This story takes place in the same fantasy setting as my Drowning at Dusk series, but reading that other series is not at all a requirement. There are a few connections between this work and that series, but prior knowledge is not all necessary. The setting is a pretty standard heroic fantasy world (magical monsters, elves, orcs, magic, and so on).
This is also a completely standalone story and is not going to be split up into multiple chapters. I may continue with these characters depending on how this is received, but for now this is a one-and-done.
This is one of my first forays with writing a male POV character, but it still features some of the erotic themes from Drowning at Dusk (magical sex, open relationships, group sex, etc.), alongside typical heroic fantasy adventures. While the focus is on the adventure and the main character's journey, there is a fair amount of erotica throughout.
I hope you enjoy!
**
The Archon's command echoed within my mind.
"Kill the beast. Bring me its heart. Purify your unclean blood."
For weeks those cold, cruel words had guided my steps and inflamed my heart with purpose. During my long, lonely trek through the shadowy forest beyond the isolated enclave, I'd even repeated the words aloud to myself, engraving them onto my very soul.
When I left behind the shade of the massive, sacred trees and entered the drought-ravaged plains, that command had still burned bright in my heart. Even as I'd fought for my life against a ravenous ogre and a pack of crypt-wolves, the Archon's command and his promise had kept the terror at bay.
"Kill the beast. Bring me its heart. Purify your unclean blood."
After thirty years as an outcast within Qal-Tesh I could finally claim my place. After a lifetime of scorn and rejection I could at last purify my blood and claim the mantle of a true dusk elf.
The price of purification was killing one of the most dangerous beasts alive.
My journey brought me to a road of ancient red stone that sliced between fields of dry, withered wheat. A handful of birds wandered amongst the remnants of the crops, picking at insects and doomed vermin. Dark clouds roiled above, but did not unleash the rain that would have relieved the dusty lands below.
I was still unsure as to the cause of the strange weather and the drought, but it was not my concern. The meadows and forests of Qal-Tesh had been untouched by the drought, and the only thing that mattered was killing the beast and claiming its heart.
A small hamlet sat astride the road. The gardens of each house had withered away long ago, and the stables were empty. A door to one rickety little house creaked in the wind.
Nothing stirred.
The absence of people was not the work of the hellraven. A beast of that size would have scourged the place and left bloody bodies in its wake. The locals must have just fled their homes after months of drought, seeking a better life in Nenhaar or the larger cities further to the south.
The fate of the locals, just like the drought, was not my concern.
All that mattered was the beast.
As I neared the edge of the abandoned hamlet, wood creaked from behind me. I whirled, my long cloak fluttering in the dry breeze as I tore the warhammer from its strap on my belt.
An old woman stood upon the porch of a little hut; she looked as weak and rickety as the hamlet itself. Dust covered her clothes and her stringy black hair, but she bore a smile on her wrinkled face nonetheless.
"Not going to try to loot the place, hmm?" she called out. "A whole hamlet, ripe for the robbing."
Laughing, I placed my warhammer back upon my belt.
"The people of Qal-Tesh have never meddled with those who respect the boundaries of our grove."
The old woman raised an eyebrow and shuffled off of the porch.
"Well met," I said with a slight bow of my head. "I am Selakiir, Ranger of the Ninth Circle of Qal-Tesh."
"I'm Sorbella. No fancy title for me." Her eyes narrowed. "Dusk elf, eh? My eyes aren't what they used to be. Almost mistook you for an orc with that build of yours." She let out a low, raspy laugh. "If the fields were still healthy, I'd have offered you some silver to help with the harvest. A strapping young lad like you would have been of great use around here."
My brow furrowed when she commented on my figure. My true-blooded comrades and kin were always quick to point out how brutish, large, and clumsy I was compared to the lithe, agile purebloods.
I'd been fighting those comparisons my entire damned life.
"I may not be able to help with the harvest, but I can help with another matter."
My eyes darted to the cloudy skies.
"I hunt a beast. A raven nearly the size of a horse. Eyes as red as rubies, talons as large as swords. A hellraven. A bird malformed and twisted by the taste of demonic flesh."
"Can't say I've seen anything like that lately. Barely seen any birds at all, save the few vultures who seem to creep closer and closer every day." She coughed. "Dumb bastards probably think I'm not long for this world."
Solving the woman's plight would not bring me one step closer to my goal, but a pang of sympathy gripped my heart nonetheless.
"Is there nobody else around? I can at least walk you to the next town."
She jerked a thumb at the open door behind her. My eyes narrowed, barely noting the presence of three thin, wispy young boys peeking out through the darkness. They were skin and bones, their eyes bloodshot, their lips cracked and parched.
More casualties of that strange drought. If I'd had some healing-runes I might have been able to offer some assistance, but I'd come equipped solely for the hunt. The rangers of Qal-Tesh had not deemed me worthy of such valuable magic.
"No, no. I'm not abandoning my home and my grandsons to the vultures and the worms. I know the drought will break soon enough." She pointed a gnarled finger at the cloudy sky. "It'll happen, sooner or later. We've made it through worse."
"Good tidings to you, then," I said with a tilt of my head. "I'll be on my way."
"Stay safe out there on the road. There's plenty of other things to worry about aside from big demonic birds. Before he and his children headed off to the city, my neighbor Jorbik thought he saw some arachnils prowling around the edges of his fields."
My eyes narrowed and my hand tensed around the haft of my warhammer. Those spider-headed abominations had often harried the sacred glades of Qal-Tesh. Perhaps our hunts had driven them out into the valley.
While slaying such creatures was not my goal, bringing back a few mandibles as trophies along with the hellraven's heart might win me even more accolades from the Archon.
"It's not all bad news, though," the old woman continued. "You might have some help out there; you're not the first to come through looking for a hellraven."
My blood ran cold.
"Who? Someone from Qal-Tesh?"
"No, no. Humans. One was a woman, seemed to be a hunter of some kind. Talked like a big city girl, though. I think she was a mercenary from Nenhaar, maybe out to claim a bounty on the big beast. There were two others with her, too. A nasty-looking man with a bow, and a strange old fellow who I assume was some sort of mage. Or just a strange old man with no power at all, who was good at
looking
like a mage," she said with a raspy chuckle.
"Voids below," I cursed under my breath.
If a bounty had been placed upon the beast, it was only a matter of time before a small army of monster-hunters and adventurers descended upon the valley. If they killed the beast and claimed its heart before I did, I'd lose any chance at purification and ascension.
After mumbling my thanks to the old woman, I resumed my northward march at an even faster pace.
I walked through another abandoned hamlet. My trek brought me past several drought-ravaged farms, dried-out streams, and a long row of dead oxen that looked to have been put down by their owners to spare them the ravages of starvation. A single vulture and a handful of flies made a feast of the corpses.
As night fell, I finally found the first sign of my quarry.
A short distance from the road was a large barn, the roof of which had collapsed. Judging from the deep gouges in the wooden frame, the damage had been inflicted by claws rather than the elements.
Hammer in hand, I trotted over to the barn. The stench of death assailed me. Retching, I lifted my cloak over my face and kicked in the door.
Within were a dozen rotting pigs. All of them had been torn asunder, their inner organs exposed. Each corpse served as a feast to a horde of flies and maggots.
Not a single heart remained within the corpses. Each one had been plucked out by the unholy beak of the hellraven to sate its otherworldly hunger.
A single massive black feather rested amidst the carnage. I picked it up, my bones chilling at the ice-cold sensation of it within my grasp.
After a shudder, I dropped the feather back down upon the gore-soaked ground, and resumed my journey.
Less than an hour down the road, the reek of death assailed my nostrils once more. A familiar sweet tinge to the stench made my skin crawl. Readying my warhammer in one hand, I grasped my runestone with the other, my fingers brushing over the arcane sigils.
A few feet off the road rested the shredded corpse of an arachnil. The creature was vaguely humanoid, with a long torso and four arms covered in spindly hair. Its head resembled that an oversized spider: bulbous eyes, prominent mandibles, rows of bright blue hairs forming a crest along the top of its head. Grasped in its clawed hand was a simple spear that had been of little use against whatever had killed it.
As with the dead pigs back at the barn, the creature's innards were exposed, its inhuman heart missing.
The sweet stench of death was too great for there to be just one dead arachnil. I wandered for a few minutes, finding nine more corpses scattered beside the road. All of their chests had been ripped open and exposed to the night air.
Judging from the state of their weapons, not a single one of the beasts had landed a scratch on the hellraven.
