7 Chapter 7 - The Smell Of Blood

"Err... May I have a look at your partner, sir?"

"I already told you to call me Ben, or Higler, kid. And, if Warkin is good with it, why not? Go ahead, ask him."

Soon after the medic, Lieutenant Morton, brought him to talk with Major Johnson and the ranger, Drake had been dragged out to show Higler where the Moontrit's corpse was. Apparently, it was highly unusual for that kind of Ifere to appear so near humans, so they needed to make sure there weren't others. And so, he now found himself riding a Yscalent.

Yscalents were fairly big wind-type Iferes, which looked like a mix between a lizard and a bird. Four longs legs with huge paws and claws supported a body almost three meters long, adorned with blue and green feathers. It's tail was coiled, but could deliver a powerful blow when needed, and it's only eye had a light green glow. It's huge maw, although threatening, was adapted to eat all kinds of plants.

Threatening as it may seen, Yscalents were one of the most common Iferes, and used as a mount by most, including the army of more than one kingdom. They were very docile, faster than most cars, could run in all kinds of terrain, and, most importantly, their intellect was pretty small. They were one of the few species of Ifere that let others mount them without a Spirit Contract, and, as such, were bred and raised in the hundreds of thousands.

Higler had ordered a soldier to fetch two Yscalents for them, and the man had promptly obeyed, which was weird - but not that surprising - considering rangers technically were civilians, not part of the army.

Drake wasn't sure why the ranger wanted to go to the place where the Moontrit was, since Major Johnson had already sent a patrol to fetch it's body. However, when he asked, all the man did was smile in a way that said 'you still have much to learn'. Although it was slightly out of Drake's way, since they were going back the way he came, one didn't simply say no to a ranger.

But Drake had quickly forgotten all his doubts and questions when he once again saw the small lizard-like Ifere Higler was holding.

Drake had a degree in biology. Although in the latter years of university he wasn't paying much attention, thanks to his plans of traveling the world, the reason he chose biology remained the same. He loved to know the different kinds of Iferes, how they interacted with each other, how they evolved, and so on. An Ifere he never saw before was too much for his curious mind.

Warkin, as Higler called it, was barely thirty centimeters big, and looked very much like a normal lizard. It's scales were of a very dark shade of red, and it's eyes almost entirely black. The only differences from a normal lizard were that it had six small legs, instead of four, and that it had a bright orange mane.

Drake knew, however, that Warkin wasn't as simple as it looked. It's eyes shone with intelligence, and it could understand everything Drake said. It squealed softly to Higler, who grinned, before climbing on Drake's hands, and let him examine it.

"I've never seen any of your kind, Warkin. Impressive! A fire-type, from the color scheme?"

"Yep. Warkin comes from the volcanic islands south of Flare Kingdom. It's quite the trip. You should go there someday."

"I will. So, Warkin... What skills do you have?"

The Ifere jumped up, suddenly very awake, and looked at Higler expectantly. The ranger, however, shook his head while laughing.

"Haha! Not here, Warkin, and you know that. We don't wanna burn the whole forest down. The coats would get very angry with us."

Warkin slumped down, defeated. He snuggled closer to Drake while casting a sideways glance at Higler, which only made the man laugh more. Even Drake, who previously was very nervous about being next to a legendary ranger, couldn't help but laugh too. Ben Higler was an easygoing person, very different from the stern image Drake had of rangers.

"Coats?"

"That's how we call the soldiers when they are not looking. Menoraz troops are blue-coats, Flare are red-coats, and so on. Not very creative, I know, but hey, it wasn't me who invented it. Don't tell Johnson I said that, though. I barely met the woman and she already wanted to arrest me. Military... Uff..."

Drake wasn't too sure of what all of that meant. Before he could decide if he should ask anything else, though, Higler's face turned completely serious. Warkin and even Frainer also tensed up.

"Wha..."

"Shhh!"

Higler made his Yscalent slow down, and Drake followed suit. They were close to where he had killed the Moontrit, and although he still didn't know what alarmed the ranger, he trusted him. He also realized that if they had already arrived at their destiny, then they should have met the patrol on the way back. Maybe that was what made Higler worried.

The ranger took out the two pistols he carried on his hips, and handed one to Drake, who looked at it stunned. He didn't pick it up. He obviously knew how to shoot, and he could even buy a gun if he wanted, but he never actually had to use one out of the shooting range.

"Take it! You do know what to do with it, don't you?"

"Yes, but..."

"Smell the air. What do you feel?"

Drake did as he was told, and was startled to discover the metallic smell of blood. Not so hesitant anymore, he took the pistol, checked if it was loaded - of course it was - and held it tightly.

Moontrit's blood didn't have such a heavy odor, and it had been more than a few hours since Drake killed it. The smell would have dissipated already. Something, or someone, else was the cause of the smell on the air now. And not just one, but many creatures would have to have died.

They dismounted from the Yscalents, and started walking slowly through the trees and bushes on the side of the road. A small part of Drake's brain tried to be rational, and tell him he shouldn't be following the ranger, but the rest of it was very excited and curious.

They found the soldiers pretty quickly. Their bodies were laying on the side of the road, without their boots and weapons. All six of them had their throats cut.

Maybe Drake should have felt sick. It was, after all, the first time he saw a human so brutally murdered. But that didn't happen. Everyone in this world was born and raised knowing that even the safest of cities could end up destroyed. It wasn't for nothing that everyone learned how to fight when they were still at school.

Instead he just looked away from the bodies, his mind racing. The dead Moontrit was still there, but it's fangs were missing. Clearly, someone was in the middle of dissecting it when the patrol found them. That someone, however, had friends, who killed the soldiers before they could fire a single shot, and robbed them of anything valuable. And whoever did it couldn't be too far away.