Hunter of Legends (Fate of Legends Series Book 1)

by Clayton Wood

  “Use the back room,” she snapped. “Don’t take long.” She reached into something in the desk, then tossed a keyring with a single key at Trixie, who caught it deftly. Trixie thanked the woman politely, then led Hunter – who glared at the woman as they passed – to the back of the building. She stopped before a door there, using the key – wooden, Hunter noted – to unlock it. They stepped through into a room with a large wooden tub filled with water. The room was quite warm, like a sauna.

  Trixie closed the door, and immediately began to pull her shirt off.

  “Whoa,” Hunter blurted out, turning away quickly. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking a bath,” she replied.

  “I thought I was taking a bath,” he protested.

  “Can I take a bath too?”

  “No!” he answered.

  “Oh, okay,” he heard her reply.

  He hesitated, then turned around, glancing at her. To his relief – and at the same time, disappointment – she’d put her shirt back on. He immediately regretted his decision.

  “You can bathe then,” she prompted.

  He nodded, standing there for a long moment. She just stood there, staring back at him.

  “Uh, can I have some privacy?” he asked. She blinked.

  “Why?”

  “I’m…” he began, then stopped. He shrugged. “I just want privacy.”

  “Are you shy?” she pressed.

  “No,” he retorted, a little too defensively.

  “I can help you bathe,” she offered. “That way I can clean your back.” Hunter was about to protest when she interrupted him. “I’ll turn around while you undress,” she decided. “You can get in the water, and then I’ll face you.” Hunter considered this, then nodded grudgingly.

  “Fine.”

  She did just that, turning away from him, and he hurriedly undressed, stepping into the water. It was as hot as a hot tub back home, and he hesitated before lowering himself all the way in, glancing furtively at Trixie to make sure she was still facing away from him. True to her word, she was. He lowered himself belly-deep into the water, finding an underwater bench to sit on. Then he cleared his throat.

  “Okay.”

  Trixie turned around, smiling at him, then walking up to the side of the wooden tub. She grabbed a small washcloth, soaping it up and pressing it on his back, scrubbing firmly.

  “You don’t have to…” he began, but she shushed him. His mouth snapped shut, and she continued, scrubbing his back in small circles, going from one shoulder to the other. Then she shifted her weight, and began scrubbing his chest. He tolerated this with some difficulty, feeling extraordinarily awkward. He was, as Tyler back in school had so kindly reminded him, still a virgin, and had never had a girl – much less a girl like Trixie – tend to him in such a way.

  “Relax,” she murmured.

  He tried to do so, resting back against the tub wall. She continued, scrubbing his chest and arms, then bringing the washcloth down to his upper belly. He stiffened, then forced himself to relax again, closing his eyes. She continued to scrub him, traveling downward again, now at his mid-belly. He felt his body reacting, his member rising rapidly in response. A very real problem, given that at full height, it would most definitely block the path of her washcloth. He jerked away from her, clearing his throat.

  “Uh, thanks,” he mumbled. She said nothing, moving so she was directly behind him now, draping one arm over his chest, holding him tight. Her other hand, clutching the washcloth, descended to his belly, and she slid it gently across his skin.

  “Relax,” she murmured, moving the washcloth in slow circles on his belly. He stiffened, and despite his terror he felt himself stiffening below as well. He tried to move away, but Trixie held him in place gently but firmly with her other arm, sliding the washcloth downward…scandalously low. It passed to the right of his member, grazing it.

  “Uh…” he began, but Trixie ignored him, sliding the washcloth down his right thigh, then bringing it back up. It grazed him again, and he stiffened in response. She brought her lips to his ear, brushing against it.

  “You want to go to your apartment?” she murmured. He swallowed in a dry throat, feeling the heat from her breath, and of her body pressed against his upper back. Her hand slid up to his belly, then back down, grazing him again on the left, making his breath catch in his throat.

  “Uh, sure,” he mumbled. She smiled, dropping the washcloth, then placing her hand on his belly, a fraction of an inch from obscenity.

  “You want me to stay with you tonight?” she inquired. “Or should I come in the morning?”

  Hunter swallowed again, feeling the heat from her hand on his belly, his heart pounding in his chest.

  “Both,” he replied.

  Chapter 6

  Dominus eased himself into his oversized chair, sitting at his desk in his study. He stared at the long piece of parchment before him, a detailed legal document penned in perfect handwriting. He leaned forward, dipping his quill pen in an inkwell, then bringing its tip to the end of the document, where his signature was to go. He placed the tip on the page, watching a small circle of ink expand on the page.

  Dominus hesitated.

  He felt a sudden burning, tingling pain in his right foot, and set the quill down, pushing himself back from the desk and slipping his right foot out of its boot. Pulling the sock off, he stared at his foot.

  Or rather, what remained of it.

  The great toe was gone, a blackened nub all that remained. Bone protruded from the nub, a bit of white amongst the black. His foot was mottled, a large ulcer on the right side of his ankle, over the bony prominence there. It was dying, his foot. A trickle of his lifeblood still flowed to it, barely enough to sustain its vitality. He spotted a few black spots on his pinky toe, and grimaced. Soon it would be dead. Then his foot would blacken, and it too would die.

  And so too, in time, would he.

  Dominus heard a knock on the door to his study, and looked up, slipping his sock back on and stuffing his foot into his boot again. He sighed, grabbing his quill pen and setting it in a small jar of water, rinsing the tip. Then he dipped his fingers into a bowl of sand, sprinkling it lightly over the page.

  “Come in,” he called out at last.

  The door opened, and Farkus stepped in.

  “Your Grace,” the servant greeted, bowing before him.

  “What is it Farkus?”

  “The shipment that you arranged for,” Farkus replied. “It’s been…intercepted, your Grace.”

  Dominus leaned forward, staring at Farkus incredulously.

  “Intercepted?”

  “By the Ironclad,” Farkus clarified. “They attacked the carriage and the guards accompanying it. One of the survivors just returned to the castle Wexford, your Grace.”

  Dominus grimaced, leaning back in his chair. He resisted the urge to snap at the man, rubbing his face with his hands, then taking a deep breath in and letting it out. That shipment had cost him a fortune…and its loss was going to cost him far more.

  “Anything else?” he inquired, his voice deceptively calm. Farkus nodded.

  “Your nephew, the good sir Axio, is here as you requested.”

  “Send him in,” Dominus ordered.

  “At once, your Grace.”

  Farkus bowed again, turning about sharply and leaving the study. Dominus watched him go, waiting until the door to his study was closed. Then he slammed his fist on his desk, the sand on the page before him jumping.

  Damn it!

  He took another deep breath in, then folded his hands before him. Moments later, Axio strode into his study, stopping before the desk and bowing sharply. Dominus regarded Axio silently for a moment, using the time to collect himself. The boy had bathed and had lunch after their first meeting, and had dressed himself in another uniform…also one that Dominus had given as a gift previously. The boy was thoughtful indeed.

  “I trust you found your room and amenities acceptable?”
Dominus inquired. Axio nodded.

  “Yes your Grace.”

  “Axio,” he stated. “I want you to promise me something.”

  “If I can promise it, I will,” Axio replied. Dominus gave a slight smile.

  “I want you to be utterly honest with me from now on,” he requested. “Exercise proper decorum, of course, but do not hold back your thoughts on my account…or your questions.” Axio considered this for a moment, then nodded.

  “I will do my best, your Grace.”

  “I suspect you will,” Dominus agreed. He gestured at a chair to one side of the study. “Pull up a chair and sit.” Axio obeyed, sitting opposite Dominus. “You of course recall our conversation about my bees.”

  “I do.”

  “As we discussed, the Acropolis – and Tykus as a whole – employs a similar caste system. Each caste plays a vital role in our government, from the lowliest peasant to the king himself. Each is necessary to preserve the integrity of the kingdom, just as each type of bee is integral to the health of the hive.”

  “Yes, your Grace,” Axio replied. Then he hesitated.

  “Yes?”

  “I do not see how the peasants are vital to the kingdom,” he confessed. “They are crude and intellectually inferior, and impure.”

  “That is why they are peasants,” Dominus stated. “But I daresay they are as important to our kingdom as the king himself.”

  Axio stared at Dominus, clearly unconvinced.

  “I cannot believe that,” he stated bluntly. Dominus smirked.

  “Very good,” he replied. “Your honesty is appreciated.” He sighed then, turning to gaze out of the window of his study, at his gardens beyond. “Peasants,” he declared, “…built this castle. They built Tykus, and maintain it. Yes, engineers and architects designed these structures, and left to themselves the peasants would not have had the knowledge or wisdom to do such things. But while the architects are the brains, the peasants are the hands that, obeying the will of their masters, bring everything you see around you into being.”

  “Granted.”

  “Labor is vital to a government,” Dominus explained. “Ideas without execution are worthless.”

  “Yes your Grace,” Axio murmured. Then he hesitated again. “But the peasants are ignorant,” he pressed. “Uneducated. They know next to nothing of philosophy or ethics, or the sciences.”

  “True.”

  “They have little intellectual curiosity,” Axio continued. “They hold to their primitive beliefs, scoffing at facts and reason.”

  “To a large extent, yes,” Dominus agreed. “Thankfully so.”

  Axio frowned.

  “What?”

  “When your parents raised you,” Dominus stated, “…did they instill a respect for authority?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Because those in authority are wiser than I,” Axio answered. Dominus raised an eyebrow.

  “Do not confuse authority with wisdom,” he countered. “One does not necessarily lead to the other.” He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me…do peasants obey their Lord just as you obey your parents?”

  “I suppose so, your Grace.”

  “They are subservient by choice?” Dominus pressed. Axio considered this.

  “The Lords have soldiers,” he countered. “The peasants have no choice.”

  “Mmm,” Dominus murmured. He glanced out of the window again. “So you would think…and so we groom the peasants to think.” He remained silent for some time, and to his credit, Axio did not succumb to the urge to fill this void. A characteristic of lesser men, to find silence unbearable.

  At long last, Dominus returned his gaze to Axio.

  “The only man without a choice,” he said at last, “…is a dead man.” He smiled grimly. “Remember that Axio.”

  “I don’t believe I understand,” Axio confessed. Dominus sighed.

  “You will.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Dominus ordered. Farkus opened the study door, stepping inside and bowing deeply. “What is it?”

  “A courier from the Acropolis, your Grace,” Farkus replied, giving a knowing look.

  “Send him in.”

  Farkus disappeared, and moments later he returned accompanied by another man. Tall, with long blond hair and blue eyes, his features nearly as perfect as Axio’s. Clearly the man was from the Acropolis…and a courier for someone very important. He wore the white and gold uniform of a noble, lightweight fabric that allowed for quick movements. Sewn into the fabric were innumerable objects that, to an untrained eye, looked like beads. They were, in actuality, teeth.

  “My Duke,” the courier stated, bowing before Dominus. “Sir,” he added, bowing less deeply at Axio. “I bring terrible news.”

  “Be quick and concise in telling it,” Dominus commanded. “I will not suffer dramatics.”

  “The king is dead,” the courier declared.

  Dominus’s eyebrows rose, and he leaned forward in his chair. That was unfortunate news…but not unexpected.

  “When did he die?” he inquired.

  “This morning.”

  “Of natural causes?” Dominus pressed.

  “Yes your Grace.”

  Dominus sighed, leaning back in his chair and glancing at Axio. The boy was staring at him, clearly shocked. And suddenly very uneasy. He couldn’t blame the boy. The king had never sired an heir, after all. In a cruel twist of fate, he’d only sired girls. Which meant that the highest-ranking aristocrat in the kingdom was in line for the throne.

  Which was, of course, Dominus.

  “Very well,” Dominus stated, turning to Farkus. “Prepare my chariot, and triple my usual entourage.”

  “Yes your Grace,” Farkus replied, bowing and then exiting the room immediately. Dominus turned to Axio.

  “You will accompany me to the Acropolis,” he notified the boy. Axio bowed his head.

  “As you command, my liege.”

  “Leave me now,” he ordered. Axio obeyed, standing up and bowing one more time before leaving the study, and the courier followed behind him. Dominus watched them leave, then sighed, staring out of the window, at the familiar rows of wooden boxes resting on their pallets in his garden. He’d put the hives there purposefully, always visible from his study. A reminder of his grand role.

  The king is dead.

  He looked down at the parchment on his desk, at the sand strewn across it. He paused, then picked it up, sand streaming off the paper. He blew on it, getting the residual sand off, then set the page down. He picked up the quill pen, dabbing the tip on a cloth, then dipping its tip in the inkwell. Taking a deep breath in, he placed the tip on the parchment, signing his name in large, clear strokes.

  Time to crown a king.

  * * *

  Hunter opened his eyes, rubbing the crust from them. Faint light streamed through the lone window by his bed, bathing the floor in a soft glow. He rolled onto his side…or at least he tried to. An arm was draped over his chest, a warm body pressed against his.

  Trixie.

  She stirred slightly with his movement, but didn’t waken. Her long hair, freed from its ponytail, fell over her lovely face, a few golden strands cascading over her bare breasts. Her pale skin had a slight tan from spending so much time in the sun with him yesterday. He stared at her, taking in her beauty, savoring it. Savoring her, with his eyes now, just as he had with his body the night before…and early into the morning.

  It’d been, in a word, incredible.

  He’d had no idea what to do at first, of course, bumbling around like an idiot. Thankfully she’d had no problem taking control, showing him how things worked in the most pleasant of ways. After a few rounds, she’d let him take over, encouraging him rather vocally. He felt a stirring in his groin as he played the night over in his head, marveling that, despite the fact that he’d had her so many times so recently, he still wanted more. He’d never felt such desire before, su
ch unbridled lust. She made him insatiable…and apparently he had the same effect on her. They’d gone at it again and again, until they’d collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

  And staring at her, feeling her soft body against his, he wanted nothing more than to do it again.

  He glanced at the window, at the pale light streaming through, struck with the sudden urge to wake her. He should let her sleep, he knew. They’d been up all night, and it was barely sunrise, after all.

  Sunrise!

  He sat up abruptly, Trixie’s arm falling from his chest. He’d almost forgotten about the Seeker tryouts!

  He scrambled out of bed, finding his new clothes strewn across the floor, along with Trixie’s. He pulled on his shirt, then heard the bed creak behind him. He turned around, seeing Trixie lying there on the bed on her side, gazing up at him with her blue eyes.

  “Morning,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to his chest, then to his naked groin. He was still at full mast, of course. Her eyes lingered there, a smirk on her lips. “A good morning,” she added.

  “Morning,” Hunter replied.

  “Where are you going?” she inquired, meeting his gaze once more.

  “I have to go to a meeting,” he explained. “Sorry I woke you.”

  “No problem,” she reassured. She held out one hand then, gesturing for him to come closer. He obeyed, walking up to the edge of the bed. She reached for his groin, cupping him in her hand gently. Then she sat up, still holding him, and leaned forward to kiss his belly, her chin brushing up against his member. She gazed up at him. “Enjoy yourself last night?”

  “Thought I made it pretty obvious,” he said with a grin. She smirked.

  “Sure did,” she murmured. She got out of bed then, standing before him, nude and utterly unconcerned about it. She stared into his eyes, her hand cupping him. From here, he could see slight flecks of green in her eyes…something he’d never noticed before. It made her all the more beautiful. “When will you be back?”