Runeblade

Kaius slumped, leaning bodily against Porkchop as a wave of grief washed over him. He felt boneless, sapped of all energy.

Yet, it was almost a relief. To know. He’d suspected for so long, dreaded and ruminated on the ‘if’s and ‘maybe’s of it that to finally have it confirmed was like dropping a weight that he had held since falling from that cliff so long ago.

He took a breath, half surprised that his eyes remained so dry. He supposed he had been grieving for some time. Father always would have found him if he could have.

Porkchop bent down, resting his head on top of his own. “I’m so sorry, Kaius.”

“What happened?” he asked the silent room, reaching up to scratch Porkchop behind the ear as he enjoyed his bond-brother’s support.

Illendra broke, tears welling up in her eyes. She flew from her seat, circling the table to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Kaius let her, though he struggled to find any true comfort in it. Not in the same way he found with his bonded at least. Everything felt a little too… numb.

Hurrin took a ragged breath, slumping down onto the table to rest his weight on his elbows.

“I’m sorry lad, truly. That was not how I wanted ye to find out.” Hurrin’s voice was heavy, his head slumped forwards to obscure his face.

The others weren’t much better, each looking at him with their own mix of sadness, sympathy, and the toll of their own loss.

Hurrin looked across the table, meeting Saldar and Eilish’s eyes. They both nodded, standing from their seats.

“We’ll be back, boy. You’ve done much for the community today, and I shan't forget it.” Saldar said, respect clear in his face. “But this conversation is not for our ears, so we will be taking our leave.”

The two turned and left. Eilish paused at the door to the stout oak, looking back to Kaius. “It’s good to see you, Kaius, truly. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

The heavy oak door thudded as it shut behind her, Hurrin jolting slightly at the sound.

Kaius watched them curiously.

“They weren’t here when…Hastur passed.” Hurrin said, answering his unspoken question. “He trusted us with some things that were for your ears only.”

Kaius nodded, breathing heavily. He had to grit his teeth to stop it catching in his throat.

Hurrin turned to Jekkar, addressing the veteran hunter. “Do you want to tell the tale? You were the one who found him.”

Jekkar gave a small shake of his head. “No, no. I’m not right for this. Too short of words, you should.”

The tavernkeep took an unsteady breath, before he drank deeply from his tankard and nodded. “Aye, you always have been a shit storyteller.”

Kaius snorted; he couldn’t help it. Hurrin was right, Jekkar was crap at telling tales. He could have hunted a phoenix and the best you’d get out of him was that he’d managed to nail a pretty bird in flight.

He drank deep from his cup. “I’m listening.”

Hurrin sighed. “Aye lad. It was just over a year ago.”

….

Wiping down the counter, Hurrin listened to one of the local farmer boys try to chat up his daughter. Well, failed to was more like. He was pretty sure the lad was one more bad joke from getting a full tankard to the face.

He chuckled to himself, wiping up a spill.

A loud crack cut through the soft murmur in the inn. It was near lunch, so there were still a few stragglers finishing up their midday meals, but no true hustle and bustle to cover up the noise of his door being kicked in.

He snapped his head up, eyes widening in shock.

Jekkar struggled his way in, a mountain of a man draped over his shoulder. His stomach dropped. Hastur.

Garbed in thick leathers that were utterly drenched in blood, his old friend's face was twisted up in what looked like agony, his jaw clenched so tight he was surprised the old wardog’s teeth hadn’t bloody shattered.

“EVERYBODY OUT!” Jekkar bellowed, startling the clientele out of their daze. The sounds of a dozen scraping chairs filled the room as they rushed to the head hunter’s command. No one had any desire to ignore one of the strongest in the village, none the least if they were carrying someone injured.

Hurrin was already moving. “Illendra!” he yelled, snapping his daughter out of her shocked stare. She looked to him, fear and uncertainty on her face. “Get Yanmi here! Then go tell Holt he needs to get his boys on the wall and be ready for trouble.”

Illendra just kept standing there, rooted to the spot as she stared at him. “Now, lass!” Hurrin clapped his hands, jolting his daughter into action.

She sprinted out from behind the bar, dashing past Jekkar who was already hauling Hastur into a padded bench so that his friend could lay flat.

Hurrin burst into motion, snatching his medkit from under the bar. It was a shite thing, barely a few bandages and swabs to mop up the rowdy boys who’d get into a weekend brawl before they had any decent Health.

Not nearly enough for whatever was wrong with Hastur, not if his Health wasn’t enough. The man was as tough as iron.

He just hoped that Yanmi would get here quick enough.

Charging across the room, knocking chairs aside in his haste, Hurrin dropped to his knees and started pulling out bandages. A bloody hand clapped on his wrist.

“Save it, old friend. It’s not my blood.” Hastur choked out, focusing on him with steely eyes. They were bloodshot, so red it made the green of his irises stand out like shining emeralds.

“I..What? What’s wrong with ye then?” Hurrin asked his old mate, as Jekkar worked to strip him from his chest armour.

“Just the past…” every muscle in Hastur’s body tensed at once, a desperate pained cry forcing its way past his clenched teeth as his head was thrown back. A moment later, the fit ended, and his friend slumped back to the bench, panting. “Catching up to me.”

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Hurrin rushed to Jekkar’s assistance, working bloodsoaked buckles to strip Hastur out of his light armour. It was drenched in blood, with dozens of rents covering its every surface. He shoved his finger through one, feeling its clean edge. Too clean to be a beast. He looked at Jekkar questioningly.

The old hunter nodded. “Blades.”

“Fucking bounty hunter. Lead a troop of bandits right down on our heads. Thought we were safe. That it had been long enough. Turns out the bastard found a lead in Deadacre, someone telling tales of an interesting looking blade with diamond cutouts, I knew that visit was a stupid risk.” Hastur hissed, his neck bulging with stress.

Hurrin grit his teeth. Bandits were no good, especially not if they could put Hastur in this state. He’d seen the man demolish beasts with nothing more than his general skills.

They yanked the armour off of Hastur, baring his chest. His skin was whole and unblemished, showing only thick muscle and flawless skin drenched in blood.

“Ye have no wounds, man. What’s going on with ye? Poison?” Jekkar questioned, staring at Hastur with panicked confusion.

Hastur chuckled throatily, before he started to cough. “After a fashion. Like I said, history is catching up with me. There's nothing to be done. It’s already far too late.”

Before Hurrin could demand a response, the door to the tavern smashed open, and Yanmi sprinted into the room, hefting a bag nearly as big as she was.

She took a single look at Hastur before it slipped from her fingers, crashing to the floor as the tonic bottles inside clanked. She walked over in a daze. “Oh no, no, no. Hastur, you didn’t! You knew this would happen!”

“I had to!” Hastur forced out. “It was the only way to give the boy a chance…”

“Will somebody tell me what the fuck is going on!” Hurrin bellowed, demanding an explanation.

The room fell into silence, broken only by Hastur’s laboured breathing.

“He’s dying, and there’s nothing we can do.” Yanmi choked, her face twisted by frustration and grief.

“But why? Yer fuckin uninjured man!” Hurrin keened, staring at his old friend with wild eyes.

“Soul-rend.” Hastur coughed. “A part of my past that you all have so respectfully ignored. Only Yanmi knew, and only because I couldn’t hide it from her skills. It shredded my soul utterly, destroyed my class, and completely fucked my general skills.”

Hastur gasped, wracked by another fit as his eyes rolled back into his head. Yanmi rushed over and all three held him in the bench as he thrashed. Hastur slumped, panting. It was longer than last time, whatever it was was getting worse.

“I managed to survive thanks to a skill, but despite looking, I couldn’t find a way to heal the damage. With my soul so injured, my class was broken. No levelling, no nothing.” Hastur forced out.

“And using any of your class skills would put so much stress on your soul that it would break the fragile balance.” Yanmi whispered, finishing it for him.

Hurrin slumped, looking at his friend in despair. Hastur fixed him with a driven gaze, half mad with mania and conviction.

“I need you to listen to me, old friend.” Hastur gasped, before he looked to the others. “All of you. I fought off the bandits, slew two bloody dozen of them, but some slipped past me, chased after the boy. I tracked him after I sent the survivors fleeing like rats, while I still had most of my strength. He went over the falls.”

“Falls?” Jekkar asked.

“Unimportant. If the boy survives, he’s not coming back anywhere near there.” Hastur groaned. “Best I can tell, he fell into the Depths. There was a portal at the base.”

Yanmi staggered, leaning on the wall for support. “So he’s dead then.”

Hastur gave her a feral grin, his teeth stained red. Whatever was happening internally to his old mate, it was happening fast. “Don’t count him out. Boy’s twice as mean and thrice as much of a rabid dog as I was at his age. No silver spoon in his bloodymouth, I made sure of that. If anyone can do it, he can.”

He could see it, the maniacal devotion and faith in the father’s face. Hurrin shook his head sadly. The boy was gone, even as tough as he was, no one survived the Depths without a class.

“It's for the best either way. If he didn’t fall in, he’s dead. I wasn’t able to kill the tracker, he’d find the boy just fine. This way he’ll think him dead as sure as you are. When I go, he’ll come sniffing and think our line ended. No more me, no more loose ends.”

“And what? You expect us to let your killer, Kaius’s killer, to just waltz in here and see your body?” Jekkar demanded, staring at Hastur in angered disbelief.

“I do!” Hastur bellowed. “It’s the boy's best chance of survival. You must let the tracker live. Let alone that he’s in the one-fifties and still has a few men with him, he must take word of mine and the boy's death. If my boy survives, it’s the best chance he has to live freely… It's the last thing I can do for him.”

Hastur coughed, a gout of blood spraying from his mouth. Clamping his jaw shut with a grimace, he turned his head to the side and spat out the remainder. “You need to give the bounty hunter my sword.” Hastur said, his voice soft.

“What? If Kaius survives, it's his by right!” Yanmi spluttered.

“It's the only way. He’s going to need proof that I'm dead, some token to appease his employer, and without the blade he won’t leave. Between that, and proof of my death, he’ll leave you be. He’s a consummate professional.” Hastur spat his last few words.

“Ye can’t die, Hastur. Who am I supposed to brood with if ye never come visit?” Jekkar whispered.

“What are we supposed to tell ye lad?” Hurrin questioned desperately. “Even if by some miracle he survives, how are we supposed to tell him we let some ratfaced bastard steal ye dang blade?”

Hastur gasped. “Tell him what I have told you. Tell him I died valiantly, and he has made me proud, and done me right. Tell him he needs to let sleeping dogs lie, and that if he wants to live freely he needs to give the Onyx Temple a wide fucking berth, because that is almost certainly where the bounty hunter came from.”

Hurrin blanched. The Onyx Temple? What kind of crazy shit had Hastur been caught up in? No wonder he lived like a fucking hermit!

Hastur continued, uncaring of his friend's response to his words, his eyes unfocused and glassy. “Tell him that until he thinks he could beat the fucking Hero Josun in a gods’ damned fist fight, he needs to stay on Vaastivar.”

Hastur coughed, before he started to seize, even more violently than the last time. Hurrin held him steady, sharing worried and grief stricken glances with his fellow elders.

…

“He…Your da didn’t last much longer than that, lad.” Hurrin said, choking through his words. “The fits kept coming quicker, and harder, and he got less and less lucid. Couldn’t get anything else out of him.”

Kaius buried his hand in Porkchop’s fur, gripping his shoulder for support as anger thrummed through him. It burned, directionless and without a readily available target. The bastard took Father’s sword?

He took a deep breath. “So he took Art in Motion and just left? Did he defile my Father’s body?”

“No!” Yanmi blurted. “No. Even he was not so depraved. We kept your father under cold-wake, as should be done if a burial cannot be immediately held. The bounty hunter arrived a week or so later. He looked on the verge of madness when he learnt of Hastur’s passing, but he just took the sword and left. We buried him after that, as one of our own.”

“It was fuckin’ hard not to shoot the bastard when his back was turned, I’ll tell ye that.” Jekkar grumbled, guilt and anger twisting his face.

Kaius gave the old hunter an appreciative nod. Somehow, he managed to hold himself together.

“I have questions, but I need to see him first. Where did you have him buried?” Kaius choked out.

“Of course, lad. We put him to rest under the old oak tree, the one just past the fields where he’d teach you all secret-like on yer visits. Guess the secrecy makes a bit more sense now.” Hurrin mumbled.

Kaius nodded, and stood. “I’d like to go alone, with Porkchop. I’ll be back soon.”

The remaining elders nodded, and he left the Stout Oak, leaning heavily on Porkchop for support.

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