Lone Hunter

Pulling up her lightweight hood to protect herself from the blazing sun, Alharih went motionless, blending in seamlessly with the sea of other hood-wearing locals in the city. The smell of exotic fruits, sweat, laughter, and merchants loudly bartering assaulted her senses. But she had her mark, and no-one was going to take it away from her.

It was hours before there was anything of note, but for a lone hunter with the patience of a saint, it seemed only a matter of minutes. The finely dressed noble she’d been waiting for finally left his stately home. Drawing in one long breath, she quietly slinked into the crowd, her longbow strapped to her back and the crystal hilt of her deadly scimitar grasped firmly in her steadfast hand. The noble had been someone of interest to Alharih for a few months now, ever since she had heard he was involved in the slave trade. Although Alharih’s homeland had been free of slavery for several years since the slaves rebelled, there were a few individuals that hung onto the belief that it was moral to sell and own slaves. That was something Alharih could never forgive, so picking up this mark on Lord Fraldaar was second nature to her.

Fraldaar hid behind his countless ‘generous’ donations to the Great University and Wizards College in Gheldaneth. As a wizard himself he held a government position, evidenced by the three blue circles tattooed on his forehead. However, Alharih had gathered several pieces of intel that proved he was organising slave rings in his home, allowing other slavers to bring in people as ‘produce’ and selling them on. It seemed obscene to Alharih that the several slaves in House Fraldaar were being passed as loyal servants. It was clear that the other government bodies, mostly priests from the Church of Horus-Re, were so busy with infighting, bickering, and other tiresome struggles, that they’d forgotten the reformation of Mulhorand’s slavery issues.

Alharih pushed a lock of her long cloud-colored hair from her face, her cool blue eyes locked on Fraldaar’s head with such intensity that it was surprising he didn’t just keel over dead. She was waiting for the noble to head down Tethens Street, knowing he’d have to stop to make way for the midday public prayers to the Mulhorandi deities. The noise from the prayers would cover any noise she’d have to make in arresting Fraldaar by beating him into unconsciousness.

Right on cue, Fraldaar turned right, down an alley, and stopped right on the edge of a bustling street full of people prostrate in prayer positions, the sounds of their reverence for the deities filling the air. It was quite a sight, even for someone non-religious like Alharih. It was like the air buzzed with energy. Alharih stepped up behind Fraldaar, twitched her fingers, and drew her scimitar in one fluid motion. The blood would soon run down the hilt, and Fraldaar’s unconscious form would join the prostrate devotees. Except blood didn’t run down her hilt.

It was as if the gods themselves cast an ugly eye down on Alharih’s bounty hunting this day, for when the scimitar left its sheath, a gust of wind blew down the alley, launching Fraldaar into the crowd of devotees. Alharih was gone. Her scimitar was the only thing left, lying on the sandy cobbles, alone. For the white-haired bounty hunter had been hurled into the air, up and out of the city, and was whipped left, right, up, and down, in a rather sickening ragdoll display. It was hard for her to catch her breath with the wind roaring so intensely around her. A bolt of blue began to take shape within the whirling walls of wind. Alharih had never seen a giant snake, but she was sure that if she saw one it’d look like this lightning form. With its bright blue eyes narrowed and teeth of blue lightning sparking angrily, it roared and rushed straight towards Alharih, clamped onto her arm, and began to rip. Except, there were no teeth for it to bite with. Alharih’s body convulsed as lightning coursed through it. The pain was unreal. Her screams were drowned in the sheer power of the wind around her. She was sure her whole arm was going to be ripped clean off.

Then, as suddenly as it started, the wind stopped, and Alharih plummeted straight down landing hard on a roof a mile away from where she started. The tiles on the roof cracked around her like glass. Her hair was a mess, standing almost straight up with lightning flicking from one stand to the other. Her skin was bruised and glistened with sweat. But it was her arm that was the most concerning. Her sleeve had been singed to her skin, and a large blue snake-like lightning mark was burned deep into her skin. Her eyes focused on the shape for a while, her entire body screaming in agony. Then, her eyes fluttered as she fell into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Fraldaar had since brushed himself off after being picked up by some kindly priests of Horus-Re. They of course lavished him with praises, and offered the garments off their own backs in case he needed them. Biting back his disdain for them, he smiled and waved them away, making his way back to the alley he was just blown from. The sheer power of the wind he’d briefly heard before being thrown from the alley was surely the work of some powerful mage, he mused. However, there was nothing nor no-one here… except for a curved blade with a crystal hilt. His lips pursed into a single tight line as he picked up the scimitar. The blade surely belonged to whoever cast that spell, and now he had something of theirs – perfect for magically tracking them down.