Deception (Fabled Hunters Book 2)

by Kara Jaynes

  The ascending stone steps led up to a massive wraparound porch. Tyro knocked smartly on the wooden door and was allowed entrance within moments.

  Tyro and Aviina stepped over the threshold, and Isabelle followed only to be stopped by Tyro, his hand outstretched.

  “Wait here, Isabelle,” he said, as Doon and Rudolf filed past them.

  “What, why?” Isabelle asked.

  “I want you stay here and forbid entry to anyone who tries,” the tall Hunter replied smoothly. His red-brown hair was pulled back in a tidy tail.

  Aviina smiled at her apologetically over her fiancé’s shoulder and then they were all inside, leaving Isabelle standing alone on the porch.

  Frowning, Isabelle leaned her back against the house, glaring at the passersby on the streets. From Aviina’s expression and the way Tyro acted, he didn’t want Isabelle to get underfoot. She felt her face warm with frustration and embarrassment.

  A chill breeze sprang up around her, and Isabelle shivered, wrapping her dark Hunter’s cloak around herself. Why didn’t Tyro want her around for discussion? She recalled a memory of her arguing with him in a small village; it’d been how they’d first met. Surely he wasn’t remembering that? Things were different now, right? She wouldn’t argue with him. Not much, anyway.

  The wind picked up in intensity, and watching people scurry by in the streets, she noticed most had quickened their pace, hunching their shoulders against the cold and wind.

  Cold? That didn’t make sense. She was sweating only a few minutes before. She hurried down the stone stairs, stepping out into the street. Isabelle turned in the direction of the wind and began walking, eyes watering from the chill. Her skin prickled. This wasn’t the normal cold of winter, she could feel it. Magic was at work.

  She reached down to her belt, gripping the smooth hilt of her dagger. She hoped she wouldn’t need it. She continued to stalk forward, taking in her surroundings. As the cold grew more intense, the streets began to empty of people. Passersby walked with arms wrapped around themselves for warmth. Most weren’t wearing cloaks or jackets, as the day had been hot just minutes before. The expressions on their faces varied from confusion to uncertainty and fear. Everyone knew this cold wasn’t natural. Isabelle slowed. She should probably go warn Tyro.

  She halted, coming to a crossroads. The streets were completely deserted. Ice encased the road several yards away, creeping slowly and unrelentingly forward. Isabelle’s eyes widened in shock. What enchantment was this? Clearly, the reports the king had received were no exaggeration.

  Anything the ice touched became encased as it came forward. It crept up the sides of houses, covering abandoned wagons and vendor stalls. Isabelle walked slowly backward, gaze locked on the ice. She and the other Hunters had seen nothing of this when they’d come. Why now?

  Her heartbeat quickened. Because whoever or whatever had created this had just arrived, possibly minutes after the Hunters had. She turned around, ready to go tell Tyro.

  “Hello, Isabelle.”

  Isabelle spun back around, coming face to face with Jack.

  “Jack!” Isabelle grinned, her anxiety melting away. She took a step toward him, releasing her grip on the dagger haft. “Am I glad to see you. There’s an enchantment on this city, I could use your help . . .” She trailed off uncertainly, peering at her friend. He stood stiffly, his back straight, arms folded across his chest. He glowered at her.

  Isabelle studied him more closely, uneasiness seeping into her. It was Jack, but he looked . . . different. He was paler, his skin almost as white as snow. His red hair had an icy look to it, frosted at the tips. His brilliant green eyes looked cloudy, like ice covered the irises. Her uneasiness grew. “Jack, what’s wrong?”

  His face darkened. “You’re what’s wrong.” He jutted his chin out defiantly. “But guess what? I don’t need you anymore. I don’t need to be a Hunter, either. I’ve found a different path to my destiny.”

  “And what destiny is that?” Isabelle asked. A thin shiver of fear crept up her spine.

  “The one I’ve always wanted. To make a difference in this world,” he said. “To make it better.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “To be remembered.”

  “How are you going to achieve that?” Isabelle asked, but looking at the ice that seeped out from under his feet, Isabelle knew. She took an instinctive step back, bewilderment flooding through her. “Where did you get this magic, Jack?”

  A smirk spread across the man’s handsome features. “Someone saw me for who I was, and bestowed her magic on me.”

  “Her?” Isabelle’s hands clenched into fists. “Who?”

  Jack noticed the gesture, and his smirk grew as he arched an eyebrow. “Someone who’s recognized me for who I am.” He raised his hands, long fingers outstretched. “Someone who won’t drag me through the dirt to achieve her own goals. I’m here to prepare the world for her.”

  Snow and ice swirled from his fingertips. Isabelle leaped backward, flinging up her arm to shield her face. With startling speed, ice clambered up her legs, immobilizing her. She was becoming encased. “Let me go, Jack. Now!”

  Jack stood watching her with narrowed eyes, a smile on his lips. “It serves you right.”

  Anger rose in Isabelle, weakening her fear. “So, what now? You’re going to let me die?”

  “Oh the ice will melt eventually,” Jack said, pretending to inspect his nails. “Maybe. If you ask nicely.”

  “Please, then, you idiot.” Oops. Ice had now crept up her thighs. Pride and anger surged through her and she pulled her dagger free of its sheath. Maybe she could hack away at the ice.

  Jack misread her intentions, and his eyes flared with anger. “You’d fight me?” The wind rose into a gale, hammering at her. A knife appeared in his hand, its blade blue with cold. He stepped threateningly forward, weapon raised.

  Isabelle cringed, the dagger dropping from her fingers. Jack wouldn’t really hurt her, would he?

  Jack paused, his gaze flickering over Isabelle’s shoulder. His body tensed and he brought up his knife in a defensive gesture.

  Tyro appeared at Isabelle’s shoulder, his face twisted in an angry snarl. He unsheathed his sword, yellow fire burning hot and bright along its length. He lunged at Jack, bringing his sword down with lightning speed.

  Jack leaped backward to avoid the blade, his knife shimmering bright for a moment before growing in length to become a sword. The cold that emanated from it was so fierce, Isabelle could feel its burn. Jack rushed at Tyro, flinging a wall of ice at the Hunter.

  Tyro braced himself, bringing his blade up. The icy wall cracked and fell apart on either side of him. He advanced, his sword a whirling arc of light. Jack switched to the defensive. Even in the couple of months since the tournament, Jack’s skill with the sword had improved considerably. Tyro was clearly the better swordsman, but Jack was faster, and he kept hurling flurries of ice and snow at his opponent, slowing the Hunter down.

  “Isabelle.” Aviina ran over, her long hair blowing wildly about her face. She inspected the ice. It now coated Isabelle’s hips and waist, the cold burning her.

  “It hurts.” Isabelle hoped she kept the whimper out of her voice.

  “Of course it does. It’s ice.” Aviina ignored her fiancé completely. “Hold still.”

  Isabelle could have laughed at Aviina’s words if she wasn’t so worried. She couldn’t move.

  The tiny woman held her palms out, her fingertips hovering over Isabelle. Warm, soft light glowed and the ice began to melt.

  Relief flooded Isabelle as she regained full mobility. She had no idea Tyro and Aviina wielded enchantment, but she was grateful for it now. When Aviina’s magic had melted all of the frost that held her, Isabelle leaped forward, nocking an arrow to her bow. Arrow pointed at Jack, she closely watched the two men locked in combat.

  Tyro risked a glance at her and Aviina. “Shoot, Isabelle, shoot!” he yelled.

  Jack’s face contorted in outrage at the words, and he switc
hed to the offensive, attacking Tyro with animal-like fury. Tyro fell back, his sword deflecting Jack’s assault. The fire still burned on his sword, but it seemed dimmer, weaker somehow.

  Isabelle hesitated. She could shoot. She wouldn’t miss. Her skill was too great. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

  “Shoot, you imbecile,” Aviina snarled. “Kill him. He’s the mage from the reports!”

  “I . . . can’t,” Isabelle whispered. She swallowed. “I can’t,” she said more loudly. “I can’t shoot him.”

  “You what?” Aviina grabbed the bow, trying to wrest it from Isabelle. “Give me that. Tyro’s magic is weakening!”

  Jack thrust a hand skyward, and a wall of pure ice shot up, separating him and Tyro. He turned and eyed Isabelle, anger on his face. “Why didn’t you shoot me? I don’t need your pity, Isabelle.” Snow began to fall from the clear sky, the temperature dipping lower. “Eternal winter is coming. My queen will return, and the world will be bathed in frost and snow.” He smiled, his eyes two green sparks of glittering ice. “I’m on my way to Illyminatym. There is nothing the king or you pathetic Hunters can do to stop me. Their time is over.”

  With a heave, Aviina ripped the bow from Isabelle’s grasp just as a gust of wind battered Isabelle and the two Hunters, forcing them to their knees. Jack turned and sprinted away down a side alley and was gone.

  8

  Isabelle staggered under the stinging blow Aviina struck across her face. “You idiot,” she spat. “You fool.” Aviina smacked her again. “Tyro could have died because of you. Get out of here. Get out of—”

  “Aviina.” Tyro’s voice was mild, but the woman paused mid-strike as if frozen. The tall Hunter walked over, his sides heaving as if he’d run a hundred miles. “It’s all right.” He pinned Isabelle with his brown-eyed gaze, gentle and steely at the same time. “I recognized that man from the tournament. He was your friend, wasn’t he? Jack.”

  Isabelle nodded miserably, feeling a lump form in her throat. Aviina eyed both of them askance, her face still splotchy with emotion. “I didn’t recognize him at all. Are you sure, Tyro?” Isabelle, she ignored. After the beating she’d just received, Isabelle was okay with that.

  Tyro glanced around, his eyes taking in the ice that covered the street and some of the houses. It’d stopped its growth, but what was already there didn’t seem to be melting. “That’s why you didn’t shoot him, I take it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Isabelle said. She eyed him apprehensively. He seemed . . . calm, despite the fact that Isabelle had disobeyed a direct order.

  “Let’s get back to the mayor’s house. I left the other Hunters there,” Tyro said. “I don’t think our friend Jack is returning anytime soon.” He sheathed his sword, the fire extinguished, and walked back the way he’d come.

  Isabelle snuck a glance at Aviina. The tiny woman was blinking furiously, her eyes wet as she turned and trailed after her fiancé.

  Isabelle followed the two, feeling utterly wretched. She’d failed her companions, yet what choice had she had? She wouldn’t shoot Jack. She couldn’t. There had to be some kind of misunderstanding. There had to be a reason for his actions. There had to.

  On returning to the large brick mansion, Tyro stepped inside once more to convey the news to Telbion’s mayor. Aviina stood on the porch, her back toward Isabelle, hastily wiping her eyes.

  Isabelle hesitated only a moment before speaking. “Aviina, I’m sorry—”

  “Save your breath,” Aviina interrupted, glaring over her shoulder at Isabelle with red-rimmed eyes. “We needed you and you failed us. If Jack hadn’t ended the fight of his own volition, we could all be dead right now.”

  “Jack wouldn’t have killed any of us,” Isabelle protested, feeling a thread of anger in her hurt. “I know him. Besides, I saw Tyro. He was clearly the better swordsman.”

  “You really are an idiot.” Aviina snorted, shaking her head in disgust. “That wasn’t a fight of swordsmanship, it was a battle of magic. They manifested their enchantment through their weapons, and Jack was clearly stronger. Stronger than any of us Hunters who possess magical ability.” She was quiet a moment before continuing. “It’ll take several of us to hunt him down. He won’t be easily killed.”

  “We can’t kill him.” Isabelle forced her voice to stay calm, despite the thrill of alarm running through her. “Jack isn’t evil.”

  Aviina cast her another glower. “I’m done discussing this with you. With Tyro as Head Hunter, I’m not in the habit of questioning his decisions, but he was obviously mistaken thinking that it’d be a good idea to bring you along. You’re too inexperienced, and your loyalty is clearly compromised.”

  Isabelle stared at the shorter woman, stunned and hurt by her words. She cared very much for her companions. She’d put everything she had into becoming one of them, but Aviina couldn’t see that. They both stood in silence until Tyro and the remaining Fabled Hunters emerged from the mayor’s house.

  “We’re leaving,” Tyro announced. He looked exhausted, his eyes shadowed and his face haggard. “We’ll set up camp outside of the city. We have some traveling to do.”

  “Where to?” Isabelle asked, but Tyro waved aside her question. Retrieving their horses, the Hunters left Telbion.

  They traveled on the road that would take them north, eventually to Illyminatym. They tried to, anyway. The road was encased in ice. They had to ride alongside it in the tall, golden grass. “Well, at least he’ll be easy to find,” said Rudolf. He was an older man with a narrow, drooping mustache that always made him look a little sad. He shadowed his eyes with a gloved hand, peering ahead. “Seems rather arrogant on his part. Does he not expect pursuit?”

  “It doesn’t matter if he has a trail or not,” Tyro said, his voice hard. “We already know where he’s going. Illyminatym. But blast it, if the entire road is like this, he’ll reach the city well before us.”

  Everyone was quiet after that. Aviina rode as close to Tyro as she could, trailing him like a shadow. Isabelle watched the couple, feeling stupid and useless. She hadn’t meant for matters to get so out of hand, but she knew there wasn’t anything she could have done. Nothing she could have done and still lived with herself.

  As they traveled, they found that large swathes of crops and farmland were destroyed, completely covered in ice. Isabelle’s mind whirled as she took in the devastation. It would seem Jack’s stamina had an enchanted quality to it. How could he not tire?

  “Our frosty friend takes pleasure in bringing misery to others,” Rudolf murmured. “I wonder what’s happened that would compel him to do so.”

  Isabelle hunched her shoulders under the imagined scrutiny. Jack’s anger was directed at her; she was sure of it. She didn’t know how he’d gained his magic. He certainly didn’t have use of it at the beginning of summer. It’d come later, after he’d lost to her in the tourney. She needed to find him and . . . what? What then?

  Tyro called a halt a little before dusk, against some green grassy slopes. Most of the hills rose and fell gently, but a few to the side broke off sharply, their cliff sides sheer.

  The sun began to set, a splendid display of red, pink and gold. Isabelle hardly saw it, too wrapped up in her worry over Jack. She hurriedly made a dinner for the group, their supplies restocked at Telbion, and went to bed. Rudolf had the first watch that night.

  Isabelle shared a tent with Aviina. The tiny Hunter wasn’t much of a talker even on a good day, and tonight she wouldn’t even acknowledge her presence.

  Isabelle was just about to undress when footsteps approached their tent, followed by a loud cough, clearly meant to be heard.

  “Hello?” She pushed aside the tent flap to see a pair of well-worn, black boots. Tyro stood before her. He jerked his head a little to the right. “I need to talk to you. Walk with me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Isabelle hastily pulled on her boots and stood next to the Head Hunter. Tyro turned and walked away from camp. He was silent, giving Isabelle plenty of time to stress over w
hat he might say. Was he angry? Disappointed?

  “What are your feelings for Jack?”

  Isabelle started, surprised by the question. “My . . . feelings?” Why would he want to know that? She glanced sideways at the tall Hunter, a tendril of suspicion forming. Tyro didn’t like her, did he?

  Tyro must have known what she was thinking and his face darkened. “I gave you a direct order and you disobeyed it. If we’re counting, you actually disobeyed me twice. I told you to stay on the porch at the mayor’s and you didn’t. As the leader of the Hunters, I need to know what your standing is with our enemy.”

  Isabelle bit her lower lip, feeling suddenly unsure of herself. She hadn't allowed herself to think about how important Jack might be to her.

  “He’s a good friend of mine. Or he was, anyway. He’s angry about the tournament results.”

  “So he’s a sore loser?” Tyro asked, a speculative look on his face. “Or did he think that kiss meant you loved him?”

  Spirits take it, Isabelle had hoped everyone had forgotten about that. She shrugged and Tyro’s expression changed to disappointment and disgust. “Magic that be, woman, that was cruel.”

  “I did what I had to,” Isabelle snapped. “You were there. He was going to do the same to me.”

  Tyro snorted, crossing his muscular arms across his chest. “He was going to defeat you in fair combat. Not manipulation and—” He stopped speaking, clenching his jaw. He looked away for a moment. Isabelle knew what he was thinking: this was her fault.

  “We’re going to end this,” he said at last. “Me and the others. We can’t have a mage pulling the kingdom down around our ears. Whatever he is to you, it’s enough for you to hesitate if asked to kill him. So I won’t ask you again.”

  Isabelle exhaled in relief, but Tyro pinned her with his gaze, his brown eyes suddenly hard. “You’re treading dangerous waters, Isabelle. You may be a Fabled Hunter, but disobey me again, and you will regret it. Do I make myself clear?” His body was tensed, like coiled steel.