Gifted Hunter

Gifted Hunter

  An Ilvenworld Novella

  by

  Nicholas A. Rose

  Copyright 2012 Nicholas A. Rose

  Cover: Joleene Naylor

  Editor: Stephanie Dagg

  Other Novellas:

  Gifted Apprentice

  Gifted Avenger

  The Markan Empire Trilogy:

  Markan Throne

  Markan Empire

  Markan Sword

  ***

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - Journey To The Mainland

  Chapter 2 - Calcan

  Chapter 3 - Marka

  Chapter 4 - The Testing

  Chapter 5 - Sandev

  Chapter 6 - Settling In

  Chapter 7 - The Commission

  Chapter 8 - The Hunt Begins

  Chapter 9 - New Clues

  Chapter 10 - Chasing

  Chapter 11 - Istwan

  Chapter 12 - Taken

  Chapter 13 - Reluctant Captive

  Chapter 14 - Returning To Marka

  Chapter 15 - A Question Of Justice

  Chapter 16 - Meeting With Olista

  Chapter 17 - Revelations

  Chapter 18 - Threads

  ***

  Chapter 1 - Journey To The Mainland

  The ferry crossed the mila or so of choppy greenish-brown water that lay between Taura's quayside and the narrow channel leading out to sea with surprising speed. Sallis ti Ath found a quiet corner of the deck to stand and watch, well clear of the oarsmen.

  He had spent two days enjoying and ogling the sights of Re Taura's capital city, waiting for the ferry to the mainland. Two days to Calcan, unless they ran into any storms, and then he must travel overland to Marka, the city everybody called the Jewel of the World.

  The tide had begun to ebb and the expanse of water ahead gave the deceptive appearance of great width. But the channel was narrow here, marked by brightly-colored floating bladders. Rocky flats protruded far into the gap and lurked beneath the water at high tide, waiting to wreck the foolhardy or ignorant. A castle atop its own small island loomed far above, its turrets dominating the passage leading to the harbor.

  Bells rang out from within the castle, urgent sounds of emergency. There must have been something in his stance, because another passenger smiled at him.

  "They test those bells every week," said the man. "The Mametain's son is an inventive sort and likes to experiment. Nobody knows exactly what he's up to, but they say he had the bells installed, just in case."

  "In case of what?" asked Sallis.

  "Precisely." The man smiled again. "That's what we'd like to know. But at least Castle Beren's far enough from Taura for us to be safe."

  "I see." The wind freshened as the ferry left the shelter of the land and Sallis pulled his brown cloak tight around his shoulders. Those shoulders had broadened as Sallis the boy had matured into Sallis the man. He had grown tall too, and not just for his age.

  "Going to Calcan, or headed further abroad?" asked the stranger.

  Sallis had been warned to guard his tongue. "For now, Calcan."

  "Me too. My family's in Calcan, so I ought to spend some time there. I'm from Re Taura though. Sounds like you're from one of the outer islands."

  Sallis blinked and watched the sudden bustle as sailors readied the sails. As the ferry cleared the channel, the crew hauled on ropes and the sails began to drive the ship forward. The wind freshened further and oars were no longer needed. As cream-colored canvas filled the gaps between the masts, the ferry heeled and gathered speed.

  "From Re Annan," Sallis eventually replied.

  "Not enough work? Or just want to see the world?"

  Sallis smiled. "Both," he replied.

  ***

  Sallis had spent most of the past four years working on his father's farm. Elvallon still visited and remained friendly, but a definite edge had crept into their relationship. It took Sallis a couple of years to realize that his old tutor was wary. His own return visits to Leynx, where Elvallon lived, grew less and less frequent.

  That was a shame, because Lyssan always gave him a ready welcome, but it was rare for her to accompany Elvallon when he traveled north.

  Sallis used his talents whenever possible, catching those who liked to steal other people's sheep, or those prisoners the Guard managed to lose. He had never worked out if the Guard suffered from incompetence or carelessness.

  He had certainly amassed gold of his own, but his father Hayland always said the best work would be found on the mainland. And the most rewarding.

  "But who will help with everything?" Sallis had demanded. Now his sisters were married, his parents would have the farm to themselves when he left.

  "We'll cope as we always have," replied Hayland. "Neighbors and friends. And we can still call on Barten and his family when needed."

  Sallis thinned his lips. "When I can afford it, I'll send you sylphs," he promised. "They can help. And if you have male and female sylphs, perhaps that'll be another way to make money."

  Hayland waved a dismissive hand. "We'll make the farm smaller," he announced. "Fewer mouths means we need less money."

  Sallis smiled. "I'll send you the sylphs," he repeated. "They're probably cheaper on the mainland than here."

  "More common, certainly," replied Hayland.

  ***

  The number of sylphs on Re Taura opened Sallis's eyes. He had always imagined sylphs to be the preserve of the wealthy, but seeing so many about their errands he now realized most people here must have them as servants. He had not bothered to learn their cost. Once he'd paid his ferry fare, he had enough spare coin for a horse after he arrived in Calcan. Get established first, buy sylphs for his father's farm later.

  Sallis now stared at the sylph hovering beside the steersman. He had no idea exactly what a ship's sylph was for, but she appeared to be a valued member of the crew. She even wore the same: canvas trousers, white shirt and a blue serge jacket with wooden buttons.

  Elvallon had left Sallis's education concerning sylphs to Lyssan, the only sylph Sallis knew well. Lyssan claimed to be a proper sylph and never hid her vague contempt for infertiles, shaking her head whenever he referred to one as "she".

  "Not she," she always said, shaking her head. "I am a she. They are neuters who cannot breed. What use are they?"

  From what Sallis had seen in the past two days, infertiles filled lots of uses, and dashed about their tasks with an efficient air. Most servants he had seen running errands were infertiles, and that included the ship's sylph he now watched.

  She stood with feet planted apart, earpoints slanted forward and twitching in excited curiosity, and her silvery eyes glowed with pleasure. More sylphs stood beside their owners, all with wilted earpoints, and all, Sallis suddenly noticed, looking landwards.

  "Bring much food with you?" asked Sallis's new friend, looking hopeful.

  "No," replied Sallis. "My meals are included in my ferry fare."

  "Ah." The other man nodded and looked disappointed at the same time. "Probably sensible."

  Sallis thought so too, and his attention returned to the ship's sylph.

  There was little difference between her and the others. Skin and hair color the same, earpoints and vertically slit pupils... Shorter than Lyssan and certainly not as developed, but she clearly belonged to the same species.

  As Re Taura grew smaller and smaller, and the unbroken horizon ahead widened, Sallis noticed the other sylphs vanish below one by one. An infertile began it, and before long the only one left on the upper deck belonged to the ship.

  "Why have they gone?" he wondered aloud.

  "That's sylphs for you," said his friend, overhearing. "They don't like being at sea."

  Sallis nodded towards the ship
's wheel. "Doesn't bother her."

  "She's probably used to it."

  Pushing the strangeness of sylphs out of his thoughts, Sallis leaned on the rail, stared into the green water and dreamed of Calcan.

  ***

  Chapter 2 - Calcan

  Calcan's harbor lay a good five milas from the city. Sallis was surprised a city could stand on the sea, or even develop as a city, and not have its own harbor. Instead, Calcan used the harbors of two satellite towns: one no more than a glorified fishing village, the other a trading port.

  Sallis had no spare money - as far as he knew - so he walked the five milas to the city, following a paved road gradually rising uphill. He strapped his sword to his back, so it could not tangle in his legs, and used his quarterstaff as a walking stick.

  Calcan stood on a cliff, so only had walls on three sides. The gates leading into the city were impressive enough, flanked by two round towers and easily wide enough for four carts to pass abreast.

  The streets bustled with the same industry Sallis had come to expect after his visit to Taura. Twice the size of Taura, Sallis hoped his awe of Calcan did not show too obviously. From what he saw, anything and everything could be bought here, from cloth and clothes, to armor and weapons.

  He found three places selling horses and wandered between them to compare prices, until he found one suitable.

  The animal watched him approach and tossed his head in greeting. Brown all over, except for a white blaze on his nose, Sallis admired him from a distance. He reached forward with a hand and gently patted the creature, who nuzzled him back.

  "Has he got a name?" asked Sallis, as the proprietor joined him.

  "Glyder." The proprietor sniffed. "Second hand, six years old, just re-shod."

  Sallis let Glyder investigate his hand and took careful note of the animal's teeth as he peeled his lips back, expecting something edible. Finding nothing, Glyder gave Sallis a reproachful look.

  "Take a good look, young sir. You'll find this animal is a bargain."

  "That depends how much he is," smiled Sallis. Strong legs. Deep chest. Good teeth. Even temperament. No sign of disease.

  The proprietor smiled.

  "One crown, sir, that is his price."

  "For one gold crown, I expect the tack to be included," replied Sallis, "and directions for Marka."

  The haggling eventually accounted for most of the time Sallis spent in Calcan. One horse and his tack heavier, but one gold crown and fifteen coppers lighter, Sallis wasted no more time and left the city.

  For the first time since leaving Re Annan, Sallis felt blessedly alone.

  Everything went well for two days. Nothing drastic went wrong on day three, but Sallis's riding skills had faded somewhat. Glyder proved a delight to ride, but that did not protect Sallis from saddle sores.

  Getting up on that third day it felt as though he had been visited by a sadist with stinging nettles. Sallis felt agony just standing upright. Despite that, they must eat. He looked after Glyder first, suspecting his soreness was more the fault of the saddle than the horse.

  After that wasted day, Sallis forced himself to ride, though Glyder got his hooves checked for stones rather more regularly than normal, and grooming lasted twice as long for a couple of days.

  By the end of the first week, Sallis had almost forgotten about saddle sores. Four days since he turned inland, four days without seeing the sea. Only now did he realize how a continent felt so different from an island. Sea-smell pervaded everything on Re Annan and now, with the smell absent, he missed it.

  Pining for that smell could be a form of homesickness, but he looked forward eagerly to the adventures waiting for him.

  Sallis wanted to take no chances. He rode with his quarterstaff strapped beside him and his sword hung from the pommel. Calcan controlled lands allegedly safe and stable, but he knew people everywhere were not always friendly towards strangers.

  As he rode further west, things began to change.

  Seeing borderstones on both sides of the road, Sallis paused to consult his map. Unless he had a really poor sense of direction, Calcan's lands were about to fall behind and everything in front of him belonged to Marka. He had the road to himself, without even a trading caravan in sight.

  He wondered if men gave this road another name once he passed the stones. According to his map, Alderra was a huge prefecture, and according to the few people he had spoken to along the way, almost completely independent of Marka, but ruled by a family with no wish to break away completely.

  About a mila after the borderstones, the paving ended. Ruts and puddles marked the road's route, with shards of old paving scattered about, and Sallis saw more neglect than care.

  No soldiers patrolled here.

  People had a more watchful and suspicious air about them. The few caravans he passed had merchant guards, who all looked at him carefully. Aggressive looks outnumbered neutral looks, and there were no friendly faces. Most unlike the way people treated each other on Re Annan.

  Farmers took one look at his sword and staff before closing their doors against him. Sallis spent more and more nights sleeping under the stars or in a hedge.

  He eventually passed from Alderra, his map informing him that the road hugged the border between Selim and Eman until he reached Outer Marka. Here, Sallis met his first patrol of soldiers since leaving Calcan's lands.

  And these were a lot less polite.

  The patrol had five men, which included the junior officer in charge. Paving had reappeared now Sallis neared Marka, but the soldiers were dusty from their ride. They surrounded Sallis, forcing him to stop, and eyed his weapons suspiciously.

  The men boasted two days' stubble, while Sallis managed some fluff on his chin and upper lip.

  "Where you headed, boy?" demanded the rider with a thin line of cloth around the rim of his helmet.

  "Marka," replied Sallis. He eyed the cloth, knowing it must denote rank, but not sure which. "Er, Captain."

  "Squadman," replied the other man, his dark blue eyes showing no hint of humor.

  "Sorry." Sallis took a breath. "I'm going to Marka, Squadman."

  "A good ten days yet," said the Squadman. "Not much between there and here. What are you doing for food?"

  Sallis blinked. The soldier's words... insinuated, and out here their word outweighed his.

  "I forage," he replied.

  "Poach and steal, you mean."

  Sallis's dark brown eyes hardened.

  "No," he replied, "I mean forage. Coming from a farm, I know the difference."

  "With that accent, from a farm far away." The Squadman's gaze flickered quickly to Sallis's sword. "Much call for farmers with swords there?"

  "It might be needed where I'm going."

  "Joining the Guard?"

  Sallis shook his head. "I want to be a bounty hunter."

  The men laughed. Sallis tried to ignore them, but at his age all such insults were personal. Despite the urge to teach these men a lesson, he gritted his teeth and said nothing.

  "What's your name, boy?"

  "Sallis ti Ath."

  The Squadman shook his head. "From one of the islands then. Never knew things were so bad that way." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Some advice for you, Sallis ti Ath. If you can use that sword, join the Guard."

  Abruptly, he straightened and raised his voice. "Nothing for us here, lads," he announced. His blue eyes were cold again. "On your way, Sallis ti Ath." He touched a hand to his helmet, then led his men onwards.

  Sallis watched them go before deciding to press on. What waited for him in Marka? Perhaps the city might not be such a good idea after all.

  Was he doing the right thing?

  ***

  Chapter 3 - Marka

  When Sallis crested the pass between the last hills and saw Marka for the first time, spring had turned to summer. Even in the pass, he was grateful for his early start and, coming from a more temperate climate, he dreaded how hot it would be in the cit
y.

  In common with every other traveler, it was the pyramid and not the city that caught his attention.

  Made from black material glistening in the strengthening sunlight, the pyramid rose up and up, its base covering an area greater than even the city. Still early, wisps of cloud clung to its upper reaches and a ruby light crystal glittered at its apex.

  Sallis eventually closed his mouth. How could the hands of men manage to build such things? Most said the pyramid dated from the first, lost civilization, but a few whispered that the Father Himself raised the artifact from the ground, long before men came to the ilvenworld.

  Beyond the city, forests hugged the hillsides, bare in places where areas had been cleared for the timber Marka needed. Paler green patches showed where young trees grew, replacing those taken some time before. Like on Re Annan, people did not clear trees without replanting. Such foolishness would quickly lose the forests forever.

  Looking down at his destination, Sallis smiled to himself and touched Glyder's flanks with his heels. That pyramid would take some getting used to; at certain times of day its shadow probably engulfed the city built beside it.

  Riding slowly towards the gates, he hoped Marka would provide what he wanted. A few people left the city, but most passing through the gates were farmers heading in. Those with carts had ground to a halt, waiting their turn to enter Marka.

  One armed man walked along the queue. "Just you and that horse?" he demanded of Sallis.

  Sallis nodded in reply.

  "Ride down the right side," commanded the armed man. "Enter through the right hand gate, but give way to anybody leaving the city."

  Sallis nodded in reply and dropped out of the queue to ride slowly towards the gates, aware that some people watched his every move.

  Brown cloak and disheveled appearance aside, he was clearly an outlander. Most people here boasted dark blue eyes, a few blue-gray. Sallis had dark eyes. He avoided speaking with people. They would not appreciate him reaching the city while they waited outside in a line.

  He soon realized sylphs outnumbered humans here, too. They walked alongside farmers' carts, or rode in the back. Some carried sunshades to protect their mistresses' skin. Several gave him more than a cursory glance, their eyes widening.

  Sallis knew why, though he doubted the sylphs understood what caused their sudden feeling of unease.

  All sylphs could sense the Gift, and none enjoyed having it used near them. Of course, Sallis was not using his abilities right now, but a minority could sense even a practitioner's potential and disliked being close to a Gifted human. Sallis suspected the sylphs now staring at him belonged to that minority.