Waylon's Crossing - 29. Chapter 29: The Prince of Darkness

Waylon's Crossing
Chapter 29: The Prince of Darkness

It was uncanny; Azil reflected later, how much influence the young werewolf had on Kynan. In all his years as a surrogate parent, Azil had never seen the halfling look and act so carefree. Appearance-wise, not much had changed, other than clothing and weapons, and those wings; but now Kynan looked as young as he really was. The somber, serious persona was gone, and he laughed and smiled freely.

Azil couldn't remember there being a great change in his own personality after being Paired and he ruthlessly squashed the first stirrings of envy trying to seize control of his heart.

Why did it have to be that way for us? he asked silently, watching Kynan stagger around the yard, ungainly as a colt.

The halfling had slept a very little before waking again. Just as Azil had suspected, the smell of frying sausage had roused him, and he'd laughingly given the barely cooked meat to Kynan and Alan. After eating, they slept some more, a few hours more before rousing and eating heartily again. A trip to the bathing room had exhausted Kynan and Karadur had carried him back, to a freshly changed bed where he had slept again.

The third time he woke, Kynan ate just as much, but he'd been able to move about under his own power, and the healer had instructed him to get some exercise. Karadur agreed.

"It will help your body adjust," he'd said with a smile at the groans he'd received in response to his suggestion.

So they came to be out of doors in the early afternoon of Asphodel Fields, with the halfling struggling to learn a new form of balance. Alan followed after, chasing the tiny elemental and racing to gather up the molting gray feathers. He had more, from inside, and had said he wanted a pillow from their softness. The elemental, meanwhile, had turned the whole affair into a game, laughing and giggling.

Arawn -- Bryce, Karadur reminded himself -- had not explained the creature, and Karadur made mental note to confront him about it when a particularly strong gust lifted Kynan's fledgling flight feathers. The wings rose as if for flight, but the mind, taken aback, sought to override that instinct. Rising on his toes, Kynan staggered sideways, tripped over a low-slung, canvas chair, and tumbled into a tangle of feathers and limbs.

Karadur hurried over to help, smiling as Kynan's cursing provoked laughter in his pairling and the baby elemental.

The new, black feathers made random patterns across the wings. They itched, but Kynan couldn't spare the attention to scratch. He stumbled around, red-faced with exertion and embarrassment caused by his unavoidable clumsiness. Every wisp of wind or hint of breeze stirred his feathers in totally new sensations that confused the hell out of his brain.

"No, no," scolded Karadur, grabbing Kynan's shoulders to correct his posture. "Stand up straight.” Mentally, he answered his pairling: There was no other way.

"Can't help it," Kynan grumbled, straightening his back as bid, but also clutching his chest with both arms. He was dirty and grass-stained, hot and sweaty and sticky and grumpy.

"The muscles will adjust," said Karadur.

Cynic, sighed Azil, his thoughts still on the interrupted conversation.

"Yeah, but when?" whined Kynan, massaging his aching muscles. He felt decidedly under-dressed, in just a pair of trousers found in the house's cupboards. They were too short and had been cut off at the knees. A belt held them around his waist. There was no shirt, but Azil worked on a leather jerkin for him. Until it was ready, Kynan resigned himself to being cold and exposed.

Romantic, Karadur responded, watching Kynan closely.

True to Karadur's estimate, Kynan's wings had again doubled in size. Each wing was longer than Kynan was tall and, unless he remembered to concentrate, the tips trailed the ground. A demon's wings took longer to grow to full size, giving plenty of time to become accustomed to the new weight. Kynan kept leaning forward and Karadur had no doubt that the muscles of his chest and shoulders were having difficulty making the adjustment. The halfling was simply not as solidly built as a demon.

Eventually, movement of body and wings would become instinctual, but, for now, Kynan had to learn a whole new way of walking, a whole new way to even think. The wings knew how to react, rustling and lifting with every strong current, but the knowledge was not yet fully integrated with the rest of Kynan's body. Karadur hoped it wouldn't take too long; being out in the open made him nervous.

Timolin watched over them from a vantage point on the roof, Bryce lounged in the shade nearby, napping, and the wizard and healer sat nearby, surrounded by books.

There were no sorcerers in Aspodel Fields, elf or otherwise, so Jacen had undertaken the task of training the magistrate. He was not convinced as to his efficacy as an instructor, but --

"I got it!" Duncan exclaimed suddenly. One hand on an open page and the unicorn healer leaning against his side, he managed to levitate the bowl of water set out to practice scrying.

Jacen frowned. That wasn't what Duncan was supposed to be doing! He'd told Duncan to concentrate on the water, and let his mind clear to allow the magic to work.

"What?" he began, and then stiffened. His eyes went blank and he cried out, falling sideways as the ring on his left hand seemed to bite his finger clean off. "Ah!"

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and everything was dark. He knew the smell, however, and whimpered softly. He didn't want to be there!

"Help! Help!" he called.

He'd never been trampled, but the impression of marching, of weight passing over and under and through him made him cringe and huddle in on himself. He was frozen in place, unable to move, to flee.

"Jacen! ... Jacen! Jacen!" Duncan shook the little healer. His heart pounded in sudden fear. "What did I do? Tell me! Wake up!"

"Stop." Azil's hand closed around the human's wrist. Red eyes met frantic black ones. "It's a vision. We cannot interrupt."

"A vision?" Duncan echoed. The silver bowl filled with water hovered behind him, forgotten.

Bryce was up now, too. No longer pretending to nap, he kneeled on Jacen's other side, but far enough away that the healer's convulsions couldn't touch him. "He's had them before," he answered the demon's inquiring glance. Then he shrugged. "Never seen one this bad before, though."

Azil nodded and withdrew his hand. "We wait and we watch."

The elemental slithered, mist-like, into Bryce's lap and reformed into his child-like appearance. Big, silver eyes widened in fascination.

"Keep moving," Karadur told Kynan, who turned and scowled at him. This made the demon smile. He remembered training Kynan to become a Hunter, schooling him at sword-work or unarmed combat until the halfling collapsed with exhaustion. He'd scowled petulantly like that then, too.

Turning, another sudden breeze caught Kynan off guard. He tumbled to the ground with an "Oompf!" and growled, "Shut up, Alan!" as the fall sent the werewolf into fresh paroxysms of laughter.

Karadur shook his head and hefted the halfling to his feet once more. "Concentrate," he admonished, sharing his private amusement only with his pairling.

Azil glanced at them over his shoulder, ruby eyes sparkling.

Gasping, Jacen sat up, looking around and blinking teary eyes. The sunshine felt impossibly bright after the cloaking darkness of his vision. "Attack," he said, taking deep breaths to still his quick breathing and heart rate. "The city's under attack."

Bryce, Azil, and Karadur shared a long, very concerned look. The vampire was the one to speak.

"It's too soon."

They knew that the Demon Queen's brother had been planning something for the Solstice, but the Solstice was still a few days away. Karadur's mind quickly went over the facts, and he didn't like what he found. He glanced across the yard and saw an answering resolve in Azil's eyes.

"It's Xeran."

Bryce understood the implications of naming the demon Prince and he looked at Karadur sharply. His mind was only a little behind the two demons. "It's a power play."

"If he successfully captures the city," Karadur answered, "the Queen will have no choice but to name him heir."

Kynan clung to Alan's shoulders for support, frowning in confusion. "What?"

Bryce did not drop Karadur's gaze. "He is the heir."

Duncan watched this by-play worriedly, hopelessly lost. His hands tightened around Jacen, who leaned gratefully into his supporting strength. Visions were hard on him, and that one had been particularly strong.

"No." Karadur looked at Kynan. Azil's encouragement made him nod with his chin. "He's the heir."

The halfling's mouth fell open in shock and fear as the werewolf and vampire opened theirs, Alan in excitement, Bryce in shock.

"Really? That's so cool!"

"A halfling? Is the Queen mad? That'll never be accepted!"

"Karadur ..." whispered Kynan, feeling weak.

The demon's hand jerked up, ending the torrent of words. "It is true." He sank to one knee, head bowed to Kynan, but his eyes sought out Bryce's. "He is the Queen's son. And heir."

"No," Kynan breathed.

"My Prince."

"No. No!" The panic in his chest translated to worry and fear in Alan, who looked between demons and vampire hesitantly, poised to do something, to protect his pairling, but held back by Kynan's weight across his shoulders.

Ky?

Karadur looked up and rose slowly to walk across the distance and cup Kynan's chin to stare into his eyes. "It is you," he said softly. "We must stop Xeran. What do you command, my Prince?"

"I can't! Karadur."

"The Queen told me herself," said the demon softly. "She sent me to find you and bring you home. We, Azil and I, believe she meant to announce you once you became an adult. The timing is perfect for the Solstice. Don't you remember?"

Obediently, Kynan's mind turned back to his last audience with the queen. He'd killed a werewolf on her orders, bringing the body back when Karadur found him.

"This, the wings," he said, face open and showing his vulnerability. "It's what you meant, isn't it? But --"

"Yes, that it is," replied Karadur. "You were just entering the Time of Change, and should have spent it with family, surrounded by our love, with a healer to coax you through and watch over you. The timing was perfect."

"The Solstice."

"Yes. The Queen's millennial approaches. She needed to announce an heir --"

"And what better time than the most significant and magical event in centuries?" Azil had joined them unnoticed, and now he crowded in close, including Alan in his embrace.

"But --"

Alan's eyes gleamed golden. "I don't understand." Bloodshed and fighting filled his thoughts as Kynan's fears and imagination passed through their bond.

"It'll be civil war," said Bryce, standing beside healer and wizard. He held Delaur in the crook of his arm, the elemental's baby face unexpectedly mature and serious.

"Xeran must not succeed," Karadur added. "What does my Prince command?" Blue demon eyes begged, but Karadur did not decrease the intensity of his gaze. "Waylon's Crossing is under attack. That can only be Xeran, making his move. If he succeeds and announces that triumph, the court will rise up against the Queen. Do you want Xeran as your king?"

Kynan shuddered, and Alan covered his mouth, fighting the urge to retch.

The halfling's voice was still uncertain, but he grimly forced his thoughts into some sort of order. "What do we do?"

The demon's grin was feral. "We stop him, your Grace."

Kynan flinched at the honorific and glanced around their little circle.

"It's my city, too," said the werewolf, eyes settling back in their normal color as Kynan's emotions smoothed. He poured all his love across the bond, hoping that his certainty that Kynan would choose correctly came across as well.

Blue demon eyes settled on Karadur's yellow ones. "He doesn't know. Xeran," Kynan clarified, licking his lips. "He doesn't know about me. I can't -- I'm still weak, Karadur." It hurt to admit that, but Kynan knew he was in no shape for battle, and he had to protect his pairling. "If we go to court, maybe there's still time."

"Your standing in court is strong," the demon replied. "For the moment, but if the Queen falls out of favor, so do you."

"I'm not good at this!" Kynan admitted in a panicky whisper. "The intrigue. Politics. I --"

Azil touched his forehead to Kynan's. "That's what we're here for." He looked up at Karadur. "You need a power-base of your own. Something to showcase your own capabilities."

The black demon nodded. "Stop Xeran's army, my Prince."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Your Grace?"

"And that! Stop it! Please, Karadur. You're much better suited --"

"No. My Prince, that can never be." He kept the secret of Kynan's lineage. Azil was right. If anyone found out that the Queen was not related by blood to her father King Meqhy, then there would be chaos in the demon world. A civil war to end all civil wars. Blood would run in rivers, and their people were already dying.

"I am a Hunter," he said. "Chief of the Queen's Hunter's, but still a Hunter. It is all I can ever be. You are more. You must be more, from now on. We're all depending on you."

Kynan swallowed and the blood drained out of his face. He looked to Azil and saw Karadur's convictions reflected there as well. Alan's love and support came from that side. The wizard, whose name escaped him, blinked back in confusion, the healer smiled, throwing in his firm support, and the vampire ... He was clearly doubtful, but looked no less resolved than the others.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a long moment, Kynan put himself in Karadur's hands. "Tell me what to do."