Day of the Hunt (The Faun Quartet Book 2)

by Chris J Edwards

  Dawn smiled and I smiled back. I wasn’t at all confident I could convince Queen Boralia of anything, even the time of day. But it was too late. We were already entering the Etala Chamber.

  It was an empty day at court; few courtiers lined the edges, keeping near the surrounding pillars. They barely outnumbered the attendants and guards. A whisper like the rustling of autumn leaves shivered through the vast marble room as I stepped with the princess into the light.

  “Hail, Princess Dawn,” came a semi-unified salutation from the courtiers, likely still breathless from surprise.

  I was very out of place. Any conversation that may have been going on had ceased. My footsteps echoed, solitary ripples in an empty sea.

  “The chamber is dismissed,” Queen Boralia announced, seated neatly in her throne.

  A nearby attendant repeated the command, his voice pealing out like a bronze bell. It took almost as little time for the Etala Chamber to empty as it did for Dawn and me to reach the steps below the throne.

  Queen Boralia looked down upon us with a blank expression, betraying no thoughts or feelings. It somehow made me all the more uneasy. Her antlers were decked in silver lace and a thin circlet graced her forehead. Beside her, standing off to the side of the three thrones, was a female dau with wild red hair. She too watched us impassively, and like me, seemed very out of place. She wore no shoes on her bare feet, only a simple dress.

  “Princess Dawn,” said Queen Boralia, and motioned to the dau. “Meet your new tutor, Majira.”

  9

  Herace

  I approached Naraya from the south, along the royal roadway. It was in excellent condition, having been recently constructed to service merchants travelling to the Southern Sea. It wasn’t a long journey, especially now that the roadway was open; a mere seven days to reach the coast and its opulent city-states. Trade, however, wasn’t quite in the blood of the sylfolk; we had all we needed, right at our feet.

  It was an alien land, the south; a commixture of elvish and ur-men, established many centuries ago in coastal settlements. Low-folk from the western hinterlands and uyrguks imported from the far east worked the docks, the fields, and anything unpleasant usually.

  I passed through an incomplete archway. Stonemasons hid from the summer heat beneath makeshift awnings as they carved the blocks piece by piece. It was a striking structure; I could imagine the effect it would have on travellers once it was complete. A testament to Céin Urthia, the Untouched Wood, finally united. The pillars were shaped and textured like the trunks of trees, laced with vines.

  Through the archway was Naraya. Half the roads were still dirt, but the main ones were cobbled. The second largest structure in the little capital was the Vindayan embassy. I rode past it slowly, peering through the gate and into the walled courtyard beyond. Past that the monolithic shape of the stone building, peaked and plain, stared back dourly. It wasn’t a beautiful structure, but it was impressive in its size. Distasteful, even. But that was Vindaya. Huge, impressive, and tactless.

  My opinion on the Vindayan elves had changed somewhat, having finally become friends with some. But I had also been deceived by some. Vindaya had its own morality, and it was best to always count the coins in your purse both before and after a deal. They always acted like they had the moral high ground, even when they were double-crossing you.

  In a way I understood. If we were at war, threatened as direly as they by such savage forces, I’m sure I’d be out there making dirty deals on behalf of Céin Urthia without a second thought.

  I continued up the main roadway as it gently rose. Before me was the royal keep itself, the town spread out below, its back to the ancient forests beyond.

  Flanking the wide street were merchants and inns of every sort. Most barely gave me a second glance, but a few noticed my half-grown antlers and watched me with curiosity or contempt. It was right then that I remembered why I had been so reluctant to leave Plin Oèn at all.

  If only they knew who I was. Then they wouldn’t stare, they would admire me.

  I reached the curtain wall and hitched my horse, walked through the shady guardhouse and up the gentle rise to the keep.

  The honour guard this month was the Many of the Perfect Glade. True fanatics these ones, but at least they knew how to dress themselves. Well-armoured and better armed. They halted me at the great doors.

  “State your business,” called one, voice muffled beneath his helm.

  “I have summons from Princess Dawn,” I said, and fumbled through my pockets for a moment before realizing I had left it in my saddlebag.

  “No entry unless proven, sire. Queen’s orders,” said the other.

  Grumbling, I walked back down the hill, through the guardhouse, and retrieved the letter. Then I returned.

  The first guard lifted his visor to better inspect the letter.

  “Hey, look at this,” he muttered to his companion, who leaned over and squinted at the document.

  I stood before the door, tapping my foot impatiently. It was always like this with these honour guards. The only Order worth their salt was the Guardians of the Amber Bower. And that’s because it was my own.

  “Doesn’t look like the royal seal…” the first mumbled.

  “Looks close though… I’d have to see another to compare it,” said the second, pointing a finger at the misshapen wax.

  They looked past the letter to me.

  “Who’re you, sire?”

  I took a deep breath and shored up my patience.

  “Herace the Redeemed, lord of Plin Oèn. I received that letter perhaps a week or so ago.”

  The guards bowed their heads.

  “Of course, sire. We apologize for holding you up. Just the Queen’s orders, you know… increased vigilance since the kidnapping, the rebellion, the king’s death…” said the first, reaching for the huge brass ring on the door.

  The second handed me back my letter as I passed through.

  “…really didn’t look like the royal seal…” I heard them whispering as the door shut behind me.

  I took another look at the letter as I walked down the pillared hall. Not that I could discern what the real seal looked like, because I had rarely seen it.

  Another set of honour guards, dressed in courtly scale mail, marched up behind to flank me as I walked up the steps and into the Etala Chamber. They opened the tall doors and I slipped in.

  Then I immediately stopped.

  Across the long chamber I saw the thrones; I saw the queen in regal finery, I saw the princess in a thin green dress, and I saw the dark shape of a familiar figure beside her. And off to the side I saw someone else entirely, someone I never expected to see again, and certainly not here of all places.

  “Majira?” I said aloud, my voice echoing off the smooth walls.

  The four around the throne turned and looked at me. Dawn’s eyes were wide with surprise.

  I strode forward and tried not to seem uncertain of myself. Majira’s presence unnerved me. A dawning realization was growing inside me as I began to process the fact that I may have been duped by her.

  What had happened last night? And how did she beat me here?

  Sorcery, it must have been sorcery… There was no other explanation.

  Once I reached the spot where Princess Dawn and Ortham stood I began the customary honorifics.

  “Prince Herace the Redeemed, Lord of Plin Oèn, at your service, your highness,” I announced with a slight flourish and a deep bow.

  “Rise,” replied the queen dispassionately. “I have little time today. Business?”

  “My business is actually with the princess, your highness. I was summoned,” I said, brandishing the letter.

  The queen raised her eyebrows and looked over at Dawn, who seemed dumbfounded and could offer only a shrug in return.

  “This is a rather inconvenient time. For the both of you, actually. I suggest you wait in the antechamber,” the queen said, mot
ioning to Ortham and me.

  “Of course, your highness,” I said with another bow.

  The two of us began to walk away when a voice called after us.

  “Don’t stray too far. You’ll be needed in a moment,” Majira said.

  I looked back to see the queen give a confused sideways look to the red headed sorceress.

  Ortham and I passed through the tall doors and into the antechamber from whence I had just come. I couldn’t contain myself long enough for the doors to close.

  “By all things unholy, how did she get here?” I asked, grabbing Ortham by the shoulder.

  “Who? The queen? She lives here.”

  “No, not the queen! Of course I know she lives here. The red-haired sorceress!”

  Ortham had a confused look on his face, too.

  “Is that what she is? I was wondering…”

  “Yeah, she’s a sorceress! When did she get here?”

  “Don’t know, personally. Dawn and I just got here a moment before you wandered in.”

  I pressed my face against the door and peered through the crack in hopes of seeing what was going on on the other side. I couldn’t see anything, so I pressed my ear against it instead. I couldn’t hear anything either.

  I straightened up and faced Ortham again, who was watching me with a touch of concern.

  “Are you often this frenetic?” he asked.

  “Frenetic? I’m not frenetic. I’m just awfully suspicious of what Majira is doing here…”

  “Who’s Majira?”

  “Majira? Majira’s the sorceress. The only other person in the room aside from the queen and Dawn.”

  “Ah, of course. The sorceress with antlers.”

  I paused.

  “Ortham, we all have antlers. Almost everyone in Céin Urthia has either antlers or horns.”

  He shrugged indifferently. I couldn’t tell if he was playing with me or not. Could battle-mages be stupid? I had always been under the impression that mages were at least somewhat academic…

  “So how do you know this… Majira, is it?” Ortham asked.

  I leaned against the door and suddenly became acutely aware that we weren’t alone in the antechamber. A handful of courtiers had congregated here, mingling off to the side. Guards, too, stood idly on the far side.

  I shushed Ortham and leaned in conspiratorially.

  “Not so loud, not so loud…”

  “Hey, you were the one shouting about it a minute ago,” he shot back.

  I glanced around the room. Everyone was trying very hard to ignore us. We had a significantly wide space between us and even the nearest guard. The fact that Ortham was not a sylfolk but an ur-man certainly helped. And, I suppose, my stunted antlers may have added to the general avoidance.

  They were growing back though. Slowly.

  “I met her last night. Pretty sure it was last night…” I began, rubbing my temples.

  “You don’t even remember?” Ortham scoffed.

  “Hey, give me a break. She’s a sorceress! Maybe she cursed me or something. Put a hex on me.”

  Ortham didn’t seem to believe me, which made me all the more intent on convincing him.

  “And there was some alcohol involved… quite a bit, actually. But that’s not the point. I’ve been drunk before, you know. This just feels different. She’s a sorceress!”

  “Yes, I know. That is very clear now.”

  “Come on, Ortham. You’re a magicky type of fellow. Is there any way to mess with someone’s memory?”

  “Well, I suppose so… probably there is. If there is, though, I was never taught it. I was more into bolts of lightning and stuff…”

  Majira in the Etala Chamber… had she planned this all out? This was no coincidence, I could guarantee that. Was the queen in danger? It was unusual for King Aral’s court to have magicians as advisors. Then again, this was no longer King Aral’s court. I rubbed my temples.

  “Wait… so you met her when?” Ortham asked.

  “Last night. At least a few hours’ ride from here. Just a chance encounter, really. Stumbled into a midsummer gathering on the side of the road, and she showed up.”

  “So you just saw her there? That’s not too coincidental. Folk are always moving along the roadways.”

  “Well, it was a little more than just seeing her there. We… danced, we danced a bit. Drank a bit. Least, I did,” I said, laughing nervously.

  Ortham narrowed his eyes at me knowingly.

  “Ah, I see. Danced and drank together. Or, you drank. So you think you…”

  “Yes, potentially,” I said, interrupting him.

  I took the lock of fiery hair, bound in twine, from my pocket. Ortham shook his head and laughed as I presented it to him.

  “I woke up this morning and found this next to me. So, I’m pretty sure something happened. Knowing me, something definitely happened. But that’s not the point! I just find it a little too coincidental that we both met last night, and now here we both are. She’s a sorceress, after all.”

  Ortham gave me another shrug.

  “Who knows, Herace. Just because it’s not a coincidence doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a bad thing, right? Could be a good thing. Now you have another contact at court.”

  “As if Dawn isn’t a good enough contact, right? The heiress apparent and all.”

  “Look, I’m just trying to look on the bright side for a change. Plus, like you said, you’re not sure what happened last night. Could have been perfectly platonic, amicable…”

  The door opened behind me just a crack. Dawn poked her head through.

  “Hey, you two. Come in,” she said.

  Without hesitation we slipped through the door and closed it behind us.

  “Good to see you, Herace.” Dawn said as we walked toward the throne, far across the Etala Chamber. “May I see that letter?”

  “The one you sent me? Of course,” I replied, handing her the note.

  She took one look and groaned.

  “Really, Ortham?” She said, waving the letter in front of his face. He grinned stupidly, pretending he couldn’t understand. “This doesn’t look anything like the royal seal!”

  “Wait, what? What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely confused for about the hundredth time that day.

  “Ortham forged that letter to get you here. So you could help convince me to talk to him,” explained Dawn.

  “Hey, it’s not that simple,” Ortham said defensively. “I needed someone who could actually go to court and speak directly to you. To convince you to go back to Glenn Mereillon.”

  “I love being used and manipulated. Makes me feel so appreciated,” I said cuttingly.

  Ortham put his hand on my shoulder.

  “It’s not like that. You’re the only friend I have around here. Someone I can trust. I signed as Dawn to coax you out of Plin Oèn. It was the only way I could think of.”

  My indignation cooled. At last he was being honest about being dishonest.

  We arrived at the throne. Majira sat on a small stool next to Queen Boralia. She seemed so relaxed, so out of place, her legs outstretched casually. The queen looked to her.

  Majira stood up fluidly and moved her hands, muttering something under her breath.

  I shared a concerned look with Ortham.

  Then she snapped her fingers and Dawn collapsed.

  10

  Dawn

  I stumbled backward, my vision gone blank. Two pairs of arms grabbed me, holding me up.

  Slowly my senses returned to me; I realized I had been deafened, blinded, almost entirely lost.

  My vision cleared. Ortham was on my left, Herace was on my right, and both of them steadied me.

  “Princess, are you alright? Princess!” Herace was calling.

  It sounded like he was very far away, at the end of a tunnel. With each syllable his voice seemed to near until he was right beside me and everything was clear again.
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  “Yeah, I’m fine… what happened?” I replied wearily.

  I was incredibly tired.

  “What did you do, sorceress?” Herace demanded, voice nearing a shout.

  Majira stood, unaffected, eyes half-closed. Queen Boralia watched her intently. Then she lowered her arms to her sides.

  “Now we are truly alone,” she said airily. Her eyes snapped to me. “Are you aware you were being watched?”

  Herace and Ortham let go of me so I could stand on my own.

  “Watched?” I asked nervously. “By who? What do you mean?”

  Majira walked down the shallow steps until she stood right before me. She placed her middle and forefinger upon my forehead. I didn’t flinch back; I felt curiously calm.

  “Poor child, stunted when you could be so great… but it is no matter. Even a withered flower may bloom again, with proper attention…” she murmured.

  “Stop speaking in riddles, Majira. Tell us what you mean,” Herace said.

  Majira’s gaze slid over to him. She reached out an arm to him, too; his posture relaxed. She placed an open palm upon his cheek.

  “No need for anger, dear. I understand your fear. Anger will not dispel it.”

  “Mind your tongue, Prince Herace,” my mother chided from her throne. “You now speak to the court sorceress, and Dawn’s tutor. She requires the respect due to any of royal station.”

  With Majira’s hand still upon his cheek he nodded.

  Majira then withdrew a few paces, her bare feet making no sound upon the polished marble. Only the whisper of her gauzy dress made any noise. I couldn’t tell her age; she could have been as young as me, or twice my years. It should have unsettled me, but her presence was oddly calming. Maybe it was the fluid, graceful way she moved, or the permanent look of repose upon her face, her half-shut eyes.

  Or magick. It was probably magick.

  “My queen, I wish to speak to them alone. We shall be in the garden,” said Majira.

  Queen Boralia nodded.

  “Of course. She is your pupil, after all. Prince Herace, Mr. Ortham, I release you from court-”

  “No, I mean all of them. The trio,” Majira interrupted.