Faith and Fury

by Tiger Hebert

  Vacinne nodded but said nothing else. She just ate her breakfast, which to her surprise was still warm. She didn’t usually eat big meals, but she did today.

  It’s going to be a long day. Best to eat up, she thought.

  The food was excellent, and it would be poor taste to waste any of it. So, she finished off the steak and wiped the gravy bowl clean with her last biscuit before washing it all down with a second mug of hot cider.

  “Will that be all my lady?”

  She laughed, “I’d burst if I ate anymore. Gerald, your cooking and hospitality have been amazing. I’m off to the Gaggled Goose now, but I’ll return for my horse.”

  “Very well, I’ll have her ready to go for you.”

  With that Vacinne got up, took a mighty stretch, and left the Setting Sun Inn. It was bright morning. There was a cool breeze, but at least the sun was warm when she began her walk down the street toward the tavern. The walk wasn’t long, just six blocks, but it was enough to get her blood flowing on this cool morning. In no time she found herself there. She looked up and saw the crudely crafted tavern sign of a drunken goose staggering as it held what was presumably a pint of ale. It was only appropriate that the sign swayed in the morning breeze.

  Vacinne made her way inside and wasn’t surprised to see the place was a bit of a mess still from the night before.

  A portly man with an apron, a bald head, and a curling mustache worked to clean the tables near by.

  “Morning, Miss! It’s early, but your sins no greater than mine! What’s your poison?”

  Vacinne frowned. “I’m looking for Braydus.”

  “That’d be me, Miss.”

  “I’m looking to hire a few bounty hunters. I want the best. I was told that you’re a man who knows these things.”

  Suddenly more interested, Braydus replied, “Oh yes, I can definitely match you up with the right—talent for the job, for a modest fee of course. So, what’s your mission?”

  “I’ve got a demon to hunt down and kill.”

  “A lesser demon?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s a vorthor demon.”

  Braydus nodded appraisingly. “So, a mid-tier demon. You’ll definitely need the best. It won’t be cheap. The Black Blade, Nicky-Knives, Two-Shots. That’s who ya need.”

  Vacinne nodded. “Okay, where do I find those three?”

  Braydus chuckled, “Ain’t three, just one. Ole chap has got more ‘n a few names, but he’s the best.”

  Vacinne nodded again. “You’re telling me that he’s the best Ketabo has to offer?”

  Braydus chuckled. “The best Ketabo has to offer? Heavens no! From all accounts he’s the best in all of Durghast, and sell-swords’ pride rarely lets them acknowledge anyone as their better, and seven-to-one, they do.”

  “It sounds like he’s the right bounty hunter for the job. Where can I find him?”

  “Miss, he’s no ordinary bounty hunter, he’s a rift hunter. Head on over to the Setting Sun Inn. The old chap who works there is named Gerald, he’ll know where to find him,” Braydus said as he stuck out his expectant hand, palm up.

  “I just left the Setting Sun. They sent me to you,” said Vacinne, with confusion clearly in her voice.

  Braydus smiled and his hand waited patiently.

  “Oh, right,” she said before slipping a coin from her purse into his hand. “Thanks, I’ll be on my way.”

  When Vacinne entered the Setting Sun, Gerald put a halt to his mopping and greeted her with the same warm smile he’d shared all morning.

  He asked, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Vacinne placed her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. “Are you mocking me, Gerald?”

  “Of course not, my lady,” he replied, his countenance showing the sting of her words.

  “Why did you send me off on this wild Gaggled Goose chase only for Braydus to send me right back to you?”

  Gerald raised his eyebrows. “He did?”

  “Of course he did. Why are you playing coy with me? He told me you’d know where to find him.”

  Gerald replied, “You said you needed bounty hunters. Master Renlar is no bounty hunter...”

  “I’m not looking for your master, I’m looking for the Black Blade, Nicky Knives, Two-shots.”

  Gerald replied, “That’s Master Renlar alright, but he’s no common bounty hunter. An altogether unscrupulous lot they are.”

  “You’re confusing me Gerald,” she said, the frustration clearly rising in her voice.

  A new voice joined the conversation. “Let me help.”

  Vacinne and Gerald both turned to see Renlar standing there.

  He said, “I don’t do your typical bounty hunter work. I’m what you call a Rift Hunter.”

  Vacinne blanched. “I’ve heard of the sort, but it’s all the same to me.”

  Renlar crossed his arms. “Oh really? Why is that, Warden?”

  Vacinne flushed, as she went from shock into irritation. “Bounty hunters and rift hunters alike are rogues who serve no master, fly no banner but their own, and profit from the death and destruction in this world—”

  Renlar cut her off, “They are a plague upon this world, and they owe no allegiance to anyone but their own greed. This means that there is no means of holding them accountable. Therefore, they are a danger to society and the world at large, and so they must be avoided at all costs and purified when possible. Sounds like you’ve memorized some of the Sanctus Libro Aeternum too.”

  “What? How’d you?” stammered Vacinne.

  Renlar’s face hardened. “Listen, you’ve got your opinion of me and I’m forming one of you right now, so unless we’ve got some business to attend, then I’ll have to ask you to gather your things and be on your way.”

  Who the hell does he think he is that he can speak to me like that?

  Indignation flared within her, and it was spelled across her face. She took a deep breath. “Is it true that you are the best?”

  “Yep.”

  “You knew I wanted to hire the best. Why in the Nine Hells did you send me off to the Gaggled Goose?” she demanded, her anger evident.

  “Because I didn’t want you to take my word for it. If I’m that good, then my reputation should precede me. Which evidently it does,” he said calmly.

  That actually makes sense, but the hell I’m going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

  She asked, “What kind of jobs have you worked?”

  Renlar replied, “I’ve killed ogres, trolls, and wyverns, but my specialty is demons.”

  Vacinne cleared her throat. “I suppose that will suffice. But I’ll have you know that if we are going to be working together there will be no more misdirection, games, or subterfuge during our contract. Understood?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Understood?” she snapped.

  “Yeah, yeah. Let’s talk business,” he said as he moved his hands to his hips.

  The movement drew her attention to crisscrossing belts, one of which held a dagger with a curving handle right where the belt buckle would normally be. Twin sheathed scimitars hung from each hip and daggers seemed to be strapped to nearly every part of his person, both above and below the belts.

  Her eyes naturally followed the movement and went to his hips, then inadvertently scanned his snugly leather wrapped figure.

  “Eyes up here darling,” he said with a wink.

  Her eyes snapped back up to his green eyes.

  “Insufferable,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  She changed the subject. “A warden is missing. He and his company were last seen when they were traveling through Dunmorrow. I need to find them. When I arrived in Dunmorrow, I saw the remains of the massacre. Then a—”

  “What massacre?” he interrupted.

  “Dunmorrow. The whole village... Did you not know?”

  “Are there any survivors?�
� he demanded, his voice rife with concern.

  Her voice softened. “None that I found, but I had only been there minutes before a rift—”

  “What kind of demon?” he asked, interrupting her again.

  “Vorthor, he—”

  “Which direction did he go?”

  Vacinne snapped at him, “Stop interrupting me!”

  “You’ve got a slaughtered village, a missing company, and a proliferator demon on the loose. We should be moving already,” he replied in an even tone.

  “We would be, had you not sent me off like a fool this morning,” replied Vacinne with a glare.

  “Point taken. Which dir—”

  She cut him off, “Northeast from Dunmorrow.”

  “That’s the Ruins of—”

  “Esboralis,” she said as she cut him off again.

  “Charming,” responded Renlar facetiously. “So, onto the matter of compensation. Then, if we are in agreement, we can set off.”

  “Twenty crowns.”

  Renlar chuckled. “Darling, I am worth at least three bounty hunters, four depending on your selection.”

  “Nineteen,” she countered.

  Even Gerald had a laugh this time.

  Renlar crossed his arms over his chest. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you grasp how this negotiation works.”

  Vacinne rolled her eyes and said, “Thirty, and that is my final offer.”

  Renlar’s reply was instantaneous. “Then your friends stay lost, and your proliferator demon spawns thousands of hatchlings. Good day.” He gave a slight bow, turned and started away.

  “Forty-five crowns...”

  Renlar stopped in his tracks and stood with his back to her. “And...?”

  “Uhh... and another fifteen crowns if we manage to find Warden Masoc alive, but you’d need to come to the Kothari Temple to collect that portion.”

  Renlar turned back to her and countered, “Or we keep it at forty-five, and I get half of whatever treasures we find on our mission.”

  Vacinne looked appalled. “Bounty hunter, I am no thief, and neither will you be in my employ!”

  “Rift Hunter,” he corrected, “and dead men need no gold, O pious one.”

  “Only when there are no survivors will we take the spoils,” she compromised.

  “Sounds like we’ve a contract,” said Renlar with a smile. “Gerald, did you get it all?”

  “Yes Master Renlar!”

  Vacinne looked over and saw that Gerald had actually been writing the terms of the agreement out on parchment. Then he came over and presented it to both parties, showing them that the terms agreed upon were the ones documented. Renlar nodded, and before Vacinne could even utter a single word, the scroll was rolled up and sealed with a gob of hot, melting wax. Gerald pressed a signet ring into the wax, leaving his master’s seal upon the rolled scroll.

  “This’ll be stored in the vault until your return. The horses are both saddled and ready to ride, and master, your saddle bags are packed with supplies for both you and my lady,” said Gerald.

  Vacinne’s mouth fell open. “Wait, how did you already know that I’d even agree to work with you?”

  Gerald spoke up and said, “Master told me last night that the two of you’d be spending a lot of time together, and he’s never wrong.”

  Renlar’s eyes shifted from Vacinne to his servant. “Gerald!”

  “What? All I’m saying is the truth. Master has a way of knowing things, tis one of his many gifts, which you’re sure to learn all about, my lady. Anyways, I’ve got dishes to scrub before the lunch crew comes in. Gotta be prepared for the rush. Safe travels,” and with that the old man turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Renlar just laughed as he walked toward her. “He’s the best man that’s ever worked for me. A bit liberal with his tongue, but I wouldn’t trade him for the world. Oh, and just remember, you’ve only hired me for my blades. Any comforts you might want will cost extra. Now enough pillow-talk, we’ve got a demon to hunt.”

  He winked, then walked right past her, and out the door. She stood there stunned for a moment. Not just because of what he’d just said, but because of everything. Everything from the exquisite stay at this fine inn to the cat and mouse game to his overt gestures.

  “I’ve never,” she groaned in frustration, “had to deal with such an arrogant, disgusting, and insufferable man in my life. Ugh! He’s going to drive me mad.”

  The young woman stormed out of the Setting Sun after her sell-sword.

  4

  Ill Tidings

  Vacinne and Ellie caught up to Renlar before they reached the edge of town. She might not admit it, but she wasn’t sure what bothered her the most, the fact that he was a smart-ass, the fact that he seemed to always be one step ahead of her, the simple fact that he was a bounty hunter, or that she wasn’t in control. She did know one thing though.

  “You’re really getting on my nerves, and we haven’t left town yet.”

  “Always have been an overachiever,” he said.

  “I don’t think you seem to get it. As your employer, you work for me,” she snapped.

  He bit back. “You don’t seem to get that fact that I don’t really give a damn. I was perfectly happy back at my inn. You came to me for help. Now maybe back at the temple your high-born status and that pretty little face has probably gotten you a bunch of groveling lapdogs that worship the ground you walk on, princess, but out here in the real world it doesn’t work like that. Not even for you.”

  Her mouth fell open. She’d never been spoken to like that, ever. She wanted to tell him every way that he was wrong, but she had nothing. No quips, no smart remarks, or justifications. Nothing.

  He turned back to her and said, “Listen, you’re probably a nice girl underneath all those layers of Warden bullshit, and maybe you get away with talking to some people like that, but I was killing demons before you were even being fed with that silver spoon.”

  Vacinne said nothing. She couldn’t if she wanted to, as too many emotions swirled inside her. Anger, frustration, embarrassment, and inadequacy.

  He continued, “Speaking of silver spoons, I didn’t catch your surname before.”

  She said nothing for a moment, then composed herself and said, “LeDroux. Vacinne LeDroux.”

  “LeDroux, as in Vichont LeDroux?” asked Renlar with a raised eyebrow.

  “He’s my uncle,” she replied.

  “Ugh. You’ve got to be kidding me. The gods and their damned fascination with irony.” Renlar cussed several times.

  Vacinne sat upright, and defensively said, “If you have an issue with my family, speak up.”

  Renlar huffed. “Conversation is over.”

  What a pompous ass!

  Vacinne tried to engage him further, but he shut down. So, they rode toward Dunmorrow in silence. And for a time, it was pleasant.

  They could have left Ketabo, and gone straight to the ruins of Esboralis, but Renlar had insisted on seeing what was left of Dunmorrow. It would cost them half a day’s time, but he felt that it may offer some vital clues. Thinking more of the horrific scene that awaited them than the lost travel time, Vacinne was reluctant to agree, but did. So they made the trek to Dunmorrow first.

  The small town of Ketabo was situated a little farther north than Dunmorrow, and as such it sat a little closer to the mountains than Dunmorrow. The terrain was naturally rough at the outset, but as they put a few leagues behind them, the terrain eased into the pastoral rolling hills that small farming villages like Dunmorrow had been known for. Those green hills offered a beautiful contrast to the backdrop of the dark, rugged peaks of the Drechic Mountains. Those mountains laid claim to some of the highest peaks in all of Durghast, with some of the range’s jagged stone peaks stretching upward tens of thousands of feet. Several of the major cities in the region were nestled into the mountains. High Crown was a full week’s ride northwest from Ketabo, and the Kothari Temple was another week’s ride north from there, and they we
re both surrounded by similarly staggering peaks from different ranges.

  Most of the journey from Ketabo to Dunmorrow was done in relative silence, save for the steady clopping of hooves. Few words were exchanged, and Vacinne had to admit that as much as Renlar had irritated her, the silence did more so. At one point she’d tried to talk through a few issues with him, but he was sealed up tighter than a tourniquet. It probably didn’t help that she managed to do so while pointing out how he was wrong in every possible way.

  It drove her crazy, but Renlar didn’t take the bait. Instead, he kept his eyes on the road ahead and his ears to the ground. Vacinne was thankful that the trip between the villages was a short one though, and despite the scene that awaited, grew excited when the first signs of Dunmorrow came into view.

  Renlar pointed to the dark smoke rising from the village. “Was it burning when you left?”

  “Yes, there were a few small fires still going,” she replied.

  “Well, I don’t think those fires are small anymore. We’re still several minutes away, and that cloud already looks huge. There might not be anything left of the village,” guessed Renlar.

  He was right. When they finally reached the village several minutes later, there wasn’t much left. The stone structures stood tall, but were blackened with soot and ash, and flames consumed every remaining material that wasn’t stone.

  “There’s nothing left to investigate,” he said with a grimace.

  Vacinne sighed her disappointment. “That’s odd. It seemed the fires were dying out when I left. We should continue on then. The demon travelled north from here.”

  Renlar had a scowl, but he nodded in agreement. “The Ruins of Esboralis. Very well, but I don’t go into missions blind. You need to tell me everything you saw, heard, smelled. I need to know everything. Do you understand?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  They made their way around the outskirts of the blazing village before turning their course north. Vacinne did her best to recall every detail from her visit from the previous night, leaving out only the details of having to first summon the courage to even enter the village, then of being absolutely thrashed and mocked by the vorthor demon.

  He already doesn’t have any respect for you. Let’s not add to it, she thought.