Hunting Haidians

[Jake Narmolanya]

The brick back wall of the Hunter’s Retreat morphed and molded into a round portal. Through the hole in reality a harsh, hot wind blew. The sun on the other side of the portal seemed a different color, giving everything beyond a reddish tinge. I could see sand-blasted rocks leading up the sloping side of a mountain, pockmarked by small stunted trees whose gnarled roots sank deep into the infertile soil, searching for water.

“It looks clear,” I told the other slayers. Before any of them could speak, I drew my sword and ducked through.

The sun felt unfiltered by the sparse clouds, threatening to burn my tanned skin. The wind whipped up enough grit that I pulled my silk scarf over my nose. I recalled my last trip to Haidia as the land’s pervasive sulfuric odor filled my nose and throat. It was not a place I wanted to stay any longer than I had to.

The rest of the team came through the portal single file. Marvin, with one hand on the large skinning knife on his sash. Dirk and then Flint, both wielding their longswords and looking ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Selima flowed through next, her dark eyes flicking in every direction like a hunting leopard. And then Aeranessa arrived, blonde ponytail concealed within a cloth hood and bow held at the ready. They moved swiftly and silently. Not a bad crew at all.

“On me,” Marvin whispered, and ascended the sloping jumble of shattered rock that made up the side of the mountain. It rose at an angle, but not so sharply that we would actually have to climb. “We’ve got a bit of a hike ahead of us.” The giant ginger advised, “talk amongst yourselves. There’s no one to hear us here.”

As my boots crackled over the shattered stone, I fell into step beside Selima in the middle of the pack. The Fallieni woman moved with the grace of a dancer even when hiking up a mountainside. I couldn’t keep my lone green eye from caressing her loose locks of raven hair and her smooth tanned skin. She noticed me looking and looked right back.

“How did you lose your eye?” She challenged. “Your enemy must have been swift and cunning, to wound a fighter such as you.”

I felt heat rise in my cheeks at the compliment. Unfortunately, the reality was much less flattering.

“I didn’t lose it in a fight,” I explained, deciding which details to share and which to keep hidden. “I suppose you could say I… traded it for information. Bad information, as it turned out.” I gripped my left forearm through my sifan sleeve as a slew of painful memories resurfaced. “How did a Fallieni come to be living in Corone, and speaking Tradespeak so fluently?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I was brought to your island nation as a slave-orphan at the age of twelve.” She explained as she navigated her way up a ridge line. Her voice wavered, but her feet never missed a beat. “Mostly I served as an acrobat in a menagerie that traveled between Serenti and Gisela. It wasn’t a good life, but it was the only life I knew for a long time. Marv found me, and saw something in me. He paid for my freedom and taught me the ways of the hunter.”

“That was kind of him,” I said, looking at the curly back of the giant ginger’s head. “So he’s not all muscle and bluster?”

“Ha, no.” Selima said, dropping her voice and leaning so close I felt her breath on my neck. “Deep down, he’s as soft as they come.”