Hunter of Legends (Fate of Legends Series Book 1)

by Clayton Wood

  Hunter sighed, then walked up to the long bridge toward Vi’s house, crossing it slowly. He reached the other side, then hesitated, glancing at the building to the right, sitting on its own little island. It was smaller than Vi’s house, with no obvious way in. No door, no windows…nothing. He walked across the short bridge to it, circling the building slowly. There was a small moat surrounding it, maybe two feet wide, but with no bridge crossing it.

  Strange, he thought.

  He heard a door slam shut behind him, and flinched, spinning around.

  “Looking for a way in?” he heard a feminine voice say. It was Vi, standing in front of her house. He relaxed, finding his gaze wandering downward. She wasn’t dressed in her usual uniform; instead, she was wearing a tight white shirt that stopped far above her bellybutton, and short white shorts. She was surprisingly fit, but not in an overly masculine way. He realized he was staring, and looked away, feeling his cheeks flush.

  “Morning,” he mumbled.

  “Never seen a woman in her underwear?” Vi inquired. He could feel her smirking at him. “What, did you and that whore do it in the dark? Or did you leave your clothes on?”

  “Ha ha,” he grumbled. “I was trying to be polite.”

  “Pfft,” she shot back. “I don’t give a crap if you look. Just don’t be a creep…or I’ll turn you into a woman.”

  “Noted.”

  She walked up to the edge of the island, then dove into the lake. Hunter watched her swim a ways underwater, then surface a few dozen feet from the shore.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Taking a bath,” she answered. “You might want to join me,” she added. “You stink.”

  “I’ll pass,” he replied. The water looked freezing.

  “Suit yourself,” she replied, dipping below the water again. Moments later, she resurfaced close to the shore, and pulled herself up, walking toward him. Her clothes clung to her rather scandalously, making it quite apparent that the water was cold. He turned away again, glancing at the smaller building.

  “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to it.

  “Storehouse,” she answered, walking up to his side. He glanced at her, taken aback by how strong she looked. Not only were her arms more muscular than his, her legs were remarkably powerful-looking. She could easily overpower him if she wanted to. It was no wonder how she’d managed to break through the Ironclad’s armor with her mace earlier, when even Gammon hadn’t succeeded in doing so.

  “For what?” he pressed.

  “Artifacts,” she replied. “The most powerful ones. When I bring them home, I need a place to put them where they won’t screw with my other artifacts. So I built that.”

  “Why the moat?” he inquired. “And how do you get in?”

  “It’s a cipher room,” she explained. “Partially filled with water on the inside, always flowing. And water flowing outside of it.”

  “Why?”

  “Water absorbs traits,” she explained. “If it’s flowing, traits never have time to build up in the water, and never get to the stone beyond the water. It’s carried away into the lake, and flows out through the underground river leaving the canyon. That leaves the building devoid of traits, relatively speaking.”

  “So the water insulates against the building absorbing the artifacts you store in it?”

  “Right,” she confirmed. “Otherwise a powerful artifact would influence the stone of the building, and then any other artifact I put in there would absorb the original artifact’s essence and corrupt it.”

  “Huh,” he muttered. “Pretty clever.”

  “The storehouse itself is made of neutral stone,” she continued.

  “What’s that?”

  “Stone that doesn’t have any traits absorbed into it,” she explained. “Soil and rocks at the surface have absorbed traits over time, but those much deeper down haven’t. And rocks from volcanoes – from lava that comes from deep within the earth – are neutral as well.”

  “Okay.”

  “When I sense that the storehouse has absorbed too much despite the water,” she continued, “…I knock it down and rebuild it with new neutral stone.”

  “So water insulates it so that takes a while?”

  “Yep…but only if it’s flowing.” She ran a hand over her nearly bald head. Her hair had grown only slightly since they’d met, and was still so short it was barely visible. “Water is used in other ways as well.”

  “Like what?”

  “If you take a powerful artifact and steep in it water for a while,” she replied, “…the water will absorb its will, emotions…everything. Drink that water, and it’ll get inside you, flowing through your blood…and get to every part of your body very quickly.”

  “So?”

  “So what does transmission of traits depend on?” Hunter frowned, recalling what Thorius had taught him.

  “Proximity and duration of exposure,” he answered. Vi nodded.

  “Drinking steeped water makes the stuff go inside of you,” she explained. “You can’t get any closer than that.”

  “What about the duration?”

  “It depends,” she answered. “But it usually doesn’t last too long. But keep drinking that water over and over…” She smirked at him. “You ate at the community center, right?”

  “Where else was I gonna eat?”

  “That water they served you?” she replied. “Steeped in artifacts that promote apathy, blind loyalty. People drink it day in, day out…and live their lives working in the sewers, toiling away for shit wages and living in shit apartments. And yet they never speak up, never rebel.”

  “The kingdom does that?”

  “Yep,” she confirmed. “It’s all about control. That’s what governments do. They get in power, subdue the populace, leeching from them. They’re the ultimate parasite, sucking wealth and power out of the lower classes. Once and a while they’ll throw a few crumbs to the peasants to keep them satisfied. Because they know that if they don’t, the peasants will rebel.” She shook her head. “The water, and churches, and the artifacts all around the city…all that shit is just another way to keep the people in line. Keep them distracted and slaving away for nothing while the aristocrats lounge in luxury.”

  “Damn.”

  “And you know what the best part is?” she pressed. He shrugged. “The peasants are desperate to be like the wealthy…to be blond-haired, blue-eyed, tall, and pale. To be cultured and sophisticated. To wear expensive clothes. And you know what that water at the community center does?”

  “What?”

  “It keeps ‘em a little brown,” she answered. “Keeps every damn citizen in the Outskirts looking different, so they’ll never get to be like the ones in power.”

  “That’s messed up.”

  “That’s life,” she countered. “But most people don’t even see it. I did because they couldn’t control me…I was too strong. None of their shit worked on me.”

  She started walking back toward the house then.

  “Enough talk,” she declared. “I’m getting dressed…and then we’re going to spar.”

  * * *

  Hunter held his wooden sparring sword in both hands, facing Vi. She was holding her wooden sword in one hand at her side, looking distressingly relaxed. She’d changed into her customary uniform, and they’d walked across the bridge to the shore of the lake.

  “Thrust like I showed you last night,” she ordered. Hunter couldn’t help but grin.

  “Might want to change the way you say…” he began.

  “Shut up.”

  Hunter’s jaw snapped shut, and he focused, thrusting the point of his sword at her, using his hips and his back leg as she’d instructed yesterday. To his surprise, the move came easily, almost naturally.

  “Good,” she stated, clearly pleased. “You’re absorbing some skills…now we have something to work with.” She gestured at him. “Do it again.”

  He did, and again the move came smoo
thly, the point of his sword aiming right at her sternal plexus, the area below her breastbone. He smiled, having a hard time believing he’d had such difficulty with the move yesterday. It was so simple!

  “All right,” she stated. “Now practice the eight slashing angles I showed you yesterday.”

  Hunter did so, slashing upward, then downward, then left, then right, and then at each diagonal. Again, the moves came easily, as if he’d done them a hundred times before. Vi nodded.

  “Not bad,” she said. “Still need a lot more time with that sword before you’re up to snuff though. You absorb skills at an above-average rate, but not exceptionally well.”

  “Can I get better at it?” he asked. Vi shook her head.

  “You got what you got,” she replied. “You can’t change the rate at which you absorb things…that’s something you’re born with. But it just means you’ll need to spend a lot more time with artifacts than I would.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Alright,” she stated, “…let’s spar.” She gestured for him to come at her. “Hit me.”

  “Uh…”

  “Come on,” she prompted. “Don’t be scared.”

  He hesitated, then made a half-hearted lunge at her. She moved quicker than he could see, batting his sword to the side and smacking him across the side of his thigh with the flat of her wooden blade…hard.

  “Ow!” he cried, stumbling back and rubbing his thigh. He glared at her. “What the hell?”

  “You gonna fight or not?” she inquired. He grimaced, raising his sword again, then feinting another lunge. She didn’t take the bait, just standing there with her sword down. “Come on little boy,” she taunted. “Scared of a girl?”

  He lunged forward, slashing at her neck. But she blocked the blow easily, thrusting the tip of her sword into his gut. He grunted, stumbling backward.

  “Boy you suck,” she mocked. He glared at her, readying his sword again.

  “Bet you feel real good picking on someone who’s never used a sword before,” he shot back. She smirked at him.

  “Actually yeah,” she replied. “It does feel good, now that you mention it.”

  “You’re an ass,” he grumbled, feinting again. Again, she didn’t fall for it.

  “Do you have to project everything you do?” Vi inquired. “I mean, a girl likes a surprise every once and a while, you know.”

  He swatted at her sword, trying to bat it to the side, but she stepped back, lunging forward immediately afterward. Her sword jabbed into his belly again – in the exact same place it had earlier. He grimaced, batting it away with his sword.

  “Too late,” she taunted. “You’re already dead.”

  “Ha ha,” he shot back. “Feel free to start, you know, actually teaching me.”

  “I kinda like this more,” she retorted. He took a deep breath in, then focused, circling around her. He feinted once, then again, and still she didn’t fall for it, much to his irritation.

  “Hold on,” he muttered, pretending to limp. He reached down with one hand, grabbing a rock. Then he shot up, throwing the rock at her, then lunging forward with a thrusting attack at her chest.

  She flicked her sword one-handed, smacking the back of his right hand…while catching the rock in her free hand. His sword was knocked out of his hands.

  “Ooo, tricky,” she taunted, tossing the rock at him. It struck him in the belly, again in the same spot she’d hit twice before. He glared at her, backpedaling quickly and rubbing the back of his hand.

  “God damn it,” he swore. “That hurt!”

  “Aww,” she pouted. “You want me to kiss it better?”

  “You know what?” he retorted, reaching down to pick his sword up. “I’m done with this. If you’re not going to bother teaching me, then I don’t see the point.”

  She lunged forward suddenly, swinging her sword so quickly it was a blur. He felt his sword lurch out of his hand, then felt a sharp pain in his shin as she kicked him. His knee locked, his body tilting forward, and she charged in, kneeing him in the gut, then shoving him backward. He fell flat on his back, the air bursting from his lungs. He gasped, clutching at his belly.

  “I am teaching you,” she stated coolly. She leaned over, offering a hand. He ignored her, rolling onto his side, then onto all fours, picking himself up off the ground. He turned to face her, giving her a murderous glare.

  “Oh really,” he muttered.

  “Yeah really,” she retorted. “If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve realized that.” She gestured at him to pick up his sword. He glared at her for a moment longer, then grabbed it reluctantly, holding it at his side. “Problem is, you were paying attention to what you were doing instead of what I was doing.”

  He stared at her.

  “The first time you thrust at me, what did I do?” she asked. He blinked, trying to recall.

  “You batted my sword to the side, then smacked me on the thigh.”

  “Now do it,” she ordered, thrusting at him. She stopped an inch from his belly. He hesitated, then batted her sword to the side, following with a slash to her thigh. “And the second time you attacked?” she pressed.

  “You blocked it and stabbed me,” he answered, glowering at her.

  “So do it,” she ordered, slashing at his neck. Again she stopped the blow before it hit. He blocked her sword, then thrust at her belly, just as she had done to him…but he didn’t stop the thrust. She dodged to the side easily, smirking at him. “Nice try,” she added. “And the third time?”

  “You dodged back and thrust at me,” he answered grudgingly.

  “You were trying to bat my sword away,” she explained. “You weren’t aiming for me, you were aiming for my sword. All I had to do was get out of range, then wait for you to open yourself up and gut you.” She went to bat his sword away, and he hesitated, then stepped back out of range. Then he lunged forward, thrusting at her belly. Again, she dodged out of the way just in time. “See?”

  “Yeah yeah,” he grumbled. “You could’ve just done it this way from the beginning you know.”

  “Wrong,” she retorted. “There’s nothing gentle about fighting,” she added. “You have to learn how to take hits. You get pissed when you get hurt, and then you make stupid mistakes.” She gave him a disgusted look. “Or in your case, you act like a damn child, expecting me to spoon-feed you everything.”

  “Yeah, well maybe I’m not cut out for this shit,” he retorted angrily. “Ever think of that?”

  “Nope.”

  He blinked.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think you’re a hopeless cause,” she replied, pointing her sword at him. “You do.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Is it?” she pressed. “I hit you because I wanted to see what happens when you fail. How you handle it. And you know what?” she added. “You suck at failing.”

  Hunter stared at her, feeling an ice-cold anger grow within him. He had the sudden urge to leave, to tell her to go fuck herself and head back to the city. He didn’t need her, after all. He could go back to Tykus, go back to Trixie and the guild. He’d be perfectly happy there, having all the sex he could ever want, night after night. He didn’t need this shit…and he didn’t have to take it.

  “Don’t forget I can feel your emotions,” Vi reminded him. “You lost your mother,” she continued. “Trust me, I get it. You loved someone and they left you, and you’re never going to make that mistake again.”

  “That doesn’t…”

  “You’ve given up on everyone and everything around you,” Vi interjected. “Playing it casual and pretending you don’t give a shit about anything. Problem is, you gave up on yourself too.”

  “Bullshit,” Hunter retorted.

  “Is it?” Vi pressed. “Take it from someone who’s been there, kiddo. It took me years to get my own head out of my ass. To stop being pissed at the world. To take a goddamn chance. If you wanna give up on everyone else, fine. But don’t give up
on yourself.”

  Hunter just stared at her.

  “You’re angry, I get it,” Vi stated. “You have every right to be. But quit losing your shit every time life gets hard,” she instructed. “Emotion is temporary, action is forever. Don’t let your temper control you, or you’ll regret it.”

  Hunter grit his teeth, lowering his gaze.

  “I’ve got news for you kiddo,” she continued, lowering her sword. “The only way you’re going to get better is by failing until you stop failing. Losers fail and quit. Winners fail and learn from it.” She raised her sword again, pointing it at him. “Better get used to failing,” she stated. “‘Cause you’re going to be doing a whole lot of it from here on out.”

  Chapter 21

  “Try again.”

  Hunter sighed, pulling yet another arrow from his quiver, then nocking it on the bowstring and pulling back. He squinted, spotting the large bird perched on a branch some twenty feet from the ground, not forty feet from where he stood. Vi had taken him up the path to the forest above the canyon to hunt for food…and told him that it was high time he caught dinner for once. She’d been hunting for them for a couple of weeks now, after all…and she refused to do it any more. She’d made it quite clear that if he didn’t catch dinner, she’d let him starve to death.

  He aimed, then released the bowstring, hearing the twang as it shot forward. The arrow whizzed through the air toward the bird…and missed it by a few inches. The bird leapt from its perch, flying away.

  “Damn it,” he swore, lowering the bow and shaking his head. Vi clapped him on the back.

  “Try again,” she stated for the umpteenth time.

  He sighed again, searching the trees for another target. He spotted the same bird circling through the air, and waited. Eventually it came back down to the branch it’d been on before, settling there. He took a deep breath in, then let it out, pulling an arrow from his quiver and drawing his bowstring again. He aimed, then fired, the arrow speeding toward the bird.