Borajon shoved the Vampire face down into the dirt before Zarazenih. The Vampire shuddered at every sound he heard, his eyes frozen open in terror.
“Do you know who I am, Vampire?” Zarazenih asked.
“I know you’re one of what they call the Ghosts. You slaughter my kind along with the Hunters and you need to be put down like the rabid dogs you are!”
The wolves laughed in unison, Borajon and Tailion licking their lips as they looked at the broken Vampire. Zarazenih wore a smirk, his upper lip curled.
“It seems like we both have a title here, Butcher. I’m known as the Infected. You may or may not have heard of me,” Zarazenih said. “I turn your kind into my kind, into thralls.”
Dravian shook his head in disgust. “Should have let the Hunters spill my brains across the floor. Would have served me better than becoming one of your mindless husks.”
“It’s far too late for that, my friend. We’ve lost our family here tonight, and I can’t help but think you played a part in that. In my opinion, that means you owe me a debt, and as far as I’m concerned that debt is to be repaid by taking down those Hunters,” Zarazenih said. “Usually you’d have a choice, but not tonight.”
He rose to his feet, pushing up off his left knee and stood in front of the Vampire. Dravian tried to roll away, but Zarazenih grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. He collapsed, his kneecaps still had not healed.
“Stand, creature!” Zarazenih said. He yanked Dravian up again this time by the throat, holding him off the ground at his eye level. The Vampire looked dwarfed in comparison. “We are bound by blood, by faith and by oath. We are a pack, and we will destroy those that destroyed our home.”
“Kill them,” Talion said.
Zarazenih turned the helpless Vampire to the side, exposing its fleshy gray neck. He looked around at his brothers before nodding. “One more for the pack.”
He bit down into Dravian’s neck, careful to preserve what he could of the Vampire. It began to shutter, and the changes started to take place. Occasionally his brothers could control their transformations, choosing which part of their body they could change. For their first time, this was not the case.
The Vampire twisted and shook, fur sprouting all over his body, white growing over the gray like a weed. His face grew longer, and the muzzle of a wolf began to grow out, his claws quickly turned to paws and his body began to stretch. Zarazenih dropped him and the now more wolf than Vampire dropped to the ground, a yelp escaping him. His transformation was nearing completion, his knees snapping around at the last moment.
Borajon started to chuckle. “He looks like a runt. He won’t be able to run with us.”
Zarazenih nodded in agreement. “Not my best work, but I didn’t have much to work with. Can you stand, brother?”
Dravian tried to stand, his new body fighting against him. The wolves laughed as he struggled to get to his feet. His back knees hadn’t recovered from the Hunter’s assault even after becoming a wolf.
“He can’t stand.” Zarazenih shook his head. “He’s of no use to us.” He cradled the wolf’s head in his hands. “You showed so much promise. It’s a shame that this has to happen.”
Dravian looked up at the alpha and pinned, unable to move his head. Zarazenih tightened his grip around the former’s neck. A powerful creature now reduced to nothing more than a shell.
“My apologies, brother. May you rest in peace.”
Zarazenih’s muscles tightened around Dravian more and the wolf began to gasp for air. Then with a single twist, and a resounding crunch, Dravian went limp and Zarazenih dropped him to the floor. He looked at his brothers and shook his head.
“Toldar will pay for this. He set those Hunters against us, I know it. He needs to die and I’ll rip out his throat myself!”
16
Rubbed the Wrong Way
The ride from the Ghost’s den to the place the Hunters called home was brief and uneventful. Alex remained drooped over his horse’s back as the group rode up the mountain that housed the Tyrain Huntrey. The early morning sun and numerous Hunters were on the plateau making the most of the training grounds whilst good weather still lingered. Soon snows would be on the peaks and more Hunters would travel north to hunt Vampires elsewhere.
Word had been sent ahead by a guard on the wall, and a small team of Hunters now were busy constructing a funeral pyre at the entrance to the Huntrey. A small pile of wood lay idol whilst they built the foundation, a large rocky pit that would soon be built up to rest Alex’s body upon it.
“I’ve got to speak to the Board,” Abner said. “We can’t go out again so soon, we need to rest and we need to be able to plan our next strike against the Ghosts.”
“I feel like you’ll need some support,” Gunthos said. “I’ll come with you.”
“No need to call a Board meeting to request some time off, Hunters,” Crix said. He tapped his walking stick on the ground in annoyance. “You’ve lost another one, I see. Why am I not surprised?”
Abner rounded on the old Hunter, his fist clenched into a fist. “If I recall, Crix, I don’t see you out there hunting them with us. The Ghosts are stronger, faster and almost just as smart as most Vampires we hunt. They also don’t tend to blow up when you put a bolt into them, it takes a lot more.”
“Clearly our Hunters aren’t up to the standards that they used to be,” Razal said. He walked up beside Crix. “But if the almighty Abner Toldar decrees it, it must be true.”
Gunthos gritted his teeth. “Sometimes, Razal, I want to pick you up by your throat and choke you until your eyes pop out of your head. You know that don’t you?”
Razal chuckled into his hand. “That’ll only happen if the Huntrey falls, so good luck with that. Not all of us get to live out our dreams.”
“Gentlemen, can we cut the bull shit and just get to the point. Crix we need at least a few days to put our friend to rest and to gather any more information on the Ghosts,” Lois said. She stepped between Abner and Gunthos, dwarfed by all four men in her presence. “Can you do that for us?”
Crix puffed out his lips. “I’ll allow it and try to convince the rest of the Board. What information do you need?”
“If there’s anything relating to where the Ghosts would hide, or an old codex on strange creatures of Taagras,” Abner said.
“Don’t imagine there would be and too my recollection this is the first we’ve seen or heard of beasts by this, but be my guest,” Crix said.
“You kids take care of everything here, make sure it’s a good service,” Gunthos said. “I’ll find a way to avenge Alex.”
Twilight fell on the Huntrey hours later, and there was a large showing of support for Alex as he lay across the pyre. His arms were folded, still dressed in his Hunter’s attire that he had died in. His arms were folded across his chest, resting on his crossbow that he held in place of his sword that lay by his side.
The last of the Hunters joined the correlation as the last of the sunlight slipped from the day, casting the plateau in darkness, save for the braziers casting light over the field. Abner looked around at the hundreds of black cloaks behind him and allowed himself to smile at the show of respect for his friend. Alex had become well liked throughout his time at the Huntrey, and this proved it.
The main ceremony in itself was overly brief. The crypt caretaker had given the traditional Hunter’s end of service rite, telling how blood was blood and now the debt had been repaid to the order. Crix stood at the podium beside the pyre in silence, his head hung low in respect. As head of the Board it was his job to oversee the final passing of the Hunters.
“Would anyone else like to say some words?”
“I would,” Abner said. He stepped forward out of the crowd and toward the podium.
Crix grabbed his arm as he approached. “Watch yourself boy. Don’t say anything the Board will be able to punish you for later.”
“I think I’m past the point where I care what the Board thinks or doesn’t
think of me,” Abner said. “Just be grateful I haven’t walked out yet.”
“You don’t have a choice, son!”
“Sauria would have me, as would the Renori. Don’t think just because you took us in when West Anacore fell means that we’re here for life,” Abner said. His voice cut like glass.
Crix took a step back. “You’re a bloody good Hunter, but a shit politician. Don’t let your skills to go your head thinking you can do something you weren’t born to do. Now get up there.”
Abner pulled himself up onto the podium and lifted his hat of his head, holding it by his side. He looked out over the Hunters and looked to his friend resting on the pyre. Alex looked as peaceful as he had sleeping at West Anacore during his time as a Novice.
“My name is Abner Toldar, I suppose I am here to say a few things about my good friend, Lord Alexander Realla. I remember when I first met him, I punched him in the face.” Abner smiled again. “But then I learnt he was as much a Hunter as the rest of us. It just took time for him to learn what he needed to become. And now he’s gone. Gone thanks to your Board wanting us out there in the field hunting these Ghosts with no respite. They are the biggest threat you’ll come across and they need to be wiped out. To prevent more of your friends and family from suffering this same fate!”
“Enough of this!” Crix said. He limped back up to the podium. “I’ve told you once, Toldar, but I’ll tell you again. If you have a problem you come to me.”
Abner turned his attention back to the crowd, the old Hunter a non-issue. “I’ve lost a friend, as have many of you, and we’ve all lost a colleague. Each and every day we should honor him, doing what we all share a mutual love and appreciation for. I miss you Alex.”
“Alright you’re done,” Crix said. He shuffled forward and tried to push Abner off the podium.
“I know when I’m not wanted,” Abner said. He got down off the podium and walked back through the crowd.
As he walked away, Crix lit the pyre, the wood beginning to crackle due to the heat from the flames. The seconds passed and the flames crept higher before finally engulfing Alex in a fiery red cage, it’s smoke rising into the early night sky.
After Abner had left the funeral, Lois followed him to the roost. Ever since the fall of the West Anacore Huntrey, he’d go there to be alone with his thoughts. Gunthos had taken to the library, his nose undoubtedly buried in a book somewhere with Tori on his lap.
Lois climbed the stairs to the roost, the cool night air brushing gently past her face. She opened the door to find Abner surrounded by the birds that the Hunters kept as messengers. Anything from pigeons to great eagles sat in the roost with him. In his hands Abner clutched a small black pigeon, a note tied to its foot.
“Who’s that for?” Lois asked.
“It’s for Alex, looks like it’s from Lord Realla himself,” Abner said.
“His father? But he hasn’t cared for Alex or bothered to reach out since he came to Hunters. This can’t be good,” Lois said.
Abner frowned. He now had the note in his hand. “How many brothers did Alex have?”
“Just the one, I thought?”
Abner looked up from the letter. “Lord Realla has lost his heirs. He was summoning Alex to take their place. Looks like we’re going to have to go to Renor and deliver the bad news.”
17
Madness
Abner hated the desert. It was full of sand. The most coarse, rough and irritating substance known to man. It didn’t help matters that it got everywhere too. And Lord Realla happened to live right in the middle of it. One of the spectacles of the Renori desert wasteland was the Realla family estate, also known as the Jewel of the Desert.
It was a palace, it soared above the desert, surrounded by kilometers of lush green grass and farmland unseen for days on either side of the desert. Their secrets came from the underground Realla river that had been dug out around the township and castle respectively and it allowed them to farm the land that was otherwise inhabitable.
Abner and Lois rode into the town, the hot sun beating down on their backs and horses, yet they remained unopposed. Farmers tilled the land, not even raising their head to notice the new arrivals to their town. Lois drained the last of her water as they drew level with the castle gate. A crocodile was visible in the water meters away, its eyes resting above the water.
“Oh, look at that, Lois,” Abner said pointing out the creature. “Don’t fall in.”
“I’d sooner push you in,” she said.
Two pike wielding guards approached the Hunters. Both men kept heavy beards and both wore the blue river livery of the Realla house.
“Hunters, what business do you have here? The castle is locked down in our days of mourning. Turn around and return in two days’ time!”
“We bring an urgent message for the Lord of the castle,” Abner said. “His son is dead.”
“Why do you think the castle is in lockdown? His son died last week.” One of the guards laughed. “Begone.”
“Read this,” Abner said.
He pulled the note out from his pocket and handed it to the closest guard. They read it between them, their eyes tracing over each individual letter, looking for any sign of fraud.
“Well it’s in Lord Realla’s hand, what do you think Swanson?”
“You can go through; however, we will escort you to his Lordship. Raise the gate!”
The Hunters waited for the gate to clank open far enough for their horses to stride under. Already people had begun to cross the drawbridge in an attempt to reach the castle. After the horses were stabled, Swanson led the way into the castle, his pike tapping on the white marble tiles that ran all throughout the castle.
Swanson led the Hunters into the upper levels of the towering structure, a tap with his pike for each step of the way. His partner began to whistle which was abruptly cut off by Lois turning around and glaring at them. They stood in front of a huge double mahogany door and Swanson rapped three times. The door creaked open and Swanson vanished inside.
He remerged moments later. “His Lordship will see you now.”
The door opened fully, revealing a cathedral, that seemed to stretch across the remainder of the castle. Its ceilings soared above the Hunters, supported by white stone pillars are thick as Abner was wide. On the steps underneath the stained glass instead of a throne, an open coffin rested, Lord Realla’s son. A crowd of more than twenty people sat on black rugs, cross legged, their eyes closed whilst they chanted in the native Renori tongue.
“Lord Realla I bring news!” Abner said.
The chanting stopped and everyone in attendance snapped around to glare at the Hunter. Lord Realla sat at the front, his resemblance to Alex, uncanny. Both had the same cropped hair and striking eyes, although Alex had been built more like a whip, Lord Realla showed signs of a man gone to seed.
“Who dares interrupt our mourning!”
“My name is Abner Toldar from the Tyrain Huntrey. You sent for your son, my Lord.”
“I have no son, nor do I have any business with you!”
“My Lord, don’t you remember the message that you sent to Alexander, only four days ago?” One of his advisors stood up from his rug and frowned. “Your son that you had sent to the Hunters. We haven’t seen or heard from him in years.”
Lord Realla now stood. His face turned red with fury. “My last son died here, a week ago dammit! They’re all dead, and I have no heir to carry on my lineage!”
“Yes, that’s what we came to-“
“Silence! I won’t have you blasting in here, interrupting our morning of my beloved Prince, to tell me a son that I allegedly had is now dead! Guard I thought I told you to throw them out!”
“You said to let them in, my Lord.” The guard also began to protest alongside the advisor.
“Enough of this! Seize the Hunters!”
“He’s mad,” Lois said. She rolled her eyes. “How do you want to play this?”
“Just pissed off another
powerful leader of the world. Don’t think we ought to kill him, but let’s get out of here,” Abner said.
“No killing? Where’s the fun in that?” Lois asked.
“Just this once.”
The Hunters turned on their heels, shouldering past the two guards on the door. They were at the staircase before they heard Lord Realla let loose a shriek. “Assassin! Chase them down!”
“Sending out the big guns after us.” Abner laughed. An arrow sailed over his head. He looked back and saw a red and black clad figure only meters behind them. “One of your friends?”
“I’m not about to find out!” She pulled her crossbow off her back and fired a shot over her shoulder. The assassin grunted in pain and fell to the floor clutching his own shoulder. “Non-lethal, like you said.”
The Hunters burst outside, to the sound of the alarm bell from the top of the castle blaring overhead. Their horses waited patiently for them in the stables. As the Hunters made for bridge arrows began to rain down on them from the ramparts. Lois fired more potshots over her shoulder, as the Hunters made it onto the drawbridge and made their bid for the safety of the Huntrey.
18
Flight
As Lois and Abner approached the wall that kept the Huntrey safe from the outside world, they could tell something was different. Lois used her seeking to confirm no Hunters remained on the wall. They rode forward without a word, crossbows resting across their laps. Once they reached the wall, they dismounted, leaving the horses waiting for them. Abner leapt up the wall in a single bound and looked at what lay behind.
Apart from the lack of Hunters, it remained completely the same, unlike West Anacore. There was no blood stains visible on the wall and no mangled bodies of any Hunters could be seen. He waved back down to Lois who waited holding both the horse’s reigns, giving her the all clear. He jumped down the other side of the wall and opened the gate from the inside.
The Toldar Series Box Set Page 51
