The Hunt (The Original, Unpublished)

The Hunt

            “This is the third one this month!”  someone shouted, “We need to do something!”

            “What would you have us do?  We’re simple farmers.  We hunt for deer and elk, not killers like this!”  Someone else shouted.

            “So we just stand by and let it kill more of us?”  Another indignant voice sounded off.  The “it” they were referring to was an unknown wild animal that had taken to the taste of human flesh.  So far, whatever it was had killed three people within the little Algeron farming community of Jasper.  The population of Jasper was less than one hundred.  They didn’t feel like they could afford to lose the population of this town to anything other than natural causes.

            “No!”  Came a voice that was unfamiliar to the entire assemblage of townsfolk.  All eyes turned toward the speaker, a tall, slender man in his thirties with thinning hair.  He wore the robes of a monk, but carried no staff, marking him as a Scholar.  “Of course you don’t just stand idly by and let it kill more of you!  I’ll catch the beast for you.  I’ll capture it and turn it over to the Menagerie in Valor.”  The Menagerie was the zoo in Valor, which was considered one of the two Capitol Cities of the Island Kingdom of Algeron.

            “You?  How will you capture it?  Do you even know what… or where… it is?”  Asked one of the townsfolk, a robust farmer who’s son had been the things first victim.

            “Of course I know what it is!  It’s a cat of some sort, probably a Mountain Lion.  As to where, well, I’ll have to track it, once I’ve followed it to its lair, it’ll be simple enough to set a trap for it.  I’m human, much smarter than any animal.  I’ll catch it, trust me.”  The monk smiled encouragingly at the gathered townsfolk.  “Your troubles will soon be over.”  No one uttered a sound as the monk turned and started off into the surrounding woods.  Instead they all turned to gaze at the ravaged body of one of the young women in their town.  So preoccupied were they that they didn’t see the young blonde woman break away from the group and follow the monk off into the forest.

            Brother Kendor, formerly of the Brotherhood of Lore, a small monastic order from Errgaunt, wandered aimlessly through the woods for a time, trying vainly to find some sign of the beast he knew to have killed the young girl back on the road where he had talked to the townsfolk.  He really did intend to catch the animal, whatever it was, he just hadn’t counted on not being able to find it.  Kendor was no ranger, and in fact had no idea what he was doing out there.  That was, in fact, why he was no longer with the Brotherhood.  The powers that be there had banished him for constantly over stepping his limits and getting himself and others into dangerous situations. 

            The scholarly monk heard something, a slight rustling of bushes, and spun, crouched and ready to dodge any attack.  There was nothing there, which caused him to frown.  Then there was another slight rustle from his right, and he turned in that direction.  ‘Was that a tail?’ he asked himself.  A few seconds passed, then he heard a soft growl from behind him.  He froze, realizing it was too close for him to avoid.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he thought for certain that he was a dead monk.

            “Whatever you do, don’t move.  Don’t even flinch.”  This from a decidedly feminine voice to his left.  His eyes shifted in that direction, but his head didn’t move.  He couldn’t see her, but he prayed she had a bow, a big bow.  “He’s a little scrawny for your next meal, don’t you think?  How about a nice bear steak instead?”  Kendor heard her rummaging in what must have been a backpack, then the sound of something being tossed into the surrounding brush.  There was the sound of something large crashing through the leaves and brush, then her voice in his ear.  “Run!”

            Kendor didn’t have to be told twice, he ran for all he was worth.  He ran and he kept running until he felt a hand descend upon his shoulder, bringing him to a stop.  They had reached a small creek, the crystal clear water bubbling along before them.  Kendor dropped to his knees and plunged his cupped hands into the frigid water, bringing it to his lips and drinking.  His chest heaved, for he wasn’t used to such exertion.

            “Not too fast.  You’ll make yourself sick.”  She said from behind him.

            “Thank you for your help back there.  I was….”  He turned as he spoke, and when he saw her, he was brought up short.  She was not tall, but her height was the only thing about her that was average.  She was positively one of the most stunning women he’d ever laid eyes on.  She had long, wavy blonde hair and shining blue eyes.  She was built like what Kendor could only describe as a Goddess of the woods, with large, firmly rounded breasts and a flat stomach, followed by sensuously rounded hips and long, shapely legs.  She was clad in a leather brassiere that seemed to only barely contain her impressive bosom and matching leather leggings with knee high boots.  From the daringly low cut bodice and along the bottom of the leather cups dangled tassels, which also hung from the tops of her boots.  She carried a staff in one hand, a sword on one hip and a small backpack upon her shoulders.  Kendor also noted the sun sparkling off of a golden medallion in the shape of a crescent moon she wore about her neck.  “I was, uhm, slightly out of my league.”  He finished his thought of a moment before, unable to tear his eyes off of her.

            She nodded from where she stood, leaning nonchalantly against the trunk of a tree.  “I get the feeling that’s not a new occurrence for you.  Being out of your league, I mean.”

            He frowned angrily, “Now see here woman. I happen to be a seasoned adventurer.  Why, I’ve caught dozens of specimens for the menagerie in Valor.”

            “Really?  Ever caught a Manticore?”  she asked.

            His eyes widened slightly.  “A… manticore?  No, why?”

            “Because that’s what you’ve been hunting.  Or rather, what’s been hunting you.”  She started toward him then.  “That thing has been tracking you ever since you left the assembled townsfolk on the street back there.”

            “It’s been hunting me?”  he asked, swallowing audibly.  “How do you know?”

            She smiled a little smugly at that.  “Because I’ve been tracking it.”

            “Who are you woman?”  Brother Kendor asked, amazed by this Goddess of the Forest and the fact that she didn’t seem the least bit perturbed about the fact that she was hunting one of the greatest predators the Gods had ever placed on the planet.

            “My name is Talia Moonstone, though most people in this part of the world know me as Tracker.”  She answered.

            “I know the name of Moonstone. Would you be any relation to Donovan Moonstone, the knight from Peacehope?”  Kendor asked.

            She nodded, a proud gleam in her sapphire eyes.  “He was my father.”

            “You have a proud family name, that is for certain.”   Kendor told her.  Then he brightened as an idea occurred to him.  “Say, would you consider helping me with this… manticore?  I would pay you for your services.”

            Talia rolled her eyes.  “What I’m going to do is guide you back to the nearest civilization, then kill this beast myself.”

            “What?  Kill it!  But you can’t!”  He stammered.  “The Menagerie at Valor will pay handsomely for such a specimen!”

            Talia regarded the dense monk through narrowed eyes.  “And how do you propose to transport it?”  She asked him.  “Or did I miss your caged wagon?”  She asked, glancing around.

            “I’m afraid I simply can’t allow you to kill the beast.  I need it for… well… for personal reasons.”  He said, suddenly unable to meet her gaze.

            “I’m afraid you simply don’t have a choice Brother…?”  she trailed off, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

            “Kendor.”  He supplied.

            “I’m afraid you simply don’t have a choice Brother Kendor.  I won’t have your death at the claws of the manticore on my conscience.  This thing has killed enough.”  She told him.

            “You’re the one who has no choice.  I don’t take orders from you or anyone else for that matter.  I want that beast for the Menagerie, and I intend to have it!”  he said, then turned and stormed off into the woods.

            Talia glared at his retreating back, then shook her head, her hands planted squarely on her shapely hips.  “Men.”

            Kendor succeeded, much to his own surprise, in backtracking himself to where Tracker had managed to distract the manticore, thus saving his life.  He felt badly about going after the monster against her wishes, but he simply had to catch the beast, especially now that he knew what it was.  If it ever got back to the monks at the Brotherhood that he had managed to snare and then transport a manticore to the menagerie, they would have to accept him back into the order.

            Even without any tracking skills, Kendor was able to see where the manticore had chased after the steak thrown by Tracker.  Such a simple tactic, he’d have never thought of it.  Kendor was more the “create a trap to catch the thing” type.  He had always considered the way his mind worked to be quite complicated.  It was the cause of most of the trouble he had gotten himself into over the years.  Kendor was always over analyzing a problem, and underestimating it at the same time.  He suspected that most sane individuals wouldn’t be tracking a manticore through its native environment in the dark (it had grown dark over the last hour) and without a weapon.  But Kendor had always considered himself far superior to the average person.

            “So where did you go from here?”  he asked the gathering darkness, referring, of course, to the monster. 

            “He went North, back toward town.”  Talia’s voice said.  Kendor spun around, startled, and saw the lovely blonde ranger crouched in the lowest branch of a nearby tree.  “Probably decided the hunting there was easier.”

            “You mean, it’s going to kill again?”  Kendor asked, looking to the North.

            “That would be my guess.  Of course, I could probably have caught it and killed it by now, if I wasn’t chasing you all over the forest to make sure that you didn’t become it’s next meal.”  Tracker told him, her voice dripping with contempt.

            Now Kendor truly felt like a world class screw-up.  “We can still catch it, can’t we?”  he asked her.

            Talia regarded the monk for a moment, saw reflected in his eyes that he had truly meant to help the people of that town, even if he had gone about it wrong.  “I can catch it, maybe.  But not with you slowing me down.”

            Kendor glanced to the North, in the direction of the town.  “Then go.  Don’t worry about me, I’ve screwed things up enough.  Don’t let that thing kill another soul.”

            Tracker paused only briefly, uncertain of the wisdom of leaving the monk alone in the wilderness at night.  Finally she nodded at him and leapt from the branch on which she’d been perched, disappearing into the surrounding darkness.  “Be careful, there are other dangers in this forest than just a hungry manticore!”  She called to him from the darkness.

            Kendor glanced around uncomfortably, keenly aware that she hadn’t mentioned if there was anything in these woods that was more dangerous than a manticore.

            Talia picked up the manticore’s trail about half a mile from the monk.  It was surprisingly easy to follow, since it didn’t know it was being tracked, it was making no attempt to conceal its path.  Either that, or it didn’t feel threatened by whatever was tracking it.  ‘There’s a confidence booster!’ she thought.

            She hadn’t yet caught up to the beast when she reached the edge of the town of Jasper.  This part of town went right up to the forests edge, it was the other side that opened onto farms and fields of corn and wheat.  From here, the manticore had an easy and concealed entry into the town itself.  Tracker prayed she wasn’t already too late.

           

The back door of Jasper’s only tavern opened into an alley between it and the General Store.  A man staggered drunkenly out, leading one of the taverns serving wenches behind him by the hand.  She giggled, closing the door behind her.  The drunk turned and pinned the shapely wench against the same door, filling his hands with her large, soft breasts.

            “Gods woman!  You’ve been driving me nuts all night, bouncing these things around the tavern!”  he kneaded the generous globes through the thin material of her low cut peasant style gown.  She sighed, running her fingers through his sparse black hair.  “Let me at ‘em.”  He chuckled as his fingers started pulling at the ties holding her bodice together.

            “My, someone’s a bit desperate, aren’t we luv?”  she giggled, her own fingers reaching for his pants.  “Better make it quick, afore yer wife comes lookin’ for ya, no?”

            He raised his face from where it was buried in her generous cleavage to glare at her, “Oh, you had to mention her, didn’t you?”  He stepped back from her.  “Now I’m feelin’ all guilty and such.  Damn you wench!  I was just getting into it too!”

            “Sam Parsons’, you’ve dragged me into this back alley every night for the last six months.  Every time your wife’s memory sends you slinking home with your penis between your legs.  Obviously, you love her and don’t really want to cheat on her.  You just have a wandering eye and a lustful heart.  But you’re a good man, so do right by your woman.  Get yerself an eyeful of me every night, then go home and take it out on her.  She’ll love ya for it!  Now git!”  She shooed him away and the man stepped back, frowning at her for a minute, then he smiled and nodded.

            “You might be right girl.  She even looks a bit like you!”  With that he turned and disappeared down the alley.

            The serving wench smiled as she watched him go, feeling good about having apparently saved a marriage, when usually she wound up ruining them.  She turned around and reached for the knob of the taverns back door and that was when she heard it, a low, feral growl that stood the hairs on the back of her neck on end.  Of course, she had heard the stories of the three deaths by a wild animal attack in the last month.  But she hadn’t heard of it coming into town after its victims.

            Somewhere in the back of her mind she managed to wonder how close the beast was, and whether or not it would be on her before she got the door closed behind her.  If she didn’t get the door closed in time, then she’d be unleashing the beast on the unsuspecting customers and employees in the tavern.  All this flashed through her mind in the space of a second, and she decided she couldn’t risk it.  Releasing the doorknob, she started to turn, ever so slowly.  She gasped when she saw it, pressing her back to the door and widening her eyes in fright.

            She’d never seen anything like it before, with the hulking body of a lion, a spiked tail and an ugly, human like face with long, sharp teeth.  The claws on the things paws looked wickedly sharp and she imagined them digging into her flesh.  It was crouched low, stalking toward her from out of the darkness.

            “I finally do a good deed where a man is concerned, and this is how I’m repaid?”  she asked, her question directed at the fates themselves.  She saw the muscles in its rear haunches bunch as it prepared to pounce and she sucked in a breath, squeezing her eyes closed in terror of the expected attack.  When it didn’t come, she opened one eye and gasped anew.  There was another woman in the alley now, a blonde who was even prettier than her.  This woman was dressed in leathers, like a ranger, and had a sword in hand. 

            “Go!  Get out of here while you can!”  Talia called to the barmaid, who wasted no time in disappearing through the door of the tavern, screaming the whole way.  “All right you ugly bastard, let’s see what you’re made of.”

            The manticore hissed, its back arched in a gesture that Talia found to be oddly like that of a housecat.  She crouched, her sword held low, the silver blade glimmering in the faint light filtering into the alley from the street.  The sword was an odd looking affair, with a long curved blade on one side and a shorter, serrated blade off the hilt.  She used this unusual style with grace and deadly accuracy.

            The manticore attacked first, the ranger given only the briefest of warnings as the muscles in its rear haunches bunched again.  She spun aside, the move not unlike that of a dancer, her blade flashing.  The beast hissed in pain, blood spraying a nearby wall as her sword sliced it open along the ribcage.  It landed easily, turning its head to glare at the ranger, who smiled smugly at the beast.  It spun then, its claws flashing in at her from the side and Talia hopped nimbly over them, her blade flashing again as she came down in front of the manticore.  It howled, lunging backward as her blade sliced open its face, splitting its nose in two.

            “Bitch!  I will suck your insides out through your intestines!”  the Manticore hissed, taking Talia completely by surprise, for she had no idea that these creatures could speak.  In fact, she realized with no little surprise, it had spoken to her in the human tongue!  Talia was so taken aback by this that she very nearly didn’t react in time to avoid the next lunging swipe of its claws, dancing backward and swiping uneventfully with her sword. 

            The manticore spun away, lashing out with its tail, one of the poisoned barbs breaking through the thin leather and sinking deeply into the smooth skin of Talia’s right thigh.  She gasped as the pain coursed through her lithe body and she staggered as the beast pulled its barb from her leg.  Talia reached out to steady herself against the wall of the tavern as her vision started swimming. 

            “Damn!”  she swore, realizing that she was feeling the effects of the poison in the barbs of the manitcore’s tail.

            “Now you’re mine golden hair!”  It hissed as it stalked in for the kill.  Talia staggered back, colliding with some stacked wooden crates and knocking them over, Tracker herself tumbling to the hard ground with them.  She started to drag herself hand over hand toward the mouth of the alley, knowing with every inch that she would never make it.  The manticore would be on her in moments.  She felt its hot breath on her bare back, felt its claws dig into her, tearing deep gouges in her soft flesh, then, mercifully, Talia Moonstone blacked out.

            The first thing Tracker was aware of was that she no longer felt pain.  So, naturally, she thought she was dead.  But then she opened her eyes and saw the concerned face of Brother Kendor staring down at her.  “What… happened?”  she asked him softly, pushing herself up on her elbows and glancing around.  She was in what looked like a rented room at any of a hundred Inns across Algeron.

            “You very nearly became the manticore’s next meal.”  He told her.

            She nodded.  “I remember that.  I felt its claws tear into me just before I blacked out.”  She reached around behind her then, feeling the smooth, unblemished skin of her back.

            Kendor smiled.  “It was nothing a little first aid and a couple of healing potions couldn’t cure.”  He told her.

            “You took care of me?  How long was I out?”  she asked, glancing at a nearby window and seeing sunlight shining through.

            “Yes, I nursed you back to health, though you were only out over night.  The patrons of the tavern rescued you from the monster.  Apparently a serving wench went into the bar screaming that she’d been attacked by the monster and a bunch of the men went out to investigate.  They arrived just in time to scare the beast away before it made you into a midnight snack.”  He shrugged.  “I arrived in town shortly thereafter and took charge of your care.”

            Talia sat up and turned to face the homely looking monk.  Smiling warmly she reached out and placed a hand at the back of his neck, pulling his face in close she kissed him full on the lips with as much passion as she could muster.  He blinked a few times as she pulled back, then smiled.  “Thank you.”  She told him.

            He grinned like a schoolboy.  “If that’s how you thank a man just for nursing you back to health, remind to save your life sometime!”

            Talia laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.  “You couldn’t handle gratitude of that magnitude monk!”

            He smiled now, nodding.  “You’re probably right.  You’d be far too much woman for me.”  She shrugged, then his expression grew serious.  “So now what?”

            Talia sighed.  “I still have a manticore to catch.”

            As soon as she felt strong enough again she set out after the beast once more, and to her surprise, Brother Kendor didn’t even try to come with her this time.  Instead, he said he would be joining the next caravan passing through that was headed West.  He thought it was time to return to the Brotherhood and tell the monks there that he had turned over a new leaf.  He hoped they would accept him back into their order, and Talia found she wished him luck.  He was a good man, if a little misguided.

            It didn’t take her long to pick up the manitcore’s trail.  The monster had apparently decided that hunting around Jasper was too dangerous.  It was moving on to more fertile grounds.  She noticed, with a sinking heart, that its trail was moving toward Peacehope, her home.  Without another thought she broke into a run, wishing she had a magic pigeon to send ahead and warn them.  She knew that her sister’s friend, her fellow ranger and mentor, Falcon, was in the city.  He had tangled with manticore’s before, she had heard.  She could use his help now, or at least his rings, the magical totem rings that gave Falcon the abilities of animals.  At her current pace, Peacehope was still hours away.  And the manticore had a several hour head start.

            Tralorn was bored.  Standing guard on Peacehopes southern gate was the dullest duty one could pull.  At least on the Northern gate there was a chance of seeing some action.  There was a suspected pirate city in the North, and a few patrols had left days ago to investigate.  It was believed that conflict with them was inevitable, looming on the horizon like a dark blight.  Guard duty on the North Gate was always tense.

            He’d been standing by the gate for more than an hour, the warm summer air lulling him into a trance like state.  He started to nod off when he heard a very distinct growl.  His eyes snapped open and his head spun to the left.  It was the biggest monster he’d ever seen, and Tralorn had been on patrols that had encountered Ogres.  But something about encountering a manticore in the wild, and he recognized the monster for what it was, sent more of a chill down his spine than any ogre ever could.

            He tried to open his mouth to call for help, knowing that there were more guards on the wall above the gate, but only a terrified rasp came out.  He started to back away along the wall, hoping to make it to the small one-man size door to the right of the main gate.  All the guards used this for their comings and goings.  No sooner had he started moving, though, than the manticore started toward him.  Tralorn knew, instinctively, that he wouldn’t beat the monster to the door.  So he decided not to go down without a fight and his hand started to sneak toward the sword kept at his belt.

            The beast crouched, ready to pounce and Tralorn felt his heart skip a beat.  He started to scream as it launched itself into the air, its front paws pointed at his chest, its three-inch long claws fully extended, the fangs in its human like face bared.  He squeezed his eyes shut, not able to face the certainty of death.  But death never came.  Instead he heard a solid thump and the manticore hissed.  Tralorn opened his eyes and saw the beast leaning against the city wall, a crossbow quarrel jutting from its side.  His eyes traced the path of the bolt back to its source and he saw a stunning blonde woman standing a short ways off, clad in leathers and clutching a crossbow in her hands. 

            Talia glanced at the soldier and shouted, “Run you idiot!”  Tralorn wasted no time in responding, racing for the door.

            “This time, you’ll find, I’m a little more prepared for you.”  Talia told the beast.  It pushed itself away from the wall, staggering a bit.  Snarling, it paced toward her.  “You’re weakening even now.  Manticores, I know, are resistant to poison, but not immune.  So it will simply take that poisoned quarrel longer to work.” 

            “I’ll kill you!”  The monster snarled and started sprinting toward the ranger, its strides still long and sure footed.  Talia danced aside as the beast leaped for her, its claws tearing at the open air.  Her hand flashed out as she spun away, the knife in it slicing a furrow down the beasts flank.  It howled in pain, landing hard and rolling several times. 

            “You couldn’t stay in the forests and hunt deer like other manticore’s could you?  Once you got a taste of human flesh, you had to have more.  That, I’m afraid, is why I must kill you.”  Talia didn’t like to kill the thing.  As a ranger, she believed in the balance of nature and knew that even predators such as this had their place in the natural cycle.  But her ranger training also taught her to value human life and freedom above all else.  Thus, the manticore had to die.  And die it would.  She started toward the creature, which hadn’t gotten back up after it fell this last time.  It continued to lie on its side, panting, its life leaking out onto the dirt.  It raised its head to look up at her as she came to stand by its side.  “I’m truly sorry.   I know you were only trying to survive.  But it couldn’t be allowed.”  The manticore grunted and its head slumped to the ground as it died.  Just then Tralorn and several other city militiamen emerged from the door through the wall.  She glanced at them, thinking it was nice they had come to help, even if they were too late to do any good.  “It’s still a noble beast, even if it was a killer.  Bury it in the woods for me.”  She started for the gate then, saying as she passed the soldiers, “I need a drink.”

The End