Something was buried in the dirt, in between the skulls. It twinkled in the moonlight, but he wasn't looking.
He was a strong man, with thick arms and a huge torso. His hair was long and wild, his beard overgrown. They helped hide the tears on his face. He wore only a dark dhoti, tied firm around his loins and thighs. On his back was a quiver, one almost full.
The woman crept towards him, dressed in black. Leaf shadows danced across her face. She was grim, and beautiful. The man, however, did not notice her, not until she kept a gentle hand on his shoulder. The sleeve slipped back, revealing tattoos.
Dhananjay,' she whispered. 'What is it?' She saw a tear glimmer in the moonlight, a single one `They were children, Era,' the man spoke in his voice of stone.
She caught the teardrop on a finger, brushed it off his cheek. 'My love . .
`They were eaten,' the man said. He removed her hand delicately and crouched among the bones. There were many, too many. Slowly, his gnarled hand reached out, moving them. Turning them about in the moonlight. Scratching the ground beneath. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Era watched the hunter awaken in her husband. He was observing the teeth marks on the bones, the loose scale caught in the tree branch, the vile smelling refuse. His sorrow was still there, very much so, but the hunter could always play his part. She smiled briefly, despite the horrific setting, the skulls in the pale light. She loved him for so many reasons.
`I should perform the last rites,' Era said. 'No one wants a hundred children haunting this forest.'
Dhananjay nodded. Era opened her book and started whispering. He looked at the grass, a dry red, and he mourned the children. Era and he had been late. Once again. It was the same creature. The marks and signs, the very same. When Era was done, he told her as much.
`It's eating children now,' she said. 'Demons go on that kind of a diet when they reach their third stage. The stomach is too volatile for anything else.'
`The third stage,' Dhananjay repeated. 'You forget I know little about Demons. When I see one, I simply kill it.'
`Demons have three stages of power,' Era explained. It takes centuries for them to reach the second stage. The third takes even longer. Whatever it is, it's ancient: And it just became an Elder Demon.'
`I'm going to force-feed the creature its own intestines,' Dhananjay said in a low voice. Era shook her head. 'We must reconsider this hunt, my love.' `Why?' `I'm not sure even the both of us can kill an Elder.'
Dhananjay did not speak. His will was sapped, yet he felt rage. He looked away from his cowardly wife. He would look at anything but her. A twinkle, amidst the dirt. An object, half buried, peeking. He reached for it. It was a small figurine, a little man made of metal, the size of his forefinger, but heavy. His eyes scanned the inscriptions along the thick base: Ekt el ha Vishn us ah Keeper. `Why does it say Keeper?' He handed the figurine to Era.
`Old magic,' she said, examining it. 'Have you heard of the Keeper of Souls? It seems this is one of the fabled Keeper Pieces.'
`I have heard stories of the Keeper. What does it do, this piece?'
`It is part of a doomsday prophecy. There is something in the books of the Eyeless Ones, a mention. It is called the Game. The Keeper Pieces are a part of it.'
`It still carries the Demon's scent,' Dhananjay said.
`I do not know why an Elder Demon would have a Keeper Piece in its possession,' Era said. Tut it has something to do with the Apocalypse, and it cannot be good.' `All the more reason to end it.
' They took a moment to pay their respects to the dead, and then made their way back to their camp. As they stepped through the protective circle, Dhananjay urged Era to sleep in the tent. He had things on his mind. He knew he would not sleep that night. The Tantric opened her mouth to say something, but then silently entered the tent instead.
Dhananjay made arrows by the fire. A Demon of Shadow, he thought. That was all they knew about it. And that it was probably an Elder now. It was impossible to track a Demon of Shadow by night; they left virtually no tracks. It was the sun that caused them to make mistakes, it was the sun he waited for. First light and he would be off, Era or no Era. He hated her right now; he chose to not think about her.
He thought of Wodan. His son was home, so far away. He hoped Era's familiar would look after him as well as she had promised. The child did not know fear, father's blood. And he loved the books; he immersed himself in them all the time. So young and already calling spirits. Good with the sword too. Dhananjay smiled. Wodan was going to grow up a fine lad, better than the both of them. He abruptly thought of the eaten children and the smile left him. They weren't going to grow up at all.
`I'm going to kill you, Demon,' he whispered. Something moved in the trees. Dhananjay stood up instantly, having sensed it. His right hand was outstretched, his bow had materialised. He nocked an arrow and looked around the clearing, at the circle of trees. Nothing. He called upon Sight and Smell, and his eyes ebbed blue, his nostrils flared. Nothing to be seen save the trees, but there was a smell, a strange smell. Not the corpse he had somehow been smelling since days, that mysterious dead body stink always following him, he could always smell that, but something else. He spun around and saw a branch quivering on the other side.
`Oh I hope it's you,' he rumbled. Dhananjay hated the protective circle. Era always drew one, and she would not listen. Whatever this creature was, it could not enter. It made the whole thing too easy, took away the thrill. Right now he knew he could not be touched, and that made him feel old, like he needed a crutch.
A whisper emerged out of the darkness. A dry voice, piercing. `I come in peace, Hunter.'
`It does not matter, killer of children,' Dhananjay said. 'You court death.'
`I am not the one you hunt,' the voice said. 'I am merely a messenger.'
Dhananjay lowered the bow and sat back down. The creature knew he would not harm a messenger. It knew the rules of the hunt, and that it was being hunted. It knew him. He looked at the fire for a few seconds as the bow disappeared. Then he looked up. It had stepped out of the trees, dark, humanoid, bat-like wings, smooth glass-like skin. Demon.
He started making arrows again. 'What are you called?' he asked, knowing the Demon wouldn't surrender its name so easily. `Chhaya,' it said, approaching slowly. `And who is your master, the one I hunt?'
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