Hunters - Peace or War. Chp 1.

Peace or War

Under Construction

The long dead grass whistled on the outskirts of a large fortified settlement on an open plain. It was late and no stars shone, leaving the shadows hidden, save for the areas covered by firelight and a thin layer of smoke. Many lights were turned off and the only sign of movement was from the sentries slowly patrolling along the low set walls.

Inside the walls, scurrying shadows could still be seen as people moved around near lamps; a woman could be heard screaming in pain, her cries echoing off the cold stone halls; a man dressed in leather breeches and a tunic stood by her side as the baby was born with the encouragement of its father.

The doctor inspected the newborn child as the mother looked at him inquisitively. After a very short inspection the doctor exclaimed, “It’s a boy!”

“You know what this means for him, then?” said the father.

“Yes,” sighed the mother as she cradled her son in her arms. “You will take him when he is of age and train him, I suppose; but I will not be part of his training.”

Her husband grunted as if to acknowledge her statement and held his son, bouncing the baby in his arms. Suddenly, two tiny fangs erupted from the baby's gums, making his father nearly drop him in surprise.

A half vampire already bearing teeth? He thought to himself. Impossible.

“My love, we have a problem here!” he said.

“What I it?” she asked, sitting up on the bed.

“'Our son is the first half vampire to be born between a Hunter and a Countess – ever.”

“'What is he then,” She wondered, “A symbol for peace or another reason for war? If he is indeed hope, then what will he call him?”

“Abner,” Her husband said, his voice soft as her repeated, “Abner, the Father of Light.”

Out of nowhere, his wife gasped in pain, her fangs emerging from her mouth clearly without her authority.

She looked at her husband in alarm.

This could only mean one thing: the baby had taken her blood and she needed more.

“I must go,” she said while getting up from her bed.

“No!” shouted the man as he slammed her down, staying a safe distance away from her fangs. “You swore to me that for as long as we were bonded you wouldn’t harm anyone!”

“That was before you gave me this baby! That was before it took my supply of blood. If I don’t feed tonight, then I will die. The blood is my life. The child now has it.”

‘Just remember that if I find you have killed someone, I will be after you,” The man warned. “Sunlight will fall upon you if you bring back blood.”

“You know that sunlight does not affect me. I have overcome that barrier, as I have now overcome you!”

She leapt out of her bed, sending him flying backwards with her superhuman strength. He smashed against the opposite wall and crumpled into a heap.
Swinging a travelling cloak over her shoulders, she exited the house, not looking at her husband or her new born son, who now lay on the floor.

The night air was cool against her skin as she stepped out into the night, and she felt the calling of blood, which she hadn’t felt in many years. Where to start?

Her son and husband would awake in the morning and she would return well before sun up. A bit of chaos wouldn’t go astray.

This part of Sauria was always under constant attack from Renor to the north. A few guards lying dead around the town would prepare the place for war and also force the Saurian Council to send more troops through Rhorn Pass in order to blockade it.

Walking quickly through the main thoroughfare, the woman passed few people, who immediately looked away. She quickened her pace as she closed in on her destination: the northern guard tower of Rhorn. It was occupied by three guards, all of whom she had acquainted herself with over the years.

All of them jumped to a rigorous salute as she entered the tower.
“Countess Sophia,” one of the guards acknowledge her with a nod. “To what do we owe the privilege of your visit at such an hour?”

“I have need of your services,” she replied with a small smile.

The guards’ salutes softened, as they thought they knew what the Countess had meant.

They eagerly dropped their weapons and dropped their heads in order to loosen their belts.

The Countess was within arm’s reach of them when she struck. The first man was thrown into the wooden table the guards had been gathered around. His neck snapped against the cold mahogany surface.

He would have to wait; no witnesses could be left. Fresh blood was much better, but for now, blood exposed to the air would have to do. The Countess grabbed the second man by the throat and squeezed him, quickly cutting off his air supply before using her fangs to sink into his neck.

His life source was invigorating – even the smallest amount of blood, which was sent rushing through her veins, made her feel more powerful.

Rounding on the third man – who now stood with his sword drawn – the Countess strode forward and broke his sword off at the hilt. He looked at the destroyed weapon in horror as the Countess stepped forward and stabbed him in the heart. He staggered backwards with wide eyes as blood pulsed out over the blade. The Countess greedily drank the blood of all three, a satisfied smile spreading across her face at the tremendous, powerful feeling of being in control again; her work here was finished.

However she needed perhaps the next night, as well.

The watch was due to change over at dawn, and she would be far away from here, yet the alarm would spread and her husband would surely hear.

He and any other Hunter in the city would know instantly what had happened, so she could either kill him or flee.

Racing back to her house, she thought it over. Killing him would be the better, and then she would be able to raise her son and turn him into the ultimate weapon that all vampires desired.

I’ll wait a few days before I kill him, she finally decided as she walked in the door.

Her son was still on the floor, silently asleep, as was her husband, where she had left him.

She lifted both him and Abner into bed and she soon joined them in slumber. However, being a Countess, she did not need sleep; it was something merely just to pass the time and it also allowed the blood in her system to carry on with its work.

The morning came quickly, and Sophia was staring at her husband when he awoke. His back was to the wall and he gave a start when he saw her. Drawing a dagger from near his left boot, he pointed it towards Sophia.

“Did you draw blood last night?” he demanded to know.

Shit, he knew. Better to lie to him for the time being, she thought.

“No, my dear. I fell asleep after putting Abner into his cot.”

“Lies, you know you don’t sleep! You have taken blood – I know when you’re lying! Tell me right damned now! Tell me who!” He ordered, his voice harsh.

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” she said, giving him a wicked grin. “They were most eager to offer me their services. How could I cheat on my dear husband, after all? I stopped them before they had the chance to do anything. Not to worry.”

“Of course, you would go for the city guards. Easy targets for you, I assume? The north tower, as well, in order to send more men into Renor? Simple plans my love. Well done.”

“Yes; and your time is about to come. Barros Toldar, I end you.”

Leaping off the bed towards Barros, her fangs erupted from her gums.

Barros drew another dagger from near his elbow. He flung his first at Sophia as she flew through the air. His reflexes where incredible, and the moment the dagger had left his hand, he had dived out of harm’s way and already risen to full stance when Sophia crashed into the wall.

Sophia growled as she stepped back through the wall she had broken.
She had lost the human appearance that Barros had fallen in love with, and she had now become the very thing he hated and had fought to destroy his entire life.

The silky skin was now rotten and decayed. Her once beautiful green eyes now narrow and red, her fingers now ended in claws.

The beauty that Barros had once loved was now completely gone.

He called upon his hatred for the very thing that was before him. He hated it; the flesh, the eyes and most of all, the fangs; the thing that turned humanity into itself.

It was a virus, a plague.

Gripping another knife in his left hand, Barros ran forwards as did the fiend. Diving under Sophia’s lunge, he barrel-rolled and leapt out of the window. The fall to the ground was not far, as Barros had fallen from many heights over the years.

He heard the vampire yell as her unprotected skin began to burn in the sunlight. She suddenly stopped as she must have returned to her human form.

Now that Sophia was now seen as a human again, Barros would only be able to kill her again when she was on the hunt. She, however, could kill him whenever she wanted to. Her powers did not diminish during the daytime, which left him vulnerable.

If only he could get to the safe house that he had constructed on the outskirts of the City, he would be safe. There was sure to be other Hunters in the city that could assist him if he sent out the signal. Refresh, resupply, and hunt where the three rules of survival.

Dashing through the now awakening city with Sophia some distance behind him, Barros took several detours in order to throw her off of his trial. As a Hunter, he left no trial that a Vampire could follow.

If he had been an Unbound, Sophia would not have lost him under any conditions. The Unbound were classified as anyone who was not a Hunter or Vampire.

Barros passed many people he had grown close to over the five years, and they cried out in alarm as he sprinted past, or stuck a shoulder into him.

He was a social figure in Rhorn, as he had been married to the Countess for five years. Many people assumed she had inherited the title from her father, who, in fact, had died several hundred years before.

It was near mid-day when Barros was finally within sight of his safe house. It was a large windmill south of the city that had served him well for the last five years.

At dusk he could set off the flare that would call every other Hunter in the district to him.

Barging inside using a trapdoor buried under several centimeters of grass, Barros dropped down the ladder and straight into the armory.

Silver weapons ranging from daggers to axes covered in black sheaths lined the walls, all neatly in rows. Crossbows, all crafted by hand, lined the opposite wall in holding racks.

Beside each was a sizeable quiver holding at least thirty bolts covered in a black looking liquid.

A large cauldron stood over a long dead fire. Barros moved towards it and looked inside. The liquid had cooled enough and solidified; this was good. He had had this batch brewing for almost two years. Fyndfire was one of the few things that could injure and kill vampires.

However, in Sophia’s case, it would not kill her, as she was a Countess, and her hundreds of years of life protected her from the chemicals that Fyndfire was made of. They mixed together after a while of brewing, which enabled them to burn through the dead flesh of a Vampire.

In the cases of Shades and Counts, the Fyndfire merely burnt the skin that it came into contact with, but in the cases of Minors and Spectres, the Fyndfire made their whole bodies erupt in flame. Coating several dozen bolts with Fyndfire, and filling the rest in bottles that he attached to his belt, he had used the total supply. The only thing left to do was shoot it at the vampires.

Restocking his supply of throwing knives and other numerous weapons, Barros was now satisfied that he had all he needed in order to confront Sophia. He leant up against the entrance wall next to the ladder, lowered his hood, chewed on some medium rare meat and lay in the shadows, waiting for sundown to come.

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