The Toldar Series Box Set

by Matt Mememaro

  Slabs of mortar lined the roof, yet not there were more scratches in them than the walls on the side. A single hook hung from the roof, perfect to tie a dangling victim too. He looked down at his body and Abner found he was naked, covered in shit and smeared with dirt. Blood mixed the two shades of brown together.

  “What’ve we got on the cards today?” a voice from outside the cell said.

  “Just got to take the Hunter out into his pasture, far as I’m aware. Here he is.”

  Abner rolled his neck back and looked up at the cell door. Illuminated by the torch they carried, Abner could see two beefy men, dressed in the leather armor of the jailors of the Lock. Their faces were covered by the black leather and he could see the billy clubs hanging on their waists.

  “Doesn’t look like much,” one said. He coughed. “Bah, why do they need two of us?”

  “He’s dangerous, you know they don’t send them to us if they aren’t dangerous. Do you know what detachment he’s meant to go to?”

  “Yup, got him here as a miner. Hardly looks strong enough to use one of the picks. Are you going to go in and get him or should I?”

  “You can go, I want to see what he does.”

  The first jailor fiddled with his keys, testing them all in the door until he found the correct one. The cell opened outward and he stepped inside, bending down to pull the Hunter to his feet. Abner tried to roll out of the way, but his resistance was met with a stiff kick to the jaw that sent his head spinning.

  “Ah fuck why are his eyes red!?”

  “It’s so I can see you,” Abner said.

  “Make it stop, or I’ll beat the shit out of you!”

  “What could you do to me that’s possibly worse than this?” Abner asked.

  The jailor responded by kicking Abner in the head with the point of his boot. His foot came down again, stomping on Abner’s face. He left his nose crack under the relentless assault, fresh blood spilling down his face.

  “Are you finished yet!” the jailor asked.

  Abner’s response was to remain face up, staring at the ceiling. “No. I’d like more.” He allowed a small smile to part his lips.

  The jailor’s rage continued to fall upon him and Abner remained unmoved. The pain was numbing. His rage, on the other hand was building. He felt his conscious begin to slip away. He gave in moments later. His eyes flickered back to their normal color.

  “Finished yet worm?” Abner remained silent. The jailor picked Abner up by his feet, dragging him backwards out of the cell. “Right what do we do with him now?”

  “Put something on him and throw him in with the rest. That was fucking brutal.”

  “I’m going to escape.” Abner’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Fresh blood trickled into his mouth.

  The jailors rounded on him again. “Nobody escapes the Lock. What are you going to do boy, break out of here and cross the island without getting shot? You’re funny.”

  “The Lock will change that soon enough. Stand scrub.” The jailor ripped Abner to his feet, pulling on his restraints. “Farzaan, attach a ball to each of his legs. That ought to slow him down.”

  “Is that really necessary? Like you said, where am I going to go?” Abner asked.

  “Councilor’s orders. Whilst we’re no longer in Alilletian we still follow what he requests. Stand still.”

  Abner obliged as one of the jailors clasped irons around his thighs, both weighed down by a steel ball, dragging along the ground behind the chain. The jailors then started to march Abner deeper into the Lock. The air was filled with Sulphur and shit wafting up from the undoubtedly endless tunnels that ran beneath them.

  They continued to walk down into the prison, a massive cavernous pit opened before them, a network of tunnels leading off to the side to get either prisoners or guards to the lower levels. Other prisoners lined the walls, digging into the dirt with a variety of tools ranging from pickaxes to shovels. Jailors patrolled amongst their prisoners every few meters, their hands rested on their billy clubs, watching for any sign of trouble.

  The prison got cooler the further down they traversed. Finally, the jailors stopped and signaled to one of their peers up ahead, nothing outside his torch’s range was visible.

  “Farzaan, good to see you, mate.”

  “Same to you, Sullivan. We’ve got the Hunter here for you.”

  “Excellent.” Sullivan smiled. He handed forward a pickaxe. “This is for you Hunter, make yourself useful.” He gestured to the dark wall behind him. “Go for your life.”

  Abner took the pickaxe, fighting the urge to turn around and skewer it through the jailors brains, but he welcomed the darkness. He stumbled forward and hit something, or someone with his foot. The resounding ‘fuck off’ told him all he needed to know. He moved down the wall a few steps before taking a step back and swinging.

  The dirt gave way, yielding to the pickaxe, and Abner began to struggle with the uneven weight of the pickaxe, swinging in from the side. With the jailor right behind him, he feigned weakness, staring into the darkness, swinging the pickaxe at the wall in front of him that he could not see without his Vampire sight.

  He moved slightly to his left towards the man that had told him where to go moments before.

  “Hi there, friend. Can you tell me what we’re digging for down here?”

  “Just keep your mouth shut and keep your head down. There’s no way to escape from here. I’ve tried.”

  “Oy, you two over there, cut the chatter! The Doctor wants to see one of you.” A new jailor approached, this one carried a metal chain in his hand.

  “Sullivan, which one’s been here the longest?”

  Sullivan strode over, taking time to run the torch over each of the men under his charge. It stopped over the man next to Abner. He was unshaven, a beard of many years running far down his neck. His hair was a thick, tangled mess, much like his beard, unshorn for years. The light showed dark rings under his eyes, the Lock a place where there was truly no rest for the wicked.

  “No, fuck off, not me! Take someone else!”

  Realization dawned on Abner. Underneath the hair and the bloodied mass that was his face, Abner had heard that voice before. The first fifteen years of his life had been spent under it, the majority listening to it instructing him in the ways of waging war.

  As the man was dragged away, kicking and screaming, his frail state apparent, Abner now remembered everything he had done for him. Malvrok had been in the Lock since his death at the fortress almost a decade ago, and someone needed to free him.

  25

  The Betrayal

  The guards at the wall had let them pass without any queries. Gareth rode side by side with Lois, back to their regular Hunter garb as to not raise suspicions. A message had been sent ahead to inform the Huntrey of Abner’s capture and imprisonment. They rode onto the plateau to find an assembly of Hunters waiting for them.

  “Good to have a welcoming committee,” Lois said.

  “They’re not here for you, they’re here for me,” Gareth said.

  He slid down off his horse, and walked over to where Crix stood, a firm frown on his face, and his hands behind his back. Gareth opened his mouth to speak, but Crix lashed out, striking the younger Hunter square in the nose. He recovered quickly, moving to strike back, but two Hunters stepped forward their crossbows staring him in the face.

  “You shit,” Crix said. “Councilor of Alilletia and Son of Graytooth, my arse. Put him in irons!”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong. I have avenged my father as was my birthright!”

  “Abner is one of our best and as a Hunter you should know he had every reason to murder your father. He was corrupt and under the influence of a Vampire. What of his uncle that Graytooth killed in cold blood?” Gareth’s response was silent. “That’s what I thought, put him in a cell. We’ll begin the trial this afternoon. Lois come here if you’d please.”

  Lois slid off her horse and made her way to Crix. She stayed out of arm’s
reach. “I couldn’t stop him. He has total power in Alilletia. He only came back to assert his power here too.”

  Crix frowned again. “I thought so, and this worries me. I don’t want to have to contend with an army on our doorstep.”

  “It took everything I had to convince him otherwise. We could hold them off though. That wouldn’t be a question of our abilities,” Lois said.

  “Hmm, I don’t trust that he came back alone with you, how do I know you weren’t implicated in Abner being arrested?”

  “Because I was also arrested and held under guard. I was tried before Abner and found not guilty. You can check the court proceedings Crix, all they wanted was the murderer of Councilor Graytooth,” Lois said.

  “Eight years, Alilletia has been in a state of chaos. Now it seems we’ve got someone willing to make it worse. We need you to rest up then you can get a team together to go after your fiancé. Do you know where he’s being held?” Crix asked.

  Lois shook her head. “No idea, the only person outside of Etia that would be able to tell us that has just been taken to a cell.”

  “We’ll get it out of him,” Crix said. “Abner will be returned to us soon.”

  The Board room had filled out, dozens of Hunters wanting to see justice served to someone that had betrayed their order. Crix sat at the center of the Board table, rapping his hand against the edge of the table. The jailors bought Gareth in, his arms outstretched on a bar that bound his hands, his feet also shackled together.

  His face was bruised and bloodied, his armor torn and ripped. Crix had not expected his men to be kind especially after the crimes he’d committed against the Huntrey.

  “Right then to, business,” he said. He stood addressing the gathered Hunters. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the time has come. We’ve been betrayed by this man before you today, Gareth Graytooth. First, he murders several of our brothers and sisters in cold blood, as a direct rush of the Bloodrush, but then he flees to Etia where he imprisons one of our most promising young Hunters, Abner Toldar.”

  Crix’s statements were met with loud boos and hisses from the assembled crowd.

  “Is this really necessary Crix?” Gareth asked. He held his head up weakly. “You had your men beat me, and after the treatment I’ve received the only way to stop all-out war between my country and the Huntrey is to execute me.”

  Crix stepped down from the table and took to the floor. He limped across the marble until he reached Gareth. He knelt down beside him and whispered in his ear. “Everything I do here today is necessary.”

  “I will kill you, old man,” Gareth said.

  “Treason!” Crix leapt to his feet once again. “First this Hunter murders six, one in this very room, before turning his back on us and fleeing to a country we know is no real friend of the Hunters.”

  “I’ve told you, I was under the effect of the Bloodrush! I had no control over my actions!”

  “Yet the first Hunter we found was killed by a stab wound, inflicted by a sword, not from a claw or tooth. What were you doing?” Crix asked.

  “Crix, I may have an answer to your enquiry. I investigated where Gareth was staying during our time with us, and I found books on the Bloodrush loaned from the library. I believe he was trying to find a way to sustain it once the initial phases had passed,” Gunthos said. He parted the crowd on either side of him. “From what I can gather the texts were suggesting one could use their rage to control it. They said it often killed users due to their recklessness.”

  “Did you succeed? Crix asked Gareth.

  Gareth’s eyes rolled forwards in his head, the red angry eyes of the Bloodrush replacing his own. “Of course I succeeded. I sustained it from here all the way until I reached Etia. Thought it was quite an achievement.”

  “Whilst we are for innovation and new ways to fight the Vampire plague, the Board and I feel as if this is a violation of our order. As you caused the deaths of six of our own, that crime is punishable by death,” Crix said.

  “I understand,” Gareth said. “If you wish to execute me that is your problem to deal with when my powerful friends in Etia bring the might of Alilletia to bear on your Huntrey!”

  “Furthermore!” Crix said. He ignored the young Hunter. “You have been accused with sentencing Abner Toldar to a life sentence, for the murder of your father. How do you plea?”

  “Guilty as charged.” Gareth lifted his head again and smiled. “He murdered my father, I decided to make his life a hell on earth. I put the bastard into the Lock and that’s where he’s going to stay for the rest of his life!”

  A murmur swept over the Hunters. The Lock was used to break men and in its history next to nobody had managed to escape intact. Some prisoners had armies try to conquer the island, but it was more of an impenetrable force than the Huntrey due to the sheer number of men that guarded it. Cannons lined each wall, capable of sinking any ship that came within range.

  The island it was situated along could even take days to traverse if travelling unencumbered, let alone avoiding guards and trying to find the correct prisoner you were after would be near impossible. They changed rotations every week to keep would be rescuers guessing and the underground tunnels were endless.

  “You threw him into the darkness? There we have it, a confession. My fellow Board members, what verdict do you pass on the defendant. All those in favor of a guilty verdict please rise,” Crix said.

  Each of the Hunters on the Board rose to have their vote counted, including Razal. Crix suppressed his surprise and nodded at the Board, letting them take their seats once again.

  “Crix, if I could make a suggestion,” one of the women on the board said.

  “Of course, Sorcha,” Crix said. “I always appreciate your input.”

  “Instead of executing the traitor, perhaps we could imprison him, much like Abner has been in the Lock. Justice would be better served in my opinion.”

  Crix nodded again and cast his gaze around the room. “All in favor of the proposed imprisonment, raise your hands.” All but a handful of Hunters throughout the room raised their hand. “Those in favor of beheading, raise your hands.” Crix did a quick hand count before turning back to Gareth. “Duly noted.”

  “So you’re imprisoning me now?” Gareth asked. “Those cells won’t hold me forever.”

  “No those ones in our upper levels won’t, they weren’t supposed to. But downstairs in the dark? I have a good feeling the mountain will hold you until we want you to come up.”

  “Do your worst, Crix,” Gareth said.

  “I intend to,” Crix said with a smile. “Take him.”

  Gareth was frog marched out of the room, each Hunter throwing a glare in his direction, praying for his suffering. Crix filed out after them, instead of heading downstairs to the dungeon he walked outside onto the plateau.

  “Crix! I need to talk to you!” Lois said. She came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. “I could use Gareth down in the Lock, if I’m going after Abner. He’s skilled and if we leave him there, it won’t matter if he lives or dies.”

  Crix shook his head. “Not this time, Lois. You’re going into that shithole of a country, if you can even call it that, and you’ll have limited support. Wouldn’t trust him to not stab or shoot you in the back.”

  “He didn’t when we were coming back here,” Lois said.

  “He had a point to make, and to be honest I’m not surprised there isn’t some army two days from our door. We’ll hold him here and use him as leverage if needs be,” Crix said. “I’m sorry Lois, but my decision is final and you’ll need others to fill out your team.”

  “Have you ever done it?” Lois asked.

  “What? Broken into the Lock? God no. But I’d personally take five Hunters with me. A diversion and distraction team, if I was to do it. Gunthos and Tori need something to do, I’m sure you won’t have a lack of volunteers. Good luck to you though, Lois. You’ll need it.”

  26

  Drenched

  Th
e Lock came into sight a week later, the towering walls rising far above the tree line. Lois had five other Hunters at her back, all riding in formation towards the end of their journey. They rode two abreast on the cobblestones, a frequent path for carriages to transport the most heinous prisoners from all across Taagras.

  The Saurian winter was warmer than most and a light breeze followed the Hunters the further they travelled south. The smell of seawater made its way into their nostrils as the blockade came into view. Behind a smaller wall, the first of the Lock’s guards made residence, keeping watch over who hired ferries to get to and from the prison.

  “We need to get off the road,” Gunthos said.

  “Agreed, we can make camp for the night,” Tori said.

  “Are we looking to attack at dawn then?” Memphis asked. He was the young Hunter that had come through the Huntrey a few years after Abner and Lois had made the move to Tyrain. “Surely it’d be better to go in during the dead of the night.”

  Lois turned around in her saddle to address him. “Of course, Memphis. Jarral can wait here with the horses. The rest of us are going to swim across the channel. Then if we’re not back in a day assume the worst.”

  “I want some of the action,” Jarral said. He had trained with Memphis but still had not completed the blood ritual to become a Hunter in full.

  “It’s too dangerous, but Crix insisted we take you,” Gunthos said. “Here you’ll be able to get back to the Huntrey with news if we’re to fail.”

  Their camp was situated several hundred meters from the road, obstructed by a nestle of ferns, also well out of sight. The Hunters started pitching their tents and Lois set off into the shrub in search of some firewood. She was only meters from the camp when in the brush ahead of her, twigs snapped underneath something heavy.