Witch Hunter

Chapter Twelve: Learning

He leapt over the protruding tree root and ducked behind it for cover.

Not a moment too soon. Something hissed past overhead and disappeared into the trees below.

Judging by the angle, he identified the pursuer’s location and quickly determined the best path to counterattack. A small outcrop of rock jutted stubbornly out of the slope to his right. It would afford him cover and a clear shot, as well as putting him on solid footing and higher ground.

He felt his heart hammering in his chest and the damp forest air filled his nose and lungs. The crunch of a footfall resounded nearby, startling him into action. He dashed for the outcrop, skirting behind trees along the way. He was but two strides away when an arrow slammed into the tree right in front of his face, the shaft snapping as the blunted tip failed to penetrate the wood.

“Sometimes the best option is also the worst, Aion. A good opponent will expect you to make the ‘correct’ decision and anticipate it.”

Aion lowered his bow, disgusted. He had done no more than fire a few blind shots into the trees, more for appearance’s sake than anything else. The rest of his group had been watching, and he hoped they didn’t pick up on the fact that he had never even had the opportunity to make a clear shot. Never mind his mediocre talent with the short bow, he had been outmanoeuvred from the onset.

Tenfis stepped out of his cover and gestured in the air. He called out in a commanding voice, “Ok, that’s all for now. Let’s head back so we can work on your toxicology. It doesn’t matter how good you are with sword or bow, the right poison will kill you just as surely as an arrow.”

The others materialised from behind trees, rocks and roots. Their group had begun as eight but the training Tenfis had put them through had reduced that number to four, including Aion. Of the others, three were injured beyond service and would spend the rest of their days as menial servants. The alternative was to leave, but all knew the third law; if they refused service, they would be executed as trespassers. The last had died, his throat torn out by a wolf when they had tried hunting by themselves for the first time. They had tracked the wolf as if it were just another lesson but left the body to the mercy of nature.

With their band reduced to four, Aion had thought, or hoped, that they would develop a tight-knit friendship. He hoped new companions would fill the hole caused by everything he had left behind in Sigal. Unfortunately, he had misjudged his colleagues.

A large boy with tidy brown hair arrived first. His carriage showed a cockiness that seeped through to his voice as he proclaimed, “You suck, Aion. Even Charlie managed to get one proper shot in.”

Charlie followed close behind, a pale blonde boy who appeared skinny and shy. He was soft-spoken and easily flustered, but showed astounding dexterity in the heat of the moment. He said nothing, but stood behind the larger boy in deference.

“Leave him alone, Brant. He’s just not good with a bow.”

Millie’s attempts to protect him only made him feel smaller. She tried to solicit him but only succeeded in making him feel even more belittled.

Tenfis had already begun his loping run so they group followed without any further exchange. They knew the Exorcist’s pace was hard and they would be able to spare no air for words.

Aion brought up the rear, sullen with disappointment and deeply thoughtful. It was an old habit that lingered. He tended to retreat into himself when things around him made him feel uncomfortable. Somehow, the pain of solitude was also his solace.

They made for an odd group. There was the large, bossy boy who acted like he was the leader and the timid, yet talented boy who instinctively attached himself to the strongest presence to avoid conflict. On the other hand, there was the wilful, protective girl who acted like a big sister to everyone, especially Aion, who tended to be picked on the most. In this food chain, Aion was the lowest life form.