by Adam Lynch
“It can’t be relevant to this case. Only the dead carry the Hypnotist’s mark.”
“I thought the same thing, and so did the rest of their clan—nobody believed them, but the group of hunters seemed really freaked out by it. Even when they had mentioned that the glowing mark they saw on the Red-Blood’s neck had peace tattooed, nobody took them seriously.”
“Really? That’s what they claimed they saw?”
“Yes, I remember it clear as day now.”
“They say where they saw him?”
“I didn’t eavesdrop or anything, but I heard them mention he drinks often at the pub.”
“You catch a name?”
“Yes. They claim they saw the glowing mark on one of Winteria’s lords—a powerful and independent lord, less studied by our spies because of his frequent absence. He hails from the royal family of the Valentines—the youngest sibling to the king.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Rolf Valentine.”
Paralyzed
Without delay, Ashkii and Kelanassa set a marker for Winteria. Having a name and a description, it was now a matter of finding and tracking him down—a Spirit Hunter’s forte.
But was he a Spirit Hunter? He didn’t know. He had no memory of it. No Spirit Animal to summon to his aid—no convenient source of travel. There were no horses or carriages available for them to ride as they were all owned and used by the merchants, bards, and entertainers. Their only option was to travel by foot. Still, Ashkii didn’t mind. Doing it his entire life made him patient, teaching him to enjoy all that was around him—teaching him to enjoy life itself. It gave him time to meditate, speculate—to be alone with nature. Solitude. That was the one thing that made all of this valuable.
“So it’s true that you have no Spirit Animal?” Kel asked, Ashkii unwillingly distracted. He wanted to ignore her, but he knew in doing so would only instigate her persistence.
“Yes,” he answered simply.
“And it’s true you have no memory of your clan or where your village was? Assuming you were born a Spirit Hunter at all?”
He sighed. “Yes.” Despite his simple remarks, Kel remained stubbornly invested, analyzing him like some alchemy project.
“If you’re a Spirit Hunter, then you should have a Spirit Animal—but you don’t. That’s interesting...” She paused, intricate thoughts apparent on her face. “You know, Ashkii, I’m not like the others either. But that’s probably obvious from my hair color.”
Ashkii displayed no interest in pursuing the conversation. For a few hours at least, He wanted to pretend that today was like any other day. No obligation, no threats, no monarchs, no mandatory contracts, no chatting girl...
“I’ll let you in on a little secret...” she continued, leaning on him to whisper. “I’m not from here. I’m a foreigner. I was born outside of Seasons. I migrated here. Do you find that interesting?”
Restoring boundaries, she waited to see if he had anything to say. He didn’t, still blank and unresponsive. Yet, she persisted anyway.
“You and I have much more in common than you think. Much more than you know. I was happy I found you—happy to know that I’m not alone...” She turned to look at him—he was still disconnected. “Do you ever feel… alone, Ashkii? Scared? Terrified? Like everything’s coming to get you?”
“You’re sure asking me a lot of questions,” he spoke up with fury suddenly. “But now I need to ask you: how is any of this relevant to the case?” He stopped walking a moment to glare at her, waiting curiously for her answer. Instead of lending him a reply, she fixated intensely on him—like she wanted to say something, but chose not to. This annoyed Ashkii, making him lose interest. Turning away, he walked off, shaking his head. Kel initiated no further conversation after that.
They hiked as far as they could before nightfall, arriving northernmost of Autumnum, close to the border that separated them from Winteria. They’d cross it at dawn, lodging safely in the familiarity of their home region for the night.
They approached the nearest village in proximity—the only village in proximity. This village was home to the Antelope Clan, far isolated from all the other villages that they had passed on the way. The soil was bad here—they couldn’t rely on agriculture to feed themselves. They had a lot of game to hunt and eat in all the adjacent forestry—but the clan sacrificed it all in the fire instead, worshiping their antelope totem. So what were they eating? Ashkii didn’t want to assume the worst.
The village appeared less than economical, was low in temperature, stunk of rot, and was a neglected and unattended mess. Tepees were falling apart, days old animals were left for the vultures and buzzards to pick at, blood, fat, and gore was left staining the grounds, and all the healthy livestock was thrown straight in the fire.
It was no surprise that the clan members were skin and bones, their eyes rolling behind their sockets. It must have been the spiritual hallucinations giving them so much energy. They pounded the drums, sounded exotic whistles, danced in circles, and shouted chants in the name of their god. Torches were lit everywhere, careless placing that could result in big fires. Chaos abounded and Ashkii couldn’t help but feel that a reckoning was coming… it gave him the strangest and darkest feeling...
He didn’t like the idea of lodging here. But there were no other shelters for miles. The sun was setting, and it was very dangerous to be outside at night in this part of Autumnum. They had no choice. The clan was eccentric, but it would be okay. Ashkii didn’t want to entertain the paranoia telling him that they were in danger staying here. It would be okay. It would all be okay, he kept telling himself.
Still, Ashkii felt an unusually aching feeling about this place. It brought about intense emotions—emotions that he had normally never felt. It wasn’t for the obvious reasons that made him feel so uncomfortable. There was something else—something much darker. Something that haunted him every minute he had tried wondering what it was.
So he fought the thought, burying it deep—not wanting to know whatever it was. He ran for the longhouse just ahead of the village entrance frame, left side of all the manic worship at the bonfire. He knew the longhouse was made to be an inn for travelers, so he paced toward the innkeeper, aiming to buy a room for the night—hasting to lay his head, sleeping off everything plaguing his consciousness.
That was his plan, his goal, but Kel stopped him before letting him speak with the innkeeper. She grasped his shoulders and forced him to look at her. “Ashkii, didn’t you hear me?” she asked, her countenance filled with fear and anxiety. He had no idea what she was talking about. He had never heard her say one thing to him. “I’m been trying to get your attention. I don’t want to stay here. This place makes me feel scared.”
“There’s nowhere else to go!” he voiced angrily suddenly, his head fueled with fury as he shoved her off violently. “Now get off of me!”
Infuriated for a reason he was unaware of, Ashkii slammed down a bag of beans for the innkeeper, informing him he needed a room for one for the night. Kelanassa slammed down her beans immediately after, clarifying to the innkeeper that they needed a room for two. The innkeeper, creepily silent, pointed to their room left from where they stood. Ashkii dashed towards it, irritated, exhausted. Kel cautiously followed behind. There were no doors to any of the rooms, so Ashkii went in and fell on the bed made on the right side. Kel, entering after him, sat on the other across from him on the left side of the room. Aside from the beds, the room was vacant, their voices reverberating through the wooden walls. No windows, no lights, but that was okay—as long as they were sheltered.
Ashkii thought he’d feel better lying down, but his body shuddered nonstop. He felt panicked. His breath was hard to catch. He didn’t know why any of this was happening. Thinking about it only made it worse. So he ignored it, suppressed it, dealt with it—let it run its course. It’d end eventually. It always did.
But tonight it didn’t. He was terrified—he had no idea of what. His breaths
were heavy. His body kept shuddering. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he’d see nightmares he would never remember waking up. And upon opening his eyes, he’d see something that wasn’t there—flames, bodies, blood…
Suddenly, he felt the touch of hands, a body enclosing his from behind. Without thought, he spun around holding a knife to her neck.
“What are you doing?” he asked her. A weapon threatened her life, but she didn’t seem fazed, hardly reacting.
“Forgive me. I was cold and scared—I just wanted some comfort and I thought you wanted it too.”
“I want you to back away.”
“Please let me stay. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come with me.”
“We can keep each other warm.”
“No—just stay away from me.” Saying this, he launched off the bed, went over to the other side, laid down and faced the wall.
Sniveling and suddenly furious, Kel threw the animal hide at Ashkii as hard as she could. She stormed towards him, fell to the ground, clutching the bed frame, and slept there for the night.
Despite all these distractions, Ashkii never ceased shuddering.
○
Bang!
A loud thud hit the walls. Ashkii sprang off the bed, bug-eyed, his face pale. Kel pulled out the Knife of Embers, inclining, head darting each direction. “What was that?” she whispered. Ashkii shushed her right there, listening carefully for the answer. He rose up slowly, leaning against the wall to listen in. At first, he didn’t hear anything, like something was blocking his ears. Then, it all came in. Wild fires surged, voices shrieked, cries bellowed. It was all so real. Ashkii backed away, his heart thudding out of his chest. His hearing started fading again, unable to hear Kel speaking to him—until she grabbed him, forcing his attention. “Ashkii, I’m talking to you!” she said. “We have to get out of here. Can’t you hear everything that’s happening outside?”
Suddenly, a loud thud knocked at the door. Kel flinched. It knocked again, louder this time. Kel and Ashkii walled the door frame, peering out into the lobby. “What’s happening?” Kel, whispered. Ashkii ignored her, his eyes peeled. He scoped the lobby for others in the longhouse. No one. There was only the innkeeper—who had hastened on barricading the door with tables, beds, and whatever heavy furniture he could find. When secured to the best of his ability, he backed away, standing at the end of the lobby, watching… waiting to see what would happen next.
All was silent the next few minutes. Then bang, bang, bang—three consecutive thuds sounded after another. A terrified voice followed, begging to be let in. He banged the door several more times, crying, every second with elevating urgency. The banging and crying intensified, whatever was coming was approaching. Panicking frantically, something on the other side gutted him, the sound of his flesh getting torn apart. After his bones crackled, his flesh ripped and torn, a thundering screech sounded, quaking these thin walls.
Immediately, Ashkii lost his breath, falling to the ground, struggling to catch it back. Kel, having her knife drawn, peered into the lobby in his place, holding him, comforting him. Ashkii didn’t liked being touched, but he was too weak to brush her off. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. In all occasions, he was focused and composed. But now he had no control over his body. It was all happening involuntarily. And he had no idea why.
Once his body started functioning more properly, he climbed back to his feet, observing the innkeeper who was still standing in the open lobby, staring at the door. There was no surprise marked on his face, no fear outwardly expressed. It would seem that he’d realized his inevitability of the moment—that or he had already known that this was coming.
From the keeper, something shifted Ashkii’s glance. His attention aimed at a table—large chunks of meat resting on it, roasted and covered in salt. Ashkii couldn’t make out the animal, and for a reason he couldn’t explain, this bothered him. Then his eyes lowered until… suddenly, under the table, he identified body pieces in a basket of salt—human body pieces.
Crash! The monster’s skinny arm broke a hole through the door, its mountainous claw scratching, shoving, snarling, expanding the opening. It was breaking through the only exit out of this place. There were no windows in any of the rooms, none in the lobby either. There was no escape—but there was no fighting it either. Ashkii could barely move—could barely breathe. What was happening to him?
“Come you monster, come!” Kel challenged it with a whisper under her breath. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you!”
“No,” Ashkii barely uttered. “Don’t. It can’t smell us. If we stay out of sight, it won’t find us.”
“What is it?”
Suddenly, with the door brittle enough, the monster tackled in, brushing all obstructions aside like weightless debris. It was now inside. Ashkii heard its snarl and saw its shadow. To confirm his deduction of it, he peered over the door frame. There it was. Anorexic—starving for human flesh. It was so tall that it was forced to arch its back, stretching the rotting skin that had formed its body. It had skinny arms and legs, large feet and claws, but its limbs were very strong. An antelope skull for a head, a stag’s antlers scraping through the roof, it was eyeless as much as it was soulless. This was his first time seeing such a nightmare, yet he couldn’t shake the disturbing feeling of its familiarity.
Hissing and thumping the ground with every step it made, it approached the innkeeper. The innkeeper did nothing to escape. Instead, he stared into the eyes of the devil, holding out his arms. Accepting his sacrifice, the monster tore them off his torso as easily as breaking sticks, his body dropping to the ground. The monster chewed the arms like a shark. Then, it scooped the body off the ground, gnawing it like corn on a cob. Blood spat everywhere, as did the gore. The monster hadn’t reacted from it a bit. It was like a soulless fiend carrying out the devil’s command, no relishing, no remorse.
Ashkii’s body didn’t let him watch the whole thing. He could only breathe when he had looked away. His heart was thudding out of his chest. He barely noticed Kel holding his arm. He barely heard her whisper, Are you sure we shouldn’t attack it?
But Ashkii knew that that wasn’t an option. He couldn’t—not with his body like this.
Reserving a moment to breathe, he peered out again. The monster had finished eating already—it was no wonder it’d gotten quiet outside of the longhouse so fast—though the flames still raged. Its meal finished, the monster thundered an ear-splitting screech. Ashkii and Kel pressed their ears as tightly as they could.
When it was over, the monster scoped around, sniffing. Its smell led its attention behind it, past the salted human flesh that it had passed on the way in here. Its interest earned, it moved toward the human flesh, scooped it off the table, gobbling it up. Still smelling flesh, it snatched the basket from under the table, brushing the table aside like paperweight, chewing the basket so speedily it was more like a swallow.
Ashkii’s heart racing faster now, he knew the monster had nowhere to turn but towards them. There was no one else inside the longhouse. Just in case, Ashkii pulled out his Spirit Bow, preparing it for when he might be forced to use it. After the ghoulish monster had finished its meal, it froze as if deciding something. It held this position, keeping Ashkii and Kel in suspense until it moved suddenly, sniffing around a second time.
Ashkii held his breath, slowly reaching for an arrow to string.
The monster took a ten second whiff, froze, turning its head towards Ashkii... slowly… then roar! It sounded unexpectedly again, shuddering Kel. Its body still as a statue, its head was aiming right at Ashkii and Kel’s room. It insisted this stare for five seconds. Then abruptly, it sprang up, dashing out of the longhouse.
The Foreshadowing
Ashkii and Kel remained in the room, recovering, waiting for the monster to disappear from the village. No doubt it had mutilated every member of the clan by now.
In spite of everything that ha
d happened, Ashkii knew that they had no choice but to remain inside the inn for the night. Autumnnum this close to the forest was dangerous—even more so with that monster out there now. Knowing this, Ashkii and Kel had received no sleep for the night. Kel had tried cuddling with Ashkii to keep them both warm and comforted, but Ashkii had distanced himself from her like a stranger all night, shuddering, panicking on the inside.
It was the second that light had peered through the longhouse door that Ashkii departed from it—Kel following after him. What he saw outside didn’t surprise him, yet he lost his breath anyway, his oxygen nearly impossible to recover. Nearly all the homes were brought down by the wild fires, smoke rising from the ashes. The village was painted in blood. Everything that was once a life, now a mess of scattered organs, decapitated limbs and heads, and torn open chests. When Kel saw this, she spun away, vomiting so violently on the side that anything she had left in her body was vacated. “Can we please just get out of here?” she asked when she had nothing left to vomit, a sick mess.
Ashkii, struggling to catch his breath, didn’t respond. But agreeing with her, he paced towards the forest, eyes forward, never straying off, never looking back.
Repressing everything that had happened the last fifteen hours, Ashkii honed his mind on his mission. They navigated several hours through the forest, not uttering a word. Time was needed to calm their minds, slow their heart beats, steady their temperatures, and recover their digestive systems. Eventually, the time came to hunt.
Ashkii began following prints of a large deer—a male deer judging by the destruction his antlers have caused to the branches above his prints. Carefully and thoroughly, he followed them, switching his eyes from the ground, forward. Kel, still recovering from the village incident, followed him silently, not participating in what he was doing. Ashkii studied his surroundings for clues on the deer’s whereabouts: feces, the trees, the bushes, broken branches, and warm nests. Then suddenly, he came to a halt, raising his hand, signaling Kel to do the same. “What is it?” she whispered, her attention earned. There was nothing apparently amiss—nothing but nature and the singing of birds. Yet, from this very spot he’d dead-locked his prey. Past the trees, leaves, and branches, he’d spotted it resting broadside against a tree for a clean shot. Digging his feet to the ground, he pulled out the Spirit Bow from his shoulder, strung it, then released it for the chest cavity. Launching fast and bright as a lighting bolt through the forest, it skewered the deer, a one-shot instant kill in its sleep.
