Flash: War Medals

Luke pulled the box out from under his bed. He kept everything he had from his dad in the small, black trunk. Around his neck was a chain with the key on it. The key opened the lock with a click the resounded through the room. Luke opened the truck with all the solemness reserved for prayers and funerals.

At the top were photos, every one that Luke could scrounge up. He had gone to relatives and his father’s friends. They painted the story of Lieutenant Brandon Young from his childhood on a Florida farm to his career in the army. Luke knew a story to go with each photo. The one he kept on top was the most important, a picture of his father and mother together. It was the last picture taken of his father, before the Incursion War.

The Incursion has arrived eleven years ago. No one knew for sure why they came or what they wanted. His teachers taught the theory that they had arrived from a dying world and wanted to colonize ours. To that end they invaded the earth and started a campaign of extermination. Most of Earth’s armies were wiped out in the first week.

Under the photo albums was a tray of miscellaneous items. There was a pocket knife and some unit patches. There were little souvenirs and coins his father had collected. Coins from countries that did not even exist any more. His father had traveled around the world during his time in the army prior to the Incursion War. He had fought in Afghanistan and Pakistan. After becoming an Army Ranger he had missions in both the South China Sea and the Middle East.

In the final level rested the most important mementos of all, his father’s metals. Brandon Young had been a very decorated indeed. There was a Purple Heart with five oak clusters, the last posthumous. There were two Medals of Honor. Luke’s father had been the first double recipient in over a century. There were medals for various acts and battles, among them the awards for the fight against the Incursion. Shining most brilliant among those was the Medal of Global Sacrifice. It was awarded to all of the men and women that had died as part of the last ditch assault on the alien forces.

In school they said that if the invasion had come twenty years earlier the world would not have been ready for the invaders. Even then, many said it was fortunate circumstances. Luke, and other children whose parents had died fighting the invasion did not care for that assessment, feeling like it diminished the sacrifice their families had made. The facts remained though, that it was a desperate fight.

The aliens had far more advanced technology. Shields protected their ships from conventional and nuclear assault. They had terrible energy weapons that could wipe out tanks and aircraft with ease. They did not have to fight themselves either. Instead they sent robotic ships to attack human bases. They wiped out major population centers in the blink of an eye.

The key weakness was found when someone made realized that the shields were not always active. They were only used for defense against major attacks such as nuclear strikes. Some researchers believed that the aliens had used up their energy reserves on the journey to earth and lacked the capacity to use them without imminent need. A plan was formed to attack the control ships. A small aerial attack was launched against the hive ships. It was not enough for the Incursion forces to raise their shields. Instead, they just shot the planes and helicopters out of the sky. The human forces did not bother shooting back, instead they headed for the ships on a crash course. It was too late for the ships to raise their shields. The modified aircraft half crashed, half landed on the ships to deposit elite teams. Luke’s father had been one of the team leaders.

The details of what happened inside were sparse. There were very few survivors of the World Wide Offensive. What was known came from the few first hand accounts, transmissions inside the hive ships, and studies done after the war. Luke knew that his father had led his team of rangers into the core of a ship and that they had been pinned down. Whatever happened after that, they overcame it and destroyed the core of the ship, bringing it down. What happened was a mystery to most, but in his minds eye, Luke could see it all clearly.

Lieutenant Young fired at the aliens, tearing them apart with a hail of bullets. He dashed from one piece of cover to the next, working his way through the corridors. His men followed after him, inspired by their brave commander. They forced their way to the engine chamber with a deadly force close on their tales. They were cut off and outnumbered. Young watched as his men fell in the hopeless struggle. He took out the picture of his wife and young son that he kept in his breast pocket to give him courage. Grabbing a bag of explosives he charged through the alien weapons fire and leapt over the railing to the reactor bellow. With a victorious yell he activated the bomb and destroyed the ships core.

Thinking about his father’s sacrifice and looking at his medals always filled Luke with courage. He closed the box, and put away his sacred treasures then hid the key behind his shirt again. The eleven year old boy that was the son of a hero marched down stairs and out the door. There was a bully down the street that had been picking on him and all the other kids. He was big and frightening, but Luke would be like his father and stand up to the menace. He held his head up with pride and courage as he walked down the street to face his enemy.

Flash: The Justicar's Judgement

Cade watched the three men from the shadows of the forest. They were sitting around a campfire and making dinner. They were all dressed in armor that was dented from battle. Two talked back and forth, while the third that seemed to be the leader was silent. He was one of the largest men Cade had ever seen, enough so that he wondered if the man had some ogre blood in his veins. He was certainly ugly enough for it with a lopsided face, bloated lips, and a tangled mass of hair.

Cade stepped out from the trees like a spirit materializing from the forest. “Hail!” he called to the men. They looked up in surprise to see the man that seemed to have appeared from thin air. The first two stood and put their hands on their swords. The largest man stayed seated and took a bite of travel bread. He did not reach for the large bearded ax laying against the log he was sitting on, but his eyes focused intently on Cade.

One man who had short, curly hair and scars across his face snarled, “Who goes there and what is your business?!” The man had the ready stance of a veteran, but his eyes darted about nervously.

“Me, I’m just a just a ranger passing on my way through. There are dangerous men about. Thought I would investigate when I saw the fire,,” Cade told them. He held up his hands to show that they were empty. He took a few steps closer till he was in the light cast by the fire.

The men seemed to relax some. The other man that stood, this one with a haggard beard, spoke this time in a nasally voice, “Yea, and ain’t no men more dangerous than us. Now get your arse out of here. We ain’t interested in sharing our camp or dinner with anyone.”

“Fair enough,” Cade said with a shrug. His eyes narrowed slightly as he said, “Before I go, I need to ask if you passed by a farmstead about three days ride back?”

“We did. What’s it to you?” asked the scared man as me moved back towards his seat by the fire.

“The family that lived there met an evil fate. A group of men stopped there one evening. The family let them share their meal and offered them a roof to sleep under because one of the men was a knight. However, the men were not happy with that. They each raped the mother and daughter. Killed the father and his young sons when they tried to intervene. They locked the women in the house and then set it on fire. Didn’t even wait till they were done screaming to ride off,” said in a stoic voice despite the rage that boiled inside of him.

All three men laughed. It was the large man that spoke this time with a deep, rumbling voice, “That would be our handiwork. Would have let ‘em live probably if those boys hadn’t thought to try and stop us from having at those whores. Neither one was a decent fuck. What I’m wonderin’ though is how you be knownin’ all this?”

“You left the cat alive,” Cade said as though that were plain and obvious. Confusion flashed over the faces of the two that were standing. The large man though, he smiled a vile grin of understanding. He steeled himself as he spoke his next words in a grim voice, “My name is Cade, last of the justicars. I am here to sentence you for your crimes. Do you offer any defense or repentance? If not, the sentence is death.”

“I don’t care what you call yourself,” the scarred man snarled, “but the only death sentence here is yours.” He drew his sword and started towards Cade.

Cade gave a sharp whistle. A half heartbeat later a grey wolf burst from the underbrush and leapt at the scared man. It drove into his side and knocked him down. The man screamed as the wolf’s fangs tore his face from his skull.

The bearded man had drawn his sword as well and the large man picked up his ax as he stood. Cade did not wait for them, instead drawing his own sword and charging forward. Hidden in his hand was a small pouch of alchemical powder that he tossed into the fire. The flames flared high with a loud pop and belched forth heavy smoke. The men were disoriented as Cade closed the ground.

Cade stabbed into the bearded man’s shouldered. He kicked the man hard in the stomach to free his blade and sent the man reeling backwards to fall into the flames. The man rolled about bleeding and on fire with no hope.

The giant man swung his ax blindly. Cade did not bother trying to parry the juggernaut blows. He ducked and dodged the powerful swings. The man roared as he swung the ax down, but Cade was already gone and the ax cut off the leg of the bearded man that had just put out his flames.

Cade slashed the giant’s face causing him to howl. The wolf bit into the man’s leg from behind and took him to the ground. A two handed chop from Cade took off the man’s hand that held his ax. It took three blows from the pommel of Cade’s sword to knock the man out.

***

The sun was starting to rise when the men woke. Cade had tended to them enough to keep them alive and stripped them naked. They were bound hand and foot with ropes running up to the horns of their saddles. Their horses pawed the ground.

Cade looked down at them as he said, “Those people died in pain and terror. You will too. By the way, your horses really didn’t like the way you spurred them.” Cade gave a whinny and the men's horses took off dragging them down the road.

The Gladiator and the Beast

Gal gripped his gladius tight as he waited for the door above him to open so that he could make his way up the ramp into the arena. He hated the waiting, it was the worse part. All he wanted to do was get out there, have his match, kill whoever or whatever was up there, and get back to the cells to wait for dinner. He could not deny the excitement of battle, but fighting for his life for the entertainment of a mob of onlookers was a chore forced upon him, not a choice he was given. That could sour a lot of things.

This would be his twelfth match, making him a rising star in the arena. That was no small accomplishment for a half-ogre bastard. The organizers usually made sure the likes of him died early. He was fairly sure that his mother would have paid them off to remove her little embarrassment. She had kept him around as a slave until he had made the mistake of asking for the truth. Now he was just a disgrace to be removed.

Gal stood head and shoulders over most humans, though a head shorter than a fullblooded ogre. His skin was tanned from long labors under the sun with the olive tone of his mother favored over the sallow color of his father. Arms like carved granite stretched down towards his knees. For the match he pulled his tangle of black hair behind his head in a loose ponytail. Most of the scars he had earned were readily displayed, the most impressive was a jagged white line slashed across his back.

He was normally only allowed a loincloth as clothing, but for the match he was given his usual armor. A manica of segmented plates covered his left arm. It was spiked and had a single claw at the end coming over his hand. His feet were covered with armored greaves. In his right hand he held the gladius that had gotten him through his matches so far.

A crack of daylight spread above him as the doors parted. He walked up from the cool, dank depths of the holding area and into the simmering afternoon sunlight. The crowd gave a cheer and he raised his sword in salute. He did not give a damn about their applause, but it was good to have the spectators on your side. They might well determine life or death at some point. As well, crowd favorites could earn special perks. His rising status as a champion had earned him such a boon just last night.

He had not slept nearly as well as he would have like, especially with a match the next day. However, two noblewomen had paid his trainer handsomely to have his company last night. It was an open secret that the women of the aristocracy liked to take gladiators as temporary lovers, including ogres and half-bloods. They might never talk about it in public, but the hedonistic women whispered of their sexual adventures in private, sharing the lurid details. When he was a servant he had overheard tales of some of the trysts and now he was one of them. He had made the duo howl with pleasure and was certain that they felt the gold had been well spent. Remembering them was making him turgid as he waited for his opponent to be announced.

It turned out he was going to be a bestiarus today. The announcer said something about an accident changing the matches. Gal sensed his mother’s hand in that. Steeling himself, he faced the gate at the opposite side of the arena where his challenge would come from.

The heavy grate raised up like a monster opening its maw. Prodded out was a huge creature with scaly black skin. It stood half again as tall as Gal. The front legs were clawed while the back were hoofed. Its head was a mix of bull, bear, and serpent. Another misbegotten experiment of the fleshwarpers being used as entertainment.

The beast did not take long to set its sights on Gal and charged. It roared as it barreled across the dirt floor, kicking up clods of dirt. Gal waited till the last second before leaping to the side, narrowly avoiding impalement on by the wicked horns, and slashing the creature’s flank. The beast howled in rage as black blood oozed from the wound.

The creature turned quick to make another lunge. Gal was ready, diving under the attack and thrusting up at the creature’s chest. The stab was shallow, the scales stealing the power from the thrust. The snarling monster swept its claws at Gal. He blocked the first with his armored arm but the second raked across his chest leaving four bloody lines. Gal backpedaled away as the creature lowered its head for another charge.

Gal dodged the beast’s charge by ducking low under its horns. However, at the last moment he reached up and grabbed at one horn with his free hand. Kicking off of the ground he arced up through the air as the beast found its head yanked to the side. Gal’s arm was nearly torn from its socket, but now he was straddling the monster’s back.

The monster bucked trying to throw Gal free. He held on, though, with powerful legs and by digging the claw of his armor into the abominable creature’s shoulder. As it swung its serpentine neck around so it could bite him, Gal stabbed down with his sword. Again and again he thrust until the monster stumbled to the ground. With a two-handed chop, he severed its head.

The crowd roared its approval and Gal gave them the expected salute. He then walked back to the holding area, standing tall and proud until out of sight. He slumped, the excitement gone, while attendants saw to his wounds. He would need to rest for his next challenge. He intended to keep living to spite his mother.

Night Raider: Issue 3

Clarence watched as the drug dealer surreptitiously handed over a packet of crack in exchange for a handful of cash. He had been watching the dealer for an hour now. Each time he made a sale, Clarence snapped a picture with his camera. The zoom lense captured a clear shot, even from a roof half a block away. It was getting late though, and the dealer would be surrendering his spot to another gang member soon.

Before the next shift showed up a police cruiser came around the corner. The dealer did not run or even try to look like he was doing something else. He knew the police were no threat to him, not here, not in Crown City. Instead, the dealer waits until the cruiser pulls up next to him and leans in to talk casually with the officers inside.

Johnson and Axelrod were both scum so far as Clarence was concerned. They were the kind of slime that other filth is disgusted by. Even among cops that take graft, those two had pushed the line. Its not just bribes and extortion, they actively worked with the gangs. Watching as the gang member handed over some of his cash to them, he wanted nothing more than to smash their heads in and rip off their undeserved badges. He wanted to scream to the world about their corruption and oathbreaking, about how they are not fit to wear the uniform. He wanted them punished and made an example of. None of that was going to happen though. They were to well shielded. So instead he pressed the button and catches it all with the camera.

As the cruiser drove off, Clarence left his post and changed into his new “uniform” to go “talk” to the dealer. Over the last few weeks he had been refining his gear. His entire outfit was black. Black tactical pants and shirt over his bulletproof vest. Instead of a plastic domino mask he had bought an imitation leather mask that would not flip from his face. He pulled the hood of his black duster over his head. His baton, OC spray, and other tools were stored in pockets or on a body harness. He slipped on the tactical gloves as he headed towards the edge of the roof.

He started to run and leapt the short distance to the next roof, sliding a bit but staying on his feet. Clarence had done a bit of freerunning as a teenager. He was never that good with the flips and other fancy stuff, but he could get up and over most obstacles and was a pretty good climber. A little practice and it all seemed to come back to him.

He moved over the roof to the other side and climbed down to the alley below. Quiet as death, he moved through the shadows as the world slid into twilight. He darted down an abandoned street then down another alley. He found the one he knew the dealer would head down on his way home. As easy as a spider he climbed up a wall and hung from a fire escape that was half ready to fall from the side of the building.

Clarence watched as the dealer came down the alley at a brisk walk. As soon as the dealer passed under Clarence’s hiding spot, he dropped down onto him. They went down with a heavy thud. Clarence’s arm was around the dealer’s neck before he could cry out. The man tried to fight, but the chokehold was too tight. A few seconds later he was passed out and Clarence drug him off to a waiting car. A touch of chloroform to keep him docile then Clarence shut the trunk.

***

He crouched on top of an old barrel as he watched the dealer slowly come too. He stared at the man dangling upside down by his feet the same way a hawk eyes a mouse. Nothing would have pleased him more than to cut the drug dealer open the same way a hawk’s tallon’s shred a field mouse. He could probably forgo eating the man afterwards though.

“Wake up to your nightmare skum,” Clarence said as the man’s eyes started to open. He practically growled the words, his voice filled with malicious intent.

“What the fuck is going on?!” the dealer demanded. The dealer tried orient himself he shouted up at the masked man looking down at him, “You better let me the fuck go! My boys are going to cut your head off you stupid cocksucker.”

Clarence hopped off of the barrel then drove his booted foot into the man’s stomach. The dealer swung about on the rope gasping for breath. “Watch your language punk. You don’t get to make demands here. Your friends aren’t here. You have no weapon, no way of escape. I do not have a problem with taking a lead pipe to you like an overgrown pinata. If you aren’t cooperative I may well do just that.”

“Fine, what do you want then?” the dealer gasped out.

“What do I want? What do I want?!” Clarence snarled at his prisoner. He grabbed the man’s pants leg and gave a shove so that the man went spinning around. “I want to be able to walk down the street without having to worry about getting mugged. I want kids to be able to walk home without getting hit by stray bullets from a gang shootout. I want people to be able live their lives without some piece of crap drug dealer peddling dope to them. What I want is to rid my city of people like you!” As he said the last part, Clarence crouched down so he could grab the man in the throat. Choking the man with a vice like grip he said in a very low voice, “And you, you are going to tell me things I want to know so I can do just that.”

“What if I don’t?” the dealer asked weakly when Clarence released his throat.

Clarence gave him a vicious smile. He reached down and pulled away the metal plate covering the floor below the dangling man. Revealed below it was a dark pit reeking of the sewers. Scurrying and squeaking of rats reverberated up through it. “Simple, I’ll drop you down in there and go find someone more talkative. The water is too shallow to drown in so I hope you like having your face gnawed off by rats.”

“Oh God! Oh God man, you can’t do this,” the dealer begged as started to thrash about.

“No, I can, and its as good as you deserve,” Clarence said as he stood up, “Its as good a fate as you have given to a lot of people. Last year an infant died from being gnawed on by rats on the block you were selling on. The mother was strung out on drugs, and she probably got them from you. I’ve seen children walking that street to prostitute themselves for drug money just down the street from you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll stop, I won’t sell to anyone else,” the drug dealer said as he started to cry, “Please, just don’t put me down in there. I’ll tell you anything you want!”

A grim smile formed on Clarence’s face. This was what he was waiting for. He took out a notebook and started to question the dealer, taking detailed notes on everything he heard. Much of it just confirmed what had already known, if could not prove when that mattered, or confirm things he suspected.

***

Clarence opened the trunk of the car and pulled the drug dealer out and dropped him roughly to the ground. The man moaned with pain, his broken arms tied to his body at awkward angles. He knelt down and forced the man to look up at him. The dealer looked up in fear when his eyes met the eyes full of righteous fury behind the dark mask.

With a low, growling voice that bordered on bestial, Clarence told the crippled drug dealer, “Someone will find you here. My suggestion is that you go to the police, make a confession of all your crimes, and spend some time in jail rethinking your life, because that is the only place where the likes of you is going to be safe. Your friends are going to ask you what happened and who did this. Tell them that vengeance has come to this city and that a cleansing fire is going to burn away the corruption. Tell them that the darkness is no longer safe for them, that someone is policing the night. Tell them to beware the Night Raider, because he will be watching and he will deliver justice.”

Flash: To Hungry to Escape

I run hard as I try to out pace the men behind me. My legs ache from the exertion as I coach more power from them and my lungs burn with exhaustion. Now is no time to curse not working out more. Several hours sitting on hard steel is the has left my muscles cramped and cold. Hunger is my biggest enemy. The growling in my stomach means that I do not have enough fuel to go far.

The men behind me are FTRA, a violent gang of homeless freighthoppers. I had stumbled on them while looking for a squat for the night. I should have been more careful, but I was in a hurry. Not only do I need to loose them, I still have to find a place to hide for the evening.

I leap over an overturned barrel then dodge between two old, rusted box cars. I try changing directions and even crawling under a train. No evasion tactic convinces them to give up. I find myself running into a maze of freight containers. My one saving grace is that they do not split up, using their numbers to head off my escape. In the end, it turns out that they do not need to. I run myself into a dead end. Freight containers form a box canyon that I cannot climb out of or even try to climb under.

I turn to face the three men stalking up on me. They know I am trapped, they may have known I would end up here from the start. I back up till till my back is pressed to hard metal. I ball up my hands into fists, instincts switching from flight to fight. The worse part is I can feel my blood growing warm at the thought.

“Leave me alone,” I shout at them lamely, “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Yea, well you got it you little piss-ant,” one of them says as he pulls a hammer out of a loop on his pants, “No one steals our squat.”

“I wasn’t trying to steal it, I was going to leave as soon as I saw you there,” I plead. They do not care about what I have to say. They’ve made up their minds on what my crime is.

The first one steps forward and swings at me with his hammer. I jump back and hit the cargo container. This makes the other two laugh. He comes at me again, swinging the hammer down. Instinct, and I’m not sure it is my own, moves me forward. I throw up an arm to block the downswing, catching the handle on my forearm. It hurts, but less than a ball-peen to the head. I punch as hard as I can, catching the man on the jaw. I follow with a kick to the gut that knocks him backwards to land on his ass at his buddies’ feet.

I cradle my left arm. Good money says the bone is cracked if not broken. The men are not laughing now. As the first man stands up, cursing vehemently, the others draw out knives. The weapons and violent intent do not frighten me though. Instead, it makes me angry, makes bare my teeth. We have passed the point of return as the moon peeks over the shipping crates and illuminates the scene in its pale light.

As they move in for the attack, I let out a scream of pain and double over. They for a moment by the unexpected reaction, watching as I fall to the ground in pain. Their shock wears off though, probably thinking it is just some ploy on my part. They surround me and start kicking at my body, intent on stomping me to death. Part of me wishes that they could. I do not feel their blows. The only pain that registers is the deep twisting inside of me. Everything burns as though my blood were replaced with acid.

If they had bothered to look closer they would have seen the start of the change. Even with my eyes closed, I know what is happening. I can feel every little bit of it. My head starts to reshape, bones crunching and moving, new ones growing. My ears slide up my head while my mouth extends into a muzzle. My legs twist and reshape to be more like a dog’s legs. It feels like they are breaking, and maybe they are, only to be knitted back together once they are in the right position.

Distantly, I can hear one of the men shout and the kicking stops. They must have finally realized that something was not right, seen that I was undergoing an unnatural transformation. My skin itches as if every square inch of it was being gnawed on by an army of fleas as thick fur sprouts from it. My eyes finally open and I can see my attackers backing away. I once watched the transformation in a mirror and know that my eyes are now an luminous yellow.

My body start to swell. One bicep balloons out with new muscle then a calf. None of the transformation happens in a predictable order. Fangs feel my mouth as claws sprout from one hand then the other. This is what finally sends the men fleeing. It is too late though and they will not be able to run far enough or hide well enough. As the last of the transformation sets in my mind finally fades from consciousness to blissful darkness as the other takes over.

It is the next morning when I wake up, the sun ushers in dawn over the horizon. I am naked and cold, laying in a field outside the train yard.. Blood stains my hands and face. I am not hungry now, and that thought sickens me. There is nothing to do about it though. I head off in search of clothes and shelter. I must weather two more nights of this.

Starting the New Year

The first year for The Word Crafter's Lair has gone pretty well. I have kept up a pretty consistent pace through 2012. I plan to see that pace pick up more for 2013. 

The first important step will be putting up a flash story every month. Coming up with enough new ideas will be a fun challenge. In addition I will try to have several on going stories as well. Currently that is the superhero story Night Raider. An important personal goal for me is to get my writing pace up. By the time NaNoWrMo rolls around again in November I want to be able to put out 2000 words a day easy. Learning to focus like that will not be easy, but nothing worth doing is.

Of course there are hindrances to all of this as well. As I like to say, life has a way of getting in the way. I managed to make some life leaps last year and want to make even bigger ones this year. While writing will be a big part of that, it is not the only thing that has to be done. 

The last bit of news in writing is my plan for finishing the novel I started in November. The goal I have set for myself is 3000 words each month. That really is not a lot in and of itself, but that will be competing with my monthly flash story (so a minimum of 4000 words a month) and other writing projects. I will be working hard on a lot of gaming material as well. A lot on my plate. Good thing I have a big appetite. 

The Winter Solstice Sacrifice

A lone young man strode down the corridor in solemn silence. He was dressed in white bodysuit with a crown of holy circling his brow. The suit was warm and padded to protect him from the cold outside and the beasts of the wild. He opened and closed his hands as he walked, trying to focus his mind and put aside his nerves.

Joshua was excited and terrified all at once. It was Christmas Eve and he was to be the community’s hunter this year. At seventeen years old it was quite an honor, and responsibility, to be chosen. If he succeeded he would bring the Lord’s blessing onto the tribe for the year. If he failed, he would have to provide himself as the sacrifice for the year.

He reached the end of the corridor and stood in front of the wall, waiting to be let through. After a moment the wall split in the middle and started to peel back. The little tiles that made up the structure rearranged themselves to create a portal for him to step through. He could see the rest of the community waiting in the room beyond. They were divided into two groups, one to each side so that he would have a clear path to travel down. Waiting at the end before the gate to the outerworld was Father Markus.

Joshua did not miss a beat and stepped forward. He continued down between silent crowd with his eyes set forward. He had to appear confident and self assured. It would not do for them to be able to see doubts and fears that filled his heart. Nor did he wish to look like a child that was too eager to be the hunter without understanding of what he was about to do. The weight of everyone’s expectations were heavy on his shoulders.

He stopped before Father Markus. The older man had long grey hair, but his eyes were alive with a piercing energy. It was the kind of gaze that made rock crumble. Below his left eye were seven light scars, one for each time he had been the Hunter. The hall waited in stony silence as Joshua was appraised. Whatever it was that Father Markus looked for in the hunters, he seemed to find it in Joshua and motioned for him to kneel.

“We are gathered on this holy night to make an offering to the Lord as an act of penance and a request of mercy,” Father Markus said as he started the sermon, “For long ago, man committed the greatest of sins. Men thought to be like God, to hold the power of life and death. They sought to change the earth to better suit them, ignoring the divine wisdom that had created the world. The Lord was angry and turned mens works against them. The life they sought to create was twisted and hateful towards them. Every living thing upon the earth that had been given to man was now dedicated to his destruction. Every beast that walks has the taste for the flesh of men. Every bird of the sky is poisonous to man’s tongue. The small things that creeped across the earth grew large and powerful to smash the cities of men under their feet.

“Man might have been doomed of not for the mercy of the Lord’s Son,” Father Markus continued, the crowd in the palm of his hand. Even though they heard it on every winter solstice, everyone was enthralled. “He beseeched the Lord to forgive man. In his wisdom the Lord agreed, but for this mercy He demanded that man make a sacrifice just as His son had.

“Now we make a sacrifice every year to the Lord on the night His son was born,” said Father Markus. His voice had become less grim, but no less solemn. “Tonight is the winter solstice, the longest night of the year. We will send young Joshua out into the dark where he will spill blood in sacrifice to wash away all of our sins. For this pious act the sun shall rise come morning and usher in a new year of growth and renewal.”

When Father Markus made a gesture, Joshua kneeled and bowed his head. Father Markus led him and the others through the Lord’s Prayer and then him alone through the Hunter’s Rite. He anointed his head in oil and bid him to rise. Markus held out his hands. In one was a curved knife. In the other was a long metal cylinder.

Joshua took the cylinder with the stone tip first. He gave the thought command that activated the device. The cylinder stretched out until it was nearly as long as he was tall. It sprouted a long, tapered blade with a small prong on each side. Hefting its weight in his hand, he tested its feel. He then recited the ritual words that he had memorized since he was a child, “May my spear be guided by the grace of God. I leave here cloaked in the sins of all. I shall walk through the valley of the shadow of death, comforted only by my spear and the Lord’s blessing. Before the sun rises I shall wash away the cloak of sin with blood so that the light of God Almighty shall rise in the morning and shine down on all to warm our hearts and the land.”

Father Markus raised the knife and pressed the hooked tip under Joshua’s left eye. He drew it across the young man’s face with a deft flick of his wrist, leaving a thin line of red that began to lightly ooze. Joshua for his part did not flinch from the cut. Father Markus handed Joshua the knife and told him, “You are now marked, Hunter. Return triumphant or do not return at all. Before the sun’s rays bath the land, you must use the knife of sacrifice.”

All were as silent as death as Father Markus stepped aside. The back wall parted and the chill of winter flooded the room. With nothing left to say, Joshua marched forward into the snowy night. The wall closed behind him and he was truly alone, left to wander as a dead man in search of life.

Wasting no time, Joshua trudged through the snow, heading for the forest. The snow was deep enough that he sank past his ankle, though the occasional drift put it to his knee. It was also wet and heavy. This would make for slow going, but also would make the trail of his intended prey clear. He was fortunate that the moon was nearly full. Its pale rays illuminated the land, giving it an ethereal glow.

His senses strained to catch any sign of life as he moved through forest of skeletal trees. Their frost rimed branches looked like ghoulish arms ready to grab him at any moment and they projected spectral shadows that haunted in the moonlight to haunt the ancient part of his mind that told him he should be somewhere safe and warm. The trees were dead and harmless, but not from winter cold. Living trees were to dangerous to build a settlement by. This was an old forest that had died off long ago. Still, beasts made their homes here.

Joshua paused to check the chronometer on the wrist of his suit. He was making good time. The ground was already starting to slope up towards the mountain. A halo of fog breath wafted around his head as checked his positioning and course before starting out again. He had only taken a single step when he thought he heard something.

He stopped dead still and strained to hear. His eyes looked around, straining in the half-light. Then he heard it again, the barest sound of wings flapping. He could think of only one thing that silent and would hunt on a dark winters night. He readied his spear in one hand with the shaft tucked under his arm for support. His other hand drew out his hunting knife.

The only warning was a high pitched attack screech from behind. Joshua flung himself forward into the snow. Glancing up he could see the dark form of a blood bat flying over him. The creature was darker than dark, like the night sky distilled of all its stars and the moon. It had a wingspan almost as long as he was tall. Its wings and hind feet were tipped with hooked claws that could slice through a man’s flesh with ease and dripped an anticoagulant venom so potent that even a single scratch could cause a man to exsanguinate. Two large ears like satellite dishes sat just above a maw of teeth made to crack bones so that the blood bat could suck out the marrow.

Joshua was back on his feet in an instant and put his back to one of the ancient trees. All around him he could hear the screeching of blood bats. They liked to attack in swarms of three to four usually. As he strained to sense where the next attack would come from he started to grow nauseous. The frequency the blood bats used for their echolocation had an unsettling effect on the human body.

The next attack came straight on. Gritting his teeth, Joshua ignored the bile rising towards his throat and thrust forward with his spear. He impaled the blood bat through the mouth and forced it to the ground. The beast flapped about in its death throes, spreading its blood on the snow.

The spear was still stuck in the first blood bat’s body when the next attack came. Joshua sidestepped the attack and hooked his knife upward to catch the bat’s wing. Bone and leathery flesh were cut clean through. The blood bat tumbled through the air until it crashed into a tree.

He drew the spear from the body of the blood bat and peered around, hoping to catch a shadow of movement. He saw a flicker in the darkness at his feet and realized that the blood bat was above him. Without thinking he thrust up and caught the attacker in the side with his spear. The bat continued down, however, and slashed at Joshua with its tearing claws.

The spear was of no use in close so Joshua dropped it. He used his free hand to grapple the blood bat and hold it away from him. He stabbed repeatedly  with the knife until he realized that the bat was no longer attacking. He let it drop to the snow then sagged against a tree. He panted from the exertion, his breath forming a haze in the air.

Once he had caught his breath, Joshua tended to his wounds. He took a small medical kit from his belt pouch and applied a salve to his cuts. It should stop the bleeding even with the bat’s venom hindering his body’s ability to form clots. It dulled the pain as well and would start the healing process. He cleaned his knife and spear on the snow then set off again.

The harsh environment of the last thousand years had bred a rugged and resilient people. The blood of survivors flowed in Joshua’s veins. He had been forged on the crucible of an unforgiving world until he was as tough as the world around him. Young and entering into his prime, he was ready for any to press forward with nothing held back.

He jogged across the frozen countryside until he had broken through the dead forest. He was entering the barren hills that led up the mountain. The terrain was open here and he would be more exposed. Any cover that could be found, a boulder here, a dead tree there, was to be taken with a small prayer of thanks to God. Joshua moved over the hills, climbing ever steeper slopes. His eyes scanned constantly for both his prey and any creature that would see him as prey.

He passed quickly through the hills and started up the mountainous slopes with only one small incident. A leach bush had been hidden under a snow drift that he had the misfortune of sinking into. The dormant plant animated when it sensed fresh blood. Thorny vines wrapped about his legs and pierced his skin. The hollow thorns started to feast on his lifeblood with a starved thirst. The blade of his spear was sharp to a micron, however, and severed the vampiric herb. Joshua made good his escape and started using the butt of his spear to check for deep snow drifts as he moved on up along the sharp cliff faces.

Pathways had been worn along the side of the cliff face by generations of men and beasts. They were treacherous, rimmed over by the freezing fogs that had swept through like life stealing spectres. Sure feet and good balance were all that kept Joshua from sliding off the edge of the mountain as he hiked higher and higher.

Joshua’s lungs burned as he breathed in the frigid mountain air. He had been traveling for hours now without break and it was nearing midnight. He was truly in the hunting grounds now. However, he only had a few hours left to find a ram to sacrifice. If he could not find a ram, his own life would be forfeit. He had known that going in, but it had not sunk in until he could feel the seconds ticking away. Joshua said a soft prayer and hardened his resolve.

A chill wind caused snow flurries to dance around him as he scampered over a few small boulders. The wind also carried the distant howls of viper wolves. It was eerie and unsettling, but they were far off and would not climb up into the mountains. After sliding along an ice sheet that nearly took him over the edge of a cliff, Joshua reflected that showed a great deal of wisdom on the viper wolves’ part. Why risk their lives on the icy rocks when they could wait at the bottom for some fool to trip and be delivered right to them?

As he neared the alpine zone, Joshua finally spotted the tracks he had hoped for. They were fresh and easy to follow. Gripping his spear tightly, Joshua followed the trail with all possible speed. He slid down icy embankments and leapt across crevasses. He was past the time of caution and fear could only serve to hold him back. Adrenaline banished his fatigue and the thrill of the chase carried him across the mountain like he had grown wings. Dawn was growing close and this would likely prove to be his only chance.

The hoof marks in the snow and scuffed ice and rock led him around a ledge with an overhang. He could tell that there was something waiting for him down in those beshadowed depths. Joshua crept forward with all the silence of death. Unfortunately the slope down under the overhang was covered with loose scree. No amount of caution and stealth would be adequate to stop pebbles from tumbling down the slope in a small avalanche. The noise seemed to echo like the roar of a thousand boulders bounding down a mountain.

Behind the rocky clatter came the sound of a great beast stirring. It snored from the shadows even as its eyes glowed in the slivers of moonlight that braved the dark depths of the mountain hollows. Mighty hooves raked the stone underfoot as the eyes settled on the intruder. Snorting out a frosty breath that was like blowing out the smoke of hellfire, the creature charged.

Joshua had his spear at the ready, but knew he could not stand against the creature on such unstable footing. He threw himself aside at the last possible moment and the creature lunged past him. He pivoted quickly and looked to see the ram bathed in the moonlight.

It was a massive creature that stood as tall as him. Two great horns rested on its head, curling  back and around. Small spines ran along the horns to ensure that anything hit by them would be shredded as well as crushed. It stood on six powerful legs ending in nimble hooves that could navigate any mountain as well as a man walked over a flat floor. Its white coat shimmered under the moonbeams. Joshua had never seen such a magnificent and terrible creature.

The ram scrapped at the ground with one of its forehooves and Joshua knew it was preparing to charge again. This would be a fight to the death. Joshua dashed downhill, sliding on ice and scree to put distance between himself and the ram. he shot an arm out to grab and outcropping of rock and change his direction. The ram followed close behind and smashed through the corpse of an ancient tree that had once dared to try and grow at the edge of the treeline.

Joshua ran as soon as his feet were on lichen and snow. With a bit of distance between him and the ram, Joshua spun and crouched with the spear ready. The ram came after him, turning with a nimbleness that would not have been expected from such a large creature. It crashed across the small plane towards Joshua. At the last moment he rolled to the side and stabbed up with his spear. The keen tip connected and ripped a red line across the flank of the mighty ram. First blood was his.

The ram rounded on him as it bellowed its pain. Joshua was forced to dodge away from stamping hooves and pulverizing horns. He thrust with his spear, but even its keen tip would not stab through the adamantine skull of the ram. He retreated and attacked, trying for distance. He could not go far, the ram was forcing him near the edge of the cliff. A few steps more and he would fall to his doom. The ram scrapped its forehoof on the ground and he could see that was exactly what was about to happen. It would smash into his chest and fling him off the edge of the world.

Joshua had paid attention when it had attacked before. The beast reared up on its hind legs before it charged forward, building up energy and aligning its spine. As it did so he  made a desperate lunge, stabbing up into its chest. The ram came down, its legs still kicking on instinct to launch it forward and drove the spear clean through it. Still, it struck against Joshua and together they both rolled toward the edge of the cliff, stopping not a hands breadth from going over.

Joshua stood up panting. He looked down at the graceful and powerful animal that kicked impotently in the air. He drew the ceremonial knife and slashed the rams throat as he said the ritual prayers, putting his foe, and salvation, out of its misery.

The light of dawn burst over the mountain and washed over the land. It illuminated the valley below. Joshua could feel the warmth and knew that summer would come and with it new blessings. He kneeled in prayer and thanked the Lord for providing him with a sacrifice and absolving the sins of him and his community. Joshua descended the mountain with his path illuminated by the light of the new year.