Hunted

by Matt Mememaro

  “We can’t get backed into a corner!” Abner said as he leapt out of the way of the snapping jaws of the first Ghost. He began to run out into the open, leaving Gunthos behind.

  “That’s where you’re wrong kiddo,” Gunthos said as he flung himself back inside the den.

  The Islander continued to fire at the Ghost as it tried to fit in the doorway, its jaws snapping on nothing but air. In a matter of seconds, Gunthos had turned the Ghost into what resembled a pincushion, a multitude of bolts protruding from its head. Unrelenting the Ghost tried for a final push, but a final bolt from Gunthos found itself firmly within the beast’s eye. It dropped to the floor, a pool gathering around its mouth as blood trickled from the dozens of bolts Gunthos had filled it with. A lucky kill.

  “Abner, where are you?”

  The young Hunter continued to fire over his shoulder, as he evaded the Ghost at every turn, the beast’s breath hot on his back. Each bolt did nothing to the Ghost, Abner’s inaccuracy proving to be his downfall. He continued to run, with no sight of Gunthos or the den, the rugged landscape before him was all that filled his thoughts. Abner ducked under an exposed tree branch and leapt over a small stream, doing anything he could to throw the Ghost off his trail.

  A horse neighed in the distance, Abner hoping for his horse slowed and dropped to the ground, the Ghost, sailing overhead. He picked himself up and started off again, the lumbering giant, quickly gaining speed. The trees began to split and Abner found himself once again in the open, the den still nowhere in sight. His crossbow had run out and all he had was his sword and Vampire instincts.

  He heard the horse again, this time closer and suddenly crossbow bolts filled the air. Abner dropped to the ground, grass flying into his face, the wolf overtaking him once again, however this time it didn’t stop. It ran at the Hunters attacking it, now forgetting the lesser threat of Abner. Abner rose to find three Hunters, all on horseback, shooting down the Ghost. It charged one, the Hunter not moving from his post. The Ghost collided with them, the horse going down with a squeal before suddenly falling silent, the sounds of ripping and barking filling the night air.

  The Hunters cried out in alarm, their crossbows emptying into the Ghost, before Gunthos leapt from his horse onto the beast’s back, ramming his sword through its spine. It released a final howl before it died, slumping in a heap in defeat. Abner crawled to his feet, rushing and dreading the efforts of the Ghost before it died.

  Gunthos stood silent, his head dipped, over the body, paying his respects. Lois and Gareth however were on the ground beside their fallen comrade. As he drew level with them, Abner looked down at the scarred and mutilated body of Alex. The young man’s face had been ripped to shreds, a tooth had torn off in his cheek.

  “Fuck!” Gareth said. “We took too long to kill it, we saw it coming.”

  Abner felt his chest come up in his throat. He didn’t need to run and now this war had cost another friend. A rage washed over him at his inability to kill the beast by himself. “It’s a war of attrition, they’re bred to kill us and I’m sick of it! We can’t keep doing this to ourselves!”

  “Ab, Alex knew what he was getting into,” Lois said. “We all did.”

  “The boy is right, Lois. I lost my brother, and we’ve lost plenty of others. We can’t just keep running around all over the countryside trying to take them out one at a time. Their den here was clearly a point of their operations, but we need one swift strike to cut off the head of the snake,” Gunthos said.

  “If you can find me the opportunity for that one quick strike, Gunner, we’re taking it. Anything to end this sooner rather than later and to preserve our own lives,” Abner said.

  “Right then what do we do with Alex, we can’t leave him here?” Lois said.

  “We’ll head back to the Huntrey where we can give him a proper burial, it’s the least he deserves.”

  15

  The Infected One

  The cries of his brothers echoed through the air as he ran back towards their home. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, yet no storms had passed through the area. There should have been nothing to start a fire, and for one of the few times in his life he was worried. It had been an age since he had seen his brothers, and the constant threat of the Hunters placed them in peril.

  But surely not, not at their home. They were untraceable. The Erdia Arrzara would have provided little protection from the more than human Hunters, but if more than a few of his brothers were present they would have presented enough force to repeal any Hunter attack.

  Moments later, the source of the smoke came into sight. Through the darkness, the orange, raging flames, danced on the corpse of what he had once called home. There would be nothing left to salvage. He stopped running, pausing to rear his head and throw it back to summon and almighty howl, calling any brothers left to his side.

  Specks of white in the distance began drawing closer as those that had heard the first cries raced to also rescue their kin from whatever had befallen them. The fire grew as he came closer to the den, and the familiar, yet sweet stench of the Vampire blood filled his nostrils. A Vampire here? The scent was fresh and needed investigating.

  Hunters, Vampires and all those of the foul blood needed to be eradicated. His brothers had whispered they were created through its use, but as long as his purpose was clear, it did not matter.

  Finally, he stood outside the den, a smoldering ruin of what it had once been. The Vampire stench evident, a sole Vampire, unconscious meters away from the flames flicking into the sky. His brothers joined his side and once again, he felt at home. He sat and began to shed his snow-white fur, feeling his ears slide down the side of his head. His muzzle began to recede into his face, stopping his breathing momentarily as it gave way for a more suitable one. Four legs became two as the tail that kept him balanced sucked into his lower back. Claws became fingers and moments later a human sat, cross legged, in place of the wolf.

  “Zarazenih, we came when you called but we were too late.” Another wolf was changing into its human form. The mouth had shifted first, leaving the rest of the changes to unfold naturally.

  “There was nothing you could have done Borajon, the Hunters clearly had help from that foulblood.” Zarazenih pointed at the Vampire, still prone by the den. “Bring him to me.” He closed his eyes, shading himself from the flames.

  “Is it possible the Vampires did this themselves, my brother?” A second wolf had joined them.

  “We will soon find out Tailion. Do any of our faithful remain?”

  “I pray that they perished in the fire trying to save our home.” He twirled one of his locks around his gnarled finger, a small chunk missing from the middle, lost during a fight with his brothers. “Until death do we serve, they swore. If they fled we should hunt them down.”

  “There’s no time for that, brother.” Zarazenih opened his eyes as the Vampire was thrown at his feet. “Wake him.”

  Borajon flicked his long silver hair over his shoulder and knelt down to the Vampire’s level. He grabbed the fiend by the face and brought its neck to his lips. He bit down and the Vampire’s eyes snapped open, a drawn out shriek escaping its mouth.

  Zarazenih counted to twenty in his head before raising his hand. “That’s enough. Let him go.”

  Borajon shoved the Vampire face down into the dirt before Zarazenih. The Vampire shuddered at every sound he heard, his eyes frozen open in terror.

  “Do you know who I am, Vampire?” Zarazenih asked.

  “I know you’re one of what they call the Ghosts. You slaughter my kind along with the Hunters and you need to be put down like the rabid dogs you are!”

  The wolves laughed in unison, Borajon and Tailion licking their lips as they looked at the broken Vampire. Zarazenih wore a smirk, his upper lip curled.

  “It seems like we both have a title here, Butcher. I’m known as the Infected. You may or may not have heard of me,” Zarazenih said. “I turn your kind into my kind, into thralls.”

/>   Dravian shook his head in disgust. “Should have let the Hunters spill my brains across the floor. Would have served me better than becoming one of your mindless husks.”

  “It’s far too late for that, my friend. We’ve lost our family here tonight, and I can’t help but think you played a part in that. In my opinion, that means you owe me a debt, and as far as I’m concerned that debt is to be repaid by taking down those Hunters,” Zarazenih said. “Usually you’d have a choice, but not tonight.”

  He rose to his feet, pushing up off his left knee and stood in front of the Vampire. Dravian tried to roll away, but Zarazenih grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. He collapsed, his kneecaps still had not healed.

  “Stand, creature!” Zarazenih said. He yanked Dravian up again this time by the throat, holding him off the ground at his eye level. The Vampire looked dwarfed in comparison. “We are bound by blood, by faith and by oath. We are a pack, and we will destroy those that destroyed our home.”

  “Kill them,” Talion said.

  Zarazenih turned the helpless Vampire to the side, exposing its fleshy gray neck. He looked around at his brothers before nodding. “One more for the pack.”

  He bit down into Dravian’s neck, careful to preserve what he could of the Vampire. It began to shutter, and the changes started to take place. Occasionally his brothers could control their transformations, choosing which part of their body they could change. For their first time, this was not the case.

  The Vampire twisted and shook, fur sprouting all over his body, white growing over the gray like a weed. His face grew longer, and the muzzle of a wolf began to grow out, his claws quickly turned to paws and his body began to stretch. Zarazenih dropped him and the now more wolf than Vampire dropped to the ground, a yelp escaping him. His transformation was nearing completion, his knees snapping around at the last moment.

  Borajon started to chuckle. “He looks like a runt. He won’t be able to run with us.”

  Zarazenih nodded in agreement. “Not my best work, but I didn’t have much to work with. Can you stand, brother?”

  Dravian tried to stand, his new body fighting against him. The wolves laughed as he struggled to get to his feet. His back knees hadn’t recovered from the Hunter’s assault even after becoming a wolf.

  “He can’t stand.” Zarazenih shook his head. “He’s of no use to us.” He cradled the wolf’s head in his hands. “You showed so much promise. It’s a shame that this has to happen.”

  Dravian looked up at the alpha and pinned, unable to move his head. Zarazenih tightened his grip around the former’s neck. A powerful creature now reduced to nothing more than a shell.

  “My apologies, brother. May you rest in peace.”

  Zarazenih’s muscles tightened around Dravian more and the wolf began to gasp for air. Then with a single twist, and a resounding crunch, Dravian went limp and Zarazenih dropped him to the floor. He looked at his brothers and shook his head.

  “Toldar will pay for this. He set those Hunters against us, I know it. He needs to die and I’ll rip out his throat myself!”

  16

  Rubbed the Wrong Way

  The ride from the Ghost’s den to the place the Hunters called home was brief and uneventful. Alex remained drooped over his horse’s back as the group rode up the mountain that housed the Tyrain Huntrey. The early morning sun and numerous Hunters were on the plateau making the most of the training grounds whilst good weather still lingered. Soon snows would be on the peaks and more Hunters would travel north to hunt Vampires elsewhere.

  Word had been sent ahead by a guard on the wall, and a small team of Hunters now were busy constructing a funeral pyre at the entrance to the Huntrey. A small pile of wood lay idol whilst they built the foundation, a large rocky pit that would soon be built up to rest Alex’s body upon it.

  “I’ve got to speak to the Board,” Abner said. “We can’t go out again so soon, we need to rest and we need to be able to plan our next strike against the Ghosts.”

  “I feel like you’ll need some support,” Gunthos said. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No need to call a Board meeting to request some time off, Hunters,” Crix said. He tapped his walking stick on the ground in annoyance. “You’ve lost another one, I see. Why am I not surprised?”

  Abner rounded on the old Hunter, his fist clenched into a fist. “If I recall, Crix, I don’t see you out there hunting them with us. The Ghosts are stronger, faster and almost just as smart as most Vampires we hunt. They also don’t tend to blow up when you put a bolt into them, it takes a lot more.”

  “Clearly our Hunters aren’t up to the standards that they used to be,” Razal said. He walked up beside Crix. “But if the almighty Abner Toldar decrees it, it must be true.”

  Gunthos gritted his teeth. “Sometimes, Razal, I want to pick you up by your throat and choke you until your eyes pop out of your head. You know that don’t you?”

  Razal chuckled into his hand. “That’ll only happen if the Huntrey falls, so good luck with that. Not all of us get to live out our dreams.”

  “Gentlemen, can we cut the bull shit and just get to the point. Crix we need at least a few days to put our friend to rest and to gather any more information on the Ghosts,” Lois said. She stepped between Abner and Gunthos, dwarfed by all four men in her presence. “Can you do that for us?”

  Crix puffed out his lips. “I’ll allow it and try to convince the rest of the Board. What information do you need?”

  “If there’s anything relating to where the Ghosts would hide, or an old codex on strange creatures of Taagras,” Abner said.

  “Don’t imagine there would be and too my recollection this is the first we’ve seen or heard of beasts by this, but be my guest,” Crix said.

  “You kids take care of everything here, make sure it’s a good service,” Gunthos said. “I’ll find a way to avenge Alex.”

  Twilight fell on the Huntrey hours later, and there was a large showing of support for Alex as he lay across the pyre. His arms were folded, still dressed in his Hunter’s attire that he had died in. His arms were folded across his chest, resting on his crossbow that he held in place of his sword that lay by his side.

  The last of the Hunters joined the correlation as the last of the sunlight slipped from the day, casting the plateau in darkness, save for the braziers casting light over the field. Abner looked around at the hundreds of black cloaks behind him and allowed himself to smile at the show of respect for his friend. Alex had become well liked throughout his time at the Huntrey, and this proved it.

  The main ceremony in itself was overly brief. The crypt caretaker had given the traditional Hunter’s end of service rite, telling how blood was blood and now the debt had been repaid to the order. Crix stood at the podium beside the pyre in silence, his head hung low in respect. As head of the Board it was his job to oversee the final passing of the Hunters.

  “Would anyone else like to say some words?”

  “I would,” Abner said. He stepped forward out of the crowd and toward the podium.

  Crix grabbed his arm as he approached. “Watch yourself boy. Don’t say anything the Board will be able to punish you for later.”

  “I think I’m past the point where I care what the Board thinks or doesn’t think of me,” Abner said. “Just be grateful I haven’t walked out yet.”

  “You don’t have a choice, son!”

  “Sauria would have me, as would the Renori. Don’t think just because you took us in when West Anacore fell means that we’re here for life,” Abner said. His voice cut like glass.

  Crix took a step back. “You’re a bloody good Hunter, but a shit politician. Don’t let your skills to go your head thinking you can do something you weren’t born to do. Now get up there.”

  Abner pulled himself up onto the podium and lifted his hat of his head, holding it by his side. He looked out over the Hunters and looked to his friend resting on the pyre. Alex looked as peaceful as he had sleeping at West Anacor
e during his time as a Novice.

  “My name is Abner Toldar, I suppose I am here to say a few things about my good friend, Lord Alexander Realla. I remember when I first met him, I punched him in the face.” Abner smiled again. “But then I learnt he was as much a Hunter as the rest of us. It just took time for him to learn what he needed to become. And now he’s gone. Gone thanks to your Board wanting us out there in the field hunting these Ghosts with no respite. They are the biggest threat you’ll come across and they need to be wiped out. To prevent more of your friends and family from suffering this same fate!”

  “Enough of this!” Crix said. He limped back up to the podium. “I’ve told you once, Toldar, but I’ll tell you again. If you have a problem you come to me.”

  Abner turned his attention back to the crowd, the old Hunter a non-issue. “I’ve lost a friend, as have many of you, and we’ve all lost a colleague. Each and every day we should honor him, doing what we all share a mutual love and appreciation for. I miss you Alex.”

  “Alright you’re done,” Crix said. He shuffled forward and tried to push Abner off the podium.

  “I know when I’m not wanted,” Abner said. He got down off the podium and walked back through the crowd.

  As he walked away, Crix lit the pyre, the wood beginning to crackle due to the heat from the flames. The seconds passed and the flames crept higher before finally engulfing Alex in a fiery red cage, it’s smoke rising into the early night sky.

  After Abner had left the funeral, Lois followed him to the roost. Ever since the fall of the West Anacore Huntrey, he’d go there to be alone with his thoughts. Gunthos had taken to the library, his nose undoubtedly buried in a book somewhere with Tori on his lap.

  Lois climbed the stairs to the roost, the cool night air brushing gently past her face. She opened the door to find Abner surrounded by the birds that the Hunters kept as messengers. Anything from pigeons to great eagles sat in the roost with him. In his hands Abner clutched a small black pigeon, a note tied to its foot.