Hunter of Legends (Fate of Legends Series Book 1)

by Clayton Wood

  Darkness fell over her then, the tunnel enveloping her. She felt the bottom of the stream fall away suddenly, and her stomach twisted into a knot as she entered free fall, her head plunging below the surface of the water. Her back struck something hard, and then she was jerked to the side, her stump yanked away from her waist. She felt her head burst through the water, and took a breath in…just as she was plunged yet again below the water.

  Her descent slowed then, her back scraping against the floor of the stream. She saw a dull light ahead, and kicked her legs, her head emerging from the water. It was shallower here, and she was able to keep above water. She slid downstream, spotting a lantern to her right.

  The same lantern she’d seen earlier, the first one she and Hunter had passed by.

  The stream curved quickly to the left, and she saw another light ahead, approaching rapidly. The floor dropped out from her again, and she fell a couple of feet, landing on her back, light exploding all around her. She cried out as pain shot through her back, water flowing over her shoulders and head, shoving her further downstream. Her back scraped painfully against the rocky bed of the stream, the water shallower now. Eventually she stopped, water coursing around her.

  She looked up, seeing blue sky, and the slivers of three crescent moons.

  Vi rolled onto her right side, seeing the shore of the stream a few meters away. She logrolled toward it, eventually reaching the grass beyond. She rested on her back then, clutching the Ironclad’s head to her chest. Looking around, she saw a familiar hillside nearby, the stream flowing from the mouth of the cave. She was outside the Ironclad back entrance…which meant that Traven and Edgar should be close by.

  She groaned, looking down at the wound in her abdomen, then at the stump of her left arm, still shoved into her side. Blood oozed from the severed end, jelly-like clots sticking to the stump. She grunted, trying to sit up, but felt immediately lightheaded. She fell onto her back, feeling woozy.

  You’ve lost too much blood.

  Vi laid there, her heart pounding, her head swimming sickeningly. The inevitable pain of her wounds reared its ugly head then, the merciful numbness of shock abating. Her left arm felt like it was on fire, the pain in her abdomen sharp and excruciating. Every breath felt like someone was stabbing her there, like that…thing’s sword was impaling her over and over.

  So this is how it happens.

  She groaned, staring down at the head still clutched in her right hand. She picked it up by the glowing blue membranes at the back of its skull, holding it above her face. Stared into those dead black eyes.

  “Well you weren’t worth it,” she muttered.

  She coughed then, pain lancing through her belly, her grip on the mane tightening. The membrane burst, a gush of cool, thick fluid splashing her hand. Globs of glowing gel fell onto her face, covering it. She gasped, bitter fluid flowing into her mouth and down her throat as she trying to take a breath in. She swallowed reflexively, then gasped for air, coughing again. Another gush of fluid fell on her, but she turned her head to the side too late. More of the awful stuff dripped into her mouth, forcing her to swallow again.

  She gagged, then grit her teeth, her belly on fire as her abdomen tensed. If she threw up, it was going to be very, very bad. She suppressed the impulse, setting the head aside and wiping the goo from her eyes. Looking down, she saw herself covered in the stuff, the blue glow contrasting starkly with her dark uniform, covering the skull embedded in the leather at her chest like an otherworldly flesh.

  She felt anger then, a sudden flash of rage that came out of nowhere. The analytical part of her mind reacted instantly, reciting the old mantra.

  Emotion is temporary. Action is forever. Find the cause, suppress the effect.

  She found herself examining the emotion, recognizing the suddenness of it, the lack of context. It was not hers, she knew. It was the Ironclad’s, sudden and powerful by virtue of her having taken a part of its body into her own.

  She let the emotion come, felt herself enter that dissociative state she’d mastered so long ago. Experienced the emotion as if it were happening to someone else…because it had happened to someone else. It was not hers. She would not claim ownership of it. Would not allow it to own her.

  Slowly, it faded.

  Vi heard a sudden crunch, crunch of footsteps approaching, of boots crushing twigs and leaves underfoot. Two sets of footsteps, walking in tandem, maybe twenty yards away. She turned her head, staring off into the tree line bordering the shore, spotting two men there. Relief coursed through her.

  It was Traven and Edgar!

  “Hey!” she yelled, grimacing as another stabbing pain shot through her belly. “Over here!”

  The two men strode up to her, and Traven bent to one knee before her, shaking his head.

  “Damn,” he blurted out. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “I tripped,” she deadpanned, rolling the head toward him. “Looking for this?”

  Traven’s eyes widened, and he stared at the head. Most of the glowing goo had drained from its mane, leaving small glowing streaks across its flesh.

  “You did it?” he breathed. Edgar picked up the head, turning it around it in his hands.

  “This is him,” he confirmed, turning to Vi. “Damn Vi,” he muttered. “Heard you were good, but I never thought…”

  “You’re welcome,” Vi interrupted. “Can we get me to a doctor now?”

  Edgar and Traven stared down at Vi…at the bloody hole in her belly, and at her bleeding stump. Traven gave a low whistle, shaking his head.

  “Damn Vi,” he stated. “You’re all fucked up.”

  “Yeah,” Vi retorted, “…well no one happened to mention the bitch hiding behind the goddamn waterfall.”

  “What?”

  “That isn’t the leader,” she explained, gesturing at the head Edgar was holding. “The real leader’s a female Ironclad, bigger than him.”

  “A female?” Edgar asked. “Didn’t realize they had any. How could you tell?”

  “She had tits.”

  “Ah,” Traven replied. He stood up then. “I take it the kid didn’t make it,” he added. Vi hesitated, then shook her head, swallowing past a lump in her throat. An image of Hunter being torn apart by that monster came unbidden to her mind’s eye, and she shoved the thought away, blinking moisture from her eyes.

  “Come on,” she urged, trying to sit up. But the pain in her belly stopped her, and she fell onto her back, taking short, gasping breaths. She waited for the pain to subside a little. “We need to get back to Tykus.” Traven grimaced.

  “There’s been a complication,” he confessed, sighing heavily.

  “What?”

  “Well,” Traven replied, scratching his head, “…as you know, the guild hasn’t been too happy with you since you left. In fact, the High Seeker himself ordered your death oh, I don’t know, a decade ago now?” He glanced at Edgar, who rubbed his chin.

  “Eleven years, actually,” he corrected.

  “You know as well as I do that no Seeker is allowed to leave the guild,” Traven continued. “Brilliant to get Duke Dominus as a client so he’d protect you.”

  “I didn’t need protection,” Vi retorted.

  “Probably true,” Traven agreed. “See, now a guy like Dominus can get away with breaking the law, hiring non-guild Seekers. Not much the guild could do about it. Quite the conundrum for the High Seeker, don’t you think?”

  “Screw the High Seeker,” Vi spat. “A deal’s a deal. Dominus paid you to help me, and he’ll be pissed if you don’t.”

  “Oh really?” Traven murmured. He reached back, grabbing his warhammer and holding it in one hand, dropping the head of it down on the ground, inches from her head. “That’s funny, isn’t it Edgar?”

  “Hilarious,” Edgar agreed.

  “The Guild of Seekers can’t have someone knowing what you know running around,” Traven continued, leaning both hands on the warhammer. “Can’t have the kingdom finding ou
t what we’re really up to, can we?”

  “Haven’t talked yet,” Vi retorted. “And I don’t plan to. I don’t give a shit about the kingdom,” she added, “Or your damn guild.”

  “Oh, I believe you,” Traven agreed. “Trust me I do. Unfortunately, the High Seeker doesn’t see it that way. You’re the only Seeker to ever break the covenant without being killed,” he added. “And the way the High Seeker sees it, you’re the single greatest threat to the guild…and our mission.”

  “Screw your mission.”

  “So the High Seeker himself made a deal with Dominus,” Traven continued, ignoring her. “The guild would use all their resources to find the Ironclad base, and the good Duke would look the other way if something unfortunate were to happen to you.”

  “He wouldn’t…” Vi began.

  “He did,” Traven interrupted, smirking at her. “Seems like he doesn’t need your services anymore, Vi.” He sighed then, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway, that’s the story,” he added, lifting his warhammer up and resting it over his shoulder. “…and what’ya know, here we are.”

  Vi reached for the mace at her hip, but Traven lunged forward, bringing the heel of his boot down on her wrist…hard. She bit back a scream, trying to kick him, but he slid the butt of the warhammer down, dropping it on her belly.

  She howled.

  “Edgar, if you would,” Traven prompted. Edgar reached down, unsheathing her sword and tossing it a few meters away. Traven turned back to Vi, giving her a rueful smile. “You know, damn if I can’t help it, but I kinda like you,” he admitted. “Scratch that…I really like you,” he corrected. He lifted his warhammer, resting it on his shoulder again. “You know what?” he added. “I wanna know what happens if we let you go…if you’re so damn good that you can make it out of all of this alive.”

  Vi groaned, clutching her belly, waves of excruciating pain radiating to her back. She tried to take a breath in, but couldn’t. Traven nodded at Edgar, and then both turned away from her, walking toward the tree line. Then Traven stopped, turning around to look at her.

  “You know what?” he said. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  He stepped forward, raising his warhammer high above his head, the metal gleaming in the sunlight. Then he grunted, swinging downward, right at Vi’s head.

  Chapter 36

  Hunter stared down at the thing that had claimed to be his mother, at her inky black eyes staring lifelessly upward. He shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. Despite her inky black, armor-plated skin, despite the all-black eyes and the glowing tendrils cascading from her head, she did look familiar. The same high cheekbones, the same lips. Even her voice had been similar.

  “No,” he whispered, staring down at her…at the sword – Vi’s sword – protruding from her chest. The one he’d sent right through her heart.

  What have I done?

  He reached down, shaking her shoulders, then slapping her cheek, hoping beyond hope that she would wake up. That her eyes would focus on his, that she would smile at him again. But there was no life in her. It’d been snuffed out.

  By her own son.

  He shook his head, tears blurring his vision, and held her head in his arms, leaning over to press his cheek against hers. It was warm, if hard, the armor slick against his skin. He felt a sob escape him, swallowed whole by the roar of the waterfall.

  “No, mommy, no.”

  Hunter sat down, cradling her head in his lap, rocking back and forth. He ran a hand through the hair-like tendrils on her scalp, his tears dripping onto her cheek.

  I’m sorry.

  He closed his eyes, an image of her smiling up at him coming to him, the sudden recognition. The love.

  I’m so sorry.

  She’d tried to warn him, tried to tell him to stop. But he hadn’t. He’d let his anger get the best of him, and murdered his own mother.

  Oh god, he thought, a sickening feeling twisting his guts. Oh god oh god…

  He hunched over, crushing his cheek against her bosom, gritting his teeth.

  I can’t do this.

  He gave a low moan, raising his head, staring up at the blue sky visible through the hole in the ceiling far above. He took a deep breath in, his lips quivering.

  And screamed.

  The sound echoed through the chamber, the agonizing sound drowning out the roar of the waterfall. It faded, and Hunter lowered his gaze, his chest heaving.

  I killed my own mother.

  He stared down at his mother, at that beautiful face. Alien, but beautiful still.

  She sent my brother to find me.

  He closed his eyes, seeing the huge Ironclad that had attacked him after he’d gone through the gate. The Ironclad he’d shot in the face, right before Alasar and the other soldiers had killed it.

  My brother!

  Hunter stood then, his mother’s head sliding off his lap, rolling to the side on the rocky floor. He stumbled backward, an image of him pulling the trigger – of his brother’s face exploding – forcing itself on him. His brother had been trying to save him all along, to stop the kingdom from getting him. To take him to his mother.

  And he’d killed him too.

  His legs wobbled, and he fell to his knees, barely registering the pain as they struck hard rock. A wave of nausea came over him, and he leaned over, retching once, then again.

  Dark shapes appeared through the waterfall.

  Hunter scrambled to his feet, turning in a slow circle. Dozens of Ironclad stepped through the waterfall surrounding him, water cascading down their armored bodies. They stepped toward them, their black eyes on him.

  He glanced down at his mother, then at them, clenching his fists.

  “Kill me,” he ordered.

  They stopped, standing around him silently. Staring at him.

  “Kill me!” he repeated.

  Still, they did nothing.

  He unsheathed his sword, walking toward one of them, pointing the tip at its chest.

  “Do it!” he shouted, flipping the sword around and grabbing it by the blade. He swung it over his head, aiming for the thing’s face. It raised four arms, blocking the blow, his sword bouncing off harmlessly. He stumbled backward, nearly dropping the blade, expecting the Ironclad to lunge at him.

  But it just stood there.

  Hunter stared at it, his heart pounding, his chest heaving with each breath. Then, in a fit of madness, he gripped the blade tightly, pressing the point of the sword under his breastbone. He grit his teeth.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Fine!’ He closed his eyes, steeling himself. “I’ll do it myself then.”

  Something tore the sword out of his hands, and he opened his eyes, seeing an Ironclad standing before him. It flung his sword backward through the air, and it vanished beyond the waterfall.

  Hunter backpedaled, then tripped on something behind him, falling onto his butt. It was his mother, he realized; he’d tripped over her body. He got to his feet, and the Ironclad strode toward him, reaching for the hilt of the sword embedded in mom’s chest.

  “No!” he cried, lunging for the sword and grabbing it before the Ironclad could. He yanked on it once, then again, the blade finally pulling free. He stumbled backward, then turned in a slow circle.

  The Ironclad were all around him, forming a veritable wall of armored flesh. He saw them flashing rapid hand signals to each other.

  “Get back!” he ordered, glancing from one of them to the next, continuing to turn in a circle. He spotted a gap between them, and burst forward, sheathing Vi’s sword. He feinted to the left, then leapt rightward through the gap, sprinting up to the waterfall and leaping through.

  He gasped as the icy water coursed over him, then felt a second chill as he fell into the pool beyond, his head plunging below the surface. The current grabbed him, pulling him forward, and he swam for the surface, his head bursting through. He gasped for air, seeing a dark tunnel in the distance, the water flowing toward it. He looked around, but Vi was nowhere to
be seen.

  She escaped through that tunnel.

  It was the only possible route, Hunter knew. At least one that wasn’t crawling with Ironclad. She had to have taken it.

  He swam forward, working with the current, the tunnel swallowing him whole. Utter darkness enveloped him, the current carrying him swiftly forward. His guts lurched as the stream dropped suddenly, angling sharply downward. He jerked to one side, then fell again, the current plunging his head underwater.

  And then, mercifully, the current slowed. He felt his back scraping against the floor of the stream, and kicked upward, breaking through the surface of the water. He noticed an orange light to his right, but it passed by too quickly for him to get a good look at it, the stream curving leftward.

  Then he saw it: sunlight, shining through the end of the tunnel ahead!

  Hunter slid toward it, the stream becoming steeper as he drew closer. At last he burst into the light, the floor of the stream dropping out from under him suddenly. He dropped onto his back on the stream as it continued below, water gushing over his face and shoulders.

  Hunter grimaced, rolling to the side as the stream carried him toward the larger stream ahead. He made it to the shore, rising unsteadily to his feet. He was, he realized, right back where he’d started…at the entrance to the Ironclad lair.

  He stared at the mouth of the cave, at the stream spilling from it, hardly believing his eyes. Realization came over him; if he’d made it out, that meant that Vi had, too.

  Vi!

  He turned, scanning the shoreline, and spotted something lying there a few yards from the stream. His heart leapt in his throat; it was a person, lying on their back in the grass, covered in glowing blue liquid. He walked toward it, unsheathing his sword slowly, holding it out in front of him, stopping a foot away and staring down at it.

  His heart skipped a beat.

  “Vi!” he cried, sheathing his sword and kneeling before her. It was her. Her head was covered in glowing goo, and he wiped it away, uncovering her eyes. They were partly open, staring off into nothingness. “Vi,” he repeated, slapping her face lightly. But again, she didn’t respond.