Forsaken Hunters_Book Zero of The Age of Dawn_A Prequel

by Everet Martins

  Lillian bit her cheeks. Brenna had to see what was happening, didn’t she? She wasn’t a fool.

  Helgar lifted a straight razor from the toolbox and gingerly unfolded it, placing it on the table. Its handle was made of bone, the blade keen. “For as long as I’ve been alive, I’ve lived on this plantation. My father was born here, raised here as a cub, and his father before him and on it goes for the last five hundred years. All my life, I’ve been surrounded by the faces of humies,” he spat, then gave the razor a twirl. Its spin produced an oscillating warble. “This razor here was my father’s razor. He liked to keep the fur on his cheeks close shaved. Not me, but he did. Every day, a servant much like Haru shaved my father’s face, and what I never understood is why the servant never took the chance to slit his master’s throat. That has always been something I never understood about humies.”

  Helgar placed a finger on the razor, stopping its spin. He slowly lit his pipe and blew out a cloud of smoke. “But the servant never did, loyal until the day he died. Why do you think that is?” Before anyone could voice an answer, Helgar continued. “I took an interest in humie anatomy, trying to discover why they were so weak, dull in the mind, and uniquely submissive among the animals. I’ve come to realize dogs are less submissive than they are. Sometimes, even dogs bite their masters, but not humies. I’ve examined hundreds of humie skulls and believe I have discovered that they have a unique gland responsible for subservience that Tigerians simply do not possess.”

  Lillian gazed from Brenna to Helgar, seeing her regard his spectacle with an amused smile.

  Helgar reached into his toolbox, lifted out a pair of iron tongs, clacking them together with a flash of a smile. He stabbed the tongs into the box and withdrew what appeared to be a withered lump of flesh the size of a walnut. “This gland is what I think is responsible for the weakness of your race,” Helgar said, setting the desiccated gland and tongs on the table beside the razor. He twiddled his fingers, reaching into the toolbox, and producing a hatchet. “Now if I were to split your pretty head open, Masa, I would be willing to bet all the marks you offered that I’d find this very same gland deep…” Helgar screamed, slamming his axe into the table, “within your brain!”

  Brenna and Lillian sprang up, and the door burst open behind them. Lillian twisted around to find Sofor just as something bit into her neck. Sofor glowered at the women, pressing the points of raised short swords in each hand against their throats. He extended his sword arm directed at Brenna, forcing her torso to arch over the table lest she be impaled.

  “Place your filthy humie hands on that table, or Sofor will run you bitches through!” Helgar roared, fingers stabbing the air, eyes blazing.

  Brenna slowly and awkwardly placed her hands on the table. Lillian reluctantly mirrored her. She could’ve laid waste to Sofor, but there was still a very likely chance he would kill Brenna, and she couldn’t risk that.

  “Now turn around and take your seats,” Helgar hissed, tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket.

  Brenna’s nostrils flared. “I can’t with your help’s sword against my throat,” she croaked.

  “Let them sit, Sofor, but keep those points close. Especially to her, she is a wily one,” Helgar pointed at Brenna with a grim chuckle.

  The sword point slightly relented, just enough so Lillian could move without killing herself. She felt a line of hot blood trickle down her neck, oozing down along her chest.

  “You almost had me fooled,” Helgar snickered. “You’ve told a lot of lies at my table, and you told them well, very well indeed.” Helgar stroked the handle of the axe wedged in his priceless table. “Hiko! Check them and take their weapons, would you?”

  “Of course.” Hiko strode in behind Sofor, working the buckles free from Brenna’s legs and dragging off the pair of belts containing her throwing knives. “It seems that is all she has.”

  “Check them good, Hiko,” Helgar said, crossing his arms.

  “Very well,” Hiko breathed. He ran his hands along her back, under her breasts, against her hips, and down to her ankles. He did the same to Lillian, but she was all but numb to his fur-lined touch. “They are… disarmed,” he concluded with a grunt. Lillian had to stifle the grin that wanted to form on her lips. How little he knew. He’d apparently missed that Brenna’s gloves were weapons.

  “Remind me… regarding your offer.” Helgar tapped out the charred tobacco from his pipe, packed it fresh, and lit it on a candle. He took a long pull before setting it on the tabletop.

  “Humie scum,” Sofor muttered from behind. “Can’t be trusted.”

  “I remember!” Helgar whooped. “You were about to make an offer to buy Baylan, my illustrious scholar. Is that right?” Helgar ripped his axe from the table, raised it up high and hammered it back into the table. “Get the scholar!” he yelled.

  Haru shoved him through the staging room door, stumbling towards Helgar. Helgar gripped him by the neck and forced him into a chair, producing a fearful yelp. He met Lillian’s eyes, pleading for help. “Put your big hand there,” Helgar gestured at the table, tearing the axe free once again. He hefted it, tapping the flat side into his opened palm.

  “N-no,” Baylan said, shaking his head. Haru lifted Baylan’s arm and pinned his wrist with both hands to the table. “Please don’t! I need it to be useful!”

  “When I tell you to do something, you do it!” Helgar shrieked in his face, spittle flying. An instant later, he composed himself to a stoic businessman. “Now, press your fingers together,” he said softly, axe tapping against his palm.

  “If you don’t do what he tells you, things will only get worse,” Haru said with a hoarse laugh.

  Baylan audibly swallowed, splayed fingers drawing together, eyes bulging.

  “No!” Lillian barked, and the axe came down. Baylan threw his head back in a mighty scream. Helgar let out a roaring laugh, and Haru joined him. A second later, Hiko and Sofor joined in with chuckles of their own. The axe had gone wide of his hand, thumping into only wood.

  “He thought I was going to chop his damned fingers off!” Helgar threw his head back in a mad cackle.

  “Did you see his face?” Haru slapped Helgar on the shoulder. “Thought he was going to shit himself!”

  “Maybe he did!” Helgar heaved out a great laugh, but the laughter was dashed away in a flash. “No, no. I wouldn’t sell you damaged goods,” he said to Brenna. “What type of businessman do you think I am?”

  Brenna winced as Sofor pressed the sword point against the back of her neck.

  “Now, you two have gone through a lot of trouble to find him, and you were prepared to offer me a princely sum of marks for the right brawler. Those were your words if I recall correctly. I think that sum would be perfect for this scholar. Wouldn’t you agree?” Helgar’s clawed hand clamped onto the top of Baylan’s head, squeezing and drawing blood from his temples. Baylan groaned, eyes screwed shut as Helgar squeezed. “I think seven thousand marks would be an agreeable sum. Now, if you want to leave the Oakmourn Plantation breathing and with your scholar’s body wholly intact, then yes… the price is seven thousand marks. Do we have an agreement?” Helgar asked, his countenance dark as he tilted his head at the women.

  “I don’t suppose you’re open to any form of negotiation?” Brenna asked, hands flexing against the polished table.

  “Brenna!” Lillian hissed, glaring at her.

  “You should listen to your advisor.” Helgar’s hard expression broke into a chuckle. “She is a funny one, isn’t she?” Helgar said to Haru.

  “A right entertainer,” Haru nodded, shuffling to the other side where Baylan was seated.

  “Well,” Helgar said casually. “If you think the price is too much…” He ripped his axe from the wood and smashed Baylan’s face into the table with his other hand causing plates, bowls, and glasses to tumble. “I could just split his skull open instead!” Helgar roared, and as he raised the axe, the blade glinting with candlelight.

  Haru scowled
. “Split his skull!”

  Lillian tried to stand, but the sword point drove deeper, forcing her down.

  Brenna heaved out a gulping breath.

  “Negotiate? Negotiate!” Helgar screeched, axe drawing up behind his head. “The nerve!”

  “No, no, no! Wonderful! I’ll pay it! The price is wonderful” Brenna’s fingers raised up from the surface in a pleading gesture that urged Helgar to lower his weapon.

  Helgar roared. “Keep your hands on the table! Sofor!”

  Brenna shouted, writhing as Sofor drove the point of his sword into her neck, drawing blood. “I need my hands to get my money pouch!”

  For long moment, there was nothing but silence, which seemed worse than the loudest scream.

  “Let her move, Sofor,” Helgar finally commanded, his axe hand wavering.

  Sofor inched back with a grunt. Brenna growled, reached down, and tossed her sack of marks onto the table. The top of the sack opened, spilling glittering gems across the gleaming wood.

  “Look at it.” Helgar motioned to Haru with his head.

  Haru reached across the table and dragged the bulging sack over to the edge. He opened it wide, peered in and started running his hand over the twinkling gems. “It seems like it’s all here, though just an estimate. Not a bad one though,” he said, giving a satisfied nod.

  A murderous grin stretched up Helgar’s cheeks. “Deal!” he roared, his eyes blazing as the axe chopped down again. Baylan cringed, eyes screwing shut. Everyone shouted. Once again, Helgar’s weapon did not strike flesh, but only shattered a plate, the axehead buried into the table. “Consider this humie sold to the marvelous bounty hunter and her wonderful advisor!” he growled. Helgar shook his head, let out a long breath, and retrieved his smoldering pipe from the floor. “Hiko,” he took a long drag, “please go ahead and create a bill of sale for Baylan at seven thousand marks. Now that you made me make a mess in here, we’ll have to finish our deal in the study. You made a wise choice.”

  Helgar slowly lowered himself into his chair, pausing to brush off a few bits of shattered plate from the seat. He flicked his gaze to the women, at the axe, at Baylan, and finally, his pipe. A chuckle arose from his black heart and out his mouth, echoing from the walls. “Don’t ask for much, do I?” He looked to Haru, perhaps for guidance.

  “Not much,” Haru said with a series of placating nods. He bent over and started to carefully tie the strings on Brenna’s pouch.

  “I want to hear it from your lips. Why did you lie to me?” Helgar asked, eyes narrowing.

  Brenna cleared her throat. “Well… as you might have guessed, it seemed like the best way to get behind your walls as it were, to see if Masa’s lover was here.”

  Haru gave Brenna a level stare. “Old Haru is always right. Nice work Haru, you can have the rest of the week off.” Haru twitched a smile at Helgar, who only shook his head at him in annoyance.

  Helgar leaned back and crossed his boots against the table’s edge. He swiveled his gaze between them for an endless minute, took a long drag from his pipe, and let a plume of smoke escape his lips. “You almost had me, but know that I do not care as long as I am compensated for my time. There are few things I dislike more...” he took another drag, “than lost time. Slaves, taskmasters, and other employees often try to swindle from my pockets. They’re usually discovered and properly punished.” He groaned. “Since this is business, a business penalty shall suffice. Business… and growing my empire are all that truly matter. Legacy, what we leave behind in this world, has a more far-reaching impact. Wouldn’t you agree, Brenna?”

  Sofor took a step back, creating maybe a foot between them and his raised blades. A bead of sweat fell from the tip of his nose.

  “I could not agree more,” Brenna croaked.

  “Good. Well, that’s very good.” Helgar spread his arms and a triumphant grin crawled up his cheeks. Then his eyes went distant and glassy. “I’ve grown numb to it all. The furtive whispers of the enslaved, the extra food rations pocketed behind Haru’s back, the swindlers, and the thieves who all try to get an edge on my reign. Some are punished and most aren’t. I know, but a rescue…” He scoffed and sagged in his chair as if the last of his strength had departed. “Your ruse has been the most innovative I’ve encountered. And I almost admire your tenacity.” He took another drag from his pipe, blowing it out across the table. “The thing is, you can’t stay sane in a life like mine without ignoring the occasional slight. When you wield power as great as I, there will always be those who wish to strip it from your dead claws. Do you understand my plight?” Helgar cast his eyes on Brenna.

  “I… think so,” Brenna said cautiously, eyes flicking between Lillian and Helgar.

  “You do.” Helgar broke into a snicker that became an all engulfing laugh. “Yes, you do.” His laugh went on too long, every subsequent second like knife thrusts in Lillian’s ears. She glanced at Brenna, who grimaced and squished her eyebrows together. On and on went Helgar’s mad chortle, Haru naturally joining him.

  Lillian realized then that Helgar was not only cruel, but insane too. His reality had been so shaped by his hand and the hands of his elders that it had always perhaps required a touch of madness to survive. What pain had this pitiful Tigerian been forced to endure before fleeing into the shell of madness?

  He was born and raised here, and it all made sense. How else could a sentient creature, born into innocence, distance itself from the horrors of the Oakmourn Plantation? That prison where his silent shrieking was bearable could no longer be suppressed. Its walls were cracking. For so long he had turned his back on the wrongness of it all. Perhaps he sensed their disgust and their actions had forced him back into the light, to empathize with the tortures they inflicted upon humanity. Helgar was no doubt intelligent and there had to be some part of him that understood.

  His laughing abruptly ceased, face dropping to a mask of apathy. “Let’s finish this, shall we?”

  Eleven

  Principles

  Helgar sat at his desk in the study and signed his name on the bill of sale while Haru and Hiko watched over his shoulder. Hiko pointed out the places requiring his signature, candles casting their furry faces in a grim light. Haru gave confirming nods where Hiko pointed, as if his input had some influence on where Helgar signed.

  Lillian stood beside Baylan, slight smiles pulling at their lips as they watched him sign. It was finally over. They could go home and tell the Arch Wizard how wonderful and painless their survey in Tigeria had been. Baylan clasped her hand in his, his newly formed callouses rough and pleasing. She squeezed his hand hard, and he returned some of the pressure.

  Beside a wall of bookshelves, a long table had been set with an assortment of cakes proudly resting on cake stands. Below them on the table’s surface was an assortment of cupcakes, pastries, and bright fruits she couldn’t identify. As much as Tigerians were different from men, there was far too much that was the same. Sofor stood at the front of the table and cut himself a piece of chocolate cake, its inner layers leaking milky fudge. Over one shoulder, he rested the flat of his naked long sword, the tip smeared in fudge, and in his other hand a dessert plate bearing a slice. He strode across the room, taking a seat beside Brenna and placing his plate on a round table between them.

  The hardwood floors were covered in plush carpet. A few candelabras stood as tall as a man, each bearing tens of candles, producing enough light to give the room an amber glow. Behind Brenna was a rectangular table pressed against the wall, upon its surface an assortment of potted plants and trinkets. At the other end of the room, a pale skinned woman dutifully played the piano, filling the vast quiet with a melancholy song.

  Brenna sat with her legs crossed, hand holding up her chin, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Sofor glared at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. He placed his sword across his legs, within easy reach. Sofor eyed her for a moment, then stabbed his slice of cake with a fork and jammed a piece into his mouth.

  Lillian licked her
lips, turning her attention back to Helgar who was melting the bottom of a candle and letting it drip onto the bill of sale. He quickly stamped it with his seal, the image of a roaring Tougere. Lillian stifled a small laugh, and Baylan met her eyes with a pained smile.

  Brenna stared at the carpet, massaging her temples with one hand. Her head ached like someone was beating it with a hammer from within. She flinched as images of the slave who had been mauled by the hunters’ Tougeres yesterday replayed in her head like a back-alley knifing. It had haunted her sleep, filling it with nightmares, and leaving her hollowed out. She raked a hand through her hair, her roots lined in a gossamer of sweat. It’s too hot in here. From head to toe, her skin prickled with nascent perspiration.

  The man shrieked as the Tougere’s fang sank into his shoulder and tore his arm free from his torso like it was made of nothing but cotton. She blinked, and the room returned. She closed her eyes and there it was again, this time his leg being flayed by their fearsome teeth. Bloody strips were torn from his bones. The poor man had howled in agony, and she had done nothing to stop it. Nothing. She was no better than Helgar. A Tougere latched its mouth around the man’s head, scalping the flesh from his skull, giving his head a series of violent shakes.

  The carpets returned, and Brenna stroked her chin. Would the memories ever depart? It should’ve been just another nightmare added to her forgotten gallery. For some reason, this one wouldn’t move on to the darkened recesses of her mind. She looked to the piano player, watching her delicate fingers work the ivory keys. The song was like blades under her skin, burning, clawing, making everything worse.

  “Well done, master,” Hiko muttered from behind, congratulating Helgar on the sale as if he’d done a virtuous deed.

  Brenna rose up, hastening across the room, and Sofor set his fork down with a clink. “Excuse me!” Brenna called as she reached the piano and pressed her hands on its lacquered edge. “Can you please stop playing this song?” she asked, her voice breaking.