Darin charged downhill as Young Miss Jasmine wrestled herself away from Skitt, clutching her chest with both hands. She turned uphill, towards Darin, holding her torn shirt with one hand, pointing back at the poor old Skitt with the other.
Darin followed her finger, and his skin crawled.
“He—” the Young Miss shrieked, but Darin interrupted her.
“He’s dead,” he said.
The Young Miss spun around and froze. Skitt’s skull had caved in, his neck bent the way necks were not supposed to bend. Blood oozed out of his nose and the crack in his head.
I can’t believe that I witnessed the death of Skitt the Immortal, the only protected to rise and become a hunter in over a hundred years. And he died like a dog.
Suddenly, Young Miss Jasmine screamed and turned around, snapping Darin out of his shock. She stumbled uphill on all fours, her face as pale as snow. Darin’s gaze lingered on those mindless, terrified blue eyes when he caught the flash of plump whiteness shaking left and right a tad lower as she scrambled uphill.
She deserves the title of the most beautiful woman in the clan. Darin had not seen a woman in over two months, but even if his standards had not dropped, the approach of the perfect, jiggling flesh would have given him pause.
Snap out of it! Elders might execute you over a piece of ass. Think of her as a patient. Darin skidded to a halt and examined Jasmine’s face. Her eyes are blank, save for terror. There’s not a trace of rationality. She suffers from a severe phobia of corpses or blood, maybe both.
“Young Miss, calm down! Breathe! Please, breathe.” Darin hopped down, minding his step. He covered the Young Miss’s indecency with his backpack while Maar stood right beside her, shaking his head and opening his mouth like a fish, but no words left him.
“Your cloak, Maar!” Darin snapped at the argumentative oaf, and Maar obeyed without hesitation.
Hmph! He talks tough whenever he gets the chance, and now he’s pissing his pants after he nearly killed the Young Miss. Why did this have to happen now? We are six days away from home, Young Miss Searing trusts me and took me as a confidant. I thought my luck was finally improving, and yet, she almost died under my watch.
“You have no bumps on your head, Young Miss, you just have to calm down.” Darin’s heart raced as he checked Jasmine, not daring to touch anything beneath her chin.
Terrified, Jasmine sobbed into her hands and fell into Darin’s embrace. The man nearly jumped back to avoid the ambiguous situation, but stopped himself. He hugged Jasmine and patted her back as if comforting a child.
“There, there. You are safe,” he said in a warm voice, patting until Jasmine’s sobs and shudders ceased.
Right, a sedative should help, but I need something stronger.
“Young Miss, take this, it will help you sleep.” Darin fished out a walnut-sized herbal pill from his belt pouch. “This is dream poppy mixed with valerian and oil refined from high lavender.”
It’s a highly addictive drug, but she shouldn’t suffer after taking a single dose. I hope.
Jasmine kept sobbing, and just as Darin thought he would have to force feed her the calmative, she extended her hand and took the pill.
She swallowed it, and after two minutes fell asleep in Darin’s embrace.
“She has high tolerance to drugs,” Darin muttered, but thought it had something to do with the way royal families raised their children.
“We will carry her down the slope and make camp,” he said to his comrades, then looked at Skitt’s broken corpse. “We’ll bring him down too and give him a proper burial.”
“I thought she would really order us to kill him for accidentally tearing her shirt and groping her,” Terr whispered, fearing the sleeping Young Miss might hear him.
“She did order us to kill him,” Maar grumbled, sweat still running from his brow.
He’s afraid he grabbed her somewhere inappropriate while they tumbled. Darin noted, but kept his realization to himself.
“We have to take a break for the day. There’s no helping it. In three days, we may run into a patrol at any moment, so mind your tongues. Remember, we saved the Searings’ youngest daughter and their greatest treasure. We’re bound to get a reward.”
***
A week later, escorted by a party of patrolmen, Darin and his group reached the Searing Flame clanhold. The thick jungle obstructed their view of the fort even from one hundred meters away.
Then, almost abruptly, they found themselves out of the forest and on a grassland clearing. The protected were tasked with keeping the area before the walls clear of trees and shrubs. Three moats brimming with dry wood encircled the three meter tall stone rampart, smelling of pitch and oil.
A single spark would turn the lush meadow into a conflagration stretching tens of kilometers. As Darin crossed a wooden bridge spanning the first moat, vivid memories of battles flashed before his eyes like they had happened yesterday, despite the years which had passed since the bloodbaths.
His heart pounded with irrational fear as he imagined the wood beneath him bursting into flame and swallowing him before he had the chance to scream. He watched it happen to those who fled the tide of horrors, too slow to make it back in time.
His pulse calmed when he crossed the third and final moat. The heavy steel-plated gate before him creaked open, as did the subsequent five. The five-meter-long tunnel was divided into five sections, each packed with murder holes through which boiling oil ran, incinerating the attacking topiary horrors.
Beyond the wall were two kilometers of farmland which ended in vertical cliffs, climbable only for goats and topiary horrors. Hundreds of terraces dotted the rock face, each with their own supply of defensive weapons meant to halt the enemy attack.
Darin did not even glance up, he focused on the four-meter-wide tunnel entrance ahead and the three-dimensional maze beyond it. Each generation expanded the cavern system, adding several kilometers until the structure had grown so large and confusing even humans needed guides to lead them through.
The group took the winding path upward, occasionally hearing the distant echoes of the protected miners extracting mana quartz from the mountain’s depths. They took five hours to ascend a kilometer and reach the Searing Flame mountain’s plateau. The sun had set by the time Darin reemerged to the surface.
Clear, green stars twinkled in the night sky, and a refreshing breeze blew, carrying fresh air.
Gods, you can’t even notice how stale the jungle air is until you get back home.
He turned to see the castle, but a large carriage blocked his view. A pair of marble steeds, horse-like beasts, two meters tall at the shoulder, thumped their shoed feet against the black flagstones in impatience.
“You’re late,” a man wearing the silver and red livery of the Searing Flame clan hissed at Hess, the guard captain, who escorted Darin and his party. “Go, the high council is waiting for you.”
Without waiting for a response, the court official turned towards Jasmine. “Young Miss, you will find clean clothes in the carriage. Please get dressed, I’m here to escort you home.”
Young Miss, will you be all right? Darin wished to speak, but with the court official around he did not dare tarry to exchange pleasantries.
“Take care, Young Miss,” he said and then jogged after Hess and his patrol.
The rock maze had nine exits, and Hess took the one closest to the castle, but they still had over ten kilometers to cover before the inner city of the Searings, the Flames, their branch families and others, who had risen through wealth and military merit.
Darin and the rest trotted for half an hour, passing the sleeping farmland dotted with cottages, until they reached the outer city’s gate.
The wall was five meters tall and ten meters wide. Unlike the fort which separated the clanhold from the weald, here the layered steel-plated gates stood open, ready to take in the swarm of protected fleeing from a sudden topiary horror assault.
After passing the third defensive perimeter, Darin entered a new world. The outer city was completely paved, without a single blade of grass showing. Hunters lived here, surrounded by empty shelters and full food stores.
The streets were irregular, the spacious houses built like miniature bastions. Even though the topiary horrors had never breached the walls before, the entire outer city was built like a killing ground. Save for the main avenue, the other streets were narrow, and even the boulevard was broken up, turning every twenty meters to prevent the enemy from building up momentum.
The Searings and the Flames had prioritized defensibility over convenience when they constructed their stronghold.
Lights in most houses were out, but lighters illuminated the streets. The only sound in Darin’s ears was their feet slapping against the cobbles as he stared ahead at the imposing inner-city walls.
Darin charged downhill as Young Miss Jasmine wrestled herself away from Skitt, clutching her chest with both hands. She turned uphill, towards Darin, holding her torn shirt with one hand, pointing back at the poor old Skitt with the other.
Darin followed her finger, and his skin crawled.
“He—” the Young Miss shrieked, but Darin interrupted her.
“He’s dead,” he said.
The Young Miss spun around and froze. Skitt’s skull had caved in, his neck bent the way necks were not supposed to bend. Blood oozed out of his nose and the crack in his head.
I can’t believe that I witnessed the death of Skitt the Immortal, the only protected to rise and become a hunter in over a hundred years. And he died like a dog.
Suddenly, Young Miss Jasmine screamed and turned around, snapping Darin out of his shock. She stumbled uphill on all fours, her face as pale as snow. Darin’s gaze lingered on those mindless, terrified blue eyes when he caught the flash of plump whiteness shaking left and right a tad lower as she scrambled uphill.
She deserves the title of the most beautiful woman in the clan. Darin had not seen a woman in over two months, but even if his standards had not dropped, the approach of the perfect, jiggling flesh would have given him pause.
Snap out of it! Elders might execute you over a piece of ass. Think of her as a patient. Darin skidded to a halt and examined Jasmine’s face. Her eyes are blank, save for terror. There’s not a trace of rationality. She suffers from a severe phobia of corpses or blood, maybe both.
“Young Miss, calm down! Breathe! Please, breathe.” Darin hopped down, minding his step. He covered the Young Miss’s indecency with his backpack while Maar stood right beside her, shaking his head and opening his mouth like a fish, but no words left him.
“Your cloak, Maar!” Darin snapped at the argumentative oaf, and Maar obeyed without hesitation.
Hmph! He talks tough whenever he gets the chance, and now he’s pissing his pants after he nearly killed the Young Miss. Why did this have to happen now? We are six days away from home, Young Miss Searing trusts me and took me as a confidant. I thought my luck was finally improving, and yet, she almost died under my watch.
“You have no bumps on your head, Young Miss, you just have to calm down.” Darin’s heart raced as he checked Jasmine, not daring to touch anything beneath her chin.
Terrified, Jasmine sobbed into her hands and fell into Darin’s embrace. The man nearly jumped back to avoid the ambiguous situation, but stopped himself. He hugged Jasmine and patted her back as if comforting a child.
“There, there. You are safe,” he said in a warm voice, patting until Jasmine’s sobs and shudders ceased.
Right, a sedative should help, but I need something stronger.
“Young Miss, take this, it will help you sleep.” Darin fished out a walnut-sized herbal pill from his belt pouch. “This is dream poppy mixed with valerian and oil refined from high lavender.”
It’s a highly addictive drug, but she shouldn’t suffer after taking a single dose. I hope.
Jasmine kept sobbing, and just as Darin thought he would have to force feed her the calmative, she extended her hand and took the pill.
She swallowed it, and after two minutes fell asleep in Darin’s embrace.
“She has high tolerance to drugs,” Darin muttered, but thought it had something to do with the way royal families raised their children.
“We will carry her down the slope and make camp,” he said to his comrades, then looked at Skitt’s broken corpse. “We’ll bring him down too and give him a proper burial.”
“I thought she would really order us to kill him for accidentally tearing her shirt and groping her,” Terr whispered, fearing the sleeping Young Miss might hear him.
“She did order us to kill him,” Maar grumbled, sweat still running from his brow.
He’s afraid he grabbed her somewhere inappropriate while they tumbled. Darin noted, but kept his realization to himself.
“We have to take a break for the day. There’s no helping it. In three days, we may run into a patrol at any moment, so mind your tongues. Remember, we saved the Searings’ youngest daughter and their greatest treasure. We’re bound to get a reward.”
***
A week later, escorted by a party of patrolmen, Darin and his group reached the Searing Flame clanhold. The thick jungle obstructed their view of the fort even from one hundred meters away.
Then, almost abruptly, they found themselves out of the forest and on a grassland clearing. The protected were tasked with keeping the area before the walls clear of trees and shrubs. Three moats brimming with dry wood encircled the three meter tall stone rampart, smelling of pitch and oil.
A single spark would turn the lush meadow into a conflagration stretching tens of kilometers. As Darin crossed a wooden bridge spanning the first moat, vivid memories of battles flashed before his eyes like they had happened yesterday, despite the years which had passed since the bloodbaths.
His heart pounded with irrational fear as he imagined the wood beneath him bursting into flame and swallowing him before he had the chance to scream. He watched it happen to those who fled the tide of horrors, too slow to make it back in time.
His pulse calmed when he crossed the third and final moat. The heavy steel-plated gate before him creaked open, as did the subsequent five. The five-meter-long tunnel was divided into five sections, each packed with murder holes through which boiling oil ran, incinerating the attacking topiary horrors.
Beyond the wall were two kilometers of farmland which ended in vertical cliffs, climbable only for goats and topiary horrors. Hundreds of terraces dotted the rock face, each with their own supply of defensive weapons meant to halt the enemy attack.
Darin did not even glance up, he focused on the four-meter-wide tunnel entrance ahead and the three-dimensional maze beyond it. Each generation expanded the cavern system, adding several kilometers until the structure had grown so large and confusing even humans needed guides to lead them through.
The group took the winding path upward, occasionally hearing the distant echoes of the protected miners extracting mana quartz from the mountain’s depths. They took five hours to ascend a kilometer and reach the Searing Flame mountain’s plateau. The sun had set by the time Darin reemerged to the surface.
Clear, green stars twinkled in the night sky, and a refreshing breeze blew, carrying fresh air.
Gods, you can’t even notice how stale the jungle air is until you get back home.
He turned to see the castle, but a large carriage blocked his view. A pair of marble steeds, horse-like beasts, two meters tall at the shoulder, thumped their shoed feet against the black flagstones in impatience.
“You’re late,” a man wearing the silver and red livery of the Searing Flame clan hissed at Hess, the guard captain, who escorted Darin and his party. “Go, the high council is waiting for you.”
Without waiting for a response, the court official turned towards Jasmine. “Young Miss, you will find clean clothes in the carriage. Please get dressed, I’m here to escort you home.”
Young Miss, will you be all right? Darin wished to speak, but with the court official around he did not dare tarry to exchange pleasantries.
“Take care, Young Miss,” he said and then jogged after Hess and his patrol.
The rock maze had nine exits, and Hess took the one closest to the castle, but they still had over ten kilometers to cover before the inner city of the Searings, the Flames, their branch families and others, who had risen through wealth and military merit.
Darin and the rest trotted for half an hour, passing the sleeping farmland dotted with cottages, until they reached the outer city’s gate.
The wall was five meters tall and ten meters wide. Unlike the fort which separated the clanhold from the weald, here the layered steel-plated gates stood open, ready to take in the swarm of protected fleeing from a sudden topiary horror assault.
After passing the third defensive perimeter, Darin entered a new world. The outer city was completely paved, without a single blade of grass showing. Hunters lived here, surrounded by empty shelters and full food stores.
The streets were irregular, the spacious houses built like miniature bastions. Even though the topiary horrors had never breached the walls before, the entire outer city was built like a killing ground. Save for the main avenue, the other streets were narrow, and even the boulevard was broken up, turning every twenty meters to prevent the enemy from building up momentum.
The Searings and the Flames had prioritized defensibility over convenience when they constructed their stronghold.
Lights in most houses were out, but lighters illuminated the streets. The only sound in Darin’s ears was their feet slapping against the cobbles as he stared ahead at the imposing inner-city walls.
