The Toldar Series Box Set

by Matt Mememaro

  Barros slipped the steel blade from its protective cover and stood over Rowan, a smug expression on his face. “Ready to begin properly now?”

  “Aye!Hell, that was a good knock you gave me there,” he patted the back of his head.

  “What else would you expect from me?” Barros slid his sword along the length of his arm, before dropping into a relaxed stance.

  “I was hoping for something a lot better than that old trick. One of these days you’re going to slip up and lose an arm,” Rowan said.

  “If that day comes and you’re fighting me, you’re going to lose more than just the arm,” Gunthos called out from behind him.

  18

  Bad Blood

  Rowan rounded angrily on the two Islanders, brandished his axe at them. “This is our training session, not yours, now fuck off!”

  “I thought we’d be able to join you for a bit of harmless sparring.” Havoc said with a look in his eye that was far from friendly.

  “We don’t want you here. Today is simply to test Barros’ abilities and I have to say, his far outstrip yours. The man even has an excuse after being bedridden for months,” Rowan said. “Now you’ve both got one last chance before I come over there and kick the shit out of you.”

  “Rowan, take it easy, my friend. I’m sure Gunthos and Havoc will put Barros through his paces,” Piero said.

  “You mock me, Piero?” Gunthos drew his wicked curved sword. “I should run you down.”

  “Your threats don’t scare me, Gunthos,” Piero said. “You’ve been trying to get the best of me for years and to be frank, if anyone is going to better me, it certainly won’t be you or your brother. Let’s begin the fight.”

  Barros stole a glance at Rowan. “This’ll be easy. Let me take the lead.”

  “Be my guest,” Rowan said. A throwing knife appeared out of nowhere, taking the big Highlander in the shoulder. He grunted, the knife barely making a scratch. “Yeah I’m sure I can sit this one out. You need the practice.”

  Barros walked forward slowly, assessing the two brothers, looking for any weakness to exploit. Gunthos was built like Rowan, thick and heavily muscled, while Havoc was slightly smaller, with a much more nimble look about him.

  As they drew near, Havoc flicked a dagger out from underneath his cloak. Barros batted it away with his sword, expecting the true strike to come from Gunthos. As expected, Gunthos came in with an overhead cut. His huge frame forcing copious amounts of power onto the smaller Hunter. Barros flung his sword up at the last second, shoving Gunthos aside with his momentum. He was now intent on Havoc, who ran at him swinging his short axe. Barros reeled back letting the first swing fly over his head then lashing out with a swift kick, taking out Havoc’s standing base. He fell to the ground and Barros redirected his focus to Gunthos who held his guard, waiting for an attack. Barros didn’t hesitate. Slashing out he rained down blows all along the Islander’s blade. Havoc regained his footing and moved in behind Barros, throwing his axe around the Hunter’s neck, forcing him to drop his sword.

  “Oh I’m going to enjoy this,” Gunthos said.

  He lashed out, his heavy black boot connecting several times with Barros’ stomach. Barros looked for a way to free himself from Havoc’s grasp without getting his head taken off.

  “Gunthos, Havoc!” Rowan said.

  There was the sound of steel penetrating flesh as the same knife that had impaled itself in Rowan now found itself within Havoc. The axe angled slightly and Barros reacted, breaking the weapon out of Havoc’s grip. With an elbow, Barros broke away, leaping forward, aiming a dropkick to Gunthos’ knee.

  The Islander went down, attempting to press himself off the ground as he fell. Barros leapt upon his back, drawing a knife, sliding it around his throat, and pressing the blade against flesh with a small amount of pressure. Havoc reached for his crossbow.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Barros said. “Before you can shoot me your brother will be as dead as a Vampire.”

  Havoc stared into the eyes of the man that had just defeated him. The dagger remained hanging from his upper chest. For the briefest moment the Islander saw a flash of red fade in and out of Barros’ eyes. Nobody in the yard moved or made a sound until Barros rose from Gunthos and shoved him down into the grass.

  “Well done, Barros. You’ve proven you’re back in form. Gunthos, Havoc, make yourself scarce unless you want another beating,” Piero said.

  The brothers collected themselves and their weapons, their heads hung in disgust as they scuttled off to the Huntrey tower. Piero slid down the tree gracefully landing on his feet, walking over to Rowan and Barros.

  “Impressive, however, I was rather hoping to see how you and Rowan worked together as a team,” Piero said. “Your efforts in solo combat are unmatched.”

  “I had help,” Barros said, laughing and revealing a small empty glass bottle.

  Piero rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. Fucking Vampire blood.”

  “You proved your dominance over them either way,” Rowan said. “Now while Gunthos and Havoc might not be the best in the Huntrey, they’re still quite capable when it comes to dealing with Vampires. I’ll give them that much.”

  “I’m still not convinced,” Piero said. “What if there is a Count in that cave?”

  “Guess it’ll be my luck and I’ll have to kill it,” Barros said.

  “You’re still arrogant,” Piero said shaking his head. “I would have thought the years here would have taken it out of you.”

  “Only one man or monster has defeated me in a fight throughout my entire life. Give me any number of opponents, any skill and I will beat them all like I just beat Havoc and Gunthos. No questions asked,” Barros said.

  “You haven’t fought me yet,” Piero said. “If you can beat me without the use of Vampire blood then I’ll know you’re ready.”

  “I’m still feeling the effects from the bottle, I just used. It will hardly be a fair contest. You’ll be beaten within a matter of seconds, old man,” Barros said.

  “Rowan, you don’t have any blood on you, do you?” Piero asked.

  “Two bottles,” Rowan said pulling the small glass vials from the insides of his jacket before tossing them underarm to Piero.

  Without taking his eyes off Barros, Piero caught both and drained their contents. He shuddered violently as if a cold chill had run down his spine. Piero straightened, his eyes glazing over red, an evil smile on his face.

  “Shall we begin?” he ask. He drew his sword in a slow menacing manner.

  “Piero are you seeing clearly?” Barros said. “You’ve turned over to the Bloodrush!”

  “You will not defeat me, Barros. There is no chance you’ll be going on that hunt,” Piero said. He laughed softly.

  “You’ve gone insane, Piero! You can’t defeat me! Why did you take so much blood?” Barros asked.

  “I did what was necessary to gain the advantage and have you submit before me,” Piero said. “Now come.”

  The two Hunters circled, each testing the other’s footwork. Piero outstretched his sword, measuring the distance between them. Within the next heartbeat he struck, lunging forward flicking his sword towards Barros’ legs. Barros countered, sweeping his weapon across his body, the flat of the blade taking the brunt of the blow and deflecting it away.

  Faster than a serpent, Piero reversed his grip, sending the sword straight back where it had come from. Barros barely had enough time to react. He narrowly avoided it with a back step then turning it into a reverse strike as he spun. Piero flanked him, his sword falling for a downward blow.

  Barros flung up his armored arm at the last second, turning the blade away again but failing to slide his own sword past his body to attack Piero as he stepped around him. As Piero slid by, there was a nick of steel that ran over Barros’ shoulder. He recoiled in pain feeling the minor wound, cringing. The Hunters had reached a full circle, each man standing where he had begun. As Barros stared across the swords at Piero, he felt hi
s anger building within his gut.

  “Your eyes are getting redder,” Piero said. “You haven’t had any more blood. How are you doing that?”

  “Secret,” Barros said as his eyes grew even more blood filled. “You landed a lucky blow, Piero.”

  “Lucky perhaps, but well placed. Rowan!”

  Barros turned his back, ready to defend against Rowan who was casually resting against the tree Piero had climbed. “What?” Rowan asked.

  Piero let out a cry from behind him and Barros turned, ducking underneath a blow that could have split his skull in half. He aimed a punch to Piero’s gut, his knuckles smashing into the hardened leather of Piero’s armor. With his strength, Barros forced Piero back. The younger Hunter ran after his foe, another sickening punch connecting with the elder’s jaw.

  Piero fell back in a heap, his sword falling out of his hand, smashing his head hard on the ground. He tried to raise it but fell back in a heap. “Son of a bitch,” he said trying to gain focus, the Bloodrush fading from his eyes.

  Barros leapt upon Piero, drawing a knife, kneeling over his chest, a knee pressed hard on old Hunter’s heart. “You took her from me!”

  “Barros, what the fuck are you doing!” Rowan asked. “Get the fuck off him!”

  “You stay out of this,” Barros said. He slipped a knife from Piero’s pocket, pointing it at the Highlander. “This is between me and him.”

  “Piero, what’s he talking about?” Rowan asked, his hands raised in surrender. He had seen what Barros could do with throwing knives.

  “His wife,” Piero said. “The Countess bitch that thought she could bring Tal’davin back from the dead.”

  “Watch your fucking tongue,” Barros said. “Or I will have it removed from that thick skull of yours you call a head.”

  “What, don’t want me insulting your wife that ditched you at the first chance she got? She was a fucking Vampire, Barros, or have you forgotten that part? I didn’t take her from you; you were the one that fought her. You were the one that created that half-breed with her and you were the one that started the war. You’ve got nobody to blame but yourself!” Piero said.

  “Barros, calm your mind! The Bloodrush has overtaken you!” Rowan said.

  “Not another word, Highlander! Or this knife goes between your eyes! Now, gentlemen,” Barros said returning to a softer, but more menacing tone. “I have told you time and time again, that nobody can best me in combat, yet you do not listen. Age and experience never defeat power. A lesson you both should have learnt long ago. I wear two amulets of Tal’davin and I am untouchable by any Hunter or Vampire!”

  “Barros, you ought to cut this shit out. I am your Head and you will release me right now or I will have you exiled from the Huntrey!” Piero said.

  “They’ve already done that once, when I wanted to be with her! Don’t think that I wouldn’t take that chance again, if I could hold her just once more. For five long years, Sophia was my life and I would forsake everything for her, more than I would give for you!” Barros spat on Piero’s face with disgust. “All you did was bring me back here, but for what? To have me lie in bed, reading old fucking books and go out on the occasional hunt?”

  “He’s gone mad,” Piero said.

  “You’re the one that is mad, Piero. Your designs for the Huntrey will bring nothing, and you think that the Order can be saved without Abner. That boy is the future, mark my words,” Barros said. “Now name me your successor as the Head of this Huntrey or you will die in the dirt in which you lie.”

  “You won’t kill, Barros. I’m a Hunter like you, I’m a brother! We’re family!” Piero said. “Just like you couldn’t kill Sophia you won’t kill me!”

  “Name me your successor now!” Barros said.

  Piero drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. “No.”

  Barros glared down at the old Hunter, the knife pressed against his throat, a small amount of blood trickled onto the blade. He looked at the ground and raised his eyes to Piero’s. The coldness of them shook Barros, even through the Bloodrush. He took the knife away from Piero before looking back at Rowan.

  Like a savage animal, Barros let loose a wild shout, driving the dagger repeatedly into the veteran’s heart. The Hunters were both covered in blood, Piero choking and coughing on his own. “Rowan is the new Head,” Piero spluttered out with his dying breath.

  After three more stabs, Barros finally looked down at what he had done. He toppled off the body, landing face first in the pool of blood he had created.

  19

  New Weapon

  Barros, wake up!” Rowan slapped his friend across the face.

  Barros shot up ready to strangle the Highlander that was standing at the edge of his bed. He looked around; he was inside the infirmary and the nearby nurse would notice any disturbance. His head was fuzzy and a cold towel lay soaking on it. Rowan looked down at him with a concerned look on his face.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Like total shit.” Barros rubbed his head and groaned as he removed the towel.

  “No, leave it on,” Rowan said. “You don’t remember anything about this morning? Fighting or anything of the sorts, ring a bell?”

  “No,” Barros said. “Should it?”

  “Piero’s dead,” Rowan said. “You attacked him and I need to get rid of the body tonight. Nobody can know what’s happened.”

  “What the fuck? I didn’t attack him!” Barros said. “We were sparring, remember! What actually happened?”

  “Piero wanted to fight you and you both got heavily into a Bloodrush. It went too far and you ended up killing him. He named me Head before he died,” Rowan said.

  Barros’ lip twitched. “I remember nothing. I was in the Bloodrush? Anything can happen, every Hunter knows that!”

  “That’s not good, because with how you acted if I was examined by one of the Magicians, you’d be sentenced to death for treason. I’ve made arrangements with our other friends to have Piero turn up in a more satisfactory manner,” Rowan said.

  “And what do these arrangements involve?” Barros asked. “How is it going to allow us to keep our heads?”

  “In essence I am going to have Largos mutilate his corpse to make it look like he was killed by a Vampire and we can use that to our advantage.”

  “And what might we gain from such a ploy? I need assurances, Rowan. This scheme of yours better not get us killed. You and I need the amulets to keep humans safe. What happened was an accident and you know it.”

  “If we pull this off, we’ll get unrestricted access to go after that fourth amulet you want so badly. If we could plant a man that gets picked up by one of us, he could repeat the last words I heard Piero say before he died. That would legitimize my claim to becoming Head of this Huntrey. We will say that Piero left us after training and set out to the north,” Rowan said. “That’s an easy lie to tell. When do you leave to see Largos?”

  “Tonight, as soon as dusk falls, which isn’t too far away. If everything goes according to plan we’ll leave on the hunt at dawn. I suggest you get some rest.”

  “And if everything doesn’t go to plan?” Barros asked raising his eyebrows.

  Rowan blew out his lips. “I guess we’re in a bit of a pickle then.”

  * * *

  As Rowan closed the door to the infirmary he shut out any doubts he had about Barros. From what he could tell, the man had been under the influence of the Bloodrush. Vampire blood had a similar effect on Hunters to what alcohol had on normal men, however the blood if taken in moderation would make the Hunter stronger, not make him go insane like Barros had.

  The incident was a one off and Barros was not the sort to kill Hunters without mercy, even if he had run off with a Vampire eleven years ago. Since the day Rowan met him in the village, he knew Barros was different. Likeable, but very different and at the same time, very dangerous.

  Before dragging the unconscious Barros to the infirmary, Rowan had buried Piero on the far side of the training
field underneath a clump of wild cherry bushes. The chance of leaving their mentor exposed would risk discovery, as the Seekers could smell a body a stone’s throw away. He descended quickly down the Huntrey stairwell avoiding anyone that he came into contact with, before bursting out the main doors, slowing to a walk so as to not raise suspicions about his intentions. As the sun began to set, the only people within sight were the sentries on the walls.

  Retrieving the shovel he’d hidden amongst the trees, Rowan quickly found the place where he buried Piero and set to work. He had brought a large sack with him. Sweat broke out as he stuffed Piero’s limp limbs inside the bag, the task taking both a physical and mental toll. Fortunately, Piero had not begun to stink; the slow decomposition was one of the many body processes that drinking Vampire blood changed with time. Rowan filled the grave before heaving Piero over his shoulder, setting off for the walls.

  The southwestern wall was defended the least, throughout all times of the day. Its proximity to the Hunter’s houses made it easily reachable if it was needed. For that reason, novices were often stationed at it. It would be a simple thing for Rowan to slip past whoever was on duty. The Blackmire, a large swampy forest, was located less than a kilometer from the walls and what lay inside the dark trees was another reason as to why the Hunters barely defended this part of the wall. Their allies defended the Huntrey like it was their home. Rowan slowly walked up the stone steps in an attempt to avoid detection but instead, he walked straight into a very dark, familiar face.

  “Rowan,” Gunthos said. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”

  “Transporting goods to our friends in the Blackmire,” Rowan said. As was the custom, Hunters were forbidden to name their allies that lived in the Blackmire as novices were known to pry. Boredom and juvenile curiosity meant the trainee Hunters enjoyed eavesdropping on any conversation they could.