The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir by Benjamin Agar (best novels ever txt) 📕

'Who are you?' Anargrin said.

The vampire barked out a laugh. 'Do you think I am so foolish that I would give you my name?'

'What? Are you afraid you'll lose?'

'I am not going to fall for such petty baiting, Hunter. I am old enough and wise enough, not to. So do not even try.'

Anargrin frowned, then lunged and cut, causing the vampire to slide back. Anargrin flowed on, into a vertical over-slice the vampire parried. Anargrin ducked the cross-cut counter then sidestepped the vampire's thrust. Anargrin lunged away from the vampire's low slice, then darted away a few metres more.

He couldn't keep this up much longer, but he needed to last another two minutes.

The vampire charged into a stab, Anargrin slid aside of it and parried the following horizontal slash.

Anargrin's counter was a diagonal cut that forced the vampire back again. Anargrin shuffled to gain more space racking his thoughts to figure a way to delay the fight, to live long enough.

His first thought was to run and hide, but the vampire's vision could pierce the darkness with ease and, even if Anargrin managed it, the bastard might start killing innocents to lure Anargrin from hiding.

So Anargrin clenched his teeth and held his ground, despite his limbs beginning to ache, his heart leaping in his throat and his muscles feeling like they were made of silk.

The vampire barked a laugh.

'Are you tiring, little elf?' the vampire sneered. 'You Hunters are so much better than mortals but yet so very normal. Although there is one thing I do find confusing, you have just used your sword. All you Hunters are supposed to have magical potential, why have you not used it? I know your kind do not use magic often, wishing to hide it from the church. Resorting to it only in times of desperation, but the stench of desperation comes off you like the aura from a priest.'

Anargrin didn't reply, unwilling to admit his infamous inability to use magic.

The vampire licked his teeth with a slug-like tongue then without a further word, charged.

Anargrin was one of the greatest swordsmen amongst the Hunters, perhaps the greatest of the day. But in a fight such as this, skill wasn't enough. Anargrin landed wound after wound on the vampire, many lethal to an average person, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't land the decapitating cut or cripple a limb. The vampire was too quick, too cunning.

They traded slash after slash, parry, riposte. Thrust, slice, cut. Dodging, darting, ducking. All at least a few dozen times a second.

They lunged and leapt. They fought from one end of the street to the other.

Despite the ever-encroaching exhaustion, pain flaring in Anargrin's limbs and every breath a struggle, the vampire didn't land a single blow.

But Anargrin was too slow to avoid the vampire's kick, he tried to weave it, but the edge of the vampire's boot caught his shoulder. Blinding pain coursed through his arm, and he was sent spinning, writhing to the stone ground.

Anargrin's vision blurred, but his instinct made him roll, dodging by a hair's width the sword stabbing for his heart.

Anargrin clambered into a kneel and spun to smash aside a slash. His pain-addled mind made him punch out, smashing his fist against the vampire's gut.

The vampire laughed and backhanded Anargrin across the face. Anargrin saw stars, and he was sent to the ground again, his bottom lip tearing open and agony burst in his cheek.

'I have to say that I am impressed, Hunter,' said the vampire. 'I must admit that you are better than I at the sword if I were mortal, I would be dead many times over. But I am not mortal and all your fighting, all your desperate abandon is for nought. Yet you should be proud, little elf, it has been centuries since I have been so hard pressed. So do not despair, you have fought well. You should feel proud, but now it ends. You have failed.'

The vampire raised his sword.

Anargrin grinned with bloody teeth. 'I'd like to thank you, vampire.'

The vampire's brow furrowed. 'Thank me for what?'

'Thank you for your little pep talk; it gave me the precious seconds I needed.'

Before the vampire could reply, Anargrin blinked behind him and with a single slash, separated the vampire's head from his shoulders.

Anargrin stumbled, and he burst out in laughter. It rang out through the street. His laugh wasn't humorous; it was in relief and disbelief that his plan had somehow worked, that such a fight ended in such an anticlimax.

It took him a few seconds to find his sanity and to realise that to the watchers; he must've seemed like a madman.

He shook away the exhaustion and began toward Kelth's house.

His mission wasn't over yet.

Solen and Falin ran out into the street and helped Anargrin into the house.

They brought the exhausted, beaten Hunter to the table and Anargrin slumped into a chair.

'Kelth. Go to bed,' Solen snapped.

It caused Kelth to flinch, then with tears in her eyes, she stormed to her room.

'Do you need a healer, Anargrin?' said Falin.

'No,' gasped Anargrin. 'I'll be fine, just give me some time.'

Solen and Falin exchanged a look.

'You're incredible,' said Falin sounding as awed as Solen felt.

Anargrin laughed. 'No, I'm just a lucky, cheating bastard. But anything and everything to win.'

Solen and Falin didn't say anything.

'And not just a cheating bastard, but a lying one too.'

'What do you mean?' said Falin.

'I-,' Anargrin paused. 'I wasn't entirely honest with you. I'm sorry.'

'What are you apologising for?' said Solen. 'You saved us from that vampire. You risked-'

'In all honesty, you wouldn't have been at such risk if it wasn't for me,' Anargrin said. 'We haven't much time. That vampire was here because I had lured him here. By using your daughter as bait.'

Solen was unable to say anything, confusion overtaking him.

'His hunting ground was in the north,' said Anargrin. 'I was assigned to hunt him down and...and during my investigation, I found out that...'

The Hunter trailed off, looking uncertain. 'That it was likely the vampire was targeting people with magical potential.'

'I don't understand,' said Falin.

Anargrin sighed. 'The Church claims that, two thousand four hundred and fifteen years ago, when we were conquered and enslaved by the humans, that the avatar of Jaroai took from us the gift of magical potential. That is a lie like many things they claim. We elves still can have it. The dwarves can still have it. I have it.'

He paused.

'Kelth has it.'

'What?' said Solen.

Anargrin looked at them with weariness, but it wasn't from the fight.

'You may think it isn't true that if it were true, there would be elven priests. That-'

'No, Anargrin,' Falin said. 'I believe you. Solen and I have never been churchgoers. Neither of us has believed in Jaroai. And ever since she was born, I had felt there was something special about Kelth, something different.'

Falin gave Solen a grim glance. 'I also used to have a brother, an older brother, who when I was very young, he was...taken by the Church. For decades we have wondered why. Now we understand why.

Anargrin's gaze met Falin's, and he nodded.

'Why?' said Solen, wishing to interrupt it. 'Why then aren't their elf and dwarf priests of Jaroai?'

'They still take elven and dwarven children,' said Anargrin. 'They took me too, so many years ago now. The Church takes then to serve in their main cathedrals and churches, indentured servants as-'

'As slaves,' said Solen.

Anargrin's gaze met his and nodded. 'For all intents and purposes, yes.'

Solen wanted to say that was impossible, that the treaty of Angara had outlawed slavery. But he couldn't, he knew deep down the Hunter was telling the truth.

Then came the anger.

'So, you used my Kelth as bait?' Solen said. 'Used us. Risked our lives.'

Anargrin's attention fell to the floor. 'I did. I'm sorry, I...I...I won't make excuses. You have every right to be angry, but there is something else.'

'What else?' Solen roared. 'What else could make this worse? How can you be so callous? So ruthless? What the hell is wrong with you?'

'There is a lot wrong with me,' said Anargrin. 'And I can understand-'

'No! You cannot begin to understand. Have you ever had a child, Hunter?'

'No.'

'Kelth is my life. She is our life. And to know that her life was put in unnecessary danger is maddening. To know-'

'Please, Solen,' said Falin. 'I am angry, too. But please let him talk.'

Solen sneered, his anger at Anargrin replaced by rage at Falin. But he stayed silent, and he folded his arms, glaring at Anargrin.

Anargrin sighed. 'I'm sorry, but it gets worse, and again, it's all my fault. To draw in the vampire, I had to spread the rumour of Kelth's magical potential. Rumours which I'm sure to have caught the attention of the Church.'

There was a pause.

'They will be here soon,' said Anargrin. 'Here to take Kelth and-'

'Force her into slavery,' said Solen.

'Yes,' said Anargrin. 'But I can save her.'

'How?' said Falin.

'If you would allow it, I can take her. Take her to the Hunters where she will receive an education, where she won't be scrubbing floors for the entirety of her long life. A future-'

'What, to become like you?' said Solen. 'I knew. I knew there was something you weren't telling us right from the start. Get the hell out.'

Anargrin looked at Solen with tearful eyes; then, with one smooth movement, he got up.

'I'm sorry,' he said and went to leave but paused in the door. 'I might be wrong, the Church mightn't know, they may not come. For your sake, I hope they don't.'

Then he left.

While blinking back his tiredness, trying to ignore his stiff, achy limbs and his throbbing bruises, Anargrin waited and hated himself. He'd hoped they'd allow him to take poor Kelth but knew they wouldn't so, when he left, he'd hidden his aura, climbed onto the hab block roof and watched. He'd watched as Solen and Falin went to bed. If he'd just told the truth from the start, it might've been different.

But it was too late for that now, so he had to resort to manipulation again. He didn't want to, but he wasn't going to let Kelth be forced into slavery.

So he waited and didn't have to for long before he sensed the priest's powerful presence as he approached from the north.

Anargrin watched as the young priest in his gaudy robes with his staff with an eight-pointed star at its tip, stalked into view. The zealotry, the arrogance seemed to radiate from