Tales of the Archer: A Corthan Companion Read online

  “Sorry,” he said. Then, “Hello, Maura.” Gilland’s smile was almost sly.

  Reid glanced at her, wondering if she’d planned the meeting, but she was as surprised as he.

  “They’re not too badly spooked,” Reid said. “We can find them again.”

  “I’ll track them for you,” Gilland offered. He took a step down the incline and lifted a hand to help Maura, leaving Reid to follow after them.

  But everything Gilland did, he did for attention. Showing her a hoof print here or snapped branch there. He would tell her to speed up, to be quiet, to wait. The still camaraderie she’d shared with Reid was gone.

  When Reid caught her gaze and she rolled her eyes, his irritation turned to humor.

  They did find the small herd again, grazing up a slope.

  “My turn,” Gilland whispered. He motioned for Maura to wait next to Reid.

  Reid silently crossed his arms and leaned against a tree. Gilland was reputed to be a fair shot, but he was obviously affected by his audience. He even fumbled the arrow.

  To be fair, Gil had more reputation to protect—being the Seal Clan heir. Reid felt the smallest twinge of pity for him, but no more than that. Gil wasn’t a bad sort and with Fynan as a father, what else could you expect. But he didn’t understand Maura. She never cared for braggarts. She cared about kindness.

  The young man drew the string and found some semblance of calm. From where Reid stood, the aim was true enough, though there was the hint of a breeze in the leaves.

  Just as Gil launched his shot, the buck shifted to burrow its nose under new leaves. The youth must have been aiming for its neck or head, because he didn’t even get a piece of it as the herd scattered again amidst flashing hooves, up and over the ridge. Gilland didn’t turn around for a long moment.

  Maura went up and quietly took his hand. “Again?” she offered brightly.

  “They’ll be getting spooky,” Gilland said.

  “Then let’s cut south toward the river,” Reid suggested. “It’s a good place to pick up a new target.” He thumped Gil on the back with brotherly roughness and turned him south. Since they weren’t tracking, Gil relaxed and let Reid guide them. The other boy was much more tolerable when he was just being himself.

  The gurgle of water and a cool dampness greeted them before they saw the gleam of sun on water. Beyond, where a stream tumbled over a rocky ford, they spotted a larger herd. The deer were moving one by one into the pines on the far side, although a fair few remained drinking by the narrow shore.

  Reid circled an arm around Maura and pulled her in front of him, facing the herd, as he unslung his bow with his other hand. “Your turn,” he whispered sure the river noise would cover the sound.

  She shook her head. Reid gave her a mischievous grin and nodded. He tapped her feet to a wider stance and put the bow in her left hand, placing his own hand below hers, his two last fingers pointing awkwardly toward their targets. He slid his right hand under hers, guided her to the arrows hanging at his waist and then to the string, helping her set the arrow.

  Gilland came up to Reid’s left and frowned, taking out his bow. Lucky for him, Maura didn’t notice the look, focused as she was on her task.

  Leaning into her soft hair, Reid whispered, “Pull to your lip. Breathe into your belly.” He took his hand from the string and pressed it to her belly sending an unfamiliar heat through his own. “Steady and strong here.” She nodded understanding.

  Then he put his hand back to the string and helped her pull it. Once it was to her lip, she should be able to hold it.

  “Watch your target, not the arrow. When you nod, I’ll give you the string. Release it when you’re ready.”

  She nodded again, her hair brushing his cheek as she shifted, leaning back against his chest. The light scent of sweat rose warmly from her neck and sent his pulse racing. He wanted to wrap an arm around her and pull her back against him. He wanted to taste the saltiness of her neck but he waited, coiled like a snake.

  She nodded once and he almost missed it, so intent was he on her warmth. He gently released the string and dropped his arm. Her breath slowed. She released the string with a thrumming twang.

  His head whipped around to follow its course. He hadn’t even thought to check her sighting. The arrow caught a smaller animal just behind the shoulder, settling deep in the chest. A good shot. In the next second, another arrow took it in the throat and it crashed into the brush dead.

  Gilland caught his eye as if challenging him to complain about finishing her kill. Reid only nodded as Maura whooped and threw her arms around Reid’s neck.

  “I hit it!” she crowed.

  He laughed. “So you did. First try.” He gripped her chin and scrutinized her face. “No tears?”

  She laughed at that. “No. After all this hiking, I’m starved.”

  “Good job.” Gilland touched her shoulder awkwardly.

  Not the kind to leave anyone out, Maura turned and hugged him, too. “Thank you for finishing the job.”

  Reid tried not to notice how close or how long Gilland held her.

  Reid dressed the carcass in the field as Maura watched and Gilland explained what Reid was doing. As if she cared about that part. Reid cut a sapling to fashion a pole and tied the animal’s legs so he and Gilland could carry it home. Maura chattered happily at them all the way back. She didn’t even seem to mind the blood on her leggings. As they neared home, Maura made some excuse and skipped off the path for a while. When she returned, she had a secretive smile.

  Following the river back, they came to the bear pens first, surprised by the flurry of activity. A group of Seal men approached Gilland.

  “There’s a rogue bear,” one of the Seals said. “Your father wants you to deal with it, Gilland.”

  “Why you?” Maura asked, her hands on his chest.

  “I’m the head handler for my clan.” His eyes flashed proudly.

  Her face was pinched with worry as she leaned up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Be careful.”

  A rogue bear was a danger to the village. Any man able to hunt would be going out looking for it. The clan’s precious children and, of course, sheep and goats wandered unattended beneath these trees. A few elderly clansmen relieved Reid and Gilland of the deer.

  He felt Maura’s smooth hand in his.

  “Come back to me,” she whispered and pressed something rough into his hand. Then, she turned and hurried toward the village center.

  Reid opened his hand to find a knotted circle of willow lashes. A request to meet. He smiled as he tucked the willow into his belt pouch and headed toward his brothers who were on the far side of the pens organizing the hunt.

  “Reid! There you are.” Maclan looked harried as he sorted clansmen into hunting groups.

  “I was out hunting with Maura,” Reid said.

  “Good thing you didn’t run into the damn thing,” Maclan groused. “You’re with me and Connor.”

  Mac waved Aedan and his cousin over to join the Murdoch brothers.

  “I see you ran into Gilland,” Connor murmured, handing Reid his sword. “Was that his doing?”

  Reid chuckled. “Aye. That boy’s still a show-off.”

  “You didn’t let him best you, did ya?”

  “He did spoil my shot,” Reid said. “The best part is Maura tagged the buck first.”

  Connor laughed with him. “Good for her.”

  “Kevan! What do you think you’re doing, boy? Get on home!” Mac bellowed, his wrath had Connor and Reid both ducking. Hunts like this soured Mac’s good humor. Ceru blood or not, he hated having to butcher a bear, any bear.

  Within half an hour, the three brothers were jogging through the late afternoon pines to the box canyon near the goat pasture where it had been sighted. The herds had already been brought down for Fynan’s visit. Unfortunately, the beast might follow their scent to find dinner.

  The high walls of the ravine cast cool shadows. A rocky outcropping provided the Tarhill bo
ys a good view of the whole canyon.

  “There,” Connor said, pointing to a shadowy alcove.

  Reid barely made out a pale gray bulk in the shallow cave, the black patch of nose distinctly a sledge bear’s.

  “It’s only just full grown,” Mac murmured with trepidation.

  As sledge bears aged, the fur on their muzzles thinned, revealing black skin beneath. This one had a small clean square.

  “I bet five winters,” Connor added.

  Usually it was the weak, older bears who dared hunt so close to the village, driven by desperation and hunger. That this one was relatively young suggested it might be sick.

  Luckily, they’d found it napping, an easy target. Maclan sighed heavily as he unslung his bow. Reid and Connor did the same. They couldn’t risk just wounding the beast. Even with three arrows, it could still kill one of them if given the chance.

  As Maclan brought his bow up to aim, something crashed through the brush behind them. He whirled to find his bow pointed at Gilland’s chest.

  “Making a habit of following me?” Reid said half-joking. But Gilland was looking beyond them, toward the cave.

  “You found it already?”

  Connor puffed out his chest. “Of course.”

  “Get your weapon out,” Mac said, turning back to it and raising his bow. “On my count.”

  “Wait.” Gilland scrambled in front of them and blocked their view. “This is a perfect opportunity.”

  “Exactly,” Mac grumbled. “Get out of the way.”

  “No, we should tame it.”

  “Tame it?” Connor huffed. “That one’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

  “I’ve sent my men to get the ropes and a sledge. We need to capture it.”

  “Oy, now I’ve heard everything,” Mac said. “You’re daft.”

  “I’ve been doing something similar with wild ones at home.”

  “You’re not Lord of the Pines yet,” Mac growled sounding as much like Tarhill as Reid had ever heard. “Now move. Boy.” Maclan poked Gil in the breastbone so hard Gil stepped back.

  “It would be a waste to kill it. It’s not even old,” Gil said.

  “Which means it’s sick.” Maclan was angrier by the minute. “Now get out of the way. Clan business.”

  The sound of footsteps brought Fynan’s right-hand man Uldan with eight other men from Seal Bay.

  Maclan looked at the man’s impassive face and then spat on the ground in disgust. “Tell me you intend to let this spoiled strumpet have her way.”

  The men let the insult to their chieftain’s heir pass with only sour looks. “The Fynan said for Gilland to show his bravery,” Uldan said. Though as tall as Maclan, the slighter man looked small next to Mac’s bulk.

  “And what did The O’Mara say about it?” Mac’s face reddened with anger, though he didn’t shout, still mindful of the white death sleeping behind him. “Is he not still the leader here?”

  To his credit, Uldan didn’t flinch. “I don’t take orders from O’Mara,” he said.

  Mac rounded on Gilland. “Kill the beast,” he ordered, “Kill it, you whelp, or so help me I’ll...”

  “You’ll what?” Gilland smirked.

  Maclan punched Gilland so hard his head snapped back and his feet left the ground. Gil’s breath whooshed out with a grunt as he landed flat on his back. Uldan and the other men drew their belt knives.

  Without waiting for a retort from Uldan, Maclan spat at Gilland and said, “I wash my hands of this mess. And you.” He stalked off toward the village.

  Gilland propped himself on an elbow and wiped the blood from his nose and lip. He looked up at Connor and Reid. “And what about you two?”

  The younger Tarhills looked at each other and Reid shrugged. “You got some nerve, Gilland.”

  “I, for one, am always up for trouble,” Connor said offering Gil a hand, “and by the Old Ones, this reeks of it.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The Seal Bay handlers worked with army-like precision under Gilland’s command. They corralled the bear with long stout poles fitted with loops of stiff rope. Soon, one was secured around each of the bear’s legs, neck, and muzzle. As a coordinated group, the Seal men pushed and tugged the complaining animal onto its side on the sled and bound it securely.

  Reid and Connor mostly helped with arranging the sledge and the drag ropes. Then the dozen men pulled the sledge, bear and all, back to the clan. Connor was delighted with the irony of the whole scene.

  The going was hard until they found the path. Gilland sent a man ahead to find Bear Master Deghan and ask him to meet them.

  The sun was just fading as Deghan met them a quarter mile from the pens. Beside him, stood Fynan, Bradan, an angry Maclan, and Maura. Villagers clustered behind them, murmuring in nervous tones.

  Gilland motioned the men to stop and he approached the leaders alone. “Father,” he greeted his chieftain first and then Bradan.

  Fynan said nothing. He only smiled at his son.

  “Was anyone injured?” Bradan asked.

  “No.”

  “A good omen,” Fynan interjected.

  “It is not our custom to bring rogues so close to our families,” Bradan said, serious as a thunderstorm. “What is your intention here, Fynan?”

  “My son wishes to make this beast useful, my brother. But as always on your land, the choice is yours.” He took a step backward in deference to Bradan’s leadership.

  “I should have been consulted earlier,” Bradan said, “but since no one was injured, and in deference to our long friendship, I will let the offense lie. However, I have asked Maura to judge this request.” Anxious murmurs swelled at such an important decision being left on young shoulders, the rumored betrothal foremost in everyone’s minds. Would Maura agree to Gilland’s desires simply because it was him?

  Bradan smiled at her encouragingly and moved to stand by Fynan, dragging Maclan with him, which left Maura facing Gilland alone.

  She stood tall; her face stiff with anxiety. Reid was glad she kept from fiddling with her hair as she turned to the stout handler first. “Master Deghan, is there a safe pen for this beast? I don’t want it disturbing the clan should it remain here.”

  Deghan tugged hard on his beard braids which pulled his pursed lips into a frown. “There is an old pen out by the river. It’s a safe enough distance. We could fix it up. Although a truly determined bear will not be kept.”

  Maura turned an expectant eye to Gilland waiting for him to present further reassurance.

  “I will keep the beast hobbled,” he said. “It won’t hurt the animal but he’d be easier to manage.”

  Maura looked back at Deghan. “That would do,” the old handler agreed.

  She looked back to Gilland as if waiting for more.

  “I will post guards, experienced handlers,” he offered. “Two at all times.” She waited for a few long minutes. He had nothing more to add.

  “Very well,” she finally said, looking straight at Gilland without a hint of humor on her face. “Because of the love and trust between our clans, Gilland Fynan, I agree to let you keep the rogue and try to master it.”

  Gilland’s shoulders relaxed with relief.

  “But,” she said so sternly she drew all eyes to her, “If the animal harms anyone, Bear or Seal, its life will be forfeit.”

  Gilland frowned, then nodded grudgingly.

  Maura took a step closer, making sure he was looking in her eyes. “And that includes you, Gilland Fynan.” Her tone brooked no argument, “If it draws a single drop of blood, even yours… it’s done.”

  Gilland huffed at that, his brow clouded. He opened his mouth as if to argue. Maura cut him off with a wave.

  “Promise me,” she said and Reid could hear Bradan’s strength in her voice. “Promise me or Maclan has his way right now.”

  Mac hefted his bow eagerly.

  “I promise,” Gilland relented.

  Maura nodded and offered him a shy smile. “Good.” Then she
turned to the villagers. “I need a few handy men to help Deghan make the pen ready. We must hurry so the bear doesn’t suffer longer than necessary.” A number of strong backs stepped forward. Then she reached out to squeeze Gilland’s hand briefly before she left with her father and Fynan through the crowd of villagers.

  Maura certainly had Bradan’s way about her. The crowd’s mood lifted. She’d made a strong, well-reasoned decision and they trusted her.

  Only Maclan was still unhappy. He wouldn’t argue with Maura though. The eldest Tarhill pushed his way through the crowd and headed home, probably intent on having an ale and a gripe with his father.

  As Deghan directed the work efforts, Gil headed back to his new charge. With everyone’s attention elsewhere, he squatted close and stroked the bound beast’s neck. His long fingers were gentle and calming and his face softened as he communed with the aggravated wildling, his care for the creature obvious.

  Connor and Reid spent the evening hammering boards onto the lean-to and spreading straw. Finally, the hobbled bear was loosed into the pen. Leaving two Seal Bay handlers to stand guard, the rest of the men wearily headed to the dinner hall where they ate and drank and recounted the day’s excitement.

  “Of course, they leave out the part that it was yours truly who found the damn thing,” Connor groused into his foamy ale.

  Reid laughed with his brother, his eyes on Maura where she sat with Gilland, her parents, and Fynan.

  Gilland was considered a good-looking young man and Maura was kind and attentive. It was possible she really did like him. Reid pushed those thoughts from his mind. Ingrid said she should make up her own mind, so Reid would make his affection known and let her do the rest. When she left the hall with her family, she nodded at him, just a secretive tilt of her head.

  He knew she’d come to the willow and he would wait all night if he had to.

  CHAPTER 8

  As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait long, although it was midnight before he heard a footstep in the dark.

  “Reid?”

  He swung down from a low limb and dropped to the ground in front of her, bowing low. “Good evening, my dear one.”