Archives: Vampire Hunt
Chapter 15: Morning for the Hunters
N’shara woke out of what seemed to be the deepest sleep of her life, and felt invigorated. Despite the distance the vampires may have gotten, everyone had hopefully had the sleep they required to go on. Their human frailties obviously were a hindrance to hunting the damned, but the better fed and rested, the better chance they had. The priestess didn’t bother to wake Penna as she quietly slipped out of their tent to find Nakira on watch.
She smiled to the young woman, then quietly spoke to her, so as not to disturb anyone, “Good morning.” The priestess stretched, then added with a sigh, “We should make some breakfast. Everyone will need their strength, after all.” With that, N’shara went over to her horse to unpack the pan and food they had bought the evening before, then brought it back to the campfire. “Did you get enough sleep?” she asked Nakira as she began to unpack the food.
“Good morning, and I did get enough sleep. I am used to short nights, if you recall what you caught me doing,” Nakira replied as she stood up and stirred the fire, helping N’shara with getting things ready to prepare breakfast. She wondered what the group’s next move would be, considering they lost their quarry in the battle. She hoped Rone was back on his feet again, as well as Laies. “I’ll go get some water. Is there a stream nearby?”
“Right over there,” N’shara pointed out the small stream a few feet away that they had crossed to get to the camp. “Are you sure you got enough sleep?” she asked with a slightly teasing smile.
“Of course, aren’t mothers supposed to be able to operate on less sleep. The first few years at least,” Nakira replied with a humored laugh before picking up the bucket and looking towards where N’shara pointed. She was in good spirits, despite the previous day’s failures.
N’shara smiled and laughed a little along with Nakira. She had picked up some more perishable food while in town, in hopes that she could make it for breakfast, so now N’shara was preparing a breakfast of eggs and bacon on the campfire. Considering what they were tracking, a hearty breakfast would be good fuel for the rest of the day.
Nakira returned with some water for everyone a few minutes later and set it down, then making rounds and making sure everyone would be up in time for breakfast to be ready.
* * *
Rone’s body had no desire to awaken. Wounded, tired, and mentally disappointed, the vampire hunter slept too hard for his own good. If it weren’t for the noise around him, his eyes would not have given way. Though he didn’t move, he laid still, breathing in the morning air. Looking up towards the sky, he mouthed his morning prayers to Falis.
* * *
Even for the delicious smell of cooking bacon, no one rose. They all must be exhausted... N’shara thought. She was anxious to get on with the journey, and she assumed everyone else was just as determined, but perhaps rest was more inviting to them. Rone though... N’shara’s mind turned to the vampire hunter. If even he is not rising, something must be wrong with him...
N’shara had finished cooking enough for everyone’s meal, and she had even boiled a block of vegetable stock into broth for Penna, knowing the elf’s preference for food. There were eggs and bacon and bread, enough to fill their bellies for the long journey ahead and make up for the missed meals the day before. With breakfast prepared, N’shara decided to wake the others. “Nakira, would you please wake Penna? I will get the men,” she said to the rogue.
The Marfa priestess went over to the men’s tent and tossed open the flap. “Boys, it’s time for breakfast!” she called in a sing-song voice. “We need to get moving,” she added, more seriously. Seeing that Rone at least was awake, she climbed in between him and Laies, worried for his well-being, and knelt next to him. “Are you feeling well?” she asked the priest, then touched his brow. It was slightly warmer than normal, and she wasn’t surprised if he was beginning to develop an infection. “I think I can muster enough to heal you.”
“Don’t bother,” Rone growled. Against his own best wishes, he shoved himself up, leaving N’shara behind in Laies’ tent. “Do not interrupt my morning prayers.” Behind all of his roughness, there was a profound sadness in his eyes, just for a split second. The pain in his chest, in his head, were slowly increasing, but the last thing he needed was some Marfa priestess to heal his physical wounds and dig her fingers deeper into the wounds in his pride.
As Rone refused her healing, N’shara grew angry again. She thought that they had moved on from this rivalry, but apparently not. N’shara stepped out of the tent, throwing the flap down in frustration. “Dammit, if I don’t heal you, we can’t move on!” the priestess growled. “What is your problem now? Do you want to sit around and wait to get better before you start tracking Aryen, or are you going to go after two vampires with an infected wound? What good would that do when they already have inhuman speed and strength?”
“Then go do it yourself, if you think you know so much,” Rone replied. “I don’t need your charity and I don’t need you to tell me how to hunt.” The gruff priest turned around. “I’ve been in worse places. Finish your fancy breakfast that tells the whole damn world where we are and then you can give your mercy prayers.” He was worse than an old dwarven veteran. All anger with no place to put it. Aryen was going nowhere unless it was under the cover of a forest canopy and anyone running that fast would leave a trail. Despite his fury, Rone knew better than to run off after Aryen like it was an emergency.
“Well, glad to see your in fine spirits,” Fenix said, giving a light stretch. Considering he hadn’t been injured at all, he wasn’t feeling winded, and was even better than normal after the good nights rest. It was a bit funny, considering what he had been hunting he had been surprised he could get sleep. “Anyway, while I haven’t studied the things, I’m going by logic here. Vampires have unnatural senses, including sense of smell. I would imagine they could smell breakfast, but I would also assume that they can smell wounds as well. So, it won’t matter how subtle we are if your big gaping wound acts as a giant red flag. But hey, if you want to run around with it, it’s no skin off of my nose.”
“Watch your tongue, boy,” Rone barked. “I’ve taken down vampires with one arm and six stab wounds. I’ve tracked, caught, and killed them no matter the situation.” Rone walked right up to Fenix, his big hands ready to do something that would make his god cringe. “How many have you taken down?”
“Counting the one I killed last Thursday?” Fenix smirked, obviously not all that phased by Rone. In all honesty, he didn’t think anyone deserved the venom, and he doubted the priestess could stand it given her weakened state. “Not a one. Last vampire I saw was in Raiden, drank cow’s blood, and had one of the more lucrative shipping businesses. But then again, thats where our professions differ, now isn’t it?”
Frowning, he thought about anything that might calm Rone down. “But, as it stands, you’re acting like a child. You’ve attacked someone who simply wanted to look after your wounds, and now you’re attacking me. Do you think your god would be proud of how you’re acting, dwarf?”
“If I attacked you, you wouldn’t be standing,” Rone said, his voice low. He stared at Fenix for a moment longer before turning back towards his things. So much more wanted to come out of his mouth; it was so clear on his face. Without a word, he started to gather them and place them on his person. They want me to hunt? he thought, then I’ll hunt. Rone would not stand for anyone telling him what his god thought. Falis spoke for himself and no self-amusing fool would speak for him. His wound hurt, but his pride was burning. Who did they think they were? He was a professional vampire hunter, ordained by the highest temple of Falis. Each and every one of them was convinced they knew just as well as he did. The priest didn’t ask for much: to be let alone during his morning prayer, to not be mocked or insulted. The young, he thought, were so sure of themselves.
Rone knelt down to where he was once laying and began to reclaim his weapons. He had worked so hard, killed so many. He used to think it was about revenge, but it had so much more to do with respect. He didn’t want to be a general or a king, but a noble warrior. He dedicated his life to that aim. To be constantly undermined by a couple of youthful nothings who thought by virtue of being there, they knew everything there was to know—it only served to fuel his anger.
Inside his body, an infection was burning. He wouldn’t admit how much he was weakening. He would never look N’shara in the face and ask for help, nor would he take it with any sort of relief. Part of it was the eyes of the others. Perhaps if it were between the two of them, he would have allowed it, but not in front of everyone. It was far too embarrassing. If he caught up to Aryen in the next two days, he told himself, he could stand a chance at getting him before he became too sick to pull it off...
N’shara stood by silently, arms crossed over her chest, as she listened to Fenix pick up her argument. “Forget it. It has nothing to do with what he can or can’t do, he just can’t get over his pride to let me heal him,” she said, now realizing exactly what the problem was. The Marfa priestess was seething. After all she had done last night and this morning to prepare them for their hunt today, having Rone act like this was a slap in the face. She had no will to fight back since it was obviously a losing battle, seeing as he was so intractable. On the verge of tears, she stormed back to the girls’ tent, muttering, “Breakfast is ready,” as she passed Fenix.
Nakira saw the fight and went to finish cooking. Staring at the two, she laughed and shook her head. “You two seem awfully feisty this morning. Though could you put that energy to better use later today? You’ll just wear yourselves out fighting like that, honestly I trust Rone’s expertise and we need all the help we can get as well.”
Nakira saw to finishing breakfast, then served everybody up some food before waiting for things to calm down so she could see to it that N’shara ate. She hated speaking the truth like that, it made her sound like she was just nagging them about their wasteful infighting. “Let’s just get on with the hunt, after all I may know little but I’m going to do my best.”
N’shara took her breakfast inside her tent, biting her tongue at Nakira’s comments. I trust his expertise alright, it’s his damn ego I don’t trust! she thought to herself. The priestess was hungry, but the fighting killed her appetite. She had to eat though, so she forced herself to eat as much as she could, and her anger was visible in the process. If he wants to go on with those wounds, fine. We’ll go on. We’ll go on as long as he can handle it. Once that infection catches up with him, and he starts lagging behind, then we’ll see!
“You alright?” Penna asked, rolling over to face N’shara in the tent, still under the blankets to keep warm. “Your body language suggests that you’re either quite irritated or you’ve been jilted by that boy who seems to like you. Since I doubt that the boy would jilt you, seeing how he’s rather quite smitten, I’d assume that your problem lies with the gruff and wounded old man that leads our expedition against the forces of the damned.” The elf gave a soft chuckle.
“You’re correct,” N’shara said, an angry edge still in her voice. “After all I did for us; going to town to buy supplies, despite how exhausted I was, setting up tents, and making breakfast this morning, I went to heal him, and he refuses! He tells me ‘I don’t need your charity’,” N’shara mocked the priest. “As if this was charity. It’s damned necessity!” The priestess scoffed. “So, if he thinks he can go on with that infection he has growing, he can go as far as he wants until he collapses. Maybe he’ll learn some humility,” she muttered the final part.
“Ignore his complaints and heal him anyways,” Penna said, finally slipping out of the covers, but after feeling the cold breeze on her skin she huddled up again with the blanket. “For all the god-forsaken hells that walk amongst the trees of the eternal twilight, it’s bloody cold out!” Penna exclaimed loudly. “That’s it, once I hit four hundred I’m moving to Flaim! No more of these chilly, damp dreary mornings! An elf can catch her death wearing the light layers I normally wear.”
“Hmph, he has to learn to work with other people,” N’shara grunted. Turning toward her side of the tent, she pulled out a cloak from the Marfa priesthood and handed it to Penna. “Here, you need this more than me.”
“Thank you,” Penna stated with a small blush upon her cheeks, accepting the cloak. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out of the confines and comforts of the city. My mother would balk at the type of elf I have become.” She donned N’shara’s cloak and gave a small giggle. “What do you think? Would I make a good priestess of Marfa?” she asked jokingly.
N’shara chuckled. “If I can do it, you can do it,” she replied with an amused smile. This little talk made her feel a bit better, but only enough to get on with the day. She wanted nothing to do with Rone. The priestess got up and climbed out of the tent. “I have some vegetable broth for you,” she said to Penna, then went over to the fire and picked up a tin cup from the rock pit, using the front of her dress to protect her hand from the hot metal. “Careful, it’s still hot,” she warned Penna as she offered her the cup of broth.
“Thank you, dear,” Penna said, graciously taking the cup. “Living amongst humans I never did get over the social hang up of eating the flesh of animals.” The elven woman drank from the cup gingerly and gave N’shara a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I’m sure that your boyfriend will lift the spirits of the group in time. He seems the sort to.”
N’shara looked away and a blush rose on her cheeks. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said. “At least...not yet...” She had to be honest, she and Laies were heading in that direction. At least she was finally starting to feel better when her thoughts turned to Laies.
“Ah, to be young and in love,” Penna chided.
* * *
Laies lazily yawned, waking up finally. Somehow he had gotten into a tent, and had his armor removed. Stretching, the sinewy quarter-elf slipped out of the bedding and went outside. Discarding his clothes by the stream’s edge he slipped into the cool waters, immersing himself. Taking the time to wash himself, he used a rough pumice stone over his flesh to remove the excess and clean his deathly white skin. Running his fingers roughly through his hair he completed his bathing ritual and doused himself again to rinse clean. Returning to the shore, Laies used his shirt to dry himself off, albeit hastily, and quickly slipped back into his clothes, still a little damp from the bath.
Striding back into camp, Laies plopped down by the fire and stretched lazily. “So, how did everyone sleep?” he asked with a large, earnest grin across his lips.
* * *
Penna sipped at the broth till she had completed it. “Well, let’s get this sourpuss group on the road,” the elf maid said, rising from her cot. “I’ll go make your gruff priest mewl like a kitten.” She added, winking a little at the blushing priestess. Penna left the tent behind and went to Rone’s side. Kneeling down beside the older priest, the elf-maiden pressed her forehead to his.
“Pardon my intrusion into your personal space,” Penna said, her cool forehead against Rone’s. “I’m just checking you for fever.”
Rone stayed silent. His anger was born of his wounds, of his own failures, not so much what N’shara had done. How could he not have seen those daggers coming? This was supposed to be another notch in his belt, not a torturous labor. This one was no different from all the others!
Penna’s hand could feel the heat. Rone wouldn’t dare admit his weakness again. As much as he was a loyal follower of Falis, he was not known for patience. Hunters of the Damned weren’t known for much besides slaying. Priests of Falis rarely recruited violent and angry men, but as Hunters, they were actually preferred. Often, that vicious nature, directed properly, could become an intense dedication to a singular purpose. Rone was such a killer. Perhaps, in another life, he could have been a barbarous killer for hire. Though the highest of Falis’ order disapproved of his temper, they honored the righteous direction he aimed it at.
“You seem a little warm,” Penna noted, drawing back. “Perhaps myself or N’shara should give you some healing if you won’t heal yourself. Otherwise you’ll catch fever and possibly infection from your wounds. Please take it into consideration. We need you healthy,” the elf maid said, stressing need as necessary. Persuasion was one of her strong points, but she wasn’t sure it would work with someone as hard headed as Rone.
The gruff hunter wanted nothing to do with it. He wanted none of this. Them, this vampire, the victims, even himself. All he wanted was a pile of dead vampire at his feet, its shocked face frozen before it turned to dust. He wanted to bleed it dry, let all of the life it stole drain out. But it wouldn’t come, would it? Not if he couldn’t keep up. “Fine. Make it quick,” he grumbled, almost too quiet to hear.
“I’ll go fetch N’shara,” Laies said from across the fire. The boyish quarter elf dashed off to N’shara’s tent and peered in. “Yo. The humbled beast has been felled by the elven maiden. You may administer to him now,” Laies said with a little wink to the priestess.
N’shara breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing that, but there was still a measure of tension. Without saying a word, the priestess stepped out of the tent and went to Rone. It was obviously his pride that held him back, so she refused to say anything to make it rear it’s ugly head again. Hitching up her skirt to keep it from getting too dirty, the priestess knelt next to Rone and spoke a prayer to Marfa as she held her hands over Rone’s chest.
The vampire hunter didn’t look at her, instead looking off into the trees. The touch of Marfa eased so much of the physical pain there was, but it did nothing for the deepest of his wounds. Gashes gave way to scratches and into flesh made whole. The pounding of his head faded away. But nothing could cure the disease that ran through him always.
As the light fell away from her hands, Rone grabbed hold of one of N’shara’s wrists, perhaps too hard on accident. He was silent for a moment, almost as he if he could not will himself to speak. Perhaps he was hunting for the proper words, but coming up short. So, instead, he looked to her and gave what he could. “Thank you.” It was as beaten a thanks as he was, but no other words came to him. Rone let go of her arm and looked back into the trees.
N’shara tensed and feared for the worst when he grabbed her wrist, but with his forced gratitude, she relaxed. “You’re welcome,” she said softly, and after he released her, she rose back to her feet and turned back to the campsite. Though she wanted to leave Rone be, she knew he had to eat as well. Her healing could only do so much, he needed to build up his strength on his own. However, the Marfa priestess didn’t want to get into the range of his wrath again.
She approached Nakira, who had time to eat while they had waited, and she had served up plates for everyone, but one still sat waiting for Rone. Kneeling beside the rogue, N’shara whispered in her ear, “Take the plate to Rone. I think you’re less likely to incur his wrath further than I am.”
“Of course, you should eat now while you have a chance. He’ll get over it,” Nakira replied as she took the plate and spoke her mind on the matter. After that she headed over to Rone and set down the plate of food in front of him. She was glad he looked better, in the face of their quarry she knew he was their best chance to kill them along with Laies. “Your breakfast, please enjoy,” she said with a smile as she knew that he would not be in the best of moods.
N’shara disregarded Nakira’s suggestion to eat, as she already had. However, she’d taken her breakfast in the tent, so Nakira hadn’t seen it. After Nakira headed toward Rone, the priestess went back to her tent and began to pack up everything inside before she set about tearing it down.
Taking a cue from N’shara, and seeing as how the priest was being somewhat more agreeable and in better health, Fenix rose from his seat next to the fire where he had eaten and went to pack up the men’s tent as well.
