by Garry Spoor
Hunter’s Ending
G. T. Spoor
Copyright 2017 Garry T. Spoor
EW/EH
1
A gentle spring wind blew through the open window, the first spring wind after a long and difficult winter. Kile shielded her eyes against the morning light. She wasn’t ready to get up, not after last night.
-Kile, awake?-
His voice echoed inside her skull, reminding her of how much she hated mornings.
“No, Vesper, I’m still asleep,” she told the yarrow, who, for some reason, didn’t believe her.
-Kile look different.-
Peeking out from between her fingers, she looked at the small white rodent who was sitting on her chest. He cocked his head from one side to the other, as if trying to figure out what he was looking at.
-Kile look different,- he said again, and in his words, all she could see were lush green fields.
He must have been longing for the spring as much as she was. But the spring brought something different for her. It brought an end to her time in the Tower. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or scared. The Tower, even in its chaos, offered sanctuary. Was she so eager to leave it?
“Vesper, it’s early,” she told the yarrow.
-Bored,- he said.
She knew he was bored, ever since they came to the Tower, and that was three months ago. She didn’t think it was wise for him to go exploring as he usually did. The Tower was not like any other place they stayed at. For starters, one could easily get lost just walking to the next room. It was a tangled maze of corridors and hallways with doors leading absolutely nowhere. Once you entered, there was no way out. Emara tried to explain it to her. It had something to do with the constant experiments that were performed in the Tower over the years. They somehow warped reality. The mystics grew accustomed to it over time, but outsiders, like Kile, were bound to get lost at least once a day. And what of those experiments? Clouds of purple smoke filled the halls. Loud screeches could be heard in the middle of the night and flashing balls of light danced on the ceiling, and somehow, this was considered normal.
It was during her first week at the Tower when she spotted Vesper, flying through the halls, the unwilling victim of a wayward experiment. She barely caught him before he flew out the window. From that point on, she figured it was safer to keep the yarrow with her, but that wasn’t always possible. Sometimes she had to risk leaving him with Emara while she, herself, played the victim of one of those so-called normal experiments.
Morgan’s simple little tests were not as simple as he led her to believe. At first, they were quite mundane and reminded her of her days back at the Academy, when Morgan was her mystic’s art instructor. He was the one who discovered she could speak with animals and commune with nature. He was also the one who taught her how to use the Maligar, a skill she would rather not have learned, and yet, it was the one skill she needed to understand. During the experiments, she was forced to give herself over to it, to use it, but she refused to use it on any living thing. Instead, she would only use it on herself. It wasn’t what Morgan had in mind, but even he understood the risks. Over the last few days, she’d pushed her consciousness to the limit, exposing herself to the Maligar. The more she did, the more she witnessed things she did not understand, saw things she could not explain, and visited places she wished never to see again. But, through it all, she was always able to keep her sanity. She never once went feral, at least, not intentionally.
That was the second part of her training: the part where she released her wild side and let it run amok, but even then, she was still able to maintain some control. Those experiments were conducted by Vanessa, a mystic Kile met briefly back at the Academy. Vanessa spent most of her life studying the natural world and searching for a way to communicate with it, which is what brought them together in the first place. During those experiments, Kile would simply let herself go. It was a liberating experience, one where she didn’t have to hold back if she didn’t want to. At first, it was difficult. The vir side of her was intimidated and kept pulling her back to reality, but once her feral side took over, once she learned she could return whenever she wanted, she was more uninhibited. She would often spend hours among the animals of the menagerie as if she was one of them.
Even though the experiments appeared successful, even though she seemed in control, she still wasn’t sure. There were two conditions that couldn’t be tested. The first was Umingoth. The dragon had done something to her mind. He broke it, or so he said. He did it to keep her from losing herself to the darkness, but even he didn’t know what lasting effects that would have. The second was the Valgar. Only when they were around, did she feel herself slipping into the dark places of her mind… where she’d lose her identity. Without one of the saladogs to experiment with, she couldn’t really say she was ready. It wasn’t as if Morgan could go down to the local pet shop and pick one up. They had been scarce since her excursion into the wastelands, or at least, so she’d heard.
Several weeks had passed since she received any news from the front, not that she expected to be kept up to date on everything that was going on. Since her confinement within the Tower, her only real means of information with the outside world was through Alex’s letters to Emara. Now that he was no longer a Hunter, and spent his days entertaining pub hoppers in Baxter’s Bay, he no longer had connections within the Guild. Instead of troop movements and military rumors, the letters he sent were more about spring fashion and celebrity gossip.
Kile peeked out from between her fingers again, only to find Vesper staring at her. It was no use, she realized. She would have to get up. The yarrow jumped off as she sat up and swung her legs out of bed. Rubbing her eyes, she waited until the room came into focus before she risked getting to her feet.
Emara had insisted Kile sleep in her room during her stay at the Tower. At first, she was reluctant to share a room with the mystic, but her only alternative was the common room with the rest of the apprentices. Since she had no skills in the mystic arts and didn’t trust them to begin with, staying with fifty-odd students who were still learning to control them didn’t appeal to her. As it turned out, she spent most of her time alone anyway. Emara was often busy with her lessons or dealing with the burdens of being the next Grand Magus. She hadn’t received the title yet, but she was already starting to take on some of the responsibilities. The only time Kile ever saw the mystic was in the evening when they dined together in her room and exchanged stories about what they did that day.
As for Emara’s room, it wasn’t all that big, at least not for someone who would be the next Grand Magus. It was, however, twice the size of the room Kile had at the Bird and Bay, back in Coopervill, and nearly four times the size of her dorm at the Academy. What made it odd, though, was the shape. It was round, but most of the rooms within the Tower were round, which really didn’t make much sense when she thought about it. The floor plan shouldn’t work. Even the height of the rooms was out of proportion. They were too tall and should have invaded the floors above, yet they didn’t.
Lighting was provided by one of those strange dancing balls of light that hung in the air, defying the laws of nature. Kile never trusted it. She would lie in bed at night, staring at it, waiting for it to fall. One of these days, she thought, it would come crashing to the ground and set the floor on fire, but being the Tower, it could just as well turn the floor to ice.
Logic had no place in the Tower.
Stretching, she ran her fingers through her hair. It was shorter now, shorter than she had expected. Emara saw to that. Last night they sat up talking about, well, everything. It start
ed with Morgan’s tests and segued into Alex’s latest letter. At one point during the conversation, the young mystic talked her into doing something different with her hair. What possessed her to agree, she couldn’t say. It might have had something to do with the strange brew Emara mixed up earlier that evening.
Never accept a potion from a mystic.
Grabbing the robes that hung at the foot of her bed, she slipped them on. Everyone in the Tower wore robes. She was even starting to understand the significance of the colors or at least some of the colors. Purple robes were worn by historians, while scholars, like Morgan, wore yellow. Teachers wore whatever color was associated with the sphere they taught. But, like everything else in the Tower, it wasn’t that simple. There were subtle differences in the shades, and if you couldn’t pick up those differences, you risked insulting a mystic. The robes she wore were grey and had the look of dingy laundry. Every novice wore them.
Kile made her way to the lavatory, trying her best not to disturb Emara. The young mystic was still fast asleep if the sounds of her snoring were any indication. How someone so small could make so much noise was beyond understanding. Closing the door behind her, she stared longingly at the bathtub. That was one luxury she was going to miss about the Tower. The tubs were so spacious, they could fit four people at a time and still have room for a dog. And that wasn’t the best part. Not only could they fill themselves with warm water, they could maintain the temperature for the duration of the bath. Although she rarely trusted the mystic arts, they did have their advantages.
Turning to the sink, she splashed cold water on her face to wash away the sleep. She looked at herself in the mirror and a stranger stared back. Where was that young girl of fourteen who set out to become a Hunter? She was so naive back then, she didn’t understand anything about the world or what she was getting herself into. Would she have done it? Would she have gone through with the entry examination if she knew it would come to this? It was a wild seven years in more ways than one. She was now a Level Three Hunter and, if she could believe Alex, there were rumors her Level Two certification was not far behind. The question was, did she want to remain a Hunter?
People were starting to take notice. The news of the siege of Moran spread fast, as did her involvement in the pass of Lutmorli, not that anyone knew what happened there. She was becoming famous, whether she wanted it or not. And, of course, there was that other small problem, the one with Roland and Tullner. One was the king; the other was a simple soldier, but they both expressed feelings she wasn’t ready to reciprocate. What could they possibly see in her, she wondered as she examined her reflection in the mirror? She always thought of herself as quite plain, with the possible exception of her nose. She had her father’s nose. With her green eyes and her green hair and her crooked nose, she never thought herself attractive. Wait, green hair?
“Why is my hair green?” she asked the mirror.
The mirror had the good sense not to answer.
Throwing open the lavatory door, she marched across the room and yanked the blankets off Emara’s bed.
“Get up,” she demanded.
Emara buried her head in the pillows. “Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”
“Get up now and fix this.”
“Fix what? It’s too early to fix anything.”
“This,” Kile shouted, pointing to her hair.
Emara peeked out from under the pillows. “Whoa! What happen to you?”
“What happened? You happened, that’s what. What did you do to me?”
“I didn’t do anything, I swear,” she said, quickly sitting up in bed.
“You must have done something. It wasn’t this color last night. What about those spells you were playing around with?”
“All I tried was a simple hair reduction charm, that’s all.”
“Tried? What do you mean tried? You said you’ve used that bit of magic before.”
“Well, I did… sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“I’ve used it before, but… not on a real person.”
“Not on a…. you experimented on me?”
“Kinda.”
Kile threw her hands up and walked to the other side of the room. Three months with the woman and the mystic never ceased to surprise her, but if she wanted to get her hair back to the right color, she knew she had to remain calm. Make Emara flustered and the mystic’s next attempt could render her bald. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself before turning around.
“Change it back, please,” Kile asked as calmly as she could.
The mystic stared at her nervously.
“Emara, change it back.”
“Actually… I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“It’s not that I can’t, it’s that… I don’t know how.”
“You don’t know how?”
“Well… no. The charm should have only shortened your hair, not changed the color. I don’t know what happened, and if I try to reverse it without really knowing…” Emara cringed.
“I don’t believe this.”
“It doesn’t look that bad.”
“What am I supposed to tell Morgan when I show up at his lab looking like a sprig of broccoli?”
“Tell him you’re trying a new style. That’s what I always say.”
Kile stared at the mystic for a while, shook her head, and sighed. “At least tell me what sphere this came from. Maybe Morgan or Vanessa can change it back.”
“You can’t tell them,” Emara shrieked as she jumped out of bed and ran toward her. Kile stumbled back.
“Why not?”
“Ki, I’m supposed to be the next Grand Magus. If you tell them I messed up another spell, I’ll never hear the end of it. Master Tallo will have me back studying cantrips, day and night. I’ll never have any free time to see Alex.”
“What are cantrips?”
“Boring little spells that even first years know. Please, Ki, you can’t tell them. The spell is probably limited. It should only last a day… or more.”
“Or more? How long is ‘or more’?”
“Worst-case scenario?”
“Em!”
“Well, I’ve heard of charms that have lasted up to a year.”
“A year? Seriously?”
“That’s a worst-case scenario. You’ll probably be back to normal within the hour.”
Kile closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t believe this,” she groaned.
“I promise, I’ll look for a way to remove the charm.”
“I’ve got to see Morgan.”
“Kile…”
“If he asks… I’ll tell him we were simply having a little fun,” Kile said, although fun was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. She extended a hand to Vesper, who quickly ran up her arm and took his place on her shoulder.
“Thanks, Ki.”
“Yeah, right, find a way to fix it or reverse it or whatever. Otherwise, you won’t have to worry about Master Tallo,” Kile said. She pulled the hood of her robes up to hide her green hair, before stepping out into the hallway.
She might have been able to pressure Emara into reversing the spell. The mystic often came through in a pinch, but when Emara was stressed, she became flustered, and there was no telling what the outcome might be. Right now, Kile had hair, green or otherwise. She should be thankful for that.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and fell into her Edge. Not only did it calm her down, it had the effect of focusing her mind. Walking carelessly through the halls of the Tower was not a safe journey; it was not something to take lightly. If she stormed off in a huff, annoyed by Emara’s cosmetology skills, she could easily step through a door to nowhere or walk blindly into the middle of some strange experiment. No, it was always a good idea to keep your head when navigating the Tower. Besides, her Edge had another useful benefit: she could find Morgan by his scent. It was the only way she knew of to avoid getting lost in the Tower. By relyin
g solely on her sense of smell, she could find her way to Morgan’s office without any mishaps.
It wasn’t a long journey, but it was never the same journey. Sometimes it was upstairs, sometimes downstairs, and sometimes on the same floor. She stopped trying to make sense of it after her first week and decided it was better to go with the flow. It was comforting to know that if the Tower couldn’t drive her insane, how could the Maligar?
Kile stopped walking when Morgan’s scent led her to a closed door. It looked like the same door she’d used yesterday, but that didn’t mean much. Most of the doors around the Tower looked the same, only what was behind them was different… sometimes.
She knocked three times before letting herself in. Back at the Academy, she’d learned not to wait for Morgan. Mystics operated within their own time zones, and Morgan was no exception.
The door led to a narrow hall and followed the outer wall of the room, which was round. It opened to a large, spacious area surrounded by shelves and tables covered with stacks of books and reams of paper. What little space remained was stuffed with knickknacks and curiosities, giving the room an overall appearance of a storage closet. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn she was in the wrong place, but she did know better. She had been here too many times now.
Slowly, she navigated her way between a wall of books and a hutch filled with jars of unidentifiable slimy objects before reaching the center of the maze. Two overstuffed wing-back chairs faced a roaring fire, which, of course, was purple. One of the chairs was occupied by an old man draped in yellow robes. He had a long narrow face with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on an angular nose. His eyes were small and sunken, and his hair, what little he had of it, was silver and grew in tufts around his ears, leaving the top of his head completely bald. He had a short-trimmed beard, which he continued to pull on as he read through the pages of a large book hovering before him.
-Good morning, child. You’re looking… different.-
Kile glanced up toward the top of the bookshelf where an ominous-looking black bird was watching her.
