Hunter's Night

by Melinda Kucsera

  “Thank you, my Queen.” Robin bowed deeply and held that pose until the Queen’s aura faded. The Queen of All Trees was gone, but her gift was a warm weight in Robin’s pocket. “I can save my daughter with your help.” And she would.

  Robin rushed to catch up to the others with a renewed hope burning in her chest. The Queen of All Trees would not have sent her here if there wasn’t someone here who could help her. She just needed to find that someone. With luck, he or she was waiting inside.

  As she thought that, the trail swung past a cliff, and a familiar gray shape slammed into her, knocking Robin down. Green lupine eyes met hers. Not this again. Robin shoved the wolf off her. Something vibrated against her wrist as Strella shouted something.

  “I know. I see them. One of them already introduced himself.” Robin touched the threads on her right wrist. All three glowed white, but only two of them were jiggling around as she dodged the other wolf that had rushed her. Robin picked at one of those threads but couldn’t peel it off her arm nor did it slide down into the palm of her hand like the green one had. It just stayed there making her arm feel weird and tingly.

  A rock hurtled by followed by a warning to ‘watch out,’ as their annoying guide joined the fight.

  “Wolves don’t normally attack like this,” Mr. Bad Attitude said as a wolf reared up behind him. It leaped onto an outcropping then launched itself at his back.

  “We know.” Strella grabbed him and spun him so they were back-to-back. She slashed the wolf with her dagger, but the wolf twisted his body mid-air, and she missed by a hair. “Damn. Well, now you can throw all the rocks you want, and I don’t have to dodge them. That last one nearly brained me. Oh, and try not to hit Robin.”

  Robin stopped picking at the threads she was carrying and sidestepped the wolf charging toward her. She didn’t see the second one coming until it slammed into the backs of her legs and dropped her to the ground again. She landed on her back, breath driven out of her, and rolled until a thousand-foot drop stopped her on the edge of a cliff.

  Robin held tightly to the roots of a gnarled tree leaning over that drop, but her legs dangled off the edge, and she was slowly sliding off that icy ledge. Something started wriggling around under her as Robin struggled to pull herself back up.

  “What the hell?” She managed to ask then glowing green threads wound around her waist and over her hips, down her arms and legs, and up her torso, mummifying her in someone else's magic. “Hey, wait a minute. That's my body you're tying up. I should have a say in this.”

  But she didn't. Robin tried to squirm away from those luminous strands, but she couldn't get away from them. The ledge was narrow, and more than half her body hung off it.

  “Help me!” Because Robin couldn't help herself. She could barely move except to breathe, and the ground was an awfully long way down. Too far for her to survive that.

  But those wolves were between Strella and her, and they snapped their jaws at the warrior woman each time she tried to dart past them. That leg wound was slowing her down too. But the wolves weren't attacking her companions. The sled lay untouched farther up the incline. Which meant, those wolves were after her.

  Robin swallowed that realization, but it didn't go down easily. Questions bubbled up about why and who might have sent them. Could someone have sicced that wolf pack on her? Could the Huntress?

  No, she'd struck Robin as the 'do it yourself' type. Delegation didn't come naturally to creatures of that ilk. So, if not the Huntress, then who? Not the Queen of All Trees. She was light and hope; two things that were incompatible with the wolves that had been hunting them all day.

  “Hold on, Robin. I'll think of something.”

  “I can't. I don't have any control over what's happening to me.” And that pissed Robin off. She'd left Ison so she could be the master of her destiny and her body again. She'd lost control of both, but this was her body, and she refused to be bound, not by these strings, nor by whatever part of her was drawing them out. Robin had had enough.

  When those strings reached her hands, they shimmied between her fingers and that slender tree trunk, breaking her grip. “No, stop!” Robin dangled off the cliff by one hand now, but those threads were winding around it too, immobilizing her fingers. “Let go of me.”

  They didn't, nor could she throw them off her, not without help. Robin felt hot breath on the back of her neck and flinched away from that unwanted contact. Teeth closed around the collar of her coat and several glowing strings as he dragged her backward, dripping drool into her hair as he pulled her away from the edge.

  He was the largest of the wolves. He was probably the alpha, and what he'd just done raised an important question. Why had he just saved her? Robin was grateful but suspicious.

  “Robin, are you okay?” Strella asked, sounding strained.

  Robin needed to get Strella inside where a healer could tend her hurts, not fight another pitched battle. “I'm just a little tied up right now, but yeah, I think I’m okay. You?”

  “Same as before.”

  “How’s our guide?”

  “Wide-eyed and staring but looking no worse for wear. Don’t worry about us.”

  When Robin was far enough away from the edge, she thought for certain the wolf would release her, but he didn’t. At least there were no more glowing threads here. If only she could free herself from the ones that had gift wrapped her. Another wolf padded over, ears pinned back, tail up but not wagging. Was that a sign of aggression?

  The wolf sniffed her wrist and the glowing strings wrapped around it then grazed them with its teeth. They didn’t break, but his teeth caught on her sleeve, and he jerked his head this way and that to free it, revealing the flickering green collar around his neck.

  “What is that?” Strella asked.

  “You can see it too?”

  “Yes, but only when you touched it. I couldn’t see it before. Was it there before?”

  “Yes, but I could barely see it before.”

  This close, Robin could see the luminous green collar around its neck. It flickered in and out of view and seemed to be made entirely of tiny lines of writing. When Robin tried to read them, they squirmed about, turning the entire thing into an unintelligible scrawl. She felt the invisible leash attached to it. It curved away from this mountain into the forest back to the hand that held it.

  Whose hand was that? Was it the Huntress? Please let it be her because then Robin had a direct line back to that bitch, one she could follow. If only she could see those leashes.

  Robin tried to reach for that collar, if she could just touch it, she might be able to find out who held their leashes. But she was trussed too tightly, and the wolves had backed out of reach. They didn’t want her to touch their collars. Had she hurt them when she’d brushed by them before?

  “That's great, but what do we do now? We can't get to you, and you can't move.”

  Strella had a point, but why couldn’t she move? None of the other threads had tied Robin up like this. What made these different?

  The answer might be the key to freeing her. If she could just figure it out, but she knew nothing about the mage who'd left these scraps of magic behind. Or did she?

  Couldn't these threads tell her about the mage who'd dropped them? All the ones she'd just picked up felt similar as if they'd all come from the same person. Who are you?

  As Robin asked that question in her mind, sensations rocked her. That green glow flowed like liquid light and soaked into every part of her, filling her up with its radiance, and she wanted so much more. Robin reached into that light and pulled.

  She felt the steady rocks forming this bluff and their promise to hold it up; the pebbles rolling under her, inching her so slowly up the incline, she hadn't realized she was moving; the sleepy murmurs of the distant forest full of warnings; and ten thousand people moving around inside the mountain's cone and under it in an extensive tunnel system spanning the meadow and beyond.

  All this passed through her m
ind in the blink of an eye, but Robin wasn't doing this. These weren't her perceptions. They belonged, however impossibly, to the mage whose magic had captured her. Who are you? Show me your face.

  Instead, darkness winnowed away the world, but Robin didn't pass out. Was the mage she was connected to in a dark room? Was he or she sleeping? Or did he just have his eyes closed? And that mage was a he. His magic felt like the stones it was tied to strong, protective, additive. He was the rock others leaned upon. Let me lean on you too.

  “Help me,” Robin sent, but she had no idea if he could hear her. The darkness was draining away. All she could see was green light. It was as bright as the sun, and she was falling into it. “Help me. Please, someone, help me.”

  Chapter 19

  Moirraina stepped out from behind Will upping their number to seven, and Sarn stared at her, not at her breasts. Though they did beg for his attention, but now really wasn’t the time to ogle them even though they pushed up out of her bodice each time she moved. Gah, why did she keep doing that?

  Nor was Sarn the only one having a hard time looking away from her too perky breasts, but he managed with an effort of will to set his eyes on a nice boring stalactite dripping into a puddle between them. But he still felt a flush creeping over his too pale skin, and his trousers suddenly felt too tight.

  Was it hot in here or was it just him? Sarn shifted uncomfortably in place, and that just made him more embarrassed. What was she doing here anyway? He could ask that question again, but he didn’t trust his voice not to betray how much he liked what he saw—ah—didn’t see. He fixed his eyes on that stalactite again and felt his face burn.

  Don't you dare say this is boys' work. If they can help, I can help.” Moirraina thrust her chin out, and her dark eyes snapped fire and determination. “

  Considering how hard show a snowball, Sarn had no doubt she could pull her own weight. At sixteen, she was only a year younger than him, which was more than Miren’s friends had going for them. Except the mother of his missing son would kill him if anything happened to her favorite Foundlings, namely Moirraina and Will. That was a far larger problem than any danger they might face, and that thought finally iced the desire that was wreaking such havoc on his body.

  “Where was my son when he was taken?”

  Where was Beku when it had happened? Sarn was smart enough not to ask that last question or in any way impugn Beku’s honor in front of her favorites. After all, he was the outsider.

  Almost three years ago, he'd been thrown in with their lot, but he’d been fourteen then, not the infant or toddler Beku usually took in, and he'd come with a brother in tow. Both those distinctions had set Sarn apart and might have been overcome in time had Beku not bore a son with his green eyes.

  He hadn’t slept with her because he’d wanted her. Because he hadn’t. Sarn clenched his teeth to keep that damning truth where it belonged—locked inside him where it couldn't hurt anyone except him. Better if these people didn't know he'd only slept with Beku because she'd promised a way out of the then Orphan Master’s abuse. But that escape attempt had nearly ended his life, and nine months later, she'd brought a child into the world—a child his own magic had just confirmed was his son.

  “Well? Answer me.”

  Their silence was answer enough. His son had been kidnapped right from the Foundlings’ cave under all their noses except Miren’s. But his brother had always been observant.

  “Does Beku know?” Sarn waited in that dim corridor for an answer. He towered over all of them, and the lumir crystal mosaic overhead gave his hair a blue cast. But he could wait forever. None of the Foundlings who’d shown up to help find his son would answer that question. Will and the others all looked anywhere but at Sarn.

  Except for Shade, but his friend didn't get along all that well with the Foundlings, and Shade was always looking at him. Only Miren had the guts to nod, and his brother had plenty to say on that subject, but Sarn stopped his brother with a look. Miren could tell him the rest later, and his brother would. Miren was loyal to him, not Beku. Still, that didn’t stop disappointment from stabbing Sarn so deep it hurt.

  How could Beku let someone take her baby? She wasn’t a fighter, but still, she could have done something.

  “So, she does know,” Sarn said. But did she bestir herself to bring him the news? No.

  Why would she? She hadn’t bothered to visit Sarn during any of the long months he'd spent convalescing. Hadrovel had broken ten of his bones, but she hadn’t cared because she'd gotten what she’d wanted from him. Sarn hadn’t wanted to see that until now.

  It was cold and cruel, but it was the truth and dancing around it wouldn't change anything. Sarn had a right to his anger, but he could never share it, never let anyone know how much he resented her for that abandonment. But such thoughts weren't getting him anywhere except enraged. To rescue his innocent son, Sarn needed a cool head, some luck, and a lot of magic.

  Shade squeezed his shoulder, reminding Sarn he still had someone on his side.

  “Did she do anything to save her son?”

  “No, she just stood there watching. She didn't even throw the cup she was holding. I did, but I missed.” Miren looked put out by that.

  But Sarn was just glad his brother had finally spoken up. Respect for his friends had kept the boy quiet, but that respect had run out. Besides, his little brother hated Beku with the passion of a thousand bonfires.

  Sarn squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “Thank you. I know I can always count on you.”

  Shade nudged Sarn in search of praise, but Sarn pushed on, gesturing for his would-be accomplices to follow. Shade’s ego was large enough. If it swelled anymore, it wouldn’t fit under the yards of gray cloth garbing his best friend, and he wasn’t certain Shade deserved that praise. Miren hadn't mentioned Shade at all in his account.

  Either that was because Shade hadn’t been there when his son had been taken or because his brother couldn’t stand his androgynous friend. Either could be true, but now wasn't the time to figure that out. Sarn had lost God knew how many hours already.

  He had no idea what time it was or when any of this had gone down. Part of him wanted to ask, but he dreaded the answer. Knowing wouldn't change anything, so Sarn left that question unasked. Besides, he’d only fret if he knew, and he had other things to fret about right now, like the footsteps he'd heard before. They were still coming this way. Damn it.

  Every twist and turn only made those approaching footsteps get louder. They must belong to several Rangers because no one else had any reason to use these tunnels, not in such inclement weather. The ferry service had been suspended until the spring thaw, so most people would be staying put inside the mountain stronghold.

  Due to the echoing nature of these tunnels, it was possible the people he heard weren’t behind him but in front of him near the doors to the outside. Anyone coming from that direction was likely a Ranger on duty, and they would know Sarn wasn’t supposed to be out of bed.

  Double trouble and he’d only left the barracks a half an hour ago. This didn’t bode well for his rescue attempt. You can’t save your son if you can’t get out of this damned mountain. Sarn scanned the tunnel for a place to hide.

  There were no lumir crystal mosaics here. In fact, there was no light at all except the green glow of his eyes. Double damn. They were a beacon in the dark because this was a lightless maze. As Sarn closed his eyes, a hand crept into his. It was Miren’s. His brother had always hated the darkness as much as Sarn had.

  The others gasped too and hopefully linked hands but not Shade. Sarn felt his friend's presence just behind him. Sarn could have turned on his mental map; it would show everyone's exact locations after he updated it. His magic wanted him to do just that, but there was too much stone here.

  Rocks surrounded Sarn, and his magic liked to play with them. If he wasn't careful, he could bring the mountain down on all their heads and kill the tens of thousands of people who lived inside and under Mount Eredren
. Miren squeezed his hand and tried not to fear the darkness embracing them. But his brother's breaths came in quick gasps.

  Sarn opened his eyes a crack, letting a thin, green ray of light escape and put all thoughts of using his magic away. He couldn't risk using it until he was outside where his magic would be easier to control. Sarn squeezed Miren's hand to remind his brother that he'd never let anything happen to the boy. He was Miren’s protector, and that was the only thing he was any good at. This morning had proven that.

  Which was why Sarn couldn't let his brother come with him. But neither could he just ditch Miren either. There must be a way to slip away and leave his brother in good hands. Sarn would just have to find it. Those footsteps were still coming, but they seemed to have slowed their relentless pace.

  But there was nowhere to hide. Unlike every other tunnel under this mountain, this one had no creepy life-like statues to duck behind, and he heard the echoes of at least three voices now, and one of them was a woman's. Sarn couldn't make out what they were arguing about, but it was something important. He could tell by their frustrated tone.

  The longer Sarn stood there trying and failing to find a place to hide, the more likely he'd be found out and sent either back to the Rangers’ barracks, or worse, to the commander’s office for a chat with Jerlo. Neither would help his son, so Sarn wracked his brain for a solution and found one. He knew this tunnel. He'd walked down it many times because the doors to the outside were down this way. Didn't the Rangers have a cave down here full of extra gear?

  They did, and he was a fool for not thinking of it sooner. Sarn ran the green beam shining out of his nearly closed eyes across both walls as he walked on until it lit something other than a wall.

  “In here and be quiet.” Sarn gestured to the cave, and his motley crew darted inside without argument, stunning him. That was a first. “You too, Miren. Go inside.” Sarn let go of his brother's hand and gave him a gentle shove toward that dark opening.