The Hunter's Gambit

by Nicholas McIntire

  Aleksei relaxed, “I was hoping you’d say something like that. I haven’t had an easy time getting this far.”

  Roux’s face darkened, “What do you mean?”

  Aleksei glanced back at Gael, who was waiting stiffly a few paces behind him. “Maybe we should go inside and let this goodman get back to his bed?”

  “So we should. Gael, thank you for bringing my cousin to me, but I’d hate to draw your wife’s ire by keeping you any longer.”

  Gael visibly relaxed, “Many thanks, Ri-Hnon.”

  Roux chuckled as he ushered Aleksei inside.

  “So,” Aleksei said as the woven door was latched behind him, “the Ri-Hnon? How did you stumble into that misfortune?”

  Roux laughed harshly and stepped into a warm, circular room with a fireplace burning merrily in the center. “Well, for whatever reason the Wood saw fit, I received the Calling when Hughel vanished three seasons ago.”

  Aleksei shook his head in wonder. The Calling was what denoted the leader of the Ri-Vhan. It was one of the most treasured blessings the Wood could bestow.

  The Ri-Hnon listened to the Wood and the creatures within, interpreting their pleas and messages so as to better lead their people. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the succession, either. Roux was of no blood relation to Hughel, nor did any of the previous Ri-Hnon have any obvious connection. The Wood simply Called the one best fit for the job.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised.” Aleksei said finally, “It suits you well.”

  Roux nodded absently, “I’m still not used to this, though.” He indicated the soft gold of his eyes, the mark of the Wood’s benediction.

  Aleksei tried to imagine what he would have done if his eyes suddenly shifted into another color and the wind in the trees began speaking into his mind. He suppressed a shudder as he realized that something not too far from that had happened to him of late.

  “So how did you manage to wander so far from home?” Roux asked, golden eyes twinkling.

  Aleksei shrugged, not wanting to bring up the voice or the dreams at the moment. “I just felt like I wasn’t all that needed on the farm and thought I might travel north again. Maybe see some part of Ilyar that wasn’t so cultivated.”

  Roux laughed, knowing his cousin wasn’t telling him everything, but willing humor him for the moment. “Then you’ve certainly come to the right place.” Roux picked the kettle off the coals and poured Aleksei a cup of strong tea. “You said you didn’t have an easy time getting here. How do you mean?”

  Aleksei winced. Rather than answer, he took a sip of tea. It burned his tongue, but bought him time. Gods, but this would require him to tell Roux several things he would rather just forget.

  “Roux,” he said after a long moment, “I’m not sure what’s happening to me. The day I left the farm, I ran into two Legionnaires. They came into my camp and wanted to take my horse.”

  Roux’s eyes widened, “But clearly they failed.”

  Aleksei nodded, then reached into his pack and withdrew the Legionnaire sword, “I took this from one of them. I don’t know how I did it.” Aleksei said softly.

  “There were two of them, Roux. They both had swords. And one minute they were coming at me and the next one of them was on the ground and the other…” Aleksei grimaced at the memory, “the other I had pinned against a tree.”

  Roux frowned. “How was this possible?”

  Aleksei looked up suddenly, “That’s not all. I left the Southern Plain three days ago.”

  Roux started to say something, but Aleksei held up his hand, “I know what you’re going to say. I’m not mad, Roux. I’m not! I don’t know why I’m here and not halfway to Keiv-Alon right now, or how I could have left there this morning and stand before you now. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Roux?” a voice came from the doorway and Aleksei turned to see a man in his middle years standing there, his face a combination of familiar and alien features.

  “Father,” Roux said with a smile, “we have an unexpected guest.”

  Roux’s father walked into the room, his eyes focusing on Aleksei’s face. “But…” he managed, “surely not. A…Aleksei?” He said the word as though his mouth had difficulty remembering its pronunciation.

  “Good evening, Uncle Theo.”

  “Good evening indeed, Nephew. What brings you all this way north? Surely your father didn’t send you away willingly.”

  Aleksei had to chuckle at that, “He wanted me to see the world, Uncle. He said I wasn’t really needed on the farm and that I should go to seek my fortune in the North.”

  “Ha,” Theo laughed, “so you came here? I regret to inform you, Nephew, that there is very little ‘fortune’ among the Ri-Vhan. You’d have better luck in Kalinor.”

  Aleksei started.

  Kalinor.

  The word just sounded inexplicably right to him and Aleksei grew suddenly afraid. If the dream man was in Kalinor, then he had somehow managed to end up right on its doorstep. How was that possible? How had he wandered north with no more idea of where to go than a cryptic whisper in his head and ended up mere leagues from his destination?

  It was too close to coincidence for his liking.

  “I’m not sure I’d know what to do in Kalinor, Uncle. I’m afraid it might swallow me whole.” Aleksei managed.

  Theo laughed, “Too true, Aleksei. I’m not sure that farm boys should be allowed in such big cities, not at your age. Too many temptations.”

  Aleksei nodded, but his heart was thumping in anticipation and fear. He had a destination. He now knew where he was headed for the first time since this maddening debacle began. The only challenge remaining was to find the dream man in the largest city in Ilyar.

  Why did it have to be the Capital? He wondered.

  His own experiences in Keiv-Alon had not filled him with confidence in his abilities to survive among city folk, and if the stories were true Kalinor was ten times the size of Keiv-Alon.

  Theo’s hand on his shoulder jolted Aleksei from his thoughts, “You look tired, son. Best get you to bed before you fall asleep standing up.”

  Aleksei smiled, realizing that he’d not had a proper night’s rest since leaving home. He opened his mouth to agree but only managed a gaping yawn.

  Theo winked at Roux and led Aleksei back into the recesses of the house, throwing aside one of the heavy drapes the Ri-Vhan used for doors within their homes and nodding to the hammock stretched before them.

  “You get some sleep and we can all talk more in the morning.” he said, giving Aleksei’s shoulder a fatherly pat. “But right now sleep’s the best thing. For all of us.”

  Aleksei nodded, needing no encouragement. He practically stumbled into the room, dropping his pack to the floor and pulling his shirt over his head. He didn’t even get his boots off before collapsing into the hammock. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  Roux Devaan stared deep into the dying embers of the fire, his mind a turbulent storm of unrest.

  A half-blood?

  While Aleksei had been recalling his strange journey, Roux had listened through the ears of the Wood. But the trees insisted that his cousin spoke every word true. At least every word Aleksei believed to be true.

  His cousin was either telling the truth or had completely and utterly lost his mind. Yet Roux could hardly credit the latter. Aleksei seemed as sound of mind as any other man. But then how was it possible? There was more. There had to be something Aleksei wasn’t telling him. Perhaps when he heard the rest, the pieces would fit together into something that resembled sense.

  Roux recalled the blade Aleksei had shown him. It was a Legionnaire blade, but how had Aleksei taken it from an armed man? He remembered Henry Drago well enough, and it seemed highly unlikely that in the last fifteen years Aleksei had become an adept in anything beyond baling hay and plowing fields.

  He shuddered at that. The entire concept of agriculture made Roux nervous.
The idea of forcing the land to yield to the desires of men went against every part of life he understood. Life was meant to be lived in harmony with all that surrounded you, not forcing those surroundings to conform to your will. More than that, the Ri-Vhan were not farmers; they were hunters.

  That thought cast light on a greater problem, that some of the things Aleksei had said might be attributed to something else. It was a troubling thought, but if it were true…. Roux banished the idea. Aleksei was a half-blood and no half-blood had ever been born…it simply wasn’t possible.

  His thoughts scattered as his eyes came to rest on the darkness of hearth, the last embers extinguishing and giving up ghosts. Again he found no answers, only smoke and shadow.

  That night Aleksei dreamed. But it was not the now-familiar golden mist or the green-eyed man.

  It was unlike anything Aleksei had ever experienced.

  He was running through the Wood, stripped to the waist and barefoot. It seemed his feet should be screaming in protest as they coursed over broken twigs and jagged stone, but he felt no discomfort.

  Thump.

  He could feel a heartbeat pulse in the air, but it was not his own.

  Thump.

  Aleksei changed course suddenly, darting to the right. He felt his prey move the same way a moment later, still unaware of the man silently stalking it.

  Thump.

  Aleksei closed the gap between them, his right hand readying the bow he held clenched in his fist. In his left he held a single arrow. Only one? Surely….

  His prey darted out before him and Aleksei notched his arrow, his feet still flying swift and sure over the tangled undergrowth of the Wood. The boar squealed in terror as it caught sight of its hunter, darting back to the left and vanishing into a cluster of heavy thorn bushes.

  Aleksei ignored the maneuver, dashing up a low rock formation instead and leaping into the air, twisting. The boar bounded into view, scrambling through the tangles of the thorn bushes, trapped as it desperately tried to break free. Aleksei released his arrow, feeling it glide gently on the wind as it flew towards its mark.

  Even before his feet touched the forest floor, Aleksei knew the arrow hadn’t missed. He could feel the impact and the sudden stillness of his prey. The pulse had stopped.

  He knelt down next to the still form of the boar, dipping his fingers in the blood that ran down the animal’s side and dragging them across his bare chest.

  You are Marked.

  He leapt to his feet, searching for the speaker.

  You are my Hunter, Aleksei Drago. Be true.

  Before Aleksei could even think to ask a question, to wonder at the voice, he slipped back into deep and dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER 8

  Best Laid Plans

  SHADOWS CAST LAZY patterns amidst the sunlight, creating a shifting mosaic across Tamara’s bright blue velvet bedspread. She moved slowly about, pausing before each of the brilliantly lacquered cabinets in her chambers. She selected a few items from each and placed them on her bed, frowning as she tried to recall anything she might be forgetting.

  “Leaving?” Jonas asked from the doorway.

  Tamara turned, her face brightening into a luminescent smile, “I’m wintering in the South.”

  Jonas frowned, “You’re wintering at Igraan?”

  Tamara rolled her eyes. “Mother doesn’t want me up here in the cold. She says I should be down in the South with the birds instead.”

  Jonas tried to keep his frown from deepening. It could simply be that Andariana didn’t want Tamara to catch a chill this year, and perhaps she would have a better time in the South.

  But Jonas knew his aunt very well, and he couldn’t escape the feeling that there was a much more calculated reason to have Tamara five hundred leagues distant.

  His mind raced as he watched her move around the room, her powder-pink gown catching stray wisps of sunlight and shimmering jubilantly. She looked like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower.

  Andariana was obviously worried about something. Why move the heir to a southern estate unless you were concerned that something might happen to her in the Capital?

  Parliament? Jonas banished the thought before it was even fully formed. The nobles might be power-hungry but they weren’t stupid. Removing Tamara from the line of succession would make Jonas heir, and surely Parliament would be wary of anything that might put Jonas on the throne.

  They did not fear his skills in the Archanium, but it took no skill to know that Jonas was a dangerous politician. He had grown up surrounded by, and at times embroiled in, Kalinori power struggles and intrigues. Tamara at least might be directed by her heart, but never Jonas.

  No, Jonas would prove too powerful a monarch for Parliament.

  But if not the Lords of Parliament, then who? Andariana had made no comment or complaint about her neighboring rulers that might explain her uneasiness.

  “What’s troubling you, Cousin?” Tamara demanded playfully, her hands on her hips.

  Jonas broke away from his reverie and smiled, “I apologize. I’m dwelling on some very unpleasant thoughts.”

  She crossed her arms, “You know that’s terribly bad for your humor? And without humor, what’s the point in living?”

  Jonas couldn’t help but laugh at that. If only the rest of the world saw things through Tamara’s eyes, life would certainly be a more innocent affair.

  She crossed the space between them, taking his hands in hers, “Come with me! Surely there can’t be much here to engage your attention. You must be incredibly bored! Come with me to Igraan.”

  He smiled at the excitement in her face, “It’s very tempting. But alas, I must remain.”

  She sighed, “Well if you must remain, try to sound less like some poor piece of noble trash. They’re all talking like that these days, you know.”

  “Who’s talking like that?” Jonas demanded, pleased by this respite from his darker thoughts.

  She smiled, “All the lords who’ve decided they need to marry me.”

  Jonas arched an eyebrow, “Have they? Do they hope to win your heart with the power of such poorly chosen words?”

  She walked over to one of the gilded mirrors that lined the north wall and glanced down at her figure, “I’m not entirely sure it’s my heart they’re after.”

  He chuckled, but his mirth soon faded as his mind set back to its calculations.

  “What sort of escort is she sending with you?”

  Tamara rolled her eyes, “Two Magi and their Knights.”

  Jonas frowned, “Only two Magi? That’s all?”

  Her mouth quirked into a frown of her own, “And their Knights. We’re not at war, Jonas. And two Magi should be more than enough to frighten away any brigands.

  “Besides, Mother is sending me down there in utmost secrecy. No one knows a thing about it. Anyone who asks will be told that I’m going to visit Lady Selvyn in Keldoan.” She giggled, “I think it’s all rather fun, really. The secrets and all. Like a game!”

  Jonas smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. Exactly. A game. And Jonas would be much more at ease if he could see the board. His eyes settled back on Tamara and he grimaced as another thought raced through his mind.

  At least he knew who the pawns were.

  He had to speak with Andariana, and soon. He hated not knowing.

  “Well, I’m afraid I must leave you to your preparations, Cousin.”

  “Undoubtedly one of those dreadful things you must attend to.”

  His smile returned, “One of my many machinations that needn’t trouble you. Have a pleasant journey.”

  She kissed his cheek, “If you get too bored with all these pressing Palace intrigues, come and stay a few weeks. I would love the company.”

  He embraced the princess tightly, “Kalinor will be all the poorer without you.”

  Jonas left her to her innocent thoughts and fancies about the Southern countryside, heading
swiftly down the hall towards his aunt’s formal audience chamber.

  He had not gone fifteen paces when a silvery voice called to him.

  “Highness?”

  Jonas halted stiffly and turned to face Eleina Perron.

  His future wife.

  Eleina walked gracefully towards him, her ruby lips parted in an affectionate smile. “I thought it was you. You’re always so reclusive that I feel honored just to catch you out of your chambers.”

  Jonas bowed formally, just a hair higher than he should have. “I didn’t expect to find you in the Palace this early in the day, Your Grace.”

  She laughed lightly, “Highness, the ladies of the court do not all rise at noon, as some would have you believe. I myself have been up since dawn.”

  Jonas managed a bored smile. “Well, Lady Perron, as charming as it always is to see you, I must be heading off. I have pressing business with the Queen.”

  Her perfect porcelain face soured, “Yes, I always forget how easy it is for you to gain an audience. The rest of us must wait about like…commoners.”

  “How tiresome.” Jonas managed. “Forgive me.”

  He made another brief bow and turned on his heel. He swore he could feel her calculating eyes watching him walk away.

  Andariana held full court three days out of the week, but today she would be meeting with trade merchants and the guild masters of Kalinor City itself. Jonas knew the importance of keeping both merchants and masters happy, but at the moment he was willing to risk their displeasure.

  As he entered the room he was surprised to find Andariana alone, sitting on the edge of the massive table that dominated the chamber, her flowing auburn curls cascading down her back in a girlish manner.

  The image struck him as extremely unlike her. Gone was the mask of iron-forged will and cold determination. All that remained was Andariana, a woman more than a queen.