Hunter Hunted (The Eternals Book 2)

by Richard M. Ankers

  “Yes,” I returned, “I could do with a drink.”

  “I bet,” said Linka, as Aurora raised one perfect, white eyebrow.

  Chapter Four

  -

  Red

  “Scratch that drink,” I hissed to Linka.

  There was something manic about the whirling, twirling madness in the throne room. They seemed oblivious to the fact they looked like abominations. Gone was the snowflake elegance, the feeling of delicate myth, in its place, crimson hysteria.

  Linka's fingers tightened their grip in my own. I realised I was not the only one appalled by our view.

  The throne room doors closed behind us with a thud audible even through the badly played Strauss.

  “Aurora!” hailed Serena. She beckoned to her daughter with one blood-dripping finger, and by association ourselves.

  “They could have at least got changed,” I whispered into Linka's ear. She did not reply. I couldn't say I blamed her.

  We weaved our way through the turbulent throng until we stood before her crimson magnificence.

  “Ah, I see you have gathered the flock unto you, my dear.”

  “I have, mother,” Aurora acquiesced.

  “Good, good,” Serena mused, her gaze flitting from one person to the next before it settled upon me. “My sons will not be the same for quite some time.”

  “They will not, Your Majesty.”

  “Serena!” she barked.

  “I do apologise, you're almost unrecognisable in your new attire.”

  Serena mopped at her eyes with the back of her saturated robe and flicked the blood over my face with something akin to a dare shining in her ruby eyes. “Is that better?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes, now I see. It is you, Your Majesty.”

  Serena moved with a speed I'd never witnessed. Her right hand was about my throat whilst her left slapped me so hard that even Vladivar should have quailed before it: I laughed.

  “Do I annoy you, Your…Serena?”

  “No more so than a gnat. I would advise you to watch your rather smart mouth whilst in my company. Do not forget your place, young man. You are a guest here due to your acquaintance with Princess Linka, and that alone. You were within your rights to maim my children, unfortunately for them, but being disrespectful to one of the Hierarchy is an unforgivable sin.”

  “Oh, I don't know,” I mused, licking the blood from the inside of my cheek, “Vladivar never complained.”

  “Vladivar was an oaf.”

  “Still is,” I agreed.

  “Yes, still,” Serena somewhat reluctantly agreed, as she released me in a heap to the floor. It wouldn't have been so bad if the music hadn't have stopped and every leering face turned upon me.

  “Verstra! Serstra!” Serena called, as she returned to her brooding position on the ice throne.

  “Don't provoke her,” Linka pleaded, as she helped me from the floor.

  “Where's Aurora gone?” I asked ignoring her warning and peering about.

  “I don't know? She was here a moment ago.”

  “Ah, there you are boys,” said Serena as the twins entered the hall through the far doorway.

  And just for an instant, I thought there the merest flash of opulence in yonder rooms. Colour adorned the world beyond my vision, a design far removed from that in which we stood. However, the closing ice doors soon extinguished it.

  “He is still here!” exclaimed one of the two pointing in vulgar fashion mid-limp.

  “He is, Serstra, my son,” Serena's iced reply. “And here he shall remain for as long as the princess resides here.”

  “That is not fair,” said the other who had wrapped a bandage over his missing eye.

  “That is the law.”

  “You wrote the law, mother.”

  “And until I choose to un-write it, that is how it shall stay.”

  “But look what he did to us,” the two chimed.

  “That is due to your weakness, not due to the law.”

  “But we were only doing as…”

  “That's enough,” Serena interjected.

  “But…”

  “But, nothing.” Serena barely raised the tone of her voice; she did not need to. A joint ripple of terror swept over the newly washed twins. They feared her, and no matter their posturing, they could not disguise it. The two flicked nervous gazes from their mother to me. I smiled back. Neither child said another word. Instead, they took up silent positions either side of their mother as before; neither twin raised their eyes to she, or I.

  “Music!” commanded the queen clapping her hands together in a spray of red liquid. The music and waltzing renewed.

  “Now, Linka,” Serena began in cooing tones, “what with your sudden arrival and the hunt's excitement, I have hardly had chance to talk to you. Come sit by me and we shall discuss the state of this ever-changing world.” Serena tapped the floor at the base of the throne to indicate exactly where she expected my darling to sit.

  Obediently, Linka stepped forward without releasing my hand.

  “On your own, my dear,” Serena added. “If you don't mind, Jean,” she said through a crooked smile.

  “Are you all right without me?” I asked.

  “I'll be fine.” Linka stood on tip-toes to kiss me, fear reflected in her emerald eyes.

  “I shall sit with you,” came the cold tones of Ekatarina who materialised from nowhere resplendent in shining white robes.

  “And I shall accompany you, Jean,” ghosted the voice of her sister in my ear.

  “I'll return topside for a while, if that is all right with you, my darling?” I said to Linka. “On my own,” I added. I thought I heard the ice crack in Narina's heart such was the vehemence in the glance she cast. She swept back out of the hall rather less silently than she had entered. Ekatarina showed no sign of her sister's impetuousness as she gave a polite smile and extricated Linka's grip from my own.

  “Don't be too long, Jean,” Linka wavered.

  “I'll be looking down on you all the time.”

  “Like an angel?”

  “A dark one, I fear.”

  “They're the best.”

  “Always.” I kissed Linka's free hand, stroked her hair, and then allowed Ekatarina to lead her to the throne.

  I did not look back at the ruby eyes I knew upon me, their chill alone was enough to bore a hole in my skull.

  * * *

  Exiting the sweet-smelling claustrophobia of the stairwell, I stepped out into the half-light of that doorway between the real and the dreamed. I was not alone. For there, growling in defence of their requisitioned meal stood three enormous wolves. The creatures put those Vladivar had set upon me to shame. Their monochrome magnificence stood in sharp contrast to the ruby-hued light and crimson splattered ground.

  “There, there, nice doggies,” I spoke with all the niceties I could muster, whilst edging towards the lapping sea. I had no intention of harming any beast ever again after seeing the butchery committed by the Nordics. The wolves knew better than to hang about near my kind and were soon off. Yet one paused long enough to give me a quizzical stare. His or her piercing blue eyes examined me. I felt I could have patted the thing if I'd wished to, but that wet dog smell was prevalent and I did so like my new clothes. After sizing me up and finding me not worth the trouble it turned tail and scarpered after its fellows. I was sad to see them go, especially the latter, the Arctic landscape seemed too vast to be alone in. Good job I wasn't, really.

  I strolled over to the water and stretched. Whether the sun had weakened since I'd been below the waves, I was unsure, but the waters had the faintest trace of a crystalline crust formed upon them. Like a spider's web catching moonbeams, the sea water refracted the ruby light at strange angles. The effect was both beautiful and moving.

  “Do you like it too, Aurora?” I asked into the slightest stirring of a newborn wind. There was a hesitation, perhaps a hint of surprise in the voice that replied.

  “I like nothing more.” />
  “Shall you not reveal yourself?” I asked.

  “I thought I already had.”

  “Ah, don't want to be seen, eh?”

  “It is for the best,” came a reluctant reply.

  “For whom?” I pressed.

  “Why, for me, of course. I enjoy the view too much to have it stripped from me.”

  “Your mother?”

  “My mother,” she confirmed.

  “Say no more, I quite understand.”

  “I wish others did.”

  “Such is the way of things when unbalanced opinions collide.”

  “I suppose.”

  “It is beautiful,” I said, attempting to change the topic and spare the girl any further unease.

  “For now, but a storm brews. Soon, the sun will be smothered by a blanket of snow.”

  “That will be a shame.”

  “A great shame,” she agreed, as something dripped onto the water, unable to puncture the semi-solid surface.

  “Would you care to talk about what troubles you?” I asked in my kindest voice.

  “No,” came a blunt reply.

  “Fair enough, child, I prefer the silence anyway.” I stared out over the dimming, ruby eye that just crested the horizon. “Hmm, you appear to be correct about the storm.”

  “I am always correct.”

  “I shall remember that for reference.”

  “Ha!” Aurora laughed.

  “Ah, so you do know joy.”

  “Is that what it's called?”

  “I'm not really sure, I haven't known much myself.”

  “Are you orphaned too, Jean?” she asked, a touch overeagerly. I think she sensed a kindred spirit in that moment, or hoped for one.

  “I am. Although, you are hardly an orphan whilst your mother remains so hale and hearty. God, I hope she isn't. Tell me it's true.”

  Aurora went silent.

  “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. She is still your mother, after all.”

  “I am an orphan to her, I can assure you.” Aurora spoke as though having not heard me.

  “I see,” I said, although I didn't. “The rest of your brothers and sisters don't appear to feel the same way.”

  “Half-brothers and half-sisters.”

  “Ah, that would explain the eyes.”

  “I've been told I have my father's eyes, but cannot confirm it.”

  “Did you not know him?”

  “No,” came a blunt response.

  “A sore subject?”

  “I am reminded of it at every opportunity.”

  “I'm sorry. Being different has its pros and cons.”

  “How would you know?” Aurora's petulant response.

  “Being different does not just come in shades of eyes, my dear.”

  “Now it's my turn to apologise, Jean. I did not mean that to sound as it did.”

  “Don't give it a second thought,” I said, as the ruby light dimmed to a deep claret.

  “It comes,” she said. Then added, “The other direction.”

  “Well, if you would unveil your arm,” I protested, but the sun's obliteration spun my head back to the sea and the oncoming snow. “Hmm, you were right.”

  “I told you, I am always right.”

  Before Aurora could say another word, I was swept off my feet and onto my rear end by a sudden Arctic blast of some magnitude. Strangely, my immediate thoughts went to the wolves and where they should have found sanctuary from the weather. I would have given them even greater thought if not for the distinct sound of something very un-stormy.

  “Did you hear that?” I called into the wind.

  “No!” she bellowed back

  “Sounded like an engine.”

  “I heard nothing, Jean,” Aurora restated, her voice closer. “We must get below before we cannot find the entrance. Take my hand,” she commanded.

  “I can't see your hand.” But before I could complain further, I felt the soft flesh of another slip into my left palm. Aurora did not stop to talk, instead, she pulled me back to my feet and dragged me into what by then was a whiteout. I saw only snow, heard only wind, and within a few instants, smelled only lavender. My feet sought the top step's security, and it was with some relief I descended the windswept stairway. There was no thud of the hatched doorway closing only the silencing of the elements and a strange vacuum sensation for a second or two. A few stray snowflakes drifted idly by until deciding the ground their chosen destination, the staircase becalmed.

  “Can you find your own way?” came a hushed voice.

  “Yes, of course,” I replied, “down.”

  “Then, go. I shall follow soon. It would not bode well for us to be seen entering together.”

  “I suppose not,” I conceded. If Aurora heard me she did not acknowledge it and I perceived myself suddenly alone.

  * * *

  By the time I reached the doors to the throne room, the sound of revelry had somewhat diminished. In fact, upon entering the chamber, I realised the music had gone replaced by the sound of the Nordics chanting in sombre tones. The still blood-soaked citizens stood in one massive circle all holding hands. The massive chandelier had been relit although it appeared lower than before and the light fainter. It felt like I had disturbed something extremely personal, and I would have returned to the corridor if not for the fact an arm had slipped into my own.

  I was about to say something devastatingly charming to Linka when I realised the limb entwined with my own was that purest of porcelain that only a newly washed Nordic could quite pull off.

  “Shush,” came a sound in my ear. I had no choice but to allow myself to be led around the edge of the assembly in silence. I said nothing to Narina for my eyes already quested for Linka. Much to my chagrin, the blood-spattered throne stood desolate. The pang beneath my ribs suggested a heart less vacant than I took it for.

  We hugged the wall until eventually Narina opened the doors to the sleeping quarters and pulled me through them.

  “That was all very cloak and dagger.”

  “It is a lament to those who died today,” Narina replied.

  “Oh, sorry, I spoke without thinking. Were there many?” I asked with genuine sincerity.

  “Six.”

  “Is that usual?”

  “It is not unusual, though still too many.”

  “Six of your people for one whale. I would definitely say that too many.”

  “We shall not need to hunt for a long time, though.”

  “What is time to an Eternal?”

  “It is a great deal when your people only ever diminish.”

  “Good point,” I agreed.

  Narina half smiled at that and eased me away down that longest of corridors. The clip-clop of her stilettoed feet marked our passage along the ice. All else was silent. Only when we reached the doors to Linka and mine's room did she speak again.

  “I am sorry for my brothers' actions.”

  The apology caught me somewhat off guard.

  “You have no need to apologise, Narina. The actions were not yours.”

  “Still, they brought shame upon me and my family.”

  “Don't give it a second thought,” I said. “I only hold a grudge against those who deserve it.”

  “A lot of grudges then,” she said with a smile of dismissal. She bowed and made to leave, but I caught her by the arm.

  “Why would you think that?”

  Narina looked to me, then to the hand that grasped her. I had hold of her so tight that the skin around my fingers turned blue. Accordingly, I released her.

  “I…I…do not know, Jean. I just…” Her words trailed off as I saw her struggling with something below that smoothest of facades. “Good night,” she eventually said and was away down the corridor as though a spectre in a breeze.

  I watched her fade into the distance, took a deep breath, for some unknown reason, and entered the room. How I wished I hadn't.

  Linka sat on the edge of the bed, head slumped, her
thighs moist from fallen tears. She held an opened envelope in her upturned palms. I knew without a word passing between us that my blackmailers had found me.

  Chapter Five

  -

  Blue

  Something about the colour blue had always evoked a sense of emptiness. Blue always reflected my mood. Being surrounded by walls, curtains drawn back, ceiling and floor all flickering in subtlest shades of neon, whilst seeing Linka tinged by that same emptiness, saddened me beyond words. Blue took a deeper meaning then.

  Linka never stirred, nor once acknowledged my presence. She sat there catatonic.

  I slid the envelope from her hand, sat beside her and allowed the thing to disgorge its contents. A rather grubby looking sheet of paper fell into my palm like a dead weight.

  Dear Jean;

  We find ourselves in the surprising situation where those we wished terminated are. No thanks to you, though. This has left us in the odd situation where we could either thank you and allow you and your puppy princess to live happily ever after, or not. We have chosen the latter.

  We have re-evaluated our affairs and have decided that as seen as you have not, so far as we can see, taken any of our previous messages seriously, we have one final task for you to complete: kill Queen Serena. If you do not, then your precious Linka shall die.

  The fact you hold this letter in the one place on earth we should have found inaccessible proves we are capable of said task and shall not hesitate to do so. Do it now, we grow impatient.

  Best regards

  My eyes closed, breath caught. A life changed, again.

  I crumpled the note and threw it as hard as I could. The thing bounced off the adjacent wall and unfurled like a flower revealing a stamen full of vitriol. The words refused dismissal, and my rage grew without an outlet on which to vent it.

  “We must not let Serena see this,” I eventually managed unable to contain my boiling blood.

  “Turn the envelope over.” Her words lacked conviction, spoken without hope.

  I spared Linka a look, but her head still hung over her chest. She sat impassive, broken, a fire put out by the rain.

  I picked the envelope up off my knees and flipped it over. There was one word on it: Serena.