The Hunt: Jaeger

“Domeric is dead.” The words tore through Markus’ body like a tidal wave. He had gone to inspect the body but when he reached the room where it was held his hand grasped the handle and he froze.

What could have finally killed you, you old bastard. His mind warred with itself. He bit his lip and stepped through the door. He found the bodies of Richard and Domeric laying on tables in the examination room. The Examiner stood over their bodies inspecting Richards wounds. “Reman,” Markus greeted him.

“Hunter,” Reman replied.

Markus stared at Richards faceless skull and winced. He felt a pang of pity for the man. “Terrible way to go out,” Markus said.

“His death was quite painful by the look of it,” The Examiner agreed. “A shame. He was such an eager initiate. But I’m thankful that I can study a new corpse.”

“What about Dom?” Markus motioned to his mentor, trying to ignore Reman’s comment.

“Blunt force. By my own examination I found his neck was broken and the side of his head has also suffered trauma. It was the neck injury that was the end of him,” Reman said. “From what however I can’t say. A mace perhaps or a rock.”

Markus shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image. “Where were they found?”

“Varnen. A decent city, despite the crime and rain. And to be more specific, behind a tavern. I believed it was named the Tipsy Trout.”

“Oh? “Markus cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes, one of the better ones, but it’s quite small by the city’s standards. The owner was said to be flustered when he was questioned. Though he did offer free meals, drinks and rooms to the city investigators as long as they needed.”

“Sounds like a man who knows something.” Markus commented.

“Will you be making a stop then?” Reman asked.

“One of many I assume.”

“Then I wish you luck on your hunt, Markus. Bring me back something to examine! I was so disappointed when you didn’t bring the claw from that lion creature.”

Markus nodded and left. He made his way to the Augury chamber. As he approached the door the guards held up their hands. “You’ve not been summoned Inquisitor. Why do you approach the Augur?” The guard on the left said.

“I have questions about the one who killed Domeric. He was on a hunt himself, only his prey could have killed him and Richard.”

The pair looked at each other and nodded. “You may enter.” The guard on the right said.

Markus nodded and stepped through the heavy oak door, closing it behind him.

He studied the room. It was modest, by Markus’ judgment. It had a bed, that wasn’t fit for a king nor a pauper, a simple wooden table with a crystal ball resting upon it, and two chairs in front of a small fireplace to complete the stone walled room. He found the Augur, an elderly woman garbed in a green and brown dress staring at the flames crackling within the fireplace.

“Markus, how kind of you to stop by.” She said, holding her gaze on the fire.

“You knew I would come?” Markus asked.

The Augur shrugged. “It was simple to deduce your arrival. Word of Domeric's death on a hunt would have reached you quickly and naturally you would seek me to find his killer.”

“Then where are they?” His hands curled into fists.

The Augur sighed. “Just south of a mountain pass to the north. That was the last location her power was used. Not far from a small village by the name of Mud Wallow. With the cold and snow setting in, I'd wager she's considering living there through the winter. It's too dangerous to go brave the mountain pass if you're not native to the area.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Good lu-”

“I’m not leaving just yet.” Markus said.

“Oh?”

Markus approached the Augur. “You sense magical anomalies as they occur. That is your power, no?”

“It is somewhat more than that but yes.”

Markus lowered his voice. “Why didn’t you say anything about Kain? Not even a hint at his existence.”

“I presented you with a choice, Markus. You didn’t disappoint.” The Augur gave him a wrinkled smile.

“Why?” Markus’ gaze was hard.

“Curiosity. To see if you were different. In hopes that you were better than the others.”

“Our job is to protect humanity from any threat.” Markus said.

“And you can see the difference between that and a child.” The Augur said.

“How do you know he won’t threaten anyone?”

“Because you showed him something he will always treasure.”

“And that is?” Markus asked.

“Mercy,” the Augur said turning to meet his gaze. “Now you have a chance to show it again.”

Markus bit his lip. “To whom? The one who killed my mentor? “Where was their mercy for Richard or Domeric?”

“She was hiding for years. It was only when they finally cornered her that she retaliated.” The Augur said.

“Then if she wasn’t a threat why reveal her, why not keep her hidden like Kain?”

“The answer is simple Markus,” The Augur said leaning back in her chair. “I’m as much a prisoner as the rest held in this castle, but my power is more useful in me then refined within a sword. If I suddenly decide I won't do my job detecting others, I will be brutalized and killed.”

Markus turned and moved for the door. “What will you do, when you find your prey?” The old woman asked.

He turned back, staring at the woman. “What I have to.” He hammered on the door to be let out. The door swung open, and he sped away to his room.

Markus collected his blade and a dagger and rushed to the stables. He found his stallion and readied himself. “And where are you going young Markus?” A fat hairy man asked as he approached the young hunter.

Markus turned to face the man. “Going to find the one who killed Domeric. Would you stop me from doing that Griswold?”

Griswold gave Markus a hearty laugh. “Not at all my friend. But would you have gone on a hunt without telling anyone and disappear without a trace?”

“Had you not stopped me. Yes, I would.”

“Don’t be so brash. You are a Hunter. An Inquisitor of the Ard-Firach. Patience and tact are your true weapons, not the magical blade you swing around.”

Markus nodded. “You make a good point, Griswold. I’ll try to keep it in mind."

Griswold smiled. “Good luck.”

Markus waved to him and set off riding hard for Varnen. After a week’s travel being pelted with cold rain and hail, he arrived. Markus glared at the soot gray walls. The guards greeted him at the gates. “Inquisitor.”

“Can always tell when we’re around, can’t you?” Markus asked him.

“Of course. You lot always look like you’re gon’ punch a fool’s teeth down their throat.” The guard said.

“Really?” Markus said cocking his head.

“Well, there’s that and the fact that your presence makes it feel like the air has turned to needles.”

“Ah yes, that would be our swords. The magic in them likes to bristle out. We get acclimated and end up forgetting about it.”

“That so? Well, it’s good to hear you’re not as strange as the things you hunt.” The guard chuckled. “So, what brings you out here? You’ve got your corpses.”

“Looking for the one who murdered them.” Markus said. “Any chance you can tell me where the Tipsy Trout is?”

“Down the road for a mile and take a left. Won’t be able to miss it.”

“Who runs the place?”

“Man named Trenton. He’s got help from his cousin Isabelle.” The guard scratched his chin. “Although she hasn’t been seen recently. S’posedly got a cold, damn shame too. She’s a hell of a sight.”

“Thanks.” Markus continued on his way. A light rainfall had started by the time he traveled down the road.

He hitched his horse by the front door. He placed his hand on the door and paused. Markus turned his gaze to the alleyway next to the building. As if being drawn forward by invisible strings he came to the opening and stared into the muddy lane. Reman’s words flooded back into his mind. Markus saw Domeric’s head being bashed in as Richard screamed while his face dripped from his skull. He shook his head and hurried into the tavern. Only a handful of people lingered at the tables. He found a seat at the bar and rubbed his eyes.

“What can I get you?” A scrawny man hollered at him.

“Ale.” Markus replied.

The man looked him up and down and nodded giving him a light grunt. He grabbed him a mug and filled it before sliding it to him. “You’re one of those Inquisitors, right?”

“I am. What of it?” Markus said.

“I was just wondering if I could help you. A few of you have already visited but I’m happy to help in the investigation.”

“What’s your name?” Markus asked.

“Trenton. I’m the owner of this fine establishment.” The man held his head high as he spoke.

Markus smiled. “Clear the crowd out, I’d like to keep this conversation private.”

Trenton stared at him for a moment and swallowed. “Of course.” He stepped out from behind the bar. “All right you lot, gulp down your drinks and get out. The Trout’s closing for a bit.”

The patrons grumbled but complied with Trenton’s demands. As the final man left, Trenton locked the door and returned to Markus. “What can I do for you?”

“Where’s your cousin? Isabelle, was it?’ Markus said.

“Oh. Belle? She stepped out to buy some things for tomorrow's stew.” He smiled.

Markus noticed Trenton’s face beginning to glisten with sweat. He stood up. “Have a seat.” Markus offered the bar stool.

“I’m fine with standing.” Trenton said. “Can I get you another drink?”

“I’ve barely had any of my first mug.”

“Ah yes, of course I-”

“Sit.” Markus commanded.

Trenton obeyed like a trained dog. The patter of the rain could be heard through the thin wooden walls as the two men eyed one another. Markus paced around Trenton, watching him closely.

Breaking the silence, Markus asked, “Did you find him?”

“Find who?”

“Domeric.”

“Well, yes. He was lying in the mud behind the building.”

“I find it hard to believe that you didn’t hear any struggling break out. Domeric’s not a man to go out quietly.” Markus said.

“I was dealing with patrons in my tavern.” Trenton said.

“What about Isabelle?”

Trenton cleared his throat. “She was-"

“Out?” Markus said, he watched Trentons face turn pale. “How unsurprising.”

Trenton dug his nails into the seat. “I-”

“Shut up. I can smell the shit you’re peddling a mile away.” Markus rested his hand on Trentons trembling shoulder. “You gave yourself away as soon as you said Isabelle was out. I was told she was sick.”

“Whoever told you that is lying!” Trenton cried.

“I’d consider that if it wasn’t for the different stories, you’ve been telling people and how you’ve been acting since we’ve been talking.” Markus leaned in close to the man. “If you’re going to lie, then I suggest committing to one story.”

“Please.” Trenton said.

“Don’t grovel,” Markus squeezed Trentons shoulder. “Just tell me what I need to know. Who killed Domeric and where are they?”

“Isabelle didn’t kill him.” Trenton said.

Markus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I did.” Trenton’s words hung in the air. Markus stared at him. “He was attacking Isabelle, so I hit him with an iron pot. I’m the killer you’ve been looking for.”

Markus pictured the scene. This little, quivering man mustering all his strength to strike Domeric with a kitchen utensil. A fire ignited within him. He took his hand from Trenton’s shoulder and grasped the back of the man's head and slammed Trenton’s face into the table. The heavy thud was followed by a wet crunch. Blood poured from Trenton’s now-crooked nose.

Markus threw the smaller man away from the bar and sending him crashing into a table. A pathetic yelp slipped out from Trenton and melted into a whimper. “Where’s Isabelle?”

“But I told you that I’m the one.” Trenton said.

Markus launched the bar seat into the table that Trenton cowered under. The wooden seat erupted into a shower of splinters. “And I’ll deal with you as I see fit,” Markus hissed. “Tell me where she is.” He took a step towards the man.

Trenton sprung up and stumbled backwards. As Markus drew closer Trenton tripped on a chair and was seized by the Inquisitor.

A swift punch landed in Trenton’s gut knocking the wind out of him. “Please,” Trenton choked out as he gasped for air.

Markus slammed Trenton onto the closest table and grabbed his right arm. Markus drew his dagger and pressed the tip of it between Trenton’s fingernail and his index finger. “Fingernails are always the most painful. To think you have ten of them for me to pluck free.” Markus watched as Trenton grew pale.

“Don’t, please don’t.” He shook in Markus’ grasp. Tears began to stream down his bloodstained face.

Upon seeing Trenton crying Markus knew he had won. He pressed the blade in slightly. A fingernail would be a small recompense for Domeric. The thought of prying it tempted him, but pity drowned Markus’ anger and cooled his temper. “West! She’s gone west.” Trenton said. “Said she’d avoid the roads as much as she could and find shelter in the wilderness.”

“Any destination in mind?”

“She considered going through the mountain pass north. With the war going on and winter on the horizon no one would think of going up that far.”

“Few would,” Markus commented. He sheathed his blade and pulled Trenton to his feet.

“Are you going to arrest me?” Trenton said.

Markus thought a moment. He considered Trenton’s broken nose and the fear in his eyes. “No, I’ve tormented you enough. I should have killed you today.” Markus said. “Count yourself lucky and go find someone to take care of your injuries.”

Trenton nodded and stumbled into the streets. Markus sighed and started to leave but spied his unfinished drink. Shaking his head, he reached into his coin purse and retrieved a fistful of silver pieces and placed them next to the mug. As he stepped out of the building and climbed atop his horse. Markus thought about the Augurs words. Guess I passed her test. He turned his horse and left for the trail.

***

Several weeks passed as Markus traveled. The first few days gave him very little headway until he happened across a cave with the leftovers of an old fire. As his focus shifted to scouting the small caves, he began to find the familiar sight of charred wood and soot. His trail led him north where the snow-specked wind bite at his red face. Markus nibbled on a small brown strip of dried meat as he scanned his surroundings. A small snowstorm had swept through the previous night leaving a blanket of small powdery diamonds. Markus scanned the snow. With any luck there’ll be tracks.

A woman's scream pierced the cold silence. Markus turned to see an older woman bolting towards him. She cried out, “Help me.”

“What seems to be the problem?” Markus asked.

“Men in furs, I was out by the river when I spotted them. They’re going to burn my village down.”

Markus raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t warn them?”

“I was spotted, and they came after-”

“There’s the bitch!” A gruff voice boomed through the cool air.

Markus eased himself off his horse and let his cloak slip from his shoulders and crumple in the snow beneath him. He watched as three fur-clad figures raced towards him. “Get behind the horse.” He told the woman. She was quick to put the horse between her and the men.

The trio stopped several feet from Markus. The man on the left stepped forward. He wore the pelt of a white wolf with the head acting as a hood. Old leather covered most of his body. “Hand over the woman friend. She’s the one we want.”

“You’re from Luparrov, aren’t you?’ Markus asked.

“Indeed, we are,” the man said. He smiled; yellow teeth peaked out from his burly brown beard.

Markus decided it would be best to play stupid. “Now what are fearsome warriors of Luparrov doing in Arboren?”

“You must live under a rock, friend. War and battle are our cause. We make a feast for the Grey Wolf.” The man took several steps forward and loomed over Markus. “Please, stand aside before I, Gundrik, kill you.”

Markus smiled. “You manage to be kind, even when threatening me.” He began to chuckle.

Gundrik let out a hearty laugh. As his two friends joined in Markus drew his dagger and stabbed into the man’s groin. Gundrik hollered like a wounded boar. Markus twisted the blade and shoved the man to the ground.

The other two stared at Markus in shock as he drew his blade. They drew their axes and charged him, stamping over their leader. Gundrik’s thrashing body proved to be treacherous footing.

Markus stepped to the right as if dodging a raging bull. He swung his sword and cut the second man down. His blood painted the fresh snow with a crimson shower. The final man took a step back.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asked.

“A hunter,” Markus said as he approached the man. “You’re all bark and no bite,” Markus taunted him.

The man shook in his pelt with rage. He let out a bone chilling howl and hurled himself across the blood-soaked snow swinging his axe downward.

Markus stepped forward to block the blow. The collision of axe and blade rang through the cold air.

Markus propelled his knee into his foes gut knocking him back gasping for air. Markus took a deep swing and carved through pelts and into the man's chest.

As his last foe collapsed into the snow Markus turned. He approached Gundrik and took hold of his dagger. “You were nice to me earlier, so I’ll return the courtesy. Please tell me how many of you there are.”

“Eat shit. Like there’s any chance I’d tell you that.” The man spat on Markus.

Markus wiped the spittle off his chest and pushed the blade up, cutting towards the man’s navel causing him to scream.

“I counted twelve others before they chased me!” the village woman said.

Markus halted his work. “Is she right?”

“Yes,” Gundrik managed through gritted teeth.

Markus rose. He retrieved a rope from his saddle bag and tied a sturdy knot around Gundrik’s wrists and handed rope to the woman from the village. “Use it like a leash and do with him as you see fit. He won’t last on his own with his wound if he gets free.”

“And what of my home?”

Markus grabbed his cloak and climbed atop his horse. “I’ll do what I can, but I’m only one man.” He looked above the tree line to see black smoke climbing into the cold blue sky. He turned to Gundrik who had remained in the snow. “I wouldn’t do anything stupid if I were you. That woman’s mercy is your best chance of survival.”

He stirred his horse forward and galloped towards the village. Smoke hung thick in the air. Markus could hear the screams and the crackling of fire.

As Markus rode into town past cottages consumed in bright orange flames. He spotted one of the raiders hacking away at the corpse of an old man. Continuing his path, he raised sword and cut down the pelt covered man. Shouts bounded down the street over the corpses of the slain and past Markus. He caught sight of villagers armed with simple farming tools struggling against their attackers.

A pair of meaty hands wrapped themselves around Markus and tore him from his saddle. The man standing over him pulled a heavy black club from his belt. “You came to the wrong place at the wrong time fool.”

He stomped on Markus’ gut knocking the air out of him. Markus wheezed as he struggled to free himself. The raider let out a war cry as he held his club high. An ax separated the raider’s hand from the rest of his body. Blood spattered onto Markus. His assailant’s cries quickly became a gurgled mess.

Looking to his savior Markus found a girl who could only have been a year or two younger than himself with black hair and blue eyes looking down at him. “Are you alright?” She offered a bloodstained helping hand.

Markus grunted and grabbed his sword. “I’ve been worse.” He took her hand.

“Good, then you can help drive these bastards away.” She ripped a small ax from the raider’s throat.

Markus put a hand on her shoulder. “Find a place to hide, I’ll see what I can do.”

The girl shot him a piercing gaze and slapped his hand away. “I can handle myself.”

Surprised, Markus eyed her. “What’s your name?”

Pausing, she blinked, then said, “Madeline.”

“Well then Madeline. Try and keep up,” Markus said turning to the battle.

The pair rushed into the fray catching the first raider by surprise and made short work of him. As they moved further, they were met by a smaller wild-eyed, half naked raider. He held a dagger in each hand.

Markus moved first swinging his sword. The bare-chested man moved swiftly, dodging the strike, and coming forward to slash at Markus.

The cut sliced into his arm. Markus stumbled backwards.

Madeline swung at the man who danced around her attack and nicked under her eye with one of his daggers. He began to laugh heartily.

“He’s fucking with us,” Markus said.

“I never would have guessed,” Madeline said.

Markus peered behind the man. The raiders had decimated the village. Anyone left alive was attempting to flee. A flame lit in Markus as he gazed upon an all too familiar scene. He tightened the grip on his sword and lunged at the raider in front of him.

Again, his foe dodged his swing and came close aiming his knife at Markus’ throat.

Markus released his grip, letting his sword fall to the ground. The raider’s eyes widened as Markus wrapped his arms around the shirtless man. “Now’s your chance!”

Madeline split the man’s skull with her ax. Markus released his grip. He turned his gaze. The remaining raiders were closing in on them. The closest rushed forward crying out, thick globs of spittle flew from his mouth. She struggled to free her weapon. As their assailant swung his blade at Markus, he spun himself in the slick snow beneath him falling away from the strike.

The raider lunged towards Madeline. She swung an open hand towards him. Crackling, violet fire leapt from her palm into the raider’s face burning away layers of flesh.

Isabelle. Markus’ eyes locked on her. He scrambled through the snow towards his sword. As his fingers coiled around the hilt a wave of heat passed just above him, he felt her flames lick at the back of his neck.

Markus rose from the ground. He observed the aftermath of Isabelle's assault. Several of the raiders had burned to death. Those that were still alive were fleeing. Markus turned to Isabelle.

“We did it.” She said as she watched the raiders fled.

“Naer-fark-medow.” Blue fire erupted from Markus’ blade. “Isabelle, come with me willingly.”

Isabelle’s said nothing. Her gaze was fixed on the sapphire flames.

She recognizes this sword. Markus watched tears well in her eyes and streamed down her face. No. She recognizes the flame. “Isabelle – “

She hurled a ball of fire at Markus.

Markus swung his blade to meet the attack. Blue and violet fire collided and danced around his sword chasing one another in a chaotic storm. Isabelle's flames ejected from the firestorm flying by Markus’ head and striking one of the fleeing raiders lighting the man on fire.

The force had pushed Markus back several feet and his skin prickled from the collision. The air thinned around him. He began a steady walk towards the wide-eyed Isabelle. Markus gasped for air.

She threw a second fireball at Markus, again he deflected it sending it into one of the nearby houses. Markus felt his skin begin to burn as it reddened.

A third bout of flame leapt from Isabelle’s fingertips and was sent into another home by Markus whose body began to steam in the frigid air.

Markus began to feel faint as he struggled to take a breath. He put one uneasy foot in front of the other.

Isabelle launched a fourth fireball. It slammed into the ground inches from Markus’ feet. Hot earth and steam blasted into his face. Markus reeled backwards and fell into the snow.

By the time Markus had recovered Isabelle was nowhere to be found. He searched frantically for her but all that remained with him were the dead and the burning skeletons of their homes.