The merciless sun lanced down on the rocky, mountainous terrain of northern Kelahk without any clouds to provide cover to the people, monsters, or nature below. Two long mountain ridges wound and spiked for miles on end in parallel, looking like the bones of some long-dead titanic serpent that nature had merely reclaimed after some calamity struck the beast down. The forest of emerald-green trees that covered the mountains sported large patches and streaks of unnatural pale grey that ruined the vista. As if some mould was sweeping through the area, draining all that it touched of colour—and perhaps life.
Nestled in one of the serpent’s lower, winding kinks was a small village of a few dozen buildings, thin wisps of smoke curling above the canopy as if signalling its existence to the hunting party that surveyed it. A small palisade of sharpened tree trunks stood erect around the village; no small feat given how few people seemed to live in the area. The distant sound of trees crashing drew the group’s attention, their tension releasing only somewhat when the falls occurred in rhythmic intervals. With the possible threat dismissed for the moment, they allowed their senses to take in the immediate surroundings: the burbling of the river their boat followed, the lush scents of the forest’s undergrowth, the clacking of wooden weapons, and the grunting of two warriors sparring.
“Is that it?” Gazno asked, his deep voice pinched as he squinted hard towards the little village, a huge hand shielding his eyes from the sun and the sweat running down his forehead. A full kitahm, he was shaped like a human but towered over and outgirthed them even without his iron scale armour on. A large iron shield sat beside him on the boat as he leaned over the prow for a better look, his free hand resting on the head of the crow-bill he kept as a weapon.
“Aye,” Jax replied from beside him, taking another puff from his smoking pipe. The older man was tall for a human, but was dwarfed by his companion. Where Gazno was swollen with muscles, Jax was wiry; where Gazno was heavily armed and armoured in iron, Jax preferred a light padded jack, bow, and hunting knives crafted from the hides and parts of monsters; where Gazno was young and unmarred, Jax’s many years in the Hunter Corps had toughened his tattooed skin into a scarred, leathery hide.
A short, stout man crashed beside them with a shouted curse and the jangling of heavy armour, making Gazno jump. The giant’s arms wheeled as his body threatened to tip into the water, but, blowing out a ring of smoke, Jax grabbed the back of the giant’s weapon harness and shifted his weight to pull the yelping Gazno back onto the river boat. The old man took another puff from his pipe as if nothing had happened.
“Seven protect,” Gazno breathed, turning to the person on the ground next to him, “you nearly killed me!”
“Shaya nearly killed me!” Pelark retorted, stabbing a finger at her as she approached.
“I guess we’ll call it there,” Shaya said, smiling down at her defeated opponent. She clasped his forearm and helped him up, a manacle and chain made entirely of hardened light still attached to his leg. “You were doing well until I tripped you with my spell.”
“I didn’t realize your casting had gotten so fast!” Pelark said.
“Oh, it hasn’t. I drew in the aether before we started sparring. You really shouldn’t have let me invoke my esper before the match started.”
“Th-that’s cheating!” Pelark fumed, grabbing his practice sword from the boat’s deck.
“Always cheat, always win,” she laughed, clapping him on the back. “The only unfair fight is the fight you lose.”
The smaller man snorted. “Have you no honour?”
“Of course,” she retorted. “When it comes to the values I uphold, I’ll go to any lengths to keep them unassailable! Wouldn’t you do the same for anything you believed in, when it came down to it?”
“No, of course not! A person is their honour!”
Shaya shrugged. “That’s between you and the gods, then. But the God of Justice and Honour hasn’t smitten me to ash yet.”
“Oh, she’ll get to you and your wicked ways soon enough,” Lorral chimed from the back of the boat, where the woman steered it. The family resemblance between her and Jax was unmistakable, even including similar full-body tattoos.
“Unlikely,” a gravelly voice cut in. “Astoria is also the God of Wisdom and War, she values insight and cunning in battle as much as courage and loyalty.”
“See?” Shaya gestured to her arms master. “If Krebo and I agree on something, it must be true.”
Krebo gave her an unamused quirk of his brow before responding. “You shouldn’t cheat so lightly, however. Garnering that reputation devalues it as a strategy, and it is often something that only works against an opponent once.”
“Duly noted, Arms Master,” Shaya replied with a grin. “If only more of your advice encouraged cheating…”
Krebo ignored her provocation and addressed Jax instead. “How long until we reach the village?”
“A few hours at most,” the scout replied.
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“Good, plenty of time to teach my apprentice some humility,” Krebo said, a hint of a smile flickering across his face.
“Do you think that’s a good idea, given that we’re investigating monster sightings here?” Shaya replied, a hint of pleading entering her voice as she continued, “Maybe you could teach me how to better use my Amber magic instead?”
“Magic isn’t always the answer, I don’t want you to become too reliant on it. Sometimes martial skill can get the job done better, and faster. Especially since you’ll be lagging so far behind your peers,” Krebo replied, emphasizing the last point without malice. “Besides, I’m sure the bruises will heal by the time we reach the village. If not, anyone brave enough—or stupid enough—to live this far from reclaimed territory will have poultice we can get you while we’re there. Or Lorral can practice her Jade magic on you.”
Shaya sighed, but the rest of her company chuckled at the pain she was about to endure.
+++++
The trail of blood and monstrous, clawed tracks led deeper and deeper into the forests of Serpent’s Pass, and the hunting party followed, walking under an emerald canopy dotted with patches of pallid, dead leaves. The usual scents and sounds of the forest were completely absent, with only the metallic tang of blood filling the air.
“Thank the gods for this shade,” Shaya said, massaging one of the bruises Krebo had given her during their sparring. “Jax, do you think this is still the trail of the monsters that attacked the village?”
“Aye,” the squad’s scout grunted from where he crouched, one hand keeping his bow out of the way. “But come take a look at this, boss.”
Shaya planted her halberd and took a knee next to the archer, her armour and weapon harness rustling.
“Do you know what this belongs to?” Jax pointed to a muddy track with a thick, knobby finger, his many years in the Hunter Corps having toughened his tattooed skin into a scarred, leathery hide.
She frowned down at the new track, sizing it up against her big hand. The track was bigger by a wide margin, but not particularly deep despite the rich, soft soil found in the forest here. “It’s feline, but too big to be a tiger.” She looked ahead a few feet, her frown deepening when she noticed the tracks left by huge talons. “Oh, damn.”
Jax nodded as they both moved forward to examine the talon marks. Blood soaked into the earth around them, but it was darker than the rest of the trail they followed. The large number of wolf tracks made it difficult to pick out the feline or talon tracks, and it even looked as if something had been dragged over the trail as well.
“Oh, damn,” Shaya cursed again.
Jax grunted.
“The villagers didn’t mention being attacked by a corrupt gryphon, did they?”
“They didn’t.”
“Well then,” Shaya smiled as she rose back to her full height, “with any luck, these beasts ran straight into a gryphon that did our job for us then. We need to be on alert though, wild gryphons are known to be very territorial. Not that the tamed ones aren’t…”
Jax grunted. “You missed a few things though. These tracks,” he gestured around them, “one of the drag marks is older, the blood around it dried out and sporadic. The gryphon tracks are newer than that, but slightly older than the ones that attacked the village—the blood around those talon tracks is congealed, not fresh. There’s another critical thing you missed.” The scout nodded as the gryphon tracks continued ahead.
Shaya thought about it a moment and nodded. “Why do the gryphon tracks continue along the ground? They normally hunt prey from the air, even if they are looking to eradicate a hostile pack in their territory.”
“Aye, good catch.”
She barely heard Jax over the rattling of armour, as her bodyguard moved closer to her, holding his flanged mace and pavise at the ready. “Stay close, my lady. This assignment is even more dangerous than we thought.”
“Krebo,” she glared at him, “I told you not to call me that. And how am I supposed to swing a polearm with you so close?”
He glared back at her, defiant. “I’m pretty sure I taught you how to thrust with a polearm too, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Indeed, I’m pretty sure you taught me how to defend myself—or do you doubt your teaching abilities, Arms Master?”
The older man snorted, an odd sound through his crooked nose. “I’m more worried about how well you absorbed my teachings with that thick head of yours.”
“Funny how you only show this concern when we’re in the field, and how that overrides the importance you taught me of using every end of this thing effectively.” She pointed with her chin up at the head of her weapon, a combination of spear-tip, axe-head, and war-pick.
He rolled his eyes at her, but relented. “Fine, I guess I’ll trust in your skills. This time.”
“When have I ever given you cause for concern?” she asked with as much innocence as she could muster—but dripped only sarcasm.
The others chuckled, but Krebo’s blond eyebrows rose at her without amusement. He wasn’t the one to answer her though.
“There was the time you misidentified animal tracks and led us into a troop of monkeys. They chased us out of their territory, throwing shit at us the whole time.”
She turned to Jax with a look of shock and betrayal on her face. “That was my first mission! Two years ago!”
“How about that time when you were losing that drinking contest to the foreign merc, and punched him out?” Lorral asked in her lilting alto.
“I wasn’t losing, we were clearly tied. And the rules didn’t stipulate it wasn’t a full contact drinking contest.”
“Uh-huh,” the woman replied. “Well, his buddies disagreed and that was quite the brawl you started.”
“Which we also won,” Shaya insisted. “I threw one punch that turned into two victories—that’s efficiency!”
“I’m with Shaya on that one,” Gazno stated, the big, broad man walking with his heavy shield and crow-bill at the ready. “He and his band deserved it too, the way they insulted our people. Bumpkins, ha! Gave them some bumps, we did!”
“Thank you, Gazno, at least someone here knows the meaning of loyalty and justice.”
The man’s grin turned treacherous. “But let’s not forget the time she rushed toward a scream in the forest, ready to smite beasts only to find—”
“Oh, you traitor,” Shaya interrupted, but her face flushed red. “Why do I put up with being the victim all the time?”
“I’m pretty sure the real victims were the young couple you stumbled upon…” Pelark finished, grinning as he walked along using his boar-spear like a walking stick.
As they followed the trail, the rest of her squad joined in on the fun, and Shaya was forced onto the back foot—parrying and deflecting what she insisted were lies and slander from all directions.