The Huntsman's Fate Prequel
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Somewhere between fifty and seventy, Zaynorth had light gray eyes set deep in a weathered face aged by worry. Lines radiated from the corners of his eyes and his dark hair threaded with white. A small, neatly trimmed beard graced his chin and he had a habit of stroking it as he explained the story again.
“Your father should have ascended the throne as king of Gazluth,” he mumbled. “Your uncle, Tiernon, gathered men loyal to him in order to usurp the throne. He threatened you and your mother directly, stating he would have you both murdered if your father took the throne. If he exiled himself, however, Tiernon would leave you all in peace,” he sighed and wiped one hand over his face. “A dear friend of mine managed to send word that Tiernon had plans to make sure you never returned to claim your rightful place. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to thwart his plans and believed you dead. Not until a message reached my ears there was a Granash citizen living here in Gravistard did I imagine you might be alive,” the old man shook his head.
“So I’m king of a people I’ve only ever heard about? A land across the Wide Green?” Besmir asked, still unable to believe any of the tale. Zaynorth nodded. “How can you be sure it’s me?” he asked. “What if I was the son of someone else in the caravan? According to what I was told, there were a number of families traveling together for safety.”
Zaynorth chuckled.
“I am more than sure,” he said. “Only one with Fringor royal blood could withstand the glamour I cloaked myself in.”
“There’s another thing,” Besmir said. “All this magic you talk about sounds like something from a children’s tale.” The old man smiled.
“So it might seem, my Lord, yet Fringor blood entitles you to certain powers also. Have you never noticed something you cannot explain?”
“No,” Besmir said shortly. “I’m going to get some air.”
Keluse watched Besmir slip from the cabin before returning her attention to the unconscious man in the bed before her. Something inside her had snapped when she saw the arrow punch through his chest, felling him like an oak. More than concern for the fate of someone she barely knew, the feeling was more like the terror she had felt in Tyrington when Gohran laid his hands on her. A gnawing ache pulled at the bottom of her stomach, one she could not rid herself of no matter what she did.
I barely know the man. So why do I feel so scared?
Another question tickled across her mind and she slipped outside after Besmir. It did not take long to find him as the shocked stares of the men who had sought him for years showed her his location. Besmir stood in the moonlight, his broad shoulders working as he scratched Darnie behind the ears, whispering to her gently.
“I’ve always thought of myself as a king among normal men,” Besmir said without turning. “But this is madness, surely?”
“What are you going to do?” Keluse asked in a small voice.
“Do?” he asked, turning. “What am I supposed to do? Go to a foreign country and take the throne from someone who’s been in power since before I was born?”
Keluse watched as Besmir fought for control of his emotions, worried since she had never seen him so torn.
“You told me the boys in Tyrington bullied and humiliated you,” she said. “What better way to show them your true value than by taking your birthright?”
A rustling from the trees set her nerves on edge and he turned to face the new threat.
“What now?” she muttered.
“It’s just my horse,” Besmir said.
“How can you even know that?” she asked, disbelief coloring her voice. Besmir snorted a laugh.
“How?” he echoed. “That old man was more right than I cared to admit,” he said. “I do have some…magic powers.”
“W-what?”
“I feel an affinity with animals,” he said haltingly. “Never thought anything of it until now. It’s like I can...feel him out there.”
“That’s what makes you such a great hunter,” she said. “You know where your prey is going to be!” Besmir looked down with a slight smile. “Do you know what ‘charlatan’ means?” He smiled again. “Can you do anything else?”
“Not that I know of,” he said. “What do you think I should do?”
“You’re asking me?” Keluse’s jaw dropped making Besmir chuckle again.
“Despite what you might think, I’m only five years older than you,” he admitted. “Got any ideas?”
Keluse could only shrug. “Not really,” she said. “I mean...what would happen to me if you went?”
“You could stay here,” he said, making her heart heavy. “Or go back to Tyrington.” The cold hand of fear grabbed her heart then. “Of course, I could do with an assistant in Gazluth,” he added.
“If you go,” she said, smiling in relief.
“If I go,” he echoed.
Besmir made his way back across the paddock. Morning sun glinted from the dew gathered there and his footprints showed darkly. At the tent, the men scrabbled to snap to attention, all of them in different stages of undress.
“You can stop all that,” he said gruffly. “Even if I am some king or leader, I don’t want you turning into statues or falling on your knees any time I turn up.”
He watched as the men relaxed into an uneasy group, glancing nervously at each other.
“So, what’s with that Zaynorth character?” he asked them. “Using magic on me?”
“All I know, sire,” one said nervously, “is he said it was necessary in order to ensure you were of the royal blood,” he spoke, then swallowed. “I have to say, I almost soiled myself when first I saw it.” He grinned nervously and Besmir laughed.
“Luckily I didn’t,” he said. “I haven’t soiled myself in weeks.”
“Weeks!” The only man to speak shouted before they all started to laugh.
Inside, the atmosphere was heavy with the smell of men and the feeling of tension.
“Your majesty,” Zaynorth started the moment he noticed Besmir, “have you thought on the situation?”
“I have,” Besmir replied, glancing at Keluse who had stationed herself beside Ranyor again.
“And?” The old man asked eagerly pulling his beard.
“And,” Besmir paused, “I think I’ll make quite a good king.”
* * *
Turn the page for you preview of Book 1 in the Huntsman’s Fate Series, Heart Of A Huntsman!!!
Heart Of A Huntsman
Orphaned by an assassin’s blade, Besmir spends his youth on the fringes of society. He grows into a hunstman of some note, suitable to put food on the Duke’s table, if unfit to join the meal. His simple, meager life is thrown into chaos when he finds himself approached by Zaynorth, an illusion mage who has come in search of Besmir, bearing a remarkable truth: the huntsman is far more than he knows himself to be.
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Along with his apprentice, Keluse, Besmir follows Zaynorth to a new and distant land where he will vie for a throne stolen by the very man responsible for his parents death.
* * *
In Heart of a Huntsman, an orphan of noble birth must rally the people of a foreign land to his cause and lead them against a treacherous king – one whose army includes the very legions of Hell.
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Click Here For More Information!!!
A Huntsman’s Fate
Liam Reese
© 2017
Disclaimer
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are
all coincidental.