Heart of a Huntsman

by Liam Reese

  “I want to speak to your commanding officer,” Besmir said, staring hard into Lefruse’s eyes.

  “I-I have no superior,” he said. “We found these uniforms and saw an opportunity. Please, let me go.”

  Disgust filled Besmir at his admission, and he threw Lefruse to the ground in disgust. Kicking him savagely once he was down, Besmir shouted at them all.

  “You’re the lowest sort of scum in this forsaken hole. Preying on the weak and hopeless, using watch uniforms to accost people rather than working to earn an honest living.” He stared down at Lefruse in disgust.

  “Work?” one of the other men said. “What work? I have not been able to feed my family properly since the war. I do not know what life is like where you hail from, but it is filled with starvation and misery here.” He sheathed his sword again, turning away in disgust.

  “Where is the real watch?” Besmir asked.

  “Them? They left as soon as King Tiernon stopped paying them. A few stayed just in case the gold started flowing again. Eventually the final few had had enough and left along with the rest,” Lefruse said. “We broke into the guardhouse and took these uniforms, what else are we supposed to do? I have three daughters to feed.” The defeated man looked down.

  “There’s no law enforcement in the town?” Besmir asked.

  “None,” the other man said.

  “So…don’t you think it might have been a good idea to start your own?” Besmir asked. “Instead of fleecing weak travelers, you could have called a meeting, gathered some of the local business owners and asked if they wanted to fund a local police force?”

  The seven men looked at each other, embarrassed at not even considering the plan.

  “With just us few?” Lefruse asked. “There were hundreds in the watch before.”

  “Maybe so. However, even a small force would have been able to secure the harbor and waterfront. I’d wager men would join you once they saw you making a difference. Then further people and businesses would begin to pay for the service you provide.”

  “But the king stopped all pay to the watch, what would make it any different for us?”

  Besmir looked at the man, unable to understand how someone so simple could even have sired children. Slowly, as if talking to a child, he explained, “The local businesses would pay you directly, Lefruse. As long as you were all honest and true to each other, there would always be pay.”

  Lefruse scratched his broken nose, considering Besmir’s words as if they were a revelation.

  “What do you think, boys?” he asked. “Could we make a go of it?”

  The men looked at each other, as if unsure of their own abilities, kicking their feet and muttering incoherently.

  “Gods, men!” Besmir thundered. “Have you no self-respect? Do you enjoy petty thievery, or would it be better to earn an honest living by carrying out a job your children can be proud of you for?” He shook his head, stalking back and forth before them as he had when choosing Keluse as apprentice. “Just go before I decide to beat you as an example.”

  Besmir turned his back on the men, giving them a perfect opportunity to attack. None did. With slumped shoulders and attitudes of defeat, the seven men slunk off back to wherever they had been hiding.

  “What are you grinning at?” Besmir demanded as the small group started up the hill that led from the port town.

  “Your speech and manner with those men reminded me of someone I once knew,” Zaynorth told him. “Your father.”

  Zaynorth led them to an inn situated at a crossroads a few miles outside Port Vartula. A light, misty rain had soaked them all as they walked the last mile. A chilly breeze whipped wraiths in the mist and sent snakes of shadow wriggling off through the grass. The squat wood-built inn was nestled back in a grove of ancient oak trees, providing shelter and building materials. Single-story and thatched, a curl of smoke crept from the stone chimney only to be whipped away by the wind. With dusk approaching, both Besmir and Keluse felt pulled toward the warm sanctuary offered by the inn. A golden glow shone from within, and it was as if they could feel the heat from the fire sure to be blazing in the hearth.

  Herofic met them inside, and Besmir found he was smiling at being reunited with the stocky fighter.

  “Welcome to the Hrolmarch Inn and Tavern,” he said, spreading his arms. “Come and warm yourself by the fire. I managed to buy us a horse each, but pickings are slim.” Herofic turned to his brother. “Did you see the state of Port Vartula?”

  “We did,” Zaynorth replied sadly. “I fear the state of the kingdom is far worse than we expected it to be. We were accosted in the open, in plain view of anyone who happened by.”

  “Are you all well?” Herofic asked with real concern.

  “Yes. Besmir handled the situation,” Zaynorth replied, smiling again.

  “Anything to eat around here?” Besmir asked, ignoring their comments.

  Herofic grinned, signaling the barmaid.

  “My friends have finally arrived,” he told her, wrapping an arm round her waist. “My brother, Zaynorth. This is Besmir, his apprentice Keluse, and someone called...um.” He tapped his finger against his cheek, pretending to think.

  “Ranyor,” the rangy man said. “Age has obviously addled his brains.”

  “Well, seeing as how you are my only guests at the moment,” she said, leaning against Herofic in a familiar way, “make yourself at home.”

  “Food! Ale!” Herofic cried out.

  Besmir had not heard him say more than thirty words before, and found himself warming to this new side of the man.

  “And later, you,” Herofic added, squeezing the barmaid’s bottom.

  Besmir shared a look with Keluse, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “Have you known her long?” he asked of the fighter when she had waddled off.

  “Carlise? No, I only arrived here a couple of days ago. Came up here while you were recovering in that ship.” Herofic replied. “There happens to be a horse trader a ways down the road...what?” he asked on seeing Besmir’s look of disapproval.

  “It’s just...it seems a little...free.”

  “Things are different in Gazluth,” Zaynorth said. “If two people find each other attractive and have no marital ties, it is not frowned upon if they are intimate.”

  Besmir saw the mixed glance of apprehension and desire that crossed Keluse’s face when Ranyor caught her eye.

  “Here we are, gentlemen,” Carlise said, laying a tray of meat and bread on the table before them. “Keluse, if you want to, I’ll heat some water so you can bathe.”

  “Oh, that would be incredible,” Keluse said gratefully. “Thank you.”

  Besmir speared some slices of meat, using them as topping for the bread.

  “So what’s the next step?” he asked around a mouthful of food.

  “I had thought,” Zaynorth said, “to venture north and begin to gather support against Tiernon.”

  “Support?” Besmir asked. “For another war?” Zaynorth nodded sadly. “You think this land can survive another war?”

  “I can see no other way, Besmir,” Zaynorth said. “I am open to ideas, but without a force behind you…” He spread his hands.

  Besmir frowned, chewing his meat thoughtfully. As a lone soul, he had always operated best on his own, and hated the idea of relying on others. “I don’t want to drag the whole country back into a war.”

  “What else do you suggest? Confront him alone?” Ranyor asked.

  Besmir looked at him, chewing. “Why not?”

  “To be blunt,” Zaynorth said. “As we wish to prevail, confronting him alone would seal your doom.”

  “What was the point of seeking me out, Zaynorth?” Besmir asked. “Why did you spend years searching for someone to bring over here just to start another war?”

  “What other choice do I have?” Zaynorth thundered, his rage boiling over. “Sit back and watch Tiernon destroy the whole country? No! Never! I will fight him until I draw my final breath
and utilize any means needed.”

  “You will, will you?” Besmir asked calmly. “I thought you brought me here to lead.”

  All the fight seemed to leave Zaynorth then. He slumped back in the chair, chin down, avoiding the gazes of the others.

  “Have you the leadership skills?” the mage asked quietly. “The years of training needed to run a country? A kingdom?”

  “Of course,” Besmir replied sarcastically. “In the Garvistardian orphanage. They tutored us all in statecraft and warfare.” Ranyor glared at him with hostility. “Did you want a figurehead or a leader?”

  “I grew up alongside your father, in the great capital. We were as close as brothers, so I had similar training. I would advise you faithfully, Besmir, you would be king.”

  Besmir grunted and carried on eating. “So, what is next?”

  “I still believe we should travel through the heartlands,” Zaynorth said. “Start to gather support, even if you do not plan a war.”

  6

  Steam rose in small curls from the surface of the hot water. Keluse stared in awe at the massive wooden tub Carlise had filled. Easily large enough to fit two people, the pool sat in the center of a room at the rear of the inn and had been lovingly crafted from tightly fitted planks, sealed with waxed wadding. Keluse felt heat seeping in through her clothes and started to disrobe eagerly, desperate to feel the kiss of hot water on her skin.

  Lowering herself slowly, Keluse moaned as the hot water soothed and eased her muscles, kneading away the aches and pains of travel. She leaned her head back, soaking her hair in the water and sighing deeply. The deep sounds of water in her ears deafened her to the sound of the door being slipped open. She lifted her head, loving the feel of water sluicing down her neck.

  “Keluse?”

  Her terrified scream split the air at the sound of Ranyor’s voice. Her heart beat doubled and a lump grew in her throat.. Spluttering bathwater, she crossed her arms and ducked below the surface.

  I can’t stay here forever. What does he want?

  With burning lungs, Keluse rose to the surface, just poking her head out of the water.

  “Ranyor, get out, I’m in the bath!” she shouted.

  Relief released the tight bands that had clamped tightly round her chest when she saw he had his back turned to her.

  “I was wondering if I might join you?” Ranyor asked in a deep voice.

  “No!” Keluse squealed.

  “Only to bathe,” he said quickly. “I promise,”

  “Ranyor, I don’t bathe with other people!” she said.

  “However, it takes a great deal of effort to heat the water, and it may be cold by the time you have completed your ablutions.”

  Keluse sighed in frustration. Torn between her desire to soak in the hot water and plagued by the fear of what Gohran had put her through years before.

  “Don’t worry, Ranyor, I’ll just get out and you can have the water. If you would just step outside,” she said in a disappointed voice.

  She watched as he began to disrobe, stripping his sword and dagger off and laying them aside before unlacing his shirt and pulling it over his head. Her eyes grazed over the muscles in his back, writhing and twitching with every movement, and her hands twitched involuntarily.

  “Ranyor...”

  “Trust me, Keluse,” he said gently. “Whatever has befallen you in the past, I will never treat you with anything but respect.

  Keluse tucked herself against the side of the tub as Ranyor climbed the steps to get into the bath, silent tears joining the water as she averted her gaze. He gasped when the hot water cocooned his body, and she almost turned her head. Minutes passed in silence as she huddled against the wood, shaking, but as time passed, her fear began to subside and she turned her head.

  Ranyor sat across from her, arms spread along the edge of the tub and head back, ignoring her nude form completely.

  Maybe he’s nothing like Gohran. Maybe not all men are like him.

  Keluse considered that as she let her arms unfold gently. Besmir had never once made an attempt to bed her despite their spending months alone together in the same house.

  Can I trust Ranyor? Do I want to?

  She studied him, his chest heaving as he breathed in the steamy air. His muscles glistened in the candlelight, the play of shadows on his chest making him look immensely strong, and warmth spread through her belly. His raven hair had plastered to his skull, altering his appearance completely.

  “Is this all right?” he asked abruptly, making her jump.

  “Y-Yes,” she said after a second’s thought. “It’s just really strange, bathing with someone else. Especially a man.”

  “I have missed this,” Ranyor said with a chuckle. “There is great beauty and culture in your homeland, but your bathing practices are strange.”

  “Not as strange as this,” Keluse said, making him chuckle again.

  “I have often found it odd that people are so ashamed of their bodies,” he said. “All are born naked and only really need clothing for warmth.”

  “So we should all wander around naked?” Keluse asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “Not necessarily,” he said, lifting his head to stare into her eyes. “Yet this constant embarrassment over nudity is ridiculous. I, for one, cannot understand it.”

  “It’s just the way we are,” Keluse said. “Gravistardians don’t flaunt their naked bodies, that’s something for a husband or wife to see. It’s private.”

  “Life is too short, Keluse,” Ranyor said, using his hand to cup water over his hair. Reaching over, he lifted a bottle, sniffing the contents. “Wash my hair?” he asked.

  Shock chilled Keluse. This was too much. It was one thing to remain at opposite sides of the pool, safely out of reach of one another, but to get close enough to touch him? Ignorant of her internal battle, Ranyor handed her the bottle − lavender − and turned his back. A scar ran down his right shoulder blade, long healed but puckered, making her wonder what had happened to him.

  Without realizing what she was about to do, Keluse found herself tipping some of the oil into her hand and massaging it into Ranyor’s hair. Her hands trembled, but she could no longer tell whether it was fright or anticipation that made them so.

  “That feels incredible,” Ranyor rumbled. “Are you sure you have never bathed with anyone before?”

  “I’m sure,” she said, chuckling nervously.

  Rinsing Ranyor’s hair with water from a wooden bowl, she ran her fingers through the midnight strands, relishing the silken feel like quicksilver over her skin. Ranyor turned, staring into her sapphire eyes with his dark brown ones. At this close distance, Keluse could see honey-gold flecks in the mahogany.

  “Turn around,” Ranyor told her.

  Keluse’s breathing sped up, heart hammering as what felt like a small bird tried to break out of her chest. She gasped, surprising herself as she turned away, presenting her naked back to him. Warm water flowed over her scalp and down her neck, making her jump. His hands followed, gently massaging her scalp with the lavender oil, sending shivers of delight down her spine. Keluse sighed gently as tension flowed from her with the warm water he rinsed her hair with.

  “You are beautiful, Keluse,” he said, leaving the bath and wrapping a towel around his waist.

  Keluse turned, expectation and disappointment plainly evident on her face. Worry gnawed at her belly while need burned in her chest.

  Where’s he going? Why doesn’t he want me? Am I damaged? Can he tell?

  Snakes writhed in her belly then. Poison filled her mind as self-hatred consumed her.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “Not good enough for you?”

  Ranyor frowned, his confusion evident.

  “Keluse...”

  “No!” she screamed. “Just go. Go on. Get out!”

  Despair carved lines in Ranyor’s face as he gathered his belongings, slipping from the bathing hut and leaving her to cry.

  Chilly water swi
rled around her shivering body when Keluse heard the door open once more. The tapers were low, some burned out completely, throwing deep shade into the corners as Keluse looked up to see who had come to invade her privacy this time. Carlise, the barmaid Herofic had become friends with, stood inside the door, hands clasped beneath her ample bosom.

  “Are you well, dear?” she asked in a concerned voice.

  “No,” Keluse whispered with a choking sob. “Why are you here?”

  “I came to check everything was in order. You have been in here for quite some time.”

  “I’m freezing,” Keluse admitted.

  Carlise grabbed a heavy towel and crossed to the bath.

  “Come on, little one,” she said. “Out you get.”

  Keluse stood and climbed out of the cool water, letting Carlise wrap her in a warm grip.

  Carlise led her back through to the main hall and into a back room filled with her personal items. The young woman looked around, taking in all the soft furnishings and female touches that marked this as her space. Flowers sat in a jug on a nightstand, perfuming the air and creating a welcoming atmosphere.

  “Have a seat, dear,” Carlise said, pointing to a chair and handing her a plate with a huge piece of cake on top. “And tell me all about it.”

  Haltingly to begin with but with increasing speed, Keluse explained her past. Her abuse at the hands of Gohran and the shame it had filled her with.“You are from a different country, love,” Carlise started. “Ranyor knows that. He also knows you are quite shy and would not want to pressure you. I would wager he has no idea about what has happened to you, but is being a gentleman because he has feelings for you.”

  Confusion and pleasure washed through Keluse then. “Did he tell you that?” she asked.

  Carlise laughed, a deep, warm sound that made Keluse feel at home. Growing up without the benefit of a mother had left her with a massive hole in her heart, one that Carlise was beginning to fill.

  “He need not speak a word, dear, I have eyes,” she explained. “I see the way he looks at you when you are not looking. My husband once looked at me the same way.”