Blood's Wake

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Solo.

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Singed trees quivered under a raw, soughing wind, a wide strip of decaying forest that crackled and slanted in protest. Trodden roads cut through the landscape, traveling ancient woodlands and prairies. Hooves of mounted warhorses had furrowed the ground, leaving their prints' asymmetrical pattern on the path. Atop these beasts armor-clad soldiers had cocked their lances, thundering toward their foe in the name of the Ethereal Sway; a second pattern faced the first in opposition, one belonging to an army that rode under the standard of King Iorlan Rathaxea. Where the armies met was a storm of footprints, the sides of which Anubis of Skavia loathed evenly.

A trace of old blood hung faint in the air, but a foul undercurrent spoke of sorcery. The forest soil too had been disturbed, churned up by the same warring sides. Shafts of quarrels had sprouted out from trees, the metal heads firmly anchored in the scorched bark. Dying columns of smoke dotted the field of battle, tainting the brightening sky overhead. The fighting, he concluded, had stopped with the Church's victory.

He had always dissented from the sides' views, abhorred them both for it. They would have to soon dissolve, he'd decided, for the good of this nation. Pained by the scene he relived in his mind, the Salvarian realized he would never participate, for this was one war he had nothing to do with. No, he had traveled here for another cause.

Anubis gathered the reins, turned with his mount and guided it a dozen paces up a rising slope, then slowed to pause atop its crest. The eastern horizon brightened gradually, the sun still lurking behind a vast portion of land that had remained doubly untouched. Silently surveying the grassy plains, Anubis turned at a sound of an approaching rider.

The newcomer reined in, his peachy face weathered with exhaustion. Pointy ears stretched beyond the scalp, the blades of his jet-black hair swinging in the wind. An insignia of the elven Bladesingers graced his rusty breastplate, broken and tattered.

"Sure took your sweet time," Anubis said, his bruised heart evident in his voice. "Oh, don't give me that look. I'm fine. Been thinking... that's all."

The elf's brows fractionally rose. "About the war?" he asked.

Anubis gave a nod, his eye wandering till it settled on his mount, the beast's mane silently ruffled by the wind.

"I understand," the renegade whispered, moved his horse a few paces past, setting his face in the growing sunlight. His glittering black hair was like a piece torn from night itself, two rosy eyes adorning the firm ridge of his brows. The pinna of his ears ever pointed skyward, his skin violet and pale. "I know how it is like as well."

"I appreciate your sympathy," Anubis sighed and continued, "but this is a civil war, it's different. Think of it as two brothers battling over the last morsel of meat. Your war is only two neighbors fighting over… power, land, and resources.”

"Poor distinction, but bravo for the effort," he grinned. "However, they're still my brethren. It is the hard, bruised truth..." The elf paused, then continued, "Regardless, I had a considerable part in dealing the death of their scores. A fact which haunts me to this day." The elf's face suddenly turned sober. "We cannot separate ourselves because of a difference in ideologies and skin, Anubis. I had to watch a handful of them bleed out from my own-inflicted wounds.”

"Sorry," Anubis murmured.

"It’s all right, friend," the elf said. Whatever thought that seemed to have arisen in his mind was fleeting, as he simply shrugged. "What's happened happened." The elf's gaze returned to the road, "We can never change the past, sadly."

A faint smile crept onto Anubis' lips as gathered the reins again and clicked his tongue. He then broke his horse into a walking pace along the road. "Come on, we should be close."

"Lead the way," the renegade croaked. Formerly called Hearvarr, the elf now went by the name of Merka Ralem. An ex-soldier of the Raiaeran Bladesinger forces who easily stood two heads above Anubis. He was barely into his first century--a youth among his kin, but a wise one nonetheless. The bond the two now shared had formed over the years, now a companionship unbreakable by any force they had confronted yet.

***

Anubis' gaze was fixed on the eastern horizon as the forenoon sunlight bled through ranks of paperthin clouds. The trading road they now traveled had went on for longer than anticipated, and often they met with merchant carriages drawn by lowing, toilworn quadrupeds.

A town's gateway loomed in the distance, flanked by a revolving palisade. The tattered rooftops of buildings crowded the space within. The treeline, now turned into a stretch of plains extending further inland, had traveled with them until a few leagues remained between them and the settlement. To the left it ran only for a half dozen leagues, suddenly twisting into the swampy bogs of northern Raiaera. There the land was sheathed in dense thickets, in which prowled both the mundane and the supernatural.

So claimed Merka, who explained this survey through his sharp memory; perhaps an ability that was to him both a blessing and a curse.

The Bladesingers were once the renegade's life. To them he had sworn an oath, which he later broke and now lived by, as the vow's shattered remnants harrowed him every so often. Who drove that stab? Anubis pondered, his conscious, maybe. Or his heart. Whichever, he's not forgetting the day he broke his solemn promise, looks like.

They had nurtured Merka, raised him to the elf he was now. They'd taught him how to kill. Two decades he spent slaying Raiaera' foes in the name of its glory. And it all turned out to be for naught. No-one saw the truth as he did. Only he saw it unveil. A mutineer that didseek Raiaera’s glory, but in ways largely different to the ones that had been--and still were--executed.

Should they find him, they would kill him without hesitation. They would feel no remorse. He had always been aware of the consequences. No regrets plagued him, but if the thought ever arose, it was crushed, destroyed, its vile throat slit. He knew that the moment he rode out of the encampment, he would have gone rogue. Even as he hesitated, he took the decision and escaped the confines of an empty oath.

Merka suddenly turned in his saddle, fixed his eyes on the Salvarian. "Is this it?"

"Yeah. Lakewick. Modest village, but it’ll do."

The elf murmured something, then returned to facing the settlement. Silence ensued, then a while later, "I’ve a feeling luck shall be on our side today."

"Don't push it," Anubis said. "Smaller settlements aren't exactly the friendliest to outsiders. Even of their kind." A light tap against his mount's sides sent the beast into a trotting pace, striding down the road leading to the gateway a few hundred paces ahead. Merka heaved a sigh and followed in silence.

Lows of cattle filled the air, the percussion of weary hooves rumbling from the ground up. A bridge ranged over the moat, acting as a passage into Lakewick. The roan animals had gathered in an interlock of flesh and bone, mindlessly grazing on the open meadow as they cluttered a patch of green. The beasts were dangerously tottering on the moat's edge, but had been held in check by a watchful guard dog. Anubis' horse grew with unease as the canine fixed its cold gaze on them. Muscles twitching under its skin, the beast hesitated.

“Easy…” he murmured to his horse, then glanced back at the dog. Gone. Better hope these cattle have their owner close. Anubis spared Merka a glance, who rode silently. The two then nudged their mounts up the bridge, the worn wooden planks moaning under the added weight.

Pounds of hammer against heated steel announced the presence of a smith, the sound traveling from behind the building closest to the gate. Sizzles hissed in the same establishment that was revealed to be a traveler's inn, its only window giving way to rising tendrils of steam. Guards were nowhere to be seen. Other than the one farthest, with the lone edifice towering above the settlement, the remainder of buildings seemed to be nothing but peasant homes.

Heads turned and faced the two warriors as they entered the establishment, carefully followed them as they made for an empty table. "Ugly-arse elves…" someone at an occupied table murmured as Merka passed. Who paused, turned slowly and settled his piercing gaze on the man. He held his gaze a moment longer, then grunted, turned and followed in Anubis' wake.

An aging barmaid approached the two as they sat. “Beg your pardon for those thugs,” she said, eyeing Merka.

“No need,” the elf said, shrugging his massive shoulders. “I'm used to it.”

“Folk’re jumpy ‘round here. A battle transpired a week ago, and now the baroness' son has gone missing.”

Anubis cocked his head.

“Missing, you say..?” Merka questioned, glanced at the Salvarian knowingly. Anubis shrugged. “We've a few questions to ask about this baroness,” Merka paused, "but first, we would like to drink something, please." The barmaid nodded, strolled over to the counter.

***

The sun's waning light shone over Merka's inhuman face. They had sat at the table for hours on end, gorging themselves as they bled themselves dry. Merka idly reached for an apple, inspected it. His violet eye wandered, stopped at something, or someone, behind Anubis. As the Salvarian presumed, it was the man from when they entered hours before. “We don’t need any trouble, Merka.”

“I know not what you're talking about,” the elf said, took a slobbering bite. "All right, all right, my energy would be lost on him anyway."

Anubis rolled his eyes. We’ll have the whole town after us, friend, if you venture to lay a finger on that man. “We should ask her about this missing son.”

Merka's gaze returned to the half-eaten apple. “Aye.”

The baroness' study was a plain expanse of hardwood, a strong fragrance of lavender riding the air. Tapers were arrayed within metal rims which hung from the ceiling, the faint light giving way to an ambiance that appeased Anubis' weary mind. Darkness had commanded the outdoors, broken only by the dimly lit streets and homes.

Merka sat in the chair opposite the old woman, one elbow on the top of her study as silence commanded the chamber. Anubis crossed his arms as he leaned on a pole, reflecting on the baroness' restless gaze as it settled on an empty space. A moment later the elf gave him a surreptitious glance, where Anubis simply shrugged. Merka then turned his attention back to the silent crone, leaning forward. He hesitated, then spoke. "The tavern barmaid led us here. We were looking for work, and were wondering if you could--"

"Is this about my son?" the woman demanded, avoiding the elf's gaze. "And I'd like you to introduce yourselves first, if you please," she said coldly.

Merka's brows furrowed, at which he sighed under his breath. "I am Merka Ralem." He gestured toward the Salvarian. "My friend is Azaranth Ubissad, but you may call him Anubis. And yes indeed, it is about your son."

"Pleased to meet you. I am Agnes Seabreath, Baroness of Lakewick." There was a pause, then a heartbeat later she leveled them a merry smile. "Please then, continue."

Anubis felt the urge to sneer, but barely managed to avoid falling to his desire. "The pleasure is ours. After we were told about Gareth, we were curious to know if you're willing to hire some foreigners."

Agnes said nothing.

"Yes," Merka simply added.

She sighed, a restless pucker playing on her lips. "Interesting offer, and I may accept it on one condition; tell me why I should hire you and not rely on my own men."

"We're monster hunters," Anubis said, expressionless as the baroness' gaze turned to hold him. "We track monsters down. Shouldn't make much difference to track someone down--of course, the distinction is not--"

"It is fine," was her blunt answer. Agnes sighed again. "All right then, hire you I will. Your reward will be discussed when you return," she eyed them both, then added meticulously, "with my son." They only gave a firm nod. "It is settled, then," the baroness said, shifting in her seat. "I am assuming you have questions?"

"Yes," they said in unison. Anubis then added, "We do."

“Three months ago was when I saw him last," Agnes said, facing the window directly behind her study, hands behind her back as she watched the moonlit firmament. "I recall we argued during the last few days. Over what, I don't quite remember. But I believe it was about his drinking with his comrades for the night.”

Anubis exchanged a glance with Merka, then questioned, “You refuse?"

The woman hesitated, then slowly nodded. “When he knew I wouldn't accept, he simply retired into his room. I realized he was quite upset. When I checked on him that night, the window was left ajar. And his room, it was as if a storm had passed through. We couldn't find him anywhere."

"Try asking the guards?"

"Who do you take me for? I trust my men…" There was a pause, then Agnes heaved a sigh. "Yes... I did ask the guards, but nothing, of course.” The woman turned and faced them, her face twisted with fright. "I fear for him."

"We'll find him," Merka said reassuringly. "But how do you know he is in Alerar?"

"He told me he would meet his comrades there. I sent my men after him. Waited and waited, I have. None returned. I couldn't afford to lose more men, so I prayed he would show up on his own. And that's that,” she slurred.

"What do you mean by 'none returned?'" Anubis questioned, raising a brow. The Salvarian then saw her eyes swimming with tears. She turned to the window again, a hand over her mouth. "All right, but who killed them? And what for?"

"That's enough, Anubis," Merka interrupted, his voice possessing a ring of dominance. Which then softened. "Don't you worry Agnes, we'll bring him with us." The elf rose, his steel cuirass clanging heavily as he rose to his feet. "We ought to get to work. Give us two weeks--we should have returned with your son by then."

"Make haste," Agnes whispered. "I beg you."

***

“Have you seen Stonny?” a muffled voice questioned, sounded through the thin walls of one of the villager homes. "She’s gone missing since daybreak-- No, I won't ask Brook. What do you mean 'Just ask?' That bastard may as well have kidnapped--"

Anubis was no longer within earshot, pausing as the words registered in his mind. Might have been that guard-dog. I should probably help 'em. Shit, but I need to focus on the contract. Maybe Merka--

"Got something on your mind?" the elf asked, his face packed with curiosity.

Anubis blinked. Ah, but you already have a lot on your mind as it is. You don't need more trouble. Then he simply shook his head. "No."

The rhythmical call of crickets chimed throughout the town, a series of chirps that tolled across the roads. A full moon hung in a cloudless sky as stars winked overhead. Merka held Anubis in his gaze a while longer. "Come. Let's rest if we plan on finding this Gareth, we'll need it."

Anubis tsked. "I don’t know… she seems--"

"What?"

"To be hiding something," the Salvarian completed, locked gazes with Merka. I'm certain, in fact. She is lying. She doesn’t want us to know something, and what’s at stake, I fear, is greater than what you or I could imagine. "We’ll talk about it tomorrow, you head on to camp."

"Where are you going?" Merka raised a brow, eyeing his friend carefully.

"Want to check on something," Anubis said distractedly, attention trained on a nearby house.

"Better not tarry," he murmured, turned and walked off in the town stall's direction. They planned to stay no more than a night. But things change, he thought, approaching the door. Now, I wonder how we'll cross into Alerar with Merka… Damn, I should him ask him that. Unless he plans to introduces some more of his 'brethren' to the ground. Regardless, time I searched for that dog.

A narrow slit of the night sky appeared between two low summits of the Kachuck mountains, where the valley below wound on ahead in a tortuous path that Merka claimed to be well acquainted with. Dusk's heavy cloak had sheathed the land in darkness, but somehow they managed with the faint lighting of the lanterns hanging from their saddles. The horses had surprisingly maneuvered in the stone-filled path, but ahead was where the beasts would need their riders' guidance. Alongside him the ex-Bladesinger, Anubis noted, "Gotten cold."

"Yes," Merka said, in a tone that suggested hindsight. "Looks like we've already crossed the border." The elf's armor gleamed in the faltering light of his lantern, the breastplate caked in a coating of rust. “If we're lucky enough, we shouldn't run into any trouble.”

“Namely?” Anubis asked.

“Border-patrols, Anubis,” he scoffed, eyeing the Salvarian. Anubis shrugged, facing the road again, still feeling the weight of Merka's gaze. A moment later it shifted, only to hold something else on the man. "So, is that related in anyway to your dawdling of yesterday?"

Anubis grunted. “Yeah...” he sighed, eyeing the bandaged wound on his hand. Damned dog. All I wanted was the owner to get it back… Not... Anubis clenched his jaw, tried relieving the tension in his muscles as the elf's eye slipped away, but to no avail.

"It didn't end well, did it..?"

Anubis felt a sting in his wound. "No."

Silence followed for the next hour, broken only by the occasional horse grunt. Merka spoke a while later. “By the way, we should run into a settlement on our way,” he said. “A mine-city we'll find a bit deeper into the range, also called Kachuck. We should find an inn or a tavern there.” He paused, then added, “We'll meet Agnes' agent there.”

Anubis nodded, fumbling through his cloak to produce a leather-wrapped waterskin. "How are we supposed to find said agent?" he questioned, bringing it to his lips. A moment later Anubis paused, noticing Merka tense in his saddle.

His eyes were dead-locked on something ahead. "Well," the elf murmured, pulling at the reins. “Looks like we’ve gotten ourselves some company for the night.”

Anubis gazed in front of him, eyes narrowing. “You forget your coordinates?”

"No," he whispered sourly. "That's a stronghold, whence the patrols come and go." The elf's face furrowed in a worrisome frown, gaze unwavering on the hulking fort ahead. The stone structure blocked their path, its huge frame flanked by the rocky formation that ran along the valley. Torches guttered at the entrance.

A sudden gust of wind nipped on his bones, swayed his lantern, which he then frantically proceeded to extinguish. Merka followed suit. "Something tells me these Alerians won’t be so delighted to see us," Anubis muttered, "will they?"

The elf snorted. "You? Perhaps not. Me? Naturally," he said bluntly. "Even if I were outlawed by the Bladesingers, I am still ally to no-one."

"Right," he paused, then, "and how powerful are they?"

Merka was silent for a few moments. "More than I'd like to admit."

Anubis whispered, “So, how about we turn back before we're seen--" he wheeled his horse, urging the beast to move forward--"right about now?”

“Yes, agreed." The elf grunted, guiding his mount around. "Knowing you, no plan is ever going to work--but we shall set up camp and see what we can come up with. Somehow we still pull through..." he murmured, a statement that seemed to have been directed mostly to himself.

Anubis' scowl deepened in thought. "If it ever came to it--"

"If, and when, it ever came to it. Kill when necessary, Anubis; that's a motto I have always lived by."

They rode with their mounts and skulked back and out of the stronghold's view. You know, that makes it that much easier for me. ​The Salvarian grinned, loosening his crossbow strap.

Heavy rain descended in unending droves, sheathing the boggy mountain trail in a stream of rainwater. Two, motionless bodies lay next to Merka and Anubis. Each wore a bloodied uniform, a patrol from the fort that had found itself in the fatal grasp of the skulking monster hunters. The kill had been quick, each bore a stab wound in their lower back. Both were dark elves. A torch, its flame recently extinguished, sank next to them into the rain-smothered ground. Merka wiped his dagger blade clean. "Good kill."

"You too," Anubis paused, hesitated, then, “We could have spared the other one, though.”

“Too risky. We did what had to be done,” Merka said. "Here, this one should fit, if my eye is correct." Then he proceeded to undress one of the bodies. The elf grunted as he went on to wear each article of the guard's padded uniform, his efforts hardened by the ceaseless rain. “I need to cover up my face with something. I suppose it's obvious enough to tell the difference.”

Anubis sneered. “Yeah, you think?"

The elf seemed to realize the sarcasm that influenced his friend words, slightly grinned. "Wear a hood, then," the Salvarian suggested, then gestured toward the elf's ridiculously large sword-- "and exactly what do you plan on doing with that?”

Merka grunted, furrowing his brows. “What do you think, hide it in my undergarments?”

“You could try that,” Anubis grinned, received the black broadsword in wonder of its awesome grandeur. The hilt was golden in color, its luster lost by age. The blade was pure dehlar, painted a degree black as lacquer. Dark power bled from its edges, trailing in the air like ink spilled in water. Anubis savored it in its rare proximity before slipping it into a second sheath strapped over his shoulder. “How does it look on me? Not too beg, eh?"

“Don’t get too used to it,” Merka growled. “It’ll be a few days, and nothing more."

"Of course," Anubis said. “I’ll carry on to Kachuck. Try not to get too friendly with the Alerians." He paused, a smirk plastered over his face. "I get nervous without your company."

“Hilarious,” the elf sneered. Silence followed, as lightning streaked through the cloudy firmament, followed by booms of thunder. Merka cocked his head. "Do take care of my sword."

The Salvarian blinked. “Of course I will. Who do you take me for?” he questioned, his irony the size of the sword. Anubis smiled as he looked his friend in the eye. “Don't get killed, Merka," he said, his tone suddenly serious.

The ex-Blandesinger nodded, his jaw muscles clenching in the lantern light. “You too." Then he tsked, pulled uncomfortably at his collar. "Spirits below, I'm going to be swimming in this thing."

"You already are, friend."

"Wait for me in the biggest inn there, Anubis." He paused, then a moment later, "Maybe your all-knowing omniscience, and excuse the redundancy here, will have calmed down by the time I'm arrived."

“Of course," Anubis nodded sagely. "I shall be waiting."

***

Lying squat in the mountain pass like a vessel in its harbor, Kachuck came to life before the Salvarian. From the eastern-horizon, the sun’s slow climb to its zenith marked the beginning of the city's day; the ring of metal against stone filled the air, deep underlying explosions stirring the pebbles at his feet. Precious ores melted and set up for sale meant coin clinking in merchants' pockets. Fatal accidents, as it seemed, were not uncommon in the process of mining. Do or die, I suppose, Anubis thought, sitting on a rocky outcropping as the dwarves' stocky figures cluttered the streets.

Few exchanged glances with the newly arrived hunter as they carried on to their tasks. Visitors to the mine city were often. But the difference lay in Merka's sword, which was, he considered, nothing short of attention-seeking. It was only a matter of time before guards would make an entrance at the spot, or so he predicted. Really hope that Merka didn't go and blow his cover away. But… now that I think about it, it seems that I sent my friend to his own grave. A hood, Anubis? Really? It’s a damn surprise I am still alive and kicking, the Salvarian frowned, straightening as he crossed the road over to an open tavern.

“Give me a drink of something strong.”

Hooves beat against the ground, kicking up dirt and puffs of dust in their wake. The beast grunted in its burdened rush, confused as its new owner had startled it into motion. He often drove his heels into its flanks, urging it to gather its pace as two other riders chased. They needed to cover no more than a dozen paces to reach them, their swords swinging wildly in the blazing backdrop of the dark-elven stronghold.

A fire had been set to one of the buildings, and had reached out to all buildings in the vicinity, as the flames consumed everything in its path.

The fleeing ex-Bladesinger had been uneasy about the inquisitive guards. It seemed that these guardsmen were poor at recognizing their comrades; also, poor at reflex action, for Merka still pondered how he had made it out in one piece. Many had failed to see the change in who exactly was behind the attire. Of course, only the general seemed to pick up on what had been underway. His was a single eye trained by time and experience.

Yet it was not enough; turmoil ran unchecked in the town like an explosion. Men rushed to and fro, women screaming in dismay, children wailing in confusion. It gnawed on a part of his heart, but he simply had to endure. He needed to secure his life, and in turn, secure his passage to his waiting comrade. He wished he could stop it, for more would soon die by his hand, and the guilt may soon prove too overwhelming; regardless, it was one, albeit minor, step to his goal. And it had his heart thrumming like the drums of war.

Soon, peace will rule this divided land.

Death whispered in his ear as a quarrel whizzed past his head. A heartbeat later a low branch shattered a few paces onward. The elf cursed and reined in, guiding his beast to a stop. He turned in his saddle to meet the incoming assault.

Another string loosened.

Merka ducked and felt the the quarrel pierce his horse's neck. The beast half-reared, tumbled to its side and trapped his foot underneath. Time fleeing his grasp, he jerked himself sideways and faced the nearing Alerians. Who were already on top of him.

A pair of blades came down targeting his chest. The elf met the onslaught with an extended, glowing hand. Arms staggered against a small red barrier cloaking his fist. The elf slipped two knives out of his pouch, dug one into the back of a nearby knee and flung the second into a throat.

One fell immediately. The other staggered, then followed his comrade in a wet gurgle.

The first managed to pull himself upright, pulled the throwing knife out of his knee in a sick tear. He screamed something in Elven and pounced the ex-Bladesinger, again bringing the blade to the renegade's chest.

The elf jumped with his torso and barely caught the hilt in time, its red tip pricking his chest-bone. They struggled in a stalemate, but Merka soon overpowere; the dark elf spasmed in his descent, the knife's handle jutting from one side of his neck.

The ex-Bladesinger sank back, gasped for air, his leg still beneath his dead horse. Unconsciousness descended on him like a black veil.

The repercussions of his foolishness were many. Often the elf found himself questioning their venture to find some negligible baroness' son, but when all was said and done, it was their job. Their pay. Seabreath had promised remuneration-- And since Anubis accepted it too, I guess we've no choice but to cross the finish line. Spirits know if he's been having the same dilemma. The elf sighed. Quite the predicament we've gotten ourselves into.

Gravel crunched under his horse's hooves. We’re close, he thought as he rode silently in the empty stone valley, his expression sullen. Gray clouds stretched overhead, the ongoing pattern broken only by the flanking mountain summits that had been thrust into the overcast sky. The Alerian gelding he know rode used to belong to one of his attackers', and unsurprisingly, it proved much sturdier than his late mount from Tular. Which had sadly bled out.

Anubis was another recurring thought: With his temperament, and the dwarves' firm mistrust, the young man had likely gotten himself into trouble, Merka conjectured. Not all dwarves, however, were dubious, and he could only pray Anubis ran into those kind first and foremost. The road seemed to wound on ahead, gradually open up.

The irregular outcroppings he'd been seeing for as long as his journey gave way to shapes limited only by his imagination, as billowing columns of smoke rose behind what seemed to be the formation's end. They were close. "Tell you what, horse," he said to the beast he rode, expecting an answer by some means. The horse grunted nothing. "Get me to that city and I'll free you somehow, I promise you that."

The valley’s path gradually widened and broke ahead into what seemed like a crater. Stout, rocky, and massive: it was the surrounding ridge of the mine city of Kachuck. Merka could make out the distinct shapes of civilization; squat stone huts hunched next to one another; traders' oxen lowing and slogging through stone-riddled paths, tottering perilously close to the massive hole the mine centered. He could mostly make out dwarves, yet men--elves, even--were present. Some, alas, were unidentifiable, their faces hidden in the shadow of their hoods.

The crater was designed like a revolving set of steps all leading to the crater in the center, each step a long road riddled with stone establishments and busy pedestrians. A corporeal example of dwarven architecture.

"We’re here," Merka sighed. "At last."

He reined in. Quarried veins grated in the distance. “Well, I'd guess that Anubis went straight for a snifter. The bastard," Merka half grinned, half frowned. "Let’s find you a new owner before I get to Anubis, eh?” he whispered, patting the beast on its nape. "Let’s go." Merka dismounted, guiding the mount through the congested streets.

They walked many a road, until they made their way to a central market. Merchant stands centered an empty space. The elf, reins in hands, approached one; a fruit stand. The elf fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a small coin pouch, emptying its contents onto his hand. He gave them to the dwarf merchant, plucked an apple and presented it to the mare.

"Magnificent animals," the dwarf said.

"Yes," Merka said, smiled faintly. A moment later he tsked, and faced the dwarf. "Listen, friend, I’m looking for someone. Medium height, brown hair, two swords on the back. Seen him?" The apple disappeared into the horse's snout in a soft crunch.

The dwarf furrowed his brows in thought. "Nay, don’t think I did. You oughta look for ‘im in our main inn, The Vulgar Toad."

"Interesting as names go," he said. "Where shall I find it?"

"Right behind you," the dwarf pointed over to a squat, two-storey building, its back facing the crater. Merka made to "Before you go - might I ask what this is about?"

Merka raised a brow. "He’s a friend,” he paused, then, "a close friend. Why do you ask?"

The dwarf nodded. “Just out of curiosity, really. In fact, if memory serves me correct, he calls himself… Anuibos?”

"Anubis," the elf corrected. "So you did see him. Seems he went far as to reveal his name. Did he say where he was going, perchance?”

"He didn't," the dwarf folded his arms. “Lad was drunk as a lord. Kept raving somethin’ about an elf and whatnot. I'm assumin' that’s you."

"Don't think he's acquainted with any other elf, so I'd assume the same." Merka half-turned, eyeing the noisy building. "I suppose it’s best I ask at that inn. Thanks for your help."


After hitching his new mount to a nearby post, the ex-Bladesinger made his way to the tavern, his armor clanking in motion. The front door swung inward as he pushed it open. A sudden gust of heat breathed against his face. He paused just past the entrance, scouting the room for an empty seat. In a secluded corner by the hearth, a chestnut-haired figure sat, hands sprawled over a greasy tabletop.

Merka approached. "There you are," he murmured. Whippersnapper’s sound asleep. A nearby hearth fire rose in a guttering flame, scattering its bronze light across the room that reeked of sweat. Although the inn itself was modest, an increased share of travelers was not a concept lost on the establishment.

Sizzles and rattling metal pots sounded from a hidden kitchen as Merka occupied the seat opposite Anubis, a nearly empty bottle of rye in the Salvarian's hand.

He saw a figure from the corner of his eye, and looked up. "Kachuck mead," he said to the young barmaid.

The tavern itself, Anubis considered, was typical; scores of gambling travelers gathered to one side of the room; an overworked trainee and her bartending supervisor; the constant breakage of pottery in the kitchen; however, only the Kachuck mead was able to keep his patience intact. An establishment most would be hard-pressed to call a traveler’s inn, the Vulgar Toad seemed too fitting a name. More, the ground's constant quaking, a result of the miners' unyielding diligence, threatened to wreak havoc to the chamber. When questioned, locals simply shrugged, explaining that was the city's only way of surviving as the ceiling groaned overhead. That the distinct rumbles in the floorboards was the live testament to the Kachuck workers' readiness to tire in the name of prosperity.

And prospering they are, Anubis concluded. Haven’t seen so much trader posts and carriages in one place, much less this vigorous a mine comprising only a second-class race in a country. If this is Kachuck at its peak, wonder what Ettermire will have in store for me. He looked over at Merka, who was casually sitting on his chair. Even he's never seen the largest city in the world. Oh, of course, we won’t be passing that on our way. Damn. We need to find Gareth, and--as Merka would like to remind me--quickly.

Thus they observed, faces over the rims of their emptied tankards.

A veiled man appeared at the entrance, his shadowed gaze surveying the chamber as the door behind him swung shut. His gaze paused on the hunters, then, as if in acknowledgment, gave the slightest of nods. Then he made to progress through the clutter of drunkard-occupied tables to them, his cloak shedding dust as he moved. Man must be swimming in that cloak. Madame baroness likes to be extra careful, it seems.

"Our guest’s arrived," Merka murmured, shifting in his seat as he steadied himself. One arm resting on the tabletop, he brought the tankard to his lips and downed its remaining contents.

"The pilgrim that just entered?" Anubis sneered, eye still on the man.

"Except he isn’t one," Merka answered. "Or, well, at least I think he isn't. Quiet now, he’s here."

Anubis quickly mouthed, "Make way." Whether Merka caught the words or not, Anubis had no clue.

The elf turned in his seat, eyeing the man as he halted and faced them. He withdrew his hood to reveal a weary face, a shock of white hair on his bony pate. Silently studying them, the man faintly smiled, his forehead slick with sweat. Jaw muscles moved beneath skin as the man spoke. "Greetings. I trust I was not impertinent in my approach?"

"We were expecting you, sir. You are arrived in time." Merka smiled, gestured to a space next to Anubis. "Please, have a seat."

"My thanks, and Hither will suffice." The man smiled. “Would you, if you please, introduce yourselves, dear sirs?"

“Before we do that, I would like to mention that your point stands regarding the both of us as well."

Hither simply nodded. Merka then introduced himself, then Anubis--who had already begun questioning their new guest.

***

“--it is with utmost apprehension that I beg you to speed your search," Hither said, his tone fraught with worry. "I've known the lad since he was in his infancy--he is like my own son. Back in the day, when he were but a tot, he would wander the woods, search for fallen feathers, cradle his pup in the sun--”

"We would save everyone’s time," Anubis growled, "if you answer clear and to the point. My question still stands. With whom did Gareth drink the night he disappeared?"

"The answer to that is out of my reach, I’m afraid. I had asked the locals about any sighting, a trace--a clue, perhaps--that could be my first lead. Only…" Hither slowly shook his head, eyes on the tabletop.

"Agnes claimed he’d been last seen three months past, here, in Kachuck,” Merka said dryly.

“Correct." The old man scratched the stubble on his chin, a tinge of curiosity edging his tone. "Why do you mention that?"

“Three months ago means either of two things," Anubis said alarmingly. "Gareth is dead," he paused, considering the other, less realistic option, "or has gone into hiding."

"I considered this as well. The question lies in where?"

"And why?" Anubis added. Merka seemed to have caught the hint of sarcasm and struggled to keep a straight face. Hither appeared to have noticed, though if he was truly offended he managed to hide it well. "You search for any signs? Any clues?"

Hither grunted. "Who--with all due respect--do you take me for? Of course I did!" the man said in a shrill voice. "Not to mention, I haven't been a... complete failure in my efforts." The man cleared his throat, putting a fist to his mouth.

Anubis clenched his jaw. "Our patience is running thin," he muttered.

"Yes, yes, of course. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, my efforts. There have been recent news of an ongoing case in a village not too far south from here. All victims are still missing as of today."

"Anyone see the kidnapper?"

"Only one. A lass, hardly in her teens. Believes she saw… him snatch a man from his home. I believe the village is called Tranmere. It's half a league south once you're out of the mountains."

"Any description?" Merka asked. "Who is this man?"

"Except he's a monster--" Anubis exchanged glances with Merka, then returned his gaze on the man-- "ah yes, you're monster hunters."

Merka nodded. "Think it took our man?"

"No, I don't 'think' it took him--I am certain. Just like I am of my manhood."

Anubis drew a long sigh. "Alright, let's say it took Gareth. What's its description?"

"Well, a lass is not much of a reliable source for pinpointing a monster--but luckily, she only saw it from afar. Only managed to make out its shape. All I am able to give you is that it was a bipedal."

There was a long pause, then Merka said, "When?"

"Two bells before dawn, a fortnight ago."

"So it's nocturnal," Anubis said blandly.

"So it seems," Hither shrugged.

"I was talking to my friend."

"It could be a werewolf," Merka suggested, ignoring them. "Or a vampire. A manticore, even."

Hither raised the ridge of his brow. "A what now?"

"Manticore. You needn't know the details," Merka croaked. "Yet, we're merely speculating. We need more information." Frustration grew. "Much more."

"That is beyond me, I'm afraid. You'll have to look for clues in that house. Been sitting there abandoned ever since the incident. Folks are afraid to even come out."

"Thinking they're safe locked up behind barred doors. Yeah, figured as much," Anubis said, partly to himself. The Vulgar Toad's customers dwindled by the minute. Soon the three sat alone in a lurid lantern light, a full moon glowing in the night sky outside.

"We'll set out come the morning," Merka said after a while, addressing Anubis. Then he swung his gaze to Hither, "Thanks, for everything; we'll make sure to inform Agnes that your help was invaluable," a faint smile on his expression.

"No thanks needed--merely doing my job. Where will you stay the night, if you don't mind my asking?"

Merka and Anubis exchanged once again a glance, then settled their gaze on the robed man. The elf was the one to speak. "We will rent a room. Why do you ask?"

"Allow me to do the basic courtesy of bearing the payment--I insist," the old man said, not unkindly. "Consider it my good deed for the day."

“C'mon, elf, you never said you wanted me to wait for you.”

They sat on high boulderstones opposite each other, atop a steep cliff overlooking the mine city. Merka was sitting hunched over, occupied with a half-emptied beer bottle. The setting sun cast an orange tint across a cloud-stippled firmament, caressing their sides in its final hours of the day.

A soft breeze sighed across the rocky hilltop, interspersed only by precipitate rumblings sounding from the underlying mines. Merka took a calculated sip, wrinkling his nose at the bouquet. Notwithstanding, “Too strong,” he grimaced. A moment later he handed the bottle to Anubis, who took it with wry grin.

“So, just going to ignore what I said?” he questioned, downing a much wilder gulp, whereas he did not so much as wince. “Say something, dammit."

Merka blinked, then sighed. “What? Yes, I never said that." The elf's tone betrayed that he was deep in thought, his eyes fixed on the gravel at his feet. “I didn't expect you'd really wait for me to appear, but then again, I know you too well, Salvarian. That is not the point, however--I was merely worried that you would get yourself in trouble and I wouldn’t be there to save your arse,” he paused, waiting for a reaction. It never came. “Like every time trouble is brewing.”

Anubis grinned. "What can I say, the dwarves are a friendly folk when you grow on ‘em."

“There's a little more than just dwarves about here, if you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, I noticed. But they tend to stay quiet, forbidding.” Anubis took a second sip, this time a significantly light one. “Think I saw a few elves during my stay here.”

"High?" Merka asked.

“No,” the Salvarian shook his head. Raiaera was in shambles, its displaced people worse. The ex-Bladesinger had sworn to save it from the hell it had been plunged into, and Anubis promised he would remain by his side till the end--sweet or bitter.

“Guessed as much,” the elf murmured disappointedly. A while later he asked, “How’s my blade?" eyeing the hide-wrapped object next to Anubis’ foot.

"Doing alright. Been longing to see its master for days now,” the Salvarian smiled, setting down the beer before picking up the weapon in the same manner he would cradle a child. He studied its outlined frame for a moment, then offered it to the elf. Merka took the weapon with equal caution, setting the weapon on his lap.

Slowly he untied the knot which bound the wrap together, which quickly fell to his side, revealing a long blade that seemed like a strip of night itself, the magic in it as potent as ever. The golden, ornate hilt disappeared in the elf's grasp as he lifted it, swung it about like a flail. "Dirge."

Anubis blinked. "What?"

"Dirge--that's its name."

"Never mentioned it had a name."

"Because it didn’t. Not until now, at least,” the elf's lips peeled in a smug grin, slipping the blade back into its original scabbard. "Thanks for taking care of it."

"Yeah…" Anubis murmured dryly, "almost forgot it wasn’t mine."

Dusk had crept in like a cloak; a crescent moon appeared, slicing its way between clouds like a god's scimitar. Other than the few waning torches supported by wooden posts, there was scant light to illuminate Tanmere's boggy roads and alleyways. The sky overhead was lit by its first stars alongside the moon, but on the ground darkness commanded all.

Nonetheless, the hunters managed to discern shapes of scurrying figures retiring to their gloomy homes. A ghost town was nothing short of this trivial hamlet, but settlers were abound. Except they're a tad shy, Anubis thought. No harm done to us anyway, so can't complain. All we want is that house. That's where the truth should unfold.

They strode down the hamlet's main avenue, the boggy ground squelching beneath their feet. It had been pouring heavily the past few days, a rainfall which seemed to have fortunately let up in time with their advent.

Unease was the first thing to grip the Salvarian's spine as he fixed his gaze on the house. Monsters rarely frightened him, an expected attribute with his his being a tracker--and slayer--of even the wildest kinds. But here he knew, something, something else, was underway. And it was associated with Gareth.

Or so he would like to tell himself.

Merka occasionally paused to survey his surroundings with an expressionless gaze. Although the elf was not immune to emotions, he was well trained in hiding them. Perhaps the elf had not noticed the house, Anubis considered, and was still yet to show the worry settle in his features. Regardless, Merka did not so much as much smile as he glanced over at Anubis' sweat-gleamed face. But he was too experienced, at least in human years, to not spot the eerie aura Anubis felt spewing from the peasant house.

They halted as they reached the main door. Merka studied the two grubby windows flanking it, then returned to settle his gaze on the entrance. Blood had stained the woodwork, congealed, its tinge turned dark with time. A few weeks old, at least. The frame was crazed with cracks, a jagged fissure yawning at its top. The depression's raw edges led to a pitch-black gloom within.

Anubis knit his brows in silence as Merka made to open the door.

"Wait."

The elf retrieved his hand, glanced at Anubis. "What?"

The Salvarian drew a shallow breath, then sighed. "Nothing," he muttered, slightly shaking his head, partly to himself. Merka studied him for a moment longer, then turned and nudged the door open. Hinges squeaked.

They crossed the threshold.

The two paces that showed in the moonlight was all they could see, for beyond that the gloom had settled in well. Anubis saw Merka raise a palm, then laid a hand on the elf's shoulder. "That will be unnecessary," the Salvarian said, turned, then walked outside and out of view.

The elf shrugged as he stood in wait. He squinted as he let his eyes adjust to the gloom. Something dangled close to the wall directly ahead, but neither length nor material could he discern, though its faint rattle suggested metal. He swung his gaze to the left, then to the right. It seemed that vacancy was all that awaited Anubis' return, but Merka's nose led him to believe otherwise. Blood, at least as old as the one on the frame, was a strong undercurrent in the damp air.

Anubis stepped inside, scattering from his direction the stark, guttering light of a torch. Guided by the new light source, the elf edged forward, then halted a pace before the main wall. Anubis frowned, eyes on the hanging, blood-stained chain before them. A hand's span was all that remained between its dangling end and the dust-caked floorboards.

"Torture," Anubis said bluntly.

Merka's concurrence was a mere grunt.

The Salvarian half-turned and approached the left wall, then froze. Merka's suspicions were confirmed: A blotch of blood had been sprayed on the wall, nearly an arm span wide and a little less than that high. A heartbeat was all it took them to realize this one was older than the other wounds. Anubis narrowed his gaze on something further to the left, made to approach--

A snoring sound wheezed behind them.

Swords hissed in their sheaths as they both faced the hidden fountainhead. Merka edged forward.

A bead of sweat licked at Anubis' brow as the sound burgeoned, growing clearer with foot covered.

Hugging itself with its back against the wall, a figure lay wrapped in deerskin. A breath of ice literally swept on him as he discerned a tremble in its thin frame. Anubis glanced over at Merka, who shrugged. Then he cursed under his breath and, setting down the torch, cautiously approached. Anubis hesitated, then reached out with his hand.

A screech sounded as a girl's head jerked from under the hide, scrambling in her cover beyond Anubis and scurrying for an escape between Merka's moccasins. The elf bent over and intercepted the motion, clutched the youth by her collar as she squirmed in his grasp. She turned, shoving and punching his thigh. The elf grunted.

"Leave me be!" she squealed.

"Aren't you a wild one!"

Anubis approached, having retrieved his torch. "We won't hurt you," he said, letting his heart subside. "Where are your parents?" he asked.

The girl's efforts faltered as dangled from Merka's grasp. The elf pulled her upright, her head no higher than the elf's waistline. "Answer the question, lass," he said softly.

Most of her featues were sheathed in her overlong, raven hair, but what showed of her face was ghastly and cadaverous. She took note of the elf beside her, then returned her gaze on the ground. "They're dead."

Anubis felt a sting.

"Who killed them?" Merka asked.

The girl was motionless, eerily so, her feet bare over the floorboards. "The monster did it."

"The monster?"

"Yes."

"Can you describe it to us?"

"No."

Anubis's brow furrowed. Then he managed, "Why?"

"Didn't see it," she whispered. "Don't want to."

"Has anyone?" Merka crouched beside the girl, a hand resting gently on one small shoulder. "We want to make the monster pay, but we can only do that if you help us."

The girl seemed to fight tears back, then, "It was midnight, afore sunset. Da told me his brother was paying a visit, that I had to hide in the cabin in the wood 'cause he doesn't like me."

Merka glanced at Anubis, whose armor clanked in a shrug. "Your father told you that?"

She nodded. "He took me, a little bit to the west, deep into the wood. Then he hid me in the cabin." Her face then twisted, in dismay and disbelief. "I was afeared the wolves would find me… He--he left me… Da left me..."

"They didn't, didn't they?" Anubis said in an attempt to reassure her, clearly to no avail. "You're safe now."

There was a long pause, then Merka asked, "What is your uncle's name?"

"Da calls him Gareth."

Merka's jaw bunched. The girl spoke again.

"Da said that he would come back and take me come sunset. It time came and he never showed. I were worried something might have happened…" she broke into sobs, barely managed to utter anything more, but, "Found my way home and saw this." She drew a shallow breath. Merka wiped off the tear that slipped down her gaunt cheek with his thumb. A moment later her face buried into the elf's massive shoulder.

"That's enough," he whispered. "Do you have any relatives close to here?" Merka saw her shake her head, then effortlessly rose with her in his arm. The action was done with so much care that Anubis had to force his gaze away.

"What's your name, lass?"

"Jodis."

"Alright, Jodis. I'll take you someplace safe." Merka studied his friend's robust frame. "Anubis," he called.

The Salvarian nodded after a brief pause, heard as his friend's footfall diminished. He silently studied the blood-etched symbols he had just noticed. A moment later Anubis' stomach sank as the cloak of realization wrapped him in its foul threads.

As he sat hunched over, Anubis gazed at the dust-casked floorboards, his eyes widened in disbelief. An hour had passed since Merka had had left, who now appeared at the doorway, his huge frame silhouetted by the moonlight. The elf seemed to pick up on the fact that something was wrong, and also seemed not terribly willing to know it. Regardless, Anubis decided to spare him the ambiguity and be blunt.

"That bastard Hither…" he said, considering, "he's right." The Salvarian sensed Merka's expression twist in a frown, then into uncertainty. Anubis cocked his head to determine the accuracy of his guesses, and indeed, the elf seemed rather dubious. Then he sighed and broke his gaze.

"Gareth is the monster."

Only the howling wind broke the long silence that ensued. Walls moaned under the pressure, but the house held. The elf approached, walking into a single lantern light, for Anubis had thrown out the torch.

"How?" Merka questioned.

Anubis knew well that his friend was not asking about the means of a man's transformation--curses were far from uncommon--but about how the Salvarian had come to such a conclusion. Anubis simply gestured to his left, where the heavy veil of darkness sat, waiting to unfold. Merka swung down to pick the lantern as he strode toward the wall, to the same spot where they had found Jodis. He paused, then a moment later, "These are Elven."

Anubis thought to speak his reaffirmation. Finding it unnecessary, he settled on the alternative.

Merka was silent for a while before he spoke again. "You think the monster wrote this?"

"Gareth, you mean."

"Whatever," Merka scoffed. "How does this explain anything?"

"The etching translates exactly into 'retribution,' right? Besides, even more problematic is that he's Jodis' uncle. This can't be a coincidence. Does none of this signify anything to you?" Anubis questioned, a hint of doubt edging his voice.

Merka returned to stand before his friend, shrugging. "We still have no evidence. We'll need solid, tangible proof before we go make any impetuous decisions. True, her father's disappearance right after Gareth's visit raises suspicions, but chances are it may be as coincidental as it is not. We'll search this place come the morning when we can see in this damned gloom..." Merka heaved a sigh. "May as well come up with something useful for a change."

"If you say so, my friend," Anubis muttered. "If you say so…"

Jodis had been left in one of the neighboring households' care, much to their disapproval. Merka, however, found threats inexorably efficient on peasants. But he had to have relocate her after they were done; these settlers were arguably a worse option for the girl than the monster, as it seemed that when not under the elf's eye they would give her to the wolves without hesitation. If it ever came to that, he ensured they would realize the magnitude of their blunder soon afterward. The girl had been promised safety, and keeping that promise was all that mattered in the near future.

Anubis awoke to the morning's frigid breath and the expiry of their single lantern. The eastern horizon paled, an elusive sun still lurking somewhere behind the treeline. The dusk's final moments were nearing as the firmament shifted into a lighter tint. Still reclining on his cot, Anubis scanned the lone, empty room.

Merka was nowhere to be seen. Probably out hunting, he considered.

Then started to a knocking sound. Twisting over, the hunter glared in time to see a pannel punched open from the floor. A trapdoor.

Someone was climbing out from below, and it was massive.

Anubis quietly reached for his silver sword, tilting his grip.

Before Merka's figure appeared, scrambling out from behind the lid. Anubis heaved a sighed, shoukders sagging. With his red-rimmed gaze he eyed the parchment in the elf's hand.

Merka swung his gaze to Anubis. "Spirits take me. Hither--no, you--were right. Jodis' father knew something was different about Gareth," he said, gesturing to the paper in his grasp. "It seems that our rescuee is a vampire."

The Salvarian pulled himself upright, rolled his shoulders. "How'd you know?"

"Here," Merka handed him the parchment, which revealed itself to be a letter. "Read."

Anubis' frown deepened as he read the content. He cocked his head after. "He's a vampire alright, and it seems he's a 'brother' to Jodis' father for all the wrong reasons."

"Yes. They're not exactly brothers, but it seemed the man called him his brother in front of Jodis. Not that she ever met him, but Gareth's visits were plenty, looks like. Gareth came here often for one thing: blood. Seems like the man hid Jodis on each visit, didn't wish her any harm. Something badly different happened during the last visit." Merka grit his teeth. "I think Gareth found out about her, but couldn't get the information out of the father. So he either killed him and sucked him dry, or took him along to wherever his den is and the man is still alive--which my gut tells me is not too far from here…"

There was a long silence. "And?" Anubis asked, slightly stunned. "What do you suggest we do?"

"What do you mean 'what do you suggest we do?'" Merka furrowed a brow, his gaze boring into Salvarian. "We hunt him down, of course."

Anubis studied the elf for a moment. "Agnes won't be pleased to hear her son was killed by her own hired trackers. Talk about the irony..." he muttered. "And if we return to her empty-handed we'll have went through all this crap for nothing. Nothing. You said it to her yourself: 'We'll find Gareth.'"

Merka scowled. "We did not know we would be searching for a… monster…" The elf faltered.

Anubis blinked. "What's wrong?"

He stared for a moment, then, "I think Agnes knows."

"Knows what?"

"That Gareth is a vampire."

"Well, we don't have solid, tangible proof, do we?" Anubis sneered.

"Hence the word 'think.' But this… this is different. Why do you think Agnes agreed to hire us?"

Anubis shrugged. "Maybe because we're different. I don't know, there doesn't seem to be that many other hired trackers, alone monster hunters, around."

"Precisely… and what do monster hunters do?"

"... hunt monsters," Anubis said dryly.

"She thought that by hiring us we would bring him back instead, somehow. It must be a curse, she can't have had him since he was a babe if it wasn't. Anubis, she wants us to undo the curse."

"Well, that could work, barring the condition that our vampire decides we smell tasty--which is probably what's going to happen, mind, and one of us is going to count worms. And I'm not sure he'll be too eager to get these newly found powers taken away from him… In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he saw it more as a blessing."

"We'll try and converse with him then," Merka said, "perhaps make a deal."

"A deal? With a vampire?" Anubis questioned, raising a brow. "Color me intrigued. What kind of deal?"

"We'll ask him not to kill anyone again," the elf muttered. "In turn, we don't take his head."

"That could work," Anubis said, his tone considerate, "or, like I said, it could go very badly. So, there's no taking him to the baroness, is there?"

"Probably not. Remember our last time with a higher vampire?"

"Yeah, how could I forget…" Anubis sighed as silence rode the air. Then a short while later he spoke again. "What's down there, by the way?" he asked, gestured toward the open trapdoor.

Merka shrugged. "A study, a hearth, and other letters reading the same. All irrelevant, of course. It seems, however, that Jodis' father has some kin ties back in Salvar. We should drop her there on our way back."

Anubis pinched his lips together. "Agreed. Wise father she got."

"What do you mean?"

"This wasn't the first time Gareth and Sorry's father met. It seemed to have been an ongoing deal, a bargain of some sort. Gareth took him, yeah, but the man may as well still be breathing like you said. Regardless, I think the only reason he wrote these letters was that he hoped someone might come upon them. Save his daughter, at least."

Merka crossed his arms, two fingers kneading his long chin. "Well, can't say you're wrong."

The Salvarian faced the sun-kissed doorway. "Now, the question is where does Gareth hide." He glanced back at the elf. "Any ideas?"

"We could lure him out," he said, then considered, "but that would be too dangerous. We'll have to ask around, find some clues."

"Makes sense, since according to this letter, Jodis' father always hid her in the west. Which makes me ask, think she knew about all this, about these letters?"

"I'd be surprised if she even knew about an underground level. But that matters not; remember Anubis, we don't plan on killing Gareth just yet. Nevertheless, it won't hurt if we brew some vampire oil. Something tells me he won't be as hesitant to kill us."

Anubis bit his lower lip. "Yeah, but before that, I have an idea, and I'm guessing you won't like it."

Merka caught on quickly what Anubis meant. "No."

"Alright," Anubis shrugged.

They went on to preparations; the Salvarian stoked the burning embers of a newly set campfire, boiling a small glass vial which he he'd filled from his leather-wrapped waterskin. Merka had set out to the woods in search of ingredients.

The Salvarian knit his brows, face brushed by hot tendrils of steam billowing from the water. Who are we kidding, Merka. We both know we have no other option than putting down that vampire for good. A curse doesn't justify his actions. And besides, we're not sure how we would revert him. We know the instructions, sure, but we never tried it on someone before--let alone a vampire. He'll kill more people if we just leave him, even if he initially agreed to not to. We won't be there to save people; we can only do so much in fact.

As for Agnes' disappointment, we'll survive.

Somehow.

Spruce trees rose a half-dozen arm-spans into as the hunters rode in their shade, motionless astride their roan geldings and traveling through the wood's depths. The sky was cloudless overhead, a cerulean blue universe that spread its reach beyond what the eye could see. There was no wind to stir their mount's dangling mane, no wind to keep the humid air going. Merka had picked up on a trail, of a man-- a man-shaped monster. They reckoned it would lead them to Gareth's abode. Random footprint trails of men this deep in the forest were rare.

Perhaps it might have been a hunter traveling to his cabin, Anubis thought, eyes on the pattern, but whoever it was, he was in a hurry. And their reckoning, it seemed, was precise; a wide cavern mouth yawned at the base of a hillside ahead, a dozen paces wide and almost as high. A treeline eerily swayed at the top.

Merka sat stiff in his saddle, both gauntleted hands gripping the saddlehorn. Probably excited. Like I am, hands have been twitching the entire ride here. The entrance seemed like a gaping mouth of some behemoth, and they were marching square down its gullet.

Both reined in, pausing a few paces before the huge entrance. "Well, I suppose we're here," Merka said soberly. He dismounted, looping the reins over the saddlehorn. Anubis watched the elf walk up the bush-strewn slope that lead into the cavern. Merka paused at the gloom's very edge, then eyed his friend over one shoulder. "Coming with?"

Anubis' grin was wry. "No, I'll just stay here and listen as you get mangled into pieces."

Merka studied Anubis for a moment, then faced the entrance again. "Hilarious."

Anubis swung down from his saddle and followed suit. Darkness then swallowed him whole. "You know, I think now's the time to use your magic," he said.

Merka said nothing, raised a hand. A spark of light shimmered, then a heartbeat later a gourd-sized orb the color of limestone hovered a thumb above Merka's extended palm; it scattered its white rays to show no more than a dozen paces in circumference. Anubis stepped forward, guided by the spectral light.

Blue-colored petals rose in clustered sprouts that interspersed the path, their sweet scent a weak undercurrent beneath the heavy stench of blood. Which Anubis had smelled but a few minutes past--which was behindhand from him, for the scent was strong enough to be sensed before even entering the cave. Anubis turned and spared the elf a glance, who, from his expression, seemed to have also caught the stench.

They were close.

"If we do run into him--actually, if we run into anything or anyone--let me do the talking, please," Merka whispered as Anubis turned and faced forward again.

Who had no time to react, no time for thought itself, as the cavern's end appeared in a dim, glowing torchlight. The tunnel they had just walked could hold three men abreast, but the chamber, its corners crowded with tapering stalagmites. The stench's source, an overlong blood trail, started from where the tunnel met the chamber.

Anubis' gaze followed its wet pattern closely, scowling as an ice-cold grip clutched his spine as he realized the blood was fresh--mere minutes ago, in fact. It went on for some paces, then ended abruptly, climbed up the jagged precipice of a small, orange-hued stone formation which resembled a rocky staircase.

Merka grunted.

Anubis' face was expressionless as his gaze fell on a hanging chain--exactly like the one in Jodis' house--its end attached to an iron collar that encompassed a man's neck. Similar strings were dug into the orange-hued bedrock to restrain him, both arms raised to the sides. The man, clad in bloodied rags, was unconscious, his body slumping on weak knees.

Iron racks were arrayed on either side of the chamber, tools of torture neatly ordered on rusty shelves. That's Jodis' father, has to be. He was tortured. By his own brother.

Merka's orb suddenly dissipated.

"Gareth is close."

Anubis bit back a flinch, not of fear, but of anxiety; he had longed to meet the very being they spent weeks traveling the lands for. And if the need ever arose, he would joyfully put the edge of his blade against its hideous face. It was only a matter of time.

The ex-Bladesinger stepped forward. Indeed, Anubis sensed the advent of a new presence, an aura of ancient blood coursing in mortal veins. Both hunters were nailed to the spot as a swath of black power rushed through the narrow space between them, disturbing Anubis' hair in its wake. The Salvarian cocked his head, his gaze on the black-robed figure standing beside Jodis' father.

"Greetings." The vampire's voice was like distant thunder in his ears. "I had thought that I would be having only one visitor. Alas, it seems my dear spies have not been as competent as one would prefer. Notwithstanding, I am much pleased for having you today, my dear guests."

Feeling's shared, you bastard. Anubis tore back the urge to speak out his thoughts, conformed to Merka's request. There was a threshold to that, however, and the Salvarian sensed it was not terribly far.

Merka's voice and statement both were dry. "I believe you are Gareth."

Who tilted his head, then a moment later released a soft laugh. "Aye, that is what dearest mother calls me."

The elf's eyes narrowed. "You've a different name?"

The vampire's expression suddenly turned sober. "My true moniker, I'd like to call it. The other one is but an alias, used only when I'm involved in… human matters."

"What is your name, then?"

"I am Meqaq Niall Predor zo Aramastus Lii." He offered a toothy grin, "Niall will suffice. I am actually much interested in hearing yours, as well."

The elf hesitated, then, "I am Merka Ralem," he said, then made to introduce Anubis but saw the Salvarian shake his head.

The vampire frowned. "Will your friend not introduce himself?"

Anubis sighed under his breath. "No."

"That is unfortunate." Niall stepped forward, the tip of his boots hovering off the edge of the cliff face. Fully clad in black, the vampire was like a man-shaped stretch of molten obsidian--a stark contradiction to his deathly pale face. Anubis could discern his overlong nails, which were then tucked away behind his palms.

Niall spoke. "You've had quite an escapade making your way here; crossing the border to tread across hostile lands, razing a stronghold in the mountains to the ground and killing a dozen dark elves. And you decide to help one abandoned child--" Anubis and Merka tensed--"and make her promises you likely will not--cannot--keep. Every moment you've spent for the last few days was spent risking your lives." The vampire tilted his head, his colorless eyes narrowing. "Why?"

Anubis raised a thin brow. "You don't know the answer?"

Bones rattled in a shrug. "Perhaps I do. What do you want?"

Anubis made to answer that, but then halted as Merka's hand landed heavily on his shoulder. Anubis turned and faced the elf, who jerked a nod, then swung his gaze back to the vampire. "An answer to both your questions, Niall: Your mother hired us to find you."

The vampire cocked his head knowingly, a frown folding his features. "Is that so? And here I believed you came as visitors, to enjoy my hospitality like dear brother Welby here," he muttered. His hand held up the man by his gray-stubbled chin.

"So he is your brother? He is--"

"Yes, he is." Anubis felt ice seeping down his spine. There was silence, then a moment later Niall continued, "The girl I just mentioned; she is my niece. As her uncle and--with the state of her father--rightful guardian, I am going to ask you once: Where is the girl?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Merka said, then raised his head and locked gazes with the vampire. "Niall, we do not have to do this. We can undo your curse, and we can get you back to normal. You needn't do anything but cooperate."

Niall was silent for a moment. "Interesting offer," he said, a tone of consideration edging his voice, "but I reject. We've gone off topic, don't you think..?" He grinned again, then his expression darkened. "I won't ask again."

Merka said nothing. Anubis was tempted to draw his sword, but settled with a fist clench.

The vampire released his grasp from his moaning brother, faced the two hunters. Then a heartbeat later he was standing on the ground level with them, his face plastered with a grin. "It is unfortunate that it had to come to this, dearest guests. It seems Welby will be the only person privileged to bask in my hospitality."

Merka stood motionless. "He'll be coming with us after we're done."

"For that, alas, I'm afraid I'll have to kill both of you."

The elf's voice bore no expression. "Indeed, rather unfortunate."

The vampire's laugh was chilling. "Isn't it, though?"

Niall's voice had acquired a deeper timber--a booming register no longer belonged that of a man's. The vampire hunched his back, raising his arms beside him like the pinions of a reeling phoenix. Overlong fingernails extended to claws in a sickening grate. His fierce visage twisted in a bestial grimace as a deep, guttural growl escaped his toothy maw.

Merka was motionless, squinting his eyes in acknowledgement.

Anubis scowled. A shea--a shape-shifting vampire sub-species.

The vampire clashed his claws, each the length of Anubis' forearm. A roar escaped the bunching figure in front them, loud enough to vibrate in their bones. Niall broke into a dash--and a heartbeat later he was among the hunters.

Claws skittered along the shaft of Dirge, clutching onto the thick edge as it strained, pushing back in resistance--Merka the driving force behind it. Unsheathed, the two-handed sword was like a glittering piece torn from darkness itself; still, the wielding hand was what mattered, and Merka simply could not overpower a monster.

Anubis well knew if he stood idly in the path of those claws he would easily get torn to shreds. The thought forced a cold wrench in his gut as he cursed and unsheathed his silver sword.

He stepped forward to intercept the impasse, sword swinging down. A jolt rippled through his arms as the edge bounced off the earth; Niall having vanished in a blur. Both swung their gaze at the repeated sound of clashing claws.

The Shea was standing in a similar pose, only this time he straightened into something resembling a man's demeanor. A score of paces spanned between them; Anubis estimated less than a heartbeat for Niall to cover that. He hissed between grit teeth, readied his weapon.

The man they had spoke to was slowly becoming a monster, metamorphosing into its true form--a non-pareil killer. "I am impressed," he said, his voice that of a beast's, the words thunderous as they left his semi-transformed chords. "Show me your spins and pirouettes--your... maneuvers," the vampire's features sharpened into what seemed like a grin, as he once again slid into his attacking pose. "I... want to watch."

Anubis' view of the vast cavern was virtually covered by fangs, claws flanking the hideous visage. He brought up his blade barely in time, the weapons again skittering along the shaft, then clutching onto the edge. Like Merka, Anubis was forced into a game of muscle--his knees bending under the vampire's awesome strength--a game that he was losing. Thus, helpless, the Salvarian sidestepped.

Niall found himself pushing into space, toppling forward as Anubis drove the claws away with the blade. With this new leverage, the Salvarian stamped his foot forward and swung his weapon across the vampire's chest.

Blood sprayed.

Niall staggered a few paces as power exploded to the left, raw tendrils of sorcery submerging him and forcing him to buckle. A chilling screech reverberated against the cavern wall.

Anubis swung his gaze to Merka, whose extended hand was sheathed in a swath of dark power. Suddenly, the vampire's struggle halted as he found himself at the end of Dirge's blade, the tip a hairbreadth off.

Sword in hand, Anubis strode forward--

"No!"

Then froze at the new voice behind them, a shout fraught with pain. Anubis saw the elf's eye wander past him and settle on the man Welby--Jodis' father. He spoke, each word for him a struggle. "Do not kill him--don't kill Gareth..."

The Salvarian knit his brows in a frown, then looked over at the man. "Why? This man--no, this monster--"

"Is my brother," Welby rasped. "The baroness, our mother... she will kill you if he dies…" He paused for breath, then said: "Agnes knows about the curse."

Anubis widened his eyes, twisted to face them again. Merka's face was plagued with dismay.

Niall vanished in a puff of power.

The elf flinched, frantically searched the vicinity as he turned at the spot. Anubis spotted the shea approach from behind, made to warn his friend, but alas, he had no time to even react. Claws breached metal, cloth, and flesh. Blood sprayed as the elf roared, reached for his back.

Merka was effortlessly lifted off the ground, the claws carrying him like a hook. Bestial eyes studied him for a moment as the vampire swung and hurled the weight in his hand into a nearby array of stalagmites. The body disappeared beneath the rubble and a billowing cloud of dust.

Anubis stood stock-still, disbelieving.

Niall turned and faced him. This was no man gazing at the Salvarian--only a blood-sucking monster. The shea's jaws parted as it spoke, rolling its shoulders in a grate of bones. "Your turn, wretch."

The hunters had underestimated him, and as the shea sought to achieve, they would pay dearly. The Salvarian stood sheathed in blood--both his own and Niall's. Unbending under the weight of the monster's gaze, Anubis held out his sword, watched as a spark streaked across the shaft then jumped in a surge of fire.

Flames burgeoned on the blade, but the silver did not so much as burn--instead it bore a suppressed inferno growing wilder with each heartbeat. They gushed upward, kindled by their wielder's rage, only to settle back down on the weapon, held in check as he controlled his temper; lest they explode in a blaze and devour him whole.

No, it's your turn, Anubis retorted in thought, you blood-sucking shit. He raised his head, eyed the vampire. "Does your brother speak true?"

Niall tilted his head. "I'll let you ask him that," he muttered, dropping his torso to stand on all fours, "in oblivion!"

Without warning, Anubis broke into a dash, his sword trailing a line of smokeless flames. Anubis, while fast for a man, knew the three heartbeats it would take him were virtually nothing next to a shea in that regard.

Niall remained motionless.

Anubis thought nothing of it as he reached the vampire. Who vanished, the flame-strewn sword merely swinging into the space the creature had just occupied. Anubis stepped back, once, twice, focused his senses on the vicinity. Niall moved too fast to be seen--or he exercised invisibility.

Like now.

The shea did not reappear, but Anubis well knew he was well in reach of those claws. "Where are you, Niall! Face me, coward, if you acknowledge your manhood!"

Anubis' gaze met Niall's as the vampire stood two paces before the Salvarian. He was on his feet, stood like a man, though looked nothing like it. A heartbeat passed before the shea attacked.

The hunter's foot shot up to match the onslaught, armored heel raised like a shield.

The vampire misstepped and met it face-first. Anubis felt the skull buckle about his foot.

The vampire retired a few steps as raw blood streamed from his disfigured nose. Anubis' blade came down like an executioner's axe, neatly separating the vampire's arm at the elbow. Blood gushed as steam billowed from stump--the sword's blade drove through the abdomen.

Anubis felt the entrails with the weapon, and twisted the hilt in a sickening tear of flesh.

Niall's eyes were wide with shock as he sagged around the shaft, barely paying attention to Anubis as he leaned in.

"Niall," the Salvarian whispered, his face smirking. With his blade, he led the drooping vampire to the floor. "Perish."

He dug the tip of his sword into the earth, blood heavily seeping through the wound, forming a puddle. A desperate look on his face, the vampire extended one of his hands, the pointy tips of his claws directly staring into Anubis' blood-cloaked face. One, thin brow raised.

Anubis heard a click.

Then lurched to one side as death scraped against his cheek, one claw punching straight through his shoulder. The impact sent him sliding half-backward, half-sideways, a blood smear stretching in a line where his body met the floor. The Salvarian settled, shifted his shoulder, then winced as he felt the claw's tip graze his bones.

He then glanced over to Niall.

And gasped in horror, his eye unwavering. Slightly reverted, the vampire was standing on his feet, staggering close, one hand holding his abdomen. The life was stripped away from his eyes.

Anubis had no strength, nothing left to muster in the face of this impending doom.

Niall halted.

Anubis raised his brows.

The vampire glared into space, his expression showing incongruous shock. A presence shifted behind him.

And a heartbeat later a blade came horizontally down, cutting through flesh, tendon, and bone--sent the head flying in a sluice of blood. The body's spasms ended in one final twitch, toppled to the ground in a meaty thud.

The Salavarian's heart hammered as he swung his gaze to an approaching figure, found himself staring into a familiar face with small, fierce eyes. His breathing slowed.

"Going to live?" Merka asked, slipping Dirge into its back-strapped sheath. He crouched down in a wince beside the Salvarian.

Anubis stared at his friend for a moment, then dropped his head back as he felt himself sinking into unconsciousness. He held, his eyes on the pointy ceiling above. Anubis sensed an odd, strange feeling that started the tears in his eyes.

The Salvarian laughed softly. "Yeah," he said, "I'll live."

Distant screeches filled the air. The rallying call of foul carrion-seeking beasts. War had ever been beneficial; a battle's bodily remnants were booty to these creatures, and death had ever attracted their kind like a moth to light. Decaying necropolises, after all, had always posed a promising feast.

The eastern horizon was brightening as sunlight punched through, scattering its rays as they chased after the retreating darkness. All that had remained of the dawn were the waning stars overhead. The night's reign was coming to an end.

Anubis winced as each shift of muscle beneath him sent a jolt of pain, the horse grunting at the occasional rein tug urging it to ease its motion. A deerfly alighted on the beast's ear, which it twitched each time it came into contact. The insect finally gave up, drifted to the side into the barren field of decay. Bodies had bloated in decomposition, hundreds of scores of swollen, rotting humps of flesh.

Graves had ever been a troubling sight. But not because they were death's calling card, no, for that was merely a veil to the unknown-- But because it what awaits us all. Dust. Everything expires at some point in its life. No-one can escape the inevitable. Anubis felt a chill cling to his spine, then mentally shook the thought off.

Only a few more leagues and we're done. Done.

He sighed. I need a break.

Lakewick appeared in the grassy plains to his left, the vague outline of the baroness' castle smothered in the morning fog.

Anubis paused at the sound of a cantering horse, then turned his horse to face the newcomer. He squinted his eyes as he made out out Merka's haunched figure atop his mount, and grinned.

The elf's horse slowed to a trot, and a few moments later he reined in, halting to stand next to the Salvarian.

"Took your time," Anubis grinned in his saddle. "Was wondering if you had finally succumbed to your wounds."

The ex-Bladesinger smirked. "Believe you me, I was wondering the same thing. But I pushed through, somehow. Seems it will need more than some negligible blood-sucker."

Anubis sniffed. "How're they healing?"

"They're healing fine," the elf shrugged, wincing.

Anubis furrowed a brow. "Merka."

"Spirits above, you're acting like my mother it's hurting my wounds. Let's get this over with. I'm already tired just from thinking about that crone."

Anubis grunted. "Yeah, no joke. I'm worried she might prove old man Welby was right. Shame he didn't make it." He stared into a space for a moment, then glanced at the elf. "Speaking of which, how's the girl doing?"

Merka sighed. "Don't worry about her, she's in safe hands now. Let's only focus on getting this contract done."

"You know, Ralem, there was no time before when I agreed as much as I do now." Anubis turned his horse, broke into a trot, alongside him the elf. "What will we do if she decides we're murderers?"

"He attacked us first--we were merely defending ourselves," Merka said firmly. "If they decide to confine us, don't persist, we'll only be making a mess, and have only more blood on our hands. And... I think we should tell her about the other son--if she even knew about him, that is."

"Yeah, makes you think. If she didn't mention that she had another son in Alerar…"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Or, she didn't even know where he resided, that Gareth--rather, Niall--knew and paid him a visit. She may have wanted him in his grave, for all it's worth. I pity the man, to have been killed by his own brother. Oh, and by the way, I'll--"

"Be doing the talking?" Anubis asked, avoiding the elf's gaze.

Merka said nothing for a moment, then grinned, returning his gaze to the road. "Yes."

"Quite the adventure you've encountered, it seems," Agnes said, her voice expressionless.

The baroness turned as she noted they were covered in dressings. She stood, like the time past, gazing out of her window, arms brought behind her back. They stood in the same room, strangers then--and strangers now, the same scene replaying before their eyes. It seemed, from the dust buildup in the room, that the caretakers had grown neglectful.

An empty bourbon sat over her study, placed next to a red stain, a hairbreadth from dropping over the edge. The baroness had been drinking heavily. Anubis drew his breath, waited for Merka to respond. "Tell me, what do you need?"

Merka shifted in his boots. "Our contract is done," he said bluntly. "Pay up, Seabreath."

"The contract stated the retrieval of Gareth. In what form have you complied?" Agnes eyed them from behind one shoulder, the setting sun silhouetting her gaunt figure. A moment later she turned again and watched sundown. "Where is my son?"

"We had some… complications," Anubis muttered.

"Yes," Merka cut in, giving his friend a hostile glare, who shrugged. "Gareth refused to accompany us, and simply decided to stay."

"You're being ambiguous. I'll ask again," she said, her voice rising. "Where is Gareth? Why has he not returned?"

"He is far from here. It took us a full week to just locate him," the elf said, frowning. "As for the why, you should ask him that when you find him."

The baroness hissed. "My patience is running thin." She half-turned, her eyes overshadowed by a hard brow ridge. "I advise you not to test it."

Merka made to speak, but Anubis beat him to it. The elf's wit seemed to have been a concept lost on the elf, as if eluding him as his body focused on its recovery. Time I spoke, Merka. Give it a rest. "Gareth is in an Alerian village; Tranmere. A dozen leagues south from the Kachuck sierra. You'll find him there. In a cave."

"A… a cave?"

"Yes." Anubis hesitated, then continued. "Welby--" the woman's attention hit him like a hurricane-- "name ring a bell?"

Agnes studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yes. He is also my son. What of him?"

"Tranmere is where Welby lived. I'm sorry to say, but your son has been murdered."

The baroness's expression was fraught with a plethora of emotions, as she fully turned to face them. She was clearly short of breath.

Anubis scowled. "We buried him in the cave."

"Cave..? What--" Agnes' eyes widened. "You… tell me--tell me everything--or you will never see the sun again, I promise you that."

"Careful with the threats," Anubis snarled, "you're in no position to make any. Trust me."

Agnes' rage seemed to dissolve in her face. She simply ignored his statement, edged forward. "Gareth--my son… is he dead?" Anubis said nothing, sighed under his breath. "Did you kill Gareth--my Gareth?"

Silence. Then, "Yes," Merka said. "He attacked us first, Agnes. Welby told us who--what he was. He did not even call himself that."

Anubis saw something behind the woman's amber eyes go to ruin, her expression frozen with shock.

The baroness murmured something faintly, till they both heard: "Murder..."

Merka blinked. "Agnes--"

"Murder!" she screamed. "Guards!" The door behind them was flung open. "Apprehend them!"

"Strombreath!" Merka shouted as heavy footfall approached, "listen to reason!"

"I will listen to your pleads of mercy in the gallows, you murderers! You killed my son!"

"He killed Welby! He attacked us first--we had no choice!" Anubis roared as hands closed on him. "He wanted us dead!"

"And I shall conform to his wish!" she hissed, eyed the guard directly behind Anubis, then gestured wildly with her hand.

Anubis buckled under a heavy thump of a hard object against the back of his head. He saw the same happen to Merka as the elf collapsed to the floor. They struggled to remain conscious, but darkness simply prevailed and engulfed them whole.

His confined hands invisible in the gloom, Anubis stepped into the dark chamber, heard the heavy metal door clang shut behind him. He allowed his eyes to adjust, then noted a single candle flame flutter atop a small tabletop.

A weathered face sat in the light of the flame, adorned with a greasy beard tinted orange. The stranger smirked knowingly, then a moment later gestured for the hunter to approach. He then pointed to the empty seat opposite to him. Anubis took it.

"Chance, Alderman of Zhanta," the man croaked. He extended a hand, offering it to the Salvarian.

Anubis felt the temptation to spit on it, but bit back the urge and did nothing.

"Ah, of course, you can't move your hands."

Wrong, smartass. "Where am I?" he questioned bluntly.

"The baroness sent you here, didn't she?"

"Didn't answer my question."

"Nor must I…" The man's face suddenly turned sober. "I am the one who is to ask questions, and you, as a prisoner, are obliged to answer them--clearly, and consicely. Am I understood?"

Anubis grit his teeth, said nothing.

"Good. Now, where was I. Oh, yes, Agnes of Lakewick has accused you of murder. But knowing her, I wanted to hear your version of the story beforehand." The man leaned back in his seat, fondled with his scruffy beard.

"Oh, you should have said so from the beginning," Anubis sneered, a smug smirk creeping onto his features. "You want to make friends with me."

The alderman paused, narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. "Sure, why not. Let's be 'friend,' then... Why did you kill her son?"

"I am a monster hunter," Anubis said, "I kill monsters for a living."

"I am aware of that," Chance said slowly.

"Her son was one of them - a shea."

"A what, now?"

"Vampire. Could take down ten of your men before they even realized it."

"I see… So she has sent you to find her son, and you--"

"Killed him," Anubis completed.

"Quite ironic." There was a short pause, then Chance continued, "Why didn't you tell her?"

"We did. And she had another son, that's where the first one went, anyway."

"Another son..." Chance muttered.

Anubis narrowed his eyes, asked. "Know him?"

The alderman blinked, then sighed. "Not personally, bo. Only 'bout a few decades ago, rumors were building up in Lakewick. Between a traveling merchant and a young, iron-fisted baroness - still new, she was--"

"Seabreath had an affair?" Both thin brows rose fractionally.

Chance grinned.

"As I was saying," Anubis drawled, shrugging the thought off, "Gareth--or I should say Niall--tortured and killed him. His own brother."

The bearded man's brow furrowed. "Niall?"

"Yes. Seems like he changed his name some time after he first transformed--"

"Transformed?" he questioned, a tinge of surprise in his voice. "So it's a curse, then."

"Well, well," Anubis said, surprised, "seems that we know our monsters." The alderman shrugged. "Yeah, it's a curse. And no, Niall didn't want it lifted. He wanted to hold on to his powers. Agnes needs to understand this."

Chance smiled. "She won't."

"What do you mean 'She won't?'" Anubis hissed. "That bloodsucker attacked us first…"

"I know, I know. Agnes… isn't exactly right in the head."

"What, you're going to tell me she's insane now?"

"That's precisely it. I ain't sure for how long, but it's definitely there. And with the war going on, Knife's Edge couldn't give two shits about some crazy 'baroness' of some countryside village. There's not much we can do about it, sadly. Sorry to say, kid, but you're stuck here." Chance's sigh was clearly counterfeit, when his face suddenly brightened. "Unless…" he murmured, staring the Salvarian dead in the eye.

Anubis narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What are you scheming now?"

Chance leaned back in his chair, folded his arms atop his paunch. His eyes glistened in the candlelight. "Tell me, Anubis, how do you find Lakewick and the surrounding countryside?"

"Horrible," Anubis said bluntly. "Why?

"Precisely. How was the state of the people? Awful, yes?"

Anubis nodded slowly.

"And, if I'm right, that place is undermanned--meaning there's not enough guards to protect those poor, oh poor villagers."

"Where are you going with this?" Anubis knit his brows.

The alderman bawled, one fist thumping the tabletop. "Gods, you're an idiot!" There was a pause, then the man glanced at the Salvarian's sulking face. "I want you to kill Agnes."

Anubis' skin prickled. He shook his head slowly. "No…"

"Yes--yes! You have no choice." Chance leaned in. "Either that, or face confinement for the rest of your miserable life. Do it for the better of the people under that bitch's rule. You'll be free afterward, I give you my word."

"I'm not an assassin, Chance. Hire someone else; hell, contact the Crimson Hand. They're everywhere."

"Fine, but how do you plan on getting out?"

Anubis opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

"Exactly," the alderman nodded. "Don't feel bad--even your elven friend agreed."

Anubis blinked. "What? Merka agreed?"

"Believe it or not, he is already waiting for you." Chance leaned forward, whispered, "You must do it. Go into her study when she's alone, and do the thing. No-one sees you, understood?"

Anubis glared into the man's aging face, disbelieving.

Chance continued, in a raspy voice, "And we never talked about this…" The alderman's expression darkened. "You ever wag your tongue, I'll find you and kill you."

The Salvarian furrowed his brows, said nothing. Blackmailing me, huh? Seabreath might be insane, but she doesn't deserve to be die--not like this--hell, you should be hanged for this... but like you just said, no-on's going to react. You want Lakewick, you'll get it; alongside all the crap its people hold dear. But know this, Chance: You'll pay. Sooner or later, you'll pay. I will be the one to find you when I'm done, and Merka will be right beside me. Just you wait, you bastard.

You and I are going to have fun.

Judgment

Story: 21

My initial feelings were that there was a bit of a lack of build up to Anubis and Merka enquiring about the Baroness’s son and as a result the initial outset of the plot felt jittery. However, what followed was a thoroughly enjoyable plot. I particularly enjoyed the crossing into Alerar, the intervening action in post seven (which really helped your pacing) and I loved the way the thread twisted from being a rescue mission to a manhunt. Towards the end your score for pacing really improved and I felt you finished on a particularly high note with that internal monologue. Good work.

As per my comments in technique, I was really impressed by the way you helped the reader to visualise the various settings that you selected for this story and I appreciated how your character reacted within the world you constructed (even small details like the snapping low branch in post seven made an impact on me), but, again, my biggest issue was that I sometimes felt your earlier posts were a bit convoluted. That being said, writers sometimes spend so much time crafting the setting in the first post that they forget to actually interact with it, but you did well to ensure that wasn’t the case here and throughout there was a healthy balance between interaction and description. The way you put thought into how Merka would interact with Alerar also impressed me – little details like that show you consider more than just the characters, but the way they fit in to the overall setting.


Character: 20

There was plenty of dialogue here and I felt what was said was consistent with the characters your portrayed. Dialogue can often be unappreciated and I believe it is important for a story to have that extra dimension, so well done on ensuring that your story not only had it but utilised it well (Merka’s being a particular favourite of mine in this piece). To really liven up the piece, you could also add in a bit more in-character thought. What characters are thinking and what they say sometimes contrast and this is another device that will help you give the reader a feel for the dynamics of your characters.

This also applies to the action in the thread, which I quite enjoyed for the most part (especially the adrenaline-fuelled chase in post seven which was absolutely outstanding). Nothing Anubis did seemed out of place and I never questioned anything he did.

Turning for a moment to Anubis himself; I believe he is a character with hidden dynamics and some of those extra layers got a chance to shine through here. Getting the reader inside your character’s head requires good communication but also exploration of those subtle nuances that make him or her stand out. What I did see of him fit the overall picture I got of him through your writing. He’s a monster hunter – a good one – and you portray that well both through interactions with the supporting cast and through dialogue. To take your writing to the next level, though this may seem vague (and is not intentionally so), I would think about how to explore the depths of Anubis further and really bring him out to blossom.


Prose: 18

At first, I was wondering why there were so many spelling errors! It took me a minute or two to realize that the errors I was picking up in the thread were due to my laptop using the UK dictionary instead of the US one and once I changed it over I found very few actual issues. Two glaring ones were:

Quote:

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He screamed something in Elven and pounced the ex-Bladesinger

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Which, I think, should read “pounced on”, and:

Quote:

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They struggled in a stalemate, but Merka soon overpowere

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Which was obviously a typo.

Aside from a couple of other similar issues, there wasn’t much wrong at all. Sentence fragmentation (i.e over or underuse of commas) is a common problem on Althanas as a whole and there was a bit evident in your piece, but that’s about it.

Speaking as a reader on this occasion, I think your technique in this thread starts off a little shaky but improves throughout. On one hand I do particularly like the way you use vivid description to paint a picture of what’s happening and I point to your opening paragraph (which, to me, is one of the most important in a thread) as an example of this:

Quote:

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Singed trees quivered under a raw, soughing wind, a wide strip of decaying forest that crackled and slanted in protest. Trodden roads cut through the landscape, traveling ancient woodlands and prairies. Hooves of mounted warhorses had furrowed the ground, leaving their prints' asymmetrical pattern on the path.

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Yet, at times, I felt that some of that wonderful imagery was spoiled a little by overuse of adjectives, although I found as I progressed further through the thread that this eased a little and improved vastly towards the end. You like to string together lots of these to try and draw the reader in. While your effort and intentions here cannot be faulted, this method left some of your early work in the thread (not all of it, I might add) clunky and stoic whilst sometimes affecting clarity. A few less adjectives would have helped the fluidity of the read early on. That said, your paragraphing and the overall feel of the thread later on improves a lot. Well done.


Wildcard: 7

I feel this was your best piece to date and after reading it I genuinely want to see more of your work. Anubis and Merka are a great team and I’d love to see more of them working together!


Final score: 66


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