All Debts Paid
Her stiletto poked at his skin like a hungry needle
about to pierce the fabric. In an instant she could have him
dead and be done with it. Be done with Mharyon's court; be
done with the running. Looking at his broken face, it was an
appealing thought. She had him exactly where she wanted him.
Erik looked back at Siobhan, his breath colliding with
hers. He saw the blood running down her cheek and the bruise
welling up below her eye. He knew he could throw her with a
simple twist - if she hadn't broken his arm. As he
swallowed, he felt the prick of the stiletto and he knew she
could kill him easily. What a woman.
* * * * *
"Erik, I have a task for you." This was obvious from
the moment he had entered the lord's chambers. Mharyon was
not the type to call someone for a private meeting. Nor was
Erik the type to engage in idle chatter. Still, formalities
had to be observed, and so Erik stood quietly by the door as
Mharyon poured them each a drink. He passed Erik a glass and
they both observed the nose of it. "Wine brought with me
from Arcadia itself. Nothing like it on this world." The two
drank a silent toast, and Mharyon gestured for Erik to sit.
"Now then, I wish to congratulate you on your efforts. I'm
sure you're glad to be home."
"As always, m'Lord. I'm glad to see you in such good
health."
"The health of the lord is the health of the land. My
body is strong, but my mind troubles me."
"If I may be so bold, I thought as much when I saw that
mercenary around."
Mharyon smiled. "Alert as always, my friend, but
Donuil's task is separate from yours."
There was indeed something important happening. Donuil
of Dougal was another warrior from the Accordance Wars; a
sadistic unseelie sidhe whose deeds in the Kingdom of
Northern Ice were well known. "I am sure that it is nothing
that can't be dealt with swiftly."
"Quite right. Swiftly - but with patience. I need you
to do something for me. An easy task, but slightly different
from your usual duties. I want you to accompany Countess
Skyfire to Victoria, Virginia. There's a Troll Chieftain
there who I know from the Accordance Wars. You may recognize
the name, Chief Jormunrek." Erik's eyebrows rose. He did
know the name. Jormunrek had led a group of commoners
against Mharyon's armies in the later part of the war.
Jormunrek had no ties to Siobhan as far as Erik knew, but
his interests were considered when a truce was called
between Mharyon's armies and Siobhan's, and Jormunrek had
agreed to the final terms. Since then, Erik had not heard
the name. It did not surprise him that the giant had moved
south, nor that he had become a chieftain. He was more than
a capable leader. What surprised Erik was that Mharyon
wished further dealings with him. "It seems Jormunrek has
been having difficulties with the local sidhe lord. He has
developed a tenuous relationship to the Nunnehi of the area,
and has been negotiating treaties between the Kithain and
the Nunnehi. From what I gather, he has run into some
difficulties with the pride of the leaders on both sides,
and his lord is pushing him for action. He remembered the
name of Siobhan and asked for her assistance in
negotiations."
"An excellent choice, m'Lord. Countess Siobhan is a
good negotiator." Mharyon grunted what may have been a sound
of agreement. "But I am curious, why have you chosen me for
her escort?"
Mharyon paused, considering his words. "Siobhan has
been an errant child of late, Erik. She travels far from
where she should be and forgets her true duties." Erik
nodded. He was beginning to understand Mharyon's plans. "As
her escort you will only be expected to see her delivered.
At that time you may return here. Once she has reached her
destination we can be sure she is far from -- harm. It is
dangerous to associate with some of the locals."
"I see, m'Lord. And I expect that the negotiations will
detain her for some time?"
"Oh, I'm quite sure this will not be an easy task for
her. I am, in fact, almost certain that she will remain
there for several months."
"Then I best get prepared for the travel." They smiled
to each other, shook hands, and the Knight of the Realm left
the presence of his Lord.
Siobhan pulled the straps tight on her baggage
pondering the course that lay ahead. Something wasn't right
about this whole quest. Something was, indeed, quite wrong.
She couldn't place her finger on it, but she knew it was
there. Forcing her focus to matters at hand, she rechecked
everything. Over the years she had gathered several tokens
from different factions that could help her in ways she
couldn't even be sure of, and she wanted to make sure she
carried them all. The life of a diplomat was not an easy
one. How did she fall into it?
She slumped against her luggage, resting her chin in
her hands, and stared out the windows of the Caer. The
Huntsman hadn't come to her last night. It was unusual, but
not unheard of. Yet she couldn't help but wonder what had
detained him, nor could she like the feeling that she would
not say good-bye to him before leaving on her journey. But
these things must be dealt with as they came, and she could
not stand by while the sidhe, still recently arrived, tried
to claim more land, whether or not she was one herself.
Still, she could not help asking herself where he was.
There was a knock on her door. She turned and saw Erik
standing there. "How close are you to being ready?"
"Almost done, Erik. Can you help me with my bags?"
He entered her quarters and hoisted a couple of the
bags in his arms. "Why do you need so much?" Direct as
always, she thought. She knew he had all the etiquette he
needed when it suited him, but most of the time he was quite
informal.
"Diplomatic relations. Be glad you're just a knight and
not an ambassador."
"Be glad you're an ambassador and not a hunter.
Sometimes I'd rather be back in the War than what I do now."
He adjusted his parcels and added another to the load.
"Really?" She looked at her traveling companion. This
was another oddity of the whole thing, Erik was a dauntain
hunter, not an escort.
He looked back at her, and realized in the War they had
been on opposing sides. He smiled. "No. Not really. We just
always think we wish we were somewhere else," and he left
her alone.
They pulled up at the house of Alastair MacKenna in the
car Erik had arranged for their travel. Siobhan had not
inquired deeply into the connections that Erik got the green
Volvo from, but she was quite sure they involved several
nockers. She stepped out of the car and turned back to him.
"I'll only be a minute. Just have to take care of a few
arrangements." He nodded and watched her enter the house.
He sat in silence as he waited for her to return,
thinking about her. She obviously still retained connections
to the mundane world. It was not surprising, Erik knew many
fae who did. Less sidhe, perhaps, than other kith, but it
did happen. He wasn't one who kept much mortal contact,
however. He was usually too busy fulfilling his position at
court.
He could tell this place was not hers. It had too many
personal touches to be the house of someone who would use it
so little. Some ally, possibly a friend. His mind started to
puzzle out who it could be.
"How long will you be gone for?"
"I don't know, father. I'm hoping not long, but I think
it may be some time. I'll let you know as soon as I can."
"And who's this man you're traveling with?"
"His name is Erik Mikelson. He's very respected."
"You've never told me about him before." Alastair was
feeling uneasy already. Siobhan sighed. She wasn't very good
at lying to him, no matter how good she was at it any other
time.
"He isn't around very much. He travels a lot."
"Do you trust him?"
She thought about that. Did she trust him? Could she?
"As much as I trust any of Mharyon's friends."
He nodded. Her father was not Kithain, but he
understood what was happening around him. The fae blood ran
in his veins. Kinain - kin to the fae. "I need to use your
phone," she added.
"Don't they have phones in that castle?" he smiled as
he said it, and she smiled too. He walked her to the phone
and left her to make the call.
It wasn't long before she had an answer. "Hello?"
"Cedric? It's Siobhan." Cedric was a young satyr, still
wild with the passion of a goat in him, but he had become an
ally of the Huntsman, and right now Siobhan knew Cedric
could get a message to him.
"Countess Siobhan! What can I do for you?"
"Something's come up. I need you to try and check on
what's happening around Victoria, Virginia, especially with
someone named Chief Jormunrek. I also need you to take a
message to the Huntsman for me."
The voices brought Erik out of the nap he had quickly
fallen into. He blinked and remonstrated himself. Obviously
he should have gotten more sleep. Looking around he saw
Siobhan standing by the front door of the house talking to
an older man. Interesting, he thought.
They hugged and she returned to the car. "That's done.
Let's get going." As Erik pulled away, she waved back to the
old man.
"Your friend has a nice place," he remarked.
"He's my father," she said with a slight laugh. Erik
didn't reveal his surprise. Something told him to remember
that address.
"Does he know?"
"Oh yes. He knows as much as he can. He's Kinain, Erik.
I just wanted to let him know I'd be away for awhile."
Erik navigated through Allentown, Pennsylvania. It was
midmorning now, and by the look of things they'd be making
good time. A couple of stops on the way would make the trip
bearable and they'd be at their destination before they knew
it. As they neared the city limits, Erik spoke again, "It
must be nice."
"What?" Siobhan was distractedly looking for something
in one of her smaller bags.
"I -- I never really knew my parents."
She looked at him suddenly. Their trip thus far had
been mostly in silence. She was surprised at this sudden
opening. "I'm sorry... I didn't-"
"It's nothing really." He shrugged. That topic was at a
close as soon as it had opened.
"After that I swore I'd never work for Mharyon again!"
"So what happened?"
"I found paying rent and having to keep a real job less
appetizing than fixing things with Mharyon." They laughed.
Dinner had involved trading stories of many successes and
defeats in the Dreaming. The East Indian restaurant that
Erik had brought them to had fast, courteous service as well
as good food. The first while of their journey had gone
quite smoothly.
"Tell me, Erik," Siobhan asked, "what is your job
really like?"
He smiled as he finished chewing his food. He had
expected this to come up sometime. "Exhilarating. Covert,
often. You can't usually march up to a dauntain and expect
to defeat them. There's a lot of getting to know your
opponent. It isn't like war."
"No, I didn't expect so. Sounds more like politics."
"Only there isn't any hiding who is carrying the
knife." Again they smiled. She was enjoying his dry humor.
"I must say, when we were back in the War I never expected
to be eating dinner with you."
"You remember me from then?"
"How could I not? Mharyon cursed your name daily, along
with the Huntsman's."
She smiled wryly. "I was just surprised. I don't
remember you from back then, although I've heard stories
since."
"I wasn't much of a team player even then. I worked on
my own a lot." He sipped his drink. "You still keep contact
with the Huntsman, don't you?"
The alarms rang. There it was again, the part of this
all that didn't smell right. "He isn't someone you get rid
of easily." That should at least confuse the matter, she
thought. "Excuse me, I need to make a call." Erik nodded and
she left the table.
The pay phones were, of course, right by the bathrooms.
Cedric answered on the first ring. "What do you have for me
Cedric?"
"Not too much, but you're right, something's wrong
about all of this. There's a lot of rumors coming out of
Victoria. I'm going to be talking to a friend down there
soon who should clear some stuff up. If you can call in the
morning, I'll know more by then." He was good at gathering
information, especially for a goat. Siobhan remembered the
Huntsman once saying that Cedric was a sluagh in goat's
clothing. "I did find one thing of interest. The sidhe lord
- his name's Lord Guvain, and he's a distant relative of
Mharyon's. He controlled a small part of Mharyon's troops
during the Wars." She remembered the name. He was a
deceitful lying bastard, if her memory served her well.
"Last -- I haven't been able to get hold of the Huntsman. I
can't find him."
"He's like that, Cedric. Keep trying. Thanks." She hung
up. Now the picture was starting to come clear.
"You're sure they didn't have any two bedroom suites?"
They stood in the doorway looking at the room they would
occupy for the night. The room itself was not bad. The
carpet was more or less clean, the mirrors only had a slight
residue of smoke, and the bathroom was sizable, not that the
rings in the tub made one feel much like bathing, but a
shower would be fine. The main problem, in Siobhan's eyes,
was the fact that there was only one room. Two double beds,
but nonetheless, she hadn't counted on such an occurrence.
She suddenly realized living the life of a noble was
allowing her to grow soft. In the days of the Wars, she
would never have brought the filmy night-wear that she did.
"I'm sorry, but this was it. It's a good place. I've
stayed here many times." Siobhan sighed and entered the
room. Good, Erik thought, she bought it. It was his duty to
watch her. He was more of a prisoner escort than a guard,
and he didn't want to seem lax in his duties. He dropped his
pack on his bed and began to remove his shoes.
"I'll take a shower." She disappeared into the
bathroom. Erik opened his pack and removed his notebook.
Even the dauntain hunter could not help but turn his mind to
artistic pursuits now and then. He was currently working on
a book, The Ecology of the Dauntain. Time passed quickly as
he wrote with the methodical hammering of the water in the
bathroom. At one point he glanced over to the clock to note
she had been in there for over an hour. Smiling to himself,
he thought about how she must be enjoying the warm water.
Several note pages and some time later the water stopped. It
was about another half-hour, nearing the middle of the
night, when Siobhan emerged. Erik was just packing his
things away, having changed into a pair of jogging pants for
sleeping, when he glanced up to see her leaving the
bathroom. He had only his bedside lamp on, which had given
him ample light to write by, but now the rest of the room
stood in a twilight. So she was a backlit silhouette as she
entered the room. The light from the bathroom shone through
a silk sleep shirt, hugging and revealing her figure inside.
Erik had never really noticed the beauty of the Countess
before. He had been aware that she was beautiful, but only
as he was aware that the Mona Lisa was a beautiful painting.
He had never truly seen her beauty. Now, as she reached
behind her to switch off the light in the bathroom so that
her shirt hugged her breast, and then moved across the room
in the dim light, Erik saw this beauty revealed before him.
He quickly slid into his bed so that he would not betray his
thoughts through his pants.
She switched on her bedside lamp and put away the
clothes that she had worn throughout the day. Lifting the
covers she began to slip into her own bed. As she did so,
she saw Erik watching her. In the instant that her eyes
caught his, she too noticed his features. He was handsome,
with long dark locks of hair. His face showed both
experience and youth, and the timeless beauty of the sidhe.
At times she had heard some of the younger girls of
Mharyon's court whisper about the dark knight, but her
contact with him had been very limited until this
expedition. Now, as he reached to turn out his light, his
eyes had a sparkle that she had not seen before. They spoke
of a desire; a hunger.
Then his light was out. He rolled over into the
darkness. With a flick of a switch her bed joined that
darkness.
Siobhan woke to the sounds of the shower. Sleepily she
looked over to note Erik's unmade bed. Her senses quickly
righted themselves and her memory of the last day came back
fast. She pulled herself up in the bed and picked up the
phone. For a moment she couldn't remember Cedric's number,
her mind still slightly fuzzy with the early morning. When
she did, it took several rings for him to pick up. All the
while she counted the drops of water in the shower.
"Siobhan! I found something out!"
"I don't have much time. What is it?"
"Shortly, I think your whole affair is bogus. Jormunrek
is a knight in good standing with Lord Guvain. From what I
understand you were to meet a Nunnehi by the name of Billy
Red. This guy is also known well around Guvain's court. He's
a Nunnehi renegade, and rumors talk of many dealings between
him and the good lord of the realm. You were walking
straight into some setup. Someone wanted you away from the
Caer."
Or away from the Huntsman, she thought. And she knew
just who that someone would be. "Mharyon. Did you find the
Huntsman?"
"No. No one's seen him for days." That could mean any
number of things, and she didn't have time to second guess
right now.
"Thanks anyway. Look-" the water in the bathroom shut
off. "I have to go." She hung up the phone.
Wrapped in a towel, Erik came out of the bathroom. "I'm
done in there. You want a turn, or are you fine since last
night?"
The next while of the journey went much like the first
part -- in silence. Siobhan could not look at Erik now
without thinking of him as her captor. He was sent to watch
her, this she knew. The entire mission had been a setup
since the beginning, a ploy of Mharyon's to get her away
from Caer ABE and away from the Huntsman.
And what of the Huntsman? she wondered. Was it just
coincidence that no one could find him? or had Mharyon
somehow got to him after all these years? There could be no
doubt about it, she had to get away. Soon. She had to find
the Huntsman.
They had passed the halfway point of their journey.
Fredricksburg was coming up, and after that their path would
take her farther from the Appalachians. If she could get
away then, she had a fair chance of making it to the
Appalachians. Once she reached the Appalachians she would be
in the territory of the Huntsman. It would be a small matter
then to find him, or any of his friends in the Company of
the Shadowed Blade. The only problem was getting away.
Erik was an expert hunter. The maids may have gossiped
about his handsome features, but there was also much gossip
about what he did. Questing after dauntain was not glorious
work, and he did not have a high rate of bringing dauntain
back to the Dreaming. He was an exterminator, not a medic --
or at least that was what Siobhan understood. Whatever the
truth, she knew she mustn't underestimate him. Like her, he
had fought during the Accordance Wars when the commoner fae
fought the noble sidhe, only they had been on opposing
sides; she with the commoners and he with the nobles.
Siobhan was also one of the few fae who had a grasp of how
close the commoners had come to losing the war. Around the
Caer it had, of course, been a standstill once she acquired
the help of the Shadowed Blade, but nevertheless, it meant
Erik had fought on the winning side. She still knew little
of him, and he knew too much of her, there could be no doubt
about that. Siobhan could try to keep all the secrets she
wanted, but she was a public figure, a countess. Even the
fae had their own sort of paparazzi.
She watched Erik as he drove. He was quiet, reserved,
and laconic. Whatever his thoughts were, she could not guess
them.
Something had gone wrong. Erik sensed it from the
moment he had exited the bathroom that morning. Siobhan's
grace was falling, revealing the warrior beneath. Her
movements were sharper, her gaze analytical. Had he said
something? Did he tip her off somehow? He didn't even know
the full extent of Mharyon's plot, only that there was a
plot. What then?
Perhaps she was worried about the Huntsman. Erik
doubted she realized he had overheard her musing to herself
about where the Huntsman could be the day before. He doubted
she even realized she had spoken aloud. Perhaps it was
Mharyon who had done it. Had he underestimated the Countess?
Erik decided he'd be wary himself if he were traveling with
a dauntain hunter. There were many others that Mharyon could
have sent for this job, not even considering the fact that
Siobhan could easily take care of herself. If she was
conscious of the plot, which Erik was pretty sure of, he
would have to watch her carefully. Very carefully.
A short, tense time later Erik pulled into a highway
convenience store / gas station for refreshments. He handed
Siobhan twenty dollars and said, "Fill it up. This car goes
through gas quicker than most. I've got to do some
business."
Understanding his meaning, Siobhan opened her door and
searched for the gas tank. She started pumping gas and
watched as he went into the store to get the bathroom key.
He shot her a glance on his way to the men's room and she
gave him a smile. Fitting the key to the lock, Erik entered
the bathroom.
Siobhan dropped the gas nozzle and ran to the bathroom
door. She could hear him relieving himself on the other side
as she searched her pockets. Pulling out a large black
marker, she tore off the cap and scribbled a clock face on
the door, marking the hands at twelve o'clock. Then she ran
back to the Volvo. The station attendant looked up from his
paper when he heard the green tank peel away and ran after
in a futile attempt to get the money for his gas, cursing
all the while.
Erik pulled up his fly and washed his hands. A knock
came at the door, followed by many curses. He brushed his
hair back before opening the door to reveal the station
attendant. "You done already? Other people want the place,
you know. And you gonna pay for the gas your friend stole?"
He didn't need to look at the pumps to know Siobhan and
the Volvo were gone. Nor did he need to see the clock
picture to realize what kind of cantrip she had cast. "Dream
Time," he whispered.
"You on something, man? You got my money?" Erik
backhanded the attendant, knocking him cold. He stuffed the
unconscious body into the bathroom. Now he could think.
Erik walked round to the front of the building, keeping
an appearance of nonchalance. There was a large truck
refueling. That wouldn't help. He needed something fast.
That was his first goal. A fast vehicle. Then he could worry
about where Siobhan went.
Unfortunately, the truck seemed to be the only vehicle
in sight. Erik was just starting to look for the car that
the attendant must drive to work when a meaty biker appeared
from behind the truck. Erik smiled as he circled around the
other side of the large vehicle. There, resplendent in the
sunlight, was a sleek, polished Harley Davidson. Erik slid
quickly onto the bike. His eyes roamed the area as he
realized he needed to make a decision fast. He reached into
his jacket where his dagger lay in a shoulder sheath.
Pulling out the blade, he gritted his teeth and squeezed his
palm against the handle. The blood began to ooze between his
fingers as the blade cut into his flesh. He looked at the
gas pump. "Which way did the green Volvo go?"
The nozzle twisted slightly to face him, the end
forming lips. "You mean with the girl that dropped me? I got
a dent from that you know!"
"Sh! Please, I'm sorry about your dent," he couldn't
believe he was apologizing to a gas pump, "but I need to
find her."
"Don't know why. She isn't very nice."
"I know, I -- I'm going to make her come back and --
and polish you!" Erik heard the biker pounding on the door
to the store.
"Oh, well uhm... since you say that... let's see now...
East is where the sun rises I once heard a guy say... they
come here asking for directions all the time, you know."
Erik rolled his eyes. How many memories could a gas pump
have? "So... that means that she went West."
West? Erik puzzled at this. The highway ran North /
South.
"Have you seen anyone workin' here?" It was the biker.
He must be talking to the trucker.
"I think he went `round back." Erik's eyebrows rose. He
glanced behind the truck and realized there was a dirt road
that led off beside the building - West. He looked at his
bloody hand. Dipping his right index finger into the blood
from his left hand, he drew a pair of lips on the top of the
Harley.
"Can you run?" he whispered to it.
It answered in a sweet sensual drawl, "Honey, I can do
anything when a man spreads his legs over me."
This is getting sickening, Erik thought, though he
decided to play along. "Good, cause I need something fast."
He got it. The Harley took off with a mind of its own,
speeding by its owner in a blur of chrome.
"Or... was that North?" the gas pump pondered in the
remnants of Erik's cantrip.
Siobhan slammed the hood of the Volvo closed. Swearing,
she got back into the drivers seat and tried the ignition.
Nothing; just an empty choking sound. This wasn't helping
her getaway, and she found herself wishing she had taken
some time to study automotive mechanics since the closure of
the Wars. She rested her head against the steering wheel to
try and figure out what to do.
If she had seen any traffic since entering this old
back road she may have considered flagging it down. She had
left her last sighting of civilization hours ago and heading
back would just take her back to Erik. That certainly wasn't
a wise idea now. She opened her eyes and stared dismally at
the gauges. With the keys in the ignition, they all had
current readings.
Empty. She had stolen a car with no gas. A car she was
supposed to refuel. She felt like such an idiot. What was
she doing? What was she going to do? Her fingers slowly
crept through her hair, tangling themselves in her tresses
and pulling tightly. Slowly, with a sense of frustrated
depression, she began to weep, and to wish someone else were
here to point her the right way. Someone like the Huntsman.
Erik sped along the back road with abandon. The Harley
seemed to be guiding itself more than he was, but he didn't
figure it had any reason to cause him pain. He just hoped it
would stop when he wanted it to.
Of course he knew where Siobhan must be going. Once he
had set upon his course, he saw the Appalachians in the
distance and knew that would be her goal. His sources told
him that the group known as the Shadowed Blade had a
stronghold somewhere in the Appalachians, which meant the
Huntsman, the leader of the Shadowed blade and Siobhan's
likely lover, would be close at hand. She was obviously
hoping to meet some contact near the mountains.
Erik had heard many stories of the Shadowed Blade. It
had, after all, been the Huntsman's company that fought
Mharyon to a standstill in the Accordance Wars. Erik had
never met the Huntsman, and he planned to keep it that way.
There were the occasional times, though he would not admit
this, that he had let a dauntain go once the trail led to
certain parts of the mountain range. The Shadowed Blade
could easily protect their strong holds, and so far they had
quite admirably. Of those he let go in this fashion, he had
never heard of any again.
So he decided he better get to her before she got much
closer to the Shadowed Blade. He had no desire to be at the
wrong end of one of their swords. In the hours that had
passed he was sure that he hadn't left her trail. The few
roads that had led off from the one he was traversing were
less inviting then his current path, and they invariably led
away from the mountains. It would be dark soon, and Erik
hoped to catch her before then.
Siobhan moved through the woods quickly. Having
gathered her senses she called on her skills used so little
as a diplomat. A sense of nostalgia absorbed her momentarily
as she remembered going through the motions to remain
invisible so often during the Wars. Those growing up now
envisioned the Accordance Wars as being fought on great
battle fields, Siobhan knew more often than not they were
fought in the shadows. So now she returned to the shadows
that had hidden her so many times before.
She had no doubt that Erik would eventually catch her,
as he had caught so many prey before. She was his mouse now,
and he was the prowling cat. If she could reach the end of
her maze, Siobhan would be safe. If not, he would catch her.
What he would put upon her as justice she wasn't sure. There
was the obvious claim that she was shirking duty. This
thought caused a wry smile to cross her face. Mharyon had
considered everything, even how to punish her officially if
she did run away.
The other question that lingered in her mind as she
flew through tree branches was, how far would Erik follow?
What if he just wanted to be led to the Shadowed Blade? She
threw the thought out of her mind. If that was the case,
they would certainly handle him. He was good, but the
Huntsman was better. A millennium of hunting on all sides is
hard to beat.
Above her the sky was darkening and the moon was coming
to life. She considered this as she jumped to the next tree.
Darkness would aid her retreat, she was sure. Unfortunately
in her distracted state, she did not watch carefully where
she jumped. The weak branch collapsed beneath her, and she
fell hard on the ground, twisting her left ankle into a most
uncomfortable position. Cursing her stupidity, she slowly
stood and tested her foot. It would be enough to get her
where she was going, but she doubted her route in the trees
would work well now. With a slight hobble, she jogged
through the brush.
With the moon just coming to life, Erik found the
Volvo. "I told her to fill the tank," he muttered. He could
sniff the slight pungent scent of banality she had left from
her short depression, and it told him she had been gone not
more than an hour, and possibly less.
Dismounting the Harley, he walked up to the back of the
car. The trunk opened easily with his spare key, and he took
quick inventory of its cargo. Most of it was still there,
especially her more useless items, like gowns and tokens.
Her weapons and armor she had taken. He snorted as he found
his own. If she was really thinking, she would have hidden
his stuff a few miles back. He didn't have time to change
into his armor, but he did sling his sword over his back.
Digging through his bag he pulled out a small pyx. Then he
entered the forest.
Her point of entry was easy to see. She must have
dashed blindly into the bush, only worrying about him
following as an afterthought. Shortly her trail became much
harder to follow, but the weather had been dry lately, and
the vegetation did not creep back to life immediately. Bent
plants and broken twigs told him of her passing.
To his surprise, her trail suddenly disappeared. All
around the vegetation seemed fine, no twigs were broken, nor
were any droppings marked by a boot print. Her instincts
must have suddenly returned, he thought. He had, truth be
told, been disappointed by her earlier progress. The trail
had been so clear to his thinking that he could have found
it in his sleep. It was taking the joy out of the hunt. Now,
his problem was reversed. Her trail was hidden too well. He
leaned against a tree while he considered what to do.
If she had used some teleport cantrip, she may be
anywhere by now, but he realized that was a moot idea. If
she had that power, she would not have stolen the Volvo in
the first place. A Quicksilver spell would leave a blazing
path in the forest, so she obviously wasn't out of range.
The moss on the tree bark tickled his ear and he moved away.
Pacing the area, he considered what other cantrips she
may have employed. There were no thickets worthy of an
Ensnare spell, nor did his kenning sense the lingering of a
Fuddle. She could be flying with the powers of Wayfare, but
it would have made much more sense to do that over the open
road. Shaking his head, he rested his eyes against the tree
he had just been using as a leaning post.
And there he saw the answer. The moss on the tree was
torn away in several places. She had taken to the trees.
"Smart, Siobhan. But not smart enough." He pulled the pyx
from his pocket and focused on her with his own Glamour.
Opening the lid, a small will o' the wisp flew out and
danced at an incredible speed through the forest. Surprised
at the speed, he threw the lid of the box like a Frisbee and
followed the bug under the charm of Quicksilver.
Siobhan froze as she heard a strange sound coming from
behind her. As it grew she recognized it as the vegetation
being trampled. A strange light appeared, tearing its way
towards her. She turned to run, but her hobbling gait was
cut short as the locomotive hit her.
Erik tumbled to the ground with Siobhan, and she
wriggled fiercely. Pinned beneath him, he grinned at her,
"Honey, I'm home. Miss me?" In answer, she brought her knee
to his groin. He fell over with a loud moan, and she was
quickly on her feet and hobbling away. Her ankle yelled like
the metal wheel of a train trying to stop along rusted
tracks.
Erik watched her through his pain as she ran for the
brush. His dagger flew from his hand and bit deeply into her
thigh, bringing her to the ground again. He stood and drew
his sword as he watched her struggle to get up again. "I'm
not here to kill you, Countess."
"Nice to know." He had hurt her already bad leg.
"So let's just head back to town and try this again."
She looked at him in her periphery. With his sword
drawn, he didn't seem like one ready to make deals. Her hand
wrapped around a large rock. "Not in the plan." Fluidly she
turned and threw the rock at him. It caught him in the
shoulder joint, and he fell back with a grunt. She was over
him before he hit the ground, and slammed her right leg down
on his arm. The bone snapped above his elbow, pinned between
her foot and a dead branch. He cried, and grabbed her left
leg with his good arm, twisting it suddenly. She fell
forward into the next tree, hitting her cheek against it
hard.
They both slowly pulled themselves back up, panting
heavily. Erik left his sword on the ground, his fighting arm
useless. They gazed at each other, weighing and judging --
and hoping for another moment to recover.
With a yell Erik launched himself forward, driving his
left shoulder into her midriff and forcing her back against
a tree. She threw her breath away in one short grunt. Again
he hammered his shoulder against her, and she felt her ribs
beginning to give way. She lifted her hands and drove them
in a single fist into the small of his back. He collapsed
again. She brought her foot to his face and sent him reeling
backwards.
She instantly regretted this action as her other leg
could not support her. The fire in her ankle, thigh, and now
her knee combined to drive her to the ground. Luckily Erik
was busy clutching at his broken nose. From her boot she
pulled a stiletto, and launched herself over to him.
Her stiletto poked at his skin like a hungry needle
about to pierce the fabric. In an instant she could have him
dead and be done with it. Be done with Mharyon's court; be
done with the running. Looking at his broken face, it was an
appealing thought. She had him exactly where she wanted him.
Erik looked back at Siobhan, his breath colliding with
hers. He saw the blood running down her cheek and the bruise
welling up below her eye. He knew he could throw her with a
simple twist - if she hadn't broken his arm. As he
swallowed, he felt the prick of the stiletto and he knew she
could kill him easily. What a woman.
"You know," he gasped, "you're quite -- attractive --
when you're bleeding."
"You bastard. You're nothing but one of Mharyon's
lackeys."
Erik's face grew grim. His eyes went cold, and his
mouth faded to a small line. "The Huntsman's dead, Siobhan.
Mharyon hired a Dougal by the name of Donuil to do it. You
may remember him, he was a great warrior from the Wars in
the Kingdom of Northern Ice."
She did remember him. The stories of the atrocities the
unseelie sidhe had committed in the North had reached her
ears many times, and she had often wished she could have
sent aid Northwards. The color was draining from her face
quickly. "That's impossible-"
"Donuil watched you for about a month. The other night
when the Huntsman didn't arrive was when Donuil found him.
He was close to your rooms; on the grounds of the freehold.
Donuil got him in the back with an old poison. He died
quickly, that should please you."
"No," she could barely breathe her small objection. Her
tense hold on the stiletto was failing.
And Erik had his chance. He threw his head against her
own, knocking her solidly. She fell off him, and lost hold
of the stiletto. The cry of a hawk echoed through the forest
as he reached the blade, and his hands were torn by the
talons of the bird. His cry was cut short when a heavy
gauntleted hand fell against his skull, driving him into
darkness.
The Huntsman took Siobhan in his arms, lifting her
gently. "How are you?" He asked gruffly. She looked at him
like he was a ghost. Not that the idea would surprise many,
but she was one who had felt his flesh.
"You are alive!"
He snorted. "More than I can say for Donuil of Dougal.
He was telling the truth, although I suspect many leaps of
intuition. When I met him the other night, I knew something
was up. Kestrel," he nodded to the hawk that kept a watchful
eye on the unconscious Erik, "says that Mharyon wanted you
out of the freehold while they investigated his death.
Undoubtedly he wants to use it to try and bring me to
justice."
Siobhan sighed and rested her head against his breast.
Then she asked, "But what are you doing here?"
"I've been following you for some time. I wanted to
know how much he knew before I did anything." If it were
another man, she would have been angry at him for not
stepping in sooner, but with the Huntsman, she knew his
games were more complex and timing was often the difference
between survival and death. He examined Erik. "Should I kill
him?"
"No. He's a good man at heart, just working for the
wrong side."
Kestrel squawked in impatience, and the Huntsman gave
her a slight smile. "We best be going. Otherwise he'll be
awake before we know it." Kestrel took one last peck at
Erik, then flew to the Huntsman's shoulder. The three then
disappeared amongst the trees.
* * * * *
So, I must say that the death of Donuil of Dougal
remains a mystery. The poison that killed him was old and
fast acting. Who it was that made it, I can only guess.
There are few at court with such knowledge, and they have
all been accounted for. It is my expectation that it was an
old enemy of Donuil's who followed him here from the
Kingdom of Northern Ice. Until further evidence presents
itself, it is my recommendation that we close this
investigation.
Yours Truly,
Erik Mikelson,
Knight of the Realm
Erik put down his pen, and folded the letter. The
investigation into Donuil's death would be closed tomorrow
morning, and Mharyon's plan put to an end. The plan had been
obvious to Erik once he returned, and if he had heard the
words of the Huntsman, the two would now be in total
agreement. As it was, Erik knew that he owed someone for
leaving him to bleed instead of taking his life. This would
make all debts paid.
He stood from his desk and walked out on his small
balcony, watching the sun set behind the mountains.
Somewhere out there was a Liam sidhe with a beauty he had
rarely seen before. A swordswoman who equaled him in body
and mind. As night took the land and the Appalachians
swallowed the sun, Erik caught himself wishing that for one
night he could be in the Huntsman's shoes.
(
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