The Hellhound War (Ch1-3)

Note to the Reader:

I had written this book once before but I’ve decided to take it in a different direction. If you like what you read, please rate and review and I’ll return the favor. I’m trying to publish a chapter a week, but starting with Chapter 8 it might be every 2 weeks with the new addition to the family (newborn girl arrived 9/25). Below is the News section which I’m trying to update on a weekly basis, so feel free to check back here for latest news. If you’re of the stalking type, you can become a fan and track my progress (hit plus sign twice) or you can follow me on twitter (@Datarhythm).

Special Thanks to the below Editors (please read their work!)

• DaveG Chapter 1-3 Edits

• Michael Stirland Chapter 1, and 6 Edits

Most Recent News

• (10/25) Haven’t had a chance to write all week, so Chapter 11 will probably be published 11/2.

• (10/19) Chapter 10 has been published. Chapter 11 publish date set for 10/26

• (10/17) Didn’t feel like writing today so I went ahead and added Google links (the source of my work) to all my chapters, for those of you who’d rather use Google’s built in comment system to edit my work instead of writing.com’s system (Which frankly I prefer). I also think it’s easier to read my story on Google since that’s the format I write in (for some reason WDC doesn’t keep it when I import in the .docx).

Now, without further ado…

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Public Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1qHM5T5EImG576t475GMzSac9nlaJUIxc_46_Xlk1GSM/edit?usp=sharing

Chapter 1

Any Port in a Storm

John inhaled sharply as the blistering hot shackles sank deeper into his chafed wrists. His captor, Randy, had all but forgotten him as his horse yanked him forward uncaringly. Glaring at the lieutenant’s back, he savored the thought of pulling his former superior off his horse and strangling him to death.

If only, he thought, eyeing the other men around him. Between the unsteady footing of the sand and his weakened condition, he knew the small tent group of legionnaires would stop him well before Randy could draw his last breath.

As he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, he wondered how everything had turned to shit so quickly. A week ago he was Sergeant John Wayden of the Ninth Brigade, First Battalion of the Vanguard. Arguably the highest position a peasant could obtain in the Ce’l Empire. And now? Now he’d been marked as a traitorous murder and strung out to dry. Between the extensive mental and physical beatings he’d gone through, not to mention the lack of food and water, it was only his simmering anger that kept him going.

Knowing that it’d be only a matter of hours before they’d put the sword to his neck and ended his suffering only pissed him off more.

“Just--” John began, but his voice came out hoarse, barely audible even to his own ears. He licked his lips and tried again. “Just tell me one thing.”

Randy’s ears perked up.

“Why didn’t you vouch for me?”

When his executioner remained silent, John snorted. “Fine, then let’s get this over with. No sense in delaying this any further.”

No one so much as slowed.

“Oh come on!” he bellowed. “Are you really going to follow the law to the letter?”

The ridiculous thousand-year old law required that they execute him at the border—a seven league journey. Seeing the Dark Wood Forest on the horizon, John guessed they had another league to go.

His tired legs tripped over themselves for the umpteenth time and he nearly took a nose dive. Cursing loudly, John barely gained his footing back before Randy’s horse could pull him down. It wouldn’t be long before they’d have to start dragging him.

“What if I promise not to tell anyone?” he offered half-heartedly.

He stumbled again but this time he couldn’t gain his footing back. He ate sand and, after being dragged a few steps, a voice from behind them stopped Randy’s horse.

“We’re close enough, Lieutenant.”

Between the sand in his face, the snug collar he wore and the tight chains that severely limited his movement, he couldn’t see who’d spoken. But while John didn’t recognize the voice, it didn’t take a genius to guess he was from the House of Se’kal. The Duke he’d allegedly killed had a lot of pissed off relatives.

Dismounting, Randy pulled free his sword and said, “You sure about this?”

“Yes,” the voice behind John answered.

Propping himself up on his knees, John glared at Randy.

Ignoring him, his old friend positioned himself directly in front of John and made a flourish with his sword.

John’s heart skipped a beat as he realized what was about to happen.

He was going to die.

Well, I can at least die with dignity, John thought as he attempted to bore a hole into the lieutenant’s eyes.

He’d be damned if he gave Randy the satisfaction of seeing weakness.

Randy raised his sword and, in a blur of grey steel, it flashed down faster than the eye could follow.

“Relax Sarg,” Randy said with a smile in his voice. “You aren’t dying today.”

John opened his eyes—he didn’t remember closing them—to find the rope between his shackled hands and Randy’s saddle cut cleanly. The men around him chuckled. Caught off guard, he could only stare at the limp rope before him.

Randy sheathed his sword and pulled out a key from his back pocket.

“Look, we don’t have a whole lot of time,” he said, helping John stand. “Sorry for the act but I was told it was the only way.”

The lieutenant pressed something into his hand and whispered, “For you.”

As the restraints on his hands fell away, John held up a thin piece of paper. Confused—and still wary that it was all some sort of sick joke, that at any moment they’d decapitate him from behind—he opened it.

J,

Your friend told me of your problem and requested my help. You must be a very trustworthy person for him to call in such a large debt. Where you stand today, however, is all that I can do. To clear all wrongdoing will require another's help but that person requires something in return. There is a teacher who needs assistance. Do this and consider your problem taken care of.

B

The collar and remaining shackles hit the sand with a dull thunk, kicking John’s brain into motion. He read the letter a second time.

Based on the handwriting and amount of paranoia in the note, John could tell the mysterious B was educated. Smelling no perfume, he knew it was safe to assume it was a man--the Ce’lian women were notoriously known for their perfumes. Not only that but the man had to have a lot of clot in the military to pull this off. And to get his name cleared from such a public trial? He’d have to know some very powerful friends. John’s eyes widened as he put the pieces together.

General Briar Ta'lee.

He was sure of it. But how did Randy know the General of the Vanguard? Even the Majors spaced themselves from the legend, and they reported directly to him. Randy had never mention the relationship to him before, let alone talked about the general owing him one. And considering he didn’t drop his name in front of the men, he wanted it kept that way. Who could possibly fix his problem? How?

A hand pulled on his shoulder, interrupting his thoughts, and he was faced with the man he had originally assumed was from the House of Se’kal.

Anyone from a distance would have passed him off as an old Ce’lian soldier. He had greying brown hair, brown eyes and wore the traditional red and tan uniform of a legionnaire. But his face and hands were too soft to belong to a warrior.

“I see you’ve figured out who wrote this. Good. You might come back from this alive after all.”

The older man gave Randy a look and wordlessly his friend walked off, taking with him the rest of the legionnaires.

Before John could ask one of the many questions that was formulating in his mind, the older man said, “For the sake of security, do not breathe another word of this to anyone. From this moment on, you’ve escaped our custody and are a fugitive. There is no turning back now. Do you understand?”

When John slowly nodded, the man grabbed the letter from him and the piece of paper spontaneously combusted. John took an involuntary step back.

The man was a mage.

Grabbing both of his shoulders, the mage stopped his retreat with surprising force. Locking eyes with him, he whispered, “Where you are going, son, no one can know where you are from.”

Before he could fully process this, John felt a sudden searing sensation on his left shoulder, right where his Vanguard tattoo was. He cried out and dropped to his knees.

The mage followed him down, refusing to break contact with him. Off in the distance, the other legionnaires shifted uncomfortably.

As the burning sensation died away, the mage leaned forward even closer and breathed into his ear, “Your mission will require you to be something you’re not. This will help.”

John blinked away sand from his eyes and groaned as the sun tried to scorch his eyeballs.

When did I fall down?

Propping himself up with his elbows, he found that he was alone and, judging by the sun, he’d been out a few hours. Not only that, but he was at the edge of the forest and at his feet was a water bag and a map.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Pulling himself to his feet, he paused halfway.

That’s odd, John thought. Righting himself up cautiously, he frowned.

He felt good. No, better than good. He felt like he’d just had a full nights rest and a hearty meal. Inspecting himself, he discovered that his chafed wrists and bruises he’d sustained from his arrest had mysteriously disappeared as well. Carefully he pressed against the wounds he’d received during his “questioning” and found that they too were healed.

“Who ever you were mage, thank you,” John said to the empty desert.

Bending down, he picked up the items. The map was a crude drawing of the forest with two words scribbled in a small clearing and circled by Randy’s hand: “Good luck.”

John snorted.

Part of him wanted to throw the map away and head in the opposite direction. He’d just been bent over like a two penny whore and now he was being told to dance for someone else to make it right.

Righting his shoulders, John stared out into the foreboding forest.

“One problem at a time, John. One problem at a time.”

Chapter 2

Blind as a Bat

As John plowed through tough thickets and unsuccessfully dodged low hanging branches, he passed the time by taking stock of his situation.

Obviously somewhere along the way, he’d pissed off the wrong blueblood. That wasn’t a difficult stretch to make considering his career choice. There were few people with humble beginnings that reached the rank of Sergeant, the highest rank a peasant could achieve in the Ce’l Empire’s military, and even fewer than that were in the Vanguard. In fact, he was only one of two people. John could name more than a few royals that didn’t like him for his lineage, both subordinates and superiors. But he could only think of one person who had the balls to go so far as to killing a Duke and setting him up for it.

Captain Bragger Ja'nes.

He was the man Randy reported to and he’d had a grudge against John since the day he’d been promoted into his Brigade. And Bragger fit the profile of the mysterious man he’d seen exiting the Duke’s tent that night. If only the jury had believed him when he said he’d seen another man that night. But the planted evidence and his lower caste had stacked the odds against him.

John promised himself that when it was all over, he’d pay Captain Bragger a visit. He wasn’t the kind of man to take any punches without putting his own two or three in.

Even if he had a royal lineage.

That kind of attitude is probably why you’re in this mess to begin with, he mused.

He stopped to take a swig of his water and peered through the trees to get his bearings once more. Correcting his route slightly, he increased his pace. John knew it was dangerous to be in the Dark Wood Forest after sundown because it wasn’t named just for it’s gloomy ambiance. The canopy of the forest grew thicker the closer you got to the border and neither the sun nor the full moon would be able to break through. Falling and breaking a bone from the twisted roots that littered the ground wasn’t uncommon for those that ventured this far out of the Ce’lian desert. And he didn’t care to be injured if the Dark Wood wolves found him. Which meant he had to find this teacher well before nightfall if he was going to try his luck at setting up a camp fire with the tools he had on hand.

Putting aside the “who” of his death-warrant, he started to speculate on his current problem. This teacher that John was to meet deep in the Dark Wood Forest wasn’t likely the scholarly type. They would also have to be able to hide him from the Empire. While the Ce’l Empire was vast, he knew of trackers that could find a grain of salt in a sand storm. How was this teacher going to hide him while he helped the teacher in turn? Having his tattoo removed wasn’t good enough and he’d be a fool to think that the House of Se’kal wouldn’t hire the best trackers in the Empire the moment they got wind of his escape.

John knew crossing the border into the Kalian Kingdom was out of the question. To the north and east, he would be faced with either bottomless cliffs or the heavily fortified Grimwall. Seeing first hand how the Grimwall was manned, and what was done to people who were stupid enough to test it, he’d have better luck jumping over one of the cliffs and praying for wings. Fleeing south or west provided similar improbabilities. The Red Sea’s deadly coral reefs were well known and documented. The only safe passages were guarded just as diligently as Grimwall, which didn’t leave him with many options.

“What a mess,” he sighed to himself.

He pushed a branch out of the way roughly, only to be smacked across the forehead by another behind it.

“Damn this forest!” he roared some of his pent up rage. Grabbing the branch, he brutally pulled and tore at it.

After completely defacing half the tree, he stopped, panting. He watched the numerous branches that had fallen victim to his onslaught sway haphazardly in the wind. Feeling foolish, he chuckled.

He had to admit, though, he felt a little better.

An hour later, John stopped again to consult his map. Randy was no artist but he was starting to think he’d passed the clearing already. He had been sure that he was in the right area but when he surveyed the land, there wasn’t any sign of a clearing. Just more threatening trees and painful brush.

Turning the map around, he tried to find the sun but it had long since drifted away from his view. All the light he had to work with now was the soft glow that illuminated the entire forest by the hidden fading sun. It wouldn’t be long before complete darkness came and John was about ready to stop for the night. It would take some time to build up a small fire, especially with his lack of tools and practice.

“Just perf--”

The blade that pressed against his neck stopped him cold.

How the hell had he gotten behind me?!

John knew he was outside of his element, but he was a trained soldier and an elite Vanguard at that. Someone getting the drop on him was difficult to do, and he knew that wasn’t a boast.

“State your name and business.”

Surprised by the distinctively female voice, he didn’t even bothered to argue.

“John Wayden. I’m looking for a teacher.”

A long heartbeat passed before the blade disappeared. Holding up his hands in a sign of peace, he slowly turned to face the mysterious woman.

At first, he dismissed what he saw and blamed it on the failing light. But the longer his eyes stayed on her, the harder it was to deny the impossibility that laid before him.The people of the Ce’l Empire were all dirty blond or brown haired, brown eyed, and usually tanned to a golden crisp--she was neither of those.

Long black hair hid her face as she sheathed her dagger against an exposed thigh. At the sight of the pale--and distractingly sensual--legs and arms, he had to swallow. Hard. As the curtain of black hair shifted, pale blue eyes met his and he felt his heart beat quicken.

OK. Calm down. Not the first beautiful woman you’ve seen before, John told himself calmly.

...But definitely the first Ghourdian.

“You look like you’ve never seen a corset before,” she said dryly.

His eyes involuntarily made their way down to her red and black striped corset, and then to her short black riding skirt.

Swallowing again, for good measure, John raised his eyes and said, “No… Just my first Ghourdian.”

He had heard the stories, but he hadn’t ever truly believed them. Long ago, over a thousand years ago, there had been a great war. Historians would later call the war the War of the Thrones. The stories told of a long and bloody war between three great nations: Kalian, Capri, and Ghourd. It was towards the end of this war when the first Empress of Ce’l, a Kalian woman tired of the violence, led people of like-mind away from the wars and into the desert in hopes of starting a new peaceful life. But the Kalian King was furious and, feeling betrayed, he attempted to punish them. To protect their new haven, the newly appointed Empress and her people had to fight for their right to the desert. It was during this battle that the Ce’l Empire had been forged. Every day since their victory over the Kalian King, the current ruling Empress would go to great lengths to protected it’s borders from the outside world. Even to this day, by law, every single person in the Empire had to spend at least five years in Her Imperial Majesty’s Legions. It was a hard life, but they were free from the harsh rule of the King.

The other two nations, Ghourd and Capri, had been mentioned in the stories but only briefly. The Ghourdians were described as having black or white hair and blue eyes while the Caprians were said to have red hair and green eyes. Having seen only the color brown all his life, until now, he’d passed it off as merely fantasy.

“You going to keep gawking or can we get down to business?”

John realized he’d been taking in her angelic features for far longer than was deemed appropriate. He immediately focused on the nearby trees as if looking for eavesdroppers.

“Sorry. What’s your name?” he said, trying desperately to sound like he was talking about the weather.

Yeah, let’s ignore the fact that she couldn’t possibly be here within our borders unannounced, he thought.

“Celia Tecard.” The closeness of her voice made him look back. She’d crept up on him again. This time she was inspecting him.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Excuse me?” he didn’t know why but he took a step back from her.

“I’m not going to bite,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Feeling stupid, and a little angry for some reason, he pulled his bloodied and dusty tunic off.

“Pants too.”

Without hesitating, he ripped those off as well.

To John’s childish glee, it was Celia’s turn to be surprised. At least, John was pretty sure she was. The light was fading from the forest by the second but he could just make out her silhouette.

“You look like you’ve never seen a naked man before,” he said, maybe a little too smugly.

She sniffed loudly before he heard her shuffling around behind him and then something slammed into his chest hard enough to knock him off balance.

She was strong for such a petite woman.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said flatly. “Now get dressed and be quick about it, we’re behind schedule.”

Fumbling in the dark, he tried to make heads or tails of what he had in his hands.

“Didn’t bother to bring a light?” he muttered in irritation. Her unfriendly attitude was infectious.

The ball of clothes was suddenly yanked away from his grasp and in quick order she had him in his new clothes. It wasn’t until she grabbed his hand and started leading him down a path that he realized she could see just fine in the darkening forest.

The pit of his stomach started to churn with fear as the last of the light took away the faint image of Celia’s silhouette. He’d been naive when he thought meeting a mage was the last time he’d ever have to deal with anything other than swords and arrows.

John learned two things while being dragged deeper into the pitch black forest. First, there was no sense of time when in absolute darkness. With no sun or moon to pass over, there was nothing to reference time’s passage. If it hadn’t been for the sounds of the forest, he’d have gone more than a little crazy. Secondly, Celia was either running late to wherever they were going to or she wanted him dead before they got there. She insisted on him not talking, so he couldn’t confirm which of the two it was.

Another ghostly tree scratched his arm, giving him his thirty-second scratch since they started their neck breaking pace--he knew this because he had nothing better to do than to count.

A root reached up and tapped his toes just enough to make him stumble.

Fifty-seven, he thought with gritted teeth as she single handedly straightened him out and pulled him to the left.

He’d quickly learned he had to step higher with his feet since the insufferable woman wanted to zigzag through the gods forsaken forest at a brisk jog. It wasn’t the pace that wanted him dead, it was the forest around him. To make matters worse, she didn’t stumble once. Celia fucking Tecard had the grace of a dancer and he was trying to keep up with his blind two left feet. He wasn’t use to being the laggard, which was why his initial fear had eventually turned to frustrated anger.

At first he thought it would be a great idea to tackle her to the ground when he stumbled the next time but that ended up being the worst idea. Ever. And he’d had some pretty bad ideas before.

Not only could the woman see in the dark, move like a dancer, and infuriate him with her harsh silence, but she was also solid. Like a brick wall kind of solid. He’d thought he was being a smartass when he slammed into her but all he did was knock himself nearly unconscious. And then the woman had the audacity to lift him up with one hand and continued to drag him forward, not wasting any breath on him.

When something smacking him across the forehead--he was pretty sure from a branch she’d pushed away and intentionally let fly into him--he finally snapped.

“Where the hell are we going!?” John demanded.

She stopped and snapped at him, “Quiet.”

He was about to tell her exactly what he thought about that when he realized her stopping hadn’t been for his benefit.

And then the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Something is off…

It took him a few seconds to realize what it was. The whole forest had stopped talking to him. No crickets, no owls, no chirps, nothing. Celia’s hand released his and for once in his life he felt truly alone. Like all he had was his consciousness. That he was just there.

It was a terrifying experience.

Easy, he told himself with a calming inner voice. It’s not like you’re afraid of the dark. No sense in giving her the satisfaction of seeing you nervous.

Straightening his back, he put himself at a parade rest. The familiar pose calmed his nerves enough that he could focus. Closing his eyes, he tried to hear where Celia was. Abruptly, the silence was broken by the distinctive sound of stone grinding against stone. To John’s amusement, it reminded him of of a time when he was younger. He and a group of six other orphans--each not a pound over fifty--worked together to push one of the larger boulders off a cliff.

The sound stopped, and the night seemed to resonate in it’s absence. Then the sound started again but, like the previous one, it ended shortly afterwards. This repeated four more times before he felt the air suddenly... vibrate. It was the only word that he could think to describe it. Deep in his chest he felt a tightening pressure, and it wasn’t due to his growing fear. Celia’s hand grabbed a fist full of his tunic and she dragged him up a solid step and into something comfortably cool.

His body tensed as vertigo hit him with the subtlety of a thunder clap. Two steps later, the back of his eyelids started to get burned by a piercing yellow orb.

It was only when he blinked a few times that he realized the yellow orb was the sun.

Celia released him and immediately moved to the left where she slapped a stone tablet.

“I don’t—“ he looked behind him in time to see a sheet of dark blue liquid solidify into a stone wall. “—understand.”

Chapter 3

Gird Your Loins

With his eyes finally adjusted to sudden daylight, he took in his surroundings and discovered towering giant red trees all around him.

Those must be at least forty paces high!

“It’s almost dark,” Celia said, alarm in her voice. She reached down and produced a giant pack that had been hidden behind a shrub. “Hurry!”

Without another word, she bounded over the three stone steps in front of them in one long step, the giant pack slung over her shoulder effortlessly, and immediately started running down a well worn path.

Cursing to himself, he sprinted after her.

“Where are we?!” he yelled.

“You can ask all the questions you want when we get to the Waypoint. Until then, RUN!” she practically screamed the last word.

He heard the fear in her voice and that was enough for him. Picking the pace up, he felt the sweat he’d built up during his last jog fling off him. It felt good to finally stretch his legs onto even--and visible!--ground.

But as hard as he tried to outrun her, she kept increasing her speed. As the sun slowly sank down the horizon for what John swore was for the second time that day, he realized that he was the slow one and she was holding herself back. He also realized that she was torn between leaving him in the dust or staying with him.

She’s afraid.

No..., he corrected himself. She’s terrified.

Once again, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on ends but this time it felt like something was about to happen and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He leapt over a fallen log just as the top of the sun dropped down below the tree line and, as if the false dusk was the signal, he heard a bone chilling howl.

Celia looked back and he saw the blood leave her face.

“RUN!” she screamed before turning and bolted.

John had been running as fast as he could, and he was by no means the slowest in his Battalion, but when Celia let loose, she let loose. In mere seconds she was out of sight. She’d made him look like he’d been walking with a gimp leg.

John’s eyebrows were still invading his hairline when another howl pierced the failing light. His protesting legs received a sudden jolt of energy as pure terror started to creep down into his chest.

What the hell did I get myself into? he thought in a panic.

The next howl that came was louder. Closer.

His heart started beating against his chest double time.

Off in the distance, he spotted Celia a hundred paces away waving a hand over at him, motioning him into what looked like a cave. John vaulted over another fallen tree, and his blood curled as something heavy crashed into a tree somewhere behind him.

Then came a low deep growl that he felt more with his body than heard with his ears.

Wide eyed, John felt every single one of those hundred paces as his heart thumped loudly in his ears. He didn’t dare look back and, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to look back. Because as loud as his heart beated, it didn’t drown out the sound of something massive closing in on him.

“Dive!” Celia screamed when he was only a handful of paces away. The thing behind him had closed the distanced frighteningly fast so he didn’t hesitate in her command. Diving head first, he flew into the cave just as Celia pulled her hand away from the wall.

Something enormous came crashing down on top his back just as he slammed into the ground, sandwiching him painfully, before he rebounded off the floor. His body skipped across the floor twice more before he came to a teeth jarring stop when his body said hello to what he could only assume was the back wall of the cave. All light immediately went out as a door thundered against the floor with a deep boom and then, not a second later, something massive on the other side slammed into the door, causing dust to fall down from the ceiling. Following the protests of the door came a bone rattling angry howl.

Dizzy, John was in the middle of shaking the stars from his eyes when he froze.

The stench of death and rotting flesh assaulted his nostrils like a battering ram. And then an impossibly deep growl filled the cavern like a thick suffocating blanket.

Slowly, painfully, blue light began to resonate from the walls and ceiling.

“Don’t. Move,” Celia whispered in warning.

If she’d broken a sweat from her last run, she’s doing a helluva job covering it up.

It was a strange thought that came to him, considering, but he blamed his burning lungs and oxygen deprived brain.

The air itself seemed to intensify as the promise of blood and violence seeped into the room to the point of almost being tangible. Silhouettes slowly started to form in front of John’s eyes--no thanks to the soft blue light--and he saw a large wall had formed up between him and Celia.

And then said wall shifted, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

Without warning the enormous shadow leapt at Celia. Faster than the eye could follow, the beast covered the distance nearly instantly only to slam into something solid. As the beast bounced off her, Celia’s shadow leapt forward, following the beast into the wall next to John. The earth shook beneath his boots as he scrambled to get out of their way. His foot slipped and he stumbled into the wall next to him, scraping his knee, before falling on his ass.

He tried to recover his footing but the loudest sound he’d ever experienced in his life assaulted his ears. Squeezing his eyes, John covered his ears and let out a groan as a vicious snarl resonated off the room’s walls like an amphitheater.

John turned to look at Celia and saw the monster making a feeble swipe at her. She dodged the attack easily before slamming her sword back into it. Multiple howls from outside vibrated through the walls of the cavern--or at least he thought he’d heard them, his hearing was numb from the earlier assault on his ears. But after Celia hit the beast for the sixth or seventh time, there was no mistaking the dying guttural sound that came from the beast in front of him.

As the last of it’s breath left it’s body, silence enveloped them to the point that only the sound of Celia panting could be heard.

“Blood and sand!” John gasped probably louder than he needed to. “What in the hell was that thing?!”

“THAT,” Celia said between pants. “Is why you are here.”

Trying to calm his thumping heart, he grabbed onto the wall next to him and lifted himself up. Leaning against the packed dirt wall, he felt light headed and realized he needed to breath more. Resting his arms against his knees he sucked in the rotting air.

He hadn’t ran like that in years.

As his eyes began to acclimate to the eerie blue light, he started to pick out details of the beast before him. It was nearly the size of a horse--that hadn’t been his imagination--but it was more wolf like in it’s muscle and bone structure. Yet, unlike a wolf, it was hairless with the exception of a long black mane that ran from the top of it’s head to about halfway down it’s back. Curiosity getting the better of him, John stepped forward and touched it’s skin. His fingers felt all muscle. Not a shred of fat laid beneath it’s taut grey skin.

Feeling his heart rate lowering, he walked around the beast to get a better look. Two red lifeless eyes and an upturned nose looked back at him. It was… almost bat like, except for it had twisted horns for ears and its large mouth was filled to the brim with canine-like teeth.

John immediately covered his nose and mouth when the stench of the beast hit him across the face like a slap.

“Don’t you dare puke,” Celia warned.

He begrudgingly obeyed and swallowed the bile that had threatened to come up.

“I…” John rubbed his head. He felt the making of a massive headache coming on. “I need to sit down.”

He reached back towards the wall but instead of feeling solid earth, his hand fell into a hole making him stumble. With his eyes fully adjusted, he turned to find a cutout in the wall, and his fingers sunk into soft moss. Looking along the wall, he saw more of the cutouts.

Beds?

Turning, he surveyed the room and found it was a bit more spacious than he’d originally thought. The room doglegged left, and at the very end of the room he spied a sizeable table with a few chairs. Making a beeline for one of the chairs, he plopped himself down and winced at the sounds of protests from the old rickety chair but thankfully it held his weight. Rubbing his temples, he motioned to Celia.

“OK, let’s start with the basics. Where are we?”

She bent down to wipe her bloodied blade against the beast’s skin.

“We are in Kalian, about three thousand miles west of where we were in Ce’l.”

Well that explains why the sun set a second time.

Secretly he was relieved. His imagination had gone rampant when he saw the giant redwood trees and he’d thought they had stepped into another world. Although, “another world” wasn’t that far off the mark if they were in Kalian.

“How did we get here?”

She stood and made a flourish with her sword, sending the rest of the dark blood to the ground.

“We’d taken a portal,” she said simply, as if that explained everything.

John felt a spark of annoyance. Something told him she wasn’t going to be offering any more details outside of the bare minimum.

If I’m going to get back to the Empire any time soon she’s going to have to--

John’s thoughts stumbled as he watched her sword slowly shrink to the size of a dagger.

Blinking, he shook his head.

Come on John, focus. You have questions, she has answers. Think. What’s eating at you?

“How do you know people in the Empire?” John asked, marshalling his thoughts together.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Next question.”

He glared at her as she walked toward him.

“I thought you said I could ask any question,” he said.

“I didn’t say I’d answer them all,” she said taking a seat next to him.

Smartass, he thought, before he had another thought.

“Whoa,” he said, genuinely surprised. “The Royal Houses have spies outside of the Empire?”

Her head jerked up and that was all he needed for confirmation.

“You’re a quick one.”

She didn’t say it as a compliment, more like a cautious realization.

She really doesn’t like me.

Ignoring the comment, he said, “You said that thing is the reason why I’m here. What did you mean by that?”

She glared at him as if he’d said something wrong.

John raised an expectant eyebrow.

When she didn’t say anything, the little amount of patience he’d pulled together evaporated.

He leveled his infamous glare at her, the one that had put more than a few nuggets into their place.

“You think I want to be here?” he exasperated. “This is the last place I want to be. But you know what? I’m dealing with it. And so should you. You’re under orders, same as me. Now stop being petulant, pull that stick out of your ass and tell me what I need to know. As much as it pains me to say this, my life is in your hands. So the least you could do is give me the common courtesy of a little trust.”

This time it was her turn to raise an eyebrow.

When he held her gaze with his glare, she finally sighed in defeat, “Fine.”

She pointed at the beast with her chin.

“That,” she said. “Is called a Hellhound. Towards the end of the War of the Thrones, they started appearing all over the North. From what we’ve been able to gather, they’d came from the Wastelands. At first, they kept away from people and the cities but then people started disappearing. Anyone who stayed outside after the sun went down wouldn’t be found the next day. Many of the rulers started hunting parties, but those that found the Hounds didn’t return. Over the span of a year, the Hellhounds slowly escalated their attacks, getting bolder, until entire villages were found slaughtered overnight. That was when the mages got involved.

“And they learned pretty early on what they were facing.” She said, shaking her head sadly, her gaze still on the dead Hellhound. “It’s skin is tougher than hardened leather which makes it extremely difficult to kill with normal weapons. Not only that, but its stronger than ten men and faster than a snake’s strike. To make matters worse, it only kills humans and it does so out of pleasure not out of necessity. They don’t have a heartbeat so we’re pretty sure it isn’t alive in the traditional sense--so it doesn’t need to eat or drink. They are efficient killing machines and dangerously smart. The only thing they seem to be afraid of is sunlight but even that, most people believe they’re just nocturnal predators.

“Realizing all of this, the mages had to do something drastic. So they started experimenting on volunteer soldiers. The idea was to make a better soldier. The product of their experimentation were Slayers. Us.”

Celia pointedly motioned to both of them.

“Us?” he said, feeling the pit of his stomach give out.

She nodded. “We have been, in every sense of the word, enhanced. Everything from seeing in the dark to running faster… among other things.”

Relief filled him.

“Hate to disappoint you, but I can do neither of those,” John said with a smile.

She gave him a half smile of her own, something that had the opposite effect on him. “Not yet. You’re going to be a late bloomer but your Awakening will start here soon.”

John frowned. “How do you know this? Is it hereditary?”

A small part of him, a part of him he’d long since locked up in a mental steel box, yearned for hope.

“It is passed down by the men,” she said with a nod, completely oblivious to the sudden elation he felt. “But not us.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling deflated. It would have been a comically small world if she had some how known his parents. Privately he kicked himself for being so easily hopeful, but he knew that was a button of his that would never go away. He couldn’t help it. He’d never known his parents and it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Her words finally sunk in. “Wait, why?”

“Have you met any mages lately?”

The mage’s words came to him right then: ‘Your mission will require you to be something you’re not. This will help.’

John closed his eyes and groaned.

“Yeah, it’s a perk of serving the House of Ce’l,” she said with a genuine smile. “Some decisions are made for you, even those that have a 10% survival rate.”

John’s eyes snapped open. “What?”

She shrugged. “It’s the reason why the mages stopped making Slayers. The moment the Slayers started pushing back the Hellhounds, they banned the making of Slayers. Welcome to the 10% club.”

Celia had misunderstood his comment but he didn’t correct her. He actually didn’t mind the high fatality rate. If he’d been given the choice, he’d probably have done it anyways. The simple fact was that between the bandits, cannibal tribesmen, raiders, and the occasional hot headed blueblood out to prove himself, he was pretty sure he was already in the 10% club. The Empire was a hard life, but he didn’t complain. He knew he was far more fortunate than other people with his background and he was thankful for the opportunity the Empire had given him. It was the reason why he stayed in the Legion after his five years were up.

It was the first thing she’d said that had given him pause.

She’s an agent to not just any House but the House.

He stored that bit of information right next to General Briar. General Briar was from the House of Ta'lee, so he’d assumed his powerful connection was another Ta’lee. He wasn’t aware that the General had any friends or allegiances to anyone in the House of Ce’l. The bluebloods had a tendency of sticking with only people in their own Houses. It was rare to hear of favors being given outside of a House. John supposed it had to do with the stubborn self-sufficiency that had been drilled into the citizens of the Empire and the “blood is thicker than water” mentality. There was only one person anyone in the Empire would do anything for, and that was the Empress herself. And while the Empress was technically from the House of Ce’l, she’d given up all allegiances to her House once she came into power. She served the people, her new family, and the people served her. She was bound to no House.

“But I digress,” Celia said, leaning back into her chair and pulling John’s thoughts back to the conversation at hand. “Fast forward about a thousand years, give or take, and here we are. The nations have all learned how to defend themselves against the Hellhounds by using heavily fortified walls, manned throughout the night. Slayers go out hunting at night to try and curb their population but we can never seem to fully exterminate them, no matter how many we slay. No one has ever been able to capture a Hellhound nor have we been able to follow them back to where they hide during the day. We’ve learned very little but we’re at least surviving. All three nations have set up trading routes between their cities, using fortified outposts spread out by a day’s ride so trade is still there, but it’s no where near what it once was as it’s still very risky. Only Slayers have access to these Waypoints which are sprinkled throughout the North as hideaways,” she waved to the cavern around them. “Like portals, they require energy to open and close the gates, something you’ll learn more about later in Tekal.”

She made a face that John couldn’t fully interpret. Something between annoyance and admiration. “Tekal... Tekal is the city that all the Slayers have come to call home. Its where the mages watch over their creations and it is the central authority on hunting Hounds. Every nation pays a tax into Tekal to keep it funded, but the Slayers’ numbers haven’t been what they use to be. We can live a very long time, and it’s extremely hard to kill us, but…”

She looked back at the dead Hound with an emotionless mask. “Like I’d said, they are smart bastards.”

John looked at the beast as well.

He’d seen the look in her eyes before. He’d seen it himself more than once in a mirror. While she might be a spy for Ce’l, she was at war with the Hellhounds and he was intimately familiar with war.

“So what does all of this have to do with me?” he asked quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Celia’s face sour.

“I received word from the House’s spymaster that they want to know why the Hounds haven’t ever made it South into Ce’l. That’s where you come in.”

John frowned. “Isn’t that something you’d be better equipped to investigate?”

“No, I have other things I must do,” she said with great reserve. “And I can’t do everything.”

The look she gave him said otherwise and John got the sinking feeling the spymaster had told her those exact words.

“So... what? I’m suppose to be a Ce’l deserter who just happens to gain Slayer powers?” John scoffed.

“No,” she said in a measured voice. “You’re suppose to pass as a Private in the Kalian Red Guard who recently became Awaken with Slayer powers.”

John sat back into his chair.

“Oh…. OH.”

Well that explains her love for me.

She saw the understanding in his eyes. “Now you see. The only way this works is if I introduce you. Which means my neck is on the line. If you can’t pass off as a Kalian, we’re both dead.”

Chapters 4-5: http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2006003-The-Hellhound-War-Ch4-5

or

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eLeRM4PJpAg765E99nqZ2nRGoLbpAq1YgxnRg0KMrI8/edit?usp=sharing