Chapter 29: Wilder-East
"Greetings!" I shouted as I approached the windmill.
My voice carried across the open ground and died there.
There were footprints near the mill.
Fresh ones.
So the Hunters were here. They were simply hiding.
"I coms in peace!" I called again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
This place was a training ground of some kind. Not like the hidden valley where elves trained in secret—I meant the sort of place where boys were taught to survive by becoming less human.
Then a voice answered.
"Who are you?"
I couldn't tell where it came from.
"Leno," I replied. "Pecundo of Noal's grandson."
For a moment, silence returned.
Then the same voice answered in common speech.
"What do you want, grandson of Pecundo?"
"Grandson," I corrected.
This time, I caught the source.
A slight rise in the ground. Too even to be natural.
Sneaky bastards.
"I want to speak to whoever is in charge," I said, walking toward the center of the clearing.
"What could a nobody like you possibly say to our leader?"
"I need answers," I said.
"About my grandfather. And I'm sure those half-elves reached you five weeks ago, which means your leader already knew I would come."
A second voice spoke, amused this time.
"Sharp, isn't he?"
A man climbed out from behind a trench and stepped into view.
He wore brown furs and too many weapons.I looked at his left hand and saw three fingers hanging low while two remained folded.A signal.
So that was how he'd been speaking to the hidden men around us.
"Yes," the man said. "We hoped you would come."
"Then you know why I'm here," I said.
"Not really," he said. "But I can guess."
I glanced at his left hand again.
Two fingers down now. Three folded.
He was still signaling.
"What's your guess?"
"You came for revenge," he said. "For what we did to your father."
"Grandfather," I corrected. "And maybe revenge is part of it. But what I want most is the truth."
"Then you'll have your truth," the man said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Right after we take your eyes and send you into the dark forest."
He folded the last finger.
Danger hit me like cold water.
I felt the breath of the man hidden below ground before I heard anything. A tiny inhale. A shift. Then the dart sliced through the air toward me.
I stepped aside.
The dart buried itself in the dirt where my neck had been.
The man in furs looked surprised, but only for a heartbeat.
"Impressive," he said. "So the traitor taught you our tongue how to dodge like a Hunter."
"I told you," I said, lifting my hands briefly, "I came in peace. I do not wish to fight you.
""Do you really think you can defeat a Hunter, boy?"
"It doesn't matter what I think," I said. "What matters is that you keep trying to kill me before answering simple questions."
He smiled thinly.
"Ask your question, then."
I studied him carefully—his eyes, his stance, the silvery whip hanging at his side.
"What are you?" I asked. "I heard a story about a Hunter who fought demons in White Wood. No human can do that."
"Ah," he said, "but we are not humans. Not entirely. We were once. Physicians might call us mutants."
"But you call yourselves Hunters. What do you hunt?"
He looked right at me then, and his sparkling green eyes gave him away.
"Monsters," he said. "Monsters like you, Leno of Ennox."
Danger flashed over me again.
This time, an arrow.
I couldn't see it at first—the shooter used the sun to hide the shot—but I felt it. Two steps back, and the arrow struck the earth in front of me.
"The fact that you keep signaling your men tells me," I said, "that you don't think you can defeat me alone."
His jaw tightened.
"Pecundo of Noal betrayed us," he snarled. "As if that weren't enough, he raised a vampire. Something he was taught to kill."
"He died four years ago," I said. "Slavers attacked our town."
"And how do I know you aren't lying?"
"If he were alive," I said, "I wouldn't be here."
My gaze dropped to the weapons hanging from his body.
Sword. Dagger. Bow. Arrows. Whip.
"Don't you get tired carrying all that?"
"Why do you care?"
"I don't. I'm just wondering whether I should feel guilty when I kill you burdened."
That earned me a harder look.
"Tell me then," I said, "what did my grandfather do that was so terrible you'd blind him and throw him into the forest?"
The old man stared at me.
"By your eyes, I'd say you're still a child," he said. "Twelve, perhaps."
"I'm fourteen."
"Pecundo was eleven when he became a full Hunter."
"You still haven't answered me."
His face hardened.
"He broke our rules. Our way of living among humans. Our laws."
"And the girls from the village to the southwest?" I asked. "Was that him?"
"No."
He smiled.
Danger flared again.
This time I jumped back, drew Canna, and pulled on my helm in one smooth motion.
Knives flashed from his sleeves.
"And the bards?" I said, anger boiling now. "The writers? The storytellers? Was that your work too?"
"Yes," he said proudly. "I ordered it. If men remembered too much, they'd come hunting us again, same as before they turned their slaughter on the elves."
And in that moment, I felt them all.
Not saw—felt.
Two hidden below ground.
Three behind the stone walls.
One behind a carved wooden figure.
And about a dozen more beneath the structure itself.
Hungry.
Weak.
Young.
"You have only seven men ready to fight," I said quietly. "Not counting the boys you're starving in the basement."
That shook him.
But only for a moment.
"You still can't defeat us."
I moved first.
Fast enough to draw blood, not to kill.
My blade cut his cheek.
"How dare you!"
"Come out!" I shouted. "Your master's in trouble!"
"No!" he barked to the hidden men. "Stay where you are! I can handle him!"
With a flick of his wrist, the sleeve-knives vanished. He pulled out the silvery whip.The moment I saw it clearly, something twisted in my chest.
I knew that whip.
Or rather—I knew it had once belonged to my grandfather.
"Sure you don't want the sword instead?" I asked, keeping my distance. "Or maybe drop the bow and quiver so you can move like a younger man?"
"Don't tell me how to fight!"
He struck first.
I dodged and rushed in.
For one second I thought I had him.
Then steel met mine.
The old bastard had drawn his sword with his other hand.
"What?" he barked, parrying. "Thought I'd move like a human?"
He was quick.
Not just quick for an old man—quick enough to keep up.
"In that case," I said, "I'll move faster."
I shifted into the elven style.
That caught him off guard.
My blade slashed across his chest. Chainmail kept it from going deep, but it cut enough. I also sliced the bowstring by accident—or maybe not by accident.
"Sorry," I said. "That was a fine bow."
"That didn't hurt!"
He dropped the quiver.
Then ran.
At least, I thought he ran—until I looked down.
His whip was wrapped around my left leg.
Too late, I brought my sword down.
The whip snapped tight.
My legs were yanked apart so hard I screamed before I could stop myself.
Pain exploded through my body.
"I got you, you son of a devil!"
I looked down in blind panic, half-expecting to find my legs torn off.
They were still there.
Thank the gods.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" he said, approaching me slowly. "That trick works wonders on monsters who wear human skin. You won't be walking for days."
Then he smiled.
"But you won't live that long."
For one ugly second, I thought I was finished.
Then I remembered Ashirai.
One of her impossible stretches. Legs apart, body low, breathing steady, rising without help as if pain were only another stubborn servant.
So I copied her.
Deep breath in.
Slow breath out.
And somehow, while every part of me screamed, I rose.
The Hunter stopped dead.
Once I had my balance, I chopped through the whip.
"What in the living hell are you?" he whispered. "Why didn't the whip weaken you?"
"It was supposed to weaken me?" I asked, still fighting the pain. "Shame."
Truth be told, I was impressed it had done even that much.
Ashirai would've laughed herself sick if she saw me now.
I lifted Canna.
"Well," I said, "I've got my answers. That means you die."
I rushed him.
Then danger struck again.
Two arrows.
Sun-hidden.
I knocked them away.
The old man used that instant to lunge, driving his sword at my chest—but my armor held.
So I stopped holding back.
I focused on the wooden figure.
The world snapped.
I appeared behind it.
One hidden Hunter died before he could turn.
Again.
Behind the wall.
Three more died in a blur of steel and panic.
Again.
Back to the open ground.
The two hidden in the earth had already surfaced with swords drawn. They were harder to kill than the others, but not by much.
Then ravens screamed overhead.
I looked up.
Three black birds flew from the structure's upper windows.
Someone had been watching.
I fixed on the window and blinked again.
This time I appeared behind a man with yellow eyes.
My sword touched his throat.
"Who are you?"
"Nesta," he said.His voice shook.
"Are you a Hunter, Nesta?"
"Yes."
I pressed a little harder.
"Well then—"
"I was Pecundo's friend!" he blurted.
I hesitated.
Not because I trusted him.
Because part of me wanted to.
"Look at my pendant," he said desperately. "If he was truly your grandfather, then he told you the story."
Around his neck hung a scarlet triangular pendant carved from something pale and old, marked with the image of a strange eagle.
Memory hit me at once.
Grandfather once told me about a boy who went into the dark forest with ten others. Only he and five returned—and only because that boy kept the others alive for three weeks with nothing but plant lore and stubbornness.
"The healer," I said.Nesta nodded quickly.
"And the pendant," I murmured. "Roc beak?"
He nodded again.
"So the story was true."
"If Pecundo told it, then yes," Nesta said. "Pecundo never lied."
Slowly, I lowered my sword.
My anger didn't leave.But it shifted.
"Those ravens," I said. "Where are they going?"
"Two to the highest Hunters," Nesta said. "One to our elf allies."
He swallowed hard.
"As a Hunter, I had to report this. Please don't kill me."
"What's the fastest route out of here?"
"There's no safer route faster than the dark forest."
"Do you want me dead?"
He blinked. "You're a vampire. You should survive."
"Half-vampire," I said, "and I'm not testing that theory."
Nesta looked at me strangely.
"Then why not teleport?" he asked. "I saw you do it down there."
I stared at him for a moment.
Then I nodded once.
"Good point."