image [https://lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com/docsz/AD_4nXeNI9KVg0LMDavLl2ai2vqVLCBlhk1f37RcvKOWW8pAy10MjMcQ-dkQ8eSrlHRKYkmp5Sq8zwA32Lcn6CkHBeBwEBnkadW83kZ-ol2xPAB9oXwJSeesLcVuL4jnEGywk98oDwlBw_0K-3mkrWe8gbl6XqOI?key=Gsl81fBn0YrSurXs97MPVQ]
The shallow depression of earth was hot and damp beneath the salvaged tent cloth, made only moreso by the thin layer of dirt and leaves Juriss had spread over it before shimmying underneath. She lay there sweating in her summoned armor, hands slick on the handle of her great blade, thoughts turning slowly and breath undisturbed. The hunter who did not know how to wait was the hunter who lost her prey, and Juriss was not one accustomed to losing.
She’d prepared the ambush ground with care and she had all her most powerful Relics equipped.
image [https://lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com/docsz/AD_4nXdj42aGjMDbwxuxtJgTzZEYYEYQFPZP_h2b519kbIASAGWeokZeGf_WUQWve6jxr1QSO-WkxRjTlEkbB-X4vMoqCuXGdHfcdQRdA-xctV3jdonxlbmRiGxeNxbReGkfeJ_2U9dgFvem_Z3r8INjFjCUM7b2?key=Gsl81fBn0YrSurXs97MPVQ]
image [https://lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com/docsz/AD_4nXfxo53X__DP-gRfZKUygTLMHWTMbamC2R4hTYMZrnTwVpTN5PPONTVH-iLGRauxjFYL9_0wyGLwf2yPnSSyJ-9A9vK-N1qm7z7PF0CizjTuemn6Rzi9E49qsyhicM-q-UAm11eXPCpsOGk1RBXeF853zIXu?key=Gsl81fBn0YrSurXs97MPVQ]
image [https://lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com/docsz/AD_4nXf58k609ufGoG6CGTTRNDlVKOJpBXJvdIjF6UjuJma9co0h37Mym7BzKj31lz2gSUxYPY7EcBMDXDK40SzIAPl_Yhv8A6gljprfXimd6ySi6UycDZKiBQ_YVLzgBA1PgP6QPQ56mVStnyR0K4qW5dkGi6o5?key=Gsl81fBn0YrSurXs97MPVQ]
image [https://lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com/docsz/AD_4nXfQCNLQCWRzqjT8YsIjeqiMFX9Ox3NZfvyyZi_e-CDs9O1bIg2Bf6GJKjWlQDk9_vJowdnmNphIgkcLfH0EHr-Knt7DN620a_CuvrRCWrFa6Wb1wBZdZAmID6NtBOMyEtxlj2GGdPoKALcl1aYxWxNBYJw?key=Gsl81fBn0YrSurXs97MPVQ]
It had taken months of skulking and spying to put this moment together; the Gauntlet had been the last piece she needed. She’d have killed the Orc leader Targu’Thal weeks ago if she’d had some way to get past the incredible armor he had as a soul ability. Between watching him from hiding as his army faced the paltry defenses one of the southernmost human settlements had put up and spying as he sparred with his captains, she’d sussed out that it was almost certainly an Armor 4 ability. A successful hunt was one where the hunter struck once and the prey died, especially when the prey had an entire army at its disposal. She would need to strike and then disappear. The Spell Drinker had been the missing link, and now she had it. The Gauntlet she’d made from it had been hurried and crude, but still powerful.
She didn’t like that the humans and elves had seen her that night, regardless of whether they’d helped to make it an easy kill. Once she was done with this hunt and had elevated herself to Mythic, she’d consider killing them, too. It felt wrong to have anyone know about her. She’d let the familiar-looking boy take Death cards that she might have used simply so she could minimize the amount of time she’d been exposed. She’d collect them from his corpse soon enough.
It wasn’t even that she was all that concerned with collecting the cards, really; it was having other thinking, talking things out there that might want something from her. Bad enough that the flying man knew about her; she’d kill him one day too and be entirely free to hunt in peace. She didn’t even keep any Soul cards; her entire deck was Relics she’d made from the corpses of her wild creature kills, with the exception of a single Death Spell she’d harvested from a Wight unlucky enough to wander into her hunting grounds – that Spell fit so nicely with her style that she’d kept it. But Souls…? That was too much like having people around, even if the cards were only mute Commons.
The heavy tread of a barefoot Orc sounded in her ears, and she snapped back into the moment, muscles tense and mind focused. Targu’Thal liked to meditate privately with his Chaos source, and the others in his army knew not to bother him while he did it; she’d known almost from the beginning that was when she’d catch him. He didn’t do it every day, and he seldom went to the same place twice – Chaos users prided themselves on unpredictability – but this forest glade with its babbling stream and beaver-dammed pool was very nearly bait for someone wanting to indulge his senses. She’d lain in wait here for the last four days running, and finally it had paid off. She knew it was him. She’d studied his gait and footfalls for more than a moon’s turn for exactly this reason. She’d flitted in and out of the camp, coming close enough to touch him more than a dozen times. Not a one of them had ever seen her.
She heard him splash down into the water with a pleased grunt. She hadn’t expected that; usually he sat crossed-legged on the earth to meditate. Would he wash and then come out, or would he stay in the stream? Either would be acceptable; having him in the water might rob her of a little mobility, but it would do the same for him, and she stood even chances of him facing away from her when she emerged from her hidey-hole.
After several minutes she decided he’d stayed in the small pool to meditate. The sound of the flowing stream masked his noise, but she knew he’d be breathing deeply with his head back and eyes closed. Would he be sitting in the water or standing? The pool was only a few feet deep in the center. There was no way to peek without giving herself away; she’d find out when the time came.
The Orc would fall into the deepest part of his meditative trance after just a handful of minutes. Another hundred heartbeats and she felt the subtle shift in her hunter’s sense that told her now. Without thought, without hesitation, she heaved herself up from her hole and threw off her covering. She’d worked every inch of the old tent cloth over in her hands for weeks so it would move without flapping; with a slight rustle of leaves and a whisper of cloth she was on her feet and moving toward the pond.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
Targu’Thal was immersed in the pool up to his waist, hands held out gently on the surface of the water to feel its ripples. His back was turned to her, and she could see the great axe he preferred hovering over shoulder as usual. He kept the thing summoned constantly; she’d seen him cut through a town’s wall in a single stroke with it. It might even be Legendary. No matter; he’d never have the chance to use it.
A few running steps and she was at the edge of the pond. The Orc was only just beginning to turn toward her noise. Launching herself into the air, she cast her one Spell and swung the Bone Sword with all her might and devoted herself, her Bone Blade, and her Gauntlet into the attack.
image [https://lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com/docsz/AD_4nXepDJvythdDWidKzs7tNrHwoYS1yQuuA-RXM6bQL7rQG8BOAmhOJsXZw0ydfzGSBhb8MekHvCjpz2GdB-VfFbsNrhE9O8ZYLMl-K_a6Ik8y6GbRCrHh7HMIzaJ7OSGBog1gNYUlP_xcy8kFQXwkmmh_9mbu?key=Gsl81fBn0YrSurXs97MPVQ]
With her Charge helm, the sword’s damage, and the Spell’s boost, she’d hit for 22. The other reason she’d decided to attack during the Orc general’s meditations was for the fact that he always dismissed his hand for the duration of his quiet time. This close to the human city, he kept his hand out and on the float nearly every other waking moment. He’d have nothing to block with out of hand. One strike would empty his entire Mind Home and leave him mortally wounded. Easy pickings.
He caught sight of her as she came screaming down on top of him, and a tremor passed through her when she saw no hint of fear in his eyes. In fact, in that brief moment she could have sworn his wide, tusked mouth curved up into a tiny smile. It said I know something you don’t.
With lightning speed he reached up and pulled a card out from under his oversized Orc tongue and flipped it up into the blade’s path. It shattered against it, stealing some of its momentum and damage before it slammed into his face.
A cloud of card shards flurried forth, hiding her prey as she crouched beside him in the water, helplessly devoted and waiting to see what had happened. The shreds floated down, and her heart clenched in anger. Not a mark on him.
“A good hit, little bird,” the broad-chested creature rumbled. “I haven’t taken a blow that hard in a long time. I could almost wish you could spar with me sometime.”
“How?” Juriss growled, her voice painfully rocky from disuse. “You never have cards out when you meditate.”
He grinned around his tusks and pointed at the Chaos circling his head. “When you have a full 10, every little thing catches your senses. I smelled you in the clearing from two hundred feet back. I’ve been smelling you for months. Can’t mistake you for one of my kind, bird.”
Her mind raced. If she could just keep him talking a little longer she might recover to swing again. He was a chatty sort – the worst kind – but she could tolerate passing words for another half a minute if it saved her life and ended his. “So you hid a card under your tongue to block with.”
“An old trick, but a good one. The hidden enemy who thinks you have your defenses up might hold off, and I need all my attention on the humans now. I didn’t expect you to hit so hard, nor for you to have Precision.” He cocked his head. “Wait, it’s not Precision… all my abilities are gone.” He threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, of course. You’re the reason Yveda’s pet Spell Drinker is missing. Better to die under my blade, I assure you. You’d not want that one to get his hands on you.”
Another five seconds and she could swing again. Damn the Lumbering on this Blade. He couldn’t have more than a handful of cards left in his Mind Home; even without her Mortal Strike she’d still kill him. Just a few more seconds.
Her heart sped as Targu’Thal reached out a hand and the massive axe flew into it.
image [https://lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com/docsz/AD_4nXdjQywGnZmBT2CsAtZKdMUnD-R1ZG0xvWqUvR5iOfvuBcmxDIQJWrpmW3S-2P6-en1dOXZphHGulvk8usoIsogoLGcTogT0yfRHgadXi-Hejpmm8uKj0M1QajtQSDJvSakE4JNDxaaMq3r_SADi_CyJyi-g?key=Gsl81fBn0YrSurXs97MPVQ]
“I have given you respect for your courage and your cleverness, little bird,” he said. “Now I will grant you even more by letting you taste the edge of a worldbreaker. You join elite company today.” He gave her a bow as he stood beside her in the water, his eyes tender. “Fly free, little bird.”
The Bone Blade began to lighten in her hand, and she was suddenly able to get to her feet. “Wait,” she said.
He did not.
***
Hestorus felt a twitch of pain as he watched his daughter get split lengthwise down the center. It had been decades since he’d felt even that much, and for a long moment he considered flying down from where he now floated, high enough to see the curve of the planet, to rip Targu’Thal into pieces so small they could have floated on the wind. How dare he kill her? She’d had so much potential. He’d really thought she might have been the first to join him at Legendary.
The pang passed, and he tried very hard not to miss it. She’d been his favorite; he hadn’t lied. But sentiment came second to great purpose, and no purpose could be greater than his. Perhaps he would have the opportunity to crush the Orc at some point, but he’d only take it if the conditions were right and he knew it would advance the cause. He couldn’t allow himself to be dragged back into the small, petty comforts of things like revenge or love, no matter how much he missed the sweet glandular rush of such things.
Targu’Thal was harvesting Juriss’s cards. Hestorus turned his eyes toward the city – his city – sensing the flickering candle lights of the human souls within. They understood so little, rushing about to defend themselves, fearing their own end. Could they not see that a thousand deaths was worth a single elevation in the greater scheme of things? He’d had to work so hard behind the scenes to coax the Orcs into their uneasy alliance with the Undead and the demons, to convince them to lay siege to the city without anyone knowing he was pulling the strings. A crucible only purified precious metals if it got hot enough, and if humanity was ever to be more than a momentary blip on the grand stage of existence, they would need a very hot fire indeed. They’d come late to the game, and other players were far ahead of them.
He took one final look at a small cluster of souls huddled in the forest not all that far from where Juriss’s last moments had passed. Perhaps Hull would be the one. Unlikely, but perhaps. If not him, then another. He did not look back toward Juriss’s body. The purifying fire had to burn away the dross, no matter the cost. He would not mourn anyone who could not advance the plan.
He had plenty of children, and no more room for favorites.