Chapter 1: The Fall

Trees blurred as Kaius sprinted through the forest.

He thought he heard crashing behind him. The bandits were on his tail. He’d easily had a league’s head start when he saw them on the top of a precarious ridge line. One of them had been pointing at him, a thick ropey scar on the man’s face.

They’d closed the distance so fast.

A root caught his foot, sending him stumbling. A thrown out arm caught his fall, the bark of the oak digging in painfully. He had to get to Father.

They had a tracker. He knew it. Otherwise, he would have lost them. Even if they’d only just moved into this area of the forest, he’d lived in the Sea since he was a boy. He could cross it better than any village hunter he’d met.

There, up ahead. It was the elm with the strange split in its trunk. He’d pointed it out to Father a few days ago. He was almost there.

He pushed on, ignoring the way his heart slammed in his chest. How each breath felt like a knife blade on his throat.

He just had to get to Father.

Kaius came smashing through the underbrush, stumbling to a stop in front of their cooking fire. A pot of soup was bubbling away. His father looked up, green eyes wide in surprise. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another good hour or two.

“Kaius!” Hastur said, jumping to his feet. ”What’s wrong, boy? Are you alright?” he asked.

Kaius bent over, panting, as he struggled to get the words out. “Bandits! Right behind! Think they have a tracker!”

Hastur’s face went cold. He moved. Blurring into their tent. A moment later he was in front of him. Shoving his pack into his hands even as he shrugged on his armoured leather and chain jacket.

“Go!” he shouted, pointing in the opposite direction that Kaius had come running from.

“But-” Kaius tried to protest.

“Now! Fool boy!” he all but screamed, shoving Kaius. “This is what we prepared for! You know our legacy, you can merge the rest of the skills yourself! Go!”

Kaius felt the panic rising. He couldn’t leave. Father could handle them. He was only supposed to leave if there was no chance. They were only bandits.

“I-”

Hastur slapped him, the stinging mark bringing tears to his eyes.

“Go! If I don’t find you, I’m already dead. Go!” Hastur shoved him again.

Reality collapsed. His father’s words sinking in. He had to leave. Kaius shrugged his pack on as fast as he could. He took a second to double check he had properly secured his sword. A heavy hand slapped on his shoulder.

“Fool boy.” His father looked him dead in the eye. “I love you. Now go!” The rough shove sent Kaius stumbling.

He went.

Hastur drew Art In Motion, the longsword gleaming as it caught the light. It was a masterwork, a strange blade with a section of diamond cutouts through its centre. A blade that no longer fit him, not as reduced as he was. He’d always been wary of giving it up. He’d made the thing after all. It would serve him well today.

They’d finally found him. Of course, it had to be today. A few short years and the boy would have been gone. Such was luck. The Lady had always had it out for him. For Unterstern.

They arrived.

Nearly thirty of them exited the underbrush, moving to surround the camp. He supposed he should feel flattered, sending that many for little old him.

One of them stepped forward, into the edge of the camp. Garbed in thick leathers that had seen better days, he was a tall and imposing man with a savage scar cutting down his face.

“Y’vesh, take Job and the archers. Go find the boy. Don’t kill him, just rough him up and scare the shit out of him. He’s needed alive.” The leader of the troupe said, his eyes never moving from Hastur’s own.

“Yes, sir.” A ratty figure fled, six men with long bows right at his tail.

Hastur lunged for them. The leader of the bandits tutted, moving to block him as the rest of the bandits closed ranks. Hastur growled in fury.

“I don’t know what you want, harassing a hunter and his son like this. If you think us easy prey, I’m sorry to tell you, but you are sorely mistaken,” he spat. With a flicker of intent, he focused his True Sight on the leader.

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??? – ??? – Level 157:

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Hastur grit his teeth. No common bandit had an anti-scrying skill that powerful, nor were they that level. They really had found him. Leather hand wraps creaked as his grip tightened on his sword.

“Come now, Hastur.” The man said, slowly circling the camp. Forcing him to move to keep him in sight. “Art In Motion is far too distinctive for that to work. You can drop the pretence.” His voice was gratingly smug.

“Hells.” Hastur swore. He knew he should have gotten rid of the fucking thing.

“I’ll admit, you’re a hard man to find.” The leader continued. “I had to search the whole of bloody Vaastivar for over a decade before I found a lead in Deadacre.” He smiled, sinister and bleak. “I guess that’s why I’m paid so much.”