by Aldrea Alien
“What?” his guardian interrupted, her upper lip curling. “Might have feelings for you? Maybe even love you?” Tricia scoffed. “Child, you’re smarter than that. I certainly believed you past all this. If anything, he’s using you as bait.”
Dylan thought back to what the man had been trying to ask earlier. It had certainly sounded genuine. “But—”
Nestria gave an inelegant snort. “Don’t be foolish. He’s a hound.”
“I-I don’t think Track’s—”
“Child,” Tricia said, “His kind attacked the tower. Your home. They slaughtered everything in their path. If he gets the order to do you in, do you really think he’ll disobey it?”
Dylan bowed his head. How he wished she hadn’t asked that, wished he could be certain of the answer. “I know how to kill them,” he confessed. Maybe it would be enough to give Tracker pause if it truly came to that.
His guardian gasped. She grasped his arm, her fingers as unforgiving as iron. “Does he know?”
He nodded.
“And he lets you live?” She shook her head and mumbled, “You’re definitely bait.”
“If you know how to kill them,” Nestria said, her gaze fixed on the forest behind Dylan. “Then I suggest we attack him before he can finish off his pack mate’s job and get out of here.”
Dylan shook his head. “If he was going to kill anyone here, he would’ve started when you tried to slash open my shield to get at him.” Having Tracker step through the barrier wouldn’t have hurt as much as the dagger’s blade had and then…
At least it would’ve been quick.
“And that is enough to absolve him of guilt in your eyes?” she demanded.
“Not just that. Tracker wasn’t there.” Dylan recalled the man’s face when they searched the tower. The shock. He thought it’d been because of what they found, but now he wondered if it was more the chaos than the act which had surprised the hound. “He didn’t do anything.”
“If that is true,” Tricia said. “Then it’s only because he was escorting you back. If he hadn’t been detained by your group, where do you think he would’ve been?”
“I—” Had they not reached the tower a day or two after the attack? Tracker could’ve made it, if he hadn’t been held back by those less suited to travel. “I don’t know.”
“And also, child. Tell me how he already knew the hounds had attacked the tower before you could tell him?”
Dylan stepped back. Tracker hadn’t seemed surprised, but maybe he was just good at hiding his emotions. Wouldn’t that be a requirement of hounds? Although… “There was a man,” he mumbled. “One of the Talfaltaners. We encountered him on the road. He tried to flee.” But only after Tracker passed through Dylan’s shield. Now that he knew the hounds had also been at the tower, it became so obvious that the man had clearly witnessed something similar during the attack. “Track questioned him.”
Except Tracker hadn’t been all that forthcoming with what the Talfaltaner had revealed. Had the man told Tracker the truth? Was that why the hound hadn’t been surprised?
Why didn’t he tell me? Sure, he would’ve been upset, angry even. He might not have been able to look at Tracker for a while, but he wouldn’t have blamed the elf.
“And you’re still fooling around with him,” Nestria added.
Dylan rounded on his childhood friend. “What exactly is it that bothers you about it?” he demanded. “That Tracker is a hound or that he’s a man?”
“Both! Why, in the name of the Seven Sisters, would you sleep with him?”
He leant close enough for their noses to touch. “For the same reason I did with you,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Because I like it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Just all of a sudden you want to sleep with men?”
“Ask him how sudden it is.” He indicated Sulin with the jerk of his chin. “How did you know, anyway?”
Sulin smirked, the light-brown scar scrunching the left side of his face. He stuck out his tongue and twisted the ends, letting them writhe this way and that.
Dylan wet his lips. No longer did his imagination touch on what it would be like to kiss his old roommate. Now, his mind lingered on far more perverse thoughts, of what Tracker would be capable of had he the same accident.
Sulin slowly slid his tongue back where it belonged. “You still get that glazed look in your eyes, I see.”
Dylan’s cheeks warmed anew. No, not just his cheeks. He felt so hot that he must’ve blushed right down to his feet. “Oh,” he managed. So much for the thought that he’d only ever shown brotherly affection towards his old roommate.
“What?” Nestria’s gaze darted from him to Sulin and back. “No. You’re wrong. You’re both wrong. Th-that hound did something to him.”
Several things. A tiny smile tweaked his lips.
“Don’t follow him, child,” Tricia said. “He will lead you to your death. That’s all they ever bring your kind, all they ever will.”
“Not him.” There were so many opportunities to end Dylan’s life that Tracker could’ve taken. He’d never tried.
His guardian sighed. “You remember those stories I would tell you of what hounds did?”
He nodded. “They hunt for unleashed spellsters. Send them to the tower.” And kill those who were dangerous. No one mentioned the years of conditioning that went into making a hound, or their abilities. The overseers hadn’t stopped the rumours, either. Fear of them would only have aided the hounds when they attacked.
“That’s… partially true,” Tricia conceded. “The spellsters they send us are often children, young alchemists or adolescent foundlings like Launtil. The rest are slain more often than not.”
“That’s not what Tracker said.” Not if he’d been honest about sleeping with some of the spellsters he found.
Tricia shook her head. “And he’s been completely truthful to you. About everything? About what his people did to us?”
“No.” Tracker had learnt who was behind the attack well before now and had kept that knowledge to himself. He probably also knew why. And still led Dylan towards Wintervale.
Dylan closed his eyes. Am I just a job? Was he no different to any other spellster the man had escorted to the tower? Even when it came to sex? He really didn’t want to believe that, but if he’d been more to the man, then why didn’t Tracker tell him about who had really attacked?
His guardian continued, “There’s only one thing you can do when a hound speaks, child. And that is to not trust a word they say. The crown moulds them from birth for one purpose.”
“I know.” The hound had said the same thing. “But Track—”
“Will be willing to use any method at his disposal to ensure that you follow him. Or do you actually believe he finds you attractive?”
Dylan stared at his guardian. Sure, it would be a little disturbing to think she’d see him as appealing, but surely she could tell he wasn’t that bad in looks. “Well, I…”
She laid a consoling hand on his arm. “Child, feigning affection wouldn’t be that farfetched to someone who considers lying as natural to him as your magic is to you.”
“It’s the same lie that masters use with their slaves,” Launtil piped up. “Many in Udynea truly believe that it is better to be chained by one who cares, than be free amongst those who do not. Even when they’re beaten, they always believe it was their fault.”
Tracker wasn’t doing that. He was just— Lying to me. Manipulating him into thinking they shared something close all whilst escorting him to his death.
But the hound wasn’t the only one who’d lied to him. “You’re a fine one to talk about truth,” he snapped at Tricia. “How many lies did you speak to keep me in the tower?”
“I did it to keep you safe.” Tricia squeezed his shoulder. “Everything I have done has always been to keep you safe. You’ve seen what war is like. I didn’t want that for you. So, yes, I lied to the overseers. I risked my life so you could keep yours. Can you be so cert
ain the hound has the same intentions?”
He opened his mouth, ready to declare that, yes, he was sure Tracker had his wellbeing in mind. The words died before they reached his lips. His thoughts turned to past conversations he’d had with the hound. The speculations of what had happened in the tower.
Tracker had fallen silent when Dylan pressed about the information he’d gleaned from their Talfaltaner captive. And at Whitemeadow? The man had known something. He’d gone looking for the other hounds for confirmation.
Well, the other hounds’ absence was proof enough of their deeds, wasn’t it? The bloody hound knew and had kept it to himself.
Why aren’t I dead? The question pounded its way through the inferno eclipsing all else. The hound professed he could do him in easily enough, easier still now they slept in the same tent. What made Dylan any different to the spellsters in the tower? Was it because he was trained in battle and therefore useful? Why not hunt him down like the others?
Not all hounds hunt the same. Tracker’s words. What had he said about The Gilded Lily? That he’d been sent there to hone his seduction skills. And during their first night together in the tower? Tracker had confessed to lying with other spellsters whilst escorting them, even after revealing what he was.
By the gods…
Dylan threw a hand over his mouth, realisation hitting him like the snap of a tree branch. His eyes blurred. He closed them. Anger, raw and sharp little barbs, burrowed into his heart and a self-contemptuous little laugh escaped his lips.
Tracker hadn’t fallen for him. The man had been hunting him. And what a rich deal he’d given the hound, letting Tracker use him as the man saw fit whilst leaving himself so vulnerable should the command to do him in come. I believed him.
Long, familiar fingers latched onto his arm. “Are you all right?” Nestria asked.
He shook his head. His guardian was right. Any method to get him to his destination. Tracker had been using sex like a leash, making Dylan forget about anything beyond what he was supposed to do. And I fell for it. Following the bastard like a puppy. Such naivety should’ve been beyond him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, grasping hold of the last shred of hope as he glared at his guardian. “You know nothing about Tracker beyond him being a hound.”
“Listen to yourself, child,” Tricia replied. “You’ve never been this irrational. True, I don’t know him, but neither do you. I’m only trying to make you see the tr—”
“I was happier not knowing!” the confession tore through his throat. Their little group hardly ever stayed in one place and sometimes their very lives were threatened, but… “I was happy.” Tears stung his eyes. He fell to his knees. “I was,” Dylan mumbled. Was his guardian right? Had everything between them been one big lie?
His guardian’s firm, familiar hand squeezed his shoulder again. “I’m sorry, child.”
“Come with us,” Nestria said.
He shook his head. “I can’t.” He wasn’t a deserter, not yet. Not unless he fled. And leaving with his friends, his family, would endanger everyone. “I have to go to Wintervale.” Making for the capital, being leashed, was the only way to keep them safe. Tracker would be too busy keeping an eye on him, a spellster he knew was dangerous, to go after the others. “You need to go north. We’re camped not far from here. I’d suggest leaving now.”
His guardian inclined her head in acquiesce.
“No,” Nestria breathed, her grip on his robe tightened. “You don’t—” She fell silent at Tricia’s touch.
“It has to be this way, dear girl,” his guardian said. “If he comes with us, the tracker hound will only give chase. It’s what the man has been trained to do.” She peered around Dylan’s shoulder at the surrounding forest before turning her attention to him. “If you value your life, child, then you won’t trust this Tracker again.”
Dylan nodded. “Don’t you worry about that.” Now he knew what the man was doing, he wouldn’t fall for it a second time.
Dylan stalked through the darkening forest, his gaze locked on the rock column where he and the hound had dumped the gathered wood. His mind was ablaze.
He lied to me. This whole time he’d been running towards the very people who’d slaughtered nearly everyone he’d ever known. The hound knew it and hadn’t told him. The man had had weeks—three of them, in fact—to broach the subject.
He used me. ‘Fun’ Tracker had called their moments together. For the hound, perhaps. A bit of sport in the middle of his hunt.
Dylan stalked past the rocks standing like a finger pointing to the sky. Tears almost blinded his vision, but he made out the flickering light of their campfire through the underbrush. Better hidden than the fire his friends had made.
However would a group of spellsters—half of them children—make it to Dvärghem? He should’ve suggested they make for Heimat first. The elven portion of their group would be taken in, no questions, leaving the rest of them to carry on with a better chance of not being spotted by the other hounds.
His footsteps dragged. Maybe he should go with them. He didn’t know everything there was to traversing a land, but he could help fend off the less savoury beings they’d come across. But Track… The hound would follow him, as was his duty. Stay close to the prey.
Well, being buried to the hilt in Dylan was as close as any man could get, wasn’t it?
There was a rustle in the bushes to his left and Tracker emerged from the undergrowth. “Dylan? I thought—” The man hastened through the thick expanse of ferns barring his way. “Wait up.”
Dylan halted at the foot of a wide oak, his limbs quietly shaking. Was it anger or fear that set his heart to racing? He sorely wished he knew. “You wanted to know where we stand?” He glared over his shoulder at the hound. “Well, we don’t. Not together.”
Tracker’s shoulders drooped. Confusion moulded his face. “I do not understand. First you protect me from your friend’s attack, now this?” The hound glanced back the way Dylan had come. “What else did they tell you?”
“Enough,” he snapped, whirling on the man. “The hounds attacked the tower. They led the Talfaltaner mercenaries past their walls and slaughtered everyone they could get their hands on.” Spellsters, guardians, servants. Young and old alike all cut down as if they were diseased cattle. “And you… I know you weren’t exactly surprised to hear that.”
“Well no, but I—”
“You knew,” he said, surprised at the evenness of his voice. “Knew and didn’t even think to tell me, to warn me, the instant you discovered it.” If they hadn’t stumbled upon Nestria and the others, he would’ve walked blindly into their midst. And then what? Was Wintervale nothing but a trap? One he had to walk into regardless?
The man’s cheeks puffed briefly as air escaped his mouth in a drawn out sigh. “I know how it must look to you, but I did not wish to tell you in the beginning because I only had what the Talfaltaner believed. Without solid proof of hounds being involved, it was speculation at best. Even torture cannot—”
“So, you did torture him.” He’d healed the man, at the hound’s orders. He used me. Just like everyone else outside the tower. I never should’ve left. He should’ve taken his guardian’s advice and failed the brawl. Then he would’ve been at the tower to stop the hounds.
Tracker folded his arms, the leather armour creaking as it strained over his shoulders. “I did not at first, no. But I had to be sure, for both our sakes, and he was not exactly willing to give up the information. The Talfaltaners… They tolerate us hounds because we hunt spellsters, but they certainly do not trust us. I was unaware of the full truth behind his words until after Fetcher—”
“Fetcher?” The hound who’d taken him to the main camp to begin with? She’d survived the attack? How? “When did you speak with her?” And why didn’t the man tell him?
Tracker hung his head. “At Whitemeadow, after we had—”
“You told me no one was there.” Another lie. He should’ve e
xpected there to be more than one, but it squeezed his heart all the same.
“I did. But I also promised to help you avenge the tower deaths. How could I do that if you believed yourself to be unable to trust me?”
The calm, even way in which the hound spoke irritated Dylan’s very bones. “So not only did you deliberately lie to me, you were apparently content to let me march right into their hands.”
Horror took Tracker’s face. “No! That is not at all what I—”
“So what was the plan, then?” Dylan paced the small area between the oak tree’s tangle of roots. It was that or set the forest ablaze. “Wait and see if I led you to others so you could take them out in one go?” He gestured back the way to the spellster camp. “Well, there they are.” An alchemist, a handful of children and some guardians, alongside two powerful spellsters. No contest for a hound. For anyone. “Here I am. Killing unleashed spellsters who try to escape is what you’ve been raised to do, isn’t it?” He spread his arms wide. “So do what they taught you.”
The hound stepped back, his brow wrinkled. “Dylan,” he said, the word barely recognisable as it passed his lips. His head moved side-to-side ever so slightly. “I—”
“What are you waiting for?” Dylan screamed. “I won’t attack you. I won’t give you the satisfaction of claiming self-defence.” Tears stung his eyes. He had trusted the man. He even thought that he…
No. He would never trust anyone like that again. Never fall prey to the idealistic belief that someone might love him. “If you’re going to take my life, then don’t bother dragging me all the way to Wintervale. Just go ahead and take it!”
Tracker bowed his head. “Stop,” the man whispered. “Please.” Was he ashamed? For himself? For the other hounds? Dylan no longer cared.
“You can’t do it, can you?” he snarled. That’s why he was still alive. He wasn’t bait. Tracker knew exactly what had happened and the only reason he wasn’t rotting in a ditch somewhere was because… “You’re a coward.”
