The boys tracked through the night, Ezril and Olufemi directing the hunt. They moved at a slower pace, but there was always a trail to follow. When morning came, Olufemi took over, increasing the speed of the hunt.

As evening drew nearer, Olufemi slowed their pace considerably.

“Did you see how the man was begging our brother?” Takan said as they moved, all tension of last night seeming lost.

Darvi nodded. “He obviously hadn’t heard of him.”

“Or he didn’t know he was the one,” Salem added.

Takan closed the distance Ezril had slowly been creating between them and gave him a playful nudge with his shoulder.

“Have you heard the rumors, brother?” he asked.

Ezril frowned. “Yes.”

“It’s quite the tale, though,” Darvi said as they passed a birch. “In it the Tainted cast magic on you people, but you were the only one standing. Even Father Kazaril succumbed to her magic. And when she saw you wouldn’t fall prey to her skill, she sought to run but stood transfixed by your glare. And in her fear, she lost hold of her magic. That was the only reason she was caught. She was afraid of a brother of the seminary.” He turned to Ezril. “Do you know what they call it?”

It was Salem who answered. “…The tale of the brother who would not fall.”

Takan’ shoulders shook in silent laughter. “They tell it in every bar and brothel in the city.”

All of them fell silent.

Their eyes turned to Takan, even Olufemi paused his search.

Salem was the first to speak. “How do you know of the tales told in the whorehouses, brother?

Takan stopped now, a few steps ahead. He turned to face them. “Well… Y’know…” he stuttered. “The bars have whores walking around, and they always talk. I reckon I heard them talking about it once.”

Salem shook his head slowly. “Of course you did.”

Darvi shook his head too and continued after Olufemi who had already returned to the trail.

When night came, they slept without food.

………………………..

Olufemi led them before the crack of dawn. He followed the trail through the day as they tracked under the summer heat, while Ezril brought down any prey that crossed their path, from the hares burrowing into the dirt to the birds soaring the skies a little too low.

They filled their canteens anytime they came across puddles, which proved rare. The trail turned at intervals, heading east, then north. Soon they lost track of where they had begun following it.

At night, they roasted whatever meat they had, and ate before a fire. They engaged in conversations before they slept, taking hourly turns keeping watch. Ezril always kept watch during the first hour of the day, when the night was darkest.

It was in their fifth night in the forest when they found the Tainted. The light of day dimmed as the sun descended beneath the horizon.

They are close, Olufemi signed right before Darvi decided they rest for the night. We should be on them before first light.

Ezril took to the trees, travelling ahead as his brothers continued, slowed by the darkness of the night. Four miles ahead he saw light below him. A glow of yellow flickering, perhaps caused by moving bodies.

He moved closer, as quietly as he could. He made certain that the tree he moved on to was not occupied. Disturbing any birds could cause them to scatter. He could not afford to have them move before his brothers arrived.

The Tainted were seated around a fire, all nine of them, while a man stood. He was the biggest of them and, Ezril decided from how they spoke to him, the leader.

“…I still say we should keep running,” a man with a nasty scar running the length of the side of his face, cutting through a milky eye said. “Those damned priests are still chasing us.”

“Shut up, Nilm.” The big man’s voice was deep. “We been runnin’ six days. Those bastards e’en gave us a day’s start. I reckon we’ll be fine for the night.”

“Vuvuli’s right.” This from a man with a scar beside his mouth, keeping his lip in a constant scowl. “They’ll need at least another day to catch us.”

“They could have been lying,” Nilm said, panicked.

“Nah,” Vuvuli replied, beaming with confidence. “Those buggers always keep their word. ’Spose to make ‘em be’er than us. They’s wrong, though.”

Ezril couldn’t make out the man’s face. All the others had the decency to be scared, but Vuvuli and the man who had referred to him by name seemed composed.

“I still can’t believe it,” someone hidden between two men said, voice trembling. It wasn’t a man’s voice. It sounded more like a boy’s.

“Best believe it!” Vuvuli snapped. “Got themselves a Tainted, they have. Can still fill the bugger’s magic all over me skin. Knows if we still alive, that one.”

The person didn’t speak again.

Ezril tilted his head to the side to get a better view of the person. His gaze glided over the man with the permanent scowl. The next man bore a simple face, but his crooked nose spoke of a few fights. Then his gaze landed on the person. He’s just a boy. Can’t be older than fourteen.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

He heard a slight shuffle beneath the tree and looked down. His eyes met Darvi. The brother’s fingers signing slowly.

How many?

Nine, Ezril signed.

We take them when they sleep.

Ezril nodded.

They watched the men as the night grew darker, and the fire dimmer. Vuvuli spoke more than the others. He gave orders and explained what they were to do when morning came. After two hours, they stamped the fire out and fell asleep, leaving Nilma to take what Ezril assumed to be the first watch.

Pick a man, Darvi signed. Ezril unstrapped his bow, nocked an arrow, and took aim. The brothers did the same. In a heartbeat five of the men had arrows pointed at them. Ezril opted to take the watchman.

The consecutive thrum of five bowstrings filled the quiet air and the arrows cut through it. Ezril’s took the watchman in between the eyes. Takan missed his mark narrowly, his arrow digging its head in the ground. Olufemi and Salem did not miss.

“PRIESTS!” Vuvuli bellowed, catching Darvi’s arrow in his hand before it met his skull. He broke it in a single move and was gone.

The command generated a ruckus. Each man with life in him moved on what could only be considered instinct. An instant after, they scattered.

“Meet back here!” Darvi commanded, giving chase.

Ezril took aim as they ran. His arrow caught another in the neck. He whirled, bow returned to its place. Jumping passed branches, he gave pursuit of his new prey. He heard nothing in the darkness but he had no need for sound. The branches gave him clear view of the boy as he dodged trees, cutting through the forest.

Why do you chase a child? a voice asked in his head. Is this what you have become?

Banishing the thought, Ezril sprinted ahead of the boy. When he dropped to the ground, he landed in front of him. The boy staggered to a stop, falling to the dirt. He scampered backwards, pulling himself along the dirt.

Ezril stalked forward as the scars on his back itched. Will you become a murderer? Will you take the life of a child?

“Be quiet!” Ezril hissed. He hadn’t intended on speaking the words but it was too late to draw them back. The boy retreated farther until his back met with a tree. Panic glazed his eyes.

The itch in his back was rising to a crescendo.

What was his crime? What did they tell you he did? his mind tortured him. Killed? Murdered? Do you think a child like him is capable of such?

Everyone is capable of such, Ezril answered. The Scorned be damned! I grew up in the Underbelly!

…And that makes what you’re about to do right?... Just?... Because you do it in the name of the Credo?

The boy whimpered where he sat. The tremble in his shoulders was visible. His eyes were fixed on Ezril.

I will be a priest of Truth, Ezril argued. I will do what is required of me. His body grew heavy with guilt. His muscles ached. He could feel his shoulders drooping slowly. He could feel the tiring touch of what he was about to do, of how it would change him.

You will kill a child? the voice asked. You will kill this child?

By Truth! what would you have me do?!

Ezril looked at the boy’s face. He was frightened, afraid of him. Tears streamed down his eyes. In this moment, Ezril thought being able to see in the dark a curse.

You haven’t taken a life, yet, the voice said. It’s not too late. You don’t have to become a murderer.

Ezril frowned. I don’t?

No, you—

His Sunder came free.

–don’t…

Ezril watched the boy’s eyes grow wide with shock, not fear, as their faces met.

“How?” the boy whispered, his words drowning in blood dripping from his mouth.

Ezril pushed his Sunder deeper into the boy’s abdomen and watched him cough up more blood. The Sunder was so wide that it pierced a line running vertically up the boy’s abdomen to crack the center of his rib. When Ezril spoke, the words slithered through his lips, wretched with malice. Whether it was intended for himself or the boy, he didn’t know.

“You don’t know me,” Ezril spat. “You don’t know what I am. You are just a child playing with a toy. You have no idea what power is.”

The boy’s eyes focused on Ezril’s, growing wider. “You…” his voice was barely above a whisper.

Yes, Ezril thought, saddened that this was now his life as the itch in his scar slowly died out. This is what fear feels like, child…

The boy had so comfortably used his magic, corrupting Vayla, killing her more. There had been no remorse in his eyes as he had manipulated Ezril’s mind. He had lied and weaseled his way in Ezril’s mind while he carried out the most blatantly theatrical act of fear on his face.

What he did, he did knowingly and intentionally.

“I have killed and caused death,” Ezril continued. “Some innocent… But you, child, are not one of them.”

Ezril watched the life leave the boys eyes as he died. Then he pulled his Sunder free and swung it in an arch, ridding it of blood.

He stood for a while, staring down at the corpse before him. His mind was clearer now. The touch of guilt he’d felt moments ago was nowhere to be found. Like Jazabil, the boy had used his magic to affect his mind. Ezril found he was beginning to hate the intrusion more than he’d thought.

He pulled the boy’s body, heading to where he was to meet with his brothers, his Sunder still in hand. He spared the boy a brief glance as he dragged him, studying him.

Perhaps he might have been twelve, he thought.

Olufemi was waiting when he arrived. A few minutes later Takan arrived, carrying a body over his shoulder. He dropped it to reveal the man with the scar at his mouth. By the tenth minute Salem arrived, pulling his prey, his lips pressed in a thin line. It was an hour before Darvi came, dragging Vuvuli. He bore injuries, and bled from a cut in his side, and his lips were set in an annoyed scowl.

“Don’t ask,” he said, tossing the body in the pile they had made.

Ezril began sheathing his Sunder when he stopped himself. He drew the second one, drawing the eyes of his brothers, and stabbed both Sunders into the dirt.

Takan’ brows drew together in confusion. “What’s that about?” he asked.

“Just something I saw a priest do once,” Ezril answered.

Darvi surveyed the pile, counting the bodies. “Takan,” he said. “Go and bring the man with the birds.”

Takan frowned.

“We need all the bodies to pass the test!” Darvi snapped, sheathing his Sunder.

Ezril turned to Olufemi. “Which way is it, brother?”

Olufemi pointed east.

“He knows the way,” Takan began. “So why do I have to—”

Darvi rounded on him and shoved him against a tree. “You will do as I have asked, or none of us will pass this test.”

“That’s rather less than tolerable, brother,” Salem said simply. “You can make your threats, but it would do you best to keep your rage aside. It has nothing to do with any of the living.”

Takan shrugged Darvi off and walked off in the direction of the body. “Your cassock is in ruins,” he told him. Then he used the Hallowed step, and he was gone.

Salem looked at Ezril and brought his hand up to his cheek. Ezril touched his and his hand came away with blood. It wasn’t his own. Still, he frowned, ignoring it as the day broke into first light.

They’d used a week to hunt their preys and had killed them in a single night. In a way it was disturbing as much as it was impressive.

Takan returned when the sun began to set. He carried a decaying body. A frown marred his face, his nose pinched against the smell of decay.

“He wasn’t far,” he said, dropping the body of the first man they had killed among the remaining corpses.

They started a fire. In an hour the bodies burned, filling the air with the smell of burnt flesh.

Father Talod came for them at the break of dawn. They sat around the bodies as he strolled up to them clad in his black cassock, hands clasped behind his back.

“I see you saw it fit to use the entire week,” he said, looking at Ezril. “I almost thought you would all fail.” His gaze swiveled to Olufemi immediately. “Snarling won’t stop me from saying what has to be said to whoever I wish to say it to, boy.”

Olufemi grit his teeth in silence.

“However,” Talod continued. “You have passed the test of the hunt. And now, we are to return to the seminary.”

“…And the bodies?” Darvi asked as they rose.

Father Talod waved a dismissive hand.

“Leave them. This is the price they pay.”