Chapter 1. The Hunt.

Hidden on the branch of an oak tree, a skinny boy holding a recurve bow observed the cemetery hill. The sun had bled out on the darkening sky. The reddish glow over the forest's edge remained as the only reminder of the dying day. Now the night welcomed the graveyard into a gentle embrace. Over the tombs, ripped open like wounds in moss-covered soil, ghosts awoke from their eternal sleep. The boy watched them hovering over their graves, their figures weaved of gleam and mist.

The boy raised his hand. His eyes - one hazel, one icy blue - gleamed with golden veins. Between his fingers, the air swirled and sparkled, forming a bluish, glowing ball. When he pushed it up, it soared into the sky like a lightning bug, flickered and then died away.

"There you are, Jules! I couldn't find you!" A gust of chilly wind sent shivers down the boy's spine. The air turned stuffy with the musty odour of dead flowers. She appeared just before his face - a misty bride in a gown like a spider's web and a rope tightened around her neck. "That damned creatures ate my skull last night! I want them dead!"

"Lichers feed on bones," Jules regarded her with a short bob of his head. With curly hair falling over his eyes, he didn't see the grimace on the ghost's face. "Don't take it personally."

She huffed, "Try not to take it personally when a smelly beast chews on your bones!"

"Let's stay focused, shall we?" he turned to look at the edge of the woods. "It's my first hunt, and if I screw up, it'll be my last."

"I've never understood you, hunters" The bride sat on the branch beside the boy, playing with the rope. "Even when I wanted to marry one, I still didn't... I haven't told you how I've died, have I? It was on my wedding day, but they came, the priests of the Order, and they murdered him for being a mage and hanged me for wanting to marry him... Have you ever thought about how people can kill in the name of the goddess of life"

"The priests of the Order of Ziva, they killed you?" Jules' face turned white, almost as pale as the woman's.

It was the name haunting in his nightmares, back when he'd been living in a little fishing village before he became an apprentice hunter. It was the very name his parents used to sow fear into him, forcing him to cover his blue eye with a bandage. "They'll kill you if they find out" - his mother would say, hurrying him home when the priest came to pray with the fishermen and bless their boats, "I've seen people burn on stakes. Ziva's Order doesn't practice the mercy it preaches."

"That man with the scar on his face - your master, isn't he? - he's scary," the bride's voice woke him up from his thoughts. He relaxed his hands that were clenched on the handle of his recurve bow. "Does he ever smile? But the other one, the younger -"

"Raimont?

"Well," she smiled, her tone kittenish and velvet- soft. "He's handsome. And really charming..."

"And very much alive," the boy arched one eyebrow at her. "No offence."

"None taken," she swung the rope forth and back. "But life's fragile, and hunters tend to die young... I wouldn't mind sharing my cemetery."

"You're not helping, you know?" Jules glared at her until the smile on her face faded. He turned away, not wanting her to see the wave of fear gripping at his chest. It was the fear he learned to live with; whenever Ravin and Raimont were hunting, he could only hope they would come back unharmed. He remembered the many scars marking his master's arms and torso, each of them a reminder of fights the man had barely survived.

"Oh, the living are so soft these days," the bride rolled her eyes.

Ignoring her comment, the boy reached for the steel badge on a rawhide that he wore around his neck. He ran his fingers along the shape of a hunting raven engraved in the metal. Around it, there was a carved inscription. The letters, deep wounds in the metal, read: 'Till the last breath'. It was the motto of the hunters - warrior mages whose calling was to fight monsters and demons.

Jules remembered the day he'd received it. It had been the last day of May, four years ago - the first anniversary of his mother and sister's deaths and a few weeks before his tenth birthday. Ever since, the pendant had brought him comfort whenever he held it, lending the warmth of his palm, reminding him where he belonged. On the other side, there were names of its previous owners engraved in the metal; the last of them being Ravin Blake, Jules' master. The boy would leave his name on it too, in the distant future, before he would pass the badge to his own apprentice.

The first stars awoke on the sky. The wind blowing from the forest carried distant sounds of something big breaking through the undergrowth. The boy tensed on the branch. The curly fringe fell onto his face, and he brushed the locks away. His eyes, focused and sharp, scanned the rim of the woods.

Something rustled in the tree crowns and then a colony of little, black creatures rose into the night.

"Is it them?" The bride pulled closer to him.

The boy flinched back at the unnatural coldness radiating from her misty body. "Nah, these are just bats."

It was when he detected a movement in the shrubbery. Little twigs twitched just as the wind died. They must be there; the lichers - waiting, lurching in the darkness before they would climb the cemetery hill to rip more graves open and feast on the white, old bones. Their long tongues, sharp like a grater, would soon search for the bone marrow. Among themselves, hunters called them bone-gnawers or cryptkins, and they grinned at the sound of those names. But lichers were dangerous; as huge as bears, armed with claws that enabled them to rip even frozen soil, and jaws that broke bones like matches.

Leaves rustled. A broken branch cracked. Two lumpish creatures emerged from the darkness of the woods. One big and fat, one slightly smaller - a tom and a dam, migrating back to the mountains where they had spent the winter and early spring, back to the wetlands in the north.

"Go," Jules turned to the ghost. The bride watched the creatures with disgust. "Tell my master they're coming."

She vanished.

The larger licher, the tom, stepped out of the shadows and licked his snout with a loud smack. Moonlight reached his misshaped head and long, hooked claws. The dam followed him. Together they crept toward the cemetery.

Jules froze on the branch, watching their progress with a mixture of awe and terror. The lichers' paws dug into the wet soil, making a sucking noise as they lumbered closer and closer until the boy heard their raspy breaths. He placed a black-feathered arrow on the bowstring of his bow. He waited. He was not to shoot yet. The two older hunters should kill them at the cemetery, where they awaited them, hiding between the graves. If they failed and the lichers escaped, Jules' job was to wound them before they retreated into the forest and dug in their burrow.

The monsters approached the oak tree. A stench of rotten meat came to Jules' nostrils, almost making him gag. He looked down at the lichers, at the bony carapaces covering most of their bodies. His arrow wouldn't go through them - they were like armour. The boy knew the only reason he was ordered to stay hidden on the tree with his bow was that his master didn't trust him to fight the creatures.

He shifted his weight on the branch. A twig broke under the heel of his leather boot. The lichers froze for a second, then dashed toward the cemetery.

A silent curse formed on Jules' lips.

A hoarse roar broke the silence of the night. The sound pierced Jules' heart and soul, made him shiver in the darkness. He straightened on the branch, pushing away the twigs that obscured his view. The lichers were only back shadows creeping through the night - and soon they disappeared between the graves.

In fairy tales, brave knights fought monsters armed with swords forged in holy flame. In real life, they sat at richly set tables while the hunters did the dirty job. Their weapons were railas - sword-like blades screwed into long, metal shafts. Fighting with swords would be a death wish.

Now the wind carried the noise of the fight. The beasts' guttural growls vibrated in the chilly air. At times, in the aisles between the tombs, Jules could catch a glimpse of the hunters swinging and ducking. The blades of their reilas shone in the moonlight like falling stars.

Sokal, the hunter's hound, barked a warning. One licher jumped over the cemetery fence and rushed back toward the forest. Jules pulled the bow back until his thumb brushed against the corner of his lips. He was about to release the arrow when he spotted a smaller shape following the large one. A human raced after the monster. The boy relaxed the bowstring. The bride appeared by his side.

"It wasn't part of the plan, was it?" she beamed with excitement.

He shot her a deadly glare.

"RAI!" he screamed from the top of his lungs. "RAI, STOP!"

But Raimont either didn't hear him or didn't want to listen. He kept running, swinging his reila again and again, straining to reach the creature fleeing from him.

"RAI! RAI, STOP!" Jules clung to the oak's trunk. The beast ran below him. The older apprentice didn't even glance at him. The boy turned to the bride. "Go, make him stop!"

"Why would I?" she laughed. "This is great entertainment! Can you imagine how boring is it to be dead?"

"Are you kidding -?!"

The licher had already scrambled into the forest. Raimont dived into the bushes and was swallowed by the darkness.

A howl rolled from the cemetery, then a roar from the woods followed. Another sound came to Jules' ears; a strangled yell. The boy flinched. His heart skipped a beat. He prayed to hear Rai's voice again.

Nothing. Seconds dragged like an eternity. Had Raimont fallen? Jules felt sick at the thought. He threw the arrow and the bow down and started to descend down the tree. The starlight couldn't penetrate the tree crown, and he barely saw the branches below him. His foot slipped from a bough and the branch he grasped broke under his weight.

He landed on his back, a groan escaping his mouth. His spine throbbed. Gods. The arrows in his quiver must be all broken! He bit his lower lip, scrambled to his feet and rushed toward the dark wall of the forest.

"You shouldn't!" the bride hovered by his side. "You're no match for that beast!"

"You go and get my master! Hurry!" the boy ordered, his blue eye flaring with a golden flame.

The ghost vanished.

The roars and howls melted into one, unbearable sound. It pierced the boy's ears, searing into his brain. He stormed into the forest and darkness engulfed him. Moonlight couldn't penetrate the tree crowns closing above his head. Twigs whipped his face, hands, and legs. He moved like a blind man, tripping and stumbling.

"RAI?!" he turned around, but he saw only blackness. "RAI!!!"

Only the licher's roar answered him. Jules closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He concentrated his magic into his hand - tickling and warm - and he pushed it out, making it whirl between his fingers with a bluish light.

"RAI! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Something cracked behind him and he spun around, grasping the small hunting knife he carried by his belt. A huge hound halted just before him.

"Sokal!" Relief washed over the boy. "Find Rai! Go!"

The dog sniffed the ground and brushed past him, speeding up. Jules ran after his pet, trying not to lose him in the darkness. Then the licher roared again - louder and nearer than before.

Jules stumbled into a glade bathed in moonlight. The silver glow spotlighted the beast towering over Raimont, who lay on the ground, struggling to hold his reila. The weapon had pierced the monster's shoulder and stuck there - nothing else prevented the licher from biting off Rai's face. The creature's claws kept ripping the soil only inches from the young hunter's head. The other arm, wounded, twitched as the monster tried to reach the reila's handle.

Sokal ran around them, waiting for an opening. He leapt, his teeth bared, but the carapaces prevented him from biting into the monster's flesh. Raimont struggled to stand up, weaker and more helpless with each passing second.

The bluish light around Jules' hand faded. The boy gripped his hunting knife. His eyes flared as he ran up to the monster and jumped, taking a swing. He aimed at its neck - but the blade landed on one of the creature's bony protuberances and slid off jarring Jules' hand.

He fell to the ground and rolled over, grabbing the knife's handle with both hands. He stabbed the licher's leg, pushing the knife in with all the strength of his body. The blade cut through the flesh. Hot, rank blood spouted onto the boys' face, and an odour of decay filled his nostrils.

The licher roared. It tore its arm out of Sokal's grasp and slashed the dog with its claws. The hound yelped and fell into the high grass.

"Sok-!"

A strangled yell froze on Jules' lips as Raimont pressed him to the ground, squeezing the air out of his lungs. The monster howled, but this time the sound ended with a splutter.

The licher fell on the ground with a thump. Red, empty eyes, stared at the boy, as blood spurted from the ripped throat. One of the arms twitched, claws reaching for the boy - but then a foot in a heavy, leather boot stepped onto them and pinned them to the ground.

Jules lifted his head. He gasped as he saw his master standing above him. The hunter's face was so dirty with gore it appeared black.

"Have the two of you lost your minds?!" Ravin's eyes burned both with magic and rage as he pulled Jules up. He felt his apprentice's chest, calloused fingers probing at Jules' ribs, making sure none of the gore soaking the boy's shirt was his. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I just wanted -" Raimont scrambled from the ground.

"Sokal! Where's Sokal?!" Then a terrible thought crossed Jules' mind. He pushed away from the hunter's hands and looked around frantically. "Sokal, come here!"

A whine came from the grass. The black shape that the boy mistook for a bush moved weakly. The dog lay on its side, panting, but now he turned his head and his large, golden eyes searched for Jules.

The boy ran towards his pet, but Raimont grasped him around his midriff and pulled him back.

"Let me go, jerk!" Jules kicked his legs trying to free himself from Raimont's embrace. "He's hurt! We must help him!"

Ravin knelt by the dog, placed a hand on his furry head and turned to his apprentices. The fire in his eyes was gone now, leaving them dark and tired like dying embers.

"Take Jules out of here, Rai," he commanded in a voice barely louder than a whisper. The hound lay his head on the man's lap, making a crackling sound every time he breathed in and out. "Go back to the inn."

"Come with me, Juli," Raimont pulled the boy back toward the cemetery. "There's nothing we can do."

"Wait! We must help him!" The boy squirmed as the older apprentice half-dragged, half-carried him away. "I'm not leaving without Sokal!"

"Stop struggling!" Raimont lifted the boy so that Jules' legs were kicking the air. "You don't want to see it!"

"See what?!" Jules glanced above his friend's shoulder.

Ravin knelt by the dog and petted his head while taking a long knife out of its sheath. He moved gently the dog's paw to access his chest. Three long claw marks scored the hound's torso, all running with blood. Deep enough to break the bones and damage the lungs under them, but not deep enough to kill.

"Don't look," Raimont embraced Jules tighter.

Jules clenched his eyelids just as Ravin's blade swung down. His legs became weak; now he leaned against Raimont's chest and let himself being steered towards the cemetery and the inn. No more did he resist, feeling numb, as if the world around him was unreal.

Till the last breath. The hunters' motto echoed inside his mind.