Heart of a Huntsman

by Liam Reese

“Magic?” Besmir looked at him uncertainly. “I’m not sure I trust it all that much.”

  “My brother is more than gifted in the illusory arts,” Herofic said, nudging Besmir. “You were sure he was a lizard creature to begin with, after all.”

  Besmir recalled the moment when Zaynorth had first appeared, searching for him and looking like a horrific reptilian creature as a test. Only someone with Fringor royal blood would have been able to see through the illusion he cast on Besmir’s mind, proving he was the rightful heir to the throne of Gazluth.

  “What else don’t I know?”

  “Much,” Herofic replied. “Two or three weeks at sea might help with your education, though.”

  Besmir stared at the rough table.

  Two to three weeks?

  Anticipation and nervousness rippled through Besmir then. Anticipation at sailing to a new land and nervousness at going to sea for the first time.

  2

  Besmir discovered a number of things aboard the triple-masted schooner, Dawn Singer. The Wide Green Sea was more of a dark grey color, pirates were more interested in keeping their ship afloat than murdering them, and he suffered from horrible seasickness.

  After six days of near constant vomiting over the side, his stomach ached so badly it felt as if he had been beaten. He felt weaker than a newborn foal and his lips had split, attacked mercilessly by the salt air. Worse still, none of his friends seemed the least bit bothered by the constant rocking.

  Keluse appeared happy, dancing up and down the deck without a care. Zaynorth, Herofic, Ranyor and Morcath idled around, sleeping for much of the time and fishing with borrowed lines just as often. Most of them gave Besmir a wide berth, as his temper had worsened by the hour as soon as they had cleared the harbor. Only Captain Toras seemed immune to Besmir’s caustic, sarcastic comments, paying him a little attention every so often.

  “Ye should feel less sick in the middle of the ship,” he said as he stomped past on his way to do something Besmir could not begin to understand.

  “I hate this ship,” Besmir moaned as he dragged himself level with the main mast. Toras laughed heartily and slapped Besmir on the shoulder, jolting him forward and sending another wave of nausea rolling through his stomach.

  “Ye should be used to the feeling by time we reach Gazluth,” the captain said sarcastically.

  Besmir groaned.

  By the second week at sea, however, his body had gotten used to the constant rocking and he managed to accept the incessant creaking sound that filled his ears from every direction. Besmir stood at the terminus of the bowsprit, hanging on to one of the rigging lines that thrummed as if alive in his hand. Below that, he could just see the back of the figurehead, the Dawn Singer herself, a beautiful woman who supposedly represented the sea goddess, Sharise. Somewhat oddly for a water goddess, the carving had wings with the feathers clearly defined. Besmir mentally shrugged this off and hoped she brought good luck and a quick crossing.

  “Besmir,” Zaynorth said, approaching. “How are you feeling today?”

  “I was lucky enough to be able to drink some water without being violently ill,” Besmir said with a tired smile. “A bonus in my opinion.”

  “Excellent. May I speak with you?”

  “It looks like you already are,” Besmir joked as he turned back out to sea.

  “I wanted to discuss the possibility of you having powers, granted to you with your royal blood,” the older man said.

  “Like I told you before, I can’t do anything like that,” Besmir said. “Only...” he glanced up to see a gull soaring overhead.

  “Yes?” Zaynorth asked eagerly.

  “It didn’t occur to me until you said anything, but I can sense animals, where they are and what they’re doing,” Besmir admitted.

  “See?” Zaynorth said with a cry of triumph. “I knew there must be something.”

  “I fail to see how that’s going to be of any help at all.”

  “Yet it is a beginning point,” Zaynorth said. “If your parents had lived, your father would have taught you how to use and develop your magical abilities from an early age.”

  “Pity they’re dead, then,” Besmir said shortly.

  Zaynorth gasped and stared at the young man with wide eyes and thin lips. He tugged at his beard nervously.

  “Your father and I were good friends for many years before he chose to exile himself,” Zaynorth said with a trace of anger in his voice. “Do you feel nothing for their loss?”

  Besmir shrugged, looking away from his accusatory stare. “Two people I never met?” he asked. “People I don’t know die every day, should I feel for them too?”

  “Yes, Besmir!” the older man shouted. “It is normal to feel sorry for people who die, whether they were known to you or not. If you cannot, then why did you agree to come with me?”

  “Greed,” Besmir lied. “You said I was going to be king and I like the idea of that.”

  “I do not believe you are speaking the truth,” Zaynorth said. “And you are the rightful king, but Tiernon is a battlemage with incredible powers, so there is no guarantee you will be able to defeat him.”

  “A battlemage?” Besmir asked, incredulity stretching his face. “All I can do is tell you there are rats eating the grain in the hold and the ship’s cat is about to give birth so she’s nesting rather than hunting, and this Tiernon is a battlemage?” Besmir stared into Zaynorth’s grey eyes for several heartbeats before pushing him aside. “Where is Toras? I need to get this ship turned around.”

  Besmir heard the old man following him as he stalked along the deck towards where Captain Toras should be manning the large wheel.

  “Take us home,” he demanded as he almost jumped up the small flight of stairs leading up to the aft deck.

  The first mate stood there, burly and savage, his arms folded, protecting his captain with his bulk. A long, flat-bladed sword hung openly at his side, and Besmir had no doubt he was proficient in its use. He regarded Besmir with the cold eyes of a predator as he approached.

  “Little chance of that,” Toras said, tapping the first mate on the shoulder and giving him the wheel. “We have crossed the halfway mark and don’t have the supplies to go back.”

  “Fewer supplies than you might imagine,” Zaynorth said, telling them of the cat and her lapse in ratting duties.

  Toras yelled at his men and a pair of sailors opened the hatch behind the middle mast, dropping below decks to kill the rats.

  “So you see, young sir, ye is stuck with us,” Toras mumbled through a rotten-toothed grin.

  Besmir curled his fists and clamped his mouth shut, jumping back down to the lower deck and storming back to the prow.

  “What are the chances I’m just going to die when we get there?” he asked when Zaynorth caught up with him again.

  “I will not let that happen,” he assured.

  “You couldn’t save my father, so what makes you think it’s going to be any different with me?”

  Zaynorth’s mouth worked, trying to form the words that would make Besmir understand, make him believe. Yet they would not come, and he watched as Besmir turned away, staring out to sea once more.

  “That’s what I thought,” Besmir said dismissively as Zaynorth left.

  Keluse looked at Besmir’s back rocking with the motion of the ship as it cut through the tops of the waves like a sword. She had been close enough to hear the argument between Besmir and the older Zaynorth the day before, and given both men a wide berth since. Now she approached the man she had come to respect, even love, with fear gnawing at her. Ranyor had explained some of the situation to her, but she had no idea how Besmir felt about it all and was afraid to ask.

  The second she approached, Besmir turned, and his smile dissolved all her fears immediately.

  “You do know I can’t teach you to hunt if you’re hiding from me, right?” he asked.

  “I know,” she said. “It’s just... I thought you might want to spend time on your own. To t
hink about things.”

  “Spending time considering my impending doom is probably not the best idea,” Besmir told her. “I need to take my mind off that and do something else.”

  “Why are you doomed?” Keluse asked.

  “Dear old Uncle Tiernon, remember him? Apparently he’s some all-powerful wizard who can probably melt my head with a thought,” Besmir said bitterly. “But it’s all fine because I can tell the cat’s just about to have four kittens.”

  “Kittens?” Keluse said, sidetracked. “Where?”

  “In the hold, behind a stack of cloth.”

  “What did Zaynorth say?” she asked.

  “About the kittens? Surprisingly unconcerned,” Besmir said, sarcasm lacing his voice.

  Keluse looked at him with her head tilted and one hand on her hip, her mouth set in a disapproving line.

  “It’s fine to be scared,” she said. “I’m scared nearly all the time. Of everything.”

  “It’s not even that I’m scared,” Besmir replied. “It just feels like a complete waste of time. Uprooting everything I had in Gravistard to travel hundreds of miles and get squashed like a bug as soon as I get there.” He kicked his boot against the railing. “Dragging you along...”

  “I chose to come,” she pointed out. “What did Zaynorth actually say?”

  “Just that I’d be able to use the same sort of magic Tiernon can if he hadn’t murdered my parents,” Besmir said.

  Keluse watched Besmir rub at his chest as if he could remove some pain there.

  Guilt? Sorrow?

  “Have you tried to use it?”

  “No idea how,” Besmir said with a shake of his head.

  “I expect Zaynorth could help,” Keluse said quietly. “Would it be worth finding out?”

  “Maybe,” he said noncommittally.

  Besmir stared out at the stars as day faded into night, turning events over in his mind. Ever since the strange old man had turned up looking for him his life had been in turmoil. Now Zaynorth expected him to believe he himself had powers that could equal or even best Tiernon.

  Maybe Keluse is right. Maybe I should ask Zaynorth about it.

  “So, magic then?” Besmir said as he approached Zaynorth the following day.

  That got the old man’s attention, and he looked up from the book he had produced from somewhere. “What about magic?”

  “Well, if I’m going to get turned into a frog or something, I want to be able to at least try and put up some kind of resistance.”

  “Turned into a frog?” Zaynorth started to laugh. “Is that what you think Tiernon is about to do?” Besmir shrugged. “To begin with, it is unlikely Tiernon will be turning anyone into frogs.” He stood, closing his book. “Fire and lightning are more likely, fear spells and illusion.”

  “Just fire and lightning?” Besmir said. “Is that all?”

  “You realize he thinks you dead? Tiernon has no idea you even exist, so no reason to be expecting your arrival.”

  “For some reason that doesn’t make me feel much better.”

  “Come, let me see what you can already do,” Zaynorth said, leading Besmir to one side of the schooner. “So, cats and rats? What else can you sense?”

  Besmir concentrated, opening his mind so he could feel the presence of the animals around him. From almost immediately under their feet he could sense the ship’s cat, cleaning her four kittens as they nursed from her. In the main hold diagonally to his right, a lone rat nibbled through a sack to get to the grain inside. He described it all to Zaynorth.

  “Try to think further out,” the old man said. “Down through the hull and into the water. Is there life there?”

  Besmir frowned and closed his eyes, gripping the railing tightly as he tried to move his attention from the cat down. Sweat beaded his forehead as he struggled to make himself go through the wooden hull and into the cold waters below. Something stopped him, however, and no matter what he tried, his mind refused to penetrate the wood. Eventually he huffed a breath out and gave up.

  “I can’t do it,” he said, defeated. “It’s too hard.”

  “What is the hardship? Can you explain it?”

  “I can see the cat, but when I try and get through the wood into the sea, I’m blocked.”

  Zaynorth nodded, stroking his beard.

  “I would hazard a guess it is your rational mind causing the issue,” he said. “Are you able to enter the sea over the side?”

  Besmir tried and.found himself suspended in the surface layer of the sea. A few fish swam along beneath the boat’s hull surrounding his conscious mind, shoals of fish danced in unison, mindlessly following the one in front as they hunted for food. Larger fish swam in lazy circles around the smaller, hunting and feeding. Smaller things floated around, minute creatures carried on unseen currents, filtering food from the water they lived in.

  Something immense and dark drifted past deep beneath the hull, and Besmir’s mind shied away from it, scared that something so huge could exist without him knowing it was there.

  “Yes,” he said, smiling. “Easily.”

  “It must be your rational mind in that case,” Zaynorth observed. “Telling you it is impossible to penetrate the wood.”

  “But I can see through the decking,” Besmir told him.

  “Because you know you could go there through the hatch. Your mind tells you it is impossible to proceed through the hull, as you would not be able to do so physically. The first thing you need to train your mind to do is realize it has no physical limitations. Your thoughts are able to travel through solid rock if you choose to do so, never forget that,” Zaynorth advised. “Now, have you ever been able to affect an animal with your thoughts?” Besmir shook his head. “Are you willing to try?”

  Besmir let his thoughts reach out to the rat, approaching it quietly.

  Why am I trying to be quiet?

  He drifted close, unsure of what to do.

  Shall I touch it or can I…

  Without knowing how, Besmir flowed into the rat, feeling what the rat could feel.. Whiskers twitched with every movement and hunger gnawed at his stomach. Odd sensations rose from behind him and he realized it was the rat’s tail as if it grew from his own spine. A squeak erupted from the rat when he laughed. Besmir spent a few minutes exploring the hold, scampering along wooden beams and through holes that had been chewed through planking.

  Freeing himself from the rat proved to be more difficult than taking it over. He thrashed and jerked, the rat rolling and squirming as if in pain. Panic gripped Besmir’s mind as he fought desperately to free himself of the furry prison he had sentenced himself to.

  Think, man!

  Calming his thoughts, Besmir tried to recall what the old man had told him.

  Forget the physical and let your mind be free.

  An odd sensation of disconnect flowed over his mind as he drifted up out of the rat, watching it scamper off in fright. Existing as thought alone, he drifted back up through the decking to see Zaynorth shaking his body.

  “By the gods, man, wake!” Zaynorth yelled as he shook Besmir again.

  “I’m awake. I’m here,” Besmir said, turning to see Zaynorth’s worried face.

  “What happened?” he demanded. “You were like a statue.”

  “I...somehow I managed to take over the rat.” Besmir tried to explain what had happened, but the expression on Zaynorth’s face was complete puzzlement.

  “I suggest you do not do that again,” Zaynorth said, still ruffled by what had happened. “At least until we can figure out how to get you back.”

  “Something like that must have happened to you, though,” Besmir said.

  “Illusion mage,” Zaynorth said shortly. “The strangest thing that ever happened to me was having an illusion fail.” The old man thought for a second. “Can you feel people in the same way as animals?”

  “No, it’s different with people,” Besmir said. “I can feel them all the time. I have to search out animals.

&
nbsp; “I wonder if it is related to size?” Zaynorth mused. “With people being much larger than most animals. Can you affect people as you can animals?”

  Besmir shrugged.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I didn’t know I could affect animals until today.”

  Besmir looked up, high in the rigging, balanced among the ropes, masts and cross -pieces, sat one of the sailors, idly carving something from a small piece of driftwood. Besmir concentrated, freeing his mind and floating up towards where the sailor reclined. He flicked his thoughts at the man’s arm, knocking it. The sailor jumped, dropping his infant carving to the deck twenty feet below. He pulled his mind back, darting back into his body as a commotion erupted.

  “Who be throwing bits of wood?” the captain roared, rubbing his head as he searched the sails aloft.

  Besmir grinned at Zaynorth’s confused expression.

  3

  “Land ho!” one of the sailors bellowed from aloft.

  Besmir raced over to the port rail, searching the horizon for anything that might be his apparent homeland. Eventually he noticed a darker smudge through the morning mist and his heart leaped to see land.

  Finally I can see Gazluth for the first time.

  Captain Toras started bellowing orders, bringing the ship to life around him. Men appeared from bolt holes and hiding spaces, jumping to tackle the first task they could find. Besmir waited impatiently as the smudge darkened with infuriating slowness, features eventually growing along the coast.

  Forests sprouted above the rocky shoreline, verdant and lush and teeming with life. Dotted at various points, he could make out lone buildings that eventually gathered into towns. Toras turned the Dawn Singer to run parallel with the shore, demonstrating just how fast the boat cut through the water.

  “Best ye leave any talking to me,” Toras growled from behind him.

  Besmir turned to see a much larger ship had approached them, unnoticed by him as he studied the shore. At around thirty feet away, Besmir could see the new vessel towered above the Dawn Singer, the main deck at least five feet higher. She was longer, wider and carried far more men. Her red sails struck a chord of doom in Besmir’s heart as he read the name Imperius on her bow.