Rise Of The Hunters - Chapter 35

Maybe if he found a ledge somewhere on the side of the mountain, he would be able to camp for the night and keep a look out for Slavers. They would be traveling with the wagons, so they would be more likely to overlook him on the mountainside.

Xun’s eyes traveled over the steep slope, spying a likely spot to camp as the sun was setting. Pulling his straps tighter, he began the tricky climb. The sun decided to completely disappear before he finally managed to reach his destination. A cold wind was blowing from the north.

He gathered what rocks he could find, and built himself a wind break to lay behind. There was nothing he could do about the hard earth he settled down on. He fished a thin blanket out of his bag and wrapped it around him. If the Slavers did come, it would be closer to the middle of night. He sincerely hoped that no other werewolves were traveling this way, because there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

With the silence around him, and the lack of focusing on his surroundings, Xun found his mind wandering back to the werewolf he had killed. Why had he attacked it? He had never done that before, and remembering the feel of its fur against his cheek caused shivers to run down his spine. He closed his eyes, trying to chase the thoughts and memories away, but a noise caught his attention instead.

Rocks were being dislodged as something made its way up the cliff. His breathing immediately slowed, becoming more quiet as he tried to curl into a smaller ball next to the rock pile he had gathered only a few moments before. A huffing noise came to his ears, sounding sinister and labored at the same time. A shadow pulled its huge frame up to the ledge where he was sitting, and fell suddenly with a whoosh of air not four feet from him.

Swallowing in fear, Xun refused to move in case it was a trick, but the figure in front of him whimpered and began to shiver and convulse. He pulled his sword out and quickly climbed to his feet, but the monster started to shrink rather than attack.

He watched in disbelief as the quiet whimpers became the soft mȯȧns of a man. He was scratching weakly at the rock beneath him, as if the pain he was feeling was more than he could stand.

“Boy,” came a soft painful whisper. “I can smell you, don’t hide.”

Xun took a step towards the man, but refused to move closer.

“Kill yourself if they ever catch you. Doctor Achak enjoys watching you suffer.”

His words were bȧrėly a whisper, and yet Xun heard every one of them.

“How are you a man? Weren’t you a werewolf?” asked Xun, afraid to get any closer.

A soft sound wheezed out, and Xun realized it was a laugh.

“Yea, but I beat them at their own game. I escaped. The pain, it’s so bad, you can’t think for the pain. Only killing and eating makes the pain go away.”

His words were getting softer and Xun strained to hear them. He finally took another step closer.

“Are the Slavers coming?”

“No, those half-breeds don’t have enough brains. Too far. The sun would kill them…” his voice faded and there was only a slight wheeze to show he still breathed.

Xun drew even closer, the urge to get some answers was too strong.

“How do I kill them? The vampires?”

“Burn…hell…” he seemed to collapse in on himself, and Xun quickly backed up until he hit the cliff wall behind him.

The man was dead, there was no doubt about that. Xun hunkered down, pulling the blanket back around him. His eyes remained glued on the still form in front of him. As the wind finally died down, his eyes grew heavy, and closed without him being conscious of it.

A small sound in the morning woke him with a start. The shrunken carcass before him had him quickly on his feet. He clutched his blanket to him as terror coursed through him. The man looked like a wizened corpse that had been here for decades. It had mummified overnight.

Breathing a little too quickly, Xun made his way around the corpse, and shoving the blanket into his bag, scanned the land to the south. He could see nothing threatening, but all he wanted to do was to get back to the compound and be around people. The urge was so strange, he paused briefly in consideration. Never had he craved the company of anyone like this. So, giving himself a shake, he decided to travel further south instead.

Glancing one last time at the dead man, he climbed down the cliffside to the trees below and began to make his way further south. He knew this would no longer count as part of the valley, but he wanted to make sure he knew the area. If the Slavers ever did come this way, despite the nameless man’s opinion, he wanted to know how they would travel.

The trees became so thick at the base of the hill, he started having trouble finding his way. He could see how the two werewolves had forced their way through, but his legs weren’t as long as theirs, so the route was closed to him. After only a dozen steps or so into the thick brush, he could tell that the ground was starting to get very damp and marshy. Backing up out of the brush, he tried several different routes, before finally deciding that the wagons the Slavers used would never make it through.

Relief coursed through him as he turned back towards the valley. He would gladly inform the leaders of this news, though he wasn’t sure he felt comfortable sharing about the dead man. Did all the werewolves turn into men when they died? He had never seen that before. How did the vampires turn them into werewolves to begin with? Was that what they were capturing people for? He had always been told the vampires ate people. So why turn them into werewolves that would kill more people?