Hunter of Legends (Fate of Legends Series Book 1)

by Clayton Wood

  “Well, you know how stone absorbs emotions better than wood?” she replied. Hunter nodded; Thorius had said as much. “Bones are like stone,” she explained. “They absorb everything about a person, because they live with that person for their whole life, obviously.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “So here you have it…everything about a person, down to their personality, their appearance, everything…is stored in their bones after they die. Especially the skull, since it was so close to the brain. And anyone who goes near those bones will start to absorb that shit.”

  “So you’re telling me that if I went near someone’s bones,” Hunter stated, “…I’d start absorbing everything about them?”

  “Right,” Sukri confirmed. “If you did it for long enough, anyway. You’d start looking a little more like them, acting like them…you’d even start thinking like them.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Every profession in Tykus has a bunch of these geniuses from different generations, their bodies mummified and their bones stored where apprentices can be exposed to them. After years of exposure, these apprentices almost become those geniuses.” She paused. “That way, these geniuses throughout history are never lost. They live on through each generation, continuing their work for the kingdom.”

  Hunter said nothing, trying to take it all in. The idea that someone could almost become someone else just by being near their bones for long enough…

  “Well, the same thing is used in the sex industry,” Sukri continued. “The sexiest, most insatiable women…their bones are preserved, and placed in altars in the brothels. Or sometimes even under the prostitutes’ beds. So they’re exposed to that all day long.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “That’s not all,” Sukri stated. “See, the prostitutes become insatiable, but they also exude that sex drive, and give it – at least temporarily – to anyone they’re near for long enough.”

  “So anyone that’s around them gets turned on,” Hunter deduced. She snorted.

  “Not just turned on, Crispy. Horny as hell.” She smirked. “Like, can’t help yourself horny.” She gestured back the way they’d come. “What do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten off that bed on time?”

  Hunter said nothing, knowing exactly what would’ve happened. The same thing that’d happened when he hadn’t realized it was Trixie.

  “I’m telling you,” Sukri insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Your girlfriend’s a prostitute. I’m not saying she doesn’t like you…they like everybody. Remember, they’re insatiable. And I can guarantee you she’s never met someone who didn’t like her, at least eventually.” She sighed. “If you spend enough time with them, you’re going to have sex with them. Doesn’t matter who you are, or if you’re a girl, or a boy, or don’t even like girls.”

  “I don’t know…” Hunter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine Trixie as a prostitute, selling herself like that. She was too sweet, too kind and thoughtful.

  “What did you think of her when you first met her?” Sukri asked.

  Hunter turned away from her, staring at the docks as he walked.

  “I wasn’t impressed,” he admitted. He’d thought she was dumb, and pretty, but not that pretty. A stupid snap-judgement, or so he’d thought.

  “Not until you were near her for a while, huh?” Sukri pressed. He glanced at her, then nodded, feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. The idea that everything he’d felt for her – the affection, the attraction, the lust – had been her manipulating him, just as Thorius’s sphere had done, was monumentally depressing.

  He felt Sukri’s hand squeeze his shoulder, and glanced up at her.

  “Sorry Crispy,” she murmured. “I hate to be the one to shit on your joy.”

  “I can’t believe it,” he muttered.

  “Hey, if it makes you feel better, we can go back to your place and lay on your bed,” she offered with a grin. “Not gonna lie, I was damn tempted to let that play out earlier.”

  “Ditto,” Hunter confessed. The way he’d felt about Sukri then, the sudden, overwhelming attraction, was proof enough that she was right about the bed. And maybe even about Trixie. Now that he was walking with Sukri, he had no such feelings at all. If Trixie herself was the source of that emotion, then being near her would be the same as being near his bed…to similar effect.

  “I’d better get going,” Sukri said, flashing him another smile. “Don’t let anyone near your bed,” she added. “Especially Kris.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he replied. Sukri stopped, then leaned in and gave him a hug.

  “Take care of yourself, Crispy.”

  “You too,” he replied. “And thanks.”

  She pulled away, waving at him and walking back toward her apartment on the other end of town. He watched her go, then sighed, standing where he was. He could go back home…had to go back home, eventually…and that meant dealing with Trixie eventually. And if he went anywhere near his bed…or her…he wouldn’t be able to control himself. They would end up in bed together for another marathon session. And while he would most certainly enjoy that, the better part of him resented not being in control.

  The question was, why did Ekrin hire a prostitute to show him around? Why would Ekrin want him to fall for Trixie?

  He sighed again, staring across the water at Lowtown in the distance. He had to go home. There was no place else for him to go, unless he tried staying with Sukri. And he didn’t very much feel like sleeping on their couch. He had to face Trixie, and turn her away. Avoiding the issue wouldn’t solve anything.

  He took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. Then he began the short walk back to his apartment.

  Chapter 10

  The Duke of Wexford’s carriage moved steadily down the King’s Road, the vast wasteland of the Deadlands extending off into the distance to meet the tree line of the Fringe. The road had run parallel to the forest for a few kilometers, then pulled away, turning left to cut through the barren landscape. It would only be a few more kilometers before they reached Tykus now.

  Dominus stretched his back, sore from being in the carriage for the last few hours. He used to be able to make these trips without feeling any discomfort at all. Time was destroying his body; he considered it a gift that it hadn’t taken his mind. At seventy-five, he’d reached an age that few were lucky enough to experience. Each day now was a gift, one he dared not take for granted.

  Suddenly the carriage slowed, then stopped. Dominus frowned, feeling Axio’s gaze upon him. He ignored the boy, looking out of his window at the road ahead. There were soldiers there, standing at the edges of the road on either side. They weren’t his personal soldiers either…they wore the uniform of the Acropolis’s Royal Guard. One of these soldiers approached Dominus’s carriage, only to be intercepted by Dominus’s personal guards. After a brief conversation, one of these guards stepped up to the window, bowing before Dominus.

  “My liege,” he greeted. “There’s been a complication.”

  Dominus just stared at the man, seeing him swallow nervously.

  “There’s been an attack on the Deadlands military base,” he informed. “And on the soldiers guarding the Gate.” He hesitated. “It was the Ironclad, your Grace.”

  “When?” Dominus inquired calmly.

  “Last night.”

  “What is the damage?” he pressed.

  “Still being assessed,” the guard answered. “Moderate casualties, but very little damage to infrastructure.”

  “How large was the attacking force?”

  “Huge,” the guard replied. “The survivors had never seen so many of the things in one place before.” He paused. “I’m surprised anyone survived.” He wiped sweat from his forehead. “Survivors say the things seemed to be looking for something.”

  Dominus frowned, lowering his gaze to a lap for a moment, then turning back to the guard.

  “Is the King’s Road secure?” he asked. The guard nodded.


  “It is, my Duke.”

  “Then continue,” Dominus ordered.

  The carriage continued forward moments later, passing a long line of Royal guards. Dominus ignored them, feeling Axio’s eyes upon him. He turned to the boy.

  “Speak,” he stated.

  “I’m surprised your Grace,” Axio admitted. “The Ironclad haven’t attacked us in years, much less a full-scale assault.”

  “True,” Dominus agreed.

  “Why would they do so now?”

  “The answer requires deduction,” Dominus answered. “The Ironclad have targeted a military base and a single post on a road remote from that base.”

  “By the Gate,” Axio added.

  “The Ironclad were apparently looking for something,” Dominus continued. “Or perhaps someone.” He considered the possibilities. “There are no vital artifacts, Ossae, or personnel in that base. Certainly not vital to the kingdom, nor valuable to the Ironclad. And the forces they deployed should have been able to destroy the base entirely…yet they did not.”

  Axio said nothing, to his credit. The boy really did know how – and when – to listen. The when was perhaps even more important than the how.

  “The Gate post was not attacked randomly,” Dominus continued. “It’s too far away from the base, and there are other posts closer to the base. So we have two assumptions we can make: the Ironclad are looking for something, and that something is related to the Gate.”

  Again, Axio remained silent.

  “The Ironclad have patrolled the Gate since they appeared twenty-three years ago,” Dominus stated. “No Originals have come through in that time frame. This leads me to believe that an Original came through recently, and that Tykus took the Original in, likely after a battle with the patrolling Ironclad.”

  “I left Tykus only a few days ago, my liege,” Axio countered. “I did not hear of an Original coming through the Gate.”

  “Then we have our timeframe,” Dominus replied. “There are only two places the Ironclad would suspect an Original would go: the base, or the kingdom itself. If the Original was in the base, we have lost them. If they are in the kingdom, then we must prepare for another assault.”

  Axio stared at Dominus for a long moment.

  “An assault, your Grace? On Tykus?”

  “Correct,” Dominus confirmed.

  “But…”

  “The Ironclad have greater numbers than we estimated,” Dominus interrupted. “They value the Original highly enough to risk an army to find her. Or him,” he added.

  “But why would the Ironclad want an Original?” Axio pressed. Dominus sighed, turning away from the boy and staring out of the window, at the barren landscape of the Deadlands. A man-made desert, the ashes of a war that had torn Tykus apart. All because of one damn woman.

  “That,” Dominus replied at last, “…is an excellent question.”

  * * *

  Hunter swung his legs over the side of his bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Then he yawned, squinting against the bright light coming through his bedroom window. He stood up, glancing down at the bed, seeing an all-too-familiar woman lying on her side there, half-covered by a thin sheet.

  Damn.

  She’d come for him the night before, maybe an hour after Sukri had left. He’d tried to resist her, tried to send her away, but she’d leaned in to hug him, and then they’d starting kissing. One thing had led to another…and another, and another. They hadn’t actually slept until early the next morning…and he was paying for it now.

  He yawned, thankful that she was still asleep. Despite everything, half of him wanted to wake her up, to go at it again. Even knowing that it was Trixie’s influence twisting his mind wasn’t enough…he wanted her, and wanted her badly. She was like an itch that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times he scratched it. And yet it felt so good each time.

  He pulled on his uniform silently, grabbing his medallion, then exiting his apartment, leaving Trixie there. He went downstairs, making his way to the community center.

  You shouldn’t have done that.

  He’d had every intention of kicking her out last night. Had gone to his apartment planning on confronting her. But as soon as she’d arrived, he’d found his resolve wavering. Sukri had been right…Trixie’s influence had been impossible to resist.

  And once he’d given in, he’d given in hard.

  You have to cut it off tonight, he told himself, weaving between apartments. He reached the community center within minutes, enjoying the usual reception from the rest of the townsfolk. He ignored them, walking into the building. To his relief, he didn’t see Sukri anywhere…or Gammon or Kris, for that matter. It looked to be almost noon, so they were probably already waiting at the guild. He grabbed some grub, eating quickly, then took the long walk to the Guild of Seekers. As predicted, Sukri and the gang were standing before the double-doors to the guild, along with Donahue, Udeln, and the other candidates. Sukri smirked at him as he approached.

  “Couldn’t do it, could you,” she greeted. Hunter grimaced.

  “You were right,” he admitted.

  “Of course I was,” Sukri agreed. Gammon frowned.

  “Right about what?” he asked.

  “Never mind,” Hunter grumbled, giving Sukri a look. Mercifully, she said nothing, and Gammon, being ever the polite giant, didn’t press the issue.

  “Hey man,” Kris greeted, clapping him on the shoulder. “Hope you did better than me last night.”

  “Doubt it.”

  The doors opened, and Master Thorius himself appeared.

  “Come,” he ordered. He led them into the building and through the hallway to their customary room, and each candidate split up, going with their respective trainers. As before, Thorius stayed in the room with Hunter. The man eyed Hunter with that unnervingly unreadable expression he always had.

  “Come closer,” he ordered. Hunter obeyed, stepping up until he was only a foot from the man. Thorius put a hand on Hunter’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Then he opened his eyes, raising an eyebrow.

  “You’ve been consorting with interesting company,” he stated. Hunter grimaced.

  “So I’ve learned,” he admitted.

  “Stop,” Thorius ordered. Hunter sighed.

  “I tried,” he replied, shaking his head. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “You’ll have to,” Thorius retorted, “…if you want to become a Seeker.” He let go of Hunter’s shoulder. “I told you yesterday that you needed to train your willpower, so that you could resist the effects of transmitted emotions.”

  “How?”

  “You must be aware of the emotions around you,” Thorius answered. “To do that, you have to be aware of what is you and what is not.”

  “What is me?”

  “You need to be very aware of who you are,” Thorius explained. “Without that, you’ll never realize that others are attempting to change you.” He reached in his pocket, retrieving a familiar crystal sphere. “Take this.”

  Hunter hesitated, then did as he was told.

  “Pay attention to who you are now,” Thorius continued. “To how you feel about me. Try to hold on to that,” he added. “When you feel your emotions shifting away from that center, recognize the shift, and try to center yourself again.”

  Hunter nodded, feeling suddenly uneasy. He glanced at the crystal, then at Thorius. Then he closed his eyes, trying to focus on what he was feeling. Nervous, certainly. Not angry though, at least not yet. Maybe a little irritated, though. Thorius had jumped right in to this test, without really preparing him for it. Kind of a dick move. If he’d been a better teacher, he would’ve actually, you know, prepared Hunter first.

  Hunter opened his eyes, seeing Thorius eyeing him critically. Waiting for him to crack, no doubt. The guy probably got a hard-on watching students fail these tests over and over, proving his superiority over them. And beating the crap out of them when they inevitably attacked.

  Wouldn’t mind that jo
b, Hunter mused.

  Hunter waited, and still Thorius just stared at him.

  “We gonna do this all day?” Hunter muttered. Thorius said nothing. Didn’t even bother to answer.

  Prick.

  Hunter gripped the sphere tightly, its surface slick against his sweaty palm. Another minute passed, and still Thorius just stood there.

  “Come on man,” Hunter protested. “Haven’t we done this long enough?”

  Still nothing.

  “Jesus,” Hunter grumbled, glaring at the man. Thorius stared back impassively, looking smug, as usual. Hunter had the sudden urge to wipe that smug look off his face. Maybe the asshole wouldn’t get so lucky this time, and Hunter would get a good hit in. Knock the bastard right on his self-righteous ass.

  Hunter glanced at the sphere, staring at it.

  Pay attention to who you are, he thought.

  He closed his eyes, remembering how he’d felt earlier. Mostly calm, neutral toward Thorius. Maybe a little intimidated.

  That’s before he started acting like a dick, he told himself. Refusing to talk to you, ignoring your questions.

  He opened his eyes, staring at the sphere. Then he looked past it, at Thorius. He felt a spike of irritation, a sudden desire to chuck the sphere as hard as he could, right at the asshole’s face. He imagined himself smashing the man’s face in with it, beating him over and over until his face was a bloody mess. The image made him feel almost giddy, and he gripped the sphere tighter, imagining how good it would feel to give in.

  “I can’t,” he blurted out, dropping the sphere and stepping backward. Thorius darted forward, snatching the sphere out of the air with shocking speed, placing it back in his pocket. Hunter backed away from the man, his heart pounding in his chest.

  “Well done,” Thorius declared, nodding at Hunter. “You lasted far longer than I expected.”

  “Jesus,” Hunter muttered, his back striking the wall behind him. He pressed himself against it, feeling the rage dissipate quickly, replaced by a sudden exhaustion. “Holy crap that thing is powerful.”

  “It is,” Thorius agreed, patting his pocket. “Trust me, I know.”