The Lost Prince

Prologue:

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Demons and angels used to be fairy tales. Hell, fairies used to be fairy tales!” a gravelly voice said.

An annoyingly cute couple laughed nervously at the camo-clad redneck’s unique sales pitch.

“With all of humanity’s worst nightmares coming to life, a pair like yourself needs to protect themselves.” The man held aloft a massive shotgun. “This will blow a hole in any problem you’ve got….”

Ash continued past the artillery piece and made his way down the line of tables. The thought of either of those yuppies trying to use that cannon summoned a silent chuckle as he looked over the menagerie of offerings. This market had become quite popular over the last few months as people continued to trickle in from the cities and towns that used to line the floor of California’s northern central valley. Most folks congregated in ragged stinking shanty towns, like the one on the east border of this market, while some luckier ones still had worthwhile trinkets to trade and could afford a bit more comfort in the old forest cabins to the north. Regardless of housing, though, the majority of these people waited lazily for help from a government that couldn’t be in much better shape. Some even seemed to be waiting on death itself to come and cash in his claim, just to ease the pain of living without the means to help themselves.

A year has passed since the first clickbait ad showed the poorly rendered image of a dragon flying over Dodger Stadium. A week after that, a Twitter account from a man calling himself Ishamael started to proclaim that this world was no longer “Man’s to destroy.” Another month after that, all Hell broke loose.

Literally.

“Tree boy,” A tiny voice whispered into Ash’s ear. He ignored it as he continued to search for a particular face among the crowd. An annoyed buzz fluttered his long blonde locks. “Stop that!” He hissed as he smoothed his hair back down. “Do you want someone to see you?”

“Yes.”

“Not yet. I’d rather not have that howitzer go off in my direction.” His plea was met with silence as he took his next couple of steps. His companion must have seen the logic in his request.

“What’s a howisser? Can I eat it?”

“No, you can’t eat it!” he barked. The people on either side of Ash took a few steps away from him and began to mutter. He picked up his pace while trying not to make eye contact with anyone. “Great!” he muttered. “Now people think I’m crazy, or worse.”

“You are crazy. I eat things too. This is your fault for not letting me help. You always mess things up. Like last night’s dinner - cookies are good, and so is fish. Why wouldn’t they be good together?”

“I’m not going to ruin the last pack of cookies I have on one of your insane dishes.”

“What good are cookies, if you can’t eat them? You gave me some before. Remember? It was when you said—” She coughed as she always did before imitating Ash’s wisdom. “— Salt and Pepper go on rabbit, not Oreo crumbs.”

She continued with a litany of his culinary “mistakes,” but he would not let her chastising keep him from his goal. He had just spotted who he was looking for, and no amount of illogical chatter was going to make him surrender his cookies. His target was walking up from the opposite direction and had not seen him yet. Ash needed to get her attention, then go somewhere where nobody could overhear their exchange.

This woman had what he wanted, and he had what she needed.

As he closed the distance, she looked up. Her customary nervous smile was gone, replaced by the utter desperation that was now painted across her soft features. He slowed, remembering the linchpin for their deal. He raised his hand to rest on the leather satchel slung to his left side.

Am I too late?

He watched her eyes follow his hand, then widen. She bolted over to him, jubilation and panic taking turns possessing her face, as she seized the hand that was securing his satchel. He had to fight the urge to forcibly break her hold or toss her to the ground. The whole exchange had his mind whirring with terrible possibilities.

“Do you have it?” the woman demanded.

“Listen-”

“Do you have it or not?!” A single tear fell as her hand tightened on his. Ash looked at the surrounding crowd. Most looked as if you couldn’t pay them enough to be interested, but that didn’t mean no one had taken notice of their exchange.

“Yes,” Ash whispered. He needed to gain control over this conversation before it led to a confrontation. The people within earshot now knew he had something valuable, and they would not stop long to consider whether it was valuable to them before they attempted to take it. “Let’s take this somewhere more-”

“If you have it, then let’s go. Come on,” she commanded, not giving him the opportunity to argue.

The woman kept her hold on his hand and turned to head out of the makeshift marketplace. People watched them depart with interest. Some looking a bit too curious for his liking, while others looked on with jealous approval that a carnal debt was obviously about to be paid. Ash just tried to keep his bearings, as the determined little woman led him through a maze of tents, tarps, and whatever else could make a shelter.

“I don’t like this, tree boy.” His companion’s voice sounded smaller than it usually did.

“The worst she can do is kill me,” Ash more thought than whispered.

“That’s not funny, Ash.” The use of his name made him stumble, breaking his captor’s grip as he did. It was only quick reflexes and luck that kept him from falling face first into the forest floor.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean too…” The words came almost in unison from two very different voices.

Ash shook his head, trying to dispel the verbal vertigo. “It’s ok… Uh.” He paused after remembering that this woman had never told him her name. “Ma’am.”

A blush crept over her face as she extended her hand. “Sarah. My name is Sarah.”

He smiled and shook her hand. “Tre- ah,” Ash coughed to cover the near slip of his least favorite endearment. “Ash. You can call me Ash.”

“Ohhhh, your faces are sooooo red! You told me humans couldn’t change color.” Ash froze at the tiny accusatory words in his ear. He looked at Sarah, who seemed to be oblivious to his insane little guest. “What does red indicate?”

Ash looked around to gain a few moments. They seemed to have made their way out of the tents and a bit deeper into the forest.

“We’re camped a little way from here,” Sarah explained. “I never feel quite safe with everyone else so close.”

“I understand the feeling. Please, lead on.”

She nodded and continued further into the trees. A few nearly silent minutes passed as they trekked toward Sarah’s camp. There was no sign of anyone following them, but Ash’s gut, and the tiny whimpers from his always present companion, said the world was going to come crashing down at any second.

Soon the sound of running water found Ash’s ear, and the party came on a small mountain stream with a quaint, clean campsite. One large tent took up the biggest part of the cleared area. A small smoldering campfire lay on the complete other side - some foil wrapped bundles mixed into the coals.

“What’s with humans and cooking things in metal? Don’t you know that ruins it?”

Ash ignored the question as Sarah walked to the tent and pulled open the door. She poked her head inside and spoke softly to someone. Ash placed his hand back on the quick release of his satchel as terrible visions of the last campsite he was “invited” to flashed across his mind.

“She sounds nice.” The statement pulled Ash out of the grim recollections. “I can feel the love in her words.” His tension was draining out of him as he listened to the low lovely drone of Sarah’s words. “You should mate with this one.”

“You ruined it,” Ash sighed.

“What? No, I didn’t. You’re stupid. I know you w-” Ash brushed at his hair, causing the words to come to a sputtery halt.

“Ash.” Sarah waved him over to the front of the tent. He peered inside to see a boy propped up in a sleeping bag. The boy coughed into a small hand, then waved a weak hello.

“Hello there, uh-”

“Steven,” Sarah supplied.

“Oh, Steven. How are you?”

“Stevie,” the boy wheezed out. “Only Mom calls me Steven.”

“I see. Well, Stevie. Try not to speak too much. At least not yet. I’ll be right back.” Ash walked over to the small fire pit and unslung his bag. He reached in and pulled out an assortment of cloth bags and a small mason jar. “Do you have a way of boiling water?” he asked Sarah.

She ran over to a small collection of cookware and produced a small teapot. Moving over to the stream, she filled the pot, and came back to set it on a grate over the fire. After she built the fire up a bit, she looked back at Ash expectantly.

He smiled and continued to look over his project. Gathering up some wild lemon balm leaves and lavender petals, he placed them into an old green camp mug he’d been carrying around for more than a decade. The worn insignia of the 2nd Ranger Battalion was still visible in the years of wear that marred the enameled surface. It had been his good luck charm over a ten-year career and 4 major deployments. It had toasted good times and consoled during bad. He had brought a different cup to use today, but this time he felt like someone else needed his luck more than he did.

After a taking a few moments to let the water heat, and explain to Sarah the combination of herbs and where to find them, he opened the small mason jar. The sweet yet pungent odor of honey and wild garlic wafted over the group.

“I thought this tea sounded pretty nice until you opened that,” Sarah said, scrunching her nose.

“Good medicine tastes bad,” Ash replied.

“How does that make sense?” he was asked from two directions again.

He laughed as he shook his head. “If someone offers to take away your pain with promises of a sweet taste, they are trying to sell you something.” Ash’s grandfather’s words rang in his ears as he recited the old man’s wisdom. “If someone is willing to force feed you some God-awful nastiness, they are trying to give you something you need.”

Sarah made a face at his explanation. Clearly, she wasn’t sold. He chuckled as he poured hot water into the mug and swirled the leaves around. After a few minutes, he added a generous spoonful of garlic and honey.

“Did you see how it’s done?”

“I think so,” Sarah said, standing.

“I’ll go over it again before I leave. Let’s go see how it does.”

“Do you think it will work? His asthma was never this bad.” Fear was back on Sarah’s face as they headed toward the tent.

“It won’t cure him, but it should help. I had a teammate that swore by a similar concoction, and he could run circles around me.” A vision of Mike’s goofy smiling face flashed in Ash’s mind. I hope you are well down in Florida, my brother.

“Team mate?” Sarah asked. She looked down at the cup and squinted at the Insignia. “Were you an athlete?”

“No.” Ash chuckled. “This is my battalion insignia. I was in the Army.”

Sarah nodded, a little of the apprehension disappeared from her face. She opened the flap to the tent, and Ash crouched to enter after her. It was more spacious than he would have thought from the outside. Stevie was awake, and watching as Ash approached him. The boy’s ragged breath came quicker as he studied the steaming contents of the cup.

“Alright, Stevie. This will not taste good, but it should help soothe your asthma.”

“Really?”

“I hope so,” Ash said, honestly.

Sarah came in and lifted Stevie to a more upright position. Ash offered the cup to the child, but was met by a scrunched-up face.

“I know, and the taste is worse than the smell, but sometimes a man has to do things he doesn’t want to. Sometimes, it’s taking out the garbage. Sometimes, it’s changing a diaper. But there are always unpleasant things that need doing.”

“I never had to eat a diaper,” Stevie retorted.

“Good point.” Ash smiled. “Just drink this one cup. If it doesn’t help, I’m sure we can find another way.”

“No, you can’t,” Stevie replied with a stern face. “Mom has been trying for weeks. If there was another way, she would have found it.” The boy took the cup, pinched his nose, and took a long drink. He held his breath as he swallowed. “It’s not that bad,” he said, though his face told a very different story.

Ash and Sarah chuckled at his determination to get the foul liquid down.

“Drink it a little slower. We don’t want to cause a coughing fit,” Ash commanded.

Stevie nodded and sipped the rest as they both watched. His breathing still had a rasp, but it wasn’t as ragged as it had been before.

Ash looked at Sarah. She had found the same nervous smile she wore when they had first met again. Back when she had been politely asking anyone she saw for help with finding asthma medicine. Rather than outright offer the herbs, Ash had offhandedly asked her if she knew where he could find some obsidian as an opener - her answer had surprised him.

He had no clue why he needed to find this type of rock, except that his companion had informed him his “nasty steel would be obsolete” once he had some. In today’s world of dragons, demons, and other creatures of myth, one tended to listen to the craziness that had taken residence on your shoulder.

“We need to ask her,” a small voice whispered warily.

“He will need the same mix in the same amount at least twice a day. In a few weeks, he should be back to normal, but he’ll still need to take it easy,” Ash said in a rush.

“I should have a cup about that size,” Sarah said studying the vessel.

“Keep that one.”

“But it has your Army symbol on it,” Sarah pointed out.

Ash waved the comment away. “It has been with me for years. Maybe it’s time it serves another young man through dangerous times.” He looked from Stevie back to Sarah. “Now, about your side of this deal…”

“Oh, right!” she exclaimed. Sarah reached into a fist-sized leather pouch beside her and lifted it. “Steven’s father collected these before -” She paused and wiped a tear from her eye quickly before tossing the bag to Ash.

He untied the string and opened the pouch to see dozens of jagged black volcanic glass.

“I don’t know why he brought them with us,” Sarah explained, “or why I’ve kept them this long, but the price is small for a treatment Steven needs.”

An excited buzz erupted next to Ash’s ear, and Nissa suddenly flew into the open pouch, leaving a streak of her customary orange fairy light from his head all the way to the leather bag. He closed the string quickly and looked back up at the others. Both of their eyes were wide and locked on the small bag. Nissa’s muffled shouts of glee could be heard clearly from inside the thin leather walls. The paranormal was no longer something nutcases talked about in dark rooms, but anyone associated with one of these creatures was still met with fear, and most times violence.

Ash backed away from the pair and towards the door of the tent. He moved slowly in an effort to not upset the asthmatic boy anymore than he already was. As he turned to head out of the tent flap, darkness fell instantly over the camp. Screams from the market found his ears just before an explosion sounded. Small pops and larger booms echoed through the forest, as the unmistakable sound of a firefight started.

I need to get out of here.

Ash pushed through the tent flap and took in his surroundings. Everything seemed still, if a bit too dark for the time of day. A chill shot down his spine as he looked up at what had caused the sudden lack of light. A massive dragon perched atop a Redwood tree. Its wings cast a shadow across the entire camp, and its glowing green eyes seemed to be focused on the tent.

He stared at the beast in frozen terror until Nissa, bouncing off the walls inside the leather pouch in Ash’s hand, brought him back to his senses. He shoved her and her shiny rocks into his cargo pocket, and turned back to the mother and child in the tent. They were huddled together and Sarah had a sawed-off shotgun clutched in one hand. She looked terrified, but also as if she knew her way around a firearm. Ash felt for his ever present satchel, but his hand met only the fabric of his pants. His eyes shot across the camp, locating his bag on the other side of it. He swore under his breath. His grandpa’s old 45 was in that bag.

“I’m leaving. Do not come outside this tent until I’ve been gone for at least an 15 minutes,” he said as firmly, yet softly, as he could manage. Sarah nodded, staring at the top of the tent as if she could see more than the unnatural lack of light.

A plan formed in Ash’s mind. If he was fast, and lucky enough, maybe he could both lead this abomination away and lose it deeper in the forest.

“I know what you are hiding, human. Give it to me, and no harm will come to you.” The voice boomed inside his skull as the beast roared down toward the camp.

Ash had heard of people who claimed a voice had taunted them as they fled dragon attacks, but he had always written it off as some kind of manifestation of PTS. Now he knew different.

He wants Nissa? Why?

“Come now, don’t be hasty,” the dragon seemed to laugh as its voice attempted to shatter Ash’s mind. He knew that even with Grandpa’s 1911, he couldn’t kill that thing. But…

Sometimes a man has to do things he doesn’t want to.

He bolted from the tent and dashed directly towards his satchel. He had nearly made it to his goal when the ground in front of him exploded, blowing Ash back into the middle of the clearing. A terrible pain blossomed in his right thigh. He screamed as he tried to staunch the blood pouring from his leg. He looked for his bag, and the bandages kept inside, but in its place was a crater the size of a Buick. The world grew darker around the outside of his vision.

A massive wind blew up around him, and the earth shook as the dark green bulk of the dragon slammed down in the clearing. Ash tried to scramble away, but every movement breathed new pain into his leg.

“I will have the Prince. You can not stop me,” The dragon thundered.

“What?” Ash demanded, but the beast seemed to have written him off. Ash was no longer a threat to this creature - a fact which really pissed him off.

The dragon passed over him, headed for the tent, and Ash pulled himself after it, screaming with every new flash of pain. He clawed at the dirt, grass and rocks, trying to find purchase. He couldn’t have made it 5 feet from where he started, when the familiar grip of an old pistol found his hand. But unlike the rough stippling he was used to, this felt smooth - like glass. He pulled the gun in front of his face and the familiar yet unfamiliar black firearm began to glow orange in his hand.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot the nasty thing!"

“Nissa?” Ash was dumbstruck.

"Shoot it!" Her voice bounced around his head just as the dragon’s had- only the fear didn’t come with it. His vision resolved as he looked down the sights.

“Hey, you ugly-ass lizard!” he yelled.

The dragon turned, its large green eyes shining back into Ash’s with unbridled hatred.

“I must have hit a nerve. Note to self - dragon’s feelings are sensitive.” He grinned as he lined the front sight up with the dragon’s left eye and pulled the trigger. A loud crack came from the weapon and a blue bolt flew straight into the malice-filled dragon eye.

It roared, knocking Ash back a few feet, before it launched back into the air, fire falling all around as the beast fled. Trees burst into flame all around the camp, and Ash could hear someone shrieking nearby, but his vision was quickly going black.

"Ash? Are you okay?" Nissa’s voice rang in his blissfully empty mind.

The black around his vision thickened with every breath. “Of course I am.” Ash mumbled as that darkness began to drag him under. “I just shot a dragon with a fairy gun. How many Rangers have gotten to do that?”