Den of Evil, (Fantasy, The Crowned Series)
9,270 Words, Approx 47 min read
“This is severe iron poisoning.” Alden turned to the parents of the feynin and crossed his arms, his aged purple skin folding into the familiar gesture. “If King Dollin were here, he would order me not to waste ingredients on such a bad case.”
The young boy’s mother buried her head in her husband’s chest. The father rubbed her shoulder as she sobbed into his linen shirt.
“I understand that you must obey the King,” the father said. He pulled a wooden dagger from his belt loop and pointed it toward Alden. “So, you will tell the King I forced your hand, so that he will take my life instead.”
“Pandaral, no!” the wife screamed. “I cannot lose you both!”
Alden reached for his teacup and took a sip. “My tree is a place of healing, not wounding.”
“The wound you give me if you do not treat my son is far worse than anything the king could do to me,” Pandaral said. Though his chin was raised, Alden heard the trepidation in his voice.
Alden nodded slowly. “Put that dagger away.” He turned to his table of ingredients and worked on the treatment. There was no true cure for iron poisoning, and mending iron wounds was risky on a good day. The feynin’s only hope was an herbal mixture that accelerated the body’s natural expulsion of iron.
Alden shaved the fibers off the back of a piece of willow bark, then crushed white mushrooms in his mortar and mixed the two together with some water. “This needs to sit for thirty seconds,” he explained to the parents as he set the mixture down and approached the feynin. The skin on his chest bubbled with a severe allergic reaction, spreading out from a black, rectangular shape marring his yellow skin. The blackened rectangle was darker in two round spots centered on opposite sides, evidence of nails or some other fastener humans used. Alden put his hand to the feynin’s neck and pressed. His leylines were faint, weak. The adrenicka in the feynin’s blood was raging. That was usually a welcome, powerful sensation. But when iron was present, the same power that Fah Rellion blessed them with turned on them and attacked.
Alden grabbed a lock of the feynin’s red hair, noticing how faded the color was. He rubbed it gently and strands broke off in his fingers.
Alden grabbed the mixture from the table. It had partially solidified into a paste, which he pressed into the feynin’s bubbling skin. The unconscious feynin moaned from the pain, a fraction of the agony he was in.
“How did this happen?” Alden asked.
Pandaral stepped forward. “He found an old human mine to the south and went inside with a few of his friends. A beam with an iron plate fell on him. His friends got the beam off his body, but it had been pressed on him for nearly a minute.”
Alden was grateful he had not asked sooner. If he had known the full extent of the iron poisoning, he would have said no to treatment. And he would have regretted it. The reagents he used to treat iron poisoning were not easy for fey to come by. King Dollin had ordered him to use them sparingly except on fey soldiers, and this feynin was neither harmed in battle nor was he old enough to fight.
Of course, if he survived, he would probably be pressed into the King’s army the following year. That excuse might be enough to sate the King’s ire.
But what worried Alden more than the King’s anger was that the father said they found an old mine.
Alden grabbed a flint knife from the table and took it to the feynin.
“What are you doing with that?” the father asked.
“We need to bleed him.”
His mother suddenly stepped past her husband. “No!”
“Do you want him to die?”
She froze.
Alden looked to the father. “Hold down your son. This will hurt.”
The father gently moved his wife away, then held down his son by his shoulders.
Alden cut the blackened wound. With the little life the feynin had left in him, he screamed. Black blood seeped out, hissing as it reacted to the iron infected skin. Alden wiped the feynin’s skin clean again and again, waiting for the bloodletting to work as long as he dared. Then he grabbed a bandage soaked in oil, added the herbal paste to it, and pressed it into the wound. He wrapped that bandage tight with a long strip of linen.
The feynin’s unconscious mind fought against Alden’s ministrations, but his father held him down tightly, speaking words of comfort in his ear.
Alden mixed up one more batch of the medicine, but this time he put it into a wooden pitcher and added a lot more water to thin it out. He turned to the father. “Try to get him to drink this, the more the better.”
“How can I help?” the mother asked.
“Ask Fah Rellion for mercy, and do not stop.”
A few minutes later, the feynin began breathing more slowly, more steadily. That was a good sign, but Alden did not say anything just yet. If the feynin survived the night, he would probably live.
Alden took one more sip of tea as he ascended one of the branches of his goldenleaf tree home. On the second level, his apprentice, Eodius, worked at treating fey who returned from an encounter with human bandits. He mixed the same ingredients to treat the iron poisonings.
Alden brushed aside the curtains that separated the branch from the trunk of the tree. “Eodius, how many more batches of the iron treatment do we have left?’
His apprentice finished applying the paste to a sword cut then looked up at his teacher. “With what I am using up now, maybe another five light wounds, and one severe.”
Alden cursed under his breath. “You will need to go to Nightingale and trade for more.”
Eodius nodded. “Of course, master. Just say the word.”
“Stay here for now. Until these soldiers recover.” Alden parted the curtain once more and walked back down to the main level, just in time to see the curtains around the main opening part. A feyla walked through them. She opened her mouth to speak but paused when she saw the feynin on the long table with the mother and father standing next to him.
Alden gave the feyla a slight bow. “Altera, to what do I owe the pleasure of the King’s daughter visiting me?”
A single braid of purple hair ran down Altera’s side, and she tugged at it. “Your presence is requested to the south.”
Alden shook his head. “Is it a matter of life and death? If not, it will have to wait.”
Altera glanced at the feynin before looking away. “My father will not wait.”
Alden shared a look with the mother and father. They all knew he could not refuse a royal summons.
“Eodius,” Alden called out.
Alden’s apprentice came down from the middle branch and gave a start when he saw Altera. If the royalty discovered his secret, he would be killed.
Same for Alden, but for a different secret.
“Yes, m-master?” Eodius asked, a slight stammer in his voice.
“This feynin is in your care. I have already administered the treatment for iron poisoning. You know what to do from here.”
Eodius looked at the feynin, then at Alden. He was smart enough to make the connection. He knew King Dollin would not approve, but even if every feynar in the Wolf Clan betrayed Alden to the King, Eodius would not.
“Yes, master. The boy is in my care.”
Alden walked toward the exit, but the father gently grabbed his sleeve.
“Thank you.”
Alden always felt strange receiving gratitude. Only the King knew his past life and hated him for it. Would this father give him the same gratitude if he knew who Alden really was?
“I only offer the life I will not have,” Alden mumbled, then pulled away and walked out of his tree.
Altera hurried to catch up to him. “Why do you always say that? That thing about offering the life you will not have?”
Alden glared at her. “Now is not the time to answer that.”
“So mystical and mysterious!” she teased. “No wonder all the old widows talk about you. Why have you not taken a wife?”
“You answered your own question, my princess.”
Altera scoffed. “How?”
“What does your father want?”
“Now is not the time to answer that,” she said, mimicking his speech cadence.
Alden grit his teeth to hide his irritation. The princess of the Wolf Clan had a way of stepping on his old wounds without knowing it. She was like a child crossing a bog by skipping on stones, unaware one of them was the back of an alligator.
“This is about the mine, yes?” Alden prodded.
“How did you know?”
“That is where the feynin came from.”
“The King seems to think he has struck gold, but humans did not abandon mines with gold still in them. I told him that, but he ignored me and asked for you.”
It is not gold he wants. Something far more valuable. The flavor of the mixture Alden never wanted to taste again flooded his memories. One drink. Then nothing but blood and death for one hour.
“Human blood tastes like nothing else.”
“It has iron in it.”
“Really? Then why have I never reacted to it?”
“You should have never tasted it to begin with.”
The conversation with his old friend came to his mind unbidden. The precious days of his youth were three parts pain for every part joy.
“Father said our bloodline has a special connection to the depths of the soil,” Altera suddenly offered. “I bet that is why he wants in the mine.”
“Did he tell you the why behind that?” Alden asked.
“He did not. Do you know? You are old. Certainly, you know about my family’s history.”
“I am not old enough for that.”
“Right, how could I forget? You came to us several years ago. From the Ram Clan.”
That was not what Alden meant, but there was no need to correct her overly curious mind.
“How did you convince my father to let you into our clan? I certainly would not mind knowing how to convince him of…just about anything.”
“We made a deal,” Alden said. “Part of that deal is I cannot tell you about it.”
Altera narrowed her eyes at him. “Right. I am sure that is what happened.”
They walked on through the Wolf Clan city of Great Den, the seat of power and the remnant of a clan that once held great power. Though Alden did not know of any connection between the royal bloodline and the ground, he did know the history of the clan. Long ago, before their fey wilds were known as the Western Fey Wilds, the Wolf clan controlled nearly half of Drannus. Back then, nearly all of Drannus belonged to the fey. Their goldenleaf trees stretched on for countless miles. To stand on a mountaintop was to gaze into a sea of goldenleaves.
But then the Barkodi came. After that, the humans. Years of brutal war splintered the fey into even more clans, while others were wiped out completely. The fey wilds that remained were no longer the sea, but the island. Barkodi fire burned hot enough to reduce their forests to ash. And what did not burn, the humans took the ax to.
“Fah Rellion bless you, healer!” a feyla called out from the entrance to her tree.
Alden nodded at her and kept moving. He had saved her husband about a month ago.
“Are you going to say it?” Altera asked, then bent over to match Alden’s aged frame. “I only offer that which I cannot have.”
“That is not exactly how I say it. And your father is waiting.” Alden turned down one of the side roads, and Altera followed.
“How do you know where we are going?”
Alden stopped.
Altera flickered her braid around to her back, then crossed her arms and raised her chin. “You know where the mine is. You have always known. You are lucky I do not care for my father, but you might want to tell me why you want to keep the mine hidden from him.”
Now it was Alden who skipped across the bog, but this time the alligator turned to attack. “You must swear to me you will not betray me to your father.”
Altera huffed. “Fine, I swear it.”
“Swear by Fah Rellion!”
Altera shrugged. “If you knew me, you would know that is not much of an oath. But sure, by Fah Rellion I swear.”
Alden took a few seconds to think of the fastest way to explain what was to come. “Deep in the ground, there are mushrooms that feed in the roots of goldenleaf trees.”
“Underground? Nothing can grow without the sun.”
“The mushrooms have the sun. They feed on its light through the goldenleaf trees. They feed on the magic in the tree.”
Altera reached for her braid again. “And what is so special about these mushrooms?”
“When mixed with iron, they make a potion that sends fey into a rage.”
“Mixed with iron?” Altera asked. “That does not make–”
“Silence! Let me speak, for we do not have much time before the King grows suspicious.”
Altera rolled her eyes, but kept her mouth shut.
“When mixed into a potion with iron, the fey who drinks it will reach the height of adrenicka power in mere seconds.”
Altera froze. “That is every fey soldier’s dream come true.” She tugged on her braid again, her lips creeping into a mischievous smile. “I want this potion.”
“No, you do not!” Alden hissed. “It is poison! Vile poison that steals your body and your soul!” Alden continued walking before Altera could ask more questions. But that did not stop her.
“Is that why my father is angry with you? He knows you hid the location of the mine?”
“No! And do not tell him I knew of it! His anger will cloud his patience, and he will kill me.”
Before Altera could ask more questions, they approached the entrance to the mine. A dozen small goldenleaf trees crowded the entrance, trees that Alden grew to hide it. It took every ounce of growing magic he had left in him to bring those trees to adulthood in a matter of months, and his hard work had been undone by some curious young feynins.
King Dollin stood at the entrance, speaking to his advisors. The three feynar that guided the King were a young, bloodthirsty lot. King Dollin had done away with the older fey he used to keep court with, the ones with enough foresight to keep the Wolf Clan out of wars.
King Dollin looked up at them, his white hair, the sign of his crown, blowing in a steady breeze. His eyes settled on Alden. “We found it.”
“Your Majesty.” Alden bowed, then rose. “What is it that you have found?”
“An old human mine. Some children were playing in it, not knowing what they just discovered. I have two feyla tenders in there now growing roots to put crystal lights in.”
“A good start,” Alden said. “But why only two?”
One of the advisors, Pondin, glared at him, and ignored his question. “What do you know of these mines, Alden?”
Alden squared his shoulders. “Dangerous places. Even the humans who build them frequently die for their efforts.”
Pondin turned to the King. “Your Majesty, it is as I told you. Alden does not seek the welfare of the Wolf Clan.”
Alden’s blood boiled, but he remained silent.
King Dollin looked to Alden, then to his advisor. “Warning us of the danger is seeking the welfare of the Wolf Clan, Pondin. Your concern is dismissed.”
Alden remained in perfect posture. Any reaction now could betray him.
Pondin bowed slightly. “Of course, Your Majesty. My concern for our people caused me to speak in error.”
One of the other advisors, Manar, considered the trees surrounding the mine, placing his blue skinned hands on the one that blocked the entrance the most. “These trees show signs of being grown, your majesty.”
Ekuken, Alden cursed to himself. He had been careful with his growing magic to avoid notice, but Manar was a tender himself, one of the best.
“Why would a fey try to obscure the entrance to this mine?” King Dollin asked, his eyes locking with Alden’s.
Alden knew he was not a good liar. But he also knew the most believable lies contained truth. “I grew them, Your Majesty.”
The three advisors all snapped to attention. Pondin drew one of the four swords on his back.
“You tried to keep the secret of the rage potion from us!” He approached Alden, but Altera stood in his way.
“You would be wise to sheath your weapon, Pondin!” she shouted at him. “Alden is a respected member of our clan. It is his work that has saved many of our kin from death. Do you not remember when my father took ill two years ago? Was it not Alden that brought him back from the brink of death?”
A decision Alden had questioned ever since, but he knew that if King Dollin died, one of his crueler sons would rise to power. Or one of his advisors.
“Alden, please explain yourself,” King Dollin growled.
Alden walked closer to the king, past Pondin who stared him down. His position exposed his back to Pondin, an action that the king would recognize. “The entrance to the mine was completely collapsed. The more roots we have down in the mine, the stronger the integrity of the mine becomes. And the greater the chance that the mushrooms we seek will grow.”
The king raised his chin. “Then why did you keep this secret from me, Alden?”
“I did not think your patience could withstand the time necessary for the roots to grow strong. I feared you would act in haste and be harmed in the process.”
“He is a traitor!” Pondin shouted. “His own words condemn him!”
Alden heard Pondin’s footsteps. He was within striking distance, waiting for the order of the King to strike him down. But Alden still held the secret of the rage potion. The mushrooms alone were not enough. King Dollin already knew the mixture needed iron, but not how much. Too much would kill. Too little was ineffective. And there was one more ingredient only Alden knew.
But there was always the chance King Dollin would finally lose patience and kill him anyway.
Right when Alden thought the killing blow would come, King Rollin held up his hand. “Alden’s foolishness has shown wisdom. He knows I am a feynar of war. Perhaps his deception has kept me from making an equally foolish choice.”
Though his words were calm, the rage in King Dollin’s eyes was enough for Alden to know he narrowly escaped death yet again.
“A wise thought, Your Majesty,” Manar agreed. Alden knew he was lying. If Manar was king, Alden would already be dead.
Pondin growled and sheathed his sword.
“Let him prove his loyalty by getting the mushrooms,” the third advisor, Kil’karin, suggested. “If I may, Your Majesty, present Alden a time to give us the rage potion and its recipe. He will prove his loyalty, and we will have the power to raise the Wolf Clan to glory. I think even Alden will agree this is a good resolution.”
Ekuken! Why did Fah Rellion grant Kil’karin the wisdom of old age in his youth?
King Dollin nodded. “Three days.”
Alden swallowed hard. Even if he intended to get the mushrooms and present the potion to the King, three days was not nearly enough time to get deep enough into the mine, unless he was lucky. But if he protested, it would only make him look worse.
And he would rather die than hand over the recipe.
“It shall be done,” Alden agreed.
King Dollin eyed Alden for a moment. “The tenders will remain here with you as well, to assist in any way they can.” With that command, he gathered his advisors and left the mine.
Alden rubbed his forehead. “What am I to do?”
“Give me the potion,” Altera said, then whispered, “I can kill my father and take his place on the throne.”
Alden did not expect that. He knew Altera was a skilled fighter. He knew that she had some fire underneath her bubbly personality. But he thought she never wanted the crown of the Wolf Clan.
Alden leaned in and whispered, “if you are willing to kill your father in cold blood…”
Altera smiled.
“Then you are the last feyla who should ever have the potion.”
She frowned and crossed her arms. “You can be a real pain when you want to, do you know that?”
Alden ignored her and walked into the mine. The feyla tenders looked at him, then returned their attention to coaxing the tree roots through the hollowed-out dirt. But as Alden walked farther in, he felt their eyes following him.
Altera came walking in and stopped at Alden’s side.
“Give me a light,” he asked.
She opened her palm and focused on the illumination magic. A bright blue ball of light appeared in that hand, brighter than Alden expected. He knew Altera could mend, and he thought her to be a tender, too. A fey skilled in illumination, tending, and mending was a rare breed.
“What are we looking at?” she asked.
“The integrity of the mine,” he said. He waved for her to follow. A few dozen steps later, they found the beam that fell on the feynin. An iron bracket tied two thick pieces of wood together, and the wood in the iron had rotted out until the beam separated. “Very lucky,” Alden said.
“Why?”
He pointed to another beam six paces ahead. “If that beam did not hold, that feynin would have been buried. He would be dead already. Then again, for all I know, he is dead now.”
Altera walked on ahead, taking a closer look at what Alden was talking about.
“Do you have any idea the danger you are in right now?” he asked.
She scoffed. “I feel fine. In fact, I feel…” Her voice drifted off as she gazed into the darkness her light did not reach. “You are the one my father is going to kill in a few days.”
Alden crossed his arms. “You should go. There is nothing useful you can do here.”
Altera ignored him and continued into the mine.
Stubborn feyla! Alden thought with a frown as he followed her. He kept his eyes open for the mushrooms.
As they delved deeper into the mine, Alden was surprised–and irritated–to see how well the old timbers had held up. Most human mines were built in haste, and many did not last long enough to even finish the job. Some of the beams looked too rotted to be of any use at all, but still the mine held. This is unusual. The mine should have collapsed by now.
Alden suddenly bumped into Altera. “Why did you stop?”
“Look!”
Alden swallowed hard. There, growing on an ancient root, a small patch of mushrooms.
Altera giggled with glee. “I think I will be going to tell my father what we found. Unless, of course, you choose to help me instead.”
“Altera, I do not wish harm against you. You have always been fair to me. You need to leave.”
She cocked her head, looking between him and the mushrooms. “I do not think so.”
Alden sighed. He did not wish for another innocent soul on his conscience, but it would all be over in a moment anyway. He summoned all the strength his aged body had and grabbed a rock the size of a loaf of bread.
Altera yelped and backed away, but she was not the target. Alden slammed the rock into one of the posts holding up an ancient beam, the old wood splintering on impact. The beam splintered and fell, narrowly missing him by a handsbreadth.
But the mine did not collapse.
“Damn it!” Alden wheezed.
“Are you insane?” Altera screamed at him. “Are you trying to kill us both?”
“Of course I am!” Alden fired back. “Your father must never have the rage potion! And I am as good as dead in more ways than one! Why do you think I keep telling you to leave?”
Altera stepped close to him, probably getting ready to stop him if he tried anything like that again. Little did she know he did not have the strength in him to do that more than once in a day. Maybe a week. He sat down on the cold, rocky ground and struggled for breath.
Altera sat down next to him. “You are serious about this. Tell me, what makes this rage potion so bad?”
“You just have to trust me.”
Altera sighed and started picking up small rocks to throw at the opposite wall. “Alden, if I choose to help you, I will be risking my life. You think my father will spare me if I get in his way? He knows I am a wayward child. He wants me gone.”
Alden knew that was probably true, but hearing the pain in Altera’s voice tugged on his heartstrings. No wonder she offered to kill him. Alden’s parents died years ago in one of the clan wars. The only family he could ever have would have to come from marriage, and it was too late for that. Even if some young feyla was willing to marry an old feynar, he would die before he could watch his children grow.
“Altera, my time is gone. You are still young. You should flee the Wolf Clan. Find somewhere you can have a normal life.”
“The life that you cannot have?”
Instead of taking offense, Alden smiled at her wit. “Exactly.”
“Bold words from someone who just tried to kill us.”
Alden hung his head. “I am sorry. Many more will die if these mushrooms reach the surface.”
Altera collapsed the light in her hand, leaving only the dark. “Just you and I now, Alden. Unless you want to wait here and die, or try to stumble home in the dark, I recommend you tell me about the rage potion.”
“You win, Princess,” Alden said, then took in a heavy breath. “Certainly you know that the Ram Clan was almost destroyed ten years ago, yes?”
“The Bear and the Eagle worked together to take their lands, but the Ram fought back and retook nearly all that was lost. My father said if we had the strength, we would have joined in the war and picked off territory from the Bear and the Eagle. The fact that we were too weak…and still are–I know it gnaws at him.”
“I was the reason the Ram Clan survived. King Urdain tasked me with discovering a mixture that would give us an edge in battle. Neither he nor I knew that I would discover something far, far greater. A mixture that activates the adrenicka in our blood, rising to winged adrenicka in mere seconds.”
“How did you figure out the mixture?”
Alden wished she had not asked him that. “Experiments, many of which resulted in death. Many, many deaths. Some of them were young fey who volunteered. But when the volunteers ran out….”
“Is that why you do not want anyone to have it? You feel guilty for the ones who died discovering the proper mixture?”
“Of course I feel guilt. But finding the right mixture–that was only part of the Gol Malden I unleashed on my own people.”
The ground around them rumbled for a moment. “Altera, run!” he shouted, then rushed through his final prayers to Fah Rellion. But in seconds, the rumbling stopped. Alden reached out and felt Altera’s arm. She had not moved even a handsbreadth.
“You worry too much, Alden,” she chided.
“Too much is never enough. This mine is cursed; I swear it.”
“Please, finish telling me about the rage potion.”
Alden leaned his head back against the wall. Memories of battle rose to the surface like air bubbles fleeing water. “We were unstoppable. We flew into battle and flanked our enemies while their adrenicka was still building. The rumors spread. The Bear and the Eagle started training marksmen to be on constant watch and shoot down the seven of us who took the potion before we could kill or capture their leaders. But we adjusted our tactics. We took back our cities and were looking at the possibility of invading for the first time since the war started. But we never got that far. The side effects started to take their toll.”
“Side effects?”
“Put that light up again.”
Altera obliged.
“See my face? My hands? My arms? What do you notice about them?”
Altera eyed him up and down, then chuckled. “Nothing unusual, you just look old.”
“Exactly. Altera, I am your age.”
Altera shot up and stood near the opposite wall. “What? What are you talking about?”
“The rage potion, Altera!” Alden hissed. “It ages you! It drinks your soul dry until you have nothing left, and then, if you are lucky, it kills you!”
Altera kept looking at Alden and looking away. “Certainly this is a joke.”
“Do you think it was a joke when I killed King Urdain?”
Altera froze. “Why?”
“He went mad, Altera! He was addicted to the potion. So were the other five. I found two of them dead one night, bottles of rage potion spilled on the ground next to where they lay. They had aged so much their hearts gave out. The other three died in battle. King Urdain and I were the only two that remained who drank the potion. He wanted me to make more, but I was running out of the mushrooms. The mine I found only had so many before it went dry. I followed the King’s orders and made as much as I could. But we had little left.”
“You said the potion is addictive. What happened when you ran out?”
“I was less addicted to it than King Urdain, though being without took its toll on me. We used the last of it to give us the strength to take a human mine. But that mine was barren of mushrooms. Withdrawal set in. King Urdain started to go insane. He drank human blood just to have that familiar taste of iron. Then he tried to kill me. He was the better fighter, but I had been more sparing drinking the potion. My relative youth overpowered him, and I killed him.”
Altera paced about the narrow mineshaft.
“I tried to stay with the Ram Clan, but a few years after, someone came forward and said he watched me kill King Urdain. I fled rather than wait to see if his testimony would be believed. I knew the Eagle and the Bear would not take me. They knew who I was. So, I came here, and I struck a deal with your father. If he found a mine with the mushrooms, I would make him the potion and give him the recipe.” Alden buried his face in his hands. “The last several years I have been doing everything in my power to make sure he never found what we found today.”
“If what you say is true, why not just let my father have the potion? He can do what he wants with it, and he will die.”
“Yes, and how many others will die first?”
“We will be wise with it, like you have been. We will drink it sparingly. Or we will give it to volunteers ready to die for the Wolf Clan.”
Alden shook his head. “Perhaps you are not as wise as I thought.”
Altera walked back to the root that had the mushrooms growing on it. “If I were Queen, would you give me the potion?”
“Never, and there is nothing you can do to change my mind. I am prepared to die, and the closest thing I had to family died drinking themselves to death. There is nothing you can threaten me with.”
Altera turned and shone the light on his face. “What if I get you out of here? What if we flee together?”
Alden scoffed. “I just told you my life is not worth enough to me.”
“Perhaps. But the lives of others are. That is why you are always trying to save them. To offer them the life you will not have. It makes sense to me now.”
“Mystery solved,” Alden said. “For all the good it does either one of us.”
“But if I can get you to safety, somewhere away from the Wolf Clan, and save lives in the process, you will help me?”
“Where would we go? The humans will not accept me. Neither will the other fey clans.”
“Not the fey clans here in the west, but certainly one in the east will take in a master herbalist. I can get you out of here safely, and you can go to them. You can continue your work there. You can save more lives.”
Alden hated that she tempted him with the only thing left in life he wanted. “And in return, you want the recipe for the rage potion.”
Altera crossed her arms. “Of course.”
Alden considered her offer. Just because he was prepared and willing to die did not mean he wanted to. He could continue his work. He could spread his knowledge of medicine to the western clans and possibly save hundreds of lives. Not counting the fey killed in battle, he calculated he had killed at least fifty fey with the potion and the experiments. He wanted to save at least ten times that number, and he was still drastically short.
And another thought occurred to him. If Altera tried to discover the rage potion recipe on her own, she would repeat the same process he did. How many would die in the process? She knew it had iron and the mushrooms. King Dollin and his advisors knew that too. They only needed to find one more ingredient, but the path to that ingredient was paved with dead fey.
“I have three conditions,” Alden said.
Altera’s brows shot up.
“First, this mine must be destroyed. Second, I want to bring Eodius with us. He does not know of the rage potion, and your father will torture him to death thinking he does. He is also in danger for reasons you do not know. Lastly, when I reach the western clans and find one to take me in, I will write down the ingredients on a piece of paper. It will be given to you on my death, on the condition that my death was not by your hand.”
Altera smiled. “Swear it to me by Fah Rellion.”
Ekuken! This feyla will be my undoing. “I so swear it, by Fah Rellion.”
“Good. And lucky for you, I was planning to bring this mine down anyway.” Altera untied a small linen sack from her waist and grabbed the mushrooms from the root. “I will guide us out, then you will meet me here tomorrow. We have a journey ahead of us.”
Alden’s sleep was fitful that night. He wondered if he had made a mistake striking that deal with Altera. But he was faithful to his oaths, especially to the god of all fey. There was no turning back. There was always the possibility he would die before writing down the ingredients to the potion, but he would not take his own life and defy the oath.
When he awoke the following morning, he found the two parents and the feynin all asleep in his main room. The steady rise and fall of the feynin’s chest was a miracle. He would live. That was one more life he had saved instead of taken.
Alden brewed a full cup of tea and drank it fast before leaving.
When he returned to the mine, King Dollin was there with his three advisors and a dozen tenders, all working to grow the tree roots deeper.
“More tenders, as you suggested, Alden,” King Dollin said.
Alden bowed. “A wise move, Your Majesty.”
“I will be sending Pondin into the mine with you today, Alden,” King Dollin added.
Alden’s brow started to sweat. “I would hate to pull him away from his important duties, your majesty.”
“Nothing is more important than this. You yourself told me the mine is dangerous. Pondin will be a strong hand to assist you with any danger.”
Pondin grinned and crossed his arms.
“Indeed, Your Majesty.”
Altera walked up to the group right then and looked around at all the other fey.
King Dollin crossed his arms. “Altera, The tenders tell me you went inside with Alden yesterday. I did not approve of this. Explain yourself.”
“I wanted to help Alden. He is old, and he cannot form a light.”
“Pondin can give him the light he needs today, you are not needed.”
Altera crossed her arms. “I overheard you telling Alden nothing is more important than this. Have you changed your mind in a matter of seconds?”
King Dollin’s lip curled. “If you insist, but I am sending Manar with you as well.”
“Excellent!” she beamed. “The more help the better.”
Alden noticed how easily she could lie.
“Come on now, we have work to do,” she said as she entered the mine.
Manar and Pondin waited for Alden to go before they followed in the back. He half expected Pondin to skewer him the moment they were away from the eyes of the king, but that did not happen.
Altera led the way with her light, and they traced the path they took the day before. Alden was grateful she had taken the mushrooms away.
“Foul things, these mines,” Pondin said.
“You should watch what you touch. There is iron here,” Alden warned.
Pondin looked around at the mine walls and studied them. There was no iron there, but Alden had not lied either. There would be iron somewhere in the mine, no doubt. And anything to keep Pondin off guard could be helpful.
Altera, what do you have planned? He wondered. She was moving through the mine like she knew the place. Did she return late last night? Certainly, King Dollin left the mine guarded…but she is royalty. What did she find?
They reached the section of the mine where they had found the mushrooms, and Manar pushed past Alden and Altera. “Look!” he shouted, indicating the root. “There is already a deep root here! We should go tell the tenders.”
Altera shook her head. “We are not there yet.”
“Where?” Pondin demanded. “Where are you taking us, princess?”
“Do you see mushrooms on that root?” she asked.
Pondin craned his head to look at Manar, and he shook his head.
“Then we should keep going,” Altera said, walking past Manar and the root. The two advisors shared a glance, then waved for Alden to keep walking.
Thank Fah Rellion Kil’karin was not sent with us. He would certainly see through Altera’s deception.
“Why are we going so deep?” Pondin asked. “We have the tenders growing the trees near the entrance.”
Altera looked at the advisor and smirked. “You do not think father wants the mushrooms sooner? I think I know where some might be.”
“Or this is all a distraction,” Pondin growled.
Altera chuckled and waved for them to follow her down an offshoot tunnel. A few dozen paces later, they reached a dead end.
“I knew this was a waste of time!” Pondin growled, then pointed his sword at Altera. “You are trying to lead us way from the mushrooms! But not even you can defy the king, Princess. I suggest you come quietly and beg your father for forgiveness!”
Altera huffed. “Relax Pondin, this was not a waste of time. I just need extra muscle. Is that not what my father commanded you two to be?”
Manar and Pondin shared a confused look.
“What are you talking about?” Manar asked. “This is a dead end. A cave in.”
Altera pointed to the wall of small rocks blocking their way. “Cave ins have dirt mixed in with the rock. Did you not look at the few we passed by? This is just a rock pile. The humans built this. I believe we will find something valuable past here.” To emphasize her point, Altera started pulling rocks off the top of the pile.
Manar looked at Pondin, his eyes asking him what he should do.
Between these two, they might have enough shared wisdom to form one brain.
“Go on,” Pondin said to Manar, then opened his left hand and summoned a sphere of blue light. He was still armed with his right. “I will keep an eye on the old feynar.”
Manar glared at his fellow advisor but joined in moving the rocks away from the pile. Alden watched and wondered what Altera was doing. She knows we need iron for the potion, as does her father. Is that what she is looking for? Does she not know it is much easier to just trade for it? Is she leading us to more mushrooms?
Alden jumped when Manar suddenly dropped a rock at his feet.
“Are you going to help or just stand there?”
“I am too old to lift much more than a single stone,” Alden protested.
Manar glared at him and returned to moving the rocks.
Alden watched Altera carefully, wondering when she would make her move and if he needed to act fast when she did. Each stone they tossed to the floor echoed through the old mine with a foreboding thud.
Pondin kept his eyes and his sharp goldenleaf sword pointed at Alden. What a fool. He thinks I am a greater threat than the princess? If this is who King Dollin trusts, the Wolf Clan is doomed. Though Alden did not have love nor lineage with the Wolf Clan, the thought of its demise still pained him. All the fey he had saved. He thought about the parents with their young feynin, the grief mixed with hope in their eyes when he decided to treat the wound. He wondered what his life would have been like if he had not discovered the potion. Would he have died in battle for the Ram Clan? The irony was not lost on him. The potion that stole his youth may have also prevented his early death.
“I think we can get through now,” Altera said. They had cleared two-thirds of the rock formation, and there was enough room now to crawl.
“Go on, I will bring up the rear,” Pondin said to Alden.
He grumbled again that he was too old for this, but it only took a few seconds of straining on hands and knees to clear the rock pile. Altera was already on the other side and gave him both light and a helping hand. She was right that it was not a cave in. On the other side, all the human timbers were still in place, and even after they walked a hundred paces there were still more timbers.
The humans dug far into this tunnel. Why did they block off all their hard work? Alden wondered.
The potential answer appeared another hundred paces later. The tunnel opened up into a circular room with a single stalagmite in the center, mirrored by a stalactite on the ceiling. The two nearly touched, but there was a small void between them about the size of a hand. The walls were perfectly smooth, untouched by human tools. A large seam of glittering gold ran along the center in a perfectly straight line. And after a few seconds, Alden realized the room was a perfect sphere.
“Gold!” Pondin shouted and ran to the wall to run his hand on the seam. “Well done, princess! This is not what we came for, but your father will be pleased!”
Alden felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. This room was unnatural, but at the same time, not made by human hands. Pondin was too foolish to know that gold seams did not appear in such perfect lines.
“We will need to trade for the right tools,” Manar said as he examined the gold. “Or better yet, buy some human slaves for the job.”
While Manar and Pondin were distracted by the gold, Alden walked close to Altera and whispered, “how did you know this place was here?”
She ignored his question and walked to the stalagmite in the center of the room. She put her hand in between the stone spikes and started to whisper strange words.
A few seconds later, Manar turned around, noticing what Altera was doing. “Princess?” He must have sensed the same thing Alden did, because he drew his sword and pointed it at her. “Princess, what are you doing?”
A second later, the wall opened where Pondin was examining the gold. He fell to the ground as a creature passed through the opening, a humanoid shape outlined by a frame of pure diamonds. Inside that frame, molten rock twisted and oozed, but did not spill out.
The creature made a guttural utterance that shook the ground. Alden was caught off guard and fell. Manar put a hand on the wall for support. Altera did not move.
“Be you fey?” the creature said in their language. His voice was a bass tone so deep Alden barely understood it.
“I am Princess Altera. My ancestor was King Hondin. His blood flows through me.”
Pondin panicked and lashed out at the creature with his wooden sword. The blade cracked on the diamond frame, leaving no marks on the creature. It turned and stomped on Pondin’s chest with a diamond foot. Pondin went limp.
He is dead!
Manar slowly backed away then turned to run through the exit, but the moment he did, it sealed up on him. His scream was less than a second, and his body became part of the stone.
“Great old one,” Altera said, “I have come that you may have the chance to fulfill your oath to my bloodline.”
“At last,” the creature said.
Alden did not dare move now. He did not know much about the elemental creatures, but he knew they were powerful. He had just watched two young feynars die in seconds.
Altera had led them into the domain of the Daruumvi, the elemental creature of the great depths in the soil. That alone was incredible. The Daruumvi had not been heard from for hundreds of years. Altera, this thing is dangerous. I hope you know what you are doing.
“This human construct threatens my people, and angers your kind,” she said. “Why have you not destroyed it?”
“Destroyed? We have sustained this place, awaiting your return.”
That is why the mine has not collapsed!
“Then I ask the following, and your oath will be fulfilled. I ask for some of your power, that I may use it for myself to craft powerful weapons and armor that will not harm me.”
“Ask this, and no more?”
Alden was not sure it was a question, but he felt like it was.
“Safe passage to the surface, for me and my guide, this old one with me.”
“There is…more of you nearby.”
“They are like the two you have already returned to the dirt. I care not for them.”
She means the tenders…“Altera, what are you doing?” Alden dared ask.
“Ask this, and no more?” the Daruumi repeated from before.
“And no more,” Altera said.
The ground rumbled and the sound of stone cracking echoed in the small room. A section of the wall opened, a tunnel that quickly ascended.
“Make haste,” the Daruumi warned. “You will find the power you seek at the surface.”
Altera quickly turned and helped Alden stand. “Follow me, quickly!”
Quickness was no longer in his bones, but Alden did the best he could. The tunnel was steep, and after a hundred paces, Alden’s strength failed him.
“You are not getting out of your oath that easy,” Altera said as she took him over her shoulder and helped him up. Soon, the light in her hand was overtaken by daylight. The moment they stepped out onto the wild grasses of the Fey Wilds, the opening sealed shut behind them.
“Altera, what did you do?” Alden asked. Before she could answer, the ground beneath them shook. Between the goldenleaf trees, Alden watched as a cloud of dust rose in the distance. “That…is that the mine’s entrance?”
Altera did not answer. She seemed to be looking for something nearby. The answer came when a pillar of stone suddenly rose up from the ground. The top of it was shaped like a bowl and inside rested a dozen brown gemstones of varying sizes. Altera scooped them up quickly and put them in a satchel at her belt. The moment she did, the stone scraped and grumbled, retreating into the dirt, leaving behind a small brown patch.
“The mine is gone,” Altera said. “No doubt my father will try to dig it up again, but he will have to start over.”
“Altera, how did you do that?” Alden asked, his voice trembling.
“My father told me stories of my ancestors. We have always had a connection to the depths, but he thought little of it. You know him. You know he does not care for the wisdom of the past. So he did not ask questions when I started going through the old journals of past kings. There I discovered the oath the Daruumvi swore long ago to King Hondin. I will not bore you with many details, but King Hondin raided and killed a human kingdom that plundered the depths with aggressive mining. In return, the Daruumvi swore an oath to his bloodline, that they would provide aid when called on. He died before he could ask for the fulfillment of that oath.”
“So, when that feynin discovered this mine, you saw your chance,” Alden surmised. “But how did you know where to find that room?”
“It called out to me in a voice you could not hear. Had my father gone into the mine, he would have heard it. But he did not want to risk his life going inside.”
“He will kill me when he hears of what happened. He will think you had something to do with the mine collapsing as well, since you are still alive and everyone else is dead.”
Altera waved for him to follow her. “Then we need to leave now.”
Alden followed her but stumbled immediately. “I am sorry, Princess. I have not the strength.”
“You do not need it for long.”
Alden looked up and saw Eodius approaching them on the back of his great wolf, two more wolves riding by his side.
“Princess Altera!” he called out, then gave the command for the wolves to slow down and stop. “I have done as you asked, but I must return to my duties. I do not think this place is safe, I felt the ground shaking a moment ago.” Eodius looked to Alden. “Master! I am glad to see you. Are you well?”
“You are not returning to your duties, Eodius,” Alden said.
Eodius looked a little pale. “Have I not pleased you, master?”
Alden sighed. “Quite the opposite. We must go.”
Altera whistled to her wolf and messaged the beast’s neck. “What is this?” she asked, gripping a patch of fur with smatterings of something blue.
Eodius looked at his arm, then quickly hid it in the fur of his great wolf.
“You are not fully fey,” Altera said.
“I-I-I-” Eodius stammered, looking to Alden for help.
“He is a half-breed,” Alden said. “It is well that we are leaving.”
“Please forgive me, Your Majesty,” he said to Altera.
Altera mounted up on her ferlon. “It does not matter to me. We are all exiles now.”
Two months later, Alden worked in the library the King of the Lion Clan gave to him. He dusted off the bookshelves, amazed at the amount of dust that settled even with the winds that blew through regularly.
“Master Alden.”
Alden turned around, half expecting to see Eodius. But he knew that was very unlikely.
“A letter from Nightingale, addressed to you.”
Alden took it and broke the seal, eager to hear how Eodius was doing. But when he saw the name at the bottom of the letter, his breath caught in his throat.
Alden,
I am currently in the human kingdom of Ladesh, where a very accommodating blacksmith has taken on my request. I left Eodius in Nightingale a few days after you did. Turns out, everything elementium is contraband there.
I am glad to hear you have found a home with the Lion Clan. Eodius sends his regards as well. The Nightingalens do not care for half-breeds, but they cannot deny how helpful he is. He seems to be settling in well.
Just remember you swore to Fah Rellion, not to me. If I do not hear from you in the next few years, I will pay you a visit. Be at ease. I remember my part of our bargain. I do not plan to harm you.
But I will have the rage potion.
Altera
Alden set the letter on a table and rubbed his eyes. She was right. He had sworn to Fah Rellion. And he had yet to write down the recipe. If he died today, he would come face to face with his god, and he would have to account for breaking such a strong oath.
Perhaps an eternity in Gol is worth breaking this one.
Alden quickly reached for his tea to suppress the adrenicka rising in his blood. A mixture he developed himself. The taste of the rage potion faded as the bitter herb washed over his tongue.
What if King Dollin gets the rage potion, and there is no one to stand against him? To drink the potion was to begin the rapid decent unto death, but if one of King Dollin’s sons saw what was happening, ascended the throne, and was wiser with it…
Alden grabbed a quill, parchment, and a small golden saucer filled with wax. He took an ember from the nearby fireplace and set it in the catch under the saucer, then started to write the letter. On the outside of the paper, he wrote the directions.
To be given to Altera, Princess of the Wolf Clan, upon my death, provided my death was not by her hand.
He flipped the parchment, then wrote the words he dreaded the most.
The Recipe for the Rage Potion
A thumbnail of flaked iron.
Three index finger-sized root mushrooms, ground.
One teacup of fey bones, ground to powder.
Blend with water, drink within three days.
Altera, forgive me for giving this to you.
Thanks for reading! Interested in more content from the Crowned series? Click here to purchase the debut novel in the Crowned series.
More Crowned short stories available for free below!
The Whisperer (A fantasy heist story, a daring rogue leads a band of outlaws to steal from a wealthy noble, but what are his true intentions?)
The Lion’s in the Snow (Part 1 of 3, two fey seek out a king in exile to save their dying clan, and encounter a threat more brutal than the frozen mountains).
