Shadow of the Hunter Complete

"You won't," Ambrose confirmed.

Chad looked at him.

"You've come out the other side of it. And no matter what path you chose from here, you can't go back to what was before."

Chad was considering what Ambrose had said when a hand was laid gently on his shoulder. Chad bolted upright and spun around as he pulled Ambrose behind him. A soft laughter followed him.

"My, but our new hunter is jumpy." A trim young woman leaned against the bench. Her long red hair hung down her back and partially in her face. The bottom part of it was white. Chad's first inclination was that it had been dyed, but he wasn't sure. Somehow, it seemed right for her.

"This is Rin," Ambrose explained with a gesture to the woman as he returned to his seat. "She is not a danger. But thank you for your concern." He looked back to the woman. "That was very inconsiderate," he chastised her.

She laughed again, a rich, throaty sound. "He should relax more. He's among friends."

Chad didn't return to his seat. He cocked his head and studied her, sifting through his impressions. Ambrose was right. He didn't get any sort of threat feeling from her. Her presence still put him on edge. She was not human, he could tell. Her form was human enough, though.

She was about five foot four, with a pale complexion, and while she was trim, there were still enough curves to be enticing. Her breasts were small, and pert, her hips inviting. In fact, almost everything about her seemed alluring, from her laughing amber eyes, lush mouth, and lovely figure, to the spicy scent that came off her. Chad thought at first it might be a cologne, but it also seemed part of her, like her curious hair color. Then it struck him; she exuded sex, similar to the Jorogumo. Not predatory, she seemed far more playful than that, but it was enough to get Chad's hackles up.

He set his foot on the bench and leaned against his thigh. "Is there something I can do for you?" Tension seeped into his voice.

"You already have." She smiled. "I'm here for what I can do for you."

"I'm not following."

"The other night, in the alley. When you put down the goblin enforcer. The woman was one of mine. And it occurs to me I owe you some gratitude."

Rin's sultry stance and seductive smile left little doubt as to what form the gratitude would take. "One of yours? Are you a pimp or something?"

Her smile turned demure. "Such a harsh question to ask so soon of an acquaintance."

Chad turned to Ambrose. "So, is she a pimp or something?"

Ambrose smiled. "No. There are certain ones she looks after. But their life choices are their own."

"Ah. Good to know."

Rin sauntered over to where Chad was standing. She laid her hand on his thigh and leaned in close, her voice a provocative whisper. "That isn't to say I don't have a trick or two of my own. I would be happy to show you."

Chad dropped his leg and Rin caught herself easily.

"I have someplace else I have to be. Later days." He turned to Ambrose. "See you around."

Ambrose nodded and Chad walked away. Rin took a seat on the bench next to Ambrose.

"Well, he's certainly tightly wound. We'll have to see what we can do about that." Rin observed.

Ambrose sighed as he bent to pick up the discarded coffee cup. "He's new to all this, Rin. Give the poor man some time."

She smirked. "If I wait too long, he'll be old before his time. You know what they say about all work and no play, don't you?" And with that she faded out, leaving Ambrose to equal parts wonder and worry about what she might do.

***************

Chad would have liked to talk more to Ambrose but Rin had thrown him off kilter. While he didn't think she was a threat she came on way too strong for him. At least he'd found something to spur him into seeing Sebastian. He ducked down an empty side street. After ensuring he was alone, he called up the hawk. A quick survey revealed the cash he was carrying wasn't dropped onto the ground. It made no damn sense, but he was thankful for the considerations the magic provided.

He headed towards the river. It was long, extending through several cities, and Chad wondered how he was supposed to know where to find Sebastian along its length. With a mental shrug, he decided the only choice was to fly the river. He had a sense of Sebastian, he could find him.

Chad found him a town over, resting in the river. He came in low and buzzed over Sebastian's head. The dragon head snapped upright as Chad pulled out of the dive. His resounding cry cut through the cold air. Ahead, Chad saw a bridge over the river with arches forming small tunnels along the river. The closest arch to the bank had a walking path with a railed wall between it and the river. Chad landed on the rail and shifted to stand on the path and lean against the rail. He looked back to Sebastian.

Sebastian rose out of the river and walked over to where Chad stood. His gait was stately. Compared to Qiang's dragon form Sebastian's looked juvenile. It seemed he wasn't quite full grown. Nor was he as large. He was impressive, even so. The scales on the upper body were gradated shades of iridescent blue, darker on top to lighter towards his underside. The underside scales went along the length of his body in a pearlescent white. A sliver mane started between a set of thin antlers and ran down the length of his body ending in a ruff around the tail and curved around his jaw line and snout. Drooping catfish like whiskers completed his face. Sebastian came to a stop in front of Chad and regarded him.

"You wanted to see me?" Chad asked.

Now that Chad was in front of him, Sebastian had no idea what he wanted to say. He tried to call up the anger he had for Chad, but the young man in front of him looked so different from the one he'd met in the restaurant that it was hard to reconcile. He searched the gray eyes for any of the arrogance or malice he'd seen that first night. None of it was there. Instead, there was a fierceness and a glittering, disturbing insight.

"Yeah, I did."

"OK, here I am. What did you want?"

"To see who you are."

Chad nodded. "And what do you see?"

"I don't know."

Chad nodded again. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"I know," Sebastian whispered before he realized he'd said it. He shook his head. This wasn't right. Chad should still be the villain, the predator, the threat. Not this partially broken man, apologizing before him. "But it doesn't fix anything."

"No, it doesn't," Chad said, lowering his head. "There isn't anything I can do to fix it. I can only go forward."

"And what is forward? Is it just the past as prologue?"

Chad looked off to the distance, and seemed to be very far away for a moment. Then he said, "'Man's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead'." He looked back to Sebastian. "'But if the courses are departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me'. Or with what I have been shown."

Sebastian tilted his head a bit as he took in what Chad said. "Where is that from?" he asked.

"Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol. Ebenezer Scrooge says it towards the end."

"Wouldn't have considered you a fan of the classics."

"My mother loved that book. Loved most of Dickens, actually. She would read A Christmas Carol to me and my sister at Christmas."

Sebastian felt a twinge of something he couldn't name. "Loved? Past tense?" he asked.

Chad nodded. "She died when I was ten."

"I'm sorry. How did it happen?"

Chad's jaw tightened, his lips became a thin line. "Tumble down the stairs. Backwards."

Sebastian shifted around slightly. He wanted to ask more, felt he should ask more, but as he watched, Chad pulled himself in tight. This was not a conversation he wanted to have.

"I'm sorry," was all Sebastian could come up with to say.

"Why?" he asked, his voice tight. "You're not the one who caused it to happen."

But did somebody else? Sebastian was forced to wonder. He scrutinized Chad. But the more he looked the more he realized the truth of what Qiang had said. There was no monster here, only pain with very deep roots, and if somebody had caused his mother's death, it wasn't him. The realization also recalled Qiang's further warning: Sebastian would have to accept what he found.

Something trembled briefly between them, threatening to overwhelm them both. Then Chad jerked himself upright.

"Did I answer your questions?" he asked tersely.

Sebastian nodded.

"Then can I go?"

"Yes."

Chad was gone and in his place was a magnificent red-tailed hawk. He beat the air with his wings and flew from the underpass, clearing the trees and was gone. Chad was suddenly glad of one more thing about the hawk. It couldn't cry.

**************

"Then the bastard turned into a hawk and flew away. I mean, who knew he could even do that? After that I lost him and was out of the hunt..."

"Allied with that damned fire dragon, I hear..."

"Can you believe he's hooked up with the rats? What kind of hunter does that?"

"I told you there'd be sorrow if we went after the runaways. Reached past our wisdom we did and now we'll pay the price."

"Ah, but their meat is so much sweeter than the gutter dwellers. Besides, should we be fighting with the crawlers for scavenged, dead meat?"

Voices engaged in dozens of conversations echoed through the area. The goblin parliament was to begin session. The parliament was tucked under the bridge Chad and Ambrose had been herded to the previous night. Every goblin with an opinion, which is to say just about every goblin in the city, was crowded into the space. There was more than one bridge overpass contributing to the roof, and one pack claimed the territory under them all. The area was warded against the weather, and fires burned brightly for both warmth and cooking. Nine banners hung, reflecting the packs in attendance. There were representatives from every goblin pack in the city. Parliaments were rarely called, and when they were they were always heavily attended. The talk of everyone was the topic of the night's gathering, the new hunter and the issues he presented.

Quarrel walked through the crowds, giving only half an ear to the rumors and gossip swirling around him. His wolf-like vargr, Death Dealer, padded silently beside him. He was not looking forward to the parliament. He and Nargle would be called on to present testimony, and their testimony would not be welcomed. It was his pack that held the bridge area, his pack that had initiated the counterstrike against the hunter, and the outcome of the mission would most likely be considered their failure.

Quarrel was concerned that the loss of face would mean the loss of territory. Never mind it wasn't just his pack feeding themselves from the forgotten of the city, or that nobody knew the hunter was also a shifter and allied to the fire dragon, or that none of the packs, much less two riders, were a match for the fire dragon. He growled at the injustice of it all.

At the whim of a dragon what could have been a great victory[comma] instead became a humiliating defeat. He didn't want to consider the further implications of the dragon's warnings. He would present them to the parliamentary goblins and anything further would be up to them. He reached over and scratched Death Dealer behind the ear. The vargr snuffled in approval and leaned his massive head into Quarrel's hand. Quarrel smiled in spite of himself. At least somebody found some enjoyment at this gathering.

Quarrel finished his walk of the area and returned to the spot where his pack's banner was displayed. It should have been prominently displayed in the front. Instead, it was shoved in the back, his band forced into the lowest place as a sign of disgrace.

He paused a moment to look at the banner. A blood red background with black barbed wire running diagonally across the back and a silver sword set vertically in the center. It was a proud banner, advertising blood and death to any who crossed it. He fought back bitter despair at the thought of it being pulled down.

"Whatever will be, will be," said Nargle from his spot on the floor. He sat with his back against his vargr, Backbiter. The grays and blacks that Nargle favored blended into Backbiter's black furred hide.

Quarrel walked over and seated himself beside them. Death Dealer curled up behind him, his tawny hide a bright contrast to Backbiter's. To look at them, it was hard to believe the two vargr were litter mates.

Quarrel proudly wore the red, silver, and black of his band. The red tunic was dyed in the blood of his conquests, and covered by a black leather jacket with barbed-wire wrapped sleeves. Black canvas pants and black biker boots completed his outfit. He wore a red slouch hat but eschewed the face covering. His clothing was as much a contrast to his hunt-mate's simple gray tunic and black pants, jacket, and hat as their mounts were to each other. The only similarity was that Nargle also went without face covering. He would joke that Quarrel was having an undue influence on him.

"I know. It doesn't make it any easier."

"True."

They sat together in silence until the klaxon of air horns signaled the beginning of parliament. Quarrel and Nargle rose along with the gathered multitudes as the leaders of the gathered packs made their way forward. At the far end of the under pass was a dais with seats for the leaders. The leaders, now the ruling members of the parliament, solemnly climbed the dais and took their seats. The leader of Quarrel and Nargle's pack was allowed to sit on the parliament, but was given the lowest seat, further evidence of how the winds were blowing. The obvious insult riled Quarrel, but prudence ruled the moment and he did nothing.

After they were seated, the second from their band made the general announcement about why the parliament was being called. Quiet murmurs rippled through the crowd. Quarrel snorted. As if any of them didn't know why the parliament was called. It was commonly said the only thing swifter than a vargr was a rumor.

The lead goblin of the parliament sounded an air horn, calling for silence. The gathering grew quiet.

"Now, we've all heard rumors of the phenomenal failure of the Bridge Keep pack. Going over the shameful details will accomplish nothing. It is the consequences of it that are now to be discussed."

The goblin given the honor of leading the parliament was the leader of a rival pack, and it was much in his interest to see the Bridge Keep pack fall. Quarrel wanted dearly to dye his clothes in the lead goblin's blood. He wasn't aware he'd started to move forward until Nargle's arm was against his chest.

"Even start something with the DarkFall pack and we'll lose territory faster than they'll spill your blood."

Quarrel snarled, but stayed where he was.

"The situation presented to us is nearly unprecedented. We will have the two," the lead goblin paused for a moment, then continued with disdain in his voice, "runners from the Bridge Keep band come forward to present testimony."

Quarrel suppressed his snarl at the slight as he and Nargle made their way to the front. He was not a runner, a scout for his pack. He was a hunter, a warrior, and deserved recognition for it. It wasn't the leader of some half-ass pack that would determine his place. It was his own leader. Nargle leaned in close to Quarrel.

"Do try to make it through the testimony without ripping off the pompous old fuck's head and shitting down his neck."

Quarrel smiled slightly. "I'll see what I can do," he muttered back.

They arrived at the front and gave perfunctory bows to the gathered leaders. Quarrel's eye was caught by his leader's with a silent plea to behave. He sighed, then with as little emotion as he could, he related the events of the disastrous hunt. When he was finished, the leader gave him a long, distasteful look.

"And you're certain that is what the dragon said?"

"As certain as I'm standing here."

"So, the dragon more implied the hunter's connection to higher forces than stated it outright?"

"The only thing that dragon states outright are threats. Everything else is open to interpretation. You would know that if you ever dealt with him directly."

Quarrel could feel the tension rise with the quiet group intake of breath. Nargle crossed his arms and shook his head. The lead goblin glared down at him.

"Well, if you'd had better control over your vargr, you may have gotten more information."

Quarrel looked over the speaker. He was soft. Fine silks and velvets comprised his garb, not the practical ware of someone used to a day's actual work. While he wasn't obese, he carried a paunch. His arms didn't have the wiry muscles built up from gripping a vargr's thick ruff and though he couldn't see the old windbag's legs he doubted they had the tone required to grip a vargr's side and control the spirited animal. His leader was still able to ride a vargr where this fool probably couldn't tell one end from the other. And while his leader's clothes were nice, they served a purpose other than advertising his assumed importance.

"That accursed dragon is fucking HUGE! There is no way a vargr, any vargr, is going to face something that big. Even two. It would take an entire pack to even consider it." Quarrel's anger crested over his common sense now, carrying him along with it. He stalked up to the dais and rested his hands on the table, focusing his ire on the leader. "In fact, the Shadow Hunter pack tried that. Let's ask them how it went. Oh, that's right, we can't. They're all fucking dead, the entire pack."

Consternation ran through the gathering. In the twenty years since the Shadow Hunters had been destroyed, they were never mentioned.

"Leader, hunters, runners, women, children. To a member. Even those who never saw the dragon died of accidents or disease. He doesn't appear to have gotten weaker in the passing years. Now, maybe you would like to borrow a vargr and see to the dragon yourself. To show us how it's done."

The lead speaker glared at Quarrel but made no response. However, his guards closed in on Quarrel. He was about to draw his weapon when an ancient voice cut through gathering.

"Enough!" An old female goblin worked her way towards the dais. She was an ancient wanderer, a member of no pack but made welcome by all of them. A seer, she held a rarefied position and was always listened to when she chose to speak. Her clothes were among the finest of anybody at the gathering. Silk brocade and velvet went into her top and the layers of her voluminous skirt. A handsome tanned vargr hide served as a cloak to keep out the cold. Various charms were woven into cords and hung from her neck. She leaned heavily on a gnarled walking stick. She was nearly bald, with wisps of white stringy hair hanging down from patches on her scalp. The wrinkles covering her face and hands seemed to have been carved into her skin. The guards stepped aside to allow her passage. Quarrel averted his gaze in respect.

"Living up to your name, eh?" she asked of Quarrel. When he said nothing she laughed, a high staccato cackle. "Of course you are. Young firebrands know no better. Still, he makes a valid point. Others have lost to the dragon. And we know precious little for certain on the hunter. So what to do?"

The parliament was silent for a few moments before the eldest sitting on the dais addressed her.

"Of course, grandmother," he said, addressing her with much reverence by an old honorific. "We all know this. And the question of what to do is the reason for this parliament."

"It is? Because judging from what I've seen so far the purpose was to further humiliate the Bridge Keep pack."

Most of the parliament shifted, a few coughed. The speaker sat upright and though he said nothing, his opinion was clear in his angry expression. Again, the eldest spoke up before anyone else could.