Book of The Dead

Laurel bent to touch the earth, trailing her fingers through the grass. Her father had trained her to track, starting when she could walk. He was a hunter by trade and by Class, his ability to find game was enhanced by the Unseen in numerous ways. She’d marvelled at this skill as a child, scarcely able to believe he could smell a deer a kilometre away, or read the size and health of a herd from the tracks they left in the mud.

That admiration had faded over the years. Even without the assistance of the Unseen, she had trained herself to bring down prey without his help. She’d been able to feed herself since she was thirteen years old.

Now that she had a taste of those Skills, it almost felt like cheating. She drew the air deep through her nose, a myriad of scents racing through her mind. Her eyes played over the ground, telling her so much more than they should. The Unseen whispered to her through her abilities. Temperature, time, direction.

Already, she felt like she could track the wind on a stormy day. What would it be like if she continued to level? The thought was enough to send a shiver running down her spine.

“What’s the word? Any prey this way?”

“Tracks are three days old. Not much to speak of, some skitterlings and other smaller kin. They went West.”

Her partner, another ranger trainee, though more focused on pure archery than she was, grunted.

“They probably won’t want to pursue them further west.”

The two of them could see the mountains rising in the distance. Towering snow-capped monstrosities that scraped the sky, the Titan range marked the western border of the empire.

“Do you think they’ll ever find a way through?” she wondered idly, her eyes filled with the sight of fog shrouded cliffs.

Craic scoffed loudly.

“Who gives a fuck? It sure as hell won’t be me. Come on, let’s get back.”

Laurel grinned as she rose and turned, jogging to catch up to the wiry archer.

“With your tracking skills? You’d freeze to death in a day.”

“Damn right, as would any sensible person. If they haven’t worked out how to get through in a couple of hundred years, then they probably won’t. Either way, I can be confident that I don’t give a shit.”

She liked Craic. He was totally focused on his craft, and utterly uninterested in getting in her pants. A rare combination when it came to the men she’d met at the academy.

The two made their way back to camp in silence, content to focus on placing their feet and absorbing the quiet ambience of the foothills.

It was an hour before they returned to find tents being struck and provisions packed. Trainee slayers sprinted as their teachers barked orders and marked notes on checklists as they accounted for inventory.

Laurel and Craic shared a glance as they jogged through the chaos, looking for the captain.

They found her in the centre of the maelstrom, her leathery face locked in an expression of perpetual disapproval. She stood, arms crossed, one foot tapping the ground and glaring as the poor trainee reporting melted under her gaze.

“Enough!” she barked, having run out of patience. “Piss off and find something to do. Anyone else have something useful to contribute? Ah, the scouts have returned. Don’t stand there growing mould, get over here and report!”

Never a patient person, clearly Captain Ruth had been having a bad day.

The two Rangers rushed forward and saluted. Craic remained silent, so Laurel stepped forward to report.

“Spotted tracks of critter-size kin heading west. Three days old, found a little over an hour’s march away.”

The Captain and head of the slayer college chewed over her report a moment, icy blue eyes staring hard into the distance.

“Thoughts?” she asked brusquely.

“Too far, too old,” Laurel replied immediately. “If those kin are still alive, then they are up in the range. It’ll take at least a week to track them down and the pack is too small to make it worth it.”

“What about the citizens in the remote villages who depend on us for protection?” the captain said, her voice quieting to just above a murmur. “What about them?”

Laurel shrugged.

“They need to fend for themselves, like they always do. The pack is small enough that they can handle it.”

Ruth nodded slowly.

“Right answer. Pack your gear. Ten minutes, then report back for assembly. Go.”

Craic and Laurel shared a glance before they turned on their heels and sprinted to their respective tents. Since they were back late, they were only given ten minutes to pack their stuff? Such bullshit!

“Laurel, what do you think is going on?” Rufus hissed as he staggered past carrying a wooden crate.

“How would I know?” she spat back as she tore through her belongings like a whirlwind, stuffing clothes into packs, rolling her bed and taking down her tent, all at the same time.

“I think they’re pulling out,” he said. “Heading back.”

“Rufus. Would you shut the fuck up for a minute? I’ve got five minutes to pack my shit.”

“Why didn’t you say so? Grumpy bitch. Let me help.”

Dropping the crate with a loud THUD, Rufus stepped over and dealt with the tent as Laurel finished everything else. With his assistance, she was barely able to finish in time to sprint back to the assembly, Rufus tagging along behind.

Somehow, Craic was already there, radiating smug energy as he watched her approach.

“How?” she demanded.

“Some of us are just better,” he replied, solemn. “Who’s your friend?”

“Rufus,” replied the swordsman, extending his arm and gripping the other man by the wrist in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

“Craic. Ranger. Been scouting with Laurel here.”

“Were you able to keep up?” Rufus chuckled.

“Not hardly,” Craic grinned. “She tried to run me into the ground. Mainly because she’s bitter she can’t shoot for shit.”

Rufus’ eyes widened.

“She’s pretty damn good in my view,” he said, eyeing Laurel.

It wasn’t normal for her to let anyone insult her abilities, the fact she said nothing meant Craic must actually be better than her, and not by a little.

“Would you two shut up? The Captain is going to speak.”

In the centre of a massed huddle, stood atop a chest, Ruth Finnar addressed the crowd.

“After three weeks of tracking and fighting, I’m pleased to say that we are done here. As of today, our sweep is complete, the rift-kin have been routed, and we are clear to return. Your conduct during this brief campaign, as representatives of the Blue Steel training academy, and as future Slayers, has been… acceptable.”

Her glare seemed to suggest that ‘acceptable’ was far from good enough.

“When we return, your training will adjust to reflect the shortcomings that have been exposed during this endeavour, rest assured of that.”

Muffled groans rose from the gathered men and women, which only seemed to fuel the Captain.

“Stop whining. I swear you lot get softer every year. When I started working in the field, we were expected to chew granite and shit coal. If you want to live to reach Silver, then you’ll do the same.”

One more glare for good measure.

“The higher ranked Slayers are finishing their sweeps and heading north to help stabilise the rift at Woodsedge and rebuild the keep. Those who haven’t reached Bronze, which means you sorry sacks, need to get out of the way and finish your training.

“Final piece of business. It seems our friendly Necromancer has been busy in the region. If you recall, there’s a sizeable bounty on his head, and it’s gone up.” Her voice hardened. “There are credible reports that at least one Slayer has fallen by his hand. A young swordsman named Liley from the Flashing Blade school.”

Rumblings broke out among the crowd as Rufus and Laurel shared a long look.

“A hunting party is being put together,” the Captain announced. “If you’re interested, then speak to Brun here after I’m done. Don’t go thinking this will be easy money. One of you unranked has already died, you don’t want to be next. We leave in ten.”

So saying, she jumped down and pushed through her audience, already barking orders.

“What the fuck was that?” Rufus hissed, shocked beyond belief.

“Just what it sounds like,” Laurel replied, perturbed. “A hunting party.”

“I thought the Necromancer was being chased down by the Steelarms,” Craic mused, causing the two to jump, having momentarily forgotten his presence. “I wonder if that has changed?”

“Maybe they’re pissed that one of their own was killed,” Laurel mused. “The bounty has gone up. I wonder if the colleges are footing the bill and putting their own group together.”

“You don’t really think that he…” Rufus started, but fell silent at a glare from Laurel.

“If the head of the school says that this Necromancer has killed a trainee, then that’s what has happened.”

“Poor bastard. Can’t even put his bones to rest,” Craic shook his head, and spat to the side.

“What are you thinking?” Rufus asked Laurel, his eyes intent.

“I can tell what you want to do,” she said, “it’s written all over your face.”

“I’ve always been upfront. Whether you’re going or not, I am.”

He stepped forward, elbowing his way through the milling crowd on his way to talk to Brun.

“Well, he’s keen.”

Laurel stood pensively for a moment, a slight frown on her face.

“What are your thoughts about it, Craic?” she asked.

“Me?” the young archer shrugged. “I don’t give a shit, personally. Leave hunting down the dangerous illegals to the professionals.”

“You aren’t tempted by the money?”

“No. Are you going to follow your friend?”

“I suppose I should at least find out what the conditions are.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed forward to find a small group already gathered around the chest, Rufus among them. When she arrived by his side, she tugged on his shirt to get his attention.

“What’s the story?”

“He hasn’t said yet, waiting to see if anyone else is coming.”

It took another minute or two for Brun to be satisfied. An instructor at the academy, he taught field medicine and wound care. An odd choice to stay behind and lead a hunt for a dangerous outlaw.

“Alright then, folks,” the old man said, rubbing his hands together. “We’ve got ourselves a hunt. Three schools are sending out students and we’ll take anyone who wants to go. We’ve got two weeks to try and track this fucker down, after that, we’re all heading home. He fucked up when he killed one of our own and the academies want him dead.”

“What about the pay?” a student asked impatiently. “How’re you going to split it?”

“Old school, no sharing. It all goes to whoever gets the kill,” Brun grinned. “If you wanna get paid, then you need to be hungry.”

“Fuck that,” the man who asked the question spat and walked off.

Brun watched him go, impassive, then smirked to those who remained.

“Bounty’s been doubled. Two hundred sovereigns. Someone is going to be filthy fucking rich. Might as well be one of you, eh?”

Rufus grinned like a wolf.

“Make sure you’ve got the equipment you need. You can requisition anything last second from the quartermaster, but you’ve got less than five minutes to do it. If you run out of rations, you’ll be eating your shoes, cause I sure as shit won’t be giving you any of mine. Get to it.”

Laurel sighed. There was no way Rufus wasn’t going. Getting paid to kill his hated childhood rival? He’d probably do it for free. As for her? The money would be nice. She had no support from her family, and life at the academy wasn’t cheap. Rufus had helped her get established, but soon enough, she’d need to be making her own coin.

The profit from this hunt would help, but it wouldn’t get her through the year. Once she graduated, she’d need to make sure her gear was up to standard if she was going to hunt rift-kin, and that wouldn’t be cheap.

Tyron was going to die anyway. If that was the case, he might as well settle her debts while he was at it.

“I’m in, but we agree on a fifty-fifty split,” she said to Rufus, who was only half listening. She stomped on his foot, causing him to yelp in pain.

“What the hell?”

“Fifty-fifty split, no matter which of us kills him. Agree or I’m walking.”

“I agree, I agree,” he assured her. “How would I even find him if you didn’t come along? Ow, my fucking foot.”

“Then listen next time.”

Rufus grimaced then grew serious.

“Do you really think he was able to kill a swordsman? I can’t imagine him killing anyone. He’s been harmless since the day he was born.”

“You always underestimate him, then get pissed off when he does better than you expected him to. Normally, I’d just watch the cycle repeat itself and laugh, but this time, it might get me killed, so you need to get over it.”

The swordsman’s face grew darker, then he breathed out, releasing the tension.

“Fine. He killed a swordsman. Lucky we won’t be working alone then.”

“I’m serious, Rufus. If you can’t deal with this hangup and do your job, I’ll be turning around and heading back to the academy. I wouldn’t mind the coin, but not enough to risk my life over it.”

Rufus held up both hands.

“I’ve got it. Don’t worry, I won’t underestimate him. This won’t be like the last time, I’ve learned a few tricks since then.”

You think he hasn’t? Laurel thought to herself.

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