Song (The Manhunters Book 1)

by Jesse Teller

  He cursed and headed into the center of the lair. Arrows buzzed around him. He ducked behind a shack, but the arrows seemed to be coming from Glyss as none of them followed him. He heard cries of death and agony around him.

  He went deeper into the village and came to the center, to a rack made of branches where a small form had been bound. Konnon gazed down at the cruelty of man and felt sick to his stomach.

  Her hair had been sliced, scalp and all, from her head. Her back had been skinned of all its flesh and in places her ribs could be seen through the muscle. She had been whipped from head to feet. Terrible slash marks cut across the back of her thighs and ass. She lay covered in blood and mud and rain in a horrid spectacle of debauchery and pain. Konnon walked around the rack and found two men gambling under it, crouched against the rain, using her body as poor shelter. The men looked up at him and Konnon glared at them through the blurring of his tears.

  They rose and cried, “Intruder!” but he did not care. Konnon let them stand and pull their weapons. Men splashed out of shacks, squelching through the mud. Konnon let them come. Now he needed battle. Ambush would not do. He needed to vie against the villains and let himself be tested against the ugliness of man.

  He did not think when he slashed the first two men down. His cuts came fast and hard and severed the hands of the first and the leg of the second. They hit the ground wailing, and Konnon stomped on the nubs of the bleeding wrists as he turned to face more.

  Axe held high above head as he turned, and suddenly the man was hit. A fast hand stabbed the man in the heart and Konnon stepped aside. He looked over his shoulder at Glyss, placing his back to him.

  “Pain,” Konnon said.

  “Yeah.”

  More men came, and Konnon and Glyss handed out more agony. Punishment, not death, was the goal. With every swing of every weapon, Konnon severed a limb or struck hard at some soft place. He raged and roared in his anger and judgment. But Glyss was feeling something else. When horrors such as this came before Konnon’s brother, he detached. He pulled into his body and found a hard, cold spot within himself. Glyss fought in utter silence, a void of passion Konnon tried to fill.

  More and more fell screaming, until the commander of the Brothers of Blood came forward. He looked through the rain at Konnon. A flicker of recognition flashed bright across his face and the man turned to run.

  “No!” Konnon screamed. His sword hit the ground and his whip licked out around the man’s throat. With a savage jerk, the man was ripped off his feet and he splashed in the mud. A fount of brown mash flew up around him, and he coughed and struggled to get to his feet.

  He pulled a blade and severed the whip. He got as far as his knee before Konnon roared and threw his sword. With the weight of the rage tearing through Konnon’s heart, the weapon punctured the man’s hip to the hilt. He dropped to the ground, screaming. Konnon heard men around him turn to run and knew Glyss had them.

  Arrows fired around Konnon’s head, their shafts at times buzzing past his ear or his face by mere inches. Konnon kicked the leader to his back and looked down at him. He had no words, nothing clever to say in the face of such evil. He could not even taunt it or chide the level of horror this one man represented. Konnon could do nothing but lean over the prone man and scream in rage.

  The man was beaten. Savagely. He was strung up from the limb of a tree, his toes in wet mud fighting for purchase that would not come.

  Glyss wept as he fired arrow after arrow into the man’s body, all spots of pain, all areas that would not take the life. The leader of the Brothers of Blood fought to scream but could not. He struggled and kicked, inches from standing, until he was dead.

  Konnon turned to Ella and dropped on his knees before her. They had skinned parts of her face. They had sewn objects, like burrs of steel and wire, into her bare skin, and they had destroyed her in every way but the merciful.

  She opened her eyes and Konnon looked up at her in pity.

  She babbled and frothed, spitting as she fought to use words that could be understood.

  “She is gone, brother,” Glyss said. “We need to send her off.”

  “I’ve done this before. Can’t stomach to do it again.” Images of his wife came to him, ravaged and insane with the plague that killed her. He could still feel the blade in his hand, could still feel the horror of her blood.

  “Go,” Glyss said.

  Konnon went looking for the treasury. He reached a strong building with a well-made door and many locks. The door was open, the locks bare. Konnon looked in the distance to see a naked man running, burdened down with arms filled with something.

  “Bree,” Konnon said. He pulled his dagger and with a hefty toss, the man dropped, dagger in the skull, and fell to his face. The object in his hands flew.

  Konnon rushed to the man’s side to find he had been carrying a chest. The lid was open, the contents spilled in the mud. Gold pieces sunk into the river of mud and water that ran through the ravine.

  He struggled to the spot on his knees and gripped handfuls of blood-filled mud, pulling up fists of filth and gold, desperate for as much of the coin as possible, grasping fistfuls of mud and stuffing it back in the chest.

  Muck and water and blood seeped out of the chest, as with every frantic moment, more and more of his daughter’s precious hope sank into the ground.

  Konnon wept and grabbed more and more handfuls.

  Darkness in the Night

  Beast stomped her hooves and snorted in the nearby shadows, and Rayph laughed. The crackling of his fire brought the world nearby within his firelight. He turned away from the night, settling his thoughts on his trail pot, steaming with tea, and the bacon sizzling on his cooking stone. The last few days, Beast had set a startling pace. At this rate of travel, they would arrive at Cam in two days. Smear had found their headquarters and had requested Rayph bring his horse and worldly goods as far as Cam.

  High in the north, Rayph could not think of any place remote enough in that country to work as their shop. But he would not doubt Smear. Doubting Smear never led to anything good. The horse stamped her feet again and reared up on her hind legs. Rayph looked up, his attention settling on his mare and the foul mood she was in. He turned away from the fire and, over the scent of bacon and tea, a new smell rose on the night, one of smoke and brimstone. Rayph cursed and whistled for Beast. She ripped free of the tiny tree he had secured her to and rushed to join him. Once in the firelight, she stomped and screamed until he set a hand on her nose and jerked free his cape. He tied it around her head, blocking her eyes and calming her.

  The night ripped open with flame and light forming a circle around his camp, backlighting many figures before zipping closed. Rayph tried to count how many men entered the darkness around him through the portal, but he lost count at ten. The looming figures stood just beyond the light of his struggling fire, and Rayph knew he was surrounded. He could fly off but would be leaving Beast. That was not an option. He turned one circuit, glancing at dim blobs churning around him, before he opened his third eye and cast around his gaze.

  He settled his focus on authority and saw a trim shadow glowing slightly. The strobing light was unreliable. Rayph knew whom he stood before.

  “How are you finding leadership, Black Cowl?” Rayph said.

  The glowing figure stepped into the border of Rayph’s firelight, showing a black cloak and a pale face within it.

  “I was born for it, Ivoryfist. How is a constant state of fear treating you, court wizard?” The voice was low and sleek, oily and foul, used to speaking dark words and darker incantations.

  “I’m surprised you don’t already know, Black Cowl, but how could I possibly expect you to hold so much vital information? I am no longer the court wizard of Lorinth. That title now belongs to The Lady of… The…” Rayph could barely force himself to say that name seriously, “The Lady of Twilight.”

  “I knew that, you fool.”

  “Of course you did,” Rayph said softly. “
Of course you did, my dear. Have you come up with a name for your band of darkness?” Rayph smiled. “You could use that one if you like. Band of Darkness kind of has a ring to it.”

  “You speak awfully glib for a man surrounded by his doom,” Black Cowl said. “I have but to wave a hand and these men will tear you apart. The world knows not of us yet, which is how I want it. But they will soon hear of the Stain, to their dismay.”

  “That’s fitting, naming yourself after the true master of your group. I always called him the Stain of the Second Age,” Rayph said.

  “Dotley does not control this league. I do,” he said, turning to his men. “Black Cowl is your master, is he not?” A few reluctant nods and affirmations greeted this question, and Rayph laughed.

  “Oh, I hear uncertainty in that response. I would tie that down if I were you,” Rayph said. He was suddenly aware of the fetish tied to his breast, and he smiled.

  “Dotley cannot lead this group, for he is no more. My mind bends the will of the darkest minds of this continent and beyond.”

  Rayph laughed. “I wondered why this plan of yours was concocted. Now I know. You fear the world’s heroes now that your master is dead. Tell me, is it cold in the shadow of the dead?”

  “I stand in no man’s shadow.”

  “Of course you don’t, my love,” Rayph said.

  Silence greeted him, and Rayph ran a hand through his hair and touched it to his chest. His finger tapped the bat skull, and he could feel the minds of Smear, Dreark, Dissonance, and Drelis open to him.

  “How many are you then? I can’t see. You’re all hiding from me,” Rayph said.

  “We hide from no man,” one of the villains beyond the firelight said.

  “Well, can I know now or is it a secret?”

  “There are fifteen of us.”

  “You guys hear that?” Rayph said.

  “What? Who are you talking to?” Black Cowl said.

  “We hear ya, Ivoryfist. We are on our way,” Dreark said.

  “I do hope you guys stick around for my guests. I would hate for you to miss the show,” Rayph said.

  “We are miles from anywhere, Ivoryfist. A man such as you should not travel alone. So many enemies and all,” said Black Cowl.

  Rayph tossed his head back, laughing as the camp around him ripped open with four portals. They stepped out one at a time – Smear, Dreark, Drelis, and Dissonance – and the smile faded from Black Cowl’s face. He lifted his hands, curling his fingers into talons, and screamed out his incantation. Rayph knew that spell well. He uttered a word and brought a massive, pulsating shield hovering before him. The blast of raging fire that spewed from Black Cowl’s palms collided with the shield, and Rayph looked over his shoulder at his crew.

  Drelis tossed a handful of bones from a bag at her waist. They shattered in the air, growing exponentially. The jagged bone fragments became massive shards of bone that embedded themselves in her attackers. They cried out in pain and surged forward. She stomped her foot, and the bone shards exploded, ripping her foes to shreds of bone and meat.

  Dreark ducked a spear throw that flew high over Smear’s head. The tip ripped open to razor sharp blades that would have torn Dreark to bits. He laughed and leapt forward to wrap his impossibly strong hand around the neck of the man who had attacked him. He squeezed, ripping the man from his feet and tossing him in the air over Smear’s head.

  Without looking, Smear thrust upward with one perfect fist-blade strike that sliced the man’s heart in half. The man tumbled dead to the ground as Smear charged the next.

  Above the chaos of battle, above the cries of pain, the grunts of exertion, and the screaming of spells, Dissonance’s prayers summoned the eye of Cor-lyn-ber. “Find me among these villains!” she prayed. She lashed out viciously, slicing the nearest man’s face in half as she brought the weapon back and extended her hand. She grabbed the next in line as she said, “Smite my foes.” Her hand erupted in a bone-shattering detonation that crumpled her attacker. “My allies do your work. Aid them with power and drive.” Her spear stabbed out in impossibility and myth to end men’s lives and cleanse the world of the foul. “These things I humbly beg.” She finished the last of the men before her and dropped to a knee. “And I give thanks.”

  Smear rushed in the fray, finding himself among many men, and he began his dance. Rayph saw a mob of attackers slowly being chopped down as perfect slices brought them to stumbling and cursing. Soon, every one of them was reduced to blubbering and sobbing, as they fought to move the muscles Smear had cut, and struggled to win their feet again to no avail. Smear left them to their suffering and turned his attention to others.

  Dreark caught the swing of an axe and, with his second hand, wrenched it away from his attacker. He spun the blade, cleaving the man’s skull in half and leaving the weapon embedded in the dead. Bone shattered as Dreark fought. Wet impact, grunts of pain, and cries for mercy rose unheeded, and Rayph winced at the terrible deaths around him.

  He turned his attention to Black Cowl, still screaming and howling, waiting for Rayph’s shield to burn away. His spell bubbled and warped in the heat, the edges of his shield glowing red. This fight had to end soon or Rayph’s defense would be spent. He hoped Dissonance’s prayers would help.

  “Kark!” Dreark cried the name of his king as he brought his hands around to clap a man’s ears. The man screamed and dropped his sword. Dreark lifted his knee, connecting with the man’s crotch and dropping him to wheezing. With a stomp of his foot, he crushed the man’s windpipe.

  The fire spell sputtered its last, and Rayph looked up at Black Cowl. The man stumbled back, seeing the utter destruction of his men.

  Rayph shook his head and smiled. “We are ready for you,” he said. His companions turned to regard Black Cowl, who laughed.

  “This was but a testing of your pitiful crew. Look about the dead. You will find no men or women of power. I have seen you now, you fool. You have revealed your mind for nothing. Now I know the plans of Rayph Ivoryfist, and I know whom to employ to destroy you.” Black Cowl laughed again and Rayph smiled.

  “Gather your best and seek us out. We invite your wrath. We look forward to it,” Rayph said. Black Cowl spoke a word and a whiff of brimstone and smoke rode the air. In a breath, the portal opened and Black Cowl was gone. As the flaming opening closed, Rayph wondered whether he had just made a horrible mistake.

  The Village in the Cliffs

  They rode slowly, picking their way through the rocky land south of Cam. Their mounts moved higher into the cliffs and hills of northern Lorinth. Ages ago, Rayph had come here. But try as he might to remember why, his memory failed him. Some tragedy, some horrible event, had brought him here years back to save lives and aid refugees.

  All around them, iron deposits riddled the black stone. They passed small mining spots, too small for residences, little more than camps, where hard men chipped out a living from the rock.

  Soon, a road of sorts presented itself, overgrown with weeds and saplings. This place had not seen any real traffic for a generation, though it had at one time been a wide lane, wide enough for two wagons to pass one another. Time and nature had reclaimed what man had attempted to force, and Rayph suddenly remembered a collapse of some mine in this area, though the details were fuzzy on just what had happened.

  “I know this land, Smear, but I can’t remember why. The road goes into the cliffs, does it not? High to the upper shelves where—” People had died. Miners had been buried alive, and he had been too late to save many of them. “There was a town.”

  The road grew steep and soon all vegetation fell away as they climbed higher. They rounded a bend in the road and found themselves face-to-face with a huge collapse of rock that blocked any further travel. The cliff that hemmed them in on the right had shattered and covered the road completely, leaving only the road back and the 400-foot drop to the left.

  “This is what the mundane will find if they attempt to seek us. This will deter anyone from acci
dently stumbling upon our headquarters. It will also prevent us from fleeing by land should we find ourselves in need of escape. But there are other ways to take, other avenues of escape left open to us.”

  “How do we proceed?” Rayph asked.

  They retraced their path, traveling back many hours until they came upon a hunting trail. Low-hanging trees forced Rayph to dismount and lead Beast through brambles and large rocks. A small river swam, and they navigated ravines. They reached a collection of tumbled rock and began a slow climb. This went on for hours until, near nightfall, they came upon the top of a cliff that overlooked a tumble of rocks and an antiquated town long abandoned. The town below them had been built upon a shelf high up into the cliffs, where one road could reach and nothing else.

  That road had collapsed when the town attempted to flee. They had been trapped, cut from all supplies, cut from the world at large. Beyond the shelf was a fall 600 feet down. The back of the town had been an extensive iron mine. They stood above the site of it now. The cliffs above had caved in, burying half the city and the workers mining.

  Rayph remembered a single man had braved the 600-foot fall and the jagged cliffs below them to bring tales of dire need to Rayph. The rescue attempt had been immediate and many lives had been saved, but there had been much death as the food supplies had been used completely.

  “Ironfall,” Rayph said. “I asked you to find me a headquarters and you bring me here, to the site of hundreds of deaths.” He could see Dreark’s men already working within the town, fortifying buildings and cleaning out refuse.

  “It is a city. Each of us can have our own living space. It has a livery for the horses, a pub for relaxing, and most important, it comes with its own magistrate’s office, complete with cells for prisoners. There is plenty of storage space, and no one will ever think to look for us here. You even forgot about it. We are free to the sky if we need to escape. It is defensible. It is perfect,” Smear said. “It carries a tragic past, but it is also the site of a great triumph as well. If I remember right, you saved over a hundred children from this place, well over sixty women and a few strong men.” Smear dropped a hand on Rayph’s shoulder. “Look at it with a mind clean of emotion. It has everything we need. You asked me to find us a place to work out of. Well, this is it.”