Chapter 566: The Hunt
Mason followed Chinua deeper into the caves, holding Demi’s hand to guide her in the dark.
“Strike up a torch, they’ll bash their heads,” said one of the players. One of the civilians had it lit before Mason could protest and say not to waste anything. He squinted and smiled politely. He could see perfectly in the gloom, but Demi at least walked with more confidence.
The narrow passage opened up, and Mason hid his surprise as a good hundred people came into view all over a wider cavern. He’d expected a few dozen, maybe. How the hell did they all survive out of a settlement?
“This is Mason,” Chinua said plainly as the people silenced, the exhaustion clear in his features. “He’s come to help us. To take us to his settlement in the west.”
“What about the demon army?” someone said. Chinua looked like he wasn’t sure how to answer.
“It’s…dealt with,” he said after a pause. “But we can’t teleport from here. We have to walk for a day, maybe two. Then we’ll be safe.”
Mason saw the same exhaustion in the others. But he saw relief and hope, too. He was hoping they might leave right away, but as he looked at them he knew they couldn’t. Lots of gaunt, bruised eyes stared up at him. Some of these people were too skinny. They hadn’t been eating well for some time.
Chinua turned and whispered, as if reading Mason’s mind.
“We’ve been rationing for weeks, and we haven’t slept for two days. If we must go now, then we can, but…”
“I’ll go hunt,” Mason said. “We’ll make a big fire tonight and get everyone stuffed and warm. Then we’ll go in the morning.”
Chinua stared, looking overwhelmed. “So many mouths. And with the demons scattered everywhere…” he trailed off as he met Mason’s eyes. “Thank you. If you need help, we have several good scouts.”
“Let them rest.” Mason turned to Demi and felt her hand clench on his, knowing what he’d say.
“I can come with you, if I…”
“Stay here,” he whispered, squeezing back as he raised a brow. “They’re friends and they’re too tired to bother you. Just sit around and look pretty and nice. Easy.”
Demi’s eyes narrowed and she stuck out her tongue. He grinned and kissed her, then walked back out to the entrance. He waved to Chinua’s guards, then ran out at an inhuman speed as he whistled for Streak.
Hunting using One with Nature was basically cheating. Mason could literally sense every living thing on natural terrain, the only trick being filtering out all the noise. Once he was far enough away from the cave and the people, he stopped and closed his eyes.
The patches of demon controlled, lifeless ground made his teeth grind. But there was still plenty of surviving areas outside it. He tried to block out the plants and smaller creatures, looking for something big enough to feed so many.
One good thing about the world of the great game—roboGod wanted plenty of ‘natural threats’ around to intimidate its superhuman players. This meant plenty of supersized beasts like giant antelope, or mutant wolves, or whale sized fish, or…
There. He turned and sprinted, Streak following with an excited yip. They howled together, maybe out of instinct, maybe in announcement. They hadn’t had much time in the eastern continent, really only feywalking between points marked by Mason’s scouts or the elven oracle.
The creatures here hadn’t had time to meet them. To get acquainted.
Fight, run, or hide, they howled together. We are hungry, and we are coming.
Mason smiled as they were noticed. The mood shifted. The vague comfort with the ‘druid’ vanished, replaced by the deadly terror of the ‘ranger’.
The creatures were right in both cases. He was both now depending on the day. And he knew then it was why he’d howled—to let them know he was here for the other game, the game of life and death, the one they all knew so well.
He found the beast he’d sensed eating near a small lake, tusks lowered, snout sniffing the air as it ripped grass like a scythe. It was basically a huge boar the size of a small elephant, maybe weighing two thousand pounds. It also had quills like a porcupine, and a horn like a rhino.
Streak snuck up over the ridge, sniffing with excitement and keeping low to the ground. Mason walked into plain view with his Claws out. The wolf pretty much rolled his eyes.
“It’s a warrior,” he said, scanning it with his Ranger’s Mark. “We give it the honor it deserves. A fight to the death.”
Streak snorted and came up behind him, muttering in judgmental wolf about stupid apes, and maybe something about ‘now who won’t dodge’.
The boar sniffed and raised its head, tail swishing as it detected a threat. It stared at Mason and the giant wolf beside him, still not sure. He sent a pulse with One with Nature, letting it know what he intended, and that though he might be small, he was as deadly a foe as the creature could face.
It snorted and brayed, pawing at the ground in warning.
No, he told it. We come for your death. I will make it clean.
Like the true warrior it was, the boar didn’t hesitate. It snorted and charged.
Mason ran to meet it, Streak sprinting to its flank. The wind whipped through his hair, the nearly full moon hanging in the evening sky like a lighthouse for his soul. Strange, he thought suddenly, that there should be a moon just like ‘old Earth’s. He remembered his title, too, ‘Moonriser’
[Moon Riser: Increased sensitivity to the moon god’s cycles—including improvements to fertility, powers, and magic.]
He’d gained it in a very different kind of battle—doing his best to impregnate some elves of Shariss, which pleased their mercurial goddess. But he could feel it now in his blood, bolstering him even further.
He closed the gap and readied for the fight in his mind, picturing how he’d avoid the tusks, and the quills, and reach the kill spots to end the creature quickly. All thoughts about why or when or anything vanished in the clarity of combat.
It was the moment Mason had begun to treasure above almost everything. The truest form of living he’d found except when buried in a woman’s arms, or facing down a monster who deserved his full attention. It was, perhaps, the reason he existed.
He didn’t use his boots or other magic items, wanting the battle to be pure. His Claws were innate. His abilities and bond with Streak a part of him, and a part of his hunt.
He dodged the beast’s lowered charge, twisting away with agility that would once have been completely impossible. And with his pack brother ready at his side, he struck.
**
“Sweet mother of God.”
Mason grinned as he heard one of Chinua’s players mutter from the cave. Pretty soon they were all standing there watching as he dragged his prize.
“No.” He stopped and glared at Streak, who whined and licked his lips as he ran a little circle and came right back. “You bite that pig again and I’m sending you home, I swear to God.”
The wolf threw his head side to side, then danced like a toddler who had to pee. But he managed to restrain himself.
“Can I help you pull it, human friend?” Mason muttered. “Why thank you, Streak, that would be great. It’s actually getting kinda hard uphill. I’m so glad we’re partners.”
The wolf definitely heard, and definitely understood. With a short, dismissive growl, he ran up towards Demi, tail swishing. Mason pulled the thousand plus pounds of boar the rest of the way to the cave himself.
“Pork for supper,” he announced, wiping some sweat off his forehead with a wrist. He and everyone else stared at the medium size campfire fire pit they’d prepared, as if they’d prepped to roast a deer on a spit.
“I’ll, uh, dig. And get some more rocks,” said one of the players.
“I’ll get more wood,” said another.
Mason grinned as Demi came shaking her head and scratching Streak.
“I don’t know what I expected,” she said. “But it wasn’t…that. I really could have used you in my stupid swamp. A few months eating mostly mushrooms, lichen and algae would cure any vegetarian.”
“You were a vegetarian?” Mason pulled back in horror, then grinned as he leaned in. “But you eat sausage all the time.”
She rolled her eyes and made a face as he pulled her in for a grope.
“There’s people. And you’re all bloody and sweaty,” she said, looking away with a smile, not really fighting him in the slightest.
“I saw a little creek just down the hill,” he said. “You could come help me…wash off.”
A few voices scoffed or made gasps of shock, and Mason turned to see Chinua and some of the civilians coming up to see.
“Told you,” said one of the players, collecting on some kind of bet.
“You continue to surprise me, Baron,” Chinua said, shaking his head. “I’d ask if it would attract unwanted attention, but I’m getting the impression you don’t care at all.”
Mason shrugged because…no. No he didn’t. His fear of anything ‘normal’ just wandering the world was pretty much zero. After the others ate and passed out (and maybe after some time with Demi…), he and Streak would keep watch at the only entrance to the cave.
He didn’t need much sleep these days. He’d watch over these people all night, then lead them to Razor Mountain and his goblin allies. Then he’d get their civilians to the teleporter, and send them all to the safety of his Nexus, the great tree city of Nassau.
“It’s Duke now,” Demi said, then cleared her throat. “Mason’s a Duke, I mean. Technically.”
“Just my name is fine,” Mason said. Chinua stared, his statue-like face as unreadable as ever.
He brought more people, and some exhausted but determined looking civilians soon got to work butchering and skinning. Mason tried to help them, and definitely did when it came to the hide. But when it came to the meat it was clear that killing wasn’t the same as prepping. The cooking-oriented civilians thanked him and politely chased him off. He sat by Demi and Chinua next to the growing fire.
“Francois was a Michelin star chef in Paris,” Chinua said, gesturing to one of the civilians covered in blood from the elbows down. “His father was an aristocrat. His life was comfort and wealth, limousines and tuxedos. When we left the city, and he asked to come with us, I told him it wouldn’t be easy. I wasn’t sure he could survive a life like this. He hasn’t complained once.”
“And now he cooks monster boar,” Mason said. Chinua smiled.
“Now he cooks monster boar. But when you taste whatever he does with it, you too will be ready to defend him with your life.”
Actually it was taking most of Mason’s willpower not to start eating the thing raw. But he didn’t say so. He’d been hungry before dragging the boar, and now his appetite(s) were raging out of control. Demi’s hand was on his leg, and he nearly grabbed it and shoved it to his crotch.
The evening wore on, the smells of the fire and meat putting everyone awake in a good mood. Mason spoke when spoken to, and kept a hand roaming Demi. He smiled and tried to enjoy the excited conversation around him, the happy people as they were given strips of seasoned boar and ate with half-rolled eyes. He accepted a plate and found it less satisfying than he’d hoped.
“You seem restless, Duke Mason.”
Chinua was watching him with that dark, insightful gaze, a know it all kind of subtle curve on the edges of his mouth. The man reminded him a little of the centaur shaman Night Eyes. Like he knew a lot more than he let on. Mason wasn’t sure what to say, but the African commander leaned closer, his voice low.
“I have known soldiers all my life. For some, it is not easy to beat the sword to a plowshare. Was a demon army not enough of a challenge?”
Mason turned and stared at the fire. He understood what Chinua was saying. Of course he did. But then the world didn’t need him to be a farmer. They needed demon armies chased off and giant boars killed. They needed tyrants put down and planar invasions stopped.
“Your restless soldiers,” he said eventually. “What advice do you give them?”
Chinua’s smile faded. He took a breath and glanced at some of his players, then he pat Mason’s knee.
“I tell them to find another war,” he said. Then he walked off towards a waiting young woman, taking her deeper into the cave. Mason watched the bonfire, and tried not to see dancing demons.