But that had been before supper. Before the princess had graced them with her presence and turned the men to mush, intensifying their competitiveness. Before Lord Lief Alvi showed—seemingly the only Ascomannian with any sense. Paxton had smiled sardonically to himself when he heard the blond lord ask his ranks, “Why are we splitting off from the other men? Have you not heard the tales of our prey?”
Their stuttered responses were cut off by the sounds of drums coming from the other side of the tents. Paxton and Tiern made their way over to the far side of the commons where a fire pit had been lit, surrounded by Kalorians who’d painted their faces black as the night. Stripes of the mud paint went down their necks and arms. One of them kept beat on a lap drum, and the other Kalorians fell into step, circling the fire.
Paxton had heard tale of Kalorian prehunting ritual dances. Now, chills covered him, the beat of the drum sinking beneath his skin, into his bloodstream. He watched with the other hunters in silence as the Kalorians performed their orchestrated tribal dance. Together they stomped and squatted, thrusting out their spears with sharp shouts. Paxton could imagine this scene in the jungles of the hotlands. The men finished, stabbing the sky with their spear tips. A respectful hush filled the air until the Kalorians turned, ready to hunt.
“Amazing,” Tiern said under his breath.
Samuel chuckled. “Aye. I’m ready to kill something.”
Roughly twenty men from each kingdom set out, over a hundred in all. The largest group, the Ascomannians, insisted on hunting the area Paxton had pointed out as the beast’s past stomping grounds. Paxton clenched his jaw in annoyance, but since they had the most men he wouldn’t fight it. It was smart.
Sadly, the group of Lochlans fared the lowest numbers. A mere thirteen of them had come, from all waterways, and four of their ranks were wealthy men for whom archery was only a hobby—not actual hunters. It made sense that their numbers were lower, considering many of their land’s bravest men had already faced this foe or given up hope.
They left royal lands through the southern gates, passing the massive wall that hundreds of workers were diligently fortifying against the beast during the daytime, building it even higher. Pulley systems lifted heavy stones to men on ladders. Vines, a cursed burden battled by all Lochlans, covered stretches of the wall as far as the eye could see.
“Beautiful,” Tiern muttered. Paxton looked to where Tiern was gazing over his shoulder, at the castle beyond—lit by hundreds of torches along its parapets, walls, and in the windows of the High Hall atop, light gray stones of the towers stretching high into the night sky.
Paxton turned back to the path, saying nothing.
They hiked over five miles through trees and marshland to the southern creek, where the beast had most recently killed the fisherman. Two of the younger lads, sixteen years each, climbed into trees overlooking the land and creek. Paxton and Tiern found a half-rotted log and brush pile and they sat back to back. Their entire group was in earshot of one another. All at once they silenced and the sky blackened. Moonlight cast shadows through the trees. Sounds of the creek and night creatures lulled them through their wait.
Paxton’s entire body was on high alert, and he felt Tiern rigid behind him. At one point a particularly large fish jumped in the creek, and Samuel stood with a holler, shooting an arrow blindly toward the water. All of the men stood, on instinct, only to chuckle at their own reactions. Harrison gave Samuel a joking shove and they moved back to their places. Paxton caught Tiern’s nervous grin just before they hunkered down again.
The four wealthy men began to talk among themselves, but Harrison hushed them.
Hours passed and Paxton carefully shifted as temperatures dropped. His damned arse was asleep, and his feet were cold. Tiern took his lead and shifted himself, too. The brothers leaned more heavily on each other, garnering body heat.
Where was the beast? It’d been hours. He hoped his body could quickly adjust to the change of schedule. He’d be staying up during the nights until the beast was dead.
Or until he was.
At one point Paxton felt Tiern drift to the side and heard his light snoring. Paxton elbowed him none too gently and Tiern grunted awake.
More time passed with no sign of the beast. When that first slice of soft light buttered the horizon, Paxton’s gut sank with disappointment. The men stood, stretching their stiff limbs with groans and rubbing their faces. The two lads jumped nimbly down from the trees and cracked their necks.
“That was bloody brutal,” Tiern grumbled. A few men chuckled. The wealthy men looked miserable with their wrinkled trousers and muddied boots.
They trudged back to the royal lands, tension hanging in the air between them. Paxton peered around at the woods, not trusting their surroundings. Day or not, the beast could be hiding, watching, waiting. It’d never attacked during daylight, but Paxton didn’t count anything out at this point.