Prince Nera Mossveil's Arc

Chapter 2 of 23

Nera left the bound poacher with Gareth Thornfield at the cottage by first light. The old huntsman would ride the man to the castle guard. Bristle Thornwick had already gone east to scout the camp road. Nera meant to circle back through the hollow and check the wounded fawn before he followed. He took the fairy-blessed dagger from his belt bag and strapped it to his thigh. He rode a giant dragonfly this time, low over the ferns, faster than a horse in close trees. He was two ridges from the hollow when the dragonfly's wings shrilled and jerked him sideways. A crossbow bolt cracked through the leaves where his head had been. Nera rolled off the mount and hit moss. The dragonfly climbed and vanished. He heard boots. Two sets. Then a third, farther back. He understood then. The captured poacher had a buyer, and the buyer had sent men to close the mouth. They were tracking him now, not the herd. Nera crawled downhill through fern until the ground dropped into a creek cut. He drew the dagger. The blade caught light it should not have caught under the canopy. He pressed against the bank and listened. One man called low to another. They were spreading to flank the creek. He counted his choices. Run for the cottage and lead them to Gareth. Run for the hollow and lead them to the fawn. Neither. He waited until the nearest boots crossed above him, then came up under the man and drove the dagger through the back of his knee. The man dropped. Nera took the crossbow before the man could shout and shot the second hunter in the chest as he came around the bank. The third man ran. Nera whistled once, sharp. The dragonfly dropped through the branches. He was in the saddle before the runner cleared the ridge. He caught the third man in a clearing and put a bolt through his thigh. He bound both survivors with their own belts and dragged them to a game trail where Gareth would find them by nightfall. He searched their packs. He found a folded paper with his own description on it, written in a market clerk's hand, and a purse of southern coin. The buyer knew his face. The buyer had paid for it. Nera rode back toward Cedarview Cottage with the paper in his shirt. He had wanted three days to reach the poacher camp and cut the cage open. He did not have three days now. The buyer would send more men, and the next ones would not miss. If he stayed in his own woods, they would find him between here and the hollow, and the fawn hidden there would die with him. He turned the dragonfly south before he reached the cottage door, toward the market road, toward the man who had bought his name.