Deception (Fabled Hunters Book 2) Page 2

  The almost-memory slipped away and Isabelle grunted with irritation. Striding over to her wardrobe, she pulled out her rucksack and began to pack. She wore Hunter’s garb now, but she packed her old clothing just in case she needed it.

  Pulling her cloak out, she paused, running a thumb over the soft red fabric. She missed her mother, despite their differences. A message had been sent to her family after Isabelle had won the tournament, and Isabelle had sent some money since, but she still hadn’t heard from them.

  Eliza Aryn was a stern, proud woman. Was she angry that Isabelle had left? Surely she could see now that Isabelle had made the right choice to leave home, to compete and win the tournament.

  Isabelle shook her head and resumed packing, stuffing her cloak inside the rucksack. Securing the ties, she tossed it at the foot of her bed. Picking up her bow, she balanced it carefully next to the rucksack. The light coming through her window caught the shine of the unicorn hair that was her bowstring, glinting midnight black. She smiled. She thought of archery practice, which brought up a memory of practicing with Silvan. She sat back on her heels, thinking of the mysterious, silver-haired man. She wondered if he’d found what he was looking for in the city. He’d told her whether or not he found it was up to her, but she didn’t know what that meant.

  She missed him.

  3

  The day after seeing the king, Isabelle staggered out of the training halls, body trembling with exhaustion. Tyro continued to push her to her limits, requiring every ounce of determination she had.

  Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she walked past her quarters to the palace gardens. It was a beautiful summer evening, the air dry and pleasant. Isabelle went to the gardens at every opportunity. They were the closest thing she had to the woods now.

  The gardens were massive. Isabelle had never found the end of them though she’d tried. She walked over to one of her favorite spots, a large circular cobblestone area with a sparkling fountain in the middle of it. A breeze blew through, cooling the air.

  “Fool! You tangled it in the hedge, you imbecile.”

  Isabelle turned to the voice and saw a noble woman scolding Cerah, the young servant who’d helped Isabelle during the tournament.

  From the looks of it, the girl had been holding the noble woman’s parasol which was now tangled in the green, well-manicured hedge that surrounded several parts of the garden, the silk torn.

  The noble woman smacked her. “Idiot. How could you be so careless?”

  “I’m sorry!” Cerah dipped into a hasty curtsey. “I’m sorry, my lady, I didn’t mean to. The wind pulled it from my grasp.” She turned and began to untangle it from the branches.

  The older woman hit her again and Cerah cried out, trying to duck.

  “Hey!” Isabelle strode over, anger bubbling up inside of her at the sight. “Leave her alone.”

  The noble turned to face her, eyes wide. Isabelle started in surprise. She knew this woman. Lady Ilysa was a noble from Seabound, very rich and respected. Isabelle’s parents had met her once, briefly, and said that despite her high rank, she was the perfect picture of manners and kindness. A stark contradiction to what she saw here.

  The woman narrowed her gaze, tapping her chin with a finger. “You’re the new Hunter. Isabelle. From Seabound.”

  “Yes.” Isabelle lifted her chin proudly. Stormview was too small for anyone to know of it, so she always said she hailed from Seabound. “What of it?”

  The older woman’s plum painted lips curved up in a calculating smile. She was pretty, with glittering black eyes and long lashes. Her black hair was an intricate tangle of curls that framed her dark face. She wore a golden chain that plunged beneath her neckline. “You’re the Hunter who’s a commoner.” She said it smugly. Isabelle was the first Fabled Hunter who wasn’t of noble birth.

  Isabelle took a deep breath. Time to test how far her newfound power went. “I’m a Fabled Hunter, Ilysa.” She left the woman’s title off to drive her point home. “Cerah is a palace servant and a personal favorite of mine. If any harm were to befall her, I would be most displeased.”

  Ilysa’s mouth dropped open in appalled amazement. Chances were good no one had ever spoken to her in such a manner. “I am a noble, I’ll have you know—”

  “And I’m a Fabled Hunter, with the weight of the king’s authority in my words.” Isabelle eyed her with feigned arrogance. Her insides squirmed with nerves. “Find another servant to bully. Cerah is off limits.” She waved a hand toward the girl. “Go.”

  Cerah looked like a rodent caught between two cats. She gulped, holding the parasol to her chest nervously. Isabelle took it from her. “Go. You’re no longer allowed to serve under this harridan.”

  At Lady Ilysa’s shocked intake of breath, Cerah dipped Isabelle a quick curtsey and fled.

  Isabelle shoved the parasol at Lady Ilysa. “Don’t let me catch you hitting her again.” She turned on her heel and strode away. Lady Ilysa made no move to stop her. Isabelle felt a giggle well up inside her. It seemed her power went pretty far. It felt good, bossing someone around.

  Her steps slowed as she left the garden. She saw Tyro and Aviina walking together, arm in arm. Isabelle ducked behind a hedge. Tyro had ordered her to go over some reports after training, and if he found her here strolling the gardens. . . Her authority only went so far. Until her formal training as a Hunter was completed, she had no equal footing with the other Fabled Hunters, especially with Tyro, as Head Hunter, and Aviina, his fiancé.

  She waited until they had passed, then made her way back to her quarters. Her body ached from the exercise she’d done today. Sleep would be welcome.

  “Hunter Isabelle?”

  Isabelle jumped. Cerah was standing a few feet away, twisting her apron nervously. “I—I just wanted to thank you for helping me, but you shouldn’t have.”

  Isabelle smiled at the younger girl. “Don’t worry about it. Lady Ilysa went too far.”

  “Please be careful,” Cerah said. “She’s a proud woman, and, well, I don’t think she’s going to forget what you did for me.”

  Isabelle snorted. She thought she did rather well for a Hunter. “Thank you for your concern, but there’s nothing she can do to me.”

  And there wasn’t. That was one of the glorious things about being a Fabled Hunter, Isabelle decided, as she entered her quarters. She could do whatever she wanted, and no one could stop her.

  4

  Isabelle and the Hunters rode through a swamp in the Southern Province. The trees here were twisted, sickly things, their leaves limp, rotten black and dark green.

  Isabelle wiped her brow. The mist that permeated the area clung to her like a ghostly shroud. She and the others rode directly through the wet marshland, leading their horses down a small path that was soggy more often than not.

  Tyro rode at the head of the line, Aviina bringing up the rear. Isabelle and two other Hunters, Rudolf and Doon, rode in the middle. They’d been traveling for the better part of a month, their journey quiet and uneventful.

  Isabelle’s mare whickered uneasily, and Isabelle patted her on the neck reassuringly. “It’s okay, Honey.” She’d named her for the horse’s light brown coat that shimmered golden when direct sunlight hit it.

  The horse snorted but otherwise seemed to calm down. Isabelle peered into the gloom but didn’t see anything. Perhaps her mare had sensed Ash. She’d only glimpsed her wolf friend once since leaving Illyminatym, but Isabelle had no doubt Ash was following them. She’d tried to get the wolf to come to the Hunter’s women’s quarters after she’d become a Fabled Hunter, but Ash had refused, no doubt highly uncomfortable around so many people. If she hadn’t shown herself to the other Hunters, it was because she was either uncertain of their reaction to her, or that she didn’t trust them.

  Isabelle frowned. It must be the former reason. She didn’t know Rudolf or Doon very well, but she trusted Tyro and Aviina. She looked at the tall Hunter riding directly before her.

  Tyro r
ode his horse as naturally as if he’d been born in the saddle. He kept a loose grip on the reins, preferring to guide his horse with a nudge of the knees. He was looking around himself now as if seeing something in the woods.

  “Is everything all right?” Isabelle asked, and Tyro glanced back at her for a moment before he resumed scanning the trees.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he mused. He pulled his horse to a sudden stop and Isabelle copied him. “What is it?” she asked, but was hushed by the man’s raised hand for silence.

  The other Fabled Hunters were better trained. They each reined to a halt, perfectly silent. When Isabelle glanced back, Aviina was standing in the stirrups, trying to look over the heads of the Hunters in front of her, her expression worried.

  Isabelle frowned. Aviina was never worried. She looked back toward Tyro and found he’d hadn’t moved, his head tilted as he listened.

  “Nixies,” he breathed at last. “I knew it.” He unslung his rucksack and rummaged through it, hurriedly pulling out a clump of wool. “Hurry, everyone come closer.”

  There wasn’t enough room on the trail but the watery ground on either side was still solid enough for the Hunters to gather near Tyro. The Head Hunter passed out bits of wool. “Stuff it in your ears.”

  “Why?” Isabelle asked.

  “Nixies are similar to sirens,” Aviina said. She rode up close, taking some of the proffered wool from her fiancé. She stuffed it into her ears, still speaking. “While a siren will lure you to her, a nixie feels you with dread, a horror so strong you become immobilized.”

  “What do they do then?” Isabelle asked, but with the wool in her ears Aviina didn’t hear her.

  “They eat you,” Tyro said, cramming the remaining wool into his ears. “Hurry, Isabelle.”

  Isabelle quickly complied. The wool was scratchy but dulled her hearing so the only thing she could hear was the pounding of blood in her ears.

  The horses began to shift nervously and Honey tossed her head, shaking her mane. Isabelle patted her mare, but it had little effect.

  The Fabled Hunters began to resume their travel down the marshy path, Tyro still in the lead. He looked around intently, his sword half drawn from its sheath. Isabelle no longer rode behind him; Aviina and her fiery stallion took her place, staying as close to the Head Hunter as possible.

  Something leaped out of the undergrowth, landing on Aviina, lashing at her with its claws. It was a short, thin green creature with webbed hands and feet. Aviina halfway fell from her saddle, trying to pull the beast off her.

  With the wool in his ears, Tyro rode on, oblivious to the danger his fiancé was in. Another creature scampered from the underbrush, nipping at Aviina’s leg.

  Isabelle yanked her knife from its sheath, intending to aid her friend when another nixie leaped at her own horse, claws raking across Honey’s face. The mare reared, lashing at the nixie with its hooves, and Isabelle dropped her knife. She grabbed Honey around the neck, barely avoiding getting thrown.

  The horse bucked as nixies began pouring out of the swamp woods, faces contorted into feral snarls.

  Isabelle clung to her mare for dear life as Honey charged into the trees, nixies pursuing them. Isabelle was astounded by how quickly they ran. They were short, thin creatures, with bulbous eyes and greenish skin, fangs protruding over thick lips. They looked like a cross between human and fish; Isabelle had never seen their like before.

  Honey leaped over a fallen tree, and Isabelle was thrown from her saddle. She landed in the bog on her hands and knees; cold water instantly soaking her boots and trousers.

  The wool in one ear came loose and fell into the water. With a thrill of terror, Isabelle realized she could hear everything. She staggered to her feet with a yell and unslung her bow. She aimed at the nearest nixie and shot, impaling the monster. It fell with a shriek, the sound causing Isabelle to almost drop her bow. It was indescribably awful, the sound cutting to her very core.

  Several nixies darted over to their fallen comrade, ripping it to shreds as they fed. Isabelle yelled louder, trying to block out their voices as she fired into their midst, again and again.

  I’m going to die. Dread crept over Isabelle, the cries and hisses from the nixies working their way into her mind. Her bow fell from nerveless fingers. She needed to run, get away, but her legs wouldn’t move. Her feet felt rooted to the ground.

  One of the nixies looked up from feeding on its fallen comrades, green blood dripping from its fangs. It grinned at her, a guttural howl rumbling from its throat.

  It’s over.

  No. Run, Isabelle. Run.

  I can’t.

  She stood frozen, horror and despair washing over her.

  The nixie stood, and took a step forward.

  Fire ripped through the air, slamming into the nixies in a billow of heat and smoke. It came from over Isabelle’s shoulder. She would have flinched from the heat if she could move. The nixies screamed, unable to put out the heat, and were consumed in a matter of moments. Other nixes leaped from the forest, running away from the source of the fire.

  At moment later Isabelle regained mobility. She fell to her knees, gasping with relief. “I can move.” Thank the heavens. She could move.

  The fire. Where the nixies had stood was nothing but a ruin of charred bodies, the flames already dissipating in the damp. She glanced fearfully over her shoulder. Smoke and ash hung in the air, making Isabelle’s eyes water, but no one was there.

  Isabelle retrieved her bow, dirty swamp water dripping from where it’d begun to sink in the mud. Her shoulder blades prickled. She was being watched.

  She spun around, fitting an arrow to the bowstring in one swift movement.

  Honey whickered gently, stepping from the shadows of the trees. A wolf stood by the mare, its golden eyes fixed on Isabelle.

  “Ash!” Isabelle ran to the wolf, throwing her arms around the gray beast.

  Ash whined in response, her tail wagging furiously.

  “Thanks for bringing my horse back,” Isabelle said. She stood and reached out, taking the reins. Strange, the mare didn’t seem alarmed by the wolf’s presence. Why was that? “I need to get back. I hope the others are all right.” She paused, looking around uncertainly. The swamp looked the same in all directions. There was no trace of hoof prints left from her mare. “Um, do you know the way back to the Hunters, Ash?”

  Ash grinned, tongue hanging out of her mouth. She turned and trotted away, pausing a moment to look over her shoulder, indicating to Isabelle that she should follow.

  Leading Honey through the bog, Isabelle followed her canine friend. “When the nixies attacked me,” she said aloud, “a great burst of fire came and destroyed them. Did you see any dragons out here, Ash?”

  The wolf turned to regard Isabelle a moment, her golden eyes glowing in the dim woodsy light. She ducked her head in a nod.

  The hair prickled on the back of Isabelle’s neck. What else could command so much fire?

  She glanced around, feeling suddenly nervous, despite Ash’s comforting presence. She wasn’t sure why a dragon would protect her. Though really, now that she considered it, if it had been a dragon, it could have just been after the nixies, and unintentionally helped her.

  She recalled a discussion she’d had with Aviina of mages, and Isabelle found herself unable to repress a shiver. Mages were incredibly powerful. Dragon or mage, she wished the nixies enchantment had worn off a little earlier. Then she would have been able to see the source of the flames.

  In less than half an hour, Isabelle heard voices up ahead. The Fabled Hunters. Ash slowed, her tail ceasing its wagging.

  Isabelle walked over to where the wolf stood, placing her hand on the beast’s shaggy head. “Ash, I’m sure they’d be happy to have the extra company and protection.”

  The wolf snorted and, giving Isabelle’s hand a lick, turned and disappeared into the foliage. Still leading her horse, Isabelle pushed through the wet trees.

  “Something’s coming
.” It sounded like Aviina’s voice.

  “It’s me,” Isabelle called out. She walked forward hesitantly, breaking through the foliage onto the path that Honey had left in her flight. All of the Hunters were still there, though Aviina looked a little worse for wear. She had some scratches on her face and sat slumped in the saddle. She now rode with Tyro, and the man had one arm wrapped securely around her waist.

  Tyro’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw Isabelle. “I thought for sure you were dead. What happened?”

  “I chased some nixies.” Isabelle made her voice casual and shrugged, pretending it was no big deal. “I came back after I killed them.” It was only partially a lie. She’d killed at least three, and while she didn’t intentionally chase them, it amounted to the same thing, didn’t it? She didn’t want them to think she couldn’t pull her own weight.

  “That sounds lucky.” Aviina frowned in suspicion, which turned into a wince of pain. “Most people who get lost in these swamps don't live to tell it.”

  Isabelle shrugged uncomfortably, not offering further explanation.

  “Let’s continue,” Tyro said. He was watching Isabelle with narrowed eyes. “I doubt I’m the only one who doesn’t want to spend the night here.”

  Within a few hours, the marshland gave way to the healthier forest. The trees were straight and tall again, their leaves and needles a healthy green. The ground was firm, and the sounds of animal life that came through the bushes and trees were that of normal creatures. No nixies. Isabelle smiled in relief. She kept her bow slung over the pommel of her saddle so it’d be easy to reach just in case the wretched beasts came back.

  As twilight fell, Tyro called a halt. Dismounting, he gently helped Aviina down. “I’m fine,” she grumbled, but grudgingly accepted the assistance of her fiancé. He helped her sit, her back to an old oak, and then turned to Isabelle. “A word with you.” He took her out of earshot of the others, but still in sight. He turned to face Isabelle, a dark frown on his face. “How about you tell me what really happened back there?”