Mythas' Return: The Lost Princess

Chapter Six: Blood Run Cold

Chapter Six: Blood Run Cold

Deacon trampled over the brushberries that lay in his wake before shoving a sputtering Ficnam out into the open air of the main woodland path that would lead them back to their home. They approached a weathered, swinging bridge that was dimly lit by dying spellbound torches, running out of magicked powder to propel their flames. Countless owlcats, moon toads and hissing crickets aimlessly called out to one another as a gentle, pattering rain began to moisten the canopy above - unable to break through the leaves quite yet. A large, gathered raindrop sizzled as it fell into one of the bridge's torches, causing the half-dwarf to tense up as he was continually dragged by his leader.

His stepfather stopped in the middle of the fraying rope bridge as it swayed over the gushing river below. He turned to face Ficnam, releasing his collar with a harsh toss, eyes as dark as the sky with a stone gold scowl to match the grim tone that followed, "We were quite worried when we found your window left open...and your belongings missing."

"I-I-I....just wanted to make su-su-sure that we...that I...did not lose their tracks!" the boy stuttered, leaning his back into the tall, knotted cords that felt more like a cage than protection from the rapids.

"Oh, of course you did...my dear boy. Such a loyal member of my Dominion. Come hither, come closer to me..." Deacon crowed in a low, devious tone.

Ficnam hesitated for a moment, unable to look toward his stepfather as he shuffled his large feet from side to side, feeling faint as the currents below crashed against the rocks and sprayed over the rotting wood of the bridge.

"I said...," Deacon seethed, "COME HERE!"

The boy nervously waddled further down the slippery planks, stopping a few feet before Deacon and weaving his fingers together as his very bones felt as if they clamored under his skin with fear. The man responded by taking a clinking step further towards the half-dwarf as his tapped heels clicked against the bridge; he pointed his long, slender nose just inches away from Ficnam's pale face.

"I could have sworn...that I heard you mention something about our lovely faction, Ficnam..." Deacon continued his interrogation. "Or do my old ears deceive me? Have they?"

"Uh...yes, Deacon." Ficnam mumbled as his eyes darted from left to right.

"Speak up, boy!" the man ordered; Ficnam could feel droplets of his spittle hit just beneath his eye, startling his further.

"Yes, sir...you must have heard wrong!" the half-dwarf insisted, shaking his head furiously.

"You know, Ficnam..." Deacon said in a softer voice. "If you..were but only, as you said, making sure that you did not lose the faun...."

"Yes, that is correct..." Ficnam agreed, his face tingling with fright.

"I was not finished!" the leader's voice boomed over the river's incessant gushing. "...as I mentioned...if you were doing as you say, what would that imply, child?"

"Pardon? I...I'm not exactly s-s-sure what you ask of me, s-s-sir." the boy croaked as he felt his throat closing around his swollen tongue.

"Oh, but you do, my boy...my boy..." Deacon clicked his tongue with disapproval. "Ah, ah...ah, you see...if you were simply following the faun so as to not lose her...that reveals to me that, oh! That you never lost sight of the trail to begin with..."

"No, Deacon! I did...but I crossed the lagoon against your will...for that, I apologize...but I was certain that she had returned to her homestead!" squealed the desperate half-dwarf.