The Huntsman of Adamos (Quartet)- draft

CH UNKNOTTING OF TANGLED SOULS

Fleur gave a quiet clipped whistle for Snow to change directions again. She had not heard their pursuers for several minutes, but she continued to sprint next to Yurieth’s white wolf. It was snowing much harder and she pulled her hood over her pale wet braid as the flakes stung her cheeks, ears, and eyes. She was running through a world of whiteness and nothingness. She had to trust that Snow would keep her safe.

The sun had sunk below the ridge, casting everything into twilight. She tripped and went down hard in the soft snow. Standing, she clicked for Snow to return to her, and then swept over the place she fell with her cloak. She was grateful to Abrieth for teaching her the clicks, whistles, and hand gestures that Yurieth had trained the wolf guardians of the Winter Castle with.

She was panting from running and shivering uncontrollably in the snow-wet dress. She could hear three of the five Xelusians a fair distance away. She pointed, and Snow led her way toward the river. Dark and light masses were stones and great trees. Hypothermia was setting in, but Fleur knew her only chance was to evade them until dark and hope those chasing her did not possesses the magic of night vision as Aetherian warriors did.

“You cannot escape us, Lady Fleur. No one in the castle even knows you are missing. You must be cold; you don’t need to be. We don’t want to hurt you. If you come with us, we will release you after you meet our master.” The purring voice promised her comfort and warmth, and her aching, cold body wanted to listen.

She crouched between a boulder and a large snow drift as one moved past her in the windblown near-whiteout. She smelled a whiff of torchfuel and almost laughed when she peeked out from under her hood and saw an orange glow. She crawled under an old overgrown cedar with many low hanging branches piled with snow, dragging her cloak to hide her and Snow’s prints. She would wait for night. As she wrapped the heavy brown wool cloak over her wet dress, she was grateful for whatever enchantment kept it dry. Carefully she tucked it around her pale gray skirt and covered Snow’s white fur making them disappear into the shadows under the tree. The wolf laid beside her, warning her while she waited for it to become completely dark. Darkness and storm would be her ally this evening as she escaped the servants of the Darkness.

Abrieth had returned to staring out at the snow while Yurieth glared at the fire. They had been discussing Yurieth’s loss of magic and had returned to the point of whose fault it was.

“Fleur is still powerless, Yurieth. And blind now. Surely you can’t think she would want to be helpless.”

“She shouldn’t have magic if she wields the dark kind,” Yurieth growled. “She just wants everyone to think she is helpless.”

“She’s an antumbra oracle, she wields the light too,” Abrieth reminded in a huff. He was getting frustrated at the circle their argument had taken. “She does everything she can for herself, never asks anything of anyone. Is that the action of someone who wants everyone to believe her helpless?”

Yurieth made a disgruntled snort. “Don’t be deceived, brother.” He was more than a little angry at his parents’ deception about Fleur’s nature as a dual wielder, and that she could bend the dark energy to her will as easily as the light. He resented them for encouraging him to fall in love with her and that it seemed to be their plan all along. He felt betrayed that Abrieth was now defending the siren, and he hated himself because the honorable part of him was demanding that he admit he still loved someone shadowed.

“You deceive yourself, Yurieth. I...” Abrieth stopped and swore, “We have a problem.” The sudden change in Abrieth’s voice and his quick exit lured Yurieth to follow.

Rushing after his brother into the courtyard, Yurieth knelt next to Fang. The giant gray wolf had dragged himself back to the castle. Yurieth petted him as he died of a dozen or more stab wounds, he had made it back to his master with the glove of an enemy in his jaws. Yurieth clenched the black and red glove in his fist. Night was falling and the servants of Xelusia were hunting Fleur and Snow on Adamos territory. He stalked back inside and quickly grabbed provisions, his pack, best sword, favorite bow, and heavy winter gear.

He was striding toward the door when his mother tried to stop him. “Yurieth, wait for your brother and father. You can’t go alone, your magic is...”

“Would you doubt me even now, mother?” He snarled at her. “I don’t need my magic to find her. I can still track.”

“Yurieth, your mother only expresses her...” Adamos started as he pulled a heavy cloak over his shoulder.

“Her what, father? Her doubt, her lack of faith in my skills. I was the greatest Huntsman who ever fought for the kingdom. I do not need my magic and yet you treat me with the same lack of confidence as you did when I was a child,” Yurieth spat venomously.

Abrieth stepped forward as tears fell down their mother’s cheeks. “Brother...”

“Don’t, Abrieth. As a protector, you are a great swordsman and warrior, but your forestry and tracking skills leave a great deal to be desired. Wait, until I signal you. If you all go tramping through the forest, they may panic and hurt her, or she may do something foolish trying to find to you. Snow will protect her until I find her. Just... Just stay here. I can do this.” Yurieth’s eyes implored Abrieth to support him.

“Stay safe, brother.” Abrieth gave him a curt nod and the family watched his pale winter Huntsman coat disappear into the blowing snow.

A few minutes later, Yurieth stood on the rough granite prominence between the Winter Castle and the falls. He howled a wolfcall and several howls answered back. He heard Snow’s voice singing back to him in tones of distress. She was on the other side of the river, far from the castle and almost to the falls. Silently, he cursed Fleur for her need to wander through the forest every afternoon and climbed down careful.

Under the old cedar’s overgrowth, shivering and exhausted, Fleur heard several wolves howling around them. Snow raised up suddenly and howled too.

“Hush, Snow, shhh,” Fleur whispered, rubbing the wolf’s chest. “Easy, girl.”

Snow turned her head and stalked to the edge of the space under the tree growling as three men passed them carrying torches. They are arguing about which way to search. Fleur tried to make herself as small as possible against the dark trunk as she watched the glow of the torches moving away. Snow backed toward her and Fleur covered her white fur again. Later, a second howl echoed and was answered, but Fleur covered Snow’s snout with her gloved hand.

“Easy, Snow, no noise, they’re too close.”

Fleur waiting until she thought it was safe to sneak from her hiding place. When she crawled out, the snow had stopped. Clutching her cloak around her with a shivering hand, she brushed away their tracks with a branch. She dared not remove the cloak again because she knew she was suffering from the mid-stage of hypothermia. She had an idea where the Winter Castle lay from where she hid, but she had to get to the river.

She and Snow had run randomly to escape and confuse their pursuers. She knew it would be treacherous to navigate the riverbank, but it would lead her to the bridge that crossed it. She had to get there before Abrieth came looking for her. She feared he would be ambushed if he came looking for her. He had told her that only a few trusted souls knew the location of the Winter Castle, but she was sure now that someone must have betrayed them for the enemy to have found it. Moving through the forest like shadows, Fleur prayed that she and Snow were safe, but it grieved her that Fang was most likely dead. Yurieth’s wolves had been her constant companions during her recovery along with one of Yllumina’s kittens.

Walking for nearly half an hour with her hand on Snow’s back, the river was getting louder. Her muddled, frozen mind recognized a sound too late, an arrow flying toward them, and Snow yelped as she fell away from Fleur’s hand. Fleur knelt over Snow, the arrow was in the wolf’s heart. Snow lifted her head and howled with her last breath before her head dropped to the ground lifeless.

Fleur sobbed, and whispered out, “Ohhh, Snow, no, no, no.”

“Here, here,” a voice shouted to her far right and Fluer fled in the opposite direction.

She was now alone in the night with those hunting her for the Darkness. She fell several times but rolled back onto her feet and she hurried toward the rushing river. She couldn’t hear anything above the sound of the water as she moved as quickly as she could along the unfamiliar trail going upriver and away from the falls. Suddenly, someone grabbed her and pulled her off the trail, with his hand over her mouth. She bit down hard enough that he flinched, his embrace loosening enough for her to twist quickly in his grasp and put her elbow in his throat hard as she struggled.

Yuri’s raspy voice snapped quietly, “Fleur! Be still.”

She froze, then hugged him, whispering in relief, “You came.” He tried to push her off him, but she clung to him. “There are five, they killed Fang and Snow, and one is hurt so he can’t run, the others...”

He put his hand over her mouth. “I know, just be quiet,” he hissed at her.

He had crossed the river when Snow had not sung back to him. His wolves were trained to always answer. He had found where five men were moving through the forest. Two were bleeding. But oddly, he had discovered no sign of Fleur other than a single wolf print beside a slight indentation in the snow, almost as if she had swept her tracks away. From the dirty state of her cloak, he realized that was exactly what she had done.

Fleur drew back from his harsh words. She didn’t need her power to know he didn’t want to be rescuing her. As close as they were standing, she noticed his eyes weren’t glowing with night vision. Her heart trembled slightly with fear at the realization that his power had not returned, then she reminded herself, Yurieth didn’t need his magic, not in his own forest. He had always said, skill first because magic would not make up for poor skill, and she had to trust him even if he hated her. He held her against him and scaled up the crevasse. When he stopped, she felt around until the toes of her boots found purchase and shifted her weight to her own arms and legs. He turned, so quickly she pressed herself back against the rockface.

“We need to go downriver to the falls, they won’t expect that.” His breath was warm against her ear and cheek, it gave her goosebumps. “They should pass us in a few moments.”

Below them, the Xelusian men wandered past the cleft in the rock where they hid and continued upriver. Yurieth moved to the edge of the rock to watch them, then he climbed down swiftly as Fluer remained still. The moon was glowing in the sky as silvery clouds raced overhead, the air was getting colder by the minute.

“Let go, Fleur. Just drop, I’ll catch you.”

She did as he ordered, and he caught her. “Thank you”

Ignoring her whispered words, he dragged her down river and she did her best to keep up and not stumble. Soon, they were at the waterfalls. It was a long way down; Fleur could hear how far the water was dropping.

“How do we get down?” She shouted over the roar of the falling water. “My power doesn’t work; I can’t catch us.”

“I’ll carry you down then we can follow the river to my hunting lodge. It is off the river on the south side, but it will take most of the night to ge...” His words cut off strangely, as he stumbled into her. He sank to his knees as she tried to catch him, then he keeled over onto his stomach.

Fluer pulled the three arrows in his back out and turned him over. “Yuri, no... please.”

He looked at her strangely as he reached up to touch her cheek, then he died leaving a trail of blood behind on her fair face. She sat in shock. She had not felt him die, for the first time in centuries, she had not felt it when someone she cared for died. Tears ran down her face as the memories of Kaleth’s final death flooded her mind and her soul screamed, throwing itself against the walls of its prison. Kaleth had told her to live, made her promise to find love. She had tried but the one magic sealed her to, hated her. She couldn’t see how to keep her promise.

“Enough, Lady Fleur, unless you want your Huntsman to be forever dead. If you come with us, we will leave him here to revive.”

Fleur suddenly realized who the purring voice was, someone who was not physically there, and the man was the one who had stopped she and Yuri the night of the ball. “You’re lying, you Baalru dog,” she retorted, “I won’t go back to the Darkness, I would rather die.”

They all laughed, which she could barely hear over the falls behind her, as she held Yurieth’s head in her lap. Fleur was unsure of what to do. Again, she pushed all her will into freeing her magic, focusing on charging her stone and failed. Looking down at Yurieth dead in her arms, her heart cried out in pain, all her anger and fear are crushing her power, willing her to surrender, but her love for her Yuri in the future, and the thought that they might forever kill him before she had a chance to meet him, made her desperate to fight for him. The memory of one night was all it took. Her will folded upon itself and her love exploded out of her soul. Suddenly, she felt like she was burning but it didn’t hurt.

Serapha had said their souls were knotted together, it seemed the knot had come undone with his death. Her magic opened up the world to her, as she pulled her glow in as tight as she could. She could feel Yurieth’s soul fluttering as his second heart stuttered. He was healing, he would revive if she could keep them away from him. Turning her head toward them, the enemy appeared like holes in the lifeglow of the forest.

Two had approached Fleur, they grabbed her shoulders to drag her away from Yuri, but her power flashed blinding them. She shrugged out of her cloak and pulled his long knife from his belt in one movement. Twirling, she slashed the closest deep enough through the throat that he wouldn’t revive, then she leaped forward, slamming into second one’s chest, causing him to stumble backward and fall as she pinned him to the ground with the blade. Standing, she stepped across the dead and pulled Yuri’s sword from over his shoulder, next to his bow. It is heavier than she was used to, but she had wielded one exactly like it in the far future. A sword made by Kaleth for his beloved brother.

Slowly, she stalked the dark ones, with her shining eyes and moon-kissed flesh. Her pale dress shimmered as she moved toward them with deadly purpose, it gave her a ghostly appearance.

“Don’t. Kill. The. Oracle.” Prince Lucif’s voice vibrated them all.

Fleur felt the third one charge her, and she knew what he was, but instead of fleeing as he expected, she stepped into the attack, blocking and slicing his side open. The stench of blood magic clinging to his flesh made her want to vomit. The berserker warrior was very skilled, and his fighting style was different from any she had encountered. He managed to slice her arm as she feinted left, before lunging to drive Yuri’s sword through his neck. A twist and then twirl, she had his head rolling one way while she spun the other. A blade struck her in the back of the shoulder with enough force to knock her from her feet over the fallen body. She was yanked up by her hair and a blade pressed against her throat before she was dragged over the leader. The blade retreated from her neck long enough for the servant of Baalru to slap her, before grabbing her wounded arm.

“Where does a blind girl learn to fight well enough to kill a berserker warrior? Who are you really, Oracle?” the one from which Lucif voice poured, demanded hotly. They were standing so close to the edge of the river she could feel spray droplets from the torrent on her face.

She narrowed her eyes at him, she knew Lucif was watching her through this one. “For over 500 years, I have fought your kind, Prince Lucif. I will never stop, and She will not be allowed to come back. I would rather die than be a shadow’s puppet.”

The Baalru dragged her closer, his assassin’s fingers wound through her loose braid, it hurt as her hair pulled but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. “You are just a vessel.”

“So is he.” Hissed Fleur as she stabbed the Baalru in the heart with the Berserker’s cursed blade, hoping Lucif would feel it.

Neither shadowed one had realized she had pickpocketed the curved knife when she had fallen over the berserker’s body. The assassin yanked her back as Yurieth’s arrow went through the back of his head. He staggered, plummeting over the edge into the river, with his fingers still tangled in her braid. She went into the water with him. As she fell, she knew Yurieth’s arrow forever ended the Baalru leader, faintly she heard him shout her name before the frigid water muted everything. As she struggled to free her hair, she could feel the water rushing toward the fall. She twisted, jamming the berserker’s blade into the wrist of the dead assassin, his hand unclenched and she kicked free just in time to go over the falls.