Stallion Assassin

Chapter 2

It took less than an hour to confirm that Raneld had told the truth. The news had reached the forested mountains of the elven lands ahead of me. But then I had crossed the miles between these mountains and the plains of home on foot. The news had come by elven magic, flying past me in the ether in an instant. I hadn’t heard when I arrived, because I’d been too focused on chasing Raneld. Now, though, that was obviously futile.

Everything seemed futile. I wandered through the elven settlement, among the soaring towers that blended so gracefully with the trees around them, but saw none of the beauty. All I could see was the patrician face, the golden hair, the amber eyes, so like my own, of my lord. I would never see them again. I would never have a chance to impress him. I would never know…

I tried to shake off those thoughts. None of that mattered now. Instead, what mattered was deciding where I should go next. Yet that decision seemed impossible. I had no purpose, no drive, no sense of direction.

Direction. I blinked, the world coming back into focus again. I did actually have a sense of direction, somewhat literally so. Indeed, I’d been walking in a nearly straight line for some time, headed directly out of the little forest town and into the wild woods beyond.

I sat down on the dusty path and laughed. It was a bitter kind of irony. My lord’s spell outlived my lord himself, it seemed.

It wasn’t common knowledge that Lord Royan was a sorcerer, but his trusted inner circle knew. I was not counted among those, but as his assassin, his left-hand man, so to speak, I’d known as well, for his magic aided me in fulfilling the tasks he set me. When he’d asked me to kill Raneld, the youngest son of his rival claimant to the throne, he’d given me a magical bond to my quarry. I had not understood most of the ritual, but the part where he’d tied a strand of Raneld’s hair around my wrist had been clear enough; he’d tied us together, and from that instant forward I’d always known where Raneld was in relationship to me. It made tracking him trivially easy, even over the golden hills of our homeland, where the ground did not show tracks.

That sense remained now. He was ahead of me, on the path that led over the Smoke Mountains to the wild plains beyond. It was more than a little confusing. Our homeland lay behind, to the southwest. The northern plains were nearly unpeopled. Certainly, there was nothing worthwhile out there. Why would Raneld be headed towards them? Surely now that the succession was settled and he was a prince—third in line for the throne, even—he should be headed home.

I picked myself up off the forest floor. I should probably be headed home as well. I had no job, and no family awaited my return, but still, it was home. Yet, my feet once again carrying me north, towards the mountain pass, and Raneld Orley, now Prince Raneld of Weifeld. I had no idea why.

But why not, I decided as I walked. Yes, why not? Home had nothing to draw me back. I might as well go forward.

Forward and upward, for the path climbed steadily as I went. The Smoke Mountains were hardly worthy of the name, they were little more than large hills, and I’d started my journey already part way up their slopes. Still, the path was nothing one could call a road, so the going was not exactly easy. It wound back and forth among towering pines and broad-leafed rhododendrons, with occasional meadows crowded with wild blueberries, not yet ripe. Summer was just beginning, and I felt my spirits lift a little bit at the natural beauty around me. That my lord was dead had been a blow, but life went on, it seemed.

I made a simple camp that night just short of the pass. The night was chill, but not unbearably so. The next day I reached the pass itself, though in truth the exact highest point was hard to determine, the slope was not steep and the trees that surrounded the winding path prevented a clear view.

As the way began to descend, though, it quickly became obvious that I had passed to the far side, for the climate changed rather dramatically. The dense forest’s pine trees began to thin out, and the variety of tree changed. I didn’t know enough about trees to say what species they were, but they were definitely different. Their branches were spaced further apart, and the needles were longer. The underbrush changed even more, from lush and green to sparse and dry. The path changed as well, becoming broader and moving in gentle curves as it descended to a distant plain, which I could now glimpse through the widely spaced trees.

It was time to move a little bit faster, I decided. It hadn’t seemed worthwhile amid the brush and closely packed trees before, but now, in this more open space, I felt the effort would pay off quickly.

I halted and began to strip off my clothing. That part was always awkward and annoying. I packed it away in the bag I’d carried slung across my chest. The long strap was carefully designed for another purpose as well. Standing nude, I bent over slightly, keeping the bag draped across my chest. Even more awkward, but necessary if everything was to work as it should.

Then I began the change.

It was both easy and difficult at the same time. Beginning it was almost effortless. I simply willed it and it started to happen. The process itself, however, was painful. I felt my body stretching, nearly every bone lengthening, altering, growing. My face stretched out, my hair shifted and grew longer. I felt a tail appear and grow, too. My hands reached for the ground, and as they touched it were hands no longer. The bag that had hung loosely from my chest now fit my broad barrel snugly. I tossed my head and my long mane tumbled free along my neck. It still was the same pale silver-blond it had always been, but now the rest of me was covered in a fine coat of golden hair, a few shades lighter than my eyes, and my hooves sounded softly as I trotted down the path as a palomino stallion.

Somewhere ahead Raneld was still moving. Given my sense of the distance between us, I expected he had made the change some time before me. I pressed ahead at a good pace, alternating between a rapid canter and a walk. I’d have run the whole way, but I didn’t want to wind myself. A horse’s legs are better suited to covering long distances, but they grow tired faster than a human does. Still, I was making good time, and Raneld didn’t seem to be moving with any particular urgency. I was certain I would catch up eventually.