Prince of Blood and Shadow

No level of training would have been enough to prepare him for this. They had been leading refugees from the human realm, a family of persecuted witches. For years, the Nightfangs, the most powerful shadow Fae clan in the Vale, have been secretly transporting refugees through Willowberry Creek, Massachusetts. Harrowsvale, a place beyond the human realm, offered a sanctuary for those with magical abilities.

The trip had taken them from Willowberry wood down alongside the border near the outskirts of Harrows Forest, close to goblin territory. Redcaps stayed close to the borders, hoping to catch travelers. Notorious for drenching their little hats in the blood of their victims, they were revolting pests. There were limitations to what even the Nightfang clan was prepared to tolerate, despite Inias’ familiarity with gore.

As they were about to pass over the firefly bridge into Nightfang Hallow, a troop of redcaps struck their party. The redcaps launched their ambush before the party could cross, cutting off their escape on both sides. One on one, even an average person might fight them off. Striking in large numbers, they would take advantage of the terrain to benefit themselves. In the forest, they would conceal themselves and use arrows to immobilize their prey before dispatching ground troops.

The witches had created a shield of wind to aid in their crossing as the other members of the group engaged the attacking goblins. The devilish little goblins appeared to hide well, despite the decaying foliage around them. Still, there might not have been a significant amount among the trees. Inias believed that if they could surprise the attackers with a counterassault, it would change everything.

His father stayed close to him while he barked orders to the soldiers scurrying nearby. “Hold the bridge!” Cyran Nightfang shouted as a barrier of darkness enclosed them. It protected them from most arrows, but a few appeared to break through. Those with purple points were spell busting arrows. The crystal tip was able to dissolve any spell or shield like acid.

Little holes peeked through their barrier as more purple arrows came through. They could not remain concealed within a shadow wall indefinitely. They had to act. His father’s caution had the potential to result in the loss of everything. “While you hold the bridge, I’ll assault them! Who’s with me?!” Naturally, he had the power to overcome the ambush. He was Inias Nightfang, the next in line to rule over Nightfang Hallow. He would show his dad what a hero he was and earn the recognition he’d deserved.

“No! We stay until they cross and follow! We’ll outrun them once we’re through.” Three other soldiers shook their heads and stood by the young prince, instead. Sir Tremaine, along with Lady Ashryn and Sir Vestin. “I’m ordering you all to stay here! The forest will be crawling with them.”

“We’re arrow fodder in this bubble, old man!” Inias ran headlong into the forest with the trio of knights following behind hoping to route the redcap troops as his dad screamed, “Idiot!”

The hailstorm of darts and arrows from all quarters kept him pinned behind a tree. As they struggled to shield against the tiny goblins, his senses were filled with blood and iron. They kept the party pinned down as the foot soldiers moved in to claim their victims. The first scream sounded as Tremaine had his gut torn open by one of them.

Inias threw one of his knives at an oncoming redcap hitting it through the blood-soaked hat the creature wore. He attempted throwing another to the one slicing through his friend, but an arrow to the arm prevented it. The knife dropped to the ground as Inias swiftly removed the arrow with a cry. The iron points were always barbed and uneven, ripping through his flesh as he ripped it out.

“I’m sorry…” He whispered to his friend as he was dragged off by three of them. The other two who had joined him had not fared well either. Lady Redwood was surrounded, and Sir Vestin, with an arrow in his chest, weakly fired his own back at the enemy. He heard a loud screech and caught the flash of metal through the corner of his eye.

A redcap’s head was rolling to the side when he felt someone grab him around the waist and haul him over their shoulder. A barrier of shadow and mist swirled around them as his father ran across the field. He was able to sense the arrows piercing through, but none struck him. It was then he realized the barrier wasn’t protecting his father, only Inias as they crossed the bridge.

“Dad…put me down! Dad!” Inias pleaded when he saw the blood trail behind them. The two crashed onto the ground across the bridge. There were at least a dozen arrows and darts in his father’s back, his armor soaked in blood. Inias gasped and reached out to shake him, but someone gripped him by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet. “Get moving you idiot!” Another soldier scooped up his father as the party escaped down the path to Stonefog. As the party evaded oncoming arrows, Inias reached out to brush his father’s cheek wishing he’d open his eyes.

His feet felt as heavy as gold as he trudged through the snow. Why bury the dead far from the city? Only those in the line succession or kings were buried in the crypts beneath Nightfang castle. Inias didn’t care how sacred this battlefield was, he was cold, wet, and tired. He had the option to complain all he wanted, but the moment he spotted the headstone his heart sank. Cyran Nightfang. ‘Idiot’ was the last word Inias had heard from the man, his father. That day was carved in his memory. Even his dreams seemed to dwell on it a week later. That image of his father’s back covered in arrows and darts plagued him every night since. Inias had run straight for those red hatted little goblins, three others had joined him expecting a swift victory. His father warned the woods were crawling with more waiting to pounce.

“Idiot!” That word continued to reach his ears from afar, as if the man were screaming it from his grave. The scene played again as it had every time that word echoed. He’d been hauled over his father’s shoulder and pulled from the thick forest over the bridge they were meant to defend. Upon collapsing, his back was riddled with more arrows and darts than the training dummies used for practice. Soldiers dragged him away without time to check his father. He was unable to muster the courage to gaze at him during the ceremony. He had lingered by his uncle and looked away as they approached the casket together.

If only the bitter cold were enough to distract him as he trudged closer, his heart thumping. What could he say? He had ignored an order and his father now laid dead for it. The ache emerged as he fell and sat by the stone. He turned to rustle through his satchel bag, rummaging through bright glowing crystals until his fingers clasped the handle of a small knife. With three crystals beneath it cupped in his palm, he set the satchel aside. Purple to soothe him and two red to warm him. He was not ready to speak and so he silently placed the crystals atop the stone on his knees then sunk down quietly again.

“You always said I’d be the death of you,” Inias mumbled, the worst thing he thought to say as he cut up small bits of cheese from a larger cube. He laid a few by the stone then greedily took a bite from the hunk and wrapped it up. The rough fabric of his gloves scratched at his cheek as he wiped away any tears creeping past his ruby red eyes. A few stray hairs creeped into his vision, and he quickly stuffed it back into his hood. His gaze fell to the dagger digging into his hip through its sheath. He unhooked that and laid it in his lap where he stared at the screeching hawk carved into its hilt. The same hawk now lying beside his father.

“I hope you like cheese…” He had little time to spend with his child. Inias knew more about the common guards than he’d known about his own father. Inias was unable to control his tears as he placed the weapon on the grave next to the cheese cubes. “I thought we could catch them off guard but there were too many…if you hadn’t pulled me out…I wish you hadn’t I wish you’d escaped.”

That ambush was the first time Cyran had taken his son on any expedition, leading refugees from that little earthly town of Willowberry Creek. The redcaps emerged as they made it to the bridge connecting Midvale Grove to Stonefog. “They survived…but…you knew that. You managed to get them across and save my life. Uncle says you should have left me. I think he’s right. You’re a hero…and I’m...” Failure, disappointment, there were so many words that had been flung at him upon his return from the battle. “They don’t need me; they don’t want me.” All that flaunting and boasting to the other kids back home, he was the prince, he was superior. By blood, birthright, and power. They were finally able to see the belittlement he had subjected them to for so many years. His vanity and desperate attempts for glory seemed to come crashing down that night he had sat alone in his room thinking about the ones left behind in the battle.

As he was wiping his face once again something black rushed past him. His pointed ears perked when he heard what sounded like cackling. The dagger was gone and Inias shot to his feet with a hand on his sword hilt. His eyes caught a raven black fox staring at him across the snowy clearing. Inias rushed to close, only to have the fox dart and trip him with its fluffy tail. He tumbled through the snow until he finally got his footing. Clearing it off his face, he growled at the fox who was happily wagging his tail and observing from the tree line. Again, Inias rushed towards the creature, now with a sword drawn. “You’re dead, you petty thief!” He snapped as the fox evaded him once again.

The fox seemed to whimper as he dropped the dagger from his mouth and backed away, as if he had sensed Inias’ anger. Inias cautiously approached the weapon, dipping to one knee to inspect it and the fox. “You thought we were playing…” He reached out to let the fox sniff his hand. The word ‘Styx’ came to mind as the Fox licked his fingers. “Styx…that’s your name?” He asked to which the creature nodded slowly. Styx was an odd fox the way he responded to everything Inias said as if he understood. “You must be a familiar…where’s your master?” he asked, stroking his fingers through Styx’s fur. Familiar’s who took animal form were more intelligent than their fellow beasts. Styx simply shook his head and glanced downwards. Gone. That was all Inias could sense from him, just gone. “Oh…well we can’t play with this,” He moved to hook the dagger back to his hip, but stopped and stuffed it in his jacket pocket again. “How about this?” He pulled a small stick to which Styx was already running across the field.

Inias chucked the stick away from the graves and the fox gave chase. He leapt through the air in a blur of shadowy tendrils catching the stick in midair running off into the woods. A game of keep-away. With a grin, Inias chased him into the forest, only to be tripped again by the fox, who cackled each time. Inias groaned, standing for another quick round that ended as abruptly as the first. His attempt to imitate Styx by crawling on all fours wasn’t as swift. It left his arms tired and the fox still cackling away.

Round after round and only twice did he manage to wrestle it out of the fox’s mouth. Once he had dropped down from a tree and the next round, he faked a dash then managed to catch him from around a tree. Both times Styx shook it off and eagerly waited for Inias to throw it again. The only tear dripping down his cheek was the line of sweat that fell as he panted. Styx was just too fast, darting away every time Inias got close.

It must have been hours later when he finally collapsed in the snow laughing as Styx came to lick his cheek and sniff at him. “I’m fine…” He pushed the fox’s face aside and sat up to wrap his arms around Styx’s furry neck. “You kicked my ass, but I’ll be okay.” He pulled away from nuzzling against the fox to grab the flask of water he had left by the tree. Thirst and leg pain were his only discomforts. He clipped his sword back to his belt and dug through his bag for some bread which he cut in half for him and Styx.

Inias stood to his feet as the fox nibbled away at his bread chunk and groaned at the setting sun. He didn’t want to go back home. All those faces glaring at him again. If he did not return for dinner his uncle would only send someone to drag him back. Getting rid of his guards to venture out here alone was risky enough. He had treated them to a special tea, the same tea he had been using to help himself sleep. No one needed to see him crying out here or watch him fail to catch one little fox over and over. Familiar or not he was a clever little fox.

“I’ll see you when I come back, promise!” Inias would return to see his father again, there was still so much he wanted to say. Styx whimpered as Inias began walking away, “I have to go home,” Inias said, turning on his heel to find him trying to follow. “Uncle says I can’t have pets…” Styx seemed to understand, whimpering with his ears low as he moved away. “Don’t do that…I…” The court was still deciding his punishment for the redcap ambush; how much worse could it get? Leaving Styx out here alone in the cold would keep him up all night. “What the hell…come on.” Styx perked up and rushed to his side as Inias continued down the forest path.