Uncle Maveric laughed and squeezed me tight. “Ah, my little warrior princess! You get prettier every time I see you! Are there any boys sniffing around that I need to kill?”
I laughed. There might have been a couple of possible boys back in Garden City, but right now… “Ah, no. We just moved here, remember?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Maveric patted the back of my head and let go. “And that’s a good thing. You aren’t allowed to date until you’re thirty, remember?”
I rolled my eyes. “Uncle, there’s a few things more important than romance right now, you know? Why don’t you get married instead? You’re way past thirty.”
Uncle laughed. As he moved, the sun winked on a small pearl half embedded in his right temple. “No smart woman would be interested in these old bones.” He turned and changed the subject like an expert. “Micah! Good god, boy! You get bigger every time I see you.”
Micah threw himself at our uncle for a heavy hug. “I missed you, Uncle Maveric.”
He gave an exaggerated ‘ump’ on impact and patted Micah on the back. “Getting stronger every time I see you, too. That’s wonderful.”
Dad walked over to slap Maveric on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you again.”
Uncle reached out and pulled Dad into a one armed hug, even though Dad was taller. “If I knew you were going to get to town this early, I would have gone to meet you at the house. When did you roll in?”
“We got to the house around eight,” I said.
Dad waved his hand. “It was getting late, so I thought we’d spend a quiet night home then come see you.”
“By quiet, you mean slaving away unpacking a truck?” Micah muttered.
Dad cleared his throat and continued to talk to Maveric, as if Micah didn’t talk at all. “I didn’t think you’d be in your work clothes already, Uncle.”
He chuckled. “Ah, well, inspiration sparked late last night and I couldn’t sleep. The metal is still in the smelting process, so there’s nothing to see yet. You’ll have to wait a couple days.” He paused. “So you spent the night at the house. Do you like it?” Maveric asked everyone, but he was watching me out of the corner of his eyes.
My mouth twitched to the side. I appreciated that everyone was worried about me, but I hated being treated like a piece of crumbling glass. I grinned hard. “It’s wonderful. Thanks!”
Micah and Dad chimed in, giving their positive opinions.
Maveric nodded, easily accepting our thoughts. “That’s good, that’s good.” He clapped his hands together. “Since you’re all here, I take it you want a tour of the forge, right?” He grinned with pride. “A little peek at your Moore family legacy?”
My stomach jumped like it was Christmas morning. “Yes!”
“Oh, yeah!” Micah yelled and craned his head to peer through the dark roll-up door.
Maveric chuckled and looped his arms around our shoulders. “Then my heirs should see their kingdom, right?”
I hugged him around the waist. “Geez, aren’t you being a little corny?”
“Nope. I’m just happy. It’s been too long since I last saw my babies.” He looked down at me and Micah, then pointily looked at Dad. “All of you.”
Dad’s mouth wrinkled in an exasperated smile. “Says the man who will outlive me.” There was no bitterness in his tone as he stated a fact of life.
Hunters lived longer than normal humans. Their bodies naturally healed themselves at a faster rate than a human, and part of their regenerating abilities actually slowed the effects of aging. The higher the Hunter was ranked, from E as the lowest through A at the highest, the slower they aged.
Uncle Maveric was an A ranked mage Hunter. He was an A ranked Hunter during the Hunter Era. Even after the portals to the other dimension – the Gates – disappeared and all Hunter’s powers were cut in half, he still stayed as an A ranked Hunter when the strength test was re-evaluated. Which is why Maveric was pushing seventy years old, but he looked the same age as my dad, who was in his mid-forties. Technically, he was my great uncle, the brother of Dad’s father.
Uncle Maveric and Grandpa Moore were both Hunters during the Hunter era. After the Gates closed, Grandpa Moore – who was originally an E Hunter – was reduced to a normal human while Uncle Maveric stayed a Hunter. My dad never manifested as a Hunter.
Every new birth was a guessing game. It didn’t matter if no parents, one parent, or both parents were Hunters, there was a thirty percent chance of any off-spring would be a Hunter. Unfortunately, that ability didn’t manifest until they Awakened at seventeen or eighteen years old. Hunters were divided into two types, mage or melee. Mages, obviously, could wield magic and were either healers or fighters – never both. Melee Hunters were physically enhanced and usually best suited for close combat.
As amazing as Hunters are, they had a few drawbacks. The most glaring one was: Hunters had a very low fertility rate. After the Gates closed, Hunters made up almost half of Earth’s population. And a third of every new generation were Hunters. Which was why, even after thirty-five years since the near apocalypse, Earth’s population numbers were still so low and we hadn't fully bounced back technologically speaking yet either. There’s simply not enough people on Earth to fill the gaps left over from all the damage. With the high mortality rate because of all the monsters loose in the wild, each birth was important.
Maveric never had kids. He was married at some point, but she left before I was born. She wanted a big family, and he couldn’t give that to her. Instead, Maveric threw all his attention and love onto Dad and helped my widower Grandpa Moore raise him. When me and Micah came along, he loved us just as hard.
Maveric hummed under his breath, not denying Dad’s words. “I might outlive you, Beau, but these kids will outlive me.” He tapped Micah’s and my shoulders. “I guarantee it.” He smiled into my wide eyes. “You have been tested already, right?” He looked at my right temple, which was smooth, unlike his.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I got tested a couple days ago, but I didn’t register with the Hunter’s Association yet.” With the move and everything, I wanted to wait just a bit.
“And you didn’t call me?” Maveric admonished. “I’m hurt, Ria.”
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I blushed and looked at the ground. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
That was only half of the reason. The main part was because I hadn’t figured out a way to tell him. Uncle Maveric was a great man. An A mage Hunter who had done a lot of good things for the world during and after the Hunter era.
I tested as an E melee Hunter. E’s were the lowest Hunter rank, barely more than a human. As cool as it was to be a Hunter, I was disappointed. That one letter ‘E’ might ruin my future plans. And I didn’t want Maveric, my idol, to be disappointed in me, too. Not to mention, since there was such a difference in our ranks, even though he was fifty years older than me, I might actually die of old age before Maveric did.
“Hang on,” Micah cut into our conversation. “What do you mean, I’ll outlive you too? I’m a Hunter?” His blue eyes nearly exploded with excitement.
“There’s no way to tell yet,” Dad added.
Uncle Maveric shook his head. “I've been around long enough and know my business well enough, I can already tell. This boy will be a Hunter.” He patted Micah on the shoulder. “Which is good, since you still want to learn weaponsmithing, correct?”
Micah nodded like a bobble head.
“Good, good.” Uncle Maveric looked at me. “And you’re a mage, correct? I bet you’re quite strong.”
I paused and nearly missed a step. “Ah, no. I’m a melee, E ranked.”
He frowned and examined me closely. “Are you sure their testing stone wasn’t broken?”
I bit my lips and shook my head. “The stone turned blue, not red. There isn’t any magic in me.”
He hummed long and low. “Maybe.”
I looked up at him carefully. I couldn’t see even the slightest wrinkle of disappointment in his face. Just open curiosity. “Why would you think I had magic?” Although I could see magic, unlike most melee Hunters, I couldn’t use it. If there was even a drop of magic in me, the huge clear, egg-shaped testing stone would have turned red, and I would be classified as a mage. But it didn’t. It barely even turned melee blue.
“Intuition,” Uncle Maveric simply said and we stepped into the forge.
Instantly the smell of hot metal, sweat and oil intensified. It looked dark from the outside, it was actually bright inside. There were a handful of people inside the large, open building. A huge black furnace as wide as a truck stood on the right side of the room, rumbling and crackling like a volcano. It wasn’t until I looked at it harder that I realized it wasn't just black. Tiny sparkles winked on the metal, like stars in the night, the telltale indication that magic stone and monster byproducts were mixed with the metal.
A man and woman stood by the open furnace, hammering at hot metal. Every time their hammers hit the red metal, bright red sparks jumped into the air. Their faces were flushed in heat, but they didn’t look uncomfortable. Probably because of the cooling magic that was laced into the leather clothes they wore. The dagger-length metal the woman pounded on also gleamed with magic, while it looked like the man was working with normal metal. Another man stood by the furnace, peering in as if he was watching something. Was there metal being smelted in there? The furnace was big enough that it could fit a lot of activity at one time.
A dozen work tables sat on the left side of the forge floor. A couple tables were set up like a jewelry craft station beside organized shelving full of precious gems and strings of expensive metals. A woman stood next to one of the tables, delicately designing a gorgeous handle. A handful of tables were surrounded by heavy crafting and forging tools. Another man stood next to one of the tables, grinding away at a black and red broadsword.
The rest of the tables were next to racks full of monster bits – like Fire Lizard Fangs, containers of Giant Centipede venom, and a Frost Giant’s toenail. Things like that. These items were matched with the appropriate metal and smelted together to make weapons. If done right, the magical properties from the monster will be transferred to the weapon – a skill that my uncle excelled at.
The Moores have been armorers for generations, going back hundreds of years. When guns took the place as the main weapon of choice by the world, the Moore family ancestral knowledge was reduced to ‘toy’ makers and collection fillers. Then the Gates opened up and monsters spilled out. The monsters couldn’t be killed by any weapon currently on Earth – they could only be killed by Hunters wielding weapons made with monster parts.
Ten years later, my uncle became one of the most respected armorers in America, and my grandpa was in charge of supplies and inventory. Now Dad managed inventory and the business side of the stores in Boulder and Garden City.
Uncle Maveric brought us deeper into the forge. “The number one rule in the forge is, don’t touch Becky. She has a vicious temper and inflicts it on anyone who gets too close.”
I glanced around, eyeing the few women in the room. Would Micah be safe hanging around women like that? Before I could ask, my brother beat me to it.
“Who’s Becky?” he asked.
Uncle Maveric pulled us to a stop and motioned to the huge furnace fifteen feet away. “That’s Becky. I love that girl, but she hates everyone with a passion.” He smiled at his own joke then grew serious. “All fun and games aside, you aren’t ever allowed to touch her. The people who work around her are wearing special gear to prevent them from being burned, but the forge is thousands of degrees hot. You can’t feel it right now because there’s magic around her, directing most of the excess heat up through the chimney.” He pointed along the tall tube up the ceiling.
“What’s that guy doing?” Micah pointed at the man peering into the furnace.
Uncle Maveric sighed with exasperation. “A client commissioned me to make magic bullets. Specifically ones that work on ghost type monsters. It’s not cost effective, but she insisted.”
I nodded, understandingly. Unlike when the Gated first appeared, monsters could be killed by bullets now. At least, the monsters that were C ranked and lower. Any higher than that, and the monsters were usually too fast to hit them with a bullet. Not to mention, once a bullet was shot, it was used. When you were out of bullets, you were left with a useless gun. At least most arrows were sturdy enough to retrieve and use again. That’s why ninety-five percent of Hunters still preferred medieval weapons. A sword never runs out of blade. If it does, you’re dead anyway.
Uncle Maveric gave us a tour of the forge, showing us all the steps of making weapons. After that he took us to the large storage room on the left of the forge floor. Inside was filled with hundreds of weapons – swords, spears, knives, daggers, bows and arrows. The forge was like Santa’s workshop. But these, these were the presents under the Christmas tree.
My eyes widened at the sight of all the eye-candy. “They’re beautiful!” I gasped. As cool as the forge was, this room blew it out of the water. Giddy bubbles burst in my chest as I picked up the closest sword.
I shifted the sword around and watched the overhead light gleam on the two-toned blade. That was one thing that made monster-based metals so neat. The monster part changed the colors of the metal and when it was done, the pattern weld on the blades were two or three colors swirled together. I put the sword down and looked up. Instantly my eyes locked on the large bow display on the far wall. Eagerly, I walked over to it.
Uncle Maveric rested his hand on Micah’s shoulder. “Well, what do you think? This is what you’re going to learn to do now. First, you’re going to learn alchemy. Some monster items pair together well, and some don’t. It’s a lot more important than you think – in fact it’s everything when it comes to this business. When you have a solid grasp of it in a couple years, you’ll start to learn the basics of weaponsmithing.” He smiled encouragingly. “We’re going to take it slow, because you are a growing boy with school and have an entire teenage stage to run wild. But when you are here, you have to be mature enough to not hurt yourself and those around you. Do you understand?”
Micah nodded, his eyes bright with excitement. “Yes. You won’t have to wait long before I’m ready. I’ll show you.”
Dad smiled and patted him on the head. “That’s a good boy.” He looked up at me. “And you, Ria, I’m going to continue to teach you how to run the shops and crunch the numbers. You have a natural gift for it, and you’ll only get better. I know that you will be able to guide your brother into a successful future.”
I paused, hand reaching for a bow. It was the same job I'd been doing since I was sixteen – running the shop in Garden City. And I was good at it. But…
I sighed and looked at Dad, fully aware that I was going to let him down. Again. “Actually about that,” I pressed my lips together. “I want to be a Hunter. As cool as making swords is, it's the act of using one that excites me. I don’t want to just manage the shops’ inventory, I want to go out and personally get it from the wilds.”
Dad’s eyes widened and he paled under the fluorescent lights. “No. Absolutely not.”