Hunter's Ending (Legend of the Wild Hunter Book 5)

by Garry Spoor

  Carter reached into his shirt and Kile braced herself when he pulled out a… rock. Okay, that wasn’t what she expected.

  “Break if off. Return to base,” he told the rock.

  Kile looked over at Duncan, who shrugged.

  “Repeat, sir,” the rock said.

  “I said, break it off, return to base.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Slipping the rock back into his shirt, Carter got up and stepped back from the fire. “I’m sorry it had to turn out this way.”

  “So am I,” Kile said. “Who’s behind this, Carter? Who’s controlling the Terrabin Hunters?”

  He grinned. “Come on, Kile. You know I can’t tell you that. That’s one of the fundamental rules of the Hunter’s Code.” He faded from sight. “You never reveal who you’re working for.”

  Duncan reached for his sword, but Kile held up her hand to stop him. Closing her eyes, she fell into her Edge. After a few minutes, she waved for him to sit down.

  “They’re gone, or at least they’re going. Some of the wolves will follow them back to the road.”

  Duncan exhaled. “I may have been around for a while, and I’ve seen some scary-ass things, but that was definitely the scariest,” he told her as he flopped back down beside the fire.

  “What are you talking about? I had everything under control. They were never going to attack us.”

  “I wasn’t scared of them.”

  22

  It was two more days before they reached the edge of the wastelands. Kile never thought she’d look on the vast stretch of barren desert again, but fate kept drawing her here. Some people go their whole lives without seeing it. Her mother never even knew it existed, and yet Kile had not only seen it but had the misfortune of walking through it, twice. Now she was standing on the edge, ready to enter it for a third time. However, she’d changed since her last journey through the dead world. Originally, she viewed the desert as natural, harsh but natural. Now she knew it was anything but. A whole desert created by the ignorance of the Alva and the madness of a tortured Orceen. Who could have thought something like this was even possible? And yet, if she couldn’t stop the Maligar, it would happen again.

  There were no signs posted to warn people they were entering the wastelands. There was no need. A physical difference existed between the two worlds, like night and day. It was almost as if someone dragged a knife down the center of the world and scraped anything living from one side. It even affected the air, if that was possible. They passed from the humid summer breezes of Aru to the stale, dry winds of the wastelands.

  As dead as the world seemed, Kile knew it was deceiving. There was still life, even in the wastelands. Hidden and hard to see, but it was there. From the sand foxes to the vultures. From the Ogre to the Uhyre, they somehow turned death into life.

  Duncan walked his light bay mare out on the plains and turned her around. “There doesn’t seem to be too much activity.”

  “There never was,” Kile said. “Haven’t you been here before?”

  “Not for a very long time.”

  “What did you expect to see?” she asked.

  “Valrik, if nothing else. I mean, for a kingdom to have a war, they need an enemy or two.”

  “I’m afraid you’re not going to find your enemies here,” Kile said. “From what I’ve seen, the valrik and the Ogre want no part of the vir or the Alva.”

  “I guess you can’t blame them, but it does lead to a lopsided battle. Who have we been fighting these past few months?” he asked.

  “If there’s one lesson I learned from my short time in the military, it’s easy to fake an enemy. Nobody knows what anyone else is doing. A few well-placed reports and there can be battles in all the places you’re not.”

  “Well, that’s a pessimistic thought,” Duncan said. “So, do we wait until our tail catches up to us, or do we push on?”

  “When did you realize we were still being followed?” she asked.

  “I’d like to say two days ago, but the truth is I didn’t know. I figured, since you kept closing your eyes every couple of miles, you must have been checking on something. Besides, Terrabin or not, they’re still Hunters, and it’s the responsibility of all Hunters to gather as much information as possible before returning.”

  “Well, I don’t know what information he managed to get, but he stopped following sometime last night.”

  Duncan shrugged. “I suppose it would have been more difficult to follow us out here without being spotted.” He looked out over the desert. “Now that we’re here, where do we go?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Kile answered and urged Grim forward. The mountain pony slowly plodded his way across the cracked earth.

  “And what did you come up with?” Duncan asked.

  “That’s just it. When I think I’ve solved the puzzle, there’s always a few pieces missing. I mean, why send the Heart of Nilak west into the wastelands?”

  “To defeat the valrik, who aren’t here,” Duncan said. “But the king didn’t know that, did he? And he also wanted to bring Kalistar back to its former glory.”

  “Somehow I don’t think bringing Kalistar back was on his agenda, but you’re right. He wouldn’t have known about the Heart, or at least he didn’t when I spoke to him about it. But the Alva knew. They knew the Heart of Nilak couldn’t do what they said it could do, so why would they help bring it here? If Galan wanted to destroy the kingdom, what better place than Azintar to release it?”

  Duncan scratched his beard. “Maybe he couldn’t,” he said. “Maybe they learned what he was planning and stopped him before he could carry it out.”

  “And that’s where the pieces are missing. If Galan tried to release the Maligar in Azintar and they stopped him, Roland would have known what the Heart was. After that, there would be no reason to send it into the wastelands. That means Galan didn’t have a chance to release it, or Azintar was never his original target.”

  “All right,” Duncan said. “Let’s go with the theory that Galan wasn’t caught. We know he didn’t carry out his plan in Azintar, so he’s forced to follow the original plan. Bring the Heart to the wastelands and use it against our enemies. So, where would be the most practical place to release that thing?”

  Kile thought for a moment, and it came to her. The target was obvious. “The Keep.”

  “What Keep?”

  “Ravenshadow’s Keep. When they brought me to the wastelands two years ago, they held me in an old Keep with Emara. I never saw what it looked like since I was locked in the dungeon, but I remember one of the rooms. It was a large hall with old banners hanging from the rafters and all these coats of arms…”

  “Burmstone,” Duncan exclaimed, nodding his head. “It’s an ancient place. It was old when I was young. I’ve only ever been inside it once. It was considered cursed by the Alva.”

  “Do you think you can find it again?” Kile asked.

  “Can’t you? You were there more recently than I was.”

  “I have no idea where it is. Emara and I got turned around inside the halls and ended up on the roof, where she did her little mystic-arts thing. The next thing I knew, we’re standing in the middle of the wastelands. It could be right around the corner or leagues from here.”

  “I don’t believe it was that far away from the border, but the place has changed a bit since I was here last. All I can remember is it was in the middle of the forest alongside a river. Since there aren’t any forests or rivers anymore, it doesn’t help. Don’t you have any idea where it could be?”

  “I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind at the time,” Kile said. “I can barely remember what happened, let alone where it happened. I do remember seeing mountains, but they were far away.”

  “So, we’re looking for a keep, hidden in a forest, which no longer exists, beside a river, which is long dried up, within sight of the mountains, which are far away. That shouldn’t be too hard to find. I figure it should only take us a decade or
so.”

  “Actually, there may be a quicker way.” Kile pointed to a raven, who was sitting in a dead tree, watching them closely.

  “Friend of yours?” Duncan asked.

  “Not quite,” she said. “Let’s say an old acquaintance.”

  Turning Grim to the old tree, Kile rode up to the raven. “Hello, Bakara. It’s been awhile.”

  -Indeed it has,- the old raven said. -He is waiting for you.-

  “Is he now? Should I be worried?”

  -He knew you would come.-

  “Then what are you waiting for? Lead us to him.”

  -I was waiting until you finished your conversation with the Alva. I did not wish to be rude.-

  Kile looked back to where Duncan was waiting. “You knew he was an Alva?”

  -Of course. Didn’t you?-

  “Well, yes, but… never mind. Take us to Burmstone.”

  -As you wish.-

  When Bakara took flight, he was joined by a few of his kin before he flew north, across the barren desert.

  “That way,” Kile said, pointing Grim toward the ravens.

  “Are you sure they know where they’re going?” Duncan asked as he came alongside her.

  “It would seem we are expected.”

  “By who?”

  “Ravenshadow.”

  ~~~***~~~

  Burmstone wasn’t nearly as far away from the border as Kile originally thought, which meant when Emara helped her escape, she actually zapped them deeper into the wastelands. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The mystic had a terrible sense of direction.

  As they came up over the ridge, they found the old stone keep nestled in the valley, alongside a dried-out riverbed. It had seen better days and was in worse shape than Kile remembered. The whole west wall had crumbled in on itself, leaving the interior exposed. The east side faired a bit better, but two of the towers were sheared off and now lay, still intact, on the cracked earth.

  “That damage is recent,” Duncan said, pointing to the scorch marks along the front wall. “This place was attacked, and not too long ago.”

  “We should see if anyone is still around,” Kile said.

  It wasn’t until they got closer, they saw the true carnage of war. The bodies of the valrik lay strewn across the landscape. A few showed signs of battle, brought down by a stroke of a sword or the shaft of an arrow. Most were either burned or buried beneath stone, torn from the walls of the keep. The battle looked one-sided, with the valrik on the receiving end.

  “This was not done by ordinary soldiers,” Duncan said as he rode among the dead. “Mystics played a part in this.”

  “Or Hunters,” Kile replied. “You said it yourself. A squad of Hunters entered the wastelands not too long ago.”

  “Hunters couldn’t… wouldn’t do this.”

  “Not your Hunters, no, but Terrabin Hunters would. They are forming an army, and this is just the beginning.”

  Grim stepped cautiously over the bodies of the fallen, as well as what looked like the front gate, which was torn from its frame and thrown across the field. The attack must have been quick, as many of the valrik didn’t appear to be armed, and their position suggested they may have been trying to flee the battle.

  -It would seem we have a welcoming party,- the mountain pony warned her as they approached the entrance to the Burmstone.

  Beneath the crumbling archway, a few valrik waited.

  “Is this wise?” Duncan asked.

  “Does it matter anymore?” Kile said, slipping off Grim’s back. She approached the valrik, who cautiously stepped aside. They showed no signs of aggression and wielded no weapons. There was no fight left in them if there was any to begin with. Bakara flew overhead and through the gates, up to the main baily. Kile followed, leading Grim. Duncan was only a few steps behind.

  The destruction was complete. No place was left untouched by the invaders. Every door was destroyed, every room burned, whether it was occupied or not.

  “This is not what the Hunters were meant to be,” Duncan said in disbelief.

  “But it is what they became,” Kile said.

  “You blame me for this, don’t you?”

  She turned and looked at him.

  “No, not completely, although you watched it happen. You saw how they were changing, you saw what the Academy was doing, the lessons they were teaching, and you did nothing to stop it.”

  “What could I have done?”

  Kile shook her head and continued walking.

  “Maybe nothing,” she said. “Vir will be vir as Alva will be Alva. It seems neither one of you can be trusted.”

  When she reached the main doors, Kile ducked under a few fallen timbers to gain access. Leaving Grim behind, she followed Bakara into the main hall. It was the same room she had seen before, from the balcony above her head. It hadn’t changed much. It wasn’t in the best condition back then, with all the ruined tables and chairs thrown up against one wall and the tattered banners hanging from the rafters. Even the ravens had returned. They looked down at her when she entered.

  Across the room, on a dais, were the remains of an old throne. On the throne, lay a discarded pile of black cloth. At least it looked that way until it moved.

  “I knew you would return,” he whispered, and although his voice was soft, it carried in the empty chamber.

  Kile held her distance. It would serve no purpose to get any closer.

  “You’re dying,” she told him.

  She could already smell the Lasting. It filled the room and waited. Whether it was allowing him these last final moments to speak, or he had some means of keeping it at bay, it wouldn’t be long before it took him.

  Ravenshadow tried to sit up, but the effort was too much for him. He only slipped farther down on the throne. To Kile’s surprised, he laughed.

  “It is an odd turn of events, isn’t it?” he whispered. “We played the game, and in winning, we both lost. I never thought he would go through with it. I underestimated him.”

  “Who? Who did you underestimate?” she asked, but he wasn’t listening, or if he was, he didn’t understand.

  “None of it matters anymore. It’s over. I tried, but I wasn’t strong enough. It knew me too well. It knew my secrets, my fears, and now it is almost free. It played me. It told me things, showed me things. It always knew what I wanted, what I desired. I was a fool. Ignorant in my ambitions. From the day it came to me when it whispered to me from the shadows of my bedroom, I couldn’t turn away from it. The black arms reaching out to me, pulling me in. I couldn’t fight it, I didn’t. I didn’t want to. In the end, I let it take me. I thought it needed me. I thought I was doing the right thing, but now… now I know it was all a lie. My only regret is that I didn’t know you sooner.”

  “Who sooner? Me?”

  “You, Kile. It played me. It mocked me, but it fears you.”

  “The Maligar?”

  Ravenshadow’s hand gripped the arms of the throne as he used the last of his strength to rise to his feet. He wasn’t as tall or as ominous as he once appeared. A small fragment of darkness, abandoned by the night.

  “He hid you from me. I did not see your potential, and that was my failing. I thought what I was doing was for the good of all, and now it has him.”

  “Where? Where is the Maligar? Jonland?”

  “Jonland?” he laughed. “Jonland died in that accursed cell.”

  “Where is the Maligar?”

  “It’s not here. It never was. It did not come west. It headed east.”

  “East? Why east?”

  He didn’t answer and started laughing. It was loud, and echoed off the walls, driving the ravens from the rafters. The sound sent a chill down Kile’s spine. She had heard that laughter before, she had heard it too many times, but it didn’t last long. It was suddenly cut short as Ravenshadow crumbled to the ground.

  She made a move toward him, but Duncan stopped her.

  “Hold on,” he said, drawing his sword. He cautiousl
y approached and poked at the cloth with the tip of his blade, but there was nothing there. The robes were empty.

  “Well, that’s a bit disturbing?” he said, stepping away from it.

  Kneeling down beside the black cloth, Kile peeled away the layers to find the body of a raven. She gently picked it up and held it in her hands.

  “Go to Fthak’thun, you are free now,” she whispered before carefully setting him down on the throne.

  She stood and turned to leave.

  “Whoa, wait a moment,” Duncan said, grabbing her arm. “What was all that about? What happened?”

  “We were lied to. They never brought the Heart of Nilak here. They headed east, instead.”

  “Funny enough, I understood that part, but what about the rest.”

  “You heard him. Nothing else matters.”

  “But who was he?”

  “His name was Jonland Waltair, and he was an Orceen, like me, but he surrendered to the madness of Nilak. I can’t imagine how many years he fought against it. It must have come to him at night in his bedroom when he was only a child.”

  “But that’s impossible. Nilak was on Shenataesi.”

  “No, the Heart was on Shenataesi. Nilak was in Fthak’thun. It must have come to him in his dreams when he was vulnerable like it did with me. My guess is once they locked him in Blackmoore, he gave up fighting. He had nothing else to live for. He was alone. That’s when he gave himself to the darkness, to the Maligar.” Kile turned and looked at the raven’s lifeless body. “That could have easily been me,” she added.

  “No, it couldn’t, because you would never have given up.”

  “How do you know?” she exclaimed, pulling away from him. “You don’t have any idea what that thing is, what it can do, what it can promise. Do you know how many times I wanted to? How many times I thought about it. How easy it would be to fall asleep in the darkness, to let myself go? How inviting, how tempting it was? If it wasn’t for Risa, I would have given in a long time ago.”