Hunting Rogues: Ch 2

***The challenge is set...***

Two days passed since Sudien had been devoured, and the people of Lewvon had done nothing. Fraki had fumed, shouted at her parents, demanded they act – until her mother, Eraly Lewthan, had snapped and told her no more. A tall, slim and imposing woman whose wavy dark hair was dusted with silver, Eraly spat the words: “You did not see anything because you were not with that boy, do you understand? You will not do anything and neither we will. If no one was there to witness his demise, we can assume misadventure.”

Fraki started to argue, but Eraly would not let her speak, continuing to insist that she was a fool and that if she wanted anyone to blame for this catastrophe, blame herself. Think of poor Sudien’s parents and what she had done to them.

In the town, Sudien’s death was spoken of in hushed, worried tones, as if they were afraid to acknowledge it had happened. They had felt the tremors, of course, when the giantess Rote had come near, and they had feared for their lives. Some bands of travelling adventurers and those who had hung up their weapons to enter the mines even readied themselves for battle. But Rote had not come, and when Sudien’s pack had been found at the peak, the next morning, the conclusions were easy to make. All this while Fraki had run to her grand home at the town’s periphery and petitioned her parents to help, only to be chastised and told off and locked away.

On the evening of the second day, she finally managed to get her quiet father alone, as he smoked a pipe reading papers in his office. Sir Dreult Lewthan was a sturdy man, though short and balding; his former muscle had slackened somewhat but he still appeared tough, especially in his form-fitting dark suits. Everyone in Lewvon looked up to him, the man with the courage and vision to set up a fortified position on the edge of the northern frontier of the Nidings border, with an abundant gold mine remote enough to be free from most thundress interests. He was honest about the dangers involved and generous in distributing the mine proceeds, making it one of the most lucrative operations in the Clear Valley. If you could survive it.

But he was always level-headed and diplomatic about the horrific threats of the Nidings: no one was ignorant of how easily the giant monsters could come for them, at any time. And they had praised him when Rote emerged while the rest of the Clear Valley was at war and he’d managed to negotiate a deal with the monster rather than fight her. She took her tribute once a month, and her presence kept other dangers at bay. It was a price they’d always expected to pay, which he made official and predictable.

Now, the fighting had died down back east and it was said that Baron Ratcel had struck up a similar bargain with the queen of the Thundress Tribe herself, cementing the townsfolks’ faith that Sir Dreult knew what he was doing. Soldiers and monster hunters fresh from the fighting came looking for more honest, more lucrative work, and those that didn’t – those itching for more trouble, who offered to take a bounty on Rote – were turned away.

Fraki had suspected it was all a mistake from the start. She hated the feeling that they were subservient to a giantess as much as she hated having her parents tell her who she could or could not see. She had latched onto the other stories that came back from the war: rumours of how thundress monsters had been killed on the battlefield, and how a single witch had helped sway the tide. Fraki understood that the monsters could be defeated, and had even started her own research. But it had all been theoretical before. Impersonal.

“It’s time to rethink,” she told her father, as he kept his focus on his papers. “It starts with one extra sacrifice, then what comes next?”

Dreult raised a curious eyebrow. He was always willing to listen, unlike her mother. He puffed on his cigar and said, “What would you like to do?”

“The hunters who came into town last week, they’re still here. I checked. They fought at Burgwec – they know what they’re doing.”

“The ones I already asked to leave.”

“Things have changed!”

“Have they? I appreciate you cared for the boy, and I am sorry for your loss, but all our personal interests aside here, this is still the way of Lewvon.”

She frowned. “But it’s not. The agreement –”

“Will be addressed, but not through violence. The thundress will be contacted. She will be made to understand such breaches will not be tolerated in future. But you also must understand that one aberration is not enough to sacrifice all we have here.”

“One aberration?” Fraki echoed. “She killed him.”

“And by living here, Sudien accepted that possibility long ago. If the price of our town is worth one sacrifice a month, we must also question if it is worth two. Would Sudien want us to risk his family’s safety now? Yours? Or would he prefer we keep the peace?”

She hated what he was saying, but Dreult’s permanent calm had a quietening effect. Where her mother managed to provoke her, he always made things sound annoyingly reasonable. She concluded, “So you’ll do nothing?”

“I will have words with Rote. I will make sure this does not happen again. Not like this.”

Fraki scowled at him. Not like this meant he was willing to allow it as long as he was aware of it. He would bargain for the whole town, and maybe that was for the best for everyone. For the mine and the families. But it wasn’t best for Fraki. She nodded curtly, accepting there was nothing more to be said, and stomped off to her room.

There, she quickly started packing things into a satchel, her mind made up. Clothes, some food, and her stash of finest jewellery. Most importantly, her thick journal on magic, messy with tagged in extra pages as her research had grown. All that ready, she rushed through the house and swung on her heavy riding coat. She slipped out via the kitchen and hurried into town, to the second largest building around: the tavern.

Ginnow’s Inn was a three-storey, rickety mix-match of trellised windows and peaks, gradually built up high from a small frame to accommodate the town’s growing community of transient miners. It was usually alive with music and chatter, but this evening was quiet, maybe because a sombre mood had taken the town with the news of Sudien’s death. Fraki found a spattering of dirt-faced miners in the wide room, staring into their drinks. She saw no sign of the people she wanted, and hurried to the bar to ask after them. The barkeep shook his head gravely, saying she was too late. Her father’s message had spread through town clearly enough, and the monster hunters that were already gone, off to find work elsewhere. Fraki fumed for a moment, ignoring the curious look of the barkeep, who would surely report her presence here to her parents. Forget them. She rushed out of the building and around to the tavern stables. She untied the closest horse, mounted it and steered quickly through the town. She reached a gallop as she followed the one road the adventurers must have taken: back towards civilisation.

Riding into the night, through the steep hills, she soon spotted the strangers out on the road ahead, a group with three horses between them, two people mounted and three on foot. Excitement welling in her, Fraki cried out, “Wait! Wait!”

The group slowed down and more than one hand went to a sheathed weapon. She brought her horse quickly up to them, though, too elated to care about the threat. She quickly decided on their leader: the man on horseback, big, broad-shouldered, with a thick beard but no hair up top. He wore Liskabar furs, a mountain warrior. A tough race of people, one of those most likely to become monster hunters.

“You offered to kill the Thundress,” Fraki said, as she steadied the horse. She swung her satchel around to hold close to her, and tried to straighten up, confidently.

The Liskabar released his hand from the axe at his saddle. The other horse rider, on his left, was a woman with multi-layered grey robes and a scar across her nose, hair loose and a bit greasy. Standing between the horses and Fraki was a slim young man in a leather vest, with tattooed arms on show, hair shaved short. Beyond the woman’s horse was a similar young man, in similar leathers, with long blond hair. To the rear of the group stood a great tall, muscular man with an enormous sword strapped to his back, clad only in thick hide shorts and a variety of pack straps.

The Liskabar said, “What could you want now? We got your daddy’s message clear enough. Whole town’s mad.”

“I’ve got this.” Fraki hurriedly opened the satchel, fumbling it but quickly recovering. She took out her bag of jewels and held it up. Too far and too dark for them to make out. She threw it weakly but the Liskabar caught it. He peered inside, then shared a look with his female companion. Fraki clarified, “To kill the thundress.”

“Your daddy didn’t send you,” the man said.

“No. Does it matter? Isn’t that enough?”

“Have you got more?” the closer young man asked, voice high and snide.

The bigger man tutted at him. “It’s enough. But we got told plainly we weren’t needed here. You’re a town of mad people, pretending there’s no problem.”

“I’m not pretending. That’s your pay right there. Half now and half when it’s done.”

“You’ve got another pouch like this?”

“Yes,” Fraki lied. She’d figure that out later; right now she just had to keep things moving. “With one condition. I’m coming with you.”

The Liskabar scoffed and both young men laughed. The woman, less amused, asked, “Why?”

“Because two nights ago I saw the man I loved eaten alive. Swallowed whole. That monster ate him like a snack and smiled while she did it. I want her dead and I want to see it happen. I want her to know it was me that came for her.”

“There’s no room for emotion in this,” the Liskabar said. “We’re not setting out to torture or be righteous. When it comes to a thundress, we take whatever chance we can get, no romantics to it.”

“Whatever it takes. I want to be there. I’m ready.”

“With that little knapsack of clothes?” the young man chuckled. “You got nightie and a –”

“Enough,” the Liskabar said. “Alright. Your terms are fine. It’s what we came for. Name’s Coalard. This is Libek” – he gestured to the lady – “and Menal.” The young man, who winked. Then, Coalard indicated the other young man and the barbarian. “Wanesic and Dunn.”

“And you’ve killed giantesses before?” Fraki said. She didn’t care about their names, she wanted to hear it confirmed, that this was a definite thing. Rote was going to die.

“We were all there when Queen Serin marched on Burgwec,” Coalard said, folding her pouch of jewels beneath his furs. “We know what we’re doing. And it starts with a good night’s rest. Back into town. Get yourself home and rested, we’ll set out at dawn.”

“No. I’m not going home. I want it done now. We have to leave tonight.”

Coalard eyed her patiently. He nodded, must’ve heard in her desperation that to go home would scupper this whole idea. They had, after all, already been made unwelcome in Lewvon. “So be it. Let’s kill ourselves a giant.”

He turned his horse, making the others skip out of the way, to face back towards town. Towards the trail to the Nidings on the other side. Wanesic took the reins of their pack horse to lead it around, too. Libek remained still, keeping her eyes carefully on Fraki. Fraki’s heart was pounding now, though, eager to get going, thrilled that she was really doing this. She pushed down any concern at how dangerous these strangers were, and likewise any concern that crept in at Coalard’s answer to her question. They’d been at Burgwec, he said. That didn’t mean they’d actually done anything.

But they would,Fraki decided. Rote was going to die.