Page 92 of Search for the Lost

Leo nodded. “Good plan.”

They held hands again, some of the fog coalesced, and in short order a pile of swords clattered to the ground in front of them.

“Everyone know how to use these?” Crispin grabbed a beautiful silver blade with some kind of bird on the pommel.

Cypher lifted his, a short but wicked-looking dagger with a bright blue glow. “No, I’ve… never been in a battle before.”

Leo put his hand around Cypher’s. “It’s easy. Sharp pointy part toward the bad guys. Don’t let them hit you.” He pushed Cypher’s arm forward. “See?”

“S-sure.” The faun managed a few practice slices at the fog, which ignored him completely.

Crispin sighed. He was still angry at Cypher, but understood why his former assistant had done what he did. I just hope we both make it through this alive. “Let’s go!” Crispin forced his body to move, leading the charge into the mist and toward the sound of growls and howls, telling himself he wasn’t feeling the fear right down to his bones.

The fog was already dissipating, dissolving under the warmth of the rising Kansas sun. Crispin burst into the brightness and blinked, temporarily blinded by the sunlight.

Something huge appeared in front of him.

He stumbled backward, out of the way of a bright red blade. What happened to the WOLFs? And Mink?

He held up his own blade, thrusting it at the muscular mass, trying to keep his vision unfocused so he wouldn’t fall again into the Red Duke’s gaze. Although the sword was magick-made, it was still a normal weapon. He hoped it would work.

The Duke’s sword thrust forward viciously, but Crispin countered, his silver blade slamming into the edge of his enemy’s with a resounding clang, sending them both backwards.

Around him, the sounds of battle rang across the flat prairie.

Crispin got the briefest glimpse of the white bunkhouse, the one the Dukes had come out of.

Was that a face in the window? Mother?

The moment of distraction cost him, and the Red Duke pushed him back with a series of parries, the last of which nicked his shoulder.

Crispin gasped in pain. Bright green blood bloomed from the cut.

“Geronimo!” Minkis appeared out of nowhere, slamming into the Duke’s face and slicing at his eyes with his little sword. “Leave Acorn Man alone!”

Crispin pressed his advantage, pushing the man backward with a series of quick parries.

The Duke grasped Minkis by the tail and threw him to the ground, sending the little wooden sword flying. Minkis landed on his feet and stood uncertainly, his bushy tail sagging.

“Now you’ve pissed me off,” Crispin roared. The Earth slang was surprisingly satisfying.

As the man’s heavy boot rose, ready to stomp poor dazed Minkis into dust, Crispin redoubled his attack. Keeping his gaze on the Duke’s chest, Crispin pushed him back, thrust after thrust, determined to fight his way through the Red Duke to the person he’d seen in the farmhouse window.

Someone cried out to his left, and in that moment of distraction, his opponent found the advantage and swept his blazing red sword past Crispin’s defenses⁠—

“Noooo!” Cypher was suddenly there—between him and the Duke—the faun’s body taking the sword thrust meant for Crispin with a scream that turned his blood cold. The body dropped to the ground in a heap, and silence fell over the yard.

Only the creaking of a rusty swing set broke the quiet.

“What have you done!” Crispin fell to the ground and pulled Cypher into his arms.

Blood gushed from Cypher’s wound, a nasty gash in his left side.

I can fix this. I can save you…. A shadow loomed over him, and he instinctively glanced up. The Red Duke’s eyes met his, and he was lost.

Unable to move, unable to lift a finger to save himself or Minkis or Cypher—the brave faun who had been willing to forfeit his own life—Crispin watched as the Duke lifted his sword for a killing blow. Chilly fingers of fear raced through his gut like acid, burning away his bravery, his love, everything he cared about, and leaving a corroded, hollow shell.

“Wonder. It’s… wonder.” Cypher forced out the words and then arched his back, yelping in pain as red blood flowed from the wound.