Currently Death Magnetic By Metallica see related

Robert knocked on the bedroom door, opening it when Milenko's voice bade him enter.  Carrying the sheathed and belted longsword over to where his master knelt, setting it down on the floor beside him.  Milenko, for his part, smiled his thanks to his retainer, who bowed and then left the room silently.  After a few more moments of introspection, Milenko rose to his feet, taking the sword in hand as he did. 

Girding the weapon around his waist as he descended the stairs, he went out through the main foyer and through the front doors of his mansion, pausing to take in the sight, smells, and sounds of the city beyond the fencelike walls that surrounded his home.  He walked down the path that led to the gates, which were opened by two of the footmen that had broken their fast with him earlier in the morning. 

Tossing a jaunty little wave and a smile to the footmen as he passed, he headed out into the city proper.  Deciding to see what changes had been made to the town, he began to wander the streets almost aimlessly.  As he walked down through the market district, he passed many people that were busily making their way from shop to shop, few attracting any notice from him save for a priest, who was vigorously scratching at his balding pate as he walked, and a pair of excitedly chattering children in rags.

Disliking the fact that the two were so obviously impoverished, he removed the metal half-mask from his face and halted the children, speaking to them in their own tongue.  Despite the initial resistance that their distrust offered, he managed to convince them to tell him of their particular situation: the orphanage that had closed its doors to them, the struggle of daily life, the fear they felt as each night fell.  He even found out what it was that had had them so excited, a stranger that had helped them with a...'troublesome' encounter with another strange man.  Though the girl didn't go into detail as to what sort of trouble the man had caused, Milenko could guess well enough what had happened. 

Giving the children a few coins and instructions to bathe, eat, and rest at a nearby inn that he hoped would be sympathetic to them, as well as instructions to await his return, Milenko watched as they walked down the street, hand-in-hand, trying to sort out his emotions.  Something about the two tugged at his heart, played at his mind as though one of his memories was trying to break through the fog that obscured his past. 

With a sigh at the futility of trying to pierce that fog, he shook his head and continued his trek through the city, threading its streets to its gates, passing through them with a nod to the guards posted there.  Once outside the city, he put the mask back on and began the hike to the nearby forest.

Passing several stumps that spoke of the town's expansion at the cost of the natural resources the woods possessed, the mage shook his head once more, this time thinking of the consuming nature of mankind.  If it wasn't capable of showing itself to be equal to, or surpass, him, then man had the tendency to subjugate everything of the natural world that he laid eyes on.  Sometimes, when Milenko dwelt overlong on it, the ravages and cruelty man could unleash on Nature caused the mage to wax wrathful.  The thoughts that, one day, man would cause the utter ruination of everything natural often made Milenko so angry that he would strike out with his mystical powers, one time requiring the extensive (and expensive) refurbishing and repair of his mansion.  The apparent hypocrisy of his own tendency to use Nature to his own benefit was not lost on him.  He did, though, try to replace or regrow that which he used.  For each tree that had gone toward the building, or the furnishing, of his home, he had replanted and magically enhanced the growth of a new tree in its place, knowing that Nature, no matter how resilient, was not indefatigable. 

However, he tried not to think about all of that this time, preferring to instead focus his mind on the task that brought him out into the wilds...or, rather, as close to the wilds as he could get without leaving his home far behind him.

Slipping into the trees that formed the borders of the forest, he followed a footpath that was well overgrown with weeds and various other plant life, but he managed his trek easily, long experience and an intimate knowledge of every aspect of this forest allowing him to make his way to his destination despite the intervention of two and a half decades worth of plant growth.

Crossing into a clearing, he stopped and began to scrutinize the ground beneath his feet.  Taking utmost care and caution, he examined the runes that were inscribed not only in the rocks, but also carved into the trunks of several of the trees that surrounded the clearing.  Satisfied that all was still as it should have been, albeit the runes were somewhat higher from the ground than their original positioning on the growing trees.  He'd been careful not to carve too deeply into the trunks of the trees, utilizing his magic instead to ensure that the trees would not 'grow over' the runes without harming the trees' natural lifespans.

Unsheathing his sword, he began to draw fresh concentric rings into the earth that enclosed each of the runes, revealing that the entire network of runic carvings were an intricately laid out natural summoning circle.  In the precise center of the circles, the mage sheathed his sword and gave one of the rings on his left hand a twist, then began to mutter an incantation, each word flinging out pulses of power into the magical Weave.  When he sensed a return on one of the threads, he made a grasping motion with his left hand, the ring he had twisted glowing upon his finger.  Pulling on the invisible strand, he waited for a few moments, then glanced around the clearing.  Though he could see nothing, he knew that what he'd summoned had appeared somewhere in the forest.  He did not know what type of creature it was that he had summoned, but knew that the power of the runes would guarantee that it was an animal that made its home somewhere in the world in an environment not unlike that of the forest, giving the animal at least a fair chance of survival. 

Several years ago, at least to his mind, though in reality it was closer to three decades ago, when he had first began to build his mansion in the formerly small hamlet, he'd come to this forest and set up his own hunting area.  He would summon an animal to the forest and then proceed to hunt it down.  Depending on his mood, or that of any guests he (very rarely, admittedly) invited to accompany him, he would either kill or otherwise subdue the creature.  In the case of the former, he would first give threefold thanks: to Nature, to God, and to the spirit of the animal, all for the sustenance that the animal's flesh would provide for him, and for the distraction offered by the act of the hunt itself.  In the case of the latter, he would release the animal back to its home, sending it back by the same magic that allowed him to summon it in the first place.  He had gone on perhaps a hundred hunts since then, having only lost his quarry a handful of times, though the.......

Oh, blast, he thought to himself.  I had surrounded the forest with even more runes that would prevent any attempt to escape by summoned animals, but I forgot to check them.  I'll bet they were destroyed when they cut down the trees on the outskirts.  Damnation...Well, there's nothing for it but to hope that whatever animal came to my summoning isn't too particularly dangerous, or that they're smart enough to avoid the city, otherwise I might have some explaining to do.  The runes he was thinking of were designed to keep the summoned animals within the environs of the forest, but he never intentionally used them to his advantage during his hunts.  Any time he realized that the animal was ineffectually trying to escape, but was unable to due to the power of the runes, he would either wait for the animal to tire of the attempt and return to the deeper forest, or would simply send the animal back to wherever it'd originally come from, conceding victory.

Stepping out beyond the protective circle, he began to stalk through the trees, sharpening his senses to a knife's edge, on the watch for any sign of his prey.  Though he hoped that the summoned animal wasn't dangerous, he knew full well that there was a distinct possibility that whatever he'd conjured could just as easily hunt him in turn.  Close to an hour later, as he walked, he paused and knelt beside a tree, staring down at a spoor that looked very fresh.  He held his hand above it, feeling the warmth that rose into the air from the scat, determining that the animal that had left it had passed by here less than ten minutes ago.  Judging by the appearance and size of the spoor, it was a rather large animal; other than that, he did not recognize what animal it could have come from.  Looking up at his surroundings, he began to stalk once more, careful to not allow the sounds of his footsteps to carry, not desiring to spook his quarry.

Kneeling on the ground once more, he picked up a bloodied arrow, surprise causing his brow to lift above his eyes as he realized that the blood was very fresh.  A cursory glance around revealed that a rather primitive trap had been set off: a thin line was stretched between two trees, crossing back and forth, leading up to a concealed crossbow.  Tossing down the bolt, he set off once more, cursing softly behind his mask at the fact that now the animal was injured and was now likely to be twice as dangerous as before.  Wounded, the animal likely didn't get very far away, but could still prove problematical to finish off.  He had been considering a nonlethal end to the hunt, but now would likely have to change his mind and end his prey's suffering.  He also didn't like the implications the trap brought to mind.  Whoever had set it had neglected to ensure its lethality, a careless mistake for a hunter to make. 

Watchful now for traps, stepping around those he found, Milenko suddenly came upon a small makeshift campsite.  Kneeling beside the fire pit that had been surrounded by some sort of animal skins, he opened the flap on the side of the pyramid-like structure and felt the heat inside blast him in the face.  He raised a brow as he observed a deer hanging inside the rather crude smoker, then closed the flap again.  Apparently, whoever had set the traps also had set up the campsite, and also apparently would be returning sometime soon. 

A snapping twig behind him caused the mage to whirl around, sword whistling from its sheath and held at the ready.  His searching eyes roamed the trees, then, on impulse, he shouted, "Come on out of there!"  His eyes then focused on the human form that stepped out from the cover of the trees and approached him.  "Robert!" he said, lowering his sword as he recognized his retainer, outfitted for the hunt much as he, himself, was.  "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Robert, uncomfortable at being caught, scuffed the ground with his foot as he hemmed and hawed for a few moments, then said, "I, and the others at home, we worried about you, m'lord," he said.  "We just got you back yesterday, and today, now, here you are, traipsing about the countryside like nothing had happened.  We didn't wish to lose you again so very soon.  Forgive me, m'lord, but I could not bear the thought of having to follow through with your last orders without doing all I could to make sure you came home again."

Sheathing the sword again, Milenko went over to his servant and clapped him on the shoulder.  "My most trusted servitor...There is nothing to forgive.  I would have done the same in your place, and should have expected it.  Indeed, I praise you for your tracking skills.  As attentive as I am when on the hunt, even I wasn't able to discover your following of me until just now.  Perhaps on my next hunt, I'll have to take you with me.  You might have a trick or two that you could teach me.  But, for now, head back to the city.  Inform the guardsmen that there's some vagabond here in the forest and to keep a sharp eye on any strangers.  Whoever it is, they've not done anything wrong, not yet, but it never hurts to be ready just in case."

Nodding acquiescence to his master's instructions, and to the added admonishment to be watchful of traps, Robert left the small clearing and began to head back toward civilization.  Milenko, for his part, began to poke around at the campsite some more, trying to find some clue as to the one that had set it all up.  A few minutes later, however, a piercing scream shot through the woods, coming from the direction Robert had left in, cut off suddenly.  Shouting Robert's name all the while, the mage tore through the trees, setting off one trap that shot a crossbow bolt at his head, barely ducking in time to prevent it from killing him.  Fearful that his servant had set off a similar trap, Milenko followed the sounds of gurgling moans that led him to Robert's side.  His throat nearly completely torn out, great gashes torn down the front of his body, Robert looked up at his master with pleading eyes.

Tears flowed down Milenko's face openly as he knelt beside the servitor, cradling the man's head in his lap.  Unable to cast any healing spells for the moment, and the scrolls that held the necessary spells to stabilize his friend and servant beyond his reach at the mansion, all Milenko was able to do for Robert was to murmur words of appreciation for his service and friendship, an attempt to try and comfort him for the time being.  It was a brief time.

After Robert shuddered through his death-throes and exhaled his last breath through the ruin of his throat with a rattle, Milenko set the dead man's head on the forest floor, wiping at his eyes and then looking at his surroundings.  Whatever had killed Robert had likely been scared off by his approach, but would likely try and return for its kill.  And, whatever it was, if it was able to kill Robert so easily, it was likely that the animal would feel confident enough to try and kill him next.

There, up in one of the trees, Milenko was able to pick out the form of a large catlike creature.  Through the gathering gloom of the approaching dusk, he was able to make out the black stripes that covered the animal's tawny hide.  A tiger.  A tiger that was now stalking him along the thick branch of the tree.  This is bad, Milenko thought to himself as he pretended to not notice the animal.  He'd seen tigers before, though semi-tamed to a life spent with traveling circuses and gypsies.  Even though they were somewhat domesticated through their sedentary life, they were still treated with respect and not a small amount of fear for their reputations of turning on their keepers without warning.  This one, injured to an unknown degree, and now with the taste of human blood on its tongue, was absolutely wild and completely unpredictable.  No, scratch that, it was predictable, in that Milenko knew that he would be attacked soon.  He had no idea of how to fight the animal without resorting to spells, and any that he could utilize with a surety of killing the creature would likely also damage the surrounding forest.

Just as he resigned himself to having to resort to such a display of magic power, an indescribably weird sensation ran through him.  An ineffable aura of sheer terror caused not only the mage, but also the tiger, to halt in his tracks.  His eyes were drawn to the sound of a horse's snorting, the animal and its cloaked and hooded rider slowly walking into sight between the trees.  The tiger, its own slit-pupiled eyes focused on the rider, trembled on the branch in fear and indecision.  Then, the combination of the unfamiliar surroundings, the shock of suddenly being relocated through magical means, the pain of the injury to its back from the crossbow bolt cutting across its flesh, as well as the hunger in its belly, caused the animal to leap from the branch at the horse and rider.  A silver flash arced from behind the shadowy figure's shoulder and cleanly bisected the tiger down the middle, coming to rest at its side, the two halves of the animal flying past the rider on either side, dead long before it hit the ground. 

The sheer amount of shock at the display of swordplay the rider showed freed Milenko from the spell that the stranger's aura had put over him.  He'd barely managed to see even the flash as the sword cut down the tiger, not even recognizing it as an attack until it was over.  It wasn't until he focused his eyes on the sword and found that he recognized it that he was able to speak.  "Drokon?!" he exclaimed.  "What are you, of all people, doing here?!"

Flinging the tiger's blood from the blade with a single shake, the hooded figure returned the sword to its sheath over his shoulder before simply saying, "I am not Drokon.  Dukal is my name."

Resting his hand on his own sword, though without any hope to equal the other man's prowess with a blade, Milenko asked, "Then what are you doing with that sword?  That's Nalthese, and it belongs to Drokon, a vampire hunter friend of mine."

Allowing the horse to walk forward to within a few steps from the mage, then halting again, the hooded figure said, "I am his half-brother, Dukal.  Drokon died because of the machinations of his nemesis, Orcus, though Orcus died in the encounter himself.  Nalthese, as well as news of Drokon's fall, was delivered to me by some of his friends that had accompanied him on his quest."

Surprised at the news that Drokon had fallen, Milenko released his hold on his sword's hilt, understanding now not only the skill that Dukal had displayed, but also the strange aura that seemed to seep from the very core of the hooded man.  Like Drokon, Dukal had to be a dhampir, the blending of vampire and human bloodlines.  Likely as not, Dukal and Drokon probably shared the same vampiric father but had different human mothers.  He knew Drokon's parentage, a secret that he'd kept for some time now.  If it turned out that Dukal had the same father as Drokon had, then it would come as no surprise if the dhampir's profession was the same as his brother's.

"I came to see you, actually," said Dukal's emotionless voice.  "You probably don't remember me, from the information I have, but you and I have met several times before.  From what I understand, you've forgotten the last twenty-five years, correct?"  As Milenko's jaw dropped in shock behind the mask, Dukal nodded, reading what he needed to know of the mage's reaction in his eyes.  "I've come to see that you haven't reverted to form," he added mysteriously.  "Don't be surprised to find out that I'm around from time to time."  With that, he turned the horse around and lightly kicked his heels, signaling the horse to begin to walk back through the trees.

Closing his mouth with an audible snap, Milenko thought a moment about calling for Dukal to stop, but reconsidered as he realized that asking for more information would be futile if Dukal turned out to be as unsociable as Drokon had been.  Though Drokon had a reputation for not conversing more than absolutely necessary, as well as for doing all he could to discourage anyone from trying to befriend him, Milenko liked to think of him as a friend, and also liked to think that Drokon returned the sentiments. 

Turning around and going back to where Robert's body lay, he knelt down beside his friend's corpse and ran a hand over Robert's eyes, closing them gently, before picking up the cooling body in his strong arms and rising to his feet.  Carrying Robert's corpse, he began the trek back to the city, coming to the gates just as full night fell.  Turning over the body to the guards and explaining to them the terrible accident that had occurred, though this took several hours and retellings to higher and higher officials, until finally pulling rank as one of the founders of the city on the current city mayor (otherwise known as the maire¹), as well as telling them where the remains of the tiger could be found should his story need to be corroborated, he then finally took the straightest course back to his mansion as he could manage.

He would return to the city proper in the morning for the children.  The money he'd given them should allow them to sleep the night away at the inn until then, if they'd followed his directions instead of taking off with the coins.  He'd worry about that then.  For now, he had other business.

He had to inform the rest of the household that Robert was dead....

(Note ¹: "maire" is the French word for "mayor".  Included for realism as the governmental leader of a French commune...otherwise known as a city, or perhaps more correctly a county.  Wiki it for more info.)

(Author's personal note: For all the readers that aren't on My Myspace list...I had intended to write this chapter much sooner, but a bout with bronchitus and the stresses of the holiday season had prevented it from being done.  My deepest apologies for those that've been waiting.  Chapter Six as soon as is possible.)