“I assume they didn’t succeed in overthrowing the government.”
“No, the time and dedication needed to complete the training meant few finished it. Though Hunters have become legendary in Nuria-and feared by wizards-the organization never developed enough clout to threaten the status quo.”
Time to ask what she was really wondering: “Are you one of these Hunters?”
“No.”
“Akstyr heard it somewhere.”
“There are many rumors about me.”
“No kidding.” Amaranthe wasn’t yet panting, but carrying on a conversation was growing more challenging. Another mile and she would turn back. “One does wonder where Akstyr would have gotten that idea.”
He did not respond. Only the scrape of her boots on the sanded trail broke the silence. As usual, Sicarius whispered soundlessly over the earth, like a spirit. She couldn’t even hear him breathing, and only small puffs of fog appeared in the air before his face.
“Did you have any training for it?” Amaranthe asked. “I apologize for prying…but I’m curious because…if you have any special skills…that would help fight this creature…it’d be good to know.”
“I do not,” Sicarius said. “If that creature is some wizard’s spawn, it would be made from the mental sciences-probably crafted to be impervious to weapons-but it could not access them itself. A full Hunter may be able to harm the maker, but would be ineffective against the beast.”
Full Hunter? Did that imply he was a partial one? Maybe he had had some training-the same way he had had cartography training-but not as much as one needed to qualify for the title. Or maybe she was imagining hints that weren’t there. Still, he did seem to have a better idea what the creature was than he was admitting.
“Regardless, there are no Hunters in Stumps,” Sicarius said.
“Too bad.”
Before she could pepper him with further questions, a pair of soldiers clomped into sight on the trail ahead. With their black fatigues and training rucksacks, their occupation was unmistakable even in the dark.
Amaranthe’s breath caught. Wholt’s death reared in her mind again. Sicarius wouldn’t attack them, would he? Surely, he didn’t kill every enforcer or soldier he passed. Maybe he would veer into the trees to avoid them.
Sicarius’s gait didn’t falter, nor did he leave the trail, though he did speed up and move in front of Amaranthe. The soldiers passed on the left without a word, and she blew out a relieved breath. Several times, she glanced back, but in the darkness, they appeared not to have recognized either of them. The men soon disappeared around a curve in the lake.
Lights appeared on a distant hilltop, outlining the walls of the fort.
“This is far enough for me for the first day.” Amaranthe slowed and then stopped to grab a handful of snow. “We haven’t seen any sign of the creature, so there’s no reason for you to run back with me. I’m sure you’ll want to do some real training.” She chomped on the snow, rolling it around in her mouth to melt it. The water sent a chill down her gullet, but it felt good.
Sicarius looked farther down the trail. He probably ran twice as fast and four times as far on his own.
“Very well,” he said.
“Before you go, uhm. About the other night.” Amaranthe thumbed the clump of snow, sending powder to the ground. Why was it so hard to apologize for this? Because she wasn’t really sorry? Because Wholt had been her partner? “When I yelled at you, I didn’t mean… I mean, I did sort of, but you thought you were helping. You were helping, and-” Just spit it out, girl. “-I’m sorry.” There.
He said nothing.
She sighed, not really expecting anything else. Still, she had said it. Maybe it would matter to him in some small way.
Amaranthe turned back toward the city. Time to get moving again.
“Lokdon,” Sicarius said.
She looked over her shoulder, hoping for…she wasn’t sure exactly. “Yes?”
“Stay alert.”
Her lip twitched up and she gave him a soldier’s salute. It was a start.
She headed back.
In his absence, the predawn darkness felt lonely and oppressive. Few sounds disturbed the lakeside. No animals skittered across the trail; no birds chirped from the trees. A breeze stirred the bare branches, rattling them like bones. She regretted urging Sicarius to leave.
A scream sounded beyond a bend in the trail. She skidded to a stop, then darted for the closest tree before her mind caught up with her reflexes. That had been a human scream, not the unearthly screech of the creature. Still, humans rarely screamed on dark trails for good reasons, and a moment passed before she coerced her legs into moving forward again.
Hand on her knife, ears cocked, she eased around the bend. Beneath the waning starlight, two bodies sprawled on the trail, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Rucksacks, black fatigues… The soldiers. Neither figure moved.
Her foot bumped something on the edge of the trail. It rolled away from her. The object lacked the heft of a rock, but in the weak light, she could not make out details. Amaranthe reached down to investigate, and her fingers brushed against human hair.
She jerked her arm back, and her heart leapt into double time. She took a steadying breath, forcing reason into her mind. However distressing, a severed head was not a mystifying find next to a couple of bodies.
She examined it more closely. The head had been torn off.
The creature.
Light blue had crept into the eastern sky, but trees and bushes created shadows and offered dozens of hiding spots on either side of the trail. Ears straining, she listened for footfalls or breathing. This had just happened, so the creature could not have gone far.
Amaranthe skirted the head and approached the bodies. The gouges tearing flesh and bone apart appeared the same as those she had seen on the dead man outside the icehouse.
A familiar screech tore through the foothills. Even though she expected it, Amaranthe flinched.
At least the creature was not right on the trail beside her. It had headed inland.
Several moments of squinting into the gloom let her find tracks trampling the snow beside the trail. She knelt and probed the cold craters. The size of the prints dwarfed her hand, but it was the shape that drew her interest. They were asymmetrical, even lopsided, with five clawed digits on one paw and four on the other, none of them balanced. She had long suspected the creature was nothing natural, but a thrum of excitement went through her. Perhaps she finally had some proof. No one could look at the prints and think bear or panther. Amaranthe glanced at the sky, noting the lack of clouds. With no snow heading in, the tracks would remain for searchers to discover.
“Once the soldiers see this, they’ll know there’s magic about,” she muttered.
“Perhaps.”
Maybe she was growing accustomed to Sicarius’s stealthy approaches, because she did not jump this time. She could have hugged him though. Being out here alone was about as appealing as roaming an old battlefield during a full Spirit Moon.
“I doubt their upbringing will allow them to see the truth,” Sicarius said.
“Some of the soldiers who have been stationed on the borders must know these mental sciences exist.”
“Some.” As he spoke, Sicarius circled the area, head up, eyes scanning. “It’s been almost twenty years since the last war with Nuria though. Of late, the empire has used more subtle tactics to keep neighboring nations off-balance.”
More subtle, huh? Like sending in assassins? She recalled he spoke at least one foreign language, enough to chat with the shaman who healed her anyway.