ELBK00 | Perception | Chapter 07 - Fox Hunt (Patreon)

ELBK00 Chapter 7 | Fox Hunt - Nathaniel.

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A slight, shy girl with long straight hair helped me dress. Fastening the cinch of the corset and adjusting the buttons, her wide round eyes flicked upward in sparing glances to my face. She was too polite to stare, but too shocked not to. ‘Returning from the dead’ has its downsides.

Across the room past the velvet daybeds drowning in decorative cushions and their sturdy footstools, my brother stood beside the floor length window. Silhouetted against the light, and with his mood as grey as the sky, Achaicus glared ill wishes in my direction. Apparently, killing me once wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Two servants helped him dress. They tended to him with familiar certainty, unlike the girl assigned to me, and coordinated with practiced ease. 

Markos, being the flavour of capricious asshole that he is, perched on the armrest of the chair closest to Achaicus. With one knee over the other, and a cup of tea sitting untouched beside him in its fine china, he plotted away silently. The gleam of mischief twinkling in his lilac eyes. If he could have his cake and eat it too, he would. 

Between the three of us on a low sitting table lay the stretched sprawl of a topographic map. The paper corners curled at the edges and were held down by four different glass paperweights.  

It detailed the new boundary lines of Dunkel, unfamiliar lines to me, while Leúchtend was considered lost territory altogether. 

From what little information my ‘family’ had been willing to impart, the Vanir had advanced and won the land through a series of battles until a treaty was established. That treaty was agreed upon by Katla, who now led only one of the two factions of the Vanir. Mercury is dead, and ‘Mercurisson’ leads the other. As a result we have Vanir allies, but the war is still ongoing with battles happening along the north and north-eastern fronts.

I dismissed the girl helping me, and fastened the vambraces to my forearms one at a time myself as I tried to piece the past together. It didn’t bother me that Eiríkr had taken his father’s place, he would… but why had Katla been the one to make the treaty, not him? My Eiríkr didn’t revel in bloodlust, he would have gladly made a deal with us to minimise casualties. It didn’t make sense. Someone was lying to me.

Keeping my eyes low and the thoughts to myself, I tried to focus on the task at hand. According to Achaicus, scout reports had placed Mercurisson within Dunkel’s territories and they had subsequently been able to trap him within a four mile radius zone. Now all that was left was to flush him out for slaughter, a fox hunt. 

I had to be the one to find him first, that was the only way I could guarantee his safety. Subtly, I glanced at Achaicus from the side of my eye, presuming of course, that no ‘accident’ was to befall me during the hunt. These people weren’t happy to see me. My only hope might be in convincing Markos not to smite me… At least they can’t do anything until after I deliver my public address clearing Achaicus’s name.

The double doors blew open in a small whirlwind of energy, drawing the attention of the room and I turned to see a woman standing in the doorway. Her slender, graceful figure arrived in a rush of flowing fabric and long hair that swayed forward with the breeze. She scanned the room with her fierce lilac eyes, inflicting severe judgment on anyone unfortunate enough to catch her gaze. My sister at least, was just as I remembered her.

With the inability to laugh and her mouth set in a permanent line of disapproval, she had the unique ability to look down on everyone from below. Her attention locked on me, and she froze in place. Time stood still between us for a fraction of a second before she straightened her shoulders, lifted the hem of her dress and stalked over. Servants scrambled to attend her, but she held up a hand.

“Out,” she ordered.

Lucinde crossed the room in a few short strides, and stopped before me. Her hands reached toward my face automatically, but hovered, trembling before making contact as her breathing shallowed. Through eyes that swam, she scrutinised me with a stiff upper lip, unsure if she could believe what she was seeing. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen my sister, and the thought tightened my chest. 

I hadn’t allowed myself to think about what or who I had left behind when I activated the spell. Were my siblings okay? Was Markos? Could this Lucinde tell I wasn’t ‘hers’? When she didn’t move, I carefully rested my face into her hands, and she brushed my cheeks with her fingertips.  I dared not meet her eyes for fear of what I would find there. Condemnation? Denouncement? Would she forsake me?

“Is it really you..?” she tendered in a whisper.

“…Yeah…” I wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not.

Lucinde hesitated, determining whether or not she believed me while the room held its breath. If she wasn't convinced, it would fracture the narrative Achaicus and I had agreed upon. Rumours would burn like wildfire through the nobles, destroying the fragile bridges forming and compromise my relative safety. But more than that, if I didn’t have my sister's acceptance then perhaps I didn’t exist at all…

She took her time deciding. Her face grew pale and her attention drifted past me to our brother immobilized by the window. She swallowed hard as she tried to process the impossible. Our sister stared at him as if he were a spotlight and she a deer, before her slender posture stiffened, resolute in her decision. With shoulders back and chin held high, she made her accusations, “And where were you? Why didn’t you come home?” 

“It’s… complicated…” I murmured, holding her hand against my cheek when I thought she might let go. 

Her soft features scrunched into a sour scowl, displeased with the answer. She let go of me with one hand only and beckoned our brother. “Achaicus, come here.” 

He shifted from one foot to the other with a begrudging reluctance and strode over. Lucinde didn’t know how he loathed being near me, that was why he was on the other side of the room in the first place. 

When he reached us, she curled her fingers encouraging him to rest his face in her hand the same way I was and he obliged. She looked between the two of us, stroking our cheeks with her thumbs before speaking in a lower, more dangerous tone.

“If either of you ever lie to me again, I’ll water my carnations with your blood and feed your bones to the crows. Do you understand?” She enunciated the last three words with deliberate menace.

Neither of us answered. Achaicus glared sideways daggers as if this were my fault, while I struggled to process the innate terror her calm words invoked. Lucinde’s expression remained a mask of tranquility. Onlookers might have thought she whispered something kind, and would never have understood of the viper we were staring down.

“Do you understand?” Lucinde repeated 

“Yes,” Achaicus and I synchronized by mistake.

***

The hunt began with the low drone of horns before the sun broke free of the clouds. Achaicus, Markos and I travelled on horseback, and were accompanied by a handful of other nobles. A legion of foot soldiers spread out before us and small, loud hounds sniffed the ground relentlessly for Vanir scent. They would howl if they found anything.

We searched up the ridge into the forest, and back down toward the river before the wildlife grew silent. I slowed my horse to a stop, sensing the change in atmosphere, and dismounted to continue on foot. Achaicus scoffed, choosing not to do the same, and deciding not to follow as I jogged up the nearest out crop for a better view.

Nature was still from where we were, to past the river. It was only a single, small bird flittering between a gap in the trees that alerted me to the danger. The avian evaporated in a puff of tiny brown feathers as it was struck, and not a moment later the trap was sprung. The dogs went first, simply ceasing to live the moment they stepped into the runes hidden under the leaves.

Foot soldiers were next. Black spines like shards of glass erupted from the foliage, puncturing flesh and breaking bone with a sickening crack. Most didn’t have time to register their danger before they were obliterated. The forest floor was littered with near invisible, hair trigger traps. Defenses. 

“Pull back!” Achaicus growled the orders, turning his horse away just in time to avoid a spine. “Go around,” he ordered. 

Now was my only opportunity. I drew my sword and let my energy expand. It flared in a circular defensive pattern and I stepped from the safety of the rocks into the minefield. Fae soldiers scrambling to retreat rushed past, some making it not more than a couple of steps before triggering the death runes.

This wasn’t like my Eiríkr… he was never this efficient in his killing, never so precise. The man I knew would have spared as many lives as he could, but this was a massacre. Not one other who stepped into the area made it back to Achaicus. I deflected incoming attacks off my sword and broke spells with brute force, overloading them with magic as I stepped into them. 

While the others moved around the barrier to spells, wasting their time dismantling them, I searched for Eiríkr in earnest. I needed to reach him before they found a way through. Past the ring of traps, the forest was sparse and quiet. Slow, intermittent raindrops began to fall, pattering against the broad leaves of the trees overhead. There wasn’t anywhere for someone to hide, my Vanir had to be close, I just needed to find him.

“I hope I didn’t upset you, killing all those guards,” a familiar, taunting voice disturbed the silence and I turned toward the sound. 

“Eiríkr,” my heart breathed his name as I scanned between the trees.

“I guess this is serious now, since you’re here, did your plan not go as you expected? Did you think I would play nice?” he continued from a new direction and I pivoted in place to follow his voice. 

“Where are you?” I spoke loud enough for him to hear this time, “Let me come to you.”

“Not likely,” he returned. 

I caught a glimpse of movement between the trees and moved toward it. “Then come to me,” I told him sternly.

He gave a short, humourless laugh and ignored the request. “It’s unfair of you to interfere like this. Did you realise I was close to breaking that little barrier of yours?”

I grit my teeth, suppressing the nausea his statement brought up, he didn’t remember…  “Please just come to me…” I murmured quieter. I wasn’t sure I could survive with him just beyond my reach.

Tense seconds passed before a flurry of movement erupted from above as Eiríkr descended from the tree branches like a missile, “As you wish~!”

Something sharp sliced my cheek, and reflex was all that saved me from the secondary slash aimed at my throat. I blocked his arm, and he twisted away, resetting into a new stance for wielding. The brief moment of pause was the first true glimpse of him I had in what felt like decades. 

Fractionally younger, though still in his early twenties, he stood as tall as I remembered, but his clothes were uncharacteristically loose fitting. Both too long and dirty, as if he’d worn them for some time. He didn’t look like he should be standing for the lack of muscle tone he should have had but he moved like a viper.

Eiríkr’s stance was familiar, and when he attacked he followed the same patterns he had once taught me. I deflected, directing him away with the flat of my sword. His deep blue eyes were dull with hatred and devoid of recognition. Inky black energy steamed off the right side of his body. It poisoned the space around him and ruffled his chocolate brown hair in agitated waves. 

When I countered him, he switched fighting styles, adapting instantaneously to something I had never seen before. He cut the back of my forearm in one strike and pulled away threads of blood that connected unnaturally to his fingertips. Pain scorched up the length of my arm and down to my hand, as his magic travelled back down the threads.

My skin burst outward in thin, bloody spears like a thousand needles and I cut the connection with a knife from my boot. He wasn’t holding back, he would kill me if I slipped. In the seconds it took me to free myself of his contact spell, he wrote another and familiar black shards propelled upward through the soil. They shattered against the shield of my energy and I let my magic ignite in earnest.

It raced through my veins and spilled out in a wash of fresh power, scorching the leaves at my feet. “Enough,” I warned, “Surrender before I have to hurt you.”

Eiríkr hesitated, sweeping away as he abandoned his next attack in favour of flight. A barrier line of flat magic formed between us and I grit my teeth in annoyance, fleeing was not what I had in mind for surrender. I should have kept the horse. I holstered my sword, broke the barrier with a blast of magic, and gave chase. 

He had a mild headstart, but I’d followed him through forests enough to know the routes he preferred, how he liked to disappear over small embankments and change direction. The vanir vanished between two trees, and I made an educated guess, turning to the left to cut him off. We met at a distance of less than 20 feet and Eiríkr flicked a spray of blood at the ground, activating another blast that made a cloud of dust. How many of those did he have?

It didn’t matter. 

The chase came to an abrupt end when he met with Achaicus’s containment barrier. Eiríkr skirted along the edge, undoubtedly looking for the break point, and exited the tree line into an open field. A wall of Fae armed with arrows greeted him on the other side, forcing him to stop. He was trapped between the barrier, the ahead line of soldiers and myself. 

They opened fire on him and he crouched low, covering the nape of his neck with both hands. Fae arrows are commonly tipped with iron to pierce magic, since we commonly use them on each other, and I sent a wave of energy sideways to counter it. Targeting the wooden stem of the arrows to knock them off course.

“Hold your fire!” I roared the blanket command without thinking and each soldier froze in place. I’d revealed too much power, commanding dozens at a time and using three full words. Achaicus would hate that, and Markos would analyze it, but I didn’t have another option.

Hot with irritation and from running, I turned my attention to my Vanir, “I told you to surrender. Do it,” I snapped.  

Eiríkr swallowed hard and slowly raised his hands above his head. His lip curled with resent, and hatred darkened his eyes, but the malice didn’t ward off his flushed complexion or his faint trembling. Beneath the ferocious outlay, he was tired and scared. “I hate you,” he hissed through his teeth.

“I can see that,” I muttered pretending it didn’t sting to hear, “Don’t move, I’ll come to you.”

He sneered, the command hadn’t worn off yet, but I knew he was fighting it. Mentally loosening its hold with every step I took closer. His attention flicked back to the row of recovering Fae waiting with arrows drawn, then to either side where two horses approached. My heart resided in my throat. If Achaicus reached us before I could convince this brat to give up, or if he thought I couldn’t capture this Vanir and reneged on our deal…

“There’s nowhere for you to go now, surrender to me because I’m your only chance. I know you don’t want to die.” I coaxed him, taking a step forward, and blocking him from my brother's line of sight in the process.

If I moved too slowly, the command would wear off before I reached him, too fast, and it would frighten him more. “Please, Eiríkr…” I whispered under my breath, pleading with him.

He froze at the mention of his name and suspicion crossed his expression, but he dared not voice the question. How did I know his name? I could see the confusion in his eyes. Would the uncertainty be enough to hold him?

“Let me come to you,” I pressed my luck.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing here,” he spat back, hiding none of his irritation, “Why do this? Does it give you some perverse pleasure to force me to my knees? Is that your problem? Or did you just want my execution to look good for your ego?”

“We don’t have the time for this,” I gave up trying to convince him. 

His breathing shallowed with every inch of ground that disappeared between us until I was close enough to see the water brimming in his eyes. Not wholly from fear, but from rage so potent it was almost tangible. He hated this, us, me in a way I’d only seen once, when I broke the bandrun on his thigh, preventing him from walking. It was the deepest level of resent, reserved only for those he truly despised and now I was one of those people.

He was released from the command when I was a handful of steps away, and I gave the new order begrudgingly knowing it would only foster his distrust. “Don’t,” I kept it light but his reaction was visceral. 

His focus locked and muscles coiled. Dark magic sputtered at the fingertips of his right hand and his teeth ground together. To anyone else he might have looked the part he played, a vicious Vanir savage, feral. To me, he looked exhausted and desperate, I would have given anything for him to understand I meant no harm.

“You’re outnumbered and your magic is exhausted. If you try to run, the guards will kill you. There’s nowhere else to go, there’s nothing more you can do. You have to let me help you.”

“Help me?” he sneered, “I don’t need your help.”

I didn’t bother to answer. He could do the math himself and, whether or not he believed me, it was still true that he was safer with me than without. I took the belt from my trousers and fastened it around his wrists, pulling it tight. If it looked like I was being merciful with him, we would both be in danger.

Eiríkr wavered, teetering between defeat and determination like a stubborn child as he struggled. He fought against me with a fraction of the strength he should have had, before realizing it was pointless, and going limp like a doll. “... You’re going to kill me…” he whispered so quietly it could have been the wind, resigned to his fate.

“No,” I assured, tilting his chin up with my fingers, “You’ll be okay, just stay quiet…”

“Liar…”

Eiríkr refused to meet my eyes, the last of his begrudging resistance, but didn’t fight it when I lifted him into my arms. Keeping my expression blank, I scooped him off the ground with a heady rush of relief and turned him away from the barrage of arrows aiming for him. I put his arms over my shoulder, and supported him in one arm, covering the nape of his neck with my hand to reassure him.

He was listless in my arms, and lighter than he should have been. I wanted to cuddle him close, whisper in his ear that it would be okay, but I couldn’t. To show him any affection with so many eyes watching would be foolish. I held him no tighter than necessary, and with no more care than one would a bag of potatoes. His chin rested on my shoulder, and he made no effort to hold onto me. This was a last resort for him, the only thing he could do to save his life, not a choice he had made or wanted.

“You have some survival instincts after all,” I teased without showing emotion.

“I can’t kill you all if I’m dead,” he responded in plain monotone and I snorted to myself, he wasn’t joking.

A moment later I felt a gentle tug on my hair as he pressed a lock of it between his fingers, “...You’re not Achaicus…” he murmured, hesitant. 

“I’m not,” I agreed.

“Then what is it you want, Not Achaicus?” 

I didn’t answer, my brother was too close now.

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