"I shall watch out for her, highness," said Arfo. "She will be hungry and return for her breakfast."
Jamas wasn't too sure about that enticement, but he gulped down his early morning brew and chewed on the salt-crusted bread he liked, eager to start the day's business.
Grenejon helped the prince gird on his weapons, plus the crossbow and the several daggers Jamas preferred to carry while hunting, and lastly the heavy gauntlets that fitted snugly to his arm almost to his elbow and the tough leggings that allowed a man to ride through the thickest briars and bushes.
The head forester awaited his prince and the nobles with news of the largest pack of barguas to be seen in the Fial Valley in decades. The hunters gathered about him, keen to start. The man gave a startled glance at the three women of the hunting party and then ignored them.
"Up beyond the waterfall, sire," the man said, pointing in the general direction. "They be harrying the sheep and ibex for it were a hard winter we had and the she-barguas be mighty keen to feed their cubs. One old she-barguas I seen afore, sire, and she be the canniest. Limps she does on her off-fore but that doan' keep her from running well ahead o' any dogs, even thine, nor killing 'em should she be cornered."
The Esphanian barguas-hounds were renowned for their stamina, agility, and intelligence, being not as massive as others bred for this sort of chase. They were especially noted for their cunning in following the merest whiff of barguas-spoor and their tactics when they had cornered one.
"Mount up, then, Bledsoe," the prince said, giving him an approving buffet on the arm before he gestured to the rest of the hunters to get astride.
Jamas' mount this day was a nine-year-old dark dappled gray gelding named Tapper, heavy of bone and tireless, with fine hindquarters that could propel him up the steepest tracks and possessed of courage to spare in confronting barguas, boar, and stag. Grenejon rode a half-brother of the gelding, a bright bay, not a jot less able.
Mounted, Jamas swung Tapper around, automatically checking the other members, and saw all had eschewed yesterday's horses in favor of stockier hunter types. Even Salinah, one crossbow slung across her back and another on the saddle bow, rode a sturdy cob. Willow and Laurel were similarly mounted and carried short, powerful bows and quivers of arrows. The king and most of his group carried the traditional double crossbows as did Jamas' entourage.
"I trust you slept well, Egdril?" Jamas asked, nodding to the three women as he edged his horse close to his guest of honor.
"Like a babe," laughed the king in high humor, glancing eagerly off in the direction he had seen the forester pointing.
"Then let us be off," Jamas said, equally willing to forego further ceremony. He clapped his heels to Tapper's sides, and the gray leaped forward, showing a burst of speed that surprised everyone.
Forester Bledsoe came up just behind the two rulers, pointing his riding stick to show all the way. The kennelmen released the dogs, who quickly forged ahead of the horses, loping in their unmistakable ground-eating pace. When the track took them into the forest, they did not slow down as they had to wend their way around trees and bushes too tall for them to leap.
Egdril was a hard rider, keeping right up to Jamas so that they were stirrup to stirrup.
Then the hounds caught a scent and the chase was on. Down the vale and out of the woods, up the mountain pastures and again into denser forest the dogs led the hunters.
A moment of confusion occurred as the dogs split into several groups. It was obvious to the experienced hunters that the barguas had separated, hoping to lose the dogs on rocky ground.
"Let us do the same," Egdril called to Jamas, and he called out the names of those he wished to take with him.
Jamas did the same but realized that he had acquired two of Egdril's wards: Salinah and Willow. He wasn't going to argue their inclusion, not wishing to waste time. If they could keep up with him, fine. If not, there'd be enough people to direct them back to the lakeside camp. He pushed Tapper on.
Their barguas led them high enough into the rocky terrain that they had to dismount. Salinah and Willow followed him as he started to climb the rocky face. Grenejon was still with him, and one of Egdril's sons, Mavron. The barguas-hounds scrambled ahead, making better use of their four legs than the humans did of two.
At the top of that stretch of bare rock, dense forest covered the next slope.
"Careful, my Prince," Grenejon called as they all paused to catch their breaths. "I've been here before and the area is riddled with caves."
"Barguas led you away from their homeplaces," Salinah said, scornful of his caution.
"From their own homeplaces, Baroness," he said, unslinging his crossbow, "but not from those of another pack. And Bledsoe's report indicated several packs."
"Well, I-"
Several things occurred almost simultaneously. Jamas had just realized that the barguas-hounds were doubling back; he heard a rustling above him; Willow dropped to one knee, her crossbow raised. No sooner had he taken in all this but a gray-brown shape launched itself from a ledge above him and he found himself borne to the ground by the impact of a snarling barguas.
He barely had time to react-crossing his gloved arms to protect his throat from the long sabre-sharp fangs snapping at him. Then he tried to get a grip on the furry ruff and force the barguas's head back, and its snapping jaws away from his most vulnerable spot. The fetid carrion breath of the barguas gagged him. Then, from nowhere, a second and much smaller furry body sprang onto the barguas's muzzle. The wild creature howled as claws sank into its bulging eyes. Then crossbow quarrels smacked into it from three sides.
Protecting Jamas' throat with her own body, Niffy crouched on Jamas' chest on her haunches, both front paws raised, bloodied claws fully extended and ready to strike again as Grenejon grabbed the barguas by the tail and pulled it off his prince.
"I think that kill is mine," Salinah said calmly as she planted one foot on the shoulder to remove her distinctively fletched quarrel from the barguas's right side.
"But you owe your cat your throat, Prince Jamas," Willow said as she knelt by him. "Are you injured? There's blood…" She made exploratory small gestures with her hands on his chest, the side of his neck, without disturbing the vigilant Niffy.
"I think the blood is the barguas's," Jamas said, stroking Niffy who did not move from his chest. "How did you get here, you crazy beast?"
"Here." Salinah reached down to pluck Niffy out of the way.
Niffy turned her head just slightly sideways to hiss at the baroness. The redhead leapt back, drawing her hands protectively in against her body: her expression displaying a sudden anger which she as quickly suppressed with a laugh and a shrug.
"You were very brave, Niffy," Grenejon said, pulling out his crossbow bolt which had gone through the barguas's temples into its brain. He also removed the third quarrel, Willow's, which had entered the barguas's left side, right into the heart. Which of these had actually first killed the barguas was debatable. What was obvious was that Niffy had saved his life.
Shaking off the shock he had sustained from the attack, Jamas pushed himself to a sitting position with one hand, while he hugged Niffy to his chest with the other. She leaped from his restraint and sat a few yards off to lick her paws clean of blood.
"I've never seen anything so brave," Willow said as she dabbed at the few scratches that had broken the skin on Jamas' neck. There were a few beads of blood, but had the barguas's next lunge been unobstructed by the cat, Jamas would have had no throat.
Jamas gently restrained Willow's hand and experienced a quite remarkable physical shock. That Willow felt it, too, was quite obvious from her sudden intake of breath.