The Winter's Hunt

by R. K. Rickson

  “So does that mean we’re in the clear?” Leila asked.

  Torga shook his head, held up a hand, and answered, “Not quite. Thanks to the discussions, the other jarls will be more cooperative, yes. However, that doesn’t mean the threat is over yet. Erik is still in our midst as a traitor and hasn’t shown up over the last handful of days. Not only that, but he’s been seen around Falmod the last month fairly often, amongst other things we may not know about. Our major concern should be taking him down for sabotaging the village here as well as evidence of plotting to take down the jarldom through nefarious and cowardly means.”

  “What’s the first plan of action then? We have a strong suspicion that he’s in Icestorm Reach,” Kaito asked.

  “It’s going to get very dangerous in the coming days with what I’d like to plan, so if you bounty hunters would like to stay out of it, I won’t blame you for it.”

  Ryland shook his head and immediately retorted, “Our bounties are directly linked to your advisor. We’re involved already, we’ll help see things to the end for you.”

  Torga’s face gave a small smile as he thanked the two, “You’ve done quite a bit to help us out as is. My gratitude is with you. Very well, this is what I have planned.”

  The others leaned in closer to listen more intently as Jarl Torga explained, “Word from Galnir’s folks says that a ship is loading up with supplies to sail for Durassa. Their dock workers there have confirmed to have found IHB supplies similar to the ones you both have mentioned to me before.”

  Ryland bumped his fist down on the table and growled, “Checks out with the ledger and plans to ship there. Did you recover the supplies for the village at the very least?”

  “I managed to bring some back, yes. However, we’re going to need to hunt and fish much more to recover the emergency supplies for the winter we had stocked up. Knowing that with what you informed me about Lyle and Boswick helping Erik run money, stolen goods, and resources from our village to Hackshot, we’re still down quite a bit. To solve that problem, I’ve agreed to sell the crown of the old high jarl to the current one for money so that our people may survive the winter yet.”

  Leila’s eyes went wide as she exclaimed, “Father! You hold a national treasure, and you’re selling it to the high jarl? I don’t think Hjaalren altogether has enough money to properly afford it! You can’t relinquish such a thing!”

  “My daughter, your concern is well-intentioned. However, I must act in the good will of my people. I’ve already made my case with the high jarl, and he is considering the offer. Even at the cost of such a grand treasure, the lives and well-being of my people come first. Now then, as we know, Erik has proven to be a traitor. Isolda has also been working in cahoots with him, but we do not currently have any evidence to show for that. I’ve suspended any council group votes for the time being on matters and have taken them into my own hands. Bero and Nessa are still young and inexperienced, and considering Yarvor is the only one I’ve known for years, the council could potentially sway in Erik’s favor depending on how much he’s influenced the two. So, here’s my plan for things: I’m going out with the hunting party with Olvir tomorrow to help resupply the village. During the hunt, we’re going to scout around Icestorm Reach to see if we can find Erik. I wish to ask of you three to stay here in the village just in case he makes his move while I’m away. I’ve spoken with Jeff earlier, and he’s graciously offered to help watch over Port Burmir with his crew so that any would-be saboteurs that would approach by sea are dealt with there.”

  “That’s good to know. We’ve still a week and two days before The Raging Hammer departs from here,” Ryland added.

  “I’m sure we’ll find your marks well before the ship departs. If worse came to worst, I will personally offer transport on my behalf to your next destination for helping us out. The IHB is a rather sore point in this country, but I have every intention on telling the others that two of their own hunters helped take down a smuggling line here, as well as aid my jarldom.”

  Ryland and Kaito nodded their thanks and continued to listen as Torga pulled a small, dried plant out and slid it across the table to the duo. Ryland inspected the twig, which had no more than a small tuft of dark green leaves on it with a purple berry at the base.

  “What is this?” Kaito asked, as he took a closer look at the plant.

  “Firshade, a plant that tearwolves naturally avoid,” Torga replied. “They are much more likely to avoid attacking you if you have that on you.”

  “Oh, similar to wolf’s bane and werewolves!” Ryland excitedly said, as he stored the twig in his pack.

  “You could say that, yes. Now, during this time, I’ve personally sent Bero and Nessa to Galnir and Falmod so that they may barter and trade for extra supplies, as well as keep them out of the ensuing danger that is brewing. Yarvor is currently speaking with the villagers on letting them know that help is on the way, and to win their trust back. If Erik and company are truly in the reach, I’ll be sending scouts to flush him out and arrest him, as well as your targets too. That way, we all can win from this situation. Any question on the matter?”

  Kaito, Leila, and Ryland all looked to one another, and saw that no one had any objections, then turned back to Torga.

  “I believe we’re set, father,” Leila concurred, brushing a strand of red hair out of her face.

  Kaito stretched his arms out as Ryland added, “We’ll do all we can on our end to aid you in stopping Erik and the other two.”

  Torga sighed in relief, then bowed his head and said, “I’m deeply grateful for you two, and Jeff. Truly. It’s been quite the struggle here of late with my own councilor and others working against me. The fact that I have new allies in you all puts my mind a bit more at ease. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get my things ready for the hunt in the morning.”

  Chapter IX: Plot vs Plot

  Heartstouch 12, 1008

  By the crack of dawn, sunlight had poured into the reach, illuminating the dark woods with warm glows of sunlight. It was one of the more peaceful days where Icestorm Reach didn’t quite live up to its title as a few birds flew from branch to branch, searching for food to eat. The absence of a heavy wind only further gave an eerie peace to the otherwise tempestuous reach, as if a feeling of calm and safety had fallen over the area.

  A hut door swung open as Lyle and Boswick stepped into the freshly fallen snow outside with Erik and Isolda in tow.

  “Ah, what a wonderful morning!” Erik chimed as he drew a deep breath of air in and exhaled with fervor.

  “It’s so cold out here in the reach, however,” Isolda complained, and rubbed both arms as she huddled closer to Erik.

  “Today is the day, then,” Boswick said to Lyle.

  “The day for what?” Erik asked.

  “The day Boswick takes the supplies back to Hackshot so that we can get us all paid within the coming days,” Lyle casually replied.

  Erik’s face scrunched up as he said, “I wasn’t informed of this, when did this happen?”

  “A few days ago,” Boswick replied. “After the incident at Tervaskr Peak, I thought it would be wise to get the supplies to Hackshot sooner rather than later. There is little doubt that the jarl will be making a move against us all soon. I’m not going to chance angering Hackshot with the ship getting held up.”

  “But the jarl hardly has any villager support as is, do you think he has the power to try and take us by force?” Erik asked.

  “He’s still a jarl, Erik. Your plan is good, but never underestimate others,” Lyle gruffly replied. “We don’t take any unnecessary chances when it comes to business. I’m staying behind just to reclaim the crown of High Jarl Manus for you. After that, I’m gone as well.”

  “Oh…well, that’s a shame. I was hoping you both could help me against the jarl.”

  “We did. We helped take the supplies from him, undermine him with you, and even risked our lives to help set the stage for an attack on the village. We’re not
going to fight your battles for you, that’s beyond our agreed scope,” Boswick said as he adjusted his pack slung over his shoulders.

  “This is true, I suppose I got a wee too greedy. Very well, then may your travels to Durassa be peaceful,” Erik cheerfully spoke as the two shook hands.

  Boswick gave a nod to Isolda, then turned to Lyle. The two clasped hands together and gave each other a knowing nod.

  “I’ll be waiting for you in Durassa, my friend,” Boswick said. “Don’t keep us waiting too long, okay?”

  Lyle smirked and replied, “Shouldn’t be but a week behind you at the maximum. Go on and head for Port Stahl in Galnir, and make sure the supplies get there okay. I’ll get the crown back for Erik here as the last part of our deal.”

  Boswick turned his gaze towards the trail that led behind the mountain range and started his journey for Galnir, where the ship that had their supplies ready for Hackshot was.

  Lyle, Erik, and Isolda watched him slowly disappear in the distance, then turned to one another as Isolda asked, “What do we do from here?”

  “The jarl should be back today from what you told me, so now is the time to begin moving in on Hemmigatr and setting the stage for Gerald. Lyle is going to hunt down the crown and retrieve it for us while Gerald challenges the jarl. After that, I’ll promptly challenge Gerald with some help from the fancy IHB weapons we have and take him down. After that, I’ll be crowned jarl, and Lyle will take down the tearwolf alpha’s head, now that we have it ready to let loose on the village.”

  Lyle huffed and held his hand up to his eyebrow to block the morning sun’s rays as a small movement up on the ridge caught his eye. He pulled out his spyglass from the pouch at his belt and gazed through it. Atop of the ridge, the unmistakable insignia of Hemmigatr’s guard was up there, as well as others. They pointed down at the trio, and talked amongst themselves, and Lyle could tell that they were searching for them.

  “Heads up, hunter’s party on the ridge,” Lyle informed Erik and Isolda. “Looks like the jarl is with them too.”

  Erik grinned and breezily replied, “What a fine morning! Well then, let us retreat to the path we have set for evasion in case they wish to pursue us.”

  Erik and Isolda started for the woods as Lyle slowly followed, while keeping an eye out on the hunting party. Three of the men broke off from the main group and started descending the mountain ridge for Icestorm Reach. Lyle knew that it was going to be a harrowing day for the hunting party as he followed Erik and Isolda for the trail they had set to deter and repel pursuers.

  Atop Tervaskr Peak, Jarl Torga watched a trio of his men descend the trail for the trio below. It was indeed Erik, with Isolda and Lyle in tow. Torga wasted no time in having some of the group go to find the three, which left the rest of the hunting party free to hunt for game. The sun had illuminated the reach, and with a clear sky and no winds, it was ideal weather for the capture team to find the three. Torga took in a deep breath and exhaled, refreshed and grateful for the crisp and calm morning air. He then looked to the sled that was for carrying large game and took count of ten graylag geese tied down on the side: the geese were known for being a good food source, being built to withstand colder temperatures and had husky bodies, as well as smooth gray feathers that ran in a beautiful, yet simple gradient of gray with a bright orange beak on the head.

  The hunting party was already off to a decent start for the morning and headed west for the small valley that often had deer and various game to hunt there.

  “Jarl Torga,” one of his men said to him as he pointed down into the snowy reach below. “There’s people down in Icestorm Reach heading for the woods. It may very well be Erik and the other two.”

  “Perfect. Let’s get a trio of men down after them. We may catch our traitors yet: meet back at the village when you’re done,” Torga ordered. Three of the men broke off from the party and began their way down the trail that led to the dangerous reach while the rest remained atop the sunlit peak.

  Torga watched his men safely descend the mountain and didn’t want to move on until they were safely down there. Despite being the ruler of Hemmigatr, Torga still cared for his fellow villagers as if they were his equals. It was part of what made him so likeable to many of the villagers in the first place. If he could just apprehend Erik, Lyle, and Boswick, he could clear his name with his people. Until then, the hunt was on.

  Not a cloud hung in the sky as the men resumed their trek along the trail that would take them down towards the forests where game was known to frequent. A small wind blew, but nothing so tempestuous that would indicate a storm’s presence. The men walked along the jagged trail, worn into, and smoothed some by years of others that had traveled and marked it, and the rocks and snow crunched with each footfall.

  Olvir led the hunting party from the front and kept his eyes peeled for any game that the group could turn their focus to. He led the others down the trail that would take them to a spot, a thicket of woods that often held various animals to catch.

  The group carefully made their way down the jagged slope and arrived in the small gathering of tree and bushes: there was a silver wolverine that foraged in the underbrush for food to eat and didn’t hear the group approach. Olvir calmly and quietly drew his bow, trained an arrow with a bated breath, and let his shot fly.

  The arrow expertly pierced the lungs and knocked the animal over, with a small pool of red that soaked in the snow around it. The creature took its last gasps as Olvir approached it and waited until it was finally lifeless to put on the game sled.

  “Well, my jarl,” Olvir said with a smile, “A good start to the morning already. I bet we’ll find more in the woods down at the mountain base.”

  Torga’s green eyes lit up with joy, as they usually did whenever he got the chance to hunt with his people. He looked to Olvir and replied, “I suppose we should make haste. If the game is this numerous out here, we should hunt as much as we can for the village.”

  The trip down the rest of the mountain trail only took them roughly an hour with all the gear they had, and soon were down in an enclosed forest naturally surrounded by the rocks of the mountain, which doubled as a hideaway for most of the animals.

  Two deer were sighted off in the distance as Olvir held up a fist to stop the hunting party, followed by pointing his two fingers forward. The group, the seven of them, all halted in kind and drew bows and arrows, all ready to let a barrage fly to take them down.

  Olvir and Torga crept along the trees and moved up from cover to cover to close some distance and get a better shot lined up. When they were no more than fifty feet away or so, the two men trained their nocked arrows for the pair of bucks, and let their arrows fly. Both found their marks in the heart on each, and one took off from panic: it didn’t get too far when the follow up fire from the others fell it in its tracks.

  The men that pulled the sled moved along to the first one and with some effort, loaded it next to the other animals, before they went to collect the second one.

  As they did, a piercing howl was heard in the woods and the hunting party all stood up, with weapons drawn. They formed a tight circle around the sled, all back-to-back, on guard for what was to come.

  “Tearwolf,” Torga muttered. “Of course, it had to arrive as everything was going well. Let’s take it down before it causes any harm.”

  A shift of white movement among the trees gave away its position ahead, where the second deer had fallen, and gave some concern to the group as how that one got so close so quietly. They raised their bows and let a barrage of arrows off, which hit their mark and dropped the lupine creature in the snow.

  As they did, several more howls were heard around the edge of the woods, and the group immediately tightened formation, nerves on edge.

  “I counted at least seven howls. Since when did they hunt in such large numbers?” Olvir asked.

  “I don’t know, but we need to stand against them and take them down,” Torga replied, as Olvir pointed out the
others that became visible. Among them, one stood taller than the others, one that Torga knew was the alpha of the group.

  “So, the alpha shows his face, hm?” the jarl said. “Leave the alpha for me: take down the others.” Torga put away his bow and drew his trusted greataxe from his back. The weapon was beautifully crafted with intricate etchings of runes, along with a large emerald at the end of the pommel. The axe head was a double-sided blade, arched outwards with a slanted flare, a personal crafting touch of the smith that forged it.

  His hunting party all fired upon his signal and let arrows fly out in all directions: a yelp from one of the beasts let them know they hit their mark and watched as white blurs of movement and mass headed their way.

  Arrows flew and tagged their marks, yet the tearwolves, driven with hunger and fury, pressed on to the hunters. It wasn’t long until they closed the distance, and the hunters drew their various martial weapons to combat the creatures up close.

  The hunters were well-adapted to close-up fighting with the ferocious tearwolves and had good success with the tactic of using an offhand to distract them with movement, then attack a leg and hamper their quick mobility. Snouts snapped, claws tore, blood spilled, and weapons flashed as the forest became a battleground for survival, one the hunters didn’t plan on conceding to the creatures.

  Olvir was knocked over by one of the tearwolves and took a vicious bite on his forearm while they grappled in the snow. Warm blood ran down his arm as Olvir used his free hand to desperately pull his hunting knife from his belt. He ignored the pain of the teeth in his flesh and drove the knife up into its chest with all his might. The beast coughed and relented its attack, and Olvir stabbed thrice more. The beast went slack in Olvir’s hands and he rolled the tearwolf off him before he got back up to his feet.