The Huntsman's Fate Prequel

by Liam Reese

  Inside, Besmir laid her on a low nest of blankets and hay she assumed he slept on and lit a taper from the fire he already had burning in the stone hearth. Cold and shaking from pain and shock, Keluse could only watch as Besmir wiped her bright red, raw hand with a soft cloth dipped in some kind of paste. The effect was almost instant, cooling relief rippling up her arm. A sigh escaped her lips and she studied Besmir’s face as he worked on her hand with the tenderness of a mother looking after her child.

  Looking utterly different from the other men she had encountered in her short life, Besmir had a strong, square jaw with almost angular features. His dark eyes gleamed in light reflected from the taper lending them an almost magical quality. He was well groomed and smelled clean in spite of spending the day in the saddle. For some reason, Keluse’s hand wanted to reach out and push back the long, black hair that fell over his eyes as he worked. It, too, reflected the small flame, shining like moonlight on the surface of a pond.

  I wonder if it feels soft?

  Tyrington men, as well as those who came there to trade, were all either blond or had light brown hair with either blue or hazelnut eyes. Their hair was thick and wiry, often curled naturally and Keluse wondered again where Besmir came from to look so completely different to everyone else.

  “Better see if your shoulder’s been yanked out of joint,” Besmir said gently as he looked up into her eyes.

  Warmth spread through her lower belly and she looked away quickly as Besmir stood and probed her shoulder with his strong fingers. Pushing aside the worn cloth, he leaned forward to inspect her skin. Warm breath tickled over her neck and collarbone, sending goose-flesh thrilling down to her hip. Keluse swallowed as Besmir finished his examination.

  “Not the best start but you should live,” he said with a smile. “Stay here while I see to the animals, but try and keep that arm moving or it’s going to seize up.”

  He stood looking down at her for a second too long, his face unreadable, before turning and leaving the cabin.

  Keluse let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding as soon as the door closed behind him. Confused over Besmir and her reaction to him, Keluse lay her head on the soft pillow.

  How can he be the same man that shouted down an entire courtyard full of people at the keep? Are any of the rumors true?

  As the last of the adrenaline drained from her system and the mesmerizing flicker of flames lulled her senses, Keluse’s eyes drooped and she fell asleep.

  3

  “You talk in your sleep,” Besmir said as soon as she woke some time later. “Who’s Gohran?”

  Icy fingers grabbed Keluse’s chest, robbing her breath for a second as soon as she heard his name.

  “No one,” she said shortly. “Not anymore.”

  Besmir shrugged and turned back to the meal he had been eating when she woke. Her mouth flooded with saliva as soon as the scent of cooking registered. She made a sucking sound as she rose bringing a chuckle from Besmir.

  “Sore?”

  “Very. Is some of that for me?” she asked boldly.

  Besmir pointed to the large iron pot on a hook beside the fire.

  “Help yourself. Bowls and spoons are over there.”

  Keluse ladled some of the stew out and sat back on the bed, slurping the thick gravy and chewing the substantial chunks of meat hungrily.

  “Good?” Besmir asked.

  “The best,” she replied around a mouthful of vegetables. “What is it?”

  “Goat,” Besmir said. “A little onion, some herbs and a few roots I dug up.”

  “Goat?” Keluse asked in surprise. “Really? I’d have thought you dined on venison all the time.”

  Besmir snorted and slurped the remains of his stew, dropping his bowl on the small table with a thump.

  “Deer all goes to the Duke’s table,” he grunted. “We get the stuff they won’t eat.”

  “I’m happy to have anything,” Keluse said without thinking. Besmir looked at her strangely. “What?” dhe asked.

  “Didn’t your parents feed you properly?”

  “Mother died giving birth to me,” Keluse said without feeling. “My father never really forgave me for living while she died. He’s...harsh now. Drinks everything he earns from his farrier work so I ended up begging scraps from friends and neighbors.”

  “Is that why you volunteered to become an apprentice?”

  “Yes,” Keluse nodded at him. “I thought at least that if I was apprenticed to someone they’d have to feed me. Then I heard you shouting at everyone, and some of the others were saying you were a huntsman and I thought ‘Who’s going to have more food than a huntsman?’ You know the rest.”

  Besmir sat in silence for a few minutes before a savage grin split his face and a low rumble of laughter erupted from his chest.

  “You apprenticed to me for food?” He nearly bellowed through his laughter. “Food?”

  Keluse felt a smile wriggle across her own lips, his laughter contagious and her reasoning sounding silly to her own ears now she had said it aloud.

  “Get some rest,” he eventually said. “Tomorrow we begin your education.”

  “You’re going to teach me to hunt?”

  “No,” Besmir said. “I’m going to teach you how to make a chair so you don’t eat in my bed. Then, I’ll teach you how to make a bed because you’re not sleeping in mine.”

  Keluse looked around and realized he was right. The cabin had been set up for one person: Besmir. She would have to make her own things to live here. A sense of determination washed over her and she settled down to sleep.

  Besmir looked at the young woman asleep in his bed. Although pretty, she had the potential to be beautiful with a few good meals inside her. Shoulder length almost white-blond hair hung limply from her scalp and the bones in her face were clearly visible due to her malnutrition. Besmir made a mental note to let her eat as much and as often as she wanted to for a while. Keluse needed food and exercise to strengthen her body before she could even draw a bow, let alone be able to hit anything with it.

  Darker thoughts crowded his mind as he stretched his legs before him and tried to get comfortable enough to sleep. How was he supposed to get his revenge now he had a young woman dogging his footsteps? What would happen if the raiders kidnapped or killed Keluse? Duke Moncarthy had cursed him with this apprentice and he muttered curses under his own breath as all his careful planning and waiting would probably now come to nothing. With the back of the chair cutting into his shoulder blades painfully, Besmir finally managed to fall asleep.

  His decision to work the woman so hard she left his employ failed spectacularly when she managed any and every task he set her. Keluse soaked knowledge up like a sponge, easily copying what he demonstrated after only being shown once. Properly fed, she thrived and within a few weeks looked like a different woman. Still slight, she was both strong and fast, able to tire a rabbit enough to fall on it and deliver the killing blow with ease. She set traps, paying attention to where game would naturally walk then funneling them into her snares with twigs and stones.

  The largest impact Keluse had on him, however, was simply her company. Unaware of just how lonely he had been until she had been thrust into his life, Besmir reveled in talking and joking with her.

  “Why did you choose to live out here on your own?” she asked him one sunny afternoon.

  They had checked and reset a number of snares, gutting and preparing the rabbits, pheasant and grouse they had caught. Now the pair were relaxing on the bank of the small stream near the cabin with bare feet trailing in the cool water. Besmir was silent for so long Keluse sat up to see if he was asleep. The expression on his face made her stomach churn.

  “Forget I said anything,” she blurted, wishing she could take her question back. “It’s none of my business.”

  “No,” Besmir finally said with a sigh. “It’s fine. What do you actually know about me?”

  “Well...not much really. Just hearsay and rumor,” K
eluse said evasively.

  Besmir snorted. “I bet I can guess some of the rumors the townsfolk of Tyrington spread about me,” he said bitterly. “Dark magic and necromancy. Do they still tell the one about how I eat live babies?” he asked.

  “No,” Keluse replied.

  Besmir sat up and fixed her with his dark stare until she felt the color rise in her cheeks.

  “You’re a useless liar,” he said. “but thanks anyway.” He sighed and sat up properly, scanning the trees as if there were likely to be someone listening. “Duke Moncarthy was out with a hunting party some years ago when they came across a raiding party that had attacked a convoy of families fleeing some war in Gazluth...”

  “Gazluth! That’s across the Wide Green Sea!” Keluse blurted.

  “From the stories I was told, they were in the process of looting and murdering these outlanders when the Duke’s party spotted them and attacked.” Keluse listened to his emotionless voice intently. “Moncarthy and his men rounded as many of the attackers up but several of them managed to flee. He executed the attackers on the spot and ordered the victims buried while the criminals were burned. As they were sorting through the bodies, they heard the cry of a baby.” Besmir paused and swallowed. “My mother had hidden me beneath the floorboards of her caravan and protected me with her body, even as they cut her down.” Besmir stared off into the distance as if seeing into the past. “So, the Duke brought me back to Tyrington to be raised among the orphans and strays.”

  “You were lucky then...” Keluse said

  “Lucky?” Besmir asked in a whisper. “Was I? It was obvious from the start I was different.” He flicked his dark hair with one hand. “And the others set me apart in as many cruel ways as they could. I was the butt of any and all jokes, bullied and treated worse than cattle. When we all started to become men, I carried on growing until I was bigger than the others. Then they targeted me through fear.” Besmir paused again, searching for the right words. “Bound by his own sense of duty, I had the Duke’s ear and begged him to allow me the freedom of this forest. He agreed as long as I provided meat for his table. So, I began my second life alone in these forests, the trees my tools and the animals my larder.”

  Keluse could do nothing but stare at the man. He had been treated horrifically merely for being born in another part of the world and appearing differently to the rest of society. She tried to swallow the lump that had grown in her throat but it would not move.

  “That’s horrible,” she finally managed to say.

  “Funny, I thought that too,” Besmir said sarcastically. “Still, I can’t alter the past or make stupid people intelligent, so it’s better for everyone if I stay out here.” Besmir thought for a second before fixing her with his gaze again. “Wait a moment, if you’d heard all the rumors about me, why did you want to come out here alone?”

  “I-I couldn’t believe they were true,” she admitted. “But I wanted to see for myself.”

  “And if I had been some kind of crazed monster that eats livers?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Keluse admitted with a little embarrassment. “Plus, you know, all that food!” She dragged the last word out, moaning it as if in despair.

  * * *

  Besmir laughed but sensed there was more Keluse wanted to say. To give her the chance, he remained quiet.

  “I had another reason to come out here,” she said quietly.

  Besmir looked at her with a question in his eyes but did not push for information. He had a suspicion as to what had been happening in Tyrington from her moans and whimpers as she slept.

  “Gohran works in the Duke’s stables,” Keluse began, her voice trembled as she spoke. “He...took a liking to me and...”

  Besmir tried not to react when her throat closed but a ball of hot acid grew in his stomach and he rolled into a sitting position to stare at her.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks and she looked away from his eyes, ashamed of what he might think.

  “It’s not your fault,” Besmir said with a gentleness that surprised even him.

  Keluse’s eyes snapped up, searching his face desperately for the truth of his words. Seeing his honest expression broke whatever barrier she had put up and she doubled over, a low moan escaping her.

  “Didn’t your father do anything?” Besmir asked when her sobs had subsided.

  “I-I think h-he knew,” she blurted between gasps. “I th-think he s-s-sold me.”

  Besmir closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

  “How can you stay so strong?” he asked.

  Keluse stared at him in shock. “I’m not!” she yelped. “I’m not. I couldn’t stop him from...from.” She stopped herself.

  “Not physically, perhaps,” he allowed. “But if I’d had someone in my life who I expected to protect me and they betrayed me instead,” Besmir shrugged, “I don’t think I’d be able to carry on.”

  Keluse stared at him with wide eyes, shaking her head slowly.

  “What direction is the wind coming from?” Besmir asked abruptly.

  Keluse blinked several times, confused by his sudden change. She sniffed hard, wiped her eyes and smiled. “From the North,” she replied.

  4

  Keluse watched as Besmir shaved translucent strips from the length of wood they had selected to be her first bow. Since their talk the previous week Keluse could breathe more easily, as if the simple act of telling someone about what had happened made her feel better. She had become so accustomed to the pain and pressure in her chest it was still a pleasant surprise to feel it gone. Besmir knew what had happened and did not blame her in any way. Nor did he see her as damaged or less than a woman.

  Her hand started forward, as it sometimes did, automatically reaching to push back the hair that fell across Besmir’s face.

  “It takes a long time to craft,” Besmir said, making her jump and snatch her hand away, “but this will serve you for a lifetime if made properly.” He stood and offered the shaving knife to her. “Carry on,” he instructed.

  “Where did you learn all this?” Keluse asked as she sat and pressed her feet against the bar of the shave-horse.

  “I apprenticed, much like you,” Besmir said. “Duke Moncarthy had me join his hunting men and I spent six years as their slave.”

  “Slave?” Keluse asked as she pulled the knife over the wood.

  “Try not to go so deep,” Besmir said, pointing. “Yes. They worked me hard, tried to break my spirit with dirty, demeaning tasks but I took every opportunity to learn and eventually I outperformed them. As soon as I knew I could do better, I petitioned the Duke to be allowed to leave but he would only allow it if I agreed to put a certain amount of meat on his table.” Besmir leaned down to inspect the partially formed bow. “Good. Carry on like that. You need about half as much of the light heartwood as the dark to be fully effective.”

  Keluse nodded and carried on shaping the bow.

  “I’ve got to go and meet some traders tomorrow,” Besmir said. “They’re not the most civilized men so you should stay here, work on your bow and scrape those deer and rabbit hides.”

  Keluse glanced at him knowing this would be the first time since she had apprenticed to Besmir he left her alone. Part of her felt proud he was confident enough to leave her here as disappointment weighed her down.

  “You don’t want me to come?” she asked, trying to keep the tone of hurt from her voice.

  “I think it would be safer if you stayed,” he said casually. “These are coarse, rough men who would look at you as a prize.”

  Flint-sharp hate cut Besmir as he watched the color drain from Keluse’s face. Self-loathing burned him that he had used her greatest fear against her.

  But I can’t risk having her follow me.

  Keluse rose to find Besmir already gone, his stallion along with his hunting knives. She sighed and decided to carry on with her bow after a quick breakfast. By the time the sun
had reached its zenith, her arms ached and hands were sore but the bow looked perfect. She made her way over to the stack of skins they had stripped from various animals and began to scrape all the fat from them with a sharp blade.

  It began as a tingle at the base of her skull, subtle and easily ignored. Yet combined with an abrupt silence as the forest animals halted their endless tasks, Keluse knew she was in danger.

  Stretching as if tired, she drew in a deep breath, sampling the air for clues as to where whoever this was might be. The easterly breeze was clear and fresh so they were more likely to be downwind of her.

  Hunters? Maybe, but what or who are they hunting?

  As casually as she could with her nerves trying to jump from her skin, Keluse walked across to where a bucket sat not too far from the door to the cabin. She lifted a cup of water from the bucket and sipped, casually scanning the tree line for any sign of who might be there. The pull of the open door at her back was almost irresistible but she knew to go inside was to be trapped.

  Besmir will return and deal with them. What if he’s dead and never coming back? Why would he be dead? Maybe those rough traders he mentioned ambushed him and came here.

  Unanswered questions and half formed thoughts tumbled around Keluse’s mind, robbing her of all coherent thought. Oddly it was Besmir’s voice that echoed from her subconscious.

  Stop thinking and run!

  Keluse bolted for the trees.

  Besmir lay between two small humps of earth that had been thrown up randomly, watching the group of heavily armed men as they trotted across the grassland that lay at Eastern edge of the forest as he had done the last three times he had seen them. The small group dismounted, consulting a map and pointing in various directions. Six in number, they all dressed differently; some in leather, some in metal armor. One individual had on a formless, brown robe with a hood that covered their face. Agitation grew in Besmir’s lower belly when he as much as glanced at the figure, making him want to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.