Hunter's Creed

Chapter 3

July the 6th.

         The quarry has shown its hand. I went to the church to gain some background on the local region. The vicar was bent on convincing me that these three ruffians, led by a man named Bego, are the minions of Satan that I've been sent to find. That wasn't the information I was looking for, but I suppose everyone has an agenda and his is protecting his flock.
         Apparently, these three arrived with a writ to "protect" the town, but when harvest time came they showed their true colors, turning rapacious and seizing much of the harvest as well as a number of the older teens on the authority of an unnamed official in Sentil. Rosalka was present and in plain view during our talk, and he has seemingly lost his fear of her. He has at least stopped stuttering in her presence.
         He was in the midst of explaining further when the girl Klementina burst into the chapel beseeching me to help her. Once we got her calmed down and coherent, she told us that men were burning the fields and had killed her father. Well, this may not be my mission, but I'm not indifferent to the suffering of the helpless, so I accompanied her back to her farm. Both her parents had been struck down, their goats and chickens lay dead all around, and her home was burned to the foundation. The same cruel fate had been meted out to all the residents we could find. The girl plans to join me on a quest for vengeance, but she'll reconsider that as soon as she comes face to face with the architects of such evil. I found her an unused monk's room in the chapel and I slept on a pew, Rosalka on watch, as the innkeeper is plainly part of the conspiracy.
         She is not my responsibility, and I haven't the time to become a wet nurse to a girl who thinks the death of her parents makes her a woman. The death of the farmers and the razing of their community does, however, convince me that the hand of Satan has indeed fallen over this region. This has to be my mission, and I will treat it as such from this day onward.
         Isaiah was correct in his prophecy: "And a little child shall lead them."

                             From the journal of Darion Valente

*          *          *

         Darion was up at the first light of dawn, stepping to the door to look out across the square toward the inn. One of the ruffians — the murderers, he reminded himself, sat in the shadows on the inn's porch. As soon as Darion stepped into the door frame, he stood up with nervous, jerky motions, and went inside. As he stood watching the light grow and chase the shadows back into darkened corners, Rosalka floated up behind him.
         "A denar for your thoughts," she offered.
         "Where are you going to get a denar?" he replied.
         "From your purse, of course."
         "I didn't see you when I woke up. You were doing something productive, I hope."
         "I was checking the stable, as I did several times through the night. It's quiet over there, and the horses are undisturbed. It seems the dolts haven't thought of harming them yet."
         He began walking toward the chapel.
         "More likely they're afraid they'll find you over there. They know where I am."
         "But I can't do anything but frighten them. You have a big, sharp sword."
         "Swords they understand. You gave them quite a fright the other night. That was some performance."
         "I must admit, it was fun. I love surprising bullies." She quickly faded from view. "The young one is awakening. What are you going to do about her, Valente? You can't drag a young girl all over the countryside while you hunt the evil."
         "Another young girl, you mean."
         "I am 119 years old, Valente, and you don't drag me, I float."
         "That mouth of yours isn't a day over twenty."
         "Nonetheless, what do you propose to do, huh?"
         "I'll let her tag along for a bit. When conditions get harsh and our quarry gets dangerous, she'll find other things to do. The question is, what do we tell her about you?"
         "Nothing, of course. She has no need to know that you travel with a ghost."
         "All our enemies already know about you. Shouldn't our friends know who's on our side? Anyway, one look at you should send her scuppering off to look for a scrubwoman's post."
         "Oh, very funny! I am not so ugly as all that."
         "Rosalka, you are raising questions that it is too early to—"
         "Quiet! They are coming."
         Darion checked the street and saw nothing, then realized who she meant and turned back into the chapel.
         "Good morning, Hunter," Samo greeted him.
         "Vicar. Milady."
         "Milady?" Tina repeated, stopping in the aisle and staring at him.
         "A courtesy. Did you sleep well?"
         "Off and on. My parents are dead, and I don't know what is to become of me. Why does he call you Hunter?"
         "It's not important."
         "I think it is important, Mr. Valente," the vicar said. "You see, child, when the hand of Satan has fallen so completely on a village or a region that it can no longer be dispelled by prayer and Holy water, the church must have recourse to those who can meet the evil on its own terms and send it back to hell from whence it came."
         "So, a Hunter—"
         "Is one of the men who do this work. But there is more."
         "Vicar..."
         "No, son, she will think you a hero. She needs to know all of it."
         Darion bowed his head and turned away.
         "Perhaps I could be one," Tina said. "Is there a school?"
         "Yes, the school of hard experience. Hunters, child, must be above reproach, beyond any possibility of turning to join the evil themselves. So they are recruited from among the worst dregs of humanity, men and, yes, sometimes women, who have been pure evil themselves. Men who have come to feel the weight of their deeds and accept the hunter's errantry to seek absolution. In short, they seek to earn a reprieve from eternal damnation."
         "But..." Tina looked at Darion, eyes darting from sword to crucifix to eyes and back to sword again.
         "What did you do?" she asked in a whisper.
         "The details aren't important," he replied. "Suffice to say that the men who burned your farm and killed your parents couldn't have held my horse when I was a younger man."
         "No! That can't be."
         "I'm sorry. It is."
         "But, how can the church know that you won't..."
         "Revert?" the vicar finished for her. "He travels with a guide, a ghost, in fact, who keeps him on the straight and narrow."
         "A ghost!" she dismissed. "Now you're having me on."
         "Why does no one believe in ghosts anymore?" Rosalka asked, materializing beside the vicar.
         Tina shrieked and backpedaled furiously until she backed into a pew, sat down awkwardly, and pushed herself back until the endpiece stopped her."
         "Perhaps you were right," Rosalka said to Darion. "She may be ready to find a new calling now."
         "I wish to hell— to God you'd stop doing that," Darion scolded her. "The girl didn't deserve that kind of shock."
         "You told me to show myself!" Rosalka said with a huff. "You need to make up your mind."
         She floated back away from them, crossed her arms, and pouted.
         "I apologize," Darion said to Tina, offering his hand to help her up; she pointedly didn't take it. "She likes to jump out and say, 'Boo!' She was very immature when she died."
         Rosalka looked toward Darion, stuck out her tongue, and looked away again.
         "Come on, let's go to the inn and have breakfast. We can talk about what you've learned this morning. No vicar, and no ghost," he added in Rosa's direction. "I have an idea that I need to discuss with you."

*          *          *

         It was with great trepidation that Bego approached the oaken doors to Ch'Vara's office suite. Bego was a bully who had roughed up a thousand shopkeepers, and in truth he could hold his own in a brawl, but that diminutive woman frightened him more than any man whose path he had crossed. His life could be ended with a snap of her fingers, a nod of her head, and he was well aware of the fact. He had announced his arrival to one of her assistants and been directed to a hard wooden chair to wait. Now that one of the guild house's pages had summoned him to her inner sanctum, he found his palms sweating and a wave of heat rising in his chest. Too late to turn back now, as the page opened the right side of the double doors, and announced him.
         "Mister Bego of D'Jeric," the man intoned, "reporting as directed, M'Lady."
         "Ah, good," she said. "Come in, come in."
         "Bego did so, a chill running through him as the page closed the heavy door behind him. The heavy bass sound terminated by the click of the latch striking home could be the last sound he ever heard, and he knew it well.
         "So, Bego. Sit down, have a piece fruit. What have you come to report?"
         Bego took the seat, though he declined the fruit; it wouldn't do to inadvertently take the piece she fancied, after all.
         "Your wishes have been carried out, M'lady," he said. "The whole of the Westfall has been scourged and the livestock that didn't scatter slaughtered."
         "And the people?"
         "Them as well, your greatness."
         "All of them?"
         "All save one, as nearly as we can tell."
         "Pity. They would have brought a tidy profit downriver. What of this one who escaped your attention?"
         "One of the daughters. Fourteen, fifteen summers tops. While I was dispatching her parents I saw her take their horse and ride for town. I let her go in the hope that she would return with the mercenary, but we had no such luck."
         "Fourteen or fifteen, you say?"
         "That's the word in town."
         "A teenage girl with no protectors, is it? You should round her up and bring her to me. She would make a fine addition to one of my brothels. Could bring a tidy profit as well. Is she attractive?"
         "I suppose. She's pretty enough. Not the sort of stunner that would have nobles lined up on the sidewalk, though."
         "Still, I have a cosmetic artist that can make a pig look attractive. Bring her around as soon as you can find her. And take care of that sellsword if you can find him."
         "We'll try, M'lady. That demon of his, though..."
         "Has you spooked?"
         "Well, yes. With all respect, you wasn't there."
         "All right, I suppose everyone can encounter something that's beyond his ken. I'll tell you what, then. The three of you find that girl. She has nowhere to go, so I doubt she's far from town. Pick her up and let it be known that you're bringing her to Sentil. If that mercenary's still around, he may try to rescue her."
         "Aye, and he may succeed. M'lady, the man is partnered with a demon!"
         "So you keep telling me. I have partners too, Bego, and some of them can dispel a demon with the wave of a hand. You take care of this, and I'll take care of the rest. Does that suit you?"
         "Superbly, M'lady."
         "Good. Be on your way, then. Here, I might as well give you and your men your pay." She took out a cloth sack and set it before him with a distinct clink. "Now be off. Tell the page to send in the next petitioner."
         Bego took the coins and rose, feeling the profound sense of relief that he always did when he was allowed to walk out as easily as he had walked in.

*          *          *

         "It's a terrible idea, and I'll have nothing to do with it!" Tina was saying as she and Darion returned to the church. "I won't do it, and you can't make me."
         "They're bound to come for you anyway," he told her. "Would you rather we not have a plan?"
         "Oh, of course. I would like to have a plan that doesn't involve using me as bait!"
         "What's this about bait?" Samo the vicar asked as they turned at the head of the aisle.
         "It's a simple prospect," Darion told him. "The girl stays here, as she did last night. I still have the room at the inn that I paid for. I'll stay there tonight and make sure the innkeeper knows it. He'll inform those thugs, and they'll make their move. Then I swoop in and finish them."
         "By 'finish them,' I presume you mean kill them," the vicar said.
         "Not right away. I need to learn who they work for first."
         "So, you intend to torture them?"
         "Probably only one. They may be eager to talk after Rosa puts the wind up them."
         "And they may not. I'm not sure that torturing people in the name of the Lord would be acceptable to the church."
         "You've never heard of the Spanish Inquisition, then, Vicar?"
         "Those were darker times, and well behind us."
         "And the burning of witches? There's probably a witch being burned somewhere as we speak."
         "That's different. Witches are evil."
         "And these are the men you went to great lengths to convince me are evil as well. So evil that the Holy Council sent me here to deal with them. You're going out there tomorrow to give the last rites to fifty murdered farmers who were killed in their fields or burned alive in their homes. By these men, Vicar, the ones you are imploring me not to torture. Perhaps you should ride out there today and see what the volunteers have left to put into that mass grave."
         " 'Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.' "
         "It's a fine line between vengeance and justice, Vicar."
         "A line you intend to trample all over, it seems."
         "When things get so bad that the Holy Council sends me to deal with them, they don't expect me to deliver a stern talking-to."
         "I will pray for you, my son. It seems that the Lord has not touched your heart at all."
         "He has not, nor has an angel, nor the Almighty Himself. The absolution I seek would be meaningless had the Lord changed who I am. I have to remain the evil bastard I've always been and do the Lord's work anyway."
         "I hardly see murder and torture as the Lord's work."
         "You men are overlooking one important point," Tina interrupted. "I'm not going to do it."
         "Oh, you'll do it," Darion told her, "because those men are going to come after you no matter where you are. You can be here in the church where we can control the situation, or you can be alone in your room at the inn, or out on the road, or just wherever you would like to make it easy for them. But, they'll come for you, as sure as you're alive."
         She looked back and forth between the two men.
         "Is it true, Vicar? Will they try to kill me?"
         He looked at Darion before answering.
         "We must assume that they will."
         "Then how can you protect me if you're asleep at the inn?"
         "I'll be far from asleep, I assure you. Rosalka will be watching, and she'll fetch me at the first sign of movement."
         "I'm to sleep in a room with a ghost?" Tina asked, eyes wide in astonishment.
         "Awwww," Rosalka said, materializing beside Darion, "I don't think she likes me."
         "She'd like you better if you quit doing that," Darion snapped at her. "Look, Rosalka never sleeps. She never eats. She doesn't even breathe. She is bound by oath to help me, and I am bound by vow to protect you."
         "No you aren't! If you have taken a vow, it's to stop those men."
         "Whose goal is to harm you. But I'm not going to let that happen. You sleep here tonight. Rosalka will be outside, quite invisible, and when these men come for you, they'll receive a surprise they'll never get over."
         "And if they don't come?"
         "If they don't, then tomorrow you go your way, and I'll go mine."
         "There is one thing that I require," Samo told him. "You will not torture anyone in this church."
         "Of course not, Vicar. There are too many things that will burn in here."

*          *          *

         Darion waited in the chair in his room, set at an angle to watch the church diagonally across the intersection. He had delivered a mild threat to the innkeeper, saying that he'd paid for the room and there'd better not be any more nocturnal visits. The man was suitably cowed, and now he waited in the darkness for the night's work to begin.
         The girl had bedded down in the church, as Darion and the vicar had convinced her that she was safer with them than on her own. Darion doubted she had slept, given the circumstances, but that was all right. She was in the trap, asleep or not, and the aroma of fresh cheese was permeating the town; he was certain these rats couldn't resist it.
         Certain also of Rosalka's dedication when the situation required it, he allowed himself a catnap, and the ghost didn't let him down.
         "Darion," her voice cut into his empty mind.
         His eyes snapped open to see her floating outside the window.
         "Wake up!"
         "I'm awake."
         "Good. They're coming."
         "Where?"
         "Up the street there."
         She pointed south along the deserted street, and following her finger, he could just make out the movement as a black-clad figure moved too close to a shaft of light.
         "Ah, I see one. Are they all there?"
         "The three of them, yes. They're taking their time and being very sneaky, but it's hard to sneak around a ghost, yes?"
         "Exceedingly, and thank the Lord for that!"
         "So, what are we going to do?"
         "I'm going to let them pass and come in behind them. You get over to the girl's room and make sure no one gets to her if this doesn't go the way I want it to."
         "All right, but you know I can't touch—"
         "Yes, yes, I know, but you can be a hell of a distraction when you put your mind to it."
         "Hmph! I believe I'll take that as a compliment."
         "Which is how I meant it. Now, get going!"
         Rosalka turned and streaked toward the church, fading from view as she entered the belfry and headed downward.
         Darion waited for the three men to cross the street and sidle up against the side of the little church. One of them peeked into a window while another crept to the front and blew out the oil lamp the vicar kept burning through the night. Then they all gathered outside the door while they formulated their final plan.
         Darion, dressed in black himself, took advantage of them standing in a circle looking in toward each other to step over the window sill, hang from the frame, and drop onto the sidewalk beneath. His boots did make a slight thump against the planks, but the men, focused on their planned murder as they were, paid no attention. He moved into the darker shadows of the porch and waited for them to make their move.
         His wait wasn't long. They opened the door slowly and silently, and crept inside.
         Interesting plan, he thought. Kill her in her sleep and get away without being seen, and that sends a powerful message to anyone else who might step out of line.
         "Not tonight, boys," he muttered, and drawing his sword he scampered catlike across the street and looked in around the edge of the doors. They were moving down the aisle, creeping silently toward the private rooms to the side of the altar. One of them, the big brute, stopped to cross himself before following the others.
         He followed.
         They started along the hallway, pulling back the door curtain of the first room on the right. This room, closest to the altar, would be the vicar's, and the leader turned back to put his finger to his lips. Darion thought he might have seen him, but he remained hidden behind the door frame, and the man showed no sign that he had.
         They crept to the second room on the right side and looked in. Leader shook his head as the room was empty. Turning left, to the opposite side of the hall, their leader pulled back the curtain and was met with the same banshee wail as the night they had tried to intimidate Darion. As they recoiled in shock before the apparition, writhing hair and bloody eyes on full display, Darion seized the moment. Leaping from the shadows, he brought the pommel of his sword down on the little weasel's head, causing him to collapse like an empty bag.
         The big man turned and, seeing Darion's sword out of position, charged forward as their leader, despite the shrieking ghost before him, drew a double-ended dagger and drew his arm back to throw it into the room. Darion spun in a full circle, brushed the big man's bull rush aside, and completed his circle by thrusting his sword through the leader's ribs. The man gave an agonized cry and fell to his side, rolling into the fetal position as his life blood painted the floor.
         Darion instantly turned his attention to the big one, backing him against the wall with the tip of his sword at the man's throat, Rosalka at his side, though back in her young woman form. Klementina stepped out of the room, clad in her long skirt and shift, her father's sickle in her hand.
         "Drop it," Darion snarled, and the man's hand instantly opened, letting the knife he was holding clatter to the floor.
         "What is your name?"
         "Luca," the man said, eyes on Rosalka, voice trembling. "Luca of Clan Terenta."
         "All right, Luca Terenta, we're going to go out here and have a little talk, and then I'll decide what is to be done with you."

*          *          *

         The big man sat on the front pew, hands bound behind him. The vicar had lit all the lamps and candles, and there was plenty of light for Darion to study his face. He took in the dull, piggy eyes and slack-jawed expression, and knew that this was no mastermind, but someone who had been seduced into his role by a promise of power. Now it was gone, and this was something Darion could use.
         "Now, Luca," he said, putting his foot on the pew beside his captive, "I'm going to ask you one simple question, and if you answer honestly, you may yet walk out of here."
         "I told you, Hunter," Samo declared, "there will be no torture in this church."
         "What torture?" Darion asked, eyebrows raised. "I'm not going to cut off any body parts or set him on fire, I'm just going to ask him a question. If he doesn't answer, maybe I'll ask Rosalka to give him a kiss."
         "Ooooh, what fun!" the ghost said, her expression making it clear that it wouldn't be fun for Luca.
         "All right," Samo said, "proceed, but if I say stop, you stop, understood?"
         "Perfectly. Now, Luca, I saw you sign the cross when you came in here, so you must have some love for the Lord, am I right?"
         "I do, sir, I swear it!"
         "Well, I don't know what you're doing working with those two thugs, but you maybe have some decency left in you."
         "I like to think so, sir."
         "Which begs the question, why did you come in here to murder a little girl?"
         "I wasn't going to murder no one, sir. They just brought me in case—"
         "In case I showed up?"
         "Well... yes, sir."
         "So, you were here to murder me?"
         "Only as a last resort, I swear!"
         "Well, that didn't work out, so I can overlook it. No, what I want to know is, who holds your chain?"
         "Sir?"
         "Who do you work for? Who gives the orders?"
         "Mr. Bego, sir. That's him you stabbed."
         "Don't try to get funny with me, Luca. You don't have the brains for it. Who gives Bego his orders?"
         "Oh, I couldn't, sir. She'd hunt me down like a dog."
         "She, is it? Give me her name and walk out of here a free man."
         "I- I can't." The man was almost in tears; it wouldn't take much.
         "Rosa."
         With a gleeful twinkle in her transparent eyes, the ghost floated toward him as he tried to shrink away, moaning as her incorporeal form covered his upper body. His moans turned to low pseudo-screams as she held her position.
         "She's been dead for eighty-nine years," Darion said. "Time means nothing to her. She can stay there for a couple of days if need be."
         "Ooooh, yes," she said. "You're so warm!"
         The man held out for a good five minutes, moaning constantly, teeth chattering, rocking back and forth.
         "She loves body heat," Darion said. "She'll take all you can create and beg for more."
         "P-p-p-please," Luca pleaded.
         "The name."
         "Ch- Ch..."
         "That's enough, Rosa. I think he's trying to tell us something."
         The ghost moved off of him, and he bent forward, panting.
         "Now, Luca, I understand that you're in some distress, but I really must have that name."
         "Ch'Vara. Her name is Lady Ch'Vara. She keeps quarters in the Guild Tower in Sentil, but she owns the town. If you go there, you'll be dead the same day, and that's if you're lucky."
         "Owns the town? I thought there was a count there."
         "He was called away, summoned by a superior. She's been running it ever since, and not gently."
         "The way you and your friends ran this town?"
         "Yes, but she has dozens of men and scores of spies. Nothing happens there that she isn't aware of."
         "And this Ch'Vara ordered the deaths of these farmers?"
         "Yes. They didn't like the way she taxed their crops and dared to protest. She ordered that we make an example of them. She knows everything that goes on between here and Rome. When we don't report in to her, she'll send men to find out why. They'll likely kill all of us."
         "Not if I kill her first. Untie him, Vicar."
         Samo got him to turn on the pew and began releasing his bindings.
         "You probably deserve to die for your part in the murders, but you've told me where the hand of Satan has fallen, and for that you'll be rewarded." Darion fished in his purse and pulled out a thick gold coin. "Here's a crown. Use it to leave this region and start a new life. And don't be so quick to fall in with thugs next time."
         "Bless you, sir, bless you!" Tears actually ran down the man's face as he took both of Darion's hands.
         "Go on, get out of here before I change my mind."
         Pocketing the coin, Luca turned and almost ran up the aisle and into the night.
         "What are we going to do now?" Tina asked, hefting her father's sickle.
         "I don't know about you," Darion said, "but I'm going to get a night's sleep."