Chapter Eighteen

  A Hunter is not Needed

  Cailean stayed true to the path with the heavy protection of the Ursaling coat on his back as Gwen followed him in her wolf-skin jacket. He had a sword on his belt, and another on his back. One, the bronze short sword, the standard issue for a first-year hunter, the other a longsword of great Druid craftsmanship engraved with runes of that sacred, ancient language of the Goddesses. Cailean pulled the hood from his head as the two came over a hill and saw the small city before them.

  “We made it, Altinbren, we can rest here,” Cailean said.

  Gwen was never more than a pace and a half from her protector, “Are you sure it’s safe? What if there's another Dark Stalker? What if a monster horde decides to attack?” She reached for Cailean’s arm and wrapped herself around it, just to find some feeling of safety in this unforgiving winter.

  Cailean turned to her, reached up, and gently ran his hand over her face, brushing her auburn hair away, “No monster will find you, not while you’re under my charge,” he said. Gwen had noticed the shift in confidence he had, how different he was after the barrage of training he received from that legendary hunter. “We’ll find a room in town, you’ll have a bed, and it’s not too far from here to Tycolm, we’ll rest up and make our way there, meet with the other Hunters, and then get you to the Severed Mountains. Once we tell them of your birth, they’ll aid us in protecting you,” he said, looking forward towards the city.

  “I think you’re all the protection I need,” Gwen rested her head on Cailean’s shoulder, “My Winter Hunter,” she smiled and looked up receiving nothing but a straight-faced look of a man who knew his duty.

  “Let’s just get you to Tycolm, I’ll get you all the protection you need,” Cailean lifted his hand and took Gwen’s into it, “I promise you. I promise that you’ll bring the spring,” he nodded before letting go of her hand and moving forward to lead her down to the small city.

  When the two arrived, they found a city preparing. Were they preparing for the eternal winter? Cailean thought. They were boarding their windows and setting bolts to their doors. Cailean reached for one of the cautious townspeople and pulled him from his work.

  “What’s going on here, the Winter Hunters of Tycolm are no doubt fighting the beasts of the forest, I wouldn’t question you for taking precautions, as anyone wishing to live through winter should, but you seem to be so eager to write off the protection of the Winter Hunters,” he said.

  “Is that what you are, are you Winter Hunter?” the man asked.

  “Yes, yes I am a Winter Hunter, I am the first defense against the scourge of the cold-”

  “We don’t want your kind here, we don’t need you,” the man said, shifting the boards of wood under his arm, “We have our way of life, we’ve lived through winters, we’ve lived through monsters all without your clans help, leave this place Winter Hunter, there’s no good you can do here. Even if you think you can, no service a Winter Hunter could provide would end happily,” he took his stack of wood and went to the local market house and began to nail the boards on it.

  “Excuse me, sir,” a young boy came to Cailean and grabbed at his trousers “Are you a Winter Hunter?” he asked. He was probably about ten years old. He had messy brown hair, unkempt and in a tuft on his head. His most defining feature was a large scar going down from his neck toward his shoulder. With his shirt covering it Cailean couldn’t see how deep the wound was but his guess was it probably went all down his shoulder and maybe a bit into his arm.

  Cailean looked down and nodded, “Yes, I am a Winter Hunter,” he said.

  “Can you kill the beast? The adults don’t like to talk about it around me, but I know of the beast, it’s a terrible wolf that stalks the town at every full moon. That’s why they board everything up, With every full moon the beast comes and ruins everything, and it makes the adults so worried, they always talk about how to fight the beast, and none of them can kill it,” he said.

  Cailean looked at Gwen, and she just nodded. Cailean was a Winter Hunter, he had taken an oath and made a sacred promise to kill the monsters of winter and bring safety to the people, to see them through the horrors of the darkness. He reached to rest a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Sleep soundly, the wolf won’t attack you tonight, not if I have anything to do with it,” Cailean said.

  “It’s coming tonight,” the boy said, “The moon last night was almost full, that’s what my pa said, the wolf only attacks when the moon is full, the wolf is going to kill people tonight,” the boy looked down, “Will you be here tonight? That’s when the wolf will come, when the moon is full again, for some reason the wolf only likes to try and hurt people when the moon is full,” he said.

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  Cailean took a deep breath, this was no common wild wolf plaguing this town. If a winter’s moon was bringing danger to this community that could only mean one thing, a Lychanthrop, some poor soul cursed to be a menace of winter.

  Gwen grabbed at the Ursaling sleeve of Cailean’s coat, “Cailean, we have to find a room, it’s getting late,” she said, “The pub may be closed before we find lodging, I’m not going to sleep on a haystack, not after a damn month on that hunter’s straw bed,” she pouted.

  “Go to the inn, secure our lodgings,” Cailean said, “I have some questions to ask this town,” Cailean took a deep breath. Again Gwen saw that confidence in him. She felt bad insulting him earlier when their journey began, he really was the only hunter she could ever need.

  “No one needs your services, Winter Hunter, not here,” the man, who Cailean and Gwen saw cleaning the stables just a moment ago approached them.

  “If you did, what would you need it for? Ursaling pack? Spider folk? Winter has claimed a few victims already, I’ve seen it, could a Corpsesoul have arisen? it’s possible,” he said, keeping his shoulders high with the pride a Winter Hunter should carry when he came across people in need of protection.

  “We don’t need you here, we will deal with our problems in our own way, we need not lean on your ilk, not for this,” he said.

  Cailean looked past the man’s shoulder to the dusk sky, on the horizon was the coming moon, brisk and full, ready to shine in the darkness of a cold winter’s night, “All these precautions your taking, they weren’t put up yesterday, were they? I’ve seen people looking to the moon, looking with dread, that’s your pest isn’t it, the creature of the full moon, Lycan-”

  “Don’t say it!” the man cut Cailean off, “There's no creature like that in these parts, now stop pestering this town and take to your lodgings without bothering us. If you just need a night’s sleep take that, but no more!” he commanded.

  Cailean took a deep breath, as you wish, but know that your people need not live in fear, not while you have the protection of a Winter Hunter, and I offer you that, no more no less, I’m only here to help,” Cailean said.

  “No one asked,” he turned back to fixing the bars on his windows and waived Cailean off, “Now be gone with you, Winter Hunter,” that last bit carried some disdain for Cailean’s profession on it.

  Cailean shrugged off the disrespect and made his way back to the inn where Gwen had negotiated what little coin they had left for a room. Cailean entered and received a few dirty looks as he turned to the innkeeper. “My companion got us a room, where is she?” he asked.

  “Furthest back and at the right, now go up there and stay there,” he said.

  Up the stairs and furthest to the right he found Gwen inside. Lighting a stove and getting some water boiling for tea.

  “Cailean,” she turned to him, “How could they treat you like this? Don’t they know who you are, what you are?”

  “It’s complicated,” Cailean said, shrugging off his Ursaling jacket and hanging it on a chair as he took a seat, “I think I know what threatens these people,” Cailean clasped his hands and bowed his head.

  “You’re a Winter Hunter, you deserve respect, these people should be throwing celebrations upon your arrival,” Gwen said, frustrated at Cailean’s reserved acceptance of their unfriendly welcome.

  “I know what’s threatening this town, these people,” he looked up to Gwen, “Lycanthrope, a werewolf,” he said.

  “Werewolf,” Gwen sat back, “The winter moon, it’s going to be full, it’s coming tonight, can you stop it? Can you kill it?” she asked.

  “I can try,” Cailean reached over his back and drew Duncan’s longsword, studying the runes engraved on the blade.

  “What do those even mean?” Gwen said.

  “It’s the oath, written in the language the Goddesses used before they left us to winter. The first winter was before the Goddesses saw to have us understand a written language, so we used their symbols,” Cailean turned the sword on its side and raised it up to examine the blade. Bronze weapons were known for their lack of practical quality, a metal that mankind had long passed its use for combat. But something about this primitive weapon, whether it was just an ingrained quality, or some kind of power imbibed from the Goddesses themselves, made bronze the only metal fit for a true hunter of beasts.

  He flipped the blade over to its other side, and another, shorter, line of symbols, “And on this side, the last words of the Goddesses, their last message to us before departing this earth in anger at the start of the first winter,” he took a deep breath as Gwen looked over the ancient text inscribed in the holy weapon.

  “What does it say,” she asked.

  “Always chase the Dawn,” Cailean sheathed the sword. You don’t deserve this. The voice in the back of his head had seemed to subside for some reason during his training. Maybe it was because Cailean had been concentrating his mind entirely on proving that he was worthy of the great Duncan Hightower’s tutelage. But now that he had found some confidence, received true training, made a true kill with his blade, spending a night in a cozy room with a beautiful woman, the voice found its opportunity to rear its head again. “I don’t deserve this,” he said, slinging the sword over his shoulder.

  “You do, if the great Duncan Hightower says you’re worthy of that blade, you’re worthy,” Gwen reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

  “Sleep well, I’ll be going out tonight,” Cailean got out of his chair, Gwen’s hand sliding down his arm. He turned and reached for his Ursaling coat, sliding it on

  “You’re going to fight it, aren’t you? Be careful,” Gwen said, the concern in her voice, “I’ve heard -stories of the werewolves, if you got bitten you would-”

  “I’m not going to get bit,” Cailean took her hand and rubbed it along the thick fur of the Ursaling coat, “Ursaling hide can’t be pierced by steel, much less a mouth of teeth,” he raised his hood and looked out the window, “Night’s coming, it’s time I do my duty,” Cailean said.