Forged in the Dawn

by Gavin Zanker

  Aiden collected the fallen shotgun and extended his hand. Phil grasped it firmly.

  ‘For Faye,’ Phil said.

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘Good. Now go, and let this old man die in peace, eh?’

  Aiden whistled at Hitch, who bounded after him as he ran through to the kitchen, scooping up Faye’s pack as he went. He crashed through the back door, finding himself in an alley. A door slammed open somewhere inside the house, and Aiden heard Philip roar. Gunfire followed, and then silence.

  ‘Oi, who are you, mate?’

  Aiden saw a scrawny man eyeing him just a few paces away. A length of broken rebar rested over his shoulder, and the familiar crossed revolver tattoos covering his neck.

  ‘I’m someone you wish you hadn’t met.’

  Aiden lashed out with the butt of the shotgun, striking the man in the face, breaking his nose with a sickening crack, and sending him staggering backwards into a fence. A voice shouted from the end of the alley but Aiden was already sprinting in the other direction, Hitch loping along at his heels.

  Reaching the end of the alley, he swung a right towards the north as the sound of footsteps hammering over cobblestones followed right behind him.

  THE MARKET WAS busy with New Years preparations as Aiden sprinted through the crowds. He weaved around the people and stalls, trying to lose his pursuers.

  He risked a backwards glance and saw one of them collide with a stall, sending people tumbling to the ground. Taking his chance, Aiden ducked inside a nearby pub hoping he would slip in unnoticed.

  Immediately, he was hit with the smell of body odour and stale beer as faces turned to look at him bursting through the door. The pub was packed, most of the tables filled with sullen men nursing their drinks. Spotting an empty spot near the door, Aiden pulled up a stool with Hitch settling down by his feet. If he was lucky, then his pursuers would run right past and if not then at least he had eyes on the door.

  Slowly he regained his breath and people lost interest in him, going back to their drinks and conversations. Aiden took a quick check of his weapons while he had the chance. The shotgun was tucked under his jacket, still loaded with both shells. Sheathed at his waist was his utility knife, and hanging around his neck was Kate’s old pocket knife.

  The door to the pub swung open, cold air gusting in. Aiden shrank down in his seat to hide himself as the bar fell silent and stared at the doorway. Two rough men strode inside, glancing around at the seated patrons with angry expressions. They walked up to the barman, who was leaning on the bar with both hands and had a yellowed rag slung over his shoulder. They exchanged a few words, the barman shook his head causing one of the men to slam his fist on the bar.

  ‘Listen up,’ he yelled, glaring around the room. ‘We’re looking for someone. A man. Might have come in here a few minutes ago. Give him up and we’ll leave you to go about your day.’

  ‘Gorn, you can’t-’ the barman protested.

  ‘Shut your mouth. You know who runs this town? We do. And unless you want some special attention, then I suggest you give this guy up sharp-like.’

  Aiden braced himself for a sprint to the door, expecting someone to point in his direction at any second. To his surprise, no one did. It occurred to him that the people of the town hated the Kiln Boys as much as he did. Everyone stared down into their drinks as the silence held. The barman’s eyes flicked to Aiden. The Kiln Boy named Gorn noticed the movement and followed his gaze, locking eyes with Aiden.

  ‘Get him!’

  Aiden jumped off the stool and levelled the shotgun. Chairs skittered across the floor as people dived under tables, and the barman disappeared from sight behind the bar.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ Aiden ordered, as Hitch growled by his heel. ‘No one else needs to die today.’

  A grin formed on Gorn’s face, his brown teeth showing as he slowly reached around behind him. ‘See, I don’t think that old scatter gun is loaded. I think I can pull out my pistol and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.’

  ‘Willing to bet your life?’

  Gorn paused, his smile fading as he registered the confidence in Aiden’s voice. ‘Where you running to anyway?’ he said. ‘You won’t be safe anywhere in this town. We’ll hunt you down.’

  ‘Then it looks like I’m leaving town.’

  ‘I can’t let you do that,’ Gorn said, shaking his head.

  A glass sailed across the room and took the stocky man square in the chin. He stumbled back, falling across a nearby table. Aiden took his chance and bolted for the door, catching a glimpse of a laughing teenager pointing at the mayhem.

  Outside again, Aiden heard shouting and smashing glass from inside the bar as the Kiln Boys raged. The man had been right, nowhere in town would be safe with everyone looking for him now. He had to get out of town, and north was the fastest way out. Tucking the shotgun into his jacket, light snow began to fall around him. He turned down an alley and headed north at a jog with Hitch running alongside him.

  CHAPTER 39

  THE FIRE FLICKERED, casting long shadows around the snow dusted clearing where Wesley had decided to make camp. There was no cloud cover and the night was bitterly cold as he lay by the camp fire with the two other men.

  ‘I still don’t see why we stopped,’ Gorn said. ‘We could be dragging that guy back to town by his guts right now. Instead we’re out here for the night, freezing our sacks off.’

  Wesley glanced up from sharpening his bowie knife. ‘Have you ever done much tracking at night?’

  ‘Can’t say I have,’ Gorn said, sniffing indignantly. ‘Trent doesn’t keep me around to sniff out footprints in the dirt like a mongrel.’

  ‘Then maybe you should keep quiet when it comes to things you know nothing about. Just stick to your job as a mindless goon and leave the real work to me.’

  Gorn stared across the fire at Wesley, the flames reflecting in his unblinking eyes. Wesley had no fear of the stocky fighter, and figured Trent would not miss him if he were to suffer an accident on the hunt. The other man, Lars, who had been silent for most of the trip spoke up.

  ‘We shouldn’t argue between ourselves. He’s out there somewhere.’ Lars pulled his jacket tightly around his neck as he glanced around the clearing. ‘I heard he’s killed twelve Kiln Boys, strangled them all with his bare hands. The guy has some kind of vendetta.’

  Gorn scoffed at his friend. ‘Rumours are always blown out of proportion. Hell, you’ve heard the rumours about how many Seekers Trent killed single-handedly? If that were true then he wouldn’t have needed any of us when we wiped them out.’ He hawked noisily and spat into the fire. ‘Besides, if this guy is such a bad-ass then how come he’s running? You saw him at the bar with me and he didn’t look like much.’

  ‘Still, we should be careful,’ Lars said. turning to Wesley. ‘How far behind him do you think we are?’

  ‘No more than half a day. He’s doesn’t have the gear to last long in these conditions. He’ll only get slower and weaker from here on. I wouldn’t be surprised if we find his frozen corpse tomorrow.’

  ‘All this waiting does my head in,’ Gorn grumbled. ‘I just want to drag this guy back to Trent for a pay day.’ The fighter shook his head and tossed another stick on the fire. ‘And to think I could be sat in Classy Lassies right now with my face buried in Penny’s enormous rack.’

  ‘Stay focused,’ Wesley said. ‘An animal is most dangerous when it’s cornered. And Lars is right, while rumours are rumours, this guy has a reputation that he didn’t earn from growing corn.’

  The group fell silent and Wesley went back to sharpening his favourite knife in the firelight with long even strokes. A gift from his father long ago, it had served him well for many years.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ Gorn said. ‘How did you get those scratches on your face if you’re such a great hunter?’

  Wesley stroked the red marks on his cheek. ‘The woman in the market. She fought like a wildcat before
I got restraints on her. Like I said, a cornered animal is a dangerous thing.’

  ‘Shame Trent put a bullet in her,’ Gorn said. ‘She wasn’t bad looking. Bit on the skinny side, but I could’ve had some fun with her.’

  ‘Do you ever think about anything other than mindless rutting?’ Wesley said.

  Lars coughed and rubbed his forearms. ‘I feel too exposed out here, I don’t like it. One of us should stay on guard, right?’

  Gorn lay down on his bedroll and shut his eyes. ‘If you’re so worried about this guy, Lars, then you can stay up all night and jump at every shadow in the trees. I’m getting some shut eye.’

  ‘We should get some rest,’ Wesley agreed, sheathing his razor sharp blade. ‘Lars you take first watch. Wake me in a few hours. If there’s any trouble just shout.’

  Lars nodded, then rose from his seat by the fire and picked up his woollen blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. Wesley watched as he pulled out his pistol and checked the magazine in the firelight as he had done countless times already. He shuffled away to the edge of the clearing and settled down facing the camp with his back against a tree.

  Wesley lay down, his bow at his side, and closed his eyes. Spots of rain fizzled in the fire, causing Gorn to groan and roll over. Despite the rain, Wesley rested with a trace of a smile on his thin lips. Tomorrow he would track his quarry down and disembowel him slowly. The anticipation of the kill was always the sweetest part of the hunt.

  AIDEN HAD BEEN sitting in the tree overlooking the clearing for hours now, and his limbs were numb from the cold. He wondered how Hitch was doing back at the small hollow where he had stashed his pack. He had been reluctant to leave him alone, but there was no other choice. Water splashed down the back of his neck and he shivered. Though the damp was uncomfortable, the sound of rain would help mask his movement when the time came.

  He watched as two of the men lay by the fire. He recognised Gorn, the stocky one, from the scuffle back in the pub. They would be asleep soon, and then would be his best chance.

  The fire eventually burned low, and the sounds of snoring drifted up to the tree. Aiden shifted his weight, and rubbed his limbs to bring some circulation back. Pain flared as feeling returned, and his joints unseized.

  Securing the shotgun firmly in his belt, he climbed down the tree. His frozen hands had trouble grasping the thick branches, so he moved with exaggerated care. Slowly he made his way down, dropping to the frosted ground with a light crunch.

  The man called Lars had not stirred from his spot nearby, and Aiden crouched low in the darkness, waiting for any sign he had been detected. A badger sniffed around in the bushes, shuffling away when it caught Aiden’s scent. No movement from the direction of the camp though.

  Aiden crept along the tree line surrounding the clearing, careful to stay silent as he made his way around the shadowy figure of Lars. The guard was still slumped against the tree, his hood drawn up and head tilted forward. He must have dozed off.

  Drawing his utility knife from his belt, Aiden approached the man from behind. Close enough to hear gentle snoring now, he clamped his hand across Lars’ mouth as he plunged the knife into the man’s exposed throat. Lars’ head reared up and he scrabbled at the blade, gurgling as blood filled his lungs. Within a few seconds it was over. The struggling stopped, and steam rose from the blood still pulsing out of the dead man’s neck.

  Looking towards the camp, the two other men seemed to be unaware. Gorn was still snoring in the dying light of the fire, and the third man lay unmoving. Leaving the knife, Aiden pulled Phil’s shotgun out of his belt and stalked towards the fire. As he neared the sleeping figures, a twig snapped under his boot. He froze as Gorn stirred and sat up, looking around blearily. His eyes opened wide as he noticed Aiden stood there.

  Aiden levelled the shotgun and pulled the trigger. A blinding flash filled the clearing as the shot rang out. The stocky man slumped back to the ground, his chest riddled with buckshot. The other man was already on his feet by the time Aiden aimed the shotgun at him and pulled the second trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  He tried again as the man rushed towards him, this time the barrel fizzled and smoked, but still no shot came out.

  The man connected with him at a full run sending them both sprawling. The useless gun slipped from Aiden’s grip and skittered across the frozen ground. Then they were on their feet again, staring at each other across the moonlit clearing. Knowing he was in trouble, Aiden whistled loudly hoping Hitch could hear.

  ‘You must be Aiden,’ the man said as a glint of metal appeared in his hand. ‘I can’t say I’m not impressed at your handiwork.’

  Aiden studied the ground between him and his opponent as they circled each other, it was hard and slippery from the frost. He caught sight of a bow and quiver lying by the dying fire.

  ‘The name is Wesley. You’ve probably heard of me. Best hunter this side of the Barren Expanse.’

  ‘Oh, you’re Trent’s lapdog.’

  Wesley smiled, his teeth gleaming in the low light. ‘I have a particular skill set that he finds useful. Though it seems my tracking skills weren’t necessary for this job. I have to say, I didn’t expect you to attack the camp outnumbered like that.’

  ‘Hunter or prey,’ Aiden said, circling until Wesley stood between him and the bow. ‘That’s the rule isn’t it? I made the decision not to be the prey.’

  ‘I can admire that. I’m the same way. Under different circumstances we might have shared a drink. But I’m afraid I have to kill you now.’

  ‘So what are you waiting for?’

  Wesley sprang forward, but Aiden was ready and rolled clear. He came up sprinting for the bow and quiver, scooping them up as he ran. He pulled an arrow clear but fumbled the quiver, dropping it. Nocking the arrow, he turned and drew back the bow string. Wesley was on him before he could release, and they tumbled to the floor. As he fell, Aiden felt a stabbing pain as the arrow lanced into his calf.

  Wesley’s knife flashed down towards his eye, but Aiden grasped the hunter’s wrist before it could connect. Wesley’s spare hand wrapped around his neck and squeezed. He gasped for breath, his arms trembling from the effort of keeping the knife from slicing down into his face.

  As his muscles were about to give out, Hitch leapt into view, knocking Wesley clear. Aiden pulled himself upright, coughing as the frigid air rushed through his constricted throat. He reached down and pulled the arrow from his leg, suppressing a cry of pain. Hitch yelped from somewhere in the dark trees. Aiden looked around to find the clearing empty. He cursed and limped towards the sound as quickly as he could manage.

  Branches cut into his numb face as he blindly stumbled through the trees towards the sounds of a struggle. Bursting through the undergrowth, he found Wesley moving towards Hitch, glinting knife in hand. The dog was backed up against a ledge, snarling ferociously.

  Aiden rushed at the man, who hearing the footsteps, turned to face the new threat. Aiden ducked low and slammed his shoulder into Wesley’s hip, knocking him from his feet and sending him sliding over loose pebbles towards the ledge. Wesley’s hand reached out and grasped Aiden’s jacket, his momentum dragging them both over the edge.

  The slope was steep, and Aiden felt the scree dislodging around him as he tumbled. Falling too fast to control his descent, he tucked his head and curled in to a ball. He tried to relax his muscles as he rolled, hoping there were no obstacles in his path.

  The fall finally ended and he came to a stop, lying on his back and breathing heavily. His vision swam and it took him two attempts to find his feet. His leg almost gave way under him, and he glanced down in confusion to see Wesley’s knife lodged in his thigh. Looking around for its owner, he saw Wesley lying nearby. He recoiled at the way the man’s neck had been bent back at an impossible angle.

  Aiden slumped down on a rock and vomited, his stomach still turning from the fall. Hitch’s frantic barking drifted down to him from somewhere high above in the darkness. Pain b
egan to sear through his leg as the adrenaline wore away. He grasped the hilt of the large knife with both hands. Three quick breaths, and he wrenched it clear, crying out as his leg screamed with fire.

  Unhooking his belt, he wrapped it around his thigh and pulled it tight with gritted teeth. Keeping pressure on the wound was all he could do for now. He waited for the dizziness to pass, then climbed to his feet. He checked Wesley’s body, but found nothing of use except a half-filled hip flask of whisky, some of which he doused over his wound. Both his and Aiden’s gear lay back up the slope somewhere.

  Judging by the moon, he guessed the clearing lay to the north. Studying the slope, he saw no way back up to the ledge in the dark though. South was back towards town. So he was left with the choice of east or west. He knew he would never reach Stryss Forest in his condition. It would take days of trekking towards the west. But his old home in the forest was the only place he could think of heading for now.

  Reaching down he picked up a large stick to use as a crutch and set off. The barking was soon lost in the distance as he limped through the darkness, but he was not worried about Hitch. At this point, the dog had more chance of surviving than he did.

  The rain which had been coming down in a drizzle finally let up, and Aiden was grateful for the respite. Then, as if to mock him, the skies opened and a flurry of snow floated down around him. He cursed and headed west with a heavy heart.

  CHAPTER 40

  AIDEN STUMBLED ON a loose stone and fell to the rocky ground, crying out in pain as he jarred his wounded leg. The snow which had been settling for a few hours now did nothing to cushion his fall. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and hung his head in his hands, feeling tears well in his eyes. After how hard he had fought, he was going to die alone out here in the middle of nowhere.