Chapter Four: Night Hunt

Saphiro’s cloak swirled around him, the fringe alight with embers from the blaze surrounding them. His halberd trembled in his grip, the shaft slippery with Rubia’s blood. Crimson eyes glared into his as Rubia pulled out the second gladius from its scabbard, the Liar’s movements as slow and labored as their breathing. Saphiro readied himself for the next blow, his body weakening with each moment.
“This shan’t be the end,” he whispered hoarsely, hate powering his words. Rubia snarled and spat at the ground with blood coated lips
“It is only the end of you, my dearest Destroyer!” As Rubia charged, the ground burst, waves of flame shooting up around them as the land fell apart. Before their blades could cross for the final time, Rubia and Saphiro were pushed apart, their bodies plummeting helplessly into the infinite abyss.
“Rubia! It can’t end like this!” Saphiro cried out, his halberd flying from his hand as he reached out to his ally.
Their eyes met and for the briefest instant all defenses were abandoned and they were dream kin again. Rubia seemed about to reach out and take Saphiro’s hand when the gladius appeared in the Liar’s hand, lashing out at Saphiro.
“Draike! Wake up, it’s time to go,” Tane was whispering as he shook the Prince into consciousness.
“Huh? Wha?” he mumbled sleepily, sitting up in bed. He was back in the bedroom that he shared with Tane, a single candle burning on his nightstand. Two days ago Prince, or rather King, Nicholas had left for the north, alone save for the two retainers King Kenton had gifted him with.
“Remember the plan?” Tane asked as he tucked a dagger into his boot. Draike nodded as his memory returned to him and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “I’m going to go grab my bow from the armory. Meet me at the gate,” Tane said and then disappeared through the door. Draike sighed and rose from is bed, the night’s chill stinging his bare torso. He rummaged through a pile of clothes on the floor and pulled a tunic over his head and then strapped a belt over it. I’m really not so sure about this…
After grabbing his lance, Draike slipped into the dark hallway and begin to creep down it, carefully stepping over the boards so as not to awaken anyone. As he turned the corner, the corridor was flooded with light from Dwayne’s open door. What is he still doing up? Gods, let’s just hope he doesn’t notice me…He shifted his lance in his hand and tried to walk as quietly as he could past the open door, but as soon as he was in the light, Dwayne’s voice shattered the silence. “Scumwyrm, get in here!” His voice pierced the night like a howl; he didn’t care who he woke up.
Draike sighed and stepped into the room. “What is it?” Instead of replying, Dwayne marched up to Draike and smacked him. Draike stifled a cry and fell back into the doorframe, pain shooting up his shoulder. “Dwayne, what the hell!” Again his brother didn’t reply, only whacked him to the floor. Draike stayed down, knowing that if he showed any sign of resistance, his brother would beat him harder.
“You’re pathetic,” Dwayne spat, stepping on Draike’s back with his booted foot and pressing down heavily. “As soon as I become King of this dump, I’m going to make you the royal fool, and you’ll have to perform whenever I demand it of you.” Draike felt his anger rising, but said nothing. “Worthless bastard,” Dwayne laughed before kicking his brother in the stomach, “That’s what you’ll always be. A cowardly, skinless fool.”
“That’s not true!” Draike choked out before he could stop himself. He winced as Dwayne tugged him to his feet and pushed him against the wall.
“What was that, scum?” Dwayne hissed, his citrines shimmering in the torchlight as he pressed his elbow into Draike’s gut.
The younger Prince tried to speak, but the breath was knocked out of him. When Dwayne smirked, Draike found his voice and gasped, “You’re more Rhoda’s son than I am! You’re a cruel, abhorrent, brute of a beast! You’ll never make it as King since no one will want to follow you!”
“Shut up!” Dwayne snarled, pushing the teen harder against the wall.
“Someday, I’ll be King and you’ll have nothing. You won’t even be royalty anymore, because I’ll renounce you as my brother and find a true brother who’ll support me! You’ll have nothing!”
“Shut up! Do you really think I care whether or not you like me? Well I don’t,” he brought his knee up into Draike’s chest and his vision swam. He thought he was going to pass out when a shadow passed over the doorway and Dwayne released him. He heard Dwayne cry out in shock, “I’m sorry! Let me go, I’ll leave him alone!”
“For your sake, I hope you keep to those words,” Stefan growled as he released Dwayne from his grip. The older Prince fell to the floor and sneered before striding off to the corridor.
Draike shook his head to shake off the darkness clouding his eyes and looked up to see Stefan grinning. “Thanks for that, Stefan,” he said gratefully.
Stefan lightly punched Draike’s arm and replied, “Don’t worry about it. You know I’ll always be here for you.” They both smiled and then Stefan shook his head. “Wow, did that sound as corny as I think it did?” They laughed and bid each other good night. Draike picked up his lance and sprinted out of the stronghold to meet Tane.

“I still don’t know about this,” Draike whispered as Tane lifted the captain of guard’s pallid eyelids for sign of consciousness.
“It will be fine,” Tane hissed, sprinkling a few more dried thyme leaves between the lips of another slumbering guard to make sure he would not awaken. Earlier that day they had brewed a concoction, using a recipe from the ancient scrolls in the fort’s library, to create a sleeping draught. At supper, they had divided the mixture into several goblets and asked Kyra to serve them to the night guards. She had looked at them quizzically, but obediently carried out their orders.
Now the soldiers were all unconscious, unaware of the mischief of the young princes. “We shouldn’t be risking Toff’s safety just so we can hunt,” Draike muttered.
“Come on, Draike!” Tane admonished, “Don’t you want to prove your worth to the Fort? Even Theron said hunting in the night would be fantastic. Don’t you want to find out what creatures leave those strange markings in the forest? This is our big chance!” Before Draike could respond, Tane had slipped under the half-open portcullis, disappearing into the night. Even though everyone thinks Tane is the image of innocence and maturity, he still has a streak of trouble within him, Draike thought bitterly. He nervously gripped the shaft of his lance, the real blade at the end glinting impishly in the wan light of the waxing moon. He took a deep breath and ran after Tane.
They crept into the forest, dead twigs snapping loudly beneath their boots, the sound seeming to echo through the entire wood. How the Hell are we supposed to find anything if every animal can hear us coming a league away? he thought irately as they fought through the thick undergrowth.
Hours later they still hadn’t caught anything. “Come on, Tane,” Draike whispered, his teeth chattering from the chilled night breeze that tore through the trees, “We haven’t seen anything except some deer and an owl. Let’s go back before we’re exiled.”
“Let’s just see this clearing up ahead,” he urged, motioning towards the light leaking through the trees. Draike grudgingly followed his friend through the brambles and the thorns, his tunic snagging against sharp outcrops of peeling bark and his nose dripping from the cold. They carefully stepped through the rim of forest and peaked into the clearing, a sliver of moonlight illuminating the grassy circle.
“There’s nothing here, let’s go back,” Draike pleaded once again, but Tane’s hand shot up to silence him.
“Hush! Look, by the boulder!” Draike squinted his tired eyes and craned his neck higher until he could see the other edge of the clearing. He had a clear view of the pile of cracked boulders against the trees, years of dirt caked to their undersides, but nothing more caught his attention. He was just about to give up when he saw something slither through the grass.
“What…what is it?” he murmured. Tane did not reply, only began to creep forward, an arrow nocked in his yew bow. Draike reluctantly followed, terror creeping up his spine. As they stepped out of the cover of the trees, the princes almost froze with dread, both feeling exposed and vulnerable in the grassy clearing. They had lost sight of the slithering thing in the grass, but they continued towards the piled rocks, where the single shaft of moonlight fell like a beacon in the night.
Both halted as a rustling stirred from behind the largest boulder, barely a whisper through the grass. Their muscles twitched uneasily as the tension grew, tightening their bodies like a taut bowstring ready to be plucked and release the poisoned arrow. Just as Draike felt he would slip into madness from the apprehension, something shot out from behind the boulder.
Tane cried out and nearly released the arrow before he saw what it was. The woman shook her black hair away from her face, her torso half hidden behind the rock as she carefully peeked out. Draike could only blink as the fear leaked from his body like terrified sweat through open pores. “Who…who lurks within the shadows there?” she asked nervously, a strange accent twisting about her tongue.
Tane smiled in relief and announced flamboyantly, his voice sounding deeper than it truly was, “Fear not, gentle maiden, we are but kind hunters searching for challenging game.”
“Oh, hunters,” she sighed, seeming as reassured as they were. She stepped out a little further from the rock, most of her body now visible in the ashen light. Draike noticed that she was very pretty; a sharp beauty that sent shivers down his spine. Her black hair flowed down past her shoulders, twigs and leaves tangled within it. She wore only a dark fur shawl over her pale chest. Noticing this, Draike blushed, glad for once of the night’s shadows.
“And what is it that you hunt?” she asked coyly, her voice sly and alluring.
“Monsters of the darkest depths,” Draike proclaimed, hoping that his words sounded as impressive as he thought they did.
Her dark obsidian eyes flashed excitedly as she brought her delicate hands close to her breast, confessing, “I too seek a rare beast on this shadowed night.”
“And which beast would that be?” Tane asked curiously, though Draike knew he was only trying to flatter her, “Perhaps we can assist such a fair maid.”
“I believe that you can,” she said, a smile curling on her dark lips, “You see, I hunt for the Flawed.”
“What? You mean Humans?” Draike asked with a laugh that turned to a gasp as something cold and strong wrapped around his ankle. Before he even had the chance to cry out, he was pulled down into the grass with rapid, inhuman speed, and then dragged forward. He heard Tane yell but the words became incomprehensive as he was pulled into the undergrowth, dirt and twigs forced down his throat and dried leaves blurring his vision.
He was abruptly pulled back into the clearing, somehow suspended in the air above Tane and the woman. He thrashed about and tried to see what was happening, but he was lost in a world of chaos and distorted colors as whatever was holding him swung about in the night sky, tearing through the leg of his trousers and rubbing the skin on his ankle raw.
At last he managed to look up and see what monster held him captive. Something long, slimy, and scaled was clutching him; the tail of a colossal snake. He looked down, or rather up from his upturned perspective, and saw that the tail was wound through the edge of the forest and connected to the beautiful maiden’s waist. Tane was jumping about, dodging the tail as it slammed against the forest floor, banging Draike around until his bones throbbed with a pulse of their own.
A shrill screech rang through the clearing as Tane managed to bury an arrow in the woman’s side. She hissed and flung her enormous tail at Tane. Instead of rolling out of the way, the Prince awaited it with open arms, a fierce, determined grimace on his face. He groaned as the tail crashed into him, sweeping him into the night sky. He struggled to cling to the writhing appendage, but the dark scales were too smooth to grasp and he began to slide down.
Draike cried out as the monster squeezed her tail tighter, crushing his ankle. Just when he knew his bones were about to snap, a piercing shriek reverberated through the wood as Tane jabbed his dagger through the demon’s tail. Draike and Tane fell roughly into the dirt, the grass swept away from the battle, leaving only mucky soil and roots. The woman was writhing about, wild hisses escaping her throat as she twitched into a tight coil, her tail jerking about around her. Dark blue blood pooled around the soil beneath her and was splashed about in her fit.
Without words, both princes fled back into the forest, her strident screams following them back to the fort like haunting warnings of a ghost. “What the Hell was that?” Draike demanded as the shrieks died down.
Panting, Tane managed to rasp out, “A Naga, I think.”
“A what?”
“Theron told me about them,” he admitted in between breaths as they tore through the wood, “They’re half woman, half snake. I never though they were real; Theron said they were only a myth.”
Draike growled but made no reply as he dragged his bleeding leg behind him. Eventually they had to collapse in a pile of dead leaves, their chests heaving and their breaths pained. “I think we’re safe now,” Tane wheezed, “But we should head back quickly, we’re defenseless now.”
Draike nodded in grim agreement, having long ago noticed that he had dropped his lance. Tane had abandoned his arrows, and his only dagger was most likely still buried within the scales of the Naga. They began to head back, stumbling through the darkness and over the crawling roots.
“We’re lucky,” Tane rasped as they neared the fort. Draike gave him a bitter, inquisitive glance and Tane explained, “She was only a young one. The older ones have poisonous barbs running along their spines and tail, plus fangs.”
Draike groaned and declared, “I’m never hunting at night again.” They laughed weakly, but abruptly stopped in unison as the smell of charred wood reached them. They looked at each other, both afraid to voice their fears, and then took off at a limping run towards Fort Toff.
Before they had tumbled out of the woods, they were engulfed in a field of dark smoke. They managed to lurch their way through it until they fell out of the forest, the horrifying sight they had feared becoming reality. The fort was engulfed in a shroud of billowing smoke and flames. The screams of royals and servants alike echoed through the bedlam as people scattered from the burning wreckage. In the distance, Draike and Tane could see a band of shadows taking to horse and riding off with whoops of triumph. Draike felt Tane tense beside him and remembered his fear of fire, though the Prince hid it well.
They staggered through the terrified crowd, their bodies numb and their thoughts unbelieving. They saw Kyra standing with the other servants, her face covered in ashes, but they were too anxious to approach her. At last they found the King, his amethyst eyes furious and accusing as he met Draike. He pulled his son and Tane over to the forest line where it was quiet and began the interrogation.
“Son, I’m glad you’re safe, and you too, Tane,” he began hastily, obviously struggling to contain the anger in his voice, “But why, in Jik’s name, were you out of the fort at night?”
There was an agonizingly drawn out moment before Draike admitted, “We snuck out past curfew to go hunting, my liege.”
“What? You know that is forbidden! Are you the ones who drugged the guards then?” They both nodded somberly and King sighed, his eyes sorrowful and his voice low, “Those men died tonight.”
“What?” Tane whispered. The King looked away, his eyes brimming with choked tears, and yet his voice managed to come out steady and grave.
“After you left, raiders came. They easily slipped beneath the opened portcullis and had robbed the fort before anyone awoke. We were only stirred when the scents of the burning wood reached us. Most managed to get out, but some did not, such as the drugged guards. There are still people in there, mostly children, but we cannot get to them.” He paused and looked away before whispering, “Your friend Stefan went back in to help them, but he did not return. He will not return, boys.”
Draike felt the blood freeze in his veins as his entire frame trembled with the horrendous weight of his actions. How could a simple hunting trip have led to this? Because of him, people were dead or dying, and there was nothing he could do to save them. “Stefan?” he felt himself whisper to no one, his legs shuddering violently.
“Yes, Draike, I’m sorry-”
“No!” he ripped away from his father’s outstretched hand, dashing blindly to where the fires were still burning bright. Muffled cries echoed through the crowd of survivors as he roughly tore through them, but Draike no longer cared about being courteous or princely; all that mattered was his endangered friend. Frantic hands grabbed at him but he shoved them away, hardly aware of the stifling smoke or the growing heat.
He could almost see the tragic scene replaying within his head: Upon learning of the trapped children within the fort, reckless Stefan would have fought through the crowd and plunged into the danger with no care for his own life. The smoke would have blackened his lungs far before he reached any of the flames’ prisoners, but he would have pushed onward until his knees buckled and he tumbled into the blaze, never screaming, though his eyes would forever plead for sanctuary.
“Stefan!” he wailed hoarsely as strong arms wrapped around his thrashing body and pulled him away from the wreckage. The pungent odors of burnt flesh and smoldering timbers stung his throat and eyes. He was so close, close enough to feel the hot breath of the flames licking his face, but the arms were pulling him down, desperately clawing his tunic and trapping his jerking limbs. “Stefan…” he murmured once more as he sank to his knees, bitter tears rolling down his ash-stained cheeks.