Chapter IX - Revelation

Zoe followed Shyla as they continued through the woods, leaving the three sentries behind. She smiled to herself. The three of them had been amusing. She hoped that the rest of the men in the Hunter’s camp were as good-natured. And that the Hunter himself is not overly serious, her thought continued. Her smile faded.

They were traveling up a slight incline with fallen trees and small icy patches surrounded them. However Shyla led her through them with no problem, weaving and turning sharply at times, and Zoe suddenly realized that there was some semblance of a trail that the woman was following.

The incline steepened, and Shyla’s horse clambered up more quickly than the gray gelding, reaching the summit swiftly. Zoe squeezed her legs and leaned forward a bit to help her horse out as much as she could, and he finally gathered himself and scrambled up too. They made it to the top and Zoe was surprised to see that the trees were very thin here; the sky could be seen in great large patches overhead. She glanced around and her eyes attempted to take in everything she saw all at once.

The top of the hill was large, snow-dusted, and relatively flat on top; tall, mature trees grew there but all the thickets and underbrush had long since been cleared out. Pine trees waved in the chilly winter breeze here and there around the outer edge of the glade-like place. Flurries were drifting down from the iron-gray heavens and either added to the layer of snow around the outer ring of the camp, or melted into mud and slush closer to the central hub, where bonfires roared and shod feet walked.

Shyla turned to Zoe and smiled quietly at her. “Welcome to the camp of the Hunter.”

Zoe nodded mutely. There were people everywhere! Tents were set up, most of them clumped by the pine trees for added protection. The smell of smoke and roasting venison touched her nostrils, coming from the direction of the fire pits. Men, most of them garbed as peasants, were in various states of activity. She spotted a couple of them turning the spit that held the skinned body of a dead stag; several were practicing archery at the far end of the glade, off in the distance; the majority appeared to be at home in this place, laughing and joking with their companions.

A man ran up to them and said, “Welcome, Shyla!” He nodded at Zoe respectfully and then looked back at Shyla. “I’ll take your horses.”

“Thank you, Bryan.” Shyla dismounted gracefully and Zoe followed suit. She released the gelding’s reins to Bryan and nodded her thanks. She kept scanning the camp as Shyla spoke.

“I will go find the Hunter. I must speak with him and I will tell him that you are here.”

Zoe was about to ask if she was supposed to accompany Shyla to meet the man when she froze, her eyes wide with shock. She stared across the camp and she vaguely wondered if she was hallucinating.

For standing there, proud as ever, was Brac. A rush of emotion blazed through her, startling her with its intensity. “Brac,” she murmured.

“What’s wrong?” Shyla asked, her voice sounding a little concerned.

“Nothing,” Zoe responded in a near whisper. She pointed to Brac and inquired, “Where did you get that horse from?”

“We picked him up on the road some time ago,” Shyla said. “He was trotting loose. He came along after a bit of a fight but so far, nobody has been able to ride him. He bucks everyone off.”

That’s my boy, Zoe thought with a small smile. “May I go see him?”

“Of course.” A flicker of curiosity lit Shyla’s blue-gray eyes. “Do you recognize the stallion?”

“Recognize him? He’s mine,” she said. Without another word she hurried across the camp—around the fire pits and milling men and through the mud-hued slush—toward Brac. He saw her when she was about twenty paces away and let out a piercing whinny, tossing his head up and down against the rope that bound him to a tree. She reached him a moment later and he pushed his muzzle insistently up against her, nosing her over as if to make sure she was all right. He gently lipped her hair as she stroked his strong neck.

“Hey boy,” she whispered, unable to repress the grin that moved across her face. “I missed you!” She rested her forehead against his for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a steadying breath. The familiar scent of her stallion came to her and tears of happiness pricked at her closed eyelids. “At last,” she breathed to him, opening her eyes. “I have been going crazy without you, Brac.”

He whuffed softly into her cupped palm, his deep brown eyes as warm and spirited as she remembered. She took heart. I have Brac. At least I know that whatever happens next, I’ll have him with me. Her smile widened. “You’re also a connection between me and Aiden,” she murmured to the horse. “It is so good to see you again.”

Just then, an all-too familiar voice broke through her joyful thoughts. “You two seem well acquainted already.”

Zoe’s heart dropped as she whirled—

And stared up into the eyes of Cormac Alstair.

Time seemed to stop for a moment as she looked at him in shock, unable to comprehend this horrible twist of affairs. Slowly her senses began trickling back, and soon her mind was flooded with questions that demanded answers—immediate answers.

“What are you doing here?” she finally challenged, regaining the ability to speak with some difficulty. “You’re supposed to be in Meru!”

“I live here; I might as well ask what you are doing here.” She despised the way his eyes laughed. “And how does a slave girl own a fine steed like this?”

She bristled. “I am not your slave anymore, Cormac Alstair! And he is my stallion, so yes, I’m well acquainted with him.” She ignored the stares of passing men, keeping her narrowed green eyes fixed on him.

He sobered suddenly, to her bewilderment, the amusement dying from his eyes. “No, you’re not a slave anymore,” he agreed. “You’re free now.”

She tried to hide her uncertainty. One minute he was amused by her, the next, serious! What was she to think of him? “Well, fine then,” she said as if she was not affected by his confusing mannerisms.

“And it’s not Cormac,” he said quietly.

She stared at him, her emotions so puzzled and jumbled it was hopeless trying to sort through them. Anger, fear, dread, and bewilderment vied for top position. “What?” she barely managed to get the word out. “You’re not making sense.”

“My name is not Cormac,” he elaborated a little.

“Then who are you?” she exploded with frustration. Oh, Deus, what is happening? Where are You? Why is he here, of all people? She was so perplexed that she unconsciously sent up a prayer. Whether or not she believed Deus or Christus listened to her prayers did not much matter; pure instinct took over while she remained in a state of shock.

“Tancred Ralyn,” he stated, replying to her inquiry.

“Why aren’t you in Ruma?” she asked, her voice lowered this time and touched with bleakness. I cannot believe he’s here. I just escaped from him. “Is Jaedon here? And is he still Jaedon or somebody else—Bob, perhaps?”

A flicker of a smile touched his lips at her sarcasm. “Jaedon is still Jaedon. Zoe, we were on a mission that required I keep my identity secret.”

“You’re not a merchant from Meru,” she said flatly.

“No.”

“Your name is Tancred Ralyn and you were a spy in Ruma.”

“Yes.”

She looked at him, her jaw tight, unable to articulate anything. What can I say in a situation like this? she wondered dryly. “Oh, lovely, you’re here too. This is the best thing that could ever happen to me—my old master shows up at the place I had hoped to find help in! Splendid! Let’s have a party while we’re together, shall we?” She heaved a sigh of disgust, hating the quiet, frank way that he stood before her. Why must he be so annoying yet seem so honest at the same time?

“Why are you in the Hunter’s camp?” she asked at last. “You can’t possible be one of his men, can you?” Please, tell me you’re leaving soon, she inwardly pleaded.

He gave her a sudden, crooked grin, and Zoe was taken aback by the mischievous look that came back into his blue eyes. I expected some sort of an explanation, not more trouble, she thought with a trace of worry.

He opened his mouth to reply when a man walked up and clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “Good to have you back, Hunter. Haven’t had a chance to see you since you returned.”

Zoe’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t help it. Her mind raced and she stared at Cormac—Tancred—whoever he is—with shock.

He’s the Hunter?

She swallowed, only to have her throat give a dry click and tighten convulsively. She backed up a step, felt Brac’s warm shoulder behind her, and then did the unthinkable: she turned and ran away.

è è è è è è è è è

Tancred Ralyn, also known as the Hunter of Mairbrac, silently watched Zoe flee, the joviality fading from his eyes and being replaced by brooding thoughtfulness. Now what, Deus? He silently questioned, glancing up at the sky for a moment. She is hurt; but how else could I have done this? I could not reveal my identity to her while we were in Ruma, and she ran away before I could explain the situation after we departed the enemy territory.

A small sound came from the left and he glanced over to see his mother, Shyla, looking at him quietly. He had always thought his mother was beautiful with her ash-gold hair and calm visage. Her beauty was only enhanced by her keen perception and wisdom.

“Who is she, Tancred?” Shyla asked quietly.

“Her name is Zoe,” Tancred replied. “I don’t even know her last name.”

“You are the merchant who bought her in Ruma and from whom she escaped last week, aren’t you.” It wasn’t really a question, but he nodded affirmatively anyway. Shyla stared contemplatively into the distance. “She is very confused right now. She needs some answers.”

“I know that. I wish I could have told her more while I was in Ruma, but I would not risk Jaedon’s safety, nor my own.” Tancred knew she realized without him telling her how dangerous it was in Ruma. It’s where her husband was killed; she’s aware of the treachery that abounds there. He ran a hand through his hair and continued, “I was going to tell her once we were safely away from Elangsia’s capital, but she left.”

Shyla’s mouth turned upward in a smile. “How did she get away from you?”

“I was distracted for a moment.”

She searched his face knowingly. “Brastus?”

“Yes,” Tancred said tightly.

“Hate never solves things, my son,” she pointed out softly. “Forgiveness is like a balm and one that I fear you must still apply to your soul.”

Tancred’s jaw tightened. Brastus doesn’t merit any of my forgiveness, nor does Captain Ricald. They are both deserving of death.

Shyla sighed a little and touched his face, turning him toward her. “Go find Zoe,” she told him firmly. “She is lost and needs answers. Do not expect her trust, or at least do not expect it yet. She will not give it without great justification, and in her eyes you have betrayed her.”

“What else could I have done?”

“Nothing,” Shyla said calmly. She looked pensive. “Nevertheless, she carries a vast burden of pain, Tancred.”

So I observed, he thought. Zoe was young but she had seen much in her life, he had long since determined. “I will find her,” he told his mother. “When I return, I want to talk to you about your last mission.”

“And yours, too,” she said. She smiled playfully, then pulled down his head and kissed his cheek. “Welcome back, son.”

He smiled back affectionately and started striding in the direction Zoe had taken. It was time to set things to rights between him and the enigmatic young woman…or at least take a step in that general direction.

è è è è è è è è è

Zoe heard Tancred’s footsteps behind her but did not turn, keeping her arms crossed over her chest and her chin raised. She was standing on a small hill by a brook that was not completely frozen over. She was calm now, or as calm as the circumstances allowed her to be. The soothing sound of trickling water and few minutes by herself had allowed her to void her expression and curb her temper. Now, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing outwardly displayed what she was feeling inside.

“I owe you an explanation, Zoe.”

She did not say anything, merely raising an eyebrow and keeping her jaw clamped shut. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, standing beside her. He was not looking at her but down at the creek as she was.

She remained silent. He can start, she decided stubbornly.

“I don’t like the fact that I kept my identity from you,” he began quietly. “But it was necessary. I am a man who keeps many secrets, and those secrets are usually what separate me and my companions from life and death. If you had been a traitor and I had told you too much, Jaedon or myself might have been killed.”

She still did not look at him but asked tonelessly, “Are you really the Hunter?”

“Yes, I am.”

“But hasn’t the Hunter been active for many years? You cannot be more than twenty-five,” she argued, still desperate to keep herself from the truth—that the Hunter she sought for help was one and the same with the man she had fled from in Ruma. “If you are so young, you would have been a mere boy when the war began twelve years ago.”

“I was eleven, almost twelve, when the war started,” Tancred affirmed. “My father was the original Hunter. I was seventeen when he was murdered. I took up his name and mission.”

So he’s only twenty-three, close to twenty-four, she thought with surprise. She had thought him older. She was also taken aback by his forthrightness about his father’s murder. Zoe glanced at him. He looked back silently, his blue eyes appearing frank. He’s telling the truth, she thought reluctantly. For some inexplicable reason she wished he was lying. It was easier staying angry with a liar than acknowledging he was telling the truth and listening to him. “Why were you in Ruma in the first place?”

“For the last few years King Trystellan Jaeger, lord of Aerilya, has called on me to conduct the most important spying missions,” Tancred explained. He looked back at the creek but not before she observed his eyes darken forbiddingly. “My sister and mother also help our king in that way. I always am the one who spies in Ruma, however. My mother and sister will not go there.”

Zoe was startled by the harsh tone in his voice. Again she wondered why he hated Ruma so vehemently. It was something that went deeper than mere dislike for the Elangsian country, but she could not pinpoint what it was. Could his father have been murdered while in Ruma, perhaps? That would explain his detestation of the place.

Mentally shaking herself, she abruptly turned completely and stared at him. “Why did you buy me and keep me captive for three months?” she asked in a hard voice. She did not want him to see how angry and humiliated she was about that but it was difficult to keep the emotions from taking over. “Why didn’t you liberate me once you bought me, if you really are this Hunter who is legendary for freeing slaves and fighting for those who cannot defend themselves? Why?” The last word was spat out with all the contempt she had inside her from the long months of captivity. Her eyes glittered like emeralds touched with frost.

“I am a spy, Zoe,” he responded in a tone that contested her own. “The king of Elangsia has been known to kill men like me brutally and without mercy. Spies employed by him and his advisors are sprinkled liberally throughout the capital city. He is a volatile man, having been known to murder those he called friends at some point, often for a petty reason. I cannot go blithely around in the capital of Elangsia buying slaves and setting them free! My hands were tied when I bought you. I stepped in to protect you from being taken and abused by others, and I swear I was going to free you when we left the city. You ran away before I could tell you anything.”

“If you wanted to protect someone, why didn’t you buy Grace?” she asked bitterly. “She is a little girl, the most sweet, defenseless person in the world. I don’t need your pretense of assistance.” She stared at him defiantly. “I have little that would keep me here in Aerilya—no family or life that I might hope to return to. The only reason I stay is for Grace, Tryna, Rebekka, and Marissa. They are slaves and since I have tasted the bitterness of captivity, I would never abandon them to that fate forever. I returned here to Mairbrac to find the Hunter and ask him for assistance in finding my friends and freeing them.”

An image of the slave trader who had first kidnapped her and taken Sam’s carving of Brac flew through her mind and she added, “I also hoped for help in finding the slaver Terrance Grant who first took me and my friends and punishing him. He has something of mine that I need to retrieve.”

She paused and took a deep breath, suddenly realizing all the information she was dumping on Tancred. He can deal with it, she decided acrimoniously. He remained quiet in the face of her rampage. She finished with an effort: “Now, though I in truth despise the thought of asking for your help, I want you to help me liberate my friends. And if you will not, I will try myself.”

He did not speak for a long moment, but his expression was reflective. When he finally replied to her, his voice rang with a mixture of thoughtfulness and intensity. “Do you trust me, Zoe?”

She shook her head, taken off guard by the question. “No,” she whispered stiffly. “But that does not mean that I don’t want the assistance of you and your men.”

He looked down at her and she thought she saw a flicker of kindness in his gaze. It only caused her spine to stiffen and she looked away. “Then I cannot help you,” he said softly.

Her heart dropped with dismay but she refused to show it to him. He asks for too much, she thought stubbornly. I cannot give him my trust. Not when he has proven himself untrustworthy. No. It is too much.

She did not respond to him and after several moments of silence he turned and walked back the way he had come. She heard him pause. “You are welcome back at camp. My mother, Shyla, will make certain that you are cared for.”

Shyla is his mother? Zoe’s eyebrows shot up with surprise, but she merely nodded in reply. He left, and she stared down at the creek, again listening to its soothing murmur. Her mind ran over the conversation she had just had. Time flowed by, losing meaning, and she grew steadily colder as the chilly winter wind cut through her cloak and numbed her hands, nose, and ears.

How can he expect me to give him my trust? she wondered with mild disbelief. Anything or anyone that I placed my faith in has failed me at some time. Why would Tancred be any different? She looked up at the sky and exhaled, her breath misting in front of her face.

“And why would you be any different either, Deus?” she questioned resentfully. She felt so lost, so betrayed and lonely, that she hardly cared if the Unseen One struck her dead for her challenging words. Aiden had told her and all her other siblings many times that Deus was God: He could handle questioning and doubts. But Aiden doesn’t even believe that, she thought cynically. I don’t see why I should take his word for it. It was the first time she had doubted her older brother and she felt uneasy about it.

She continued to look up at the skies through the bare tree branches. “You promise to be there and then You don’t come, Deus. You took my family. You took all that I held dear.”

You are alive. You have Brac. You are not a slave anymore. You escaped from Ruma. Small whispers echoed through her mind, but she shook her head against their persistent truth. “No,” she murmured with frustration. I’m the only one I can depend on. That’s just how it’s going to be.

Quiet resolve blanketed her. If Tancred won’t help me without me naively depending on him, then I’ll do this myself. And since he has opened his camp for me to stay in, I might as well remain and get some weapons…and practice. She knew she was not as gifted as her older siblings with weapons, but the mere fact that she was a Romany meant she was better than most people. I’ll work until I’m the best I can be, good enough to fight unaided.

She lifted her chin with a feeling of defiance. A memory flashed through her mind, accompanied by an image of her twin, Sam: he had once told her that when he saw her raise her chin, he knew she was not going to change her mind. She could still see him saying that in her remembrance, the sun bringing out the brightest red strands of his hair as they sat cross-legged in the garden on a lazy afternoon back when they were in their early teens. Back before trouble had torn them apart.

I haven’t altered so much since then, she thought with a wistful feeling toward her twin. I’m not about to start changing my mind now.

“And when I’m done training,” she whispered, “then, I’ll go to Ruma.”