The Fae Hunter Ch. 03

Gregory Hastenbond was the first man I could call friend since moving near Rhineville. He is tall and large with the confidence that comes from someone both quick in thought and deadly with a sword. Like every interaction I have had with men, it had started rocky. I make men and some women uncomfortable, leery, and sometimes just outright terrified. It takes a man with a strong will and confidence to get through that natural aura of distrust that surrounds me. Hastenbond has plenty of both. We have a mutual respect that I share with no one else. It was a few years after we became friends that I shared my abilities with him. I called it 'hunting'. He had a more colorful turn of language. He called it 'fucking awesome' or 'fucking creepy' depending on how and who I used it on. He is also the only person I've tried to describe what I do. Every living thing left a residue. An imprint of what they were doing and when they were doing it at every location. A leftover of their essence.

My hunting involved finding that residue of essence and mentally holding on to it. If I wasn't connected in some fashion, then it was fleeting knowledge. I could feel that a deer had traveled along a path and when it had been there. If I was given an article of clothing, I could narrow in and sense more of their actions, maybe even some of their intentions. If I knew that person or had a lot of contact with them, I could sense even more information. For years I had assumed that what I was feeling was just my imagination. That I was gathering information through my natural senses and making up a likely story. It was Hastenbond who had first realized that I was doing something fundamentally more powerful than that.

"So, you're saying that it's more than just tracking old trails?" Hastenbond questioned once I had proved I had a special ability to hunt animals and people.

"Maybe," I said. "I'm not really sure. I get a sense of what's going to happen."

"So, you would know how she would react," he said, pointing at the comely bar wench, "if you just walked up to her and said, come fuck me after your shift?" I thought it about for a minute. I shrugged.

"Using those exact words?" I asked finally.

"Yeah," he laughed, draining the last of the ale in his mug. "Sure. If you said exactly that."

"Hmmm," I said. "She would look at me. Her eyes widening in surprise." I was engrossed in the images that I thought was just my imagination. "She likes my looks. Likes the color of my eyes."

"Okay," Hastenbond boomed. We were three pints into the night. "Now I know you are lying. No one likes the creepy fucking color of your eyes."

"She is disappointed in herself and in me. She was contemplating approaching me about having fun tonight. But she has had her fair share of crass drunks. She thought I was different. That disappointment turns quickly to anger. She grabs the drink on her tray and splashes the ale at my face. I move my hand up to block her. I don't want to hurt her. I just don't want to get covered in ale. I'm too late and get covered. She says, 'Have some manners or you can leave.' She turns and storms off."

"Right," Hastenbond says, looking at me queerly. My description more in-depth than he was expecting. "Elsie," he yells at the serving wench. "Another round of ales." She nods at him, saving a quick, promising smile for me. She is young with the body of a woman who moves and works for a living. Her breasts are firm, large, and on display. There is a sexy sway to her hips. If I wanted her, I could have her. Instead I was ruining my chances by trying Hastenbond's experiment. I sighed.

"Here you go gentlemen," Elsie says a few minutes later, two new pint mugs on her serving tray. She sets the first ale in front of me. "Here's yours," she says bending over slightly to show off the tops of breasts. They are worthy of being shown. Tightly bound and pushed up, they looked like they were about to pop out the top of her blouse.

"Come fuck me after your shift," I tell her. Her eyes widen in shock. I see the flicker of despair, disappointment, and finally she settles on anger. She grabs Hastenbond's mug. I start moving my left hand up.

"Have some manners or you can leave," she spats as she flings the contents of Hastenbond's ale at my face. My hand moving before hers is there to knock the edge of the mug just enough to redirect the ale all over Hastenbond. She turns and storms off.

"What the fuck?" Hastenbond ignored the ale, looking at me in astonishment. "That was fucking awesome!"

Through trial and error, I began honing my 'hunting' skills. I could usually tell what a person was feeling or what actions they were likely to take. It was an amazing tool when dealing with others. I never advertised it. I was already at a disadvantage when dealing with people. Men found my eyes especially disconcerting. It wasn't only the color - which was an unusual pale, washed out blue. Hastenbond told me once that he didn't know why but looking into my eyes was at times like looking into the face of death. Not like I was going to kill him, but rather as if my eyes were the incarnation of the concept of death. It was not a comfortable thing to look at. His sister, Geena, had been sitting on my lap when he volunteered those cheery thoughts.

"You don't listen to that big idiot," she had said, turning to look me directly in the eyes. She leaned forward to kiss each one. "I think your eyes are beautiful and I have never felt anything of the kind." But then women never had an adverse reaction to me.

***

A four day old trail on a well worn road would be impossible for almost any tracker. But I wasn't any tracker. And I picked up Cynthia and Niles' trails easily enough. Cynthia, I knew intimately. Niles, I had been 'hunting' for month. Their trails were like beacons that I could follow with almost no thought. As I alternated between a fast walk and jog, I kept my mind away from Emma. And especially away from Cynthia.

I was four hours along the road when I stopped. Something was wrong. I 'hunted' the road. Niles had been traveling at a mile eating gait that wouldn't tire out his war horse but was still quite a bit faster than a person walking. Cynthia had trailed behind. Moving much slower, but also steadily. I looked carefully around, letting my senses see everything that my eyes couldn't. Niles, apparently unaware that Cynthia was behind him, was traveling further and further east. He wasn't hurrying, but neither was he dallying. He had a clear goal in mind. Cynthia had followed his path for half a day until she had gotten to this spot in the road. There wasn't anything special about this point. There wasn't a camping area. No easily accessible water source. Nothing stood out. Except her trail was gone. Between one step and the next she had disappeared. Not died. Not turned away. Just gone. I sat down and closed my eyes. Breathed and centered myself. Allowing everything in. Every bird flying above. Every rabbit crossing. Every traveler along the road. I opened my eyes and saw all the animals who had crisscrossed this part of the road in the last few days. Saw Niles riding his horse. Saw Cynthia walking along after him. Wanting to catch up. To serve her master. She was excited to give him pleasure. To follow his wishes. She stumbled on her next step. In her hand was the silver blade that she had stabbed me with. She looked down at the blade. Looked up and smiled right at me. And then disappeared. I gasped in shock.

Regaining me composure. I slowed my breath and brought myself back to that moment four days before. She looked down at the blade. Looked up and smiled even wider at me. And then...I stopped. Stood up and looked at she was smiling at. There was nothing there. I mentally backed up the time. She looked down at the blade. Looked up. Turned her head and looked right at me. Grinned, winked at me, and then disappeared. What the fuck? Again and again I tried to see what happened. Each time Cynthia would look around, find me, no matter where I was standing, grin mischievously, and then disappear.

Finally, not knowing what else to do, I kept on after Niles, leaving Cynthia's trail behind. I absently massaged my chest. Maybe my 'hunting' power was malfunctioning. Something Niles had done? Something the blade in my heart had done? If anyone would know, it was Niles. I moved faster after him.

Two days later I was catching up to Niles. Not fast enough. But better than nothing. I was at the edge of the forest. The road branched. One road twisted to the south east. The other, north east. I pulled out the map that Hastenbond had given me with the bounty papers. Over the last month I had found it surprisingly accurate. My previous experiences with maps told me they were wrong at best, horribly wrong at worse. Distances were off by hundreds of miles. Sometimes entire mountain ranges were missing. But this map had been far more accurate than any other map I had ever seen.

The Blues' Keep was to the north. Niles had been traveling away from the keep since even before entering the forest. According to the map, even the more northern trail was still leading us away from the keep. And the south eastern trail, the one I sensed he had taken, was leading us in almost he opposite direction from the keep. Clearly, he had no intention to going there anytime soon. I was pleased to see this. I didn't even know how I would eventually kill the one mage. Dealing with a whole keep of mind control wizards seemed an impossible task. On top of the good news that I only had to kill one mage, was that I would get to a town by the end of the day. Sleeping on the cold, hard ground at night was getting old. I was looking forward to a night in a real bed. Taking a warm bath.

The town was right where the map said it would be. There was farmland for three miles before it came into view. Houses dotted here and there, overseeing their crops. As I got closer and closer, the houses became more frequent. And then without any fanfare I was suddenly in the middle of town. I knew I was in the center of town because the road ended at an open market. Empty vendor stalls were lined up in three rows. It was toward evening and the stalls were empty. The open market was at the center of a crossroads. The road I was on started up again on the other side of the market. There was a crossing road leading off towards the south and north. Between the crossing roads were four large buildings. A temple stood to my left and an Inn on my right. On the other side were what looked like a general store and a smithy. Niles had gone into the inn. The war horse to the stables in the back. I followed the essence of Niles to the Inn.

The front room was large with a scattering of tables. A long, expansive bar filled the back of the room. There were two open doorways on the north side of the room. One led to a kitchen. The other, a hallway. On the south wall was a staircase leading up to the second and third floors of the inn. Between the bar and the doorways on the north end of the room was a large, crackling fire. The room was busy with most of the tables filled and all the stools at the bar with patrons. I was surprised to see not only such a large building in such a small town, but that it was so busy. The room smelled of roasting pig and baking bread. The inn felt warm, friendly, and welcoming. All eyes turned to me as I entered. Most turned immediately back to their business, but the men who caught my eyes shifted and edged uncomfortably. Their unease immediately transferred to their neighbors. I kept my hands in full view as I walked towards the barkeep who was staring at me with growing distrust. He kept his eyes away from mine.

"We don't want any trouble here," he said gruffly as I stopped in front of him.

"Good," I answered. "I don't want any either." I carefully put my hand in my pouch and heard the scrape of chairs on floor as I was watched intently by the innkeeper's patrons. I pulled out a silver piece and placed it on the counter in front of him. "I'm looking for a beer, a meal, a bath, and a room. In that order." I grinned at him, trying to ease his discomfort. "The food smells amazing."

"Find a table," he grunted sourly, pouring me a beer and placing it in front of me. I nodded, took an appreciative sip before looking around and finding an empty table.

I sat down and slowly the room warmed up as they began to forget about me. I was almost finished with my beer when a young girl of ten or eleven came over carrying a large plate. On the plate was a thick piece of fresh bread, pork brisket, and a medley of steamed vegetables. On the bread was what looked like whipped butter.

"Wow," I said. "This looks amazing." The girl smiled shyly at me and scampered off before I could say anything else. I was about to get up and ask the innkeeper for utensils when the girl reappeared with a fresh beer, napkin, fork, and knife.

"Here you go," she said, acting very professional. It was adorable and endearing. The food was spectacular. I began to see why the dining area was so busy. I ate the food with gusto, enjoying my first hot meal in days. The girl reappeared a moment after I pushed my plate away from me. I gently put my hand on her arm as she attempted to whisk the dirty dishes away.

"Hold on," I said. "I want to ask you a few questions." She smiled and looked at me expectantly. "I'm looking for a man that was here about four days ago."

"Uh," her smile faltered. "I don't know." She looked back at the innkeeper, who I assumed was her father. "Maybe my paw could remember?"

"This guy would be easy to remember," I said. "He had a thin face with a dark beard." I ruffled my own hair. "Real short hair." She still looked doubtful. "And his smile," I paused. "It was a mean smile. Like he wants to hurt people."

"Oh," she said. Her smile disappeared. "Yeah. Him. He made Mum sick. And Paw slept on the floor the night the bad man was here."

"What's going on here?" the innkeeper was at the table. "Go on now," he shoed his daughter away. "Take that to the kitchen." He waved at the dirty dishes. He waited until she had turned away before glaring down at me. "What are you saying to my little girl?"

"I am hunting a man," I said. I gestured to one of the unused chairs at my table. "Please, sit. I think we both don't like this man."

"What man?" he growled, ignoring the chair. But I saw in his eyes that he knew who I was talking about. I answered him anyway.

"I know him by the name of Niles," I said. I reached into my cloak where I have a large pocket and pulled out my bounty papers. I put the picture of Niles on the table. "This man. But he is thinner with darker hair than this picture portrays." I paused. "And crueler." The innkeeper deflated as he sat down.

"I don't understand what happened to us," he said in a broken voice, the anger gone from his face and voice. Leaving only devastation. He couldn't look up towards my face. Instead, staring at the tabletop in shame. He turned the picture over so he wouldn't have to see Niles' face.

"What is your name?" I asked in a softer voice. "I am Mikal."

"Klum," he said, not looking up. He tapped the face down drawing. "What do you plan to do with this man once you find him?"

"Kill him," I answered succinctly. "The more I know about him the better. What happened here?"

"I don't know," Klum said, shaking his head from side to side. "I really don't."

"Tell me what you remember."

He was about to answer but his customers started calling out for him. He stood up. "I will tell you what you want to know when things slow down," he said. "But," his voice grew hard with anger again. "Promise me you really will kill him."

"I promise," I said. He nodded and went back behind the bar.

***

Even I was surprised that the images in my head weren't supposition, but an actual premonition of the future or the past depending on how I used it. And the more I 'hunted' something, the easier it was to know exactly what had happened or what would happen in the near future. And that I could react to change what I envisioned. With physical action or even words. The one exception was Cynthia. No matter what I said or did, she always refused to go out with me. I bought more clothes than any one man should own just so I had an excuse to visit her at her job, Aidel's Threads. Aidel was a kindly, elderly woman who had outlived three husbands. When I visited, she would cackle and tell me that I should stop courting her. That I didn't have the stamina to keep up with her and she had no interest in burying yet another husband. She was feisty and adorable. Every time I was in the store, I would flirt with Aidel and 'hunt' Cynthia. Working out what would happen when I asked her out. Every time, I saw that she wanted to date me, but something was holding her back.

One evening I limped into town. I had 'hunted' a vicious killer and bandit who murdered traders on the road before stealing their money. I carried his head in a bag to collect the bounty. My leg was wrapped tightly to stop the bleeding from an arrow that had caught the side of my thigh. I didn't want Cynthia to see me dirty, in pain, and carrying the head of a bandit. So, of course, she was the first person I saw as I entered town.

"Mikal!" She squealed, happy as always to see me. I extended my 'hunting' outwards.

"So good to see you," she said, giving me a full body hug. She was tiny and the top of her head barely came to my chest. Her small breasts pressed themselves into my stomach. She was excited and happy to see me. She was nervous. "I haven't finished your cloak. You aren't in town for that are you?"

"No," I said. "I was out on bounty." I hugged her back, not wanting to let go. Even her smell was intoxicating. I pressed myself into her as hard as she was pressing into me. My cock started to harden and lengthen. She pushed herself quickly away from me. It was so fast that I accidently stepped back on my injured right leg. It buckled under me as I gasped in pain.

"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly, forgetting the scary feel of my arousal. "Are you okay?"

"I got scraped," I admitted. "I'm fine."

"Hmmm," she said. "I don't believe you." She looked me up and down carefully. "You look dirty, tired, and in pain." She pursed her lips. "You will come home with me and we'll get you cleaned up. No argument," she admonished, pointing a finger at me.

I ended the 'hunting' vision. I had never been to her house. After all these months of trying to manipulate events to get her to go out with me and all I had to do to get in her house was to do nothing. And let things unfold naturally. I started getting hard before she could even start hugging me.

She took me home. I tried kissing her. She slapped me and told me to leave. I didn't try to kiss her. Instead, I let her bathe and bandage my thigh. With most women I would 'hunt' and manipulate actions until I got what I wanted. With Cynthia, the opposite happened. When I used my 'hunting' on her, it always ended up badly. It was an important lesson to learn. 'Hunting' wasn't the end all to be all. Sometimes you just had to let things unfold.

We were sitting on the couch. I was turned so that I was partially facing Cynthia and it was easy to look at her. She was afraid to look at me. Instead, she stared straight ahead of her. Occasionally looking down at her wine glass. I set my glass down and placed my hand on her leg. She turned her head to look at me. Her fine, small features were delicate and beautiful. It caught my breath each time I allowed myself to really look at her. To allow myself to get lost in her.

"I feel like you like me," I said. "The gods know I like you." She laughed lightly. "Why won't you date me?"