Once again the group found themselves entering a small village after sunset. This time there were no mysterious fields of vegetation looming in the darkness. The remote town was too deep into the mountains for serious farming, and instead acted as a hub for the hunting and skinning trade–the normal kind, apparently.
The smell of tanning oils and leather permeated the air before they’d even reached the village, emerging from the dense woods on exhausted mounts. The wall that greeted them was far more impressive than the last, rising easily ten feet above the ground, and the guard standing on the ramparts didn’t appear tired, or surprised by their approach.
“Stop where I can see you,” he called out as they reached the perimeter of light coming from the torches lining the wall. They did as asked, Valanor even dismounting, and prompting the others to follow suit. “What’s your business here?” the guard asked, nothing but a shadow behind the torches.
“Hunters answering a call,” Valanor spoke back. “There’s supposed to be a fulven pack nearby, causing trouble.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” the guard called back, then signaled behind him and the gates slowly opened. Another man emerged from behind, wearing simple leathers with a long knife at his side. He bid them enter, as the other guard dropped down. “Notice has gone unanswered for months, but we’ll take what help we can get.”
“Are the fulven a big problem?” Ethan asked.
“There’s always been some of their kind in the mountains hereabouts,” the man answered as he stepped into the torchlight. He had a deep hood hiding most of his features, but a scruffy beard stook out. “Lately though, the monsters that keep them under control have been dying out. Now they’re breeding. And eating. And taking all our game.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Valanor promised. “I’ve never been here before. Is there an inn?”
“Small one, center of town. Doubles as a tavern or it’d be out of business in a week,” the man replied, pointing.
“Thank you,” the shield knight said, ending the conversation and leading his mount away.
The village was quite a bit smaller than the last one, though the streets were still wide enough for the wagon. Ethan tried to enjoy the sights as they moved through town, but he got the impression he was witnessing his first real example of poverty in this world. The buildings were run down, the street was just dirt, and poorly maintained. It appeared that leatherwork simply wasn’t as lucrative as farming, unless there was something else at play he didn’t understand.
The village square was likewise rundown, but did possess a sight worth seeing. There was a massive, stuffed brown monster in the center of town. It better be stuffed…how’d they even do that without it dissolving? The beast looked a bit like a bear, though it had a long, barbed tail, and was spiked like a porcupine.
The knights seemed unimpressed however, and moved straight to the only two story building. It was unnamed, but looked like an inn, and Maggie and Glenn took the oxsteeds to a small stable around back. Ethan followed Valanor, who–in typical fashion–strode in like the landlord, ignoring the looks from the dozen or so townspeople drinking in the common room.
“Do you have rooms?” He asked the man behind the bar, a short, skinny fellow with tanned skin and a neat ponytail.
“Certainly sir! Always glad to meet a new customer. We don’t get many around these parts. I have two rooms, clean with fresh bedding. Also have some meat on the spit and plenty of ale if you’ll be joining us for supper.”
“We’ll take the rooms and the meals,” Valanor said, producing coins and sliding them across the table.
“Wonderful! I am David, the owner of this establishment. Please come to me if you need anything,” he took the coins with a wide smile, pushing two keys across in return. “May I enquire about your business here, sir? We don’t get many travelers, other than the occasional trader.”
“We’re hunters, here about the fulven problem,” Valanor answered, and several of the patrons turned and looked at him. One even raised his mug in salute before drinking deeply.
“That is marvelous news!” David exclaimed. “They’ve been causing problems for so long, but never so bad as this. Plus their pelts are nearly worthless, and they’re far more deadly than most of the beasts in this region. Pests of the worst sort.”
“Indeed. Do you know where we can find them? I’d like to begin our search at first light.”
The man looked awkward. “Unfortunately, sir, I won’t be of much help. Everyone knows they come from the Eastern mountains, but the location of their den is a mystery. There are caves everywhere they can be hiding in, and even our best trappers would likely die in the search.”
“What are you talkin’ about Davey? Cara knows right where they are,” an older man said from down the bar. He was slurring his words from the drink, and several other patrons looked angry that he’d spoken up.
Valanor looked from the old man to David. “Is this true, there’s someone in town who knows the den’s location?”
The innkeeper glared at the old man, then turned his smile back on the customer. “There was a Hunter who used to patrol the villages in the area, but I’m sorry sir, no one knows where–”
“She lives across the bloody street, Davey! Have you been dipping into your own ale?” the old man said in confusion.
David actually dropped his head into a weary hand at that remark. “I truly am sorry, sir, please ignore the man at the end of the bar, he’s very drun–” his voice cut off as Valanor’s good hand snaked out and gripped his collar, pulling him halfway over the bar.
“You’re lying to me, and I don’t know why. You’ll tell me the truth, or things will get far less pleasant, very quickly.” Less pleasant was easy to imagine, as the man’s legs were already dangling in mid air. Surprisingly, the innkeeper’s expression actually grew more resolved.
“You can do what you like, sir, but I’ve told you all that there is to know.”
Valanor actually looked impressed, but simply turned to the drunken man, who opened his mouth to speak once again. Before he could, the patrons on either side of him clamped hands over his mouth, and every other person in the tavern stood as well, many putting hands on large hunting knives.
Valanor’s only reaction was to raise a single eyebrow, but before it could escalate further, Ethan jumped in. “You’re talking about Cara Fletcher?” he said loudly, drawing every eye, including the knight’s. Ethan looked back at his companion, but spoke to the room. “You think we’re here to hurt your Hunter, but we’re not.”
Valanor relaxed as he began to understand the situation, and lowered the innkeeper back to the floor. Ethan continued. “We were in another village to the North West, bandits showed up looking for a Hunter who’d been taking them out. He,” Ethan gestured at the knight, “scared them off before they could kill anyone. We’re not here for trouble, we’re genuinely just looking for the fulven.”
The innkeeper inspected Ethan carefully, then glanced back at Valanor. “If you’re really Hunters, I doubt we’d have a chance against you anyway. Go back to your drinks everyone,” he said, and surprisingly, they listened.
“This girl really knows where the fulven are?” Valanor asked.
“We just want the location,” Ethan insisted.
David sighed. “She knows, but there’s no way she could just tell you. I was serious about that mountain. You can’t just pick a direction, you need to be led or you’ll be lucky to make it back at all.”
“But Fletcher can lead us?” Ethan prompted.
The man looked Ethan in the eye, as if judging whether to answer. Finally he did, though he still looked unsure. “She’s injured. Badly. She barely made it back after facing the bandits’ leader. She isn’t leading anyone anywhere, I’m afraid.”
Valanor grumbled, leaning against the bar and clearly trying to control his temper. For Ethan’s part, his eyes went to the rune on his hand, the bow and arrow glowing softly. “Let me speak with her,” he said, and David’s posture immediately went defensive. “Don’t worry, I’m not even a full Hunter yet, I doubt I’m much of a threat to her even if she is injured.”
“What’s the point of this?” David asked. “She can’t tell you what you want to know.”
“Let her decide that,” Ethan insisted. “Look, drunky over there already said she lives across the street. Why not tell me where, so I can have a friendly chat with her, before my large friend starts having unfriendly chats with everyone. That’s not a threat by the way, he’s just an unpleasant asshole.”
Valanor turned his glare on Ethan, and the drunk at the end of the bar started cackling. Finally a proper audience, Ethan thought. David looked torn, but after glancing back at the large knight, he shrugged.
“You’re right that she could probably still kill you. She’d be angry if she knew I was even trying to protect her. Go,” he said, sounding resigned. “Her house has a faded red door, and she’s in bed at the end of the hall. Don’t bother knocking; door’s unlocked so I can bring her food and drink.”
He held up a hand, “In fact, hold on.” David disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, and returned with a covered tray of food. “Give her this. At least then she’ll know you’re not just trying to rob the place.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“I don’t like this,” Valanor said. “You shouldn’t be putting yourself in unnecessary danger.”
Ethan smiled, then handed the man a dagger, which had a soft blue-white gleam. “If there’s any problems, I can be wherever that blade goes in an instant.”
Valanor looked at the dagger, considering. He was aware of Ethan’s improved ability, having insisted on being kept apprised of every aspect of his charge’s powers. “Fine. But if you’re not back in twenty minutes, I’m coming in after you.”
“See you in a tight fifteen, then,” Ethan replied with a wave. He moved back out into the dark village, pausing long enough to tell the other knights where he was going, and directing them to Valanor for their room key.
He crossed the square and found the small home with the faded red door as easily as promised. It looked like it had doubled as some kind of shop once, a wooden market stall was falling to pieces in front of it. Ethan climbed the stairs and let himself inside, trying to keep the food carefully balanced as he pried open the door.
The inside of the house was a bit larger than he’d have guessed, looking to be four rooms divided by a single hallway, and he could see the faintest light from one at the back. He walked down the hall, noticing the bare walls, and considering how odd it was for people’s homes not to be filled with pictures. The door was open when reached the final room, and he could see an empty bed within.
Confused, he walked in without knocking, noting that the sheets were pushed back in a pile, obviously used recently. “What kind of killer makes that much noise opening a door, only to be as silent as death walking down a hallway?” a woman’s voice said.
Ethan turned in surprise, seeing an elven woman on the floor opposite the bed. She was leaning awkwardly against the wall, with a bow drawn and aimed at his heart. “Whoa there,” he said reflexively, as if she were a wayward horse. “I’m not a killer at all, just wearing magic boots,” he said, pointing downward at the black stealth boots he’d recently looted.
She glanced downward then back to his eyes, bow never wavering an inch. She was an attractive woman who might have been average height standing up. Raven-black hair was bound into a single tight braid behind her, and her bright green eyes were a stark contrast to her deeply tanned skin. She appeared to be evaluating Ethan in turn, and hadn’t spoken again.
Wary of being shot–especially by a Hunter–Ethan slowly gestured to the covered plate of food. “Killers don’t normally bring delivery, do they? I’d likely have a weapon more deadly than heartburn.” When she still didn’t react, he clarified further. “David told me where to find you. I just need your help, then I can get out of your hair.”
She still didn’t move, and Ethan was growing frustrated, until he realized she was sweating, and nearly shaking with effort. [Apollo’s Gaze] flared to life, and his eyebrows rose with what he saw. “You’re paralyzed,” he said, forgetting all of his bedside manner, then immediately feeling like an ass.
She lowered her bow slightly, but only looked more angry. “If you think that makes me an easy target, you should look to your left.” Ethan did so, trying not to react as he spotted the lithe form of a jaguar perched atop a nearby wardrobe. It was one of the closest Familiars he’d seen to an animal back home, though the patterns on its fur actually looked like runes instead of spots.
He let out a sigh, “Look, lady–Cara–we can do this all day. I can point out that my familiar is behind you, then teleport there in an instant. You can shoot me, I can call my friends, we can burn down this whole village, and so on and so on.” She glared, clearly resisting the urge to look behind her as directed.
“Or,” he said in an even more aggravated tone, “you can let me give you your stupid kebabs, and I can try to help your back.” That finally changed her countenance slightly.
“You’re from the Church? There’s no way they’d dispatch someone all the way here. And I’m not interested regardless.”
“I’m not talking anymore with an arrow aimed at my heart, and dinner growing cold. Do you want to have a conversation, or ruin both our days?” At last she lowered her bow, and her Familiar leaped to the floor, padding over to her side.
“Thank you Talia,” she whispered, clamping her arms round the jaguar’s chest, which then dragged her back to the bed.
“Do you want me to he–”
“No,” she said sternly, letting the bow disappear as she pulled herself upward, then painstakingly repositioned her injured body so she could sit up against a stack of pillows. Ethan stayed back until she was done, recognizing this behavior from patients and case studies he’d read.
Seeing a small table nearby, he slowly approached and placed the food on top, careful not to move suddenly. Despite the jaguar–Talia–being the only one growling softly, it was clear there were two wild animals in this room. He moved the food and table close to her bedside, then backed away to a respectful distance, putting on the confident but slightly detached posture he used in the hospital.
“You were lying about the Familiar,” she said. It was part accusation, partly sounding as if she respected the deception.
“Not exactly,” he replied, and a single headed Deevee appeared on his shoulder. A moment later, Cara looked up at a small blue-white flash, and a second Deevee materialized through a tiny rift, joining the first. Another flash and they were a single entity again. God I love that, Ethan thought, having discovered the Familiar’s ability during the long trip to the village.
Cara seemed suspicious of the whole display, but showed little reaction. “Are you really from the Church?” she asked.
“No, I’m not,” he assured her. “May I ask why you were so insistent on not being healed if I was?”
“Are you serious? You’re clearly a Hunter, are you so ready to give up your Familiars?”
Ethan couldn’t hide his shock or confusion. “What are you saying? I’m not from here, and the Church doesn’t really heal people back home.” Except on certain public access TV, but best not to get into that.
Cara let out a disbelieving sound. “Well here, they’ll heal you–if you’re lucky–and do so by sacrificing a healthy part of you. The Unbound are never the same again, but people like us? We lose our power, our Bonds. How can you not know this?”
Ethan was reeling from the news. He’d heard hints of this that only now made sense. What kind of miracle healing had a cost? Again his mind went back to Earth, and he begrudgingly admitted this wasn’t as uncommon as he was treating it. “Well I know now,” he said sadly, gazing at his heretical rune.
“So what are you doing here?” she asked. “Before all this, you said you needed my help. What for?”
Ethan snapped back to reality. “Sorry, lost myself for a moment. You’re right, I came here for a reason. I’m with a small group of Hunters. We’re looking for the fulven pack, but no one else knows how to track them to their source. A few people in the tavern said you were the only one that had seen their den.”
“You’re here from the Guild?” she asked. “That notice has been up and down for years, and the reward isn’t even close to worth the effort. How did it draw a group of Hunters?”
Ethan decided that blunt honesty was the right path. “I need my final Bond. My surly mentor says fulven and lightning are the right choice for me, and your village has plenty to spare.”
Cara absently petted her jaguar as she watched him. “You didn’t need to come this far for fulven. There’s plenty to the North that would be much easier to track.”
“Sure, but the ones here are actually causing trouble. Are you really going to tell me that people don’t go out of their way to help one another? I know a village or two full of people who worship you like a hero, I suspect they’d disagree.”
Care glared, but also blushed slightly. “Look,” Ethan said, feeling a little tired of the back and forth after such a long day, “it’s late, and you can debate my morality later. Do you know what you’ve done to your spine?”
“What I’ve done?!” she asked, her voice rising in pitch. “You think I did this to myself?”
“The original damage? Of course not. It looks like your L3 to L5 vertebrae were shattered–probably by a blunt weapon or another impact. The nerves are intact though–Hunter healing and regeneration runes are truly remarkable.” She stared at him in confusion, not speaking.
“What you did, I’d wager, is travel for miles with a broken back.” Ethan indicated the jaguar. “Same way you got into bed?”
“How could you know that?” she demanded.
Ethan considered his answer, and how he wanted this night to go. “Would you categorize yourself as particularly devout?”
She seemed surprised by the question, but seemed to give an earnest answer. “My father taught me that the Goddess made this land, then departed. He said you can still feel her presence if you know how to listen. The priests do not listen.” She cocked her head. “If this is some trick, you’ll find that the Church’s thugs don’t do well in these parts.”
Ethan smirked. “No trick. You asked how I know what I know. I was trained in healing, the same way you were trained to Hunt, I’d imagine. Where I come from it’s an important skill, and injuries like yours are well documented.”
“You’re one of the other ones then,” she accused. “You plan to sell me a potion and be in the next village by morning?”
Ethan laughed. It sounded like a description of a snake oil salesman, but with just enough of the old ‘two aspirin’ joke mixed in. “No,” he assured her. “I doubt I’m quite like anyone you’ve seen before. I’d like to try to heal you, right here, right now. But I should warn you, I’ve never treated broken bones that have already healed incorrectly. It may not work…or it may work and be painful.”
Cara’s eyes narrowed suspiciously once again. “Already making excuses for a future failure, and promising pain as well? You’re not just a salesman, you’re a bad one.”
“I’ll give you that one,” he agreed. “But I’m willing to try, and what’s your alternative? Your body already did what it could. You don’t strike me as someone content to remain bedridden for the rest of her life.”
That statement seemed to tear down the last of her walls, and her voice was softer when she spoke again. “You’ll do this if I take you to the fulven den? I don’t have enough coin to make any difference to a Hunter from the city.”
Ethan smiled. “No, I’ll do this because I’m a doctor. I know you don’t understand what that means. But with what I’ve been going through, a chance to heal someone is more important to me than I can explain.” He paused, “But if you could not tell the Church and have me burnt at the stake or something, I’d consider that a fair payment.”
She watched him for a long moment, appearing to try to read his intentions. “You’re an unusual man,” she said at last. “What would actually be involved in this…blasphemous healing?”
Ethan pointed at his hand, “I have a Skill Rune. I basically just use the ability, and it does the work for me. I’ve done it before and seen it work…I just don’t know about the vertebrae. If the skill has to re-break them, it’ll be painful, and I don’t think I can do pain relief.” Could I? I’d love to spend a while testing this without the wrath of an angry God to consider.
“I’ve felt the pain once, I don’t fear it a second time.” She turned to her Familiar. “Go, Talia,” she whispered, and the jaguar disappeared. “If she sees me in pain, she might react poorly.” Next she undid her belt, and raised it to her mouth. “Screaming would also be a problem. Do you know how long this will take?”
“Should be fairly quick,” he assured her, eyeing the belt. Okay, this woman is scary. “Are you ready? Sorry for the rush, but we need to do this without my companions bothering us.” She nodded, laying down on the bed as he rested his hand on her gently. When she had the belt in her mouth, he nodded back. “Okay, let’s do this.”
The power began to flow out immediately. There were definitely screams.