Dayn armallah

8. Black Arrow

The prince's wounds were not too serious, and even though the pain they caused and the accompanying slight fever kept him in bed for several days, he healed well. Within a week he was on his feet again, and mercifully, less than two weeks after the incident we were able to set out to the forest once more. To the immense relief of everyone in the village, the wolves had vanished from the vicinity a few days later, and only very distant howling had infrequently been heard since. This encouraged us greatly, and we felt much more confident when the stillness of the forest swallowed us again after the pause.

Four days later, on yet another day of mostly fruitless rambling during which we had only managed to bag a couple of grouses for all our efforts, the prince suddenly stopped in front of me on the path we had made in the snow. I held my breath as he crept forward with cautious steps and finally pointed to something a little to our right. I squinted and then felt like crying out for joy, for I saw clearly the prints of hooves.

"The deer are here at last!" I choked out and saw a tear roll down the prince's cheek as he nodded.

"They are here," he echoed. "Now at least we have a chance to try our luck. And," he added more somberly, "now we also know where the wolves have gone. Keep your eyes open, Tarisha."

That day yielded little more to take home with us, but our steps were infinitely lighter as we trudged back to our cabin that night, determined to redouble our efforts on the next day.

Our soaring spirits were still to be sorely tested, though, and for several days afterwards we had to return mostly empty-handed even after trekking longer distances through the snow than we had ever even tried before. That, and the severely rationed supply of food, began to eat on both our strength and our resolve, even if we still ate more than most others in the village. I learned how far sheer will can take one, and realized with some surprise how hardened I had become, ignoring the cold and discomfort with barely a half-hearted shrug. I also noticed that the more grueling each day became, the more fierce was the light burning in the prince's eyes.

The day when our luck finally turned begun badly. We hadn't yet got very far from the village when we heard the ominous snorting of horses, the clink of their saddles and bridles carrying through crisp, cold air with alarming clarity. The prince cursed under his breath – the trees were snowy and slippery, and besides climbing them would inevitably tumble the snow down from them and thus reveal too clearly that something was off. So we just crouched behind some low, gnarled, snow-laden trees at one edge of a small clearing, and waited with abated breath.

This time there were three of them, three men on horseback, their steeds laboriously wading through the snow that reached nearly to their hairy bellies. The prince silently reached for the smaller quiver on his back, the one that held a handful of black-feathered arrows, pulled three out and stuck them into the snow in front of him. My eyes were glued on the riding men headed straight towards the village.

Beside me the bow sang, my eyes barely saw the prince's hand flash down to pick a second arrow and then he shot again. Two men fell nearly simultaneously, the third one looked around with wide eyes, then slashed his horse with the ends of the long reins in his hand and stooped low on its neck as it stumbled into a mad dash for safety. The third arrow was aimed directly at him but to my wonder I saw it hover for a while and then the bowstring was slowly loosened again, the slim messenger of death still clasped between the prince's fingers.

The silence was deafening.

"What did he shout?" the prince asked at last. I blinked and belatedly realized that the man had indeed let out a coarse yelp before escaping. Revan chor...

"Black arrow," I said slowly. "I think it means 'black arrow'."

The prince nodded, a hard smirk distorting his face.

"So my efforts have not been in vain," he said with smug satisfaction. "They have understood that this part of the forest is the land of death for them. This is where the black arrows seek their black hearts."

I reached my mittened hand to touch his arm in understanding. Maybe some apology, too, apology for not believing how he alone could make a difference. I understood it now. If ever those men got as far as our village, we would be helpless against them. There were far too few able-bodied men, still fewer who had much idea of using other weapons than pitchforks and knives. And even if I was sure nobody in their right mind, not even a Forester, would much fancy being faced with a desperate man armed with a pitchfork, such a man would be too easy prey for someone ruthless enough. Especially if his opponent was mounted and thus far quicker, even in the snow.

So the prince had resorted to stealth instead, killing the Foresters and letting every now and then someone escape with his life, so that there was always someone to tell grisly tales about black arrows that came with such lethal accuracy from nowhere. In fact the words even tickled out a memory from the back of my mind. I remembered hearing revan chor said several times, in a reverent tone I had seldom heard from the fierce, self-assured Foresters, shortly before my owner had mounted his horse and unceremoniously dragged me to sit behind him for the journey that had been his last. Was it too bold to guess that the Foresters knew where the dangerous area lay, and were cautious to approach it?

One of the two horses had, surprisingly enough, not panicked and run away once relieved of its rider, and in an unusual gesture the prince decided that we would take it along. Of course it would mean further strain on our little stores of fodder, but maybe it would still prove useful.

"If nothing else, we can always eat it," I said to him as I took the reins and felt the horse plodding obediently after me to the narrow path.

I nearly fell on my behind at the horse's feet when the prince laughed aloud. The way he was after shedding Forester blood, the blackness and wicked amusement that hung around him so heavy that I could almost touch them, kindled a cold fear in the pit of my stomach. He was so distant; even when I could feel his body next to mine he was still curled up inside his shell, and I was beginning to despair of ever finding a crack in it.

I knew he had to be at least as cold, drained and hungry as I was. The sickness that had already claimed one winter-weakened life in the village had to frighten him as much as it frightened me. But he refused to complain, to admit his misery to anybody, and I couldn't help wondering whether he already considered himself half-divine, or at least was striving towards it? Duty, he had once said, it was his duty. He had asked me to help him endure, but I didn't know how I was helping him. Did having me there to stand by him and share his life really give him so much support that I was of any actual use?

We stopped for a moment to eat a piece of bread, then decided to leave the horse behind to wait while we'd go check the snares and traps we had set. We didn't want its noise to accompany us on the last round before heading back home, and it stayed placidly enough where we tethered it under a tree, probably happy that it only had its saddle to carry right then.

It was so easy to fall back into musing as I followed the prince through the quiet winter forest, the only sounds those of our steps and breathing. Each exhalation froze into a cloud in front of our eyes, and the prince's beard was frosted around his mouth as he glanced at me over his shoulder, something warm suddenly dancing in his eyes. I felt an answering flicker inside me and smiled to myself. The smile hurt my face, I rubbed my cheeks and chin with my hands to warm them again, and then I really did walk straight into the prince's back.

"Shh," he whispered. "Listen!"

I strained my ears and my eyes grew wide. I heard them. Deer, several of them. They were busy digging something edible out of the thick snow, gnawing bark from younger branches of bushes, nibbling at the tips of smaller trees, their hooves crackling, making low noises to each other, antlers scraping against low-lying branches. And they were very close.

He didn't need to say anything, we both knew that one careless move might destroy our probably best chance of getting fresh meat for months. We simply sank very slowly down on our knees, hiding in the groove that was our trodden path through the snow, and steadied our breath. The deer hadn't yet smelled us in the still air, not even the smallest breeze traveled among the trees to carry our scent to the wary animals, provided that we kept still. I peered over the drifts of snow and saw in the corner of my eye that the prince had picked a few arrows and was now lifting his bow so that he could shoot once he got good aim. His movements were infinitely slow and cautious, lips pressed together, his nostrils flared as he struggled to keep his breathing quiet and controlled despite the anxiety and tremendous hope that had to be coursing through his veins.

I saw movement under the trees and clenched my teeth together – they were coming slowly closer, towards us. They hadn't smelled or heard us yet. I could see them clearly now, all six of them: an older stag boasting a respectable crown, and five hinds, one of them obviously rather young. Their fur looked dull dark brown in the sparse light of late afternoon, paler legs blending in with the snow so that they seemed to grow right out of it. The stag shook its head, antlers making snapping sounds, the thicker collar of brownish gray hair around its neck flapping. The prince's eyes narrowed as he weighed our options. The stag was the biggest, but that was a two-edged sword. There would be more to eat, but the problem was dragging it all the way to the village without attracting the wolves.

One of the hinds took another few steps closer and the prince reacted instantaneously. I heard a twang and the hind let out a gurgling hoot, five heads snapped up and the other deer dashed away in panic. I scrambled up from the trench and towards the animal that was struggling in the snow, but stumbled and fell face down into deceptively soft whiteness, heard a swooshing sound and the prince's yell, then an inhuman scream from the direction where the deer had run. I tried to get on my feet, and a hard hand grabbed me and pulled me up. I stared in panic and confusion into the prince's nearly black eyes, burning like embers in his pale face. He shook me so hard that my teeth clacked together.

"Never do that again!" he hissed to me. "Do you hear me? Never!"

"Do what?" I gasped, not understanding anything, and a muffled yelp escaped my throat when he suddenly hugged me tight before pushing me at an arm's length once more. He was trembling hard.

"I thought I shot you!" he screamed and shook me again for good measure. "I aim at another hind and then you jump right in front of my arrow! Tarisha..."

Then I was back in his arms, crushed against his chest, listening to his harsh breathing that came in near sobs, and I gulped when realization dawned. In my mad haste I had forgotten the most important precaution of all – to heed what the armed man beside me was doing. My arms rose of their own accord to wrap around his body and for a few seconds we just stood there, hearing and seeing nothing, only the moment of utter terror and relief. Then he abruptly let go of me and struggled towards something dark that was moving further away, its breathing harsh rasping in the silence.

"Bleed the other one," he shouted to me over his shoulder. "Quick now, Tarisha!"

I pushed to the nearest fallen hind. It was not moving; the arrow had been accurate and powerful at such close quarters, it had sunk into the hind's chest nearly up to the feathers and killed her within moments. I took my knife and regretfully cut its throat, watched how hot blood gushed out and seeped into the snow, then looked towards the sounds of a struggle.

The prince was dragging another hind over the snow, pulling it by its front legs. It was the smaller, younger hind I had spotted, mercifully lighter than the others, but still it gave him enough trouble. It left a red trail behind.

"Go get the horse," the prince panted. "We must hurry, it will be dark soon."

The horse was still where we had left him, and by the time we had tied our quarry to his saddle and began our trek back home, darkness was quickly folding the forest in its embrace. Fear of the wolves sped our steps, and even though we were both exhausted enough to stumble repeatedly on the uneven path, we kept pushing and urging each other forward. We knew the route well enough, but the forest at nighttime was a treacherous place. All trees looked the same in their white shrouds, every crevice and bump like the one next to it. The horse was breathing hard, my lungs were burning with the crisp, dry air, every muscle aching, fatigue threatening to take over. The prince waded silently in front of me, a dark beacon to follow, and I followed.

The first faint scent of smoke, humans and other animals put more speed into the horse's sullen gait, and soon enough we heard the village, too. Alaish was outside, peering into the darkness, and when he caught the first glimpse of us he shouted in joy.

"Father! Tarisha!" Then he looked more closely, jumped up and down and let out a wild scream. "They bring meat! They have hunted deer!"

In an instant the whole village surrounded us, incredulity and relief and sheer hunger playing on their haggard faces. The deer were pulled down from the horse and brought to the spot where larger prey was always handled, thrown on their backs, the skin slashed open. We were ushered into one of the larger huts and urged to strip, hot water was brought to us, and several pairs of hands were soon busily scrubbing our wiry bodies with wet rags. I felt hot and cold at the same time, and when I glanced at the prince beside me I saw that his teeth, too, were chattering, his skin going red. But we didn't complain as the villagers showed us their gratitude in the best way they could think of at the moment. From outside we could hear the voices of the people, making big fires to provide light as they skinned the deer, cut them to pieces, emptied their bellies and began the arduous task of making use of every edible scrap that a whole deer contained.

But we were not there to watch it. After the bath we crawled into our cabin, felt a brief flash of gratitude at the someone who had thought of heating it not long ago, and tucked the thick covers over ourselves. I scooted closer to the prince, he put his arms around me and pulled me skin to skin with him. He smelled of the forest, a little damp still from the hot water, of frost and sweat. His scarred arm rested on my back, fingers tangled in my hair, his lips on my forehead, as he clutched me close like something precious nearly lost, not letting go even in his sleep.

I lay there, eyes closed, so tired that my whole body felt like I had been swimming in something sluggish, but sleep did not want to come at first. I smoothed a hand over the prince's long hair and hummed a little to him, and his arms tightened minutely. He sighed, for once sleeping dreamlessly, and I tried to cradle him closer to keep the nightmares at bay. His eyes, glinting with wicked pleasure at the death of those two Foresters kept coming back to me, and once more I truly feared for his sanity. What would become of us if madness decided to swallow him, that madness that was eating him, driving him, pushing him? I knew that his unceasing restlessness served a purpose now, but what if it pushed him over the edge one day? I kissed his lips and murmured a prayer to all the nameless spirits of the forest, asking them to protect him from the darkness.

And so we slept as the first bowls of broth were passed around outside, slept through the night and well into the morning, not to wake up before Alaish crept in with two bowls, steaming hot with stew, and told us there had been no sound of the wolves all night.