Page 19 of The Night Prince 3
Vex did kill two of his citizens. Maybe that was enough to change his mind. But he didn’t think so. I just hope he can see beyond whatever it is to give Rhalyf a chance to explain. And what about Declan? If Declan is Vex’s son then…
Finley didn’t know what would happen if Aquilan turned against the two Night Elves. Well, he knew what he would do. He would take his best friend and Rhalyf’s sides. Even if that meant losing any chance at getting into Taranth. Or even staying in Tyrael.
It’s not fair! Declan, at least, was here first! Before the Sun Elves. This is his home. He shouldn’t be forced out, Finley thought angrily. And Earth is humanity’s home. It’s not right that Aquilan should be allowed to kick Rhalyf out either. Whatever old quarrels are between the Aravae and the Kindreth shouldn’t hold sway on this plane. Besides where would they go? Shonda and Michael will help. I know they will.
“CRUSH! SMASH! KILL! MONEY!” Snaglak lifted up his club as he bellowed his unique war cry.
Glom let out a warble after “MONEY” as if he, too, knew what that meant, which was, undoubtedly, something to do with ham.
Snaglak and Glom tumbled after Declan. The naki let out a wild hiss of joy as it trundled behind its master, still trying to nibble on Snaglak’s heels as it did so. Finley shook his head. This would be the first time that Snaglak would fight beside Declan.
Snaglak and Glom will be right by him. They’ll watch Declan’s back.
A frown soon followed. He should be fighting too. He should be out there. By Declan and Snaglak’s sides throwing fireballs and…
Humans don’t have magic. His hands fisted at his sides. They don’t. All my belief that we did stemmed from Declan and he’s a Night Elf. So that hope is gone. I’m just a useless human. Weak. Powerless. I’ll only get in the way.
His heart tumbled into his feet. How could the thing he loved the most–the thing that entranced him–always be out of reach? How was that fair? Technology allowed everyone to do miraculous things like delve into all of human knowledge or talk to someone across the globe. Technology was the great uplifter.
But magic?
That was the great divider. You either had the skill or you did not. You had the gift or you did not. Yes, there was hard work involved and if that was all there had been to separate the great Mages from the mediocre ones, Finley would have risen to the top. But he had nothing.
“Are you going to stay with me, Helgrom?” Finley asked as he noticed the dwarf drawing his hammer from its holder at his back.
“Ach, laddie, I will keep you safe better from in there,” Helgrom said, patting his arm with a hand that was sheathed in armor. “You stay here. Out of sight. Safe. We’ll come get you when it’s over.”
“Oh, right. You’re going to fight, too,” Finley said softly.
With a grimness and determination that Finley had never seen on the inn keeper’s face before, Helgrom launched himself down the hallway, shouting a word in dwarvish that Finley knew meant victory or death. His hammer was held high over his head and Finley knew that many a Leviathan would be crushed beneath its weight.
He runs an inn, but he’s a great warrior. Fair enough that his father was a king and he’s actually a king. But still! An innkeeper has more to offer than I do on the battlefield. How will humans ever get respect like this?
Now he was alone at the bottom of the stairs. The darkness clung to him like cobwebs. He drew his arms around himself. He didn’t even have a kitchen knife like Declan. If anything came after him here he would have no chance against it.
The others will keep the monsters at bay. Declan killed the ones up above. So there’s nothing to come get me here. Is there? He grimaced. God! Listen to me! Like a child scared of the dark! Will I start rocking myself, pull a blanket over my head, and hope I’m safe?
Bright flashes of purple, green and gold light reflected against the wall that led into the station. They were like brilliant fireworks and the afterglow of them was imprinted on his retinas for a few seconds. He glanced over his shoulder back up the stairs to the Pedway. Nothing there. Declan had killed them all, he reminded himself. But still, he hated having all that empty space behind him. Something could creep up and he’d never know until it was too late.
Maybe I’ll just get a little closer to everybody, he thought. Not in the way and not to be seen. But not so exposed either.
He crept to the wall where Declan had flattened himself just moments earlier and mimicked the position subconsciously. Then he slowly, carefully peeked around the corner. This wasn’t part of the plan to keep himself unseen. In fact, he was pretty sure that Rhalyf would consider it breaking his promise on some level. But he couldn’t help himself. Magic was being used! And he could see it up close and personal here. This was battle magic so it wasn’t something that he would see Rhalyf simply cast for fun. No, this was the only place he’d catch a glimpse of it. So it was worth the risk.
And I’ll just look for a little while. The Leviathan won’t see me. Just quick and quiet and invisible.
At first, all he could see was light. Blinding light. His eyes watered with it, but the spell cast on him to give him greater night vision adjusted and soon he could soon see clearly again. The hallway was short. About twenty feet long before it opened up into the station.
He remembered what many of these underground L stations were like. The floor would extend about ten feet from the wall. There would be a thick yellow line of paint to indicate where people should stand so as not to get hit by the trains. The train tracks would slice through the space beyond that yellow line and then disappear once more into another arch. He could still remember the smell of hot grease and electricity from when he’d ridden the trains himself.
I never considered there would come a day when I’d never smell it again, Finley realized. I’d come down to go to the Museum of Science and Industry. All by myself. Now, everything in the museums is likely destroyed, rotting or gone.
He imagined the paintings in the Art Institute of Chicago. Those that weren’t destroyed by damp or rot, would likely be dulled by dust. The great masterworks that were on display there were likely gone. Lost now truly to the ages. Only this generation would remember anything about pieces like A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. It was done all in simple points of paint showing people wandering by a lake in 1884. American Gothic with the severe look of the farmer and his wife glaring at the viewer. Nighthawks showing the glow of a diner at night. All likely destroyed.
Rohannan should be trying to save them instead of butting heads with Vesslan! Or what about the libraries? Is anyone going inside of those and saving the moldering books? Our literature, our history…
It was easy to forget all about it in the glory of Tyrael where magic was everywhere. Elven voices were always raised in song. Dwarven laughter lit up the night. The world where high fantasy beings lived and breathed and magic was everyday was the world that Finley had always longed for. He still did. He loved it. But coming back to Chicago… he saw that things were being lost. Irrevocably lost.
That is for another day to worry about. Right now I need to get through this.
