Chapter 27 Caspian
Caspian
There’s an ache in my bones and the heavy blanket of fatigue over my mind, but these things feel comfortable. Earned. It’s the pain of hard and worthy work—something I’m none too familiar with.
“Well done, lad.” Irahn crosses his arms and examines the tunnel entrance, leading deep into the dark. The only light emanates from a few glowing crystals that jut from the rocky walls; even my eyes can’t pierce where this shaft goes.
I roll my shoulders and stretch out my wrists.
I’ve spent all day with Irahn down in the bowels of the Great Chasm.
Never thought I’d be back here, that I’d be able to be back here.
Ghosts of both Kel and me seemed to sweep out of the dark as I worked.
Kel left his mark on me in many ways, the blows of that battle included.
It’s taken all day to clear the briars blocking the tunnels. They were frosted with ice and sluggish to my commands. But I did it. Dare I say Irahn looks…proud?
“You’re meeting Kel tonight at his camp?” Irahn asks.
“That’s the plan.” I don’t even know what time it is. Hopefully it’s not too late and Ezryn’s still in his grumpy fae form rather than his grumpy wolf form. Can’t imagine that would make for fun conversation with the Deep Guard.
“Alright. You get going without me. I’ve got to stay and prepare this place for the scouts. Give my regards to Ezryn and Rosalina. We’ll be in touch soon.” Irahn stares into the gloom. “I’ll have my crew start mapping right away. Tell Kel to expect the charts shortly.”
I nod and walk to the lift. I’m ready to be out of here. Out of the dark. I close the gate and put my hand over the lever.
“Boy?” Irahn calls.
I look to the old man. “Yes?”
“You betrayed Keldarion and ripped a hole in the earth. Why are you helping now?”
“I’m tired of breaking all the beautiful things in my life.” The lift creaks upward, and I hold Irahn’s steel gaze until it fades into the dark.
Letting out a breath, I lean against the wall. I’m eager to get back to Rosalina and Ezryn. While Irahn and I worked below, they were up on the bridge, organizing troops, scouting defensive positions for our attack, and taking stock of weapons and supplies.
I wrap my scarf around my face and pull my hood up over my hair. It was just the old warden and me down in the chasm, but his crew will start asking questions when they see the briars are gone. They’ll wonder who did it. They’ll ask if Kel is in league with the Below again.
Oh well. That’s for Irahn to deal with. I’ll be long gone. In fact, judging by the light filtering down into the chasm, it’s near sunset. We were supposed to be on our way to Kel’s camp ages ago.
The lift shudders to a stop at the very top of the bridge. Fading sunlight glitters off the frosty surface, burning my eyes. I pull open the gate and step out—
Something smacks into me with the force of a boulder. I’m thrown hard to the ground, and a chorus of laughter rings out around me. Shaking my head, I stagger to my hands and knees. A cold wind blows my hair away from my face, and I realize my hood has flung back.
“I’d say watch where you’re going, but I wouldn’t want to bruise your ego and your shoulder,” I mutter, starting to stand.
A boot comes at me hard, kicking me in the chest and forcing me down to the ice.
“Well, hello, handsome,” I say, looking up at a pockmarked man. “I usually ask for dinner before you have me on my back.”
“It is ’im,” the man growls. He wears the white furs of the Deep Guard.
“Eyes like the scales of a snake. Skin white as snow. Hair black as pitch.” He looks around, and I take in his companions: a young man with a patchy blond beard, a short, red-haired man missing his front tooth, and a broad-shouldered woman, her hair in a thick braid.
The young man’s eyes have the wild look of cornered prey. “Is it him, Mikkel? The one who made the chasm? The monster from the stories?”
“Yes, Peder, that’s ’im. I’d recognize evil anywhere I saw it,” Mikkel says, poxy face twisting into a sneer.
“Then he can destroy us with a snap of his fingers!” Peder cries.
“Be brave now! There’s somethin’ wrong with ’im. He looks naught but a floppy boy! Weak as a woman!” Mikkel says.
“Oi! Not weak as this woman,” the broad-shouldered fae says, her braid swaying as she staggers forward. “Should I show you?”
“Long as you leave some for the rest of us, Berit,” the red-haired one spits.
As I’m about to speak, Berit draws back her foot and kicks. Her heavy boot connects with my jaw, and I’m sent skidding across the ground. Another chorus of laughter breaks out between them.
“Caught a rat right in our own home! We’ll show ’im the force of the Deep Guard!” Mikkel calls and stomps toward me.
I want to rise, but he’s on me, pinning down my legs with his and holding my arms with his meaty fists.
“Give him one for your brother, Bj?rn!”
The red-haired man lunges forward, agony etched on his features. “Troll crawled up and took my brother! You did that! You brought them forth!” With a roar, he draws back his fist and punches me in the face. Warm blood trickles from my nose.
“This one’s for Mami!” Berit screams and stomps down on my ankle.
Pain shoots through my leg, and I cry out, but I don’t try to break out of Mikkel’s grip.
It would be so easy to throw these ruffians off me. To turn their own shadows against them. To tie their legs and arms in darkness. To whisper in their ears: Am I the ghost that haunts your nightmares? Do you see my face in every dark shadow, waiting to leap out at you?
Because that’s how they see me. Evil. Monster. Villain.
But I don’t. I let them take shot after shot.
“Your turn, Peder!” Mikkel calls to the young man.
Peder cries as he hits me, tangled words of his grandmother coming out in sobs.
My head is hazy, mouth filled with blood. Pain riots in my lungs, and I wonder if one’s cracked my rib.
But how can I fight back when they’re right?
They saw the beast, and they’re doing what any person would. Hunt it to protect those they love.
They’ll need this anger and more to survive whatever’s lying in wait in the tunnels I just opened.
“Prince of Thorns! Prince of Whores! Prince of Death! Prince of Shadow!” Mikkel bellows as he strikes me with each name. “Winter has no place for traitors! We’ll bury you in snow and let the frost gnaw what’s left!”
Wouldn’t that be poetic? To die in Winter? Most deserved, certainly. I always figured Kel would be the end of me, though I imagined it at his hands—
Not that I’ll die here. They can break my bones. Bloody my body. I’ve survived worse. I don’t know if a fae alone can kill me, not after everything Mother’s put me through.
But they’ll try. And I’ll let them.
Because it is what I deserve.
“That’s enough,” a deep voice cuts over the sounds of my jaw clattering with each hit. “You have the wrong man.”
My vision is blurry, but I see a dark shape descend over us. He heaves Mikkel off me, throwing him across the ground.
“Back away, all of you. The next time, I will not ask so politely.”
I groan, the sound of the man’s voice more painful than the blows. Ezryn saving me again? I’ll never live this down. “Leave, Ezryn. I’ve got this handled.”
“Like the grave you do,” he snarls. “You look like shit.”
“Yes, yes.” I’d roll my eyes if it didn’t send shooting pain through my skull.
“Leave us to our business, interloper,” Mikkel cries. “This man is a demon from the Below! He must be destroyed!”
“And who are you to cast judgment?” Ezryn says, voice gravelly. He stands over me, stance defensive. “This man is under my protection. If you want him, you’ll have to go through me.”
“And who are you, stranger?” Berit snarls.
“I have had many names,” he says. “Not all of my choosing. As this man has been named not of his choosing. He is not the Prince of Thorns. Find and slay your monsters elsewhere.”
“Then who is he?” the red-haired man says.
Ezryn’s cape snaps in the wind, and I blow an exasperated cloud of breath out into the air. “His name,” Ezryn says lowly, “is Caspian.”
“Caspian?” the young boy repeats.
It’s…unfamiliar to him.
Of course it is.
So many of these people don’t know my real name. They know me as the Prince of Thorns. No true title but the moniker the fae of the surface realms dubbed me with. They chose a name for their monster, and I wore it like a crown.
By the shuffle of feet and a few muttering words, I take it the ruffians are scuffling away. Even without his armor, Ezryn’s not someone to contend with. I sigh again, staring up at the sky, letting the soft flakes of snow fall over my cheeks, hot with blood.
“Can you stand?” Ezryn turns and offers me a hand.
I don’t take it. “Can you stop doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Saving me.” I push myself up and spit blood. “I swear, you were more bearable when you were trying to kill me.”
Ezryn tilts his head in a familiar way. “But…I had no choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have to save you,” Ezryn says slowly.
I’ve truly puzzled the metalhead on this one. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do,” he demands, then reaches down and yanks me up by my arm.
I cry out, clutching my rib. I don’t think it’s broken, but it’s definitely bruised.
Ezryn grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. His dark brows lower over his even darker eyes. “You’re my family. We always protect our family.”
I stop moving, stuck in his gaze. Wind whips his hair away from his face. Scruff lines his jaw, and his hair curls around his tattered ears. Family.
He shoves my shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that. Because you’re my family doesn’t mean we’re friends. I can protect people I don’t like as well as I can people I love.”
“Yeah,” I say, but I’m still staring at him. He was like Kel’s brother growing up. By the time Kel came to live with me in Cryptgarden, I’d won Dayton and Farron over with charm and jokes and stories. But I’d never felt so much as a warm gaze from Ezryn.
Was it possible that the way he looked at me now…when he said the word…
Family.