A Hunter's Tale, goldfishlover [electric book reader .TXT] 📗

to strangers made me sick to my stomach. How could human women be so... shameless? Had they no morals or values? Arguably, being a mercenary, I lacked a few important virtues, but I would never go so far as to reveal myself for money.
Carefully and quietly, I walked over to the table where Samuel was sitting. He was a slender, yet well built man; easily capable of getting himself out of trouble, should the need arise. However, as of now, he needed my help. He pounded his fists against the table when the woman on stage blew a kiss to her audience before retreating behind the curtains for a much-needed break. I used the opportunity to speak with him about my mission. “Samuel, I received your letter and solved the puzzle.” He turned away from the stage and looked at me skeptically, as though he never wrote a letter. I pulled the note from my pocket, handed it to him, and said, “This is your writing, is it not?” His slate gray eyes appeared bruised and dark in the dim light.
“Victoria?” He asked. I removed my hood, letting him; along with every other man in the brothel see my face. A wave of my dark brown hair fell over the right side of my face, covering most of the scar that rendered my right eye almost useless. A demon did that to me years ago. I had killed the sorry beast before it had time to boast about what it had done. Years later, I still regretted killing that demon. I should have waited, I knew, waited until he nearly forgot about what he’d done to destroy my face, but in a blind rage, I picked up one of the bones of his victims that he’d picked clean and jabbed it through his black, merciless heart. If he could feel pain, I had hoped it was a slow and agonizing death, because the scar had caused me more than the loss of just an eye.
Setting my flashback aside, I said to Samuel, “I’ve solved the puzzle. The first letter of every word written in red spelled your name, did it not? Now, what is my mission? You said you were in need of my services, and here I am. Now talk. ”
“Yes. Yes, you did solve the puzzle, and yes, I am in need of your services. Come; let us talk in a place more private. I do not like speaking in public places.” He took one last sip of his wine before leaving the table. “Hurry; we haven’t much time,” Samuel said, motioning for me to follow.
As I walked through the brothel, a drunken man grabbed hold of my cloak and said lazily, “Come on babe, you just got here! Don’t waste your time with that loon. Have a seat and I show you what a real man can do,” His teeth were crooked and rotten and his breath smelled of whiskey. I bit back the urge to vomit and swallowed the bile the threatened to rise from my stomach. It burned my throat and left an unpleasant taste in my mouth. A couple shots of wine and the taste will go away, I reminded myself.
“Keep your hands off me,” I growled, ripping his hand off me and snapping his wrist in one swift motion. He clutched his hand in agony, cursed my name and all others who bore it, and fell to the ground, writhing in pain like an impaled snake. The men around him stared with confused, bloodshot eyes and in the chaos; I slipped out of the brothel, unnoticed. Once outside, I directed my attention to Samuel. “You may be my client, but I won’t hesitate to break every bone in your body if you can’t keep your hands off me. I’m a demon hunter and a mercenary, not a prostitute.”
“Surely,” He laughed, “you haven’t stooped so low to think of me as a madman who thinks of nothing but sexual gratification, have you?” Outside, in the day’s dying light; Samuel appeared much younger. The bruises like shadows underneath his eyes were gone and his skin, I noticed, was a creamy shade of brown, almost like sweet, gooey caramel.
I shrugged. “It’s what I’ve heard. And from what I saw in the brothel, you’ve a healthy appetite for sex. Now let’s go. You wish to talk to me in private, correct?”
He laughed which was a deep, yet good-natured sound and said, “Yes. Have you a place to stay for tonight?” I bit my lip and looked down at my feet in embarrassment. “I take that as a no. Come along. We’ve much to discuss.”
Chapter 5

“T

his, Victoria, is a map of Ageria.” Samuel said as he laid out a large, colorful map of Ageria across his table.
“I’ve already got a map and it works just fine.” It was a nice map, I had to admit. Much better than the torn, battered up piece of paper I had crumbled up somewhere in my bag, but I wouldn’t admit it.
“Yes, I’m sure, but I think you’ll find this to be much more useful.” He handed me a glass of wine. As I took a sip, he added, “I do believe that if you wish to complete your task, this map will aid you greatly.”
“How so?” I took another sip of wine.
Samuel ran his hands through his raven hair and said, “Magic.”
Immediately, I spit out the wine, but I turned my head the other way so that none of the drink would ruin the map. “Where did you get this?” I gasped. There were only five magic maps left in all of Ageria; the others had been destroyed in the wars that plagued Ageria two hundred years ago when the maps were first created. Now, a noble figure, king queen, or chieftain or each race held one of the maps. Even after two hundred years, they still caused a good bit of trouble.
Samuel hid a slight smile. “That, Victoria, is a conversation for another time. Perhaps once you have completed your mission. For now, all you need to know is that I am placing it in your care. I’ve grown too old for it to be of any use to me and I trust that you will put it to good use.” He rolled up the map, tied it together with a red silk ribbon, and put it in my hand, just as I had given my money to the dying woman just hours ago. How old was he? Surely, I thought, Samuel didn’t look more than thirty- and that pushing it. It was fairly easy to tell how old a human was; they died fast and aged even faster. It struck me odd that he’d find himself too old to find a map, magical or not, of any use.
My eyes narrowed. “I won’t take this unless you tell me where you got it first. It’s bad enough you haven’t told me my mission, but now you’re giving me a magic map, one that I’m positive neither of us are supposed to have. If you won’t tell me where you got this, I’ll assume the worst- and you don’t want me to assume the worst.” I threatened. At most, all I could do was think that he’d stolen it somewhere, was tired of hiding it, and wanted to get rid of it. Of course, if I went to the authorities with the map in my possession, I’d start a war. That, or have the map stolen from me, find myself locked away in the nearest dungeon, and ultimately die a slow and painful death. Either way, in the end, I’d die.
Samuel shook his head and lifted his hands up in an open gesture of peace. “It’s not what you think, I promise. When you complete your mission, I will tell you everything about the map; how I got it, who gave it to me,” If anyone had given it to him, “- everything. Now, let’s talk about your mission. I’m sure you’re dying to know.”
I had a good number of smart-ass comments bubbling around in my head, but in the end, I finished lamely, “It’s about time.”
“I’m sure you’re familiar with the Isle of Dawn. Something tells me you’ve traveled there before.” I nodded; I’d been to the Isle of Dawn before. There was nothing peaceful or sunny about it. Home to the high elves, the least populous race of my people, the Isle of Dawn was a dangerous place to any outsider, elfin or not. Elves might not have killed their own people- unless they’d done something against the law, but ogres, dragons, and wolves were not above killing any outsider stupid enough to step foot on their territory.
The last time I had ventured there, I was on a self-appointed mission to destroy a demon that had made a game of capturing elfin children and hanging them by their own clothes. The sight was still etched forever in my mind. Little elfin boys and girls, hanging limply from tree branches by their own tunics, left to rot and sway in the breeze. Some of them, I remembered, bore bruises, no doubt from where the demon had mercilessly beaten them into compliance. I shuddered at the thought. It took me a while, but I tracked him down and killed him. He wasn’t the demon who took my eye, no, that was sometime before, but he had given me another unwanted gift. Just before killing him, the demon turned around and threw a rock against my leg, shattering the bone almost beyond repair. Too blinded by rage and fueled with hate to truly notice the injury, I drove my knife into his heart, repeatedly; once for every child he hung. I lost count after thirty stabs, but after a good twenty, the demon was dead with his chest in bloodied ribbons.
I remembered waking up in a warm bed, wearing new and unfamiliar clothes, with a young man by my side. He’d explained that he found me unconscious in the demon’s cave while he was out, hunting a wolf that had proven troublesome to his goats. He took me back to his house, carrying my limp body over his shoulders for nearly five miles. The shepherd nursed me back to health as well as he could, but it seemed my