Clarysa giggled and squirmed madly. Stellan looked on with a polite smile. After a few more tortured moments, Lionel released her.
“Anyway, I’ve come to let you know we’re heading back.”
“So soon?” Clarysa asked, staring up in dismay from her glass of wine.
“What do you mean, ‘so soon’? We’ve been here all day.”
“One more hour,” she pleaded.
Lionel rolled his eyes. “Are we back in the nursery now? We’ll be riding home in the dark if we don’t depart in the next half hour.”
Clarysa scowled, and then masked her irritation for fear of appearing unseemly. She cast Stellan a hopeful glance. “So I’ll see you at the next hunt?”
Lionel laughed. “And so you’re inviting yourself along on the rest of them, eh?”
Clarysa crossed her arms. “I can if I want to.”
Stellan stood and donned his cape. “I’ll be there, as long as I’m not needed elsewhere.”
Clarysa could barely contain her squeal. Escorted by Lionel and Stellan, she walked back to the main group as the servants tidied up and loaded the horses. Her heart pounded hard with excitement.
She would see Stellan again, but not for another month! However could she wait that long?
Chapter 8
The sun splashed warm, golden rays over the traveling hunting party. Clarysa sighed contentedly. Everything about the day had been so perfect. She listened as cheerful voices rose in song, servants and royalty alike. The strength of camaraderie coursed strong through the group as it traveled a main road into the heart of Aldebaran. The Belleressort estate lay roughly an hour away.
Lagging on her steed near the tail end of the procession, she pulled her cloak tight against the cool late-afternoon air. Apple, her horse, ambled forward at a casual pace. Occasionally she would glance behind her, hoping Stellan had changed his mind and would appear. Such was not the case, but at least she’d had several precious hours with him.
Clarysa thought him simply extraordinary. She had never met anyone like him, either. Though gruff in manner, he possessed an intriguing vulnerability. The day’s events replayed themselves constantly in her mind. Every time he had spoken, a bracing thrill had run down her spine. Then there was his haunting, handsome face. He could use some fattening up, but his tall frame and piercing green eyes more than made up for it. He also possessed enough mystery for a thousand men! That quality alone was enough to make her melt in rapture.
Based on the legend surrounding him, Clarysa speculated life must have been horrible for him. Everyone in Aldebaran despised and feared him. She herself was guilty of judging him based on nothing but hearsay. Now, however, she knew the truth, and would act accordingly.
Though fantasies about altering the destiny of his life ran through her head, the more realistic option might be found in simple gestures. Welcoming him into her family was one. Then there were the advantages only wealth could bring. She had already decided she would buy him a gift, perhaps a few new tunics or the latest fashionable cape. Lionel would help her pick out something. Or maybe a–
“Something’s heading this way!” shouted one of the cooks.
Edward issued a formal halt. The procession came to an immediate stop.
Clarysa looked left. A group of villagers were racing across the plain. A massive herd of feet and dust, they seemed to run at an impossibly fast pace. The town of Arcadia was about a mile beyond the hill. Is there a fire?
The riders ahead skewed sharply right. Then desperate cries and shouts of “Run!” and “Watch out!” and “Make for the woods!” ripped through the air.
“What’s wrong?” Clarysa cried.
“I think we’re under attack,” said the same cook as before.
“By whom?” Clarysa’s voice grew shrill. “What are they after? Do they know who we are?”
But before she could receive an answer, the villagers were upon them. Scores of belligerent men and women dove into their flank, scattering the royal hunting party. A wild, frenzied look accompanied each person’s unnatural, bestial gait. Horses and their riders drifted about everywhere leaving nothing more than a jumbled panorama. Dumbfounded, Clarysa could only stare as some of the guards and servants formed a protective barrier around her.
“What’s wrong with them?” she asked.
“Difficult to say,” one of the guards speculated. “But we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Craning her neck, she sought Edward and Lionel. After a moment she spotted them, swords raised and teeth bared, valiantly fending off the rabid attackers. Clarysa watched in horror as one of the villagers leaped into the air, hammering one of the riders from his horse. The pair fell onto the ground with a sickening thud, and began wrestling in a cloud of dust. These people…they’re acting like animals–so crazed and berserk!
More villagers appeared. They wielded chunky weapons of axes, stones and wooden clubs. They swung clumsily but fast, grunting and howling their wrath. Several of the King’s guards lay dead on the ground, their gory remains splattered in thick, random blankets.
Clarysa shuddered. But it wasn’t only the violent exchange of blows scaring her. It was their eyes–she had caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes as he hurtled toward the rider.
Blood red. The orbs had been suffused with crimson, obscuring even the pupils.
A chilling thought quickly enveloped her. No, it can’t be. How is it possible? But the truth could not be denied. “Pestilence,” she croaked out, her throat now coated with dust. “It’s Pestilence!”
No one seemed to heed her warning. Instead, her companions shouted at her to reverse direction. Clarysa glanced wildly left and right. Five or six villagers were closing in on her group. She was weaponless, but she dare not abandon her kin. Yet what could she do? Nothing. Nothing but sit there and stare into the glazed expressions of her attackers.
Lionel and Edward sped forth, apparently intending to join her. More villagers surged across their path, effectively blocking their advance. Anxious voices buzzed all around her. A cloud
