Chapter 1: "The Venator from Soledad"

Before sunrise, in the early morning hours, a single rider made his way through the wooded trail toward Zab. His mount, his best friend, could see better in the dark. A cart laden with bodies bounced along behind them. The smell of death and blood wafted out and surrounded the duo.

A fitting smell, for a failure like myself, the rider thought.

****

Mourning came in the morning. Wailing and crying could be heard throughout the village streets. Isha's family wept, except for her younger brother, a toddler too young to understand. He just kept on asking when Big Sis was going to play a game of twenty with him like she'd promised?

Kai just sat outside his front door. The tears had dried, and now he could only stare at the ground, numb. He heard the conversations of those that passed by. Some said he was lucky to have escaped the raptors with his life.

Others, mostly older people, mumbled about how the beasts would never do such a thing, as they had been friends to mankind for millennia. When they thought they were out of earshot, they whispered that Kai must have killed her himself.

When word came that a posse was being organized to find Isha’s body and hunt down the remaining dromaeosaurs, Kai finally broke from his stupor. He couldn't mope around for this.

The posse was being organized in the village square, at the foot of Zab’s ziggurat. The structure was a relic from before the Sixth Day, before the gods forsook these lands.

It had since been converted into a public feature, with a sundial at the top for measuring time, and a telescope for the local astrologers and magi to make their observations. Its natural acoustics also made it the perfect podium for public decrees.

A dozen men had gathered for the posse, armed with spears, bows and scimitars. A funeral cart had also been prepared. At the top of the ziggurat, the governor, that fat old fart Ubara, huffed and puffed to catch his breath before speaking.

“Men, this is a dark day for all of us!” The man’s jowls flopped as he spoke. “Not only have we lost a dear child, sister, daughter, and friend, but now we find ourselves beset by the Beasts! It is upon us now to return her body, and avenge her!”

One of the men shouted, “And what of the Venator you requested? Wherefore art they? How did they allow this?!”

Other men began to shout in agreement, Kai among them. Venators, the guilds of Primordial Beast hunters blessed by the Capital of Enoménos, Dargišus. They had reputations as scoundrels for hire, hunters willing to use uncouth and dangerous tactics to get their prey.

They also had a reputation of doing their jobs.

Ubara stammered, struggling to calm the increasingly irate mob. A new voice shouted, interrupting him.

“Blasphemers!” The crowd turned their heads to see Old Gren, leaning on his cane. A scowl was etched into the countless lines on his face.

“Blasphemers, all of you! How many of you remember when the Beasts were our neighbors, our friends?! They are the God's firstborn! Have you forgotten we were born from them?!”

“And what of the Gods?” Kai shouted back. Never had he raised his voice to his teacher. Yet as his stupor had faded, a burning thirst for blood had taken its place. Any would do, the dromaeosaurs, or any fool that got in his way.

“Have YOU forgotten? The Gods, if they even still draw breath, forsook this land generations ago! Why should we care for their firstborn, who declared war on us first?!”

Gren’s face softened at the boy's words. Only now does he see, he thought.

Another voice piped up before the exchange could continue. “A Beast rider is coming! The Venator!”

****

The man was dressed in a knee-length, green and white kaunakes, the dyed sheep skin garment worn and frayed. A matching green half-vest was worn open, showing off his rather impressive physique, as well as his patchwork of scars. A loose blue and white turban did nothing to contain the dark hair that came to his shoulders and partially concealed his eyes.

His mount drew some murmurs from the crowd. While some had grown skeptical of the dinosaurs, it was not uncommon for Venators to use them as mounts. However, nobody had ever seen one like this domesticated.

It was a Pachycephalosaurus, or just “Stone Head” to the commoners. The bipedal creature stood five feet tall and was almost 10 feet long from snout to tail. Its body was a deep green, with a pale cream-colored underbelly, while its domed head was a deep mahogany. A crown of small bumps and knobs also encircled that distinct head, while a curved beak served as its mouth.

As the rider and mount stopped in front of the crowd, they could see the cart being hauled behind. To the back of the cart, five bulky objects were covered by a large blanket; at the front, a single, smaller shape laid carefully wrapped in linens. All were stained in blood.

The hunter dismounted, a dispassionate look on his face. “Where is the governor?” he asked, wiping sweat from his brow. Up close, the blood stains on his clothes could be seen plainly.

“I am here,” Ubara called as he tried to keep his corpulent left from rolling down the ziggurat. “You art the Venator from Padtū, yes?”

“Nay, I am from Soledad,” the man replied.

Murmurs went through the crowd. The governor looked perplexed as he approached.

“I do not know of any Venators from Soledad,” one man said. “I have never heard of such a place.”

“Well I can assure you, I am indeed a resident of it.” The Venator sounded weary as he spoke. “I’m surprised you have never heard of it. Surely you must have at least passed by on your travels.”

“Well, I sent a request for a Venator to Padtū, so how did you come to know of our plight?” Ubara had finally pushed his way through the crowd.

“Does it make any difference where I come from? You requested a Venator, and you have received one.”

The lone hunter had walked to the rear of the cart.

“And I have fulfilled the request. See for yourself.”

He pulled back the blanket at the rear, revealing the faces of the five dromaeosaurs. One’s mouth hung open, tongue flopping out. Blood had begun to leak from the mouths and nostrils. Oddly, all of their eyes were closed, as if they had peacefully passed in sleep.

“The entire pack, dealt with. Two adult males, brothers in fact. And three females, two approaching mating age.” The hunter stepped back, letting the townsfolk examine them.

But Kai shoved them aside, pushing around to the front of the cart.

“Isha…” He looked at the lone wrapped body.

“The pack had hidden her body within the hollow of a tree,” said the Venator. He had averted his gaze, his eyes completely obscured by his hair. “I suppose that is the reason no scavengers were able to desecrate her any further.”

Kai clenched his fists, digging his nails in so hard his palms bled.

“What kind of Venator are you?” His voice was ragged. “How could you let this happen? And how can you say you ‘fulfilled the request?’ One of these didn’t die by your hand!”

The Venator did not meet Kai’s gaze. “I failed to save the fair girl, this is true. I cannot offer any excuse for such a failure.” His tone was even, betraying no emotion. “But I would ask, what kind of man wanders the roads at night, with nary a weapon, when dangerous Beasts are about? Would such a man be called wise? Or a fool?”

Kai could not respond. He wanted to blame the Venator, he wanted to strangle him on the spot. He knew that the point was valid, he had been utterly useless. The fact he had pointed this fact out was too bitter a pill to swallow; it made the impotent boy crave murder all the more. Yet he could only smolder and seethe in silence.

The crowd parted as the morticians came forward to take Isha’s body away. All bowed their heads in respect as it was carried by, even the Venator. After the moment had passed, Ubara approached him.

“Well now, I suppose we should discuss payment.”

“WHAT?!” The boy’s anger finally exploded. “You still see fit to pay him?! After this failure?”

“Now Kai…” Ubara said, holding up his hands as if to placate the boy. Someone in the crowd put a restraining hand on the boy’s trembling shoulder.

“No, the boy has a point.” The Venator maintained that even, emotionless voice. “My shortcomings cost the girl her life. I cannot accept the full payment. I am willing to discuss a settlement with you, even with the girl’s father, if he so desires. But I will not accept that which I do not deserve.”

Ubara nodded. “Very well, I will see to it. But, pardon my rudeness. What is thy name and house?”

“Harada. Son of none, Venator of Soledad.”