“When a wounded monster is cornered, pray that you have more will and strength than them. Because if you don’t, they’ll climb over your corpse to get out.”
- Professor Boaz Redmoor
Kaelin’s cloak billowed across a nearby barrel as he swept through the dark alley. The moist wind cut into his cheeks as he ran. They had found him. The incessant Orions never knew when to give up, not that he was much better. And if he was being honest, he refined that inherent trait in himself when under their tutelage. It was one of the few lessons those bastards had instilled that he didn’t despise.
“There he is!” A gravelly voice called out, winded. “Cut him off, Drako!”
Kaelin bit off a curse at the mention of that thing’s name. He was the reason his diversions had been ruined, and why Kaelin sported brutal marks along his wrists and neck.
“Freaking Drako,” Kaelin spat again, and he tugged his cloak closer to his body. The alley he was running up ended abruptly. Good, Kaelin thought. With a twist of his wrist he unsheathed his short sword and cut across the air in a vertical slice near the length of his body. Reality was rendered apart and Kaelin jumped in without hesitation. The abrasion in the cosmos mended itself almost as quickly as Thea’s brother ripped it apart.
The world turned prismatic, but with a heavy leaning toward shades of violet. Sounds grew watery and distant as Kaelin halted briefly in what now vaguely looked like the alley he just exited. He had seen someone in Halistair’s central marketplace display oil paints. The artist had used some strange combination of the liquid and heat to cause the colors to slowly ripple across the blank canvas like oil through water. His world now looked very much like that effect. It was beautiful. He would never admit that, but he enjoyed the otherworldly sight of this space between reality.
But he couldn’t linger. Already, he could feel the pressure building as this realm felt his presence and now sought to squeeze him back out of it. He had to be quick. His lungs tightened. His vision started to go red. If he didn’t choose an exit for this kaleidoscopic realm to thrust him out of, he would undoubtedly die. Mortals like him weren’t designed for this space. Even Zengos, like the one he’d acquired the enchantment from to even enter this space, weren’t resilient enough to linger here.
Kaelin glanced about and noted that indeed Drako was on his heels. The thick red and steel chains that were tipped with shackles ran around his bulky forearms. In his Orion blacks, the burly warrior cut the figure of a demon fresh out of the sixth hell. His eyes burned red as his strange connection to those chains ignited.
“Too late, you big oaf,” Kaelin said with a grin. Kaelin cut again, visualizing the space above the alley just above the rooftop. It ripped open like taut cloth under a razor’s edge. The prismatic realm spat him out in a wild rush of motion and sound returned all at once. Kaelin was used to this, thank Coldor, otherwise, his meager breakfast would’ve rained down on his enemies. That image brought a smile to Kaelin’s lips, which he allowed. Instead, he settled for a light jab.
“Careful, Drako!” He called out with a dirt-eating grin. “I wouldn’t want you to get lost in that dead-end. I know there’s so many options to choose from, so don’t get overwhelmed when figuring out how to get out of there.”
Drako growled in frustration and glared up at Kaelin.
“You’re getting sloppy, boy. Soon, my chains will drag you back to where you belong.” The tanned brute snapped up at him.
“Where’s that, you oversized golem? Prison? Alaric’s personal torture chamber? I wouldn’t be his usual type, but I bet he’s used to branching out when the pickings are slim.” Kaelin retorted with venom born of a betrayal that still stung whenever he thought of it.
Alaric…That bastard…
“No,” Drako replied smoothly. “The grave.”
Chains burst out from the tiled rooftop where Kaelin stood, each snaking for his ankles. Surprise made him hesitate, but experience moved his body before his mind could catch up. He threw himself backward into a flip, aided by his Featherweight boots. He landed lightly on his feet farther up the slope of the roof and scoffed, partially to mask his embarrassment at getting caught off guard.
“You know, Drako? I wish you were on the right side of this war. It really is a pain going up against you. Care to learn the truth and realize why you and your lot are going to kill us all?” Kaelin knew this ploy wouldn’t work, but he had to try. He had developed an unhealthy respect for this odd Orion. Kaelin had never even heard of the brooding man until he first encountered him at his inn the other night. But since then, he had been relentless. Kaelin respected that. He hated him for it, sure, but he could admire the tenacity even if it was misguided.
All of these Orions were. Seven hells, the entire Hunter Association was born on lies.
Kaelin didn’t doddle further when Drako merely cursed at him and began to climb the three story building like it was a mild inconvenience. He was a wraith as he flew across adjoining rooftops. The dense city of Bronsworth was many things, but ‘spread out’ was not one of them. He easily found a route that brought him deeper into the bowels of the city. He activated his Featherweight boots for the second time and used them to drift safely to the packed streets below. He landed in an alley and was about to enter the thralls of lowborn citizens when he felt a tiny ping of energy. He pulled out the stone in question—one of many across the inner pockets of his belt. This one, he knew, belonged to that Cloak, Bartholomew. Anxiety flooded his veins at the sight of it. There were only a few reasons Barty would risk communicating with him. He waited, feeling as much as seeing the faint blue pulses in the densely etched stone. He mentally recorded and translated the pulses in the language all Cloaks were forced to memorize.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Intervened.
Prince safe.
Sister fell.
Assumed dead.
Kaelin held the stone even after it went dark. His hands began to tremble. He couldn’t decipher which emotion he felt more: rage at Barty for letting this happen, or sorrow at losing his sister. He knew the Hunt wasn’t safe. He even knew, thanks to his spies, that Thea had made some enemies in her vain attempts at getting stronger to help him.
But if she was dead…
“Oy! There he is!” A man called from behind him. Kaelin turned to see three Orions he didn’t recognize enter the alley he had slipped down into. They each bore signature weapons the ex-Orion was sure they believed would help them. How wrong they were. Kaelin drew his sword again, approaching them with a slow, meticulous gait.
“I know that none of you are my enemy,” Kaelin started smoothly.
“What is he on about?” A middle-aged female elf asked her compatriots?
“Chain and detain, alright team?” the dwarf in the front asked. His allies nodded their heads and moved forward.
“I get that you’re just doing your jobs,” Kaelin continued like they hadn’t spoken. “But I just found out my sister just died, so I need an outlet lest I blow up this city, alright?” He made eye contact with them, and they halted in their steps.
“What did he just—”
“Blow up a city? Is he insane? Can he even do that?”
“I think we need backu–”
Kaelin didn’t give them any sign of his movements. One second, he was in front of them. The next, his blade stuck out of the throat of their leader. He didn’t even need to his blade’s primary enchantment.
“I’m really sorry about this, but it’s either you three or a bunch of actually innocent people.” Kaelin whispered intimately. His blade exited the dwarf and found purchase through the elf’s armor in another blink of the eye. The remaining elf, male by the looks of his eyes and square jaw, backed up in horror at the slaughter taking place in front of him.
“Please! Spare me!” He screamed. A few people looked into the alley at his outburst, but Kaelin picked this side of town for a reason. No one would stick their necks out for anyone else around here.
“We both know if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t have hesitated to torture and deface me just for what I might know. So please, die with honor.” Kaelin replied, his voice as cold as his heart felt at that moment. The elf looked ready to cry or plea further, but then resolve settled in his gaze. He stood up tall, hands firmly clasped around the hilt of his rapier.
“Do it,” the elf whispered. Kaelin was briefly taken aback at the man’s quiet resilience, and all of his icy fury was dispelled in an instant. Bile drew up his throat at what he had just done, but now it was too late. He needed to tie off loose ends.
With more meaning this time, Kaelin repeated: “I’m sorry.”
He gave the elf a quick, painless death. Then, wiping his blade on one of the Orion’s black uniforms, he exited the alleyway and did his best to forget what just happened. He had more important issues to deal with now. Namely, he needed to go pay a certain Cloak a visit that only one of them would be leaving.
***
Barty cursed in the melodic language of the tieflings for the third time in as many heartbeats.
“Let go of me, you dung-encrusted lowborn!” Prince James yelled in vain as Barty continued to drag him deeper into the forest. While they were still in the second fold, they were far too close to the border of the third fold for his taste.
“Fine!” Bartholomew eventually yelled when they were far enough away from that bloodfest. He unceremoniously tossed the young princeling at the trunk of a tree. He could still faintly hear the clangs of swords and the cries of the wounded. He didn’t need to look back to know that Charles’ kid was going to slaughter every single one of his opponents. He was almost as good as Kaelin, and that was without years of experience and training.
By the time he graduates, that boy is going to be a menace, Barty surmised internally. His attention returned to the present as Prince James grunted in pain, his claws raised above his crotch. As the two men watched, the slowly encroaching crystal of Thea’s attack crawled up his nether regions. He had seconds now before the poison reached his more vital organs.
“Best do it now, your Highness. I’d hate to take a corpse home.” Barty snorted when the prince cursed at him. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he gouged out his own flesh. The boy screamed and rolled around on the ground, cursing Thea like she was Coldor himself reincarnated to haunt him. Prince James bled profusely from his uneven wound, and while Barty did not sympathize for the psychopath, he knew his orders. Save him once, then let him be. Reluctantly, he retrieved one of his few remaining healing cloths and tossed it to the writhing boy.
“Take it, your Highness. It should stop the bleeding.”
“I will make her family bleed for this,” James vowed darkly as he snatched the precious healing device and consumed its single charge. Relief barely tainted the young man’s venomous expression.
“Good luck,” Barty replied before he could stop himself. He could just imagine what that bastard Kaelin would do once he learned of James’ involvement in his sister’s death. It didn’t matter if James even went through official channels as a prince to enact his petty vengeance. Kaelin would absolutely destroy him.
Barty knew from hard experience that once that monster got you in his sights, nothing and no one was too steep a price to pay. He was as relentless as the surges themselves, and twice as deadly, if that was possible.
“Take me from this place. And get that Zengo monster material for me,” Prince James commanded Barty. The middle-aged Cloak turned to the prince with a baffled expression. He started to chuckle. It started as a huff, but quickly escalated to an all-out belly laugh. “What? You dare mock me? Me?! A prince of Valoria? I should have you flogged for your insolence, you lowborn piece of—”
“I’ll stop you right there, your Royal Highness,” Barty raised a hand and surprisingly, the boy halted in his tirade. “You don’t seem to appreciate the situation you’re in. You overstepped, boy.” Barty took a menacing step forward where James was still clutching the healing cloth to what remained of his reproductive organs. “Whoever has been covering up for you has decided you’re not worth the cost. My orders were to save you once, then leave you to whomever or whatever wanted a taste of royal flesh. I would say that I hoped you didn’t make many enemies during this Hunt, but we both know that’s not true. Goodbye, your Highness.”
Barty walked away.
“Wait! What?! Who?! I demand you return here and answer me! Stop! STOP!” James protested, but it fell on deaf ears. Shamelessly, Barty hoped his commotion would draw the curiosity of the local fauna. For Bartholomew had far more dangerous predators to worry about now. He knew that the second he sent that message to Kaelin, his days would be numbered unless he made some serious progress on their other project. With a sigh that barely contained his stress and worries, Barty disappeared into the forest, adamant on not letting Kaelin kill another corrupt Cloak, especially him. Quietly, he tucked away the silver chain that bore an amulet he’d seen only two other times, and both were worn by the Shade siblings.