Twenty Miles North of Glasgow, Scotland – March, 1946
There weren’t any bodies. A few spatters of blood, but no bodies.
The five estate cars I’d sent to meet Prince Nicol and his party at the airfield were parked by the side of the road, every door open.
Drops of blood were visible here and there on the road, but not enough for anyone to have bled out.
A few bullets had punctured the upholstery inside two of the cars, but there were no corresponding bloodstains indicating someone had been wounded or killed.
All five Guards who’d been driving had pulled over, then every Guard plus Prince Nicol had been forced or manipulated into exiting their vehicles.
Kinnon had been in charge of the Guard contingent.
I’d been training him to take my place as Captain one day, and I could not imagine a scenario where he would’ve allowed all five cars to stop and for every single Guard inside to get out.
It went against every security protocol.
Some of the grass by the road appeared disturbed, so there may have been a fight. But, based on how quickly all of their connections had been severed, my Guards had been overpowered in minutes. Twenty-nine Guards, plus Prince Nicol.
I breathed in and out, pushing down my anger and grief. I couldn’t be emotional yet. I had to be the Captain of the Royal Guard and determine what had happened and who had killed my people and the prince.
But where were the bodies? Why take the bodies? I thought uneasily of the Nazi experiments on Wonders during the war, but none of them had happened in Britain, and most Nazi scientists had been relocated to the United States by now.
Mairead came out of the woods on the west side of the road. “Nothing to indicate anyone tried to get away in this direction, Captain.”
“Same over here.” Peadar shook his head as he picked his way across the grass. “I’d say they weren’t expecting it. Someone pretending they needed help, perhaps.”
Perhaps. But that still didn’t explain the violation of our standard procedures. One car might have stopped to render aid, but not all five.
The Guards I’d brought with me stood watch at either end of the grisly line of cars while I searched each one for clues. Prince Nicol’s luggage was in the boot of the first car, but he wouldn’t have been riding in that one.
I was searching under the second row of seats of the third estate car when I saw what looked like a small statue on the floor.
I pulled it out. “Oh, hello.” Prince Nicol’s dèideag dìon was in the shape of a small cat curled in on itself with their face hidden.
Hope flared. Had they seen anything? I leaned over.
With the car door open, they would’ve been able to see part of the road from their spot under the seat.
I held them to my chest and stroked their runes carefully.
I hadn’t interacted much with many of the dèideagan dìon.
I knew they were sentient, and only the rich and powerful Elves had the resources to create them for their children.
They served first as companion, and later, as they Became alongside the child they’d been given to, as protector and advisor.
This one was still small, so Prince Nicol must not have found them interesting enough to interact with regularly.
Typically a child of twelve Earth years would have a dèideag dìon twice this size.
Unless... unless the dèideag dìon had given their magic to protect Prince Nicol or to keep him alive. They would’ve lost mass as their magic went to the prince.
I stroked them again. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. You remember me, right? I’m Sìomon. I lead the Royal Guard. Can you tell me what you saw?”
After several seconds the dèideag dìon moved, stretching out to display more surface area. Its runes flashed. Guards cut own connections. Took prince. Traitors.