"The First Test"

The Hunters rolled, ran, rode, and raced out of Forzia before dawn, the pearl-gray sky yet untouched by the warm sun. The mountain that was their destination loomed, its thick-forested sides draped in mist.

Spencer the Werewolf Hunter wove his atomic-engine motorcycle expertly around wagons pulled by cyborg horses thundering along and past slower, gasoline-powered cars and trucks loaded with teams of Hunters and those just along for the ride. He had exchanged his furs for more practical gear, tough boiled leather layered and stitched to make lightweight, flexible body armor. Gray fur still trimmed his boot-tops, and wolf-skin bracers covered his forearms. Spencer's one concession to motorcycle safety was a pair of homemade goggles with one green lens and one clear. His wild shock of black hair whipped in the wind, and his only apparent weapon was a repeating rifle strapped to his back. Ahead, Spencer noticed a familiar pair and sped up to catch them.

Riding on an enormous, three-wheeled motorcycle, Jacks dominated the road and threw up a column of dust that left Spencer gasping as he rode through it. Dust already coated the giant's dark arms, which he had left bare other than leather wrappings around his wrists. A dark leather vest strained to close over his muscular chest, and brightly striped pants tucked into tall boots flapped in the wind. The blue dwarf, Stovepipe, rode behind him, strapped into a small seat welded to the trike's frame. Stovepipe waved as Spencer came abreast and Jacks flashed a broad grin. He had bugs in his teeth. Spencer noted that the odd pair had matching goggles and helmets and shook his head, matching their speed as they roared toward the mountain in the distance.

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From his vantage point above the road, D watched the first wave of Hunters make for the mountain. Taking only a scant few hours of rest, he had left well before dawn, slipping out of Forzia with only a chill in his wake. Well, and one female Vampire Hunter on an antiquated motorbike. The whine of her bike's engine echoed off the steep banks of the roadbed as it climbed and switched back, announcing her arrival. Leaving the outcrop, D kicked his horse to a faster pace and disappeared up the road in a clatter of hooves. As he left, a rough voice seemed to say, "Persistent, ain't she?"

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Marcella grumbled under her breath as she had done all morning, since waking bolt upright at the slight click the suite's door made as D left. "…Got some nerve, sneaking out…never imagined he was really…that's just low-down…" Smashing her wide-brimmed hat tighter onto her head, she leaned low and slid through another turn, forcing the bike to stay on the road.

Once awake she'd thrown on the same clothes from the night before (grimacing at the smell), whipped her hair into a tangled knot behind her head and strapped a pair of wide-bladed short swords crosswise to the back of her belt, just below the small of her back. Grabbing what she called her "sunlight gear" and her pack, she dashed out the door behind him. Putting on her gear as she ran down the hotel's narrow stairwell—a pair of dark-lensed goggles, her hat, and a brown leather duster—she burst out of the hotel in time to see D riding away. Cursing furiously, she found her bike parked among the jumble of other vehicles behind the hotel and tore out after him.

Marcella roared out of town, determined to catch D and pass him if she could. The modified engine attached to the frame of her bike was small but powerful, using both gasoline and a solar-charged power source scavenged from some light craft of the Nobility to propel the lightweight, rugged frame. Even though she could easily overtake a cyborg horse without reaching full speed, Marcella was unable to catch up to D. Revving the engine she opened up to full throttle, the tail of her coat flapping behind her as she sped down the road. In the distance she could see the black speck that was D, but somehow he kept the distance between them even. He could not pull away, but neither could Marcella overtake him. She grumbled some more, cursing unnatural dhampir horsemanship and early risers.

By the time Marcella reached the foot of the mountain and the road started its steep incline, D was long vanished behind the sharp curves of the road. Marcella eased off the throttle slightly, but maintained a dangerous speed as she whipped around the hairpin turns, leaning in hard and even bracing herself with one foot as she slid around in a cloud of dust. Through sheer recklessness she gained some time, but never caught up to D enough to see more than a flash of his cloak or a flip of his horse's tail several turns above.

Around the mountain's base, the road was well-maintained and branched off into newer sub-roads, mostly used by loggers or townspeople gathering rare plants from the ancient forests cloaking the mountain. Proximity to the towns and regular security patrols kept most of the nastier beasts higher up on the slope, where the forest remained dense and untouched, a primeval temperate jungle. Higher up, the road was less traveled as well, and soon Marcella was forced to slow down or risk serious damage to her bike from deep potholes and washouts.

Marcella rounded a curve and suddenly found herself sliding on loose dirt and gravel. Slamming the brakes and bracing with her foot, she managed to stop without incident. In front of her, the remains of a large landslide probably two or three years old covered the entire road. The tracks of D's horse were plain to see, cutting across the slide diagonally and continuing up the slide to more secure ground.

By this time, the sun was well up and Marcella could feel the heat beating down uncomfortably, even covered as she was. The burning light made her testy and impatient, so adjusting her goggles and spitting out some grit, she revved her bike's engine and tackled the slope. Her bike's thick-treaded tires cut into the dirt, but having several seasons to settle it was hard packed and shifted little as she zigzagged up the slide. She reached solid road a few minutes later, covered with a new layer of dust but no worse for wear.

Marcella's feeling of victory evaporated as she rounded the next bend and slowly eased to a stop. The origin of the landslide faced her—a wide gash where the road had completely fallen away. The bluff rising to her right was climbable, but only if she was willing to leave her motorbike. Marcella shut off the engine and dismounted, walking to the edge of the gap to examine the situation.

The gap was further across than the road was wide, a distance too far to be easily jumped. The sides of the gap were nearly vertical where the substance of the mountain itself had sheared off and plummeted down onto the road below. It would not be a comfortable fall to go over the edge. Walking to the outer rim of the road, Marcella leaned out, trying to see the condition of the road above. The slide had taken a large chunk of the next tier, but a wide ledge remained. If she could just get across, the road ahead could be driven, making her loathe to abandon the bike.

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High above the slide, D reined in his horse and dismounted, leaving it to stand while he walked to the edge and looked over. Below, he could see Marcella examining the gap. From the general area of his belt, a rough voice spoke, "Wonder how she's gonna get across?"

"It's none of my concern," D said, yet did not move away from the edge other than to step back slightly as Marcella peered up.

"Afraid she's gonna see you?" D's left hand asked. "That was a dirty trick, sharing her room then sneaking out before she woke up. I bet she's pretty pissed at you."

D did not respond verbally, but squeezed the fingers of that hand into a tight fist.

"Oof! You know, that chick's not bad on the eyes. Kinda like you in the looks department, actually. Plus she's not all fragile like some human broad—"

D squeezed tighter.

"Ow! Hey! I'm just sayin'! It wouldn't hurt you to hook up now and then, and this dame has some potenti—arg!"

D wrenched his fist tight enough to crack his own bones, and continued his watch in peaceful silence. Below, Marcella straddled her bike and restarted the engine. Turning around, she retraced her path some distance back down the road but did not continue deeply into the last curve. Doubling back, she gunned the engine and leaned low over the handlebars, headed for the edge.

D's own passage over the gap had not been effortless. Like Marcella, when faced with the collapsed road he slowed to examine the gap, walking his horse to the edge. He turned his horse and trotted back a short distance, then wheeled his mount and urged it forward. Evincing his skill, he had no need to whip the beast or kick it wildly. A gentle squeeze of his legs, the pressure of his hands on the reins, and his presence in the saddle were all that was needed to push the cyborg horse to its maximum speed and beyond. Breath thundered in its lungs and its sharp hooves gouged the road's dusty surface as it approached the wide gap at a dead run. At the last moment, D gathered the reins and leaned forward in the saddle, while beneath him the horse bunched its augmented muscles and released into a powerful jump.

They sailed across, the horse's front hooves landing securely on the road. However, the jump had been slightly short and its hind feet slipped off the edge. The creature scrabbled frantically for solid ground. D slackened the reins and leaned forward, encouraging the horse with his body. At the same time he kicked his feet out of the stirrups, prepared to jump off if the animal went over the edge.

Finally, the horse found purchase, its rear hooves digging into the crumbling earth just below the lip of the gash. The horse momentarily went to its knees, lurching forward, and only D's inhuman reflexes saved him from a nosedive over the horse's head. The horse quickly regained its feet and lunged over the edge, staggering forward a few shaky steps before D checked it to a halt and dismounted.

D carefully examined his horse for injuries, running gentle hands down the creature's legs. Satisfied that it suffered only from surface abrasions, he calmed it with a touch on the neck and sprang into the saddle to continue ascending the rough mountain road, until he reached the narrow overlook where he now watched Marcella attack the same obstacle.

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Marcella hit the edge of the gap and popped the front wheel of her bike up. The engine whined, the shrill sound echoing off the raw gash in the mountainside as nothing but empty space passed beneath her wheels. She watched the other side approach, reaching the apex of her jump. As gravity took hold, and the bike started sinking, a snarl of rage and frustration tore from her throat, past bared teeth.

"Shit! It's too far!" In midair, Marcella swung her leg across the seat, quickly dismounting. At the same time, she changed her grip on the handlebars, grabbing them in the center with her left hand and pushing the bike slightly away from her body without releasing it.

Reaching out with her free hand and bracing with her legs, Marcella slammed into the opposite wall. Air left her lungs in a violent gasp and black spots exploded in front of her eye. The bike slammed into the bluff a second later with a sickening crunch, the engine stalling out. She and the bike then started to fall away from the wall, sliding down even as she braced with her legs and tried to stop. With a snarl, Marcella slammed her right hand into the soil and rock with as much force as she could muster, coming to a shoulder-wrenching stop approximately fifteen feet below the lip of the gap.

Marcella hung there for a moment, coughing and trying to force air back into her lungs. Her bike was lightweight, but she generally didn't hold it suspended with one hand. Her shoulder ached—both of them did, actually—and the fingers of her left hand were going numb. On top of that, the sun was beating down on the back of her head painfully, as she had lost her hat. Dirt and rocks dislodged by her impact trickled down, sliding over her arms and bouncing off of her head.

Once she was able to breathe normally, Marcella tightened her grip on the bike and shifted her weight forward, leaning as close to the bluff as she could. "I am not going to drop this damn thing now," she muttered as it banged into her leg and threatened to dislodge her. With a grunt, she pulled herself a few inches higher with her right hand, then kicked new toeholds into the crumbling face. Letting her feet support her weight and pressing her body tightly against the cliff, Marcella reached up and speared her fingers into the earth once more. Over and over, in this halting fashion she slowly made her way to the top.

Marcella was gasping for breath when she finally pulled herself over the lip of the drop-off. She hauled the battered bike over the rim, then sprawled on her back and stared up at the next tiers of road looming ahead. Narrowing her eyes, she focused on a dark figure looking over the edge, high above.

"That son of a—" Marcella leapt to her feet and shouted up at D. "You could have at least thrown me a rope!" Her bruised hands clenched into fists. "He stood up there and watched!" she growled through gritted teeth. Turning her face upwards again she yelled, "When I get up there—" but D was already gone.

Grabbing her bike Marcella quickly assessed the damage. The front fender was severely bent, keeping the front wheel from spinning properly. The rest of the damage was superficial—small dents and scratches. Taking the fender in one hand and securing the bike with the other, she bent the metal back into position. It wasn't pretty, but Marcella grinned when the engine fired into life with a sweet roar.

"Thanks for waiting, D," she said, adjusting her goggles. Revving the engine, she tore out, sending gravel and dust flying.