Huntsman

Chapter 14

The sun crept up the sky as the bunk rooms full of Huntsman and Riders stirred and they rose from sleep. They clustered in the dining hall and ate their breakfast rapidly, the mess hall buzzing with the deep voices of burly men still groggy with sleep.

Abram had already been in there and eaten, rising to his feet as the room filled. He wasn't in the mood to be apart of the meal that morning. As he was slowly walking down the hallway aimlessly, he overheard the queen and Elijah speaking within a large room, the door open a splinter of the way.

"...He is not at his post this morning," the queen snapped.

"I gave him a temporary assignment; the lock on the equipment door was jammed," Elijah explained.

Abram peered through the opening to watch, his breaths warm against the wooden frame. The queen shifted her jaw a little, her eyes piercing through Elijah. "I don't like it when my men are not where they're supposed to be."

"I've already assigned another guard at the gate for now until he's back. Everything is taken care of."

"You're lucky you're one of my trusted riders." With that, she pivoted around and stormed through a door across the room.

Elijah stood there, his facial features pulled down in an exhausted annoyance. Abram decided to step into the room, not attempting to make his presence known. It didn't take long for Elijah to sense him standing there, however.

"Shouldn't you be in the dining hall?" he asked.

"I've already finished," Abram said. "You have the authority to assign people to different tasks?"

"To some extent. The Knights and Her Majesty are the only ones above me."

The ranking of authority from lowest to highest was Guards, Riders, and Knights. All were plausible for battle and all were under the queen's authority. Huntsman weren't necessarily on the ranking; they were something entirely different, though they could be reassigned to one of the rankings if the queen chose to do so. Abram had never met any of the Knights, but he had heard they were fiercer than anyone else.

"Could you not reassign me to a different task than the one they have planned for me?" Abram asked.

"I cannot, for you are a Hhuntsman. I have no power over what you are told to do, only the power to discipline and give my own tasks if you are not already assigned to one."

"What am I going to be commanded to do?" Abram asked, his voice trembling with helplessness. "I cannot be asked to kill an innocent."

Elijah frowned, the creases in his brow as deep as the pain his skewed face expressed. "Today you will be asked to kill innocence itself."

Head pounding, heart racing, stomach churning, Abram did not know what to say. He wanted to ask Elijah more questions, to seek further information from him, but he couldn't seem to figure out how to speak. Not more killing.

Not needing any further prompting, Elijah proceeded to explain, "You have less than two hours to prepare. I suggest you mentally ready yourself for whatever choices you make." As he headed for the door, he paused before leaving. "This is the only time I shall be able to forewarn you of an assignment. I suggest you pay close attention to everything and anything during this task; it may be the last you shall have to do." With that he left.

Abram stared blankly out a window across the room, his eyes scanning the vast forest that surrounded the outer castle. He was supposed to be heading over to the training field now, but staring into the trees made him question whether he could attempt running. His mother came to his mind, and just as he began to plot returning to her and the two of them running far away, a gruff voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Huntsman! Report to the training fields immediately! You're not supposed to be in here any longer." It was Wolfgang, the man who had given him a hard time when Abram first started his training.

"Shouldn't you be out there as well?" Abram retorted.

Wolfgang smirked. "Didn't you hear? I was promoted to rider!" Abram studied him, observing his newly dawned black, metal armor that all the riders wore. Of course he was promoted, he was the cruelest of all the Huntsman.

Abram stepped around the man as he exited the room, not bothering to congratulate him or even look at him as he passed. He arrived at the training field after the half mile walk to get there, signing in like they always had to every day and settling on cleaning his sword. He knew he wouldn't be able to focus on combat practice, nor would maneuvering training benefit him when he was so distracted.

Minutes passed, somewhere close to a half hour, when three riders came galloping into the field and right to Abram. "The queen has ordered you an assignment," one of them spoke.

Abram dropped the rag he was dragging across his sword, placing the weapon back in its sheath. "Very well." A fourth rider approached, leading a horse toward them that was riderless. Abram knew this was his. He mounted it, and with that he and the four riders were trotting back to the castle.

They dismounted once within the gate, the stable boy rushing toward them just like when Abram had first been brought to the castle. The boy looked a little taller, a clear mark of the time that had passed. Along with that, Abram had grown a full beard and mustache over the months. His father was always clean shaven when home, but he'd often talked about growing a beard again like he'd had "back in the day." Abram's scruff was in honor of him.

"Ready the carriage, Boy," one of the riders commanded the stable boy. As the young man scurried off, the riders brought Abram through to the castle and up the winding stairs. When they reached a tall door at the end of the hall, one of the Riders knocked.

It opened, and from within was revealed Elijah's weary face. Beyond him sat the queen upon her golden throne, a maroon dress flowing over her slender form. She stood from her place, her hands folded in front of her and the heels of her shoes clicking against the marble floor as she took a single step.

"Come in, please," she said with a crooked smile. It was a seductive smile, like that of which Abram imagined a black widow would give before devouring her mate.

Abram was forced through the door and presented to the queen like a bird captured in a cage. All eyes were on him as if expecting him to run, but he stood firmly before her. There was defiance in his eyes, he made sure of it, and as she let out a gut laugh he had to fight to keep his dignity.

When the queen calmed, she folded her long fingers in front of her and let her smile shrink to an amused grin. "You have spirit. It's refreshing," she said in a smooth tone as her eyes half closed. She then lifted a hand and snapped, a quick demand shoot no from her lips. "Bring her in!"

The doors across the room opened, two guards dragging in a prisoner tied at the wrists and ankles. Raven black hair soaked in sweat draped over the face of their captive, and a tattered brown dress showed she'd been through much struggle. Then, as they dropped her at the feet of Abram, her head lifted and revealed a pair of hazel eyes that were all too young and full of hatred.

"Task number two, dear Huntsman!"

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