As the thunder continued across the verdant dale, he savored the sharp, woody scent of the wind as it whistled past his ears and snapped through his regal coiffure’s honey-blond locks. Therefore he missed the telltale signs of gullies and other obstacles pockmarking the uncivilized ground. The duke’s horse swerved without warning to avoid a particularly nasty patch of brambles.
Lionel tightened his grip on the reins. Heh. True, perhaps he should be far more consumed with the path ahead than with his dashing good looks. His favorite cousin was bound to agree, seeing as how she was always ready with a witty chastisement–or two, or three–about his grandiosity and inflated ego.
But then, what was the point of worrying when a rider like him looked this marvelous? Forgive me, Clarysa, but I am too far gone! Lionel’s smile widened. What tales minstrels would weave of this day! What legends would spring from it!
He thought back to the comely young woman he had met at the ball the night before. He could barely recall her name, but he remembered the gorgeous red tresses that had spilled across her creamy white bosom so enticingly. She’d spotted him from across the room, and he her. No doubt she had been staring at him with those smoldering cobalt eyes for simply the longest time. What would she say upon catching wind of this adventure? What a sight he would make for her today, his red cape arched gracefully in the air, his broad chest a veritable shield against the elements. Yes, incomparably impressive! He would have to visit the young wench soon and tell her all about it.
The laws of reality arrested Lionel’s fantasy. His horse vaulted over a muddy hole. The movement jerked him forward as the sound of nearby hooves crashed against his ears. First left, then right. Lionel quickly glanced about him to get his bearings. The gaining horse belonged to Prince Edward, his cousin and heir to the Aldebaran throne. Edward’s dark features were clustered in a resolute expression. He clearly meant to overtake Lionel at any cost.
Not this time, you bugger. Lionel’s ego still bore scars from the last few hunts when Edward had soundly trumped him.
“You ride like my sisters!” Edward shouted. A smug look plastered his face as he whipped past Lionel.
Lionel kicked his horse into a gallop. Neck and neck, the two riders pulled ahead of the others. The edge of another forest surfaced in the horizon, but they did not slow. He found himself distracted; the competition now involved who was the better rider with the faster horse. The stag was forgotten, banished from his mind. Only besting his cousin remained in the forefront of his recently bruised ego. He spurred his steed forward in a mad dash toward the trees ahead, right at the spot the stag had dove into moments earlier.
Faster and faster his horse sped. The wind tore about his ears, as if shrieking his success. Lionel rode parallel alongside Edward and then passed ahead with ease. To this victory, he said nothing, for Lionel felt he was not one to rub the proverbial salt in another’s wounds. Instead, he simply threw back his head and laughed.
Edward tossed off some other quip, which Lionel supposed was meant to goad him, but the wind snapped up the words in its powerful jaws and swallowed them. Even the very elements about them seemed to favor the fair-haired one of Belleressort. And now for the real test. Lionel glanced ahead at the maze of tangled growth. Let’s see you beat me now! I’ll have that stag in my stable yet.
Before he could relish his victory further, an anguished screech rendered all else mute.
Lionel brought his horse up too quickly and it reared. Edward, advancing rapidly behind him, banked sharply in avoidance. The other riders slowed and grouped around them haphazardly.
“What in high blazes was that?” cried Edward.
Lionel cursed, fighting to regain control of his spooked steed. “It came from the woods ahead,” he announced through gritted teeth. “Confound it, horse! Stop flouncing about like a skittish cat!” His agitated tone did little to assuage the frightened animal beneath him.
The men stared ahead into the enveloping darkness of branch and leaf, their mouths agape. “Something must have happened to the stag,” said one finally.
“Probably a wolf,” added another. “Or a mountain lion.”
A weighted silence poured from the forest. Lionel peered toward the edge. His breathing sounded unnaturally loud, as did the panting of his companions. When he spoke, his words came out flat in the still air. “No mountain lion could capture that stag.” He looked solemnly at his cousin.
“Maybe the scream was a tactic to scare us off,” said Edward. His voice, too, lacked normal resonance.
Then Lionel realized what was missing–every single ambient sound. How bizarre. “Well, should we enter here,” he said, gesturing to the uneven path before them, “or split up and–wait, did you hear that?” His right hand immediately shot up, a signal for absolute silence.
The sound of splintering tree limbs cracked the air.
Then again.
And again.
A heavy thumping sound soon followed. Edward motioned for the men to regroup. Without hesitation, they formed a line. Shallow ruts developed as the horses, nostrils flaring, dug into the grass with their hooves.
Some of the trees shook, scattering their leaves like flies in a maelstrom.
Then…nothing.
Lionel waited with his men, hardly daring to breathe. Finally…
He blew out a breath. “Oh, it’s nothing but an earth tremor. Let’s continue, shall we?”
Edward threw up his hands. “It wouldn’t kill you to wait another minute.”
“Perhaps for you, but my minutes are very precious.” Lionel urged his horse forward at a trot, but it took some doing as the animal didn’t share his
