THE MARAUDER PRINCE

“You,” the Marauder Prince seethed, his breath crystallizing in the chill. His gaze met Iris’s and she froze, a shiver coursing through her that had nothing to do with his frosty magic.

Recognition flared in his icy glowing eyes, a mirror reflecting her own shock. The world around them seemed to fade into the background as Iris drank in his face, a mask of cruelty she had seen before. A cruel smile played on his lips like a chilling echo of a scene playing on repeat.

And then, with the harsh reality of a winter storm, Iris remembered how she recognized him.

✦ ✦ ✦

I stumbled out of the camp, my heart racing and the sounds of the small campfires still crackling behind me…

…

Each gasp pulls in a fresh lungful of what can only be another world’s air, but it does little to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in my head.

The scent of trees and… burnt flesh fill my nostrils…

…

…

I check over everything… again, just to make sure I have what I need. There’s no telling how long it will be until I find proper civilization… if there even is one.

Luckily there were some supplies and rations around the camp that I was able to cram haphazardly into the stolen pack. I tighten the buckle before lifting the pack’s single strap over my head and securing it across my chest.

I rest my hand on the hilt of the longsword strapped to my waist in a rough scabbard and take a deep breath. My body is encased in an assortment of ill-fitting armor that I stole from the only two women of the camp.

Why would they be okay with what those men were doing?

They were clearly going to…

With a shake of my head, I clear the thoughts away. I need to get away from this area.

I’m terrified, but I swallow the fear, shoving it down as I stumble away from the smoldering remnants… and the bodies of the bandit camp.

The throbbing pulse of adrenaline that carries me through the fight dwindles, replaced by an unshakeable fatigue that seems to weigh on my thoughts.

I lean against a tree, the rough bark scratching at my cheek that makes me wish I had grabbed a helmet, but all I can focus on is my quick breaths.

Hold on, Iris, you’ve got this.

But then the world seems to tilt, nausea flares up as my knees buckle and my stomach rejects its meager contents.

My breaths come in ragged gasps, a grim chorus to the retching sounds that echo through the quiet forest.

When I finally finish evicting my stomach’s inhabitants from their home like some predatory inner-city landlord, I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, the metallic taste of bile still lingering on my tongue.

And then, the dam breaks.

An utter ecological disaster of emotions erupts.

All the fear, all the horror of what I’ve done and been through, it bubbles up and I collapse to my knees, sobs wracking my body.

I want to scream.

To fight.

To run.

But all I can do is cry.

This isn’t fair, I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this.

Why is this happening?

How is this happening?

When my eyes eventually flutter open, it’s to the sight of a deerlike creature nudging at me, its eyes soft and curious. In any other situation, it probably would have been cute.

I scream.

The sound of my terrified shriek echoes through the woods as the creature startles and bounds away.

When my racing heart finally stops trying to escape the caged prison of my chest, I blink in the red dawn light, the sight really hammering home the alien setting I was magicked away to.

I must have slept all night…

I feel groggy, there’s a dull ache in my bones as I force myself to stand.

Keep moving, Iris. You can’t stay here.

With a grimace, I grab and drink from the water skin, swishing the lukewarm liquid around my mouth before spitting out the remnants of the vile taste that clings to my tongue.

The fear hasn’t left, but it's quiet now, replaced by a sort of resigned determination as I steel myself for what needs doing.

Momma didn’t raise no bitch.

At that, I freeze.

Mom…

My breath catches at the thought of my mom getting news that I died getting hit by some truck, then learning there wasn’t a body.

Or is there?

What actually happened?

I look back one last time at the ruined camp, the harsh reminder of what I’ve survived.

Then I turn, following the worn trail leading away from it.

You can figure this out, just keep going.

Hours pass.

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Or maybe it’s minutes, I can’t tell. This world is so familiar, yet so… other. The lush greenery reminds me of the forests back home, but the elves… the half-elves…

The thought of those bandit elves sends a shiver down my spine.

I was hit by a truck.

Is this some game? Am I some kind of character in a ridiculously realistic RPG? Some sort of government experiment?

Is my body hooked up to some tubes somewhere?

“System,” I mutter with a desperate hope sparking in my chest.

Nothing.

“...Stats.”

Nada.

“Character sheet?”

The system does not respond.

I stumble, a laugh bubbling up from my chest. “Just some Tolkien-ass shit, then. Not nearly as cool.”

But I keep walking, leaving the camp–and my old life–behind.

The world seems to throb with the harsh pulse of the midday sun as I follow the trail through the forest with a crunch of dirt and rocks under every step.

Beads of sweat trickle down my brow, the heat and the humidity weaving an uncomfortable cocoon around me that makes me wish I had a scrunchie.

I blow at a strand that's stuck to my cheek and frown as it remains stuck.

Anything to get my damned hair out of my face.

As I walk, I keep drinking until I realize that I’m nearly out of water; rationing clearly isn’t my strong suit. It was then that the whole survival scenario hits me and the realization that I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I’m a college student, not some wilderness junkie. I’ve never even gone fucking hiking.

Fuck.

I’m hungry.

Pausing to eat, I manage a handful of dried nuts and fruits when I hear the rhythmic drum of hooves in the distance.

Panic grips me and I scramble to hide, my heart pounding so hard I swear someone will hear it.

Through the gaps in the foliage, I watch a group of seven riders, each in shining armor, approach.

I suck in a sharp breath, pressing my back against a thick trunk and willing myself invisible.

But it’s no use.

The lead rider, an imposing figure atop his horse, spots me and raises a hand to his men to halt.

“Hello?”

His voice is gentle, almost disarming.

I freeze, the instinct to run battles within me against the desire to be seen, to find help. They look official, like someone that would want to help, but how many times in anime and fantasy does that go wrong? Too fucking many times, that’s what.

“You know I can see you,” he adds, a note of amusement tingeing his words.

Unbidden, I can feel a surge of the strange magic beginning to build up in me like a capacitor.

But instead of lashing out, I stand, my hand instinctively finding the hilt of my stolen sword as I step from my failure of a hiding spot.

“Hello,” I reply cautiously, my voice quiet, hesitant.

The man removes his helmet, revealing the striking ice-blue eyes of an elf.

He asks me what I’m doing out here alone, but I counter by asking who he is. I don’t want to be on the back foot, I realize I am out of my depth, but I need information. Which I won’t get by only answering questions.

Plus, I really don’t want to give much away.

He offers me a kind smile. “I am Ser Corin Syllar. A knight in service to the Queendom.”

My brows furrow at that.

Queendom?

I file the information away, a piece of the puzzle that is this world.

He repeats his question, but I again avoid answering.

“How far am I from civilization?”

His casual shrug and indicating that a town is only half a day away, does little to assuage my nerves.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you stay safe,” he says. “Trust me. Now, how did you arrive here? I can’t help you unless I know. We’re on a… mission. One in service of all the people of Lehelia.”

The Queendom of Lehelia? At least I know where I am.

Determined to guard my secrets, I absently tuck a loose strand of scarlet hair behind my ear and note the flicker of surprise in his eyes. Choosing my words carefully, I weave a plausible tale, admitting I was captured by bandits and taken prisoner at a nearby camp.

The knights exchange a glance at my confession, concern etched into their features. “How did you escape?” Syllar asks curiously.

I steeled myself against the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm me as images flash through my mind. “I killed them,” I whisper.

His eyes widen in shock, and he seems to hesitate before asking, “You… I’m sorry, what?”

I shake my head, fighting the lump forming in my throat. “I had to. They… they were going to do bad things… it was self-defense. I’m sorry.”

The man dismounts, approaching with caution before placing his hands on my arms, his eyes filled with compassion. “Are you okay? Did they..?”

I shake my head as the weight of his question sinks in. “I’m fine. Sorry.”

He seems to accept this as he nods solemnly. His eyes bore into mine, their icy depth revealing a swirl of emotions that begged you to dive into them. “They’re all dead? And the camp?”

Suspicion rickles at the back of my neck, but I answer truthfully. “A lot of it caught fire, but not terribly. I don’t think there will be a forest fire or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I step back, wiping at the tears stinging my ears.

When I look up, the other knights have drawn their weapons.

Confusion clouds my mind. “What?” I ask, fear slinking down my spine.

Ser Syllar sighs, his expression guarded. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” he asks in a low, dangerous tone.

The fear closes around me as I retreat a step. “I-I was just protecting myself. They wanted to make me a slave.”

“Regrettable. Truly regrettable.”

He turns away, signaling two of his men. “Take her. This is going to cause setbacks.”

I can only stand in stunned silence as the reality of my situation crashes down around me.

One of the knights pulls a dagger, advancing with a menacing sneer that jump-starts my brain.

In response, I whip out my sword, my hand shaking despite how resolute I try to feel. “Stay back!” I warn, but my voice trembles, undercutting my threat.

Their laughter cuts through the tension like a cold knife.

A cruel smile curls on Syllar’s lips. “Put down the sword, girl. It will do you no good. You're going back to the camp with us, then we will figure out what to do with you.”

Suddenly, something in me shifts, like a switch being flipped.

The icy tendrils of fear that had gripped my heart are replaced by a wave of anger, so fierce and raw it shocks me into action.

As the knights get within arm's reach, I lower my sword and slide it back into the scabbard, their smirks barely registering as the electric hum of my magic thrums to life inside me.

It pulses through my veins as if they are conduits, making my skin tingle, and filling me with a potent sense of invincibility.

The knights hesitate as I tilt my head, their amusement fading to uncertainty.

I feel a tickling sensation coming from my eyes, and with my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the shining armor of one of the men–a flickering blue light dancing across my pupils.

I lift my hand and let the magic surge forward, shaping it into a crackling orb of lightning before unleashing it.

The bolt shoots forward, a missile of pure electricity, and slams into the first knight, sending him sprawling. As I turn to the second, his face frozen in disbelief, I fire another bolt.

The first knight stumbles to one knee, clearly injured.

I send two more bolts his way, each strike punctuated by a sharp crackle of energy, until he crumples to the ground.

With a roar, Syllar springs into motion, hurling something at me.

Pain blossoms in my side and I look down to see a dagger buried deep in my flesh, slipped through a gap in my hastily assembled armor.

I really should have taken more time to do it right.

Syllar strides towards me, sword in hand, and I react instinctively, a spark of magic hitting him dead-on. He grits his teeth against the shock but keeps coming.

Panic flares inside me, and I turn and run, one hand clutching holding the hilt of the dagger embedded in my bleeding side.

I hear shouts fading into the distance, but I don't stop, not until I stumble out of the forest, or even upon the glow of a town beneath the inky night sky.

But as I reach the gate of the town, exhaustion hits me like a tidal wave, the world closing in as I stumble and fall to my knees.

As I lift my head, I hear shouts and see figures rushing toward me.

“...Help,” I gasp out.

A strong hand steadies me, and I look up into the eyes of an orc. “I got you. I’m Morek, I’m with the Town Guard. You're safe now.”

“You're green,” I mumble, the words falling from my lips just as the world goes dark.