Kyle Prue - The Pyre

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE PYRE

First edition. January 4, 2018.

Copyright 2018 Kyle Prue.

ISBN: 978-0999444993

Written by Kyle Prue.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

The jealous are troublesome to others, but a torment to themselves.

William Penn

The Imperial Hunting Squadron rolled into camp around midday. The convoy lurched to a stop and Carlin Filus pressed his hands against the carriage walls to keep from falling. A pound of gold says that Paul has put us in the same tent. Carlin was just a sergeant and technically Anthony Celerius was his superior, so he tried to keep disdain from muddying his voice.

It could be worse, Anthony replied. The cadets are bunked ten per tent.

Its about respect.

You deserve ten times the respect of a normal soldier? Anthony was smiling slightly, clearly playing games with his subordinate.

Carlin just grunted. I deserve ten times more respect than you, he thought. After all, Carlins father had just become the most powerful man in the realm. They shouldered their way out of the carriage and covered their eyes as they adjusted to the sunlight. They were used to living in a walled city where great stretches of the landscape were covered in shadows, including the outpost where they spent most of their time.

Paul Blackmore, their guide, stood at the entrance to the camp with his arms spread open. His ashen hair and beard shone in the sunlight. Your papers are waiting in your tents, he said.

Carlin narrowed his eyes as he registered Pauls telltale sway, despite the drunks efforts to stand tall. The General, Steven Celerius, wouldnt like it. Right on cue, the man exited his carriage and stepped onto the dirt road. I see youve been indulging yourself, the General said.

Pauls face turned defiant, I did my job. He turned and marched off, his cape barely covering his trousers and stained undershirt, clearly out of military dress code.

Carlin brushed past Anthony to address the assembled troops. The men stood at attention in neat orderly rows. Whenever he spoke to the cadets, Carlin rolled up his sleeve to expose his tattoo, which read IHS in black block lettering. This was an honor provided to the primary hunters in the Imperial Hunting Squadron: Carlin Filus, Paul Blackmore, Anthony Celerius and his uncle, General Steven Celerius. They had one more member, Virgil, a boy adopted from a village called Brightbow, but hed been left to train at Anthonys estate. On this mission, two units of military cadets accompanied the main members, but on less important days it was just the tattooed IHS hunting alone.

Listen up men, Carlin demanded. Ten of you will hunt to refresh our food and water reserves. The other ten will tend to the horses and unload the carriages.

The men saluted, but before they could walk off Carlin grabbed one man by the shoulder. Id like you to bring me back an animal, he said. To my personal tent.

He could tell that the soldier was trying not to recoil. It will be done, sir.

He knew that they hated his habits, but he had to make himself comfortable while away from Altryon, the city he called home. As the men dispersed, he walked through camp after his superiors. As hed suspected, he was rooming with Anthony Celerius, his old rival. What do the papers say? Carlin asked as he entered the tent and removed his sword and armor.

Anthony flipped through the files that Paul had compiled.

Nikolai was supposedly spotted in the area and we are to fan out and search the forests for him. The Emperors orders stipulate that we are not allowed to hear his case or listen to testimony. He is to be killed on sight. He flipped another page. Wine stain. he mumbled, trying to discern the words beneath the soiled area. He might have grown a beard to cover his face, but his size will give him away.

Carlin growled in frustration. Briefings on Nikolai Taurlum were always like this. They were vague and unlikely to yield any results. Unfortunately, Nikolai was the Empires number one target and every sighting had to be taken seriously. After all, hed assassinated Carlins grandfather, the old Emperor. All the stops had been pulled out again. The seriousness of the mission had been reinforced by the presence of General Celerius. Carlin didnt know why, but the sound of Anthony flipping pages made him equally as upset.

Carlin stripped down to his undershirt and pants and then waited impatiently for the men to return with his prize. Anthony meditated and wrote correspondence when he was bored, but Carlin just stewed. Until the men returned with an animal for him, hed be without an activity to occupy his time.

Steven Celerius and Paul Blackmore entered the tent about an hour later, while Carlin was doing push-ups. May we interrupt your workout? Steven asked.

Absolutely, Anthony said, finishing a letter. Wed love an interruption.

Ive scoped out some trails for us to use tomorrow, Paul said as he sat on a crate and leaned back against a stack of provisions. Id suggest that we bring ten men and leave the rest behind to defend the camp.

You really think were going to find Nikolai Taurlum living in a hut in the woods? Carlin asked.

Its more likely than finding him in the city sewers, Steven said, referring to the legend that Nicholai had escaped capture by hiding in the sewers after assassinating the Emperor.

The wall of the tent was pulled open and a nervous cadet poked his head in. Sergeant Carlin, we have what you requested.

Carlin tried to keep his cool, but he knew he was about to get a scolding. Can you come back later?

General Celerius went to the wall of the tent and pulled the cloth fully to the side. This revealed two men pulling a massive buck by a rope that was tied to its legs. This has always been a ridiculous and needless action, Steven said. Take the buck away and have it cooked.

Wait! Carlin begged as his cheeks flushed with blood. I need that.

Most military men hated being questioned, but General Celerius was unusually open to dialogue. He held out his arm and the soldiers stopped. Why should I let you engage in the senseless ritual of beating our potential food with your fists?

Tomorrow we might go up against Nikolai Taurlum, a legendary fighter. You need me at full strength. Carlin knew just the right argument to make the General yield. I was not born with your speed, or healing abilities. I am not a Lightborn. We mortal people need things like this to keep up.

He didnt mean to say mortal people with such disdain but thats the way it came out. Steven Celerius crossed his arms and glared at the floor. This was his infamous decision expression. He looked to Paul Blackmore. What do you think?

Paul shook his head adamantly and slurred, Bad idea.

Everyone stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He visibly dozed off instead, leaning his head back against the makeshift wall. Steven sighed and kicked Blackmore in the shin. Why is it a bad idea, Paul?

Blackmore started and shook his head to clear his mind. Were near Misty Hollow and this region is protected by the Horseman, he explained. That didnt seem to have much of an affect on his comrades so he added, The Horsemans a Venator.

Anthonys eyebrows shot up and Stevens spine straightened. Carlin tried not to seem affected but of all the Lightborns, the Venator were the most formidable. They had incredibly heightened senses so they could hear, see and smell their prey from distances that defied the imagination. They were known to show little emotion and tended to take things literally, often missing nuances or any type of sarcasm. Carlin didnt know the details, but knew that the Venator lived by a specific set of rules that they followed religiously. He suppressed a shudder and said, This has nothing to do with the Venator so I dont see why the Horseman would object to my pulverizing some dead buck.