9. The hunters trap

Chapter Nine: The Hunter's Trap

Dawn broke over the jagged cliffs, the sun's pale light painting the landscape in muted hues of gold and grey. Marvis and Elias descended cautiously, the rocky path narrow and treacherous. Below them, a river snaked through the valley, its waters glinting like molten silver.

"We'll follow the river," Elias said, his voice steady despite the strain of the climb. "It'll lead us to the village of Darrow's Hollow. We can resupply there."

Marvis nodded, his breath coming in short bursts as he navigated the uneven terrain. The journey was grueling, but he welcomed the distraction. Anything to keep his mind off the growing sense of dread that had taken root in his chest.

By the time they reached the valley floor, the sun was high overhead. The air was warmer here, thick with the scent of wildflowers and damp earth. The river rushed beside them, its current strong and unrelenting.

Elias paused to refill their water flasks, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. "Keep an eye out," he said, his tone low. "We're exposed here."

Marvis nodded, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his dagger. The memory of the beast in the forest was still fresh, and he knew better than to let his guard down.

---

They followed the river for hours, the sound of rushing water a constant companion. As the sun dipped toward the horizon, the silhouette of a village came into view. Darrow's Hollow was small and unassuming, its wooden buildings nestled snugly against the base of a steep hill.

Elias led the way, his posture tense as they entered the village. The streets were quiet, the air thick with an unsettling stillness.

"Something's wrong," Elias murmured, his eyes narrowing.

Marvis glanced around, his unease growing. The windows of the houses were shuttered, and the few villagers they saw hurried past without so much as a glance.

"Do you think they know who we are?" Marvis asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's possible," Elias said. "Stay close."

They approached the village inn, its wooden sign creaking in the breeze. Inside, the common room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of stale ale and smoke.

The innkeeper, a stout man with a thick beard, eyed them warily. "Travelers?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"We're passing through," Elias said smoothly. "We'll need a room and some supplies."

The innkeeper hesitated, his gaze lingering on Marvis for a moment too long. Then he nodded. "Room's upstairs. Last one on the left."

Elias tossed a few coins onto the counter. "Thank you."

As they climbed the narrow staircase, Marvis couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.

---

The room was small and sparsely furnished, but it was clean. Marvis set his pack down by the bed, his nerves on edge.

"What do you think is going on here?" he asked, his voice low.

Elias closed the door behind them, his expression grim. "Something's not right. The villagers are scared. They're hiding from something—or someone."

Marvis frowned, his fingers brushing against the key in his pocket. "Do you think the Council's agents are here?"

"It's possible," Elias said. "But we don't have enough information to be sure."

A sudden noise from outside made them both freeze—a sharp, echoing clang, like metal striking stone.

Elias drew his sword, his movements swift and silent. "Stay here," he said, his voice firm.

"No," Marvis said, his own dagger already in hand. "I'm coming with you."

Elias hesitated, then nodded. "Stay close."

---

They moved through the inn with practiced stealth, their steps muffled against the wooden floorboards. Outside, the streets were deserted, the fading light casting long shadows over the village.

The noise came again, louder this time, drawing them toward the edge of the village. As they rounded a corner, they saw the source of the commotion—a group of men in dark cloaks, their faces obscured by hoods.

At the center of the group was a tall figure clad in black armor, a wicked-looking blade strapped to his back. His presence exuded menace, the air around him seeming to hum with barely contained power.

"The Hunter," Elias muttered, his voice tight with anger.

Marvis's blood ran cold. He'd heard stories of the Council's Hunters—elite assassins trained to track and eliminate their enemies. But seeing one in the flesh was far more terrifying than he could have imagined.

"What do we do?" Marvis whispered, his heart pounding.

Elias's jaw tightened. "We can't fight them head-on. Not here. We need to slip past them and get out of the village."

Marvis nodded, though the thought of facing the Hunter made his stomach churn.

---

They moved cautiously, sticking to the shadows as they circled around the group. The Hunter's voice carried through the night, low and commanding.

"Find them," he said. "They're here. I can feel it."

Marvis's breath hitched, and Elias shot him a warning look. They pressed on, their movements slow and deliberate.

But as they neared the edge of the village, a shout rang out behind them.

"There! Over there!"

Marvis's heart leapt into his throat as the cloaked figures turned toward them, their weapons gleaming in the dim light.

"Run!" Elias barked, grabbing Marvis's arm and pulling him into a sprint.

They raced through the village, the sound of pursuit close behind. Marvis's lungs burned, and his legs screamed in protest, but he didn't dare slow down.

As they reached the outskirts of the village, Elias skidded to a halt, his sword drawn.

"Keep going," he said, his voice firm.

Marvis shook his head, his grip on his dagger tightening. "I'm not leaving you."

"Marvis, go!" Elias shouted, his eyes blazing with frustration.

Before Marvis could respond, the Hunter emerged from the shadows, his blade gleaming like liquid fire.

Elias stepped forward, placing himself between Marvis and the Hunter. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice low and steady.

Marvis's heart pounded as the two men squared off, the air crackling with tension.

This wasn't over—not by a long shot.