Huntsman

Chapter 12

Staring at Elijah Blackhorse for a silent moment, Abram pondered everything the man had said to him up to that point. He hated him for killing his father, he hated him for seeming so calm and worn as if he were a prisoner of this place as well, just like Abram felt. But Abram hadn't killed anyone, let alone someone he called his friend. He hadn't done anything to be tempted by the queen or to give into her every demand. All he was doing was surviving, going along with it. Most of all, though, he hated that the idea of his father being less honorable than he'd thought kept growing bigger with each moment.

"You're a son of magic?" he questioned. Sorcery was not common in those days and the hype of it was something in stories told across the land. In fact, most people didn't believe much in sorcery or the legends of things like magic. The many races once spoken of were mere children's stories, and Adastain was a land of mortal men and ruffians who cared only about themselves and their homes; nothing more mattered beyond the now.

Elijah squinted as if the acknowledgement of who he was pained him. "My father was one of the last sorcerers in Adastain. I don't know whether he lives still, but I care not. He was the one who put me in this place; he chose this life for me so he could practice his witchcraft freely."

Abram almost felt sorry for him, if the story was true, as he could almost see sorrowful memories flash across the rider's face. That didn't change what the man had done, however, and he wasn't about to be manipulated into a different opinion of him.

"I think I've seen enough of you," he said as he stood from the table. Staring at Elijah with as much putrid fury as he could, he clenched his jaw and said quietly, "Should the opportunity ever arise, I will show you no mercy." Then, he turned to leave and hoped his threat rang clear with the rider.

"You're so much like your father," Elijah said. Abram stiffened and stopped in his tracks. "Determined, pure, defiant." A pause. "But I also see myself in you, like the way I was when I was young and fresh to the troops. Hatred filled my heart and it drove me to do things I never would have done."

With curled fists Abram pivoted around on his heels. "Do not compare me to you! I don't even know you!"

Elijah frowned. "No, you're right, but I've been where you are... and I've been expecting you to come. You see, the last thing my father said to me was 'Stay strong, Boy. Fight your way to the top and make a man out of yourself! You'll do far more than you can imagine. One day, the heir of your regrets will lead you from this life and to a new one.'"

Not sure what to think, the young Huntsman raised his brow. "Are you calling me the heir of your regrets?"

Elijah nodded. "I regret killing your father more than anything. If you're supposed to kill me then I accept it. No matter what, I have some peace that my father knew what he was talking about."

"You're insane," Abram spat. Then, he turned to leave again. Still, what the rider had said to him burned deep in his mind and he had to fight his wondering.

"They're going to give you another task tomorrow. You can't run this time, Abram. They'll hurt your mother if you do. They'll do anything to keep you from defying the queen. I suggest you start thinking  now what you're going to do; corrupt yourself to save your mother or risk it all and hurt her too."

Against his will, a hot tear slipped from Abram's eye as he bit his cheek to fight his emotions. "You trying to help me doesn't change anything. I promise I will kill you... one day you will pay."