by Adam Witcher
“There are rumors of a clan of feral hogs in the woods to the southeast,” the king continued. “Terrorizing livestock and citizens. The perfect excuse for sport hunting, I’d say. Dangerous beasts, though.” He said that with a gleam in his eye. “I’ve seen a boar gut a man with its tusks.”
The king picked up a crossbow from the dining table and lifted it up as if to fire a bolt into one of the tapestries. He buzzed with excitement.
Anton examined the other contents of the table - fresh fruit, bread, and cured meats. At the king’s insistence, Anton sat down for breakfast. Mid-chew, they were joined by the male Draconians, each in full suits of ebony armor. They carried helmets at their sides, stern looks on their faces.
“Good lord, men!” Gareth laughed and set down his crossbow. “It’s a hunt. We aren’t going to war.”
“Are we not?” Matteo asked. “For the beasts, I’m sure our hunt carries the gravity of battle.”
The king laughed again, but his belly-shaking authenticity was absent. He motioned for the armored hunters to have a seat at the table. They sat across from Anton, and he nodded to them, trying not to betray his intimidation. Matteo and Matthias glanced at the spread. They both picked up pieces of meat and began to eat without bothering to place them on their plates.
Gregor returned shortly with the requested items, which he passed along to Anton with a slight bow. Anton excused himself, heading back to his chambers to change. He left his old clothes with Ana, asking her to take them to the laundry after sniffing them.
When he returned, the four other men had all finished dining and were sitting at the table as if waiting for Anton so they could depart.
“Shall we?” Anton said as he approached.
“Almost,” the king said. “I admire your enthusiasm, Anton, but we have one more hunter joining us today. An old friend of the family sent word this morning that he’d like to attend, so I invited him along.”
Anton nodded and joined them at the table, where the ensuing silence was only broken by the pitter-patter of footsteps echoing through the halls.
“Ah, that must be good Hectus now.”
Anton’s stomach lurched at the name. The pencil-moustached coward turned into the dining hall. Though clad in his own set of mail, completed by a flowing red cape at his back, the man’s face betrayed his nervousness. He was pale, sunken, and hollow, but was trying his best not to show it. A longbow and quiver were strapped to his back.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Hectus said, his voice shaky. “Pleasure to join you today. And thank you for permitting me to attend at the last minute.”
Hectus shook the hands of the Draconians, who grunted their greetings. Anton detected the hints of sadistic smiles on their faces. When he turned to Anton, he felt fear well up inside him. Though he’d been covered from head to toe the night before, only his eyes showing, he still felt that the man might recognize him. It was soon apparent, though, that his fear was unfounded. Hectus wouldn’t look him in the eyes.
“Shall we go, gentleman?” The king said, oblivious to the tension in the room, “There’s an armory beside the stables. Feel free to raid it if you need bows and arrows.”
Anton was already armed, but he didn’t think his dagger would be all that useful against a wild boar. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use his laser pistol, but he’d be damned if he went into the woods with Matteo and Matthias without it.
***
With a longbow and quiver now attached to his back, Anton rode a black-and-white splotched horse alongside Gareth and Gregor. He hoped it was as simple to use as it appeared. Behind them, Matteo and Matthias rode their own black horses. Though they still carried their broadswords, they’d also opted for a set of crossbows from the armory. Hectus rode behind, keeping his distance. As the men rode through the streets and beyond the city walls, crowds lined up and cheered, just as Anton had seen during the royal procession.
Anton looked over his shoulder periodically, seeing the look of fear on Hectus’ face as he stared ahead of him at the Draconians. Each time he looked, he realized that the Draconians seemed almost deliriously happy, grinning wide when they glanced back at the man.
“We heard about an unfortunate incident at your estate last night, Hectus,” Matthias said. “I do hope no one was harmed.”
Hectus looked sick. So the news had spread already. Both Draconians seemed to gain physical pleasure from his reaction.
“Nothing… Nothing too terrible,” Hectus said, his voice shaking. “Just a troublemaker who wanted to rob my house. I saw to it that he didn’t get very far.”
“Battling thieves, now hunting boars,” Matthias said. “An adventurous life you lead, Hectus, even for a nobleman.”
Anton’s mind swam with questions: how did the Draconians know what happened? Did they know it was Anton? And why had Hectus come on this trip? What could he possibly hope to gain from coming?
“Oh, well, that’s nothing compared to you, sir,” Hectus said. “Traveling to foreign lands, making political liaisons. I admire you both greatly.”
Priceless, Anton thought. He’s so terrified of these two that all he can do is try to suck up to them.
Anton’s contempt for the man grew, and he took petty pleasure in Matthias bullying him.
“We aren’t always diplomats,” Matteo said. “We have also been known to be quite deadly in our own right.”
Anton swore he could hear Hectus choke back a whimper.
“Don’t you worry, boys!” the king said, oblivious to the conversation. “I’m an expert tracker. Been doing this my whole life. We’ll find those hogs within the hour, won’t we Gregor?”
“Certainly, your highness.” The servant spoke without inflection.
They approached a wall of dense trees, and Anton felt a mixture of relief and apprehension. The forest meant an end to the cheers and bows of the citizens of Jagari, which had felt unnatural from the receiving end, but the rugged darkness of the forest looked like an opportune spot to be murdered by a cold-blooded reptile.
A squeal called out from the forest like a blasphemous beckoning. It wasn’t clear if it was a cry of pain or a challenge, but the sound excited the Draconians. They breathed heavily behind Anton, clanking bits of their metal armor together.
“Tight formation, men!” The king raised his crossbow to the sky.
Anton could almost feel the Draconians’ hot breath behind him.
The king led them along tree line until they found an opening big enough for the horses, and they made their way into the forest.
A darkness akin to late dusk washed over them. The limbs of trees cast gnarled and jagged shadows onto the hunting party. No more squeals echoed out. It was as if the one was simply a war cry, beckoning the hunters to come and see how they would fare against the brutality of nature. Now silence hung thick in the air, not even the hiss of wind audible through the trees. Only the crunching of vegetation under the horses’ feet.
Anton was surprised that Gregor was the one to break the silence.
“Your highness, perhaps you should examine the soil to track the beasts.”
Not so subtly, the servant nodded toward a small clearing.
“Nonsense, Gregor,” the king said. “The hogs haven’t been over here, I’d be able to tell.”
“Are you sure, sir? Perhaps it is worth a glance.”
“Very well, Gregor, I’ll indulge you.”
King Gareth, with great effort, heaved himself off his horse and waddled over to where Gregor had nodded. He knelt.
“Yes, yes,” he said, poking at the soil. “There is some disturbance here. It’s subtle, but I’ve been doing this for many years. The hogs have been rooting here.” He huffed as he pulled himself back up to his feet. “It’s a good thing I’m leading the expedition! Without me, you chaps would be stumbling blindly through the forest.”
“Your tracking skills are impeccable, your majesty.” To Anton’s amazement, Gregor still managed to say this with a straight fac
e.
“Onward, party!”
As the King remounted his horse, he looked at Gregor, who barely nodded in another direction.
“This way.” The king dramatically pointed in the same direction. “Keep your eyes open, men! I can’t be expected to carry the whole weight of this expedition.”
Before long, the group came upon its first wild boar. Surprisingly, the beast was alone. It was a mid-sized hog, not much larger than a typical barnyard pig. It sniffed the soil, pawing at it with thick feet. The King turned and held a finger to his lips as though to shush them, though no one had made a sound.
“I must insist on taking the first kill, good sirs,” the king whispered. “My right as the leader, of course. But there will be plenty more where this came from.”
Gareth raised his crossbow and bit his lip as he aimed carefully. To his right, Gregor slowly aimed his own crossbow, holding it low against his abdomen. He seemed to be trying to keep it concealed. The servant eyed the king carefully. The very moment the king pulled his trigger, Gregor did as well. The King’s bolt shot off into the trees and lodged itself into a trunk, while Gregor’s bolt buried itself into the boar’s neck. The beast squealed and flopped to the ground, convulsing as it died.
“A perfect shot!” The king cried. “Looks like I’ve still got it, chaps.”
“Well done, your majesty,” Gregor said. The servant’s weapon was already back on his shoulders. “I shall harvest the meat for you.”
“Very well, Gregor.”
Gregor strode over to the dead beast before dismounting. He untied a large cloth sack from his saddle. Gregor then produced a large knife, with which he expertly skinned the boar. He worked swiftly, with the confidence of a man who had done it a thousand times. Within a few minutes, he was harvesting the flesh.
The rest of the party watched, impressed. King Gareth squirmed uncomfortably, and Anton couldn’t tell if it was squeamishness or a lack of attention that bothered him. It was almost hypnotic to watch the old servant work.
The process was interrupted by a chorus of violent squeals that seemed to come from all around them. Every member of the party jolted, Matthias and Matteo included. They all looked around wildly.
The hogs didn’t wait for the men to prepare themselves. They ran in and rushed them, flanking them on all sides. There were probably six or seven of the beasts, all larger than the one lying dead and dismembered in the grass. Their tusks jutted out of their mouths as though wielding dual broadswords.
One of them charged Anton. He leaned back, causing his horse to stumble backward. It took him a moment to remember the bow on his back. He swung it around and strung it as quickly as his trembling hands would allow. The thing was only a few feet away when he pulled the string back and fired. The arrow sunk into the pig’s cheek, making it scream in pain. It slowed down for a moment before continuing its attack. Anton threw down the bow and jumped down from his bucking horse to run, but the boar was too fast. It leaped and tackled him, throwing him to the ground with a painful thud. The horse whinnied and ran off into the forest. One of the boar’s tusks struck his chainmail and bounced off. It would leave a bruise, but at least he wasn’t impaled.
Anton couldn’t look to see how the other men were faring, but he could hear the terror from the cries of the horses. Like his own, they all sounded like they were scattering.
He grabbed the beast’s tusks and held it back with all his might. His body felt like it was about to be crushed under its enormous weight. It squealed again and again, drops of saliva falling from his stinking mouth onto Anton’s chest. He felt the weight of his laser pistol and knife stashed away beneath the chainmail. The gun was pinned, but the knife wasn’t. He chanced taking his hand off the boar’s tusk just long enough to grab it. The beast pushed closer and gnashed its jaws, trying to rip the skin from Anton’s face. With a grunted battle cry, Anton shoved the knife into the roof of the beast’s mouth with all his might. The knife pushed up into its brain, and the thing stopped struggling. It twitched for a moment before dying in a heap on top of him.
His own foe bested, he again heard the battle raging around him. The metallic sound of broadswords against tusks rang out, telling Anton that the Draconians had resorted to larger weaponry. Against all expectations, he found himself grateful that they’d brought melee weapons. He heard Hectus whimpering in fear. There was another set of grunts to one side, Gregor engaged in battle, but he heard nothing from the King.
Anton mustered his energy to push himself out from under the dead boar. Slowly, he made progress. He was forced to drop the knife to get a better grip. Then he heard another angry squeal behind him. Throwing his head back, he spotted another charging boar. There was no stopping this one with a knife. There was only one solution. Risky though it was, certain death was the only alternative. He dragged himself out just enough to access his gun. Once free, he flung it behind him and fired one upside-down shot toward the hog’s head. He hoped the “pew” sound of the laser would be lost among the sounds of battle.
The charging hog’s head exploded, then melted into a pile of gelatinous goop. It collapsed just inches from Anton. Driven by adrenaline and desperation, Anton managed to pull himself free. He stumbled to his feet and examined the scene.
Matteo and Matthias were teamed up against the last boar. Matteo’s sword stuck out of the beast’s midsection, and Matthias swung his sword down executioner style, lopping the pig’s head off, ending its horrid screeches. To their left, Gregor stood over the twitching body of a hairy boar, thrusting his skinning knife into it repeatedly. He bled from a wound on his face, but he didn’t seem to notice it. The king stood beside him, watching, with the color drained from his face. Two more dead hogs were bleeding on the ground.
Hectus stood with a similar expression to the king, but his horrified eyes were directed at himself. There was a dark, wet stain on his grey pants. His bow was cast aside on the ground several feet away. Nobody seemed to have seen Anton’s pistol.
The men all looked at one another in shock.
“F-fine work men,” the king stuttered. “We, uh, really showed those boars what’s what, d-didn’t we, chaps?”
He forced a smile.
The Draconians had the aura of intoxication. They swayed where they stood, delirious grins on their faces, as if a satisfied bloodlust had left them in ecstasy. Blood was splattered on their black armor, their pale faces. The rest of the party watched them fearfully, but this only seemed to encourage them. Without a moment’s thought, Matthias fell to his knees before a freshly slaughtered boar and buried his teeth into its neck. He sucked blood hungrily from it.
This seemed to sober up Matteo to some degree, though the younger Draconian still twitched as if high on a stimulant.
“A tradition from the east!” he blurted out. “To feast on the blood of a fresh kill. It is believed that doing so allows you to absorb their courage.”
Matthias gulped away.
“Father,” Matteo said, sobering more by the moment. “Father, I think that’s enough.”
Matthias pulled back and wiped the blood from his lips. It didn’t do any good. Red streaks covered his cheeks and clung to his beard.
“I realize this custom might seem strange,” Matteo said. “But I assure you, it is common in our kingdom.”
“I’ll do it,” Hectus said suddenly. “I wish to gain the beast’s courage.”
“Hectus, please,” the King said, his voice shaking. “There’s no need for that. We have our own customs, they have theirs.”
“No,” Hectus said, approaching the eviscerated boar. “I wish to pledge my support to House Dracos. I want to do this.”
“To each...” the King started, looking away in disgust. “To each his own. Gregor, shall we continue to harvest the meat?”
Even the stoic servant couldn’t contain his repulsion at the situation. With a slight nod, he looked away, eager to avoid the horrific display. Anton said nothing, wondering if Hectus could manage to d
o it.
Hectus lowered his head to the boar’s neck and suddenly looked away as if to retch. He contained himself and, with a deep breath, touched the gore with his lips. The slurping sound was almost too much for Anton to bear. Hectus didn’t make it far. After a couple of gulps, he recoiled and vomited.
“Feeling courageous?” Matteo asked as the man collapsed on the ground, now covered in blood, piss and vomit.
The king, desperate for any distraction, turned to Anton.
“You took down two, Anton! Impressive. It seems magic isn’t your only skill.”
The king approached the two dead boars and forced another smile as he patted Anton’s shoulder. Then he noticed the melted boar’s head.
“How’d you manage that one?”
“I…. well… a magician never reveals his secrets, your majesty.”
This caught the attention of the Draconians, who also came to examine the melted head.
“Some magic,” Matteo said, staring at the boar, then Anton. The reptilian seemed to be trying to penetrate his thoughts. Anton did his best to keep a straight face.
“Your highness!” Gregor’s voice rang out with an uncharacteristic level of surprise.
Anton was glad for the distraction. Gregor beckoned the group over to the boar he was carving up. Only Hectus stayed behind, still in shock and retching.
“This meat is tainted,” Gregor said, holding it up for a better look. Dark splotches dotted the flesh.
“I should have suspected something strange afoot,” Gregor went on. “Boars do not typically ambush people like this. There was something strange in their minds. Something drove these beasts to insanity. I saw it in their eyes. They were poisoned.”
Anton shuddered, remembering the Draconian words he’d deciphered.
Poison. Transform. Blood. Harvest.
“Who in God’s name would poison an entire group of wild boars?” Gareth asked.
“I don’t know, your highness, but the meat is useless. We cannot consume it.”
They all looked at Hectus, who was still vomiting in the grass.
“Keep it coming, Hectus,” the king said. “Purge the poison. And what about you Matthias? You drank the blood, too.”
