Taste of the Hunt

by Matt Mememaro

  “Of course, we are Hunters. We kill Vampires for a living and we’d quiet like for you to join us. You have the right skill set for the job,” Barros said.

  “Vampires aren’t real,” Abner said. “Everyone knows that. They died out centuries ago.”

  “And who is everyone?” Barros asked. “The ruling bodies that want you to believe that everything is right in this world? Your tutors and mentors that want you to have a long and happy life leave you in the shadows. Let me tell you this boy, Vampires are real and they’ll kill you in a heartbeat if you give them half a chance.”

  “If they’re so real why have they not killed men or been killed by men?” Abner said. I’ve heard the stories that they are dead men, yet what cannot die?”

  “The stories are true and they have been on Taagras for centuries. And ever since their arrival here, the Hunters have been here to kill them,” Barros said.

  “Yet they still exist.” Abner looked up and down at Barros and snorted. “You can’t be very good at your job.”

  Barros’ eyes flashed before a smirk formed on his lips. “I’m rather good at my job, boy. There are more Vampires than there is Hunters and they happen to be rather hard to kill.”

  “How do you kill them then? If none could be killed surely humans would be overrun by now if they’ve been here for centuries?”

  “No two Vampires die the same. With the thousands I’ve slaughtered in my years I know they can die. Some need their heads taken off, others, cut to pieces or even a crossbow bolt will cause death and injury to a Vampire. Before you ask I will answer,” Barros said seeing the question about to form on his son’s lips. “Fyndfire is a poison if you like, all of our weapons coated with it. We developed it to specifically kill Vampires and their allies.”

  “I want to see how it works,” Abner said. “Say that it’s proof of your legitimacy and I will consider your offer if what you say is true.”

  “Very well,” Barros said his eyes looking over the few people in sight. “Do you see that man there?” He pointed to a man deep in conversation with another, looking to place what appeared to be a bet on an upcoming battle. Abner looked over his shoulder only to be pushed to the side, the knife slipping to his side. “Keep your eyes on him.”

  In a single motion, Barros slid a crossbow from his back, yet it was strange, different from the crossbows Abner had used so far in his life. Instead of having a single bolt ready in the barrel with the strings pulled, there were no strings and no bolts sat ready to fire. Without warning Barros carelessly aimed before pulling the trigger of the crossbow.

  There was a sudden flicker as a small silver object darted through the air, striking the man in the chest sending him staggering backwards. Within a few seconds of the bolt touching his skin, the man burst into orange flames, falling to the ground before a final silence. People nearby ran in terror, none willing to help him. Nothing more than a charred corpse was left in his place where he lay.

  “There are demons among us!” another man cried out, sprinting away with the crowd.

  “He was a Vampire?” Abner asked. “If he was there was nothing that told me otherwise.”

  “Aye he was, but there are several ways that you can identify them. That was one of the most common ways that they die. Bursting into flames, while the second…” Barros frowned and took notice of a woman storming towards them, her face full of fury, hair a black mess around her slender frame. “Excuse me a second,” Barros said.

  He drew the crossbow once again, this time carefully taking aim, resting the butt of the weapon across his shoulder. Abner frowned, not sure as to how he would fire again without reloading, until he properly saw the round chambers underneath the barrel. The Hunter pulled the trigger once more, sending another bolt towards a Vampire.

  This bolt tore through the throat of the woman, dissolving her body within a matter of seconds, leaving nothing but a pile of dust in its wake. Barros smirked sliding the crossbow onto his back once more.

  “That’s definitely a cleaner way of dealing with them,” Abner said.

  “Yes, but if you’re firing into a crowd of Vampires, always hope that some will catch alight like our friend over there. It’ll cause chaos among the lower ranked Vampires which is just what you want,” Barros said. “They get scared and make mistakes, which makes it easier to kill them.”

  Before the young warrior could open his mouth again, Barros cocked his head to the side, before launching into a flurry of movement faster than Abner’s eye could follow. Barros completed a full circle in the blink of an eye, a decapitated body now falling to the ground behind him. The severed neck was a bright orange color much like the flames that had engulfed the first undead fiend.

  Nobody else had seen Barros move, or his latest kill. The Hunter knelt to address the headless body, sitting it upright against the wall next to Abner, placing the head where it belonged.

  “That’ll have to do it. Anyone should think it’s a drunk, at least for a time,” he said. “Don’t envy the poor bastard that tries to move it.”

  “How did you move like that?” Abner asked. “Your reflexes are incredible. I’ve been training since I was six years old and there’s no way I can move like that.”

  “I’m a Hunter, what more needs to be said? I’m not even the fastest within our order and by the looks of you, with a little bit of Hunter training you’ll be as fast as I am,” Barros said. “You should join us after this tournament has been concluded.”

  “And if I refuse your kind offer? It feels like you’ve shown me your power and would do the same to me in a heartbeat. I have a contract to fulfill in East Anacore. The Commander of the company I was a part of gave me an assignment that needs to be carried out as soon as this tournament is done,” Abner said.

  “You’re right,” Barros said. “You’d be a dead man if you declined my offer. However, I have a few friends in East Anacore that I’m sure can complete whatever task your old Commander gave you. Now on that note, if Reiner doesn’t get the champion he wants walking out, none of the contenders walk out.”

  “This place is lightly defended,” Abner said. “I could surely get through a dozen or so guards on my own.”

  “Don’t be a fool, boy. You’re going to need my help. No matter how good you are down there in the sands, how good will you be when there’s two dozen arrows pointed in your direction? Trust me, my friend and I can get you out of here alive,” Barros said.

  “I don’t doubt that for a second. With what you did to the Vampires, I’d hate to see what you could do to a mortal man. You and your friend can watch my back and help me win if needs be. If I walk out of here alive, which I will, I will come with you to this Huntrey. Betray me and you better be prepared for a fight,” Abner said.

  “You’d have to be able to hit me first. Your confidence is more than what I would expect from one such as young as you. But you were trained by the man you’ve enlisted under. Malvrok if I’m not wrong?” Barros stared deep into his son’s eyes. “I see a lot of him in you. If only he could see you now, how proud he would be.”

  “You knew Malvrok?” Abner asked.

  “For a time we were rather close, but as we grew older we grew apart, both of our lives going in opposite directions, much to my regret,” Barros said.

  “If you knew him, then you would know what this sword is. Over the years I questioned him wishing to learn of its origins but Malvrok would never tell me.” Abner drew his sword presenting it to the Hunter.

  Barros clasped his old sword in hand; the runes etched into the steel still as perfect as the day the sword had been forged. The blade was still sharp, the weight had not altered and the hand that now guided it through the air was as good as Barros’ own. He reversed the sword holding it out for Abner to take a hold of.

  “It is a Hunter’s weapon, yet a rare one. Hundreds of years ago dozens of swords such as your own were forged with those very runes that translate into some obscure phrase of the old tongue. They glow red whe
n the sword can taste blood, brighter when it is of a Vampire. For generations they were passed down father to son, mother to daughter, but as time went on fewer swords and the Hunters that carried them returned to safety within our walls. It is a good blade, much like its owner,” Barros said. “How did you come by it?”

  “It appeared in my house one day and I still have no idea who put it there,” Abner said.

  “Guess it was a sign that you’ll become a Hunter one day,” Barros said. “Now before I go I want you to have this.” From underneath his cloak Barros drew a second crossbow, slighter small than the first and made of rich mahogany. “Same deal as the bigger one, few dozen shots at least before you need to reload it. There’s tiny balls inside those drum magazines that expand in the shaft when you pull the trigger.”

  “You’re seriously giving me this?” Abner asked. “I have a longbow in my tent that’ll work just as well.”

  “Do your arrows have Fyndfire on them? No, didn’t think so. Take the fucking thing or it’ll be your life that ends.” Barros turned to leave. “Also, I didn’t catch your real name, boy.”

  “Abner.”

  “Of course, it is.” Barros took a step back and smiled before vanishing into the darkness.

  6

  Reunion

  Once the second round had been announced the next day, Abner learnt that his next fight wasn’t for at least another hour, towards the middle of the morning. His equipment was sharp, well-oiled and ready for combat so to pass the time he ate a simple meal of berries and a small bird he had roasted earlier.

  Abner sat alone in the main marshaling area that was much more populated by other fighters than the narrow corridor the day before. Today more spectators packed the stands, pushing them to overflowing, eager to see the most serious end of the competition. Ever since the Hunter’s visit, Abner kept a hand close to his crossbow, surveying each person that passed him, wondering if they were a Vampire or not.

  An argument broke out a short distance from Abner and he looked up to find a large, burly Alilletian covered in black hair towering over a much smaller Saurian that didn’t come up to his shoulders. There was no doubt the Saurian was dangerous, a long sword and a variety of other weapons hanging from his belt.

  Abner moved his crossbow closer, slowly inching it towards his body in case the argument blew out of control. With a loud laugh the Saurian had taken enough, flicking out a jeweled stiletto holding it out in the open for all to see. The Alilletian let out a retort of his own before drawing a short sword that looked no larger than a dagger in his hand.

  “Do you really want to continue with this?” the Saurian asked.

  “Do you want to return what you stole from me?” the Alilletian asked.

  “If you insist, my friend. The item in question is at my campsite. I shall have to go and retrieve it,” the Saurian said.

  “Lead,” his larger companion said.

  A respectful bow was all the smaller man gave his adversary before turning and walking at sword point. Two steps were all the pair managed before the Saurian struck, increasing the distance between their bodies before lunging backwards with the dagger. The Alilletian not seeing the attack coming walked straight into the blade. He let out a wild cry as the tiny blade punctured through his furs into his flesh just below his heart. The Saurian continued to stab at his target until he fell forwards in a pool of blood.

  Five other Alilletians rushed over, drawing their own weapons, surrounding the Saurian, dwarfing him between their huge figures. From outside the circle they cast, Abner could only catch a small window of the Saurian as he spun, looking for a weak point in their defenses.

  “Gentlemen,” he said with a distinct tone of displeasure in his voice. “We can settle this without the need for further bloodshed, I’m sure.”

  “Trixus, you know that blood is the only way to settle your debt to us. We demand nothing less,” one Alilletian said.

  “I beg to differ,” Trixus said. He pulled a simple grey amulet from inside his tunic identical to the one Abner carried. Instantly the jewelry began to glow, before five beams of golden light shot out from it taking each of the Alilletians in the chest. They all groaned, falling to the floor, their hands clutched over where the light had hit them. “You shouldn’t have bothered me. I dare someone to try and take this prized possession from me! I have power in my very hand!”

  Abner raised the crossbow slowly, bringing it to his eye, staring down the sights at the back of Trixus. There was a slight jerk as Abner pulled the trigger, sending one of the many silver bolts towards his target. Within a split second, the bolt struck, downing his prey.

  The Saurian continued to crawl, life slipping from him as Abner approached, the crossbow hanging by his side. People that stood around the wounded man moved as they recognized Abner and the skill he had shown against the Alilletian in the first round. He placed his boot on the Saurian’s head, holding him still, preventing the weakening thrashing before shooting a second bolt into the man’s neck.

  Abner retrieved the two bolts sliding them into his belt before turning the Saurian over, ripping the prize from around his neck. The amulet rose free of his hand, acting of its own accord, floating up until it was level with the identical one that Abner carried. It remained stationary for a moment before it rushed to join the other, passing through the warrior’s chest plate leaving it untarnished in a flash of golden light.

  Abner blinked, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed. The crowd gathered around him was also in a similar state of shock, their expressions wide. He turned, eyeing anyone that looked like they make made a grab for the amulets. Without saying as much as a word, Abner returned to his seat, resting the crossbow evenly across his legs.

  “Malvrok, Sword Lord of Tyrain, step forward!” the marshal shouted not long after the first combats had begun.

  He scanned the assembled armored bodies, ducking his head to his parchment when he saw Abner approaching. The warrior placed his red tipped Aksah over his armored shoulder as he made his way forwards, parting the fighters around him.

  “Redjay of Tyrain, step forward!”

  This time a slender figure clad in full steel armor with a red trim on the plates marched forward hiding all but their eyes. Abner took note of the massive broadsword strapped on their back as Redjay nodded at him. It would take all of their strength to maneuver the heavy blade at all, let alone fast enough to counter any attacks Abner launched with his smaller, faster sword.

  The trumpets sounded once again, and both competitors made their way to their respective gates. Abner shrugged off his shield and placed his helmet down beside it as they’d only slow him in this fight. He walked out into the burning sun, sword raised high to the cheers of the crowd.

  Redjay approached from the opposite side, their broadsword dragging in the sand behind them. The armored fighter copied Abner’s footsteps, the steel preventing him from getting a good idea of what they would do. Not even the eyes were visible, and an opponent Abner couldn’t read would always prove to be difficult.

  “Is that a girl?” Barros asked leaning forward in his seat. “I’ve never seen one carry a broadsword like that before.”

  “Judging from that stature and slim frame, I’d dare say it is,” Rowan said. “Observation is the key to everything. I thought I’d told you this.”

  “You have, but I never really paid attention to what you said,” Barros said.

  “I’m just rather concerned she knows how to use that well,” Rowan said.

  “You worry too much, Rowan. Have faith in my boy. He’s removed his shield and helmet so he’s lighter on his feet. He’ll be fine,” Barros said.

  “Alright, but if she looks like she’s gaining the advantage I’m not going to hesitate to shoot her,” Rowan said.

  “And if you do that the guards will appear overhead and shoot the shit out of everything in sight. Do you really want that?” Barros asked.

  “Guess your boy better win then,” Row
an said. He leant back in his seat to study the fight.

  Abner struck first, landing a glancing hit on the silver shoulder plate. Redjay darted backwards, sweeping the broadsword low to the ground, forcing Abner to jump over the long and powerful blade. He struck back; attempting to cleave Redjay down the middle, but instead was met by their sword.

  Abner attempted another attack, using what momentum he had to bounce his blade off the broadsword, swiping underneath it. Redjay darted backwards, angling her sword down to catch Abner’s blade, flicking it away sending the warrior sprawling to the side. Spitting out a mouthful of sand, he rose, sword in hand, lashing out twice more with lightning fast strikes.

  Redjay let out a groan as each blow struck her, unable to ward off the smaller, nimbler blade. She was still faster and stronger than most men Abner had killed; an anomaly, even with the broadsword. Both fighters stood toe to toe swords crossed over their bodies. The female fighter covered in steel, determined to cut Abner in half raised her sword once more angling it down.

  Abner thrust his sword up, driven to his knees under the force of the blow. He dropped to the sand once more, the vile substance finding each gap in his armor. A solid kick connected into Redjay’s thigh forcing her to shift her stance, the blade missing its intended target. There was a brief moment of pause as Abner rolled further away, waiting for Redjay to regain her footing.

  From his belt he drew a long dagger, preparing to use the double knife defense technique that Malvrok had taught him many years ago. While it was best suited when using two daggers simultaneously, Abner had modified the technique to suit his sword. Timing of the crossover needed to be perfect in order for the method to be effective.

  Even Malvrok had found it hard to break through his student’s defenses and had been impressed with Abner’s mastery of the skill from a young age. Malvrok had often commented on how the double knife defense would save his life countless times. Already the technique had proved its worth in the year Abner had spent outside the fortress.