“You can still go back if you want to. Nobody is forcing you to come with me,” Piero said. “If your heart is telling you to, then go.”
“No, this is my way back into the Huntrey,” Barros said. “Something tells me that Sophia’s coup wasn’t an isolated incident. I can feel the world changing rapidly and when something happens, I assure you, I will be in the middle of it. It's almost as if I am changing with it. I feel different, somehow.”
“Ha, you kill a few Vampires and suddenly your taste for heroism returns. Just what we need from you,” Piero said. “Now, when we get to one of these villages we need to talk to the Chieftain and the Shaman. They handle all of the religious affairs.” He took a quick glance at Barros’ puzzled face.
“The Brutes of the Mountains actually believe in the gods?” Barros asked.
“Not our gods as such. Shamanism is a way for them to communicate with those that are now lost to them. More like, ancestors that guide their way of living. Only the Chieftain can learn of their thoughts outside the Shaman. It’s a very well-guarded secret,” Piero said.
“And why are you telling me all this?” Barros said. He hid a yawn behind his hand.
“Riding a horse gets rather boring, Barros. You should try communicating sometime.”
“I would but if I was busy conversing with you, I’d have missed our friend up there.” Barros smirked and pointed to a nearby ridgeline.
“Doing more than one task at once is a wonderful thing, my young friend. If you try it often enough you’ll get good at it,” Piero said. “I spotted the Highlander when he started following us five minutes ago. I’m surprised he’s come this far down the mountains, to be honest. Food must be scarce at this time of year.”
“He thinks we’d make a tasty snack?” Barros said.
“It’s true, Highlanders are cannibals at times. But one look at you and I think they'd just want to toss your body over the side of a mountain. Besides, unless he’s got a few hundred of his friends, he wouldn’t be eating us. If we were anyone else we’d be in a lot of trouble,” Piero said. "If they become aggressive, I can talk to them. I know a bit of the lingo."
There was a shift in the snow further along the ridgeline that caught Piero’s focus. Another Highlander rose, his long spear by his side. The bearded man wrapped in a grey cloak stood over six and a half feet, with arms as thick as a bear’s legs.
“He’s a big man,” Barros said.
“So are his friends.” Piero let out a sigh. "This isn't what I wanted. Welcoming committees always get in the way.”
The scout brandishing the spear looked back over his shoulder towards the trees that were barely visible above the snow. He let loose a piercing whistle. All around the valley, Highlanders appeared over the ridges, each with a spear or axe in hand. Several of them sported bows trained on the Hunters.
“Can’t say I expected that many of them,” Piero said looking up at the dozens of men. “This is no ordinary hunting or raiding party.”
“There are barely two hundred of them. I dare say we could fight our way out of this situation,” Barros said.
“I don’t want to risk your son.”
“Neither do I. But the more of them we kill now, the less we’ll have to kill later,” Barros said. “It’s completely logical.”
“I really don’t know how you got to that conclusion,” Piero said. “We need to talk to these Highlanders.”
“All right have it your way, but if this thing goes south, I’ll be killing as many as I can.” Barros said as he drew his sword.
11
Capture
With a singular roar, the Highlanders issued a challenge to the Hunters. Steel and heavily padded feet battered into the snow sending clumps into the air, creating a mist like shroud around them. The Hunters dismounted, standing back to back, their swords raised in a defensive guard. On this uneven ground, the horses would serve no purpose in running down the Highlanders.
“Alright, there’s no way we can fight our way out of this one,” Barros said.
“I could have told you that. Too late to change our plan now,” Piero said. He took a few steps up the hill. “Are you coming or what?”
“What about Abner?” Barros could barely hear himself over the Highlanders guttural war cries. “We can’t just leave him here!”
“He’ll have to stay behind!”
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Barros said.
“Well you thought of it first.” Piero said He engaged the Highlanders, matching them with his ferocity.
He tore through the first man, ripping out the burly Highlander’s throat with his sword before jabbing a second in the chest with a lightning fast backhand stab. Barros attacked the Highlanders, advancing from their rear and trapping them. His sword working as a whirlwind, blood flinging in every direction.
No sooner than Barros deflected a heavy axe he felt a sudden shift in the light breeze that was racing up the valley from the south. It now came down the slopes towards him. Barros noticed a smaller figure, clad completely in black armor step through the ranks of the giant men approaching Piero.
Barros yelled and Piero ducked, just as a huge mailed fist sailed past his head. The old Hunter returned a punch of his own, bouncing aimlessly off the side of the black helmet. Spinning, Piero cut low at the plated leg guard. Once again he met solid armor, this time the shin racing up to meet the sword. Piero stepped back and was cut off. He swung again, cutting down the Highlander stopping him in his tracks. As he turned back, a heavy boot smashed into Piero’s face, sending the Hunter sprawling to the ground. Without hesitating, the armored figure knelt, dealing one single knockout blow. He stood and gestured for two Highlanders to move forward. Quickly and efficiently, they restrained Piero; first tying his arms then his legs together before tossing a sack over his face.
The Highlanders did not attack Barros but circled him like hungry dogs. The only viable option for him was to fight their leader in the black armor. Barros struck with his sword in a two-handed grip, attempting to cut the man in half. The blade was grabbed out of the air, at the height of its swing, Barros stopping with it.
With a single flick of his wrist, the armored man tossed Barros away from his sword and took the blade in his own hands. His glaze lingered over the cold metal before adjusting his grip to hold it properly. The armored man raised it high above his head, preparing for a fatal blow. The Highlanders cheered as one, wishing to see Barros’ blood spilt upon the snow.
Instead, the armored man dropped the sword into the snow behind him and knelt down beside Barros, his breath coming in heavy rasps through the open mouthpiece in his helmet. He held one fist above him, ready to smash down into Barros’ skull.
“It appears they wish to cook you, my friend. By my command of course,” he said.
“Who are you?” Barros asked.
“That is none of your concern,” the man said.
The first blow struck Barros in the throat, knocking the breath out of him. Each heavy fist that rained down upon him only drained more from him, until his vision was nothing but a daze. His face throbbed; a result of the bloody bruises left upon his skin. Barros lay dazed as two Highlanders draped a heavy sack over his head. With one final blow the world turned black.
* * *
A violent rocking motion woke Barros and he became aware of a gentle humming sound underneath him. As he regained focus, it was clear that he was on the shoulders of a Highlander. Unable to move, he patiently waited until at last he was placed on solid ground. The noise of the party moved away and for a moment the Hunter thought he was alone.
There was a rustle behind him and Barros felt his limbs bound by even more rope, before being raised into the air. The Highlanders that remained with him, uttered something incomprehensible, followed by gruff laughter. Suddenly, Barros was dropped but he didn’t hit the ground. Instead he found himself tangled in a net.
He muttered to himself, furious that he had gotten caught. The
constant fighting and riding of the past few days, had taken a lot out of him. His lack of training during the last five years evident. Where Abner and Piero were, he had no idea. Barros writhed in frustration while the Highlanders laughed. They left shortly after, at least three men shuffling their feet in the thin layer of snow. Barros sighed and indulged in the silence that graced his ears.
“Barros,” Piero whispered from somewhere behind him.
“Piero, what the hell am I in?” Barros asked.
“I’ve seen these before. If I’m not mistaken,” Piero said. His voice was calm and flat as if he was talking about the weather. “What we appear to be trapped in is a tumble net.”
“What the fuck’s a tumble net?” Barros asked.
“They’ll leave us out here for a day, you know so the sun irritates us and we’ll move around wrapping ourselves in the layers of the net. Once we’re trapped enough, the Highlanders will put a fire under us and then we’ll burn. It’s a slow, torturous death,” Piero said. “Just the way that you want to go.
“Great, so how do we get out of it?”
“Fortunately for us, there is a little trick. Try finding a rope and bite through it. Luckily for us most of these nets have a weak spot, a simple design flaw. Because we're blindfolded, and they don't think I know their ways, they're leaving us alone. I should have the rest figured out by then,” Piero said.
“You’re so helpful,” Barros said as he went about his task.
The rope was thin and covered by snow. Using his nose, Barros scrapped most of the white powder off it before clamping down on it. He could hear Piero struggling behind him and then a sudden thud as the older Hunter fell to the ground.
“There's no way I'm chewing through this," Barros spat. "Quick, get me out of here!”
“I need to get this sack off my head first,” Piero said. “Give me a minute.”
Barros counted slowly to sixty. At sixty-one the sack was torn from his head and he was greeted by Piero’s grey beard and the blue sky above him.
“Shit, you’ve looked better,” Piero said, his eyes running over each mark on Barros’ battered face.
Barros grinned back at him. “I still look better than you.”
“Come on, stop talking shit,” Piero said. He offered his hand to Barros. “Let’s get you out of there.”
“How did you get out of your restraints?” Barros asked as he looked at Piero who was unencumbered.
“Easy, you clench your fists together when you’re bound and when you release, they’ll begin to slide straight off. Takes a bit of practice. Highlanders aren't also known for using the strongest materials when it comes to prisoners they consider knocked out. Once I got hoisted onto the back of our friends, I could have freed my arms, but I had to make sure we were alone,” Piero said. “Then it’s a simple matter of taking off the blindfold and untying your legs. It really doesn’t get much easier.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Barros said as he examined the village.
It was a simple area, high on top of the mountain range. Rhorn was barely visible in the distance as Barros looked to the south, miles below them. To the north, lay nothing but higher mountain peaks and snow. The village itself, comprised of six small wooden huts gathered in a circle around the tumble nets.
“Where are all the Highlanders? There’s no way this place could house them all,” Barros said. “There had to be at least a hundred that took us prisoner.”
“Dear, Barros. So young and still so uncultured.” Piero shook his head. “We are simply in one caste, or clan if you like. A village within a village, so to speak. My bet is if we go down that path, we’ll find a lot more of our new friends.”
Barros scratched his head, confused. “There’s no path.”
“When you’ve been raised as I was, you’ll see things that aren’t there. Trust me there’s a path,” Piero said.
“Before we go anywhere we’ll need more weapons than just these ropes. And we need to find Abner as soon as possible. I know Vampires aren’t harmed by normal human weapons, but what about a half-breed?”
“Good point. Go into that hut there,” Piero said, pointing at the nearest structure. “And be quiet about it. We don’t know what awaits us inside. Hopefully we can find a decent sword.”
They crossed the small patch of land and crouched outside the door of the hut that was covered in bear hides. Barros looked across the entryway at Piero, slowly wrapping the rope around his right hand. On Piero’s nod he slid underneath the fur and looked up to find a Highlander working at a wooden bench, his front bloody from the carcass before him.
Barros tried to retreat but the Highlander’s eyes lit up in alarm. He grabbed for the small cleaver that was impaled on the bench beside him. The Hunter surged forward, narrowing the gap in a split second, his fist connecting with the side of the Highlander’s head, throwing him into the back wall.
Barros turned the Highlander away from him, slipping the rope around the bigger man’s throat, pulling with everything he could muster. “Axe!” he said. Piero complied, delivering a short chop into the Highlander’s temple, killing him instantly. Blood sprayed over Barros as he let the bloody slump to the floor.
“Little bit dark in here, isn’t it?” Barros said noticing the lack of lighting. “And if we have to do this every fucking time we go into a building here, I’m going to get real sick of killing…”
“Keelta?” a deep booming voice called from outside. “Keelta!”
“Fuck,” Piero said. “Give me that axe.”
“Why do I always get the smaller things in life?” Barros asked. “What the fuck are we going to do? We’re trapped.”
“Shut the fuck up and hand it over,” Piero said. “Get to cover, ready to take him out.”
“Keelta!” the voice yelled once again before a man, even bigger than the one they had just killed, stepped inside. His long brown hair and thick beard obscured most of his face and neck. Two small braids ran down his beard and he carried an extremely large axe on his back. The Highlander was covered from head to toe in thick, white and grey leather garb.
His eyes swept over the room, instantly fixing on Keelta’s dead body. The Highlander drew his axe, but Barros leapt upon him. Next to the giant man, the cleaver that Barros wielded looked like nothing more than the size of a tiny dagger. He swung once, and stumbled, surprised by the Highlander’s speed.
The giant lashed out with a huge boot, collecting Barros square in the chest, sending him spinning into the far wall. As he landed, the Hunter clutched his solar plexus and struggled to breathe. Piero rose from his position slowly, wary of the Highlander’s quickness.
Piero moved slowly, keeping the axe outstretched in front of him. The Highlander lurched forward, attempting to grab the weapon out of the Hunter’s hands. Piero retreated as far as he could, coming level with Barros on the back wall. He struck out, aiming for the rib cage of the Highlander, wishing to cut the man down to size.
As the old Hunter moved, the Highlander moved with him, bringing up the huge foot once again, taking the brunt of the impact on the sole of his thick boot, wrapped in furs. The axe didn’t even penetrate the fur and was stopped cold in its tracks. The Highlander stomped down, crushing the axe underneath his weight, leaving Piero with nothing but a useless stick. Barros fumbled helplessly for the clever. Barely able to move, he cried out from the pain in his chest.
Piero attacked again, brandishing the axe pole like a bo staff but to no effect. As he swung a second time, Piero was grabbed around the throat and lifted off his feet and rammed against the wooden wall. His hands searched for something of the Highlander to attack, but the Hunter was quickly fading until the monster loosened his grip. “Piero?” he asked.
Piero squinted into the semi darkness, staring into the face of the Highlander that held him off the ground. “Holy shit is that you, Rowan?”
12
The Den
There was an awkward silence, before Rowan dropped Piero. The Highlande
r looked down at the two battered Hunters, shocked. Barros groaned again and dropped the cleaver.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Rowan said, kneeling down. “I will have my wife attend to you the moment we return to my home.”
“Why did you have to kick me so damn hard?” Barros asked. He rubbed his chest where the Highlander had kicked him.
“Barros Toldar, I’d like you to meet Rowan Kreen,” Piero said. He smiled up at the Highlander. “He’s an old friend of mine and a part-timer at West Anacore.”
“So you’re the man of a hundred kicks?” Barros said. He stared up at Rowan’s enormous frame. "Heard you can kick a Vampire's head clean off."
“Aye, that’d be me,” the big burly Highlander said. He started back down at Barros, his gaze gauging the much smaller Hunter. His huge hands made Barros feel like a child. “Well the good news is, none of your bones are broken as far as I can tell. You’re one tough son of a bitch, Barros Toldar.”
“Aye, I was married to a Countess by the name of Sophia, if that proves anything. If I could survive her I should be able to survive anything. Did you happen to meet her at all? She was well known around these parts.”
“You were the one that married the Countess? By the gods, then what the hell are you doing here, Piero?” Rowan asked.
“We were captured by a group of your people and brought here. A man dressed in black armor led them. There was no way he was a Highlander,” Piero said.
“Ah, that’d be Namzal. He’s a Count. I’ve been waiting for months for someone to venture up here and help me out with him. I can’t get away because he watches everyone in the village like a hawk. As soon as you place a toe out of line he’ll rip your throat out,” Rowan said. “Come, I better get you to safety before you kill anyone else. Namzal will know you are free shortly, no doubt.”
“I fought Namzal once,” Barros said. “That’s why he called me friend, down in the valley when we were captured. I knew his voice sounded familiar.”
The Toldar Series Box Set Page 8
