The Last Hunt

They were once the hunters. Now Lazarus slept with his body wrapped around Oreanna as if he were her shield and Oreanna gripped her blade even in her dreams. Now the jungle was a living thing with eyes that never closed and teeth that were always bared. 

     Five thousand crowns they'd been offered to kill the devil that stalked the Wyrmwood. A hefty sum, so they'd agreed… one last bounty, then they would put it all aside. No more soldiering in petty disputes between lords over borders. No more traipsing around foul and fetid swamps and burned out husks of villages seeking monsters to slaughter for a fee.

     One last kill. That was the plan. 

     But things weren't going as planned. 

     Oreanna stirred, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She felt a tingling in her spine that could mean only one thing -- they were being watched. 

     "Laz," she whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. His body felt warm through the torn remnants of his shirt and Oreanna glanced at the blood soaked bandage around his thigh, concerned. If a fever took him, if he had an infection… she shook him a little harder. Lazarus moaned, his eyes fluttering open.

     "What's wrong?" he asked, sensing Oreanna's anxiety. Oreanna drew a finger to her lips, her dark eyes darting around the thick vegetation that surrounded them. 

     "I think it's here," Oreanna whispered. Lazarus sat up. There was a rustling in the underbrush nearby and both of their heads snapped around… but it was only a chiqua monkey. It scuttled across the jungle floor, then bounded into a great kapok tree, swinging from the branches and chattering. They exchanged a look and laughed nervously, but the sensation of eyes following them did not pass when the monkey disappeared. Oreanna got to her feet. The dampness of the earth had crept into her bones and her joints ached as she stretched. She was getting too old for this.

     "Come, let's press on. There must be civilization somewhere in this accursed jungle," Oreanna said, extending a hand and helping Lazarus to his feet. She glanced at the two packs sitting on the ground. She hated to leave one behind, but with the arrow wound in Laz's leg, and the demon on their tail… Oreanna opened both packs and began sifting through Lazarus', pulling out the bare necessities and shoving them into her own pack. His canteen and rations, his spare knife.

     "Oreanna you can't carry--" 

     "Don't fight me on this, Laz," she warned, shrugging on the heavy pack. She turned her face away so he would not see her wince at the pain in her lower back. She walked ahead as they set off from their makeshift camp, slashing at the thick vines and foliage with her machete to clear a path. Lazarus limped behind. Their hair, their clothes, their bodies… everything was damp. The very earth seemed to seep moisture from the daily storms and even their sturdy boots could not keep out the wetness. That was the worst of it, their perpetually wet feet.

     "Do you remember," Lazarus asked as they trudged miserably through the thick growth "when we first met in the desert of Irriz Dhu?" 

     Oreanna smiled wistfully and nodded. 

     "Yes. You poached my Sphinx," she replied, grinning. 

     "I saved you from certain death! You were so beautiful, cornered in that temple with the hungry beast approaching--" 

     "Oh hush Laz, I was not cornered! You made that up as an excuse to steal my quarry and glory." Oreanna swatted at his arm and Lazarus chuckled. 

     "I wouldn't mind a nice arid desert right about--" Lazarus began, but the arrow interrupted him. It seemed to materialize out of thin air, whizzing by so close that he felt its fletchings brush his cheek. They both froze. Lazarus shifted his bow from his shoulder. Oreanna brandished her machete.

     "She's not trying to kill us quickly," Lazarus said, grimly. "If she wanted me dead, I would've been, right there." 

     Oreanna ground her teeth and nodded in agreement. This was no simple predator. The demon was toying with them. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, letting the sounds of the forest fall away. She listened for a breath, a footstep, anything to indicate where the attacker lay hidden. There was nothing. It was as if their tormentor was invisible. There was neither sound nor sign of motion in the direction from which the arrow had come, but they both knew it was out there, somewhere amidst the titanous trees. 

     "What do you want from us?" Oreanna called out.

     In the treetops, monkeys tittered and babbled in response while the hum of cicadas rose and fell like a tide. The maddening screams of tree frogs never waned. In the distance, thunder rumbled. But the demon did not deign to answer Oreanna's question. Lazarus placed his hand upon her shoulder. She was trembling.

     "Leave me, Oreanna. I'll only slow you down," he said softly. Oreanna whirled to face him.

     "Never, Laz. Whatever happens, I will not leave you behind," she vowed. Lazarus pulled Oreanna closer and took her chin in his scarred hand, tilting her face upwards so that her dark eyes met his. Then he kissed her deeply. His lips felt hot and cracked against hers, but his tongue was sweet as ever, probing her mouth. She could feel the heat of fever radiating off his body as he pressed himself against her, terrifying as any arrow. 

     It was a second arrow that ended the moment. This time it was aimed at eye level. Lazarus heard the thrum of the string and the whistle of the bolt just in time to shove Oreanna to the ground. He landed on top of her in the thick vegetation, hissing as pain radiated from his leg wound. The red feather fletched arrow jutted from the ground a quarter inch from Oreanna's head.

     A peel of maniacal laughter rang out, silencing the frantic vocalizations of the monkeys. It seemed to come not from any one location but from the whole of the jungle. Lazarus shuddered. 

     "How can we fight what we cannot see?" Oreanna snarled, slamming her blade into the ground in frustration. 

     "Oreanna," Lazarus said, his body astride her prone form. "Listen to me very closely and don't--" Oreanna opened her mouth to speak, but Lazarus drew his finger to her lips, silencing her. "Don't interrupt." He paused wincing. Sweat beaded on his brow and ran into his eyes, his cheeks were burning, rosy with fever. "I want you to run. Run west towards the river we saw on the map, as fast as you can. Where there are rivers there are settlements." 

     Oreanna stared at him, her dark irises drowning in the whites of her horrified eyes. 

     "And you?" she asked softly. 

     "I'll… distract it," Lazarus said. His lips quirked up into a half smile, the expression she'd fallen in love with in a desert long ago.

     "But you're hurt, you can't--"  she pushed futilely against his chest, struggling to rise. Lazarus held her fast as another arrow whizzed by. He ducked, but not in time to dodge it completely. It sliced through the cartilage of his ear. Blood blossomed from the nick, running warm down his cheek and neck.

     "I know. That's why you're running, and I'm distracting," he said wryly. "Please, Oreanna. I've never asked anything of you that you weren't willing to give. Now do this one thing for me. I promise, I will find you. If not in this world, then in the next. You are mine always, Oreanna." 

      Tears streaked down Oreanna's cheeks, cutting tracks through the grime. She brought her hand up to Lazarus' cheek, feeling the rough stubble dusting it. 

     "I've always loved you best unshaven," she said forcing a smile. 

     Another arrow zoomed past. Oreanna flinched as it caught her hair, pinning it to the ground. Grimacing, she yanked it free with a curse.

     "So you'll go?" Lazarus asked with a wistful smile. Oreanna wiped the tears from her cheeks and gnawed on her lip. At last she nodded. Lazarus shifted to a squat, freeing her to move again. She rose slipping the pack from her shoulders and setting it on the ground beside Lazarus. She wrenched her machete from the ground and gazed down at him sadly.

     "Stay alive, Lazarus," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss onto his brow. 

     "Stay alive, Oreanna," he replied with a roguish wink. Then he reached into his quiver and pulled free an arrow of his own. A great rumble of thunder roared overhead and hot wet raindrops began to pour from the sky.

     "Run…" Lazarus whispered. 

     And so, Oreanna ran.