17 The Hunt Begins

Xavier Nightrider

Not wanting to stick around and tempt fate again, Mordred had us moving as soon as possible. Before we could even treat the wounded or think about what to do with the three dead, we were already rolling down the road as fast as possible.

I didn't think it was the wrong call, staying still would just allow the bandits to come back and attack us again. A lot of other people disagreed, though. They wanted the rest and the time to honor the dead. I helped Mordred convince them otherwise.

Rubbing my sore ribs, I looked at the two motionless bodies laying on the floor of the carriage. Mordred sat next to me, the look of bewilderment still glued to his face.

"How?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.

I shrugged. Everything was strange. Not with just Solskin, but Persephone too.

Solskin was perfectly fine. In fact, better than fine. The gash was gone, even the bandages weren't even bloodied anymore. It was like the battle never happened.

Persephone, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. She looked deathly pale. Black veins shot up and down her body like they were strangling her. The breathing was ragged and strained. Her brown hair was now some dark shade of grey. The worst of all was that sometimes, we couldn't touch her at all. Our hands went straight through her.

Even Mordred, who claimed to have been top of his class at some magic academy, was baffled. He could come up with no explanation. Neither could I. I assumed it was somehow linked to Solskin.

The two of them were laying side by side, rocking with each bump in the road. The dead bodies were in the wagon behind. The smell was already wafting over. Mordred held a black handkerchief over his nose, his face permanently stuck pinched together. I didn't know if it was from him crying or the smell.

"How long?"

Mordred raised his eyebrow, his voice muffled by the handkerchief. "What do you mean by that?"

"The dead. How long have you known them?"

"Scheiff 2 years. Anatesi 3. Baress 4." His reply was short and quiet. It wasn't hard to tell what he was thinking.

I placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. It wasn't my place to tell him how to deal with grief. He wasn't one of my soldiers.

Slowly but surely, we made our way closer to the capital.

Hunter

I wasn't exactly sure where I was at this point in time, but it was cold and damp. All and all, it sucked ass. I sat in the corner of the room, lit by a solitary torch in the middle of the room.

The torch threw large shadows against the wall making the dark room even darker. Except my side. I was the only one there. Everyone stood at the far wall, giving me side glances and quick looks.

I was used to it. No one wanted to be next to the Hunter. The Hunter who killed anyone or anything if given the order. It wasn't like the rumors were false. I did kill. I killed friends, lovers, allies, enemies, strangers, and anyone else between.

I sat there in silence, twiddling an headless arrow in my hands. The echoing room did little to hide their whispered conversations. Half of it was useless chit chatter, the other half was stories about me, over-exaggerated and based on half truths. I could try to correct them, but it would do me no good. My reputation was honestly beneficial. Made things easier.

I sighed and closed my eyes. I wondered why the Three Kings called me in this time. Traitor? Someone who knows a little too much? Someone who mildly annoyed them? This had become a tradition by this point. Taking little bets with myself about my next target. I was 30-42 now.

"Hopefully, it is someone from the guard. I want to snap this losing streak." I muttered quietly to myself.

The sound of footsteps could now be heard. The room went quiet. There were two of them, one obviously very hesitant and nervous. I stood up, waiting to greet the person coming in.

Astaroth.

He walked in with someone else. Lucian, I believe. I think he recently was made aware of the true nature of the gang. I could tell by how far he was trying to distance himself from Astaroth. So afraid that he was almost right on top of me.

"Hunter, good to see that you are here."

I nodded.

Astaroth wore a simple red robe, so worn with time that it looked more pink than anything else. A silly gold crown with blue topaz sat on his head. Underneath was the most gaudy gold plated armor I had ever seen. Theatrics. That was mostly the reason for this horrendous display. If it was C'Dor, I would think the terrible color choice would be on purpose to make everyone throw up, but with Astaroth, he probably just didn't care and threw on whatever was at hand.

"The rest of you may leave," Astaroth bellowed out with a wave of his hand and the room quickly cleared out.

"What job do you need done?" I asked.

"It's a little different than usual. We don't need you to kill, but to bring me someone."

"If you want to torture them, just let me do it out there, much less hassle for the same effect."

"No, no, no, my dear Hunter. I don't wish for you to torture them. Lucian, tell him what you found."

"The Lord. I believe I found the Lord."

I stopped. With wide eyes, I turned to Lucian. "That's impossible! He should have been sent back 10 years ago."

"We were gravely mistaken, I believe. He was not sent back, but trapped within a human body."

"In whose body?"

"A soldier's, Lucian will fill you in on the way there."

Lucian looked at me. His eyes told me everything. He had just leapt out of the frying pan and into the fire. I didn't sympathize with him much. I had to do all the work.

"Well, my dear Hunter. Your hunt begins."