Bow Before the Elf Queen

Thane cut the head clean off a pale one, and then brought his blade down across the chest of another charging at him. Warm black blood sprayed his face, but he kept going, hacking and slashing, anger roaring in him like a wild beast. They’d tried to take his city, murdered and feasted on his people. Kill them. Kill them all, he chanted in his head. If his magic had a price, it was that it made him beast-like, a wraith in need of the kill. A king of no mercy.

He clenched his teeth as he drove his boot into the gut of the enemy and jerked his sword free of the pale one’s chest. With only a look he focused on a trio surrounding one of his soldiers; his magic flared, and the pale ones screamed as the blood pumping through their wretched bodies began to boil, and their skin oozed with black sores. They clutched at themselves, clawing at their own skin, screeching, wailing until they fell dead. Falan gave Thane a quick nod of thanks and chased after a pale one who turned and ran.

The pale ones were on the verge of retreat. Many began to turn and flee. His Ravens brought a force that not only outnumbered the pale ones but with skill they couldn’t contend with, as always. And then something strange happened. Every pale one in sight suddenly looked north. Even the ones on the run stopped and whirled around. A horn blew, a deep bellow that sounded like it belonged to a cave troll, and as one, the enemy gathered in a single group and marched north toward… Layala. Thane snapped out of his raging oblivion to slaughter the enemy.

“Do not let them by you!” Thane shouted at his warriors. “Hold them back! Fight! Kill every last one of them! Do not let them flee!”

He searched for Piper and Aldrich and found them fighting back-to-back. With each other he felt confident leaving them.

The smell of smoldering flesh and structures alike burned his nose. The first time the putrid scent hit his senses, he vomited, but after years of this chaos, it no longer turned his stomach. He flicked a dagger through the back of the skull of a pale one and sprinted for Phantom. The horse lifted his head up when he saw his master coming and whinnied. Launching onto the gelding’s back, Thane kicked him into a gallop. “Go! As fast as you’ve ever run, Phantom!”

The horse seemed to sense his urgency and they flew through the burning streets, passed his soldiers, dashed by citizens hunkering down in shadowed alleys. He leaned and hacked at any pale ones or used his magic to boil or freeze their insides along the way. This was a mistake. I have to get to her. I have to get to her! The slamming of hooves matched the throbbing of his pulse. I shouldn’t have left her. Horse and rider tore through the opening in the stone wall that was meant to guard the city, out into the open. At the top of the hill, he saw those black twisting vines taller than any tree in sight. Maker, please let her be here. Let her be safe. 

As soon as he came upon the magical vines where dead pale ones lay about, some killed by weapons, one hung in pieces from thorns, he jumped off Phantom. “Layala! Fennan!” he shouted, searching for signs of them. “Talon! Damn it, I should have had them wait back further.”

“Layala!” He put his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over his horse. He calmed himself long enough to follow the trail of their connection. It went east. The Void was south. If the pale ones captured her, they wouldn’t head away from their home. He followed the instinct, the pull guiding him toward her into the Lanvore Woods. The further he went, the thicker and closer everything grew. Moss-covered vines stretched from hunkering yew and mangrove tree to tree. A spider’s web hit him in the face; he fought it off. When ferns and rotting stumps and protruding roots got too much, he hopped off Phantom and tied him to a branch. “I’ll be back.”

Ducking under a branch with a hissing snake, he held his sword ready in case it wanted to strike. The connection grew stronger the further he went. Sweat trailed down the side of his face. Was it that much hotter in here? It was stuffy, with no wind. The point of a blade jabbed into his back, and he stopped, skin prickling with a warning.

“I could have been a pale one and you’d be dead, and consequently so would I.”

He turned to find Layala standing with a hand on her hip. Fennan stood beside her, arms crossed. “Sire, did you think I’d let anything happen to her?”

Layala scowled at him. “As if it was you who did all the work?”

“I’m glad you’re safe.” He glanced around. “Where is my sister?”

Talon pushed herself out from behind a bush pulling sticks from her wild hair and wiping something off her arm. She looked so beyond out of her element it was almost comical. “Here.”

Finding them safe pushed down the anxiety that had nearly eaten away at his nerves. “Good. I hope you learned something today. Pale ones are no joke.”

Talon blushed and looked down. That was a good sign. He turned back to Layala. “The pale ones, they must have sensed your magic. They started gathering to charge this way.”

Slowly bobbing her head, Layala said, “I figured as much, so we hid in here.”

“Now that I know you weren’t captured, I need to go back.” He took hold of Layala’s hand and tugged her along beside him. “And you’re coming with me.”

She pulled out of his grasp and sheathed her sword. “You should have brought me with you in the first place.”

“I have to agree,” Fennan said. “She can fight, and her magic is destructive. You should have seen it, Thane. Those vines took them out in seconds.”

“Even I was impressed and that’s saying something,” Talon said, trailing behind them. Her dress snagged on a branch, and she cursed as she tore it free. Then screeched and slapped at her head. “A lizard! Ugh, disgusting!”

Thane tried not to smile at his sister’s struggle. “I have seen Layala’s magic.” Having her in the middle of the fighting was too risky. All she asked was to be brought here so she could see the plight of the high elves. Now she’d seen it. She gave him her word she would listen to him if he brought her here. As much as Layala didn’t want to admit it, she was the greatest risk to Palenor, to all of Adalon, excellent fighter or not, magic or not. He didn’t envy the burden placed on her through no fault of her own, but it didn’t change anything. “But my job as High King is to protect Palenor at all costs, which means keeping her away from Mathekis.”

“Of course, sire,” Fennan relented. “I apologize.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“And I have no say in this?” Layala asked.

He looked at her. “You should be more worried about making sure you aren’t caught rather than fighting in battles. My Ravens and our soldiers are capable. Until we know if your powers could potentially destroy the Void, your number one goal should be to protect yourself.”

“I have no desire to be taken captive, but you said I wasn’t a pawn, and yet you’re treating me like one. If you want to keep referring to chess, the queen protects the king.”

He shot Fennan and his sister a dangerous look.

“We’ll, uh, be scouting ahead,” Fennan said, and dragged Talon away with him. Talon grumbled about wanting to stay to see their argument, but Fennan pulled her even faster.

Thane looked down at Layala. Maker above, she was beautiful and infuriating. His fingers itched to caress that arrogant set to her jaw. “In this case the rules are changed.”

“You can’t change the rules in the middle of the game.”

He walked at her, backing her up until she bumped into a tree trunk. His body felt tight and electric. The adrenaline from the battle and from his fear of her being captured still raged through him. With her chest heaving up and down, she stared up at him, not with anger but guarded curiosity. Thane placed his arms on either side of her, palms flat against the tree trunk. “I’ve had enough arguing with you. As your mate, you are mine. You can deny it until you have no breath, you can fight me and hit me and call me every filthy name you can think of, you could even try to kill me again, but I’m not going anywhere. You are mine and I am yours, and I will destroy anyone who gets in my way.” His eyes dropped from her wide blue eyes to her full lips. He’d never wanted to kiss someone more. The urge was almost overwhelming. He wanted to feel something other than the consuming outrage from what he saw in that city. “And as much as I claim it’s all for Palenor, for the good of our people, it’s not. Because if I was being honest with myself,” his voice dropped low, “I would sacrifice too much if it meant you were safe.”

She didn’t look away, didn’t try to hide her feelings. He thought it would be disgust or fury, given how she reacted to him before, but her yearning enveloped him thick and wonderful. Intoxicating. It both calmed and excited him.

“I can’t give you what you want,” she whispered and her feeling of desire slowly retracted, pulling away like bait on the end of a hook. He was the fish trying to catch the treat, chasing the need for it. “Your duty to help me must be about Palenor. Only Palenor.”

Maybe his head still wasn’t clear after the battle, but he leaned closer, his body brushing close to hers. “I said one day you’d love me, and you don’t yet.” His lips grazed her ear, and he felt her tremble. “But I know you want me. I can feel it.”

“I can’t.” She firmly put a hand on his chest, but she didn’t push him away. “I can’t,” she repeated as if the words wounded her, but that desire in her flared again, overwhelming him.

Giving in to the urgency, he smashed his lips against hers. A warm pulse cascaded down his body. His lips moved against hers with a need he hadn’t known was so strong until this moment. Then with a shove and a whack, Layala’s palm smacked his cheek, snapping him out of his drunken hunger for her.

“How dare you kiss me!” she slammed her hands into his chest and pushed him back again. Then she went to smack him a second time.

He caught her wrist. “Don’t. Hit. Me.”

“Don’t kiss me!” she fired back swinging her other arm, but he caught that too. He pushed her back against the tree, pinning her arms down, and they stared at each other both seemingly breathless. Her eyes were wild, more animalistic than elf. “Let go of me.”

“Calm down first.” That only made her more frenzied to get free. She wriggled and kicked and got one of her arms loose, grabbed a fistful of his hair and after one heart beat… two… she jerked him down to her mouth and kissed him. It was full of built-up passion and anger and confusion. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her hard against him. She moaned and it sent goosebumps over him. After feeling like his lips were swollen and he needed a breath, he pulled back.

Breathing heavy, they sat in the quiet and then she pushed out of his arms, leaning into the tree trunk. “I can’t do this.”

He shoved off the tree and turned away briefly, confused about her choice of words. “What does that mean? You don’t want to or you can’t?”

“Can’t.”

His eyebrows pulled down. “Did you make some sort of vow? I don’t understand. It’s one thing if you just don’t want me but to say you can’t is another.”

“Yes, I made a vow. Trust me, you don’t want me, Thane.” She pushed by him, but he grabbed her wrist whirling her around to face him.

“Explain, please.” His teeth clenched so hard his jaw began to ache. She tried to jerk away but he held fast. Her anger was building again but he wanted to know what could stop her from caring for him, from wanting him; their lives were on the line here. The deadline for their marriage might not have been at the forefront of his mind the last couple of days but he hadn’t forgotten. He would never be a pale one. He’d kill himself first. After what felt like an eternity for her to answer, he groaned. “Tell me.”

“Forget it. It’s better this way.”

She twisted away, jumped on top of a fallen log, and hopped down, marching the path out of the woods. He took a couple deep breaths, and it took everything in him not to chase after her and demand an answer.

The battalion of pale ones was slaughtered by the time they made it out of the Lanvore Wood. More heartbreaking was the aftermath. The Ravens went around the city looking for survivors and helping the wounded. More forces were sent south to look for any remaining pale ones. He would need to pull off-duty soldiers from around Palenor to the border for security, and he and his Ravens would have to stay here to help rebuild and secure for at least the following week. The enemy couldn’t be allowed to infiltrate a second time.

Squatting at the side of a stream, he dipped his hands in to wash the black blood from his arms. Staring at his reflection in the water, he saw the black splatters on his face for the first time. Scrubbing it away, his mind flashed back to the delicate female in a bloodied pink dress being fed on by a pale one until he chopped its head off. So disgusted and filled with fury, he lost control and kept hacking and hacking until the monster was unrecognizable and then he turned with a roar and went wild, slicing and chopping any pale one near, letting his magic roam free and tear apart the enemy. Not only had their blood boiled but so had their skin with sores that eventually curled their pale skin away from their bones; he’d never done that before, didn’t even know he could. That’s when they started running at the sight of him: the Warrior King. He usually kept count of his kill number, but he’d been so lost in the wrath for his people, for the city, that he lost his head until that horn blew. He was crazed until he realized they might be going for Layala.

If many considered Thane powerful and ruthless, the Black Mage was ten times what he was. The fact that the Mage created the pale ones was proof of that. As was his ability to trap elves within his magic even hundreds of years after his passing. Trapped just like Layala and Thane, on a steady path to becoming the things Thane hated most in the world. He was a fool to think she would ever want to be with him. An utter fool. Deep inside he was the monster she thought he was. They should never have called him the Warrior Prince. He was the Bloody Prince. The Bloody King now. He may not regret killing pale ones, but he’d killed many of the woodland elves because his father ordered him to. He slapped the water, ruining his reflection and stood.

Phantom munched on the thick foliage alongside the stream until Thane tugged his reins and pulled him along. Servants set up the tents and cooked in the clearing behind Doonafell. Many of the citizens sat in small circles, crying, hugging, and consoling one another. Servants brought them bowls of soup and he hoped that would help. The sorrow was palpable. His eyes burned and it wasn’t from the smoke still billowing from crumbling buildings a half mile away.

Wordlessly, he handed Phantom off to one of the horse hands. “Shall I unsaddle him, sire?” Thane nodded with a heavy heart. Many of the elves bowed to him as he passed.

“Thank you, High King, for coming to help us,” said an elf with black soot smears across his face. Many murmurs of thanks continued, he simply nodded but he had to get away. This happened on his watch. The pale ones never destroyed a large elven city when his father ruled.

He went into his tent, grateful that it was set up for him, a place he could find a little respite. He tugged off his bloody top and weapons then collapsed on the sheepskin furs, hands and body slightly trembling as the rush of battle faded. Staring up at the canvas of the tent for an unknown amount of time, he tried to block out the groans and cries all around. Thoughts of Layala fought for his attention, that kiss was all-consuming and he craved more, but he also didn’t want to think about her. Didn’t want to dwell on the fact that she didn’t or couldn’t give into him, whatever that meant. Was it all her vow to see him and his father dead? Had she not let that go even now? Even after knowing what she knew. After a while he drifted off into a restless sleep.

When he woke up it was evening. The sun hadn’t set but it would soon. No one disturbed him or sought his counsel. He felt Layala nearby, but he didn’t want to see her. Correction, he desperately wanted to see her, but he was confused and angry… and yet a warm sensation filled his belly. She kissed him back. And what a stark contrast it was to the first time she kissed him in his bed a couple weeks before.

Changed into fresh clothing, he stepped out. Aldrich stood from the chair he’d been in beside the tent opening. “Thane. All the remaining pale ones are dead, and our scouts haven’t found any nearby. If Mathekis was here, he’s gone. For now.”

“Good.” Soldiers walked by in pairs, nodding at him. Many people were still being brought into the camp to be treated. Food was served, and although the crying settled, there was a heavy sadness. “And how are the survivors?”

“Some are doing better than others. The uninjured are going to see what is left of their homes or searching for loved ones. So far… three hundred and seventy citizens dead. Thirty-eight soldiers and we lost fourteen Ravens. Kaden, Marcon, Emerin, Dallen…” he continued, naming each one.

“Damn it.” The pit sitting in his gut grew heavier. Not only for all those people but for his soldiers. He knew all his Ravens; personally chose each one of them and their deaths always hurt. He was grateful it wasn’t more. It could have been, but it was still fourteen of his warriors’ lives gone.

“Over a thousand homes and businesses burned.”

“We’ll be here for probably at least two weeks helping rebuild and secure then.”

Aldrich ran his fingers through his dark blond hair. The black blood of pale ones stained one side of his head. “I figured so.”

“Are there any bitten?” The hardest part of all was ordering his soldiers to drive a blade through the heart of the bitten before they could turn.

“No Ravens. A handful of soldiers however, and we’re still searching among the people. So far there have been three civilians with visible bite wounds. We’re… allowing them to say their goodbyes.” He cleared his throat.

Thane shifted, watching the elves around with a closer eye. “There may be more. When I was fighting within the city many of the pale ones were freshly turned elves. They had no weapons, and wore elven clothes, not pale one armor.” He didn’t want to say it, but they were easy kills. “Have the soldiers start asking if anyone has been bitten and have them check the skin. I want all wounded and civilians in one area and guarded overnight. It only takes a few hours to turn. We’ll know by nightfall if there are more.”

Thane’s eyes searched the area, knowing exactly who he was looking for, but he didn’t want to admit it. Although there was no real reason he shouldn’t. It was his duty to watch her and know where she was to keep her safe. But that’s not why he looked for her now; he knew she wasn’t in danger.

“She’s with Piper,” Aldrich said. “They’re tending to some wounded children. She’s a decent healer, and the kids find her amusing.” He paused. “She does better with them than adults. The children don’t see her as a Mage—as the Lightbringer. They are glad for a warm smile and someone to ease the pain.”

He finally saw her, kneeling beside a boy and girl. He rubbed at the flutter in his chest. “I know how she feels.”

“Yes,” Aldrich said. “High King. They see you for what you are, not who. A heavy burden, I’m sure.”

“Speaking of me being High King. I need to go into the city and see what I can do.” He stared at the back of Layala’s head and as if she sensed his gaze, she looked back, meeting his stare. He should bring her with him. It seemed like every time he left her something bad happened. “Tell Layala she’s coming with me and get Fennan. You need to clean yourself off before you go anywhere.” He marched to find his horse, feeling a hot sensation on his back; he knew Layala watched him walk away.