Excerpt of Under a Wild Sky by Sasha Lord

Kalial watched the stranger weave among the dense trees on his massive warhorse. The sounds of pursuit had halted at the edge of the forest. The froth-flecked horses of the nine men in bloody tunics that had thundered after the stranger now milled just beyond the shade. The men yowled and shook their battleaxes at the darkness, but none of them made a move to enter after the stranger. He glanced back at the final flickers of sunlight glinting off the rusty armor emblazoned with the symbol of the Serpent, and then nudged his horse forward. A hint of animosity wrinkling her brow, Kalial watched him from her hiding place in the branches of an old, gnarled oak tree.

His back was bare and drenched with sweat. Every muscle rippled and bulged with his movements. Long midnight hair stuck to his sticky skin that was maimed by scratches and bruises now healing. Just before he turned away from her she saw one strand of hair plastered along his cheek and down a supple neck. She judged that he was nervous by the way his eyes continuously scanned the forest and by the frequent flicking of his horse's ears. A howl from a nearby forest beast caused the horse's tail to swish and it balked. The man stroked the crest of the dark mahogany steed and encouraged the horse forward into the darkness.

"You'll never get out alive, McTaver! You'll wish for the mercy of my blade before the night is over!" shouted one of the Serpent's men. His horse reared and struck out with its hooves.

Another man called, "The forest dwellers will rip you to pieces and feed you to their beasts! Come out while you still can for we offer swift death, a mercy you will not see in Loch Nidean forest!"

"You forget I was born next to this cursed place! It does not frighten me, you cowards," Ronin shouted back, although he looked around nervously.

"You are a fool, Ronin! Everyone knows that Druid powers guard the forest."

"I fear naught! Go on your way, mercenaries, and tell Lothian that you saw me eaten by the beasts of Loch Nidean." Ronin leaned down, peering through the branches as he slowly entered deeper into the forest, leaving the soldiers behind.

Kalial's amber eyes narrowed as she watched the Serpent men confer, then circle and move off. Her face was black, coated with grease mixed with dank earth. Her hair, too, hung heavy and dank with the concealing grease. She leapt nimbly to a lower branch and swung her body to the forest floor. There she froze as a black jaguar paced around the tree and stared at her. Kalial reached out her hand and placed it upon the great cat's nose. "Let us follow him, my pet," she whispered in a soft, singsong voice, "and drive him from our sacred trees, for no stranger is allowed within Loch Nidean forest." As she started forward, seven equally black bodies sprang down from their hiding places and spread out behind her. The birds that rustled and cried out warnings as Ronin McTaver moved past them settled into forest song in the presence of the silent followers.

"God help me in this evil place," Ronin McTaver grumbled aloud. He shifted in his saddle to check his meager load. In a worn saddlebag he had thrown what food and tools he could find in the stable where he had crawled after the tower had collapsed around him. He had been in agony. His shoulder had been wrenched from its socket. His ribs had throbbed and at least two were broken. His skin still ached from contusions and was scored with multiple abrasions.

However, his memories pained him most. His family, his clansmen... their deaths had driven him, crawling, out from under the stones of the collapsed tower. His hatred had settled into a seething force in his soul and had given him strength to wrap up an old saddlebag, a hunting knife, a flint and a rope trap. Hatred had given him the will to slam his shoulder against the wall and silently endure the whitehot pain of the bones grinding back into place. With fingers still tingling he had lashed the saddlebag and his sword and crossbow onto a saddle.

Then, leading a stallion and carrying his bundle with his aching arm, he had crept with quiet stealth to the family church, pried up several planks from the altar and removed a beautiful, golden-threaded tapestry. Eyes burning in fury and pain, he had rapidly rolled it in concealing dust, then placed it upon the back of his mahogany steed disguised as a saddle blanket. He had ignored the urge to touch the material as he recalled the horror of his family's destruction. He had clenched his fists in fury, then knelt upon the altar as he held the reins of the restless stallion.

A silent vow of vengeance had come from his gut and blazed through his soul. The church air froze and dust fairies fled in frightened panic when he surged abruptly to his feet, swung up upon the warhorse and galloped out of the holy sanctuary. As he burst through the arched doors, the Serpent mercenaries attempted to converge upon him, grabbing his thighs and seeking to trip his horse. A scream of fury trumpeted from the stallion's throat and he struck out with both hind legs then leapt above the ground. The men scattered and Ronin clamped his legs around the angry stallion, causing him to gallop madly away from Castle Roseneath.

For three weeks the Serpent men pursued him as he slipped in and around the shifting waters of River Chaos. Then despite his skill, two hours ago the mercenaries had closed in, and Ronin McTaver had decided upon a daring gamble. Racing his exhausted horse to the west, he headed for the dreaded forest that flanked the coast from his castle lands to just north of the port town of Rath- thuaidhe.

Loch Nidean forest, the wilderness shielding the sacred Nidean lake, was a land of witches, Druids and ferocious beasts. Tales of the place had beguiled him since childhood. The mysterious forest dwellers- ancient Druids, people said- fiercely guarded this domain from any intruder and no one risked penetrating its thick growth. Yet, with no other choice but to run until his horse gave out beneath him, or fight until the attackers carved the flesh from his body, Ronin had plunged his steed into the Loch Nidean forest.

Stories told of a magical, mystical land that vibrated with shapeshifter, animal speakers and invisible spirits. Legend spoke of the bottomless Nidean lake that swallowed man and steed, such that any who entered the forest never returned to the Scottish moors. Intermixed with such was the legend of the Scottish Gold, which was said to have been hidden and lost within the dangerous forest long ago.

The legend was old... older than any person Ronin had known and older than any they had known. As such, truth and fiction had merged. Only children played at searching for the legendary Scottish Gold, for once they were adults, such frivolity was discouraged. Besides, no matter what soothsayer spoke of it, no one knew the secret to finding it, or for that matter, what the treasure truly entailed.

Ronin's childhood fascination with the treasure had

abruptly ceased one early morning many years ago. Waking him in the wee hours, Laird Robert said, "Ronin, my son, it is time to teach you about our family. You are a McTaver, and that means you must one day be master of all around you. Our lands abut the Loch Nidean forest, and our destinies are forever entwined. What I tell and show you must be kept secret forever. Do you understand the responsibility I give you this day, my son?"

Solemnly, Ronin nodded and followed his father outside. , No hound stirred from the fireside, no servant milled in the courtyard. The two men walked quietly out to the church where Laird Robert latched the door from inside, locking them in. Then, motioning Ronin forward, Laird Robert pulled up the altar boards and extracted an exquisite length of fabric- the golden tapestry.

"This, more than the castle or these lands, is your legacy. A long time ago, our ancestors made an uncommon union between our ancient line and that of an ordinary woman traveler who wandered into our land while lost in a horrific storm. The woman and the laird of the castle fell in love, and from that marriage sprang a wealth that has not been seen since. The wealth of the Scottish Gold. In jealousy, a feuding clan killed the McTaver laird in search of the riches that flowed from this union, yet despite ransacking and torture, he could not find the place where the gold was hidden.

"As the mother of our clan lay trapped in the tower, awaiting her fate and sorrowing for the loss of her beloved, she wove three tapestries, each telling a part of the tale that would lead to the heart of the Scottish Gold, so that her descendants could one day reclain it from its hiding place. Of the three, only this one remains in our posession. It is the Second Hunt, the intermediate map that now has no beginning and no end, and thus without its mates is useless in anyone's search for the hidden treasure. The greedy still seek it, but such hatred will only destroy it. Know that the Scottish Gold dwells within our family, my son, and that this treasure is your destiny and that of your children. Someday the other tapestries will surface, and when they do, you will be bound to protect and guard the treasure they describe."

Ronin grimaced at the remembered warnings and shook his head to clear the sorry thoughts. His hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. The coolness of its familiar presence steadied his nerves. He looked up to judge his direction by the sun but was met by lush foliage through which seeped only glimmers of light. He slowly pivoted his steed while keeping his eyes closed to feel the infinitesimal differences of heat and wind upon his bare back. He stopped where the warmth was strongest and glanced around at the mosses on the trees. It was thickest on the shaded side, indicating the northern direction. With a silent salute to the spongy plants, he set off northwest- toward the ocean on the other end of the bleak Loch Nidean forest.

Kalial's worry grew as the man got his bearings and proceeded into the heart of the forest. A shiver raced through her as his eyes passed over the bush where she was hiding. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck tremble when his gaze paused and seemed to bore through the fronds. He stroked the jewels on his warrior's sword and slowly turned his eye past her. He was watchful but relaxed now as he bent over his horse's neck to avoid a low hanging branch. The velvet undersurface of the leaves stroked him as he rode beneath them. She could see the sheen of his body oils on the leaves as they swung back into place behind him.

The musk of his body teased her nose. He was big! She had never seen such a large man. His thighs bulged as thick as her waist. His shoulders were near two lengths across. Even his powerful jaw was imposing. A call from her left startled her and she creased her brow in annoyance. She whistled back and her seven followers started after Ronin, forming a large, moving circle around him and his horse.

Ronin felt something. His heart started to pound and his senses sharpened. He knew someone was nearby. When the sharp cry of a bird to his left was immediately answered by a whistle behind him, he knew that others now tracked him. He deliberately kept his muscles soft and his eyes unfocused. He could see vague movements around him. Most of the movement was undirected and natural. Birds took flight, long strands of moss waved, leaves rippled. But one, two... multiple dark shadows moved with a purpose that matched his own. He could not keep track of any one shadow in particular as they weaved in and out of the forest greenery as if they were part of the land itself, but he was well aware of their deliberate pace. He began to anticipate where he would next see a flash of dull black.

His horse stumbled with fatigue and Ronin swore under his breath. He subtly altered his course toward a break in the trees ahead. The open meadow would afford no hiding places for his uninvited traveling companions. There he would stop and rest his horse. A fire should keep the forest animals away. Perhaps it would also deter the followers.

Kalial stroked the fur of the black cat beside her. She checked her clothes. The band around her breasts was snug. She had discovered that as she grew and her small, pert breasts became full and round, she was better able to run and fight when they were bound tightly under a shapeless, loose black tunic. Dark leggings covered the telltale whiteness of her long legs and the fur foot coverings hardly made a sound when she stalked her prey. Kalial dug her fingers into the rich loam beside her and spread the earth over her cheeks, forehead and nose. She ground more dirt into her hair and then tied it back with a small leather thong. Only her brilliant yellow eyes marked her as separate from the night.

She waited until the warrior ate and settled down to sleep. Soon he slumped forward. The fire was left to smolder. She commanded the cat to wait, and then moved silently toward the mahogany horse. She nickered at the stallion and blew warm air through moistened lips. The horse arched his neck and shook his mane at her. She smiled in the darkness and called again. This time the horse took short steps toward her, emerging from the circle of firelight. When the man did not move, Kalial wrinkled her nose in disgust. Only a fool would allow his beast to be so easily taken.

With the stallion blowing in her ear, Kalial reached down and sliced the hobbles around the horse's fetlocks. Freed, he pawed the ground and nipped at her shoulder. She led the magnificent horse out of the meadow and into the forest where a comrade materialized to take the steed. The horse snorted his dismay when Kalial turned away, but a soft touch soothed him. She melted back into the tall grasses of the meadow.

A cluck from the back of her throat called the great cat forward. The black McCat, a Scottish jaguar, had appeared on Kalial's second birthday as a kitten partially grown. She was as dark as the new moon, with subtle stripes upon her hide, and long canines that were only partially covered by her whiskered lips. Woman and beast hunted and played together as they grew together. Now they worked together as Kalial accepted the responsibilities of her birth. She was the protector of the secrets of Loch Nidean forest and dhu Cait, the jaguar, was her familiar.

No one had ever ventured so deep among the trees and Kalial wondered how to deal with the intruder. She had never killed a man before, relying upon her forest beasts to frighten and injure careless stragglers. Yet she knew her duty. This man must either be driven out of the forest, or captured and brought to Loch Nidean and dumped into its fathomless depths.

A faint snore reached her ears. The man must be exhausted. She whistled into the night sky and began her final advancement. She intended to grab his hair, yank back his head to expose his throat and hold her dirk to it while the others trussed him by hand and foot. She could see the others moving with her as she reached the faint edge of the firelight and went silently to his side.

She had reached up and grasped his hair when her whole body froze in shock. Two deep indigo eyes gleamed up at her. They were rich and deep and very alert. In that brief pause he sprang up and crashed his fist into her abdomen. Kalial collapsed in the grass and struggled vainly to gulp in air. Her eyes widened in terror as the jewels on his sword hilt winked in the firelight as he swung his weapon toward her.

The forest around them erupted into chaos. Screams from her people blasted upon her ears and a jarring clang of metal upon metal filled the air above her head. She saw two swords locked together in front of her eyes when suddenly the jeweled sword flicked forward and into the gut of the man trying to save her. A breath finally burst into her lungs and she rolled over to avoid her comrade's falling body. Three more men sprang at the warrior, but his arms outreached their own and he kept the men at bay. Kalial struggled slowly to her feet and leaped clumsily onto the man's back, her dirk held high to plunge into his neck.

His bellow of rage vibrated through him and coursed along her legs wrapped around his waist. She felt her wrist being clenched tight. Almost instantly her fingers went numb and the dirk fell harmlessly to the ground. He grasped her thighs, wrenched them apart and swung her to the earth where she crashed, headfirst. A haze clouded her mind and she struggled to clear her thinking.

Ronin grinned ferociously. The attacking forest dwellers were swift, stealthy and clever, but they were small and not skilled in hand-to-hand combat. They were untrained young men whose talent lay in surprise and mental intimidation. Their blackened faces and shapeless tunics created a resemblance to the demons of yore or to the sexless, shapeless beasts of the underbrush. Yet Ronin had already been fighting his version of demons for three weeks, and the forest dwellers caused barely a flicker of unease in his soul. Instead, he poured his anger at the Serpent into his sword a as he fought the hapless forest dwellers with deadly intent.

Ronin lunged forward and opened the arm of another attacker. He sensed someone approaching from behind and turned to fling his dagger into his chest. The man hung still for a moment with a confused expression before he collapsed. Ronin heard a sudden series of birdcalls, and then felt a shift in the direction of the attackers. They all surged to the right, toward their fallen companions leaving the left flank clear for escape. Ronin almost dashed through the open avenue when he saw his horse standing in the trees, yet battle instinct made him hold his ground.

The remaining forest fighters became vicious as they closed in upon him. A thrown dirk hit his sword arm and his swing faltered, but to his surprise they did not take advantage of his momentary lapse. Instead, they reached toward the one who was just now struggling to rise for a second time. Suddenly deciphering the boy's importance to the forest men, Ronin lunged forward, his sword tip raising the chest of the man who was trying to grab the fallen comrade from the ground. The man fell back a step while holding an edge of the boy's shapeless tunic. Abruptly, Ronin's sword flashed down and severed the cloth, separating the tenuous bond between the two males.

The boy stumbled again, unbalanced by the abrupt tear of his tunic. He fell down in front of Ronin whereupon Ronin slammed his booted foot onto the boy's leather bound hair and jammed it into the churned dirt. The boy screamed in anger and tried to jerk away. The other forest dwellers rushed forward with their swords and dirks leveled at Ronin's chest.

His eyes cold, Ronin lowered his sword. The gaze of one of the attacking forest men gleamed with triumph as he closed in for a fatal thrust, but then he saw the direction of the warrior's blade, pressed into the throat of his comrade. The advancing man froze and barked out a warning to the others in a strange voice. They instantly ceased their attack and glared at the warrior holding their comrade with his booted foot.

Kalial jerked and pulled at her hair until she was sure her scalp would be wrenched off her head. She looked up past the powerful thighs, past the rippled stomach and up to his face. His gaze was deadly. As blue as the depths of Loch Nidean, it held the same promise of mercilessness that filled the lake waters.

"No!' Kalial screamed at her men. "Sacrifice me. He must not survive!" But the men continued to fall back.

Ronin saw a few flames start to lick at the boy's tunic and realized why the fighters had suddenly stopped pressing him. He kept his sword on the boy's throat and waited until the others fully understood that his captive would soon be ablaze. The man in front of him visibly trembled.

Kalial felt heat on her leg and through her tears of frustration she saw the hungry flames. She arched up to try to escape the fire and consequently drove Ronin's sword through the first layer of skin on her throat.

A trickle of warm blood soaked the tip of his sword at the boy's struggles and Ronin lifted its deadly point a fraction higher. With the boy squirming underneath him, Ronin withdrew a skin of water from his belt with his free hand.

"Allow me safe passage," he commanded, "and I will allow this boy to live." The forest dwellers started at his words. "I demand no interference from here until the ocean. You will not attack or hinder me in any way, or your boy dies with flames scorching his flesh." A drop of water splashed on the flaming tunic edge and the hiss was audible even above the boy's screams of rage and fear.

One man quickly nodded. "We will not seek to harm you. We will be true to our word." He spoke in a strange accent. The man glanced anxiously at the boy who had finally fallen still. Ronin kept his blade against his skin.

An arch of crystal clear water flowed out of the bladder skin and down onto Kalial's clothes. The shock of the cold water made her gasp. The warrior reached down and hauled her to her feet with a strong hand wrapped around her slender arm. A few strands of her hair still caught on his boot and were ripped out of her scalp, adding pricks of pain to her bruised and battered body.

Ronin noted that the boy was smaller than the others, not even old enough to shave. He shook his head.

"I will keep him with me to ensure that you keep your word." The boy glared at him and spit on his cheek. Ronin's eyes grew cold. "And if any attempt is made to rescue him, I will not rest until I have ripped out his liver."

Kalial watched as the thin line of spittle dripped from his cheek and onto his chest level with her eyes. She saw him take a breath as his chest expanded and a piercing whistle called forth his mahogany horse. The stallion danced forward and blew on Kalial's face in bestial apology. Kalial expelled her pent up breath in a snort not unlike that of a frustrated bull.

The warrior wrapped one arm around her neck and used the other to place the dusty saddle blanket and saddle upon the stallion's huge back, then lashed on his saddlebag. He tossed her face down over the horse's withers. The ridge of the leather dug into her already aching belly, but she did not have time to concentrate on that displeasure when she felt him swing up behind her and her head started spinning again. At a slight clench of the warrior's thighs the warhorse sprang forward into a controlled canter. Before Kalial sank into unconsciousness, she twisted her head in order to see her men standing still, passively watching as she was taken away. Her last thought was for her great cat, padding silently beside them just out of sight.