Early morning sunlight pierced the porous canopy of the Gah'Van. Sunny yellow rays brightened the vast greens and browns dominating the surroundings. Vinewoods towered high all around and lived up to their name. Their trunks were a marriage of wood, weaving and wrapping around each other to form one grand vinewood. With evergreen leaves populating many branches.

  Captain Felder caressed the pommel of the sword hanging on his waist. He tested the lush and moist earth of the narrow path before stomping along. His mask was low, and he inhaled the cool freshness while his eyes darted around the lush foliage. A brisk breeze fluttered his hood to the tune of the shuffling leaves. It didn’t break his stride, nor deter his watchful eyes.

  Felder shifted his gloved fingers down to his quiver. He caressed the pale feathers of each arrow as the mud squelched beneath his boots. The hunting bow on his back was stringed and ready for use at a moment’s notice. Nothing special, not made of vinewood like the bows other captains favoured. It worked, that was enough.

  The breeze became consistent, a whisper to his covered ears. It failed to distract him from cracking twigs and shuffling shrubbery, however. He didn’t have the heightened senses of Tamers, but Master Harold claimed he had the best senses for someone who wasn’t. A perfect fit for the scouts. The Essence within him might not have been great enough to make him a Tamer, but it served him well. Soon the duty of his own squad arrived, and here he was, at the head of a patrol.

  Felder caught himself before his right boot slipped, he snatched at a low hanging vinewood branch, and kicked at the soft earth below. The path inclined ahead, and with the current slickness it would only slow them.

  “Watch your footing here,” Captain Felder muttered back at his following squad. Sara cursed soon after, catching herself from planting her face into the dirt. The others behind her stifled their snorting. He lingered beside his stabling branch and waited for the gap to close, eyeing their surroundings.

  Sara’s doe eyes were the first to meet his, beneath her camouflaging hood and cloak. Her silk mask raised, hazel-green eyes sparkling, giving away the hidden smile. Felder nodded then climbed. He bent his knees and dug each step into the soil. His calves and thighs seared in the name of low balance. Unlike the rest of his squad, who slipped, stumbled and snatched at whatever they could. Their curses drowned in the breeze.

  The Gah'Van turned yellow gold, and the moisture dried as the heat took over. His boots ceased their squelching when the soil hardened. Felder’s legs relished the end. Late morning took hold, and perspiration threatened to glue his brigandine to the cloth beneath it. A dead vinewood beckoned his gaze with a flash of colour in its centre.

  There was more brown soil than grassy greens, with patches of darkness at the base of the wide trunk. Its thick roots became makeshift benches for them all. Captain Felder’s gaze remained fixed on the trio of colours on the face of the dead trunk. His squad muttered amongst themselves behind him, mentioning their relief at the prospect of rest, and the strangeness of this camp.

  The trunk was hollow, but empty, scorched somehow. Felder knelt before it to admire the colours, red, black and green. He thought of them as leaves at first, devoid of any moisture, but they became feathers upon closer inspection. Dyed, for they were bright, even the black. No bird he knew matched such vibrant colours. He slipped off his glove and reached for them with trembling fingers, the unnatural feathers demanded his touch. Yet they withered to dust the moment his skin kissed them. Within a blink they vanished, leaving nothing more than specks in the soil.

  “What were they?”

  Felder jumped at Sara’s muttered inquiry. She snickered at him. Her adorably round eyes focused on him and washed away his mourning. He cleared his throat and surged up from his haunches. Broad Cordelia had an arrow ready amongst the tall shrubbery. It took him a moment to catch Jon across from her, who knelt in the green. Everyone else sat on the dead wood, nibbling on dried fruit or sticks of hardened meat.

  Captain Felder shook himself and dug into his pouch for the salted meat. Sara’s eyes lingered on him, but his mind returned to the dyed feathers. Odd, they seemed familiar somehow, though he didn’t know how. They were common colours, yet there was something about the order they rested. He grumbled and stuffed his mouth with the bland meat.

  “Prepare to move out,” He grunted after a sip from the leather flask he whipped off his hip.

  “Captain, this is pointless,” David moaned, forcing his mask down to scratch the growing darkness on his jaw. “It’s been a week, we have seen nothing, I’ve spoken to the other squads, and it’s the same for them.”

  He flicked off his hood to reveal glossy streaks of darkness cascading down towards his neck. The man was handsome, chiselled and green eyed. A brute with his half-moon axe, but awful with a bow.

  Felder eyed the others who gathered as if David’s complaints were a call. Cordelia and Jon arrived as well, for once Sara’s eyes shunned him. Cordelia seemed to share in her subtle guilt, avoiding his attention when it fell upon her. The others however, appeared eager to argue against whatever he might say. He eyed each of them one final time and broke the greying Leale. Though he suspected that had more to do with the old man’s loyalty to duty, rather than any belief in David’s words.

  “Duty demands it.”

  That was far from what they wanted to hear; even wavering Leale strengthened his resolve.

  “What would you have me do? Master Helena asks us to scout, and so we do our duty!”

  “If Tamers couldn’t find anything, what makes them think we will?”

  “Tamers aren’t the Great Beast,” Sara snarled at David, standing closer to Felder now, still avoiding his eyes. “Their arrogance hampers their heightened senses.”

  Felder smirked at her; Sara wasn’t amongst the common awe filled admirers of Tamers. Her reasons were still a mystery to him, but those weren’t the sort of opinions one shared openly.

  “We will do our duty, and tonight I will delve deeper into the meaning of this. I guarantee nothing, however, that is all I can promise.”

  Captain Felder adjusted his hood, took a last sip of his chilling water and raised his mask. He didn’t allow their disobedience time to react, and took heart in watching Leale join Sara and Cordelia as the first to follow his lead. Jon and Ryla dragged their boots, while David sighed, and that was that for now.

  The gravel road turned into cobblestones when the towering vinewood gate of Jagu’Ghaatee appeared. Lamps glowed on the approach, yet it was the eyes of a heavily armed stranger leaning against the last lamppost which burned the brightest.

  A knight, a haughty one as well. His resplendence was an easy clue. Felder had seen that expression on Jaguars for many years, especially on Tamers. His plate glimmered yellow-gold, and the Farkry standard, a hand of vines snatching a golden crown painted beautifully upon his tabard, appeared spotless.

  Felder tried his best to avoid the knight’s searing blue eyes, but the man refused to shift his gaze. Not even to glance at the others. Eyes ablaze with judgment, for the other in his midst.

  “Fuck’s his problem?” Sara hissed.

  “Quiet, that one’s a Tamer,” Cordelia whispered in reply.

  Felder picked up his pace once they crossed the knight, and his squad did the same. He held his breath and hoped the Tamer remained where they left him. Once the gatehouse and courtyard were in the shadows behind them, Felder exhaled.

  The palace was a jewel in the distance, standing out in the centre of the city. He spent much of his early years squashed amongst the gathered crowds, listening to King Eleric’s weekly announcements. Those ended after a time, as did his enthusiasm for them, and the King hardly showed his face.

  “Will you be joining us at the Outer Barrel?” Sara beamed at him, clutching his arm, dragging his attention away.

  Cordelia lingered beside Leale, while David stomped away without a word. Jon and Ayla waited at a distance.

  “Perhaps, I have a promise to keep first.”

  Captain Felder entered the barracks with his hood down. It was a drab stony building, with none of the beauty that decorated others in the city. The wood was plain and dark to match the gloomy, square stonework.

  He weaved through and around the armoury, avoiding the odd loitering soldier, who kept to themselves anyway. Felder strode through a dim passageway then slowed at the raised voices seeping through the door at the end.

  “Fuck you Lena, fuck you! I’ve lost three of my best and the best you can give me is fucking duty? Tell old Farkry he can go fuck himself.”

  The other’s voice was too faint for him to overhear, but he recognised the ire that stilled his approach. Captain Eames was a veteran amongst the scouts, and another who shared in the gate Tamer’s condescension towards him.

  “If I’m so traitorous, draw your axe right now and bring me to justice!”

  Silence.

  “I thought so,” Eames stomped from the room and pulled the door from its hinges, before slamming it back with his rage.

  “Captain Eames, I …”

  “Fuck off.”

  Felder nodded sheepishly, eyeing the grizzled captain’s departure down the passageway. His armour was rich but aged, matching the odorous hooded cloak.

  He clutched the pommel of his sword while his eyes jumped between the slammed door and the other end of the long passageway.

  “Come in Captain Felder, it wasn’t my anger you overheard.”

  Felder obeyed and scurried into the cramped office. It was dim and stuffy, awash in a floral perfume which almost choked him. Master Helena sat behind her parchment swarmed desk, massaging the bridge of her broken nose. Her cloth appeared more unkempt than usual, the tufts of fur were stale.

  “Is it more of Eames’ issues or something else?”

  “Ah no, well actually I’m not sure, what was Captain Eames’ issue?”

  “Can we not play this game?”

  Felder shut his mouth before the question spilled out.

  “Forgive me, Captain Eames was not the first to roar upon return.” Helena shot up from her desk and sauntered towards a side table.

  “Wine, or perhaps some brandy?”

  “No thank you, my squad is expecting me at the Outer Barrel.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured after draining a glass of the brown liquid.

  Her enormous double-headed axe leant against the wall beside the table. It was pristine as if it had never seen battle, and far too large for a woman of Helena’s size to wield. A vinewood handle, with a worn leather grip the only clue towards its age. The dim light cast an ominous shadow upon the axe head, worsened by the strange etches littering its surface. A common sight amongst all weapons wielded by Tamers, though he wasn’t sure why. Tamer business remained theirs.

  “Why are you here, Felder?”

  “I have to give them something, anything, or I will lose them too.”

  “You know I cannot allow it.”

  “Whatever you tell me, it won’t spread, I’ll ensure it, my squad will not talk.”

  “The moment it leaves my lips the king will know; I was the only one he told. Eleric will have my head, that man is a…”

  Her face was gaunt in the dim light, cheeks hollowed further, eyes buried deeper. Helena was pale, and though she avoided him, he saw the fear on her face.

  “What else can I do; desertion seems a step away for most of them?”

  “I would have you do your duty!” Helena snapped, and immediately sighed. “Please, I need you to continue, a few more days. Eleric might be softer during my next report, perhaps I might… he may end it.”

  It wasn’t often that Master Helena lied, Felder wasn’t sure she believed her own words, but he doubted the king would. Her pale eyes widened; as if she realised what she said. Open fallibility, he forgot she was a Tamer, until the hardness returned.

  Defeat.

  Captain Felder cursed himself long after he departed the barracks, striding along the lamplit streets towards the Outer Barrel. One turn away he hesitated however, lingering under a quiet street lamp. The warmth above was little more than a caress, anything was better than the night chill.

  His mind shot back to those strange colours he saw. Those dyed feathers, that was something to tell Helena, yet here he stood. Felder massaged the bridge of his nose. If it wasn’t for Sara, he would have thought them a hallucination.

  He glanced down the road at the vibrancy spilling from the open doors of the Outer Barrel. The joy from within reached him, but it was joy without the pull, a joy he didn’t wish to share in.

  Felder turned away and suffered his regret all the way back to his home. His mind drowning in an ocean of worries, the journey into the quiet northeast of the city was a mere blink. Street lights flickering with fire, cast menacing shadows on the street.

  He jumped when he caught a cloaked burly figure exiting his home. His hand lowered to the pommel of his sword, but there was a glint of steel from the man mountain, a sheathed axe blade.

  “John?”

  The man jumped, and his dark hood fell to reveal the colour draining from his pale face.

  “I thought you would be at the Outer Barrel with the others?” His eyes were shifty, beautifully green though.

  “My mood soured.”

  “Ah,” Johnaffrin hesitated, even when at a loss for words, it still sounded like music to Felder’s ears. The man’s voice was something special without effort, nor did it match his muscular body.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t keep you. Night duties?”

  “Hmm,” John scratched his growing stubble. “It will be a blink, I promise.”

  “Because I will be asleep, thankfully,” Felder did his best to hide his disappointment. John’s lips were a decent consolation. He watched his husband disappear into the night, axe resting on his shoulder. Regret soiled him as he entered his dark home.

  ***

  A gust of wind whistled through the arrows in his quiver. Felder whipped out a stick of dried meat from his satchel, and nibbled while his vision drowned in the dense forest ahead. His onyx eyes scanned the monotony of vinewoods while his teeth ground the salted meat. The six behind him chuckled and murmured with each other, yet he felt a pair of eyes bore into his back.

  It was a surprise in truth, to see all of them waiting for him at the gates. Sara fed him her doe eyed expression as usual; no one spoke of his absence the night before.

  The journey to Gah’Van was as it always had been, eventless and quiet. There was another captain who strode with her squad not too far from them, a captain he didn’t recognise. One glance at Felder and she put a greater distance between their two squads.

  Trudging along the narrow, grassy paths through the forest resumed. Dew moistened their grassy path, nothing out of the ordinary.

  His eyes turned leftward, and he yawned after his latest morsel. He almost choked when he saw a flash of colour. The same three colours, a blink and it was gone.

  Felder jumped at a flash of movement beyond it. The movement came again, not a trick for his eyes. He almost cursed himself for seeing it, fearing what may come of it.

  “Hey!” He hissed the others to silence with a wave. Thankfully, they were quick to obey. Felder signalled them towards the movement. He nocked an arrow and crouched ahead, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. The others followed; their raised masks reminded him to do the same. A wall of scouts, with the captain at the centre.

  They came upon a clearing, sliding to a halt on the damp grass before the sheer drop. He raised a fist and begged the Great Beast to keep them hidden from the gruff voices. Felder’s squad lowered at his silent command, while he watched the blazing campfire.

  “Now that was a hunt!”

  “This is nothing to be proud of, they’re only cubs. We shouldn’t have lost so many.”

  “Soldiers die, more spoils for us.”

  Hunters.

  The urge to let his arrow fly filled him, but he clenched his fist for control. Their campfire blazed tall, cracking and spitting embers all around. He dropped to a crawl and dared a closer look from the edge.

  Beneath the makeshift tent, a patch of dusty soil darkened towards maroon red. Blood gushed from a skinned limb of a Jagu’ara. Globs of dry, blackened blood ruined pelts of snowy orange fur. They were indeed cubs, and a Hunter wore one pelt already. The roasting meat amidst their blazing campfire seared the walls of his mind.

  Felder forced his mask down, inhaling mouthfuls of fresh air for calm. Sara shuffled closer; her own trembling fist gave away the anger her sun kissed face did well to hide.

  “Orders captain?”

  He glanced at the campsite again, lifting his mask.

  “Where’s Silvertongue?” The Hunter closest to the fire asked.

  “Soaking in the spring perhaps, he’s lucky he didn’t suffer worse.”

  “Captain?” Sara urged.

  “Make every shot count at my signal,” Felder whispered in reply, repeating it to the others. Everyone stretched their bowstrings, now on their knees. Boastful laughter echoed around the camp, but Felder hesitated.

  “Shout a little louder, maybe a fully grown Jagu’ara will come and finish the rest of us!” Another Hunter growled at the rest of them. “We aren’t so deep in the Gah’Van to behave so rashly.”

  “Calm down Wood.”

  Felder whistled and fired moments after the others did. The one with the pelt avoided their initial volley, but his second arrow found a home through the back of his skull. Whistling feathers filled his ears until the wailing of the wounded Hunters satisfied his rage. Most of his scouts emptied their quivers as more Hunters sprouted from their tents. Flashing their weapons in a panic before they clanged to the dusty ground. Many of the corpses won over three shafts.

  Felder eyed his squad, only a pair had arrows in their quivers.

  “Cordelia, Sara, stay up here and watch over us.”

  “Aye captain,” they muttered in unison.

  He drew his blade and the remaining four followed him down towards the campsite, abandoning their bows. Axes, swords and maces ready, eyes watchful.

  The camp grew as they slid down from their cliff-side vantage. Felder glanced up at the minuscule figures of Cordelia and Sara, their bows ready to fire. The others delivered killing blows to the Hunters refusing to relinquish their fading life. A few of them gurgled blood, and a hush fell over the camp. Save for their crackling campfire, and the now burning haunch of meat.

  Vinewood stumps gave away the camp’s logging origins, now long in its past. Felled logs lay rotten, swarmed with moss and dented by years of use. Stained by the blood of their former users. Tents stank from years of rain. There was nothing of worth, at least after an initial search, save for a few gems and bloodied knives with those Tamer markings. They tore everything down and covered the mutilated cubs with their stolen fur.

  “What do we do with them?” David asked, unable to glance at the horror.

  “Do we bury them?” Leale offered, sniffing.

  “Gather the knives first, they were most likely stolen from Tamers,” Felder sheathed his sword. “Ryla, Jon, stand guard. We burn the Hunters.”

  Seeing dead beasts was a first for Felder, only Tamers dealt with such. His heart wept all the same. The biggest was the size of an overgrown dog. Most had stumps instead of paws, others were missing their golden eyes.

  They recovered their unbroken shafts, with added roughness for the corpses, before tossing the dead Hunters into their fiery damnation. It was the least they deserved, but there was nothing more to be done. The flames burned the tents and other unworthy possessions.

  “Captain!” Sara shrieked from above.

  They all spun around, drawing their steel again to face the gargantuan mass of shadows padding towards them. Blood-red eyes glowed amongst their light stealing onyx fur. Patched with faded sunset orange at random. All three of the dark Jagu’ara towered over them.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Sheathe your weapons,” Felder’s voice cracked. “They mean no harm.”

  His knees threatened to buckle, his heart wailed with fear. Their bloody gaze focused on him, and his companions stepped aside for him to approach. He gulped, but his legs dragged him forward. Jagu’ara with golden eyes and orange-gold fur to match arrived, equally large, just as wild as its dark brethren. Untamed beasts; their fur was wild and their eyes blazed with passive anger.

  They all lined before his scouts and lowered their bushy heads. His scouts did the same, after glancing at each other. Felder kept his eyes up on the dark beast towering directly before him. He wished to hear it speak; he yearned for it. Instead, they howled, lamenting their slaughtered cubs to the morning sky. The whole of the Gah’Van awoke to match their lamenting. Jagu’ara far beyond his vision joined the beastly orchestra. He dried his damp cheek with bloody gloves.

  The walk back was a mournful one. Captain Felder, his scouting party close behind, marched towards the towering vinewood gates of Jagu’Ghaatee. A sombre cloud hung over them all, and the sky above rumbled to match. All of them kept their hoods up, and their heads low. Having returned from the Gah’Van without uttering a word to each other. Ryla and Jon shared the load of stolen knives, there were ten of them within, but they both huffed as if boulders filled the sack. His own heart ached, haunted by the lament of the Jagu’ara.

  Snaking vinewood decorated Jagu’Ghaatee’s walls, or reinforced, depending on the beholder, worming itself through and around the imperious stone.

  Felder lowered his mask as they neared a few guards. Weighed down by bulky plate armour, with a Tamer yawning beside their Tamed Jagu’ara. Watchful of the comings and goings around the gate with lazy eyes.

  “Ah captain, yours is the last of the scouts to return, what news?” One of them asked.

  Felder motioned for Ryla to display the weapons. Suddenly one Tamer fixed his eyes on him. He slipped off his full helm and Felder caught the full strength of the man’s hazel-eyed curiosity. The Tamer was comely, though which Tamer wasn’t, but the captain refused to back down. His Tamed Jagu’ara rose to its feet in a flash, standing a head taller than its hazel-eyed Tamer, its golden attention boring into him as well.

  “What’s this?” The gate guard inquired, fingering the knives.

  “We came upon a cache in the forest, a Hunter’s cache.” Felder replied without looking away from the Tamer.

  “You left no survivors?”

  “Yes… I mean no,” he turned towards the questioning guard. “There was another, someone called Silvertongue, I think.”

  “And you didn’t think to search for this Silvertongue?”

  “We found skinned cubs,” Sara stepped forward, sensing Felder’s rising irritation. “And we …”

  “Leave them Tic,” the watchful Tamer spoke, placing a hand on the shoulder of the delving soldier. “I’m sure they dealt with the problem sufficiently.”

  “As you say, Sir.”

  Another Knight, as patronising as the blue-eyed one from the evening before.

  “So, you are the famous Captain Felder then?”

  “I am, and you are?”

  “Lance.”

  Felder expected a second name, but the Tamer didn’t continue. Both Tamer and Tamed inspected him, but only the hazel eyes brought discomfort. The rest of his scouting party muttered their farewells and shuffled their gloom into the city, though Sara lingered at his side, as she often did.

  “Felder’s a strange name for a southerner.”

  “I’m no southron, Sir.”

  “Really?” Mockery danced on Lance’s face. “A Panther then?”

  “He’s a Jaguar, through and through!” Sara snapped. Felder squeezed her hand.

  “Your umber skin tells me otherwise.”

  “Perhaps you should heed your nose.”

  Felder enjoyed Lance’s glowering, yet was ready to repel an attack he knew he wouldn’t see coming. The Knight’s Tamed growled aloud, and a flash of annoyance passed through the Tamer. Lance forced a grin and stepped away, dismissing him with a nod.

  “Bastard,” Sara muttered.

  “He would’ve heard that.”

  “Good,” Felder melted at her mischievous grin. They lingered outside the gates as the last of the stragglers rushed into the safety of the city.

  “We’re all going to the Outer Barrel again, will you be joining us?” Sara bit her lip.

  “Uh, no sorry, I want to be with my husband. Apologies for my absence, again,” he avoided her doe-eyed disappointment. Sara nodded and rushed away, leaving him to drift in the crowded ocean bustling into the city.

  Jagu’Ghaatee’s infusion of stone and vinewood was a wondrous marriage that brought both strength and beauty to the architecture. The streets were abuzz with activity, even as the market stalls closed. Children scurried between the people, chasing each other in fits of giggles, screaming with joy. Lampposts sparked with fire to keep the approaching night at bay, and a few eyes that were not too far away from Lance’s disdain, lingered on him when he passed.

  Night took hold by the time he reached his home. A shadow shifted within the candlelit interior, and for the first time in some hours, a sincere smile stretched his wearied lips.

  “You’re late,” John greeted him when he pushed open the wooden door. He limped towards him for a kiss. Felder enjoyed the prickle of his growing stubble, but his husband stepped back with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “A heavy day,” Felder hung his sheathed blade next to his bow and empty quiver beside an overgrown axe on the wall. “You’re limping John.”

  “Aye, tree felling is dangerous work, have you forgotten?”

  Felder snorted at him. Along with Johnaffrin’s brawn, he enjoyed the man’s attempts at humour. It never failed to lift his mood.

  “You’re also a clumsy ox of a man.”

  “Perhaps,” Johnaffrin chuckled. “Speaking of tree felling, I’m soon off.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t give me that.” Johnaffrin limped towards the axe. The fabric around his ankle was damp.

  “You’re sure you are all right?”

  “I’ve had worse, my love, you’ve seen yourself.” Johnaffrin paused for a moment. The man’s eyes were wistful.

  “I’ve considered your proposal, by the way.”

  “Really?” Food muffled Felder’s words.

  “I agree, but I want one of my own as well.”

  “I expected nothing less. Shall we find two different women, or one? If so, who sires a child first?”

  “Now, now, there’s no rush,” Johnaffrin chuckled as he limped towards the door, axe resting on his capable shoulder. “I know Sara would jump for the opportunity.”

  “Sara’s a child, please no,” Felder chuckled. “Though Cordelia might be acceptable. Shall I ask her then, had I known you were working tonight, I would have joined them all for a drink?”

  “You know jealousy doesn’t work on me, and it definitely won’t keep me from my duty.”

  “It worked once.”

  Johnaffrin grunted before pulling open the door with his log of an arm.

  “Don’t wait for me.”

  Felder threw off his cloak, brigandine and began with the venison. It was bland, but well cooked. Then he carried a lantern into the darkness of his room and kicked off his dusty boots. A groan escaped his lips as he sunk into his soft bed. Sleep didn’t care to wait, yet before it took him the howling Jagu’ara haunted his mind.

  Felder gasped awake; with the lantern he brought flickering dimly. Sleep was a mere blink. The night was quiet, no whistling wind, no cracking branches. An unwavering darkness lingered unnaturally to his eyes. Felder rushed to his feet and whipped the lantern towards the darkness, which almost snuffed the little light he had. He dared a step towards it, but the darkness refused to recede. His blade was within it, but his courage withered.

  A bang shuddered his wooden door, and he nearly dropped the lantern. Another came, then another, softening with every blow until he realised it was someone knocking. His relief trembled out from his lips.

  “Captain Felder,” a woman called after the barrage. A voice that didn’t match the monstrous power hammering his door. His lantern revealed a dominating figure in the night when he opened, with onyx plate armour. Glorious black steel, with bronze vines wrapping around each piece. Her helm hung from her waist, horned by the same bronze vinewood.

  Felder raised his lantern to her face, catching her short raven hair and icy blue eyes, then rushed down to his knee.

  “Princess.”

  “Please rise, there’s no need for such formality,” she was caring, aided by her wide smile. “Forgive my boisterous knocking, I have a bad habit of forgetting my strength.”

  “Oh no, of course,” Felder squeaked.

  “May I enter?”

  “Please Princess, forgive me, please do come in,” Felder rose, but kept his eyes low, rushing away from the door. Her armour clinked gently with every stride she made. He jumped when a gust of moist warmth tickled the back of his neck. Felder spun around with his lantern raised. He would have yelped had he not seen the dark Jagu’ara in the Gah’Van earlier. It stood half a head taller than himself. With red orbs for eyes, blazing brighter than the yellow light in the lantern. Its ruby eyes blinked then vanished, taking the rest of its light absorbing fur with it. The darkness receded a little.

  “Forgive my Tamed,” the Princess giggled. “She enjoys frightening people.”

  “I see.”

  “She’s not the first dark Jagu’ara you’ve laid your eyes on I take it?”

  Felder shook his head, watching her drag one of his chairs. She was a head shorter than him, but her presence towered taller than her Tamed even when she sat down.

  “My name is Teresa, I’m here about your squad’s foray into the Gah’Van,” she began with renewed formality. The Farkry symbol, her family’s symbol, stood out from the centre of her breastplate. Right below the carved Jagu’ara. He studied her pointed nose, the gash on her chin, her faintly tanned and taut skin. “Well, actually I come with news relevant to your foray. Johnaffrin is your husband, yes?”

  Felder nodded. Concern sprouting in his chest.

  “He has gone missing, raiders targeted his logging camp, with little sign of struggle.”

  She tilted her head at him, expecting a reaction. Felder froze.

  “My father, the king, would like a word.”

  “What does this have to do with my scouting? Is he dead? How can there be no sign of a struggle?”

  The questions rushed out of him.

  “We are hoping you can connect things for us.”

  Felder didn’t freeze this time. He rushed to don his armour again, forcing his dirty boots back on, and splashing his face with lukewarm water from the nearby brass basin. Teresa waited for him at the door.

  ***

  The throne room within the palace suffocated him with its warmth. Many vinewood torches blazed on every second stone column. Filling his nose with the scent of wood shavings, and a rich aroma of flowers that Johnaffrin wore during special occasions. Every torch-less column hosted a Farkry banner, bearing the same vinewood hand clutching a crown.

  Thick carpets softened the footfalls of his and the Princess’ boots. The throne stretched away even as they strode towards it. A slow approach, compared to the frantic ride on the back of her Tamed for the palace. Wind buffeted him as he clung to her, bouncing on the dark Jagu’ara’s rump. The nightly chill sliced into him, which only made him more appreciative of this stifling warmth. An additional scent crept into his nose, of early morning drizzle within the many vinewood forests he patrolled in years passed.

  Princess Teresa bowed before the vinewood throne and Felder jumped to mimic her. An imposing, greying man sat upon it, cloaked in rich and furred fabric. A jewel encrusted vinewood crown wrapped his glorious head of hair. At his feet lounged a pale orange furred and golden eyed Jagu’ara. Glancing at Felder lazily before returning to its slumber.

  “Your grace, I present to you Captain Felder.” Teresa rose while she spoke, and Felder followed her lead again.

  To see greyness on King Eleric Farkry was quite the surprise. Greyness on a Tamer was rare, rarest on their Tamed.

  “What do you know of this Johnaffrin?” Eleric snapped.

  “Father,” Teresa moaned.

  The king grumbled and snarled at the princess.

  “Has Johnaffrin ever given you reason to doubt his loyalties to the clan?”

  “No!” Felder shouted, sensing the direction this was going. “Your grace, he wouldn’t be involved in treachery.”

  “Captain, he was the only logger missing from the corpses.” The king’s glare fell upon him again, but Felder recognised this one all too well. It was the same one that Lance gave him on his return to the city. One that he suffered all his life. Still, his head dipped.

  “Teresa never,”

  “You dare speak the princess’ name?” Felder stumbled back against the king’s booming anger.

  “Father!” Teresa glared up at Eleric, and drained his own growing fear with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “Felder, tell us the truth of your scouting mission?” Eleric continued, his voice calm, but anger rising still.

  “It’s nothing to do with my husband!”

  “Insolence! See what your kindness brings Teresa? See how his kind are? Seize him, like the rest of his squad. The cells will loosen his tongue.”

  Soldiers sprouted from the shadows beside the columns. All of them bore vinewood armour, some silver, some gold, a few dark, like Teresa’s. All with bronze vinewood reaching around every plate. None needed to draw their blades.

  “Wait!” Felder fell to his knees. “I can prove our innocence. I’ll take you to the Hunter camp we found. In the name of the Great Beast, we did nothing wrong!”

  The knights paused after a quick hand from their King. Teresa’s glare lingered upon her father.

  “Very well,” the king nodded. “Ilana, Trystain and Baran, you will join my daughter and this captain to discover the truth.”

  “What about my squad?” It was a risk to push, but he needed to know.

  “You’re lucky I allow you to keep your head,” Eleric muttered, and the threat chilled his core. Felder bowed as Teresa dragged him away.

  ***

  The early morning sun rose before he expected, peeking through the narrow gaps of the tightly organised vinewoods of the Gah’Van. There was little warmth in the rising sun, not with the everlasting chill of Eleric’s threat in his heart. He found no comfort in this new squad either, all Tamers, with their Tamed Jagu’ara pawing around them. Lady Teresa strode closest beside him, fully armoured and saving him when he stumbled in the darkness. She was the sole comfort here, the only dark Tamer as well.

  “Captain, is our path still true?”

  Felder jumped when the dark eyed Trystain turned to face him. His golden helm with bronze vinewood horns covered much of his face, but the revulsion was clear. He took a moment to remind himself of the surroundings.

  “Yes, the camp should be around this hill ahead.”

  They all grunted and turned away. The clearing was where he promised, yet his heart sank. It was empty. He forgot about their work to rid this place of the Hunter’s presence. Felder’s panicked hands inched towards his blade.

  “This is the camp?” Baran asked, massaging his bowstring.

  “It smells like the place,” Trystain muttered.

  “I don’t like it,” Teresa said. She glanced up the sheer cliff. “Baran, climb up there, we need your eyes and range.”

  The Tamer didn’t hesitate. He shouldered his bow and scaled the cliff with a stabbing fury. His bulky plate armour was no hindrance. Baran’s Tamed was already waiting for him at the top. Ilana and Trystain searched the camp again. They tapped the soil, kicked at mounds, but found nothing. At least to his eyes. The knights turned towards Teresa, whatever they shared appeared to brighten the princess.

  “Captain,” Teresa removed her helm and the sympathy on her face lifted him. “I knew it, but first I should offer an apology on behalf of my… on behalf of the king. He is,” Her head darted up towards the distance, seeing something beyond his capabilities.

  “What’s this?” Trystain picked up feathers, those same feathers, and their colours, red, black and green. Then they withered to dust.

  “I know those colours,” Teresa began.

  All the Tamed Jagu’ara growled. The princess forced her helm on again and drew her magnificent black steel bastard sword. He still saw nothing, yet the grumbling Tamed drummed his chest.

  “Come no further!” Teresa shouted. “State your business!”

  “I come for Felder. Return the Old Blood to us!”

  “What!” Felder’s voice cracked. Teresa and Trystain shared a look that worried him.

  “The Old Blood demand their own!”

  “Are you Johnaffrin?” Teresa asked. Felder stopped breathing.

  “Answer the princess!”

  “I am Silvertongue!”

  Felder rushed forward but ran into Teresa’s arm.

  “Please, I must see him,” there was music in the air, at the mention of that name, a connection clicked in his mind.

  “Kill them all!” Baran roared, clashing metal betrayed their ambush above.

  The roar of a war band swarmed around them. Screamers charged with their crude weapons flailing in the air. The pouncing Tamed Jagu’ara tore them apart. Tearing limbs from bodies with swift jaws and knife length claws. Black and pale orange fur drenched in wine coloured blood.

  Felder drew his blade when his limbs found their strength. There was little need for him anyway, for the Hunters, or bandits, he didn’t know anymore, came like livestock to butchers. The brutal skill of Tamers, let alone knights such as these, was a sight to behold. Swift strokes severed limbs faster than his eyes saw. Blood drenched the soil as their screams died. Bodies thumped down behind him, ruined by Baran above, who shared in the slaughter of the other knightly Tamers.

  One limped towards him, and he felt pity for a flash. He almost took her last swing in the shoulder, though his instinctive parry saved him. Before his jab ended her suffering.

  Another, heavier thud snapped him away from his kill, and he spun around to see Baran with his armour scratched. Atop another bandit who took the brunt of the fall. Ilana edged closer to Felder, and she shared her rage for him. Her anger was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching sight of Johnaffrin’s arrival, wearing a grin that was so far from what he knew of his husband.

  “See how they butcher us, Felder! See their lack of remorse, their love for slaughter! They did this to your people also! We are a means for their entertainment, to test their strength, to marvel at their own brutality!” There was a flash of magenta in his eyes. This wasn’t his husband, it couldn’t be Johnaffrin.

  “Come Felder, The Old Blood wait for you, the true children of the Jagu’ara, welcome you into their embrace. The Farkrys are false!”

  “He’s going nowhere!” Trystain roared back.

  “We will rise again! Th …”

  Johnaffrin didn’t finish. Trystain’s spear filled his throat, and he gurgled blood instead. The bubbling came like haunting laughter. Felder dropped his blade and was on his knees, oblivious to the chaos after the battle. Teresa was yelling, but the others weren’t backing down. They forced his arms behind his back. Teresa’s blood-spattered face was the only one untouched by rage.

  ***

  Felder leant against the clean stone wall of his cell. He stared into the all-encompassing darkness with an empty heart. There was no window, only a solitary vinewood torch to keep his withering sanity. But there was only his own stink to smell. The others in this dungeon were long gone. Their ranting and raving hammered his ears for days without end. Now there was only silence, and he missed them.

  He clung to the fool’s hope that they would believe him once. But more Hunters came in every day, screaming their joy of being in his presence. Dreams of Johnaffrin chanting his name on a corpse moundoftened Jagu’ara haunted him. Nightmares of Johnaffrin’s death were more frequent, and unchanging. Always the same spear and joyful gurgling.

  It was a

  , followed byIt was aHis squad was as good as dead, for no word reached him, not even Teresa, who visited him often in the dungeons, shared anything of them. Perhaps as a futile mercy, her kindness was strange. She learned he’d nothing to say to her, but her silent company was enough. Clutching a vinewood torch, revealing her mournful eyes with every visit.

  Light flashed in the corner of his eye. Felder turned towards the vinewood cell bars and waited for her to appear. Her vinewood torch fed him her beauty and his lips twitched at her. She sat before him. Teresa adjusted her thickened dress robes and cleared her throat.

  “Captain, have you eaten?”

  He nodded.

  “Your squad is free Felder, we cleared them of all wrongdoing a few days ago.” Felder never gave her more than a nod or a shake, though now he managed a grunt. Which brought a warm smile to her face.

  “A girl, Sara, has petitioned the throne every day since her release for you.”

  Felder nodded.

  They sat in silence for some time. Minutes, maybe an hour, there was no telling in his state.

  “Do you know why my father stopped giving his announcements to the city?” She restarted.

  He shrugged.

  “A few years ago, assassins broke into the palace and tried to end my father’s life. They were successful differently. He became a recluse, obsessed with finding those who dared to attempt such a thing. He sent knights into the west to the Panther Clan, and south to the Leopard Clan.”

  Felder furrowed his brow at her, and she paused when noticing. Her insinuation was obvious.

  “I didn’t know my parents, an aged couple took me in, but the women died soon after I began my training. I’ve been nowhere else. How dare you…”

  “I’m not accusing you Felder, truly not. I am merely explaining my father’s … well his irrationality. What do those colours mean to you?”

  “Nothing, but I assume they’re connected. But what does that have to do with the Hunters, and what … what they said.”

  Teresa’s frown worried him from a moment, though the princess didn’t continue.

  “I believe you; you know. Neither you nor your husband gave away a deceitful scent. He gave no scent, which was damning enough for my fellow knights.”

  “Thank you, that really helps,” Felder snarled.

  The princess resumed her silence, and he turned away.

  “Don’t give up.”

  “There’s nothing left.”

  “What about your squad?”

  “Half of them were ready to abandon me! I …”

  “You’re of the Old Blood, your people,”

  “Get out!” Felder surged to his feet, dreading the warmth running down his cheeks. “Don’t you dare, don’t you … just get out!”

  Teresa’s pity worsened his souring mood, yet she obeyed.

  A gentle click startled him, towards the front of his cell. His head pounded, a stink he wished to ignore soiled the floor. Teresa’s presence echoed in his memories, but his mind convinced him she never came.

  He crawled towards the sound and came across a familiar formation of dyed feathers, red, black and green. Felder laughed. A flailing hand nudged the vinewood cell door. It shifted and his mania faded. Felder took a moment, listening for the trick he thought it might be. For a guard to rush and snatch him, but there was nothing.

  He glanced down at the colours, but they vanished without a trace. He nudged the door again then paused.

  Captain Felder was no more.

  * * *