058 - The Great Hunt
I’m a genius!
Magnus grinned from ear to ear. At dusk, just as the sun fell entirely in the east, the hunters had come. At their head a strange silver carriage, they’d come down the path and stopped, making camp right by where Magnus had set his formation.
Brilliant! Magnus found it near impossible not to jump and dance with joy. The hunters made their tents and built a number of campfires. Just as the sky got dark and the stars came out they were done. The fifty or so men who made their living hunting around the Horn sitting and eating a meaty broth together.
Magnus found himself wedged in a space between a hunters wagon and a silver carriage a little ways away from the campfires. Not one of the men had spared even so much as a glance in his direction, some passing so close that if Magnus wanted to he could reach out and touch them.
There was Pete Stint, the leader of the hunters, he'd recognized his face from before, when the fat Alchemist had come looking for him. Pete had been there, as had many of the other hunters, though none of them recognized Magnus without the black lines and yellow pus - it was as Kujata said, he just didn't need a disguise, the only thing anyone had taken any note of was the black line. Without them, who would remember a face like yours, Magnus?
The hunters conversations were somewhat hushed, as if they were scared of making too much noise. On watching them for a time Magnus saw that they seemed jittery, on edge - far more so even than the morning after the Griffon had attacked their camp up on the Horn.
Magnus tried to hear for any information about the Shadow Bull and what the hunters plans might be to deal with it. Unfortunately, the main topic of conversation, indeed, the only thing the hunters seemed to talk about at all was the discovery of the corpse of the Griffon and the unknown hunter called Dolt who'd snatched it away. At times a hunter would mention something else, say something about 'the terror' and the hunters around him would fall silent, many peering nervously off into the night.
"You saw him Pete? I saw you talk to him, what did he say?"
"I don't know, nothing much." Pete replied. "He just said his name . . didn't seem to know much."
"His name, Dolt, right?"
"Right. Made up, I'm sure." Pete shrugged.
"Ah! You are talking about the mysterious young man, correct?" Waldemar approached the hunters. Magnus made a mental note of the man, his bearing and steady voice instantly set him apart from every man there. "Very interesting! Carl, didn't you see the mystery man too?"
"Yes! Yes, I did . . but well . . I can't really tell you much else."
"And Pete, you talked to him, no? More than anyone else here." Waldemar sat down beside the hunters by the campfires.
"I did, I did. But . . as I was saying sir, we didn't really talk much." Pete replied.
"Is there nothing you recall? Nothing at all? Maybe a snippet of conversation? Some clue? Something our mysterious Dolt might have asked or said?"
"Well . . now that you mention it . . maybe there was something. But it didn't have nothing to do with the Griffon or the hunt or anything. It was when we first saw those two white dressed fellas, the boy and the girl I told you about."
"You mean the ones that took the Griffons egg and fought off Gunner?" Waldemar nodded, encouraging Pete to speak on.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
"Yeah, those. When they passed by the camp going up the Horn, Dolt asked if I thought they were Alchemists. Well, they didn't look like Alchemists to me, but there was something in the way he said it . ."
"Interesting! Very interesting!" Waldemar exclaimed.
Their conversations continued late on into the night. Magnus gleaned several tidbits of information, but most of what he heard amounted to nothing more than the hunters talking about their homes and wanting to be done with hunting for the time being. Waldemar would stalk up and down the camp, stopping and chatting with the hunters here and there, Carl Lang tagging alongside behind and interjecting every now and again.
As for the bull . . well, from what he'd overheard, the hunters knew little more than he did. There was a bull, a strange vanishing bull that appeared and disappeared in various farmers pastures, trampling their crops and destroying fences and gates. Any time anyone saw it, it vanished; vanishing like the morning mist. The only evidence of its very existence being the trail of destruction it inevitably left in its wake.
Magnus yawned, stretching out on the grass. The hunters had long crawled into their tents to sleep, the fires left to smoulder.
What should I do now? I guess I'll wait till morning, then follow the hunters again. With no definite plan in mind Magnus stretched out to sleep. Every now and again he would be disturbed by a hunter coming out to the edge of the camp for a piss, but apart from that the night seemed to stretch on in silence.
Clink . . clink . .
Someone was walking between the carriage and the wagon away from the camp.
"Sarge . ."
"Shhhh!"
"Sorry Sarge."
Two figures were barely visible in the gloom. They halted right next to Magnus, whispering to one another. Even being right next to them Magnus had to strain to listen in to their conversation.
"Sarge . ."
"I've told you, don't call me that. I ain't your Sarge no more."
"Ok . . Solberg . . but it don't feel right. I mean, you're Sarge!"
"Forget it, forget it Oskar. Right. What is it? Why'd you bring me out here?"
"Well Sarge, uh, Solberg I mean, I just wasn't sure. This is still part of the plan, right?"
"Of course it is! Have you got the solution?"
"Yeah, of course. I mean Sarge, we've only been in the road a few months and . ."
"Don't worry about it lad. Just wait for the signal, I'm sure it'll be any day now. Stick close to Lang, that's the important bit, remember. Once it kicks off, you want to put him out of it as soon as possible."
"Right. No problem Sarge. What's the signal?"
"Not too sure about that. Just remember, stick right next to Lang, I'll be close as possible. Thats our job, right? No matter what, the Bishop's son can't be brought into it."
"But isn't he one of them? You know, his father . ."
"Shhh! You hear that?"
The two figures fell to the ground, crawling on their bellies beneath the carriage. Several minutes passed in silence.
". . ."
"I guess it was nothing Sarge."
"Right. Shh! Keep it down . . well, lets get back. Quiet now . ."
Carefully as they'd come, the two figures left, Magnus watched them creep to a tent nearby.