Night of the Hunter

Duty Calls

"Hey, Bones?" A young woman approached from the otherside of the campfire and sat down next to the Noctuuri healer.

Umorah "Bones" Farolg turned to look at her friend, crimson and gold feathers glinting dimly in the flickering firelight, "Yes? Does something trouble you Nissa?"

"I don't know. Something feels weird and J- the Commander is acting weirder. It's almost like the air is alive now and since it started, he's been-"

"Mmm. I know. I see it too. He will speak nothing, even to me though. Not yet. I wonder if there is a suspicion or lead he feels he must confirm before we move forward." Umorah pondered, clicking her curved beak meditatively.

"Maybe. I do worry though." Nissa ran her hand through thick dark hair with a heavy sigh. "He takes on a lot alone."

"It's his idea of penance." Rengid rested a large, rough hand on her shoulder and shook his great, horned head. "I don't know any of us'll get 'im to understand he's doin' enough."

"Not a chance in a single of the seven hells." The wiry-muscled, red-haired form of Garien snorted as he dropped a brace of rabbits by the pile of wood that had appeared nearby. "The day that man realizes he's done enough- no enough ten times over, even- is the day I find a good lover to settle down with!"

"A remarkable day, indeed," chirpped Umorah.

"I'll drink to that, Bones." Garien winked, raising his flask.

"You'd drink to just about anything, but on the off chance- did I miss something interesting?" The male in question drawled lazily as he strode into the camp.

"Nope! Look at all this wood to break down..."

"Just some rabbits to see to, Chief!"

"Nothing, Commander."

"No! That's silly!"

"That's not suspicious. So it was everyone's favorite topic tonight then- how much you're all secretly in love with me." Johnathan Drake, the stalwart and rigid Commander of the Wraiths, carelessly tossed himself on the ground and rested his back against a fallen tree trunk a comfortable distance from the fire. His crooked grin and relaxed manner spoke clearly that he wouldn't question them any further. Instead, he shrugged and nodded at them, "Good to see everyone made it back by sundown like we agreed."

"We try 'ccasionally, Bossman." Rengid grunted out, his huge waraxe thudding heavily through a small log and cutting deeply into the stump he had chosen for splitting. "Well, broken horns and nettle thorns! Every single dag-blasted..."

Laughter bubbled out of Nissa. She lifted the wood axe the party carried and offered it to him, "How many times do we have to tell you? Here."

"One more, always. Don't understand how this little hatchet s'posed to do much." The Ursei scratched his braided, rose-golden beard.

"Well, for the eightieth time, it's a woodcutter's axe so it's supposed to cut wood." Nissa rolled her eyes.

Suddenly, the air seemed to pulse with a faint shockwave radiating from the North-East, silencing the small encampment. Nissa's skin prickled as if static danced over her entire body. Not good. The next wave of sensations hit: first with the suffocatingly heavy scent of summer flowers in thick, humid air, and then with the sickly sweet taste of raw honey and nectar coating the inside of her mouth. Aether. The world sparked to life in an instant, and their senses were almost overwhelmed by the brief-but-intense assault of surreal clarity. Nissa gripped a low hanging branch for support as her head spun. She could see Rengid leaning heavily on his axe, and Garien close to their tent, kneeling over the rabbits he had been cleaning with a white knuckle grip on his knife. Glancing back, she could see Umorah's claws digging into the short log they had both been sitting on. Nissa took some comfort that it wasn't just her imagining things. It was always nice to know that work wasn't so stressful as to cause delusions, at least in her opinion.

Reluctantly, she turned to check on Commander Drake. She expected to find him tense, as they were, though perhaps more subtly and more stable than they. Even as an Eternal, he always seemed nearly as uncomfortable around Aether as they were- despite his preference to maintain an ever-cool exterior. She had told herself she would find him clenched fisted, perhaps tight jawed or narrow eyed, and on his feet ready to go. Nissa would find that she was both half right, in that he was standing, and woefully unprepared for the state her commander was in. His pallid skin had taken on color in a way she had never seen before, and his eyes sparked with fire. He looked like a man taking his first breaths.

Warmth. That was the first thing that struck him. Warmth like he hadn't felt in centuries spread across his entire body. A weight lifted from his chest that he hadn't even known was there, each breath coming more easily than the last as his head began to spin from the sensation that he had been transported to a garden in full bloom. The pulse of Aether was almost more than he could handle. Something had occurred which he didn't think possible to happen ever again.

"The springs," He breathed, so quiet his companions almost didn't hear it.

"What?" Umorah fought through the nausea and lightheadedness to regain her senses.

"Something has happened with the Aether Springs." He replied,still dazed.

"Something... as in?" Rengid came around next. The anxiousness in his voice was apparent.

"Pack up. We travel through the night." Johnathan strode over to begin breaking down his tent. "I'm sure the others felt it, but we have to make a report. I don't know many in the Guild that would have a clue of what the awakening of the springs is. Some of them don't even believe they are real, I'm sure."

"John- I mean, sir, are you suggesting that we tell the Guild Masters to declassify the existence of the seven springs? Isn't that a little rash? How can we be sure that is what we felt?" Nissa twisted her hands in the fabric of her tunic. "The Alsbane himself said that it wasn't even possible- that they died with the last of the Pure Bloods."

"That is exactly what I am saying. I am one of the Eternal, remember? I was built to recognise things like this, it is what I am. I was young still when the springs fell dark and silent, but I remember the feeling that they gave the world. It's too dangerous not to warn our comrades. This is a rallying call for the Aether-Touched." He replied.

"A rallying call? By who? Who could bring the springs back to life?" Rengid half scoffed in disbelief.

"The Old Gods." Garein said grimly. "It's possible that their silence wasn't their death, but biding time to regain power."

"It would still take a Pure Blood to open that connection back up! No other Aether Touched has that kind of connection with the Old Gods." Nissa snapped, "and they are extinct! Gone! They died out when we took care of the Empress and her spawn."

"Presumed extinct." Umorah corrected. "You know as well as I do that it's possible that some escaped. You read the same dossier that I did- that we all did."

"This is ridiculous. John! This. Is. Ridiculous." Nissa pressed a palm to her forehead. "That surge messed with your head. It's even visible on your person."

"He looks healthier, alive, Nis." Garein placed a hand on her shoulder. "I don't think he's wrong."

The woman's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't say anything else. Instead, she moved for her tent, shouldering past her commander. He couldn't be right about the springs. They couldn't afford for him to be right. What if the Alsbane decided it was too much of a risk to keep him in the field? Or even alive - no, she couldn't let herself think like that. The Wraiths needed their commander, especially if someone was sending out a siren call to gather the Aether-touched. It has to be fake for the sake of everyone. Tying the cord around her bedroll, she blinked back the pricking sensation in her eyes and refocused. Someone was trying to rally together all the most dangerous beings still hiding in the world, and had managed to even fool Johnathan- to completely knock him off balance.

Still, she wondered, what could be enough to send a pulse that strong?  She didn't like the answer of the tiny echo in the back of her head.

The other four stood for a moment, staring at Nissa as she disappeared into her tent to pack. Umorah sighed pensively, "It's going to be a long night back into the city."

"She'll settle down eventually. She always does." Johnathan replied quietly.

"Not so sure about that, not this go 'round, Bossman." Rengid snorted gruffly, beginning to turn toward his own bedroll and tarp.

Umorah quickly strode to her tent on the other side of Nissa's in a rustling of feathers, having no desire to take part in what her comrade was starting. It was her least favorite topic and almost always ended in argument. The Commander's recent "history" with her dearest friend had been swept under the rug since it went sour, for better or worse. The only thing bringing it up would do is irritate the Commander and hurt Nissa more if she caught wind of it. One party is always hurt more, thought the fiery feathered Noctuuri.

Sure enough it was only a moment or two more before Garein's raised voice reached her, "Come off it, John! You can't keep acting like you're this blind. There's a problem and you know it!"

"This is not the priority right now!"

"It will be, and awful quickly if she gets the hankering to do something rash again!"

"Eh, Gar has a point, Bossman. This has a whole lot to do with you. That means there'll be a whole lot coming from her about it."

"I can hear you, you know," Nissa snapped.

The bickering continued with increasing animation and Umorah groaned. Her people were a quiet race in general and it never failed to set her feathers on edge when they started up. She loved her assigned party and leader dearly, but sometimes they made her grateful she had been an only egg with fairly reasonable cousins. With all the carrying on, it was a wonder to her that the camp was getting broken down at all. Yet it was.

Her three companions and their leader shouted in volleys across the camp site as they worked. It rather reminded her of four naughty younglings in trouble for making a mess arguing over who was more responsible- and if it was even really a mess to have gotten in trouble over- while scurrying to clean it all up before their mother returned home again. It was quite noisy, but everything was cleaned up quickly. She could only hope that they would be finished before it was time to set off. Umorah cringed at the idea of the disagreement lasting all the way to the Guild Office in Jundi City. They'd wake half the jungle, she was certain of it, and her idea of a "good travel" did not include fending off an angry tiger-dog or pack of dire wolves.

She clicked her beak sharply, cutting into a brief silence, "Do you plan to bicker the whole night, or are you nearly done? We're all tired, frustrated, and unsettled, but we still have work to do. Commander?"

"Yes. You're right, Bones. It isn't the time. Let's go. The sooner we're in Jundi, the sooner we can give report and settle into a few well deserved pints." He hauled his pack onto his shoulders and nodded.

"Or a few shots," muttered Nissa darkly, buckling on her quiver last.

"I'll thank you to hold off on the double entendres tonight, Nis." Johnathan said flatly. "Let's move."

No one argued with him now, and he was grateful. He hated when the topic of Nissa's apparent affection for him exploded. It had caused a few incidents, so he couldn't really blame them for being irritated. Of course, it was completely his own fault and he knew it. He was past old enough to know not to tangle work and personal pleasures together, and still he let himself give in with a promise of "no strings attached." It had, in all fairness, begun that way. He just hadn't caught it quickly enough when things began to change for her.

Nissa was a lovely girl, inside and out. She was a brilliant addition to his party, and he cared for her as a dear friend. He should have left the relationship at that. She was human, short lived and fragile compared to himself. She didn't deserve to hang up on something that wouldn't work out. How many of her lifetimes had he already lived? How many dear people just like her had he lost? No, the whole thing was a mistake, and his idiocy had put the whole guild party in the worst of positions. He just needed everyone to let it go, to leave it alone enough for her to recover and settle back in. No one would get any peace if Nissa couldn't process in her own time.

He ran a hand over his face and sighed. This was exactly the kind of distraction he didn't want after the shockwave of Aether from the awakening spring deep in the heart of the jungle. He was sure it could be nothing else. He also knew only someone of the ancient House of Aardein, or someone very close to them, should have been able to connect with any of the Old Gods in such a way as to activate even one. The strength of the sensation told him that it was likely not the first. Johnathan wondered if the Guild's sudden sensitivity had anything to do with other springs rousing from their centuries of slumber. It certainly made sense of the sudden spike in Aether-Touched activity.

Who could have started everything though? He had a few thoughts on that and he didn't like any of them. First of all, Gabrethail Vorjaara came to mind. He had been from a long bloodline of Shadow Folk- a Dumiir, he had called himself- and had served as personal guard to the Empress' daughter. The others didn't know, but Gabe had gone to ground a few short years after his liege's execution and had never been found. He was dangerous beyond what most of the guild could imagine. As a Shadow Folk, he could become anyone. As an elite guard nearly two millennia old, he could likely pass the Alsbane himself, greet him good morning, and be totally undetectable. His connection with Empress Caoihme and her could absolutely place him in a good enough position to call out to the Old Gods and reasonably expect an answer.

Then there was Ela Simeera. She had been the Lady in Wait and advisor to the Empress' daughter. She was an Aquarian, one of the Vortari of the royal bloodline, resting at something like 3rd in line for the throne. When Johnathan had been a small boy, his mother told him she had been worshipped as a river goddess before The Change. She was more frightening than Gabrethail, in his opinion. Just as powerful, with a temper twice as volatile. Supposedly she had been killed by one of the Alsbane's ancestors in one-on-one combat. Goddesses don't die in "fair"fights with humans. He didn't believe that file for a moment. Her own blood was ample reason for her to be able to establish contact with the Old Gods. Her connection with the Laughlinns of Aardein? Icing on the proverbial cake.

His last thought was the worst by far. He hadn't dared to think of her name since long before his party's great-grandparents had been born. He had even avoided letting it cross his mind whilst thinking of her most trusted companions. Three people in the entirety of Elkhar knew she possibly wasn't dead, the Empress' daughter. Kait. Her name echoed through his mind, feeling as though he had actually heard it whispered on the breeze. His throat went dry. If she had resurfaced and was behind the awakening of the Aether Springs... There were no gods left that could protect any corner of Elkhar. She had been, what he thought, was gravely wounded when the Hunter's Guild had captured him with her. He didn't know what exactly happened, but, many years later- once he had recovered and pledged his loyalty to atone for his wrongs- the Alsbane at the time had told him Kaitlynn had escaped. They were confident then that she was too wounded to survive. He and the current Alsbane were less convinced. Johnathan could only hope that they were wrong and the previous Alsbane had been right.

With grim determination, he pressed on down the worn road through the thick growth. It was too important to ignore. More than ever, he was certain that he had to put in that report.