by Garry Spoor
“Oh, sorry about that. I didn’t think you’d want too much fuss.”
“Fuss? What fuss? Why would there be a fuss?”
Emara shushed her and pointed to the front of the room. “It’s starting,” she whispered.
Kile quickly turned around to see an old man slowly approach the small stage. He was bent with age and wore a tattered cloak with a hood pulled over his head. He carefully made his way to a rocking chair, which sat beside a fireplace. Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, he turned to the audience. The room fell silent. The old man sat and pulled back his hood. His hair was silver grey and he had a dirty bandage wrapped round his head, covering his right eye.
“So, you’ve come to hear the story of the Wild Hunter,” he said in a soft yet strong voice. “I will tell you the true story because I was there.”
He looked at each person, one at a time, as if speaking directly to them. When he saw Kile, he stopped and grinned.
Now things were starting to make sense.
The old man leaned forward in his chair, holding his hands out before him. The air around him rippled and for a moment, he looked as if he was sitting behind a flowing sheet of water. Kile could smell the magic. Like a summer breeze, it filled the room. She could also see the soft yellow strands of light flowing from the man’s fingers. They danced in the air around him, creating shapes from nothing.
The birds were the first to appear, flocks of them came out of nowhere and flew through the audience. The people laughed as they ducked to avoid being hit by something that wasn’t there. Next came the wolves. Large grey ones that moved slowly between the tables, eyeing the patrons cautiously as they made their way to the stage only to disappear at the foot of the storyteller. Then, from the shadows behind him, a great bear emerged. He lifted his massive head and looked out over the room, and the people grew silent once again. Finally, much to Kile’s embarrassment, the Wild Hunter appeared. Although she had been expecting it, it wasn’t what she expected.
The Wild Hunter was tall and slender with a curvaceous body and flowing red hair. The outfit she wore was a bit more revealing than anything Kile ever thought of wearing. She turned to the audience with a flirtatious smile, and her eyes turned a bright shade of yellow.
“I’m going to kill him,” Kile mumbled under her breath.
“Just watch,” Emara whispered.
The old man started to spin his tale of the siege of Moran. It appeared before them on the stage. Illusions so lifelike and so real, they could be mistaken for actual actors. The outpost, the valrik, the soldiers, even Captain Bartholomew Jax was accurately recreated down to the last detail. Kile could have easily lost herself in the story if it wasn’t for the fact she kept seeing herself bouncing across the battlefield. On two occasions, she grabbed a breadstick from the basket and was about the hurl it at the old man, but Emara was too quick.
As each scene played out, it drew the audience deeper into the storyteller’s narrative. They were on the edge of their seats when the Wild Hunter battled the Montour in the courtyard and watched in fear as Captain Jax fought off the Valgar. They stared in awe when the kastelya came crashing down into the mainway, causing the pub to shake and fill with smoke. They cried when they thought the Wild Hunter had lost her yarrow companion. Even Kile was a little emotional when they reached that part of the story until she saw herself bouncing across the battlefield again. She quickly reached for a breadstick, but Emara had wisely removed the basket from the table.
The story came to its climactic ending when the High King rode in at the last minute to break the siege. It wasn’t exactly how Kile remembered it. For starters, the king was never at Moran, but she had to admit, it did make for a good finale. That was, until the king swept the Wild Hunter up in his arms and rode off into the sunset with her. The audience loved it; Kile, not so much.
When the old man finished, and reality finally returned to the room, he slowly stood up to a thunderous applause. He took a few bows and casually glanced over at a tip jar that was sitting on a table beside the stage. Taking a step back, he blended into the shadows and was gone. This only warranted an even louder applause as people rose from their tables and dropped coins into the jar on their way out the door. It would appear most of the people only came to The Purple Puffin to catch the show as the room slowly emptied.
When Kile turned back to the table, a cup of tea greeted her. She never heard Mr. Lewis return and must have been more caught up in the show than she thought. She wasn’t sure if she was angry, embarrassed, or amazed. The show, itself, was better than she expected, but the subject matter left a lot to be desired.
“Hey, Kile girl. You finally made it.”
Kile looked up at the young man she knew all too well. Alex Bartlow was the first person she spoke to at the Academy. He hadn’t changed much since then, and that was seven years ago. He still had the same boyish face, although now it was scarred by the war. A black eye patch covered his right eye and his injuries had forced him out of the Hunter’s Guild, but nothing ever dampened his spirit.
Pulling out one of the chairs, he sat down. “So, what did you think?” he asked nervously.
She stared at him over the edge of her cup.
Alex looked at Emara and back at Kile. “You didn’t like it?” He seemed a bit surprised.
Putting the cup down, she leaned back in her chair. “Is that really what you think I look like?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You really think I look like that, with the… and the…”
“Oh, that. That’s nothing.”
“Nothing? That’s a lot more than nothing.”
“It’s merely a little artistic license. Emara understands. Don’t you, Em?”
Emara instantly threw her hands up. “Don’t get me involved in this. I warned you about the changes to the character. I said it was too demeaning.”
“Demeaning? How can you say that? If anything, it’s… flattering.”
“Flattering?” Kile said loudly.
Emara handed her a breadstick.
“Wait, wait, I’m sorry,” Alex cried, looking between the two of them. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Only that I get more tips with the new character and the new ending.”
“And about the ending, where did that come from?” Kile asked.
“Well, you see, the story needed more romance, more—”
A breadstick bounced off his head.
“Fine, I’ll change it back,” Alex said.
“Good, it’s kind of embarrassing.”
“I don’t know why. It’s not like anyone would recognize you,” he laughed. “Not with that hair.”
Emara handed Kile another breadstick.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Alex said. “But seriously, Ki, how did you like it?”
Kile sat there for a while, pondering. She had to admit, she did enjoy the show, but should she let Alex off so easily?
“Apart from the obvious,” she said, watching him squirm, “it was pretty good. You’ve come a long way, Alex. Your illusions are wonderful. I mean, from what you used to create, and now, there’s no comparison.”
Alex laughed. “Remember the night all four of us were peeling potatoes and I created that illusion of Eric? That was the first life-sized figure I ever did.”
“I remember you creeped Danny out with it.”
“Yeah, that was pretty funny.” He laughed and looked down at the table. “It’s kind of hard to believe he’s gone.”
“Who? Eric? Al, don’t you remember? He was trying to kill us.”
“I know, but… we were all at the Academy together. It’s kinda weird, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I suppose I do. But that was so long ago, Alex. People change.”
“I suppose, I mean, you never used to have green hair.”
“It’s temporary,” Kile said. “And now I don’t think it was by accident.” She looked over at Emara.
The mystic grinned. “Please, I’ve been c
hanging my hair color since I started at the Tower. You think I’d mess up that badly?”
Alex was about to say something, but one look from Emara and he decided against it. It wouldn’t be breadsticks the mystic would hurl at him.
As Kile thought about it, it all made a strange sort of sense if she considered the two people who planned it. The short green hair, the fake name, they were trying to protect her identity. They didn’t want people in the audience to recognize her.
“So, what’s with the old-man routine?” Kile asked, changing the subject. “I thought you were going with the wounded-soldier bit.”
“Yeah, well, people like the old man. You know, when they think you’re wise and experienced, they—”
“Tip better,” Emara and Kile finished for him.
Alex laughed. “Well, they do. I’m simply trying to make a living.”
“Is it hard?” Kile asked.
“What? Storytelling? No, that’s pretty easy.”
“No, not that. The not being a Hunter anymore. Do you miss it?”
“It’s funny, actually,” Alex said. “If you remember, I never wanted to be a Hunter, not really. I only joined because Danny joined, and my father thought it would be good for me. I didn’t even think I would make it. I mean, I wouldn’t have, if it wasn’t for you, Danny, and Carter. You guys made it worth it.”
“So you don’t miss it?”
“It depends. Being a Hunter meant being a part of something—something big. It was like having a large family looking out for you. Some nights, when I’m alone in my room, I miss it. I kind of get mad at myself for letting this happen.” He touched the patch over his eye. “Then again, there are nights like this one, when I stand in front of an audience and I realize they’ve come to see me. I hear the gasps and the laughter, all at the right moments, and the applause when it’s over, and I think, why would I want to do anything else?”
Kile took another sip of her tea. It was easy for him, she thought. Leaving the Guild. It wasn’t a choice he had to make; the choice was made for him. She, on the other hand, wanted to be a Hunter. Or at one time she did. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Things had changed. She had changed. At least Alex had something to fall back on. He had a talent that people would pay him for. What would she do if she left the Guild?
“Why do you ask?” said Alex.
“I’m sorry?” Alex’s question caught her off guard. She didn’t think mind reading was part of his repertoire.
“Why did you ask if I missed it? They didn’t throw you out too, did they? You know, on account of…” he said, twirling his finger around the side of his head.
“I think he means because you’ve gone crazy,” Emara translated.
“I am not crazy,” Kile said through clenched teeth.
She was as sane as any Orceen.
“So, they fixed your head?” Alex asked.
“There’s nothing wrong with my head, thank you.”
“Except for the fact it looks like a salad.” He grinned.
Alex would always be Alex.
~~~***~~~
Mr. Lewis served them a large meal consisting mostly of fish, but there was also an assortment of breads, cheeses, and vegetables. Kile never had a problem eating fish as she had never actually spoken with any, but she stayed with the vegetables anyway. In the beginning, her guilt controlled her diet. It was difficult to eat something she could have had a conversation with. But now, she had grown rather fond of vegetables and hardly missed the meats, unless she was having one of her feral episodes.
Picking out a few sprigs of broccoli, she dropped them into her satchel for Vesper before dumping the rest on her plate. It wasn’t the freshest broccoli she had eaten, but that was expected. Since it was the first days of spring, vegetables weren’t exactly in season. The broccoli had probably sat in the root cellar all winter.
Kile listened to Emara and Alex carry on about the comings and goings of the day, although she wasn’t really interested in the subject matter. Rumors, gossip, fashion, things that were trendy and things that were passé, to her, it was all useless. She sat quietly and wondered how many times these two managed to get together like this, what with Alex’s shows and Emara’s constant studying. In many ways, she was jealous. To have someone in your life you could share so much with, that was a rarity. She seriously doubted if there was anyone out there like that for her. About the only person she could share her inner thoughts with was Grim.
Whoa, now that was going someplace she didn’t want to go.
“Are you all right, Ki?” Emara asked. “You look a little… strange.”
“No, it’s nothing. I was… thinking of someone.”
The mystic grinned. “And who would that be?” she asked in her singsong voice.
“You don’t even want to know,” Kile answered.
All of a sudden, Alex jumped up from his seat and started waving frantically at the far side of the room. Kile turned to see whose attention he was trying to get.
She was tall and slender with long brown hair and had to be in her late teens. She was standing in the doorway of The Purple Puffin when she spotted Alex and returned his wave.
“Who is that?” Emara asked. There was no hiding the edge in her voice.
“Oh, someone I know,” Alex said, returning to his seat.
Kile stared at the young man in awe. He was either clueless or suicidal.
“Evening, Master Bartlow,” the young woman said when she finally reached the table.
Dressed in a simple outfit, with riding britches and knee-high boots, she was wearing an old jacket with a distinct patch on the sleeve. Although Kile was sure she’d never met the young woman before, she couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about her. Even her smell was familiar.
“Evening, Valery.” Alex grinned.
Emara glared at him. Clueless, Kile thought.
The young woman, now known as Valery, looked a little uncomfortable standing beside the table. She kept glancing over at Kile, as if wanting to say something, but at the same time, almost afraid to speak.
“I think some introductions are in order, don’t you?” Emara asked.
“Introductions? Oh, yeah, I’m sorry,” Alex said, getting back to his feet. “Valery, this is Emara Lon of the Mystic Tower, and this is Certified Level Three Hunter, Kile Veller.”
When the young woman heard Kile’s name, her eyes lit up. “So, you are Kile Veller?”
“I’m afraid so,” Kile said. “And you’re a probationary Hunter.”
Valery seemed a bit startled. “How did you know?”
“The patch on your sleeve. Only Probies still wear them.”
It was odd to see another female Hunter. As far as Kile knew, there were only two. Erin Silva and herself. Was the Academy changing that much? She hadn’t heard about it, but she had been in the Tower for the last three months and the news wasn’t all that forthcoming.
“So, you must have graduated last year,” Kile said, motioning for the young woman to sit down. “What made you want to become a Hunter?”
Before she could stop herself, the question was already out of her mouth. It was the same question everyone asked her when she joined the Academy. It was annoying since nobody ever asked any of the boys. A young boy who wanted to be a Hunter was quite natural, but if a young girl wanted to be a Hunter, she must have some underlying problem.
“I’m sorry, you’re probably sick of that question. I know I was.”
“Oh no, it’s fine,” Valery said. “You kind of get used to it after a while.”
“I don’t think I ever did. I merely stopped answering it.”
Valery laughed. “I keep telling everyone I got bored and thought it might be fun. But the real reason was… well… because of you.”
“Me?”
Why would anyone want to become a Hunter because of her? It wasn’t like she had done anything grand in her life. About her only real claim to fame was destroying an outpost, and that was only l
ast year. Valery would have been in her third year at the Academy when Kile pulled that stunt off.
“Kile, this is probationary Hunter, Valery Jax,” Alex said, finally finished with his introductions.
“Jax?”
“She’s Captain Bartholomew Jax’s granddaughter,” he said.
“You’re Jax’s granddaughter?” Kile looked the young Hunter over as if seeing her for the first time. Now she could see the resemblance. The same eyes, the same nose. Why didn’t she make the connection before? Because who would have expected to find Jax’s granddaughter in The Purple Puffin of all places?
Valery grinned. “My grandfather told me stories about the redheaded Wili and her Kelpie. How, on a dark and stormy night, they brought the Minotaur of Calder Falls through the front gates of Moran.”
“Wait.” Alex held up his hands. “She brought the Minotaur of Calder Falls to Moran?”
“That’s right,” Valery said. “The Minotaur and a wounded Hunter.”
“Marcus Taylor,” Kile added.
“That’s him. They were both unconscious, but alive. My grandfather always told me that story whenever he visited. He said it was proof there wasn’t anything a boy could do that a girl couldn’t do better. When I told him I wanted to join the Hunters, he couldn’t have been prouder. They say you were with him… when he…”
“Yeah, I was,” Kile said.
She always regretted that day on the road to Forthbar. She had gone full-blown feral. If she could have prevented it, or at least controlled it, she might have been able to save Jax’s life. Instead, all she could do was sit with him and wait for the Lasting.
“So, you know the real story,” Alex said, leaning over the table. “The real story about who captured the Minotaur.”
“Well, no, not really,” Valery said. “All I know is what my grandfather told me, and all he knew was what Hunter Taylor told him. How Kile showed up during a rainstorm with the Minotaur strapped to a wooden sled and Hunter Taylor slumped over his horse. My grandfather tried to question her, but… it didn’t go as planned.”
“Why, what happened?” Alex asked.
“He said she convinced two dogs to help her escape.”
