Hunting Haidians

[Jake Narmolanya]

I sat at the bar in the Hunter’s Retreat, sipping sudsy ale and staring at my reflection in the dingy mirror behind the shelves. Cronen would have told me to sit in a corner with my back against the wall, but I was too tired to worry about such things. My lone emerald eye stared back at me, studying the silk eyepatch I wore and the matching black scarf around my neck. My dirty blond hair had grown longer than I usually allowed it, and held a greasy sheen. My green sifan clothing and plain hide cloak hung slackly, showing several days worth of wear. I had not changed or bathed since I picked up the dead demon’s trail three days prior. I’d caught the odd wink of sleep here or there, but otherwise I’d spent the entire time hunting. The ale brought a pleasant, sleepy buzz to my body and brain. I could scarcely wait to lay down in one of the underground tavern’s rooms for hire and drift away…

My head folded forward, but I remained sitting upright as I fell into a semi doze. Memories flickered and faded into substance as they so often did in the space between sleep and wakefulness. The deep scars on my left arm itched as I saw Amari, my former friend who had inflicted them. Rage blazed in my gut as I thought of her master, the assassin Lichensith Ulroke. I had traded my left eye to learn Ulroke’s location, but when I arrived the Salvic stronghold had been empty. A fruitless hunt, and a waste of a perfectly good eye. It had taken me weeks to re-learn how to sight along an arrow, and to judge distance with a sword.

My lone eye opened as I lifted my head and drained the last of my ale. When the barkeep came over to claim my tankard I shoved some gold across the counter and got a large brass key in return. It had the number eight engraved in the end, signifying the room it unlocked. I nodded my thanks and pushed to my feet and turned. My weaving path through the bar likely looked drunken, but in reality it was the fatigue eating at my bones. As I navigated around a full table one of the patrons stood and blocked my path with a burly arm.

“Jus’ a minute there,” The big red-bearded man said, “who in the blazes are you? I know every hunter and slayer in Serenti, and I ain’t never seen you before.”

“I’ve been here before,” I replied, my green eye flickering from the man’s arm to his face. Fatigue forgotten, my mind rehearsed a half dozen ways of disabling the giant ginger. “I’m more of a nomadic hunter, though.”

“Well we don’t take too kindly to strangers,” the big man said, narrowing his eyes, “safer if everyone knows everyone, innit?”

I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders, and then glared directly into his drink-misted eyes.

“Do I look like someone you need fear?” I asked levelly. The man took a long moment to consider my eye patch and sword. I sighed. “Tell you what. I’ll pay for your next round of drinks.” Before he could react I reached into my pocket and plunked a heavy crown on the table. “That way we’re all friends, right?”

The redbeard exchanged a long glance with his friends and then burst out laughing.

“Sounds fair enough to me, youngling!” He sent me on my way with a stinging slap on the back. I staggered down the hallway at the back of the common room, found door number eight, and locked myself inside. I lay down on the straw pallet with my boots still on, alone with my thoughts, memories, and misery.