“Wonderful!” Then, dropping the inflection, Scott added as though thinking to himself, “I can’t wait to tell my friends back home I had dinner with Bruce Lee.”
Sonya sprang from the bed like a lioness and seized Scott by the wrist. Turning and stepping back to gain leverage, she lurched forward and pulled Scott off his feet, throwing him like a dead weight over her shoulder to land squarely on the bed. The move was awkward, learned as it was earlier in the day, but the result had been more than sufficient. Scott lay on his back with a look of genuine surprise.
“Don’t call me Bruce,” Sonya said simply, but smiling proudly at her accomplishment.
Scott sat up on her bed, unable to keep a smile off his face. “Well, if I do you can bet next time I won’t be nearly so close.” He stood and crossed the room to go. “I better go get washed up and changed. See you in an hour?”
“Sure thing.”
It was nearly a full turn of the glass later when Sonya looked up from the fire she had just kindled as her friend walked out of the shadows of evening and into the light. In one hand he held two steaks wrapped in cured hide, the other held a basket of fruit and a wine skin. “You seem to have made quite an impression,” Scott said as he took a seat beside her.
“What do you mean?” she poked the fire one last time and the wood popped noisily.
“You know that guy, Jordun, who works at the mess locker? Well, he rounded up the best steaks he could find and asked me to give you his regards. He even threw in a flagon of wine.”
“He’s a nice guy,” Sonya replied coy. “He stops by every once in a while when I’m working with the horses.” She noted the sly twinkle in Scott’s eye as he downed a gulp of the wine to wet his appetite. “What about you?” she asked. “I noticed you made quite the eye contact with Gouroth’s daughter.”
Scott gave a short bark of laughter. “Yeah, right! Just what I need, a woman who wears a flea collar. Sorry, but she’s a werewolf, and I’ve got this thing against women with more hair on their chests than I do.”
Sonya smiled as she took the steaks and placed them on the grill over the fire. She then took the wine flagon and tasted its contents. The purple liquid within flowed sweet and made her mouth water for more. “So what have you heard of Steve?” she asked.
Scott shrugged. “Not a whole lot, I’m afraid. He disappears early in the morning with Haldorum; sometimes coming back for a few hours to see General Corbett, sometimes staying out all day long to wherever it is they disappear to.”
“But if that is all they’re doing then why do they have to go so far away and be so secretive about it?” Sonya asked of him.
Again, Scott shrugged. “Maybe Haldorum really wants to make sure Steve doesn’t hurt anyone by mistake.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous!” Sonya huffed. “Steve would never hurt anybody.”
“Certainly not on purpose,” Scott admitted. “But I’m sure they just want to be safe about it.”
“Maybe,” Sonya replied unconvinced. “But I still think it stinks. Steve was our friend long before the Resistance got a hold of him.”
Scott was quiet for a few moments, and then, “It must be nice,” he said thoughtfully, “to be able to do the things he can.”
“Yes,” she nodded. Her imagination ran away with her momentarily, showing her images of Steve standing over a battlefield, lashing out against an army of redcrests with terrible powers. “Do you think he might want to see us as much as we want to see him?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Scott replied.
“Well, then why don’t we just go see him tomorrow? We know what direction he rides each day, and they can’t be leaving Shallows Crag because the front entrance through the cliffs is the only way in or out.”
“As far as we know,” Scott pointed out.
“We do know,” Sonya insisted. “Don’t you think we would have been told if there was another way?”
“No.”
Sonya’s look told him not to be petulant.
“Well, you asked,” he shrugged helplessly.
She sighed then. “You’re no help.”
The shadows stirred as another figure moved out of the darkness. Scott offered a fruit from the basket to the new arrival but he politely declined.
“No, thank you,” Haze said as he took a seat opposite Scott on a foldable canvas and wood chair he brought with him. “Have already eaten. Instead I am here to let you in on a small mission we’re undertaking in the morning. It seems our stores are getting a little low, so a few hunting parties have been called together. I thought perhaps you might like to come along and use some of that archery Lurin has taught you.”
“Seriously?” Scott asked brightening. “That’d be great; a hunting trip! I haven’t been on one of those in ages.”
“So you are coming, then?”
“Count on it! When do we leave?”
Haze chuckled at his enthusiasm. “First light tomorrow morning,” he replied. He then inclined his head in Sonya’s direction.
“No, thanks,” she replied with raised hands and a slightly sour look. “I’ve never really had the stomach for it. You two have fun.”
Scott was practically bubbling with vigor. He reached across and turned the steaks over with his knife, and then looked once again to the warrior. “This is gonna’ be fun.”
Chapter XIV
Scott peered through the trees from the elevated perch astride his mount, his heart thumping like a drum in his chest. He brushed a lock of hair from his eyes as he slowly scanned the forest ahead of him. Everywhere was quiet save for the soft hush of the wind and the birds chattering overhead. It was two days after leaving Shallows Crag and only Scott, Lurin, Haze, and fifteen other men remained of their once fifty man hunting party to bolster food stores. The last two days had proven a successful hunt, but with each new bounty men were paired off to ride back with the meat for salting and curing. Now only Scott and the seventeen soldiers of the Resistance remained.
Today would be their last turn at the hunt before heading back to regroup at Shallows Crag, and for the duration of the hunt to that point, Scott had immensely enjoyed the feeling he was contributing in a meaningful way to the cause. He had trained, certainly; but up until that point it had not been a contribution to the whole. This, however, was a direct action to help the side his friend had sworn to defend.
“I just wish there was a way to get more involved,” he thought aloud.
“What was that?” Haze asked. Instead of his usual plate armor, the warrior sat astride his mount in leather, the breastplate and pauldrons boiled and lacquered hard.
Scott looked to him and shrugged the thought aside. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Just thinking out loud.”
Haze nodded and then inhaled as a breeze brushed past his face. “You know, you are very lucky. I think this must be the finest hunt I have ever known.”
“I know it’s been a great experience for me,” Scott agreed. He let his hand come to rest on the hilt of the silver-bladed dagger belted at his waist and smiled. “And I didn’t even have to use this.”
“Tis’ a good thing,” the warrior replied. “A werewolf is nothing to take lightly, whether your blade be silver or not.”
“You certainly looked more than willing to go toe-to-toe with Gouroth in the swamp.”
“True,” Haze conceded with a tip of his head, “but to engage him would have been to enter a battle I could not win. My broadsword is not even so much as tainted with silver in the metal.”
“So you would have gotten yourself into a fight you knew you would lose?” Scott remembered to keep his voice low but, all the same, he sounded as though the idea were ludicrous.
“I did not say I would lose,” Haze chuckled. “I said I could not win. Werewolves heal remarkably fast. They can even grow back lost limbs.”
“But if you have silver?” Scott inquired.
Haze’s grin hinted malice. “A different matter entirely. Minutes and h
ours to heal turns to weeks and months—just like any human. Unfortunately, as much as I might wish it to be, Gouroth will never face me if there is a chance I might kill him. A fierce fighter he is, but a shrewd one as well.”
The hunting party came to a sudden standstill as the tracker ahead signaled them all to a halt. Everyone waited silently as he examined the tracks in the earth before them. He then stood and motioned off to his left and then to his right.
“Come on, lad,” Haze muttered. “This is likely to be the last chance you will get.”
Not yet skilled enough in horsed archery himself, Scott smiled expectantly as he untied the spear from his saddle and the remaining hunters around him readied their bows. He did not mind the disparity, though. It just meant he would get closer to the action.
Scott followed Haze as the warrior peeled off quietly to the right, along with several other soldiers, while the rest of their party moved left in a maneuver meant to squeeze the prey from both sides, forcing the animals to flee in a straight line and prevent them from scattering. Scott tightened his grip on the spear as he circled around a concealing stand of tall shrubs that was sure to hide him until the last moment.
“Wait for the whistle,” Haze reminded in a whisper.
Scott nodded his assent and then leaned forward in his saddle, intending to charge in the very next second after he heard the signal. Suddenly it was there, piercing the air with a high shrillness, and Scott spurred his horse forward in a charge. Soldiers moved in from the left side with a wild cry just as two dozen waist-high, coarse-haired beasts with broad chests and horns like bulls burst from the cover of the shrubbery in a panicked frenzy. Scott, lighter than most of the other soldiers, took the early lead and bore down on the rear of the herd from the right side, forcing the animals into a forward flight. The combination of horses’ hooves and the hooves of the horned creatures they pursued pounded like thunder on the ground and added to the excitement as Scott raced through the forest. Arrows from the left cut down several of the beasts before they could cover a hundred feet of ground. Those soldiers who hit their mark reined in their mounts to finish off their prey, leaving Scott and the others pursuing the remaining herd.
One of the larger beasts broke ranks from the pack and Scott chose this as his mark. He spurred his horse even harder, hefting the balanced spear above his shoulder as he bore down on his intended prey. He drew back and in one swift motion launched the spear with all his might. It flew straight and true but the beast stumbled momentarily, shifting its weight and causing the weapon to miss. Instead the edge of the spearhead traced a thin line across the rump of the beast before burying itself solidly in the ground. The creature squealed in surprise and cut sharply right.
Scott continued straight ahead and leaned left in his saddle, seizing the shaft of his spear as he passed, then shifting his weight right and turning his mount to run the animal down and try again.
The horned beast fled into a denser area of the forest, likely pure instinct Scott reasoned, to escape his pursuer amid the low-hanging boughs and large brush. Scott ducked one branch overhead without taking his eyes off the target. He shifted his weight as he directed his horse between two trees to gain ground on the smaller and more maneuverable animal weaving and dodging amid the intermittent cover. A sudden appearance of a cluster of branches, however, took him completely by surprise. He turned his head as they slapped and tore at him and, in his moment of blindness, failed to see the heavier branch ahead. It struck him only a glancing blow off the shoulder, but enough to dislodge him from his saddle and send him to the ground.
The horned beast turned tail then and lowered its horns in a full charge. Scott lifted his head dazedly but his senses came rushing back at the sight of the peril he had blundered into. Seizing the spear that had fallen beside him, he crouched low, placing his foot on the butt and lifting the point. The beast saw the threat too late. The point rammed home, piercing the chest of the creature and vaulting it up into the air by its own momentum. The body struck earth with a heavy thud and lay unmoving, the beast dead.
Scott stared at the bloody corpse of the motionless beast for several moments before daring to breathe. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, feeling lucky to have escaped this encounter with only a few bruises from the fall—let alone with his life. He stood slowly then and looked around but his horse was nowhere to be found.
“Great,” he said aloud. The animal he killed weighed in excess of two-hundred pounds and he knew there was no way he could drag it out himself. Oh well, he thought, I’m sure Haze and the others will be—
Something sharp bit into his neck, distracting him from his thoughts. He reached up and gingerly pulled the four inch, feathered needle from his skin with a wince, and then stared glassy-eyed as his vision swam at the edges.
“What the hell is…”
He didn’t finish, the potent venom dropping him to the ground unconscious even as Kurella walked up behind him.
Scott slowly opened his eyes before a flickering fire that cast away the shadows of night. He had a slight headache from whatever poison had tipped the dart, which left his thoughts a bit jumbled and confused as he lay on his side trying to contemplate the events that brought him here. What had happened? He tried to sit up but couldn’t bring his arms forward. He pulled on the bindings holding his wrists together behind his back, and puzzled out an additional cord connected his wrists to the bindings around his ankles.
“Good, you’re awake,” Kurella said from the other side of the fire. “I was afraid I was going to have to carry you the entire way.”
Scott lifted his head and surveyed his surroundings, surprised to find his kidnapper was apparently alone—at least for now. Casting his eyes back to the young woman he said, “Can’t say I feel the same.”
Kurella smiled as she poked idly at the fire with a stick. “I guess I cannot blame you for—”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re real sorry, but you’ll have to forgive me if I’m feeling less than courteous,” Scott interrupted. He rolled to his other side and, with a controlled effort, managed to sit up with his knees to his chest. The cord running between his bindings allowed no other way to get comfortable. “So are you going to tell me what this is all about?” he asked.
“What is there to know?” Kurella shrugged. “You are my prisoner, and in the morning I am taking you back with me.”
“Yeah, I gathered that much. It’s the why I don’t get.”
“I have my reasons, human.”
“Oh, well that’s different. As long as you have your reasons.”
“No one asked you if you liked it,” Kurella retorted. “Now be quiet and stop arguing with me before I become angered!”
Scott sighed, saving his sarcasm as he knew it would get him nowhere. For the time being he resolved himself to bide his time and hope for a later opportunity to escape.
The muscle in his neck where the dart had struck ached and he slowly tilted his head to stretch it. He had not gone very far before the pain made him wince.
Kurella stared into the fire, seemingly without notice of his discomfort, but then finally said, “I am sorry for drugging you, but at the time I could think of nothing else.” Scott remained silent and only continued to exercise the muscle, wincing when the pain became sharp. “Will you stop that?” Kurella barked.
“Oh, forgive me,” Scott said with sarcasm lathering every word. “If this bothers you I could always go somewhere else and do it.”
“I think you will find my teeth can become a great deal sharper than your tongue, human. Best you speak with the respect owed from captive to captor.”
Scott shook his head and made face as though to dismiss the idea as nothing more than an idle threat. In truth, however, the picture her words conjured in his mind were anything but pleasing. “By the way,” he said, thinking it best to say something – anything – rather than let her think she frightened him, “my name is Scott, not ‘human’.”
“Very well,” she rep
lied. “I shall you call you by your name if it will dull the edge on your tongue. Agreed?”
“I have a choice?”
“I shall take that as a yes,” Kurella resolved. “It is better than the alternative. I would hate to mar such a handsome face merely to teach you obedience.”
Scott stared into her brown eyes as the firelight danced across her irises, trying to deduce the depths of her conviction. She stared back at him deadpan. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Scott said finally.
Sonya sat astride Diamondside, a big black with powerful haunches, within the confines of the corral when she spied Haze and the rest of the men returning from the hunt. Eager to hear if Scott had lived up to his boasting, she wheeled Diamondside around and kicked him with her heels into a full gallop. With child-like ease, the big black soared over the split-timber fence and needed no further urging to press his run. She circled once around the returning men but couldn’t find her friend anywhere. Finally, she drew up alongside Haze, who walked with the stride of a man on a mission, and asked, “Where did Scott go?”
Without stopping Haze replied, “I am sorry, Sonya, but there has been some kind of accident.”
Sonya gasped. “Scott? Is he hurt? What happened to him?”
“We don’t know. Yesterday during the hunt he broke away and his horse returned not long after without him. Lano was able to track him to where he had fallen from his saddle, but all we found was a bloody dart and tampered tracks.”
Sonya dreaded even to think it. “You don’t think its Scott’s blood, do you?”
“We do not know, lass,” Haze replied grim set. “Who or whatever was there took great care to hide their own signs.”
“Well, we’ve got to do something!” Sonya demanded. “We’ve got to go out there and look for him!”
“I am on my way to General Corbett as we speak, Sonya. He will assemble a search party and I shall lead it myself at first light.”
“Tomorrow?” Sonya declared. “By tomorrow he could be dead! For all we know he’s already hurt and unable to help himself. We’ve got to get out there now; tell Haldorum what happened.”
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