Circle of Reign (51 page)

“Uncle, I believe his Lordship understands,” Gernald said.

“I’m mostly just saying that I can trap the little buggers better than anyone and have more experience because of these scars. I’m more careful and precise now. The last of these was over ten years ago.” Kimsly pointed to a bite mark. “I haven’t even come close to being bitten since and my haul is usually twice that of other trappers.”

Hoyt nodded. “And you can extract the poison without spoiling it?”

“It’s secreted from pouches behind the lower jaw line. It’s a delicate matter, but yes, I can preserve those pouches and the venom in them.”

“And it cannot be detected? There will be hounds as well as other beasts that possess unearthly abilities of scent.”

“It is utterly odorless and tasteless,” Kimsly said. Calder knew this but he could not be over-confident. Every element of the plan had to be checked and checked again.

“How soon can you deliver the poison?”

“I sold all my last catch at market two days past. Ancients, it was a good batch! Anyway, I can go out on the Roniah tonight at first moon. The days are shorter now so moonrise should be within a few hours.”

“When does the feast begin?” Lord Hoyt asked Hambley.

“I believe not for several more hours. Longer if need be, my Lord.”

“Very well. The mixture must not take effect immediately, not until after the feast is over. If the venom acts too quickly we will be done for.”

“It will be diluted with a sleeping curative provided by Healer Naveen,” Gernald said. “She is the best healer for scores of leagues.
The concoction should provide for both purposes, to delay the reaction and cause them to be asleep when it takes effect.”

“The serving cooks are prepared?”

“No,” Hambly said. “It’s too risky. I’ll administer the dose myself before the food leaves the kitchens.”

That was a change but Hoyt agreed with the alteration.

“And the proxies?” Lord Hoyt asked.

“Wenthil has found three men of appropriate size. All is set, my Lord.”

Hoyt again nodded with his hand over his chin. The last piece of the plan was particularly worrisome to him. He had argued with his daughter but she had prevailed with her logic.
Why does she have to be so blasted right all the time!
He hated how perceptive she was sometimes, but he knew she was right. The Arlethians would need someone of value if they were to trust in this plan.

“And my daughter?” he asked.

“She is already across the river and should be into the forest now,” Gernald answered.

“Ancient Heavens, watch over her,” Lord Hoyt prayed. “Lady Briel?”

“She knows nothing,” Hambly assured him.

If things did not go as planned, he knew his wife’s ignorance of the scheme would not save her from meeting the same fate he would. Still, he would not burden her with his intentions. Not yet.

“Sooner is better, Master Trapper.”

“Aye, my Lord.” Kimsly turned and exited swiftly.

Kathryn strode alone slowly on her mount toward the forest’s edge, arrayed in her hooded shawl of bright gold, orange, and red. She had always thought the colors of the Southern Province resembled a flame and wondered if she looked like a torch on horseback to those who she knew waited in stealth beyond the tree line. Fire and trees did not usually mix well.

Will the Arlethians even listen?
she wondered.
They must. They have to!
She did not know what to expect upon meeting with them. She knew she would make a tempting target or hostage once her identity was known.
Hedron, I wish you were here
.

Many prayers escaped her lips as she drew closer. Doing her best to appear unafraid and confident, she sat up straight, head held high. As she reached the forest’s border, she pulled back gently on the reins and her horse stopped. It snorted once.

“Easy girl,” Kathryn comforted. “Easy Dahlia. There, now.” The sun had started to set, but the massive trees that confronted her already hid the sun’s light. It was dark enough to be night in the forest. A low fog had come in from the east and blanketed the ground below her. She could not see her horse’s hooves when she looked down. Kathryn almost felt as if she were amidst the clouds and standing on thin air. Bringing her right leg up and over the horse, she dismounted. When her feet hit the earth, the wispy fog parted for a second, revealing the ground, and just as quickly filled in around her again. It reached halfway up her calves.

Taking a deep breath, she led Dahlia forward and crossed over the boundary into the forest. There was no sound other than her footsteps and those of her horse. Not even birds sang. They wove between closely grown trees trying to find any semblance of a path but there was none she could see. Dahlia whinnied and Kathryn again comforted her by rubbing her long snout and whispering that all was well. A carrot from her saddlebag helped her horse find some courage.

They continued walking. She looked up and could see small glimmers of sunlight piercing small openings in the thick canopy of branches and leaves over a hundred feet above her. Wind howled and rustled the tops of the trees.

Their progress was slow as she was uncertain of every footstep due to the fog. Not being able to see where she stepped created a bit of a surreal feeling and Kathryn again battled a sense of floating.

“Easy girl,” she said again, but more for her own comfort now than Dahlia’s.

Her next step fell on uneven ground and she stumbled forward. Her hands gripped the reins tight and prevented her from meeting the ground. Dahlia stepped backward and helped Kathryn up.

“Thanks, girl.”

When Kathryn again looked forward to continue, a shape emerged from beneath the fog directly in front of her. Fear found Kathryn but she forced herself not to run. Dahlia cried and rose up on her hind legs, almost tearing free from Kathryn’s grip on her reins. The shape materialized into the form of a man as remnants of the fog drifted off him like water flowing over a rock. She could discern no features in this façade of night. Two others emerged like ghosts from the depths of the Ancient Dark on either side of the first. Suddenly on her left side, a quick burst of air blew against her as a fourth appeared. The apparition stood within arm’s reach of her. Body and face alike were covered in mud the color of bark. Only the whites of his eyes were discernible in the contrast against his unnatural complexion.

The ghost-like Arlethian warrior reached forward and grabbed her shoulder before she could recognize his arm had moved. Kathryn Hoyt screamed.

Under the cloak of night, Master Gernald and three men of the Southern Army whom Lord Marshal Wenthil had selected, prowled through the camp of the Eastern army. A scout had informed Gernald where the enigmatic hooded creatures would likely be, but he was not certain. Lord Hoyt had warned the scout not to get too close, as they would be able to detect him, but he would not explain more than this. Charldis, the scout, was an archer with exceptional eyesight. Gernald knew the information was as reliable as could be expected.

The officers’ feast had ended hours ago and second moon was cresting the horizon. Lord Marshal Garreth had announced that the initial attack would likely begin just before nightfall of the following day. Oaths of valor and boasts of heroism filled the halls, coming mostly from the younger officers of the East who wanted to use this battle for their advancement. The Southern Province’s officers laughed and played along, but there was no mirth in their merriment. Master Gernald watched as the food had been delivered, eyeing conspicuously the servings placed in front of those three shadowed men. They did not even remove their hoods when they ate, but the food was devoured ravenously. Gernald had spared a glance to the kitchens where he spied Hambly barely peering around a corner. It seemed that Hambly had been successful and was standing by to watch his handiwork, though the effects were not supposed to take place until after the feast.

Let it work!
Master Gernald prayed as they ducked between tents and avoided the torches of the sentries. He knew they would only have one opportunity to pull off Lord Hoyt’s ambitious ploy.

They found the tent that Charldis had pointed out. Gernald’s heart was in his throat. He did not know what these three were, but he could tell Lord Hoyt feared them greatly. It was as if Hoyt did not believe them human at all.

The group hunched close to the back entry of the tent and Gernald reached out to grab one of the flaps. He looked at the others and nodded. Each drew a short blade. Gernald slowly pulled back the tent flap and entered. The other three followed, stooped over and moving as quickly as they could. Inside, the tent was tall enough to stand at the center but not along the walls where the small company crouched. Gernald retrieved a small glass vial from a pocket, as did each of the men with him. After taking the cork off the end of the tube for a brief moment and allowing the air to touch the liquid, he replaced it and shook the vial. The liquid inside illuminated a dark yellowish light.

I’m going to recommend that healer woman for high commendation!
he thought.

As the dim light filled the tent and his eyes adjusted, Gernald cursed at what he saw. His pulse quickened and he tensed. The men with him had a similar reaction but they did not move. Before them, in the weak light, Gernald made out three shapes huddled together on the ground in the center of the tent. The hooded figures sat facing one another, forming a circle, and had their arms up around one another’s shoulders. Their heads were bowed and each seemed to be resting against the next one for support. They did not move.

Gernald looked to the closest man on his right and nodded. Slowly and silently, the company advanced with short blades at the ready. They encircled the hooded men and waited. No action came from those below them. Looking at the others, Gernald nodded again. They each reached down forcefully and grabbed a hood, ripping it off the heads of their targets. Gernald gasped at what they saw.

Ancients take me!

Underneath the hoods were shorn heads with pale flesh. Strange markings were carved into their skin, obviously symbols of some create. There was no scar tissue from the carvings, just the shapes, pale in color as the flesh itself. Gernald realized these tattoos were not carved into their flesh at all, but part of their natural appearance. A deformity of some create. The exact same on each of the three strange men, as far as he could tell. Gernald shuddered again and swallowed his fear. He pulled one of the monsters from the circle and its head fell back. The eyes were open but lifeless. Pupils dilated too large to leave any other color save for the white borders. Purplish veins bulged under the eyes and foam dripped from the mouth. The demon of a man was dead.

It was strange to find them huddled together in a circle of death.
Perhaps this is the way they died in preparation to meet whatever foul being had spawned them
, Gernald mused. But he did not have time to ponder the mysteries that were before him now.

“Quickly,” he whispered to the others. “Remove their robes and dispose of the bodies.”

As night approached the following day, Lord Hoyt grew increasingly nervous. He had not heard from his daughter and feared for her safety. If something had happened to his precious Kathryn, he knew he would never be able to forgive himself. Lady Briel had slapped and cursed him when she found out what he had allowed their daughter to do and was in her chambers, refusing to answer the door for anyone.