Chapter 8

The Hunter

“Terrill, you foolish child, what did you do this time?”

Terrill’s head hurt from the elder’s remonstrations. He was young then, and the memory was clearer than it had any right to be. The older man, now relying upon a cane to walk, stood over him as the teenage Terrill huffed.

“It’s not my fault that that monster attacked them. I just did what I could.”

“What you did was get yourself hurt!” the elder snapped, bending down to examine Terrill by brushing his hair aside. There was the warm trail of blood, but it was nothing Terrill couldn’t handle. Behind him, Atrum gripped to Terrill, still just a child of eleven, in fear of the imposing elder. “It doesn’t look too deep, but it could leave a scar.”

“I’m okay with that,” Terrill said, his hands behind his head in defiance of the elder’s anger. “Scars are just proof we’re alive, right?”

“Ugh, you incorrigible child. Always looking after the little ones and getting yourself banged up in the process. We don’t need a reckless defender like that. Leave it to our town’s Guardian.” To that, Terrill scoffed, dropping his hands as he considered the young boy cowering behind him. He felt a pat on his head, and saw the elder giving a warm smile, like the ones his parents used to give him. “Go along to Miriam and she’ll get you patched up. Next time, don’t try to fight a battle you can’t win. Throwing your body away… Don’t do that for nothing.”

“Yeah, whatever elder. I’ll go see Miriam.” He spun on his feet, and made his way to the ivy-covered house where the healer of Hart was located, his feet crunching on the gravel road that went through town. Behind him was a second pair of steps, belonging to those of Atrum, his hair short and his eyes shining with admiration.

“You were so cool, Terrill!” he gushed, his shorter legs working to keep up. It brought a grin to the teen’s face. “You’re so awesome with a blade! All yah, and hah! I bet you could kill any monster!”

“Well, I don’t know about any, but I bet when I get older, I could take Golbrucht down!”

“Ooh, me, too! I want to be a Chosen One!” Had they been the same age, it might have sparked a rivalry between them, but the difference in their years made Terrill take Atrum’s declaration fondly. “Can you teach me more about the sword and that weird crackle rumble thing you do with the earth? Pleeeease?!”

“Oh, you saw that? It’s…nothing special,” Terrill tried to pass off. He hadn’t expected any of the kids that liked to follow him to have seen him creating a small piece of stone. Most hadn’t even realized he’d done it, but Atrum was insistent and observant. He would also incessantly whine if Terrill didn’t capitulate. “Well, sure, I’ll teach you.”

“Yes!”

“But remember Atrum, we only use the sword to protect other people, and never to hurt.”

“I got it! The only person I’ll ever hurt is Golbrucht! That’s a promise!”

Whatever else of their conversation they had was soon drowned by a rushing sound, like a great wave rolling over the hills and mountains of Hart, consuming it and replacing it with rock. Hart disappeared, and Terrill lurched forward, no longer thirteen. His mind caught up to his body and he stumbled, but had nowhere to go except straight in between two rocks, his lower body plunged into water.

“Agh!” he grunted, one of the rocks cutting into shoulder and arm. Its jagged nature caused blood to seep through his sleeves. Terrill’s breath came in short pants, his head reorienting itself to come back to the reality he was now in. The volcano and lava were gone, replaced with a chill and rocky ravine…or so he guessed. The area was so dark and unfamiliar to him that Terrill had no idea of where he was. With the memory of youth fading, all he could recall was falling through one of the holes and being squeezed through to here. Not that he knew where “here” was. “Was it the Lifeblood…?”

Nothing answered but a biting, howling wind that made his wounds sting. Terrill tried to move his limbs, but his wounded arm was pinned and his other arm continued to hold fast to his sword. His body refused to budge, not without the stones threatening to tear him apart.

“Damn it… How did I get here?” he grunted softly. He didn’t expect an answer. Nevertheless, Terrill tried to get a bearing on his surroundings. High above, there was a pale sun, with the sky overcast enough to make it just visible. The walls of where he was stuck stretched high as well, making climbing out an unfeasible option. “Hey! Anyone there?”

A trickle of stone caused by his voice’s vibration informed Terrill that, yes, he was quite alone. Stuck, too, it seemed.

Come on…move, stupid body! Terrill tried to squeeze himself out, but gasped as that same damn rock tore into his arm, aggravating the burn. His chest hurt, too, the damage to his ribs making him cough. Any further struggling would just make things worse. Terrill sighed, his head hitting against the rocks. Stone…

A ray of hope shined through, and he dropped his sword, listening to it splash when it hit water. Now that his hand was free, Terrill lifted his uninjured arm to slap against the side of the wall that pinned him. His eyes closed, channeling his strength, and with a cry that threatened to tear at his body, his magic moved the earth. The rocks cracked and crumbled apart, turning into small pieces that fell like droplets to the pool at his feet until, finally, Terrill fell, hitting the water, himself. He was free.

“Let’s find out where we are,” he said, face down in the water and sending bubbles to the surface. His hand felt around until he could grab his sword, and then he lifted himself up, hissing with pain as he dragged himself from that ravine.

The surrounding area wasn’t much different.

Rock walls stretched high as the eye could see, like a giant gorge that split whatever land he’d found himself in. Moss covered a number of the rocks as it led upward, but Terrill began to realize he wasn’t seeing overcast weather at all. Rather, there was so much mist from the waterfalls pouring down that it obscured the sun. There was no path, either, and Terrill couldn’t figure out a way to scale upwards, not with the pain in his chest.

A sudden spasm traveled through, and Terrill jerked, his feet nearly slipping from the narrow ledge where he found himself. He held fast to his sword, not wishing to lose it, but he saw the rocks he’d dislodged fall deep below to a rushing current of water, darkened by how deep into the ravine it was. Terrill swallowed, now careful to hold on to the easiest rock he could find. With a pained gasp, he slung his sword back into its scabbard, and began to inch along. His feet sought purchase at every turn, keeping one foot in front of the other while the mist continued to make any knowledge of progress impossible.

Too often for comfort, Terrill had to stop and catch his breath, leaning against the wall and trying to find a way to breathe without sending sharp pangs through his entire body. When he wasn’t clawing his way or trying to regain his breath, Terrill had to stop and wonder what had happened to the others.

Unfortunately, that also included the Fiends, bringing a scowl to his face. Winifred had killed Blaise without missing a beat. That man’s black fire had threatened to tear his body apart. Atrum had no problem spouting cryptic nonsense and wounding him. It was all like a bad dream.

Though the worse part of the dream was whatever they had all stopped themselves from saying.

Terrill clenched his teeth and soldiered on.

After some time, there was a light that cut its way through the mist and fog, necessitating Terrill to stop and stare at it. The light itself was cold, but beckoning. When the fog occasionally rolled aside while he stared, he thought he could see a man standing there, adorned in robes. It was nothing like Blaise, though, and Terrill narrowed his eyes, unsure if he should trust the light. The clatter of stones to the rapids below indicated he had no choice. He followed it, but remained tense all the while.

It felt like hours before Terrill reached the point the man was standing, and the fog was lifted, with Terrill having arrived on a plateau that overlooked the ravine. It was still a small place, but he now had a better view of where he was. The ocean was in the distance, just beyond the mouth of the ravine, while all of its seawater flowed into this place full of high walls and waterfalls. On the opposite side of where Terrill stood, the land looked more desolate, but he couldn’t get the full picture. Looking up didn’t provide much more either, except for a plume of smoke that might have indicated the presence of someone at the very top. He decided to head there, his eyes landing upon a narrow switchback that climbed.

“Only one way,” he muttered, and he began to edge along once more. He may have been on a wider plateau, but it didn’t provide much in the way of footing, and the moss underfoot was slick with the spray of the waters below.

Terrill continued on, nearly at the start of the path, when his feet hit an unexpected patch of wet moss. His balance gave way, and Terrill couldn’t stop his body from falling back towards the bottom of the ravine. His knees hit the ground, and his pant legs were torn into, permitting his knees be scraped as he slid off. His hand flew upward, only from his healthy arm, and managed to slap on a loose hanging rock, his fingers digging for purchase in the stone, but finding little.

All he could do now was hang there until he fell.

Another trickle of stone resounded, and Terrill looked upwards. He could have been hallucinating it, but Terrill found what strength there was in his voice to call out. “Hey! If anyone’s there, some help!”

He waited, hoping his hand wouldn’t give out, and hoping he wasn’t hearing things.

It was only a moment, and then the shadow of a man covered up the sun, a strong, weathered hand grabbing his forearm. He pulled and Terrill was soon deposited back on the floor he’d slipped from, panting and groaning until he looked up to see his savior.

“Nearly took a nasty fall into the Trough, friend.” The voice was gravelly, one that spoke of some damaged vocal chords or those weathered with age. The man’s appearance suggested that, as well. He was dressed in the simple garb of a traveler, but his unkempt beard and a scar over his right eye spoke to the things in life he had experienced. Strapped to his back looked to be a spear, but Terrill couldn’t get a good look at him before a hand was offered to pull him to his feet.

“The Trough?” Terrill said, accepting it. There was some effort to stand, but he managed in spite of his windedness. The man chuckled low, and leaned against some rocks, his spear further glinting. It looked different from any others he had seen.

“Seaman’s Trough, or a ship’s graveyard, as some call it,” the man explained. His head jerked over the edge and Terrill chanced a glance. The roaring river made it difficult to see at first, but eventually some of the currents parted to reveal a mast sticking out, along with the hull of another ship, and splinters of wood. Terrill was glad he hadn’t fallen. “To an inexperienced sailor, this place is a grave. It shows no mercy to anyone, be they from any country or creed. The longer you look, the more flags you see.”

“Sounds dangerous. Is that why you’re here?” The man raised the eyebrow over his good eye, and Terrill realized how ungrateful he must have come off. “Ah, my apologies. Thank you for saving me, er…”

“Walter. Walter Jameson,” the man answered, crossing his legs. He looked comfortable atop the slippery surface they stood on. “And no. I know a bit about naval travel, enough to know how to avoid this, but I’m no sailor. I guess you could call me…a hunter. Of sorts.”

“Hunter? What, like a mercenary?” Terrill was intrigued, but he backed away from the edge to join Walter against the rocks. He didn’t fancy the risk of taking a plunge again.

“I do what I can to get by, but wrong again, friend.” Terrill was lost, though he blamed that on the pain in his chest, which radiated all the way to his head. “I’m hunting a person. Been at it for years. There were some rumors he might be around this part, but I never found him. Don’t suppose you’ve seen him? Looks like a knight, dressed in obsidian armor.”

“Er…can’t say so. Thought I saw someone, but definitely not a knight.”

“Then my search continues,” Walter sighed out. He was done with waiting for Terrill to rest, taking steps towards the steep path upwards. “Think you can move? I have a campsite further up.”

“I’ll manage,” Terrill said. Walter saw the effort with which he said it, but ignored it all the same, taking the lead. Terrill shuffled on after him. “I’m Terrill, by the way.”

“I had a guess.”

“Huh?” Terrill went ignored, and he was too exhausted to fear how Walter seemed to know his name before he said it. The man had a question for him in its place.

“So, Terrill, where are you from? Crashed ship?”

“Er…I guess you could say that. Came from Sagitta with…” Terrill bit his tongue, his words becoming reticent. Walter let it be, beginning to march up the steep incline with minimal issue. Terrill struggled quite a bit more, every breath causing a sharp pain to sprout in his chest.

“Sagitta, huh? Met someone else a little back who came from that direction. Strange kid. Must have been on one of the capsized ships, given how soaked and shaken he looked. Pointed him in the direction of the capital, but I don’t know if he ever made it there.”

“Kid?” Terrill breathed out. His knees buckled, but he kept walking. He felt hot. Nothing like the volcano, but enough that his already shallow breaths put him on the verge of hyperventilating. He wasn’t even sure how he could manage to string two words together. “Was his…name…Lumen?”

“Never got his name. He was very well-dressed, though.”

So, Lumen is…here…Terrill felt his muddled mind starting to slip, holding on to that hope that he finally had a lead on one of his missing friends. It was enough relief, that his body couldn’t sustain the pain anymore, and without warning, his legs gave out. Terrill hit the ground, his body starting to slide down the path until he was stopped. The delirium was kicking in, and Terrill felt like he was phasing in and out of reality.

Something lifted him from the ground, and Terrill guessed that it was Walter, but he had no way of knowing for sure. His body flopped about as it was carried uphill, his eyes losing focus the more he stared downward. He could swear to seeing the flags of all those different nations, and it brought up one thought for him. His lips began to move unbidden, and Terrill couldn’t stop the babble of words.

“Gotta…stop them… No more… Stop the…war…”

Terrill repeated them over and over, or maybe just once. He could never know. More than once he blacked out, nothing but a dark abyss in front of him. In the darkness, he could see just one point of light, and he ran to it, unsure of who it could be. It seemed to change its appearance the closer he got, from the robed man in the mist, to Krysta, to Lumen. Terrill lunged for it, and something popped.

“Lumen!” His sudden shout echoed over the clifftops, sending an owl hooting into the night sky. The source of the pop and crackle that had awoken him was evident as a fire right in front of him, but Terrill had a hard time calming down. His breath was short and quick as he tried to make sense of where he now was.

“Terrill! Terrill, calm down! It’s okay! You’re okay!” He knew that voice.

“Krysta…?” His eyes took a moment to get adjusted to the firelight, and when they did, the familiar gray-eyed, blonde-haired girl was leaning in front of him. She was on her knees, tucking her hair, but Terrill shook his head. He was still hallucinating, the pain driving him mad. Or so he thought, until he realized that he didn’t feel pain anymore. Or not much, by comparison.

“Terrill, I’m here.” Her voice made him look straight at her, and she cupped his face with her hands. “It’s me. Not an illusion.”

His mind took more than a second to process that. When it did, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She returned the hug, the both of them awash in firelight as they realized they were safe. Beyond the campfire, Terrill saw Walter, sat against a large rock that served as shelter, eating something he must have caught. He looked content to let them carry on, with nothing to comment about their embrace. Realizing they were hugging for overlong, Terrill’s cheeks flushed and he removed Krysta from him. She, too, appeared heated, looking away towards the campfire, only for her cheeks to appear all the rosier.

That’s when Terrill noticed what was missing.

“Floyd and Torry?” Krysta shook her head.

“I didn’t see them anywhere. I think…” Krysta looked back to Walter, whose eyes were closed (deceptive as it was with one so heavily scarred). Then she leaned close to Terrill. “I think they went into a different portal than the one we fell into.”

“Yeah, what was that all about? Did the Lifeblood react or something?”

Krysta sat back, her hands folding on her lap. “I don’t… I can’t say. I think so, but…if it did, it might have been because that Fiend died, and it wanted to save us.”

“Blaise, huh?” Terrill grew quiet, moving his shoulder as proof that Krysta had healed his wounds. There was still a dull ache, and Terrill had to wonder if it was connected to the Fiend’s black flames. The absence of the intense pain from earlier, however, rendered it irrelevant. As he ruminated on this, Terrill noticed Walter, feigning sleeping, evidenced by the fact his meal was still in his lap, and the arrhythmic pattern of his breathing. The hunter was listening. Terrill chose to be careful with his words when he next spoke. “Krysta, did you see anything down below? A man in a robe?”

“No.” Her answer was curt, and rather to the point. She stared into the fire, and Terrill could see her nails digging into her palms before her hand traveled up to grip her shoulder. “I saw nothing. Heard nothing. Then I wound up here, where Mr. Walter helped me.”

“Just Walter is fine.” His voice startled Krysta, but Terrill chuckled. “And go on. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, friends. Other than some mumbo-jumbo that involves magic and teleportation. Would explain how you got below without a ship, Terrill.”

“I take it you’re not one for magic?” Terrill said, sitting forward. Krysta scooted around to be at his side, atop the very same bedroll that Walter had laid him upon.

“I’m not fond of it, if that’s what you’re asking. Prefer the mettle of man’s steel,” the hunter answered. He picked his spear up from the ground, and Terrill was surprised that with a press, the blades elongated, becoming twice their size. “Spring-loaded. I spent some time craftworking in Rotarin, and came up with this. My constant companion and tool. Has served me better than any magic, and has taken down a monster or two in my time…even if it’s not the one I’m hunting.”

His venom was duly noted, and Terrill understood the man a little. Krysta piped up. “But do you…hate magic?”

“I wouldn’t say I hate magic, itself. No spell is good or evil, just like no blade is good or evil. But the people using it,” Walter added a chuckle, “they’re the ones you want to watch out for.” The man gave up his pretense of sleeping, snapping his spear back to its shorter length and continuing to feast on cooked meat. “Though I’m not averse to magic. It’d be a tool for the hunt, and that’s always welcome.”

“You mentioned you were on the hunt for a dark knight. Where’d those rumors come from?” Walter eyed him a moment, clearing his throat a little as his food went down. After swallowing, he reached over and pushed a wooden tray near the fire over to Terrill, indicating he should eat. Terrill obliged, but never took his eyes away, watching the man prepare his own bedroll. The silence that resulted was filled with the crackle of the fire and the roaring waterfalls in the ravine below.

“Heard about them in the nearest city, about a day’s march north of here, just past Fort Tierial. Though I can’t promise there’ll be passage beyond there. It was being locked down tight when I last looked, and people are being arrested for far less in the capital.”

“And that boy you met, you sent him to the capital?”

“He wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Walter said. He threw himself atop his bedroll, letting a sigh leave his lips before a yawn graced them. “Once I mentioned rumors of the knight and of everything going on in Valorda, he took right off with just the clothes on his back.”

“Valorda?!” Terrill and Krysta cried out, making Walter blink, and his hand jerk towards his spear. “Where are we? What continent?”

“You’re on Gladius. Where else would you think we were?”

The pair turned away from Walter, lowering their voices to a whisper as they conversed about these newest events that transpired. “You think the Lifeblood brought us to Gladius because it’s the next stage of the war?”

“It’s possible,” Krysta whispered back. They weren’t very successful at keeping their voices down. Walter sat up, now glaring at them with his most discerning eye. “If that’s the case, Torry and Floyd should be somewhere on the continent, as well.”

“Yeah, causing trouble no doubt,” Terrill said with a roll of his eyes. “But this is just great, we lost our ambassador and our bags back at Tarkinder.” Terrill huffed out through his nose, and stared across the fire to Walter, who was looking back with the clearest eyes imaginable. It summed up one thing about the man: hunter or no, he was interested. “Walter, can you tell me, what’s the state of Valorda?”

“Gearing up for war, though it sounds to me like you knew that. Why do you ask?”

Krysta was curious, too. Well, not insofar as why he was asking, but why he was asking Walter. She needed to wait only a second for the answer to come as Terrill dug inside his pockets, searching and hoping for one thing he might have left behind. Sure enough, he found it in the form of three loose coins from his previous journey through Sayn. With a grin, he flicked them over to the hunter-mercenary, who caught them midair.

“We need passage to the capital. Can you guide us?”

Walter turned the coins over, the firelight glinting off them as he looked through his good eye. His more grizzled features were plainer now than before, and the shadows from the fire bespoke of a man with experience…and a burning passion. He snapped the coins together. “Rare to find someone who trusts another man they just met with guiding them, and you look like a rather fair-weathered traveler yourself, friend.”

“You did save our lives, I suppose. Helped us find food and shelter, and a chance for me to treat Terrill,” Krysta admitted, embarrassed at the notion. She put some distance between herself and Terrill, which he found strange, but didn’t comment upon.

“I know how to travel, but making it to Valorda is of the utmost priority right now. And as swiftly as possible.”

“What’s in it for me? Besides payment, of course. I’ve no incentive.”

“Er…” Terrill was stumped by that one. He had expected his, admittedly meager, payment to have gotten farther than asking for incentivization. That required something for him to puzzle out, which he put his mind to task on.

It took but a few minutes reviewing the events of the past weeks to come up with the answer.

“You’re searching for a black knight, right?” Terrill asked. It got Walter’s undivided attention. “I’ve heard rumors that this knight is helping to stoke the war between the two sides. You know, attacking ships on both sides of the border and all that. Good chance is if we head to the capital, you might get a better lead than coming out to the wilds.” And I’ll get a better lead on Lumen, he couldn’t help but add for himself. That was becoming more imperative with every encounter he had with Atrum.

“Hmm…well, one coin for rescuing you. One for Miss Krysta,” Walter said, each coin thrown into the air while he counted until the third one spun in the firelight and landed on his palm. “It would seem there’s one left to bring you passage to Valorda. You’ve got yourself a deal, Terrill.”

Terrill grinned and stood. “Then, we leave immediately.”