Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [53]
Daile stood swiftly, the morning sunlight weaving strands of fire through her short red-gold hair. With practiced ease she strung her polished ashwood bow. It gave a faint, musical hum of anticipation. She looked excitedly at Gamaliel.
"Let's go."
The two moved easily among the gray, leafless trees, Daile every bit as silent as the lean and powerful barbarian. She cleared her mind of all thoughts, letting the sights, sounds, and scents of the forest soak into her being. Caught up as she was in the hunt, she did not notice the quiet look of approval Gamaliel bestowed on her.
She is skilled for one so young, Gamaliel thought. She tries to be part of the forest, rather than master of it. His earlier suspicions were confirmed. Yes, he decided, she possesses the wild gift. She hears the voice of the wind.
Daile pushed her way through a tangle of branches and found herself looking into a small glade. She froze.
The buck was beautiful.
He stood at the edge of a pond, bending his head to drink from a hole in the ice that he had made with a fore-hoof. His coat was the color of dried leaves, and he had not yet shed his antlers. Each bore three curving points.
She turned to warn Gamaliel to be silent, but the barbarian had disappeared. He must be close behind, she thought, but she couldn't wait for him to catch up. The wind was unpredictable; the buck might sense her presence any second. She nocked an arrow and carefully raised her bow.
Too late.
The buck's head sprang up, diamond-clear droplets spraying from his muzzle. His deep brown eyes widened, velvety nostrils flaring. He had caught her scent. Before she could draw and release her arrow, the buck bounded toward the opposite edge of the clearing and the safety of the trees. Daile started to lower her bow in disappointment.
Suddenly the forest air was riven by a snarling cry.
A lithe, tawny shape leaped out of the forest, ivory white fangs bared.
The buck whirled abruptly at this new, more palpable terror. Its hooves skidded on the ice at the pond's edge as it tried to flee back across the glade-back into the range of Daile's weapon. She did not waste this second chance.
"Let it be swift, bow," she whispered. She released the red-feathered arrow.
The arrow's flight was true, piercing the buck's wildly beating heart. The animal collapsed instantly to the ground.
Daile lowered her bow, her blood pounding in exhilaration.
"Good timing," she said to the great cat padding leisurely across the clearing.
The cat's form shimmered brightly.
"Thank you," Gamaliel said gruffly, human once again.
The two butchered the buck with quick, practiced strokes. Though the deer was a magnificent creature, Daile had no regrets about slaying it. The venison would sustain her and her father on their journey back to the Valley of the Falls, and they could leave plenty behind for Gamaliel and Evaine. The buck's hide would not be wasted either. Daile intended to tan it and make a new pair of boots for her father. Death was as much a part of the forest as the constant spectacle of life, Daile well knew.
They wrapped the venison in the deer's hide and started back toward Evaine and Gamaliel's home. Ren and the sorceress would be waiting for them.
Yesterday, Evaine had tapped into Ren's memories of the Dragonspine Mountains in order to conjure a magical map of the region. She would be able to use the map in conjunction with her spells to help locate the pool she and Shal had sensed in the mountains. Not that she would be able to journey there any time soon. The sorceress was still greatly weakened from her recent ordeal. She could hardly get out of bed, let alone begin a winter's journey into the perilous Dragonspine Mountains.
The two hunters were nearly to Evaine's dwelling when they heard the shouting of voices interspersed with the clash of steel. Sounds of fighting.
Daile shot Gamaliel a worried look. Instantly the barbarian vanished, the great cat loping swiftly down the footpath in his place. Gripping her bow,