Seasons of Ferne, Summer's Passion

Abandoned Hope

Hamnet kicked away from the figure with the heel of his boot, careful not to press his dagger too forcefully against the blankets. His actions were rewarded by the blade of yet another dagger pressing into the back of his hood. His heart skipped a beat as steel pierced fabric and pushed into his scalp, drawing a drop of warm blood that ran down the back of his neck. "What purpose will taking her serve?" Hamnet demanded. "Your master has fallen, your war has ended. The queen will never allow you to keep her. Her wrath will fall upon you as a swift and terrible storm," Hamnet threatened, pulling his head away from the sting of the blade.

The cloaked figure chuckled as he knelt, pressing the tip of his own blade against the soft flesh of Hamnet's throat, ignoring the dagger he obviously hoped Hamnet wouldn't use. "He'll rise again, old man. Even now he fights from within. The spell will break."

A smile spread across Hamnet's face, for all the man's apparent confidence he had yet to reach for the child. The ploy seemed to be working. But for how long? "Not if she lives," He whispered, nodding to the crying child. "She is the key that will set the lock on his cage forever. Your master will never see the sun rise again, monster."

The tip of the dagger pressed harder against Hamnet's throat, drawing its own drop of blood. "Monster?" the man spat. "You speak ill of what you don't understand. We're not the monsters in this, traitor. The only monster is that which you serve."

"She's in mourning. Her actions are not her own."

The man chuckled darkly, the low sound barely audible over the infant's cries. "Her actions would open this child's throat. Ours will set her life to new purpose. A life you won't be privileged to witness."

"She'll be safe here, in this world."

"She'll be weakened here. This world is lifeless and evil," the man countered.

From the corner of Hamnet's eye he saw a small figure drop silently from the trees. Even with the pain of the dagger pressing against his throat, Hamnet breathed a sigh of relief. Help had finally arrived. He looked into the swirling black mist of the man's enchanted hood and laughed.

"You find this amusing?"

"No," Hamnet answered with a tired smile. "I find you the fool. To think an old man would risk such a journey with one so important without help!"

The forest around them sprang to life in a chorus of cracks and splintering wood. The group was covered in a spray of damp earth and splintering bark as vines burst from both the ground and the trees, wrapping themselves around the cloaked figures like grasping tentacles. One by one the men flew screaming backward, pulled away from Hamnet like toys snatched into the greedy hands of a child.

"What is this?" the man demanded, pressing the dagger harder as the screams of his men filled the air. His head flew from side to side as he attempted to find the source of this new magic, allowing Hamnet to pull back from the dagger's sting against his throat.

"Your death," Hamnet whispered, sheathing his dagger while pulling the infant tighter against his chest. Thick vines twisted around the man's wrist, pulling the deadly blade further away from Hamnet's throat as the man was dragged screaming into the darkness. His screams didn't last long.

Light footfalls marked the newcomer's approach seconds before a small hand appeared in Hamnet's vision. He took it and allowed the figure to help him to his feet. "Thank you, Puck. I feared all was lost," Hamnet said, brushing himself off with a single tired hand.

"And I feared you may have actually used that dagger. Is she hurt?" Puck asked, bright violet eyes reflecting their concern in the moonlight.

"No, thankfully," Hamnet replied as he rocked her back to sleep in his arm. "Though I fear more shall follow."