The Huntsman of Adamos (Quartet)- draft
GIFTS OTHERS DO NOT HAVE

CH GIFTS OTHERS DO NOT HAVE

A/N: A Stone is a measurement of distance and volume. It is equal to the length of a warrior’s reach without a sword, about 1 meter. A Field is a thousand meters. A handspan is the width of a warrior’s fist = 6 inches. A hand-thick is an inch/2.5 cm. A finger-width is a centimeter.

Yurieth was standing in the top of the highest tree he could find. He was grieving the bear that had been his companion since it was a cub. It had been killed by another. He was waiting for the offending male to return to the spot where his friend had been murdered so he could get his revenge. The tree shifted next to his and Regis climbed up to his level.

“Our fathers are seeking us.” Regis said quietly.

“I have something to do first.” Yurieth answered just as quietly.

“The forester would not approve of this.” Regis pointed out.

Yurieth ground his teeth against each other as his jaw clenched, his old mentor Vlast had gone to the light only a month ago. “I do not care.”

“Ohooo, now you’re lying. You do care. You care too much and now you wish to take out your pain on the source. But it is not the bear’s fault for being a bear.”

“It killed Ursel.”

“That is nature’s way.”

Regis had sat down on a limb that looked too thin to hold his bulk. He worried for how deeply his friend felt things, how seriously he took in every action, word, and detail around him. Yurieth wasn’t like any other huntsman he had ever met, or any of the huntsmen in his family. They were a jovial group when together and happily solitary when apart. None were as contemplative and brooding as the next High Lord of Adamos and Regis wondered if it was because he had spent his childhood training to be an oracle. Yurieth was also the most powerful huntsman Regis knew, though he was just a novice. Even his cousins and uncles had been impressed with the young man’s abilities and determination, in spite of his emotional nature.

They stayed silent in the top of the trees for several minutes before they heard feet crunching through the brush. Abrieth walked into the clearing below the ridge and looked around. He was at least fourty stones below them.

‘Where are you brother? I can feel you are watching me.’ Abrieth’s mind demanded of his brother’s.

Yurieth crouched slightly and then sprung from the tree and dropped along the rockface before twisting and landing on his feet, absorbing the impact with his magic and enchanted boots. He could drop twice the distance as any of the other novices he knew.

Abrieth jerked around and stared at him, startled. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry brother, I’m a Huntsman. It’s my magic.” Unapologetic, Yurieth shrugged, not even blinking when Regis jumped from halfway down the cliff and landed beside him.

“Yes, well, you slink around like a forest spirit. Father and Mother want to talk to us before we go. Regulus is here to take us to the Academy,” Abrieth responded.

They walked back in silence back to the Winter Castle. Yurieth didn’t want to go to the King’s Academy, he wanted to stay in his forest, but the kingdom was at war and if he and Abrieth wanted to improve their skills before doing their time of service they needed to go. Abrieth was already surpassing their tutors in sword art, and with the staff and battle axe. The best teachers were said to be in the City of the Kings and so Yurieth would follow his brother and see how much more he could learn. Huntsmen weren’t used for much more than reconnaissance, so he didn’t expect much from the next five decades.

When they arrived in the bailey yard, Lady Yllumina was waiting. She pushed back Yurieth’s hood and ran her fingers through his wavy blond hair, before hugging him. In her embrace, he could feel all her fear and love, all her concern and compassion. She was worried for him.

“Do not worry, mother, we will return before you’ve had time to miss us.” Yurieth promised with a smile.

His mother whispered near his ear. “Too late, my eldest, I already miss you. Be careful, watch out for your brother, you know how he forgets to look over his shoulder. Show them how powerful you truly are, don’t hold back and be what they expect. Be what you are destined to be. I love you.” Yllumina released him and turned to hug Abrieth, murmuring to him.

The castle seneschal appeared in the door, “Lord Yurieth, your father wishes to see you in his office before you go.”

Yurieth flipped his hood back up as he strode up the stairs to his father’s study, raising his hand to knock, but his father called out to him first.

“Come in, Yurieth.”

Yurieth bowed. “Father.”

“Put back your hood and look at me.” Adamos ordered and Yurieth obeyed. “Sit down.” He gestured to his Tiles table, “Let’s have a quick game before you leave.”

Yurieth watched his father make the opening play and they began to rapidly place tiles. It was a game of skill and strategy. His father had made him play since he was a child, it was always a teaching time to sit across from his father.

“Listen to me, my son. Regulus and Axion are going to be pushing for a change in the roles of the Huntsmen on the warfront. Huntsmen will no longer be just wilderness scouts, they are going to be field commanders, spies, and possibly more. I know you do not want to leave our forest, but you have more potential than you can realize here. You are an Adamos, from a long line of Warriors and Oracles. You will be able to see the battles before they progress, the way you know which direction a flock of birds will turn when you are hunting. They will teach you very narrow skills, I want you to take those lessons and use them in ways no one has thought of before and share that knowledge with others. You are more than just a Huntsman and I expect you to bring honor to our house.”

They had never stopped laying the carved tiles as his father spoke.

“But Father, what good are woodland skills in the cities and plains?”

“What is a city but a forest of another kind? Buildings are cliffs and trees, tunnels are caves. Everything is the same, it is only the surface that creates the illusion of difference. You were trained as an oracle; you know to look beyond the surface illusions of the world. I expect you to do whatever Regulus demands and then to exceed his expectation. Failure is not an option.”

“Remember Yurieth, it is the duty of the high houses to care for others because we have gifts others do not.” Adamos’ silver eyes never left Yurieth’s silver ones as they both laid the tile they had in hand. Looking down, Yurieth realized he only had one move left before he lost, so he stood up and bowed to his father, reaching out to lay his last tile but his father’s hand stopped him.

“Take it with you, and we shall finish the game when you return, my son.”

Yurieth closed his hand around the Tile, one of the eight winds, and bowed again. “Farewell, Father,” he said, leaving without another word more.

Adamos breathed out a prayer and murmured after him, “Return safe, my eldest.”

Yurieth and Abrieth walked through halls of the King’ Academy after lunch both were tired from six days of skills testing at the end of term and both just wanted to eat and have a nap before catching a transport home for the winter break. So far they had both received top marks, much to the dismay of several of the older students. Suddenly, a group of six surrounded them. Yurieth kept his head high, eyes darted around the compass primary as Abrieth glanced in the four tertiary directions; their minds shared what both saw.

“So, the House of Adamos thinks they can just waltz into the King’s Academy and use their magic to cheat their way into the top ranks after only a year.” Tytol was one of the warriors that both of the twins had bested in swords and hand to hand combat.

“We have done no such thing; I have not used my Huntsman’s magic except when allowed and Abrieth has not used his warrior magic except when allowed. The use of magic does not improve poor skill,” Yurieth repeated what his mentors of the house of Remus often said.

“We know you’re both oracles. You see the future and that’s how you cheat,” Tytol’s twin Tynus snarled.

Abrieth leveled him with a look, dark golden eyes and copper hair of his mother gave him the fiery appearance of his temper. “We are not using our parents’ magic and we do not need to cheat. Preparedness and quickness of thought negates the need to falsely earn our marks. Unlike the House of Thalon, the House of Adamos believes in honor before prestige, tiny Tynus,” Abrieth mocked.

Yurieth caught the fist thrown at the back of his brother’s head, as Abrieth lunged forward. In his mind, Yurieth told Abrieth who was going to move next and how, while he dealt with the two attacking him. Tytol and his brother had backed away, waiting to see who would have the upper hand. Other novices had gathered and were shouting. It was as they gained the upper hand that Yurieth noticed the sons of Thalon trying to slip away.

‘I am going after our enemy,’ he announced to Abrieth’s mind just as his brother brutally punched one of the antagonists, dropping him to the ground unconscious.

‘Go ahead, I have these three.’ Abrieth returned as he put another older boy on the floor, ‘Opps, I mean two.’

Yurieth dropped another one of them with a vicious kick the head. ‘You mean one.’

‘Brother, you always thieve my fun. They are getting away.’ Abrieth pointed out trading blows with a giant lad from the House of Gaian.

Yurieth watched his brother for a moment then took four bounding leaps up a wall between two columns and ran down the rafter beams after the instigators. Tytol and Tynus stopped in an alcove, snickering about their success. Yurieth let the shadows hide him as he listened to them brag about how easy it was to get others to attack the sons of Adamos. Suddenly, Yurieth dropped between them and slammed their heads together hard enough to render both unconscious. He threw Tynus over his shoulder and picked Tytol up by his belt, dragging him like a bundle of wood back to where his brother was sitting on a pile of four boys. Abrieth moved and Yurieth heaped the two on top.

Looking around slowly at the other warriors in the novice dorms, Yurieth gazed at the now silent crowd; he let a frigid promise of retribution color his eyes. “Does anyone else wish to accuse the House of Adamos of cheating, or follow in the footsteps of these who live in dishonor?”

Abrieth stood with his arms across his chest, he was shorter than Yurieth by a few inches, but he was that much broader shouldered, and side by side they presented a formidable pair. Regis began clapping from the back of the crowd, he had arrived late to the racket and therefore had lost the chance to aid his friends. Several others began clapping, then cheering. Abrieth grinned but Yurieth only betrayed a slight smile. A smaller boy from a common house, reached out and tapped Abrieth on the arm.

“Lord Abrieth, could...could you teach me... I mean help me... And perhaps, you too Lord Yurieth, please. I... I’m just a commoner but I want to be a guardsman like my father was.”

Yurieth and Abrieth had a quick discussion in mind then Abrieth spoke to the other Novices. “Are most of you training for the guardsmen core and not for the rankings of protectors?”

There was a murmur of acknowledgement then Abrieth frowned but asking, “Have any of you had training before you came here?” Most shook their heads negative. He glanced at his brother, who gave him a quick nod.

Yurieth announced, “We would be glad to help you train. Find us after Winter break and we will teach you what we know.”

A group of older novices followed them toward their room, Yurieth and Abrieth turned to face them as one. Regis eyed them sadly, noting the black bands on the left arm of each one’s uniform.

“Please my lords, we are being sent out during the intermission, could you spend a little time with us before break? We... we don’t have the training you do and...” The boy looked nervously at the others.

Regis finished for him, “And you are afraid you are being sent to the frontlines as fodder for the Berserker warriors?”

The novices didn’t answer. Yurieth’s mouth made a thin line then he said, “Meet us at the training rings after curfew, we’ll teach you what we can over the next tenday.”

Regis closed the door of the room the three of them shared. “So, we’re doing this?”

"Yes, for we have gifts others do not," Yurieth quoted their fathers.

Abrieth looked between the two Huntsmen novices. “What am I missing? What are we doing? Why are they sending untrained warriors up?”

“Because dear brother, they are not worth the cost of their training.” Yurieth clenched his fist and Regis nodded.

“My father is trying to get them to stop doing that, but they draft in commoners with the promise of becoming ranked, give them minimal training, and then send them to die. My father and our Protector and Huntsmen cousins, and the other Guardians and their ranks, have to train almost every soldier that comes to them from the Academy. The Kingdom doesn’t waste resources on those it doesn’t consider worthy of life,” Regis explained as he flopped on his bed.

“How can that be? The war could be won if everyone going to fight had half our training.” Abrieth couldn’t hide his shock and anger that lives, no matter the rank, would be wasted. “Did you know about this?” He demanded of Yurieth.

Yurieth was quiet, sitting with his back against the wall behind his bed, his hood pulled all the way over his bowed head. He looked up at his brother, the slight glow of Huntsman’s magic shined in his eyes. “I have discovered it is true. No one else here believes what our parents and mentors taught us. The honor of the high houses and the kingdom has been corrupted. Get some sleep, we are going to have a long night but maybe we can teach them enough that they won’t die on their first day of service.”

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