Eight 2: The Way of the Hunter, A LitRPG Adventure

The next morning, rain poured down in wavy sheets. I could barely see the neighbor’s longhouse from Bihei’s door. The path in between was a muddy mess too. No lightning or thunder though, which was a shame.

A couple of the hardier farmers went to keep an eye on the village’s fields to make sure they didn’t flood, but everyone else stayed indoors. That included the hunters. They’d already brought back something that looked like a giant shrew. Most shrews were small—tiny, even—but this one was the size of a van and had a ten-foot-long tail to boot.

Bihei and the kids used the time for chores. They burned red cedar to drive out any bugs in the longhouse, cleaned the animal pen, and mended their clothes. All the while, they kept an eye on the rain outside.

The bad weather broke around two in the afternoon, and all at once the village moved into high gear as families began preparations for the feast. In our house, Bihei instructed Aluali to kill a chicken and prepare it for the cookpot. Billisha’s job was to collect herbs and vegetables from the muddy garden. Bihei herself supervised and worked with the ingredients as they came to her.

As for me, I sat on the bed and watched it all happen. All three gave me the stink eye whenever I tried to help. None believed I was completely fit, even though I had assured them the twinges were gone. Sure, I still felt a little worn, but not enough to sit idle while they worked.

I wondered if the other hunters were in the same position. The feast was to celebrate their success, after all.

The only point of reference I had was Ghitha, and he sat alone in his house with the shutters closed and no fire in the hearth. He’d been stewing all night long in a turbid, roiling mass of his thoughts. There’d be no celebratory dish from him that night.

What was really troubling were his thoughts. He imagined himself disrupting the feast and calling out Inleio for ruining his family; kidnapping me and forcing me to reveal the location of the Red Room; and if that last didn’t work, then going after Billisha and Aluali. They were fantasies—not yet approaching the realm of intention and planning—but Yuki and I kept close tabs on him. The moment he moved into action, he’d be dead.

Being idle wasn’t all bad, as it let me do important inner work. Yuki was right about my meridians not being able to handle the new state of my qi. They needed tempering in order to withstand the speed and intensity.

Fortunately, Qi Body-Sensei was available to provide a hint. The skill had reached a high-enough level that my intuition about how to improve felt sharper. Yuki took that intuition and, along with their own insights into the nature of qi, developed a plan to condition my meridians: we’d alternate between fast and slow qi cycles.

During the fast cycle, we reined in my qi only as much as was absolutely necessary to keep from permanently damaging my meridians. Once we felt they’d had enough, we forcefully applied the brakes and gave them time to heal and grow accustomed to the strain.

Honestly, the concept wasn’t groundbreaking. It could be found everywhere in nature—just look at how muscles built over time—but that ubiquity was what comforted me. It made me think we were on the right track. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Qi Body-Sensei approved. The feeling was similar to holding the spear and drawing the bow, except this time it was… preparing the ground.

That felt right, and I shared the insight with Yuki.

The feast began with a story. As the new lodge master, Mumu was supposed to tell it, but she handed the honor to Inleio.

A baby cried but was quickly comforted. People’s clothing rustled as they shifted positions, and I heard the fires pop and crackle. Otherwise, though, the villagers were silent as he stood before them. They prepared to listen with rapt attention.

Standing with a cane, hunched over and his face a mass of wrinkles, Inleio seemed to reach deep within himself. And when he spoke and began the tale, he sounded almost like his old self.

Inleio started with the previous failed hunts—of the lodge brothers and sisters who had given their lives and those that had suffered permanent injury. He wove in the deaths of Woldec and Grunthen, as well as their expedition’s aftermath.

Ghitha, as the hunt’s sponsor, was given due honor, but the man himself wasn’t in attendance. He was still at home stewing in an increasingly dangerous blend of desires and delusions.

Inleio moved on to the hunt’s preparations—the hunters from Albei, the ballistae crews, and the village hunter teams who’d scouted the land. He even mentioned the knowledge I’d shared about lightning and how useful it proved to be, and gave credit to the smiths for producing so much wire.

And then there was the battle itself: the terrible lightning and the sharp claws, the death of Otwei, and surprising ferocity of Borba. How the ballistae crews had run away, followed not long after by some of the Albei hunters.

Finally, there was me, who had lured the bear to a meadow of golden slumber. Using Bearbane—a treasure nourished by the village, given over to Ikfael, and returned for this purpose—I had slain the bear.

When Inleio finished the story, the villagers put their hands over their hearts and bowed toward the hunters. Some of the hunters blushed and others grinned widely, but not any of the fighters who’d fought the bear up close. They were more sober, knowing just how close we had come to failing.

That solemnity disappeared the moment someone tapped a cask of corn liquor. The plaza in front of the pyramid came alive with people talking, singing, and dancing. The villagers circulated, and the food shared.

Billisha and Aluali’s eyes sparkled at all the excitement. They stuffed themselves, and for good reason: everything was delicious. Bihei’s chicken stew with herbed corn dumplings was warming. The roast shrew wasn’t bad either. Mumu came over with a fatty cut of the shoulder for me.

“It’s the best part,” she said, sitting down with me and my family. From her expression, I could tell that she enjoyed Bihei’s stew too and wanted seconds, but instead she pulled me up to follow her in making the rounds.

I was no stranger to networking in my previous life, so I followed along. We made small talk and accepted the villagers’ well wishes. They congratulated Mumu on her new position, as well as her recent engagement into Haol and Dena’s marriage. Apparently, the three of them had reached an agreement while I was still recovering from my injuries.

The villagers also introduced me to any children they had that were my age. “Never too early to start thinking about a good match,” one old grandmother said.

I ignored Mumu’s snickers—I was not ready to think about marriage, thank you very much—and politely declined the invitations to tea. All the other invitations too. I planned to head back to the Glen soon. If not tomorrow, then the day after, depending on the weather.

We were just returning to my family’s spot at the party when I pulled Mumu aside. I used more force than was necessary, and my face felt stiff. We moved away from the party to a quieter, shadowed section of the plaza.

“Eight, is something wrong?”

I gestured for her to wait a bit.

Ghitha found a set of Woldec’s knives, Yuki said.

Show me, I said, merging our consciousnesses.

We shifted our attention to the portion of us still inside Ghitha.

To be sure, to be absolutely sure, it had to be the children. Eight obviously doted on them, letting them run around as they wished. Ghitha had seen them scampering through the village like animals. Supposedly they helped that widow Bihei in the fields, but farming was the lowest kind of work. They may as well be animals.

The plan was simple: Ghitha would use the skills he’d learned from his brother to hide inside Bihei’s longhouse. He’d grab the children and use them against Eight, questioning him about the location of the eilesheile. His trader contacts in Albei had let him know that a new source had been found—a plentiful source.

Acid washed through Ghitha’s stomach, and it cramped at the thought of all of Woldec’s hard work stolen. Ghitha might have to cut one of the children to demonstrate his intention, his wrath, his bloody desire for revenge. He might even kill one, so that Eight realized the seriousness of the situation.

Ghitha refused to be made poor. He would never allow himself to become powerless. Ghitha’s family was the bedrock upon which the village was built. To be driven to such a state as he was in, it must be a conspiracy!

Inleio and the Hunter’s Lodge had always resented his family. Hated them. Hated Ghitha, and wanted to see him fall. Oh, how they would laugh to see him forced to do fieldwork.

Ghitha wouldn’t let it happen. He may be a stump, but he wouldn’t be responsible for his family’s downfall. Reversing his fortunes needed money, though. And besides, Eight was an outsider. Nothing more than a useful tool in the hands of Inleio and the rest. No one in the village would care if something happened to the boy—no one who mattered, anyway.

No doubt Inleio and the rest were grooming the boy for some other scheme. Building up his story for some purpose.

Eight was clever. That was all. There was no way he could do what they said of him.

Ghitha was more clever. He’d take the children, kill one to demonstrate his resolve, and break Eight. Break Inleio’s tool. Find the eilesheile and return his family to glory.

Clothes—he needed dark clothes if he was going to hide inside the longhouse. All the villagers were at the feast—he would go unnoticed when he snuck there—but he’d be careful anyway. Woldec had drilled that into him. Take all the steps. Be sure. And Ghitha was very sure.

We separated our consciousnesses, and I gagged, the food I’d eaten nearly coming up.

“Eight, what’s wrong?” Mumu asked, concerned.

I felt nauseous, and shuddered at the twisted nature of Ghitha’s thoughts. The man was sick.

“It’s Ghitha,” I said. “He plans to hurt my children in order to get me to reveal the location of the eilesheile.”

Mumu’s expression turned stony. “He’d strike at your family?”

I had hoped that his fantasies would remain fantasies—that he’d eventually settle down and come to terms with his losses—but instead he’d gone the other direction. My dismay gave way to anger. It’d been smoldering for a while, but at that moment it broke loose.

Yuki. The failsafes are ready?

Yes.

Okay. Then do it. Cut him down.

No.

Eh? What? Surprised, I turned my attention inward.

Yuki slowly revolved inside my heart dantian. Their energy was somber and… determined. You’re angry, and so are we. But to strike in anger is not who you are, and it is not who we aspire to be.

“But he plans to hurt Billisha and Aluali. We have to stop him.”

And we will. Yuki directed my attention to Mumu standing beside me. Mumu, who was the new lodge master.

I closed my eyes and took a breath. When that didn’t abate my anger, I counted my breaths until I could think straight.

“Mumu,” I said.

“Yes, I’m listening.”

“Ghitha is—”

He found a dark cloak and is heading out now.

“Ghitha is on his way to Bihei’s longhouse,” I said. “He plans to hide inside and wait for my family to come home.”

“What will you do?” Mumu asked, watching me carefully.

“I’d like to ask you that question,” I said.

Mumu sighed like she’d been holding her breath. She patted me on the arm and said, “Don’t worry. The Hunter’s Lodge takes care of its own.”

She stepped out into the light and waved over a couple of members of Borba’s former team. I couldn’t hear what she whispered to them, but she sent them off in the direction of Bihei’s longhouse.

Mumu smiled grimly on her return. “A man caught hiding in another’s longhouse is a good-enough excuse for truth-telling tea. We’ll have a way now to force him to drink it.”

“You couldn’t before because he wasn’t a member of the lodge?”

Mumu nodded. “That, and he still has support among some of the villagers. He won’t be able to avoid it now, though. The whole village will learn of Bindeise’s murder.”

“So, we wait?”

Mumu shook her head, and her smile became more natural. “We enjoy the celebration. It’s well earned.”

I returned to my family’s spot, while Mumu went to tell Inleio and Kesa about what was happening. I watched as ripples moved through the crowd. Nothing big, nothing obvious, but they were there if one was looking. The news spread steadily but quietly among the hunters.

Inleio’s gaze in particular—oh, how it sharpened.

It was summer, and there was so much work to do in the fields. Many of the families weren’t able to attend the feast for as long as they’d like. They stuffed their bellies, drank the liquor, and went home to prepare for the next day.

I held my family back until we were nearly the last in attendance. Poor Billisha and Aluali were conked out, leaning against each other. Bihei watched over them, and nervously glanced towards me. I didn’t think it was lost on her that the only people remaining were a handful of hunters, and none of them were singing or dancing.

Ben appeared at the edge of the fire’s light and came jogging over to where Mumu, Kesa, and Inleio still sat. I already knew what he was going to say, but I made my way over to eavesdrop anyway.

“—the fool dropped on our hunters as soon as they entered the longhouse. He’d hidden himself above the door and must’ve thought the children would enter first. Or Eight, and he wanted the first strike. There’s no way to know,” Ben said, shaking his head. “Ghitha is dead, stabbed twice over.”

“Were our hunters injured?” Mumu asked.

Ben frowned. “Nothing serious. They said it was because Ghitha seemed to have a problem with his heart the moment he fell on them. It was instinct that spurred both to give killing blows.”

“I can help with healing the hunters,” I said.

Ben waved me off. “Thank you, but the wounds were minor. Care has already been arranged.”

“Still, I’d like to do something,” I said. “They were injured on behalf of my family.”

“A gift wouldn’t be out of order,” Kesa said. “Make a visit to the lodge tomorrow. Tonight, they should rest. As should your family, Eight. Take them home and reassure them that they’re safe. The lodge will watch over them.”

“And what about you all?” I asked.

Kesa sighed. “We must report these events to Koda and Dwilla.”

Inleio stood with a groan, then shook his head. “What an ignoble death and waste of talent.”

“That’s it, then?” I asked. “We’re done?”

Mumu patted me on the shoulder. “We know enough about Ghitha to tell the tale. As for your friend, Yuki, we’ll keep them hidden. It’ll be truth enough to say that a hunter spotted Ghitha on his way to Bihei’s longhouse and grew suspicious of his plans.” She gave me a nod. “Now, off you go. Your family is waiting.”

I looked over at Billisha and Aluali, awake now. Along with Bihei, they were watching the huddle of hunters.

Before I left though, I turned to face the hunters and placed my hands over my heart to bow. “Thank you. For everything.”

I helped gather our things and carried the now-empty cookpot. The children and Bihei didn’t ask any questions, though I could tell they wanted to.

“When we get home,” I said.

It was louder than usual as we walked through the village—no doubt a result of all the corn liquor drunk at the celebration. We heard mostly laughter, although at one point there was the sound of crockery shattering and some poor villager getting yelled at soon after. I thought the kids might say something or share some gossip then, but they seemed to be focused on getting home.

When we got to the longhouse, we found a hunter waiting at the gate. He said, “All’s clear,” then gave us a nod and walked off, likely to find his own bed.

The family still didn’t ask any questions. They waited patiently until we were settled inside before turning their expectant gazes my way. So, I told them the whole story. Three pairs of eyes grew cloudy as they considered the evening’s events, as they thought about everything that had happened around the hunt.

Bihei was the most stunned. Ghitha’s family was influential in the village. Or they used to be. As for the kids, they were more ambivalent. I could do no wrong in their eyes.

“What will I tell the neighbors?” Bihei asked.

“Tell them that you know only what the Hunter’s Lodge told you: that hunters saw Ghitha sneaking towards our longhouse and investigated. Push everyone and everything at the lodge. They promised to keep you safe.”

“And what of you, Zasha? Will the lodge keep you safe?” Aluali’s eyes were wide. The fear was visible in them.

I smiled. “They already have, haven’t they?”

It took a while for him to acknowledge my words. I could tell he didn’t fully agree, but he eventually nodded.

“A lodge is like a second family,” Billisha said. Whether it was to comfort Aluali or herself, I wasn’t sure. Probably both.

That night, the two of them glommed onto me as they slept. I pretended not to notice when Bihei joined us, as well. It was becoming a habit, but I didn’t mind. Their warmth was welcome, even on a summer night.

A stabbing pain in my side woke me in the middle of the night. Ghitha’s ghost stood above the bed with a knife in his hand and madness in his eyes. His whole face was distorted in rage, and his mouth yelled silent words. He stabbed at me again and again, and I actually felt the pinpricks.

Tenna’s Gift was still thin, but the shield had finished healing. It was whole once more.

I watched Ghitha with narrowed eyes, but his attacks weren’t affecting the shield. He’s nothing more than a pest now. Better take care of him before he grows into something worse.

I gathered my will and exerted it upon Ghitha’s ghost. Tenna’s Gift thinned even more, but no new holes appeared, so I strengthened my efforts until I felt a solid grip on him.

The surprise on Ghitha’s face was so gratifying. He tried to resist—clutching at my arms—but he was new to being dead and had been surprisingly weak-willed to begin with. Nothing could stop his streaming out of the world, like smoke siphoned away, until there were only a pair of red eyes remaining, and then they too were gone.

“Good riddance,” I said, whispering.

That was when I saw Bindeise at the door. The look on his face was complicated, equal parts satisfied and lost. He shook his head as if to clear it, and then turned as if he heard someone or something behind him.

Briefly, I caught sight of the other side. I wasn’t sure exactly who or what it was there—only a sense of gladness and reunion. Then, Bindeise began to fade, but before he was gone completely, he turned to me to bow. There was a smile on his face. And relief.

I checked my arms, and while they tingled, I didn’t sense any injuries. A couple of the village’s ghost dogs came by to check out the excitement, but nothing else happened. My family was still sleeping soundly.

I wished Bindeise well in his next life and, satisfied, turned over to go back to sleep.

The next morning, the village was abuzz with gossip. Poor Bihei was nearly pestered to death by the people stopping by for a friendly chat—and, of course, they were naturally curious about the sensational events of the evening prior.

As for me, I skipped the fuss by merging with the land and heading straight to the Hunter’s Lodge. That was the plan anyway, except I’d forgotten that the hunters liked to gossip too.

The problem with having a reputation for being clever was that people expected me to be clever, which was why the hunters pounced when I arrived at the lodge. They wanted my thoughts on Ghitha’s motivations for targeting my family. They wondered at what he had to gain.

Well, it was no secret that Ghitha had followed up on his brother’s expedition and had turned up nothing for his trouble. “That must’ve made him desperate,” I said, “and desperate people do things they might not have done otherwise. Maybe he was after Bindeise’s treasure, for example.”

A few of the hunters nodded, but most didn’t want to stop speculating on Ghitha’s reasons. I deflected as much as possible and did my best to turn their attention to the hunters who had stabbed Ghitha. I also made arrangements through the lodge to gift the two a bounty—five eltaak each.

I didn’t have the money, and had to rely on Mumu again for a loan, but it had to be done. I paid my debts, including those of gratitude.

The hunters nodded in approval at my gifts. More than one said, “A good deed deserves a good reward.” And when the speculations about Ghitha’s motives resumed, I excused myself and got out of there.

The excitement would eventually die down, but until then I decided it’d be a good idea to spend some time with Ikfael.

I told my family my plans that night, but it caused a family quarrel. The kids refused to remain behind, as apparently I wasn’t sensible enough on my own. When I forbade them from coming along, the little devils threatened to follow me.

I looked to Bihei for support, but she folded her arms across her chest and said, “I’m going with them.”

“If you won’t take us to the Glen,” Billisha said, adamant, “then we’ll just hire a hunter who will.”

“Who’d dare?” I demanded.

The kids had riled me up good and proper by then, and I was starting to say things I didn’t mean. Still, the other hunters respected me—surely none of them would betray me by taking my family to a place I didn’t want them going.

That was when Mumu showed up. From the other side of the front door she said, “I would.”

I grumbled as we walked to the Glen, but my bad humor didn’t run deep. It couldn’t. Not with how excited the kids were—so happy and smug. All because a certain hunter wanted to watch another movie. I glanced over at Mumu, and her grin was as wide as the kids’.

Really, there was no reason to be in a funk. We’d reached a good compromise—the kids and Bihei would stay at the Glen for one week out of every five. And though it wasn’t a great time for the three of them to be away from Bihei’s fields, Mumu was quick to fork over another loan to pay for temporary labor. All so she could watch another movie.

Something else to consider was that I was stronger now and better able to protect the kids. The more dangerous animals in the forest would likely be preoccupied with their turf battles. The throne for King of the Forest was empty, after all, and as long as my family stuck to the Glen, they should be safe under my, Yuki’s, Snow’s, and Ikfael’s watch. They had a whole host of guardians now.

That’s what I told myself, anyway.

Billisha signaled a desire to detour to the site of the kalihchi bear’s hunt, but that was where I put my foot down. There was no way I was taking the kids to see that broken place. It’d give them nightmares, and they’d never let me go hunting again.

I ignored her disappointed pleading and thought instead about what to make for dinner. I owed Ikfael big for the loan of Bearbane—for sure more than the single fish we’d agreed upon—as well as rent for one more person.

Bihei seemed to be managing the hike okay. It was clear she hadn’t spent a lot of time in the forest—probably only what was required for the village militia. Still, her eyes never left the trees and shrubs, and though her trail discipline wasn’t great, she did her best.

Hmm… there should be some venison backstrap left, assuming Ikfael hasn’t already eaten it. We might as well splurge on the good stuff tonight.

Ikfael rolled her eyes when she saw our troop entering the Glen. Poor Mumu was confused at the sight of the otter waiting for us, and even more so when the otter started signing in Diaksh.

“Are you like an insect?” Ikfael asked. “Always multiplying.”

I grinned and handed her Bearbane. “Thank you. The spear saved my life. Saved the village, really.”

Ikfael’s glare softened. She looked me up and down. “And you are uninjured?”

“A scar on my belly, but that’s all.”

“You are alive and walking. That’s more than I expected.” Ikfael’s gaze sharpened. “So why did it take you so long to come back. I miss—my spear is long overdue.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Some things happened. Can I tell you about it as I make dinner?”

“Yes,” Ikfael said. “Dinner would be good.”

“Great, but before then, let me introduce Bihei. And Mumu over there you already know.”

“Eight,” Mumu said. “What’s going on?”

Ah, right. Ikfael had always used her giant otter water form when meeting the villagers before.

“This is Ikfael,” I said. “My friend, and ah… the spirit of this place.”

Mumu and Bihei immediately went to kneel, but Ikfael tsked at them and bid them to stand. “No time for that,” she signed. “There’s dinner to be made.”

“Actually,” I said, “there’s one more set of introductions to make.”

At Yuki’s signal, Snow escorted her kittens out from the cave and into the open. All the humans gasped, and my grin spread. It was just too fun surprising my friends and family, and a bit of mischief in return for forcing me to bring them along was allowed.

Ikfael had left the backstrap alone, so I sprinkled it with salt before grilling it. I also made a mash of fava beans and corn we’d brought from the village, as well as savory-sweet plum jam to go with the meat.

I talked to Ikfael as I worked, and she began sketching out the story. She knew most of the players from their visit to the Glen. Only Borba was unfamiliar to her.

Needless to say, Mumu and Bihei were mesmerized by Ikfael’s water creations. The kids, rolling around with Felix and Oscar, stopped their play long enough to brag about the number of shows they’d seen, and explained how she was the best storyteller ever.

My heart warmed, and the last bit of grumpiness left me. I knew that coming back to the Glen with the kids was the right decision. It wasn’t good to always leave them behind, either for them or for me.

We were an irregular family—a complicated family when taking Yuki, Ikfael, and Snow into account—and I needed to keep them close if we were to stay family. No matter what else happened in the world, I’d always be able to return to them, but only so long as I—as we—put in the work to keep our family whole.

It was these small decisions, I thought, that mattered most. They kept us human. The world wouldn’t be saved in some final battle between good and evil. It was done through the actions along the way. The little pluses and minuses that either took us toward the path of our best selves or led us astray. The world was saved in the middle of the book, not at the end.

The food was ready, the story told, and so we ate.