Post by kipspul on Sept 1, 2006 19:43:11 GMT 1
'Cursed be, Arachan,' Cillir snarled. But he made no move as a woman in a long, dark cloak stepped from between the dark forest leaves that covered the bushes.
Damned, damned, trice damned. We managed to get ourselves caught the same moment we'd discovered why they where after us. I stopped the curses right before they reached my lips. Always time to do that later - now there was this person. Probably the Game Master, since we weren't killed yet.
'Cursed be, Arachan,' Cillir repeated.
'You'd rather not say that while I'm around, Hunter Cillir,' she said softly. Dangerously. The dark hood glid of her face and revealed a beautiful face - but a face in wich two ice-cold eyes told the tale of someone unforgiving. And in the instant she smiled a hunter's hungry smile, I knew who she was.
Everybody seemed to know that instant. It was Jaron who beworded everybody's suspicions. 'You're Arachan's niece Anrael, aren't you?' he asked. In his face shone clear horror, and he didn't wait for an answer. 'And you're the Game Master. No - wait - you're not the real Game Master. You're the third competator.'
She smiled. 'Very good... really very good, young Jaron. The Game Master whatches me right now to see if I do everything correct...' Her icy blue eyes glittered. 'This time I'm only here to tell you the rules. The next time we'll meet, I get the chance to kill one of you.'
Jaron's hiss of indrawn breath was inspired solely by fear, and Cillir also blanched noticably.
'I'll tell the rules. And the first rule's the most important - the ones surviving me get the chance to compete against the real Game Master.'
'That álso means the rest of the group,' she continued. 'Everyone not giving up or dying in the process, competes together with the chosen ones. If one's chosen before the game is over, all the others are put to death.'
'You all will get a day before I start the hunt. You'll have beaten me out of the competition if you can avoid me for...' - she smiled cruelly - '... three months. If Cillir or Jaron dies, the hunt will stop. The remaining one goes together with me to the Game Master and will get a new challenge.'
Silence fell heavyly over the clearing and the little group gathered there. Somebody had to say something, yet no-one did. I felt my muscles tingle, and before I knew, I'd opened my mouth.
'What happens if you die?'
Anrael smiled lowly. 'I'm not inclined to do so, young one,' she said, 'but if I do, Cillir and Jaron will be called upon by the Game Master and will compete against each other in the next round.'
'And why arent you fleeing from some kind of Game Master while being threatened to death?' Cillir snapped. 'Does Arachan have to play unfair game to make you win, because you otherwise couldn't?'
'I've already proven myself in the art of surviving and escaping,' Anrael hissed. 'The only thing I have to do is prove that I can lead men and outsmart my enemy - outsmart them to be able to kill them. You now know everything you need to,' she continued heavyly, 'and I will depart now. If anybody wants to give up they can tell me now.'
Aurorin coughed hoarsely. 'What about us? We fleed Arachan as traitors. What's our role in all of this?' He nodded to Different, who sat beside him looking horrified.
Anrael grinned cruelly. 'You're extra targets for my bowmen - or extra wolf feed. I heard the poor dears where hungry this winter, because of the extreme low temperature. Good luck.'
She turned and departed. All bow- and swordsmen went with her; and as she went away, silence returned.
'Damn it,' Jaron said softly. 'Damn it.' I was shocked to see tears streaming down his face, dripping onto the damp forest ground. 'Damn it. I thought I could... trust Arachan in some way. I thought it was all just a game - bit of a serious game, but still...'
His words did more to me than all other things had did, and I went to sit next to him and laid my arm about his shoulders. 'It is a serious game,' I whispered, 'And we're going to win. Right? We're going to win, and beat that Anrael and then the Game Master and finally Arachan.'
I don't know why I said that, and it didn't seem to comfort him. He only whispered another 'Damn it, Arachan, damn it,' and covered his face with his hands. I lifted my head to see Aurorin and Different whisper softly to each other, their faces pools of fear and darkness. Cillir stood cursing everything in his sight, his face bleak and his fists clenched. Illiath, finally, just stood up.
'We should go,' he said softly. 'Dawn's not far of. We'll need to hurry if we want to avoid being caught the day after tomorrow.'
With those words, he belted on his sword and kicked dust on the fire. 'I don't know about you guys,' he murmured, 'but I definitely want to live longer than to the day after tomorrow. And if you don't go with me, I will go alone.'
Damned, damned, trice damned. We managed to get ourselves caught the same moment we'd discovered why they where after us. I stopped the curses right before they reached my lips. Always time to do that later - now there was this person. Probably the Game Master, since we weren't killed yet.
'Cursed be, Arachan,' Cillir repeated.
'You'd rather not say that while I'm around, Hunter Cillir,' she said softly. Dangerously. The dark hood glid of her face and revealed a beautiful face - but a face in wich two ice-cold eyes told the tale of someone unforgiving. And in the instant she smiled a hunter's hungry smile, I knew who she was.
Everybody seemed to know that instant. It was Jaron who beworded everybody's suspicions. 'You're Arachan's niece Anrael, aren't you?' he asked. In his face shone clear horror, and he didn't wait for an answer. 'And you're the Game Master. No - wait - you're not the real Game Master. You're the third competator.'
She smiled. 'Very good... really very good, young Jaron. The Game Master whatches me right now to see if I do everything correct...' Her icy blue eyes glittered. 'This time I'm only here to tell you the rules. The next time we'll meet, I get the chance to kill one of you.'
Jaron's hiss of indrawn breath was inspired solely by fear, and Cillir also blanched noticably.
'I'll tell the rules. And the first rule's the most important - the ones surviving me get the chance to compete against the real Game Master.'
'That álso means the rest of the group,' she continued. 'Everyone not giving up or dying in the process, competes together with the chosen ones. If one's chosen before the game is over, all the others are put to death.'
'You all will get a day before I start the hunt. You'll have beaten me out of the competition if you can avoid me for...' - she smiled cruelly - '... three months. If Cillir or Jaron dies, the hunt will stop. The remaining one goes together with me to the Game Master and will get a new challenge.'
Silence fell heavyly over the clearing and the little group gathered there. Somebody had to say something, yet no-one did. I felt my muscles tingle, and before I knew, I'd opened my mouth.
'What happens if you die?'
Anrael smiled lowly. 'I'm not inclined to do so, young one,' she said, 'but if I do, Cillir and Jaron will be called upon by the Game Master and will compete against each other in the next round.'
'And why arent you fleeing from some kind of Game Master while being threatened to death?' Cillir snapped. 'Does Arachan have to play unfair game to make you win, because you otherwise couldn't?'
'I've already proven myself in the art of surviving and escaping,' Anrael hissed. 'The only thing I have to do is prove that I can lead men and outsmart my enemy - outsmart them to be able to kill them. You now know everything you need to,' she continued heavyly, 'and I will depart now. If anybody wants to give up they can tell me now.'
Aurorin coughed hoarsely. 'What about us? We fleed Arachan as traitors. What's our role in all of this?' He nodded to Different, who sat beside him looking horrified.
Anrael grinned cruelly. 'You're extra targets for my bowmen - or extra wolf feed. I heard the poor dears where hungry this winter, because of the extreme low temperature. Good luck.'
She turned and departed. All bow- and swordsmen went with her; and as she went away, silence returned.
'Damn it,' Jaron said softly. 'Damn it.' I was shocked to see tears streaming down his face, dripping onto the damp forest ground. 'Damn it. I thought I could... trust Arachan in some way. I thought it was all just a game - bit of a serious game, but still...'
His words did more to me than all other things had did, and I went to sit next to him and laid my arm about his shoulders. 'It is a serious game,' I whispered, 'And we're going to win. Right? We're going to win, and beat that Anrael and then the Game Master and finally Arachan.'
I don't know why I said that, and it didn't seem to comfort him. He only whispered another 'Damn it, Arachan, damn it,' and covered his face with his hands. I lifted my head to see Aurorin and Different whisper softly to each other, their faces pools of fear and darkness. Cillir stood cursing everything in his sight, his face bleak and his fists clenched. Illiath, finally, just stood up.
'We should go,' he said softly. 'Dawn's not far of. We'll need to hurry if we want to avoid being caught the day after tomorrow.'
With those words, he belted on his sword and kicked dust on the fire. 'I don't know about you guys,' he murmured, 'but I definitely want to live longer than to the day after tomorrow. And if you don't go with me, I will go alone.'