2. The Demon-Hunt

Chapter 2: The Demon-Hunt

Kingdom of Loradel, Owlen Forest, Present Day. 

Rebecca looked down at her rifle, her hands quivering. She tightened her grip, hoping the threat was gone. A wave of embarrassment weighed on her.

“Are you injured?” said Xeto. He flinched as he wiped a thin stream of sweat from his brow.

Rebecca nodded. “Why did it stop?” She stepped over a fractured table. The inn looked as if a hurricane had passed with a new field of splintered wood, glass, and stone at their feet.

Xeto rubbed at his temple. “It took that orb.”

“Noted.”

“When have you ever seen a demon want something?” He sheathed his sword, his chest still heaving with heavy breaths.

Rebecca went over the thought in her mind. Demons were much like aggressive animals, not much design or tactic behind their attacks, more of simple hostility.

“We should return to the outpost, to General Taloz, and let him know about what just happened.” Xeto eyed the rafters above them.

“Assuming he’s sober enough to listen,” said Rebecca with a cynical chuckle, hoping to wash away her uneasiness. Images of the man on his back and snoring—asleep from the weight of the ale presented themselves.

Xeto remained silent.

A mental brick of humiliation collided with her as she noticed what she had said. “Apologies, sir. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re fine,” answered Xeto, almost devoid of emotion as he continued to eye the surrounding rubble.

Rebecca followed behind him as he exited through the door that somehow hadn’t fallen from its hinges. “We should look for Turla and the others.”

Xeto nodded. “We’ll assure that the area is clear before moving out.”

“Yes, sir.” She looked back into the lodge one final time. She breathed in as she closed her eyes and took in the warm sunlight. “At least no one died.”

Xeto’s gaze locked on the path. “We shouldn’t celebrate a defeat.” He bit his inner lip; it seemed the event had left him more tense than usual. He kept his focus low to the ground.

“We survived, that’s enough,” shot back Rebecca.

He waved her to follow without a retort.

She nodded. “Yes, sir.” They continued the way they came as birds chirped joyfully, unaware of the events that had just transpired.

*

Cicadas chirped aloud, signaling that they were now halfway through the new day. The walk down the otherwise silent forest path was accompanied only by the occasional birdsong and the sound of dirt crunching under their boots After finding Turla the day before, she insisted that the duo guide her to the nearest town safely. Xeto denied her bid, insisting that he and Rebecca had to get back to the outpost without delay.

Rebecca felt the urge to let loose a jest, or at this point anything that could break the uneasy silence. Since the night before little more than a sentence was spoken between the two. They had met almost a year prior though had only just recently been placed together. When she heard that he was forced to take on a scout, no longer allowed to do missions alone, she quickly jumped at the chance to scout for one of the most well-known knights of the branch. Five months had passed since then, and in that time, she learned that the commander was a man of few words. She liked his silent resolve, though it made it harder for someone like her to make the best of a dull moment with someone like him. Finding a recipe for a smile was beyond difficult considering the man didn’t wear his desires openly.

Xeto let out an abrupt sigh. “Rebecca.” He kept his eyes forward. “I want to inform you that whilst you’re under my command, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She smiled, a warmth in her chest ignited. “A bit sudden, Commander. Why the show of compassion?”

“I…I wasn’t prepared for the dangers that awaited us, and for that reason I apologize. The lives of my subordinates come first.”

Rebecca gave him a soft punch behind the arm. There was the man she knew, the one that wanted to take responsibility for everyone on Elsire. “Don’t vex, Commander. I know what I signed into. We’re soldiers first and foremost; death is a hazard. Makes it more exciting at times.” She matched his pace and attempted to make eye contact though he didn’t give. “Just imagine having to explain to my elder brothers how you let their fragile little sister fall in harm’s way.” She chuckled.

“Axel, was it?” he said quietly.

Glad he actually remembered a detail of her past, she smiled. “That’s one of three. And trust me, they’re a lot more frightening than any demon you’ll ever encounter.”

Xeto nodded before his lips curved ever so slightly.

Mission accomplished.

He turned to her. “Your brothers. Did they ever disagree with your becoming a knightess? Specifically, becoming a part of the Demon-Hunt?”

“Well…” She paused as she focused on the dirt at her feet. She ran a finger at the side of her waist, lining where an old scar rested. “My eldest brother died when I was young. Ever since then, mother never let us out of her sight for some time.” A warmth of content came with the memories of her mother, that warrior of a woman. “But of course, we were all restless and mother knew she couldn’t keep us leashed for long. Luka, the youngest—not including myself that is, joined the Demon-Hunt about a year after me. And Axel, well as far as I heard he’s a sailor—it’s been quite some time since I’ve gotten a letter from him. Mother worries when we don’t write her, so I make sure to send a letter every month if I can.” She returned her focus on the road, realizing that perhaps she let her mouth run a minute too much. “Sorry I—.”

“Don’t be, perhaps I don’t show it, but I enjoy listening.” He looked ahead. “We’re back.”

Rebecca was a bit taken back by how fast they had returned. The perpetuated silence and fastened pace surely played a part in it.

The stone of the Loradel outpost was now visible through the gaps between the trees. A few more steps and it was in plain view. Massive walls surrounded the camp, their height matched only by some of the neighboring trees.

Rebecca took a second to look back into the forest before following Xeto through the large entrance. They had been gone for almost a week, stationed in the middle of nowhere until they received the letter of the disappearances. Though it seemed nothing had changed.

Guards with simple chainmail armor stood at each end of the archway, both shared a slumped stature and frown. Neither bothered raising their heads as she and the commander walked by.

The camp was set in the center of an old fort, fractions of the inner stone walls were torn down, victims of a past war—or so that’s what Scribe Libia had said. Once a fort full of life; livestock, crops, a lord, and soldiers. Those days were nothing but a memory preserved in history’s pages. The bastion was now occupied by a small fraction of Demon-Hunt knights and refugees of recent supposed demon attacks.

Rebecca slowed her pace when she heard a child crying. She turned to find a glimpse of the newcomers to the camp.

A small group of men, women, and children sat below the shadow of the western wall. All wore masks of dirt, blood, or both. Their clothes either ripped or decorated in mud.

Rebecca felt a warm tear gloss her eye as she saw a woman cradling a small bundle in her arms. “Poor things,” she murmured. She followed behind Xeto as he traversed through a maze of dirtied tents before reaching the largest one in the center of the camp. It served as the briefing room and as the General’s quarters.

Xeto entered and held the flap open.

The inside was well lit, courtesy of the noon sun. At the center was an elegant circular table. Atop it was a map of Elsire with small stone figures that represented Loradel’s troops and forts for both the standard army and the Demon-Hunt.

Xeto grimaced as his eyes landed on the lone occupant of the tent.

At the edge of the shelter was a group of chairs lined up, one of which was occupied by Alzac, son of the general. Like a doppelganger of his father, he wore a black bandana that served as a tie for his hay-colored hair that reached his shoulders. He pretended not to see them for a moment before turning to face them. “Well look who it is. The Black Wolf…” He leaned on his balled fist as his eyes darted to Rebecca. “…and his squire.” His lips widened into a pompous smile.

Rebecca scoffed. “Careful, Alzac. Many of the men here are deprived of…certain needs. If your hair gets any longer some of them might confuse you for a mistress and well...”

He shot her a fake grin and pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “How joyous.”

Xeto scratched his nape as he murmured something under his breath before taking a step closer to the lieutenant. “Where’s the General?” A venom behind his words.

Alzac let out a patronizing sigh as he rocked back in his chair. “Isn’t this fascinating?” he asked, as he pointed at the bottom of the chair. It had no legs to stand upon, rather two arcs similar to that of a snow sled. “This chair was made by a carpenter from Spearmount as a gift to my father.” He rocked back and forth. “The chair can sway endlessly as if being cradled by a mother.” He let out another chuckle.

“Is there a time you’re not speaking from your ass?” said Xeto.

Alzac toyed with the buttons of his black coat. “Only when I’m asleep I assume. Then again—I’ve been told I speak in my sleep too.”

“Where’s the General?” he echoed.

Alzac shrugged.

“A reminder that I outrank you, Lieutenant. If you remain idle after I ask a question—”

“What good does that do you, always standing beside the rules? I suppose that’s why my father adores you so much. Though who wouldn’t love an obedient dog?”

“It’s no surprise how you’ve remained the same rank for years.” grumbled Xeto.

Alzac’s face shifted from cynical to pestered. “It’s better than being promoted then getting my squad killed within a month.”

Rebecca balled her fist, wanting to shut him up personally, but refrained.

Xeto’s stature seemed to slump slightly, the statement being the first Alzac’s provoke attempts that successfully cut into him.

“Don’t think we’ve forgotten—”

“Enough, Alzac.” Rebecca kept her voice low but demanding.

The young lieutenant simply scoffed, annoyed.

Rebecca felt better at ease when the flap to the back section of the tent was moved aside and from it came General Taloz.

The man’s appearance was like looking at Alzac through the reflection of an ale bottle. Stubby and with a gut that slightly peaked from under his leather armor. Though unlike his son, Taloz’ long hair was tied into a ponytail that reached his lower back.

Behind Taloz followed the silver-furred beastman, Kyone, having to crouch significantly to fit through the opening. He cast a long shadow that nearly stretched across the room once he stood upright. His height came naturally with him being a kasaber; a race of tiger-like beastmen whose size could only be matched by the burliest of humans.

“Appreciate your time, General,” his voice was gruff yet inviting. His gaze immediately locked onto the newcomers. “Commander Alcazar, Rebecca, what brings you ‘ere? Feels like I’ve not seen you in ages.” His ears shot upwards as he tilted his head slightly.

Rebecca smiled inwardly at how the kasaber resembled the average feline, though she wouldn’t voice her comparing of the two aloud. “Living day by day, Commander.”

Kyone wore a black coat that resembled Alzac’s with the only visible difference being his large spiked shoulder pads. He patted Alzac’s back after taking a step closer to him. “My lieutenant didn’t give you any quarrel did ‘eh?”

Alzac pulled away as he grimaced.

Xeto shot a final glare onto Alzac before nodding. “None.” He turned to Taloz. “General, there’s something I have to speak to you about—alone if I may.”

Taloz’ tongue wandered within his mouth as if looking for a lost piece of food. He quickly stopped as all eyes landed on him. “Er…yes? What is it, my boy? I’m sure whatever the matter, you can say in the company of everyone here.

All eyes darted between the aged man and the youthful commander.

Rebecca presumed that he likely didn’t want to speak about what they saw openly, less they’d be seen as foolish.

“What could be so important that you need privacy?” added Alzac mockingly.

Xeto scoffed. “Very well. It was about the crossroads; nothing was out of touch and no evidence of demons.”

Taloz smiled. “That’s good, great work.”

Rebecca arched an eyebrow. Other than the one anomaly, what they did could hardly be considered ‘work’.

“That’s not all, sir. We found an inn near where the disappearances occurred. The innkeeper there had some sort of relic in her possession.”

“Relic? how is that relevant?” interrupted Kyone.

“Let him finish,” countered Taloz, putting up a hand and awaiting with intrigued eyes.

“It was some sort of gilded gold sphere. Nothing about it was overly distinct. Shortly after we were attacked by a demon unlike anything I’ve seen or heard of in the past. Well, I believe it was a demon. It was larger than most we’ve encountered, had armor, used weapons, and showed no lasting signs of pain when harmed. It seemed to be drawn to the relic—a truth we figured out after it had the chance to kill us but refrained once it had in the sphere. After that, it simply vanished within the span of a blink.”

Alzac burst into a fit of laughter. “Haha! Stories of vanishing demons?” He rocked in his chair. “Took a bit too much from the wet nurse, this one. What’s next, stories of dragons?”

“Oy! Shut it, Alzac,” yelled Taloz.

His son quickly stomped his foot down, clamping the chair in place.

Taloz bore his yellow-tainted teeth. “Enough with the theatrics. You’re a soldier, not a jester.”

Seeing the fool bite his tongue brought a smile to Rebecca.

Taloz motioned to Xeto. “Now then. What did this demon look like? More descriptions if you will.”

Xeto sighed. “Monstrous. It barely flinched when hit with bullets and aura. It wore bits of armor and wielded an axe as well as a man would.”

Kyone crossed his arms. “A demon that uses weapons? That certainly isn’t in the bestiary.”

“It could have killed us, I don’t know why it stopped,” added Rebecca.

Kyone nodded in disbelief. “Another factor, demons don’t hesitate.”

Taloz scratched his head. “It seems what heard about the northern hills was no coincidence, Kyone.”

Rebecca leaned on one of the supports of the tent. “Why? What happened up north?”

Taloz gave the kasaber a nod of approval.

Kyone leaned against the circular table. “I found one of our own hunters alongside those refugees you most likely saw as you arrived into camp. A Nest.”

Rebecca was taken aback. Nest was the name for a fresh Demon-Hunt recruit. Hearing that a recruit was outside of the outpost was an oddity considering that they weren’t allowed on assignments until they completed their training. “What was he doing outside the camp?”

Taloz sighed. “It was me; I allowed the boy to join a hunting party in hopes of expediting his training.” His head lowered with guilt. “We’re desperate for soldiers, I thought I could help us by doing so. I see now that I was wrong.”

Xeto bowed his head slightly and closed his eyes for a half second, a show of respect for the fallen, though his expression remained unchanged. He motioned behind him. “The refugees, where are they from?”

Kyone pointed down at various locations on the map. “All over. But most came from the dune villages up north, left homeless from both demon attacks and the rebels. That’s where the Nest and his commanding members were stationed. Pale as ice, the boy. He told me that a six-eyed demon killed his unit and most of the villagers.”

Xeto leaned back and rested his hand on his sword’s hilt. “Nothing unheard of, considering the rise of attacks recently.”

“There’s more,” continued Kyone. “The demon apparently walked on two legs, though not like a newborn calf, as were accustom to. Apparently, it wielded a spear with formidable skill as well. In addition, he saw his commander fall in battle, blade to the heart. Yet, claims that the man stood from the pool of his own blood seconds later and then vanish into nothing.”

For the first time in the meeting Xeto seemed a bit stunned.

Kyone pointed towards him. “Just like your demon.”

That can’t be a coincidence. A new piece just arrived onto the playing board and it’s defiantly something that could change the tides.

Taloz let out a heavy sigh as he threw himself back into one the empty chairs. “Sad to say, I thought that what Kyone heard were tales forged from fear. Wouldn’t be first.” He reached under the table and pulled out a green tinted bottle. “But these two incidents, this close…there is a connection, I know it.” He shook his head before popping the cork from the bottle, releasing the putrid stench of aged ale. He clutched it firmly like a newborn babe and downed the piss-colored liquid. “Ah.” He took a breath. “We live in strange times, my knights. We cannot track demons that vanish into the wind…so our best option is to lie and wait. I’d like more time to think it over. If I find anything of use, I’ll inform you. You’re dismissed.” He waved them out.

Rebecca bit the inside of her lip, that was far from the answer she wanted to hear. But his words did hold some truth, there was no way to track something that left no trace.

All but Alzac stood straight. “Aye, Sir,” they said in unison as they held a balled fist to their chest.

Alzac kicked his feet up into the air before standing and let out a yawn. “Gods, that was a bore.” He stretched his arms far above his head. “Let’s see if I can find some wine and a tree to sleep under.” He began towards the exit.

“No drinking, Alzac. You need to be sober should something arise,” said Kyone.

Alzac exited without a word, sunlight pouring in for a moment.

Kyone scoffed before shifting to an apologetic tone. “Excuse his behavior, General. I’ll see to it.”

“Boy’s like his father,” muttered Taloz after a swig of ale. “Stubborn brat won’t listen.”

Rebecca followed behind Kyone and Xeto as they exited the tent. She felt a small pit in her gut. She thought coming to Taloz would shed light on the current events. Though it seemed it only stoked their ignorance.

“Rebecca,” said Xeto abruptly. “Get some rest, bet a warm bed will feel good after a week of sleeping on soil—oh, and no drinking.”

She gave him a wink. “No promises, Commander.”

He let out a light chuckle before disappearing into the maze of tents.

The day was warm but the cloud of doubt above her brought a chill to her bones. Looks like we’re as lost as ever. She shook away the thoughts. The General was a bit too friendly with the bottle, but if anyone could figure out the truth, it would be him. All she had to do was be patient, and as a sniper, being patient came naturally…sometimes.  

[𝗘𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿]

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗸𝘀. 𝗜 𝗽𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗶𝘁? 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿 𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘄!