Demon Hunters

The Inquisitor VIII

Lucas felt that whoever was currently pulling the strings must have possessed a crooked sense of humour. He had finally found the demon hunter he had been looking for –however, it had cost him much more than he could have ever anticipated. Not only was Magnus dead, but his subordinates had betrayed him, and he had even been shot in the leg. In short: he had arrived at his destination, only to find himself unable to walk over the finish line. Still, Lucas held firm. His time would come.

"We're here," the demon hunter announced.

Lucas leaned on his makeshift crutch, quickly slapped together from a branch, and looked at his surroundings. It was not surprising that they hadn't spotted the shaman's home before. The small hut had been built against - and probably partly inside - a small hillock and was completely covered in moss. It would have been almost impossible to detect, were it not for a thin stream of smoke emanating from its roof.

"Let's head inside, then. That leg of yours probably needs to be looked at," the demon hunter said, smiling emphatically.

Lucas nodded in response, though he was deeply confused. Surely, the demon hunter must have known what the appearance of inquisitors meant? Or was the man merely a trusting fool, without a grasp on the harsh realities of this world? Lucas could not yet get a grip of the man's personality, so he decided to proceed carefully. This approach was further endorsed by the massive bear that had been tailing the pair during their journey. Though it was clearly ailing from its encounter with the demon, its mere size made Lucas hesitant to do anything rash.

"Step in and find somewhere to sit down. I'm sure that I have something that will ease the pain in your leg," the demon hunter said, entering the small hut.

Lucas followed suit and found himself inside a dark and cramped room. The smell inside was indescribable, like a mix of smoke, meat, and dozens of different plants all mixed together into an unholy whirlwind of sensations. There were no windows, and the only source of light was a small fire set in the middle of the room. Feeling a sting in his leg, Lucas decided to follow the hunter's instructions and sat down on a pile of furs set against the wall. As his eyes slowly became adjusted to the dimness, he was startled to notice that there was a third person sitting in the furthest corner of the room, who was currently staring intently at Lucas. The man said something in a language Lucas couldn't understand, his voice coarse as sandpaper.

"He was attacked by the demon and needs some treatment."

The old man continued speaking in the foreign language.

"Don't worry, Guovza took care of it – though he's a bit worse for wear because of it."

The two continued to converse as the demon hunter was searching for something. Lucas took this opportunity to take a closer look at the shaman. The man was old, that much was apparent by his long white beard and hair. However, Lucas couldn't glean much else from appearance alone, as the shaman was clad in a hide outfit from head to toe. Something still told him that dismissing this man as not a threat would be a big mistake. He quickly averted his gaze as the ancient man made his way past him and out of the door.

"Sorry for the wait. Here, drink this. It won't heal you, but it will make you feel better," the demon hunter said, handing Lucas a small vial.

Lucas accepted it. The smell emanating from the thick liquid was exceedingly pungent, enough to almost make him gag. Lucas pretended to take a sip from it - his leg was still quite painful, but if he was to interrogate the demon hunter, he needed to keep his head clear. Biting his teeth, he set the vial down.

"Did it help?" the hunter asked.

"A bit," Lucas lied.

"Good. And I realize that it is a bit late to introduce myself, but I am Matthew. As for my master... Even I don't know his real name – he says he doesn't really use it anymore – but he goes by Björn, now."