To Target the Heart

by Aldrea Alien

  To me? The thought darted across the others swarming his mind like a bird across a pond, bringing with it a faint buzz of anticipation. It had been years since he’d come face to face with any actual danger. Was Queen Fiona planning on locking him away in a cloister like she had done with her own daughter? I’d like to see her try.

  Tucking the thought neatly away in the back of his mind, Darshan cleared his throat and continued his current line of enquiry. “Why would we seek to leave when we have just returned?”

  “Because now is the best time. Your things are still packed and we’ll get a few hours of travel in. Maybe even get to see her emerge from her lair near morning.” Something still rang hollow in his words. What had shaken the man so?

  Darshan hummed, idly rubbing his moustache with a forefinger. Would removing Hamish from the palace free his lover from the cloud of whatever had put the pain in his eyes? A hurt that still lingered there despite the smiles. Or would it aid in shaking free the truth?

  Only one way to know…

  ~~~

  Hamish lay on his back, staring at the canvas canopy of the tent stretched above them. Leaving the castle had been laughably easy, involving no more subterfuge than leading their mounts out the gates whilst a crowd of others rode in. The guards had been too busy dealing with the newcomers to glance their way.

  He had caught glimpses of what was to come amongst the new arrivals; flags with clan emblems that he’d only seen during his childhood lessons or at his siblings’ union contests, and sombre-looking contestants garbed head to toe in mottled browns. Even if he had been willing to go through with the contest, he wouldn’t see more than the woman’s eyes until they failed or one of them was named the victor.

  None of that mattered anymore. He was out here. Several hours’ ride deep into pristine forestland. Only one law existed here and the Goddess was not hesitant about punishing those who dared to test its boundaries.

  Darshan gave a contented sigh as he snuggled against him. Even bundled in his multitude of layers, a faint chill radiated off his hands. “Is it not dangerous to sleep so close to a bear cave?”

  “It isnae that close.” It would take a few hours marching through the forest on foot to get there as it was. He had considered camping closer still, but he’d a feeling Darshan would’ve baulked at such a suggestion. “Besides, tracking her will be easier with fresher marks.”

  His lover gave a thoughtful hum. Darshan had been making that sound so often over the past afternoon that Hamish didn’t need any light to know the man’s lips were pressed into a thin line. There’d be a slight twitch to the tip of his nose, too, which would’ve shuddered all the way to his glasses had Darshan still been wearing them.

  Hamish braced himself for another of his lover’s attempts to tease out the truth of what gnawed at him. No matter what happened, he didn’t want what he had left behind them to mar this moment of stillness. Of just… being.

  “It seems to me that you are far more at ease out in the wilderness than in the castle. Do you venture out here often?”

  “Whenever I can.” Everything seemed simpler. No impending union contest. No inevitable wedding. No one to make him feel guilty for his actions. Just him and his lover. “Although, they dinnae usually permit me to travel without a guard.”

  “What luck smiled upon us this time?”

  Nothing. Any luck he might’ve possessed was just a cheap magical trick. Darshan had proven that. He had earned none of the accolades he’d been given.

  “Me brother.” No point in telling the man otherwise. Once Gordon got wind that he’d left with Darshan in tow, he would ensure his mother’s guards didn’t follow. “He convinced me mum’s lackeys that our little hunting trip would be better served if they weren’t crashing through the undergrowth alongside us.” The lie wasn’t his best, but certainly better than the truth that they might be tracked later.

  “He is a curious man. Is he your comrade?”

  “Me what?”

  The cheek Darshan had laid on Hamish’s bicep twitched. “I am unsure if you have a word for it. He helps you in your conquests. You… select what you deem as a suitable target and your comrade then basically assists in getting you laid via several means.”

  Hamish blinked. “You’re right, I dinnae believe we have a word for that.” Could he class Gordon as such? His brother certainly had some idea of what Hamish got up to during those distant times he’d spent in the dockside pubs. Did he assist more than keeping the guards away? “I dinnae think so.” He couldn’t imagine Gordon picking out anyone, not when his brother knew the fate of those caught with Hamish… Treason. Not a crime many came back from.

  Just another reason to take the path he had chosen. How would the Goddess judge him for all the death he had caused?

  “Truly? Well, I must confess I am not entirely certain what to make of him. He is the heir, is he not? Should he not be on your mother’s side? Not that I am complaining. It is merely nice to know our allies.”

  “Gordon’s on his own side.” Always was. That his brother had decided his siblings were also part of that side was a blessing. “He’s been at loggerheads with our mum ever since she forced the nearby cloister to disband.” He was pretty sure that was due to there being an echo of his brother’s older, deceased, daughter in Caitlyn’s mannerisms.

  Would his brother have had the same outlook on things had that man-killing mountain of a bear not taken his wife and eldest child? Would his mother care what Hamish did with his life had she not lost several of her grandchildren? Or would he always have been faced with her disgust over his lack of conforming to the path she had chosen for him?

  No matter how much he tried, his mind wouldn’t still. Never mind that the countless maybes and possibilities would all become inconsequential soon enough. Over and over, he had voiced his objection to the route he’d been forced down and if that wasn’t enough for her to see what she was doing to him, then maybe tomorrow would finally get through. Enough to not set his nephew on the same path, at least.

  Goddess, look over him. He wished he could’ve been a better example to Ethan, but this was their lot in life.

  Darshan wriggled further up Hamish’s side. “You have gone very quiet,” he whispered. “Are you asleep?”

  “Nae,” he murmured. Sleep would not claim him tonight. Of that, he was certain. “Just thinking.” His thoughts drifted to the dim memory of a conversation they’d had some weeks back. “You never did that vibrating hand trick, you ken.”

  “You did not ask for it.”

  He was correct there. Although, the matter of when had been a tricky one. Especially when they were on the road at first light through much of their journey. Hamish would often be asleep by the time Darshan was anywhere in proximity and likewise with the spellster. “There’s always now.” When else would he ever get the chance to experience being with someone he wanted as much as he did Darshan?

  “Out in the wild? With the animals watching? I will pass on that.”

  “I’m nae suggesting we do it out there.” He flung his arm wide to encompass the forest beyond their shelter. “We’ve a tent. How do you think your ancestors used to have sex?”

  “Easy. In their homes. On a perfectly serviceable bed like normal people.”

  “And before they built those homes?”

  “Then probably on board one of the ships.” A small chuckled shook the man’s stomach, pressed as it was to Hamish’s side. “They are, technically speaking, your distant ancestors too. Or do Tirglasians not believe that all humans sailed here together?”

  “The priests say the Goddess guided us to these lands from another.” Hamish shrugged. “That’s it.”

  “Nevertheless, I would prefer not to on the grounds that I am likely to wake the local wildlife. And I do believe I said such intimacy was only after you had spoken of what troubled you. Or did you think I had forgotten?”

  “Nae really.” He had hoped. It would make tomorrow easier if Darshan’s atte
ntion was more on the bear and less on Hamish’s actions.

  “And? Are you still unwilling to confide in me?”

  Hamish’s insides seemed to squirm of their own accord. “On that subject, aye.” Although, if Darshan continued to needle him, he might blurt out everything and his true reason for leaving the castle with just one man in his company would be for nothing. “But if you’ll indulge me for a wee while, since neither of us seems ready to sleep, what parts of the old spellster legends are true?”

  “What legends? Whose?”

  He winced. Hamish had meant the old tales he had grown up with, but of course Darshan wouldn’t know them, much less whether they were true. “Your people’s, I guess. Can you do the same magic as the spellsters of old?”

  Darshan gave a non-committal grunt. There was a faint shift of the blankets. Had he just shrugged?

  “How can you nae ken?” Hamish rolled onto his side, seeking his lover’s expression. But the twilight beyond their tent had well and truly slipped into darkness. “You’re telling me nae a single person has ever tried replicating your legendary feats?”

  His lover scoffed, bathing Hamish’s face in his hot breath. “Of course they have tried. There are whole academy wings devoted to trying. But most of the feats my people speak about in awed tones were powerful. Terribly so. To attempt them without the right strength, or the precise steps, could tear you to pieces. It does not help that, for some, to even learn if you will survive is to actually attempt it. Few takers.”

  “We used to hear, when I was a wee lad.” Back before Caitlyn was born, never mind taken to the cloister. “The storytellers in the market square recite tales of spellsters easily bringing people back from the dead.” His mother had banned those stories from being told, within the confines of Mullhind, at least.

  “Whilst few would not call it easy, such a feat is a common one that relies on a mixture of medical knowledge, willpower and magical strength. Like I did with that man at the cloister.”

  He thought back to the man Darshan healed from the brink of death. “But he wasnae dead, though.” Close, according to his sister. “Spellsters cannae actually bring people back from the dead, right?”

  Darshan hummed. “The recently dead? Yes, there are such cases where people have been deceased for over an hour and were revived.”

  “The people in the legends were several days’ dead.” Sometimes, the storyteller would substitute it for weeks. Often, it was a loved one and would end with some sort of sacrifice on the other’s behalf.

  “That sort of magic is… theoretically possible. There are always legends of this and that happening. People reappearing long after they were buried and yadda yadda. No actual mentions of how they appeared, of course. Just that they did. There is this myth that originated from my people’s first encounter with the Stamekian nomads and how they will punish the unworthy by using their life-force to revive those who are.”

  “They swap the death of one for the death of another?”

  “So the tale goes. Not many gift the tale much credit nowadays, but the idea does linger in a few debates. And I am certain if I asked around, I would find a few professors still attempting to determine if there was any merit to the act. They do believe the manner of how Stamekians treat their dead aids them.”

  “Do they nae bury them?” That was the Tirglasian way. Deep in the forest, if possible, so animals were nae drawn too close to the villages.

  “I would think it is more along the lines of entombing their dead in sand. The dry environment is likely what preserves their remains.”

  A flush of heat took his face as he recollected the giant tapestry of the known world from which he and his siblings had learnt of the realms. The small empire of Stamekia was the farthest a person could head south before jumping into the ocean and, at least on the tapestry map, was mostly the fawn and taupe of arid land. “Right,” he mumbled.

  “My apologies, it is not much of a topic on which to gain sleep from. How about something a little lighter?”

  They spoke all through the night on frivolous matters until sleep finally claimed Darshan. Hamish tried to follow suit, even if only so he could be alert enough to track the bear, but closing his eyes did little to still his mind. The best he could manage was just lying still beside his lover, listening to the man’s steady breath, whilst the darkness grew old and faded.

  Hamish sought to leave the tent only once the grey light of approaching dawn crept through the gaps in the entrance. He slipped free of Darshan’s grasp and silently tugged on his boots.

  At his back, Darshan slept on, seemingly oblivious to the new day.

  He gently brushed back the hair from his lover’s face and pressed a kiss to Darshan’s forehead. I’m sorry. If it hadn’t been for the spellster, he never would’ve known what it was like to love, both romantically and sexually, and have it returned, if not in full, at least in part with an honest echo of affection.

  He couldn’t force himself to take a path where such a feeling would never be possible, to be what his mother wanted. I’m so sorry. With luck, they would believe the spellster when he told them of how Hamish had been mauled to death.

  Goddess willing, it would be a quick one. The bear might not be a known man-killer, but he had seen firsthand what such an animal could do to a person.

  Darshan stirred. His eyelids slowly parted. “ ‘Mish?” Squinting, the man groggily groped for the little box that contained his glasses. “Is it morning already?” The words tumbled out, sleep-slurred and mostly Udynean.

  “Hush.” He caressed the man’s cheek, absently running his thumb along the short beard that had grown over the course of their travels. “I’m just going outside for a bit. Go back to sleep.” He could’ve roused Darshan further and have them on their way before dawn’s light had finished filtering through the trees, but the spellster would need to be at his brightest if he was to get near the bear’s lair on foot in one piece. And back to camp afterwards.

  Those gorgeous hazel eyes fluttered shut.

  Hamish slipped out into the last vestiges of darkness, pausing only to snap up his bow and a few arrows from his quiver.

  The world under the canopies was swathed in grey light, enough to see by as he sauntered to the nearest tree, idly stringing his bow along the way. He slung the weapon over his shoulder before tending to the needs of his bladder.

  The side of their tent caught his attention and his stomach twisted. Just a little while longer. Then they would head out, find the bear and…

  He would have to be careful. There was no way to predict how Darshan would act once they reached the lair, let alone when Hamish put the last piece of their journey out here into action. It was cruel to use him like this, but he needed someone he could trust to be there, to bring back the news, to not know the steps he hadn’t taken to avoid the beast.

  The horses snorted, spooked by something in the bushes.

  Hamish jerked his head around, cursing softly as he splashed his boots. Dealing with the rest of his business as swiftly as he was able, he hastened to the other side of the camp.

  Mercifully, both pony and horse were still tied up. That they had trampled what remained of their feed into the ground and had an unusual interest in one patch of the forest did little to ease his concern.

  He lowered Warrior’s head, rubbing at the spots that typically had the pony sagging against him to no avail. “What’s gotten into you two?” He peered through the trees, trying to make out anything in the gloom. It had to be something small. A bird or a rabbit or even a—

  A hulking shadow shifted through the undergrowth. It moved with purpose, its back swaying ever so slightly from side to side.

  Hamish slowly unslung his bow from his shoulder. There was only one thing in this forest big enough to cast a shadow like that. You shouldnae be here. The camp was several hours from its lair. They had made very little noise and had forsaken any meal that would require a fire.

  Warrior tugged at the lead keepi
ng him in place. Even Hamish’s usually placid mare was giving freedom a good go.

  Of course. The bear had caught the horses’ scents. Well, that was his mistake.

  He strode away from the horses, keeping the shadow within his sights. He was not about to let their mounts to come to any harm. If the animal didn’t turn away soon, he would be left with no choice but to provoke it right here and hope his life was enough.

  The shadow slowly became darker, gaining definition. The bear paused, standing up on its hind legs. Its short snout snuffled at the air.

  Goddess, you crafted a beauty. The bear stood nowhere near as big as the man-killer he had slain in that village years ago, but the Goddess had certainly done just as good a job. He nocked his arrow, waiting for the bear to lower onto all fours before loosing.

  The arrow sliced along the bear’s side. Not ideal, but better than nothing.

  Roaring, the bear loped towards him.

  Hamish froze. He recollected the vision of his brother’s wife after the man-killer had gotten the best of her. Broken and shredded. Barely recognisable. He had avenged Muireall’s death. And that of his niece. Was this what they’d seen at the end? How much had they felt? Had they—?

  The terrified screams of the horses echoed through Hamish’s skull, uprooting him from his terror. Shut up. Shut up! He had to keep the bear’s attention on him. He was the threat.

  Taking a step back, he loosed another arrow. Then another. Wood tapped on wood as he shook, throwing off his aim.

  He loosed the final one, hitting her paw. A lucky shot. He couldn’t have missed if he had thrown the arrow.

  Tossing his bow aside, he thumped on his chest. “Come on, then!”

  A wall of muscle and fur slammed into him.

  Hamish hit the ground. Air whooshed from his lungs. The bear’s weight pinned him in place. Claws dug into his chest, piercing right through his thin shirt. A slobbering maw enveloped his sight, fastening onto his neck.

  Pain finally caught up. It tightened his throat, struggling for release. Breathless as he was, his cry made little sound. Everywhere hurt. His chest was afire. His neck… The tepid flow of life pumped out across his skin. Was that crunching sound his ribs or—?