Eight 2: The Way of the Hunter, A LitRPG Adventure
Eight 2: Chapter 3

We moved to another room under the village’s pyramid. This one was circular too, with a low, round table in the middle. It smelled of flowers, the scent coming from a greenish glass bowl filled with dried petals. A multi-patterned rug covered the floor, and on it, surrounding the table, were a series of similarly colorful cushions.

“In fifteen days, the solstice will arrive,” Sheedi said, as she moved to sit on one of the cushions. “At that time, we will thank Ikfael for the clean water she provides. I will go with the hunters to also ask her for a shrine.”

Both Dwilla and Koda appeared to be familiar with this room; each moved with practiced ease to their own cushions. They were halfway into their seats, already objecting to Sheedi’s declaration, when she raised a hand to interrupt them. “Talk one by one and slowly. This Eight must understand our words.”

“We are not the same as before,” Dwilla said, looking exasperated. “Our village is not as rich. We cannot build a shine.”

“The spirit has become generous with her favor,” Sheedi said. “Look at the boy. Now is the time to ask.”

“We already exchange with the spirit,” Koda said, cutting in. “That is enough.”

“The last solstice was hard,” Dwilla said. “We lost much, including Woldec and Grunthen, our Earth-Touched and Soben-Touched. We need to save, not spend.”

It felt like an old argument between them, so I was content to follow along, amused at what I imagined Ikfael’s reaction would be to these people arguing like this. The thing she likely enjoyed least in the world was a fuss.

Billisha was making thunder noises and miming a lightning strike to explain the word soben, but I stopped her. There’d been another, earlier word that snagged my attention.

“Woldec? There is a Woldec here?”

The mood around the table dropped, and the adults wore expressions of worry. They looked to Koda to explain.

“Woldec and Grunthen were the strongest hunters of Voorhei. Our village was blessed by these two element-touched.” Koda shook his head in sorrow. “Before the last solstice, they went to hunt, but did not return. We searched, yet did not replace them.”

“Woldec, was he with three people? And an animal?” I made tusks with my fingers and mimed a javelina goring someone.

Koda’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “With four people: Grunthen, Kiertie, Akbash, and Biaka. You saw Woldec in the forest?”

The adults looked apprehensive as they waited for my response. Clearly, Woldec and Grunthen meant a lot to this village.

“I am sorry. Woldec, Kiertie, Akbash, and Biaka are dead.”

Koda sighed, his face falling. “And Grunthen?”

“I do not know.”

“Where did you replace Woldec and his family?” Koda asked. “Their bodies and silverlight—what condition were they in?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer. How would the villagers respond to me taking the silverlight from Woldec’s family? Bandits were one thing, but the zombies had originally been valued members of this village’s community.

When Koda saw me troubled, he said, “It is shameful for the family and for Voorhei that we let the dark take them. Tell us where they are, so we can put their zombies to rest. It is not good for them to walk after death.”

Well, at least that’s something I can reassure them about. I’ll just not mention the Red Room. It was where I’d found the uekisheile, and I had a hunch that the room’s other inhabitants, the eilesheile, were valuable.

“I put the family to rest. The place is… hidden.”

Koda gaped, and he wasn’t the only one. Dwilla asked, “You killed Woldec’s zombie? He and his family?”

I nodded grimly. Their shock wasn’t surprising—it’d been a close call, after all. “Yes.”

“Woldec w-was Earth-Touched,” Musastacha said. “Almost dawn. How did you fight him?”

“It was hard. I needed to go close and fight with my knife.”

“A brave seed,” Sheedi said, shaking her head in amazement. “The World Spirit takes, but returns the light to us.”

“A good seed in truth.” Koda turned back to me. “You took Woldec’s silverlight, yes?”

None of the people looked upset at the idea of me taking the zombies’ silverlight, but I still hesitated. Culture was a tricky thing.

Koda seemed to remember I was a child of uncertain background, because he immediately explained: “Silverlight is for family, yes. But when a person is lost to them, others taking the silverlight is allowed. Most important are the light’s return and the dead’s rest.” Koda’s eyes went to the hunting knife on my belt, and I saw him recognize the deer’s antlers engraved into the hilt. “The things on the bodies are a reward. There is no stealing from the lost.”

He closed his eyes, as if to contemplate what he should say next. Surprisingly, the others quieted to wait for him. It gave Billisha a chance to catch up on the words I hadn’t immediately understood. I’d gotten the gist from context, but it helped to have her translation for a better grasp of the connotations.

It was around then that a boy of about eleven or twelve came through the door with a tray. He placed a cup of cool water, a small corn cake, and a bowl of boiled peanuts in front of each person. I glanced at my Status camera, while listening to Billisha.

Huh, two talents. The adults haying in the meadow also had two. Only the guards and those in leadership positions had more.

In the meantime, Koda had opened his eyes and was gazing at me. Nodding to himself, he turned to Dwilla and said, “Voorhei needs Woldec’s light. I ask the land knight for this favor—let Eight pay a smaller tax in exchange for joining the Hunter’s Lodge.”

“I am an adul—”

“Yes, yes,” Koda said. “You are an adult. You choose. It is also possible for you to choose the lodge. There is favor there for you: learning of the land, of skills, and of the paths of the hunter. Our lodge is weaker than before with Woldec and Grunthen gone, but still strong. You want to sell bishkawi hides? The lodge buys. You have trouble in Voorhei? They help. The lodge is like another family. I ask this favor of you: join our Hunter’s Lodge.”

Koda put his hands over his heart and bowed. The air around him was utterly serious and respectful. A thrill of shock seemed to run through the room, but after a moment’s consideration, Dwilla also bowed, quickly followed by Musastacha.

Sheedi drank from her water, adjusted her hair, and then, with a glance toward Koda and a flicker of smile, she gracefully bowed.

Why did the others suddenly give in to Koda’s argument? I didn’t know—the politics were too obtuse, given my limited understanding. Still, a reduced tax rate… that sounded pretty good. And it seemed like Koda understood my desire to protect my autonomy. If I could do that, while also lessening my obligations, that was worth considering. I looked to Billisha and Aluali for their opinions.

“What he said is true: the lodge is another family,” Billisha said. “It is good for people and good for the village. We give to the lodge, but the lodge gives back more.”

“Family is not always good,” Aluali said. “Meet the lodge master first, then choose.”

“What do I give to the lodge if I join?”

“Obligation,” Billisha said. “To train, to protect, to work, to pay. Different obligations for different lodges.”

“You live in the Ithia’s territory,” Dwilla said, “and under Albei’s laws. You have responsibilities. If you join the Hunter’s Lodge, they move there. It represents you to the land knight.”

So, if I joined the Hunter’s Lodge, it’d act as an intermediary between me and the local government? I’d owe more because of the middleman, but that would be offset by a reduction in my taxes. The lodge would also protect me from being exploited and help me improve my skills. That was what it sounded like anyway, assuming the lodge wasn’t the one exploiting me in the government’s stead.

“Billisha is wise. Aluali is wise. I will go to the Hunter’s Lodge to meet its master.”

Koda looked pleased, and he offered to guide us there personally.

The interior of the building occupied by the Hunter’s Lodge was like a hall, the interior musty with the smell of old hides and dried blood. Animal heads were mounted along the walls—deer, elk, foxes, musk oxen, bears, and mountain lions. There were a couple stone butchering tables, with gutters running around their edges to collect blood. For larger game, a couple of hooks descended from the ceiling.

There were crafting stations around the room, as well as an open ring—the kind I imagined you’d replace in a gladiator’s training hall. Toward the back were three doors: two led to small rooms, not much bigger than closets, but the center one was open to the courtyard out back and let a nice cross breeze blow through the place. A trap door in the floor was closed and locked.

The hall was presently empty, except for an older man sitting on a cushion and working at a knee-high desk crammed into the left-hand corner closest to the entrance. His hair was salt and pepper and pulled back into a long tail. His face was lined and weathered, but there was an aliveness to it, the glow of a fire still burning bright.

At our entrance, Inneioleia looked up. A crowd of people had come to visit his lodge, and he stood to greet them. He walked over with a limp, and I saw his left forearm from the elbow down was missing.

“What is this?” Inneioleia asked.

Koda took it upon himself to explain the situation, with Billisha filling in relevant bits of information about me, her zasha.

The lodge master’s eyes were shiny and black. They didn’t look like they missed much, and he glanced my way as he listened. There was curiosity there, and nothing he heard seemed to shock him. He was as steady as the land—I could almost smell it on him—and I was suddenly struck with the feeling of missing mi abuelo. There was something about this Inneioleia that reminded me of him.

When Koda and Billisha were done, I took a breath to settle my heart. “My name is Eight. This is my family, Billisha and Aluali. We live to the west, an eighth-day away. I can—”

As I’d been talking, Inneioleia’s eyes had roved over my gear: the spear and knives, the bow carried by Aluali, the patchwork chain shirt, and the oversized jacket underneath it. “Show me,” he said, interrupting. “Do not tell me.”

He gestured for me to follow, then took me—and the rest of the procession—through the open door at the back. Behind the lodge was a walled courtyard about forty yards long. The ground was hard-packed dirt, and there were racks of wooden practice weapons near the door—spears, unstrung bows, axes, and knives. At the far end, four stacks of hay sat. Each had a cloth painted with a circle on it. There were more work areas too, but it wasn’t immediately obvious to me what they were for.

It made sense that he’d want to learn about my skills, yet I couldn’t help wondering if he was jumping the gun. Sure, Koda’s offer sounded good, but there were still details to work out. The fine print to read. “Before we start, I have questions.”

Inneioleia nodded. “Questions are good, but slow. You show me. I show you. Then we will understand each other faster.”

I looked at my guides. Billisha seemed confused, but Aluali nodded. So, this wasn’t typical behavior, yet it wasn’t bad either.

Well, it would be interesting to see someone skilled in action. Okay, let’s do it. I can still say no afterward. “What first?” I asked.

Inneioleia smiled. “Good. Come here.” He led me to a series of paw and hoof prints carved into the courtyard wall. He started at the top left. “What animal is this?”

It was one I knew. “A turkey.”

“And this?”

“Hmm…” I recognized the print as coming from a coyote—I’d seen plenty on my hikes back in my old world—but didn’t know the Diaksh word. So, I improvised by getting down on all fours and barking, and then gestured with my hands to show the approximate size.

After a pause, Inneioleia nodded. “A coyote, yes.”

Next was a bear—that word I knew—then a fox, and quite a few more after. I didn’t get them all right though—only about sixty percent—and it was a real blow to my ego. I’d thought I knew my tracks better than that.

Each time I got one wrong, Inneioleia corrected me. When he saw I didn’t know the Diaksh word for an animal, he shared the word and followed my example by pretending to be it. He knew their movements incredibly well—the way each held their head, walked, and called to each other. He had an eerie knack for truly becoming them, and I made sure to memorize the details of the animals I didn’t know.

Next came a test for walking silently through the woods. Inneioleia dumped several buckets of forest debris—pine needles, rocks, sticks—onto the ground. There were several buckets available, and apparently the difficulty could be adjusted by changing the mix. It wasn’t too bad at first, but then he kept making it more difficult until it was almost impossible to walk quietly across the clutter. I’m pretty sure I growled in frustration at the end.

The next test involved recognizing smaller and smaller shapes at the far end of the courtyard.

The test after that involved me sprinting back and forth as many times as I could. Then I had to walk across the debris field again while trying to control my breathing.

That was followed by me doing handstands and cartwheels. I also spun in circles for as many revolutions as I could stand. Then, while dizzy and disoriented, I was blindfolded and asked to replace him as he hid in the courtyard.

The tests went on and on, but no one seemed to get bored, least of all me. I’d always been competitive, and I found myself more and more invested in succeeding at these challenges. Each time, the difficulty ramped up until I couldn’t handle it anymore. Then, I asked to retest, because I didn’t like not doing well.

As the tests progressed, Sheedi and Musastacha were called away. People stopped by to consult with Koda. They sat in a half-circle talking business while they watched the proceedings. I saw Billisha and Aluali among them, but I didn’t have any attention to spare to focus on anything other than the tasks assigned to me.

One benefit of the tests was that they provided important clues to what it took to survive as a hunter in this world: strength, endurance, knowledge, and skill. The profession was certainly a multifaceted one, and we weren’t even done yet.

Inneioleia had made me run another set of sprints, and while I was bent over, panting to catch my breath, he threw a practice spear at me. I caught it and immediately dropped into holding the spear. It was instinct now, burned into my muscle memory.

Inneioleia nodded. “Show me.”

I attacked the air with a thrust, then stepped forward and back, doing my best to match the alignment I’d learned. I kept things simple, because that was all I could do. Hopefully, Spear Arts-Sensei won’t be too disappointed.

“Stop,” Inneioleia said. He tossed me a practice knife. “Show me.”

Ugh. I hadn’t yet worked out the finer points of holding the knife, so I demonstrated what I knew of the stance, as well as the cuts and thrusts I’d been practicing. I took a step—

“Stop.” Inneioleia walked over to Aluali and asked for my bow. He brought it to me, along with five arrows.

“Cast the arrows.” He pointed to the targets downrange.

I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore my poor performance with the spear and knife. This, at least, I could do. I strung the bow, nocked an arrow, and took a breath to collect my calm. Another breath, and I raised the bow. As I exhaled, I drew the bow and released.

The arrow flew straight, though it went left off the bullseye. On a modern target, it would’ve been in the eight ring. It was a good shot—a very good shot given the distance and quality of the bow.

I mentally reviewed the just-completed shot cycle and realized that I’d jerked the release a little. I drew the bow and released another arrow. The second shot was better, but still left, almost in the nine ring. The next one overcompensated and went right, hitting the six ring. The fourth went left again, and the fifth right.

All the arrows were tightly clustered except for the one in the six ring. Pleased, I looked over at the lodge master. His head was quirked, like he’d just seen a three-legged pigeon.

“Where did you learn to cast arrows?” Inneioleia asked. “Who trained you in this strange technique?”

My draw was a hybrid of what I’d learned from barebow hunter friends, the classes I’d taken at Portland Community College, and my fifty-dollar-an-hour instructor. What that made me was an instinctive shooter using a modified Olympic form and Mediterranean draw. I knew it was weird to look at, but it worked. At least for me.

Piqued, I said, “I show. I show. I show. Now, you show.”

Inneioleia grinned, and I noted that the old man had all his teeth. He went inside to retrieve a horse bow, a short-ish recurve bow. Instead of the usual place to grip, though, this one had a contraption made of wood, leather, and steel. He fit his left forearm into a padded area at one end, and then strapped the bow tight.

Once the prosthetic was in place, the lodge master casually sent five arrows downrange—each one fast, powerful, and precise. “My left hand is gone, so I only right-side cast.” He gestured for Koda to pick up a bow. “Show him right and left.”

Koda bowed with his hands over his heart. He retrieved another horse bow from the racks nearby and shot his five arrows, while alternating between right and left-handed draws. It looked a lot like Ottoman-style archery, including the wrist flick thing those archers do at the end of their shots. Koda wasn’t nearly as precise or fast as Inneioleia, but it was still a noteworthy effort.

“I do not have the Archery skill,” Koda said, explaining. “It is Militia Arts, a big bucket like the Survival skill. You train in Militia Arts?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Your village is strange. Here in Voorhei, all train in Militia Arts.” Koda turned to Billisha and Aluali and asked, “You train?”

Billisha nodded. “Since when we were five years old. Both of us.”

Inneioleia took off the harness, put down his bow, and retrieved the spear I’d used earlier. He handed it to Billisha. “Show Eight your skill.”

She licked her lips and passed the spear to Aluali. “You are better.”

Aluali blushed. “I do not want to embarrass Zasha.” He tried to pass the spear back to Billisha, but she refused to take it.

“Loyalty is good,” Inneioleia said. “Truth is better. The truth will help your zasha to live.”

When Aluali continued to hesitate, I said, “Come, show me. I am happy to learn from you.”

It was true too. If I’d known that the kids had been taught this Militia Arts skill, I would’ve asked for their help from the beginning. While learning from the various Skill-Sensei was an interesting challenge, I wasn’t a masochist.

Aluali reluctantly got up. His grip on the spear was similar to mine, except that his forward hand rested under the haft instead of to the side. I didn’t think it was a better or worse position, just different. His stance though… somehow it didn’t feel like holding the spear.

He ran through a series of attacking and defending motions. There were stabs, strikes with both the pointed and blunt ends, and parries. The young boy was surprisingly practiced, much better at the spear than me, and I took mental notes during his demonstration, especially on the footwork.

“You see?” Inneioleia asked. “Your foundation with the spear is strong, but what you build upon it is weak. Even your Archery skill: it is good at hitting, but what if you need to run and shoot? To shoot quickly? To shoot behind? Archery is precision, yes, but it is also speed, power, and purpose.”

My nostrils flared at the critique of my shooting. I was happy to learn, sure, but I’d also spent a lot of time practicing the bow. To have all that effort dismissed so easily didn’t sit well with me.

Inneioleia looked at Koda, then back at me. “Our village head tells me you are strong with qi. Show me.”

A part of me wanted to refuse, but I instead chose to use my dismay as fuel—to show up anyone who thought I was incapable and make it clear that I was the best at whatever I set my mind to.

Then I took a breath and put aside both my dismay and ego. While they were potentially useful in the short term—helping me to push ahead—both were ultimately flawed strategies; they put too much power into the hands of others by letting them control me through their criticisms, complaints, and even their flattery. It was better to do what I wanted, to follow my heart for my own reasons.

Really, these were very old lessons from a long life already lived. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to show off a little, right?

I smiled at Inneioleia and flooded my body with qi. My muscles hummed with the energy, and I took off sprinting to the far end of the courtyard and back. I snatched up my bow and enchanted it with qi and nature mana. Then, I drew and released quickly, trusting my instinctive aim. Dropping the bow, I picked up the practice spear and enchanted it as well. After, I thrust, pulled back to cast Cold Snap, and thrust again. Winding down, I dropped back into holding the spear, while throwing some side eye at the lodge master.

Inneioleia laughed, the kind that comes from the belly. “You are daring. This is good. You have heart. A deep well of qi too, but you need to train how to draw on it. Let me show you.” His eyes had been amused, but now they sharpened. It was like looking at a dark night and seeing a glint of moonlight reflected on a knife’s edge.

He picked up the practice spear, and with barely a whisper of a transition he slipped into a one-handed stance. His movements seemed plain and efficient, but they somehow felt right, like they couldn’t be anything besides what they were. And then, when Inneioleia thrust the spear, his qi flared and wound around the haft in a spiral. The air cracked, but the dust on the ground hardly moved.

The movements were a work of art, just about the most beautiful I’d ever seen, and I wasn’t alone either. Billisha and Aluali looked shocked too.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

Inneioleia smiled, almost coy. “For me to tell you, you have to join the Hunter’s Lodge.”

I laughed—I couldn’t help it. The lodge master had read me like a book and known exactly how to lure me in. Well, it wasn’t like I’d been hiding my interest, not with me going full throttle on the tests he’d given me and wanting to show off.

“What do I need to do to join?”

“Pay the fee to become a novice,” Inneioleia said. “Follow the masters when they go into the woods and train with them. Share with the lodge from your hunts. Defend the village when necessary. Add to its strength.”

“And the tax to the land knight would be less?” I asked.

Inneioleia nodded. “So the village head tells me.”

“How often are the hunts? We live far from the village.”

“The hunts are two days every other week. Expect to train with the lodge on the off week.”

So, two out of every ten days spent either hunting or training? That wasn’t too bad. “How much is the fee to join?”

Inneioleia grinned. “For you, one antaak.”

Billisha sputtered; she stood in surprise. The reaction was to be expected—that was over half a year’s wages for a peasant.

Should I have played it more coy after all? “Why so much?” I asked.

“Because you will train in the lodge’s qi and magic skills.” Inneioleia shrugged. “If you do not want to train in them, then it is less—five eltaak.”

My mouth started salivating. “You can train me in qi and magic?”

Inneioleia’s eyes sparkled—he had me on the hook and knew it. “If you are able to train them and your hunting is worthy, one magic rune or one qi method will be given with each step of the lodge’s path: novice, skilled, and master. And there may be more if you make large contributions to the lodge or village.” Inneioleia’s voice became grave. “Each rune and qi method was found, gathered, won, and polished by our ancestors. They are not for the unworthy. The fee is firm. It is a respect given to the ancestors.”

Two days every week? An antaak? They were nothing compared to what was being offered: magic and the means to survive and protect what was important to me. Those were things I’d pay almost any price for.

I looked over to Billisha and Aluali for their guidance.

Aluali nodded. Eventually Billisha did too, although it looked like it pained her to do so.

“I choose,” I said, grinning. “I choose to join the Hunter’s Lodge.”