Kore's Field

by N. C. Sellars

  Lord Thaine, his face pale, didn’t hear my husband’s warning. He drew his string and with a sharp twang, the arrow struck the boar in its side. But instead of falling to the ground, dead, its eyes rolled in fury. Only its outrage kept it from charging immediately, and in that split second of hesitation, pandemonium ensued. Horses and dogs sprinted for the trees, leaving their human handlers chasing after them on foot. One of the bears let out an earsplitting roar while Lord Eroy scrambled onto its back. Somewhere in the chaos Adam grabbed my hand and pulled me toward my horse, which had wandered away without my knowing.

  He caught the reins before the horse could bolt and shoved me up into the saddle. “The fool’s angered it now,” he shouted over the rabble. “It’ll take a hundred arrows to bring it down, and that’s if it doesn’t kill us all first.”

  “Admetus!” I heard Syrano call. Gripping his son’s arm, he pushed toward us. “Take Alyce and ride away from here. I’m sending Claren with Lord Farlow.”

  He set Claren on the back of his horse and the boy picked up his reins. In the clearing behind him, the boar gored a man’s leg and a red river poured onto the dirt. “But Father,” protested Claren, “I want to help.”

  “And you are brave for it, my son. But two princes cannot fight the same battle.”

  Before I could hear Claren’s response Adam appeared on his mare beside me and, with a slap to my horse’s hindquarters, we galloped into the trees. The ground was rocky and the horse stumbled several times, nearly sending me out of the saddle. Birds screeched high above, but nothing drowned out the screams behind. They seemed to carry through the woods, fighting to keep up with our horses. Adam flew beside me, leaning over his horse’s neck, urging it to run faster, faster. Leafy branches scratched at my face; I felt a cool trickle creeping over my eyebrow, I wiped it and my glove came away bloody.

  We reached the edge of another clearing and Adam abruptly pulled his horse to a stop. I followed suit, tugging on the reins so firmly my horse threw her head in protest. I watched Adam, breathing hard. I had no idea how far we had ridden or where we had ended up. Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

  “Will the others come soon?” I asked, simply to break the dreadful silence.

  Adam shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Another scream sounded in the distance. Buzzards had gathered and now circled overhead. “What did Syrano mean, when he said two princes can’t fight in the same battle?”

  “It’s because of succession. If both princes fell, there’d be no heir to the throne.”

  I nodded and swallowed a hard lump in my throat. “I see.”

  A rustle came from the cluster of trees to our left. Adam drew his sword and rushed toward the noise. I lifted my reins, ready to fly like the coward I was, but the shape that emerged from the bushes stood not on four legs, but two.

  “Aunt…Aunt Alcestis,” it called, pitifully.

  “Claren!” I shouted in spite of myself. “How did you get here?”

  “My horse threw me, I’ve been running as fast as I can. Then I heard your voice.” Claren staggered and Adam leapt from his saddle to help steady him.

  “What about Lord Farlow? Where is he?”

  “Last I saw he was still riding. My horse followed his.”

  Adam held him by the shoulders. “Did you see the boar?”

  Claren nodded, his eyes wide with terror.

  “Where?”

  “Back there, sir. He’s hideously fast.”

  “Indeed he is. Now, Claren, I can’t give you my horse, but you can share my wife’s.” He lifted the boy onto the back of my saddle. Claren’s arms wrapped around my waist in a vice-like grip; I was sure I’d have to pry him off me if we ever made it out of the forest alive. “The boar is fast, as you said, and clever. He’ll follow our scent. If he doesn’t find us himself the dogs will lead him to us without realizing what they’re doing. I’ll wait here and hold him off. The two of you ride back to the palace and tell them what’s happened.”

  “I don’t know where the palace is,” I protested. “If you leave us we’ll be lost—”

  Adam cut me off. “Claren, you can find your way home, right? You know these woods. All Itomian princes do. Can you follow that creek to where it feeds into the Broom River?”

  Claren nodded. “Yes sir.”

  “Good. Now, it is time to be brave.” He pulled a long knife from his belt and held it out to Claren. “Carry this with you. You must protect your aunt; she’s very precious to me.” Claren took the knife and nodded gravely. “Good. Ride quickly, Alyce. I’ll see you at the castle.”

  A horrible, sick feeling sprouted in my belly. “Adam, please don’t—”

  “Ride, Alyce!”

  He struck my horse with the flat of his sword and she took off, stumbling slightly from the added weight. Birds flew before us, disturbed from their ground nests as we galloped across the clearing. Claren shouted directions in my ear and though I could barely hear over the rushing wind I obeyed the best I could. East, then north, always coming back to the creek. My only consolation was the absence of agonizing screams; at least Adam hadn’t met the boar.

  Once more we found ourselves in thick forest. The horse was slowing; I smelled the sweat foaming on her sides. I drove my heels into her again and again, still her pace continued to fall. I saw a dark flash of fur in the trees to my left and my pulse quickened. I opened my mouth to ask Claren if he was sure we were heading in the right direction, but before I could utter a word the dark thing crashed through the trees. It wasn’t the boar, thank the gods, but one of the bears. Wild-eyed and streaked with foam, it carried no rider. At the sight of it the horse reared and wheeled around, sending Claren into the dirt beneath its hooves. I jumped down at once, terrified he’d been trampled, but the moment I left the saddle the horse went tearing into the woods and out of sight.

  I pulled Claren to his feet and he drew Adam’s knife with a shaking hand, his eyes round as he took in the bear. Blood dripped from its jaws, and it left wet black footprints where it walked.

  “Don’t make any quick movements,” I whispered to Claren, keeping my gaze on the bear. Silently, I drew Claren closer to a wide tree, hoping the bear wouldn’t notice us. But it sniffed the air and fixed its shiny eyes in our direction. I raised my hand very slowly, mimicking the motion I’d seen the brothers use when they mounted up earlier, in an attempt to calm the beast. If it would have worked, I’ll never know, for Claren clutched the knife and, before I could stop him or even shout at him to not be a fool, raced toward the bear. He lifted the blade as if to throw it, but didn’t get the chance. The bear suddenly lunged forward, leaping higher than I would have ever thought possible. I dove to the ground and grabbed Claren’s legs. He fell with a breathless thud; I prayed he hadn’t fallen on Adam’s knife. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the bear to savage our bodies with its claws, or for its teeth to tear at my skin and hair, but nothing happened. I heard a roar behind us and looked up just in time to see the bear tackling the boar, only meters away from where I had stood.

  In an instant I was up and had dragged Claren to his feet. With only one glance at the boar my fear surged anew. “The horse is gone, we have to run,” I breathed, pulling Claren after me. I looked over my shoulder, thinking I’d see the boar and bear still locked in combat, but they had crashed elsewhere. In my moment of distraction I tripped on a rock and stumbled. A hand caught my shoulder and I nearly screamed.

  It was Adam. “Are you all right?” he demanded. I nodded, unable to speak, and he looked at Claren. “Well done, nephew. Come with me, we’re almost to the palace.”

  Claren’s green complexion had returned and the knife trembled in his hand. The three of us ran, and though I knew we were more vulnerable than ever, relief coursed through my body with having Adam at the helm once again.

  We hadn’t run far when I heard the now familiar hoofbeats and grunting of the boar. The palace was still nowhere in sight, and my legs ached from the hard rid
ing. Claren, for all his effort, was fading fast. He slipped on the leaves again and again, each time Adam or I pulled him up he felt heavier. “Adam,” I said, panting as I pulled Claren after me. “He won’t make it much longer. We have to stop.”

  “We can’t, Alyce. The boar is badly injured but he’ll still kill us if he gets the chance.”

  My jaw clenched with rage. Never had I hated an animal so much. “Then let’s climb a tree and wait for it to die.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but when the hoofbeats grew louder he snapped it shut. He turned, searching, then sprinted for a maple tree.

  “This’ll do. Now hurry.” He cupped his hands in a foothold. “Step here and pull yourself onto the branch. Climb up as high as you can.” Sweat poured from his forehead. “Quickly, Alyce.”

  I glanced back at the trees, we had only seconds before the boar would spot us. “No. Claren first.”

  Before Adam could argue, I put Claren’s foot in my husband’s outstretched hands, and between the two of us we heaved him into the tree. A branch snapped behind us and we both whipped around to see the boar breaking through the dense undergrowth. Adam gripped my hand, pulling me away. The only spot capable of providing any cover was a long line of holly bushes. We scrambled beneath it and flattened ourselves beneath the prickly leaves.

  I fought to lay perfectly still, taking short, shallow breaths lest my expanding lungs give me away. Adam pressed close to me, his gaze locked on mine. My arms were folded and trapped against his chest; I couldn’t move even if I had wanted to. I desperately hoped Claren had climbed out of sight and was keeping silent. I heard the boar approaching the holly bush from behind me and swallowed tightly. Just lie still, I told myself. Just don’t move and this will all be over in a minute.

  The boar’s heavy steps came to a halt, and I heard a rustling sound as it sniffed the fallen leaves littering the muddy floor. The sound traveled closer and closer until I felt its rubbery snout prodding through the sharp leaves and brushing against my back. I squeezed my eyes shut, though no tears escaped. I was terrified to the point where crying wasn’t remotely possible. The boar’s bloody tusk grazed my ribs and Adam’s hand closed around mine. Why wouldn’t the horrible beast just die? It had to be close; the stench of blood and ruined flesh filled my nostrils, so strong I nearly gagged on my own breath.

  Something else pressed against my back, and when I flicked my eyes upward I saw the boar’s front leg raised overhead through the leaves. I realized with a lurch of horror that it was trying to step over the holly bush. My relief at not being gored was quickly eclipsed by the fear that it would stumble in its weakened state and crush our bodies into pulp. My fingers squeezed Adam’s as I felt the three remaining hoofs knock into my back before scraping the leaves above. Only when the final hoof touched the ground behind Adam did I let my body relax. The boar let out a strangled cry of agony, and then sank to its knees. Its body hit the earth so hard I could’ve sworn I heard the trees shake, and a handful of new leaves floated down from the high branches.

  I started to edge my way out of the shrub, but Adam held me down. “Don’t move yet,” he murmured so quietly I could barely hear him. “It’s probably dead, but we need to wait to be sure.”

  I nodded, not daring to speak. The cool breeze returned and I shivered, burrowing closer to him for warmth. Very slowly, Adam reached forward with his free hand and touched my face, brushing his thumb along my cheekbone. “Are you hurt?” he asked, barely audible. When I shook my head, he breathed deeply through his nose, satisfied.

  The minutes passed slowly and the sun had shifted to a place high in the sky when we finally stirred from our hiding place. Adam slid from under the holly bush and helped guide me out. The prickly leaves caught at my hair and my hands were smeared with mud when I finally emerged, but I’d never cared less how I looked.

  It took some coaxing before Claren left the safety of the tree to join us on foot. He clung to the branch, half-hidden by the leaves, until Adam finally convinced him the boar was dead and he was safe. The moment his feet touched the ground he threw his arms around my waist, trembling and pale. Then, as if he’d remembered the responsibility Adam had tasked him with, he frowned and said, “Are you well, Aunt Alyce? The boar didn’t injure you?”

  I resisted the impulse to brush his hair back and kiss his forehead as though he were a little boy. “Not in the least, Prince Claren. I am as well as I’ve ever been, thanks to you.”

  Adam reached for my hand. “The others are probably waiting at the palace. Let’s start that way.”

  We didn’t run, instead we walked quickly and quietly along the creek. It wasn’t long before the woods opened into green fields and I spotted the river in the distance. The gleaming palace perched on top of the hill, perfect as ever, untouched by the turmoil of the hunt. Adam looked down at my hand, clasped tightly in his, and met my eyes in a soft smile.

  Claren ran ahead of us, it wasn’t long before he was just a colorful speck racing on the grass. I made no effort to hurry; I let my mind wander lazily, thinking of the delicious, cold drinks waiting under the pavilion and the hot bath I’d enjoy later in the evening. I’d already half-pushed the hunt from my mind; the boar was dead and we had survived, nothing else mattered.

  I pointed to a cluster of men under one of the pavilions. “It looks like they’re getting help for the man who was gored. I hope he isn’t hurt too badly.”

  Adam craned his neck to look as we ascended the slope. “If they act quickly enough he should be fine.”

  As we drew closer I saw that not only were the other hunters crowded around the man, but Adam’s parents as well. Even Princess Aveline and her daughters were approaching. I thought it was awfully decent of them to come out and visit the injured man, and nearly said so to Adam, but the words stopped in my throat when I saw not the man who had been gored, but a familiar shock of dark hair and laughing eyes, snuffed of all light.

  I stopped walking, forcing Adam to stop, too. He looked at me, puzzled. “What is it?”

  “Adam—” I started, drawing him further back, but Aveline’s scream tore across the park like a razor ripping through silk. “Adam, don’t—don’t look over there—” I begged.

  Without a word he shook me off and started toward the pavilion, but Lord Thaine stepped in front of him. His eyes were red and he his hat hung limply from his hands. Blood poured from a deep cut in his cheek and stained his collar. “I’m sorry, Admetus,” he said through thick tears. “I’m so sorry. Syrano’s gone. Your brother is dead.”

  Chapter 23

  There is perhaps only one thing that can feel as terrible as losing someone you love. And that is watching someone else learn of a loved one’s death. You’re frozen and helpless, little more than a sculpture standing sentry, unable to look away. There is nothing you can do to help, to assuage the pain, to make it better. You are powerless beyond compare.

  When Adam heard Lord Thaine’s words, he became possessed with what I can only describe as a terrible surge of strength. At first he could only stare at Lord Thaine, mute with disbelief. Then, as he studied my face, he furrowed his brow. “He’s made a mistake, Alyce, don’t look so upset. They’re all mistaken. That can’t be Syrano.”

  “Adam.” I fought to steady my voice while desperately trying to draw him away from the pavilion. “Come here for just a moment and sit down—”

  “I don’t need to sit. There’s just been a mistake, everything’s fine. I’ll show you,” he insisted, dropping my hand. When Lord Thaine tried to stop him, Adam shoved him out of the way and elbowed past the others and into the pavilion. I followed after him, my head throbbing from Aveline’s screams; from the corner of my eye I saw Claren sitting on the edge of the cluster with his arms around his sisters as they cried quietly into his chest. My heart shattered into pieces; I wanted to go to them and kiss them and distract them and get them away from the pavilion, but my mind was with Adam. He had forced his way to the center and was kneeling beside his broth
er’s body, hysterically ordering the physicians to do anything, try anything, give him any medicine or perform any surgery that would help Syrano.

  “It isn’t too late to stop the bleeding,” he kept saying. “Make a poultice and get him some wine to drink—”

  “Adam—” I placed my hand on his shoulder but he threw it off.

  “Send for the surgeon and get him inside,” he ordered one of the servants. “Be careful not to move his head too much, his neck could be injured.”

  I crouched beside him, trying not to look directly at Syrano’s lifeless body. “Adam, listen to me—”

  “There isn’t time, Alyce! You, send for more bandages—” He pointed at one of the bewildered servants, but before he could spew out any more instructions I gripped both his hands in mine, forcing him to meet my eyes. He didn’t seem to see me at all. “Let go of my hands, Alyce. I have to—”

  “Stop, Adam,” I begged. “Just…stop.”

  Slowly, realization seeped through his determined face and he finally understood what had happened. I felt his body relax and my tears began to flow.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, squeezing his hands. “Lord Thaine was right. Syrano’s gone. I’m so sorry,” I said again.

  Silently, he lifted his head and gazed around the pavilion, taking in the grief-stricken faces as though seeing them for the first time. He looked at his parents, little more than a lost child seeking an explanation—any explanation—and then his brother’s body. He touched Syrano’s cold hand and his shoulders heaved with silent, cruel grief.

  I could only watch, paralyzed with despair, until Adam’s father stood and told us to go into the palace, that there was nothing more we could do. At least, that is what I think he said. I can’t be sure, even now, since at the time I could only hear Adam’s sobs. But the next thing I knew I was walking up the palace steps, clutching my husband’s hand so he wouldn’t collapse to the ground.

  • • •

  We waited in one of the private galleries for some time; eventually Adam’s parents joined us, drained from the events of the afternoon. None of us spoke. Only later would I learn that Syrano had stopped to help a fallen hunter to his feet when the boar gored him in the thigh. The physician assured us he wouldn’t have suffered long since the blood drained quickly from that particular spot in the leg. A small comfort in the darkness of his absence.