The Hunter

Prologue - Tap

John watched the slow formation of a water drop that hung from a support beam. Gathering in size and weight, it dropped slowly until it was released from its prison, falling to the ground where a gathering pool of water had begun. The constant sound of rain tapping against the wooden shingles was a soft hum in the background. It was the only music he had listened to for the past five years.

Looking down at the growing pool, he watched his refracted reflection slowly settle to a haggard looking man. A beard that anyone could mistake to be black, from all the grim, covering his face like a bird’s nest. His short brown hair had evolved into a long black speckled mess that was as ravaged looking as his beard. Another water drop came down from the heavens and sent his reflection into a rage of chaos.

His only companions had been mice but even they had left John. His current theory was because he smelled too bad. His prison, four paces across by five paces long, had four hundred and sixty-five bricks. The number was burned into his memory--but it didn't stop him from double checking.

With no furniture to show for, John was laying on his side, watching the slow agonizing dripping from the ceiling, when Captain Staggar pulled the heavily rusted door back. His metal tipped boots thudded against the floor in time with the thunder outside. As he passed the threshold, the noisy door closed behind him.

“It’s your anniversary, Johel.”

“Captain Staggar,” John emotionlessly replied in greeting. Slowly he got up and turned his back to the man, hands gripping the two steal rings sunken into the wall. The distinct sound of a whip hitting the floor came to his ears and his back tensed involuntarily. Like every anniversary, there was a whoosh and then the sickening snap of skin being pulled away from his back by the thin leather tip. The Captain must have been in a good mood for it was normally steel tipped.

Blocking the pain from his mind, John silently stood there and took the whip.

“Don’t feel like talking today?” the Captain asked conversationally as he sent the whip to his back for the fifth time.

“You aren’t my type.”

Staggar laughed as he struck him again, this one harder than the rest. John fought through the pain and didn’t dignify the man with a sound.

“You are hilarious, whipping boy.”

The next whip cut through him like a knife.

There goes his good mood, John thought merrily.

A knock came from the steel door and the Captain growled, “I’m busy.” John held back a gasp as the whip cut into his back, taking with it a large chunk of his flesh.

“Sir. A representative of the Lord is here and is demanding to speak with you,” a man from the other side of the door said.

The captain paused and made a ‘huh’ sound. To John, the smartass asked, “Do you know anything of this?”

Not missing a beat, John offhandedly said, “Yeah. I got the letter this morning. He wants you to be his Maiden. If I were you, I'd take it like a--”

He let out a gasp as the captain’s fist said ‘hello’ to his kidney. Dropping, John curled up into a fetus and took three solid kicks to his ribs before Staggar spat on him. Use to the abuse, John waited until the man walked out.

All I have is time.

John rolled over onto his back and starred up at the ceiling, ignoring the pain that had spider-webbed itself across his back.

The tapping of water hitting the growing puddle filled the silence.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Another year.

The door opened again and John immediately got back up and turned back to his position. Instead of Staggar’s heavy boots, though, he heard a lighter person’s footsteps.

A woman?

John kept his eyes to the wall and held his silence. The door closed and no other person entered.

“John Ce’l.”

The two words sent his mind racing.

“Beg ye’ pardon, me Lady, but me name is Johel.” John kept his eyes glued to the wall.

“How about John Wyden?”

Only a few people knew his other last name which made John tense. He risked a look at the woman and saw a black haired, blue eyed, mid to late forties woman.

No one he knew.

“Well since you aren’t saying anything…that must have jogged your memory.” The woman spoke as if she had all the time in the world.

Releasing the two steel rings he turned to the woman. Schooling his features to calmness, John leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, as he reached his hearing out. There were no guards outside. “What do you want?”

“Really?" She smiled. "I had long since imagined that your first question would be how I found you.”

He mentally relaxed his muscles and looked her square in the eyes; waiting her out.

Tap.

Tap.

Pursing her lips, she looked him up and down. “I thought you people healed. You have bruises days old and scars that look older than my grandchildren.”

Knowing his cover was blown, he didn’t see any harm in it. As if he had held his breath in for five years, he let it out. The tingling burning sensation associated with healing consumed his body. The woman’s eyebrows shot up in silent surprise before she nodded. He had learned all kinds of tricks during his years in solitude.

“It was a brilliant idea--getting caught stealing by that small fish.” She shook her head in wonder at the simplicity of it all. “You knew everyone wouldn’t think of looking for you in prison. Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

“What do you want,” John repeated himself. He was two seconds away from killing the woman and walking out.

The look of admiration faded. “I was sent by a mutual friend. She was very adamant that I find you first.”

The numerous women he had met before he went AWOL raced through his mind, few of which would ‘help’ him.

“Who.”

“She was right. You aren’t much of a looker.” Her face crinkled at his smell, and was about to comment on that as well, when John snapped, “Who!”

Her eyes narrowed on him for the outburst.

“Nina.”

John took an involuntary step back but had forgotten about the wall behind him. He immediately sized up his opponent and knew he could take her. While she didn’t have the glow of energy around her, dampeners could hide it. Heart beats could be hidden as well if there were any immortals outside.

Are there more people in the hall?

The mysterious woman took in his body language and eyes. “I see. No, I am alone and no, I’m not here to kill you.” And then she smiled as if just realizing something.

“You are not?” John asked cautiously.

“No. I am here to help you.”

“Help?”

“Honestly John. You know Nina as much as I do--or from what she has told me of you. Do you really think she would blame the controversial death of Lieutenant Cedrick on you, her close friend?”

“He was a lieutenant?” John asked, a slow sad smile forming on his lips.

She nodded, holding an identical smile to his. “Aye. The finest.”

John threaded his fingers through his long hair, ignoring the grim. “What kind of help?”

“Do you know what a Black Hat is?” the woman asked.

John thought about it but slowly shook his head.

“I suppose you wouldn’t have. A Black Hat is a Royal’s aide who--does the less than ethical things. Spy, steal--protect the family at all costs. All that nonsense.”

“So you are Nina’s Black Hat?”

The woman smiled motherly. “Retired. She did request that I take you in and train you. My job is making people disappear, John. You could use me and I could use a student to pass on my legacy to.”

She paused before saying, “Nina just wanted to make sure that you were safe--from whatever you are running from.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Maxine.”

As John thought about it, Maxine shook her head with disproval, like he was the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“What?”

The woman spread her arms to both sides of her in an all encompassing gesture. “This. You are guilty. Not only for Cedrick, but for your own survival. Get over it and come with me. There is nothing more for you right now than the past. Nothing to think about.”

Taken aback by her answer, John shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm sure when you heard of his death, you wanted to punish yourself. So you intentionally got caught stealing from a minor Lord who is known to be heavy handed on those who do him wrong. You feel guilty because while you are punishing yourself in this place, you are also surviving. You want to trade places with Cedrick because you feel responsible for his death. The fact is, you probably are. Get over it. Now tell me I’m wrong so I can go on a permanent vacation. After searching for you these past six years, I'd say I could use it. ”

He gaped at her.

She pointed a boney finger at him and started shaking it, all the while advancing toward him. “You can either sit here until the next person finds you…and believe me, there are people looking for you…or you can stop wallowing in your own self pity and grow up.”

He took in the room he had occupied for what seemed a lifetime before he sighed. It didn’t take him long to figure out that she was right. He’d more or less said the same thing to a number of nuggets in his time. Closing his eyes in defeat, he nodded. “She always gets her way.”

Maxine let out a crackle of a laugh. “Child, that’s every woman. You should know that by now.”