Chapter 2 The Bounty Hunter
The heat of the mid-morning sun beat down on Kort’s face. He had been walking for two days. The journey by foot would do him good, he had told himself. The passage through the woods had been invigorating. As he had expected, the trek from the merchant city of Dormal was uneventful.
A bounty hunter was not what Kort had expected he’d become one day. It was only by chance that he came upon this profession. The merchants of Dormal all seemed to need men at arms to keep them and their wares safe. When he was hired as a guard for one of the merchants, his talent for keeping a watchful eye served him well. The merchant lord he served had to go on many trips and he was always by his side. Yet unknown to Kort, old rivals of his merchant lord had been plotting to assassinate him. When they were ambushed by a group of hired killers, his skill with a short sword helped him fend off some of them but the rest managed to kill his lord. It was not long before he was able to track down and apprehend one of the men responsible for the killing. But he did not seek vengeance. Instead, he brought the assassin to the magistrate, where an unexpected reward was waiting for him. Word of his deed spread quickly. Wealthy men began seeking his aid in capturing the criminals that plagued the city. And in time, Kort became a skilled bounty hunter of the merchant city of Dormal.
It was almost noon and the heat was becoming less than bearable. He needed to rest. The shade of the trees was inviting. Kort finally sat underneath one large tree and rested his aching legs. He placed his bow on the ground beside him. There was enough of a breeze to make his respite from the journey a comfortable one. One more day and I’ll be home, he thought.
It’s been three years since he left home. Like most folk from his hometown, his father was a fisherman. He could recall his childhood helping his father inside the old fishing boat – one that had been passed down from his grandfather. Each day, they would set out to sea. The time will come my son when this boat will be yours too, he remembered his father telling him. But like his friends, Kort never wanted to be a fisherman. He wished for something more. Back then, he did not yet know what it was. He just felt he had to be free to discover his own path. And so when he came of age, he bid his farewell. He could still remember his father’s face the day he left. Kort knew he had broken his father’s heart.
But as thoughts of home entered his mind, he then recalled the string of murders that plagued the royal city of Arkam. For months now, Kort had been on the trail of a mysterious killer. A series of murders all over the kingdom had caught the attention of the royal magistrate. Yet, no one had ever lived to see the assassin’s face. A reward was posted for the capture of this unknown assassin. The last victim had been in Dormal. Kort’s own investigations into the murders yielded only the method that was used. All the victims were killed with a poisoned dart. There had to be something else linking the murders, he thought. But Kort had to set this aside for now.
He remembered the reason for this unplanned journey home. News of the sudden demise of Durem’s father had reached him a week before. Durem was an old friend and their homes back in Torinth were not far apart and he had spent much of his growing years with him and their other companions. Durem’s father was a respected scholar who had studied in Arkam. Master Omed, he was called. Master Omed welcomed all of Durem’s friends into their home. He told them countless history lessons. His passing was truly unexpected. I shall miss you Master Omed, he said in his thoughts. He wondered how Durem was faring during this time of grief. Kort knew he had to come home. All of his friends would be there. But he expected that it would not be a happy reunion.