Chapter 612: A Hunter must hunt (1/2)
Chapter 612 A Hunter must hunt
“During one of the battles I had with a Bluetail, we ended up crashing on a mountain side. I saw one of the Vrayar protect its nest, using its soul magic to scare both me and the Bluetail away. Not particularly effective of course,” Kyrian explained as he watched the eagle like birds rip into the flesh. “The mother died.”
“You took them in?” Ilea asked.
He nodded to himself. “I tried before… fostering some kind of pet. None of them stayed, or just never stopped trying to eat me.”
Ilea summoned one of Keyla’s meals and handed it to him. “Do you want to eat here?”
“Why not?” he asked and sat down on the carcass, the steel on his head moving away to reveal his face. His hair had the same black color, short now and roughly cut, a short beard covering the lower half of his face. He had the same gray eyes, not quite as inhuman as Elfie’s but they were certainly unique. Ilea wondered if it was just her imagination but she felt that they looked colder.
The man formed a fork with steel from his gauntlet and started eating, closing his eyes a moment later as he ate faster. He made a few questionable noises before he was done.
“More?” Ilea asked with a smile, summoning another bowl and displacing it with the empty one he was holding.
He glanced at her and ate again. “Thank you,” he got in between bites.
“Sure, plenty more where that is coming from. Maybe I can get you a storage item too. It’s really quite a god sent when you can summon your favorite food in the middle of a months long dungeon dive,” Ilea said.
Kyrian finished and wiped at his mouth before his helmet closed again. “I found one here. Plenty of really old clothes, weapons, books, and the like in the keeps. Problem is, I can’t read the language,” he said and summoned a book before he made it vanish again.
One of the eagles flapped its wings and landed on his shoulder, gray beak dripping with blood, some clinging to its feathers.
Ilea felt the soul magic as the creature watched her. “They’re pretty cool.”
“They are,” Kyrian said and looked at the Vrayar. “You are, aren’t you?” he asked in a dry tone, tapping the beak of the creature. “The magic doesn’t bother you? I’m pretty sure it’s not meant as an attack.”
“It’s some kind of perception. Just invasive,” Feyrair said. “Seithir could offer more insight.”
“A soul mage Cerithil Hunter,” Ilea explained.
“That would be useful, sure,” Kyrian said. “Thank you for the food, Ilea. I can’t wait to fill my ring with everything I can get my hands on back in Ravenhall… the city IS still around? Or did someone summon more demons?”
“It is,” Ilea said, her smile gone now.
“What is it?” he asked.
Ilea walked up next to him and sat down on the carcass, one of her ashen limbs cutting out a bit of flesh and feeding it to the closest Vrayar. “A few… days ago. I found out who killed Eve.”
He turned his head forward, remaining silent for a while.
Ilea could see his curse aura flare up again, lashing out before it was subdued, the birds croaking and flying away before they landed on nearby ledges, window sills, or the ground.
Kyrian took a deep breath in and let the air out slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said and turned towards her, his body floating to close the distance before he hugged her again. Again, they remained for a little while before he lifted his head. “How are you feeling?”
Ilea turned her head when he let go of her, looking at the ground as the birds approached again to resume their feast. “I don’t know.”
“Come, let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable than this cold courtyard. Whoever built this at least knew about furniture and hearths,” he said and stood up, holding his hand out to help her up.
Ilea looked at it, swallowing empty. Didn’t I come here to save you?
She smiled finally, tears in her eyes as she grabbed his hand.
The hall he had brought them to was made for kings. Ancient tapestries hung from the wall, all color long faded, much of it eaten through by moths. A massive hearth had been set into the center of the wall, a long banquet table standing in front of it. Much of the table was missing.
Kyrian’s arm extended into an axe like form before he brought it down with a quick swing, throwing the chunk of wood into the hearth, adding fuel to the bright fire.
Ilea felt cold, despite her resistances and powerful body. She didn’t feel like using Heart of Cinder, instead sitting in a half rotten chair near the hearth.
Feyrair sat nearby, holding a large chunk of bloody Bluetail meat while he shooed off one of the Vrayar.
She patted the closest bird on its head, feeling the rough feathers against her skin. Higher leveled than most Shadows, she thought, looking at the creature before she turned back to the flames.
“I’m glad the war is over,” Kyrian said, choosing to stand with his arms crossed in front of him.
He looked tall. Powerful. Like an experienced hunter. This place had given him an edge Ilea felt more naturally than identify could ever show. And yet when he moved and spoke, he seemed vulnerable, much like the Kyrian she knew.
They had spent the last hour talking. First about Eve, about Michael and who he was, why Ilea had chosen not to go after him. She talked about the war, the Lily, Erendar, and Meadow. About the Sentinels and what they meant, about Claire and Trian, and what they were up to.
He sighed, tossing another chunk of wood into the flames. “A lot seems to have changed since I was teleported away.”
“Not as much as you think,” Ilea said. “Even though Ravenhall is independent now, you’ll hardly find it different than before. Few people know about Hallowfort yet, let alone Meadow.”
Most of the news had been good. A prospering Ravenhall, alliances with powerful cities, a space magic tree that would help them if need be. The end of the Baralia war.
“What are you thinking?” she asked the man, his gaze focused on the flames as she looked at him.
Kyrian turned towards her before he glanced at Feyrair. “I… I wasn’t there, you know? I was lost here. And now you’re here. You can take me back, but what then? I’m not a Sentinel, not a Hunter. I’m a Shadow, if even that,” he said, the last words whispered.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ilea asked, standing up from her chair.
He remained where he stood but turned his head to the fire.
“Why do you think I came here?” Ilea asked.
“We helped Edwin and Felicia. You came for me because it was part of the mission,” he said.
Ilea stepped in front of him so that he would’ve had to move to avoid her gaze. “I came because of you, Kyrian. Because we’re part of the same team. Because we fought together, because we bled together, because we trained and laughed together. I didn’t come here because of a mission that is long past. You didn’t need my help either, you would’ve escaped on your own. Maybe in a month, maybe a year,” she said and tapped his chest with her index finger. “I came because I was worried.”
“I see… I’m sorry,” he said.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Ilea said. “Whatever you want to do, we’ll be with you. Yes, Claire is mostly managing Ravenhall, but she hasn’t forgotten about you. She was the one to ask Cless for paintings of you. Trian found something in leading and training the Sentinels. If you want to join him in doing that, he’ll be happy to work with you, I’m sure. And if you want to travel with me, you can do that too.”
She flicked his metal forehead, the sound dull as neither her finger nor his head gave in. “Kyrian, you’re one of the most powerful human beings I know. You can do whatever the fuck you want. And we’ll be there.”
He remained quiet for a while until he cleared his throat.
“I think I want to visit Ravenhall. I want to see the others… I want to… listen to music again, want to see the sunlight without arcane storms and blizzards raging past. I want to feel the warmth, want to sleep in a comfortable bed, and I want to fly, past the mountains of the south, the forests of the west,” he said, raising his hand slowly before he flicked her forehead instead.
She felt the impact slam into her skull, his finger stopped just like hers had.
“And I want to hunt. I want to kill every last Bluetail, every last Wyrm, every gods forsaken Golem and Gargoyle on these damned isles. And then, I want to hunt those responsible for stranding me here. I did not… have a good time,” he said, his voice shaking as it reverberated through the hall.
Feyrair appeared behind the metal mage, steel spikes instantly extending to keep the elf at bay. He casually put his arm around Kyrian’s shoulder and grinned, sharp canines visible. “You, my friend, need to learn about anger.”
“Take your hand off me,” Kyrian said, his aura flaring up.
Feyrair spun away, sliding to a stop with a grin as his armor formed.