Tales of Ranos/The Hunter

Fourteenth Day of Winter, 1032.AG Sixteen Miles North of Perinn, Morsis.

I'm close.

It's past midnight now, and more than three hours since I set out from the nearby town. The woods are unusually silent in the winter; no birds singing, nor the distant cry of wolves to break the silence as my boots crunch through the snow. Even wrapped in my heavy cloak and hood, I shiver. As the moon disappears behind the clouds, my sparse light is extinguished, forcing me to halt once more. It is then that I catch a tiny glimpse of light between the endless trees of the Ashen Woods; my target.

Nestled here away from civilisation sat a lodge, well-built and standing strong against the howling winds that swept down from the eastern mountains. It's clear that the owners do not expect nor welcome any visitors. They'd get one tonight, though. I continue my slow march through the forest, ears straining for the slightest noise as my own footsteps become my greatest hindrance. It had taken the best part of two days on foot to reach here, and though my supplies would last several weeks I had been close to giving up and sending for assistance. Not now, though. The next few minutes would make the long trip so very worthwhile. I take two more steps forward, and freeze.

Ah.

As I neared the snow-covered lodge, one of my belt pouches began to vibrate as the charm within activated. After a few seconds of fumbling with my gloves I fish it out, and stare as the runes carved into the heavy stone glow a faint blue. Blue is good. I can manage blue. Placing the charm back into its pouch, I crouch in the snow, not daring to move an inch further until I see exactly what I'm up against. Mid-level protective spell, if the charm is anything to go by, but those things can be inaccurate at the best of times. Moving carefully, I fish out a tightly-bound leather pouch from my bag, holding it gently as I rise to my feet. Turning slightly to shelter myself from the wind, I open it a little and pour out a smal amount of fine grey powder onto one of my gloves, and blow it out into the air ahead of me.

There we go.

The air seemed to grow thick and heavy; a faint crackle of energy shone for a moment as the dust did its work, carried by the wind over a wide enough area to disrupt the spell effectively. The moment the charm in my pocket stopped shuddering, I knew I was free to proceed. Still, it wouldn't be long now before my target knew I had come for him. Careful to avoid casting a shadow as I crept towards the well-lit lodge's front windows, I unclasped my cloak and lay it down by the stump of a freshly-cut tree; it'd only get in the way when I moved inside. With my arms fully free, I grasp the pommel of my thin sword with one hand, and unclasp the small crossbow hanging from my belt. Such a heavy arsenal had slowed my progress before, but each item would prove to be essential in the coming fight. The bow, specially made by the artificers of Molab-Iril, was especially valuable; firing three shots before needing to reload made it an incredibly potent weapon. As I quickly inserted three bolts into the bow's loading mechanism, the lodge's door whined open, flooding the outer area with light.

"Yomaro!" a heavyset man called in a deep Morsisian accent. "Your field's down, you lazy fool! Get out here, now!"

Concealed in darkness, I watch as a thinner man strides outside, carrying a thick wooden staff. He looks around for several moments while his companion swigs from an opaque bottle. From his silhouette and the vague outline of his face, I could tell that this was the man I hunted.

"Nonsense!" he called back to his friend as the wind blew his long hair back into his face. "Mine always stay up, Jakob. Always!"

The second man, evidently Jakob, cracked his fingers and stepped out into the snow-covered front path. "I don't know why we put up with you," he hissed, and outstretched his arms towards the forest. His brow furrowed for a moment with concentration, then his head spouted a large, black-fletched crossbow bolt.

I'd heard enough. As Jakob pitched forward into the snow, his companion span the staff round just as my second bolt struck him in the shoulder. He let out a high-pitched yelp and staggered back into the lodge, conjuring a ball of fire from his weapon that sailed off in the complete opposite direction. By the time the door slammed shut, I was already at the windows, shattering one with the pommel of my blade before darting to do the same to another. A woman screamed inside, and I could hear several men shouting as the occupants were disturbed. One man was foolish enough to poke his head out of the upper-floor window and received my third bolt as a reward. I tossed the weapon aside and fished a handful of black spheres from my pouch. As a ball of flame blasts one of the broken windows apart, I fling two of the spheres inside and sprint round to the lodge's back door as they burst. As the screaming intensifies, a heavy kick smashes the wooden door apart and I enter, sword drawn.

This is the interesting part. The dangerous part. The fun part.

Five adults, by my count. Three in main room. I duck low as I enter to find two men lying on the floor, barely moving. The rather expensive black spheres had flung tiny pieces of metal at immense speeds before they could raise a shield, piercing cloth and flesh and bone with ease. Private parts too, considering the state of one man, who clutched himself and sobbed loudly. Another man, half-dressed, sprinted downstairs with a longsword in hand. The sight of me, hooded ad masked, gave him a moment's hesitation that I used to spring forward, bringing my blade in a downwards slash that cut a long gouge across his chest as he leapt back, snarling. Wary of any other attackers, I swiftly sidestep his thrust and bring my knee up into his gut as I step inside his range, grabbing his free hand with my own and slamming him into the ground in one swift movement. A simple swing of the sword eliminates him as a threat.

"You bastard!"

I barely have time to leap aside as a bolt of energy roars past me, blasting part of the wall open. A man and a woman stood together atop the balcony. Husband and wife? Lovers? Either way, mages working in tandem would certainly be problematic. As the woman stepped back the man unleashed a cloud of magical smoke from his fingertips as I fling a small throwing knife towards them. With the stairs not an option, I quickly fish into my pouches and pull out a generous clump of the grey powder and fling it upwards at them. Immediately the smoke dissipates, and the woman's attempt at flinging more lightning at me fails miserably.

It would only work for a few seconds, but that was all I needed.

As the pair looked at each other and confusion turned to fear. I leapt up the staircase and ducked a thrown pot before lunging at the man, who took the entirety of my blade as it plunged straight through his chest and pinned him to a wall. The woman fell back, her hair falling out of place as she backed into a corner. I let my sword go with the dead mage before turning to her. Chances were that the effects of Outsider's Dust had already worn off, but hesitation or sheer terror rendered her unable to speak a word as I drew a long, curved dagger from my belt. It was messy business, but I'd long since learned that the act should be neither pleasurable or horrific to experience. It simply...was.

As I raised my weapon to bring her a swift death, the sound of quick footsteps turned me as a figure appeared atop the stairs. Acting on instinct and years of training, I flung the dagger before my brain registered who it was. It struck the side of a little girl's head as she rounded the corner, flinging her backwards downstairs before she even knew what hit her. The woman let out a near-inhuman wail of horror and leapt up at me, her hands crackling with energy. Still, she was just one enraged mage, and I hunted for a living. Animals and people worked in much the same way, and all I had to do was sidestep and close the fingers of my gauntleted fist around her neck. The scream choked and died in her throat as I swung her round and in one swift motion, threw her from the balcony. The crunch as she hit the ground signified the end of my mission here, and thoughts of the generous pay when I returned to Malenburg already filled my mind as I extracted my sword from what I assumed was the little girl's father.

I make that a thousand gold, considering the bounty on the legendarily elusive and now very dead Yomaro, and an entire coven of rogue mages. Something mede me doubt that Lord Stone would pay for the girl too. As I made my way down the stairs to retrieve my dagger, the child's body stirred slightly and the blade dislodged itself. I had cut her deeply, but not quite through the skull as I expected. After wiping the dagger clean and sheathing it, I looked over the girl's wound and wondered how long it would take for her to die if I left her here. The mother had crashed through a table and impaled her neck on a broken chairleg, yet one arm lay outstretched towards her child's body. Was it merely coincidence, or the dying grasp towards the one she loved. I suppose I'd never know.

"Mother..."

The words escaped the little girl's lips as I stood up. She lay there, brown eyes staring up at the masked and hooded stranger standing amid the ruins of her home. For a moment, my hand twitched back towards my dagger.

"Where am I? Where is my mother?"

The little girl sat up, looking with unfocused eyes towards the corpses laying across the room.

"Who are they? Who are you?"

So many questions. This was definitely a Human child. Not some abomination or homunculus conjured up by this coven, that was for certain. Ears weren't pointed, either. Just a normal little girl sitting amid the devastation with a bloody forehead and what I would assume was no memory.

Could I kill her?

A carriage would be sent for me once I signal my comrades through my talisman, and the only luggage I intended to bring was the heads of these criminals for display in Malenburg's court. The girl, though? A mercenary group like mine would have no place for a child, certainly with our two-month journey to Grun coming up soon. I could easily slit her throat right now, burn down the lodge and carry on without a word to the others. No one would know.

Except me.

I had enough on my conscience as it is.

"Hello there," I pull aside my facemask, smiling at the child. Strange that she wasn't crying at the wound; she merely held a hand over it in confusion. "That's a nasty cut you've got there. I've got some medicine with me, would you like that?"

She shook her head and slowly climbed to her feet. "No thank you, I can manage."

With that, she closed her eyes and her palm began to glow faintly. Within a few seconds the wound had closed, leaving only a long scar across her temple. Naturally, my first instinct was to murder any magic-user I'd been hired to eliminated. I couldn't do that here. A plan began to form immediately. Take her to the Tower in Maldor. Get a reward. Not my problem after that.

"So," I asked. "What's your name?"

"I don't know. What's yours."

"Tholo. Why don't you have a name?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well then," I struggled to keep up what I believe was supposed to be a friendly voice. "We'll have to make you one. What about Arianne? That was my mother's name."

"I like that, Mister Tholo. Shall we go?"

Something about her was seriously starting to worry me. She looked to be about nine or ten my my reckoning, yet seemed completely unperturbed by everything around her. Still, I supposed it was better than having her screaming her head off at the sight of a bunch of corpses. Kneeling down, I grasp her shoulders for a moment.

"Okay then Arianne, get a cloak and wait for me just outside, okay? I'll be with you in a minute."

She nodded, and turned to drag one of the heavier furs from the fallen cloak rack. Pulling up my facemask, I reach into my bag and fish out a long, unusually-shaped utensil, wrapped in furs. With all the excitement over, now came the cleanup - and a headcount of sorts.

Still, it's just another hunt. I'm not one to complain. This work and what I do makes me feel alive. I've had boredom, many years ago. Didn't want that kind of life. Travelled, fought a few wars, made some friends and even more enemies, but the important thing is that even now with the adrenaline rush of battle slowly draining from me, I truly feel alive.

The process takes about ten minutes. By the end of it I've got my five heads in a sack and stroll out into the cold night. Arianne sat on a nearby log, wrapped in my cloak and holding my thankfully unloaded crossbow.

"I found these!" she shouted as I walked over, taking the items back for my own.

"Thank you. Let's get out of here"

She nods, pointing towards a small side building next to the burning lodge. "There's horses in there."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't know."

Some part of me began to regret allowing the kid to live. Too late now, though. Trudging back across the snow, I heave open the heavy doors of the stable, revealing two well-built stallions. Judging by the way they sat bolt upright the moment I entered, the mages may have used a number of spells to ensure increased stamina and reliability in case of a quick escape. One immediately trots up to me, saddle already attached. I clamber atop the beast and exit with the other in tow, heading back towards Arianne, who slowly clambers up behind me without being asked when I stop.

"Where now?"

"Malenburg, young lady. After that we'll have to take the main road south and west into Maldor, then you and I are going to take a little detour south of Alanon, towards the Grey Tower."

"What's that."

"Mage school, Arianne. You'll be safe there, and I'm sure you'll learn a lot of new things."

"Sounds good," came the flat reply.

Perhaps my knife had done more harm than good to the girl. No complaining about the cold or hunger, no worrying about the fact that I'd just killed a bunch of folk and damn near got her too. Nothing. Perhaps she'd been like that before; who knows how those mages would've treated her anyway, even if they were her parents. We rode off into the freezing woods, following the moonlight north as the lodge burned behind us. The others would almost certainly question my actions in sparing the child, but most likely wouldn't kill her. Perhaps Lord Stone would even reward me further for saving her from what I'm sure he saw as a terrible group of magic-using fugitives, daring to live free of the Church's control.

A strange mission, but a profitable one nonetheless.