The morning sun rose on a frost covered land, and a very haggard Mar. One by one the shadows slowly disappeared in the early hours of the morning, when everything was tinted blue with the incoming light of the sun, but not yet bright enough to see properly. The only one who remained was the shadow beside him, which had not stopped staring at him. In the increasingly bright daylight, the shadow appeared almost translucent, as if the shadow was only fog on an otherwise clear window. Or a smudge which refused to fade.
Steam rose from the ground and rose through the shadow, causing the shadow to appear to smoulder as it continued on by Mar’s side. Mar tracked it out of the corner of his eye and breathed a sigh of relief when the shadow suddenly stopped moving, and Mar was finally able to move forward on his own. He didn’t look back for another hundred paces and when he did the shadow had long since disappeared. Mar hadn’t heard of that sort of behaviour before, he’d certainly never known the shadows to stick around pass sunrise, but not many people were stupid enough to go walking in a swarm of them.
He then proceeded to collapse on the side of the road with a groan of relief, not minding the moisture and mud that was soaking slowly into his cloak. His leg was killing him, so he took the time to inspect it now that he had the light to do so. Black oozed from where a particularly sharp rock had punctured through his travel pants and deep into his flesh. It probably would have killed a human had it been left unattended to. Or at least caused a lot of blood loss. Perks of being a chained.
Mar dug the rock out of his flesh, a sharp hiss of pain issuing from his lips as he worked. He’d always felt pain on some level, but these days it burnt in a way his old self had never had to experience. It was times like these when he was envious of his old self. He didn’t miss being mage-less, but he definitely missed being pain free.
The rock sunk into the mud, black ooze mixing with the brown of the road. Mar tore a section off his cloak as a makeshift bandage, wrapping his leg up tight. The ooze would dry and plug the wound, like a scab made from human blood, but the wound itself wouldn’t heal. Mar would have to kill a clay and absorb it’s lifeforce before the wound and the pain it caused properly went away. It used to be that chained could share the energy the clay gave off amongst one another, but Mar hadn’t seen another one of his own kind in oh so very long. He didn’t know if he even was a chained anymore. Chained didn’t have feelings. Chained didn’t have magic. He pushed the thought aside; it made him feel icky in a way he wasn’t familiar with.
Focusing on the goal at hand, he took stock of the supplies he had on his person. His clothing of course, his sword, which was sheathed in a standard scabbard to avoid suspicion. His coin purse, which contained a few imperial marks and a collection of copper and silver coins, equalling about a gold coin’s worth of value. His throwing knife, which was strapped to his belt, as usual. He also had a simple dagger, which was half blunt from use in mental tasks. In his cloaks internal pocket his beat up iron pocket watch sat, missing it’s chain, and he wound it up before putting it back.
That was everything he had on his person, and he mourned all the useful tools and supplies which had been left behind. Missing his revolver most of all, which had been stashed in his pack, to lose such a weapon was a blow to his wallet that would take years to recuperate. It was almost useless against Clay’s, but nothing was better suited to taking down humans. Without it he would have to fight any hunters he came across with his sword and magic against their weapons and far superior magic, not exactly an even engagement.
Deciding to avoid such a confrontation entirely Mar got to his feet again before the ground got too comfortable and he lost all motivation to keep moving. The Clay’s constant pace had meant that he’d made good time, but they had followed the roads steadily West, and he was unsure of exactly where he was. He had seen the lights of a town to his left an hour or so before dawn, so decided to head back towards it instead of pushing forward, as he didn’t know how far away from the next town he was.
It took him a couple of hours, but by the time he finally arrived the sun was high in the sky, pummelling him with summer heat. The road dried quickly, and the ground which had formed such a soft mud during the evening had turned into a dusty mess. He knew he was approaching the town when he saw tanned, shirtless farmers working in the fields either side of the road. Sweat dripped from them as their calloused hands worked diligently to pull life from soil that had never been particularly fertile in the first place and had only degraded further in the years since the falling had pushed so many people to this section of the continent.
The farmers could have moved further east of course, the battlefields turned farmland closer towards death forest were well fertilised, but the risk of being involved in one of those battles was too much for most.
The eastern territories of the imperials had it the best, their empires were the original inhabitants of Annis, whereas the western territories (known as the free kingdoms) were made up of ex-refugees who had fled the Clay during the early years of the falling. This gave the imperials the largest land masses and the most arable land. Plus, access to the coast brought in large hauls of fresh fish and seaweed, as the Clay seemed to leave bodies of water untouched.
All food which they sold to the free kingdoms for a pittance, in return for protection from the Clay. This left the citizens of the free kingdoms in the lurch; for much of their history they had three options, become a farmer on safe land, and make a pittance growing stunted crops in unsuitable soil. Try farming nearer the forest until the clay killed you, or join the army. Fighting the Clay alongside the hunters until death or induction into the order.
These days the citizens had a fourth option, join an airship crew and venture into the skies above the Clay infested wastes, searching for skysteel to mine and sell for a small fortune. A fortune which very rarely ended up in their hands.
The discovery of skysteel had shaken things up quite a bit, giving the free kingdoms access to a resource that the imperials did not. The pollical climate was unstable to say the least, with the imperials pushing for control over the skysteel supply, using the food supple as leverage against the free kingdoms. All this was to say, when Mar approached the town’s gates to find an imperial guard manning it instead of a free kingdom’s one, his internal dialogue consisted of curse words and precious little else.
Had he been less tired and paying more attention he might have noticed that many of the footprints preserved in the dried mud of the road had been facing the opposite direction from the shadow’s direction of travel. Had he inspected the walls of the town he may have noticed the scattering of ladders which had been discarded at its base. The arrows embedded deep into the grassy ground, or the rust-coloured stains which adored a few spots here and there on the wall. He might have noticed the lack of travellers leaving the town in question, or the hesitant way the farmers eyed him as he approached. As if they wanted to warn him off but feared the response if he was an imperial instead of a free kingdom citizen.
No, he only noticed the tension in the air when he had waded deep into the dangerous, swirling whirlpool. He only noticed the purple imperial banners after walking up to an imperial guard, carrying their signature black cloth covered buckler and ō-wakizashi, and asking for entry to the town. The guards face shifted from surprised to a grin that very obviously meant nothing good in a fraction of a shocked second. The guard couldn’t believe Mar’s audacity. Mar couldn’t believe his own stupidity.
The guard spoke in a heavily accented voice that was common of the imperial kingdoms. “And why should I let you in?” The guard inspected Mar’s eyes closely, before adding to the end of his sentence: “Cur.”
Cur was an insult the imperials liked to give to the citizens of the free kingdoms, who frequently ended up as slaves after a significant portion of time in imperial care. However, there were little differentiating features between free kingdom and imperial citizens, so over time the insult had morphed into slang for hunters. Or simply those few citizens who possessed mis-matched eyes, as most hunters were located in the free kingdoms, fighting on the boarders against the Clay.
Mar, having utterly had his fill with guards for the day and wanting desperately to avoid a confrontation, grabbed his coin purse and opened it in front of the guard. Without saying a word, he began throwing coins onto the ground at the guards’ feet, maintaining steady eye contact with the guard the entire time. Waiting for the moment the guards’ own eye contact broke. Waiting for the moment when greed overtook prejudice and Mar could carry on with his day. The guard was more stubborn than most imperials, and if the uniform wasn’t enough indication the sheer amount of money it took to convince him clearly marked him as an imperial.
Unlike the free kingdoms the imperials were a purely volunteer force, with military service being seen as a high honour that most had to earn, rather than a fate forced onto strong looking boys. So, it took Mar a quarter of his coin purse before he was finally let through and into the town. A pile of free kingdom blue painted armour was the only indication that a battle had even taken place.
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Mar didn’t know why the imperials were here, and to be frank he didn’t want to know. All he wanted was a few hours of sleep, a new pack, and a full water skin. As he walked further into the town the sighs of battle began to become more obvious again, the Inn for example had been turned into a field hospital. Wounded and moaning men from both sides of the conflict filled narrow stretchers, all of whom were wearing clean white bandages. Medics (once again from both sides) trudged between the rows of stretchers with obvious fatigue and clear determination. The men who needed help out-numbered the medics ten to one, hence the fatigue. The body bags out back explained the determination.
Mar decided to walk pass the inn, there wasn’t going to be space there for him, and continued into a merchant’s shop. The merchant initially thought he was with the imperials and charged him accordingly. After a long, long conversation and swearing on his non-existence mother’s life multiple times Mar was able to get the merchant to cave and paid a high but still reasonable price for an officer’s pack, plus a few hours of rest in the merchants back room.
The officer packs were standard affair for the merchants of the free kingdoms, imported in bulk from the imperial kingdoms, they were basic military rations for the standard foot soldier. As such they had no right to be named after the officer class, but Mar assumed that was to mark up the price somewhat. The free kingdoms had a high turnover rate for its solders, so the packs were constantly being ordered and were somewhat ambiguous in civilian life as well.
The pack was made of a rough hemp fabric, with a single cord attached so it could be thrown over the owner’s shoulder. It came with a water skin which was attached to the pack via a loop on the packs side. Also attached to the pack was a rolled-up blanket for sleeping. Inside the pack was a flint and steel for starting fires, salted fish of some description, hardtack, and dried oats for making gruel. A small medical pouch, which contained a bandage, a small bottle of magically distilled alcohol and three iron coins with runes carved into them.
If held tightly in one’s hands the coins would activate, the runes using the wielders own magic stores to apply an effect to the user. One coin could warm a solder if fighting in the bitter winter, another could halt the progression of diseases or infections until proper medical care could be received. The third coin could be used to slow the heart rate of a solder, which would also slow the blood loss caused by injuries sustained on the battlefield.
These were simple spells, and most hunters or mages would have already been taught them. But the packs were for the basic infantryman, who would have not had access to this training. Mar didn’t know the spells either, although the coins were of little use to him. He did not seem to suffer from infections, he did not have a heartbeat to slow and while he got cold, he didn’t know if he could freeze to death or not. It could be very uncomfortable, however.
He drank greedily from the water skin and took a few bites of salted fish. Enough sustenance to sustain him for a few days more. Mar then propped the pack up behind his back and settled down in the damp smelling storeroom the merchant had provided, closing his eyes, and quickly drifting off into a dreamless slumber.
****
Kalier wished desperately that her nights were dreamless, but that was very rarely the case. Usually, her and Tarix would have taken turns keeping watch throughout the night, but considering the hunt she was about to undertake, they had both agreed on her getting a good night’s sleep. By the time the sun finally rose she almost wished she’d insisted on taking a watch. Tarix, with heavy bags under his eyes, gave her a knowing look. She shot him back a typical glare. It softened the expression on his face somewhat, but not as much as usual. She reasoned that she must have been losing her touch. The villager girl was wise enough to avoid asking any questions during the brief breakfast of rations warmed over a small fire that the three shared, although the Clay energy running through their veins meant they could have skipped a few meals without being negatively affected by it. But letting the body maintain it’s more natural energy stores was always advisable when the option was available.
Plus, the chained would have had to avoid the roads during the night, so Kalier was confident in her ability to catch up with it. She saw no need to run headfirst towards danger. They were about halfway through their merge meal when Tarix spoke up.
“I know I volunteered you for this, but are you sure you can handle him on your own?” He asked. By rights a discussion that should have happened last night, but Kalier was used to his absent mindedness by now.
“I don’t expect it to be a challenge. From what we saw last night it’s either very quick or has access to some basic wind magic, nothing that I can’t handle. I’ll just keep my distance and fry it.” She said, confident in her own abilities.
“You’re still assuming that he’s an it and not a he.” Replied Tarix.
“I hunt things Tarix, I don’t hunt people.” Replied Kalier, as Ilivar watched the exchange, curiosity shining in her newly mismatched eyes.
“And what happens when you kill him and find out that he’s just some idiot who picked up a chained sword trying to look cool?”
“Think it through Tarix, everyone knows what those swords represent, either it’s always had that sword. Or someone picked up a weapon that inspires fear in everyone that lays eyes on it, and there’s only a few fetid reasons why someone would do that. Neither option makes it human in my eyes.” Kalier’s voice had taken on a hard, bitter tone as she explained her rational.
Tarix knew better than most why she would think the way she did, and that knowledge hug between them. The air heavy with words unsaid. Just two sets of mismatched eyes staring at one another. Ilivar interrupted the moment.
“You know that makes you a cynic, right?” She asked Kalier.
“I prefer realist.”
“Sounds like something a cynic would say.”
Kalier didn’t dignify that with a response.
----
Kalier’s journey through the forest was uneventful, something that got on her nerves more than if she had been harassed by Clay beasts the entire time. She had heard a lot of rumours about the chained during her time with the hunters, but very little official information was given to even the more experienced members like herself and Tarix. She supposed that Tarix’s Dad would know more, as an important member of the council, but the fact that he hadn’t seen fit to share it with his own son meant it was (hopefully at least) unnecessary information should they encounter one.
Once she exited the forest, she attempted to use her physic sense to find and track Mar’s aura.
The chained gave off an Aura similar to that of the Clay themselves, so she had been unable to properly locate it in the forest itself. Everything had an aura of some description and while some people or objects could have similar aura (twins were very difficult to tell apart for example) each was unique. Auras changed as a person grew and changed, whereas objects stayed mostly the same, changing only as the object decayed or was otherwise manipulated or destroyed.
It was said that an Aura was the weight of fate bearing down upon the world, that by analysing the aura of one’s surroundings it was possible to predict the future with some limited level of accuracy. Kalier herself didn’t believe such a thing, instead she felt it was an old wives tail that had been blown out of proportion.
As a tree rotted for example the aura of death would creep into its physic presence. The aura didn’t foretell the death and collapse of the tree, but rather was a symptom of the disease the tree was facing. As the tree healed (if it healed) the aura would fade away.
This wasn’t the tree avoiding its fate but was instead undergoing the natural process of healing. A process which could be aided by the farmer who had learnt how to sense the rot in the tree. The clay didn’t radiate the empty, void-like aura of death because they were the destroyers of the world, they radiated it because they weren’t of the living.
They were monsters who lacked souls, but still moved as if being of the living world. They were corpses made by some foul magic which had gotten out of control, which had twisted the very nature of the world to its bidding. They were nothing more than intelligent lightning, animating a body to the whims of a master who had no doubt long since perished.
That was how Kalier knew Mar was a chained, despite his use of magic. Despite Tarix’s insistence on calling him human. Tarix wasn’t as skilled at reading auras as Kalier, but that wasn’t his fault. Kalier had been reading auras ever since she was four.
The Chained’s aura was that of lightning, intelligence, and the nothingness of death. Kalier didn’t know how it had been able to wield magic, if that’s even what she saw. Perhaps it was a trick of the light? A simple mistake? Perhaps after years of absorbing the lifeforce of Clay the chained had been able to gain enough power for a few relatively simple tricks? Whatever the answer it wasn’t her job to wonder.
It was her job to kill it. No questions. No trial. No hesitation.
It was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, as powerful as a couple of skilled fighters, but twisted and sick. Had Kalier bumped into him while surrounded by the mind-numbing array of auras in a city or larger town, she wouldn’t have been able to read his aura clearly enough to spot him either. That was the true threat of the Chained, not their ability to damage, but their ability to hide. The clay were met by walls and armies, the Chained walked straight through those defences, and they hurt you accordingly.
Everyone knew the story of Leviathan, the city that a small army of Chained had razed to the ground. The first in a grand act of betrayal. Fewer knew of the attacks that had taken place after Leviathan had been retaken. Of the stories that still circulated through the hunter order.
Nobles, merchants, and commoners alike coming to the Hunter order and begging for protection. Or, more often than not, demanding retribution. The Clay may have destroyed armies, but the Chained destroyed families and homes. To many that made them the bigger of the two evils.
When she got to the road, she was surprised to feel the pull of an aura that was at least half a day old, which meant Mar had braved the shadows of the road during the evening. While it was possible for humans to attempt the same feat successfully, it made sense that a chained would be more adapt at doing so. Kalier doubted that such a creature would have needed to hide his presence the same way that humans do. Kalier was lucky the shadows auras faded during the sunrise, just as they did. As she would have been unable to track anyone in such interference.
An older aura was also present, one which took the opposite direction of travel, heading back towards the village. Kalier decided to follow it instead. Aura trails usually only lasted for twelve to twenty-four hours unless they had something to cling to. Either the chained had doubled back and was hiding in the village, or it had left something behind. Something soaked in its aura. Something potentially worth finding if that was the case.
Plus, Tarix and Ilivar would be traveling through the death forest and back towards the nearest hunter order headquarters. Kalier didn’t have much sympathy for idiots who entered death forest illegally, the damage they could cause if they attracted Clay beasts back towards their village was immense, but she had even less for those who knew someone was lost in the forest and refused to tell the order. In her mind it was the equivalent of watching someone set a house on fire, and simply walking in the opposite direction.
So Kalier wanted to meet these people, who would endanger so many lives for one person’s sake. She wanted to look them in the eyes and ask them herself how they could do such a thing, she wanted to know what kind of parent would dare to do such a thing. Tarix, if he had been feeling both lucky and brave, would have pointed out to her that the compulsion may have more to do with her own parents then Ilivar’s.
Kalier might have even admitted, to some very small part of herself, that he was right. But that wasn’t enough to sway her from her path. It may cost her some time, but this was the right path to walk. She knew it.