Green Rider

Karigan could. She had met it.

They cleaned up the remnants of their picnic and rode for another hour, the long valley still stretching below them.

This must have been some lake, Karigan thought, listening to the rustle of meadow grass in a breeze. Bees droned on the lupine. Whether or not the lake had been drained, it was still a pleasant place.

“Look below,” Alton said, pointing into the valley. “I think that is the king’s hunt.”

Tiny mounted figures trotted below. Smaller white spots moved just ahead of the horses.

“This should help.” Alton removed a brass telescope from a leather case attached to his saddle. D’Yer was no impoverished aristocratic clan if it possessed even one such looking piece. “The dogs seem to be on the scent of some quarry.” Politely, after a brief glance, he passed the telescope to Karigan.

She took it into her hands dubiously. The last time she had looked into one was at Seven Chimneys where she had seen disturbing images of her past, present, and future. The last time she had seen a telescope was on the balcony of the castle during the ball. When Zachary had looked through, one of those future images had become apparent.

Six Hillander terriers bounded through the tall grass up front. They stopped to sniff the ground, pink tongues lolling, then sprinted off on a scent. The hunting party followed slowly behind, King Zachary in the lead with bow and arrow nocked. He was garbed in light mail, a short hunting sword girded at his side, and the silver fillet rested on his brow. His almond eyes scanned the meadow intently. Behind him rode a standard bearer in livery, holding aloft the Clan Hillander terrier banner, identical to the one that hung in the throne room.

Some well dressed men, who seemed more intent on conversation than hunting, hung behind, sipping at flasks probably filled with wine. They waved their bows about to add emphasis to whatever they were discussing. Among them was the lord-governor of Mirwell, dressed in scarlet and accompanied by his stoic aide and a guard.

Miscellaneous provincial soldiers and guards in silver and black rode with the nobles, boredom blanking their faces of expression. Weapons ranged about the group, their expressions, in contrast, wary and attentive. Karigan counted four of them, though there may have been more out of sight.

“You call that hunting?” She passed the telescope back to Alton. “It looks more like a procession to me.”

Alton shrugged and looked through the eyepiece again. “The king considers this relaxing. He doesn’t have any of his advisors present, there are no servants milling about, and the nobles are too drunk for rhetoric. No one is nagging him about the state of the country.”

Karigan hooked a strand of hair behind her ear. When she had addressed King Zachary in the throne room that day, had her complaints been considered nagging?

“It wouldn’t have been politic of him not to include a few nobles. They don’t seem to be annoying him. The soldiers are a must. He is probably enjoying himself thoroughly, and his dogs are getting a little exercise.”

Whatever.

Alton continued to watch through the telescope, his brow furrowing. “Now that’s strange,” he said. “I wonder what’s got the dogs riled up. Certainly not a hare.”

Karigan shielded her eyes from the sun and looked down into the valley. Without the telescope, all she could see were little white dots scattering in all directions. Barking came to her distantly. The horses screwed on their haunches, ruining the orderly formation they had been walking in. A black-clad figure fell from his mount.

Alton pulled the scope away from his eye, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just seen and needed to confirm it with his bare eyes.

“What is it?” Karigan asked.

Alton handed her the scope. The scene was chaotic. Dogs were nearly trampled by rearing horses. The king shouted orders at the dogs. Weapons galloped to the king’s side with swords bare. The useless guards were too busy fighting for control of their steeds to be of any help. The figure she had seen fall lay still in the grass. A Weapon. Two arrows protruded from his chest.

Karigan, like Alton, took the scope away from her eye in disbelief. On the opposite ridge, and farther along their own, metal glinted in the sun.

By Breyan’s gold, they’re under attack!

Alton saw the reflection, too, and took the telescope from her. “Aeryc and Aeryon, have mercy. Those are groundmites.”

BLACK ARROWS

Mirwell yawned.

“Are you tiring, my lord?” D’rang asked.

Mirwell surveyed the valley. The hunters moved at an excruciatingly slow pace. They waded through the tall grass in search of hare or small rodents at the absolute worst time of the day, with the sun still high in the sky and the critters burrowed away to where even Zachary’s fine terriers could not dig them out. Even if it was the right time of the day, the noisy nobles would scare even the deafest of game to the far reaches of the country.

“I am not tired, D’rang,” he said. “I’m bored. Though I believe things will get interesting very shortly.” He glanced at Beryl. He had hoped for things to grow interesting between the two of them, but now she didn’t even talk, except to say “yes, my lord.” She was no better than the boy who had tended him during his bath the other night. Beryl’s beautiful eyes were glassy and vacant. Whatever the Gray One had done to her, he had removed or hidden her spark of life and personality.

Mirwell squinted at the ridges on either side of the valley, which formed an excellent place for an ambush. The Gray One’s forces could hide beyond the ridges and then, when the time came, trap Zachary and his nobles in the bottom. The valley was narrowing even now.