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  Dead Hunt I

  Malakai considered going back inside and retrieving Rider. But the cries were softening, and if anything happened, Rider had to continue the mission, so Malakai went out by himself.

  Some of the bandits were still awake, either sitting on their porch or inside, drinking liquor they had no doubt stolen from the village.

  Malakai stuck to the shadows. Creeping between buildings until he reached the edge of the hamlet, where a lone home stood besides the lake. Unlike the others, it was built from brick.

  He stalked across the open field between him and the home and crouched near the side of a window. He peeked. A single lantern on in the living room, which gave him enough light to see the staircase leading up. And was that a cellar door? Just then came another scream. The distance had muffled it, but from so close, the haunting and agonising nature of the shriek shot into his chest. Someone was being tortured, or worse.

  The yell fading, Malakai got up to force the window. It had come from the cellar—

  ‘You’re not supposed to be here, kiddo.’

  Malakai almost dropped his blade. Behind him, an older man, one built like an ox, was holding a lantern. He raised it to get a good look at Malakai’s face. ‘You one of the new ones?’

  Another scream stopped Malakai from speaking. It was so drawn out the two men must’ve stood there for a minute, waiting for it to end.

  Finally it finished. The bandit sighed. ‘There’s enough bad going on tonight.’ He motioned to the side with the hammer in his hand. ‘Make yourself scarce, rookie. I’m not in the mood for adding to the tally.’

  Malakai studied the bandit. The firelight from the lamp enhanced his sunken eyes. How long had he been forced to listen to these cries?

  ‘Does this happen often?’ Malakai said, rising to his feet and raising his arms. The bandit didn’t notice the crystal falling in the snow.

  ‘It’s better if you don’t know,’ the man said. ‘Don’t speak to anyone and don’t let me catch you again.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Malakai said.

  The bandit followed Malakai after he passed, which was why he didn’t see the creature rising from the void behind him. A hand closed around the bandit’s face, lifting him into the air effortlessly. He dropped to the floor a moment later, his face completely frozen over.

  Malakai didn’t look back. He went for the entrance. The door was locked. Searching the bandit for a key revealed nothing, so Malakai used his blade to force the window and hopped inside. To his relief, the cellar door wasn’t locked. The set of stairs going down was also made of stone, so they didn’t creak as he made his descent. He had recalled Wraith since the big orc would’ve made a ruckus regardless, but its crystal was in his palm, ready to be summoned at a moment’s notice.

  The screams were nearly deafening down here, but Malakai continued. An ambient light came from the rear of the cellar, allowing him to see. The cellar was a freezer. Foggy clouds from Cryospheres floated between the rows of fish hanging from the ceiling. Malakai crawled forwards and angled his head around a fish so big it touched the floor. A woman knelt in the middle of a circle demarcated with candles, inside which was drawn a pentagram. She held an orb aloft in front of her, pointed at another woman, who was strung up like one of the fish. Dozens of hooks jutted from her shoulders and arms. Blood dripped down the sides of her naked body to fall on the floor, which was when Malakai realised the circle was entirely red.

  Two other corpses lay off to the side, each set of shoulders full of holes.

  ‘Hang in there,’ the woman said with a sly smile. ‘We’re almost done.’ The sphere in her hand flashed as if it understood.

  Malakai recognised the voice. It was the foreigner from this afternoon. His face darkened. Wraith rose behind Malakai, and so too did the captain, his blade already in hand—

  A cold, bony hand pulled him back. ‘Wait,’ the undead whispered. ‘Something is happening.’

  That made Malakai want to rush in even more, but the grip the undead had on his shoulder was a tight one.

  A chilly gust rushed through the cellar. Candle flames wavered, light and shadows danced, and tendrils of blood rose from the circle, writhing as if in great agony. They latched onto the suspended woman, covering her skin until she was but a red body suit. Then the blood turned black, and the air pulsed as a heavy presence descended on the room.

  The foreigner cackled. ‘Look who’s crazy now, Miranda.’ She shook her head. ‘Always, always, choose your roots over scum.’

  Malakai shivered. Roots? Was this Zoeria?

  ‘Interesting,’ Wraith—The Warden—whispered. She opened her cloak and, hiding both of them from view and magical senses.

  ‘Shouldn’t we stop it?’ Malakai whispered back.

  ‘Dangerous,’ the Warden said. ‘Better to wait.’

  The blood seeped into the hanging woman’s skin, some of it staying on the surface to form arcane markings similar to tattoos. Malakai had never seen patterns like that before.

  A moment passed, and barely a speck of the original skin remained visible beneath the markings. Malakai hadn’t gotten a good look at the girl before the ritual, but her face appeared slimmer, her curves more defined. Blonde hair floated upwards before settling on her face and hardening into a bony-looking mask, which was joined by horns growing out the side of the head. Eyes opened, revealing red, vertical pupils like that of a snake through holes in the face cover. They took in the room, including the hooks still embedded in their skin, then turned to the foreigner standing in front of them.

  ‘Welcome,’ the foreigner said, smiling. ‘I’m in a hurry, so I’ll skip the pleasantries. There are people in the village outside. Kill and feed on them.’

  The demon blinked. ‘Afterwards?’ it said in a high-pitched and alluring voice completely unlike its appearance.

  ‘We visit Giantswood,’ the foreigner said. ‘There I have more people for you to kill.’ She raised the crystal sphere in her hands. ‘And don’t get any funny ideas, or I’ll crush your soul.’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  The foreigner paused, convincing herself the demon was indeed listening to her. Then she helped dislodging the hooks. Blood didn’t have the time to ooze out of the wounds as the holes closed with visible speed once the demon set foot on the ground.

  It rubbed and rolled its shoulders. ‘Amateur,’ it said. And Malakai thought it was smiling.

  The foreigner’s brow rose. ‘Who are you calling that?’ She pushed mana into the core, which flared—

  So fast that Malakai almost missed it, the demon’s arm swiped upwards in a cutting motion, and the stale air of the cellar whipped against the walls.

  ‘Eh?’ the foreigner uttered.

  A line formed around her throat. The instant disbelief turned to realisation, the foreigner's head rolled away from her neck. Her body sagged into a lump.

  The demon chuckled with the grace of a sex worker. ‘They always forget the retribution clause.’ It crouched and retrieved the core. A long, thin tongue that split into two at the end slithered out to lick the spray of blood off of it. Its head swivelled to the ceiling. ‘So many in one place…’ a moan escaped it. ‘It’ll be a feast!’ It skipped across the room and up the stairs.

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  The Warden released Malakai after it vanished from sight, striding towards the foreigner’s corpse. The body rose to its feet a second later.

  Wraith studied the undead and smiled. ‘Fortunate. I was looking for an apprentice.’ It turned to Malakai, who was nearly too stunned to take a step. ‘Let’s head up.’

  He followed her outside and stopped in the exit leading out the building. The demon was standing outside the house, eyes bulging wide as it watched who them appear from the shadows.

  The Warden tapped Malakai on the shoulder. ‘I’ll take it from here. Go get Rider and find the women.’

  ‘Ma’am!’ Malakai didn’t know how fast to remove himself from the situation.

  The undead and demon stood alone in the middle of the clearing.

  ‘Let’s have a nice little talk,’ the undead said.

  The demon stepped back—

  ‘Run and I’ll kill you,’ I said.

  It froze as if I’d willed my powers onto it.

  ‘Who are you?’ it said, horrified.

  I chuckled. ‘You don’t know the name of the ruler who’s land you befoul with your presence? Demons these days are hopeless.’

  Behind me, my newly raised apprentice stepped out of the doorway. She had woven a few threads of miasma to refasten her head—a temporary solution, but one that would hold.

  The demon stared at the woman whom it—it was a she, most likely—had killed bare minutes ago. ‘Undead,’ she whispered. Her chin lowered and the mask she had for a face pulled taut. ‘I thought your kind was dead.’

  ‘We’re hard to kill,’ I said and seated myself. I patted the frozen ground. ‘Take a seat.’

  The demon did so warily, priming itself to run. A useless precaution. I wasn’t aware of what kind of magic the foreigner had used—probably a form of black magic native to her people—but that she could summon a demon at all was impressive, which made me glad to have her. Though she didn’t do it herself, I thought, eyes falling on the core still in the demon’s hands. That was a bona fide demonic core, perfect for summoning rituals. Where had she found that?

  The dead foreigner couldn’t answer, and since she hadn’t resurrected as an intelligent undead, there was no memory for me to read either.

  I filed that question away and focused on the matter at hand: How could I best make use of this scenario? The plan was for Malakai to find the secret route into Giantswood, whether through espionage or joining a caravan on its route there. But maybe there was another way—fear and a sense of danger would send anyone crawling home, wouldn’t it?

  ‘I’m not a demon,’ I said, smiling. ‘It’s not like me to interrupt someone’s fun when unnecessary.’

  If demons could frown, the creature did so now. ‘You’ll let me go?’ it said carefully.

  ‘Not exactly.’ I stood, and the scared hare rushed to its feet. I raised a finger. ‘One hit.’

  Their frown grew deeper, and my smile grew as my hands went into my pockets. ‘Come at me. If you manage to land a single blow on me, I’ll allow you to leave this village alive and intact.’

  A pause. The demon put her hands together, shaping a black whip between their palms. ‘You’re not lying?’

  ‘I never lie,’ I lied.

  The frozen ground burst as the demon blurred forwards.

  Malakai stormed into his bedroom.

  ‘Rider! Get up!’

  The frostguard jumped out of bed, entirely lucid.

  ‘What happened?’ Rider said. ‘Are we under attack?’ He had already reached for his blade and was putting on his gear.

  ‘A demon was summoned,’ Malakai said. ‘We’re finding the women and getting out of here.’

  ‘A demon? You sure—‘

  Crashing through like lightning, was a shriek Malakai hadn’t thought of in his darkest dreams.

  Rider asked no more and rushed into his gear, then the two of them were running down the stairs and onto the street. They weren’t the only ones. Bandits burst through their doorways, the colour drained from their skin.

  ‘Waf’s going on?’

  ‘Ya heard that too?!’

  ‘Affcourse ya dipshit!’

  Many were slurring terribly, still drunk from their party. Malakai paid them no mind and grabbed one by the shoulders whom he thought the most sober.

  ‘Where are the women?’

  ‘What?’ The bandit had trouble thinking straight in this chaos.

  ‘The women!’ Malakai repeated. ‘They arrived yesterday. Where are they staying?!’

  Repeating the term “women” multiple times finally got the meaning across, and the bandit pointed to a building that was in the direction of the village gates.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Malakai said to Rider.

  But Rider shook his head. ‘We need the caravan if we’re going to get out of here. You get the women. I’ll ready the horses.’

  So they split up.

  Malakai was dashing as fast as he could without risking a nasty fall over the slippery earth, when he was forced to duck as something flew overhead. A shadow slammed into the window on the second floor of a home to the yells of whoever was still inside. Malakai glanced to the side. Walking at a leisurely pace, hands in her pocket, was the looming figure of the Warden. White fog poured from her person. It crawled over the ground, sapping the life from anything it touched.

  A spray of blood gushed out of the broken window, the human screams inside the home quieting.

  Malakai was already running again. He ignored the shattering sound of wooden walls and wails and crossed the street. He reached the building in question, but not before running into a familiar face.

  ‘Gerald?’ Malakai called out to the man trudging through the snow.

  The older bandit turned, face contorting after he caught sight of Malakai, and continued hasting towards the women’s sleeping quarters.

  ‘Leave me be! Don’t get that thing near me!’

  ‘This is not me,’ Malakai said, hurrying to catch up with him. ‘That woman…’ he searched his racing mind for the name. ‘Radi! She summoned a demon!’

  Gerald faltered in his steps but resumed without a word.

  They reached the house. It was a barn, for Malakai heard whimpering animals in a shed that connected to the side.

  Gerald bonked on the entrance. ‘Oi! Get out here! We’re leaving in the caravan!’ His call wasn’t answered. Gerald bonked again, more forcefully this time. ‘I’m leaving you all for dead if you don’t open up this instant!’

  The door creaked open, revealing a woman holding a pan. It was Sarah.

  Gerald didn’t even deign her with a snort. ‘We don’t have much time. Where are the others?’

  Sarah stepped aside, revealing more cowering women.

  ‘All ready?’ Gerald said.

  She nodded, and the women slowly exited. That’s when Malakai noticed they were all wearing their clothes. Malakai glanced towards Gerald, who was also wearing his clothes. That couldn’t be a coincidence—they could’ve never had enough time to clothe themselves.

  ‘Gerald told us to,’ Sarah said at Malakai’s confused look. ‘He said there was a high chance we would need to run.’

  Malakai took in the older bandit one more time, a new level of admiration unlocking for the man.

  ‘Don’t dally,’ Gerald said, ignoring Malakai’s gaze, ‘or I’ll leave you behind.’

  Malakai did a quick count as they ran. None of the women were missing, so the ones in the cellar must’ve been from another caravan or the hamlet.

  ‘I want all of you boarded within the minute!’ Gerald said as they rounded the corner to the storage area. But he stopped in his tracks, eyes going wide.

  A fistfight was going on.

  ‘Fuck!’ Gerald said. ‘They’re trying to steal our wagons!’

  Malakai rushed forwards. Rider and the men they had arrived with were fending off a bunch of other bandits. The groups of the other caravans were there, too, but most targeted Rider’s party, most of whom were still reeling from their injuries.

  ‘Stop!’ Malakai yelled, but his voice didn’t reach over the cacophony. He was forced to look as one of the bandits screamed: ‘Screw this!’ and pulled the blade at his hip. The others cleared the space around him. ‘Back off—’

  Malakai slipped through a gap in the group, and his fist planted on the side of the bandit’s mouth. The bandit crashed to the floor, the field going silent.

  ‘Stop!’ Malakai repeated, breathing hard from all the running he had been doing. ‘We can all get out of here if we act in an orderly manner.’

  The shock of the moment vanished as quick as it had come.

  ‘An’ who the fack yu think yu are?’

  Now more of them pulled their weapons. Malakai was standing near Rider.

  The frostguard hovered closer to him. ‘You got any of those orcs?’

  ‘Two.’

  And he would have no choice but to use them—even if it blew his cover. He reached for his pouch—

  The screams were closer this time. A lot closer. Malakai’s gaze, and that of everyone else, turned to their rear.

  A robed woman stood under the moonlight, swinging an idol-necklace side to side like a metronome. She wasn’t alone. Two figures flanked her like watchers. Their backs were stooped, their skin and pupils grey, with what looked like ice interspersed throughout. Sharp talons extended from their hands where normally fingernails should be. The creatures charged. Their mouths agape, screaming, the cry sending shivers into Malakai’s toes. He stepped back beside himself. So did the bandits at the front. It was too little too late. The first monster leapt and landed in the midst of the stunned bandits, barrelling into one. Both fell to the ground. Malakai hadn’t blinked and the bandit was already yelling as sharp teeth ripped flesh from bone while claws disembowelled their victim.

  The second monster also leaping kicked everyone out of their dazed state. Malakai had expected the bandits to run. But they rushed the monsters, trying to get them off their allies.

  ‘Oi! Get on!’

  While the mess had been happening, Gerald had strapped the horses to the front of the wagon. The animals were neighing violently and dragging the wagons through the mud, even though the ropes were still tied. Malakai and his party basically teleported inside the carts. Rider cut the ropes, and the wagon was on the move.

  Malakai looked back at the two dozen or so bandits. He would’ve commended their bravery, but to his horror, he saw that the number of monsters had increased. He turned to the deceased Radi. Her idol had been swinging ominously the entire time. Now it was also glowing. The icy light illuminated the otherwise dark battlefield, brightening the corpses of the fallen. The dead were turning, Malakai realised as visible spots of ice grew on the skin of the dead. He averted his gaze to the other caravans. One of them had gotten moving, but the last one was stuck. A bandit (a young boy), was struggling with the ropes. The driver of the stalled wagon yelled something. The boy’s response contained the word “dull”. Malakai wasn’t paying attention to their exact words, for there was a corpse lying at the foot of the boy.

  Radi’s light fell on it, unnoticed.

  They are all going to die, Malakai thought.

  ‘They won’t make it,’ Sarah echoed, huddled into the cart with the rest of the women but staring at the carnage for dear life.

  This was the moment a better man would’ve abandoned his safety and helped. But you never were that better man, were you, Malakai? The voice speaking in his head was his own yet it wasn’t. And why should it be his? These were bandits. Not goodhearted citizens of the Duchy that deserved the sacrifice of his life. Him going out wouldn’t achieve anything. Amongst the icy night lit by frigid light, the dead were rising like glaciers in an ever-storm of frost. He would be nothing but another corpse, lost forever to the grace of the heavens.

  …

  So why was he already running?