To Target the Heart

by Aldrea Alien

  TO TARGET

  THE HEART

  A SPELLSTER NOVEL

  Aldrea Alien

  Thardrandian Publications

  TO TARGET THE HEART

  Copyright © 2020 by Aldrea Alien

  Cover Image by Leonardo Borazio

  Map by renflowergrapx

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact:

  http://www.aldreaalien.com

  First Edition: April 2020

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Map

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chaper Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Epilogue

  Other Books

  About the Author

  The boar fell, an arrow lodged just behind its shoulder. It kicked once, then was still.

  Hamish allowed himself to breathe again. Precious few things were more dangerous than a wounded animal. He leapt across the fallen tree in his path, easily getting to the animal’s side before the rest of his impromptu hunting party.

  Close up, the size of the black-haired beast had him wishing he’d brought more men. The brute had given them a good run around as it was, leading them all over the forest of the western ranges, which was a challenge at the best of times. Getting the boar back through such terrain would be no small feat. The boar likely weighed as much as he did, if not more.

  “By the Goddess’ swollen tits,” Ewan said as the rest of the farmers-turned-hunters reached the boar. He brushed back his dark hair. The day was young and, already, his hair clung in sweat-drenched clumps across his face. “Just look at the size of that monster. He’s going to be a beast to carry.”

  The corner of Hamish’s lip twitched at that. It would certainly feed a good number of the clan, perhaps even make up for the sheep they’d lost to the beast’s tusks. If the five of them were able to get the whole carcass back to the farm, which seemed unlikely. “Are we certain this is the beast?” He’d never seen such a large boar descend from these woods and had been hesitant to bring so few into a hunt without proper preparation. His reservations had ebbed somewhat after seeing the downed fences. It would take a good-sized boar to break through the railing they’d passed downhill.

  “Aye, this is the brute. See this here?” Ewan extended his spear and gave the boar a nudge in the belly. There were two prominent scratches along the animal’s sides, about the right height for fence rails. “If this isnae the bastard that broke me fences, then he’s keeping bad company.”

  “What does it matter now?” muttered one of the other men as he drew his hunting knife. “He’s nae going to get any less dead, might as well get to gutting him before the bears come sniffing.” The man bent over the boar’s head before pausing and glancing back at Hamish. “I’d clean forget me head if it wasnae attached.” He offered up his knife hilt first. “First cut goes to you, your highness.”

  Hamish took up the man’s knife and made a swift cut across the boar’s throat. Everyone knew not to take their chances with these brutes, especially when those tusks were sharp and a good doctor was some hour’s march away.

  It took the five of them manhandling the carcass, largely due to the fact they had to roll the beast onto its other side so gravity would help in the gutting. It left Hamish hot, sweaty and not the least bit covered in pig’s blood. If ever there was a time to not get an itchy nose, this had to be one of them.

  Done, they stood back and stared at the gutted beast. Usually, Hamish would have no qualms in chucking a smaller boar or deer over his shoulders and marching home with it, but this brute was nothing like the smaller prey on the edge of the woods. Seems a shame to leave anything behind.

  “What I’d give for a cart,” one of the farmers muttered.

  Hamish glanced over his shoulder at where the steward, Lyall, sat upon his horse, clutching the reins of Hamish’s own heavy steed. The animals had a hard time traipsing through this rough terrain without the hindrance of a cart. “I guess we lop off the good bits and be on our way.”

  “And—what?—leave the rest for the bears?” Ewan asked, his brows raised in incredulous horror. “Forgive me, your highness, but this winter’s already been lean and me wife will go spare over the fact I’m leaving the offal behind. If I leave the bones too…” He shook his head, likely imagining his wife voicing her opinion.

  “We’re nae exactly equipped for carrying out everything.” Not easily. None of them had been expecting to chase the damned sheep-gorer at all, let alone deep into the forest. They had no packs, no extra horses, not even a sledge. Even if they quartered the blasted thing, they would be trotting off to Ewan’s home with the chunks balanced on their shoulders. Not the best position to be in if they came across a spring-hungry bear.

  “Aye, that’s on me.” Ewan thumped a log with the toe of his boot. “Should’ve sent one of the lads back for proper gear.”

  Sighing, Hamish motioned for the steward to bring the horses closer whilst he wiped most of the blood off his hands. “Perhaps if we lash some branches together, we can drag it out.” Unfortunately, there were no nearby roads. Even if they got stuck further along and had to break the boar down, then the men could hopefully come back for the rest.

  Ewan nodded. “Aye, we should have more than enough rope between us for that.” He hefted his wood axe and, with a jerk at a pair of the other farmers, headed for a tree with low branches.

  The rest of them got to trussing the boar’s legs together, their efforts punctuated by their grunts and the solid chonk of sharp blades hitting wood as the trio by the tree chopped down a few of the straighter branches.

  There was the faintest disturbance of foliage behind him before the warm gust of a horse’s breath heated Hamish’s neck. He twisted to give his horse’s muzzle an affectionate rub and moved on to check her saddle. “Soon, lass.” Over the mare’s back, Hamish caught the steward glaring at him from atop his horse. “Aye, Lyall? What is it now?”

  Those pale blue eyes grew sharp an
d the man’s lip quivered in derision. They both knew he’d only meant to visit the village to check on the damage done to Ewan’s fences, not go gallivanting into the woods after the beast responsible. “It seems that his highness has forgotten that the ambassador is to arrive today. And that her Majesty expressly stated the presence of all her children was required when the ship comes in, which was sighted at dawn.”

  Hamish groaned. This had to be the third ambassador to visit Tirglas in a year. Clearly, his mother was being a little more aggressive in scouting foreign nobility for a potential bride to wed him off to. It didn’t even seem to matter that the woman was also an uncloistered spellster. “I didnae forget,” he muttered, turning his full attention back to the men lashing a crude sledge from the felled branches. How could he have possibly forgotten when the man reminded him at every opportunity?

  With the sledge complete, they fastened the poles to either side of his horse before hefting the boar onto the framework and used every last length of available rope to secure the beast.

  “You promised her Majesty you’d be there,” Lyall pressed as Hamish swung into the saddle.

  Hamish nodded, absently adjusting the straps securing his bow. “Aye, I did.” He nudged his mare into a steady walk. Maybe the men would discover the tracks of yet another monster boar that could’ve been the fence-destroying culprit. So long as it was something Hamish could spend the better part of the day hunting down with them. By the Goddess, if the steward wasn’t babysitting him, Hamish wouldn’t have given a thought towards seeking home until night had well and truly settled in.

  Lyall rode alongside him. He stroked his beard, curling the black and grey end around his finger. “You’ll barely reach the castle before them at this rate. Forget meeting the ship at the docks.” He shook his head. “Will you at least clean yourself up before greeting the ambassador?”

  Hamish smiled at the old man. “I thought you said I didnae have time?” Maybe turning up covered in pig blood would help deter the woman from heeding any of his mother’s daft plans. Then again, the ambassador was from the Udynea Empire, she’d probably mistake it for a proposal.

  Their passage through the woods was slow, hampered every so often by the need to heft the sledge over the odd piece of treacherously uneven ground. The woods seemed to still with their passage, though he caught the occasional flash of bigger animals. Deer, at least he hoped so. With spring settling in, the bears would be wandering the valleys in search of food. If any were nearby, the hulking beasts would hopefully make for the gutted remains before bothering them.

  They stuck to the gentler hills, making their way around the steeper sections they’d originally traipsed over to spare any extra strain to the horses. His mare might’ve been a heavy animal, capable of spending long days crashing through the woods after sprightlier prey, but she was no plough horse accustomed to dragging dead weight.

  Slowly, the land they trod became less wild. Trees stopped pressing in on each other, the undergrowth thinned and the slope of the earth evened to a gentle downhill incline. The familiar bleating of sheep grew louder, punctuated by the fainter call of cattle. Hamish slowed his mare and allowed the men to lead the way to the farm, deferring to their knowledge of walking along paths frequently travelled.

  The men picked up their pace and, before long, the shattered remnants of the fence became visible through the sparse trees. With a little rearranging of the already-broken rails to fit their crude sledge, Hamish continued on through the open field with the steward and Ewan whilst the rest of the farmers returned to their repairs of the fence.

  Unhindered by brush or trees, their passage over the hills remained smooth and swift. The bleating of sheep grew louder as they neared Ewan’s farmhouse. When he had first arrived, the locals were attempting to herd the remaining flock into the pens.

  Hamish scanned the gently rolling hills. There could easily be a few tucked away in the hollows, but it seemed they’d been successful. His mother would be glad, for the less sheep the people lost to wild animals, the less the crown had to reimburse them.

  They crested the brow of the hill that’d blocked the sight of the farmhouse. Sheep milled around the buildings like impatient clouds. Children and dogs darted amongst the flock, driving some into the nearby barn and others into pens where adults waited for the animals.

  The activity slowed as they neared and curiosity drew people’s attention from their tasks.

  One of the women—which Hamish presumed was Ewan’s wife—hastened out of the pens to meet them. “Is that the blighter responsible for ruining me fences?” she asked of the man, tilting her torso to peer around Hamish’s horse. “He’s a fair brute, isnae he?” She turned her attention to them, swinging her head from side to side as she seemed to count them. “Didnae more of you leave this morning? Where’d the rest of you lot go to? Are they all right?”

  “Aye, they’re fine,” Ewan replied. “They’ll be back once they’re done with fixing the fence. Until then, it’d best if we moved the flock to the lower fields. I could do with a few of the young ones to help me dress this beast. They could use the experience.” He jerked a thumb at the boar.

  Nodding, the woman strode back towards the pen to bellow orders at the people milling around there.

  A few of the younger folk hurried over to help with removing the sledge from behind Hamish’s horse. They dragged it towards the farmhouse, grunting all the way.

  Ewan watched their efforts, a small smile tweaking his lips as he shook his head. Shielding the sun from his face with a hand, he looked up at Hamish. “Are you sure about leaving the boar behind, your highness? It’s your kill.”

  “I’m sure.” He lifted his gaze from the farmer’s face to take in those of the man’s family and neighbours. “You’ll all need it more than I will. Especially once winter settles in.” They’d a few months yet of growth and harvest, but the chance of them retrieving the stock they’d lost through the downed fence was barely worth the thought.

  “Thank you, again. I’m nae certain we’d have caught the bugger so easily without your help.”

  Hamish laughed. “You thought that was easy?” Granted, he’d taken on tougher prey, but not after traipsing several hours through untamed woods for it. “Maybe I should be bringing you on me hunts.”

  The man ducked his head, but Hamish caught the faint gleam of delight in his eyes. “Anytime, your highness.”

  “If you need any extra help in dressing—” Hamish cut himself off as Lyall cleared his throat. He glared at the man.

  “Has his highness perhaps forgotten he is meant to be meeting the Udynean ambassador?” Lyall asked, his face innocently neutral.

  Hamish fought for his own features to remain so calm. Why cannae you just forget? If the steward would remain lax in reminding him, he’d be able to put off the meeting until tomorrow. “Aye, I had.” It took some effort to not have his teeth grind on each word. “Thank you for reminding me.” Again. Nodding his goodbyes to Ewan, he kneed his horse into a trot.

  Lyall kept an easy pace with him. “May I also remind you that you are currently covered in pig’s blood? You’re nae going to reach the docks, so you might as well take the time to clean yourself up before the rest of your family returns to the castle.”

  Grumbling under his breath, Hamish kneed the mare into a canter. Whatever else Lyall said was drowned out in the thunder of hooves. By the Goddess’ good graces, he was thirty-seven years old, not some child still tied to their mother’s apron strings. As much as it would’ve amused him to see the look on the ambassador’s face if he greeted her in his current state, it wouldn’t be worth the bollocking he’d get for it later.

  He thundered along the dirt roads leading towards home. Mullhind Castle loomed over them, a hulking stone beast atop the hill. Below her, and ahead of Hamish, lay Mullhind itself. The city sprawled across the western side of the harbour, sheltered by the natural hook shape of the land.

  His horse veered around the outskirts of the
city, taking a path they’d raced across many times, jumping a few fences and logs along the way. At his back, Hamish caught the tail end of the steward’s exasperated cry. He ignored the man and urged his mare to go faster. If Lyall wanted to take the long, winding way through the city, he was welcome to it.

  Hamish slowed his mare as her hooves clattered onto the cobblestone. They trotted along the streets that butted up against the cliff face. The castle sat just above them, a clear upward climb if he’d wings.

  The streets fell away swiftly enough, opening out into the city square. Free of their confines, he nudged the horse faster to race up the slope leading to the castle gates. It followed the natural curvature of the hillside, sweeping to give him a full view of the city and harbour.

  Hamish glanced at the docks far below him to confirm what he already knew. The huge Udynean ship sat proudly in the harbour, her sails furled and likely with all travellers disembarked. He urged a little more speed into his mare. He’d be cutting it fine, but he could reach the castle in time to swap his bloodied clothes for clean ones.

  The castle gates came into view.

  He slowed his horse. Far too many people milled near the entrance for his family to still be at the docks. That had to mean the ship docked early. He hadn’t much chance of slipping by unnoticed, either. That meant meeting the ambassador as he was. Bugger. His mother was going to give him a right dressing down once they were alone.

  No point delaying the inevitable. He nudged his mare onwards, hunching his shoulders as the gate loomed. Maybe he could duck into his quarters after introductions and avoid his mother’s lecturing. For a few more hours, anyway.

  A mob of people bustled about the courtyard, his family at the centre. His mother had her back to the gate, heavily invested in talking with a man in a long, silvery-white coat and red cape. Probably the ambassador’s steward or whatever the Udynean equivalent was called. Of the ambassador herself, he saw no sign. Not that it meant much. A whole person could hide behind his father’s enormous bulk.