashing chaos stepped the inerrant shade. The swirling fog covered over the figure. Its shadow loomed towards Valente. The plume of its helmet frantically wavered in the wind as the shape marched closer. Valente clenched his teeth.

  Rythor.

  The captain stepped out of the veil already wielding his grimace towards Valente. Valente urgently pulled himself out from under the knight as he tore his blade free from the frozen hilt. The frost cracked showering ice into the snow as the blade swung freely. Cass grunted under the knight’s weight, as she looked to Valente for reason to the unreasonable burden. Valente threw his hood off his head as he found his balance on the blade.

  Weight on the shoulders.

  Valente shifted his feet through the snow finding the stance he had practiced at Gregor’s cabin. He shouted over the wind to the huntress.

  “Keep going, Cass. I won’t let anyone else die for me.”

  Cass protested despite the weight and the weather, but Valente turned his head. His dark locks tossed in the wind as they joined the chaos, but his eyes focused as they locked onto her eyes. The blue cut through the snow and her resolve. Valente moved his lips with a nod and a feeble smile.

  “Please.”

  Cass hoisted the knight higher onto her back. She met the prince with the warmest smile she could muster before she turned towards the river. Her heart pumped inside her chest as she broke the powerful gaze. In this weather, her bow was nearly useless. Any arrow would lose its intentions in this wind. Gregor feverishly mumbled. The knight was doing no better. She had to get him to shelter. Valente would have to fend for himself. She called out as she pulled herself and the knight towards the river.

  “Don’t be too long. You still owe me a mansion.”

  Cass and Gregor soon disappeared as the flurry of ice and snow swallowed them. The maelstrom rose in a tumultuous, frozen arena leaving Valente face to face with the captain.

  The wind, the cold, the desire to run, it all turned numb. Rythor glared from within his dark helmet as he stepped even closer. The captain’s breath became clearly visible on the wind; his hand flexed in anticipation over the hilt of his sword.

  “Foster. It’s so good to see you again.”

  The graveling voice clawed against the prince’s mind. Valente grit his teeth into his most hostile snarl.

  “I wish anyone could say the same to you.”

  Rythor moved his blade free from its scabbard. The black metal blade swept into the air. The blade danced in the captain’s hand ever-threatening an attack. Rythor grinned at the prince.

  “You know, the queen should have sent me to get you from the library. You wouldn’t have gotten past Arthan’s dead body.”

  Rythor’s smile gained an appalling and bitter air.

  “Shame about your old man. He couldn’t handle the little bit of flavoring I added to his drink.”

  The swirling snow seemed to turn the world around the prince attempting to throw him from his feet. The heat of his blood caused itself to boil.

  “You poisoned Arthan? You honorless scum.”

  Rythor moved sideways and his eyes tested Valente’s footing.

  “Honor? Those that live by it tend not to live long.”

  Rythor leaned down moving his blade and his body lower as he increased his straddling movement.

  “It’s a further shame I have to kill you now. The king wanted you to live, even offered a sizable bonus. However, you’ve cost me too much, you cursed prince.”

  Rythor’s grin burned away as he snapped at Valente.

  “And yet you’re one to talk of honor? You bringing a demon with you is far from honorable.”

  The mentally rehearsed sword lessons were tossed asunder. Valente stomped a foot forward trying to clear his mind.

  Jonathan wanted me alive? Demon?

  “A demon? What are you talking about?”

  Rythor raised up his sword as he tensed his body ready to strike.

  “That creature you summoned that is killing my men. The thing that is hiding in the fog.”

  Rythor’s gloved finger extended in accusation at the prince.

  “You cursed religious Tharians. It had to be you, foster, and now you pay the price. Do what you Tharians do best. Die slowly.”

  Rythor exhaled letting the
warmth of his breath pool in front of his mouth. It swirled in defiance of the wind for a moment before it blew away. As soon as the cloud dissipated, Rythor leapt towards the prince. The captain’s body rushed forward with trained and innate speed. The black blade swung twice as fast. Each strike expertly aimed for a vital point. Valente barely threw up his blade in time. The weight of the metal seemed to drag as he flailed it in the way blocking the first arrangement of blows. The steel swords sent sparks among the snowflakes and resonated with their songs of battle. Rythor ran his black blade along the edge of the prince’s blade attempting to drive it along the hilt and into Valente’s arms. Valente narrowly deflected the agile movement. His hands cramped. Valente pushed forward as the black blade flung back trying to drive a strike against the captain. Rythor twisted the assault away with his own light strikes. Valente’s chest thumped and his arms ached. Rythor was leagues ahead of Valente’s skill. The black blade refused to cease its fatal intentions as Rythor dashed forward extending the blade out towards Valente’s torso. Valente’s stance quickly faltered as he stumbled to the side of the dark sword. The edge of weapon cut a shallow line into the front of the prince’s garment. Despite the frigid flurry, a bead of sweat traced down the prince’s forehead.

  I’m a fool.

  The prince’s thoughts violently shattered as the next oncoming strike hit the base of Valente’s blade. The force sent the weapon outwards and the weight of the metal dragged Valente off his feet and into the snow. The prince desperately recovered in the snow swinging blinding to stave off the murderous captain. Rythor cheeks peeled back exposing a sickening grin that slid across his face. Valente shambled backwards constantly throwing his blade in every direction to hold Rythor back. The captain chuckled at the prince’s attempt. Rythor hoisted the black blade high and brought it down with full force against Valente’s shambling block. Valente’s cold-riddled hands could not contest the force. His numb fingers buckled sending his blade flying into the air and turbulent fog. His heart crashed against his ribs as he desperately pushed himself back through the snow. Rythor intently walked forward keeping Valente just within his reach. Rythor shook his head as he raised a hand towards his helmet.