CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

We scrambled over the carpets of ivy and the fell trunks, ducked spindling branches, and meandered the harrowing trees until we reached the camp we had made. Nobody was there which I thought to be curious, and as such muttered at Crawford to wait but he was already gliding into danger. It was during times like these I hated his brash and foolhardy behavior.

Instantly, the stomping footsteps that removed the birds from their rest came again, and Crawford was snatched by a foul beast the size of two men; the beast bellowed and squeezed my companion in his hand. I must have heard the fracture of a rib as I immediately seized a rock, and flung it at the outrageous monster whose hide was a lurid green in color.

The monster gawked in my direction, and relinquished its hold on Crawford, my companion dropping to the ground foaming and waxen. It bellowed once more, mouth unfurling to reveal a cavity of jagged teeth and horrible gums. I held my breath and stayed hidden in the trees while the monster treaded on the ground with fury, displacing the trees, hurling animals at my direction, screaming all the while.

I hid inside the cavity of a trunk and prayed that Crawford had escaped when the giant's footsteps ceased behind me. Before the giant had uprooted the tree I had slipped out of the trunk and into the monster's view. It roared, spattle flying into the ground which left the smell of burnt soil.

I froze, not knowing what to do to escape and the monster snatches me as it did Crawford. I squirm but cannot escape its clutches; its grip tightens on me like a coil and air flits, leaving my vision hazy.

I smell the pang of stomach acid from its insides; I accept that my life is forfeit. But the whistling of a blade halts my reverie and before I know it, I am falling on the ground, still in the grip of the monster but it is dead. My head goes blank after the fall and I do not know the rest of what happened. Crawford tells me that a man saved us by his lonesome; with only the unsheathing of his blade, he slew the beast. He also nursed Crawford to health, and carried me into town, still in repose after two days of camping. "A Hunter," Crawford excitedly told me, the grin that had flitted his face after his parents' death returning. "I want to be one."

The entry ended there and still, not enough time had passed, it only being half past six o'clock. So I resolved on studying more of the book. The next entry came half a decade after the preceding.

1889.

Monday, October 20, 1889. Virgil has taken the company of a lusty dame who goes by the name Alice. The constituents of Legion, formed two months ago, have their fair share of conjectures and suspicions of the girl but Virgil assures us that she wishes only to join our faction.

Yarim has been split into three: Central in its middle, where Legion lies, Old Yarim, my whilom home, and the Ward, where the dastardly Cathedral stands. One day, I will have the pleasure of dismantling that blighted structure, along with the wretched people that have allowed the perpetuating of the plague. The strongest of Legion is yet to come, Alice had prophesied. Virgil assures us once again that the woman is telling the truth; he is always so protective of her that I have also began to be suspicious of their relationship. But I digress.

Alice explains that the man is to come in the future but she does not know how long; "The Cathedral will not fall without him—he will be the one to free Yarim from the clutches of the plague."

"Then what is our use," I snarled, "if only he can raze the forsaken place?"

I had hoped to rattle her, if only a little, and I had been quite successful for her eyes narrowed in contempt and her face crinkled, horrified perhaps that one might question her. But, in the end, she maintained her equanimity and only exhaled.

With a sharp look at each one of us, she said, "You are hunters, are you not? Then hunt."

The brief passage ended there and my brief reading also as the handmaid strolled inside the parlor. Her eyebrows raised and she bowed, "I am sorry, dear guest, I did not know you will be awake so early."

I waved my hand, dismissing it. I slid the book back in the casement of glass and faced her. It must have been an illusion of the light as Edythe's eyes narrowed, cold and unforgiving as ice before melting back into a sympathetic look. "Edythe, was it? It is no matter; no, no, no, I am quite fine here. Is your master awake?"

"Yes, quite so, dear guest," she said. "He is away on his wonted routine inside the Forbidden Forest. You are leaving, sir? I would counsel against it as the forest bursts with terrible ghouls and monsters! Yes, I know you are a Hunter, dear guest but—" she sighed, "Very well, I will wish you fine health on your journey but you must take care, dear guest; the Master does not wish for his guests to be harmed." She said the last sentence quite meekly and her cheeks flushed red.

"Why? he harms you?"

"No, no, no," she waved her hands and face. "You see, the master is quite eager in bed…Oh, why am I saying this! Hurry on, dear guest! Yes, yes, out the door! Master usually stays in the middle of the forest; he will remain there for perhaps a few more hours. Straight ahead, dear guest, remain on the path and you will arrive!"

She waved goodbye and I waved back, grateful that she had not continued with the description of her master's sensual habits. I treaded on the unpaved path. Straight ahead, Edythe had said. My mind wandered off to the pages I had read. Was the Church responsible for Yarim's fall into despair? If so, then why? And had I been the one Alice foretold of, about ten odd years ago? It all seemed muddy, a complex labyrinth of twists and incredulity that left me with much more questions than answers.

One thing was certain: Legion still existed—its armor splintered perhaps but the faction remains nonetheless. There are more of them. Perhaps they have left Yarim, perhaps they have not. My stay has lasted for less than a month but it has felt like years since I had seen sunlight or any hope. I will find it. I will finish the Hunt.