"That was no ordinary werewolf." Gasping for air, Heldor pressed his back against the tree. His shoulders were just an inch or so wider than the trunk. Not exactly perfect concealment. And what was he doing hiding behind a tree, anyway? They paid him to be a hunter, not to play hide and seek with demonic beasties.
My, it got light all of a sudden. He looked up and the top half of the tree was gone. He looked forward and the creature, still flossing with the twenty-inch diameter hardwood sticking out of his canines, dropped the timber, and then turned on all fours towards him.
"Look, hemlock may not do shit to werewolves, but it takes care of all sorts of other nasties. So I'd definitely appreciate you fine-tuning your bent for landscaping."
The creature snarled, drooled, and crouched down, readying to pounce. Heldor let loose with the crossbow, striking Drooler's left eye. On a smaller animal, the arrow would also have pierced the brain, and he could commence the barbecue. This was more like getting a splinter caught in his eye. The beast wailed, tried helplessly to extract the impediment with one of his paws. He actually squatted on the ground, and tried to get the arrow between the foremost claws of each of his forepaws so he could pull it out. Following another gut wrenching cry when he realized he was not going to succeed, his focus went right back to Heldor. He didn't look any happier.
"That's it, Heldor. Make the hell beast angry, that's the ticket." Raising his voice, he said, "Look, pal, as you can tell, I'm no good with pets."
The creature lunged savagely, jaws snapping repeatedly as if it just couldn't wait to get his mouth around him. Heldor didn't move. He didn't even flinch. It was only at the last second that he feinted right, when he would have been little more than a blur. As the creature swallowed dirt, tasting it to make sure his tormentor was in there somewhere, Heldor made his way up the furry mountain to the werewolf's shoulder. Once on top, he felt like a small child riding an elephant. The animal, still making sure the mouthful of forest patch included a human, allowed Heldor the time he needed to switch cartridges in his gun for silver bullets.
Perhaps he should have been a little quieter about closing the cartridge, gingerly sliding it in instead of flicking it. The beast's sensitive hearing more than compensated for his inability to feel Heldor's slight weight past its dense mat of fur. It immediately rolled over in an effort to crush him, which it would have succeeded in doing just fine had Heldor not tucked the gun under his belt so he could switch cartridges in his Crossbow. Firing the arrow into the closest standing tree, he rode the rope off the mount. Taking advantage of his ambidextrousness, he didn't wait to land; he drew his gun and fired with his left hand the six silver cartridges at the beast's head. He wasn't going to take a chance on the thing having a heart, so that was the next most deadly place.
The creature, which had rolled over back on to his feet and leapt straight for him, never made it, dropping to the ground as dead weight.
Heldor released the line and proceeded to dig the silver bullets out of the creature's head. "No offense intended," he shouted heavenward. He then mumbled, "just in case this thing has its own guardian angels. God knows, mine have gone missing." He examined the first bullet he'd retrieved with the aid of his bowie knife strapped to his calf so as not to get in the way of the sawed off shotguns strapped low down to each thigh. He stuffed the first bullet back into his pant pocket. As he fished around for the second bullet, he realized that, even lying on its side, the beast's head was nearly as wide as he was tall. He continued pleading his case skywards in a raised voice, "Silver's damn expensive. And people don't seem to pay a hunter what he's due like they used to, possibly because there are just too many of these vile creatures to go around, straining everyone's pocket book. I'm sure big picture beings that you are, you can appreciate my predicament."
He twisted up his face at the mangled up bullet in his hand. "Damn it. That'll have to be resmelted and recast. Good thing you've been too cheap to buy bullets for years, and have been content to make your own." He looked heavenward again. "Don't mind me. I talk to myself. If I'm crazy, then none of this is happening. If the demi-god defense ever wears thin, you should try it."
He rattled the five bullets around in his hands once he'd collected them all up as if he were about to roll the dice on his future any more than he did every time he set across this forest. Then, he pocketed the bullets and yanked the arrow out of the eye. Can't afford to waste arrows either! Retrieving the satchel where he'd left it, he returned the arrow to its resting place inside the sheath. Then he collected up the rope he fired and started coiling it around his arm. He walked around the fallen creature and whistled.
Rope stowed, he pulled out his knife again, and started skinning. "Again, no disrespect intended," he shouted heavenward. "But if you think wolf meat goes for a premium, wait till you hear what werewolf meat goes for."
Half way through his skinning the animal disappeared. "Damn it!" He sighed, wiped the bloody knife against the ground, and holstered it. "I guess I should have known there was magic behind this. It's not like someone is breeding these things oversized out of consideration of your meager budget."
There it was. A twig snapping underfoot. "You can come out now. I've known you were there the entire time. Seems pointless for even a madman to talk to himself this much, don't you think? So who do you think I was ad-libbing for?"
She didn't take the bait. She usually did. Still, shy and illusive were her middle names. Drop dead gorgeous were her first names. And she seemed to be about the one thing in this forest that could always outrun him, disappearing before he ever got too close. His Lady of the Forest, he called her, all veiled and white and ghostly looking, except for the beauty part.
When he went to investigate the noise, he found this time was no different. He bent down and examined the twig. "Let's hope it's her. You aren't exactly at a hundred percent after beasty boy back there, wherever he went to," he added after throwing a glance over his shoulder at the imprint left in the brush by the disappearing werewolf.
Heldor picked up his crossbow, folded it down and nestled it between his shoulder blades in its own holster. He looked around for the pistol, found it with some ado, and slipped it in the small of his back beneath the belt. The thing was pretty much useless for what he came up against in these forests. But it did save on silver, come time to take out a werewolf.
He decided it was time to pay Cleo a visit, see what she had to say about all this. Funny, he remembered when he avoided witches like the plague. These days, he hunted them just to put an end to all the magical creatures in their employ. Seemed like a less tiresome way of working, just going straight to the source.
The forest spoke to him, as it always did, as he wended his way towards Cleo's. Only, he didn't like what it was saying. There were too few animal noises, and what there was suggested fight or flight responses between all parties.
No sooner was he on the trail that led straight to Cleo's than the trees took it upon themselves to uproot and come after him, batting him hither and yon with their branches. "Seriously? What did I do, step on a fallen leaf?"
One of the trees, with his wizened face etched into the trunk, pinned him under several of his roots. He was in the middle of hacking his way out from under them with the bowie knife, thinking-What the hell do you have in your arsenal, Heldor, besides this knife, that's any good against killer trees?-when they settled down in response to words of power. Only they weren't his words of power.
The trees backed off, and walked back to their original resting places. After he peeled himself off the ground he noticed Cleo, her arm extended, wielding the magic. "Come on," she said. "Let's get out of here. It isn't safe."
"Really? Because you could have fooled me." He sheathed his knife. It was that or wedge it in her back, as she'd turned on him dismissively, not waiting for him to respond to her entreaty. For now, at least, he wasn't ready to stab a beautiful woman in the back, at least not until he found out everything he needed form her. He went with plan B, and hightailed it after her.
They reached a very anonymous piece of wooded area in the forest, long after he'd lost any sense of where he was. So much for the trail that led straight to her house. She held her hand out and mumbled more words of power. Maybe it was Greek? Possibly a language of her own invention? Maybe if he spent less time killing witches and more time getting to know them better he'd have a clue.
When she was done with the spell, her small cottage materialized out of the mass of jungle vines. "I see you've gone incognito."
"You blame me?"
"Guess not," he said, following her inside. She was arresting in her own way when she finally turned back to face him again. The long flowing auburn hair spoke for itself. The form fitting leather didn't exactly deter from the beauty. "You're dressed like a hunter," he said.
"With the likes of you chasing down witches, what do you expect?"
He stepped up to her, gave her a disarming kiss, and by the time he pulled back, his bowie knife was at her throat. "Thanks for reminding me. I suppose you're going to tell me you weren't to blame for that werewolf from the land of the giants back there."
She laughed and pushed his blade away. "I could be. But then what's the explanation behind all the other bizarre goings on in Thresdar? Surely, you don't think I'm behind all of it. No witch is that powerful. Except maybe for..."
"Damian. I must be getting positively thick to have not connected the dots for myself."
"Don't go too hard on yourself. It's not like the blood gets to your brain too often."
His eyes dropped briefly to his crotch. He'd forgotten about the hard-on she'd given him. "It gets diverted to other regions busy keeping me alive, too, which are no less stiff and sore at the end of the day as standing before you for protracted periods."
She smiled despite herself. "I suppose you witches are so beguiling as part of your magic. Stun the enemy, give you more time to figure out what to do with him."
"You're catching on."
She took his knife out of his hand and stuck it back in his holster for him. "You're going to take my word for things?"
"Only because it occurred to me those trees back there are parts of your defense network, as is this invisible cottage, and the hunter attire. Something's got you running plenty scared, and it's not me."
She snorted, poured them some tea from a kettle over the fire in the stone fireplace. "Drinking an herbal brew a witch prepared for me," he said. "That'll be the day."
"Maybe you'd like to go back out there half exhausted. You think whatever force is behind all these goings on is going to let off while you quietly sneak up on Damian?"
"And why would you help me, your sworn enemy?"
"Don't flatter yourself. My list of enemies is long, and right now, the enemy of my enemy is my friend."
He took the mug she handed him, hesitating as he read her face and eyes for any sign of betrayal. It occurred to him he didn't have a hell of a lot to lose. She was right; he wasn't about to get very far with the pace of things outside her little time-out hovel. He drank down the potion. "That definitely hit the spot. While you're in such a generous spirit, mind giving me a warding spell that makes me invisible like this hovel, for when I'm too weak to fight any longer?"
She grunted dismissively.
"Yeah, figured that was too much to ask for," he mumbled.
She went and grabbed one of the herbs she had drying upside down against the wall, handed it to him. "Chew on one of the leaves, and it'll make you invisible."
"Yeah, right."
"The tree itself is warded. Or maybe you think my forest magic isn't up to par even after what you saw outside?"
He smiled at her. "Thanks."
"Don't get too dependent on it. The more you use it, the less effectively it works, and the sicker you get. I expect the body learns to throw off the drug, after a while. Haven't perfected the magic enough yet to beat the body's own defense mechanisms."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said. "Now as to the matter of making mad passionate love before I head back out there."
She laughed, sat in the chair and pulled off a boot. Heldor took it as a sign to take off his brown leather trench coat. "You need to learn to read women better, Heldor. I just needed to get off my feet. You're not the only one who's been running for his life."
"Oh yeah? Pray tell."
She sighed as she slipped off the other knee high moccasin, at the end of whose tassels dangled spiked weapons meant for throwing. Again, great hunter garb, no doubt about it. If he didn't know her personally, he'd have been fooled.
"You're lucky I had enough juice in me to undo my own warding spell. Took all my magic to make it back here alive." She shook her head as she ran her eyes over his fine form. "I definitely have more respect for you hunters of late trying to survive out there without any magic at all."
"What was stalking you?"
"Whatever it is, it could track without the aid of a scent. That was the first spell I cast." She let him have a moment for the shock to set in, seeing the expression on his face, and noticing his eyes had dropped to the floor contemplating the possibilities. She continued disrobing, figuring it was the best way to get his attention back on her, throwing the next item at his feet where his eyes were riveted. When he looked back at her, she said, "It can also track blind. The second spell I cast created a swatch of forest big enough for a rhino to get lost in without a beam of light." Once again his eyes wandered off the mark, this time going to the fireplace. She threw another article of clothing, which landed on the stone lip of the fireplace. Once more his eyes found her. "It moved through a solid wall of forest that not even an experienced tracker like yourself could have navigated. The third spell I cast removed any trails even a rat could pass along, and any sense of direction, in case the thing moved like birds, using the planet's magnetic fields to navigate. And I hardened every tree and shrub and plant to a diamond's toughness. Not even a werewolf could have made it through."
"And yet one did," he said, recalling his own encounter with one. He collapsed into the soft chair beside her, his eyes going to the ceiling this time. When a pair of panties landed on his face, blocking his view of the ceiling, he pulled it off and returned his eyes to her, sitting there stark naked. He snorted. "You hardly need magic to put me under your spell."
"Come on. Since I put the fear of God into you, the least I can do is supercharge you a little. My saliva will boost what your own adrenaline can do, at least for a while. As to my other bodily charms..."
"Enough with the overkill already." He leapt off the chair at the same time she did, the two of them colliding in midair like fighting falcons. The subsequent romp on the floor hardly deterred from the impression of bestiality. At times she clawed like a cat, raking his back with her nails. At times he lapped like a dog, determined to drink up her sweat as if it were the fountain of youth. They broke furniture like bulls in a china shop, sometimes from rolling around. One time, because he misjudged how much effort it took to make love on the table where she kept her magical herbs sorted by colors. Once doused in the powders, they resembled flamingos or parrots, depending on what pool of color they rolled into. As the colors smeared together and adorned more of them, the growing phosphorescence and multi-layered colors made them resemble chameleon lizards.
With her legs wrapped around his waist, he crawled up the ladder to her loft bed like a tree monkey. Once there, they dove into the softness of the mattress like diving killer whales. Their teeth drew blood. When she got angry at how carried away he was getting, she fought for real, punching, kicking, gouging, doing everything she could to knock him out, until she'd squeezed the last bit of venom out of herself and the spitting mamba could settle back into being just another lovebird. And when she got too carried away with her scratching, he bent her across him, determined to see if her back or legs would break, or if the art nouveau poses of a gymnast belonging to another era would call him back in time to the world of lovemaking instead of the world of war craft. After tiring in the role of the human stretch rack, only then perhaps did he release the real animal in himself.
Afterwards he watched her don her hunter's outfit again. "As passionate as that was, you never once lost yourself in me, nor I in you," she said.
"That bother you?"
"Not at all. Just surprised to find we're two of a kind."
The image of the hunter had now nearly taken full shape on her again. "Don't tell me you sleep in that getup," he said.
"What makes you think I sleep?"
He took a deep breath and let it out. "Is it really that bad?"
"In case you thought what we just exchanged was more generosity on my part, think again. I needed recharging too, to conjure the spell that keeps me awake through the night. As to these duds, I might have to learn to actually use these weapons if my magic isn't enough to keep the next intruder at bay."
"Maybe I should stay."
"Very gallant of you. But right now, I'd say getting to Damian is more important."
"His castle is far too far from here to be trying to approach at night."
"He's not at the castle. He's at the tavern."
"How do you know?"
"When we're at full power, we can sense each other's presence. Some of us can, anyway."
He smiled. "I charged you up that much, huh?"
It was her turn to smile. "Don't flatter yourself. I had some kinks in my back you helped to iron out, and some sore muscles that needed stretching. Now that my energy is flowing better..."
"I'll be bidding you adieu." He swore he saw her face tighten briefly with a show of remorse. But wishful thinking had a way of blinding a man better than bewitching beauty.
He donned his leather hat, and bowed to her.
She chuckled briefly. "You fight with your hat on?"
"Of course. I'm nothing if not a gentleman."
"It would limit your range of vision. Not very sensible for a hunter."
"Damn sensible when the rain comes. Good night, goddess. Don't forget to check out my ass when I turn around. Might be the last thing you ever see. Like to know you died happy."
She held her face in check until he turned around. Though he'd like to believe she was biting her lip now. Out of courtesy, he donned his leather trench coat only when he was outside. The instant her cottage disappeared behind him, the forest felt lonely. To a man like him it usually felt nurturing.
Off to kill the wizard. The most powerful wizard in all the land. This should be interesting.
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