Demons of the Hunter

by Stephen Allan

  It was about twenty feet away when it stopped moving. Eric had his knees bent, his right leg back, his sword cocked, and his hips ready to twitch and provide his weapon all the torque and power it needed. He knew the first rule. Never engage if you don’t have to. That was true whether dealing with dragons or drunk adults, and it was true now. If the monster slipped away, energy saved was energy gained. But…

  The behemoth, this close up, produced a queasy feeling that made no sense to Eric. He’d fought Indica. He’d slaughtered dragons by jumping off the guild headquarters to decapitate them. What was a beast like this doing striking a dagger into the heart of his emotional stability? You’ve never fought something like this. There’s no training for this. I’ve never even seen this thing before this journey.

  The behemoth paused, shook itself like a dog, and then rose on its hind legs. But it did not just stand to impose. It stood naturally, as effectively as a bipedal monster despite being a quadrupedal beast. On its legs, it rose over a dozen feet, its bulky arms and legs suggested limbs capable of decapitating with a single strike, even if Eric ignored the claws it had. Being on its hind legs would slow it down, but Eric had a feeling it wouldn’t be slowed enough for him to escape an attack.

  “Artemia,” Eric said, his voice at a slightly higher pitch than before. “Romarus.”

  The behemoth turned to him.

  Eric and the beast locked eyes.

  The behemoth’s eyes narrowed. It snarled, displaying its rows of teeth sharper than Eric’s sword.

  And the monster roared, its arms extended and its face screaming to the heavens.

  “Artemia! Hey! Hey!”

  When the monster lowered its face, it charged forward, reaching Eric in less than a second. Eric, immediately realizing he stood no shot against a creature of this magnitude, rolled to the side. The monster’s thunderous feet left him feeling like an earthquake had just struck this part of the world, but he had survived.

  For the moment.

  As soon as he was on his feet, though, he saw claws striking for his face. He raised his sword to defend himself, but the monster knocked it from his hand with nonchalant ease. Eric shook his wrist as he looked up at the beast, snarling, drool dripping from its lips.

  If Artemia wasn’t about to appear… If Romarus didn’t suddenly strike with some magic…

  I’m dead.

  But the behemoth suddenly paused, its claws raised above its shoulders.

  It still wore the same snarl, but its nostrils were flaring and its ears were turning around, trying to pick something up. Eric didn’t dare look up until the behemoth turned to its left and raised its arms.

  Once Eric did, he saw he was about to be sandwiched in a war between two monsters that treated humans as nothing more than one piece in an appetizer.

  Eric ducked to the ground, going as flat as he could, and covered his head with his hands.

  At that moment, the behemoth and a dragon roughly the size of the one he’d last killed at Mathos collided, their roars piercing the stillness of the night, war cries unlike anything a magi and an imperial soldier could produce.

  The monsters rolled past him. Debris and dust flew everywhere. By good fortune, the monsters rolled away from Eric, falling north. Eric ran in the direction of his sword and stumbled blindly for it, cursing as the beasts behind him cried out in a mixture of pain, defiance, and fury. He knew if he didn’t get his sword, his already infinitesimal chances of survival would drop to zero.

  There. He found it in a thicket of thorns.

  He grimaced, turned back, saw the dragon’s teeth sinking into the shoulder of the behemoth, turned toward the sword, took a deep breath, and plunged his hand through the thicket of bramble.

  He bit his lip as thorns viciously sliced his skin open. He had to fight his body from going into shock. The intensity of the pain surpassed even the limp ankle or dull shoulder injuries he’d suffered.

  But he grabbed it.

  He yanked the hilt of the sword away with a furious cry and swore as he shook his hand. He spent the next minute alternating between heavy breathing, shouting, and biting his tongue and lip as he removed the thorns from his skin.

  When he finished, he slammed his sword into the ground in frustration and carefully approached the tree. Of course, by now, Artemia and Romarus had come down. Of course.

  “Where in the name of Hydor were you?” Eric screamed. He didn’t need subtlety now with the war of the demons less than thirty feet away.

  Artemia clutched tightly at her necklace. Romarus had an arrow nocked, but he did not fire. It coursed with lightning, prepared to shock whatever it hit.

  “I awoke as soon as the behemoth roared,” she said. “But I also saw the dragon coming. You’re not going to like the answer, but I knew the dragon and the behemoth would brawl. I didn’t need us both to die if the behemoth got to us first. I am not going to expend unnecessary energy for the sake of appearing like a hero.”

  Eric’s soul had not known rest for six years, but it had never felt as threatened and uneasy as that moment.

  He’d known Artemia had a cold streak for as long as he’d known her, but he’d never seen her so viciously evil and merciless as that moment.

  And he knew they had separate reasons for fighting, but he’d never realized how divergent those reasons were until that moment.

  What did you expect, Artemia to suddenly turn into your mother?

  He looked past her at the dragon and the behemoth. For as much as it terrified him to realize how low on the totem poll humans sat, especially in this foreign land, it was almost poetic and beautiful, two beasts of such size fighting for supremacy in the southern lands. Both were capable of tearing apart a human with a single move, and both likely had no true predator in the food chain. Yes, they could kill each other, but this looked more like two single warriors competing for stake in the land, not for meat from the other.

  It’s what a fight between legendary monsters should look like.

  Seeing how intensely the creatures fought, Eric tried to predict the victor. He wanted the dragon to win. He knew how to kill a dragon, and if the dragon won, it meant that the behemoth could be killed.

  The dragon had the advantage in quick strikes, but on the ground, it stood no chance against the violent speed and strength of the behemoth. The dragon took some tough bites and scratches before it rose off the ground, using its fire to burn the behemoth.

  But the behemoth surged past the flames and leaped for the dragon, dragging it down. It chomped hard into its belly, and the dragon shrieked as blood and other guts spilled out.

  No. No!

  The dragon gave one last gasp, firing a pitiful amount of flames toward the behemoth, but it served no purpose. Its wings stopped flapping moments later. The behemoth bellowed in triumph.

  It’s only going to get worse. Dragons don’t rule this land.

  “Let’s go. Now,” Artemia snapped.

  It was a statement that required no further thought. If this was what Eric was facing—a monster naturally capable of killing dragons, one that didn’t need magic or any man-made weaponry—before the mountains, what laid ahead?

  And they were only a week in. One week in, and Eric already felt like humanity had reached the limit of what they could hit.

  He tried to put the thoughts out of his mind. When he reached those predators and other problems, he told himself, he would deal with them later.

  But if death had nearly struck him already, he shuddered to think of what lay in the shadows of the mountains and the shadows of Ragnor.

  They continued on foot until they came to a tree so high, not even a behemoth could reach it. They climbed as quickly as they could, Artemia allowing Eric to remain in the tree. No one, however, slept that night. Not even Romarus, as preternaturally calm as he was, could reach slumber through the evening.

  In the morning, Artemia dropped down first. She informed Eric and Romarus that she would find food for them to eat, but they woul
d have to do so quickly. When she disappeared out of earshot, Eric dropped his head and groaned loudly.

  “It’s not going to get any better, is it,” he said.

  Romarus did not respond. Eric turned his head to look at him and saw a man with fear in his body but determination in his eyes. He shook nervously, but his gaze remained unwavering.

  “We are rapidly approaching the point where what we know and what we speculate begins to blur,” he said. “For as much as I despise the teachings of gods and myth in our society, I cannot offer a better explanation. People don’t want to hear ‘I don’t know.’ They want answers. Sometimes, we have to guess at an answer. But right now, I do not know. I will tell you what my people suspect, but…”

  It pained Romarus to speak of guesses. Eric had to know, though. Even if what he knew got proved false, he’d rather “know” the worst and get something easier than to not know and have his mind be the downfall of him.

  “From here on out, we are in the domain of the behemoths,” Romarus said. “Not to say they don’t go further north. In fact, one such creature prowled a tunnel in the mountains separating Dabira and Caia for a long time, but this is their true home. The good news is that we will begin to see more animals we can hunt. The bad news is we will have far more competition for it. Eventually, though, it shall become too cold even for behemoths. At this point, monsters of the mountains will take over. What these monsters are, I cannot say. But legend says they are the demons of Iblis, the evil counter to Chrystos, the god of the magi, and that Ragnor keeps an eye on them and commands them with magic.”

  He sighed. Eric sensed he wanted to laugh, but they’d gone past the point of laughing. They had walked past that about a week ago.

  “Of course, that is what legend says. You know my disdain for legend.”

  But I also disbelieved in magic. Who can say what’s real and what’s not? They may be legends, but they may also be truths. We have to accept that it’s not always true and not always false.

  Easier said than done.

  Artemia returned a bit later with food, and they ate quickly and in silence. Upon finishing, the pace of the hunters picked up rather noticeably, for they now understood they had become the hunted to the rest of Hydor.

  CHAPTER 13: ZELDA

  Zelda slept far later than she intended to. As soon as she saw that the sun had ascended quite a ways, she sat up. But to her surprise, Garo and Tetra looked almost disinterested in moving forward as they sat side by side about twenty feet away, facing toward Caia. Tetra’s body sat just out of reach of Garo’s hand.

  If it had been someone who wasn’t hundreds of years old, it would have looked awkward. For those two, however, it represented hope that they might return to their old ways. Perhaps this, compared to where they were in the previous months, no, decades, marked significant progress.

  Or pain that they can’t get back together. That this is as close as they’ll come until they die. Please don’t let it be that way.

  Yeva was alert and awake, although she did not seem to take the same level of interest in Tetra and Garo as Zelda did. She had good reason, however—she was focused on a fire by the entrance to the cave, where she was roasting an animal that looked like a pig. Zelda thought of going to the two elder magi but did not want to interrupt or eavesdrop on another conversation. Slowly rising to her feet, her legs sore, her head light, and her stomach growling, she moved over to Yeva.

  “Breakfast,” Yeva said. “Would you like some?”

  Zelda took her food eagerly. Yeva made a remark about how quickly Zelda ate. Zelda just smiled as she continued chomping on the medium-cooked meat.

  After about two minutes of silent eating, Zelda looked down at the two magi to see them rising. Garo rose first, offering his hand to Tetra. Tetra appeared to hesitate, briefly rose without it, and then took his hand. The whole movement reeked of awkward familiarity, but for Zelda, it just brought a large smile that gave her strength she’d lacked just moments before. Garo and Tetra waved to Zelda as they approached.

  “It is always a pleasant day when you wake up to the smell of freshly cooked food,” Garo said. “Always. You start the day right, what else can do it in?”

  Tetra appeared to start rolling her eyes before she thought better of it. Garo had not spoken his question to be taken literally.

  “Nothing else,” Zelda said.

  Yeva handed Tetra and Garo pieces of the pig. Garo devoured his food while Tetra took a few bites before she spoke up.

  “I take it you both are aware of my reputation in Dabira.”

  Zelda and Yeva didn’t need to nod for Tetra to know they knew.

  “Then you should be aware our arrival may not be greeted in the warmest of fashions. We may be branded dangerous envoys to the pacifist city. I don’t think we’ll be arrested or attacked, but—”

  “Disowned, perhaps,” Garo said.

  “That bad?” Zelda asked, surprised. This was Dabira, not Caia. An outsider was supposed to be someone who had not yet had enough time to integrate themselves into the community. Granted, that might not be entirely true if they looked like imperial soldiers, but not only were they magi, they were well-known in Dabira. Even “Kara” and “Gaius.”

  Tetra grimaced.

  “Understand, they still think of us as Gaius and Kara. Though we used to live there, the people who knew us as Garo and Tetra have passed away or would not recognize us, and those who know us as Kara and Gaius, founders of the Shadows of the Empire, now run the town. It won’t be easy getting them on our side. Not impossible. But a challenge.”

  Our side. In other words, she meant to turn the town from docile to rabid, like a wolf pressed into a corner and seeing no other option other than to scratch and bite its way to survive. Do we have any other choice, though?

  “But… if all of us speak to the horrors of what happened in Caia, we might have a shot. As painful as it is, we can’t spare any detail. Some of the magi in Dabira will surely know or even be related to those who perished in the emperor’s attack.”

  Zelda thought about Roland and how much he had warned her about Kara. Did he know Tetra from before? How would he react to her return?

  And for that matter, how will he react to my return? I can’t imagine he’ll let go that I disobeyed him openly.

  “Not so long as Roland doesn’t punish me for running,” she said, trying to add some levity.

  “I think you’ve suffered more than enough,” Tetra said, not understanding it was a joke. “I will do all the speaking when we get there. Yeva, you may see your family, and Zelda, you may say hello to any friends you made in your time there. But, I must emphasize, if anyone asks why we have come, defer to me. I’m the leader and I will make sure we speak with one clear voice. Understood?”

  Everyone, including Garo, nodded. Zelda wondered when Tetra had become the representative voice between them. Had Garo accepted it with grace? Had that led to their split? Or had Tetra forced the issue?

  “Let’s discuss lighter issues before we continue, shall we?” Garo said, calming the tension as Tetra took bites of her food. “Do you want to hear a funny thing about Dabira? The biggest issue we had when we started building the city was not our relations with the empire. It was not with dragons. It actually had to do with what material we would use to build homes—wood or stone.”

  Garo chuckled as he wondered how such a simple difference could lead to conflict between a single group. Zelda and Yeva strained to find the humor that would make them laugh, but they politely smiled and chuckled anyways when Garo spoke what sounded like punch lines.

  “And that’s how we decided that it didn’t matter what type of material we used, only that we built the home,” Garo said. “Took us long—”

  A growl from the cave quickly got everyone on their feet. The fire cooking the pig flickered out. Garo unsheathed a sword while the other three magi readied whatever magic they needed. Tetra placed her hand near her robes, presumably where she kept the crystal
.

  Zelda had heard that growl before. It was the growl of the behemoth.

  But that made no sense. Hadn’t she killed the behemoth in the cave, or at least led it to its death when it leaped too far out of the cave?

  Maybe I didn’t kill it.

  “This is the fastest way through,” Tetra said. “We have magic and we have numbers. We’ll do whatever it takes. Understood?”

  The four of them proceeded to the mouth of the cave, still not seeing any monsters or predators. The growl had not yet sounded again. Zelda would have wondered if she had just heard things, her imagination running wild, had the other three magi not reacted. It felt rather unlikely that all of the magi would collectively lose their minds in the same fashion.

  As Zelda walked through the cave, she kicked something that didn’t feel like a pebble. She asked the group to stop as she bent over and used a single flame to provide light.

  My knife.

  Zelda couldn’t believe it. The knife that she’d taken from the deranged homeless man in Caia, the one that she’d used to kill in rather gruesome fashion a boar, the one that had kept her alive from Caia to here… it was still here.

  It brought back a flood of memories. The day Indica had first struck Caia. The homeless man—Zelda wondered if he had survived all that had happened. How had he become so deranged? Why had the empire not done more to help the weak and the poor? Or was the man cursed no matter what kind of ruler sat on the throne?

  More than anything, it reminded Zelda of when she was far weaker and far more likely to die. It made her realize how fortunate she was to have survived everything she had, to have gained the power she had, and to have the opportunity she had. Now, more than ever, she had to use her magic for good. She had to fulfill Mama’s wishes.