Word Count: 5,857
A/N1: See the previous chapters for disclaimers.
A/N2: My gratitude to Cloud Auditore Fair, my lovely beta.
A/N3: First, sorry for the delay in updating. And thank you all readers still accompanying this story. Now, things are getting a little mysterious, we get a few answers and a couple of questions as well.
Survivor
- IV -
When Richard and Zedd had passed by a small guardhouse before guiding their horses toward the squared center of the village early that morning, the few solemn faces that greeted them felt odd, even though the juxtaposition of stark buildings, crisp nature and unsettled people wasn't uncommon in the Midlands.
Yet, it had seemed unlikely.
The strangest thing about this place wasn't its false air of idyll, though; it happened to be the fact that the villagers hadn't been quite so prone to celebrate the Seeker's and First Wizard's presence in their midst, as it was to be expected now that the lands was freed from the Keeper and his minions.
It turned out that, by the end of the evening, while they were having their supper, the beginnings of a commotion outside the inn caught Richard's attention. Puzzled, he prompted his grandfather to follow him and they went out to check on it.
After forcing their way through a crowd of loud people, they learned from a mid-aged man wearing heavy armor about the carnage they had just survived. The grim soldier, whom was covered in blood from head to toes, told them that the hunting party had been an effort put out by the people of the village to stop the butchery that, a fortnight ago, had ridded their forests of any game or safety. But, as it ended up happening, of the fifty strong men that had left their homes two days ago, all of which well-armed and versed in combat, only few lived to tell the tale.
Whilst they listened to the soldier's story, Richard noticed that some of the injured men being supported by random people kept mumbling incoherently about monks, an reopened rift and 'the murderous beasts brought by the mist', which only served to mystify Richard even more; it did nothing to help matters, seeing that appalled look on Zedd's face when this last piece of information came about.
When the villagers at last decided to disperse and the alleyway emptied somewhat, Richard and Zedd approached a tall blond man that identified himself as a soldier, one of the survivors. He provided them with more details and soon they discovered that the whole story couldn't become more bizarre after that.
Once said man had answered most of Richard's dizzying questions, he excused himself, saying that he needed to check on his brother, a hunter that had also been in the forests that day.
Zedd then pulled Richard into a corner and explained to him that, according to the survivors' descriptions about those creatures, the so-called murderous beasts, could in fact be a caste of demons that had long ago been human souls irrevocably twisted by dark magic, and that such creatures were capable of taking the shapes of their victims and live indefinitely, so long as they kept feeding from blood. He finished by declaring somberly that they were impossible to annihilate, but, if they were to be contained at least momentarily, it had to be done while they were in their physical state, which were just as hard a feat to accomplish given that their bodies were several times more resistant, even to lethal wounds. Though, if so managed, then they could lock them until this new disturbance in the veil was taken care of and, once it was done, they should kill their bodies so that the demons would return to the Underworld.
Zedd started to drift off then, referring to a reopened rift as an unprecedented oddity. As for the Seeker, who all the while tried to prod his grandfather into being more forthcoming with information about this 'disturbance' in the veil, received little to nothing by ways of response.
With a distant look in his eyes, the Wizard at last told Richard that he needed to go to the one person he knew could provide them with answers and, hugging his grandson tightly, he spoke in a strangled voice, "You know that Cara wouldn't let anything happen to Kahlan if she could help it. So, be careful, boy. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Then, the Wizard disappeared into a puff of smoky light, leaving a confused Seeker to stare at the spot where he had been.
Blue eyes cracked open and then all her senses were bursting alive as a painful awareness washed over her.
She remained still for a moment, though, trying to mentally determine the parts of her body that weren't hurting – her head not being one of them, she just realized.
A clumsy hand found its way to her face and Kahlan winced when she cupped what, at first, she had thought was a dislocated jaw; even though it hurt like hell, the sensation was likely due the brunt of the blow, she mused. Lying on her stomach as she was, facing the bottom of the cave, she rose onto her elbows and spat a mass of blood and spit, not bothering to look for one or two teeth she was certain were lost amid it.
Grimacing, she forced herself to sit up, the back of her left hand wiping at her mouth as her drowsy gaze wandered through the shadows.
At once, distorted images came rushing like a wild river in her head and blue eyes widened. She frantically sought a face in the cave's dim interior only to find that their blankets, backpacks and all their contents were scattered around as if a whirlwind had passed by the place. Or, as far as she could assume, as if an ugly fight had happened whilst she was blissfully unaware of the world.
She realized with blank horror that there was no sign of Cara.
With tears of anger welling in her eyes, Kahlan struggled against the dull ache on her right side as she came to her fours and began to crawl toward the cave's entrance. Once she reached the graveled ground outside, she rose onto shaky legs and looked for more signs of fight.
It looked like the worst of it had happened inside the cave and then something heavy had been dragged halfway from the entrance and down to the trail leading into the forest. The deep tracks were speckled with a darker fluid whereas the blood-spattered spots she found amidst the little black pebbles prevailed within the area of the shelter.
Kahlan's face contorted at the crude scene before her eyes, fear wrapping its gelid tendrils around her heart once again as she grabbed the sides of her head with clawed fingers, the cry she refused to let go burning deep in her throat.
This couldn't be happening. Not now, not after…
Tremulous hands left the grip they had in dark locks to pose in front of widened pale eyes. She stared blankly at her palms for a moment too long, frozen; they were coated in blood, and yet it didn't seem real enough.
Suddenly, glimpses of malicious yellow eyes flashed before hers and, startled, the Confessor backed away from the repulsive vision. Next thing she knew, her shoulder blades were hitting the sharp rim of the hollowed wall behind her, hands gripping at thin cool air as her bare feet slipped on something wet. She doubled over, nearly falling face-first onto the ground, but managed to stand upright at last. Her head jerked from side to side looking for a threat that, seemingly, wasn't there anymore.
Sucking in gulps of air, the Confessor cursed her too fertile thoughts for the time being, even though she was certain that these dreadful memories would terrorize her for much longer.
As her breathing evened, Kahlan let her gaze wander to the forest below. It seemed as calm as it could be, there were no strange noises except for those of nocturnal activity, and the skies were starting to clear.
If all of it had been just a crazy nightmare, then she would wake up to a gentle poke on her side and, with a troubled smile, lay bare her darkest secrets before Cara's eyes.
But could it possibly be more maddening that the only thing proving that she was of sound mind was the feel of cold blood on her hands?
Kahlan looked at her palms again. "Nothing is ever easy with you, is it?" Her whisper was as thick and emotionless as the deep crimson soaking her skin.
"The woods seem calm." He said pensively, dark eyes scanning the tree line.
One of his companions, the mid-aged soldier who was dismounting his horse beside him, harrumphed when his heavy boots met the ground.
"Looks are deceiving, Seeker." The sturdy man interjected.
"So everybody keeps saying." Richard groused, frustrated, before jumping off his steed's back.
Taking his bow and quiver, the Seeker walked through the tall sallow grass until he reached the edge of the field, his brow crinkled in concern for the things he knew as much as for the ones he didn't.
He looked over his shoulder at the other two men as they dismounted their horses several paces behind him, their postures stiffened by fatigue and anticipation as they talked in hushed tones between themselves; the wind was blowing their wary conversation to the south, but should the Seeker inform his companions of its indiscreet manners?
Of course Richard was impressed by the braveness of all those men, for it took no little amount of courage to face this kind of peril and in such disadvantageous proportion. But, at the same time, he was angry at them because when he had looked each one of the survivors in the eye, seen their elusive shame while hearing their neglectful utterances as to how they had carried out the charge, even when they found out that the Mother Confessor could be the cost of their hastened attack, the majority of them had declined from accompanying him. Richard was angrier yet because, in a way, he felt as if he was pointing a finger only to have three pointed back to himself, because it was hard to demand things of others when his own heart was compromised.
Whether it had been a lucky break that those men had seemingly managed to kill several of the creatures, they had already suffered their penalty by being slaughtered in return. Nevertheless, the most terrible consequence of their oblivious actions that afternoon was still to be measured up.
And Richard would make sure it would be so until the last pound of flesh.
Because, for him, it hadn't been sufficient motivation that, among the seven that had survived the attempt at exterminating the creatures, only these three men had volunteered to accompany the Seeker on a mission that meant certain death as far as they knew.
For Richard, Kahlan's life was above the fact that all that these three men had earned after such traumatizing experience was yet another call to share their losses in a fight that was not theirs to pursue or comprehend anymore. For Richard, Kahlan had always been above all of it; he could only hope that the distance hadn't become too high to be a real possibility in his life.
His jaw clenched as a thought flirted with him again, and it only angered the Seeker more to realize that it was a lost battle, the one he'd been fighting all this time.
Richard let out a ragged sigh, trying to quell the boiling rage in his veins; these men deserved at least the benefit of not being blamed for their attempt at discretion.
Still, blame had its own price to be expurgated. He wasn't going to concede it to them so easily.
The Seeker's gaze strained back toward the tree line as the men approached, his fist instinctively tightening on the hilt of his sword. His trained eyes had easily located the bifurcated pathway that would lead them into a less dense part of the forest, toward east, to a trail following the side of a steep rock formation that the men had pointed out as the limits of the beasts' hunting zone.
"You said they all were monks." Richard commented offhandedly.
"Yes, the ones that lived at the Mount L'aeb. They are a very secluded Order." His companion said gravely, coming to flank Richard's right side. He pointed a thick finger toward the eastern borders, where a massive dark shadow could be seen in stark contrast with the grey skies. "See? The creatures must've killed the poor hermits and assumed their appearances before migrating to our valley."
"This rift you spoke about must be somewhere near their monastery, then."
The soldier looked at him with a stern face and nodded. This broad shouldered man had a way about him that reminded Richard of his grandfather, and it wasn't only because he was as tall as Zedd and had the same bleached eyes that twinkled with joviality at the mere mention of food. It was the way the young man sometimes looked at him, like now, as if he was seeking some kind of absolution.
"Damned bastards," The hunter grumbled by Richard's other side. "What better way to approach people without arousing suspicion?"
The elder soldier stepped in front of the trio and stared them down, apparently annoyed by their useless ramble. "Let's go kill some demons, you pigs. There will be time for complaints later." With a last glare to his young partners, and a respectful one to Richard, the grumpy man marched into the undergrowth with his huge sword drawn and ready.
"Is he always like this?" Richard chuckled a bit, shaking his head.
This one certainly had a temper, so alike a certain blonde…
Richard blinked, realizing he'd been avoiding thinking about Cara since they started their journey to Aydindril. His frown deepened as he got caught in that train of thought again, vaguely registering the hunter's rueful response.
"You should see him on a bad day, Seeker." The young man grumbled as he and his brother treaded down toward the tree line.
The Seeker started at that, those disturbing thoughts slowly drifting away as he drew his sword with cold reverence, its faint orange glow cutting in the shadows of the night like a lamp would to a lost traveler.
Richard stared at the flat surface of the sacred blade of the Sword of Truth, then at the skies. For a long moment he just stood there, gazing up at the silent turbulence of the endless firmament above him.
And then he realized it; paradoxically so, all things were becoming clear like the skies on a crisp, spring day.
"We should've stayed together." His whispered words echoed gravely in the dark.
Her head hadn't stopped pounding since she had crawled back inside that hopeless hole, grabbed her still damp, dark traveling leathers and daggers, stuffed some contents she'd deemed important along with a lone Agiel into Cara's pack, and made her hasty way down the steep trail and into the forest.
An eternity in the Underworld wouldn't have felt this long.
Kahlan hadn't bothered to keep track of time, all she'd done was wander in circles, groping around in the dark while trying to follow mingled tracks that always leaded her toward that same set of trees, and pray to the Good Spirits as she cried her eyes out like a lost child. And finally, when all her hopes of finding Cara alive had vanished into the bitter air, she let her back slid against a rough bark, reached her arms around her knees and pulled them to her chest.
She did not cry.
In this moment of lucid madness, she cursed all the worthless divinities she knew to the barrens of the Underworld for letting this happen with her friend.
Time didn't seem to pass as she just sat there and waited. She didn't want to wait anymore. Why did one of those beasts not come now to do to her what they probably did to… so many others? What else could she expect from this world other than its blind cruelty?
After all the things she had sacrificed in order to keep these lands safe, so her people could try and live their lives as they so wished, no place was left for her own dreams.
And if there had ever been a chance, it had thinned to naught by now, reduced to the bleak shadows surrounding her.
She closed her eyes against unshed tears, the only thing left was her memories.
So, Kahlan let herself drown in them, like she did that one time when she'd been about to break down all those years ago.
Her thoughts drifted to the day she had first met Cara, what a long way they had come until… She dived back into a distant morning where she tried to make the hardheaded Mord'Sith understand the importance of having faith.
And now here she was, the Mother Confessor giving up on everything that made her who she was.
Then, it surfaced from the dark waters, her Mother's words echoed in her head and blue eyes stirred open. "Not just yet."
Something was moving quickly to her right and Kahlan only had time to spin her right arm back and strike at it, but by then it was too late, the thing was behind her, seizing her wrist in a hard grip, twisting her arm behind her and her body along with it until her back collided with unexpected soft heat.
"Don't. Move." A strong bare hand against her mouth followed by the husky words being breathed in her ear kept the Confessor from doing exactly that, though her body tensed up out of instinct, readying to attack, defend, whatever came first.
But then it registered on Kahlan, the tone of that voice, the way it made a particular spot on her side prickle, causing other parts of her body to warm up inexplicably.
"Over there."
Kahlan let herself be guided toward the opposite direction, to the north, where she could see nothing but endless dark embracing the blurred frames of trees.
But then her eyes widened.
About twenty yards from them, two distinct shapes crawled in the shadows, and they were moving so slowly it almost seemed…
"They're practically deaf," The voice carried on, seemingly oblivious to the soothing caress that its familiar low notes were doing on her skin, "but are far better at sniffing things – especially the fleshy, full of blood ones."
Kahlan nodded once and the hand covering her mouth was removed. Then, just like that, another familiar shape appeared before her eyes so fast it made Kahlan swoon a little. She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but then she was left staring dumbly at the shreds of bloody, torn leathers hanging from the Mord'Sith's back.
"Walk beside me. And don't make brusque movements." The Mord'Sith instructed in an even tone and took a deliberate step to the side, meaning to head west, but halted. She met Kahlan's gaze, parted her lips as if to say something but then turned away.
For a split moment, Kahlan thought she'd seen something in Cara's eyes, something… different. But she let it go and did as Cara said, trailing silently by her side as the woman set on a cautious pace, her eyes never leaving the gloomy shapes that continued moving ever so leisurely toward a slightly diverse direction.
They walked not more than thirty paces before they reached a large rock. Kahlan noticed that a semicircular area surrounding the waist high formation had been somewhat cleaned, like it had been used as a campsite a long time ago, and she momentarily wondered how she could've missed it. Truth be told, she'd not been in her soundest mind while roaming around these parts before, and she was way too tired and cold to recall being even able to walk upright then, not to mention the annoying ache on her side that kept slowing her down.
The Mord'Sith said to Kahlan to duck behind the rock and waited to see if she would do so. She vaguely pondered what she could do if the woman started to ask her undue questions or, worse, decided to run away, because the Confessor was looking at her as if she was wayward ghost and she didn't want to go to another chase just yet.
She let out a sigh when the woman finally crouched and, meaning to finish what she was doing when she'd caught sight of a dark head aimlessly wandering through the woods, Cara turned to walk off. A hand seized her wrist before she could, though.
"Stay back. Don't try to follow me." The Mord'Sith grounded and, before Kahlan could utter a word in protest, she freed herself of the Confessor's grip and sped off into the dark forest, heading north.
This time, Kahlan was left staring at a trail of fluttering leaves on the ground, "What on earth…" She mumbled, befuddled.
The Confessor raised a little to peak her head over the somewhat flat surface of the rock and glared at that same spot on the ground for the fifth time now, then at the woods that had become unnervingly quiet since the Mord'Sith left. The creatures where nowhere to be seen and Kahlan didn't know if it was a good or bad sign. When she was returning to her brooding seat behind the rock, a hand on her shoulder made her heart jump to her throat and she barely avoided stabbing the woman straight in the eye as she flailed around. Cara merely gave her a blank look while lowering to an easy crouch in front of the breathless Confessor, then tipped the other woman to do the same. Catching her breath, Kahlan did so, sitting on her haunches, idly noticing that the ever present feline aura about the Mord'Sith was now practically radiating off of her due to her current position, sitting on her locked heels with knees pulled wide apart and the tips of her stiff fingers digging in the dirt for support.
However, when Cara suddenly smiled at her, the way she did so without a trace of emotion, not even a forced one… It was the most disturbing thing she had ever seen the Mord'Sith doing.
"What's the matter, Confessor?" Cara drawled.
Kahlan decided to let the fact that the blonde's teeth were glistening red, even though she didn't seem to have a single cut or bruise on her anymore, aside for the moment. The whole situation was surreal, and Kahlan knew she had to find out what was going on as soon as possible. But, she intended to do so without losing the last of her sanity, or a vital part of her body.
Swallowing hard, she tentatively smiled back. "I, I thought I had lost you. Then I find you–"
"You mean I found you." Cara cut in, smiling that smile again, and this time it sent a chill up Kahlan's spine that she was certain the Mord'Sith had noticed, for dark green eyes narrowed quite menacingly at her.
"Cara, you're–" She paused, tried again. "What happened? Why did you leave me in the cave, alone? And then you…" The Confessor trailed off, shaking her head, "Never mind. You're here now, that's all that matter."
Cara didn't quite know what to make of that, so when the Confessor hesitantly lifted her hands and put them on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length while searching her face with troubled blue eyes, the Mord'Sith used the stressed silence as an opportunity to change the subject.
"Are you hurt?" She asked, a little suspicious.
She had no need to ask if Kahlan was hurt to know that the woman in fact was – minor wounds as they might be. But it had felt like the right thing to do now, for more reasons than just practicality. And, judging by the somewhat relaxed look Cara received after that, it had stirred the expected reaction in the Confessor.
"I'm fine." Kahlan replied, still a little breathless, eyeing the Mord'Sith as if expecting a baby dragon to jump out of the woman's back at any moment."Oh, Spirits, you're a stinking wreck, Cara." She suddenly choked out, her nose scrunching up as she threw her arms around Cara's back and clung to the woman as if her own life depended on it.
"Why, thank you, Mother Confessor. It was very kind on your part." She wryly retorted, giving the brunette's back a solid pat before extricating herself from the crushing embrace and resuming to her previous catlike position. "Though, you're right, my leathers are ruined," the Mord'Sith complained. She got to think of a 'nice way' to compel the Wizard into mending her suit later.
A wicked smirk played at the corners of her lips as she let her gaze drift by, the possibilities already taking shapes in her head, when she heard the Confessor's sly remark, "I wasn't talking about your leathers, silly."
Cara's face fell. If it were any other person, they would be crying their guts out at her feet in the blink of a eye for even daring to think her 'silly', let alone calling her that – no, a Confessor just called her that and still had the gall to laugh on her face at her dismay.
If it were any other person...
But it weren't, it was Kahlan, so the Mord'Sith resigned herself to shoot the other woman a dark glare before she stood to take a look at their surroundings.
Cara signaled to Kahlan to stay where she was, then let her gaze scan the forestry background. Not but a beat later her eyes instinctively found their prey. She spotted five of them, farther to the northwest, in a small clearing ravaging a particular bloody carcass.
The Mord'Sith was starting to feel nostalgic herself, if a little bit too much excited by the scene, as she tilted her head and observed the creatures' meticulous work of separating flesh from bones, and it was amazing that she could see it all so perfectly, even from this far. It felt odd and familiar at the same time, this new view of things she was experiencing. It was like she was just as entranced as those beasts were by their gory task, as they seemingly had no care in the world except for hunting and tasting their own piece of fresh, succulent…
"Cara." The woman continued staring up at the distance, undisturbed. "Cara." She repeated a bit louder.
The Mord'Sith finally started, cocking her head toward Kahlan as she hummed absently, though her eyes continued focused on the woods beyond. Kahlan stood, huffing, and went on despite Cara's apparent inattentiveness, "I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on wasting a moment longer in this place."
"I told you to stay low." Her gaze flicked briefly to meet Kahlan's before returning to the creatures. A moment later she felt a tentative hand on her right shoulder and heaved a sigh, "What now?" She didn't mean to sound so harsh, but then again the Confessor seemed oblivious to Cara's increasingly agitated state.
"Your shoulder…" Kahlan said quietly, as she let her hand slid down to Cara's bicep and carefully turned the Mord'Sith to face her. Lifting her right hand, she fingered an enlarged hole on the worn leathers, her traitorous eyes drifting over to the blonde's navel. Her fingers hitched to touch the uncovered expanse of surprisingly… unmarred skin there.
"It's good." Cara replied hastily, taking hold of Kahlan's wandering hands before they could reach any lower. "I'm fine, Kahlan." She insisted, looking intently into Kahlan's eyes for what felt like a racking too long heartbeat that lasted until the Confessor took a step back, her hands sliding from Cara's own to hang by her sides.
Cara cursed herself inwardly for the look she was seeing on Kahlan's face, but what was she supposed to do? What else did the Mother Confessor expect of her? She did care for Kahlan and it troubled her more than ever now because she was losing control. Her mind and body were betraying her in disgraceful ways, but there was no point in denying that it also brought a kind of freedom she'd never experienced before in her life. And for what it was worth, she knew that the Confessor had at least some underlining curiosity about her. But then again, virtually everyone Cara had known felt sexual pulls toward Mord'Sith, been they a mere suicidal fascination, or a repressed desire to surrender to that which they despised. She knew both sides of that coin and the ones in between all too well. And she hated to see it glinting in Kahlan's eyes now, the fear and the contempt stocking an almost wild desire to posses her, tame her, understand her. Hated as much as she craved all those things she was seeing in Kahlan's eyes that enflamed the darkest parts of the Mord'Sith in her, just as they allured the weakest ones.
Closing the smallest distance between them now would only mean one thing.
Kahlan's demise.
Yes, the woman was formidable like that. A contradiction forged by her intrinsic purity and underrated desires.
But it was not confession Cara feared; if anything, she would die gladly if it meant so by Kahlan's hand. No, what she had always feared was what Kahlan could do to her with a single look, a fleeting touch. Cara didn't think she could survive if she were to let herself be involved by it, if she were to revolve around Kahlan too long that she would end up destroying what she most valued about the woman, her humanity.
And when a Mord'Sith couldn't survive burning her desires out of lust, she found a way to bury them under the weight of thousands bricks forged by its twin sister.
Cara would bask in her bloodlust.
"Look, here's what we're going to–"
"Your wounds are scarring." Kahlan said it as if it was a sin, her eyes void of emotion.
And Cara understood. In front of her was not Kahlan the woman, but the judge of truth.
"Kahlan," She started carefully, "We don't have–"
"Tell me what happened."
The Mord'Sith narrowed her eyes, she wasn't sure what the Confessor meant by that, but they had no time for it just the same. And she was about to say as much when she saw the alarmed look on the woman's face.
"What is it?"
"Didn't you hear that?"
"What?" Cara spun around in time to see the beast jumping from behind the bushes, and then their tangled bodies went flying at a violent speed across the clearing to be engulfed by foggy wilderness.
Kahlan's daggers were in her hands in the blink of an eye as she twirled toward the trees, her eyes wide in astonishment as she cried out Cara's name.
A long moment passed in deafening silence before she started toward the tree line, but then her feet faltered when a sickening, loud crack echoed in the night.
The hairs of her arms rose as a chill ran down her spine.
A whitish mist was rising from the ground, slowly climbing up the trees as if it had fingers and feet, while widened blue eyes tried to distinguish shapes among their overcast shadows. When a faint breeze blew across the clearing, her breath caught and fingers tightened their grip on the daggers' hilts.
There was only one standing there, frozen in the dark, observing her with those malicious yellow eyes.
"Run." It said and smiled at her.
That terrible smile full of bloody teeth would haunt her for the eternity.
But so be it.
"The Creator's Light be damned." Kahlan hissed as the Mord'Sith tilted her head.
The Mother Confessor wouldn't run.
Damian looked over his shoulder at his young brother. "You seriously need to stop making up these stories, Vince. They're crap."
"I'm not making anything up." The hunter retorted indignantly, then turned his light eyes to the cranky soldier walking beside him, "I maintain my theory. That beast that pounced on you did something crazy with his eyes and you got all sleepy. I swear, you were babbling like a frightened old lady afterwards."
"Ah, of course. Now tell me, it happened before or after the bastard almost ripped my head off while you just stood there like a dumb tree?" The dark-eyed soldier sneered at him, then stuck his huge sword to the young man's face as he spoke darkly, "This is nonsense. And you know it, lad."
Richard shook his head as the two men continued their banter, wondering if they'd been like this while trying to exterminate an entire caste of demoniac creatures that happened to be very hard to kill and quite skillful doing their own slaying.
He then looked at the tall blond man walking cautiously beside him, his face hardened in concentration as his gaze probed the shadows; at least one of his companions was ready and sound.
"Baccan?" Richard called over his shoulder, then looked back at his flanker. Damian tipped his head right and turned to that direction at the Seeker's curt nod.
"I saw it, too." The man at his back spoke in a bored voice, grunting something to the hunter as he flipped his sword in his hand. The Seeker's lips curled up, Two of three.
Suddenly, a low wail echoed in the forest and everyone froze.
"Well, my friends," Vince chirped as he turned to face the ground they had covered and aimed his arrow toward the ominous figure perched on a branch not far from where he stood. "Let's start the party."
Richard grinned at that, the distinct metallic ringing of the Sword of Truth filling the air.
"Three of three."
To be continued...