By this point, Borli was so overcome with joy, he was wiping tears from his eyes with the tip of his beard. The sight alone was comical enough to get the party laughing again. That is, of course, except for Alaster, who was bright red and staring daggers at Gwuryn. The Knight of the Realm, for his part, smiled back at him innocently, but his eyes lit up as if they were sharing a private joke. Alaster started after a moment of staring, his eyes growing wide momentarily, and his scowl deepened. Straightening up, the faerie took another swig of his drink, cheeks reddening, and eyes trying to look any where other than the knight. Gwuryn won this round of silent jousting.
The only person who seemed to notice anything had transpired between the pair was Blue who smirked at the interaction. She might have enjoyed Alaster’s discomfort a little. Leaning back comfortably against the stump she had selected for her seating arrangement this evening, Blue asked the group “Who has another story?” before turning to the two half-siblings. “I know hunters tell stories among themselves while on long hunts. What do you have for us?”
Kniles and Artemis exchanged a quick glance, communicating silently. “Well,” Artemis began tentatively after a moment, “Papa has a story about the Wild Hunt.” Kniles gave a brief smile of encouragement.
“The Wild Hunt?” repeated Shadow, leaning forward with some interest. “My people know of this Hunt.” She let a hand fall gently on her sister’s head. “We are hunters, ourselves.”
Artemis grinned at the pair of wolves. “Then, you know it is every Hunter’s dream to join the Wild Hunt.” Shadow inclined her head, and Artemis went on. “It is said the Wild Hunt sweeps through the forests of the wildwood right around the autumn equinox always during the late night.” The woman’s expression took on a sinister quality, as her dark eyes reflected the firelight and she lowered her tone to barely above a whisper. “But the Wild Hunt is not like a normal hunting party.” A hushed feeling fell over the companions seated at the fire. “It is said the Wild Hunt is composed of the greatest hunters to ever step foot in the wildwoods.” Artemis paused. Nothing could be heard above the crackling of the fire, and the careful breathing of her audience. “There is one condition, of course,” she warned, “to join the Wild Hunt, you must be dead.” A shiver ran through a few of the party members, despite the warmth of the fire. Artemis cackled to herself, clearly enjoying watching her companions fearful expressions. “They say, the only warning you get is the call of an otherworldly hunting horn, before the Wild Hunt is upon you.” Her eyes were manic in the telling of the story. “If you are unlucky enough to see the hunters of the Wild Hunt, it is too late. You are the hunted.”
“Now, Papa,” came Kniles’ soft basso from beside his sister, “He swears he witnessed the Wild Hunt, nearly a year before my birth.”
Artemis grinned at her brother conspiratorially, before looking back towards her audience, “but, our fellow hunters tell him this cannot be true because once you are marked as prey by the Wild Hunt, your death is imminent. They do not believe our Papa could face down the Wild Hunt and live.”
“What they do not know is Papa had a secret weapon,” explained Kniles, with a wink at Zi who looked truly frightened for the half-siblings’ father. She knew the man, after all, and had spoken with him on multiple occasions. “He had the help of a talented seer.”
“Your mother!” blurted the sorceress elf in disbelief, before she could stop herself. The party’s gaze swung to her, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Shush!” hissed Yuna through the fingers of Zi’s hands, “you’re ruining the story!” Zi dropped her hands, and lowered her gaze before continuing in her own voice. “I’m sorry, it’s just, Elowen never spoke of her time outside of Ar.” The elf blushed furiously, and stared at her lap. “She used her gifts to help a single human! It would be a scandal if the Council of Elders knew.”
Kniles draped an arm around Zi’s shoulders, and drew her closer so he could plant a kiss on the crown of her head. “Then, we won’t tell them,” he said, quietly enough that only Zi and Artemis could hear. The elf girl nodded, perhaps a little more strongly than was appropriate, but she seemed content with the decision. Only 17 and already keeping secrets from the elvish Council. She was going to be a terrible High Sorceress. She just knew it. Zi blushed again, but promised herself she wouldn’t speak out during the rest of the story.
“The seer knew Papa was to face the Wild Hunt,” continued Artemis after everyone had settled back down and their attention was back on the tale. “She had seen the outcome, and gave him warning and an idea for methods for survival. The hunted is not prey if it hunts back.” Artemis’ eyes flashed with a hint of excitement. “Papa set his trap. First, there was the decoy camp,” she motioned around their own camp, “very similar to this one. It had a tent and a blazing fire to keep away the cold. Papa put on a great pot of coffee, the most aromatic thing he had to help draw the dogs, ” she paused thoughtfully, glancing towards Shadow and Kael who both nodded fiercely, “and I suppose wolves of the Wild Hunt, and to muddle the scent.” Artemis peered around the circle of her friends, each gaze she met was fully enthralled in the tale. “Papa knew, because the seer had told him, that the leader of the Wild Hunt would need to be his prey if he was to live through this meeting. He climbed the sturdy tree that loomed over his decoy campsite, made certain he was well camouflaged against the sight of the Wild Hunt and settled in for the long wait.” Artemis turned her fiery gaze to the full moon cresting above the trees, and her eyes reflected the silvery sight. “Just as the sliver of the pale moon peaked in the sky, Papa heard it.” The audience startled as Kniles blew his hunting horn. He grinned sheepishly and exchanged a pleased look with his cavalier sister. They had gone through this performance before, Zi thought, realization dawning. This was something the pair of them had told on large hunting trips during their summers together. Perhaps with the help of their father.
“The call of the Wild Hunt!” Artemis exclaimed, throwing her hands out and drawing Zi from her musings. “Papa heard the horn, and he knew the Wild Hunt would soon be on his heels, and low and behold the ghostly hoard appeared. First, the hunting hounds and wolves poured into his campsite, noses to the ground, they circled the fire, but the coffee did it’s work to muddle their senses so they could not pick up his scent and give away his hiding place. Papa says the hounds were putrid looking, their skin sagging off their bodies and showing the skeletons beneath. Next, came the Huntsmen on horses, many in decaying clothes from various eras of our past. Some were full skeletons, while others were much fresher looking corpses. All held the transparent white-blue tone appearance of ghosts. Following came the Huntsmen on foot. Papa always speaks of these men with more respect, for they are the true hunters who know the secrets of stalking a weakening prey by the signs that we use to hunt. A broken branch, a bit of hair or a footprint can tell these hunters a great deal about his prey.” Artemis paused, while examining the faces around the fire, each hanging on her every word.
“But Papa was careful,” Kniles said, drawing their hungry attention to him, “he left only signs pointing towards an occupant in the empty tent, and none that would give away his location in the branches above them.”
“Papa is pretty crafty like that,” Artemis commented, nodding her approval. The gazes of the party had returned to her then. “Papa was steeling himself for his next move, when the appearance of the Huntmaster gave him pause.” At this, she nudged Kniles, who stood, leaving Zi without his warmth, and crossed the circle to the stump Blue had been lounging against.
He leapt up to stand on the stump, alarming Blue, and drew his arms out to form something like claws. Kniles was already the tallest member of their party, and towering over them on the stump, with the light of the fire flashing across his face and arms, drew quite the imposing figure. “The man, if you can call him that,” Kniles began, obviously enjoying the show, “stood no less than 8 feet tall. Unlike his fellow huntsmen, the Huntsmaster was not the transparent bluish white of a ghost, but instead he was a grizzled reality of being like in the flesh. He wore a great helmet from which the horns of deer and elk and moose stood out at strange angles. Across his chest, he wore the trophies and furs of many beasts including the severed, braided beard of a dwarf.” Kniles’ eyes flashed to Borli, who looked sickened at the thought. “Human and elf skins were among the pelts he wore proudly, but Papa swears that these were not the most terrifying prospects of the giant before him.” Kniles hopped down and looked to Artemis expectantly as if to say, I’ve done my part here.
She rolled her eyes briefly in response, before standing and allowing her brother to return to his seat with the elf girl and continuing. “The Huntsman’s face, ” Artemis started, beginning to pace around the circle, and with a lavish pause for dramatic purposes, “was that of a skeleton’s, except his left eye was this burning green orb bigger than a human fist.” She held her own fist out for comparison. “The seer told Papa this was the magic source that kept the Wild Hunts uninterrupted for these many centuries. Papa was terrified, but the seer had said what to expect, and he knew what he must do.” She paused to stand behind Alaster, and put her hands on his shoulders. He looked very uncomfortable at this interaction, and everyone could see Artemis knew it by the laughter dancing in her eyes. “Papa gripped his spear in his hand, and dove from the tree to the Huntmaster as soon as he was in range.” Her own grip tightened around the faerie’s shoulders, and Alaster let loose a very unmanly squeak. Luckily, everyone was too engrossed in the story to even make light of his reaction. The human girl went to hug his neck. “Papa landed on the giant’s shoulders, and soon clung to the Huntmaster’s neck, holding his spear almost to the monster’s glaring bright green eye.” She had her knife out, pressed to Alaster’s cheek and he didn’t dare to breathe for a few heartbeats. “‘WILD HUNT’” Artemis shouted, trying (and failing) to mimic her father’s deep tone, “‘I have your master at my mercy!’”
She released Alaster, who breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Papa did indeed have the master of the hunt at his mercy, but like the seer had warned, he wasn’t out of the wildwoods yet.” Artemis, grinning from ear to ear, plopped down next to Alaster on the ground, and hugged her knees to her chest. Alaster, still wary of the woman, straightened, but otherwise didn’t retreat. Artemis continued the story, “Papa knew the moment he released the Huntmaster, his life was forfeit, so he struck out a bargain. ‘I will have your word as a hunter,’ Papa said, ‘That if I, a mere mortal, can lodge my spear in the eye of a doe from fifty paces, you will let me leave as a fellow hunter of the Wild Hunt instead of mere prey.’ This was a practically impossible act, but Papa had the seer’s word it would be done.
“The Huntmaster considered this. ‘And if you fail?’ came the giant’s booming voice.
“‘Then, you may hunt me.’ returned Papa, but he knew he would not fail.”
Alaster snorted, drawing the crowd’s attention away from the storyteller. “Why didn’t he just smash the eye,” he scoffed, “and be done with the whole thing?”
“The seer did say it was the source of the WIld Hunt’s magic,” considered Blue, ever the practical one.
“And rob every hunter of his dream to join the Wild Hunt upon his death?” asked Artemis, seemingly in shock and looking between the pair of them. “Papa would never even consider it.”
“You have to understand what the Wild Hunt means to these humans,” explained Kniles, “It’s like this mythical goal you hope for your whole life. Papa would never want to keep anyone from this reward. He did not consider his life to be that monumental so as to trade it for that of the Wild Hunt.” Clearly the nelfkin and faerie disagreed, but they bit their tongues and allowed the story to continue.
“So,” Artemis continued, after she was certain there would be no further interruptions, “the Wild Hunt allowed Papa to travel with them until they came upon the perfect prey for his bargain. A beautiful spotted doe. The huntsmen were deadly silent, as they waited for Papa to line up his attack. None of them believed he was to be successful, and they were biding their time to turn upon him when he failed,” Artemis jerked her chin up, clearly proud of her father’s accomplishments, and went on, “but, just as the seer predicted, papa flung his spear and it was embedded right into the eye of that doe. She fell, and when Papa went to retrieve his spear from the corpse, the Huntmaster stopped him. ‘This man,’ declared the giant to the entirety of the Wild Hunt, ‘is not prey. He is huntsman.’ Then, before Papa could say anything, the lot of the Wild Hunt was moving on to their next prey.”
Zi clapped her hands at the conclusion of the story, clearly relieved with the ending. She had actually been afraid for the life of their obviously living father whom she had met on multiple occasions years after the events in the story had taken place. “Very good!” she exclaimed. The others agreed it was a good story, and began discussing among themselves how possible it was. Artemis began adamantly denying that it could possibly be a falsehood. “My papa never lies,” she declared, flipping her dagger in her hands. “I will fight you over this.”
“Did you know, Papa went back to my mother and asked her to marry him that very night?” Kniles asked Zi, who blinked at him. “She told him no, of course. She always tells him no.” Zi had never heard this before.
“I don’t blame her,” Yuna said from Zi’s mouth, with a bit of mirth lining her eyes. “Your father sounds insane.”
“I think Samael sounded brave,” Zi argued, gaining back control of her features. “I didn’t know your father ever asked the Lady Seer to wed him.”
“Oh, he still does it sometimes,” Kniles said in a voice that was attempting to be casual, “After Artemis’ mum passed, he started at it again. She will usually shut him down before he even has the chance to ask, but I once saw him surprise her.” He grinned bashfully. It was incredibly difficult to catch a seer off guard.
“Who’s next?” asked Fae, evidently wanting to shut down the arguments among most of the companions as to the truth of the hunter tale. “Yuna!” she exclaimed after no volunteers spoke up. Her kindly eyes were on the two-souled elf. “You should tell a story. We have travelled many nights and I have never heard a tale from you.”
Zi’s face went from that of the innocent elf girl, to the harsher thinking expression of the human sharing her body. “I don’t know any good stories,” came Yuna’s voice from Zi’s lips. “My people are simple farmers.”
Zi’s expression came back to her face and she looked crestfallen. “Really?” she asked. “Your family doesn’t tell stories?”
Yuna’s features returned. “Of course we tell stories,” she said, “but nothing so grand as the tales I’ve heard from you lot. Nothing much interesting has ever happened to any of my family members. Nothing that would entertain great adventurers like you folk!”
Fae’s violet gaze met with Zi’s eyes shared with Yuna. “Tell us the kind of story your family would tell you,” the wingless faerie suggested, “it doesn’t need to be grand.”
A reassuring smile flashed across the elf-girl’s face, before the expression changed back to one of Yuna’s caution. “Okay,” came Yuna’s voice, warily. “But everyone must promise not to interrupt.” The group nodded as one, settling down to listen to the woman’s tale. “Especially you, Zi,” warned Yuna in a harsh tone. The head of the elf nodded enthusiastically. It was an odd sight, but the others had gotten used to the two women sharing one body. It could be unsettling, but for the most part they could all pick out which was talking.
“So, in the beginning,” Yuna began, “there was only Skye and Terra.” Alaster rolled his eyes, but otherwise made no objections. It was well known among the party that Alaster did not believe in the gods. Yuna, for her part, sounded like she was rehearsing something she had memorised and was trying to get through it as quickly as possible. “They loved each other deeply,” she continued, “but were cursed to spend the eons forever apart. Skye existed as the heavens forever above his treasured Terra, the earth. The lovers could gaze at each other from ground to sky, but they were too far apart for an embrace. Terra tried to reach her beloved Skye, forming the great mountains in an attempt to caress her love. Skye struggled to draw his cherished Terra near him with every wind he could muster, but he barely touched her surface. In those days, there was only the bare ground and no trees or grasses for him to run the fingers of the wind through.
“It was a devastating existence,” she went on, “but the lovers knew they were meant to be together so neither would give up. The pair were still very young gods, and had much to learn still about the realm and their powers in it. One day, Skye decided to take a bit of his essence and pour it down to the earth. He hadn’t expected it to work. Tearing himself in pieces was not something he had ever considered before. In his realm above the earth he cherished so much, he formed his first water and let it fall. The moment he reached his beloved in the form of a single droplet of water, he knew this to be good and the skies opened up with the first rain.
“Terra’s deepest valleys filled with water, forming the great oceans. Finally, the lovers could embrace, and from their love, the water fed the earth and grew their first children: the trees, grasses, and various plant life. And uhhh,” she stopped abruptly. “Other stuff happened, and here we are!” she ended awkwardly.
There was a long pause, before Zi broke out in a round of applause and Fae eventually joined her. The others smiled at the human trapped in the elf’s body, and told her what a good job she did telling the story. That is, except for Alaster who had the good sense to remain blessedly silent on the topic. Yuna didn’t believe them anyway, but she accepted the praise. She had rushed the story, and forgotten the ending, she explained, but gave them her thanks. Gwuryn made a crack about the gods getting it on, and had the pleasure of dodging a flying frying pan from a very displeased Artemis who did not appreciate what he was implying. Next time, she threatened, it would be her knife.
It was a pretty average evening for the defenders of the realm.
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