Hunter Hunted (The Eternals Book 2)

by Richard M. Ankers

  “You are never that,” he replied.

  Just as he took his sister's aid in standing, the world trembled. The snow shook so much that it lifted from the floor to clash with its falling brethren in cascades of solid white.

  Aurora looked most unhappy about the whole situation and offered her free hand to me, which I took. We stood there, a triumvirate of contrasting white and black-clad immortals, as the world heaved around us. There was nowhere to run. Rock surged into the air to form hills, then mountains, then plateaus, whilst we looked on in awe. The very ground beneath our feet lifted as the three of us held firm together rising like birds must once have into the sky. So high were we thrust that snow, then cloud, then gloom fell from us like a dropped cloak and we stood atop the world with nothing to see but a clear, ruby sky. I marvelled at it. I had waited so long for the like that even amongst the apocalypse I admired it.

  We stood there, all eyes to the sun, Grella having donned his ruby goggles, unwilling to believe the tremors to have ended until every last rock and stone lay impassive on the new plateau. It was I who broke the silence.

  “Damn whoever's doing this.”

  “Doing what?” asked Grella.

  “This,” I said, spreading my arms to encapsulate the whole planet.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it's the truth,” I replied, surprised by his demeanour.

  “You believe that this is being controlled.”

  “Of course.”

  “By who?” Grella enquired, whilst his sister looked on.

  “By the Hierarchy, the powers that be.”

  “I can assure you, Jean, this is not the Hierarchy's doing.”

  “Then, who?” It was my turn to be surprised.

  “It is the planet just as you said. We near the end of all.”

  “But I was told the Hierarchy manipulated the earth, moved mountains, altered the course of rivers and in turn the oceans. We inherited humanity's earth moving machines for just such purposes.”

  “No, my friend, that is untrue. It never has been,” he added, with a look of such pity, his sincerity was in no doubt. “Who led you to believe such untruths?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “I believe so.”

  Grella spoke with quiet authority. And despite my rising anger, I knew he did not seek to bait, but aid me. However, I still found it hard to give a straight answer.

  “It is a well-known fact,” I blustered.

  “According to whom?”

  “To everyone.”

  “Not to me, nor my sister.”

  “That is because you are removed from society.”

  “Perhaps so, all the more reason to explain who has proliferated such lies.”

  “Just people.” I watched as Aurora turned away to stare into the bleak distance. She could not bear to look.

  “Due to whom, Jean?” Grella pressed, placing an albino hand upon my shoulder.

  I looked to the sun, the newly formed mountains, the rock-strewn desolation, trying desperately to disperse the tears that welled in my eyes. “My parents,” I whispered. “It was my parents.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  -

  Dark

  There are times in a man's life when he must face hard truths. He must look into the mirror, past the veneer, past the disdain, and judge himself: what he is, where he is, who he is, and how he got there. That time was upon me. I had come to many difficult realisations over those past short weeks; they had changed me. I had accepted Alba's death, although deeply regretted it. My having left Linka was the lesser of several unthinkable scenarios, a necessary evil. The Sunyins and the fact that humans, of a form, existed, had been acknowledged even if it still seemed fantastical. But coming to terms with my parents' murder, with so many manipulated falsities, and worse, was beyond my capabilities. Everything I was and everything I knew had formed from their teachings. It beggared the question: had my whole life been one of untruths? I needed answers for I had none.

  * * *

  My head whirled with a million new thoughts. I'd have put it down to the altitude once, the set of the stars, palmed it off as madness, but lies were lies and I could no longer live with them.

  Aurora stood stock-still, her cloak flapping in the breeze like an angel hovering above the earth. She looked contemplative, a troubled goddess looking down from atop Mount Olympus. The ruby sun lighted her features in blooded hues she did not warrant, nor suit. But, like the oceanic tides sweeping in from unknown origins, her features softened, and she spoke. “Do you know what I think?”

  “What is that, sister?” Grella answered.

  “I think we all know less than we thought, but more than we did.”

  “Very succinct,” he replied, the sun dripping in his goggles.

  “We all have questions we want answered, not just Jean. So I suggest we take advantage of the storm's cessation and make haste north.”

  “I could not agree more,” Grella nodded.

  “Has the storm ceased?” I managed, finding my voice.

  “It has. Look down, Jean, all becomes clear.”

  Despite feeling like nothing was any clearer, I did as Aurora requested.

  The clouds had dissipated, the storm departed, the still distant path to Hvit marked by a line of snow and ice.

  “You see?” her voice tinkled across the heavens.

  “I do.”

  “Then, you agree.”

  “Oh, indeed I do, dear girl. And I can assure you, I would have it no other way. Lead on.”

  * * *

  We sprung across the newly formed plateau as though on springs, or at least my companions did, jumping over rocks, leaping over fissures, dicing with death as though it a friend. Aurora led the way, something I found surprising, but her brother appeared not to care. He followed behind the shooting star that was his sister throwing occasional cursory glances my way.

  I trailed the two through ruby tinged morning, the sun never seeming to attain its zenith, an untouched glass of half full blood. That weakest of celestial objects highlighted my deficiencies favouring the gleaming Nordics rather than the dark shadow that was me, an embarrassing stain on the pure white landscape. Where I found the way a necessary evil, a step in achieving my desired goal, they thrived in it. Where long shadows cast in ruby light sought to trip and hinder me, they cut through them in a blaze of diamond light. Where I ran, leapt, climbed, head down and at the limits of concentration, they threw their own back and dared the world to constrain them. I was so much less than them, so small a person.

  After a time of self-degradation, I was the first to break the silence of our passing.

  “Grella!” I called to the blur that sped before me. The light coalesced back to the form of he who was heir to the Nordic throne. He dropped into a loping run beside me.

  “You seem troubled,” he said.

  “I am troubled.”

  “Your parents?”

  “You see much, Prince Grella.”

  “It is not hard to see,” he said, as he leapt over a rock of some twenty feet landing back at my side with graceful ease. “You wish to know who has used them, but I cannot answer that.”

  “Cannot, or will not?”

  A flicker of something akin to anger crossed his face, but quickly subsided.

  “I cannot. I am as much a pawn in this as you. My people, or rather, my mother's, left Europa long ago to avoid such petty machinations. We sought only to live in peace, to see out our time in quiet solitude. I believe to an extent, we did.”

  “Did?”

  “Do you pick up on every misplaced word?” Grella rumbled.

  “I do now.”

  “And that would be my answer to you, Jean. The present and the past have become defined by the actions of the current few.”

  “But not you?”

  “No.”

  “Yet, you seem as troubled as I if not more so?”

  “I will feel happier once home.�
��

  “And your brothers?”

  “They can look after themselves.”

  “And you can look after them.”

  “Yes, if required, but I feel my attention has been drawn from where it should have focused.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “That's due to me.”

  “Indirectly. You are not to blame, Jean.”

  “Can I remind you of that if it turns out I am?”

  “You may.”

  Grella laughed then, his voice rumbling across the plateau, a manmade thunder.

  Aurora, hearing her brother's outburst glanced back to us. Her eyes gleamed bright like a summer sky should've, her smile so pure it would have settled almost any soul. It did nothing for mine. Although, when she turned away, the loss I felt suggested it had.

  We ran for hours, Aurora always ahead, Grella running beside me or just between us in silence, each of us lost to our musings. Until, that was, Aurora came to a sudden and violent skidded stop at the rim of the plateau.

  “Damn it!” she cursed.

  “I thought I was the one who cursed, not you,” I said.

  “I am sorry, Jean.”

  “For swearing! You needn't be.”

  “Not for that, for that.”

  Aurora pointed out over the almost perfectly flat landscape before us. There was nothing, the world a barren, monotonous vista.

  “For what?” I queried.

  “Exactly,” she huffed.

  “I believe what my sister is trying to expound is that she expected to see those we pursue.”

  “Exactly,” she huffed again.

  “I had almost forgotten them,” I admitted. “I have been lost within myself.”

  “I saw,” she replied and forced a smile. “Sometimes we find a peace, a freedom in unimpeded movement, we would otherwise not. Then again, there are other times when it does not help at all. I suspect this is one of those other times.”

  “I suspect you are right,” I agreed, squinting into the distance. “Is it me?” I asked frowning. “Or has the sun not moved?”

  “It does, but so minutely as to go unnoticed. That is how we know we close on Hvit. The sun will only move in accordance to our own direction,” Grella confirmed. “Do you see far into the horizon, there is a balance between dark and light?”

  “I think so,” I said, straining to see where the prince indicated.

  “That is our destination. I pray we shall find signs of Chantelle along the way. I fear that if we do not, she will have attained Hvit before us.”

  “But you said Hvit could only be found by the Nordics?”

  “It could, or can, but I gather from our discussions those we follow are rather more resourceful than most.”

  “When you put it like that,” I replied.

  “I do.”

  “The ice seems to go on forever.” Aurora's exhalation was more a deflation than breath, and I remembered it was not only me on their first Arctic journey.

  “It is magnificent is it not, dear sister? Even covered by the snow as the Arctic is there is something primordial about it. The world as it was before mankind and how it will be ever after.”

  “Yes,” was all she mustered.

  “So much ice,” said I.

  “It was not always this way. The lessening power of the sun, that which has granted our freedom, has also been responsible for the ice fields doubling in comparison to what they once were. In other parts, it has swallowed both ocean and land. Mountains can be seen to pierce the ice in places, as do the various seas at times, but nothing can match the power of what our ancestors once called the cold.”

  I had to agree. The plain of ice, smothered in a layer of soft snow, stretching as it did into forever and tinged by the ruby glow of the sun, was magical in its way. I could not see it, but knew where the ocean lapped between day and night, Linka awaited. How I missed her. How I yearned for her.

  We paused there and partook of the final three blood bags. Aurora offered them around with a sense of decorum I found unnecessary. Grella took his with reluctance turning his back on us as though ashamed at drinking the false sustenance. I, however, was famished and gorged myself. Aurora seemed likewise in need of refreshment, yet still drank without spilling a drop upon her already ruby lips. I would even have said if it was possible for an albino to colour, she did. By the time she'd finished and collected the empty bags, she looked decidedly more her normal self.

  “Throw those over the edge, sister,” Grella demanded.

  “Why?” I asked.

  Grella regarded me with a hint of anger unused to being questioned, but on seeing my expression, his stern features softened. “They mark our passing.”

  “You are concerned,” I said.

  A simple nod was all I received in return.

  “Here, you'll look more refined with your cloak back in place.”

  Aurora shook my less than pristine accoutrement and tied the black material around my neck and shoulders.

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  “Wouldn't want anyone getting the impression you were a rogue.”

  “Like who?” I laughed.

  “Anyone at all. First impressions count, you know.”

  “And yours would be, Princess?”

  “That you were a rogue regardless of apparel.”

  “Hm, I'm glad we've cleared that up.”

  The piercing depth of a wolf's howl cut short any further frivolity. The thing came from behind us, which accounted for Grella's sudden about face, dropping to one knee and placing a hand to the ground.

  “Can you sense them?” Aurora asked.

  A raised hand was his response as Grella cocked his head one way then the other. He tasted the air like a true hunter.

  Two more howls of lupine origin choked the atmosphere. Grella didn't need to say anything as Aurora and I exchanged glances. The wolves were closer than before, though I knew not how. Grella had obviously been aware of them for some time.

  The pace we'd travelled at had been akin to flying. I wouldn't have believed any beings of earthly origin able to have sustained the same, but they had.

  “We should go,” Grella spoke in calm authority, as he strode past us and stepped off the edge of the cliff. I watched his cloak vanish beneath us like the setting moon. He hadn't even looked.

  Aurora approached the edge with more care than her brother, but skipped off into nowhere after a smile my way, a sure sign it was safe to follow.

  Descending from such magnitude was easier than I'd imagined. The sudden upsurge in the landscape had created ledge after ledge of makeshift steps, and we used them to the full. Leaps of thirty feet at a time were as nothing to us, Grella leaping double that, but to each their own. I had experienced enough sudden plummets in my recent past to be warier than the others. When all was said and done, I no longer made such descents for myself. The race was afoot from both before and behind and I for one had no intention of becoming hunted when born a hunter.

  When Aurora and I landed as one by the side of her albino brother, he was already touching the ice with a delicacy I would have said beyond him.

  “This ice is weak,” he stated.

  “How can you tell?” Aurora asked.

  “I can hear them.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, what?” I asked, quite at a loss as to what the two referred.

  “Look closer, Jean.” Grella indicated to where he'd cleared the snow from underfoot.

  “Water. I really don't care for water,” I said, sucking in my cheeks.

  “Yes, water,” he agreed. “We are at the tip of where the sea ice radiates to. I can assure you, if we can see the water here, then there will be places where the ice is so thin there will be breaks in it that reach to the liquid ocean beneath.”

  “Then, we should tread with care,” I suggested.

  “You do not fully appreciate what I seek to imply.”

  “If you are concerned for my flailin
g self's safety, I would not be. With Aurora and your good self as my guides, I can be assured of being rescued should I go through. Not that I would wish to,” I added.

  “He does not refer to the water, Jean.”

  Aurora's tone was grim, her ashen face more so.

  “Then, what?” I asked puzzled by the two Nordic royals' seriousness. What troubled two beings with enough raw power at their disposal to have brought down armies? What made them frown so?

  “Orca,” the two said as one.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  -

  Obsidian

  I had witnessed first-hand the slaughter of both the orcas and Nordic species; they were equally matched. When the battle that rages is for your life these things have a way of evening themselves out. Experience had taught me as much. A mother defending her child is more tenacious an opponent than any battle-hardened war veteran, a fact I observed many times over during my days of reckless rampaging. The children may have been older than me, their parents immensely, but that instinct was there. I had done many bad things in the name of my parents, none more so than those. And there it was, no matter what situation I found myself in, my thoughts always returned to life before my parents' death. The realisation that others had manipulated them as much as I lessened the hurt not one jot, in fact, they made my misdeeds doubly terrible. I had performed like an organ grinder's monkey, skipped and played to some unseen master's tune. One day they would step into the light and I would be there waiting. That, I vowed.

  Those thoughts grated as I followed the Nordics across the ice plain. In truth, it was far from the barren sheet of white it had appeared from our eagle's eyrie. The landscape was nowhere near level. The sea ice undulated like the liquid surface it covered, criss-crossed with a lattice of still flowing waters. Fortunately, we had encountered none of any great significance and nothing beyond a single bound, but Grella treated each break in the ice with a respect I found bewildering. He would approach with caution looking both up and down the channels before making his leap. Aurora would follow likewise circumspect. Eager to be moving at a faster gait, I grew more and more frustrated at the laborious nature of our progress. I would hurl myself over the breaks, even leaping beyond my companions, at times, much to their chagrin, and then have an anxious wait for them to catch up.