Hunters - Rising

by David Greer

  Chapter 4

  “The entire island! Wiped out? How can that happen?” Grimey's amazement left him wide-eyed. He'd heard of strange phenomenon causing a few deaths, like exploding mountains and swirling winds that can hurl houses great distances. But he had never heard of anything that could wipe out an entire population. An entire culture, even. Grimey simply couldn't fathom it.

  “That's what we wish to find out.” Leo said. “I think it may have something to do with the rumble a few nights back. Did you feel it here?”

  “Aye. I noticed the ground shaking a bit. Barely enough to tip my balance.”

  “Well it was more than a shake on Southern and certainly disastrous for Northern.” A few nights back the ground rumbled on Southern Isle. Leo was having a restless night and left his hut to take a stroll on the beach. It was a full moon that night and the light set the white-sand beach aglow. The sea was steady and peaceful, the night air was cool and crisp. Leo took a deep breath and absorbed the environment. He appreciated life on Southern and knew he was fortunate to call the island home.

  The skies above Southern were clear that night. Leo took a moment to gaze upward and take in the glittering sky. He sought out the stars that when looked at in a certain way morphed from dots of light to a complete image. There was the curve of a lion's mane off to the left. To the right was the sturdy fishhook said to have been used to pluck this very island from the depths of the ocean. Every constellation had its own myth attached to it and Leo often recounted them to himself. He turned north in search of Orion, the legendary hunter and his favorite constellation, but couldn't find it. Instead he saw that the northern horizon had grown cloudy, veiling the great hunter's shape.

  He looked to the east. Invisible at night but he knew the Arlynd coast was there. He imagined the land's outline on the horizon as it would appear during a clear day with the Ursa mountain range looming in the distance. Then he felt an odd sensation tug at the back of his mind. It drew his gaze north again. Leo stepped closer to the water's edge and narrowed his eyes to focus on the horizon. It was dark and hazy across the distant ocean. He focused more intently. The distant horizon didn't seem as distant through his eyes anymore. He could make out minute details on the distant waters. A wave rippled across the open ocean and fizzled out. A sea creature breached the surface then disappeared underwater. Leo strained to focus his eyes even more and thought he could just glimpse the outline of Northern Island's central mountain. In the distance a flash of lightning split the sky. He sensed a change in the air. Everything felt still. And that's when the ground began to shake.

  Leo's focus broke and he lost his balance. No longer could he make out distant features across the horizon. He could no longer keep his balance on two feet either. Rumbles have been known to happen. Stories of a shaking earth that could tip over buildings and move boulders were common bedtime stories many grew up with. Some of the stories were so fanciful that they told of giant cracks in the ground opening up and swallowing entire towns or, in the version Leo grew up with, swallowing entire islands.

  This was the second rumble Leo had ever experienced. The first happened when he was just a child. It was nothing more than a slight shake that lasted mere moments. He had no problem staying on his feet then, even as a child. The one he felt on this moonlit night was far different. It sent him sprawling on his backside unable to stand back up and the ground rumbled for what seemed like several minutes.

  When the rumbling had ceased, all was quiet. Too quiet, Leo remembered. It was as though the earth had exhaled all its breath and paused. He stood just before another force hit him and knocked him down to his knees. A powerful gust of wind tore through the air. It lasted for just a moment but it was powerful. Leo stood again, perplexed with a frown. He never heard of a rumble being followed by wind, not even in the exaggerated bedtime stories. And he never experienced a wind like that one especially at night near the ocean. The gust was hot. So much so that Leo began to sweat in the short moment it blew by. The cool ocean breeze returned and grazed the sweat on Leo's skin, which sent a chill through his body.

  “A hot wind huh?” Grimey said. He, along with everyone else in the tavern, had been captivated by Leo's account of the rumble but hearing about a hot gale-force wind seemed like a stretch to the bearded drinker. Leo had always been a gifted talker and story-teller.

  “Yes. It would have seared my skin if it lasted long.” Leo said. His eyes were lost for a moment as he remembered the experience. They widened slightly and Leo's breath became short. Perhaps he wasn't embellishing so much, Grimey thought. “A few days later we sailed for Northern. Not a soul was there. All the villages had been destroyed. The ground felt soggy like the whole island had been soaked.”

  Grimey handed Leo a chilled mug of ale. He figured the islander could use a stronger drink. Leo reluctantly took the mug in place of his ginger ale.

  “Perhaps they left, sailed away before whatever happened...uhh, happened.” Grimey offered.

  “We found bodies.” Leo said. “Drowned. They're all dead. The entire island was wiped out and we have no idea what happened.” Leo slumped forward.

  “Well then let us remember them well!” Grimey raised his glass and took a drink. “I've never met a Northerner before, but if any were a friend of yours then they must be good people. And who better to figure out what happened than an islander that's familiar with the land and the sea. Take a drink lad. You're in good company here.” Grimey downed the rest of his mug. Leo took a sip and winced at the bitter taste.

  The mood eventually lightened with all the flowing ale. Even Leo managed to finish his mug and it wasn't long after he was laughing and sharing stories of sights he'd seen in his travels. He told of sea monsters, which always captured the attention of the small mountain-town folk. He told of giant eels that grew to be thirty feet long and could bite through a man with ease. Then there were krakes. Sea creatures whose upper body resembled a man's but their lower body was like that of an octopus. Krakes were so large that they could literally pummel a small boat to pieces.

  As time went by Grimey settled down at a small table by himself. He watched Leo tell his tales to a captivated crowd. He saw Clyde relaxing by himself nursing a drink and twirling his dagger around his fingers. Even after a few drinks he handled the blade expertly. Then Grimey noticed in the back corner of the tavern sat Leo's companion still alone. Empty mugs crowded his table and the large man held one that was halfway full. Grimey studied the man. He was obviously very strong, and always kept to himself. Every single time the two passed through Quarry, the large one would sit alone in a corner and drink by himself.

  Grimey wondered if the man was silent by nature or burdened by his thoughts. The short sword the man carried made Grimey wonder. Only a hunter or a mercenary would display a weapon openly but Grimey had never heard Leo tell any hunting stories. Hunters were notorious for sharing their adventures with anybody that would listen. Grimey knew the two islanders were travelers but what they did on their travels, Grimey had no idea.

  He wouldn't be shocked if the islanders were hunters. The large man certainly had the strength for it and there was something about Leo that hinted at it. First was the ornate dagger at his belt. Then there was the fact that he had traveled as much as he had without getting nabbed by a monster. That told Grimey he could handle himself in the wild. There was also the way Leo moved. He was smooth and light on his feet. When he walked around the tavern he maneuvered through the crowd and tables with ease. He was swift with good balance. While Leo had never acknowledge himself or his companion as hunters they at least had the skill, Grimey concluded. Of course, skill doesn't always correlate to profession.

  The hours had passed by in the tavern and it was late at night. Leo left his bar stool and walked to his large companion, who had sat alone all night. They exchanged a few silent words, stood, and both left the tavern.

  “Safe journey my friend.” Grimey whispered to himself as he raised his glass. Even though he kne
w little about him, Grimey considered Leo as a friend for that very reason. He knew what it was like to keep to himself too. Then a thought struck and Grimey couldn't help but chuckle to himself at how ironic it was that island folk were traveling inland to search for answers about the seas.

  “Well that was certainly a quick visit.” Clyde said as he took a seat next to Grimey. He continued to twirl his dagger. “You figure out what their business is?”

  “They're heading to Thurn. Looking for records about crazy happenings in the seas.” Grimey answered.

  “That's not what I meant.”

  “I don't know. Traders.” Grimey guessed between gulps of ale.

  “Have you ever seen a trader armed like them?”

  “Hunters then.”

  “Come now, Leo has never shared a single hunting story and what's-his-name never opens his mouth.” Clyde said. It was a point made every time the two passed through town. Clyde leaned closer to Grimey, “Maybe they're mercenaries. Those markings on their skin, dressed in black. Come on. It's a little shady.”

  “Or maybe they travel enough to know the roads can get dangerous.” Grimey said. Clyde still looked skeptical. Grimey, despite his amiable feeling toward Leo, couldn't help but feel a little suspicious toward the larger of the two. It was tough not to. He had never spoken a single word. Ever. And his name was a mystery. He was one to keep an eye on. But Grimey would keep those feelings to himself. “Look, all I know is they never caused any problems while passing through. That's good enough for me.”

  “Yeah, right. Well either way it looks like we're not the only ones with problems to attend to.” Clyde had another point. There was a kingpin dwelling in the nearby woods that needed to be dealt with. The two hunters determined that they would take care of it tomorrow and have Scully, the newest hunter in Quarry, join them.

  Grimey finished his mug of ale and headed home. It was an easy stroll to his cabin with the full moon illuminating his path. Things were quiet inside the cabin, save for the hunter's thudding footsteps which echoed off the walls. There was no need to light a candle as the moonlight shone through the windows, casting everything in a dull blue shadow.

  A deep sigh escaped when Grimey laid down on his bed. He listened to the silence around him, only broken by the rise and fall of his own breath. The cabin was utterly empty. He let loose another sigh and closed his eyes.

  The dream felt familiar. Grimey strolled along the path which led from his cabin into the heart of Quarry town. It was still night, the full moon still shining high above, the stars puncturing the black canvas of night. Ahead of him was White Rock Tavern. Orange firelight glowed through the windows as figures within bustled back and forth. Voices, cheers, and laughter could be heard. No doubt the ale was flowing and folk celebrated the trials of their day. But Grimey did not venture forth into the tavern.

  Behind the tavern in the distance rose the white mountain, its shape framed by the night sky. Except it wasn't the same mountain he knew to be Quarry. This mountain was much larger and rose much higher. Its white rock face glowed a pale blue in the moonlight. Grimey craned his neck to see the summit. There was something up there. A faint flicker of torchlight like a sparkling jewel.

  Grimey felt an urge to reach that jewel, to climb that mountain. He turned away from the bustling tavern and ventured onto a winding path which led into the black night and to the base of the mountain.

  When Grimey opened his eyes he was back in his cabin. He gazed at the hatchet he had left on the nightstand, its blade gleamed in the moonlight that shone through the window. That blade, crafted from his own hands, would slice through a banshee with ease and be just as effective on a kingpin. He would sharpen it some more in the morning. The hunter took an easy breath, rolled over, and went back to sleep wondering what was at the top of that mountain.

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