Three Hunters, One Heart

"Down!" Eselda bellowed.

A deep breath.

Salvation awaited.

A heartbeat before I released the arrow, Eselda slammed into me, sending my shot wide. We toppled in a heap behind a boulder just as another beam of demonic energy burst out, slicing directly into the spot where I'd been standing a moment before.

"Get off!" I growled, kicking at her and reaching for another arrow, only to realize that my bowstring had snapped upon impacting the ground.

"Down!" she snapped, pinning me by the shoulders.

The air crackled and churned around us as the beast took flight. Eselda peeked over the edge of the boulder, her grip loosening, giving me the chance to finally kick her off of me.

"I almost had it!" I bellowed, my hands tightening into fists as I watched the creature's infernal wings take it northward.

"What you almost had was a bolt of lightning to the face," she hissed. "I fucking saved you."

She was wrong. I would have had time to get off that arrow and duck down for cover. I could have killed the damned beast, claimed my prize, and purified my blood.

As I glared at the retreating creature, Eselda marched up the hill. Only once its dark, unnatural form had completely faded against the hazy horizon did I turn to follow her.

The mage's body had been reduced to an ashen, charred skeleton, burned beyond all recognition. The only items to survive were the runestones that had been woven into his scarf. Without a word, Eselda knelt and collected them.

Dokfal's corpse rested beside the mage, his pale hands still gripping his bow, his chest a red ruin of blood and gore. After a sigh, I knelt and collected his bow, arrows, and his satchel filled with silver and potions.

Without a word, Eselda walked down to the frightened horses, collected two spades from the saddlebags, and tossed one to me.

Requiring no further commands or cajoling, I helped her dig shallow graves at the base of the hill. Sweat rippled down my arms as we dragged the corpses down and shoveled dirt atop them.

"I know we didn't know them well," she muttered, staring at the little mounds of dirt. "But I do think we should say a few words."

Though my body still bristled with irritation at the kill that had been denied me, I nodded, and murmured a prayer in the dusk elf tongue.

"May your souls dance in the embrace of the moons."

She let out a long sigh, pulled two throwing knives from her boot, and placed one atop each grave.

"In case you need to stab somebody in the next life."

We stared in silence at the graves for nearly a minute before returning to our horses.

"We can't kill that thing alone. Not with how it can reflect magic back like that." She raised an eyebrow at me. "How long would it take for you to ride back to Qal-Tesh to get help?"

"Nearly a week, but they would offer no aid. A half-blood would not be worth the trouble. Either I come back with the beast's heart, or not at all."

Her eyes narrowed; I flinched, realizing that I'd let slip that it was only the heart that I needed.

"You lied. Back when we met."

I gritted my teeth and very nearly reached for my warhammer. Given the amount of silver she could earn from that heart, my deception was a threat to her livelihood.

"Yes," I said, my hands tensing with anticipation. "I need the heart for a ritual of purification. I didn't tell you and the others that because Dokfal mentioned the price for its heart. I was worried the three of you might...see me as a competitor."

"Bloody Voids," she muttered. "I wouldn't have. Although I honestly didn't know the others well enough to guess how they might have reacted. Maybe...maybe lying was the right decision."

Her amber eyes bored into mine.

"But this doesn't change anything. The silver I can earn from the eyes, its feathers, and bones will match that of the heart. We'll call it an even split. You take the heart, I get the rest."

I breathed a sigh of relief and her gaze darted towards my weapon.

"Thought about going for that, didn't you?"

"Of course."

"Wouldn't have been fast enough."

Despite the men we'd buried, despite my failure to kill the beast and claim my chance at purification, I let out a soft, short laugh.

**

We rode north for several hours before stopping to camp within an abandoned vineyard, where the fields of grapes had long withered away.

Within the central house of the vineyard, we laid out our bedrolls upon the dusty floor. As she sharpened her hatchets, I prepared a new string for my bow from one of Dokfal's spares.

"When your people sent you off to hunt that beast, did they give you any hint as to how to defeat it?" she asked. "Any clue as to how or why it might be warded against runic magic?"

"No. I knew it wouldn't be as simple as killing just an ordinary beast and I certainly expected some sort of nasty magic...but nothing like that."

She ran a whetstone over the edge of one of her hatchets.

"Do you think they wanted you to fail?"

I scowled.

"No. Other half-elves have purified their blood through similar hunts. Some fail, yes. But not all."

To distract myself from the grim topic, I rose to conduct a patrol of the vineyard. Now that night had fallen, the risk of an arachnil attack had grown. If those creatures were also hunting the hellraven, there was a chance our paths could cross.

Minutes later I returned to the winery to find that Eselda had stripped out of her armor, and now wore only a pair of silken leggings and a simple cloth wrap that covered her breasts. Several long, white scars marred her back, and upon her left shoulder was a tattoo of a heron with a chain around its left leg.

Sitting back down, I stripped out of my armor and down to my sweaty tunic, then nodded at the tattoo.

"A mercenary guild?"

"You're a curious one. I told you all about my dalliance with the meadow elves, now you press me about my tattoo...and reveal nothing about yourself save your name and your hunt for 'purification.'"

"I didn't mean to pry," I said, raising my hands. "I merely wondered if that tattoo meant we could count on the support of other mercenaries."

For the first time since that debacle with the hellraven, Eselda smiled.

"Oh, but I mean to pry."

"Fine," I said, huffing a little. "Pry away."

"I know the dusk elves keep to themselves, rarely leaving their glades, and almost never letting outsiders enter. So how did you...come to be? I've met plenty of other sorts of half-elves...people with storm elves or meadow elves for parents, but never one of the dusk elves."

The answer itself was not a source of pain, other than serving as a reminder of my lower status within Qal-Tesh. I clenched my jaw for a moment before answering.

"My father was a dusk elf, and a hunter of necromancers," I said. "Part of an order called the Deathless, sworn to destroy necromancy and undeath."

"I've heard bits and pieces about them," Eselda muttered. "Think they had something to do with foiling an undead army down in Arkostead last year."

I'd heard nothing of the sort. Given that my father had died decades ago, he wouldn't have been involved in such a battle anyway.

"My mother was the apprentice to a coven of necromancers my father was hunting. My father ended up convincing my mother to help him. Together they destroyed the coven and found companionship, if not love. I was the result. A mistake, really. But given how many other necromancers wanted revenge for the coven they destroyed, my parents returned to Qal-Tesh, leaving me so I could be raised in safety. Thus I was not raised as a fugitive on the run."

Instead, I was raised as something little better than a slave-soldier, a second-class citizen in a land that would never truly accept me until I purified my blood.

And yet I knew that my parents had made the right choice. As hard as my life had been in Qal-Tesh, a life on the run from necromancers would have been a far more trying childhood.

"And what happened to them after they left you?"

"According to another member of the Deathless who traveled to Qal-Tesh, my mother eventually returned to her necromantic ways and joined another coven. My father died hunting her down. As far as I know, she still lives."

"Bloody Voids," she hissed. "And you never thought about...vengeance?"

"I never even met my parents. My mother gave birth, then she and my father left. Most dusk elves barely know their parents anyway, since children are raised by the community, not by individuals. Besides...the Deathless were already hunting her. If there is to be vengeance, they shall be the ones to claim it."

I told the grim tale with a detached, distant tone, as if I were relaying the life of someone else. All of those events may as well have happened to another person entirely. The misdeeds of my mother had no impact on my quest to purify my blood.

All that mattered was that hellraven's heart.

She gave me a slow, sad smile before tapping her tattoo.

"To answer your question: there's no grim or grand tale behind this. I grew up on Heron-Shackle Island, on the coast near the city of Nenhaar. Just a little token of home, that's all." Her fingers brushed over the ink with something approaching reverence. "A little reminder."

"A place worth visiting?"

"Gods no, it's a cesspit," she said with a laugh. "An overcrowded slum, packed with people who were exiled from the city for one reason or another. Still. Home is home."

"You told me before that 'home is a choice,'" I said, recalling our conversation after we'd kept watch the night before. "And yet you still seem shackled to it. Just like that heron."

"Exactly. I choose to be shackled, Selakiir. I choose to love that place. As grim and polluted as it is, there are still people I love there and people I want to look after."

I could not say the same of Qal-Tesh. Aside from a handful of dusk elves and a few half-elves, nobody there had ever shown me anything other than disdain or grudging respect for my skills.

That would change, though. When I returned with that heart, I'd forge myself a home worth loving.

**

We rode out in the morning, with Eselda leading the way towards the town of Krelldance, as she claimed the town would be the best place to resupply and to find information. Supposedly the place was home to the largest library in the valley, though I was certain it could not compare to the vast archives of Qal-Tesh.

Our trek took us past more abandoned farms, withered vineyards, and dusty wheatfields. Most of the villages we passed were half-empty, with only a few shops open to travelers. The silver we paid for murky, muddy water would have bought us a bottle of fine wine elsewhere. Only after boiling it at our camp later that evening did we judge it safe enough to drink.

Over the two-day ride we passed the time sharing stories of past travels and other adventures. Eselda told me all about her hard upbringing on Heron-Shacke Island, with her parents teaching her to pickpocket and run little scams against merchants and nobles. One of her victims had been so impressed by her skills that he'd hired her to help ward off other thieves, leading to a few years of work as a caravan guard, and her eventual run-in with the meadow elves.

In return, I told her of my harsh and cloistered upbringing within the sacred grove, along with bloody tales of my fights against ghouls, ogres, and arachnils.

I realized my own stories were far less amusing than hers. Before long I was content to simply listen to her regale me with another amusing story of tricking a noble or stealing from an uppity merchant, and I left my own grim tales by the wayside.

It was late afternoon by the time we neared Krelldance, though thick clouds of smoke prevented a clear view of the town. Alarmed, we spurred our horses into a fierce trot, reaching for our weapons.

The town itself was not in flames, though a great fire raged through a dusty wheatfield a short distance from the town's walls. Without water reserves to fight such a great flame, the panicking locals instead dug trenches in the path of the fire to contain it before it could spread.

"Voids," I cursed. "Think it was the hellraven? Or just the damned drought?"

"Probably the latter," she said. "With as dry as things are, only a single spark could set the land ablaze."

Coughing due to the tide of smoke, we made it through the gate. The town was the largest settlement I'd ever seen outside of Qal-Tesh, though I knew it paled in comparison to the overpopulated mess of Nenhaar. Nearly every home within the town was identical: the first floors were made of mud bricks with second floors of reeds and bamboo. The businesses and shops were erected in a similar fashion, just with a bit more width to differentiate them from the humble homes.

Despite the drought and the wildfire, business still boomed, with merchants selling overpriced water, herbs to help with dehydration, and weapons to fend off arachnils.

"Bloody Voids," I cursed upon hearing the prices being charged for bowstrings. "I might ask you to fall back on your pickpocketing ways, Eselda."

She laughed and moved on to the next stall.

"Tempted as I am, I've set those ways behind me. Besides, we can afford to spend some extra silver, given how much I'll earn once we kill that beast."

After stocking up on supplies we sought out the town's supposedly legendary library. It rested at the center of Krelldance, alongside a few small shrines to various gods and a withered forest of palm trees.

The library, despite its reputation, was a humble little dome made of dark red stone.

I scoffed at the meager structure.

"This place is to hold the answers to kill the hellraven? It looks barely big enough to hold a hundred books, let alone a legendary archive."

"I know," she said, scowling. "Benhai wouldn't shut up about it, though. He claimed he mastered several of his runes thanks to some books he found here."

That mastery clearly hadn't been enough to save him, though.

Together we strode through the door. Inside, the room was completely bare save a rickety wooden table in the center of the room, behind which sat a one-eyed old woman in dark gray robes. Before her on the desk was an empty scroll.

"Welcome, welcome," the robed woman croaked.

"Maybe we're lost," I said, frowning. "We were looking for the library. Said to be the greatest repository of knowledge in the entire valley."

"You may be lost in other ways, grove-dweller, but not in regards to this library. You have the right place."

Baffled, I nonetheless stepped forward and frowned down at the empty scroll.

"We're trying to kill that hellraven and we were hoping to learn about demons and other similar creatures."

"Then you are not lost, grove-dweller."

"Then where are all the damned books?"

"I thought you were seeking knowledge on the hellraven. Now you ask questions about the library instead. What sort of knowledge do you truly seek, grove-dweller?"

She let out a low, raspy laugh. I snarled and bit back an insult, while Eselda brushed past me.

"This is all wonderfully mysterious," said Eselda. "But how do we get to the books?"

The old woman tapped the scroll with her gnarled finger.

"Knowledge for knowledge. Secrets for secrets."

She slid a quill and inkwell towards me.

"Inscribe a secret, no matter how small, onto this scroll to earn entry. It must be something you have never told another soul."

Frowning, I picked up the quill and pondered for a few moments.

Something I'd never told another soul, no matter how small. With a shrug, I dabbed the quill in ink and scrawled out the first secret that came to mind.

I lust after my traveling companion.

While it may not have been a secret to anyone with eyes, it was still technically something I'd never told another soul.

Mere moments after adding those words to the scroll, the ink vanished. Stepping back, I made way for Eselda to write her own secret.

The old woman collected the scroll, nodded, and walked to the other side of the room. After pressing the scroll to the humble dirt floor, she murmured a few words. Bright red runes ignited upon the paper. The floor turned blurry and melted away, revealing an immaculate stone staircase that descended straight down into darkness.

"Knowledge for knowledge. Secrets for secrets," the librarian said. "You have until dawn. And then you shall need to pass more knowledge to us to buy more time. Take nothing but knowledge from that library. No scroll or tome may leave this sanctuary."

I laughed, quite impressed with that little trick. Given the magic Eselda had earned from the meadow elves and my own dusk elf heritage, neither of us needed torches or candles to see in the dark. Together we descended, walking for a full minute before the stairs ended within a massive cavern. Hundreds upon hundreds of shelves filled the room.

"So," Eselda said with a grin. "What did you write?"

"It was supposed to be a secret, wasn't it?" I said as I marveled at the subterranean archive.

"To purchase entrance, yes. But now that we're in, who cares?"

She brushed past me, moving towards a large tome that appeared to contain an index of the bizarre hidden archive.

"Knowledge for knowledge. Secrets for secrets," I said, echoing the old woman's words.

"Fine. Yours for mine."

I paused behind her, examining her back as she flipped through the pages of the index.

"I wrote that I lusted after you."

Her musical laughter flooded the cavern.

"Oh, come on. That's not a secret now, is it?"

"It was something I never told another soul. The magic accepted the answer, so it must have sufficed." I stepped up alongside her and allowed my hip to brush against hers. "Your turn."

"Voids, Selakiir. I actually gave the scroll something real, not an admission of barely-disguised lust."

"Knowledge for knowledge. Secrets for secrets," I said with a devilish grin.

She rolled her eyes and continued to flip through the pages.

"I wrote about the time I tried to steal the old crown of Nenhaar. A priceless artifact, kept within the Lord-Protector's private museum. I got my hands on it, too, until I got spooked by what I thought were curse-runes placed upon the crown."

I whistled with admiration.

"All right, you win that little battle of secrets. I feel I owe you some more, then."

"I'll think of a way you can repay me, Selakiir," she said.

The way my name sounded in that singsong accent of hers nearly made my knees buckle. I was helpless to resist imagining her moaning out my name.

Refocusing on the task at hand, I cleared my throat.

"Where do we start?"

"Rows two and three hold all the tomes on spirits and demons. We start there, split up, gather what we can."

Over the next few hours, we skimmed through the long rows of books, which had no semblance of organization whatsoever. There were holy books from various religions containing prayers for fending off wrath-demons, instructions on crafting runes to summon such creatures, and texts on how to exorcise a dark spirit if took hold of a mortal host.

Useless drivel as far as our hunt was concerned. My irritation growing, I wandered towards the other end of the stack, to find Eselda seated at a stone table, poring over a thick tome with a cover made of black leather.

"Anything useful?" I asked.

Eselda tensed and looked over her shoulder, her amber eyes wide. After a moment she blinked and let out a soft, nervous chuckle.

"Not really. But, uh, I did get distracted a bit."

She slammed the book shut. The cover displayed sigils in a scratch-like script I didn't recognize.

"Can't even read it anyway," she said, before picking it up to return it to the shelf.

"Then why was it so enthralling?"