EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (211 page)

Halfax turned and rushed back to the fallen prince. It was unmistakable now, glaringly obvious. The aura was not a match for Jade’s, but it had the same quality, the same power. This man was of a Chosen bloodline, and a familiar one. It was the one his brother had been tasked with protecting . . . and now he had severed that line . . .

Prince Lumineblade coughed weakly. The dragon leaned low over the injured noble. The fall from the horse and the one savage attack had not quite been enough to kill him, but death was near. There was too much blood too quickly. He would not survive the night without treatment. He might not survive the hour. There was no other choice, and no time to lose. Halfax scooped up the ailing prince and ran with all of the speed he could muster toward the tower.

Outside the tower, under the warm sun of its perpetual spring, Jade was tending to her garden when she heard the thundering return of her friend.

“Hal,” she began without looking, “what was all of that noise? I thought I heard--what happened to you!?”

She ran to the winded dragon. The handful of places where swords had met their mark oozed blood. None of the wounds were serious, a fact that mattered little to Jade, who was so distracted by the injuries, it took her a moment to notice the cargo Halfax carried.

“Did this man do this to you?” she hissed.

“He and his men. You must help him.”

“Why should I? Did you do anything to deserve those gashes you’ve got?”

“I defended myself--and you.”

“Then he got what he deserved. Drop him somewhere and let me look at those wounds.”

“You must help him. He is from a Chosen bloodline.”

“A Chosen blood . . . like me? Is he a member of my family?” she asked, a gleam of hope in her eye.

“No. He smells like those my brother Windsor was protecting.”

“Windsor . . .” Jade said, thinking back to the stories of her youth. “Windsor was protecting the Lumineblades. So this is royalty . . .”

She looked over the ailing human. His wounds were many, and more than one of them would take his life if given the time. Her eyes then turned to the dragon. After the events with Damona, Jade had become very protective of Halfax, and slow to trust others. Her mind told her this was another enemy, come to hurt her and her dear friend. Her heart, though, demanded she do what she could to help. And besides, this
was
almost certainly a noble. If he didn’t come back, there would be more to find him.

“Fine. Put him inside. I’ll fix him up and send him on his way,” she said finally.

The dragon clutched the young man in the claws of one paw and reached through the doorway, placing him gently on the floor. Immediately, she set to work. Ointments and salves were applied. Clothes were removed to better access the injuries. Wide gashes were stitched, small ones bandaged. It took some time, even with her practiced hand. By the time she’d taken care of the urgent wounds, Halfax had seared his own injuries shut, leaving the injured noble as her only concern. Worse, the man seemed to have developed a fever, and had lost considerably more blood than she’d thought.

Hours passed. Jade placed a wet cloth on his head, cleaned away dried blood, and did all of the other things healers do when it is out of their hands.

As she did, she looked over him. Surely this was not the face of a man who would hunt a dragon for sport. His face, even at rest, had a look of intelligence, and a grace that betrayed a dash of elf in his ancestry. That made sense. If he was a part of the Lumineblade dynasty then, according to Halfax, Desmeres Lumineblade and Trigorah Teloran were at the root of his family tree. Each was an elf, at least in part.

Whatever its heritage, it was a handsome face. As she admired her visitor, he began to stir. She stood and began to prepare for when he would wake.

Chapter IX

B
EFORE
LONG
,
THE
PRINCE
OPENED
his eyes. He did not recognize his surroundings. Beneath him was a simple cot. A cluttered cottage surrounded him, the smell of simmering food heavy in the air. Outside the window, the golden rays of the setting sun fell upon an apple tree ready for harvest, yet beyond that were snow-covered pines. At the sound of footsteps, he turned to a woman, radiant in her beauty, holding a steaming bowl of broth.

“Speak,” the girl demanded.

“I have died. This is paradise,” he murmured.

“Not quite, I’m afraid. Though it wasn’t for lack of trying,” Jade said, handing him the bowl. “Drink.”

The prince accepted the bowl and put it to his lips, the warm, delicious meal trickling down his throat. The fog of sleep cleared, and the memories of his last moments of consciousness returned.

“I remember now. I fought a dragon . . .” he said.

“Yes. You did,” Jade said bitterly.

“Where are my men?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t know.”

He glanced down.

“Where are my clothes?” he asked, suddenly realizing the state he was in.

“In a bloody pile on the ground,” she said, gesturing in their direction, “just like you were a few hours ago.”

“You undressed me!?” he exclaimed, somewhere between shocked and mortified.

“It was that or let you bleed to death,” she replied simply.

He lifted the blanket and quickly lowered it again.

“You
completely
undressed me!?”

“There was a nasty puncture on your thigh. I’m a healer. You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before.”

“M-my dear girl, I am a very--you shouldn’t--”

“You’re blushing,” she said with a grin.

When she’d first learned of what he’d done to Halfax, Jade had been furious at this man. When she saw what state he was in, sympathy overcame her, then concern. Now that he was through the woods, she’d prepared herself for anger again, but something about his flustered stammering was almost endearing.

“Do you know who I am, miss?” he finally managed.

“Roughly. One of the Lumineblades, right? A lord or some such.”

“I am a pr--
the
prince, miss. Soon to be king!”

“I see,” she said, unimpressed.

Halfax had taught Jade much, and the many books had taught her more, but nothing had taught her the finer points of social grace. To her, the prince was just another patient, and an uncooperative one at that. When he tried to rise, blanket wrapped tight about him, she firmly pushed him back to the cot.

“Lay down. You aren’t getting up until I am satisfied you have recovered enough. Eat your soup and I will look you over.”

She placed a hand on his head, and one by one began to investigate the wounds she’d had to treat. He drank desperately of the contents of the bowl, partially because he was famished, but mostly because he hoped to finish quickly enough to prevent her from asking to peek under the . . .

“That will be quite unnecessary!” he sputtered as she reached for the blanket, “You’ve done more than enough, miss.”

“You need to stop calling me miss,” she replied, fetching a strong-smelling paste and leaning close to apply it to a cut on his head. “What is your name?”

“I am Prince Terrilius Croyden Lumineblade III.”

“Well, Terry, I--”

“Terrilius! Err, Prince Ter--no, Prince Lumin . . .” he stammered, pausing to gently push her away and gather himself before continuing. “The proper style of address for someone in my position is ‘Your Highness.’”

“Your position right now is convalescing in a bed in my home. Naked. I’d say that hardly calls for courtly formalities. Now, my name is Jade Rinton. You can call me Jade.”

“I . . . yes, well, I suppose that, under the circumstances, a more casual language is allowable. This is, after all, your home. And, er, what do you call this place?” he asked, glancing again to the paradoxically fruitful tree.

“I just call it home. Or the tower.” She shrugged, ladling out another bowl of broth.

“The tower. This is Ravenwood Tower. The Wizard’s tower?”

“It is.”

“Please, miss . . . Jade . . . Miss Jade! Fetch me my clothes, fetch me my weapons! We are both in grave danger--” he urged.

“Now, now, now. Either you lay back down or I’ll have to put you to sleep,” she warned, thrusting the bowl into his hands.

“Please. I came here to kill a terrible sorceress and her dragon. I’ve already defeated the beast, now--”

“That is just a lie.”

“I assure you. There was a dragon, and I--”

“Oh, there was a dragon. You didn’t kill him.”

“I succumbed to my wounds, but the dragon must have done so as well, or surely I would not be here speaking to you. It would have killed me.”

“Hal!”

“There is a man about? Excellent. He can help me get you to . . .”

The thundering of the dragon’s approach silenced the prince. When Halfax emerged from the trees, the injured man leaped from the bed, hurled the soup messily to the floor, and threw himself in front of Jade.

“Go! Take shelter. I’ll hold him as long as I can!” He proclaimed.

Halfax leaned low, looking through the doorway and focusing on the prince. The man’s eyes flicked about the room until he spotted a knife on the table. He snatched the weapon and held it ready. The moment his fingers touched the blade, Halfax drew his lips back and rumbled a savage growl.

“Go!” Lumineblade cried, standing firm.

Man and beast were locked in each other’s gaze. Slowly, Jade walked between them clutching a large, worn robe.

“Cover yourself, Terry,” she said with a smirk. “And, Halfax, step out of the doorway, please. You seem to make Terry nervous.”

With a final, vicious glare, he stepped aside. His shadow still hung threateningly across the walkway. Terrilius shakily donned the robe, awkwardly doing so without setting down the knife.

“The beast obeys you,” he said in a hushed tone.

“I wouldn’t call him obedient, but he’s obliging if I’m reasonable. That is the dragon you attacked, right?”

“You . . . You’re the sorceress. This is your tower.”

“Sorceress? I’ve cast a spell or two, but . . .”

Before she could finish her thought the prince had bolted for the door, hobbling with remarkable speed out of the cottage and into the icy forest. Jade paced outside and crossed her arms, leaning against Halfax as she watched the injured man disappear into the woods.

“What a strange fellow. Brave, though. Standing up to you when he thought you might hurt me. Very brave.”

“He is a fool,” Halfax growled.

“No one said he can’t be both.”

The rush of intensity carried Terrilius deep into Ravenwood before it wore thin. When it did, it left him barefoot in an unfamiliar forest, clothed only in a robe, and armed only with a small knife. A dozen wounds throbbed, and the frozen air burned at his lungs, but still he willed himself forward. It wasn’t fear or duty or even survival that drove him. He simply didn’t know what else to do, and he had to do something. His pace dropped from a limping sprint to a painful trudge, and before long to a crawl to spare his freezing feet.

His plan had been to retreat, regroup, and retry. At the time, it had seemed obvious and natural. Now he was aware of a number of critical flaws in his plan. He had no men to regroup with, nowhere to retreat to, and no means to retry. The thought that he might die had never occurred to him. Not when he fought the dragon, not when he realized the nature of his host, and not now. His only concern was that he could not succeed at his task. A prince did not freeze. A prince did not fall in battle to a dragon. The only fear was disgrace, failure.

There was the crunch of footsteps. Slowly, he turned to see a pair of feet standing beside him. A moment later, his boots dropped on the ground in front of him. He looked up to see Jade, a blanket under one arm and a steaming flask in one hand.

“Ready to stop acting like a fool?” she asked.

“Where is your dragon?” he asked.

She shook her head and grinned. “My dragon. I asked him to wait back at the tower. I know he makes you nervous.”

“H-how do I know I can trust you?”

“What could I possibly do to you that you haven’t already done to yourself? If I wanted to kill you, I could have left you the way I found you and let nature take its course.”

“Y-you could b-be trying to bewitch m-me.”

“Well, then. Your options are to potentially be bewitched or certainly freeze to death. Would you like a moment to decide?” she asked, holding out a hand.

After a few more painful breaths, he took her hand and pulled himself up. Jade brushed the snow from him, wrapped him in the blanket, and handed him the flask.

“Now,” she said, leading him to a fallen log, “we are going to have a seat, you are going to put your boots on, you are going to warm up, and you are going to tell me what all of this is about. Depending on what I hear, I may take you back and fix all of the damage you’ve done to yourself. Again.”

It was a curious tone she used as she spoke. She didn’t seem to be ordering him about. Rather, she was simply informing him of what would happen. The prince nodded numbly, dropping the knife to wrap both hands around the mercifully warm flask. It contained more of the broth, and the warmth that spread through him as he drank was revitalizing. When the chill finally left his voice, he spoke.