Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Artifices, Cassandra Clare does.
Author's Note: To The Purple Warlock, as much as I'd love to do fluff all the time, this story is going to have some close calls, but I hope you'll bear with me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, let me know what you think in a review.
Chapter 7: Almost Impossible Odds
As the sword came down, Mark flipped himself backwards and out of its way. The Seelie knight stumbled, and taking advantage of his weakness, Mark leaped to his feet and slashed out with his own bloody sword, slicing the knight's head off.
The faerie's body slumped to the ground and Mark scanned his surroundings, seeing that the other Seelies were gone and the hunters were approaching.
He knelt once again at Kieran's side, trying not to let dread overwhelm him as he saw how pale the prince's skin had become. The hunters didn't have much in the way of medical sullies, and Mark knew that Kieran's chances of survival were becoming more and more slim the longer he lay there.
"Gwyn?" He called, looking around for the Hunt's leader. Of all the Hunters, Gwyn was the only one who Mark would even consider asking for guidance about what he could do for Kieran. He was terrified for him, and there was no way that he could let him go, not now that he had given him his heart so completely.
Gwyn came forward, dropping down to kneel beside Mark.
"He was shot with an elf arrow," Mark said, "And I'm guessing it was poisonous, how do we cure it?"
Gwyn's expression was troubled, and Mark felt his heart sink as he watched his expression.
"There is only one cure for elf poison," The hunter said, his voice deep and grim. "But it lies a far way off from here, in the Unseelie court."
Mark stiffened, remembering what Kieran had told him about the court, and its dark magic and cold, unforgiving king. "What is the cure?" He asked, determined to show that he was strong.
"It is a plant, which grows at the edge of the King's palace grounds," Gwyn said, "You would have to ask the king to give it to you, but you should go now, or there will be no chance to save him."
"But I cannot leave him here," Said Mark, "It is called, and besides who is there to watch over him if I am not here?"
"I will remain with him," Gwyn said, "But if you are not back before dark, he will surely die."
Mark didn't need to discuss the situation further after that, he got onto his mount and rode with all speed to the Unseelie Court. It was a long journey, but it was a familiar one and he got there long before night fall.
When he arrived, he requested an audience with the king and to his surprise and relief, the king agreed to see him.
When he entered the throne room, his eyes immediately focused on the king. He bowed low, before rising and meeting the king's level gaze.
"What brings you to my domain?" The king asked in a deep, cold voice. Mark swallowed, trying not to feel intimidated by the power that was evident in the king's manner and voice.
"I have come here, to ask for the plant which will cure elf poison," He said, "Your son, Kieran, was injured with an elf arrow today, and without the plant he will surely die."
"And what do I care if he dies? He is of the Hunt now, he is not a concern of mine."
Mark felt furious at the king's dismissive words, but he controlled his feelings with an effort. "I am willing to do anything for you if you will give it to me." He said, knowing that the promise was a bad idea, even if he gave it.
"Well..." The king said, "In that case, I'll give you your plant, but you'll owe me a favour."
Mark frowned a little, but he stood straight, looking at the king with a steady gaze. He'd do whatever the king asked of him, if it meant that Kieran would be saved.
"What is this favour?" He asked, knowing that he couldn't waist time worrying about whether his choice had been wise or not.
"Well, I don't know yet," The king said, "But never fear, I'll call on you when I need something."
Mark gave him a nod of acknowledgement. "So, your majesty, where is this plant? Time is of the essence."
The king gave him a brief set of directions, and handed him a small jar which he was to fill with the juice of the plant's fruit. Mark did this, and then he sped back to the place where he had left Kieran.
When he got there, he saw with horror that Kieran was even paler than before, and he was barely breathing at all. Mark rushed to Kieran's side and knelt beside him. He gently tipped his head back, and dripped the juice into his mouth.
He waited, watching his lover's face anxiously, and as the seconds passed, his heart began to grow heavy with dread. Then, just as he was about to lose hope, Kieran's eyelids fluttered open.
"Kieran?" Mark whispered, hope and joy beginning to make his heart pound rapidly, "Kieran...are you all right?"
"Mark...I...what happened?" Kieran asked, and he reached out to take Mark's hand, squeezing it for some sort of reassurance.
"You were shot (an elf arrow," Mark whispered, "But it's all right, I went to your father, and got the plant to make you better."
"You went...to my father?" Kieran asked, and his voice was guarded now, full of an emotion that Mark couldn't identify. "Oh Mark...don't you know what this means? My father wouldn't have given you that plant without the promise of a favour...Mark, those favours...most of the time, they are fatal to the one who owes a doubt to him."