by Amy Miles
Tree branches snag against my skirt as I race through the woods, away from the castle, away from the hunters. It is dark under the thick overgrowth of pine and spruce trees. The moonlight is spotty, affording me only minimal lighting.
The terrain is sloping and unpredictable. Large rocks and fallen trees hinder my path as I try to keep my gaze fixed ahead. How long do I have before Vladimir will unleash the hunters? He never said, and that worries me. Even if he had, I would not trust him to keep his word.
As I run, I struggle to remember all of Fane’s instructions.
Do not let yourself be cornered.
Do not go for high ground. They will expect that.
Do not bother trying to hide your tracks. You do not have time to worry upon that.
Do not let yourself bleed. That will make them ravenous.
Do not expect mercy.
Killing is the only way to stop them.
Blood will heal you. It will be your saving grace when you need it most.
With each rule I mentally review, I feel my stomach churn faster and harder. Acid rises in my throat and I know I cannot go much farther.
I throw myself behind a tree to be ill. My throat burns as the sparse contents of my stomach splatter onto the dense undergrowth. The taste that lingers as I wipe my lips is vile.
Stepping back from the tree, I spy a mint plant and pause. Fane told me they follow my scent…
I crouch low and snag fistfuls of mint, crushing the leaves between my fingers to release the spicy odor. I rub the leaves against my bare skin, careful to touch every spot. I grab fistfuls of dirt, clumps of rotting leaves left over from the previous winter, and scat from what I would guess to be a mountain lion. I hold my breath as I rub it upon my skin.
Craning my neck, I turn my head to listen and am instantly on my feet again. In the distance, I can hear them shouting. The hunt has begun.
I dash around gnarled bushes and hollowed-out logs until I reach the sputtering banks of a small stream. Scooping two large handfuls of mud onto my hair, I work the slime into each strand until I am coated from head to foot. I know this will not last long, though perhaps it will give me a fighting chance.
Ten immortals are coming for me. Each highly skilled and eager to win. I do not know what the prize will be for the person who takes my life, though I imagine it must be impressive to draw such a crowd.
My chest clenches as the pain of Fane’s presence among the group hits me yet again. I hold no qualms over killing the others. Fane is a different story.
Do I really stand a chance against him? This thought plagues me as I run, scrambling down the slope of the mountain only to be met with another. There are several miles now separating me from the castle. I have no idea how far and wide these mountains stretch. Only that they seem endless.
Fane is the least of my worries at the moment. I must focus and devise a plan to whittle down my pursuers. I know how difficult it is to kill an immortal. Taking ten down without any weapons feels like a sheer impossibility.
Once they are out of my way, I will focus on Fane. He has intimate knowledge into my strengths and weaknesses. He knows I drop my shoulder when I parry and my footing is always wrong. My timing is a hair too slow and I lack conviction in my swing.
Tonight I must be perfect in everything that I do. I must win. I am a survivor.
Last until sunrise. That is your only task. I follow the banks of the stream for several minutes, careful not to splash in the water as I pass. The moon rises higher above, casting bright light upon the glistening water. Though I am grateful for the light with which to see by, I also realize it will be easier to spot me.
I pause to catch my breath and survey my surroundings. I am deep within the heart of the mountains. Spruce and pine trees block my view of the valley beyond. Darkness is all around. I cannot spy any hint of firelight from a village. This area was chosen for its remoteness.
The howl of a wolf startles me and I nearly topple off the rock outcropping that I perch upon. Its cry rises from the canyon below and is swiftly echoed from across the valley. There are other hunters in these woods tonight.
I hear the snap of a twig a split second before an arrow bursts from the edge of the woods. I instinctively roll to the side and come up to my feet, mere inches from the drop-off. Squinting against the moonlight, I peer deep into the woods for any sign of my attacker, though I see and hear none.
It must be Rymus, I think as I drop to a crouch. Fane taught me a smaller target is harder to hit and this position is the best to give me leverage should I need to dart away or leap to attack. Is he alone? How did he find me before the others?
Rymus is slight in stature, soft footed, and lethal with a bow. Fane warned me that I should not underestimate this man from the north. He could have crept along the forest floor with hardly a sound, though as I search the forest floor, I realize the arrow did not come from ground level. I look up and peer into the depths of the spruce trees standing before me.
It takes me several seconds to spot him clinging to a tree trunk nearly twenty feet in the air. His dark clothes blend perfectly with his surroundings, though he fails to hide the metal tip of his arrow from the moonlight. I see a glint of metal a split second before it comes hurtling toward me.
Without a thought, I turn and dash into the woods, running faster than I have ever gone. The cold winds whip my hair behind me, lashing against my cheeks. My footsteps pound the earth in rhythm with my thumping heart. I hear a thundering crash from behind me and know someone else has discovered my trail.
I urge myself on as a hulking shape appears to my right. Castor the Scot is on my tail, his kilt flapping out behind him. This immortal is twice my size, with arms as big as wine barrels. Beefy hands clench his favored weapon: a rust-colored wooden staff with an anvil-like head on the top. With one swing he could break every bone in my body.
Run faster! I silently scold as I leap over a downed pine tree. My scream follows me down into the ravine as I lose my footing. I tumble end over end, crying out as I am bumped and jostled, finally coming to a halt at the bottom. Get up! Get up!
Lurching to my feet, I cast a wary glance over my shoulder and my heart stops. Three more are upon me, riding the loose soil straight toward me. Lucien is in the lead, followed by Barrett and the bear-like brute Timen, whose broad-axe seems to be an extension of his arm.
I cannot fight all of them at once. Think, Roseline! I dart a glance around me and seize on an errant idea. Five are behind me, which means five more are still out there. It will only be a few moments before I have all ten gathered. I must find a way to thin them out one by one.
Fane warned me against seeking high ground so they expect I will follow his advice. That is why I will not.
I rush into the shadows and flip backward into a tree. Digging my nails into the bark, I rise swiftly to the top. The tree sways dangerously under my weight so I shift to compensate as I get a lay of the land.
“She has gone aloft!” a man shouts from below.
I hear their pounding steps as they reach the leaf-strewn ground beneath me. I have to move. The muscles in my legs flex as I leap from the tree and scramble to grasp the next. Like a flying squirrel, I jump through the forest from one treetop to the next. I can hear the shouts below me as confusion reigns, unsure if they should come up after me or stay below.
I wince as a dagger spirals through the air, slicing through the top layer of my cheek. As warm blood oozes along the wound, I turn to find Barrett halfway up the tree beside me. His beady black eyes are wide with triumph. “I am coming for you, Roseline.”
“You look a tad unsteady, Barrett. Are you afraid of heights?” I call back as I watch him clutch the tree with colorless fingers. I laugh as he risks a glance down and then scowls back at me. “Let us see just how scared you really are.”
I snatch his dagger from the tree trunk and leap to the next tree, searching for greater heights. I clamp the blade between my teeth, tasting my blood upon it. My stomach c
hurns, though I push aside my revulsion. Others have begun to climb behind me, though they seem as unsure as Barrett. For the first time since entering these woods, a laugh passes my lips, low enough to be snatched away by the wind, though a chorus of snarls below me lets me know that all heard it.
A new sensation begins to bud within me: hope. Can I really survive this night? Can I outsmart these hunters? Fane was reluctant to reveal that none of the other wives had lasted until the moon was high overhead. I have and then some.
That tiny ounce of hope vanishes as I spot Fane atop the far ridge. His stance is rigid, his face grim as he clutches his sword in hand. He is staring right at me. It is impossible to tell from this distance what he is thinking. His face is a mask, concealing his emotions. Just stay away from him, I mutter silently as I leap again.
The view from here is spectacular. I can see the foothills that lead into the mountains, see the rolling pastureland where animals will graze on the sweet dewy grass at dawn. I can see plumes of smoke spiraling up into the cloudless sky from homesteads across the land. Somewhere out there in the dark was my home.
Is it abandoned now? Has someone moved in to seize my father’s lands? I am seized by a longing to see my former home, and with that thought comes an even stronger one. You know those woods. In those woods you would have the advantage.
“Come and get me,” I whisper to myself as I increase my pace, broadening the distance between Barrett and myself.
I can hear pounding feet below and know that those remaining on the ground have not lost my trail. How long would it take me to run home? An hour by foot? Perhaps more. The mountains are sure to slow my pace. I cannot hope to outrun the hunters. Their bellies are full of blood, making them stronger and faster, though if I could wear them out…
I search about me for somewhere I can hide. I nearly weep with relief when I spy a lake ahead of me. If only I can make it there before the others.
Reaching behind me, I grab my dagger from my waist and slash it across my palm. A growl rises from below as I squeeze droplets of blood onto the branches, squeezing my hand so it splatters onto the ground. Tearing a strip of leather from my skirt, I bind my hand and dive for a tree ahead of me, disappearing into the branches. The scent of my blood will only slow them for a moment. Long enough for me to make my escape.
“Where is the girl? Who claimed her? Rales? Theron? Can you see her?” Lucien’s tone is cold and livid. I can hear him pacing below. The two beefy bodyguards who manhandled me from my room earlier step out into the moonlight and stare up into the tree, trying to catch a glimpse of me. They look in the wrong place.
“Can you see her?”
“No. She is hidden.”
I inch out on my branch and peer through the thick boughs to see Fane approaching from the west, his blade lowered. Lucien’s mane of hair flaps wildly as he rapidly shakes his head. “Barrett, what can you spy?”
“Nothing,” a grunt replies from several trees behind. “I can smell her. Who claimed the first blood?”
I press back into the tree trunk and still my breathing. I close my eyes and rest for the briefest of moments. My hand is throbbing, though I fight to ignore the pain as I consider my options.
If I move, they will instantly be on my trail. If I do not, someone will eventually climb the tree to discover that I remain. Chittering over my shoulder makes me nearly cry out. I clasp my hand over my mouth to still my cry as I turn to find a squirrel emerging from its nest. I stare into its black eyes and silently thank it for its sacrifice.
Untying my bandage, I drag my blade across my palm, digging deeper into my flesh. I snatch the animal with my wounded hand and smear crimson blood across its head, back, and fluffy tail. I yank out strands of my hair and wrap them around its tail so the wind will carry my scent.
Thank you, my lips silently mime as I turn and hurl the squirrel through the air into a tree to my left.
“Stop!” I close my eyes and press back into the tree trunk, clasping my wounded hand to my chest, praying my ruse will work. Seconds slip past as I hold my breath. “She is moving to the north!”
Barrett curses as he clambers down out of the tree, taking to the ground after the rest of the hunters. Their progress is cumbersome as they each fight for the lead. Lucien comes out ahead as he turns and shoves the tip of his sword straight through Rales’ throat. His brother rounds on Lucien, who is already on the move. Theron whips his spike mace in the air, intent on smashing in the side of Lucien’s face, though Lucien sidesteps and slashes his glistening blade across his abdomen. The two giants fall and lie still.
“She is escaping and you are concerned with narrowing the competition?” Barrett grunts as he shoves past and tries to slight Timen’s lead.
“I never cared for them anyway.” Lucien leaps to his feet and dashes after Barrett. I wait until the sounds of their retreat have faded before I emerge and leap to the ground.
The forest is still, though I know it is not without its perils. I have yet to see Rymus and his brother Cain. Castor from Wallachia has failed to make an appearance as well.
I say a silent prayer of thanks as I rise and listen. Fane taught me well. He knew the men who would most likely volunteer for this hunt. He told me their skills and their weaknesses. I only hope this knowledge will help me before the night is out.
With silent footfalls, I race toward the lake, drawn by the churning surface. It shines brightly in the moonlight, calling me to safety. I pause at the water’s edge and look back over my shoulder. I cannot hear any sounds of my pursuers, though I know it will not take them long to discover my ruse. Tying my hair into a knot at the base of my neck, I turn to face the water and stop short.
Fane emerges from the tree line, his sword tip plunged into the earth. “Are you here to kill me?” I call softly.
“No.” There is no emotion on his face, no hint of thought in his eyes.
“With whom does your loyalty lie? With my husband or with me?”
Fane evades my question as strongly as he avoids my direct gaze. “I know where it is that you will go.”
I hesitate, wondering if he truly does. “Will you tell them?”
A hint of a smile flits across his lips as he lifts his sword and places it upon his shoulder. “The hunt ends at dawn. Survive ‘til then and you will live.”
He turns to leave. “You want me to hide? You told me not to,” I call out to him.
Fane glances back over his shoulder. “I also instructed you not to bleed. However, that appears to have worked out rather well for you.”
He vanishes back into the forest without a sound. I turn to face the water and pump my fist in triumph, then leap into the frigid depths of the lake and head for home.
THIRTY-FOUR