Revenge of the Gamer

Who Hunts the Hunter?

An incessant creaking sound finally brought Drevin back to consciousness.  When he regained his bearings he realized that his throat was parched, and that his shoulder was throbbing painfully.  Overpowering everything was the potent stench of urine fermenting in the hot sun.  He looked around him, and found that he was in a cage dangling from a tree.  It was perhaps three feet wide, and his legs were uncomfortably cramped in the tiny space.

Drevin had no idea how long he had been there, or even how he had arrived.  Last he remembered he had been fighting for his life against Shinjen, and he had lost badly.  He just hoped that he had delayed General Tarkene long enough for Andrani to escape with the men.  If all had gone well then they should be well on their way to the Scavenger lands.

Around the cage, he now noticed, were several other cages of similar make.  Each held another pitiful wretch, but none looked as bad off as he felt.  He could only guess when the last time that he had eaten might have been, but his hunger was definitely secondary to his thirst.

He found himself drifting in and out of consciousness, and in his lucid moments realized that he must be feverish.  The sun seemed to gradually grow brighter, and he began to hear a faint choir of voices.  One voice seemed clearer than the rest, and yet he could not place it.  It was neither old nor young, neither male nor female.  It seemed to be telling him that everything would be set right.  That if he was patient he would be given the power to fight back.

Surely the last ravings of a mind too close to collapse.  It made sense, really.  After all, he had seen his whole life and everything that he believed in vanish like mist in the face of the rising sun.  The Realm was corrupt, its houses vying for control.  They fought for greed and power, and ignored the growing threats around them. 

Drevin had seen for himself the hordes of Wyld barbarians.  Once he had even taken part in a battle against the very dead themselves, and he had come away from it changed.  He had seen the horrors of the uncivilized world, and he knew that only the might of the Realm had held them back this long.  If the Realm fell, then the Wyld would consume all of creation.

Yet as horrible as that thought was he knew that he was powerless to change it.  He idolized Tepet Andrani, and even his mentor had known that restoring the Realm was impossible.  His solution was to flee and start anew, and Drevin only wished that he could have been a part of the new beginning.

His fevered ramblings were interrupted by a sound that he recognized.  Booted feet were approaching, but try as he might he could not crane his neck around to see who it might be.  The cage was simply too confining.

“Wake up,” bellowed a harsh voice that sounded uncomfortably like metal grating on metal.

“Each of you has been convicted of a crime against the Realm.  Yet the Dragons have smiled on you.  Rather than being hung you will have a chance to redeem yourselves.  You will be given a weapon, and released from your prison.  You will have until sunset to escape these grounds, and if you succeed you will be pardoned for your crimes.  If you are caught, then you will be cut down like the scum you are.”

It took a few moments for Drevin to comprehend what the voice was telling him, and when he finally did he couldn’t help but chuckle.  In their present state none of them would be able to evade a competent hunter.  Still, at least he could die with a weapon in his hand.

He felt something grab the cage, and then the bottom opened and he was spilled unceremoniously on the ground.  His tortured legs ached abominably, but the pain lessened as he rubbed life back into them.  After a few minutes he was able to lurch to his feet, and for a frightening moment he teetered precariously.

Looking about him for the first time he saw six other prisoners all trying to recover from their uncomfortable imprisonment.  Over seeing them were three well-armored men.  Two of them were obviously guards, and the last wore the enameled green plate of a wood aspect.  None of them appeared to be concerned that their captives outnumbered them two to one, and Drevin couldn’t blame them.  Each wore their blades with comfortable ease, and any one of them could likely slay the prisoners without exerting any real effort.

One of the guards held a crate, and he dumped its contents on the ground before them.  Several rusty weapons fell heavily to the earth, and the prisoners eyed them warily.  Not one to question Drevin surveyed them quickly, and bent to pick up the best of the lot.  It was an old broadsword, and although the balance was a little off it still held its edge.  Not much to work with, but it would suffice.  The other prisoners followed suit, and once they all held a weapon the Dragon Blooded addressed them again.

“As I said, you have until sunset to reach the walls.  Now go.”

Several of the prisoners stood around hesitantly, but Drevin and two others immediately began trotting west.  He reasoned that the sun would set in front of him, and that if he had to turn and fight at least it might blind his enemies.  Any advantage would be crucial, as their hunters would undoubtedly outnumber them.

“Hoi,” one of the fugitives spoke as they ran, “Maybe we should stick together?  Might give us a better chance if we get caught.”

The speaker was a skinny blond boy of about nineteen.  From the tattered remains of his uniform Drevin could see that he had belonged to the 12^th legion.  Their other companion was an attractive dark haired woman of about twenty-five, and she was already winded.

“When we get caught, you mean.” she responded.

“She’s right,” he broke in, “they don’t plan on letting us get away.  But I do agree that we should stick together.  At least we’ll take a few of them with us that way.”

“Not likely,” she wheezed.

“Why is that?” the youngster asked.

“Because we are at the House of Bells, and we are being hunted by the very best of its students.”

“They bleed just like we do.” Drevin responded grimly.  At least he knew where he was now.

“We’d best save our breath for running.  We are going to need it.” She suggested.

After that they ran in silence.  Only the sun watched their passing, and it sank lazily in the sky before them.  The unnamed woman grew more and more tired, and her pace flagged.  Eventually, perhaps an hour before sunset, she collapsed.  Drevin stopped to help her up, but she pushed him away.

“Leave me.  I can’t run any further.”

“Then we make our stand here.” Drevin put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, “You won’t die alone.  What’s your name?”

“Marette,” She wheezed out while catching her breath, “My name is Marette.”

“You can stay if you want, but I am going to run for it.” The youth interrupted.

“Fair enough.  But if you want my advice, you will climb that tree and take a look around first.” Drevin pointed to a tall oak tree not far from them.

“Why?”

“Because, they will be here soon and we are probably nowhere near the wall.”

The boy looked frightened, but quickly scaled the tree.  After a few moments he dropped to the ground.  His face told them before his words.

“You’re right.  We have at least another five or six miles, and that’s if we don’t get lost.”

“I thought as much.  By the way, my name is Drevin.”

Marette clasped his hand, and he helped her to her feet.  She had regained a little of her color, and her breathing had gradually slowed to normal.

“I’m called Allen.” The youth told them morosely.

“So what did you do, Drevin?” Marette asked.

“Treason.  I aided my commanding officer in defecting to the Scavenger Lands.  What about you?”

“I refused to sleep with a Dynast,” she began hotly, “So, out of spite he arranged to have me charged with ‘spying for enemies of the Realm’.  I’m an Outcaste so they hardly bothered with a trial.”

“An outcaste?  You’re Dragon Blooded?” Allen asked in amazement, “Then maybe we have a chance against them!”

“Hardly.  Not all of us are lords of the battlefield.  I am a healer and an apprentice sorceress.  There is no way they would risk having students hunt me otherwise.”

“That makes sense,” Drevin broke in. “I thought it odd that they would release an Exalted to be hunted.”

A scream of terror mingled with pain brought their conversation to a halt.  It was cut off abruptly, and they all knew what that meant.

“That came from the southeast, and it couldn’t have been more than a mile away.  They’ll be after us next.” Drevin informed them.

“So what do we do?” Allen asked in panic.

“First, we find a defensible spot.  That stand of trees will work.  If we fan out in front of them they won’t be able to get behind us.”

“Drevin, I don’t know how to use this.” Marette held her short sword awkwardly, and he knew that she wouldn’t be much good in the impending struggle.  He was tempted to tell her to climb one of the trees, but he knee that they would simply feather her with arrows.

“Then we will put you in the middle.  Allen, you take the left and I will take the right.”

They each did as he asked, and waiting impatiently in a rough semicircle.  The minutes passed slowly, but eventually they heard several people crashing through the woods.  Their hunters were making no effort to disguise their approach, and Drevin could even hear the raucous jokes that they were making.

“Please,” he prayed softly, “Whatever god or spirit may be listening.  Let me at least die with dignity.”

You shall not die, my son.  You shall live to exact your revenge upon your lesser brethren.

There was a blinding flash of light, and suddenly Drevin was standing atop a massive ziggurat in the middle of a sprawling city.  All around him were huge towers, and flitting between were flying chariots and other wondrous craft that he had never seen before.

“Where…where am I?” he asked hesitantly.  There was no one near him, and he had no idea where the voice had come from.

You walk within fragments of your own lost memories.

“My memories?  But I have never seen such wonders.  Not even on the Blessed Isle.”

You have, but you do not remember.  Take now your second breath, and be Exalted.

Drevin felt a torrent of sensations flooding his mind.  He was suddenly aware of essence flowing around him.  Tastes, sounds and smells all grew sharper.  He felt more alive than he had ever been, and he could feel power undreamt of filling him.

“What’s happening to me?”

Your pleas did not fall on deaf ears.  I have Exalted you that you might take vengeance upon your enemies.  Once I turned my back upon the world, for my children had grown prideful and greedy.  Now I have returned, and I have sought out new children to work in my name.

“I don’t understand.  Who are you?”

 I am the Unconquered Sun, and you are my champion.  You are the mightiest of the Exalted, the Solar.  Forget your old fears.  Discard your old frailties.  They are meaningless, for you are powerful beyond reckoning. 

Now, take your vengeance upon those who would seek your death.  Then go into the world and spread the word of my return.

He had wanted the power to set things right, and now he had it.  The smooth towers and the huge ziggurat from the legendary first age faded away.  Once more he was standing with his fellow fugitives in the small copse of trees.  But now the copse was lit like day, and he found that the light emanated from him.

Time seemed to slow, and he felt power infuse his entire body.  Allen and Marette looked at him in shock which rapidly gave way to fear.  Every member of the Realm heard stories of the Anathema, and they all believed that they had nearly destroyed the world.  Drevin would show them the truth.

“Stand behind me,” he commanded, and his voice carried a new authority that he had never before known.  He stepped forward boldly, and waited for his adversaries to come to him.

Not long after five Dragon Blooded youths charged into the clearing.  Not a single one could have been older than eighteen.  Still, their jade weapons and armor were as impressive as any that he had ever seen, and he could tell by the way that they moved that they were well trained.  At the sight of him they froze for a moment.  They recognized him for what he was, and knew what he could do.

A young woman with a bow reacted first, and fired several arrows with impressive speed.  Had any of them hit home he would be lying in a pool of his own blood, but he casually moved his blade to block each of them.  The other four Dynasts rushed forward, and tried to encircle him.  One leapt straight into the air, and flames burst all around him.  The fire aspect brought his blade down at Drevin in an over handed arc, and a detached part of his mind recognized the move as the same one that Shinjen had felled him with.

Unconsciously he directed the flows of essence, and brought his blade up to meet his opponent’s.  Metal met Jade, and this time his blade held.  He parried his opponent’s blow, and then whirled around in a strike at the Dragon Blooded’s unprotected knee.  Trails of energy arced around his blade, and the rusty old broadsword bit deeply into his opponent’s leg.

Before he could finish his wounded foe the other three were on him, and he was forced back before their attacks.  His blade was an impenetrable wall around him, and he blocked dozens of blows.  He waited for his chance, and then unleashed a whirlwind of steel upon the Dragon Blooded.  An earth aspect fell in a fountain of blood, and another opponent lost an arm to a wicked strike.

He could see fear now as they fell back before his fury.  They had expected to hunt frightened criminals, and had met something that even their elders fought warily.   In the background he saw the archer turn and run, but he decided to let her go.  She could tell her elders that the Unconquered sun had returned, and that his anger was terrible to behold.

Drevin danced among his foes, and his rusty sword cleaved through flesh and armor.  Then it was over, and four corpses littered the ground around him.  He was covered in their blood, and could see the terror on Marette’s face when he turned to look at her.  There was no sign of Allen.

“Are…are you going to kill me?”

“Why would I do that?  I am no butcher.” He realized how ridiculous that sounded after he said it.  He had just killed four children.  The fact that they had nearly been of age didn’t change that.  But they had been trying to kill him, and he had had no choice.

“I am not what you think, Marette.  I would never hurt you, and what I did here was out of necessity.”

“But, you are Anathema…”

“And you are a criminal.  Just the fact that you were here will make you an accomplice, and they won’t stop hunting you until you die.”

She sank to her knees, and began to sob.

“Why did this have to happen?  I just wanted to be accepted.”

“I am truly sorry Marette, but we can’t change it.  The Wyld Hunt will be after us soon.  We need to get going.”

“We?” she asked tentatively.

“We. You will be hunted because of me.  It is my responsibility to protect you.”

“Alright,” she nodded, “I’ll go with you.”

He helped her to her feet, and then went back to the bodies.  The fire aspect had a daiklaive inlaid with red jade.  The blade was nearly six feet long, and even with his strength he would normally have had problems wielding it.  Now when he picked it up he felt his essence flow into the blade.  Suddenly it was very light, and it felt like an extension of his arm.  He took a sheath for it as well, and then the pair made their way to the wall.

“So where do we go now?” she asked him soberly.  Her fear was ebbing, and she was beginning to think rationally again.

“We have to get off the Blessed Isle.  Arjuf is just a few miles south, and I have friends there.  We can get passage aboard a ship.”

“Passage to where?”

“The Scavenger Lands.”

“You want to find your legion.” She stated, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

“What if they try to kill you?  You are Anathema.”

“I honestly don’t know.” He admitted.

After that the pair made their way in silence.  They easily scaled the wall, and the trip to Arjuf only took them a few hours.  It was nearing midnight when they arrived, and the streets were deserted due to the late hour.  Drevin guided them to the docks, and marched with purpose to a vessel named The Water Sprite.

“Wait here.  I need to speak to the captain.” He told her.

Marette waited long minutes after he boarded the ship for his return.  She was horrified to be traveling with an Anathema, but she knew that without him her death was assured.  Besides, he had been kind to her.  Perhaps the stories were wrong…

 

 

 

 

 

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Chejop Kajak hadn’t been this alarmed since the early days of the great contagion.  More and more he felt like events were spiraling out of his control, and that just shouldn’t be possible.  The auguries of the Sidereal had guided the Realm since its inception in the first age, and he had always trusted them implicitly.

It was true that they had nor foreseen the Great Contagion, but he had always considered that an exception.  Now he was not so sure.  First there had been that incident with the Solar boy that Holok had encountered, and tonight he had received an alarming report from one of his most trusted agents at the house of bells.

Another Solar had emerged, and their auguries had shown nothing.  In fact, they still showed nothing.  He had gone on a rampage and killed several of the most promising students, and had fled into the night.  He was likely already on a ship off the Blessed Isle since he had been so close to the port city of Arjuf.

Chejop felt powerless, and it was a feeling that he neither liked nor accepted.  Things would not be right until this Solar was found and killed, and that needed to happen quickly.  From the description of the Anathema’s caste mark he was a Zenith, and that meant trouble.

During the first age no one could rally the people like the Zenith.  They literally had the voice of the gods, and where they led people followed.  If he were not taken care of quickly he’d rally an army to his cause.

Chejop got out his quill and began penning a message to general Cathak Tarkene.  He was the closest legion commander to the incident, and could raise the Wyld Hunt the most quickly.  The Solar could not be allowed to escape, or everything that he had worked five thousand years for could be lost.

 

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