Assassin Hunter

by Drew Briney

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DREW’S BIO

  Briney is a visionary sci-fi/fantasy author exploring what happens when technology clashes with magic. His books feature post-apocalyptic genetically engineered humans joining forces with magically empowered aliens (Moon 514), superstitious steampunk societies warring with a magical society temporarily deprived of its magic (Unproven), high-tech assassins trying to distinguish memory implants from reality (Assassin Hunter), drug enhanced magic systems (Slice), psionically gifted dragons, telepathic griffons, symbiotic vampiric vines, and entrancing world building that has been compared to Ursula Le Guin. He aims to deliver thriller pacing a la Dan Brown and tightly outlined Brandon Sanderson-esque plots all while exploring deeply personal character growth.

  accidentally found himself a bestselling author in YA SFF Steampunk and Action & Adventure (Unproven) and SFF Anthologies (for 5 Blades) and a Top 5 Author at SciFiFantasyFreak.com (for Moon 514). Currently, Drew’s working on a screenplay for Unproven (as a teen animated series) and Sea Dragon Apocalypse (a futuristic sci-fi thriller meets epic fantasy mashup).

  PUBLICATIONS

  non-fiction books, 2 co-authored volumes of ancient near eastern legal texts, Slice, Moon 514: Blaze and the White Griffon (YA Sci-Fi), 5 Blades (SFF Anthology), Unproven (YA/Adult Fantasy) and Assassin Hunter (YA/Sci-Fi).

  graduated Phi Kappa Phi from Brigham Young University before entering the J. Reuben Clark Law School on scholarship. He practiced law for sixteen years before repenting and becoming a full time author.

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  SHADOW COULDN’T STOP MOVING. Enslaved by his feet, he plodded along like some halfhearted marionette who wanted nothing more than to cut the strings controlling his body. He didn’t mind hiking and he didn’t mind following the earth’s promptings, but this particular trek seemed excessive. Two days had passed. With very little food and almost no rest, Shadow had hiked past the outer ridges of town, through the sparse edges of Eznaki Forest, straight across the sandy dunes of Azh’leniki, and deep into the eerie interior of Vanaleige Forest.

  His blistered feet smoldered but he refused to look at them. Somehow, it seemed seeing them might make the burning worse. Besides, more intense discomforts vied for his attention. Occasional coughs were slight but they ignited his lungs with fiery sensations he couldn’t begin to describe. He’d practically drowned himself earlier that morning. Thirsty as sun-bleached lips on a wooden totem, Shadow had been careless when he came across the only waterway remotely close to Azh’leniki: he’d fallen in head first. It hurts to breathe in nearly as much water as you drink. He could have guessed that before - but now he knew. Now every full breath was a reminder and every cough was an unwelcome castigation for his foolishness.

  Although these physical challenges were far from negligible, a visceral foreboding began to overshadow their presence, threatened to consume his soul with a suffocating, dreadful haunting. Shadow slowed his step, considered possibilities. Perhaps this was the earth preparing him for his own death. As azh’nahn, he deserved it. He accepted that truth even though deep down, he didn’t truly comprehend it. No matter what the earth asked of him, it was his duty to obey. That truth he accepted without reservation. Nevertheless, as ethereal hauntings continued, Shadow grew increasingly convinced that he didn’t want to do whatever she was asking of him right now.

  Already, he was considering his trip home. This time, he wouldn’t be in such a rush and he would pamper his feet. This time, his pace would be reasonable. He’d probably take extra time to walk around the burning dunes instead of plowing a straight path through every foreseeable obstacle. He’d rest in the shade and stay close to rivers.

  And he’d sleep.

  Without intending to, Shadow stopped walking, paused to uncork his nearly empty flagon of water, and sucked hard to get the last drizzles of water before falling to his knees. When he replaced the cork, he crumbled to all fours, contemplated what might be next. The jagged cut of his pants left one knee uncovered as he began to crawl and his knuckles quickly turned white from holding his bo staff too tightly as he dragged it along the ground. Shadow paused, trembled a little as the foreboding grew and a startled bird fluttered out of a nearby bush. This is crazy, he thought. But he was too intimidated to say it out loud. Shivering and consumed by a harrowing fear of whatever lay ahead, Shadow actually felt more comfortable crawling than walking.

  Not far ahead, a ledge taunted him, dared him to visit, to peer over the valley below. Maybe this was the end of the journey. Maybe the ledge would betray him. Perhaps it was a stone elemental. Perhaps it would toss him to his death. As he crawled into its inviting lap, Shadow froze, felt his bare stomach next to the cool earth, and obeyed her call to stay put. The smell of putrid soil wafted past his nostrils. Involuntarily, he nearly heaved, shifted to breathing through his mouth to minimize the smell of rotting … something. He pushed his long hair to the side, let his finger linger on a scar along his neck, shamefully considered the embarrassing failure it represented.

  Shadow lay motionless for many long moments, staring at the oddly familiar valley. It seemed he’d been here before but he couldn’t be sure. If he had been here, he’d visited the valley from some other vantage point, perhaps from the hills on the other side. Still, the area exuded such a haunting feeling that he couldn’t imagine forgetting the slightest detail. Every contorted tree branch seemed a tale of torture, the history of some foul deed. No flowers bloomed, though the season was late enough to demand their presence. Even the grasses seemed yellowish, sickly from some disease. Shadow observed that they matched the demented, spiraling lichen trails that hung from tree branches like loosely braided beards.

  A nest of fire ants drew threateningly close. Their large size left Shadow more than mildly uncomfortable. He remembered hearing of a distant cousin who’d died from their stings but despite the memory, his resolve stiffened and he refused to move. He was here for a reason. Until that reason was fulfilled, he would lie motionless as the frozen peaks of Ishmandool. Still, he shuddered when he tried to discern the foreboding.

  He’d been raised to trust the earth’s promptings, to have confidence in his instincts. Years of training had given him the discipline to push through his fear, to trust the earth but that didn’t put an end to his curiosity, his attempt to make some sense out of what was happening. He considered several options but none of them felt right, so he landed on the only idea that made any sense whatsoever. Mother Earth was testing him. That was it: a test. He didn’t know why she would do that but there was no other explanation to be found. Why else would she send azh’nahn to observe whatever doom he was about to witness? He had no power to change anything and no position to i
nfluence how the Hiwalani might deal with whatever he might see. He was practically Trayki. But despite his lowly status, he held fast to his determination. If the earth wanted him to observe something, he would watch carefully.

  A brief gust of mist-ridden wind distracted Shadow’s thoughts and blew his long hair over his eyes. He shook his head, tossing the hair to one side, shifted his eyes to the right and then left. Apart from the fire ant nest, there was no sign of moving life. While he found the thought slightly disturbing, it made sense. No healthy animal would graze in such sallow grass. And if there were no grazing animals, there would be no large predators. He saw no birds. He’d probably heard the only bird brave enough to land here a few moments past. This infested land was barely worthy of insect life, let alone the lives of larger, more sacred beasts. Perhaps, Shadow considered, some cursed creatures fed on insects or the black, putrid fungi that threatened to overtake some of the larger trees but none were to be seen. The foreboding pointed to something else.

  Just as Shadow seriously considered he’d made a mistake and needed to move to a different vantage point, he heard shouting below. Amber hair and bronze skin immediately identified two men as Hiwalani. Shadow was numbered among this race of mages but these men did not share his lowly status. These were Hinzwala, men and women whose job it was to explore the limits of magical forms, Hiwalani elite who lived off donations from the Hiwalani masses. Their skin was a lighter shade of bronze because they spent much of their time studying indoors.

  Shadow recalled his mother teaching him how it was unnatural for people to spend so little time tilling the earth, working the ground, and expressing themselves through the arts. But Shadow considered that maybe higher Hinzwalan magic forms were expressions of art. Maybe Hinzwalan forms connected mages more deeply with the earth than Hiwalani magic. Then again, maybe his mother was right. These men had very little free time. How could anyone connect with the earth when they had so little time to rest, to become one with themselves?

  A woman joined the two men below. She was old. Even from this distance, Shadow could easily discern her prominent crown of white hair. But her figure seemed youthful and her gait was far too lively to come from someone suffering her declining years. She was Hinzwala’amaka, a rare Hinzwalan mage whose lifespan bridged through new magic Turns. She could be one hundred years old, Shadow considered - or more if she had lived through a few Turns. Shadow found her appearance in this valley shocking. He knew the names of every Hinzwalan alive, and there were no living Hinzwala’amaka anywhere remotely near here. Even a shy, backward young man like Shadow would be well aware of a woman like this, a woman who was old while still young, a woman who looked and acted like a youth, a girl with white hair. She would be the talk of every child. She would be legend. This one wasn’t. And yet, there she was, walking several hundred paces away. Shadow strained his eyes but remained unable to discern her face well enough to sketch a silhouette of her features. A fleeting moment of good lighting suggested a slender nose and lips but it passed too swiftly for Shadow to memorize her visage.

  The light did expose the colors of her decorative beading and that solidified Shadow’s suspicions. She wore the colors of a young, single woman: violets, blues, and oranges. Despite her old age, this woman was no longer bonded to anyone. She’d probably been married once and her husband had died. Then, after seven years had passed, she would have been required to wear the colors of a single woman. Hinzwala’amaka were expected to take a second spouse, to bear another generation of gifted children and to teach them higher forms of magery. This woman was thin. It had probably been years since she’d born any child. She would be expected to fulfill this communal obligation soon.

  Curiosity and speculation flashed through Shadow’s mind as he watched this woman slowly pacing the valley. Her arms stretched downward toward the earth and her hands held a position suggesting she was petting the air, assuring the ground below she meant it no harm. Her movements and countenance were those of someone gentle, loving, peaceful. Yet, as she moved, Shadow felt the forebodings deepen. His heart swelled with fear and he trembled again. A short eternity passed before he mastered his emotions and calmed his body. In response, the earth shuddered as if she too feared something, as if she knew the future and dreaded what it might bring. Shadow chided himself. Of course the earth feared nothing. She controlled every destiny, didn’t she?

  As he resolved to jettison such superstitious concerns, Shadow felt the earth tremble with greater fervor. The two men below exchanged knowing glances and then fastened their eyes upon the Hinzwala’amakan woman with more dogged determination. Her petting hands began making erratic clawing motions as if she was grabbing something in the air and throwing it away. In answer, huge clods of dirt flew through the air like splashing water, slowly forming a large earthen ridge that circumscribed the valley. The two men stood motionless, in some odd stance that Shadow thought he recognized from a famous statue in a neighboring village. This was a Hinzwalan brace, a position held when engaging in intense collaborative magery, magic so intense that one had to consciously hold one’s feet to the ground. Soon, the ground around the Hinzwala’amakan woman lay bare, naked of any grasses, roots, or shrubbery. Exposed to her power, the earth continued to tremble in distress. Shadow could discern that much now. He dug his fingers deep into the moss covered ground, intuitively summoning courage to fulfill his calling to witness this event.

  Even as he braced himself, he considered the obvious: if the earth feared what this woman would do, he should be terrified. Somehow, he mastered his feelings and continued to lie motionless. It would be foolish to expose his position. Besides, he reiterated to himself, whatever evil this woman might bring, whatever demons he might see and wish to forget, he would hold his ground and bear witness.

  Larger clods of red earth, bronze sand, and shattering shale rocks flew through the air as if attacking some unseen foe. The mixture of materials the Hinzwala’akan woman dug up seemed unnatural to Shadow. Could they really be naturally mixed like that? But then, what did he know? He was a simple man, barely out of his youth. He farmed his own garden but he never dug this deeply. Anything could be beneath the earth when one dug that far down. Perhaps a long slab of precious metal lay below. Perhaps this Hinzwala’akan woman was unburying some great treasure worthy of every Trayki’s dream.

  The earth’s foreboding grew yet again and soon, towering stripes of ivory were exposed and then gargantuan bones were unveiled. Instead of large clods of bronze earth and shattering boulders mixed with sand, the unearthing became a torrential storm of finer granules. But as the pit grew deeper, the uncovered bronze sand turned ruddy until it resembled some crimson grave where the sand had absorbed the blood of some massive monster. Shadow convulsed involuntarily and then forced himself to master his fear as the beasts’ forms emerged. At first, he thought them dracoliches as their ivory bones began pulling together and taking form but after a few moments, he recognized their shapes more clearly. Four wings, four rows of teeth, and a long tail whose tip spread like the three feathers of an arrow. Worse than dracoliches, these were kotrakoy, the cursed beasts of Ali’ikiswan. Only two were uncovered but Shadow knew there was another just outside his view. Desolation was upon the land and he’d been there to witness it.

  Slowly, Shadow backed away from the ledge. As he did, one kotrakoy lifted itself high on its legs so that he could see it well. He watched as sinews attached to bone, as muscles formed upon its neck, and as eyes began to form. He watched in horror as the beast slowly regained its grayish-brown reptilian skin and some few modified, decorative feathers that distinguished kotrakoy from other beasts flying around Hiwalani wilds.

  Shadow had seen caricatures in children’s books and paintings by some of the great masters in the great halls but none of that prepared him for what he saw now. Sitting upright, the largest kotrakoy stood nearly as tall as two homes stacked one on top of another. It’s size wasn’t what he found so intimidating. It was how it gradually dis
appeared after it formed. This legendary camouflage had spawned widespread fear of kotrakoy. As long as it remained still, Shadow couldn’t even discern its presence, despite the fact he knew precisely where it stood.

  He stared at it intently, trying to discern any portion of its newly formed body. He sat in awe, witnessing what no one in his or his father’s generation had seen. His eyes were upon the most feared beast in Hiwalani history. He saw a blur as the beast turned its head. Briefly, Shadow looked directly into the eyes of kotrakoy and it looked directly back at him but he only saw those piercing eyes for the slightest of moments before they disappeared once more, fading into the background as impossible camouflage concealed it from all view. Somehow, Shadow considered, it seemed unnatural, even unholy for such an enormous predator to boast such an advantage.

  As Shadow turned and considered running away, he experienced the beast’s other unfair advantage. He felt the kotrakoy peering into his mind. It’s true. They can read minds, he intuited. Strangely, Shadow could peer into the kotrakoy’s mind as well. He could sense its excitement. He sensed its unique intelligence. He sensed it wouldn’t tell the Hinzwalan mages it had seen him because it was too excited to be released from its earthly prison to care about Shadow’s trek through its own mind. He raced through some of the beast’s memories before those forebodings evolved again, overtook his consciousness. They felt different this time but he couldn’t clearly discern the distinction.

  Shadow could have taken comfort from his glimpse into the beast’s mind. He could have pondered over these details as he casually strolled home, taking care to nurse his blistering feet. He could have pondered the earth’s purpose in calling him to witness this horrific development in the land. He could have wondered what he was supposed to do about it.