Hemlock (The Manhunters Book 2)

by Jesse Teller

  “Shame has defeated me,” he whispered. “I have been beat before, but that was—” But he had no name for it. Humiliating didn’t begin to explain how he felt. It seemed something in him had drifted away. The confidence he had known was cracked, and even the slightest loss or disappointment would shatter it.

  “Where are you, Rayph? Can I come to you?” Trysliana asked. “We still admire you. We still—”

  “Don’t,” Rayph said. “I will find my way again. Just let me be.”

  “We can’t let you be, Rayph. It is almost nightfall. We will need to get moving. We can’t let Tristan have another night unchecked. Half the city has been turned, I fear, and the rest terrorized. This city is drying up around us. It is the playground of monsters now. We need you to snap out of it, or we are not going to be able to stop this.”

  But could they stop it? Thousands of vampires haunted the streets now. How could he kill them all? To do it, he would need heroes. The mightiest warriors of the nation would have to come here and battle them all. He cursed and turned his heel toward the Crow’s Nest.

  He stood across the street, staring at the door. He could see the lights of the pub on and glaring, could hear muted revelry behind the door. He needed a victory, needed to feel his enemy’s despair.

  Pirates, they were the problem. How many of them were there? Maybe three hundred. Criminals all, the scum of the seas, churning on the shores of Hemlock like detritus from a storm. They knew no fear. In their numbers, they knew none would cross them. None of them feared the night. Trysliana spoke of a pact made between Tristan and Grabble, a truce that marked the pirates off limits.

  Rayph watched the bar, and his mind steamed. He felt as if he would be sick as he thought of secret deals being made, and the way the pirates hid there. He shook his head as his outrage climbed. He knew if he didn’t do something he would lose his mind. He took off his fetish and stowed it in his robe pocket. He crossed the street to the door and pulled his hood down, covering his face. As he entered the bar, the massive grewla at the door placed a hand on Rayph’s chest and held him back. Rayph grabbed the man’s hands and twisted. He folded the wrist and, with a slight pop, shattered the bone there. He twisted the arm, doubled the man over and lifted his knee, breaking the grewla’s nose. The man blubbered as Rayph jerked him outside. Out in the night air, Rayph dropped a heavy fist in the back of the skull, and the grewla dropped to the ground flat on his face. Rayph spat on him and reentered the bar. The place was loud, noise grated on Rayph’s ears. He needed to shut those people up, needed to get their attention. He stepped into the middle of the room and turned to take in the crowd.

  Dancing, singing, nudity, whores fucking on tables. Filthy pirates everywhere. The sight of it all made his head buzz. He looked to the wall chipping and splintered, where the wanted signs hung, and saw his face with a throwing knife in his cheek. Rage rattling around within him, a dire need building, he flexed his hands. He reached up to his cowl and slowly pulled it back. He turned one circle and stopped, looking up at Grabble’s balcony.

  Rayph waited until he was seen. A passing patron dropped his drink and jerked his sword free of its sheath. Rayph spoke a word and his own sword fell into his hand. He swiped once, catching the man in the throat. The man dropped to the floor and flopped before he died. The bar went silent. Grabble stood and laughed.

  “Rayph Ivoryfist, how long have I been waiting to get my hands on you? Ten, twenty years? Maybe a few more. I never imagined you would be stupid enough to walk right into my home and—”

  Rayph rolled his eyes, pulled a throwing dagger from the air around him, and tossed it quickly. The woman beside Grabble swung her staff out and the dagger stuck in her weapon. Grabble laughed. He shook his head and patted his robust belly. “Ho there, now I can see we are eager to get on with it. Fine then, bring him to me and put him on his knees in front of me. Whoever can do this will be rewarded well. Let it begin then.”

  Rayph felt a hand on his shoulder, and he grabbed it. The image of him kneeling at Grabble’s feet spurred a wild thing within his heart that Rayph could barely contain. He twisted the man’s arm and stabbed out at the next man to get in front of him. Snapping the arm, he kicked the man to the ground. A swift slice with Rayph’s sword ended his life.

  Rayph spun wildly as soon as he felt a pirate coming up to his back. The two swords clashed, and the man’s sword shattered. He looked down at his broken sword before Rayph stabbed him in the face and drove him to the ground. More and more they came at him, a riot of sailors, each striving to cow him, each hungry for reward. Rayph moved slowly through the room, twisting away from each attack like a tornado. His dance could not be stopped. He heard words of power spat from the balcony, and he spun, throwing up a shield spell as an arc of lightning ripped through the air. It collided with Rayph’s shield and shattered, going off in every direction. Tongues of lightning shot out at the men around him, dropping them to the ground, groaning or dead.

  He reached the bar and leapt atop it. He pointed his sword at the barrels lining the back wall, and he spat out a word. Fire slammed into the barrels, charring straight through the boards. The wall behind the bar exploded as the liquor caught fire. Rayph turned back to see pirates running for the door. He spoke another word and the door slammed closed.

  Grabble shouted something. It could have been a name. It could have been an order. But as Rayph watched, the warrior woman and the half-cyclops mage jumped to the floor, each readying an attack at him. Rayph leapt into the air, landing on the balcony directly before the fleeing Grabble. He swiped his sword, catching the man in the ample gut. His stomach unzipped, and he dropped to the ground screaming.

  Rayph turned to see a dog made of some rioting shadow and smoke running up the stairs. The warrior woman looked at Grabble, twisting in his entrails, and she bolted for the door. The mob before the door screamed, and a laugh built up within Rayph. He snarled at the thought of it, leaping back down to the floor and the destruction he had made. He waded into the slew of pirates, cutting and slashing until they left the door and made for the other side of the room. With a blast of power, the door shattered. The concussive force threw Rayph back in a heap. He reached around, searching blindly in the smoke for the sword he dropped. In walked Smear with fist daggers in his grip and a scowl on his face.

  Rayph’s heart leapt, and he yelled to him. “Smear, all of them, take all of them!”

  His eye landed on Rayph, and Ivoryfist saw fury there. Smear stormed for him, growling, as Rayph rose to his feet. A fist dagger disappeared, and Smear’s fist pounded into Rayph’s forehead. He slammed back, hitting the floor hard enough to see the flash of a blinding light. Smear looked down at him and, before Rayph could react, punched him again.

  Half a thought ran through Rayph’s head before he slipped into unconsciousness. He hits so hard, I—

  Then the black devoured him, and he passed out.

  When he awoke, his head railed with pain, and he groaned. He moved to touch his head wound and found his hands tied fast. A blade tip lightly scratched his chin as a spearhead gently lifted his head. Dissonance stood before him with rage on her face. He looked around the room. Trysliana stared at him with concern. Sisa fought back tears. Drelis stamped her foot and spat on the ground at his feet. Smear paced the back of the room silently. Dreark was a statue in the corner of the room, his face hard and dark.

  “Tell me why I don’t kill you,” Dissonance said.

  “What, what are you talking about?”

  She slapped him with the side of her spear, and he cried out with surprise. He twisted his hands in the bonds, but they would not give. “Untie me right now!” he yelled.

  “Tell me why I don’t kill you right now, Rayph Ivoryfist. Give me a reason, or I will not stay my blade.”

  “You do not kill me because I am ordering you to let me up.” He spoke a word that should have frayed the ropes holding him, but they throbbed and nothing more. Rayph scowled and raged. He roared and kicked an
d screamed, and they all watched horrified as he did. Spells rose to his mind that he would use to break them, but he did not say them. Sisalyyon was sobbing now, and Trysliana looked scared.

  Dissonance slapped him in the face with her impossibly hard hand, and Rayph looked up startled. “Why am I tied?!” he screamed.

  “Because you’re a criminal!” Dissonance yelled. Those words shut him up. “You went into that bar and murdered the patrons.”

  “They are pirate scum.”

  “They are people who did nothing to you.”

  “They are the monsters of the sea. I was doling out justice.”

  “You were throwing a fit. Your precious ego was bruised, so you decided to kill people for it. Did it work? Do you feel strong and powerful again? Do you feel ready to take on the world? Say something to me, Rayph, or I will bring you before my church for judgment.”

  “I, I needed to, they are pirates, they are—” But nothing she had said was untrue. In his rage, he had killed people who had done no wrong to him. He shook his head and sobbed. “You don’t understand.”

  “I don’t understand what? Being humbled? Setting aside ego and asking for help? I’m a holy warrior. Pleading is my life. I have no ego, because if I did, it would be a mark against my god. I obey. I serve. I think of my morals and values before every fight, and I fight for the right reasons.”

  Dissonance shook her head and scowled at him. “This one is it for me. I can’t work with a flailing child. I will stay on because vampires are a real danger to the world, but after this one, I will go back to my church in Ironfall and serve out my life there. You have lost my loyalty and my respect. You have to learn something about power, Rayph. True power, the kind you wield and I wield, the kind that really has the capabilities of changing the world, it doesn’t belong to you. It is a gift given to you to affect the world, it is not your possession. It belongs to Glimmer and Tyga, and countless other people who made you who you are. It belongs to the gods and the people you protect. It belongs to the world Rayph, and if you don’t learn that, then it will all be taken away.

  “When I leave, I will let you unravel your bonds. Until then, keep your mouth shut and think about your life. Think about your power. And think about the people you serve and the people you teach.” Dissonance turned and walked away. The door slammed behind her, and Rayph hung his head. He did not try to fight back the tears. He let them roll.

  The Temptation of Aaron the Marked

  Aaron stomped up the street and down another. The crew of the Venture seemed furious and ready for blood. The houses and shops around Aaron looked blasted and ruined. Every window shattered, every board withered and bent. The whole of this section of town looked dead. The area was clean of trash and filth. Only dry grasses and dust blew in this place.

  Oak stomped up the stairs and with one mighty kick blasted the door open to shudder on its hinges.

  “Where is he?” Oak shouted as he kicked in the door. The entire room leapt to their feet as Aaron, Horsehair, Avent, Giggles, and Helm walked into the shamble of a bar. Five other crew members of the Venture filed in from behind them as Oak stomped for the middle of the room and met Smear.

  Aaron saw Manhunters everywhere, but as he searched the corners and nooks of the room, as his eye parted the shadows and probed every inch of the bar, he realized there was another crew here. Terrifying men—mages and others—slowly seeped from corners, every one of them stepping as if out of some nightmare. A black-skinned man with blond hair slowly drew his swords and walked out to stand before Aaron.

  Smear spoke first, “Oak, take a breath.”

  “I will not. Smear, hand that bastard over now and I will be merciful. You and your group can go in peace. But Rayph Ivoryfist will be delivered to the crew of the Venture tonight.”

  Aaron winked at the man before him, who offered a kind of gentle smile back.

  From the back of the room, a man in black robes, with flaming hair and pitch-black eyes, laughed. “The Venture comes off their little dinghy and wish to strike true fear in the hearts of the Hoodsmen.” The man grinned a look of pure evil and Aaron’s heart quailed in his chest.

  “The Hoodsmen?” Oak scanned the room before he shook his head. “I’m here to talk to the Manhunters. We have no quarrel with the Hoodsmen.”

  A devastating woman, with a length of pure black hair and covered in black fur, smiled at Oak from behind the bar. “We get that a lot,” she purred.

  “Rayph killed dozens of my friends,” Horsehair said. “We will not let that go unanswered. They were scoundrels, but good men. He needs to hand himself over.”

  Dreark stepped forward and looked up at Oak with no fear in his eyes.

  “I will snap you in half before I let that happen,” Dreark said.

  Giggles’ hand flinched, and a blade was suddenly at Dreark’s throat. Dreark looked at Oak, who grinned back.

  Faster than a panther Aaron had once seen, Dreark smacked the sword away, gripped Giggles, and shifted to the side, and Giggles was on his knees with Dreark’s impossible fist wrapped around the pirate’s throat.

  The blond man before Aaron whistled. The redheaded man in the corner stepped forward and pointed a finger at Dreark.

  “Was that fast?” he said to Oak. “That looked fast. We haven’t met. I’m Saykobar of Dragonsbane. I’m the man who is going to boil you alive where you stand.”

  Aaron had seen that happen once before. He shuddered with the horror of it and turned back to the man before him.

  “I am the commander of the Hoodsmen. We are the horrors that stand between you and Rayph Ivoryfist.” Saykobar pointed at the beauty in the back. “That is Revenge.” He pointed to the warrior standing in front of Aaron. “That is Demetri Clasta. That,” he pointed at the horrifying mage in the back of the room, “is Sabrar Maul. And Tyga of the Crystal Citadel is around here somewhere. We are going to rip you to bits now and carpet this entire room with your parts.”

  Demetri looked at Aaron and smiled. “Aaron the Marked, it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m a big admirer of yours,” he said quietly as Saykobar raged and threatened.

  Aaron snarled, but a thrill ran up his spine at the sound of the words. “When Oak gives the command, I’m going to slice you to bits,” Aaron said.

  Demetri chuckled. “Classic,” he hissed.

  Oak looked at his crew and then down at Giggles. “I can’t do without that man right there.” He shrugged at Dreark. “Let my man up, Dreark. We have always been good to each other.”

  “Who wants a drink?” Revenge said. “This pub is in shambles but the wine stores are plentiful. Someone used to drink here. I can only imagine they drink blood now.” She sighed. “All the better for tonight then.” She lifted a glass mug and filled it from a cask behind her. “See, you seadogs won’t walk out of here tonight, but there is no reason we can’t have a party to celebrate your deaths.”

  Aaron snarled at Demetri. “You’re not going to kill me. Banish that thought from your head right now,” he said under his breath.

  “I find the idea dreadful, to be honest.” Demetri shook his head with a tsking sound. “A beast such as you struck down in your prime. It will be such a crime.”

  “How about this?” Saykobar said. “For the pure joy of humiliation, I propose a contest. You choose a man, and I do as well. We throw them at each other, and the victor and his people walk out of here alive.”

  Oak looked at the floor.

  “How about it, garq? How much faith do you possess in your crew?”

  “I can’t beat Sabrar Maul,” Avent said. “Not on a good day. Not on a bad. I have no hope. I will not insult him enough to try. My respect for him is too great. I would die first.”

  “Spoken like a true coward,” Saykobar said with a smile that would curdle milk.

  Oak nodded. “I’ll fight your man. If it means mine have a chance of getting out of here alive. I will do it.”

  “No,” Aaron said, his eye still nailed to Demetri. “You
lose nothing if I die. I am a poor sailor at best. You may have to wash our friend yourself, that is the worst of it. I will fight for the Venture. I will fight this man right here,” Aaron pointed his sword at Demetri.

  Demetri looked at Saykobar as if waiting for a command. Saykobar nodded.

  “Don’t kill him, Clasta. I would hate to destroy a work of art such as Aaron the Marked. Just humiliate him so I can get him on his knees.” Saykobar walked to the bar and took a mug of wine from Revenge.

  “I bow for one man. You are not him by a stretch,” Aaron said.

  “We will see,” Saykobar said with a laugh. “You can’t imagine the kind of men who have been kneeling to me lately.”

  Aaron stood on the eastern side of the room beside Dreark, the crew of the Venture, and Drelis Demontser. She gazed at Demetri and shook her head. “No one is faster. Wipe that from your mind right now. He is lightning.”

  “Some men around here are fast enough to get themselves killed,” Giggles hissed at Dreark, who seemed not to notice.

  “He is strong, but he won’t use it,” Dreark said. “He will flow. He will make you waste your strength as he tosses you about.”

  “You can’t beat him,” Smear said as he walked up to Aaron. Aaron grinned at him and shook his head.

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “Come along then,” Saykobar said. “The tension will crush us all.” Saykobar laid his feet on the table he sat in front of, and he waved a hand. “Demetri, bring him to me on his knees, my dear.”

  The man stepped out into the center of the room, and Aaron joined him.

  “I really do hate to do this,” Demetri said. “You are regarded a legend in my family. Enough even to ensnare my father’s attention.”