The Night Prince (The Night Prince #1)

6. The Sun Rises

The Sun Rises

D eclan was polishing glasses behind the bar as Finley picked his way towards him through the tables. His best friend’s long burgundy robe swept over the floor. It was similar to those the Aravae Mages wore. Beneath it, Finley had on his usual three-piece suit and bowtie. The magician’s hat perched on top of his blonde head–tilted at a jaunty angle, no less–was not Aravae style or part of his usual attire, but Finley was partial to wearing it when DMing. A few of the new guests started to chuckle at his best friend’s hat, but one sharp glance from Declan had them shutting up and staring into their drinks.

That’s better. We’ve had enough drama tonight.

Finley’s large blue eyes met his. They were made larger behind his round, wire-rimmed spectacles. Declan noted that Finley was carrying an empty pitcher and cup, though it was only Snaglak and him at the gaming table this early in the day. The orc was always thirsty. Declan could see the hulking, innocent brute ripping into a chicken leg back at the table.

“Snaglak should get his own drinks,” Declan said dryly as he took the containers from Finley’s hands and went to fill both with foaming, fresh beer.

“He’s promised to pay for the next round,” Finley said as he dug into his own coin purse. “How much do I owe you?”

Finley took out a bunch of the bronze, silver and gold coins that had replaced credit cards and other human currency. King Aquilan’s visage was stamped on the gold coins. Even though it had been five years since Declan had seen the Sun King in person, he knew that the engraving didn’t capture the Aravae’s unnatural beauty, grace and power. He shook himself. The Sun King had been surfacing more often in his thoughts now that he knew the elf was coming back to Tyrael.

So what if he does? It’s not as if he is going to come into the Dawn and order a glass of white wine! Declan reminded himself firmly. He’ll stay up at the palace or with his noble retainers. I’ll be lucky if I get a glimpse of him from afar.

And yet, he found himself looking over at the Dawn’s door and expecting to see the real life version of the elf on the coins. It really was ridiculous.

“Maybe I should give you something to cover the whole night,” Finley was musing. “I know that Snaglak promised to pay for his next round, but you know how he is–”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” Declan said as he forcefully dragged his gaze from the door.

“I have plenty of money, Declan. You don’t have to pay for me let alone Snaglak,” Finley protested.

“I’m pretty sure you’re making more money than I am,” Declan laughed. “But you’re going to need all your funds when you’re at the Academy and you can’t DM as much this year.”

Finley pinked with pleasure, likely at Declan’s certainty he’d get in. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to end up in fairy jail by not paying my fair share of the bar tab.”

Both of them looked over at the birdcage where Rain and Snow were just coming to.

Declan snorted in amusement. “It’s a little small for you.”

“When has size ever mattered to you? As I recall, you took down five orcs all by yourself,” Finley teased.

“Six. I count Snaglak as part of that bar fight even though neither of us pulled a punch. But I did best him,” Declan grinned.

“He swore fealty to you. You’re his new clan leader,” Finley laughed, but then he sobered, “You know, it should be you applying to the Academy instead of me or, at least, with me, Declan.”

Declan tensed. “Finley–”

“Hear me out.” Finley lifted a hand to fend off all of the arguments that Declan routinely put forward. “Please?”

He wasn’t mad at Finley for asking. He was glad that his best friend wanted him to share the glory of getting into the Academy. But there was absolutely no way he was exposing himself like that in an academy of magic. Finley might think that what he had done to the Leviathan was magical or something, but he was almost certain the Aravae wouldn’t be as impressed. In fact, they might be alarmed.

“We’ve talked about this. I’m not the magical academy sort. I never was one for school anyway,” Declan reminded him.

Back in high school, while Finley would be pouring over his school books with great zeal, the words on the page would blur before Declan’s eyes. He’d find himself tapping his pen against the book’s spine then shaking his right leg then his left. Pretty soon, he would be staring out the window at the trees outside, having forgotten he was supposed to be studying at all. His grades had reflected this.

When test time came around, Declan would struggle to finish within the prescribed time limit. Often, he would just start marking the paper randomly so he could finish early and escape outside. He’d lay down on one of the benches under the shade of a stand of trees in the high school’s courtyard, sunglasses on, hood pulled over his face, and wait for the bell to ring and Finley to join him.

Being in school was like being in prison to Declan. Sitting still. Staring at swirling letters. Having the teachers drone on. That was one thing he hadn’t missed when the Leviathan came and cut their senior year of high school short. And it had also solved the issue of what would happen after high school ended.

Finley had been ranked first in their class. He’d been applying to Ivy League colleges, which Declan could never have gotten into unless he’d applied to be a janitor there. Yet they’d been determined to stay together so Finley had been working on a plan to make that happen. But then the Leviathan came and any plans were well and irrevocably canceled.

Yet Finley deserved to be in the best school. He loved learning. He should be at the Academy. Finley studying dusty magical tomes with ink staining his fingers would make some things right that the Leviathan had made very, very wrong. But would the Aravae let him in? Any human who showed a hint of something different about them was suspect at least from how they’d treated him. And being as smart and clever as Finley would likely alarm them.

His eyes slid to the two Aravae–a man and a woman–who sat at a nearby table. While Finley wasn’t able to hear their conversation, he could. And he could understand them perfectly, even though they weren’t speaking English. Learning Katyr had been the one thing that had been easy for him to do. In fact, Katyr was easier for him than English. He’d actually tried to relearn Ukrainian back in the day–his native tongue–but it had been gibberish to him. Yet Katyr tripped off his tongue as if he’d been speaking it forever. And so what those two Sun Elves were gossiping about was quite clear to him.

The male Aravae with golden hair and chocolate colored eyes murmured, “So it’s true then, Leisha? The bartender really is not like the other Vulluin ?”

That last was the Aravae word for humans, which didn’t fully translate to English. The closest approximation would be the “magic-less”, which if Finley had overheard them would have caused his best friend to bristle. Finley would prove them wrong, he was sure. If nothing else, his best friend’s zeal for learning should be rewarded with a place by Glass Scholar Neylor’s side.

The female Aravae with darker tresses and lighter eyes–evidently Leisha–nodded. “No, Seith, I wonder… well, I wonder if he is Vulluin at all.”

Declan stiffened. What was this? There had been rumors about him since the Leviathan came. Despite him, Finley and Gemma all having survived, people seemed to sense that he was the one behind that survival. They were right, but still. Was there something about him that made him stand out? And in this case, stand out so much that they didn’t even think he was human?

He already knew the answer to that question.

There was something off about him.

Something indefinable Something other. Some would even say it was dark . Maybe he would, too. Even his own beloved parents had worried that he’d slip up in some way and be found out.

But what would be found out?

His mind went back to just earlier that day when the Sun had nearly done him in. While Finley was quick enough to assume it was some normal, if rare, disease that caused his Sun sensitivity, Declan wasn’t so sure. In this brave new world of magic and monsters, the only creatures who were affected adversely by the light were from the Under Dark and none of them were considered friendly. He certainly didn’t want to be associated with them no matter what the real cause of his aversion to sunlight was. He wondered what these Aravae would make of it.

Nothing good.

His keen hearing picked up their continuing conversation.

“He certainly looks like a Vulluin , though he is quite lovely for one,” the male Aravae named Seith murmured.

Declan’s eyes narrowed. Sun Elves were notorious for their love’em and leave’em approach. That was not for him. If he ever were to date someone–let alone become intimate with them–it would forever. One and done.

He couldn’t imagine touching someone or letting them touch him and get into his heart and under his skin without having a commitment. The Sun King’s face flashed before his mind’s eye. He gritted his teeth. He was likely just fantasizing about him, because Aquilan was the safest person to fantasize about. He had no chance with such a being so he would never have to worry about pursuing such a romance or not.

Seith continued, “It can’t be because he put that snotty goblin in his place that you think him something other than Vulluin .”

“Oh, that ? No, that’s nothing compared to what I’ve heard he’s done,” Leisha dropped her voice and leaned forward.

“And what is that, pray tell?” Seith looked disbelieving.

Leisha’s lips curled into a smile. “He killed a Leviathan.”

Declan’s breathing ceased for a moment, but again, he forced himself to appear completely unaware of anything they were saying about him. Leisha was wrong anyway.

He hadn’t killed one Leviathan.

He’d killed dozens .

So many really that he wasn’t sure about the end count. Twelve hours of battle. Countless shadows burned away. Fangs littering the ground all around him. Body and mind completely blank except for the battle.

And I loved every minute of it. I finally felt like I was myself. Like I was doing what I was meant to do.

Declan’s eyes dropped to the seeming tattoo of a simple kitchen knife that decorated the interior of his left forearm. It was hardly remarkable enough to have been chosen as a tattoo. In fact, he would never have asked for it to be inked on his fair skin. But it was there. Whether he wanted it or not.

It ached whenever he thought of the Leviathan. They were made of pure darkness with red glowing eyes. They slithered and flew. They were huge yet able to slip through the smallest crack. There was nowhere that was safe from them when the Sun sank below the horizon before the Aravae had set up the shielded cities.

He felt the sharp outline of the blade underneath his skin. He snatched his hand away. His fingertips prickled and cold sweat coated his upper lip. Had he touched it too long? Would it stay as a tattoo or not?

Stay a tattoo. Stay. Stay, he begged.

After long moments where nothing happened, he dared to glance down at it again. The “tattoo” looked as it always had since the day it had appeared. Delicate lines of black detailed every swirl of wood in the handle. The blade was missing the tip just like the real blade had been after he’d pierced that first Leviathan’s side. The rivets that connected the metal to wood were also just as they had been on the real blade. Three down its length. He could almost remember how cool they were against his palm compared to the warmth of the wood when he’d wielded it.

This had been his mother’s favorite knife. She’d used it to cut everything from hunks of sharp cheddar cheese for them to snack on to the carrots she liberally sprinkled into his favorite stew. He’d found it clutched in her ashen hand, slick with her blood, just before she’d died.

As she’d pressed it into his hand, she’d whispered, “They’re here for you , Declan. They’re here for you .”

As her last breath had left her, he’d let out a keening howl and sliced his own skin with that blade, mingling her blood with his. He hadn’t felt the physical pain. The emotional one was so great that it threatened to consume him, burn him to ashes, leaving only blackened bones in its wake. The cutting of his own flesh had somehow helped him focus that rage and loss into something physical: a stain of crimson on steel.

It had felt right .

It had felt necessary .

“Iefyr!” he’d shouted. A nonsense word. Yet he’d screamed it again and again and again until it echoed throughout his house. “IEFYR!”

The Leviathan that had attacked his beloved mother was still in the house. It had appeared like a ghost in front of him, all glowing eyes and inky blackness. There was the suggestion of coils in that darkness as if it was made up of squirming smoke snakes. It filled the space between the kitchen island and cabinets from the floor to the ceiling. Dwarfing him. Blocking out the feeble last rays of sunlight that streamed through the window above the sink.

He held the knife out in front of him, rising up onto the balls of his feet as if he had been knife-fighting since a child. He swore he heard it titter as it faced off against him, thinking such a puny, unremarkable blade could do nothing against it.

It dove towards him, preparing to engulf him in its blackness, but he slashed it with that simple kitchen knife. The blade glowed white-hot and sliced through the Leviathan like butter. The tip had broken off, but it hadn’t mattered.

There was a scream. A roar of utter shock and agony. The blue-white light from the blade arced through the Leviathan, cutting it in two. He could see the far wall through the center of it. He leaped and slashed at it again. More arcs of electric blue-white light had streamed through the Leviathan’s darkness, destroying it, burning it away.

And then the curved fang fell at his feet. A dull clank as the air cleared of darkness. It was just him, his dead mother, and the fang. That was the first Leviathan he would kill that day. There would be many, many more. And the knife that he’d used–that completely unremarkable blade–had disappeared and became a tattoo on his forearm after he was done.

He pulled the sleeve of his black jacket down to cover the “tattoo”. If he didn’t stop imagining the real blade, it would appear in his hand and the Aravae who were gossiping would notice. Maybe others would too.

“Nonsense! Humans can’t wield magic or use magical weapons!” Seith repeated the common refrain, but his eyes were filled with alarm at the thought, and Declan gritted his teeth.

Would the Aravae act the same way when Finley applied to the Academy? Normally, they viewed humans as if they were children apt to do silly and dangerous things that they needed to be saved from. They’d likely raise their eyebrows when Finley turned up to take the entrance exam, give him a small smile, and wish him luck, because they would think he needed it. When he passed that test then things would become more difficult for them. But he hoped they wouldn’t treat Finley like some of them did him.

They won’t. Because I’ve never fit in. I’ve never belonged. Even kids at school knew I was not one of them.

“Exactly. So the bartender is not Vulluin .” Leisha sat back in her seat and sipped her wine in triumph.

Seith frowned. “So what is he?”

And Declan found himself listening with every fiber of his being as if these gossiping Aravae knew anything at all about him. They couldn’t, of course. He was just… him . Whatever that meant. Besides, he was certain he was human.

With a cat-like smile, Leisha shrugged. “That’s the question, now isn’t it?”

Declan’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t know. She had no idea. He should be relieved by this. After all, no matter what she suggested would be wrong. He was human. After all, what else could he be?

“Declan? You okay?” Finley’s question brought him back to the moment.

He blinked and turned back to his best friend. “Y-yeah, just been a long shift already and there's still a ton to do.”

“And you were sick before you came to work today.” Finley’s eyes flickered all over his face as if trying to read his thoughts. “That would take it out of anyone.”

“I’m fine now,” he quickly retorted.

Finley’s expression was full of concern. “Still–”

“Declan, please tell me that these blasted fairies didn’t curse the honey brew!” It was Lily Snellgarden’s voice that saved him from Finley’s questions.

He really couldn’t lie to his best friend. But he didn’t know what was a lie and what was the truth.

“Afraid so,” he said, turning to her with an abashed look.

Lily was a halfling with curly red hair and a face splashed with freckles. The top of her head only came up to Declan’s waist, but she hustled around the bar as if she was twice his height. Her thick legs were powerfully muscled and they moved with lightning speed as she hopped up onto the rolling stool behind the bar, which allowed her to whiz up and down the bar’s length to make drinks, take coins and mop up. She was right in front of the silver keg, sniffing it, and wrinkling her nose.

“Ach! It’s already starting to stink!” She waved a hand through the air.

“Yeah, I was going to take it in the back and dump it in the sink,” he told her as he handed the full pitcher and cup to Finley. “Better get that to Snaglak before he dies of thirst. I’ll check up on you guys in a little bit.”

Finley’s large blue eyes studied his face, clearly wanting to discuss that afternoon’s weakness of his, but, thankfully, his best friend smiled and nodded. “Sounds good. I want to run the final campaign by you.”

“For sure.”

Declan nodded and watched with affection as Finley carried the nearly overflowing pitcher and cup to the gaming table. He was pleased to note that Snaglak got up to intercept Finley before he’d gotten halfway back to take both from him.

He and Snaglak made eye contact. The big orc dipped his head in acknowledgement. Declan had no need for any followers–let alone an orc one–except for the fact that Snaglak could guard Finley when he couldn’t.

He needed to deal with that keg and fill Lily in on all the doings at the bar. Not to mention things were heating up again. He was certain tonight was going to be another full house and then some. So Snaglak needed to keep an eye on Finley. That head dip had told Declan he would. With a final wipe of his hands on a bar towel, he headed over to Lily and the keg. She was attempting to lift the keg up, but was not succeeding

“Lily, what are you doing?” Declan frowned.

“This thing stinks to high heaven!” Lily’s cheeks were flushed from trying to lift the keg that almost weighed as much as she did.

“I’ll handle it,” he said as he lightly picked up the keg and hefted it onto his right shoulder. “I’ll dump it out in the back sink real quick.”

But Lily was shaking her head. “Don’t you remember what happened last time we did that? The curse will spread to the rest of the liquor.”

“That only happened the once and–”

“Helgrom will already be upset that he’s lost some of his best brew for Aquilan’s arrival. We can’t risk losing anymore! There’s no more alcohol to be had for love or money in the province!” Lily reminded him.

Declan knew that, too. In addition to all the other high fantasy creatures, the Sun Elves took every opportunity they could to have a party. They were partial to the minerally-tasting, icy white wines that were produced in what had been California. With King Aquilan’s decision to move into the Eryas Palace in Tyrael now that the war against the Leviathan was won, the celebrations would stretch out weeks if not a month or more to mark the occasion. So all the alcohol fit to drink was likely already long sold and gone.

The Sun Elves reminded Declan of the ancient Romans in their attitudes. They lusted after fine food and wine, adored dancing and singing, and were said to make love at the drop of a hat. Declan had served them enough food and drink–not to mention finding many of them intertwined between the beer barrels in back–to know all of that was true.

Their battle to free Earth from the Leviathan menace had been unusual for them. Though brilliant magic users and skilled with the sword and bow, the taking of life–even foul life like that of the Leviathan–was not their natural state. They were elves of peace not war. But the Leviathan’s emergence on Earth had changed many things for many people.

“Right. Gotta take it outside,” he said, his voice strangely dead-sounding. Except it wasn’t strange because outside was where the Sun was. And the last thing he wanted was to feel those rays on his skin again. “Dump it in the sewer down the block? Would that work?”

She nodded vigorously once more. “I’d take it myself, but it’s a–ah, wee bit heavy for me.”

“Don’t worry about this, Lily. I’ll take care of it,” Declan said, still sounding off to his own ears.

She reached up and pinched his cheek. “You’re the best, Declan! You take all the tips tonight for covering for me earlier and doing this now.”

“No worries. It’s no big deal. Just a quick walk down the block,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as convince her.

“I’ll hold the fort down while you’re gone,” Lily assured him. “And don’t you worry! I’ll make it clear to Helgrom that you had to sacrifice the honey brew.”

“Thanks, Lily.”

He reached back and twitched the deep hood of his black, loose-fitting jacket up over his head so that it completely shaded his face. It was already four in the afternoon so the Sun would be lower on the horizon than it had been when he’d come here. There would be plenty of shadows he could take shelter in if he needed them. Yet the Sun was staying up higher later as spring was turning to summer. It would still be terribly bright .

But he was human.

And humans weren’t afraid of the light.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Lily was already rocketing down to the other end of the bar to serve another halfling some rich, red wine. He turned quickly and started towards the side door that would lead him more swiftly to the storm sewer. His eyes darted to Finley. His best friend’s head was down as he was writing furiously in his game notebook.

Do I want him to notice I’m going outside or do I hope he doesn’t?

If Finley noticed him leaving, his best friend might come with him just to make sure he was all right. And if the Sun was too much for him and he wasn’t all right then… No. He couldn’t think like that. It was a block walk in the late afternoon. He wasn’t a child. This wasn’t dangerous…

It wasn’t.

Everything would be fine .

He fished into the inner pocket of his jacket and took out his sunglasses. He flipped them open and stuck them on. Even in the dim, golden light of the Dawn, he saw perfectly behind the darkest pair of sunglasses he’d been able to find in the ruins of old Lightwell. He braced himself, taking in a deep breath, as he pushed open the wooden side door and went outside.

He immediately felt the Sun’s scorching rays through the top of his heavy hood. His eyes squinted and watered painfully the moment he was free of the shadow of the inn. He swallowed and forced himself to keep walking even as everything in him begged him to return to the safety of the inn with its small, stained glass windows and dim interior.

But humans were not afraid of the light.

He was human.

So he would be fine .

He started walking down the street that bore little resemblance to the town he’d grown up in. The boxy ranch houses and multi-story Victorians had been destroyed in the original battle and had been replaced with the elegant and magically-created architecture of the Aravae.

Graceful white stone homes with delicate glass domes were everywhere, corinthian columns held up the soaring ceilings of spacious buildings, and vast plazas dotted the sprawling town where people could perambulate with a cup of aromatic tea or icy wine in one’s hand. And all of it was overflowing with flowers and greenery.

Life bursted, bloomed and flowed in Tyrael and the smell of those flowers and growing things filled Declan’s nostrils with sweet scents as he made it to the sidewalk. The asphalt streets were long gone, replaced with perfectly level stone walkways for there were no cars any longer. They were not allowed inside the shield in any case. The Separatists might still run the belching, gas-guzzling cars and trucks that were slowly rusting and falling apart, but to live under the auspices–and greater safety–of the Aravae Empire was to eschew all that polluted and contaminated and embrace the magical.

The storm sewer was located half a block downstream from the squat, but comfortable Dawn. The inn’s use of dark wood, round windows and curving doors was quite a bit different than the light and airy Aravae structures around it, but the dwarves prided themselves on bringing their own flavor to the town and the Dawn was a favorite with all species. The dwarves’ home in the Under Dark had been lost to the Kindreth long ago and they had joined the Empire then. Seeing that they had assimilated so well gave the general hope that humanity would too. But Declan wondered if that was true. The dwarves lived long and used the magic of the earth. Humans were truly the odd one out.

That block walk from the inn to the storm sewer felt like a marathon. Cold sweat ran down Declan’s spine as he dropped the keg down to the ground and crouched beside it right next to the metal grate. He could hear water rushing far below. He imagined the cool darkness that water flowed through and wished bitterly to experience it himself.

He rested one forearm against the top of the keg as he struggled to catch his breath. His left hand was far more exposed to the sunlight when he did that. Though his flesh did not smoke or blacken, it felt like it was. Those few moments of full exposure made it feel as if flames were running along his skin.

He cursed himself for not bringing the pair of supple, black leather gloves that Shonda had given him for his birthday. He knew exactly where they were: neatly folded on top of his dresser at home. He had considered grabbing them earlier this afternoon, but it was almost summer and too warm for them. People would have stared and wondered what he was on about wearing those. But he’d been foolish to worry about that type of heat and attention. He wrenched his sleeves down further to cover all but the tips of his fingers.

Everything will be fine. Just have to open the keg and let it drain , he told himself.

His fingers, suddenly clumsy and numb, fumbled with the metal spigot at the bottom of the keg. He let out a low cry of frustration as he couldn’t quite seem to get the spigot to open. His body shook with cold despite being out under the hot Sun.

There is no need to panic. This will take but a moment. Everything will be fine.

The spigot finally turned and the honey brew–definitely sour and stinking–started to flow out into the drain. He let out a sigh of relief. He could wait for it to empty in the shadow of a nearby tree. Just a few feet away, he saw the edges of one of those shadows, lacy and soft, but it would offer some respite. He reached towards it only to see the shadow retreat.

What the hell?!

It was getting brighter. As bright as noon. But that shouldn’t be! That couldn’t be! He looked up at the sky in confusion as the light increased and pushed back all the shadows. The light was flooding everything. Pure golden sunshine.

His tongue clove to the top of his mouth that was dry as dust. This light… he’d seen it before. One time. Five years before nearly to the day. It had spelled safety back then. The light had blown the Leviathan apart. It had eventually saved the world. But now?

Now ?

The light of the Aravae extinguished all shadows. Conquered the darkness. It left nowhere for those afraid of its brilliance to hide.

Sun King Aquilan Fairlynn had come home to Tyrael.

And Declan Wilde was trapped in his light.