8

Upstairs, Iluska was trembling. She hadn't moved from the spot where Dmitri had left her. She was pointing his contraption at the door, but she wasn't even sure that she knew how to make it shoot. She wondered then, if she would be able to do it. Would she have the courage to fire? She didn't know. What she did know was that Dmitri was out there, fighting for her life. He would save her, and her father. She had no doubt.
Until she heard the scream. It was short, followed by a gurgling sound. Her mind was filled with nightmarish visions. She imagined Dmitri's distorted, burnt form, tossed on the fire like deadwood. She envisioned him spread out on one of the tables, being sliced apart by faceless maniacs. She didn't even want to think of her father!
She wanted to move, to go down and save them herself, but she was paralysed with fear. Petrified by the unseen horrors below. Her heart was thumping, and she was soaked with sweat. But her father was down there! She had to go!
She had made her decision. She would go. She kept the crossbow pointed at the door and willed herself to move. Her legs felt like lead. Try as she might, she could not lift them. With an iron determination, a will born of terror, she slid her feet slowly along the wooden floor. Teeth tightly clenched, she pointed the bow at the door and edged forward.

7

The hunter stood in the hallway, his prey completely unaware of him. Bare foot and breathless, the hunter glides silently toward his witless prey. Looking down to the great hall, the senseless sentry felt a breath on his neck, as his he quietly quit this world, the victim of his own incompetence, and a slit throat.
Dmitri dragged the corpse of the man back from the stairs and into an empty room. He took the man's iron helmet, which was a loose fit, but would afford a little protection. The man had carried a short sword, but no shield. Dmitri considered taking the sword, but he was unfamiliar with the weapon, and a machete was infinitely more useful.
he element of surprise was still his, and it would stay that way, so long as he acted quickly. Slipping out to the hallway once again, he lay on the floor, and edged toward the steps. Making himself as invisible as possible, he looked over the next of his quarry.
The hunter stalked. The roar of the fire masked any creaking that the stair may have made and, like a whisper in the wind, the predator descended. Too late, his prey came to life, sword unsheathing. Turning to see his reaper, he felt the final agony as his tendon was cut beneath his shoulder, rendering his sword arm useless. He discovered in his last breath that a scream could make no sound when the trachea is severed. The hunter, smeared with blood, left the carcass to lie.
Surprise would not last much longer, and as he looked out into the great hall, he saw his way blocked by three goons. Swiftly, silently, he grasped the sword his last victim had relinquished and launched it toward the nearest man's neck. The hunter became the hunted, as he backed against the wall. Seeing their comrade skewered, the thugs swept after his murderer.
Coming to the stairs, they saw their sentry, his crimson blood pooling around him. For one of them, it was the last sight he ever saw, as his blood soon mixed with that of his late companion. For the other, a far more fearsome sight awaited. The tremendous image of Dmitri the hunter, doused in the spilled vital fluid of his gang mates. A cry escaped his lips as this stark vision came to life.

6

"Dmitri!" a hoarse whisper. Startled, he lay still, letting the water run past his eyes.
"Dmitri!" he heard it again, urgent, desperate. He rinsed the soap from his face, pushing his hair back. Opening his eyes a fraction too soon, the soapy water stung and his vision was impaired as he looked to where the voice had come from.
"Dmitri!" gasped a dark shape, low to the ground "Dmitri, you have to help!" His vision started to clear, and he saw that it was a woman who was before him, a shapely one. She was crouched and obviously scared. Finally he saw, it was -
"Iluska?"
"Shhh. Be quiet!" she pleaded, "Of course it's me!"
"Iluska, what are you doing here?" he demanded.
"Dmitri, be quiet!" she begged "Please, Dmitri! Dmitri, they're HERE!" Iluska's tone spooked Dmitri, and at last he saw her shaking with fear. A hunter knew how to keep quiet, and there'd be time for questions later. There seemed to be little choice. He got up out of the bath as quietly as he could, and moved to his crossbow. He loaded it and handed it to Iluska. He put his finger to his lips, gesturing her to keep quiet.
"Stay here" when he spoke, it was in a low voice, and she had to strain to hear him. "If anyone comes through that door, shoot them - here." He pointed to his throat and she nodded. It was only just now that she realised that he was still naked. A slight blush came to her cheeks, but he didn't notice it, as he was already moving toward his blades. One in each hand, he slipped out of the door, noiselessly.

5

Dmitri needed his weapons. They were his livelihood. He carried a crossbow. It was small, but packed enough punch to take down a wolf or deer with a well aimed shot. Crossbows weren't common, however, and bolts were hard to come by, so whenever he used one, he'd do his utmost to retrieve it. Also, carrying bolts could be cumbersome, so he'd never carry more than twenty. He only had five left at the moment.
He mostly set traps to catch his prey. For this, he carried a machete, for chopping, and a smaller, sharper knife, for more delicate cutting. Every few months, his machete would break. Sometimes the blade would chip, and become blunt. Other times it would bend. Just occasionally, the blade would separate from the hilt. He had even lost a few to greedy innkeepers. Blacksmiths usually sold them cheaply, in any case, as they were so widely used.
His other knife was far more reliable. It had a short blade, just longer than the width of his hand, which he kept razor sharp. the handle was fashioned from the horn of a reindeer, carved to the shape of his hand, and with a slight lip where the blade entered it. It was not really a weapon, but had gotten him out of a few jams in the past. He'd never part with it, and if he was asked to stow his weapons, he'd tell innkeepers or guards that he shaved with it.
Vlad hadn't ever asked him to stow his weapons, although Dmitri had noticed him asking some others. Dmitri suspected that he had some experience with weapons, as he handled them like a professional. He'd shown some interest in Dmitri's crossbow, but it had passed. Now, however, lying in this warm bath, Dmitri wondered where the innkeeper had gotten his experience.
Perhaps he had been a soldier. Some men had been pressed into service because of the threat from the south. Insane King Igor had believed that an invasion was imminent. When he died, his son King Marek had taken the throne and sent home most of his father's conscripts. What Vlad had, however, was more than mere drill training.
As a mercenary, Vlad would have had to use a weapon. There was work for mercenaries, noblemen often had quarrels, and maintaining an army during peacetime was expensive. That might have been it, but it was unusual for a mercenary to have a family.
Bandits and cut-throats also had weapons experience, but Dmitri didn't think Vlad was that type of man. It was all speculation, however, so Dmitri decided to forget about it. He dunked his head under the water and rubbed the ground in dirt off of his face.
His head was still under the water when the door was opened quietly. He didn't notice as someone slipped into the room, and was totally unaware of their passage toward the tub. His instincts didn't tell him that he was in danger. Eyes closed, he brought his head out of the water and breathed.

4

Dmitri left the butcher's shop, having sold him the deer carcass. As usual, Gleb had refused to pay the going rate for the deer, but Dmitri's mind was wandering the whole time. He was leaving the valley, he had decided, but somehow felt that he had unfinished business here. He couldn't think of what was holding him back, but as he walked through the town towards the inn, he continued to have doubts.
As he reached the inn, he looked behind him. He felt instinct tell him that the was something amiss, but decided that there could be nothing here in town big enough to warrant investigation. Besides, he hadn't felt right since making his decision to leave the valley. This was probably just another symptom.
"Vlad!" he called, as he walked into the inn, "Is my bath ready?"
"Should be, Dmitri!" Vladimir responded from what sounded like the kitchen. "Iluska's upstairs, she was heating your water."
"Thanks!" Dmitri shouted as he walked through the inn's great hall. As he passed the roaring fireplace, he remembered lying, teeth chattering, before the fire. He was pleased that the inn was quiet, as he'd have more time to himself with Iluska. He took the stairs two by two, and crept into the fire lit room where Iluska usually placed his bath.
Iluska was there, pouring water from into the large iron tub. Her black hair was matted to her head and back, and the room was filled with steam. Dmitri admired her shapely behind, and contemplated his next move. His original intention was to surprise her by sneaking up behind her, but he wasn't sure how she'd react. Instead, he crept back out of the room and knocked the door.
"Oh!" gasped Iluska, as if awoken from a daydream, "you startled me." Dmitri suppressed a smile,
"Sorry, your father told me that my bath would be ready."
"And so it is, I was just keeping it warm for you." Iluska flashed him a wondrous smile. For a moment, Dmitri's heart was in her hands, and she could have asked the world of him. In that moment, he knew where his unfinished business was. He was entranced, until her voice broke the spell.
"I'll go down and start dinner. Salmon OK?"
"Anything but veal." Dmitri winced, remembering Greb's poor price. Iluska laughed, an intoxicating sound to Dmitri, and drifted off through the steam.

3

"Dmitri the hunter is in town," Vladimir told his daughter, "according to Artur, he came through the gate this morning."
"I'd better heat some water then," she replied, "Unless you want him to jump into the lake again."
"That was three years ago!" he complained, "Will you not let it lie?"
"Four," Ileska informed him, curtly, "And no." She strode off, purposefully.
As soon as she was out of her father's sight, she stopped. Her heart was beating faster, and not because of her strides. She always got excited when Dmitri came to the inn. On that spring day, when she put the tablecloths around those strong shoulders, she felt a shiver.
When she sat him before the fire she was about to tell him to take his wet clothes off, but when her heart gave a flutter she knew she could not trust herself. For the rest of that night she found herself watching him, and she constantly made excuses to go and speak to him, like apologising for her half-witted father.
When he left, she'd thought he'd never come back, that her idiot father had chased him off, or worse, that she herself had scared him off. As the days passed, she cursed her bad luck, deciding never again to act so desperate. After two weeks, she had all but pushed Dmitri from her mind, when she heard her father say
"Oh no. You're not bringing that carcass in here." He was blocking the doorway, so she couldn't see who he was talking to. She wanted desperately to believe that it was him though.
"I thought you'd like some free meat," It was him "by way of apology for last time." She was about to run to the door, but suddenly remembered her vow. She didn't want to look like a busybody, so she waited.
"Sorry, hunter." Vladimir responded, shaking his head, "We buy all of our meat from Gleb the Butcher. If he were to stop selling us meat, we'd go broke."
"Gleb's a cheat," Dmitri warned "He doesn't pay a fair price for his meat, and I bet you pay over the odds, too"
"He's the only butcher in town. I can still turn a profit even with his cheating. Go sell it to him. You'll not make anything by giving it away, anyway."
"Your loss, innkeeper." Dmitri shrugged. As he turned to walk away, Iluska's heart sank once again, thinking that her fool of a father had chased him off for good. Then Dmitri called over his shoulder, "I'll be back within the hour. I could use a warm bed for tonight." Vladimir watched his daughter's eyes light up, and her shoulders straighten. He looked down at his ledger, before she spotted him looking and said "You'd better heat some water, he'll have to bathe or he'll stink up the whole place."

2

He had been around the little town of Gorentsk for two moons already. Here he could get a good price for his wolf pelts from the local fur traders, but the butcher was a scoundrel, and he'd have to haggle over the big deer he had killed earlier today.
He was looking forward to spending some time at the inn which faced out onto the lake. It was a beautiful spot all year round, but in the autumn, it took on an orange-red cast, as it reflected the hues of the nearby Juniper and Birch trees. The foothills of Gornah Ceph Range were visible in the distance behind the lake. His favourite thing about the inn, however, was Iluska.
Iluska, oh Iluska. She was the innkeeper's daughter. On busy days, her pale, dainty hands could be seen carrying drinks to the patrons, and Dmitri would be mesmerised by her curves and lines. Her jet black hair contrasted delightfully with her lightly coloured skin. She cleaned the rooms in the early afternoon, and he would sometimes wait until she knocked, just to see her. When it was not too busy, she would cook. She was a wonderful cook, and she had been teaching him how to make simple meals taste better, using herbs that were readily available in the wild lands. He loved their time together, and sometime found himself making excuses not to go out on the hunt, just to stay for a few days longer.
Iluska and Vladimir, her father, would not let him into the inn with his wares, however. They held their noses, saying "How can you stand the stench!". In fact, he recalled the first time he come to the inn, in early spring four years previous. Vladimir had begged him to bathe before he came into the hall.
"I have a business to run! I can't afford to loose any guests!" he pleaded. Dmitri thought it a grave insult, as he'd grown accustomed to the stench he had carried around with him.
"You'll not make money by turning away customers, old man," Dmitri accused, he turned and ran to the lake and dove in. He immediately regretted his impulsive decision. There was still patches of ice on the water, which had been thawing after a long, cold winter.
It was then that he beheld Iluska for the first time. She had grabbed two tablecloths, and was running down the path toward the freezing water, cursing at her father who had sent this stranger to his doom in the lake. When she got close to where Dmitri had dove in, she turned running down a path to the where the lake shallowed to the water's edge.
"Come out of there before you catch your death!" she cried, her breast heaving as she struggled to regain her breath. Watching those heaving breasts, Dmitri felt the warmth return to him, but knew this to be an illusion when he heard his teeth chatter. He swam to her and, shivering, began to climb out of the water.
"Th-th-th, th-th-th" he stuttered.
"Quiet now," breathed Iluska, cutting off his thanks as she wrapped the tablecloths around him, "we'll have you warm and dry in no time."
He spent the rest of the day lying before the great fireplace in the hall, where Iluska served him with soup and apologised repeatedly for her father's bad manners. Since then, Vladimir had always welcomed Dmitri at the inn, but had insisted that he take him up on the offer of a free heated bath before eating.
So, Dmitri had to off his load of furs and meat before supper time, or he would miss Iluska's cooking lesson.
"Might as well get this over with" he sighed. Bracing himself for the obstinate butcher's impudent first offer, and his perverse, degenerate wit, Dmitri hauled his sled into Gorentsk.