Page 74 of The Forgotten Prince

Málik was the first to find his feet. He bounded up from the bed before Gwendolyn could bring herself to stir. Sweeping up his sword from the bedside where’d he’d so gingerly placed it, he held it ready to strike.

Gwendolyn rose, groping for her sleeping gown, then quickly realizing something terrible was amiss, she rushed for her mithril and leathers.

“Danger!”

The piskies warning grew impassioned.

“Danger!”

Behind her, Málik dressed, pulling on his leathers, his sword never leaving his hand. As soon as Gwendolyn was clothed as well, she rushed for her own sword, stopping short at the sight of its brightening runes—glowing blue. Not the same golden flare it had displayed when Esme first revealed it to her, but blue, like Málik’s eyes in the heat of passion.

“Málik,” she said, her gaze fixing upon the blade.

His gaze followed hers, then returned to her face. “This will be your first test,” he said. “There can be no mistakes.”

Gwendolyn nodded, swallowing, and swept up Kingslayer, even as the village stirred, and the first sounds of battle reached her ears.

Screams.

Men.

Oh, Gods, Bryn!

Blood and bones! What was happening?

The piskies flew away and the shadows deepened, as it happened in the last moments before the gloaming. Gwendolyn hurried for her boots, donning them hastily. And then, seizing Borlewen’s blade as well, she tucked it into one boot, and turned at last, prepared to fight.

Move the sword with your body!

Keep your gaze on the sword.

Pull back as you thrust.

Don’t forget to step.

Put your hip into the cut.

Don’t spin.

Gods. Right now, she regretted not having practiced along the journey north. She had intended to do so here in the Druid village, but the opportunity had not yet presented itself.

Málik gave her the darkest of looks, and she knew he wanted to ask her to stay, but not even the gods could have made her comply. Knowing this, he didn’t ask. Instead, he rushed into the courtyard, and Gwendolyn followed… only to stop short at the horror she discovered.

A creature unlike anything she had ever beheld—taller by far than Málik—came lumbering toward her. It had no flesh on its body, but its construction was not of bone. It was… more like… trees… with thorns… gnarled and twisting, with claws like spikes that protruded from each shoulder. A formation like antlers arose from its contorted head, and within the hollow of its eyes burned a ruby light.

“What is that?”

“A spriggan,” Málik said.

“You said they did not exist!”

“Not in your world.”

“You lied?”

“Not precisely,” he said, readying his sword as the creature spotted them and lengthened its stride, moving toward them. “You were frightened,” he said. “I did not wish you to be. There was no chance you would encounter any in the fogous.”

A spriggan?

---