Traitor's Moon

UNT
    A lec’s initial qualms had lessened somewhat by the time they forded the fog-shrouded river and headed up into the hills. The younger Haman were in high spirits and the mood soon spread among the Skalan riders. Alec was as glad as any of them to escape the dark walls of Sarikali for the day—especially on a day that promised as fair as this. The rising sun sent streaks of gold across a sky as flawlessly blue as Cirna turquoise.
    Even this close to the city, game tracks were thick on the soft mould: stag, black deer, boar, and flocks of some large bird. There were also signs of other hunters—wolves, bears, and foxes.
    Their guides didn’t slow to hunt here but pressed on into the forest ahead, where fir and oak towered up to block the rising sun.
    The Aurënfaie had no dogs for coursing. Instead, they dismounted when game was sighted, letting a few chosen hunters stalk it on foot while the rest waited. This was the sort of hunting Alec knew best, and he quickly earned his host’s praise when he brought down a fat doe with a single shaft. Strangely, Klia did not fare as well.
    â€œI hope you’re not depending on me to round out tonight’s feast,” she remarked ruefully after letting fly too soon on a clear shot.
    In spite of this, many of the younger Haman who’d been standoffish began to warm to her, if not to her entourage. Emiel grew particularly attentive, even lending Klia his own bow when hers failed her on another shot.
    â€œLooks like she decided to play coy after all,” Beka muttered, waiting for Klia and Emiel to return from a stag chase. “I’ve seen her shoot better than this in a driving rain at dusk!”
    The day turned warm as the morning mist burned off. Beneath the trees the air grew heavy. The birds fell silent, and swarms of tiny flies plagued riders and mounts alike, buzzing about their heads and raising itching welts on any patch of exposed skin. Ears and noses seemed a favorite target.
    They reached a large grassy glade on the crest of a hill just before midday, and Nazien called a halt. Poplars edged the clearing, their coin-shaped leaves rustling in the breeze. A wide stream cut along one edge of it, and a cool breeze drove off both heat and flies. Stacks of wood, old fire circles, and the evidence of several other trails leading off through the trees marked this as a popular destination.
    â€œThe game will sleep until the noonday heat passes,” Nazien was saying to Klia. “We may as well do the same.”
    Fruit, bread, and wine were produced from various saddlebags. Several of Beka’s riders helped clean and spit kutka for roasting. Alec stayed a little apart, keeping a surreptitious eye on Emiel and the khirnari as they sat with Klia in the shade.
    After the meal, most of the hunters lay down to sleep. Settled comfortably with his back to a tree, Alec was just drifting into a doze when he sensed someone standing over him. A woman was regarding him with a guarded smile.
Orilli ä something
, he thought, trying to summon the rest of her name. Behind her, several of her companions stood watching.
    â€œYou shoot uncommonly well for a Tír,” she said.
    â€œThank you,” he replied, then added pointedly, “The rhui’auros say it’s my gift from Aura, by my mother’s blood.”
    She nodded politely. “My apologies, ya’shel. My friends and I were wondering if you would care to match that odd black bow against ours.”
    â€œI’d like that.” Perhaps Klia had been right about the diplomatic value of this excursion after all.
    A tree boll across the clearing served for the first target. It was aneasy mark, and Alec outshot most of the Haman archers. By the end of it, he had five new shatta on his quiver.
    â€œWould you care to try something a bit harder?” he asked.
    The others exchanged amused glances as he cut a dozen straight young branches and trimmed them to wands. Setting these upright in a patch of soft ground, he paced back twenty feet and scratched a shooting line in the moss with his heel.
    â€œAnd what are we to do with those? Split them down the middle?” a Haman youth scoffed.
    â€œYou could.” Alec settled his quiver against his right hip. “But this is the way I was taught.”
    Drawing four shafts in smooth succession, he nipped off the tips of four wands, alternating high and low.
    Turning, he saw a mix of admiration and dismay on