by Joe Jackson
“Oshar,” the brys answered. “I am called Gaerakk.”
Eli nodded, making a mental note to pass the names on to Kari.
“Danilynn, if you can patch up Eli’s arm, he and I will try to get the coach righted,” Tor said. “Maybe you and Liria can chase down the horses; they’re probably by the river. We’ll take Oshar and Reece with us. We can have Oshar interred in Gnarr if Gaerakk likes, and we’ll see about getting Reece a hunter’s funeral as well.”
They managed to get the coach back on its wheels with help from everyone. Thankfully, the wheels themselves were undamaged. Eli took over driving, and Gaerakk sat with him on the driver’s bench. The others rode inside, and they made their way hastily to the city of Gnarr. Eli was anxious to get to the temple of Zalkar and pass along a message to Kari. Something big had happened here, and he suspected the web of spies might be even wider than Kari had thought.
Chapter IX – Wolf and Hunter
Corbanis disembarked with only the briefest thanks to the captain of the Eastern Star, eager to make his way into the city and find his children, or any word of their passing through. He made sure his dog tags were laying out over his darkened breastplate, and between the tags and his imposing physique, he had little trouble making his way through the crowded docks. A quick examination and inquiry revealed that while the Sword of the Coast wasn’t in port, it had been recently, and a rather remarkable group had come ashore.
The half-guardian made his way to a local tavern, The Stoic Helmsman, and was shocked to find one close to the docks that wasn’t a run-down dive or an obvious house of ill-repute. All eyes in the establishment fell upon him when he entered, and he opted against folding his wings in tight, even in the cramped interior. Having a pair of wings follow in his wake allowed him to cut an even more imposing figure than he already did, and the shield between them only added to that. He was happy to take advantage of it in this place. Despite its more refined appearance, the clientele were mainly sailors and seafaring types, and their companions – to the casual observer – certainly appeared to be mostly prostitutes. Corbanis had little doubt that the wrong word said would start a brawl of epic proportions.
Corbanis ignored the clientele as much as possible, and made his way to the bar. He was able to stand at the corner, and the nearby patrons wordlessly crowded a little more to the sides to give him plenty of space. He received some curious looks, and some that were openly dirty, but he picked absently at the tip of one of his horns, and found that very few people wanted to look at him after that. He waited patiently for the attention of the barkeep, who only kept the massive demonhunter waiting for half a minute.
“What’ll you have, officer?” the human asked, sounding genuinely polite. Several of the impolite stares returned upon the utterance of the word officer, but neither Corbanis nor the barkeep paid them any mind.
“Just a short beer, and some news,” the demonhunter responded.
The human laughed, running his hand back through his hair in a reflexive manner, and he readjusted the elastic band keeping it in a short, high tail. “Well, if you’re looking for work, I’m sure you won’t have much trouble keeping busy,” he responded, a twinkle in his dark eyes. “It seems there’s a werewolf about in the city, and the guard and even some local adventuring boys haven’t had any luck catching it yet. I think the baron would offer you a handsome reward if you killed it and delivered its pelt.”
“A werewolf?” Corbanis echoed. “Is it dark brown, vicious, and leaves a nasty trail of eviscerated bodies in its wake?”
There was a silent pause. “Eviscerated?” the barkeep echoed.
“Disemboweled, or gutted,” the demonhunter clarified.
“No, no, nothing like that,” the human answered. “No, it’s a big black one. Hasn’t killed anyone yet that I know of, but it’s been nosing around causing a panic, so Lord Timmins wants it captured or killed.” He seemed to consider Corbanis for a minute – and he certainly wasn’t the only one – and he cocked his head to the side. “Sounds like you have experience with them?”
Corbanis nodded and tapped a finger on the bar. The human chuckled and apologized shortly, then poured the demonhunter a beer and slid it before him. “I tangled with one a long time ago, before the War,” Corbanis said, pausing to take a sip of his beer. He wasn’t supposed to drink on the job, but he’d only gotten a half pint, and he knew his limitations when it came to holding his liquor. “But it was a brown one, and extremely vicious. Obviously, this doesn’t sound like the same one, though we never did manage to kill the one I’m talking about.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, officer, what rank are you?” the human asked.
“Corbanis Tesconis, Devil Slayer, by Zalkar’s Grace,” the demonhunter said to introduce himself and answer the question.
The barkeep shook Corbanis’ hand. “Mason Tremont, Lord of the Bar, by the landlord’s grace,” he responded, and the demonhunter laughed. “I’m sure I don’t have to bother telling you this, but the werewolf prowls around at night, mostly. If you want more information, I’m sure the city watch will be happy to have your help.”
“Thanks, I think I’ll check in with them,” Corbanis answered, and he finished his beer quickly. “I don’t suppose you saw a large group pass through the city recently? They would have had a few of my kind, along with a few humans.”
Asking that question seemed to draw a lot more curious stares than anything else he and the bartender had spoken about. A couple of patrons further down the bar banged their glasses on its surface impatiently, but a cool-eyed glare from Corbanis calmed them quickly.
“Matter of fact, we did have a group like that stay here the other day,” Mason answered. “Five half-demons and three humans; one of the half-demons was a half-brys. Three of them were bigger, like you. They only stayed one night, though. If you’ll excuse me, officer, I really should get back to tending bar.”
“Of course; thanks for the information,” Corbanis said. He reached for his coin purse, but Mason waved him off; it was one of those little benefits that came with being a demonhunter. It wasn’t one that was always recognized in a place like this, but Corbanis was glad for it.
The demonhunter left and made his way to the constabulary, which was strategically located in the south end of the city, not too far from the docks. His appearance drew more than one epithet under the breath, but the reactions here were a lot more respectful than the bulk of those at the tavern. The majority of guards here were human, as was typical in the southern regions, but there were a couple of rir among the staff as well. None of them approached Corbanis, perhaps a little intimidated, but one of them retrieved a uniformed officer from a side room.
“Officer,” the human said in greeting as he approached and extended his hand.
“Corbanis Tesconis, Devil Slayer, by Zalkar’s Grace,” he introduced himself.
“Captain Reginald Baxter,” the human replied with a nod. His uniform looked as close to military as police, and Corbanis wondered if the man had or did serve a dual role. “You’re the second hunter to pass through our city in the last few days. The other had a number of paladins with him, I’m lead to understand. I take it you lot are looking into the troubles west of us?”
Corbanis nodded. “Yes, though while I’m here, I was considering looking into this werewolf problem I’ve heard about. Care to share the details? Or is this something you and your men have well in hand?”
“Why don’t we take a walk, and I can show you the where to go along with the what,” Reginald said. He was much shorter than Corbanis, and he patted the demonhunter’s armored shoulder before preceding him out the door.
The captain led the demonhunter farther north into the city, well away from the docks. The buildings gradually became more luxurious the farther they went from the port, ascending up a gently-sloping hill. The more expensive and expansive houses climbed the hill toward its summit, from which they had an unbelievable view of the southern sea, called the Matt
ick. The houses were close together, but they were far beyond anything Corbanis had ever lived in or even visited. Most had widow’s walks, and the demonhunter was hardly surprised when the captain pointed to them.
“The beast tends to use the roofs to get around untouched,” he said. “Not surprisingly, my men have a hard time pursuing it when it jumps from rooftop to rooftop. We’ve set traps and snares to try to catch it doing so, but it’s a lot smarter than we expected. So far, we have only the most basic of information: it’s big, it’s black, and it’s female. It likes to prowl around at night when it’s easier to hide, but the strange thing is…it hasn’t killed or even attacked anyone yet. Most of the ‘damage’ it’s done has been by way of panic or fear. It’s as though it’s looking for something or someone, but it doesn’t stay around to answer questions when it’s spotted.”
“Understandably,” Corbanis muttered, glancing around at the many high, flat roofs. He would have little trouble moving from rooftop to rooftop with his wings, but his own appearance might cause as much of a stir as the werewolf’s. “It stays mainly in this part of the city?”
“It’s most frequently spotted in this area, yes,” Captain Baxter said. “Lord Timmins is naturally upset about this; most of the nobility live in this section, and they fear it’s after one of them or their money.”
The demonhunter laughed. “Their money?” he repeated. “Not bloody likely.”
The human captain smiled and chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose so,” he said. “Still, his lordship has offered a five hundred gold reward for its capture or death. Plenty of adventurers have shown up recently to try to collect on that, though they’re not having any more luck than my men.”
“They don’t likely have a pair of these,” Corbanis said, flapping his wings.
The human laughed again, and Corbanis looked around the immediate area. There was only light traffic in this district, and most of those he saw seemed to belong there. There was the occasional person that looked out of place, but a short study led him to believe these were mostly servants or other menial labor on their way to or from work. Still, there was the odd pedestrian that didn’t seem to fit, and though he didn’t let his stare linger on any of them for too long, Corbanis made mental notes of every one of them. The most intriguing was a pretty, dark woman dressed in finery that said upper class, but who walked with the gait of a trained hunter. No matter how well-dressed or prettily made-up she was, she couldn’t disguise the walk, and it made her stand out badly to the demonhunter. It took only the briefest glimpse of the scars she tried to hide under a high collar to mark her as a prime suspect.
“Well, if you want my help, I’ll be happy to take a look around tonight,” Corbanis said. “I’m supposed to catch up with the previous group, who I assume went upriver, but I can spend a day or two here to help you out, if you like.”
“I won’t refuse the help of a demonhunter,” Captain Baxter said. “Though if I may make a suggestion, try capturing her so we can ask what she was about.”
“That was my intention,” Corbanis returned. “Please don’t change the way your men patrol; if things go the way they usually do, that may make it easier for me to capture it.”
“Understood,” the captain said. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“No, thank you. I’m going to find a place to settle in until evening, and then I’ll get to work.”
Captain Baxter nodded and made his way back south toward the constabulary. Corbanis found a cozy little inn in the north part of the city, arranged for a room, and passed a few hours having a meal while he read the local broadsheets. The newspaper wasn’t published very often, and so the news among its pages was mostly out of date, but Corbanis was able to glean some details about the attacks to the west. Most of it seemed wrong, but looking at things from the perspective of the victims or the vulnerable often gave him important insight as a hunter. The people here in Newport weren’t terrified of the possible coming trouble, but they were reasonably fearful.
Lord Timmins, the local baron, had already put in a bit of work fortifying the city before the latest broadsheets were printed. One of its articles served as both a summary and a call to arms, alerting those on the outskirts or outlying farms that they had been summoned for military service. Corbanis was satisfied that the baron had put in his due diligence in defending the city; whether or not it would make any difference, he couldn’t yet say. He simply hoped that all went according to plan, and he, his children, and their other allies managed to intercept and kill the Tilcimer before it made it this far east or south.
Corbanis turned his gaze to the left, and just caught a couple of other locals staring before they went back to their own business. It wasn’t all that unusual a reaction to receive, even for a half-guardian. Back in Latalex, people were a little less suspicious of his kind, but here in the deeper south, half-demons were rare and still treated with a great deal of mistrust. Corbanis had been pleasantly surprised by the congeniality of Captain Baxter, but the captain’s politeness hadn’t been shared by his staff. Even the crew of the Eastern Star, though professional, had clearly wanted to be rid of Corbanis.
The half-guardian snorted and turned back to the broadsheets. It was amazing to him how thankless some people could be, but he had to remind himself that these people knew little or nothing of him. It was unlikely they knew that he was the son of Cerberus, one of Kaelariel’s most trusted sworn brothers. It was entirely possible they had no idea his father had died in the Apocalypse, and almost certain they knew nothing about Corbanis being forced to sacrifice most of his familial ties to honor his duties as a demonhunter.
The last thought gave him pause, and he let out a short sigh. Of all the people who kept staring at him, there was only one whose gaze wasn’t one of mistrust or hatred. He tried his best to ignore her, but there was something about being stared at for too long that eventually made him have to look back. No sooner had he met the green-eyed gaze of the sultry rir woman than she got to her feet and approached. Corbanis sighed again; this was a situation he had dealt with on at least a weekly basis back home in Latalex.
“Mind if I join you?” the young woman asked when she stepped up to the table.
“I do,” he said simply. “I appreciate your attention, but I’m both married and on duty, and have no time or desire.”
“Oh, I had no idea,” she returned. Corbanis looked up at her again, and she gestured toward his hand. “You’re not wearing a ring.”
Corbanis pulled up his second necklace, a thin silver chain with his wedding band hanging from it. The girl apologized shortly and made her way out the front door, embarrassed. No doubt she thought Corbanis wearing the ring around his neck meant his mate was dead, which was just as well. Corbanis actually wore his on a chain so his enemies would have no idea there was someone else to hunt down if they killed him unless they searched his body. But the other implications kept prostitutes or other “well-meaning” women at bay.
For a while, he had been tempted to take advantage of the opportunities. It wasn’t long before he’d decided if he wanted to be intimate, there was only one person he had the right to be with. Patching up his relationship with Kyrie was never far from his mind, but they were so far apart, he knew it would take much longer than courting her the first time had. He’d been pleased that she admitted she’d missed him when he said as much to her, but the words and the longing didn’t repair the hurt. If he wanted to do that, it would be fruitless without the same desire on her part.
Corbanis thought about his children. Would they welcome his help, even under Kari’s orders? He had always felt his relationships with his three eldest – Serenjols, Erijinkor, and Grakin – were good, but he couldn’t say the same for his younger children. Typhonix didn’t seem to harbor any ill or hard feelings when they’d met again in DarkWind, but Corbanis wasn’t sure he’d get the same reaction from Sonja, and certainly not Aeligos. He was fairly certain that any hope he had of restoring his marriage woul
d be predicated on fixing his relationships with his children.
Before he knew it, the light had changed hue, the shadows started to elongate, and the innkeeper began lighting the chandeliers above. Corbanis finished the last sip of his ale and then made his way out to the streets. Night would soon be upon the city, and he had little doubt the werewolf would be prowling about somewhere. The city represented a lot of ground to cover, but Captain Baxter’s assurances that the beast concentrated its efforts here in the north district would hopefully cut down on that. Above all, Corbanis’ goal was to spend as little time on this voluntary hunt as possible, so he could join his children and their allies quickly.
Corbanis made sure his tags were out and, after ducking down an alley, flew up to land on one of the rooftops. A flustered servant came out to confront him, but quickly apologized and made his way back inside when Corbanis explained what he was doing. The rooftop gave him a great vantage point for keeping an eye on the main boulevard of the northern district, but he kept to a corner near a chimney to try to conceal himself from casual scrutiny. The last thing he needed was for the guard to mistake him for the werewolf and raise the alarm, and in so doing alert the werewolf that it was, in fact, the prey.
The minutes slipped by quickly into an hour, and the moons began to make appearances a lot closer to the northern horizon than he was used to. His patience paid off after a while, when he witnessed a confrontation. His low-light vision revealed none other than the suspicious woman from earlier as she followed another human. Corbanis remained as still as possible, tempted to get closer but not wanting the noise from his armor to alert them to his eavesdropping. He missed the better part of the conversation, but eventually, the man walked away from the woman, and as she chased after him, they passed within earshot of Corbanis.