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<blockquote data-quote="Greenfield" data-source="post: 5934192" data-attributes="member: 6669384"><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">***</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Penn and Seeburn both recovered from their injuries, with help, and the festivities continued.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Many of the games were fun, most were warlike, but one in particular brought some to their feet.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"They can't do that!", Imagina declared in shock. A man was being brought out onto the field and tethered to a stake with a long chain. Archers were lining up to fire.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Sit down!", Seeburn ordered sharply, his old fire coming to the fore once more.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"But that's barbaric!"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn glowered at her. "Look at where you are, and look at who lives here.", he said with emphasis. "These men were given a choice. If they can dodge the arrows long enough to free themselves, they're free. They understand exactly what they're getting into."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"But why?"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"It's simple. We're at war. The enemy has burned some of our fields, stolen or slaughtered some of our flocks. Its winter, and we just took over 700 prisoners last night. We can't feed them all. We won't intentionally starve them, but if I have to choose between feeding my family and feeding an enemy who came to kill my family..."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The Enchantress' mouth worked for several seconds without any resultant words coming forth. Her lands seldom suffered this level of privation, and winters like this were unheard of.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Marcus watched as harsh reality set in on his companion. Rome had crucified entire armies that had come against her, and slaves often fought for the entertainment of the crowds in the Colluseum. This kind of sport might not be to the lady's taste, but it was sport none the less, and no man was being forced to participate.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">He did notice, though, that the Centaurs had, as a body, turned away from this spectacle.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">A cheer went up as the first of the prisoners fell. More would follow.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The fires roared and the music played, the people danced and the minstrels sang far into the night.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The castle's capacity to throw feasts was running thin, but the King wouldn't let on such a weakness. To hide the sparseness of his larder, he covered with generosity.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Here here!", cried the King, raising a heavy bow above his head. "Tomorrow we hunt!", he cried. "Form your parties and make your plans. The group that brings back the finest trophy will be awarded handsomely. My own great bow will be theirs!"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Cassius quietly groaned. "We're going, aren't we?", he asked.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Is there really a question about that?"</span> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">***</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The morning was gray, as all mornings had been for years, but this morning had the added benefit of light snow shifting to occasional slushy drizzle.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">None the less, hunting parties were setting out well before dawn. Some rode out through the fields and into the hills beyond. Some hunted in the closer woods. Several parties had arranged for boats to take them up or down coast, to get away from the other groups, and beyond territories that were in danger of being over hunted.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn lead the companions to such a boat, a smile on his face and a hunting falcon on his arm. "I sent a few friends ahead, to scout and be ready to beat the bushes.", he said with a conspiratorial air. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"I guess it's good to be the King's son, eh?", Sylus smiled, nudging his friend in a friendly way. Then he looked at the kilted Scott a bit harder. "You know, for a man who got beaten half to death in front of his father yesterday, you're in remarkably good spirits."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"My father was happy for me. Not that I lost, but that I fought with a sword and gave it everything I had."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Marcus nodded, then paused, as if expecting something else. "Where's Penn?", he asked, when he realized that the Bard was absent.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"He said he wants to work on some potions.", Sylus informed him. "Besides, can you imagine trying to hunt with him around? He'd be singing and talking and scaring all the game away. I mean, I like him well enough, but he never shuts up."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Imagina raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was the longest speech she'd ever heard from the normally taciturn huntsman. "Cassius stayed behind too. I don't think he likes to hunt."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Hunt? He doesn't even own a bow.", Sylus laughed. "Sometimes I don't understand that boy."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The cry of the gulls echoed off the rocky shore as they headed south, and the smell of saltwater filled their nostrils as the sail was set. The winter sea was choppy, and the wind cut like a knife, but the boatman knew the waters well, and guided them safely to their destination.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"We're well south of the Wall", he reminded them, "so be on the lookout for trouble. I'll land you there, at the inlet, and I'll be back with the evening tide. If you're not ready then, I'll check again in the morning. If you aren't back by then, I'll go get help."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"You mean, we're poaching on someone else's lands?", Sylus asked in surprise.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Does that bother you? It's part of the game.", Seeburn laughed. "The Bretons poach our lands, we poach theirs. Come the spring, we'll be at war again, and these lands might change hands. "</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Doesn't bother me.", Sylus laughed. "I've never owned any land of my own, but I hunt all the time, and my pot never goes empty. I just wanted to be sure."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The boatman paddled hard to catch a small wave and ride it in, high onto the shore. They finally slid to a grinding stop on the gravel beach, bracing themselves for balance. "Be safe, be warm, be lucky, and be back by sunset.", the boatman advised as they clambered out of the small craft.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Something colorful fluttered in the breeze on the bluffs above, and Seeburn laughed. "My friends have been here all right.", he said, pointing upslope. He then lead the group up a narrow slot in the stone and clay, cut by a rivulet.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">As they climbed, they spied what the Barbarian had been pointing to. A pair of bodies, dead less than a day, were laid out on the slope facing the sea, pinned in place by a pair of arrows each. Bright ribbons had been tied to the fletchings, to mark the location.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Friends of yours?", Nedel asked, nodding towards the pair.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"No, just their handiwork. Sometime the Bretons post a shore watch. Now they get to watch the shore all they want. It's the fortunes of war, you know. My friends will have set up a hunter's camp inland, and we'll probably have a hot meal at midday, thanks to them."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The sorcerer nodded, but noted the uncomfortable looks on Marcus and Imagina's faces. Unlike he and Seeburn, they weren't accustomed to having servants about. Sylus, as usual, kept his feelings well masked.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Sylus and Seeburn took the lead positions, one to the left of the group and one to the right. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Sylus easily spotted the tracks left by the scouts, and decided to veer away from them a bit. Their tracks were so heavy and clear that they would likely have frightened much of the local game. He understood the value of a beater or a good dog when hunting small game birds, but they weren't going to win any prizes with grouse, rabbit or game hen. And despite Penn's pretty speech to the King, sometimes you did go hunting for specific quarry.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">He held up his hand to get Seeburn's attention, then parted his fingers and pointed towards a heavy stand of trees off to the left. Seeburn understood the hunter's sign and altered his path accordingly. They'd approach from two sides to flush out whatever might be there. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Sylus hadn't seen anything in those woods, nor any real spore or trail sign, but Seeburn didn't know that, and so he lead the group out of the planned and prepared hunting area. They were on their own.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Hours passed before they came across any real track, but that's the way it is when you hunt. Patience is emphasized.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn saw Sylus' signal, and read the sign right. Two fingers to the forehead meant deer or elk, and three fingers pulled tightly together and pointing to the ground meant clear tracks.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">They followed for perhaps a hundred yards when the Ranger pulled up, looking troubled. He waved the group together, since he knew that the others wouldn't understand the silent language of the stalker.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"A small herd of deer came through here.", he explained, tracing the track with his fingers. "Wolves followed. See how their tracks are on top of the deer? The deer are walking, but the wolves aren't. See the length of the stride?"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"So what does it mean? What do we do?"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"We hurry. The wolves might have gotten their kill already, and scattered the herd. But I haven't heard any howls or yips, so I don't think so. At least not yet."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn nodded, agreeing with both what the trail sign meant, and with what they should do.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Blackie, up!", he instructed, casting his bird into the late morning breeze.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The sharp beat of his wings faded as he gained altitude. Then he circled one time and headed inland. He knew what his master sought.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The winter branches rattled in the cold wind, skeleton bare, just dense enough to confuse the eye when one tried to follow a bird in flight, but Seeburn needed no eyes at all to know that his avian friend had found what they sought. The bird circled far ahead, then stooped, hard, off and to the left.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Soon it could be seen flying back, the limp form of a dead rabbit dangling from his talons.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Does your bird know that rabbits don't have antlers?", laughed Marcus.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Oh he knows. But he found the deer before finding his own feast.", Seeburn assured them. "A thousand yards or so ahead. He circled the area, that's his signal."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">And they set off at a quick trot, with Sylus pausing only occasionally to make sure they were still on the trail.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">He slowed the group to a walk as they approached the area, and again Seeburn took a flank position.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Listening carefully, he still detected no sounds of a wolf pack signaling a hunt or kill, yet he knew that they hadn't passed the pack either. His eyes scanned the area, looking for some sign of movement.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">And something caught his eye. Not low, where deer or wolves would be, but higher up, atop a low rock outcropping. A tiny manlike figure crouched there, one with skin the color of dark red clay, tiny batlike wings, a sharply barbed tail and a grin that could only be described as "devilish".</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Be careful!", the tiny figure warned in a low whisper. "You're not alone!"</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">***</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Sylus simply stared for a few heartbeats, then his bow snapped into firing position, but by then the Imp was gone.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Did you see that?", he asked, keeping his voice low.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"See what?"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"An Imp. He was over there.", he said, pointing towards the rock.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn's bow was also in position now, and he scanned the area for any disturbance. A flicker of movement caught his eye, a slight swirl in the snow where none should be, and he fired almost before he realized what he was doing. The arrow struck something unseen and fell to the ground.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Now that's not very nice.", came a giggling voice.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>Rootbind</em>", Sylus said, sliding his hand beneath the snow to find the earth. And even in the dead of winter, the power of the magic awakened the plants. Starting at the Ranger's hand and spreading forward, a ripple flowed across the woods, and the thick brush began to twist and reach, looking for something to take hold of.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Well done.", laughed the childish voice. "I don't see how that can fail."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Sylus' mouth twisted in a silent snarl of frustration. He began to circle to his right, avoiding the area affected by his spell. Seeburn and Imagina began to move to the left.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Shhhh.", a small voice urged the Enchantress as she passed a small rock. "You're going the wrong way. They're on the other side."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">She looked down, following the sound of laughter, and spied the Imp in his hiding place. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The imp, in turn, sat on his haunches and rocked back and forth in glee when the Human simply hardened her face and pressed on in the same direction. She was giving her "friends" neither warning nor aid, but instead saving herself while they stood in harm's way. He heartily approved.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">He didn't even bother trying to warn the other Human, the one who had shot him, when he went past. Instead he simply handed back the arrow the Human had fired at him earlier. The fact that Seeburn accepted it and moved on in silence confirmed that this one too was thinking of himself first. Or perhaps he had designs on the woman. Perhaps? That might prove interesting, he decided, so once more he wrapped himself in shadows and took to the air.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Nedel and Marcus moved to the right, more quickly and with less caution than Sylus. The Ranger signaled them to get down, but the pair were impervious to reason. Or perhaps they didn't see or understand the silent language of the hunter.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Nedel saw Sylus' furtive gestures, and froze in place. He peered into the brush and waited, fingers halfway twisted into the magical gesture of the arcane bolt. Anything that moved was going to bleed.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Then, from behind a broad juniper, there came the low, slinking form of a wolf, his thick fur flowing with shades of gray that would easily blend into the shadows. The beast bared its teeth, preparing to spring.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">But before it could, arcane energies leaped out first, scoring three ragged tears in the beast's heavy winter coat. And with a yelp and a whine, the wolf spun in place and fled, tail between his legs.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">But in those scant few seconds when it was visible, Sylus saw something important. That wolf had been wearing a collar.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Someplace in the brush, a hunter cursed silently at the grasses that had wrapped themselves around his legs. He was busy with his hunting knife, trying to cut away the sod that they rooted in, but winter had hardened the ground to near-stone, and he was making no progress.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn was so angry he almost couldn't see, but he couldn't afford to lose control right now. He wanted to kill that Imp, but he knew that there were other problems at the moment. He'd heard the whine and yelp of the injured wolf, so the fiendish creature had been telling the truth about the danger, and evil though it was, it hadn't itself done them any harm.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Imagina was ten paces to his rear, and advancing as slowly as he was now. He sought tracks the way he'd been taught, keeping his gaze up and using the lower edge of his vision. And he'd seen them. Several sets of boot prints, areas where the thin dusting of snow had been scattered or pressed flat, small branches that had been broken in passing.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The trail ended in sadness. Two bodies, his friends from the castle, lay beneath some low cover, their throats slit. This wasn't the work of wolves, that was for certain.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Sylus rolled forward from his hunter's crouch, moving on all fours now, toes and fingertips the only parts of his body in contact with the earth. His bow was held crosswise to his body, an arrow in his teeth. "<em>Call of Nature</em>", he intoned softly as he went, listening to the quiet whispers of the woods.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Ahead he heard silence, and he headed for it, for in nature only the predator is silent. The world around the predator is silent. And being a predator himself, he was silent.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">There, lurking behind some of the low juniper, was a second wolf. And a third lay in wait off to his right. He'd known they'd be there, for there is no such thing as only one wolf hunting.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">He growled softly, his body adding meaning to the sounds as his magics directed. "</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>Me. These others. My pack.</em>", he declared firmly. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>These. Me. My pack.</em>", came the reply. And both waited.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">After a long moment, Sylus "spoke" again. "</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>Who is alpha? Where?</em>"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>Master? He guards the kill.</em>", came the reply, including a sense of direction: Out into the twisting grasses.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>Good hunting. We won't steal your kill. Peace.</em>", Sylus offered.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>Peace.</em>" the wolf agreed, though neither side truly relaxed their stance.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The hunter looked up and saw his lupine companion limping along the edge of the entangled area, saw the blood, and grew frantic. Abandoning his efforts to cut his way free, he stood and tore one foot out of the grasses by sheer might. Then the other. One step at a time he dragged himself towards his bleeding friend, ripping each foot free again and again as he went. Someone had hurt his dog, and they were going to pay!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Behind him a deer, mate of the one the hunter had killed, leaped from cover, only to be tripped and brought down by the grasping grasses. Its eyes were wild with fear as it dragged itself to its feet. There was blood smell, wolves and men all around and it had to run. It had to </span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>run</em>! Everything it knew, every fiber of its being urged flight, but it couldn't. Somehow it couldn't move its feet. </span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn saw movement in the clearing, a man with a bloody knife in his hand ripping and tearing his way across the open area. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Slashed throats. A bloody knife. His bow came up unbidden, and he let fly with deadly accuracy.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The man in the field cried out and arched his back in pain as the quarrel struck home. But he didn't fall. Instead he pressed onward, more determined than ever to get free.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn tried to line up a second shot, but found his line of fire blocked by a thrashing deer. He fired anyway.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The deer bucked and thrashed in pain, twisting and ripping at the grasses with such vigor that it nearly broke its own leg in the struggle. But neither bone nor grass parted. It was a nightmare come real, the worst of all terrors., and it would not end.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The song of the bowstring and the man's cry of pain galvanized the wolves.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Dashing through the brush, leaping over the pair that Sylus had been talking to, came another wolf. It barreled into Sylus, taking him to the ground.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">And the other two ended their stasis as well. One sprang forward towards Nedel and Marcus, razor sharp teeth set in jaws that could crush bone. But those teeth closed on thin air only, blocked aside by the Sorcerer's staff.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The second wolf saw Sylus on the ground, being savaged by its hunting partner, and it couldn't resist. It sprang into the struggle.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Sylus, with deep regret, was forced to defend himself. He feinted with the arrow he'd been holding, while at the same time drawing his sword with the other hand. He had no footing, and laying on his back he couldn't truly put any weight behind the blow, but steel bit deep and a wolf fell.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">And off in the distance, a hunter brought his own bow into play, sending an arrow back at Seeburn. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>Be my right hand!</em>", intoned Marcus as he stepped away from the snarling wolf. A flash of lightning and a crack of thunder, and a spear appeared on the scene, the chosen weapon of Jupiter, king of the gods. It drew itself up from where it had struck, moving of its own accord, and stabbed at the wolf in an attempt to drive it away.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Nedel also shifted away from the conflict, sending another flurry of arcane bolts into the attacking wolf.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn fired again, and once more was gratified to see the far archer recoil in pain. Instead of returning fire, the man gave a loud whistle and began to run, dodging into the trees, heading south, injured wolves behind him.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn went after him, for the wild madness that lay in his heart let him run like the wind. But while the other man had a direct path, Seeburn had to finish skirting the glade of twisting grasses, and so the Barbarian fell behind.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The wolf harrying Sylus looked up at the whistle. It was a tribute to the discipline the man had instilled that the creature could tear itself out of that fight, but it did. It turned and ran.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Off behind him somewhere, another wolf was snapping at a spear and dying when it caught it. The battle was over.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">With an effort of will, Sylus ended his spell, returning the undergrowth to its winter sleep.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn saw movement within the clearing now. A wounded deer struggled to its feet. His blade was out in an instant, and the deer fell dead.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">And rising from the grass came four more wolves, held prisoner by the spell until this moment.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">They looked at Seeburn, who had hurt their master. They smelled the blood, heard the death throes of the fallen deer. And then they heard once more their master's whistle, and turned to leave.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn's bow was out once more, and he fired at the lead wolf as it turned to leave.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The small pack turned on him as one, and suddenly he knew how the deer felt.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">In the middle of this madness a small form appeared. Red, winged, dancing and taunting. "Ha ha, can't catch meeeeee!", the Imp cried, darting south.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The wolves ignored the distraction and charged Seeburn.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Nedel swore when he saw the hunter making his escape. If that man got away, he'd return with more. Many more. His feet were moving before his brain had fully formed the thought, and he found himself sprinting through brush in hot pursuit. A lone Sorcerer from a city far away, chasing a hunter and his pack of wolves through a wilderness that the hunter knew well. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">But the man continued to flee, his wolves having either run ahead or dispersing into the brush. Nedel found himself hoping the wolves were very quick indeed.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">He broke out of a small stand of trees and scrambled down a gravel slope. For a bare instant he had a clear view of the man, but before he could raise his hand or summon the power, the man had realized his danger and darted to cover. Nedel tried to parallel him, but found that he couldn't re-mount that slope as quickly as the southland man had.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">He stopped and panted for a few moments. He had run some distance from his friends, and realized that none had followed him. Pressing the pursuit now could get him killed. And to the north he heard the roar of a giant, and the sounds of a wolf pack on the attack.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The pack came in quickly, it's leaders attempting a swift, slashing attack while the others circled. Their teeth met leather and armor, but Seeburn was in trouble and he knew it. So he did two things.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>Verbeig!</em>", he announced, feeling the magic take hold and elevating him to the towering height of a small Giant. Next, he let go. The anger he'd felt towards his father, the loss of his friends, the sight of their murderer escaping, all of it roared through him like a river. It rose from the pit of his stomach, through his heart and came out his throat in an animalistic cry of rage. His vision ran red, and Seeburn was gone. All that was left was the fury.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Across the field, Sylus heard that roar, heard the cried of the wolves, and knew he had to hurry.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><em>Vitai</em>", he murmured softly, laying his hands on the injured wolf. You didn't kill another man's hunting dogs. That was just wrong.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Imagina's bow sang, and an arrow struck the haunch of one of the circling wolves. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn roared and swung his huge blade, oblivious to the aid his friends tried to give, oblivious to the pain in his legs as a pair of wolves tore at his heels in an attempt to hamstring him. Oblivious to everything except the need to kill. And kill he did. His sword swept completely through one wolf, cleaving through a small sapling on the follow through. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">And Sylus came bounding in, bent nearly double, snarling and howling like a man possessed, bashing at wolves with his longbow as he came.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The remaining wolves tried to flee, but Seeburn's reach was long, and another wolf fell in mid spring, parting with a spray of blood and landing in two places.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">And it was over. Seeburn's head snapped from one side to the other, madness in his eyes, looking for something to kill, but there was nothing left. His friends knew that look all too well, and backed away, letting the battle rage fade. Until it did, it wasn't safe to approach him.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"All in all, a good hunt.", Sylus said, trying to raise Seeburn's spirits. "Two deer, and a small stack of wolf hides." He wasn't happy about those last, but he knew that the others didn't really understand the hunter's code.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"They were my friends.", Seeburn said simply, as he prepared the bodies of his fallen comrades for the long, cold trip home.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"It's war. And everyone who dies is someone's friend.", Nedel said.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"I'm sure the men staked out by the shore were friends of the hunter who escaped.", Imagina added.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The look in Seeburn's eye silenced her. It was plain that he simply couldn't equate the death of two strangers to the way his own friends had died. War or not, death is seldom a welcome companion.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">[FONT=&quot]*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The trip home was a long one, made longer by head winds and heavy hearts. They'd won the field but there was no sense of victory. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">That evening Seeburn sponsored a memorial for his fallen friends, an odd mixture of sadness and celebration as people spoke of their virtues in life and drank to their health as if they were still present.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Added to this was a turbulent undercurrent, for they'd held festival, battle, more festival, contest and then this sad remembrance, all in the span of three short days.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Some blamed Seeburn for the strange days, for all had been quiet before he and his friends had arrived. Others blamed the Bretons of Carlisle, the neighboring city to the south with whom they traded goods and occasional curses, and from which the lone hunter had probably come.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Sylus, ever cautious when angry moods and alcohol mixed, kept his ears open. He was surprised at what was said.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"The evils of Carlisle have finally been met.", one man said. "The city stands deserted, cursed for the wicked ways of the Bretons there."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"You lie!", swore another man. "Why would anyone flee into the snow in a winter such as this?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Nay, 'tis sooth I say, for I heard it from me cousin, who knows the brother's wife of the stable tender for the south guard. And she says...", the conversation trailed away, lost in the revelry of the room.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Demons inhabit that place, I've always said.", came another voice.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"I thought you always swore it was the dead man's curse that dwelt there.", came the challenge.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Demons or the undying, same thing. The point is that even the Bret's know when things are getting too bad. The point is...", came another snippet.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The huntsman kept moving, for as an outsider he knew that his presence was viewed with suspicion, at best.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">He spied Seeburn, standing near to Marcus, who had passed out from too much drink. It was unclear if he was planning some mischief, or preventing it, but he was still upright and that was the important thing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"I'm hearing rumors. Some of the hunting parties, some of the patrols, some of the border watchers, all saying the same thing. People fleeing Carlisle, the city empty or emptying. They'll be looking for a refuge, and some will look this way."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Seeburn nodded, his pain and anger clear on his face. "They killed my friends, let them die the winter death."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Sylus nodded, then spied Penn. "Here, let's get Marcus to his cot, while we can still walk ourselves." He'd had little to drink, but wanted a way to leave gracefully before a brawl broke out. And while the whip-thin Bard would be of little help carrying the drunken Cleric, he too looked as if he wanted an excuse to leave.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Their escape was foiled, however, by the entrance of one of the King's messengers, summoning them to a private audience.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span>[/FONT]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Greenfield, post: 5934192, member: 6669384"] [FONT=Arial]*** Penn and Seeburn both recovered from their injuries, with help, and the festivities continued. Many of the games were fun, most were warlike, but one in particular brought some to their feet.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "They can't do that!", Imagina declared in shock. A man was being brought out onto the field and tethered to a stake with a long chain. Archers were lining up to fire.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Sit down!", Seeburn ordered sharply, his old fire coming to the fore once more.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "But that's barbaric!"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Seeburn glowered at her. "Look at where you are, and look at who lives here.", he said with emphasis. "These men were given a choice. If they can dodge the arrows long enough to free themselves, they're free. They understand exactly what they're getting into."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "But why?"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "It's simple. We're at war. The enemy has burned some of our fields, stolen or slaughtered some of our flocks. Its winter, and we just took over 700 prisoners last night. We can't feed them all. We won't intentionally starve them, but if I have to choose between feeding my family and feeding an enemy who came to kill my family..."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The Enchantress' mouth worked for several seconds without any resultant words coming forth. Her lands seldom suffered this level of privation, and winters like this were unheard of.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Marcus watched as harsh reality set in on his companion. Rome had crucified entire armies that had come against her, and slaves often fought for the entertainment of the crowds in the Colluseum. This kind of sport might not be to the lady's taste, but it was sport none the less, and no man was being forced to participate.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] He did notice, though, that the Centaurs had, as a body, turned away from this spectacle.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] A cheer went up as the first of the prisoners fell. More would follow.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** The fires roared and the music played, the people danced and the minstrels sang far into the night. The castle's capacity to throw feasts was running thin, but the King wouldn't let on such a weakness. To hide the sparseness of his larder, he covered with generosity.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Here here!", cried the King, raising a heavy bow above his head. "Tomorrow we hunt!", he cried. "Form your parties and make your plans. The group that brings back the finest trophy will be awarded handsomely. My own great bow will be theirs!"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Cassius quietly groaned. "We're going, aren't we?", he asked.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Is there really a question about that?"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial]*** The morning was gray, as all mornings had been for years, but this morning had the added benefit of light snow shifting to occasional slushy drizzle. None the less, hunting parties were setting out well before dawn. Some rode out through the fields and into the hills beyond. Some hunted in the closer woods. Several parties had arranged for boats to take them up or down coast, to get away from the other groups, and beyond territories that were in danger of being over hunted.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Seeburn lead the companions to such a boat, a smile on his face and a hunting falcon on his arm. "I sent a few friends ahead, to scout and be ready to beat the bushes.", he said with a conspiratorial air. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "I guess it's good to be the King's son, eh?", Sylus smiled, nudging his friend in a friendly way. Then he looked at the kilted Scott a bit harder. "You know, for a man who got beaten half to death in front of his father yesterday, you're in remarkably good spirits."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "My father was happy for me. Not that I lost, but that I fought with a sword and gave it everything I had."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Marcus nodded, then paused, as if expecting something else. "Where's Penn?", he asked, when he realized that the Bard was absent.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "He said he wants to work on some potions.", Sylus informed him. "Besides, can you imagine trying to hunt with him around? He'd be singing and talking and scaring all the game away. I mean, I like him well enough, but he never shuts up."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Imagina raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was the longest speech she'd ever heard from the normally taciturn huntsman. "Cassius stayed behind too. I don't think he likes to hunt."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Hunt? He doesn't even own a bow.", Sylus laughed. "Sometimes I don't understand that boy."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The cry of the gulls echoed off the rocky shore as they headed south, and the smell of saltwater filled their nostrils as the sail was set. The winter sea was choppy, and the wind cut like a knife, but the boatman knew the waters well, and guided them safely to their destination.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "We're well south of the Wall", he reminded them, "so be on the lookout for trouble. I'll land you there, at the inlet, and I'll be back with the evening tide. If you're not ready then, I'll check again in the morning. If you aren't back by then, I'll go get help."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "You mean, we're poaching on someone else's lands?", Sylus asked in surprise.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Does that bother you? It's part of the game.", Seeburn laughed. "The Bretons poach our lands, we poach theirs. Come the spring, we'll be at war again, and these lands might change hands. "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Doesn't bother me.", Sylus laughed. "I've never owned any land of my own, but I hunt all the time, and my pot never goes empty. I just wanted to be sure."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The boatman paddled hard to catch a small wave and ride it in, high onto the shore. They finally slid to a grinding stop on the gravel beach, bracing themselves for balance. "Be safe, be warm, be lucky, and be back by sunset.", the boatman advised as they clambered out of the small craft.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Something colorful fluttered in the breeze on the bluffs above, and Seeburn laughed. "My friends have been here all right.", he said, pointing upslope. He then lead the group up a narrow slot in the stone and clay, cut by a rivulet.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] As they climbed, they spied what the Barbarian had been pointing to. A pair of bodies, dead less than a day, were laid out on the slope facing the sea, pinned in place by a pair of arrows each. Bright ribbons had been tied to the fletchings, to mark the location.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Friends of yours?", Nedel asked, nodding towards the pair.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "No, just their handiwork. Sometime the Bretons post a shore watch. Now they get to watch the shore all they want. It's the fortunes of war, you know. My friends will have set up a hunter's camp inland, and we'll probably have a hot meal at midday, thanks to them."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The sorcerer nodded, but noted the uncomfortable looks on Marcus and Imagina's faces. Unlike he and Seeburn, they weren't accustomed to having servants about. Sylus, as usual, kept his feelings well masked.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** Sylus and Seeburn took the lead positions, one to the left of the group and one to the right. Sylus easily spotted the tracks left by the scouts, and decided to veer away from them a bit. Their tracks were so heavy and clear that they would likely have frightened much of the local game. He understood the value of a beater or a good dog when hunting small game birds, but they weren't going to win any prizes with grouse, rabbit or game hen. And despite Penn's pretty speech to the King, sometimes you did go hunting for specific quarry.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] He held up his hand to get Seeburn's attention, then parted his fingers and pointed towards a heavy stand of trees off to the left. Seeburn understood the hunter's sign and altered his path accordingly. They'd approach from two sides to flush out whatever might be there. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Sylus hadn't seen anything in those woods, nor any real spore or trail sign, but Seeburn didn't know that, and so he lead the group out of the planned and prepared hunting area. They were on their own.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** Hours passed before they came across any real track, but that's the way it is when you hunt. Patience is emphasized. Seeburn saw Sylus' signal, and read the sign right. Two fingers to the forehead meant deer or elk, and three fingers pulled tightly together and pointing to the ground meant clear tracks.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] They followed for perhaps a hundred yards when the Ranger pulled up, looking troubled. He waved the group together, since he knew that the others wouldn't understand the silent language of the stalker.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "A small herd of deer came through here.", he explained, tracing the track with his fingers. "Wolves followed. See how their tracks are on top of the deer? The deer are walking, but the wolves aren't. See the length of the stride?"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "So what does it mean? What do we do?"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "We hurry. The wolves might have gotten their kill already, and scattered the herd. But I haven't heard any howls or yips, so I don't think so. At least not yet."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Seeburn nodded, agreeing with both what the trail sign meant, and with what they should do.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Blackie, up!", he instructed, casting his bird into the late morning breeze.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The sharp beat of his wings faded as he gained altitude. Then he circled one time and headed inland. He knew what his master sought.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The winter branches rattled in the cold wind, skeleton bare, just dense enough to confuse the eye when one tried to follow a bird in flight, but Seeburn needed no eyes at all to know that his avian friend had found what they sought. The bird circled far ahead, then stooped, hard, off and to the left.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Soon it could be seen flying back, the limp form of a dead rabbit dangling from his talons.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Does your bird know that rabbits don't have antlers?", laughed Marcus.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Oh he knows. But he found the deer before finding his own feast.", Seeburn assured them. "A thousand yards or so ahead. He circled the area, that's his signal."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] And they set off at a quick trot, with Sylus pausing only occasionally to make sure they were still on the trail.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] He slowed the group to a walk as they approached the area, and again Seeburn took a flank position.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Listening carefully, he still detected no sounds of a wolf pack signaling a hunt or kill, yet he knew that they hadn't passed the pack either. His eyes scanned the area, looking for some sign of movement.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] And something caught his eye. Not low, where deer or wolves would be, but higher up, atop a low rock outcropping. A tiny manlike figure crouched there, one with skin the color of dark red clay, tiny batlike wings, a sharply barbed tail and a grin that could only be described as "devilish".[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Be careful!", the tiny figure warned in a low whisper. "You're not alone!"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]*** Sylus simply stared for a few heartbeats, then his bow snapped into firing position, but by then the Imp was gone. "Did you see that?", he asked, keeping his voice low.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "See what?"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "An Imp. He was over there.", he said, pointing towards the rock.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Seeburn's bow was also in position now, and he scanned the area for any disturbance. A flicker of movement caught his eye, a slight swirl in the snow where none should be, and he fired almost before he realized what he was doing. The arrow struck something unseen and fell to the ground.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Now that's not very nice.", came a giggling voice.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]Rootbind[/I]", Sylus said, sliding his hand beneath the snow to find the earth. And even in the dead of winter, the power of the magic awakened the plants. Starting at the Ranger's hand and spreading forward, a ripple flowed across the woods, and the thick brush began to twist and reach, looking for something to take hold of. "Well done.", laughed the childish voice. "I don't see how that can fail."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Sylus' mouth twisted in a silent snarl of frustration. He began to circle to his right, avoiding the area affected by his spell. Seeburn and Imagina began to move to the left.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Shhhh.", a small voice urged the Enchantress as she passed a small rock. "You're going the wrong way. They're on the other side."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] She looked down, following the sound of laughter, and spied the Imp in his hiding place. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The imp, in turn, sat on his haunches and rocked back and forth in glee when the Human simply hardened her face and pressed on in the same direction. She was giving her "friends" neither warning nor aid, but instead saving herself while they stood in harm's way. He heartily approved.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] He didn't even bother trying to warn the other Human, the one who had shot him, when he went past. Instead he simply handed back the arrow the Human had fired at him earlier. The fact that Seeburn accepted it and moved on in silence confirmed that this one too was thinking of himself first. Or perhaps he had designs on the woman. Perhaps? That might prove interesting, he decided, so once more he wrapped himself in shadows and took to the air.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Nedel and Marcus moved to the right, more quickly and with less caution than Sylus. The Ranger signaled them to get down, but the pair were impervious to reason. Or perhaps they didn't see or understand the silent language of the hunter.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Nedel saw Sylus' furtive gestures, and froze in place. He peered into the brush and waited, fingers halfway twisted into the magical gesture of the arcane bolt. Anything that moved was going to bleed.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Then, from behind a broad juniper, there came the low, slinking form of a wolf, his thick fur flowing with shades of gray that would easily blend into the shadows. The beast bared its teeth, preparing to spring.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] But before it could, arcane energies leaped out first, scoring three ragged tears in the beast's heavy winter coat. And with a yelp and a whine, the wolf spun in place and fled, tail between his legs.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] But in those scant few seconds when it was visible, Sylus saw something important. That wolf had been wearing a collar.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** Someplace in the brush, a hunter cursed silently at the grasses that had wrapped themselves around his legs. He was busy with his hunting knife, trying to cut away the sod that they rooted in, but winter had hardened the ground to near-stone, and he was making no progress. *** Seeburn was so angry he almost couldn't see, but he couldn't afford to lose control right now. He wanted to kill that Imp, but he knew that there were other problems at the moment. He'd heard the whine and yelp of the injured wolf, so the fiendish creature had been telling the truth about the danger, and evil though it was, it hadn't itself done them any harm. Imagina was ten paces to his rear, and advancing as slowly as he was now. He sought tracks the way he'd been taught, keeping his gaze up and using the lower edge of his vision. And he'd seen them. Several sets of boot prints, areas where the thin dusting of snow had been scattered or pressed flat, small branches that had been broken in passing.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The trail ended in sadness. Two bodies, his friends from the castle, lay beneath some low cover, their throats slit. This wasn't the work of wolves, that was for certain.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** Sylus rolled forward from his hunter's crouch, moving on all fours now, toes and fingertips the only parts of his body in contact with the earth. His bow was held crosswise to his body, an arrow in his teeth. "[I]Call of Nature[/I]", he intoned softly as he went, listening to the quiet whispers of the woods. Ahead he heard silence, and he headed for it, for in nature only the predator is silent. The world around the predator is silent. And being a predator himself, he was silent.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] There, lurking behind some of the low juniper, was a second wolf. And a third lay in wait off to his right. He'd known they'd be there, for there is no such thing as only one wolf hunting.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] He growled softly, his body adding meaning to the sounds as his magics directed. "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]Me. These others. My pack.[/I]", he declared firmly. "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]These. Me. My pack.[/I]", came the reply. And both waited. After a long moment, Sylus "spoke" again. "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]Who is alpha? Where?[/I]" "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]Master? He guards the kill.[/I]", came the reply, including a sense of direction: Out into the twisting grasses. "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]Good hunting. We won't steal your kill. Peace.[/I]", Sylus offered. "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]Peace.[/I]" the wolf agreed, though neither side truly relaxed their stance. *** The hunter looked up and saw his lupine companion limping along the edge of the entangled area, saw the blood, and grew frantic. Abandoning his efforts to cut his way free, he stood and tore one foot out of the grasses by sheer might. Then the other. One step at a time he dragged himself towards his bleeding friend, ripping each foot free again and again as he went. Someone had hurt his dog, and they were going to pay! Behind him a deer, mate of the one the hunter had killed, leaped from cover, only to be tripped and brought down by the grasping grasses. Its eyes were wild with fear as it dragged itself to its feet. There was blood smell, wolves and men all around and it had to run. It had to [/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]run[/I]! Everything it knew, every fiber of its being urged flight, but it couldn't. Somehow it couldn't move its feet. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]*** Seeburn saw movement in the clearing, a man with a bloody knife in his hand ripping and tearing his way across the open area. Slashed throats. A bloody knife. His bow came up unbidden, and he let fly with deadly accuracy.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The man in the field cried out and arched his back in pain as the quarrel struck home. But he didn't fall. Instead he pressed onward, more determined than ever to get free.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Seeburn tried to line up a second shot, but found his line of fire blocked by a thrashing deer. He fired anyway.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The deer bucked and thrashed in pain, twisting and ripping at the grasses with such vigor that it nearly broke its own leg in the struggle. But neither bone nor grass parted. It was a nightmare come real, the worst of all terrors., and it would not end.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** The song of the bowstring and the man's cry of pain galvanized the wolves. Dashing through the brush, leaping over the pair that Sylus had been talking to, came another wolf. It barreled into Sylus, taking him to the ground.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] And the other two ended their stasis as well. One sprang forward towards Nedel and Marcus, razor sharp teeth set in jaws that could crush bone. But those teeth closed on thin air only, blocked aside by the Sorcerer's staff.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The second wolf saw Sylus on the ground, being savaged by its hunting partner, and it couldn't resist. It sprang into the struggle.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Sylus, with deep regret, was forced to defend himself. He feinted with the arrow he'd been holding, while at the same time drawing his sword with the other hand. He had no footing, and laying on his back he couldn't truly put any weight behind the blow, but steel bit deep and a wolf fell.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] And off in the distance, a hunter brought his own bow into play, sending an arrow back at Seeburn. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]Be my right hand![/I]", intoned Marcus as he stepped away from the snarling wolf. A flash of lightning and a crack of thunder, and a spear appeared on the scene, the chosen weapon of Jupiter, king of the gods. It drew itself up from where it had struck, moving of its own accord, and stabbed at the wolf in an attempt to drive it away. Nedel also shifted away from the conflict, sending another flurry of arcane bolts into the attacking wolf.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Seeburn fired again, and once more was gratified to see the far archer recoil in pain. Instead of returning fire, the man gave a loud whistle and began to run, dodging into the trees, heading south, injured wolves behind him.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Seeburn went after him, for the wild madness that lay in his heart let him run like the wind. But while the other man had a direct path, Seeburn had to finish skirting the glade of twisting grasses, and so the Barbarian fell behind.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The wolf harrying Sylus looked up at the whistle. It was a tribute to the discipline the man had instilled that the creature could tear itself out of that fight, but it did. It turned and ran.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Off behind him somewhere, another wolf was snapping at a spear and dying when it caught it. The battle was over.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] With an effort of will, Sylus ended his spell, returning the undergrowth to its winter sleep.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Seeburn saw movement within the clearing now. A wounded deer struggled to its feet. His blade was out in an instant, and the deer fell dead.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] And rising from the grass came four more wolves, held prisoner by the spell until this moment.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] They looked at Seeburn, who had hurt their master. They smelled the blood, heard the death throes of the fallen deer. And then they heard once more their master's whistle, and turned to leave.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Seeburn's bow was out once more, and he fired at the lead wolf as it turned to leave.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The small pack turned on him as one, and suddenly he knew how the deer felt.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] In the middle of this madness a small form appeared. Red, winged, dancing and taunting. "Ha ha, can't catch meeeeee!", the Imp cried, darting south.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The wolves ignored the distraction and charged Seeburn.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** Nedel swore when he saw the hunter making his escape. If that man got away, he'd return with more. Many more. His feet were moving before his brain had fully formed the thought, and he found himself sprinting through brush in hot pursuit. A lone Sorcerer from a city far away, chasing a hunter and his pack of wolves through a wilderness that the hunter knew well. But the man continued to flee, his wolves having either run ahead or dispersing into the brush. Nedel found himself hoping the wolves were very quick indeed.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] He broke out of a small stand of trees and scrambled down a gravel slope. For a bare instant he had a clear view of the man, but before he could raise his hand or summon the power, the man had realized his danger and darted to cover. Nedel tried to parallel him, but found that he couldn't re-mount that slope as quickly as the southland man had.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] He stopped and panted for a few moments. He had run some distance from his friends, and realized that none had followed him. Pressing the pursuit now could get him killed. And to the north he heard the roar of a giant, and the sounds of a wolf pack on the attack.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** The pack came in quickly, it's leaders attempting a swift, slashing attack while the others circled. Their teeth met leather and armor, but Seeburn was in trouble and he knew it. So he did two things. "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]Verbeig![/I]", he announced, feeling the magic take hold and elevating him to the towering height of a small Giant. Next, he let go. The anger he'd felt towards his father, the loss of his friends, the sight of their murderer escaping, all of it roared through him like a river. It rose from the pit of his stomach, through his heart and came out his throat in an animalistic cry of rage. His vision ran red, and Seeburn was gone. All that was left was the fury. Across the field, Sylus heard that roar, heard the cried of the wolves, and knew he had to hurry.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][I]Vitai[/I]", he murmured softly, laying his hands on the injured wolf. You didn't kill another man's hunting dogs. That was just wrong. Imagina's bow sang, and an arrow struck the haunch of one of the circling wolves. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] Seeburn roared and swung his huge blade, oblivious to the aid his friends tried to give, oblivious to the pain in his legs as a pair of wolves tore at his heels in an attempt to hamstring him. Oblivious to everything except the need to kill. And kill he did. His sword swept completely through one wolf, cleaving through a small sapling on the follow through. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] And Sylus came bounding in, bent nearly double, snarling and howling like a man possessed, bashing at wolves with his longbow as he came.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The remaining wolves tried to flee, but Seeburn's reach was long, and another wolf fell in mid spring, parting with a spray of blood and landing in two places.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] And it was over. Seeburn's head snapped from one side to the other, madness in his eyes, looking for something to kill, but there was nothing left. His friends knew that look all too well, and backed away, letting the battle rage fade. Until it did, it wasn't safe to approach him.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** "All in all, a good hunt.", Sylus said, trying to raise Seeburn's spirits. "Two deer, and a small stack of wolf hides." He wasn't happy about those last, but he knew that the others didn't really understand the hunter's code. "They were my friends.", Seeburn said simply, as he prepared the bodies of his fallen comrades for the long, cold trip home.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "It's war. And everyone who dies is someone's friend.", Nedel said.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "I'm sure the men staked out by the shore were friends of the hunter who escaped.", Imagina added.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The look in Seeburn's eye silenced her. It was plain that he simply couldn't equate the death of two strangers to the way his own friends had died. War or not, death is seldom a welcome companion.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial][FONT="]*** The trip home was a long one, made longer by head winds and heavy hearts. They'd won the field but there was no sense of victory. That evening Seeburn sponsored a memorial for his fallen friends, an odd mixture of sadness and celebration as people spoke of their virtues in life and drank to their health as if they were still present. Added to this was a turbulent undercurrent, for they'd held festival, battle, more festival, contest and then this sad remembrance, all in the span of three short days. Some blamed Seeburn for the strange days, for all had been quiet before he and his friends had arrived. Others blamed the Bretons of Carlisle, the neighboring city to the south with whom they traded goods and occasional curses, and from which the lone hunter had probably come. Sylus, ever cautious when angry moods and alcohol mixed, kept his ears open. He was surprised at what was said. "The evils of Carlisle have finally been met.", one man said. "The city stands deserted, cursed for the wicked ways of the Bretons there." "You lie!", swore another man. "Why would anyone flee into the snow in a winter such as this?" "Nay, 'tis sooth I say, for I heard it from me cousin, who knows the brother's wife of the stable tender for the south guard. And she says...", the conversation trailed away, lost in the revelry of the room. "Demons inhabit that place, I've always said.", came another voice. "I thought you always swore it was the dead man's curse that dwelt there.", came the challenge. "Demons or the undying, same thing. The point is that even the Bret's know when things are getting too bad. The point is...", came another snippet. The huntsman kept moving, for as an outsider he knew that his presence was viewed with suspicion, at best. He spied Seeburn, standing near to Marcus, who had passed out from too much drink. It was unclear if he was planning some mischief, or preventing it, but he was still upright and that was the important thing. "I'm hearing rumors. Some of the hunting parties, some of the patrols, some of the border watchers, all saying the same thing. People fleeing Carlisle, the city empty or emptying. They'll be looking for a refuge, and some will look this way." Seeburn nodded, his pain and anger clear on his face. "They killed my friends, let them die the winter death." Sylus nodded, then spied Penn. "Here, let's get Marcus to his cot, while we can still walk ourselves." He'd had little to drink, but wanted a way to leave gracefully before a brawl broke out. And while the whip-thin Bard would be of little help carrying the drunken Cleric, he too looked as if he wanted an excuse to leave. Their escape was foiled, however, by the entrance of one of the King's messengers, summoning them to a private audience. *** [/FONT][/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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Curse of Darkness VII - Britania
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