Chapter 3

Kieran

4E Spring, Maram 5, 215

Kieran’s tiny hands reached toward the sunlight, reached for Carver. His brother’s longer legs carried him farther at twelve than Kieran’s did at nine. Soon those longer legs carried Carver into the wood, and he froze, Kieran slamming against him.

A shifted werewolf towered ahead on two large legs, dragging an elk in his claw. He did not attack, nor snarl, just tilted his head in consideration, until their father, Nathanial Mills stood in his way. His words lost to time, as if spoken in water before the shifter departed presenting a strip of venison from his kill as a gift.

The scene shifted and all three Mills boys were back in their small one room home, with the white battlements Fredarin’s castle gleaming in the distant background. The wooden beams and thin walls of their farmhouse echoed his mother Elizabeth’s chastising shouts.

All the while their mother waved her wooden spoon as a sword, the same way Kieran and Carver had that morning. That spoon darted and arched until it fell to the ground and Kieran and his brother were wrapped in her hold.

The scene shifted again, Kieran witnessed more visions of laughter and childhood play in the fields, waving their scraped hands at a Council caravan as it passed. Both he and his brother beamed at the circular mark joining all the crests of the races.

The lightness of it kept him smiling until his ten-year-old form walked into that farmhouse. That time however, he did not find the love of his family, but red coated walls, mangled bodies, and twisted faces.

He wanted to shout, call an end to the maelstrom of enmity that flooded him. Pain continued recalling training, bruises and broken bones he endured time and again before his first hunt. There was something missing as images passed, someone kind and warm whom he encountered after that first horror of his life.

Clouds covered his visions of hunt after hunt, kill after kill, death after death. All of it accented a spoiled taste in his mouth and nothingness consumed him. The last bits of unconsciousness echoed with another memory that no amount of drink could remove.

“A beast. I don’t want to be a beast,” the quivering voice fret. “I don’t want to be a beast.”

Kieran groaned, waking as early sunlight filled the small inn’s room. Images still lingering, he rose drawing his tongue over his teeth trying to remove the taste of last night’s meal. Vithis warned from the beginning that he would not splurge on food preparation or an inn’s quality meal. Every time that man cooked something Kieran felt ill and despite the Elite hunter’s wages, Vithis always bought the cheapest option.

I swear, such food makes the dreams worse Kieran thought wearily.

Ere long, his uniform was donned, his blade that had seen only a few more battles than his last was belted and Kieran joined his comrades, Vithis and Karst, for breakfast. The food was far better than last night, so he ate his fill. Thoughts of the nightmare faded as they always did. All the while the two others grudgingly spoke of their target. A shifter who failed to properly clean a kill. The elk corpse caused far too much unrest. A response was good yet, Kieran felt this matter did not call for such a presence.

He believed that he was only there because Karst requested Vithis. The man was Kieran’s former mentor, now his ‘partner.’ He had worked with other teams much of the time but Vithis was a constant.

Some days Kieran thought that his ‘partner’ would not mind if he were dead. When Vithis paid him heed his primary communication was berating, antagonizing, or domineering. It had been so since Kieran was ten and placed in Vithis’s charge. For seventeen years Vithis’s constant presence shadowed Kieran’s existence.

As they left the inn, Vithis and Karst planned their course for the day. It was still early but they ceased discussing the werewolf. The brothel and tavern seemed to hold more appeal.

Thank the gods they are focusing on the latter, Kieran thought.

Even drunk, laughing with friends and stumbling about after a hunt, Kieran never listened to advice about pointless tumbles. Nor did he pay heed to women who showed interest despite any small temptation for such distraction.

That is not to say that he was… innocent. He had lost that claim after a bad hunt, far too much ale, and an herbal mix called Hunter’s Bliss. His friends Erend and Yates, both Expert Hunters thought it would help after an awful hunt. It only made him feel worse knowing he made a mistake in his less than stable state.

When his senses returned after the world melting, fantastic hallucinations, guilt had been crushing. Only then did he realize the woman he had lain with was not whom he had always desired.

She had not been the prisoner, the vampire from Desmadis, the kind memory that had been missing from his nightmare. As ridiculous as it was, after laying with someone else, he felt he had betrayed that vampire despite knowing her not at all.

I never even got her name, Kieran mourned as he and the others continued through town. I never got a good look at her. All I know of the one I think of most, the one who calms me most… is the color of her vampiric gaze.

I don’t even know why it wasn’t her natural color glowing, or what that gem white could mean in such a being, he pondered relaxing the more her memory came to mind.

Other vampires working for the Council either ignored Kieran or looked at him as though he were a meal. Still, he preferred their presence over that of Rodrick Bane, the vampire Paragon’s second, his right hand. He often gave assignments to Vithis and Kieran.

Kieran never saw his vampiric nature, nor did he wish to. Even so… Rodrick’s gaze caused Kieran’s hair to stand on end. It was the opposite effect of the woman’s eyes.

Hers held nothing but kindness. She looked at him with amazement and wonder, like nothing he had ever seen. On nights when he slept soundly, she usually entered his reveries.

Perhaps that was her in reality, Kieran reflected. Just a dream in my head. She was so-

“Boy!” Vithis barked.

“Sorry,” Kieran started, shaking from the repeated idea. “Was it the tavern or-”

“If yeh’d been payin’ attention, then yeh’d no’ice thas’ where we’re at.” Vithis nodded to a building on the other side of the path. “Make yerself o’ use and grab ales. And need I remind yeh, ignorin’ me, unwise.”

Kieran returned his glower, unafraid of the threat before moving. ‘Broken bones heal stronger,’ Vithis would say when he beat him in his early training days, as many other masters had their apprentices. Something he repeated until Kieran started besting him.

His anger is well placed now, Kieran knew. Their discussion was juvenile but… I am on assignment. I must always be at attention. Though, thoughts of her never cease to captivate. Not that they could end, that I could ever ask of her… to anyone. Not my friends in this profession, certainly not Vithis, no matter his past as a guard in that old prison.

Oh, miss you are ever a mystery, and will remain one.

As a boy Kieran considered helping her escape. He knew it was a silly fantasy, riding in to save the damsel in distress. He was so fixated on her through the years that he may have eventually attempted it, but Vithis had not brought him back in time. She got herself out.

Over a decade ago, there had been a massive push among the vampires of the Council to recapture a female prisoner with ‘strange eyes.’ The searched lagged over time, but regained focus whenever she was spotted.

He was relieved that he had not heard word of her recapture. Kieran knew it was odd; he worked for the Council. But he understood that the Council vampires were not beings with an abundance of integrity. Over the years he suspected that the reason for her imprisonment had more to do with the actions of those that held her than her own.

Kieran longed to see her again, but was somewhat thankful he never had. He was always with other hunters who would want to catch her.

She wouldn’t remember me anyway, as much as I’d like to believe otherwise. Still… I wonder where she is now.

Just as he was entering the tavern a woman ran into him, her nose slamming into his chest. Hood falling from her face she stumbled back before he caught her.

“Sorry Miss are you-” He caught his breath as the world fell away. Both he and the woman stilled as she looked up.

Kieran hardly noticed the pounding of his heart as his arms fell. He only saw wavy chestnut hair, heart shaped face, delicate lips, and flawless rose beige skin. She left him awestruck and somehow, nostalgic.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “but have we m-”

“Kieran,” Karst roared interrupting and shaking his attention.

Fuck he’s loud, Kieran thought exasperated as he turned.

“Boy, be quick with our ale.”

Kieran nodded then discovered that the woman had vanished. She couldn’t have gotten too far surely, he considered searching the area.

“Boy,” Karst roared again, his irritation rising.

Kieran groaned; he took one last look around before entering the tavern. Absentmindedly, he ordered the drinks and walked back out. His mind focused on the woman.

He thought of her apple green eyes then to his mysterious vampire’s white. He realized that both held the same look of wonder. Could she have been… No. No. She couldn’t-

“’Bout damn time,” Vithis spat, taking a mug from his hands as Karst did the same. Kieran turned his attention to the others. He had not realized that he walked back to them.

“Finish tha’ quickly,” Vithis ordered. “We’ll be visitin’ the shifter when we’re done.”

Kieran looked back, confused. “I thought we would be leaving at dusk. Why so soon?”

Karst huffed, “The wolf failed to properly clean a kill the last full moon. It wasn’t even human but, the locals….” Karst huffed, continuing in a mocking tone, “They complained to the lords, the lords to the king, and the king to the Council. All we must do is talk to him and make sure he’s more careful in future. He has a cabin not far from here.”

Karst scoffed, but Kieran understood the people’s fear. He heard the nobles had questioned the King on the validity of the alliance that claimed equality among the races.

Kieran knew that some of other races did not look down on humans. Yet, he encountered others that felt superior, despite the empathetic masks they donned. The human nobles probably asked for action in this matter to see if any would be taken. It’s good there was a response but…

“Why are we here?” Kieran asked. “This is the work of a scout or one hunter, not three.”

Vithis laughed into his drink while Karst’s gaze turned condescending. Kieran was ranked an Expert Hunter, but Vithis had never thought much of his abilities. Karst, a Master Hunter, was clearly of the same mind.

Little do they know, Kieran thought grinning into his drink.

For all hunters, at times targets managed to flee. Vithis discovered that Kieran was responsible for one such occasion. Despite what Vithis might think the incident was not due to Kieran’s incompetence. For some assignments Kieran was told the target had ‘defied the will of the Council’. That did not change Kieran’s opinion that in some of those instances those who were hunted hardly deserved such hostility.

Kieran discovered a few targets who declined to kill or persuade others with their abilities. Others refused to bed a noble or Council member. If Kieran found himself hunting someone like that he may accidently let himself be overheard talking of his target with other hunters. They all tended to be loud when they hit the taverns. It was not unheard of for a target to be warned by such talk and run. Only that once was it discovered that Kieran initiated it all.

That said, he had skill and never hesitated when a dangerous target needed to be taken down, and he had succeeded. Even when he was just with Vithis Kieran had taken a few targets without aid.

Admittedly, Kieran never hunted vampires, never assigned to a rogue. He heard that they were some of the worst targets. Vampires were said to fight like humans, but their strength, speed, and vampiric compulsion defeated were frightful to all races.

Vithis said Kieran was not ready, and Kieran did not wish to take part in such a hunt. Even with his skill Kieran experienced trepidation at the thought of being hunting their kind. He did not wish to be sent after that vampire from Desmadis.

I won’t hunt her, Kieran thought for the millionth time. I want… Well much, but I’d be happy just to see her, know her name.

Karst finished his drink with a loud belch and beamed, bringing Kieran back into focus. “After seeing the wolf, we head north towards the mountains to follow up on a rumor. Another shifter is rumored to have been seen there. She’s a most evasive target.”

“Another wolf?” Kieran inquired.

“No boy, we’re hunting a drakin.”

Their encounter with the werewolf was short and left them ample time to begin their search. Karst and Vithis cut the shifter with a wolfsbane dipped silver blade after he apologized for his mistake. Then they saw fit to beat him as a ‘reminder to take care.’

Vithis and Karst seemed to enjoy the fear wolfsbane brought on, weakening and trapping the shifter in human form. Kieran wished he could have done something, but the werewolf would be fine.

Only when lives are threatened will I act, Kieran reminded himself. I must be discrete. No good to anyone dead.

The journey to the wood had been long. Karst drawled on about the drakin near the whole of it. In lieu of a name Karst referred to her as the ‘scaley bitch,’ or ‘damn lizard.’ Kieran suspected her actual name was unknown. He thought it was amusing seeing as she had been hunted by Karst and his family close to fifty years.

Karst found her a few times with others, but the encounters never ended well for him. She was powerful and elusive despite her rare white coloring that made even her human form noteworthy.

Kieran was somewhat relieved; drakin were hunted as sport just for existing. He only heard confirmed reports of drakin attacking hunters or their bases. Even that was a rarity; the few that remained seemed intent on staying out of the way.

This hunt put him in a foul mood from the moment he was made aware of it. Vithis made the journey all the worse. Most of the ride Vithis had been quiet and oddly contemplative but did not remain so.

“Did yeh know tha’ woman leaving the tavern? I caugh’ a glimpse of wha’ happened. Though’ I saw yeh looking for her.”

“No,” Kieran replied, taken aback at the mundane question. “Just thought I would check to see if she was alright. She hit me rather hard so-”

“Yeh’re too soft boy,” Vithis berated. “Heart is more akin to a farmer than a hunter. Going to get yerself hurt one o’ these days, just like tha’ family o’ yers,” he taunted.

Kieran still shook in anger, hours after it had been said. How he grieved getting placed in Vithis’s charge, recalling his life before. The life with his parents and brother, Carver.

Their deaths plagued him more than most memories of his hunts, but he treasured all others of that farmhouse. Hunters with a Council patrol had been in the area searching for a being causing havoc. They found Kieran near starved but had been too late for his family.

Kieran’s recollection of that time was still hazy. One of the only things he did remember, if only vaguely, was requesting to join the hunters. He remembered the desire to avenge his family but, that notion never sat well with him. Vengeance never sat well.

Kieran was proud that he had saved lives as a hunter but he never reveled in the deaths he caused. He was growing more concerned. Most of the leaders of the Council of Races seemed apathetic towards the growing attacks on humans.

Kieran heard that initially hunters were all human to provide hope to their race. They needed the sense of power and the ability to defend themselves against or stand beside the stronger beings.

Now, hunters tracked the offenders of whom some on the Council wanted to make examples as warnings.

Make a difference, make some coin… good in theory, he mused. Yet… I grow sick of feeling a puppet. Perhaps I should retire soon.

Kieran sighed at the thought, then noticed the rapidly fading sunlight. Still he continued, not wishing to be subjected to more of Vithis’s taunts.

Kieran knew that reacting to the jibes only gave Vitus what he wanted. During a sparring match Vithis had continually goaded him with similar comments about his family. Kieran landed a solid blow to Vithis’s face and found the look of utter indignation satisfying.

When the sparring ended, Vithis had a few other hunters hold Kieran while he beat him. Kieran got away with no serious injury, but massive bruises above and below the skin. That was years ago, but even now Kieran kept his head.

Kieran shook from his reminiscing and refocused on the task at hand. As he continued, Kieran found the light of the thin moon shining on a clearing. At a sound, he stopped and carefully moved closer to the tree line. Just as it had in Thethras, the sight of the woman left him breathless.