Both Barrels of Monster Hunter Legends (Legends of the Monster Hunter Book 1)

by Josh Reynolds

  They left that night and headed south by the light of a crescent moon. The wolves, thinking the hunters were off to kill a mammoth and would leave tasty scraps of flesh behind, followed them.

  “How do we kill a god?” Blue Eyes asked.

  “The way you kill a deer,” Bear Claw answered. “Draw its blood, pierce its hide.”

  Stone Ax shook his head. He had seen most animals, and he’d seen pictures drawn of others, but he had never seen a god, not even a picture of one. He doubted killing a god was like killing a deer.

  They walked until the sun began crawling up out of the sea. Then they laid down in a small circle, just beside the dozing pack of wolves, and slept for a few hours.

  Once the sun had reached the very top of the sky, Blue Eyes woke. He looked around, expecting to see the inside of the cave system that had sheltered their tribe for generations. Once the shock of open space had worn off, he roused the other hunters.

  Their grumbles of displeasure caused the ears of the wolves to prick up, followed quickly by their heads, which followed the hunters as they headed off again.

  The alpha male stood and trotted after the hunters, and the other wolves followed.

  They saw the smoke just as the sky began to split into reds and pinks and purples. There was a large fire ahead.

  “The wolves are upset,” Bear Claw said.

  “How do you know?” Stone Ax asked.

  “Look at how they move, weaving back and forth amongst each other, snapping at each other if they get too close.”

  Stone Ax nodded.

  As they approached the smoke, they found a forested stretch of land running up between a craggy mountain on one side and a shallow stream on the other. The smoke was rising from deep within the wood. The air was filled with the scent of burning trees.

  The wolves whined and howled, falling behind the hunters with their tails between their legs and their backs arched.

  As the hunters entered the wood, the wolves turned and ran back the way they had come.

  Bear Claw turned to watch the animals sprint away. “They know better,” he said.

  “They are afraid,” Red Hair said.

  “As am I,” Blue Eyes said.

  There was a moment of silence before Bear Claw cleared his throat and said, “I am the oldest here. I have seen the most. There is no place for fear in the hunt. A fearful hunter is dead. Only the fearless can become great.”

  “Some of us will die,” Stone Ax said.

  “To wake again refreshed, like the Great Bear after a winter slumber,” Red Hair said.

  Bear Claw nodded in agreement. “The first goddess, she who gave birth to the earth and the sky and to all of the other gods, she will care for us as a mother for her children… in victory or in death.”

  Blue Eyes grunted and nodded.

  Stone Ax held up his weapon. “May our ancestors give us strength, may the animal spirits give us power…”

  “May the gods hunt with us today,” they finished in unison.

  Stone Ax had considered the prayer for the dead and chosen the prayer for the hunt instead. It did them all good. Empowered, they advanced towards the infant god.

  Amidst the flames, surrounded by broken trees and half buried in the earth, they found the seed. It was round and smooth as a river stone, the color of slate, and big enough to house a tribe.

  Bear Claw moved around it and the flames in a wide arch. “It has already hatched,” he said, pointing at it.

  When the others joined him, they found an opening in the smoothness of the seed.

  Blue Eyes fell to the ground, examining the dirt, the leaves of the ferns. He moved around without direction for a bit before grunting, crawling towards the east for a few feet, and then pointing. “It’s moving towards the east.”

  They moved slowly then, Blue Eyes in front, following a subtle trail that the others could not discern. They crossed the stream. On the far side, Blue Eyes found the trail again.

  They saw the dark god in the distance. It was making its way across a field, heading away from them at a slow pace.

  “Now we hunt,” Bear Claw said.

  They sped up, running on the balls of their feet, Bear Claw in the lead. They moved like a pack of wolves, of one mind and one purpose.

  The new god stopped and turned, as if it had heard them. It was armored like a black crab, its plates glistening in the light of the rising moon. It was as tall as a bear and stood on two legs like a man. Its hands ended in three-fingered claws. Eyes the color of jade glowed above a mouth full of thin teeth, like bone sewing needles.

  “Fear nothing, brothers!” Bear Claw yelled as he lifted his wooden spear.

  The dark god responded. Its voice was like the screeching of the bat, the howl of the wolf, and the roar of the lion all at once.

  Bear Claw threw his spear. It flew through the air straight and strong and all of the hunters could see that the strength of Bear Claw’s ancestors was in that throw. Truly the first goddess had smiled on them.

  The spear struck, hitting the god in its armored chest. It fell to the ground.

  The dark god came towards them.

  The hunters found that their spears could not penetrate the armored hide of the new god, that their arms could not force their dagger points through the black plates.

  The god reached out and grabbed Red Hair by the face, wrapping its three long, clawed fingers around his head.

  The hunter screamed and beat against the god’s arm with his fist. Then, feeling a soft spot at the wrist, a joint between two plates of obsidian shell, Red Hair stabbed his antler dagger into it.

  His vision blocked by the clawed hand, Red Hair still felt the tip of his weapon penetrate and heard the cry of the dark god, a sound like thunder and wailing.

  Red Hair smiled, expecting the injured god to drop him. He was smiling still when the three fingers closed into a fist, crushing his skull.

  Bear Claw, Blue Eyes, and Stone Ax watched the dark god drop Red Hair’s body and knew that the hunter’s spirit had left.

  The dagger protruded from the black wrist. The wound oozed a thick slime, dark and flecked with iridescence.

  “Strike where it is weak,” Bear Claw said as he dashed towards the creature.

  Blue Eyes and Stone Ax followed close behind.

  The dark god caught Bear Claw, and the experienced hunter attacked with his dagger, seeking another weak point.

  Stone Ax threw himself at the infant god and swung his weapon with all of his strength. The heavy ax hit the armor and broke through it with the explosive crack of a lightning bolt.

  The god screamed again. It lashed out at Stone Ax, but Blue Eyes got in its way, taking the blow meant for the younger man.

  “Kill it,” Blue Eyes said. He coughed and blood splashed out onto his lips and chin. He reached down and held on to the arm that had been plunged into his abdomen.

  Stone Ax brought his blade down on the dark god’s arm, hitting the soft spot at the elbow and severing it completely.

  Blue Eyes smiled at Stone Ax and said, “Until spring.” He fell back, the god’s claw still buried in his belly, and died.

  Bear Claw stumbled back when the infant god let go.

  It reached out for Stone Ax, a deep rumbling erupting from its throat.

  Bear Claw jumped onto the god’s back, wrapping his free arm around its neck, and stabbed his dagger deep into its right eye.

  The god bellowed and shook, tossing Bear Claw into the tall grass.

  The god’s one eye went back and forth between Bear Claw and Stone Ax. The dark god reached up with its remaining hand and plucked the dagger from its eye.

  Bear Claw and Stone Ax ran at the god at the same time.

  The clawed hand lashed out and the dark god shoved two of its talons into Bear Claw’s eyes, just as Stone Ax brought his blade down on the center of its face.

  Bear Claw and the dark god fell in unison, one still in the grasp of the other. Stone Ax let go of his weapon,
accepting that it was too stuck in the hard exterior of the face to free it.

  He looked around at the bodies of his tribesmen and the strange shape of the infant god of evil.

  He took a long look at the god, committing its features to memory. He would go back and draw it on the wall of the caves, noting the weak points and the effectiveness of heavy stone weapons. He would make sure that the tales of the dark god would be passed down, that his descendents knew what it was and how to kill it.

  Stone Ax turned and headed back to his tribe alone and empty-handed, his mind full of horrors for the cave walls.

  Windigo Dreams

  E.M. MacCallum

  Ma’iingan found the evil creatures on the second day of his fasting. The pair were playing catch with a human skull deep in the woods. Their juvenile gaiety distracted them from his presence.

  Ma’iingan had swiftly back tracked, disguising his tracks along the way. Hiding on the outskirts of a clearing he waited for his opportunity. It never occurred to him to run away, that would defeat the purpose of an ultimate hunt. Ma’iingan prided himself at being a superior hunter in his tribe even compared to the mighty bear, Makwa. This kill could save more than just the lives of their future victims, but of the person Ma’iingan was seeking to protect.

  Something burst through the evergreens, shooting hunks of snow out into the clearing in a cloud.

  The human skull was a blur as it rolled recklessly through the powdered snow towards the hunter.

  Ma’iingan smiled inwardly. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he raised the bow and arrow. Laying back in the snow, the six-foot bow laid across his chest. His right foot pressed against the wood while his hands gripped the string made from the white tendon of the mule deer.

  He carefully positioned the arrow along the string lining it up against his foot in anticipation. His gaze never strayed from the clearing as he meticulously prepared the giant bow and arrow. The thrill tingled all the way up from his stomach into his stiff fingertips, warming them ever so slightly.

  Months of ice and snow solidified the ground yet he could still feel the vibrations of their approach at his back-side.

  The human skull rolled to a stop a few feet before the bare arrowroot bush beside him. The impossibly white skull had been picked clean, sparkling with crystallized snowflakes.

  Ma’iingan’s hungry brown eyes rolled up, narrowing as he aimed down the length of his arrow, arms steady and unmoving. He didn’t draw back the bow yet, he waited with muscles tense, quivering internally with excitement.

  The story he would have after this would be astonishing. It would wow children for generations. Every Ojibwe story had a lesson, he wondered if his would ultimately be of courage and selflessness.

  The monstrous windigo barreled from the trees, towering above the smaller saplings.

  Timber trees were cut and tied to its feet as snowshoes with several green saplings. The creature appeared gaunt and starving, hardly the monster that could lift tree trunks on the flats of its feet. Yet, it did, it ran with them out into the clearing, kicking white powder several feet into the air.

  Ma’iingan remained comfortably warm beneath the wrap-around though the bits of snow falling over him dampened his exposed face and hands, chilling him instantly.

  “This is for you, Aasemaa-ikwe,” he whispered to his wife back home, the words barely given a voice in his concentration.

  The only sound being his even breaths as he pulled back the string with perfected precision.

  The windigo hadn’t noticed him at first. It ambled through the deep snow, tree-snowshoes sinking deeper into the banks circling the tiny clearing.

  It’s skin stretched over its homely features, making it appear cadaverous, frighteningly near death. It hurried its step upon seeing the discarded glistening skull against the snow. Grunting in delight it almost seemed to smile. Blood-caked, cracked lips stretched impossibly wide, revealing a row of yellowed, carnivorous teeth.

  As it drew near, Ma’iingan felt the frigid essence ripple through his body. It made his chest feel tight as if his heart were painfully being squeezed with each beat, slowly layering in bitter frost within his ribcage.

  Knowing not to aim for the chest—for a windigo’s heart was made of ice—he focused on it’s head. He angled the bow higher, using his stomach muscles to perfect the aim. His feet planted against the bow, they rose higher than his craned neck. With wood buffalo he usually could aim along the top of the snow and catch the animals in their sides, but this corrupted demon was far taller.

  Suddenly aware that it wasn’t alone it rounded it’s gigantic head—a head that was far too large for it’s body—in Ma’iingan’s direction. Inauspicious eyes met Ma’iingan’s for the first time. Ravenous hunger swept over its features greedily, it’s mouth splitting to howl it’s paralyzing scream.

  Releasing the arrow before the windigo’s numbing qualities could hinder his performance he watched the sharp object soar boldly towards the demon. Simultaneously, he reached for another arrow from the quiver adjusted to his side.

  Flying true, the stone-tipped arrow lodged with a wet thud deep into the eye-socket of the monster.

  Raising himself from his hiding place Ma’iingan hollered voraciously, his voice scratching with days of no water to soothe his throat. The adrenaline warmed the chill as he raised his arms above his head triumphantly.

  The windigo fell to the earth, shuddering the frozen ground with the fatal blow.

  Hopping around the scraggly bare bush, Ma’iingan danced out into the clearing, shouldering the bow onto his back near the rawhide quiver.

  Leaning over the giant corpse he compared his foot to the width of the giant’s thumb in awe. He couldn’t take it back with him but he was determined to bring back evidence of his victory. Layered in rabbit fur the prized wolf pelt lining was weighed down with icy balls of snow from the long days in wilderness. The wolf had been his trophy for the summer. Now the windigo could be his new trophy.

  Boastful, he kicked at the windigo corpse. The white hair that sparsely covered the naked creature evenly rippled. It was so light it almost floated above the skeletal beast.

  Reaching up he wrenched his arrow free of the beast, but the stone tip had slipped lose, forever lost in the eye-socket of the creature.

  Ma’iingan found himself staring down at the kill in revulsion. The protruding cheekbones were high and stretched with flesh. Blood pooled within the sunken eye socket before trickling down the side of its temple, staining the snow. Its one good eye stared back at Ma’iingan as if seeing him. The glassy surface shifted with the overhead light of dawn.

  Unnerved, Ma’iingan took a cautionary step back. Eying the creature skeptically he waited several seconds before turning away when a distracting noise warned him that he was not alone.

  Ducking down instinctively on the other side of the windigo he saw a second white-haired demon emerge from the woods.

  Identical to the one at his feet, this one skidded to a stop, tree-trunk snowshoes digging up a snow-drift as it’s buggy eyes shifted from the dead monster to Ma’iingan. The two studied each other for a long time. Ma’iingan wondered if he should draw his bow, if he would have enough time. He wondered if he should run, though he doubted he could outrun it.

  It gauged Ma’iingan with the same aporetic stare before speaking. “You killed my mate,” it grumbled in a voice that rolled through the air like a thundercloud.

  Ma’iingan swallowed his nervousness. He glanced between the two naked genderless creatures in astonishment. “I killed a monster, not your mate,” he said plainly.

  The windigo blustered for a moment before baring the same yellow-stained teeth. “We have ways of creating others…” it left the threat hanging in the air.

  Ma’iingan eased his hand back to the quiver for another arrow, shrugging off the bow. If the windigo were to charge he wondered if his aim would be as flawless. He wouldn’t die in the forest as the demon’s meal or suffer a bite, which
was said to have the ability to turn its victim into a windigo.

  Placing the arrow onto his finger, lining it with the bow with the thorough routine that he had spent years perfecting, he dropped to the snow and drew back the arrow audaciously. His feet pushed against the wood of the bow once more.

  Before he could aim the creature stretched open it’s horrendously large mouth and screamed.

  The high-pitched wail reminded Ma’iingan of the distressed smaller children in the tribe but this was far louder. The shrill shriek tore through his ears and the arrow went wild. He was forced to plant the palms of his hands against the sides of his head. He pressed the heels of his palms against his ears, trying desperately to protect himself.

  He waited to feel the numbness spread through his body.

  His eyes shifted up to meet the windigo’s face. It’s voice faded into a strangling choking sound but not from disbelief. Ma’iingan’s arrow had missed its head but not the windigo. It lodged into the demon’s shoulder, just below the collar bone, blood flowing down its flat chest in a steady stream.

  Ma’iingan stood tall again lowering his arms. He smirked arrogantly at the demon.

  The windigo huffed, a cloud of icy air snorting from his flaring nostrils. “Courageous Little Makwa, what protects you?”

  Ma’iingan didn’t answer as he plucked another arrow from the quiver, one of the last he had. He felt a little swell of pride at being called the bear, even a little bear. Determined he realized he could have two demons dead in one day. Each day he smudged himself for protection in the wilderness with the braided sweet grass as a precaution. It must have protected him from the scream. It was the only explanation.

  The windigo glanced wearily at its companion before shuffling back towards the trees, eyes narrowing. “What are you going to do Little Makwa? Kill me as well?” Hissing through its teeth it produced a spitting whistle. For a fleeting instant Ma’iingan was certain he saw a flash of fear in the creature’s eyes.