The Hellhound War (Ch6)

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Chapter 6

Taking it as it Comes

The rest of the day was uneventful as they nearly flew through Kalian. Over the span of an hour the redwood trees became overran by the skinnier but even taller blackwood trees that dominated Ghourd. Before John knew it, Celia came to a stop at an unsuspecting grove of blackwood trees. Peaking over her shoulder, he spied the rock wall he’d seen back in Kalian, if only for a second.

A portal.

The device, as Celia had explained to him, was rather simple. Off to the side were a set of stones with numbers on them that controlled the portal. Punch in the number to the portal you’d like to travel to, hit the activation key, and the stone wall would melt into liquid and then dissolve into a mist. Step through the mist and you could cross thousands of leagues in a single step. However, if the wall stayed in the water like state then that meant the portal on the other side was locked. No one could pass through a locked portal, but their words could still travel through.

This was how Tekal operated. Two men, who happened to be identical twins, took turns manning Tekal’s portal around the clock. They were accompanied by at least two mages at all times. The twin on duty would see the numbers on their side light up, showing the location of the portal attempting to connect to Tekal’s portal. They’d match the location, the Slayer’s name, and the ‘all clear’ passcode given over the locked portal and only then would unlock it. Every Slayer was given both an all clear and an under-duress code. If the latter was spoken, it would call all of Tekal to the portal.

Technically speaking, all the nations were still at war with each other. The Hellhounds had appeared during the war. Seeing the larger threat, and a common enemy, they’d agreed to a temporary truce. That was nearly a thousand years ago, but the amount of time didn’t stop the Slayers from being cautious. After seeing first hand what a Slayer could do, John pitied any army that attempted to breach the Slayer’s headquarters.

Celia eyed the falling sun, and bit her lip absently. She silently debated something before finally shaking her head.

“I never did ask what the plan was,” he said, eyeing the portal.

She was a big fan of “need to know” style of compartmentalization. It was apparently the primary tactic for spies since being discovered was a real threat.

His spy mentor turned towards him, and then held up her hand.

Closing her eyes, she briefly had a look of concentration and then the sounds of the forest around them suddenly stopped. It was as if someone had put wax in his ears, but he could still hear her heartbeat.

Opening her eyes, she made an all encompassing motion.

“This is called a barrier. I’ve solidified the air around us enough to block out all sound. It’s an advance Slayer ability. Don’t ever talk to me out of character unless we’re either under a barrier or alone in your room. Got it?”

“My room will be ok?” he asked, not fully believing her. His hearing was pretty damn good now and he didn’t think a few walls would stop anyone from eavesdropping.

“All living quarters in Tekal have been constructed with enough cork that not even a Slayer’s hearing can pierce it,” she said, clearly annoyed that he questioned her. “It’s important that you don’t EVER break character unless we’re alone in your room or we’re both under a barrier. Even when you think we’re alone. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “Room and under a barrier only, got it.”

“Good. The plan is simple. You’ll be given an Alpha as a mentor tomorrow. By night you’ll train with your mentor and by day you’ll be working with one of the three Master Slayers. Every fourth day you’ll get a day to rest. Do NOT leave Tekal on your days off. Your sole mission right now is to become a Tracker and get assigned to Kalian. Once you get your own territory to cover, then you can start investigating the Hellhound problem. Right now you need to be practically invisible. Don’t do anything to get noticed and, for gods sake, don’t ask any questions that you should know the answer to. Understood?”

“Aye...” John said, suddenly getting a bad feeling. “How long is it going to take before I’m a Tracker in Kalian?”

“If you do it right, a year. Maybe two.”

He took a step back as if she’d slapped him.

“A YEAR?!” he bellowed.

“Or two,” she said slowly, as if he were dimwitted.

He wrestled his emotions back down and clenched his fingers into a fist.

Relax. So what if it’s a year or two? That’s nothing compared to never.

And then another thought hit him.

“When I get back to the Empire, they can reverse this, right?” he said, motioning to himself.

Celia shrugged. “No idea. I never had the option to ask.”

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, pushing back the sudden panic that had seeped into his chest.

One problem at a time, John. One problem at a time. I’ll deal with that one after I visit Captain Bragger’s tent.

“Well,” he said, forcing himself to relax his tensed muscles. “No sense in delaying this any further. Ready when you are.”

She eyed him, and John imagined she was reassessing her new “don’t kill John” policy.

But alas, her policy held.

For now.

“Just...,” Celia started, the emotions cross over her face ranging widely before settling on solemn. “Just keep to yourself as much as possible.”

“I will,” he promised.

She reached out for the numbered stones but paused. “Also, protocol for entering Tekal is that the person who has the portal window walks in first. So in this case I walk through first, not you. Unless of course you want to have a quick death.“

Eyeing the portal, he wordlessly took a solid step back from it.

Flashing him a brief private smile, she turned and punched in the numbers to Tekal. He memorized the series of stones she pushed before she hit the large activation key. Immediately the center of the stone wall started to melt into a blue liquid-like substance. Rapidly the melting effect grew outwards as if some kind of inferno was behind the stones heating them up to the point of melting. When the last stones at the very edge of the wall drooped into the blue vertical pond, the liquid snapped like a string, vibrating tightly and caused numerous tiny ripples across the portal’s surface until it settled into smooth blue glass.

Celia took a step forward and addressed the blue wall.

“Guardian, this is Slayer Celia Tecard. Requesting permission for entrance, plus one.”

With each of her words, the wall vibrated as if they were rocks being thrown into the pond.

After the ripples settled, the blue water vibrated back.

“Code in.”

“Black Rose.”

There was a brief pause, and then, “Welcome back home.”

All at once the liquid slowly lost its hold on reality and evaporated into a blue mist.

John gave Celia a sideways glance, and saw her set her shoulders with a determined look.

Here we go.

Cellia stepped forward and John watched the mist thicken around her exponentially between the first and second step.

And then she was gone.

Taking a steadying breath, he followed after her.

The mist wrapped around him and it brought forth goosebumps along his arm. There was an immediate cooling sensation and then vertigo hit him like a punch to the gut. He stumbled the next few steps, feeling disoriented, and nearly ran into Celia when the world stopped spinning.

Catching his balance, he righted himself and took in the new room they stood in. The size had surprised him. He’d envisioned grandeur to greet him. Instead, it was relatively small, dominated by a desk directly in front of them. Behind the desk sat a huge black haired Ghourdian Slayer who gave the illusion that the large table he sat behind was small. If John had to admit it, he was a little intimidated by the big Slayer. He knew the Ghourdian was a Slayer from the black uniform he wore, the mandatory dress code for all Slayers when they were in Tekal. Two mages, identified by their long brown hooded robes that hid their faces, flanked the Slayer. The one to the right wordlessly waved a hand and the portal behind them closed with an audible snap.

Familiar smells of a stable tickled his nose.

Giving the room a once over, the only other feature in sight was the black flag of Tekal hanging back behind the table, the three red triangles glaring back at him like an abstract angry dog. It was a clear reminder to anyone who walked through the portal what their job was.

Makes sense, he mused. If Tekal were attacked, this would make a good choke point.

“Celia!” the large Slayer bellowed. “It takes a direct order from the Headmistress herself to get you to come visit me? You insult me.”

The words were said behind smiling lips, and Celia mirrored his expression.

“Long time no see George,” she replied fondly. “I’d like you to meet John. A friend of mine in the Kalian Red Guard found him Awakening. John, this is Slayer George Tekal, he is one of the Guardians of Tekal’s portal. No one comes in or out without his knowledge.”

Translation, he thought. No turning back now.

George bowed his head modestly towards Celia, and ignored him.

John’s tutelage taught him that since George was from the house of Tekal, he had a lower status than she, albeit by a hair. However, his bow was deeper than protocol required, which meant he greatly respected her. John wouldn’t be recognized unless directly spoken to as he had the lowest status of the three. Not until he passed his tests, at least, and became a full fledged Slayer. Then he’d be the same status as George. As a novice, he ranked slightly above a servant in Tekal’s food chain.

This is all going to give me a headache.

“That is marvellous!” George bellowed, his large face splitting into a wide smile. “Simply marvellous!”

The man, while large and intimidating, was a loud softy.

“And most unusual,” he said, tapping his pursed lips.

Was he hiding a smile?

“I heard,” Celia said simply.

George finally let loose the little smile he’d been holding back. “For once in my life I think the old hags are showing their frustration.”

The two mages next to him shifted in their place but both George and Celia ignored them.

“Really?” she said, clearly trying to hold back her own mirth. “That, I wouldn’t mind seeing for myself.”

He motioned to their right, towards the only exit.

“By the way, Tallen is waiting for you in your quarters.”

John watched his mentor’s face go from surprise, to embarrassment, to angry.

Curiosity clawed at his lips.

“Thanks,” she replied darkly.

As they walked passed George, the large man bellowed after them. “Try not to break anything over his head this time! The Headmistress has asked us to cut back on expenses this month!”

Just outside the doorway there was a stable, which explained the stench of horse manure. A few servants in silver livery were brushing down one of the few horses present. John also saw a slave, recognized by her too pristine white robe, scrubbing the floors. Everyone kept their eyes on their task at hand.

The stable turned to stone walls and the moment John judged them to be out of both human and Slayer ear shot, he whispered, “So… Tallen, huh?”

“Drop it,” she muttered darkly.

“Then I’m assuming the old hags he referred to are the mages?”

He figured it was a question his “character” would ask.

She silently nodded.

“And they are angry because the men can’t keep their pants on.” he finished.

Her anger wavered a little and with a half-cocked smile she said, “Oh they don’t mind that, in fact they encourage it. They just want it reported so that any children out of it is watched over by them.”

A thought struck him.

“I take it it’s not just because of the Slayer’s dwindling numbers, but also because they are afraid that if the Hellhounds did become manageable, that their respective nations might start employing the Slayers for other purposes?”

She nodded approvingly. “I think some days the Elders regret putting a ban on experimenting with humans.”

The Elders were the governing body of the mages, and it had been their call to stop the creation of new Slayers. If he’d read between the lines of what Celia had just said correctly, then they’d wish to directly control the Slayer population. Fixing both the men--literally--and the 10% survival rate would solve all their problems. It would also give them a lot of power.

It aligned with what Celia had told him, that the mages were all cynical, ruthless and conniving.

“Mages have ethics?” he muttered.

“More like managing their public image,” she whispered back just as low.

The hallway ended and they reached the ring.

The ring was a circular hallway that connected the other three hallways of Tekal. The four main corridors formed a cross and housed the living quarters, libraries, private meeting rooms, offices, and a galley. In it’s center was a large open park that was used for training and major events. The ceiling above the park was opened to the sky but was shielded from the elements by an invisible energy barrier maintained by the mages. Only light and a soft breeze could pass through it.

Celia motioned to the right and they rounding the corner. John turned to ask her another question but collided with something before he could open his mouth. Surprised, he turned in time to watch a book-full of papers blow upwards in a kaleidoscope of white. When the papers settled over a hapless form, John caught a glimpses of two lanky legs and a tuft of blond hair.

“I don’t have time for this,” Celia muttered irritably, and kept on walking. Over her shoulder she said, “I’ll meet you in the park. I have to deal with something first.”

“You OK?” John asked, ignoring his mentor.

“Not really,” a distraught voice said behind a mound of papers.

He pushed aside the papers and uncovered a young scrawny Kalian man in a brown robe.

A mage in training, he thought, recognizing the slightly paler brown robe from Celia’s late night brain dump.

“Sorry about that,” John said before pulling him up. “Let me help you.”

“Thanks,” he sighed. The mage tried to fix his robe and the freshly printed ink smudges but he seemed to only make it worse. Giving up on the fruitless task, he held out his hand. “The name is Sikes, fumbling-novice-mage-extraordinaire.”

John smiled and shook his hand.

“John, just-arrived-novice-Slayer”

Sikes pulled his hand away a little too quickly, and John suspected it had to do with the “Slayer” part. When he raised a questioning eyebrow at the mage, Sikes gave an apologetic smile.

“You’ll learn we aren’t suppose to be nice to each other.”

The long standing rivalry between mages and Slayers wasn’t just in Celia’s head. Even Celia didn’t know how it started, but she had her own bad experiences so she didn’t question it. Slayers were arrogant meat heads and mages were back stabbing manipulative bastards. It was a simple fact of life in Tekal, the city where the mages hovered over their creations while their creations took all the risks killing Hounds.

“Oh that,” John said with a grin. “I was never one to follow rules.”

Sikes eyes alighted mischievously before mirroring his grin. “A fellow rule breaker? I didn’t think there were any left in this city.”

“Let me help you,” John said, bending down to pick up the papers around them. Catching the title of one of them, he read it allowed, “Augmenting Reality?”

“My practice,” he said with a begrudging sigh and joined him in gathering the pages. “Not my decision. If it was up to me I’d be studying the Hellhounds.”

John’s ears perked at the mention of the Hounds and finished his collection before handing the newly stacked papers back to him. “Why?”

Shrugging, Sikes said, “They fascinate me. There are still a lot of mysteries around the beasts, even after all this time they’ve been plaguing us. And since no one has been able to capture one alive to study it, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to learn much.”

They both stood up, and John said, “So why not study them on your own?”

“Because I have a talent for Augmentation,” the mage said, before his voice dropped an octet. “And ‘one must not waste their talents’.”

Sikes didn’t appreciate being told what to do, it would seem. John could relate.

Seeing an opportunity too good to pass up--not to mention the irony--he gave Sikes a sly smile and said, “Well if you ever decide to break the rules again, let me know. I won’t turn down a request to help a friend.”

Sikes looked at him appreciatively before slowly nodding. “You know what? I might just take you up on that.”

He offered his hand out to John. “I’ll see you around?”

John took it with a nod and they parted ways.

At least there is one person here I can get along with without wondering what the hell I did wrong, he thought, watching the scrawny mage disappear around the corner while thinking of the Ghourdian spy.

Plotting a course towards the direction Celia had pointed to, he started to wonder what other mysteries there were around the Hellhounds. If he didn’t make enough progress in Tekal as a Tracker, he’d have to find the mage and subtly push him towards the Hellhounds again. Something told him the man could get him out of the city as a mage and he could, maybe, convince him to visit the Wasteland. The vast wasteland to the far North sounded like a fitting birth place for the Hellhounds and he thought it would be a good start in his quest to learn why the beasts hadn’t ever ventured South.

Lost in thought, he almost walked into a sword match between two Ghourdians, a man and a woman. They were dressed in black and silver livery--the uniform of a novice--and they were completely content on trying to kill each other.

The man was a giant, which made John suspect that all Ghourdian men were over six feet tall. The woman, however, was like a smaller white haired version of Celia but in a blue dress. In fact, the more he watched her, the more he thought she could have passed off as a close relative to Celia. The white hair made her an even more exotic beauty.

The man adjusted his grip on his slider and nodded towards his opponent. “Again.”

It was then that John realized they hadn’t spotted him yet.

The petite woman let out a growl and leaped forward. In a whirl of steal, white, and blue, she swung her sword around in a sharp arc. If it hadn’t been for his enhanced reaction time, he might not have even been able to track her. Her opponent, however, wasn’t new to the sword and easily dodged her before striking back. Sparks flew as the two danced back and forth for a number of bouts. Almost immediately John could tell the man wasn’t just good with the sword--he was a master swordsman.

After the woman’s thirtieth or so unsuccessful hit, the man retreated back a few steps and held up a gloved hand. The woman stopped immediately, panting as if she’d just ran a marathon.

“Better,” he said calmly, clearly not as worked up as she. “You need to be more cost effective in your strikes though. You spend far too much energy in your swings than necessary. You aren’t trying to put on a show for everyone, you are trying to kill. I’d like you to--”

The Ghourdian stopped in mid-sentence and turned towards John, his eyes taking on a look of alarm.

But his alarm quickly turned to calculating, and John saw his neck muscles tightened.

Oh shit, he thought, having seen that look before. What the hell is it with Ghourdian’s?

The woman raised a hand, as if to stop her partner, but she was too late. In the span of an eyeblink, the Ghourdian with murder in his eyes covered the fifteen paces between them and the tip of his sword blurred towards his neck.

Training and instinct kicked in and, before John realized what he was doing, he grabbed the sword’s hilt as it approached him and he spun, sending it harmlessly past him. With his other arm, he slammed his elbow into the surprised Ghourdian’s chin with all his might. The sound upon impact was a thunderous clap. The stunned giant stumbled to the side, his head whipped around just as Celia’s had earlier. John stripped the man’s weapon with deft hands, and then kicked the inside of the man’s knee, forcing the giant to the ground.

Before his shocked opponent’s knees hit the ground, John had already grabbed the back of his head and was about to send his knee up into his nose for the finishing blow when a woman’s hand pushed against his chest.

If it had been a normal woman, he might have felt a little pressure--maybe even knock him off balance--but she wasn’t a normal woman. The desperate shove drove him into the tree five paces behind him.

If this keeps up, there won’t be many trees left at the end of this mission, John thought sourly.

“Please stop!” The Ghourdian woman cried out, putting herself between him and the dazed giant behind her.

John lifted himself out of the broken remnants of the tree with an annoyed sound but he left his newly acquired sword in the lower guard position.

“And why the hell should I?” he demanded. “He’s lost his bloody mind!”

Behind the lithe woman, her sword instructor put an unsteady hand against the ground and shook his head. John had apparently knocked him harder than Celia--or Celia was just tougher, something he wouldn’t put passed her. When the Ghourdian finally looked up, he was faced with a very angry woman.

“Nina--” he started.

“Stop,” she ordered, cutting him off with the single word. The Ghourd’s eyes immediately looked down, and John saw shame in them.

Turning back to John, she bowed her head and said, “Forgive Cedrick, he wasn’t thinking clearly.”

He frowned at the two Ghourdians, confused. He racked his brain with all of Celia’s teachings but nothing explained what had just happened. He eyed the sedated man, unsure if eyes of a killer would appear again, but he figured it was a lost cause.

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake,” John said slowly, not believing it himself. Then he handed her the man’s slider which she promptly deactivated into a dagger.

“Thank you sir. We can learn from your generosity.”

It was right then when he noticed her eyes were on his neck.

Right, they think I’m a Slayer.

When he didn’t say anything right away, she quickly added, “For not punishing him.”

“I didn’t say that,” he replied dryly. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. The Sergeant in him had already thought up of a few creative ways of punishing him as if he were any other hot-headed man under his care.

What’s the harm in making them sweat?

Cedrick shrunk upon himself even more, if that were possible.

But before Nina could say anything in her friend’s defense, Celia rounded the corner.

“There you are,” his mentor exasperated as she invited herself into their small private training area.

The Ghourdians went poleaxed upon seeing his mentor.

Noticing the two others, she eyed them both briefly before promptly ignoring them. “Come along novice. We don’t have all night.”

Sighing, John gave a small wave at Nina, “Pleasure meeting you.”

Comically, both Nina and Cedrick said as one, “Novice?”

The surprised look on their faces was priceless.

When Celia and John crossed the ring’s threshold, Celia whispered, “What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” he replied honestly. “How was Tallen?”

“None of your business.”

“Right.”

Chapter 7: http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2010565-The-Hellhound-War-Ch7

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NPq7GqlllP0cNxcVakzIZdXU9gBer8fvsYrp9z9oc5E/edit?usp=sharing