The Best Medicine Ch. 04

"First we need to get you somewhere safe."

"I'm not going to be safe anywhere! Trina was what kept me safe. I can't trust the King, I can't trust you . . . the only people I can trust are Farmer and her people. Trina was my friend, and justice for her is my responsibility."

"She was your bodyguard --"

"I know! I know it was her job!"

"I was going to say, she was your bodyguard because your parents asked her to be. But she was your friend because of who she knew you would be. I know why you want this, Princess. I knew Trina before you were ever born."

Vanesse wanted to just hate this man, but she could not do it. Suddenly, her soul was just too tired. "Tell me something about her," she whispered. "She had to hide so much from me --" Her voice trailed off, her eyes threatening to let the tears flow again.

As if hearing his granddaughter's increasing distress, the Shepherd thought back to a memory that Vanesse had every right to share. "She was there the day you were born. Did you know that?"

"The day she gave me her Word," Vanesse replied softly. "Mom and Dad told me."

"Did they tell you what happened the first time she held you?"

"I . . . I didn't know she held me at all."

"Oh yes. You mother was the first to hold you of course. Mother's prerogative and all that. Then she handed you to your father, and he passed you to me. You were bawling your little pink head off the whole time. But then I handed you to Trina, and she just had this smile on her face. Said you had a good set of pipes. Said that if being Princess didn't suit you, then you still had a future as an opera singer or possibly a banshee, and she said it in this completely deadpan voice."

In spite of everything, Vanesse smiled just a little. That sounded like Trina.

The Shepherd continued."Then she looked down at you and gave her Word that she would always be there for you . . . always protect you. And then you stopped crying. It was as if you had been waiting the entire ten minutes of your life for her to say it, then everything was okay. For years, it absolutely confounded your mother that Trina could make you stop crying when no one or nothing else would."

Vanesse thought back to the night she had first had sex. Trina had been the one there to help her try and make sense of everything. 'She stopped me from crying when I thought that maybe I had just done something wrong,' she thought.

"She was so proud of how you were growing up. There were some battle-dancers who didn't think that a low-birth elf should be guarding the future of the Kingdom, but she never let it bother her. She was protecting you, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. She was the only battle-dancer in history who's Word was bigger than the Crown she served. Keeping you safe and happy was her bread and water."

"Then why --"

"Why not let you go rushing off without a plan? Because if you die for her memory, then her whole life will be made meaningless. Do you really want her sacrifice to have been for nothing?"

And that stopped Vanesse in her proverbial tracks. The Shepherd was right. "But I need to do something."

"We will, I promise you. But with everyone out trying to find you and with Farmer's group in danger of public exposure --"

Something in Vanesse's mind clicked. "I need to cast a farspeak spell. Is there anyone near here that can do that? Someone that we can trust?"

"Not that I can think of. Why? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking of the first rule of elvish politics."

"Which is?"

"Tell the truth while lying your ass off."

"I don't believe that was how it was written in your textbooks, but you've captured the basic flavor of it."

"I need to be able to send a message out to all would-be rescuers to get them to leave me alone, so that the ONLY ones chasing are the ones trying to kill me. Some of them might fall off as well if they realize they won't be able to disguise their movements."

"I see where you're going," the Shepherd said. "Give me a day to see if I can arrange something, like a friendly sorcerer or possibly a beacon enchantment."

"You have our number now. Call tomorrow night when we've settled in."

"I will. And Princess, I just wanted you to know --"

"Let's just leave it there for now," Vanesse said, rubbing her eyes. "I know . . . I know you have things to say, and some are probably things I should listen to. But not right now."

"Very well. I shall speak with you tomorrow."

"That was uncomfortable," Farmer muttered, taking the phone away from Vanesse, then wrapping her arms around the elf's shoulders just in time for Vanesse to break down again. It had been a long time since Farmer had been a comforter. She had forgotten how emotionally taxing it was to try and console someone, including oneself, in times of loss.

"How do you do it?" Vanesse sobbed into the denim of Farmer's vest. "How do you accept responsibility for all of their lives?"

The tall, powerful black t-girl stroked the Princess's hair, amazed that a being thirty years old could still be so child-like. "Our kind recognizes power, which is all that is required to be a leader. To be a good leader, you have to accept that even the most inhuman of us is, in fact, human. Some will die. Some will hate you. Some may even betray you. And you have to care for all of them. Sometimes you have to hurt them. And sometimes, you just have to let them go."

"What if you don't want to let them go?"

"You have to. Vanesse, back when I was a doctor and working in Africa, I saw the most horrible things. I saw torture and rape and murder carried out for just about any reason you can think of, and often for no reason at all. Evil will visit the life of an innocent just as readily as the wicked. I took each death and each loss personally, and it started to eat away at me. If you let that happen, it will kill you too, and it'll jut put the burden of mourning on someone else's shoulders."

Vanesse could not speak, open her eyes, or even breathe steadily. It was her thoughts that asked the question, 'But what if there is no one left to mourn you?' It was a thought that made a pain erupt behind her eyes, and she slumped against Farmer's frame.

"You need to get some sleep. We'll figure out the next step in the morning."

"How am I supposed to sleep?" While it made her feel like a child, she had to ask, "Who's going to look out for me now?"

"I will. We all will."

The headache that Vanesse had started to develop eased a bit as she was led over to a piece of floor with its own fire-drum that had been put aside for her. She lay down and pulled the blanket over her. She had not truly realized how physically and emotionally exhausting that grieving was until her head touched the rolled up coat that was acting as her pillow and she fell asleep. And just as quickly, she began to dream.

There was a long stairway made of rough-hewn stone, climbing into a starless night-sky of such consuming blackness that it looked as if it were a part of the universe that had simply never been completed. A light dusting of snow had fallen onto each step, yet it did not seem cold. Rather, it was beautiful.

Vanesse ran up the stairs. She was not sure why, but she needed to get to the fortress she saw at the top, where bright lights shone out from narrow windows. It would be warm there.

The closer she got, the more something tickled at her ears. Music. Soft, sweet, heart-pounding, heart-stopping . . . it was perfect. It filled her soul, which she had not even realized had been so empty. The air around her was so warm, and her feet felt light. She could run forever. She could dance until the universe ended.

As the top of the stairs finally entered her view, there was a robed figure, whose face was engulfed in a perfect light. The figure spun to face her with an uncanny, delicate grace. Vanesse was sure that the figure was smiling at her. That smile was acceptance. That smile was love. That smile was everything.

The figure wrapped strong yet gentle arms around her, and she had never felt safer. She had run for what seemed like forever, but she was not tired. She felt sorrow, but she also felt joy. All of it was just a few feet away, past the robed figure and the glowing doorway beyond.

"Home," she said, in a voice that was familiar but not quite hers.

But then the figure touched her face and raised her chin so that she could look into the brilliance underneath the figure's hood. It shook its head.

"This is not the place for you now."

Vanesse was confused. Why was it not a place for her?

"You have not truly let go," the figure continued, "Nor has she let you go. The Word binds you. It cannot be broken." Then the figure turned away and walked back towards the glowing door.

Vanesse dropped to her knees. She heard the music, she could feel those inside dancing, but she was being denied? "Why?" she asked.

The figure reached the door without answer, but before closing it, that not-quite-a-face looked back. "Just because I do not admit you does not mean that I do not love you."

"Then what does it mean?!"

"It means what it means," the figure finished, then closed the door behind it.

The stone stairs vanished beneath her feet, and she found herself falling. For some reason, she did not scream. She just fell, her arms folded across her chest, and she let gravity do its bidding.

Vanesse awoke to find herself standing next to the still burning fire, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Alani was standing next to her, looking concerned.

"Bad . . . weird dream," Vanesse said.

"I should think so," Alani replied, wiping a bit of sweat from the elf's brow. "You went really still, then you stood up and looked like you were trying to walk. I kept you from actually going anywhere."

"I've never sleepwalked before in my life," the Princess whispered, slowly sitting down and giving relief to her shaking legs.

"You looked like you wanted to sleep-run. Then you crossed you arms and just kind of stood there. I just covered you up again before you woke up."

Vanesse felt like she had just run for hours, to the point where she actually felt that some of her magical reserves had been restored. "I don't know if I can get back to sleep," she said. "Alani --"

"Yes?"

"You said earlier that you think you know who did this, or at least could have. Who?"

The islander girl looked nervous. "You're not going to do anything weird like go all vigilante on me, are you?"

Vanesse hung her head. "What would I do even if I could get there? I don't have any offensive magic anyway."

"You can't do life drains? Eye-for-an-eye spells? Nothing?"

"No one ever showed me those. 'Leave war to the warriors,' is what my uncle always said. Goddess and spirits, I'm so useless."

"You're not useless. Look at how fast you picked up healing," Alani replied, then wondered if she should be bringing that up. She blundered on. "Yeah, I think I know who might have done this. There's a lot of merc groups out there that use werewolves, but these guys seemed to all be wolves, except --"

"Except the vampire," Vanesse whispered. "That insane, damned vampire."

"Yeah. Groups that tend to mix do a lot more mixing than these guys. There's a group that calls themselves the Dark Hunt. They've been working out of Denver lately, but they're pretty mobile. Anyway, it's an all-boys, all-werewolf club, except for the rumor."

"What rumor?"

"That they've got a vampire working for them. Some kind of seer or something. Except that no one's ever seen her, or at least they haven't seen the description of that woman you saw. But they've got the technology and paramilitary training to pull off an attack like that, they've got the mystery vamp, and their alpha sounds like the kind of guy who could give Farmer a run for her money."

"Why? Why would they do this?"

"They're mercenaries," Alani reminded her. "Money is their king and queen. They look out for their own, and everyone else is just a paycheck. And these guys, the Dark Hunt, they're not dumb. They'll know that they have to take you out or relocate in a hurry. The only thing that we have going for us is that they probably don't know that you're not an unwilling captive anymore."

"I can't go public then. Dammit."

"What?"

Vanesse curled her knees up to her chest. "If I tell the world that I'm not your prisoner, then they'll run. We may never catch them. I won't let them get away."

Alani sat next to the young Princess and wrapped an arm around trembling shoulders. "You're elvish royalty. You'll have the power to hunt them down."

"I don't want to send someone else after them. I want to be there."

"You say that you're not a fighter, but you still want to confront the enemy. What would you do if they were right here in front of you?"

"I'm not a coward," Vanesse replied defensively.

"There's a difference between cowardice and realism. If being a fighter isn't your strength, then play to whatever is."

The problem, at least as far as Vanesse was concerned, was that she did not know what her strengths were, or if she even had any. She settled into her blankets again and, despite earlier protestations, was able to find her way into sleep once more. This time, there were no dreams.

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Somewhere in Europe . . .

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"You called sir?"

"Come in, Torris. Shut the door behind you." Baron Montain waited until they were alone. "What is the word on our little side project?"

Torris sat down across from his employer. "Due to the secrecy of the money trail, we cannot get regular updates from our hunters, though I have gotten word that two groups have at least made an attempt. No one is sharing locations, since they don't want competition."

"And the King?"

"He obviously knows about the death bounty and he suspects that it is someone from the Court. My spies say that he is not focused on you because you were already in line to gain the Princess's hand and become King."

The Baron leaned back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully. "There is still the chance that she might be captured alive. If she is, then we will call off the bounty. I won't risk exposure. Instead, I will marry her and find a way to get rid of her down the road when things have calmed down. But in the meantime, I would like for you to put an . . . extraction . . . team together," the Baron said knowingly.

"If the others don't find her, then I will make sure to take good care of her."

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The next evening . . .

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Joker's Wild had made good time. They had crossed paths with a well-meaning troll who wanted to "liberate" the Princess from the werehyenas. The werehyenas had gotten a good workout subduing the would-be hero, as trolls are incredibly hard to hurt and nigh impossible to kill. They left the poor guy tied up underneath his own bridge after assuring Vanesse that "he would be just fine" and "being there when he got free would not be advisable."

They had finally crossed into the United States in the upper corner of North Dakota that also bordered Minnesota, and were planning on driving through the night. Farmer was hoping to reach the border of Lord Stapleton's lands within a few days. The Shepherd had called and said that he could arrange for a farspeak spell once the Princess arrived there. It was determined that it would take almost as long to arrange a meet up somewhere in the middle, even if they could find a sorcerer they trusted who would be willing to travel. As it was, the Representative, the vampire who represented the interests of vampire in Council matters, was temporarily stationed in Atlanta and was more than capable of performing the necessary spell.

Vanesse's general state of mind had stabilized a bit, though it did not take much time thinking about her lost friend before the tears would come again and the headache that seemed to accompany them. She tried to engage in small-talk with the werehyenas, but it was hard. Her mood seemed to bring the eternally amused attitude of Joker's Wild down a bit, so she tried keeping to herself. She had been transferred to the RV for the rest of the trip, so she was at least able to get comfortable.

They stopped for gas in some podunk little town when Farmer came into the back.

"Want anything? Snacks? Drink?" Farmer sighed when Vanesse just shook her head. "Princess, you need to keep your strength up. We still have a long way to go."

"I just don't think I could keep anything down. Lunch is still sitting in my stomach. And as stupid as this sounds, this is the sort of thing that Trina would normally do. She would always ask what I wanted when it was time to order supplies. She never cared about the healthy stuff. Just --"

"Just what?"

"She just wanted to know what kind of chocolate I wanted. Stupid. It was always dark. She just liked making me make a decision. She never assumed that she knew what I wanted, even though she always did." Vanesse winced, closed her eyes, and touched her temples lightly with her fingers.

"Headache again?"

"Just brief flashes."

Farmer sat behind the elf and replaced Vanesse's hands with her own. She started massaging a few points that she knew would relieve tension.

"That's nice. The pain went away almost instantly," Vanesse said. "Farmer, I'm not --"

"This isn't me putting the moves on. I'm not that subtle. This is me trying to help take care of you. I figure I owe Trina that."

Vanesse's skin suddenly flushed, and she actually felt relaxed. 'What is going on with me?' She tried to remember what it was like when her parents had died, but it was hard. Still, she did not remember her body reacting quite like this.

"Dark chocolate," she said, trying to smile. "Please?"

Farmer kissed the top of her head and then headed inside. Vanesse lay down on the tacky orange couch that was a throwback to the seventies.

Without warning, Vanesse's skin went cold and she heard something . . . off. She bolted upright and looked out the window.

"Princess," Jack said from the driver's seat. "What's up?"

"Something's coming."

Jack came charging back and looked out the window. "I don't see --" He stopped and tested the air. "More elves." He grabbed his push-to-talk. "Farmer, we've got company."

A moment passed before the matriarch responded. "Hostile?"

"Unless someone is reenacting 'Lord of the Rings' in the woods of North Dakota in December, then I would guess so." Jack looked at Vanesse. "Elves don't like cold, right? That's why Fairbanks was a good place to hide you?"

"We're not fans of it, no. Mostly, we don't like the snow."

"How the hell did you --"

Farmer poked her head in the RV. "Stay put. Alani, Bud, and Ace are coming with me. Doreen, go make sure the clerk doesn't come outside and doesn't see anything."

The blond sighed, unzipped her vest until her breasts were practically begging to fall out, and headed inside. "The things I do for this club."

"What should I do?" Vanesse asked.

"Stay put and listen to Jack," Farmer said. Seeing the Princess's face fall, she changed her tune a bit. "Protecting our only healer is just good tactics. Honestly, you might want to consider doing some push-ups or something to get your energy flowing."

Vanesse nodded, visibly relieved that she had something to actually do. She took the push-up suggestion literally, pushing her body as hard as she could.

For several minutes, they did not hear anything. Then Farmer called in.

"These guys are just leading us in circles. I think they're just a distraction. Keep your eyes peeled back there," she added.