[Amanaduial the archer]

Fionel had started to drop off slightly. She was shattered and had been standing there for over an hour. She was almost asleep on her feet, her eyes closing slightly when the drum beat started. Her eyes snapped open.

The music at the Hunt Ritual always made Fionel shudder, made the hairs on her neck stand upright. It started with the drums, slowly at first, then faster, far faster all at once....then it began to get slow again. But as it slowed this time, it seemed to draw out Fionels heartbeat with it, slowing her heart to its beat, dragging it out. Then a pipe began, and another, and another. The sounds of the three pipers came from all over the room, unescapable. The slave girl shuddered, and saw other slaves clearly felt the same. The strange, haunting melody, punctuated by the drum beats, made your entire body feel like it was being torn apart bit by bit. Looking around at the easterlings, in this year of all years when it seemed ever more likely that she would be picked, Fionel saw an excited, almost feral look in their eyes. For the first time since her first year, deep in her soul, Fionel was scared.

She looked down to the centre of the hall where Ekatran still sat, straight backed and forboding in his high backed chair, his throne. She felt her lip wrinkle in disgust; he acted like a king. No one like that would ever be a king. But now the black clad figure stood slowly. He raised his arms and flung back his head, his dark hair falling back, and the voices of the pipers grew louder and higher, more powerful, their power outmatched only by the dark figure in the centre of the ring. The drums grew faster now, speeding up, until Fionels heart felt like it was about to burst....

As Ekatran threw out his hands suddenly towards the ground, everything stopped. The great Lord raised his eyes again and spoke.

"All here know why they are here,
All here know why were are gathered,
All here know what the purpose is,
But none know how they will depart.

Easterlings and lower creatures," Lower creatures?! Why you little... "We are gathered here in the ritual of the Hunt. Tonight six will be chosen from our higher race...and seven to be their quarry. Come! Let the name holders come forward! Let the Gods and Fate decide who!"

Six younger men, each in their teen years, now marched forward, each followed by two slaves, lugging between them a cauldron. Within those cauldrons were the names of every slave and every eligible easterling in Nurn. But when you looked veryclosely into the cauldrons, you could see darker pieces of paper- marked. Ekatran would choose them to be the hunters and hunted alike. Those whose names were on those pieces of paper were doomed.

Ekatran paced forward with fast but measured steps and once again called out, his voice more excited this time.

"Let the Gods and Fate decide who! And first shall be the quarry..."

With that, Ekatran put his hand into the cauldron and drew out a piece of paper, and as he unfolded it, Fionel closed her eyes and prayed...in the direction she had never guessed she would...she prayed she would be picked.