Venator

  Lorin was taken aback. "There are at least fifteen of them out there, and I'm not armed."

  "Have some faith in yourself. You are a driven fighter. That is rare and valuable. If I'm honest, you almost beat me a few times when we sparred with polearms and daggers. Those out there aren't Thornguard, they're just common hired thugs, trained to hit straw-filled dummies that don't fight back. Numbers are their strength, but your skill could turn that around."

  Her matter-of-fact tone surprised Lorin. "Thank you," he said after a moment.

  "Praise should be given where it's due," Ashmere said and warmed the night with her smile. "I feel, though, the lessons would end if we tried combat outside, especially given the presence of a gargoyle."

  "Is that what that statue is called?

  Ashmere gave him a look. "I'm going to start counting your questions again if you keep asking thoughtless ones." She sighed. "Yes, they are protective sentinels, hiding in plain sight. They are deadly to those that don't see them, and even if you do see them you're still probably gonna die." Then she began making her way through the building, heading to the door Lorin had wandered into the night before. "Until there are fewer guards, we can't train outside." She opened the door to the sitting area which was adorned by hunting trophies along the walls. She waved Lorin to follow, and they walked to the library. The scattered clothing from the other night had been cleaned up and the room was empty of life, but filled with knowledge.

  "It's time you began to study," Ashmere said.

  "Wasn't that what I was doing in the mornings?" Lorin said, his eyes scanning book after book lining the walls.

  Ashmere sighed and held up a finger. "We are doing this again. Everything you read in the cell was just for practice. I had grabbed the smallest books from here so they would be easy to hide. Because we cannot go outside, and we have grown out of sparring in our cell, we will be studying until the guard lets up." She gave Lorin a gentle slap on the cheek and took off, scanning the spines and pulling out a few of the dusty tomes.

  Lorin watched her. As if she was a librarian herself, she went from place to place to grab a specific book and, with purpose in her step, then walked to a different shelf and picked out another tome. When she finished, over a dozen books sat on one of the tables at the end of the library.

  "Lorin, let's begin. Sit down," she said as she motioned to the seat in front of the pile.

  "Could we move over to the next table?" Lorin asked, still standing.

  "Why?"

  "This one… uhh… I like that one better." Lorin picked up the books and set them down on the next table. "It is harder to see from the entrance."

  Ashmere gave him a puzzled look, but moved over all the same.

  The pile of books was heavy, and Lorin could barely set half the stack down without making the entire table shudder. There were more written words here than Lorin had thought he would ever look at, let alone read. The first few books Ash selected were catalogues of natural and mythical beasts. She opened all of them to show the different collections of notes on creatures, outlining their abilities and characteristics. Most of it looked like gibberish. There were sketches on quite a few pages which helped, but it wasn't written in the common language, and the majority of the words were elven. Those words looked like a creek flowing along the parchment, beautiful and painstakingly drawn. Overall, aside from beauty and a few symbols which looked like poised people, they meant nothing to him.

  "You will have trouble with elvish for quite a while," Ashmere said after reading over his shoulder. "The words are more emotive than descriptive."

  "I… don't know what any of this is," Lorin said, his face puzzled with a hint of fear creeping through his voice.

  "You will learn. This is very important."

  "Are these books about Varron? His group?"

  A second finger was lifted. "No, but they will help you understand beasts and monsters that roam this land. These here tell about the cities and cultures in the civilized world. That one is about what lies beyond the scar of the Abyss, and the giants who live there. This one is about the Venators," Ashmere said and pointed to each.

  "This doesn't help against Var—"

  "It does help." Ashmere said, her voice stern. "You can kill Varron now. He is just a man, and you know how to at least fight at his level if not better."

  "But—"

  "You have the others to find, right? Then after that, what is the plan? Fall on your sword, stretch your neck, or drink yourself dumb? You seem changed, like you have something to live for. Focus is good, but it might be a fault the way you see it."

  Lorin fell silent.

  "Read and learn," she continued. "You have promise, and you want to waste it. You are better than a vengeful assassin, and you know it. Read about the beasts that roam the world. They kill families like yours every day, but unlike those orphaned children or childless fathers, you can do something about it." Her voice was never raised enough to alert the sleeping of the house, but her chest still rose and fell with heavy breathing.

  "Why am I so special?" Lorin asked after letting her catch her breath.

  "That's three. I'll give you three more if you ask no more tomorrow or the next day."

  Lorin nodded.

  "In truth, you aren't," Ashmere said. "Your drive is impressive, but you simply appeared at the right time for my help. Nothing more."

  "Find someone else, then?" Lorin said, but the words scared him. He didn't want to be alone.

  "Sunken costs. And besides, I do see your potential, once your vendetta has ended."

  "My potential for what? You keep saying that, but I don't know what you’re grooming me for."

  "I told you before, to be a hunter, a Venator."

  "I still don't know what that is."

  "That book will explain in further detail, but we are skilled hunters that roam without borders or allegiances. We deal with beasts, humans, elves, dwarves, anything that has become a threat to society."

  "What if I don't want to be a part of that?"

  "And what would you be a part of instead?" The words hung in the air, and Lorin felt a painful ache radiate from the pit of his stomach to his fingertips.

  "It is a purpose you can have," she continued. "You can stop before a year is up if you can't handle it. After that, you need to train a replacement for yourself."

  "Is that what you are doing?"

  "No, there are too few of us for me to retire. You will be a great asset, if I can give you the skills you need."

  Lorin flipped through a few pages of the book in front of him and was greeted by a hand-drawn picture of a lion-headed fish, and another of a rat standing like a man with large arms thick with muscle. "How many of the Venators are there?"

  "Ten at most are active—we keep to ourselves and travel often. A keep west of here called Wans is a rest stop for us. I'm not sure how many would be there, but you can meet them once you kill Varron and his group."

  "What would I have to do to officially become one?"

  "Show proper skills or be recommended."

  Lorin liked the idea. It was something in the inky black behind his vengeance that he could look to. He closed the book he was thumbing through and looked out to the still-dark library. It amazed him how well he could see in the dark now that he had become accustomed to it for so long.

  "Alright, show me where we start," Lorin said.

  Ashmere smiled, the frustration that had been present in her face earlier was gone, and she flipped to a page in the book Lorin had just closed. Her finger pushed a dent in an entry with a picture of a winged statue. "You saw one gargoyle today; I think you should learn about what they are."

  They spent the rest of the night reading through the books. Ashmere did a lot of it aloud and explained the words Lorin didn't understand. He was used to her style of teaching the written word, so the elven script started to make sense by the start of the morning. When dawn came they returned most of the books to their places, though Lori
n grabbed the book about Venators and brought it back to his cell. It was a small, thin journal, unmarked and bound with tough, black leather that smelled of mold-rotten paper. It was written in another language and the ink had faded near to nothing.

  "Why would this library have a book about Venators?" Lorin asked when they had both returned to their cells.

  "Every city and castle library must have a copy of that book as well as the others I pulled out for you," Ashmere said.

  "Every city? You said there weren't that many Venators."

  "There aren't, but they are honored guests wherever they travel. The Baron had forgotten that, or just never learned about it—I doubt he read much. We must, on request, be provided those books to research as well as any supplies or materials—which should be paid for from the city's coffers."

  "If I just walked up and said I was one, I’d get free lodging and food—that's a good traveler’s trick."

  "Not unless you plan to rot in prison until a real Venator needs some bait. Upper classes gossip. If I heard of a Venator in a town near me I would stop to meet them, and if they couldn't prove they were actually one, well it's a pretty easy way to get on my bad side." She grinned.

  "I would like to read this book next," Lorin said, holding up the black leather book.

  "We will. The guards won't be leaving soon, so the library will be our home for the next few nights," Ashmere said and crawled into her bed with a book she pulled out of nowhere. "But I expect your exercises to still be done and I also expect some peace and quiet for the next two questionless days."

  With that, Lorin began his routine as normal, but when he hung by his arm waiting for the bell's toll, nothing rang out. He waited until mid-morning in bed, but for the first time since he had been in the cell, the bell didn't ring.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The two spent the next three weeks poring over the books Ashmere brought out. True to her word, they began reading the black leather book. “Venator Vade Mecume” was written on the first page in a language made for the hunters. It was a mix of common, elvish, and dwarvish. It was simple enough to decipher given that it was based on the other written languages and used simplistic symbols, so long as one had a basic understanding of all three written words. After the first few nights, he could read most of the book alone, only needing to stop for clarification on some words and symbols. The book was the shortest of all the others and only dealt with the Venators. The basics, as Lorin understood, were that the Venators were a group of skilled hunters, sent out to face and destroy any monstrosity threatening civilization. The definition was left open-ended, Ashmere explained, so that they could fight against those who became monstrous in society as well. New recruits were taken on by other hunters and trained on the job. Most died. The few that survived would take vows and become Venators, allowing their teacher to step down and retire either at their base in Wans, or on a homestead of their own. Every Venator took the oath for life and could be called in if a threat was great enough. Each hunter was given one defining gift at the time of their initiation. Some had wishes, others wealth, and still more gained physical attributes. The hunters enjoyed all the pleasure of life in towns when they stopped in to heal and rest, all on the city’s coin, but this came with the price of devotion and honor.

  "Ha! The most I ever got was free room at a nice inn," Ashmere said when Lorin read that out loud. "The rest I had to pay for myself. There are few in the world that are generous enough to help you."

  If hunters broke the vows, or excessively abused the power given, they would become worse than any beast in the land, hunted by any and all Venators without mercy.

  The first vow was to protect those unable to protect themselves.

  The second was to not toy or humiliate a target and end the problem swiftly without excessive pain.

  The third was to treat other Venators as honored guests. “No one is greater than another, and all are hunters, nothing more or less.”

  The fourth was to keep to oneself. Boasting painted targets, and hunters needed to tread unexpectedly whenever they stalked prey.

  The fifth and final was that every hunter must be sterilized and bear no children or have other vows than their vow to the hunt. When Lorin was reading he stumbled when he came to the word “sterilized,” and gave Ashmere a look to explain.

  "Chemically. A concoction is used to make you become unable to have children, but you don't feel anything." Then with a smirk, Ashmere said, "We don't cut ourselves."

  "Good to know," Lorin said, shifting in his seat. "It mentioned the hunters get to wish for something? Actual wishes?"

  "Yes, some wishes have been granted in one way or another. Usually, a very strong creature can give a gift that seems magical if wished for in their presence. Nothing extreme can be done, but depending on the request some have been granted."

  "No lives brought back?" Lorin asked, his eyes lowered.

  "That would be miraculous and impossible, but a thought-out request might be granted. Like I said, it has to be realistic."

  The word “realistic” had changed to Lorin, its definition pushed to the extreme. Lorin thought a stone creature could only exist in a child's story, yet there were pages in a centuries-old book describing the exact appearance of the new guard outside. Snakes the size of horses were also in that book, and they were a realistic part of his life. Even the giants that roamed the world beyond the civilized areas seemed unrealistic, but this world held many other things he’d never thought could be real. Perhaps something miraculous and impossible was actually realistic.

  "I haven't decided yet," Lorin said, closing the book after his second readthrough. "It's a big decision."

  "Take your time," Ashmere said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "In the end the choice is yours. You have learned about a piece of the world. Some choose to ignore those truths and continue with their lives. They can't be Venators. Venators are the ones that see the danger and want to, need to, be the ones to protect others. I know it's a good match for you, but it's still your choice." Then she grabbed the small book and pushed it to the side. "In either case, knowledge of the dangers out there can help." The book she set in front of them was as tall as it was thick. It was the same one they’d started to read the first night in the library, but that night they had focused on gargoyles.

  "Back to where we left off?" Lorin said.

  "No, we will start at the beginning and work our way through. It's alphabetical, so it won't take long to get back." Ashmere took a seat beside him and moved the covered candle to illuminate the book properly. They initially read in the dark, but Lorin's eyes became strained enough that he needed a small lantern. Even if a guard was looking for the pair, they still would have been hard to spot. Ashmere always sat close to Lorin and shielded the light with a book and herself.

  The new book was at least a thousand pages of pictures and descriptions. It ranged from woolly anteaters large enough to eat humans—which made Lorin wonder why they were still called anteaters—to drakes and dragons and their multiple colors and temperaments. There was an entry about banshees and their Queens. Cyclops also made for an interesting entry. Massive when compared to humans, most were large enough to grab a horse in one hand and throw it out of sight. Their one eye was also known to fixate and entrance those unfortunate enough to get caught in their gaze. There were chapters on centaurs, chimera, ceto, and many more that Lorin had already forgotten. They all were fascinating and horrific. He couldn't believe that some of these were real, but each time Ashmere would say, "That is because Venators make them stay mythical."

  At the end of their first real night of study, they finished on dopples: shape-shifting creatures that could mimic the voice and appearance of bipedal creatures, provided there wasn't a substantial difference in size. They had covered quite a few entries for one night, but they could've been faster—Lorin kept flipping back to look at the detailed drawings of the dragons. Ashmere did make sure they kept at a steady pace, and they had finis
hed that book and moved on to the next soon enough. Lorin, over the weeks of study, had a few nightmares about the sea creatures in one of the books. It was strange. He never seemed to dream much anymore, and if he did, it was never pleasant.

  The next book after the bestiaries was The Kingdoms of Civilization. A wall of text assaulted him over and over. Each page was a long list of uninteresting names of sons, grandsons, and great grandsons. Kings, Lords, Queens, and Ladies, even the damn squires and their families were named. Thankfully after the first few pages and Lorin's rhythmic thumping forehead against paper, Ashmere let him skip to the histories of the cities. It was a much more interesting read, and the cultures and peoples felt as varied as the beasts from the last book.

  The first point of interest was the land in which Lorin had spent his whole life. With the help of maps and descriptions, Lorin learned that Jance and the lands overseen by the Demore family were placed in the midwest of the civilized continent. Blackpool was far south of Jance and close to the Wilds, but unlike the infinite expanse Lorin had thought the Wilds to be, they were only a small portion of the land mass. The large cities of the continent were all bordered by the Wilds, leaving the map with cookie-cutter shapes of claimed land with the Wilds filling in between them. The continent itself was a massive island surrounded by a thick border labeled “The Abyss.” The Abyss was a trench that extended as far as the horizon, with only some spots where land could be seen on the other side. The trench was so deep the noon day sun couldn't brighten it. On the south side of the continent, the Abyss met the Fracturing Sea, creating massive waterfalls pouring over at the sea's edges. Despite the constant flow, the sea had never drained by any noticeable amount.

  It wasn’t impossible to cross the ravine. Bridges, built before any records had been kept, spanned across the ravine around the continent, and the largest cities were built around them. One bridge was in Rayco, a port city where all the rivers converge into the sea. A second was far north, where the snowed-in city of Nigragos sat gleaming, a frosted diamond of wealth. To the north-east, another bridge was surrounded by the city of Dance. It was populated almost entirely by dwarves and had become a marvel of engineering and stonework. South of Dance and isolated by a mountain range, the desert city of Ramoth stood by the last bridge. Each of the bridges was guarded by its respective city to keep the people in and to keep peace with the giants.