The Hunter's Gambit

by Nicholas McIntire

  Henry shook his head, “I finished the bundling last night.”

  Aleksei stared at his father. That must have taken half the night!

  “The rest of the field, then? Did you want to cut it this morning?”

  Henry nodded, “In good time. We’re weeks ahead of the first frost, Son. At the pace we’ve been setting, we’ll be done and stuck in for the season Market Day from next. Now, I don’t fancy breaking my back for a fistful of days just to sit around from here till Solstice.”

  Aleksei gave up. He knew better than to play these little games with his father, as amusing as the older man found them. “Well fine. Then what did you have in mind?”

  Henry glanced at his son with a twinkle in his pale brown eyes, “I thought we might go into town.”

  Once more Aleksei found himself regarding his father as though the man had gone mad.

  “Town?”

  “Aye.” Henry said definitely. “Tomorrow’s Market Day, you know? I thought we could take some of our bushels up to Goodman Miller’s. I reckon everyone’s just about out of summer barley flour, and from what I’ve been hearing from Mother Margareta, we have the first ripe crop of the season.”

  Aleksei was speechless.

  “Unless, of course,” his father said with a smile, “you’d like to stay and finish cutting the south field.”

  “No!” Aleksei blurted. “No, I think you’re right, Da. Besides, we’re nearly out of flour ourselves.”

  “Is that so? Well, all the more reason to hop on the road. Why don’t you get Dash up and ready?”

  Aleksei grinned and hurried from the farmhouse, out into the predawn darkness. The path to the barn was still obscured in shadow, but Aleksei followed it with the precision born from a lifetime of memory.

  He pushed the doors open and pulled their small cart out of the corner, busying himself with the tack and harness before realizing that he’d forgotten to get Dash in his excitement.

  Aleksei hurried past the pens holding their handful of sheep and pulled open the stall door at the far end of the barn. While he couldn’t see, Aleksei knew where he was as surely as he’d found the path from the house.

  “Dash?” he whispered into the darkness.

  A warm nicker greeted him from the depths of the stall and Aleksei smiled, stepping forward and reaching out into the darkness. He felt the draft horse’s soft nose nuzzle his hand.

  “Come on, boy. We’re going to town.”

  Dash snorted and trotted past Aleksei. He followed the horse to the front of the stable, where Dash waited patiently to be harnessed to the cart. As Aleksei worked, he realized how profoundly grateful he was to have the old draft horse. A younger horse would either have stayed in its stall until it could see better or might have bolted and broken a leg.

  But Dash never moved in a hurry when he didn’t have to, never rushed anything or moved recklessly. He knew what was expected of him and performed his tasks with a steady determination that was prized in his breed.

  Aleksei finished fitting the harness and turned to the bushels of wheat his father had stacked against the east wall.

  As he loaded the cart, Aleksei became aware that he could actually see what he was doing. He glanced over his shoulder and found his father standing in the doorway holding a lantern.

  “Thought you might have a bit more luck with some light.” Henry said with a wry smile.

  Aleksei nodded his appreciation as he loaded the last bushel, “Thanks, Da.”

  Henry’s smile faded into a frown, “You’ve never had much trouble getting around in the dark, have you?”

  Aleksei shrugged, “I don’t know. I guess I’m just used to the way things are set up around here.”

  Henry nodded, but he clearly wasn’t convinced.

  “We’d better get moving. At this rate it’ll be near dusk by the time we reach Voskrin.”

  Aleksei smiled at his father’s exaggeration, but nodded dutifully and led Dash out of the barn. They walked down the path that led to the road and turned north towards the village, both men confined to their thoughts.

  Morning crept lazily across the sky, rendering the landscape in undulating shades of aureate, ocher and emerald. Aleksei kept his eyes fixated on the cloudscapes transforming before them. Indigo and violet shaded the pink until the sun burst over the horizon and bathed the world in its ruddy gold.

  They walked in the comfortable silence of familiarity. Aleksei imagined his father’s head was filled with the concerns of every farmer around this time of year. Would it rain before they finished their work? Should they have remained at home and finished the Harvest? What if the crop was ruined in their absence?

  Aleksei was content to leave Henry to such thoughts. He had plenty of worries of his own.

  The voice had returned with the sun.

  It was softer now, but Aleksei recognized it nonetheless. It was no trick of the wind or the heat. It was the green-eyed man’s voice from the dream.

  Midmorning had come and gone by the time Voskrin came into view. Despite the darkness of his thoughts, Aleksei couldn’t help but smile. The village meant so many warm things to him.

  Still, he had to help his father unload the cart before he would be let loose to find his friends. He led Dash into the village square and past the homes of the Thatchers and Coopers and Smiths. They walked clear through to the other side of the village and turned right past the Tanners’ pungent workshop, finally pulling up short of the mill.

  And then Aleksei was lifting bushels of wheat while dodging requests from Goody Miller to come inside and try her vinegar pie, fresh from the oven.

  It was nearing mid-afternoon by the time Aleksei managed to politely excuse himself from her table and stagger out into the rest of the village. He wandered into the middle of the square and was just about to head for Redman’s Pub when a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

  “Well, aren’t you a sight?”

  He turned and found a grinning Katherine Bondar standing a pace away, looking enormously pleased with herself.

  “How’s that for quiet?” his friend asked triumphantly.

  It had been a childhood game of theirs to try and sneak up on the other one. Thus far Katherine had not been successful.

  Aleksei never lost.

  “It doesn’t count if we’re in the village.” Aleksei explained patiently, wiping the sweat from his brow “We have to be in the woods outside of town. That’s what makes it hard.”

  Katherine made a face, “I don’t know about that. Seems like it’s not that hard for you.”

  Aleksei smiled, “That’s because I’m better at it.”

  Katherine was about to counter when the color suddenly drained from her face, “Gods, here he comes.”

  Aleksei frowned, “Katherine, don’t swear. It’s common.”

  Katherine shook her head gravely, “It’s Pyotr Krovel. And he’s going to show up and drag you off to the pub, isn’t he?”

  As Pyotr stepped into earshot Katherine stopped talking, offering a polite smile to the lanky young man while glaring daggers at Aleksei.

  “Aleksei Drago,” Pyotr laughed, clapping Aleksei roughly across the back, “it’s been an age since I’ve seen you.”

  Aleksei offered up a half-hearted smile, “It’s nice to see you, Pyotr.”

  “‘Nice’, Aleksei?” Pyotr pouted, turning to Katherine, “Well how’s that for a friendly hello? Gods, Aleksei, you only get up to Voskrin, what, twice a season? What’re you doing up here anyhow?”

  “Da and I brought up our first cut of wheat.”

  “And you’re done already? What are you two up to now?”

  Aleksei tried to keep a scowl from surfacing. He’d been hoping to get to see Katherine without Pyotr’s intrusion. They had all grown up together, but over the past few years Pyotr had grown increasingly absent, either apprenticing at the smithy or drowning himself in drink at the pub.

  Katherine wa
s far more likely to want to go hiking in the small wood north of town. On occasion, they’d hunt for squirrels, though the little yew bows her brothers used were ill-suited to the task.

  “We were about to head up to the glade for a little walk.” Katherine interjected, saving Aleksei from having to craft an excuse.

  Pyotr looked startled for a moment before realizing that Aleksei had remained silent, that he hadn’t suggested grabbing a pint with Pyotr and leaving Katherine behind.

  “Well,” Pyotr said after a long pause, “how about that? You sure you wouldn’t rather go grab a drink and relax for a spell? I’m sure you’ve more than earned it by now.”

  Aleksei was trapped. If he refused Pyotr, he could spend the afternoon squirrel hunting with Katherine, while Pyotr would be back at the pub telling the other lads tales that Aleksei would spend the rest of the winter putting to bed.

  If he turned Katherine down, she’d rightly think him a coward for not telling Pyotr off like he wanted to, but she would be much easier to mollify in the end.

  While he wanted nothing more than to spend time with his friend, he simply couldn’t risk having his name dragged through the mud simply on account of Pyotr’s wounded feelings.

  Aleksei knew his decision had already been made for him. “You know, Petya, a drink actually sounds pretty good right now.” He forced a smile he didn’t feel, glancing apologetically to Katherine as Pyotr dragged him towards the pub. As he walked away he mouthed an apology, his eyes pleading with her for understanding, if not forgiveness.

  Her big brown eyes narrowed, and then she shrugged, turning her back on him and walking briskly towards the village green. Aleksei winced at the look of pure disappointment, the hurt she had leveled at him, at her dismissal, staring at her retreating form and feeling every bit the coward and the cad.

  Even as they passed through the pub door and he was greeted by a roar from the other lads, his mind couldn’t have been further away.

  He wanted to be with Katherine, not in this dank pub that stank of sour mead and the stale sweat of men who’d been toiling at their trades since well before dawn. As he sat amidst the other village boys, a big, powerful hand landed on his shoulder. Aleksei looked up into the face of Kiriel Bondar. He did not look happy. Tom’s brother Ruslan stood a pace behind him, his face a match to his twin brother’s obvious anger.

  “I just saw my sister walk away from you crying. Why don’t you come outside with us, maybe explain why Katherine was so upset, what’dya say?”

  Aleksei swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, Kiriel. I really had no idea she was so upset, but I’m sure it’s all my fault. Let me find a way to make it up to her?”

  Ruslan stepped in and gripped a handful of Aleksei’s shirt. “No need to trouble yourself, farm boy.” Catherine’s two strapping brothers hoisted him to his feet. “We’ve got the perfect solution for you.”

  As the two men half carried him toward the pub’s backdoor, Aleksei spared a quick glance at the other lads. Some were staring intently into their pints, as though the bottoms of their empty steins had become suddenly fascinating. Others, like Pyotr, offered him furtive, apologetic shrugs. None rose to follow the three men, or to offer Aleksei their support.

  Right as they reached the backdoor, just as Aleksei was running through every strategy he could possibly conjure through his panic, he heard Pyotr sigh heavily. “Well boys, I guess that’s what you get for blowing off a prize like Katherine Bondar for a pint with your mates. Idiot.”

  Aleksei felt his face flush with anger as he was pushed out into the small alley behind the pub.

  CHAPTER 3

  Shadows in the Storm

  SWEAT ROLLED DOWN the hard angles of Aleksei’s face, dripping from his nose and chin as he worked. Lift, throw, lift, throw. The motion was methodical and soothing, and it was exactly what Aleksei needed at the moment.

  He stepped back to survey his progress and managed a grin. In a single morning he’d shifted half of the hay from the west field into the barn. Perhaps tomorrow he and his father could finish carting it up to the loft. And then there would be little to do until it was time to plant next spring.

  Aleksei restrained another surge of hope. It had been at least a week since he’d last dreamt of the strange voice, and those terrifying green eyes. It was near a Market Day since the last voice had echoed through his mind. His prayers had finally put an end to this…disorientation altogether.

  It was now well into Harvest and the work on their tiny farm was practically complete. And once it was, he and his father could spend their days relaxing by the fire. Maybe he would spend the last few weeks before the first snow chopping firewood. They could never have too much—

  Aleksei.

  He froze, back stiff as he glanced around the barn and then out into the field. No one. At least no one he could see.

  Aleksei, I have need of you.

  Aleksei shuddered, running a hand across his forehead and turning his eyes towards the farmhouse.

  He was alone.

  North, Aleksei, north.

  He closed his eyes and the golden mist rushed back to him.

  It was always the same, the voice, the golden mist, and those brilliant emerald eyes that spoke far more power than any simple farmer could fathom in a thousand lifetimes.

  North, Aleksei. I have need of you.

  “Who are you?” he whispered, but that never changed either.

  The voice never responded, never even seemed to notice that Aleksei was speaking. It simply repeated itself. North. I have need of you.

  What need? Aleksei was more than a little apprehensive about the voice. What need could anyone have with him? Surely whatever was needed could be found somewhere else. In someone else. Why him?

  Fate made that decision long ago, Aleksei Drago.

  His eyes snapped open and his pulse quickened, fear tumbling rampantly through his veins. This was the first time the voice had deviated. Before, everything had been composed of the same series of phrases. But now…now something was very different indeed.

  Fate will make you come to me, Aleksei. Do not fight it. Do not run. It will find you. I will find you.

  Aleksei wanted to weep with frustration. Even if he were mad enough to consider following the voice, ‘North’ was hardly enough to go on.

  “Aleksei?”

  He jumped at his father’s call and turned, trying to bury the emotions sweeping across his face. Fear, panic, despair. What was he supposed to do?

  “Come on boy, it’s supper time.” his father said with a bright smile. “This can wait until tomorrow and then we’ll do it together. Finish in half the time.”

  Aleksei nodded, “Alright, Da. I was coming in anyhow.”

  His father’s brow creased, “Something troubling you, Son?”

  Aleksei tried to banish the uncertainty from his face, “Troubling? Nah, I was just thinking that the sun was getting to me.”

  His father’s face lightened and his smile returned, his pale brown eyes twinkling knowingly, “That sun can play mighty tricks on you if you don’t mind it. Especially during Harvest. Trickiest thing in the world, that old sun.”

  Aleksei relaxed and nodded his agreement, fetching his shirt from the hook inside the barn where he’d left it. As Aleksei snapped the buttons into place he was keenly aware of his father watching him. He knew Henry was concerned, but the last thing he wanted to do was trouble his father with his flights of fancy. How could he explain something he didn’t understand himself? At best, Henry might just think he was addled in the head.

  Would the voices ever leave him alone? Would the man with the green eyes finally decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and move on to someone else? Someone more willing? Gods, but he hoped so.

  And even as the thought entered his mind he knew it would not, could not be. He was trapped. Trapped by…what had the man said?

  Fate.

  He rolled the word over in his mind, tryi
ng to comprehend what it was about that word that carried such a strong feeling of bitterness. Why did he shy away from it so? Something tugged at his thoughts, just on the edges of consciousness, but he found no answers in the silence. Some part of him rebelled against the word. Something inside of him hated it.

  “Fate.” he whispered.

  “What?”

  Aleksei realized he’d spoken the word aloud and looked to his father’s questioning face, “Da, do you believe in Fate?”

  Henry frowned, “Fate, Son? Can’t say I do. I’ve lived too long and seen too much that Fate just can’t explain. If there was Fate, then everything would have to have a reason. And I just can’t see the reason in some things.”

  Aleksei knew what his father meant. The memory of his mother haunted his father day and night, as it haunted him.

  Why were some things just so…so senseless?

  Nothing is senseless, Aleksei. But sometimes we are too blind to the world to understand the ‘whys’, and sometimes we don’t receive answers. Sometimes we do, but they aren’t the answers we want.

  Aleksei felt a sudden surge of anger at the voice’s intrusion. Was it reading his thoughts now? Would he ever have a moment of peace, when some stranger was not listening inside his head?

  You’ve never truly been alone, Aleksei. Privacy is an illusion crafted for the powerless. And now your anger stems from the knowledge you have gained. I know that is not the answer you wanted, but that does not keep it from being true?

  Damn you, Aleksei thought angrily, let me be!

  He waited for a response, but was greeted only by silence. It was only several hours later that Aleksei realized his wish had been granted.

  Henry spent the rest of the day watching his son closely. Something was undeniably troubling him, but until Aleksei decided to open up to him there was nothing he could do.

  “He’ll tell you in his own time, Henry.” he muttered under his breath.

  So he waited. Every now and then he would engage his son in conversation, but every time he thought Aleksei might be on the brink of telling him something, the conversation fled to some superficial topic. Did he think it would rain by Market Day? Who did he think would bring the biggest pig to the Harvest Festival? Did he think Mother Margareta would come to bless their fields before the first frost?