Hunter of Legends (Fate of Legends Series Book 1)

by Clayton Wood

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “I saw one like it when I came through the Gate.”

  “Never seen one like that before,” she muttered. Then she turned to face him. “Okay, you ready?” He frowned.

  “Ready for what?”

  “On my count,” she replied, “Dive below the surface. I’ll grab your arm. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

  “What…” he began.

  “Three,” she interjected. “Two. One!”

  She took a deep breath in, then let go of the wall, vanishing below the surface. He barely had time to take a breath in before he felt her grab onto his arm, yanking him downward. His foot slipped off of the foothold, and he plunged into the water, surrounded by complete darkness. Vi’s arm locked on his wrist, yanking downward…hard.

  He felt a sudden pulling sensation, and before he knew it he was being thrust forward at unnerving speed, a powerful current carrying him. He tried not to panic, kicking his legs and swimming forward with his one free hand. Still out of breath from his swim earlier, his lungs were already burning again, the urge to take a breath in building up fast.

  Hunter felt Vi’s grip on his wrist tighten, squeezing it like a vise. He felt her tug him upward suddenly, felt her leg brush up against his side as she kicked. His lungs were on fire; he let out some air, gritting his teeth. His head was swimming now, his limbs starting to go numb.

  Come on!

  She yanked his wrist again, and he swam upward, the current pulling him forward. But she didn’t move; his legs swung forward with the current, and try as he might, he couldn’t swim against it. His lips trembled, then opened, water spilling into his mouth.

  No!

  He raked his free hand through the water, kicking his legs desperately, barely feeling his limbs now. A burst of bubbles exited his lips, and he felt the urge to breathe overtake him, that primal instinct overriding his will. Water sucked into his throat, coursing down his windpipe. He coughed reflexively, his eyes wide and unseeing, raking his limbs madly through the water. He took another breath in, gulping more water into his lungs, barely feeling them burn anymore.

  Bright flashes of light burst before his eyes, his body utterly numb now. He took another breath in, feeling the world slip away.

  And then nothingness claimed him.

  Chapter 24

  Sukri turned away as Gammon pulled the lever through the small opening in the glass cube, closing her eyes.

  Click.

  She hesitated, resisting the urge to open her eyes and look.

  “Well you’re not screaming,” she ventured. “That’s a good sign.”

  “You can open your eyes now,” she heard Gammon say. She did so, turning to see him withdrawing his arm from the cube. The lever was angled toward them now…and Udeln was staring off into the distance, a huge smile on his face.

  “The door!” he exclaimed. “It’s open!”

  Everyone turned to look. Udeln was right…the big door at the end of the room had swung inward, revealing a hallway beyond. And there, standing in the middle of that hallway, was none other than Master Thorius.

  “Yes!” Udeln nearly shouted. “Oh thank god,” he added, practically sprinting to the door. Yala, Gammon, and Sukri followed behind, stopping before Master Thorius.

  “Close the door behind you,” Thorius ordered, nodding at Gammon. The big guy complied, and Thorius turned to face the rest of them. “Congratulations,” he stated. “You’ve passed your second Trial.”

  Udeln grinned, and even Yala managed a smile. Sukri, however, did not.

  “What about him?” she asked, gesturing at the door behind them. Thorius looked down at her.

  “I assume you mean Donahue.”

  “You let him die in there,” Sukri accused.

  “Did I?” Thorius replied, his expression unchanged.

  “We asked for help,” she shot back. “He bled out on the floor like a stuck pig, and you let him.” She glared at him. “You didn’t tell us we could die in there!”

  “I believe I mentioned that many of the contraptions presented a danger to you,” Thorius countered.

  “Yeah?” Sukri retorted. “Well that doesn’t change the fact that you let him die. That’s on you,” she added, pointing a finger at him.

  “If you recall,” Thorius stated, “…the contract you signed mentioned the very real possibility of death or dismemberment during the application process. Or did you forget?”

  Sukri stared at him, feeling cold anger course through her. She was about to reply when she felt Gammon’s hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, knowing what Gammon was trying to do.

  “Donahue acted brashly,” Thorius continued, eyeing the other initiates. “He ignored my initial instructions regarding the purpose of the Trial, and paid for his carelessness with his life.” He turned back to Sukri. “If you ever qualify to become a Seeker,” he continued, “…you’ll understand why our selection process is so rigorous.”

  “It’s not right,” she grumbled, feeling Gammon’s hand on her shoulder again. She tried to shrug it off, but Gammon didn’t let her. Anger seeped out of her, and she hated to see it go, wanting desperately to appease it, to lash out at Thorius.

  “Agreed,” Thorius replied, his eyes boring into hers. “You were the one who solved the puzzle and saved yourself and your friends,” he continued. “Congratulations,” he added. “Perhaps if you’d spoken up sooner instead of letting your guilt silence you, Donahue would still be alive.”

  * * *

  “What an asshole,” Sukri swore, wheeling herself into her apartment. “Stupid son of a bitch!”

  “Sukri…” Gammon said from behind, closing the door to their apartment behind him. She felt his hand on her shoulder, and wheeled herself away from him, turning her wheelchair around to glare at him.

  “Don’t try to calm me down,” she retorted. “I don’t need to calm down!”

  “I disagree,” he replied with that irritatingly rational way he always had. She suddenly wanted to hit him, to lash out and him and make him angry.

  “You think he’s right, don’t you,” she accused. Gammon shook his head.

  “I think Donahue didn’t need to die to be disqualified,” he replied. “Neither did Kris or Hunter.”

  “You’re trying to placate me.”

  “True,” he admitted. “But I think that’s how initiates are disqualified.”

  She frowned, staring at him.

  “What?”

  “Kris and Hunter died,” Gammon reasoned. “So did Donahue. We never saw what happened to those other two initiates that were disqualified…but have you seen them around since?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re gone,” Gammon explained. “They used to eat at the community center, but they don’t anymore. I haven’t seen them since they went through the first Trial.”

  “You think they’re dead?” Sukri pressed. Gammon nodded.

  “I think everyone that’s disqualified is.”

  Sukri considered this, then realized that Gammon was right. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen those two initiates since they’d been disqualified either.

  “Shit,” she mumbled.

  “It makes sense,” Gammon reasoned. “No one knows what happens in the Trials…we didn’t know before we went through them. The guild doesn’t want its secrets coming out, so it kills off anyone who doesn’t qualify.”

  Sukri said nothing. Couldn’t say anything. It was all right there, plain as can be. In fact, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it earlier.

  “I still can’t believe he had the gall to accuse me of killing Donahue,” she pressed, feeling her anger return. Gammon sighed.

  “That wasn’t fair,” he agreed. “Donahue tried to take charge and he didn’t think things through.” He hesitated, then walked up to Sukri, kneeling down and putting a hand on her knee. She glared at him suspiciously, feeling her anger start to fade.

  “Why are you doing that?”
she asked.

  “Master Thorius did have a point,” Gammon continued, giving her an apologetic look. “You’re a leader Sukri,” he added. “A good one. Taking control isn’t always a bad thing.”

  “Oh god,” she muttered, pulling his hand off her knee and wheeling herself away from him, aiming for the door to her bedroom. “You’re going to bring that up again.”

  “Sukri…”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she shot back, wheeling herself into her room. She tried to turn around to shut the door, but Gammon was already in the doorway. “I really don’t want to hear it,” she added, glaring at him. “You can get out of my room now, by the way.”

  “You shouldn’t ignore this,” Gammon insisted, not budging.

  “I’m not ignoring anything.”

  “Kris was wrong,” Gammon pressed. Sukri felt grief build up inside her, and swallowed it down, shaking her head and turning away from him.

  “Stop.”

  “You can be in control and trust other people at the same time,” Gammon continued, walking up to her and putting a hand on her shoulder from behind. She tried wheeling forward, but struck the bed. She cursed, pounding the armrest of her wheelchair with one fist.

  “Don’t touch me,” she warned.

  “I trusted you,” he stated quietly.

  She closed her eyes, feeling his calmness invading her, robbing her of her anger. She resisted it, hating the fact that he could take it from her. That anyone could control her like that. But it worked, as it always did, and she felt a calm melancholy come over her. She sighed, shaking her head, still turned away from him.

  “You’re sad,” she muttered.

  “Yes,” he replied. “I am.” There was a pause, and she felt his hand squeeze her shoulder. “I miss them too.”

  Moisture welled up in Sukri’s eyes, and she wiped it away quickly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you trust me?” Gammon pressed. Sukri sighed, sniffing loudly, and wiping her eyes again.

  “Gammon,” she replied. “I think you’re the only person in this world I trust.”

  She felt his hand slip away from her shoulder, and saw him come to her left side. He knelt down, grabbing her behind the knees with one hand, and sliding his other hand behind the small of her back.

  “What are you…” she began.

  He lifted her out of the wheelchair, twisting to set her down gently on the bed, pulling the bedsheets up to her belly. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down at her with those gentle eyes of his. She felt a sudden, powerful affection for him.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  “Thanks for saving my life,” he countered with a smile.

  “You saved mine first.”

  He paused, then leaned forward, kissing her on the forehead. Then he pulled away, standing up and walking toward the doorway.

  “G’night Gammon,” she called out to him. He stopped, turning around and smiling at her.

  “Goodnight.”

  And then he was gone.

  Chapter 25

  “Good evening father,” Conlan greeted, stepping out onto the balcony overlooking the inner courtyard of the Acropolis. The same courtyard he’d been announced as the successor to the previous king in, where thousands had gathered to witness the newest vessel for their great leader. Dominus studied his son, leaning on his cane to take the weight off of his recently butchered foot. The doctor had done as Dominus had requested, of course, hacking off only the dead tissue, cutting into flesh until the blade had met bleeding skin, the telltale sign of life. Dominus had been told not to walk on it for a time, but after a few days he’d stopped heeding the doctor’s advice. There was too much to do to lie in bed all day, and he wouldn’t suffer the indignity of a wheelchair.

  “Good evening,” Dominus replied. “You wanted to see me?” Conlan had called for him a half hour ago. Which, given their previous encounter, had surprised Dominus. They hadn’t talked in over a week since. But Conlan hardly looked upset, smiling at him with that faint air of superiority he always had.

  “Indeed,” Conlan confirmed. “I was going stir-crazy staying in that room all day,” he added. As the future king, Conlan was mandated by law to remain in the Royal Chambers – and therefore in the presence of Tykus’s Ossae – for all but three hours of the day. “I will admit, Tykus’s will is stronger than I imagined. It’s been quite the battle, being exposed to him for so long. But as you can see, I’m still very much me.”

  “Indeed,” Dominus stated, trying to keep the distaste out of his voice.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about our last conversation,” Conlan admitted.

  “What of it?” Dominus inquired, doing his best to keep his tone casual.

  “Oh, don’t patronize me,” Conlan replied, smirking at him. “We both know what you called me. A mere vessel for Tykus, a warm body waiting to be filled with the great king’s essence.”

  “I was angry,” Dominus apologized. “Forgive me.”

  “Oh, it’s forgiven,” Conlan replied. Then he wagged a finger. “Never forgotten, though. You see, I finally figured out why you detest me so much.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Please,” Conlan interrupted, contempt dripping from his voice. “We argued constantly when I lived in Wexford, and you sent me to the Acropolis as soon as you possibly could to get rid of me.”

  “To have you absorb the essence of great men there,” Dominus corrected. Conlan snorted.

  “Bullshit father,” he shot back. “I’ve no more absorbed their ‘essence’ than you have, and you knew I wouldn’t.” He shook his head, leaning against the railing. “You knew how strong my will was.”

  “You do have a strong will,” Dominus conceded. “We both do. It isn’t uncommon for strong-willed people to cohabitate poorly.”

  “True,” Conlan admitted. “In theory. But now I know why you really got rid of me. Why you can’t stand to be around me…and why you loathe to hug me, or even touch me.”

  Dominus took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly, feeling his irritation mounting.

  “Do you now.”

  “Oh yes,” Conlan insisted. “You see, it came to me all of a sudden, while I was pacing in my room. A flash of insight,” he added with a smile. “I did hate you for what you said,” he confessed. “But now all I feel for you is pity.”

  Dominus sighed, clenching his jaw. He stepped away from the railing, glaring at Conlan.

  “If this is why you called for me,” he stated, “…then I won’t be answering that call from now on.”

  “Oh come now father,” Conlan pressed. “I took your insult the day before in stride. Aren’t you man enough to do the same?”

  Dominus ignored him, walking toward the doorway to the interior of the Acropolis. He tried not to limp, but couldn’t, and hated the fact that his son would see him vulnerable in this moment.

  “I pity you father,” Conlan called out after him. “You hid it from me for all these years, but now I know.”

  “I hid nothing,” Dominus muttered.

  “You can walk away from me,” Conlan yelled as Dominus passed through the doorway. “But you can’t walk away from the truth. You sent me away because you realized my will was stronger than yours…and you couldn’t stand the thought that you might start to become like me!”

  * * *

  “Wake up!”

  Hunter felt a sharp pain in his left cheek, his head jerking to the side. He groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He saw Vi kneeling over him, barely visible in the dim light of…wherever he was.

  “Where…” he began, then felt a tickle in his throat, dissolving into a fit of coughing. Clear fluid shot out of his mouth, and he took a deep breath in, triggering yet another round of coughing. His lungs felt like they were on fire, burning with each breath.

  “Sit up,” Vi ordered, putting a hand behind his upper back and lifting him upright. His head swam with the movement, a wave of nausea coming over him. He close
d his eyes, waiting for the sensation to pass, then opened them, looking around. They were in a small cave, it appeared, a single ray of pale light coming through a hole in the ceiling some eight feet up. To his left, he saw the cave floor give way to a small body of water, its black waters rippling in the faint light. The cave ended beyond, the ceiling sloping downward to meet the water, dipping beneath the surface. To his right, the cave continued onward, a narrow tunnel leading into darkness.

  “What happened?” he asked, coughing again.

  “You drowned,” she answered. He blinked.

  “I what?”

  “You drowned,” she repeated. “Freaked out right when we reached this place,” she added. “I surfaced and grabbed the edge, but you didn’t come up. I tried to pull you, but you freaked out.” She shook her head at him. “Pulled you up after you went limp.”

  “Damn,” he mumbled. He gave her a weak smile. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “Just one?”

  “One more,” he corrected. She smirked at him, ruffling his wet hair with one hand. Then she stood up, lending him a hand. He grabbed it, and she hauled him to his feet. Once again, he was taken aback by just how strong she was.

  “Come on,” she urged, walking down the tunnel toward the darkness. He followed behind, rubbing his chest and upper belly. They were terribly sore.

  “Why does my chest hurt so much?” he asked.

  “I had to push the water out of your lungs.”

  Hunter considered this, feeling a chill pass through him. Just how close had he come to dying? He could barely remember what’d happened. Hell, the last thing he remembered was them jumping off the bridge and swimming across the lake.

  “Where we going?” he asked.

  “This cave leads to the forest,” Vi answered. “A few kilometers from the Fringe. If we’d taken the underground river, we’d have ended up a half-kilometer downstream, where the river goes above-ground again.”

  “And we both would’ve drowned,” he grumbled. Vi glanced back at him with a smirk.

  “Speak for yourself.”