Hunter

Chapter One

He called himself Arex after the ancient war god of his people. Or, at least that was what he said. Nobody was really sure what name if any other he had been born with or exactly who his people were or where they dwelt.

In truth, nobody ever had the nerve to ask him. He was a big man. He towered over all of the emperors elite guard, who were the hand chosen biggest and strongest men in the capital. He always went about heavily cloaked with a mask covering the lower part of his face. All one could see were those cold ice blue eyes glittering from the mountain of a warrior's face. It was rumored that only the emperor himself had seen the mans whole face, which wasn't exactly true. But that's how rumors go.

The man had appeared in the capital city eight years before, unannounced and unbidden. On the steps of the emperors palace he had upended a large sack containing the heads of seven vampires which had been plaguing the southern marshes for years. Another sack, which remained on his horse, had contained all of the loot he had discovered in their nest which they had taken from the hundreds of victims the vampires had claimed. It was his by right.

For a year he came and went, traveling the countryside and living in the wilds. Whenever a beast threatened a town or village and the regular hunting parties were unable to subdue it, there was Arex.

After the first year he had claimed enough bounties to purchase a large estate on the outskirts with many many acres of wooded forest adjoining it.

Now he was Arex the Hunter and all who heard the name knew of him. He was the mightiest hunter of them all and, despite only being somewhere in his middle of his life, already his name was the stuff of legend in the halls and hearths of Dunis, the capital city of all of Kahedron and the glittering jewel in the eye of the emperors realm.

Never was there a beast that Arex could not slay and bring back it's head as a trophy. The emperor himself was said to have dozens of his trophies adorning his halls. The greatest of them being the giant head of a dragon which was, in life, as long as a hundred ships. Just preserving that trophy took over a dozen of the very best skinners a year to complete. The very head of that very dragon now hung in a place of honor above the emperors throne. And the scaled hide from that dragon now made up the glittering breastplates and shields of the emperors own personal guard.

The bounty from that kill had made Arex a very wealthy man indeed. He could have retired to a life of luxury behind the walls of his estate and never ventured forth again for the remainder of his days.

But Arex was not such a man.

His whole life was the stalk and the hunt and the battle and the kill. Pitting himself against the most dangerous and cunning beasts was the ultimate meaning of life for him and he could not imagine living any other way.

In the back of his mind, Arex knew that one day he would perish from the jaws or claws or hooves or talons or spikes or venomous stings of one of the creatures he hunted. It was his fate and he shrugged it off. His only fervent wish was that whatever beast brought him his last breath did so while dying by his hand.

There had been many close calls throughout the years. If you were to see him, as very few ever had, not wearing his body armor and hunting gear, you would see that his body was criss-crossed with scars, both old and new.

Even now, as he walked into the marketplace, Arex walked with a slight limp, favoring his right leg a bit. That wound would have killed lesser men and left even the healthier of them laid up in bed for many months. Seeing the aftermath of that wound had made Deril, his personal slave and sole attendant, feel weak and slightly ill to his stomach. His master shrugged it off as nothing, but Deril noted that Arex now slept less comfortably at night and never on his right side as he used to. He fretted for, as hunting was life to Arex, his masters happiness and comfort was life to Deril.

Serving such a man had not always been easy. In the seven years since Arex had bought Deril from the slave pens there had been many lessons to be learned. Some had been learned behind a sharp word or the back of his masters hand across his face or even, once, bound naked to a pole and taken to with a thin flat strap which had left Deril sobbing and covered with welts for days.

But such an event had not taken place in quite a few years. Deril had learned that his new master was not at heart an evil or cruel man. He preferred to instruct calmly and quietly if it were possible. He never struck out in anger or frustration, always with the intent of getting his point across as quickly and efficiently as possible. The slave admitted to himself that he had been willful and rebellious and quite foolish in his younger years.

And now, even though he was still a slave, Deril walked with a bit of pride. Those who knew him in the marketplace and beyond knew that when he spoke, he spoke with the authority of his master behind him. Even the fat merchants and burghers who would normally look on any slave with disdain, gave Deril the same preference due his master. He was, in all sense of the word, his masters right hand.

But only while Arex was in town in his residence. While on a hunt, Arex worked alone and only hired local help after the deed was done to cart back the beasts broken carcass. It was his way.

The months while his master was away were always long and lonely for Deril. To be sure, he had his duties to keep him busy. Arex's manse was always spotlessly clean and well stocked, awaiting the masters return.

And each night he kept a spot warm in his masters bed, whether Arex was in residence or not. Deril actually had a room to himself, just a small cell, more like a closet, just off his masters bedroom. But he could count the times he had slept in there in the last seven years on the fingers of one hand. Even on the nights when Arex was ill from some poisonous sting or an infection from some nasty claw or fang and did not want him in his bed, Deril always catnapped on the thick rug on the floor at the foot of his masters bed, ready in an instant to bring him whatever relief he might need.

But the nights when Arex was home and in good spirits mentally and physically, Deril slid between his masters sheets each night with joy and a wondrous expectation in his heart. For, despite being such a physically imposing man who approached every problem with a flashing sword and guns blazing, Arex could also be a tender and sensitive (albeit a bit vigorous) lover who was acutely aware of his partners needs in bed as well as his own.

That had been one of the hardest lessons that Deril ever learned. As a matter of fact, that very subject had been the reason for the only time he had even been bound to the pole as the focal point of his masters irritation. Deril had never been touched by a man before up to that point in his life. Taken as a slave in his early teens, he had been a field hand for an owner with a large farm and never once even saw the inside of his masters house. Living in somewhat cramped conditions in the slave quarters, Deril knew that there were men who preferred the company of other men, but he shunned them. And once or twice he even managed to secure an entrance to the females quarters for a few minutes of hurried bliss. But such things were publicly frowned upon and if any were caught they were severely beaten for such transgressions.

When Deril was twenty summers old, the master had been killed in a border skirmish with a rival lord and his beautiful mansion burned to the ground. He, along with the surviving slaves, were sold back to the slavers and returned to the pens. In abject misery and fear of who he might be sold to next, Deril awaited his fate.

Standing naked on the auction block once again, the young slave quailed as he looked down at the huge man who was bidding on him. The man seemed to tower over the others in the crowd, all of whom gave him plenty of space to stand in. He was heavily cloaked and wore a mask that covered the lower part of his face. All Deril could see of his potential new owner was a pair of cold looking ice blue eyes. The quavering slave was quickly sold, for once his intentions became clear, nobody dared bid against the large dangerous looking man in their midst.

Leading his new property home by a short chain attached to his collar, Arex began instructing Deril in his duties, at first inside the mansion and the grounds surrounding it.

Then in his bedroom.

In the beginning of their relationship, Deril had resisted his new masters advances.

Vigorously.

And had been punished for it.

Equally vigorously.

Like the master hunter that he was, Arex treated Deril like any beast he had hunted. He stalked and spurred and drove him until there was but one way for Deril to go.

For twenty nights, Deril slept on the floor next to Arex's bed, chained to the bedpost, morose and despairing, knowing that soon he would no longer be able to sidestep his masters wishes and be forced to be his sexual plaything. The thought of the huge strong man taking him to bed scared Deril half to death.

On the twenty first day he "accidentally" broke a plate while serving dinner. When he slipped into the kitchen to replace it, he slashed his wrists with a bit of the broken pottery.

What Deril didn't count on was the hunter's keen sense of smell. Arex could track a wounded creature for miles in a blackened cave by scent alone. And had. For him to smell fresh blood less than ten yards away was nothing. Seconds after the blood began to flow, Deril found himself slammed face down on the hard stone floor with his wrists wrenched painfully up behind his back.

Arex calmly and efficiently bound his wounds, then just as calmly marched him down the stairs to the basement, bound him to the post and stripped him of his clothes.

For the next twenty minutes Arex calmly and coolly lectured Deril on what his duties as a slave were and what Arex expected of him. All of the duties expected of him. Including keeping his masters bed warm and his master as well.

For the twenty minutes following that Arex calmly and carefully striped almost every single inch of Deril's flesh with the strap. The only areas very carefully missed were Deril's face, his bandaged wrists and his genitals. He was struck just hard enough to sting and leave a welt, but never once drew blood or left so much as a lingering bruise.

On the twenty second night, Deril knelt by his masters bedside and begged forgiveness. When it was given, he crawled willingly into his masters bed and gave himself to him completely.

As with most things in life, there was some pain at first, but the ecstasy quickly over-rode that. It was a night filled with cries of pleasure like Deril had never known in his young life.

From that night on he had never looked back. Now he served his master as willingly with his body in bed as he did cooking his meals, mending his clothes, tending to his weapons or cleaning his mansion.

In truth, Deril loved Arex with his whole heart and soul and would gladly, willingly, sacrifice his life for his master. Arex had taught him how to defend both himself and his masters property with a skill that would defeat any half dozen robbers or thieves. He always carried two medium sized knives at the center of his back under his tunic in case they were needed, even though this wasn't strictly allowed under imperial law. Deril learned that his master had a disdain for most of the imperial laws and followed them only when it suited him to do so.

So far no cutpurse or brigand had ever been foolish enough to try and test the master in combat. But Deril was always alert, just in case.

Such an important person as Arex could have ridden a horse or been drawn in a carriage to town that day, but such things were not his way. Unless time was of the essence or the distance far too great, Arex preferred to walk on his own two feet.

Such it was that day. Arex walked the five miles into the marketplace with Deril a pace behind him, both marking his place as his masters servant and guarding his back. Deril wore a loose tunic and soft cotton pants tucked into his boots. The tunic covered the belt that held a purse containing quite a few of his masters gold coins as well as the two knives he carried. Arex, as he was always when he went out, was hooded and masked. His heavy cloak covered the sword and small blast rifle he carried on his back but deliberately did not cover the large pistol in his belt nor the wicked looking knife protruding from the top of his boot.

Deril had learned that his master rarely ever left anything to chance. And what he wanted most when he went out was to go where he wanted to go and get what he wanted to get with as little interference as possible. In a city like Dunis going about heavily and visibly armed was the best way to do that.

As they walked, Deril noted the somewhat pained limp in his masters gait and wondered for the umpteenth time where they were going and why Arex hadn't just sent him. Deril was used to fetching and carrying for him. He did all of the grocery shopping and fetched many different things from the shops and bazaars in Dunis.

"Where are we going again, master?" Deril asked, quite innocently. Arex waved a hand at the street around them and said "It's quite obvious, Deril. We are going to the slave pens. Nothing else is down this lane." He turned and glanced at the young man behind him and said "And wipe that look off of your face. I'm not trading you in for a younger model."

"Then why do we go there?"

"I think it's time you had some company while I am away."

"I am perfectly content, master. Myself, I need no others in my life. This trip is a needless strain on you. You should be at home resting."

Arex turned suddenly and Deril worried that he may have overstepped his bounds. One large hand clad in a leather glove flashed out and grabbed the slave by the shoulder, then gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Do you love me, Deril?" he asked quietly.

The young man slid to his knees in the dust of the street and bowed his head. "You know I do love you, master. I would never serve another man."

"Get up, you fool." Arex said gruffly. Deril rose and brushed the dust from the knees of his pants. The soft leather of his masters gloved thumb caressed his cheek, then the hand slid to the back of his neck and held him firmly in place.

"You are lonely when I am away, yes?"

He nodded reluctantly. "I.... I miss you being home, master. The manse is so empty without you there. But I have my duties to keep me occupied. It is no matter."

The big man put his other hand to his face and pulled his mask down. He leaned down and pulled the younger man to him and kissed him roughly and thoroughly. Deril moaned in the back of his throat and he felt his body responding to his masters touch. He wanted nothing more than for his master to take him right then and there. Yes, even if it was in the middle of the street!

After a moment or two Arex pulled away and adjusted his mask to once again cover his lower face. Deril noted that a small smile curled the corner of his lord and masters mouth before he covered it again.

Arex turned abruptly away and said "You need company, Deril. We will find you some. And I have some other plans which will require adding a few more to our numbers. Come!" and he stalked away up the street.

The young man quickly suppressed his arousal (though it was difficult) and trotted after his master towards the slave pens, his cheeks still burning with his emotions.

While the slave market was a nonstop business, they only held the public auctions one day a week. The other days were spent restocking (for there were always bands of raiders wandering in with new supplies of captives) and holding private sales for the elite of Dunis, should they not want to sully themselves bidding among the farmers and factory owners and other riff raff. Knowing that the public auctions would be held the following morning, Deril knew that the pens would be as well stocked this evening as they would ever be. Still wondering at what his master was thinking, he followed him dutifully into the one place he hoped never to see again.

The guards at the gates were huge men and heavily armed and armored. The slave factors got the biggest and roughest men they could find to guard their gates. But Deril noted that Arex still stood several inches taller than the burly ruffians, who bowed their heads deferentially to his master as he strode past them without a glance. He also noted the heavy iron collars about their throats which marked them as slaves themselves.

The morning after Deril had fully given himself to his master for the first time, Arex had cut the heavy collar from his neck and replaced it with one of soft and supple leather with a buckle so he could take it off at will.

Taking it off only when he bathed, Deril wore his masters collar with pride.

The slave factors recognized Arex at a glance and ushered him into the inner chambers with many bows and flatteries. They offered him a large and comfortable couch to recline on and immediately pretty young serving girls began rushing in and out with platters of fine foods and jugs of wine and other drinks. Arex merely held up one hand and waved them away. He perched on the edge of the finely appointed couch as if ready to spring up at a breath.

The head slave factor, a fat and oily man named Garl who sported multiple jeweled rings on every finger, fluttered his hands to wave away the serving girls and clasped his beringed hands together in front of his ample chest and bowed as far as his corpulence would allow.

"You honor our poor house with your presence, Lord Arex. How may we be of service to you this evening?"

Standing at his masters shoulder, Deril shuddered slightly on hearing the mans voice again. Despite his outward trappings of civility and culture, he knew that Garl was capable of immense cruelty and uncivilized tastes, preferring partners way younger than was socially acceptable. His hands clenched tightly behind his back as he repressed the urge to slit the fat swine's throat.

Arex waved the fat man out of his field of vision and said "Household servants. Young. Fit. Not that half starved and abused trash you sell to the factory men by the river." Deril saw the obese factor flinch slightly. "Bring them quickly." Deril heard the snap of command in his masters voice and could tell that Arex cared not for the factor either.

For the next hour slaves were trotted in and out of the large room in groups of twelve for their perusal. Some groups were sent away on sight and occasionally Arex would have one set aside for later consideration. It startled Deril that his master was also looking at young women. He already had three or four standing aside amongst the group of young men. Deril had never seen his master take an interest in women before.

When they were down to the last of the chosen group, numbering about a dozen, Arex had them separated into groups of men and women. There were seven males and five females. All were fairly young and reasonably fit, showing little of the prevalent abuse of lifelong slaves, though many showed the bruises and marks from those who had captured them in some raid. Deril wrinkled his nose at the smell. It had been many years since he had been among their number and had almost forgotten the stench. The smell of fear and despair and lack of sanitation and being fed on nothing but scraps and garbage. His hands tightened into fists behind his back as the urge to chop the fat slave factor into quivering bits ran through his mind.

A strong hand landed on Deril's shoulder and his masters whispered voice cut through the haze. "Control yourself." Nobody else in the room had noticed the tension building in Deril's body. Covering his servant's discomfiture, Arex pulled Deril in front of him and pointed out the group of male slaves, who eyed them with mixed hope and alarm, wondering what type of men Arex and Deril might be.