CASSIAN AND THE INFINITE THRONE

CASSIAN AND THE INFINITE THRONE

Volume 1: The Frontier Years

Chapter 14: The Silent Hunter

Sir Roland Ashcombe disliked uncertainty.

The feeling had little to do with fear and everything to do with experience. During his years as a knight, uncertainty had killed more men than monsters ever had. A monster was dangerous because it possessed claws, fangs, strength, and instinct. Uncertainty was dangerous because it concealed information. It created blind spots. It encouraged mistakes. Most importantly, it convinced people they understood situations they actually did not.

The Ironclaw had become uncertainty given form. Four days had passed since the expedition left Frostwood. Four days of tracking. Four days of searching. Four days of discovering signs that seemed to lead somewhere before vanishing entirely.

The creature left evidence of its existence everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Broken trees appeared along one route. Claw marks appeared along another. A partially consumed carcass suggested recent feeding. Then the trail disappeared before reappearing miles away in a direction that made little sense. The pattern repeated often enough that Roland’s patience had begun wearing thin.

That alone troubled him. Patience was one of his strengths.

The forest stretched endlessly around them, illuminated by pale morning sunlight filtering through the canopy above. Birds sang from distant branches. Insects moved through undergrowth. Wind carried the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. To an untrained eye, the wilderness appeared peaceful.

Roland knew better. Forests became quiet for reasons. A hand signal passed through the expedition. The column stopped.

Six soldiers immediately formed a loose defensive perimeter. Gareth and Rowan moved toward the front where one of the scouts crouched near the ground. Cedric adjusted the strap of his satchel and followed without complaint. Marcus had remained behind in Frostwood, leaving command entirely in Roland’s hands.

The knight approached slowly. “What did you find?” he asked.

The soldier pointed toward the earth.

Roland looked. Then looked again.

For several moments, nobody spoke.

The impression pressed deeply into a patch of damp soil beside an exposed root system. At first glance, it resembled the track of an enormous feline. The second glance destroyed that illusion. No natural feline could possibly leave something that large.

Rowan was the first to move. The veteran hunter crouched beside the track and placed his hand inside the impression. A strange expression crossed his face. Not fear. Disbelief.

His weathered hand looked absurdly small against the massive print.

Roland watched carefully.

Rowan rarely showed emotion. The hunter spent decades surviving wilderness that killed less cautious men. If something managed to surprise him, it deserved attention.

“What is it?” Gareth asked.

Rowan kept staring. Then he slowly stood. “I don’t like it.”

That answer immediately attracted everyone’s attention.

Roland folded his arms.

“What do you mean? Explain youself.”

Rowan glanced toward the track again.

“When we fought it before, it was large.”

Nobody argued. Every survivor remembered that much.

The original reports already described a monster unlike anything Frostwood had encountered.

“But?” The single word left Roland’s mouth quietly.

Rowan exhaled. “But I don’t remember it being this large.”

Silence followed. Not because people dismissed the statement. Because several faces revealed they were thinking the same thing.

Gareth stepped closer. The hunter examined the impression for nearly half a minute.

His expression darkened. “Damn it.”

Roland immediately noticed the reaction. “You too?”

Gareth nodded slowly. The movement lacked certainty.

That made it more convincing.

“I thought memory was playing tricks on me.” His eyes remained fixed on the track. “Maybe it still is.”

The hunter rubbed his beard. “But when it attacked us…” He hesitated.

Roland allowed him time.

“…I swear it wasn’t this big.”

The surrounding forest suddenly felt less welcoming. Not because of the track itself.

Because Gareth and Rowan reached the same conclusion independently.

Experienced men noticed patterns. Experienced men trusted those patterns.

Neither hunter seemed eager to voice the possibility. Yet both had arrived there anyway.

Cedric finally stepped forward.

The mage examined the print without touching it. “Combat distorts perception.”

The statement sounded reasonable.

“Size estimates become unreliable during life-threatening encounters.”

Nobody argued. The explanation made sense.

Unfortunately, it did not completely solve the problem.

Roland looked at the track again. Then measured it against the scout standing nearby.

The print was enormous. Not merely large. Enormous.

The width approached the breadth of a grown man’s torso.

The claw impressions alone looked capable of disemboweling someone in a single strike.

A quiet voice spoke from behind.

One of the younger soldiers. “That’s impossible.”

Nobody corrected him. Because everyone understood what he meant.

If the track accurately reflected the creature’s size, the Ironclaw was far larger than any report suggested.

Roland’s gaze shifted toward the surrounding forest.

For the first time since accepting the mission, he began wondering whether Lord Marwick’s intelligence had underestimated the threat.

That thought irritated him. Not because mistakes were unusual. Because such mistakes killed people. The expedition resumed movement shortly afterward.

The discovery changed the atmosphere immediately. Conversations became shorter. Jokes disappeared.

Every hunter paid closer attention to the terrain.

Roland noticed soldiers scanning tree lines more frequently than before. Nobody required orders. Professional instincts handled the matter naturally.

The Ironclaw felt closer now. Not physically. Mentally.

The track transformed the creature from an idea into something real.

Something massive. Something that could actually exist somewhere beyond the next ridge.

Several hours later, Cedric requested a halt.

Roland granted it immediately.

The mage selected a relatively clear patch of ground and began unpacking tools from his satchel. Small metal rods. A circular brass plate engraved with symbols. Several crystals containing faint traces of mana.

The soldiers stepped back. Hunters watched with obvious curiosity.

Roland observed quietly. Traditional magic fascinated most people.

Professional monster hunting required understanding it.

Cedric positioned the brass plate on the ground. Then closed his eyes. Internal mana stirred visibly beneath the mage’s skin.

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Roland could not perceive mana directly, but years of experience taught him how spell preparation looked.

The change in posture. The controlled breathing. The concentration.

A moment later, the chant began. Ancient words flowed from Cedric’s mouth with deliberate rhythm.

The language sounded unfamiliar even after several days of exposure. Each syllable seemed carefully chosen. Mana gathered gradually while the spell structure formed.

Nobody interrupted. Even birds appeared strangely quiet.

Several seconds passed. Then several more.

The engraved symbols upon the brass plate began glowing faintly. The light strengthened.

Mana flowed through the device.

Cedric’s voice never faltered. Finally, the chant ended.

The brass plate responded immediately.

A narrow stream of pale blue light extended outward before curving toward the southwest.

Roland narrowed his eyes. “What do you have?”

Cedric stared at the glowing line. “Confirmation.”

The mage sounded unhappy. That alone caught Roland’s attention.

Cedric continued. “The creature passed through this region.”

“How recently?”

The answer arrived after a brief pause. “Recent enough.”

Not a reassuring response.

Roland noticed the mage studying the light carefully. “What else?”

Cedric looked directly at him. “Hmm…The trail changes direction repeatedly.”

Roland frowned. “What do you mean?”

Cedric slowly stood. “Meaning this route makes no sense.”

Several hunters exchanged glances.

Rowan immediately stepped closer. “What are you implying?”

Cedric pointed toward the glowing trail. “If the creature was merely traveling, it wasted energy.”

Another point. “It doubled back.”

Another. “It crossed previous routes.”

Then another. “It abandoned favorable terrain multiple times.”

The mage folded his arms. “A wandering beast might behave this way. If looked at only one section of the trail, I could explain it as animal behavior”.

Nobody liked where the conversation was heading.

“A monster?”

Cedric shook his head. “No. This goes beyond even what I expect from most intelligent monsters”.

Roland felt the same conclusion forming inside his mind.

The Ironclaw wasn’t moving randomly. It wasn’t fleeing. It wasn’t wandering. It was choosing.

The distinction mattered. A great deal.

The expedition continued moving southwest. By late afternoon, they found the carcass.

One of the soldiers discovered it first. The man’s shout brought everyone running.

Roland reached the scene moments later. Then stopped.

The remains belonged to a massive deer-like magical beast. Or at least they had. Most of the creature no longer existed.

The body looked as though something had ripped it apart rather than killed it. Flesh, bone, and armor-like hide lay scattered across a wide area. Several ribs had been crushed completely.

Fresh blood still coated the ground. Gareth crouched beside the remains. His expression became grim immediately. “Hours.”

Roland looked toward him. “No more than that.”

Rowan arrived at the same conclusion moments later.

Cedric knelt beside the carcass. Mana detection required no lengthy ritual this time.

The answer appeared obvious. “The Ironclaw did this.”

Nobody doubted it. The bite marks alone removed all uncertainty. They were enormous. Far larger than anything the hunters remembered.

Roland slowly rose. The forest suddenly felt different. Not because the creature had appeared.

Because it was close. Very close. The magical beast had died recently. Which meant the predator responsible remained somewhere nearby.

Watching. Waiting. Perhaps even observing them at this very moment.

Roland’s hand settled upon the hilt of his sword.

The movement happened instinctively. His gaze swept across the surrounding trees. Nothing. No movement. No sound. No sign of danger.

The absence bothered him more than any roar could have. “Weapons ready.”

Nobody questioned the order. Steel emerged from scabbards. Bows were unstrung and prepared.

Cedric’s expression hardened.

Even Rowan looked uneasy.

Roland studied the forest one final time.

Then quietly voiced the conclusion everyone already understood. “It’s close.”

Nobody suggested making camp. The idea never even entered the conversation. The fresh carcass changed everything.

Roland had participated in enough hunts to understand what the remains actually meant. A predator that killed hours ago had not traveled far. Even the largest monsters preferred conserving energy whenever possible. The Ironclaw might continue moving, but it would not sprint through the wilderness for no reason. Every instinct developed through years of monster hunting told him the same thing.

The creature was nearby. Very nearby.

The expedition advanced at half its previous speed.

Weapons remained ready. Conversations became quieter. Even the soldiers altered their movements unconsciously. Earlier that morning, they had traveled like hunters pursuing dangerous prey. Now they moved like men entering hostile territory. The distinction seemed small from a distance, yet Roland noticed it immediately. Professional soldiers recognized danger long before they consciously admitted it.

The forest gradually changed around them.

At first, Roland struggled to identify what bothered him. The terrain remained similar. Massive trees continued stretching overhead. Thick undergrowth still covered the ground between roots and fallen logs. Wind occasionally stirred the canopy above. Nothing obvious appeared wrong.

Then Rowan stopped walking. The veteran hunter raised a hand.

Everyone froze.

Roland immediately moved toward him. “What is it?”

Rowan remained silent for several moments.

His eyes swept across the surrounding wilderness.

Finally, he spoke. “The birds.”

Roland listened. Nothing.

That realization struck him immediately.

Nothing. No chirping. No distant calls.

No movement among branches.

The silence felt unnatural once noticed.

Gareth slowly turned in place. His expression darkened. “Damn.”

Now he heard it too.

A healthy forest produced noise. Birds argued constantly. Small animals moved through brush. Insects filled the air with subtle sounds. The wilderness rarely became completely silent.

Unless something convinced everything else to leave.

One of the younger soldiers swallowed visibly. “You think it’s here?”

Rowan never looked away from the trees. “I think everything else thinks it’s here.”

Nobody laughed. Nobody even attempted a joke.

Roland’s grip tightened slightly around his sword.

The observation matched his own experience. Predators influenced their surroundings. Ordinary wolves could alter animal behavior within a region. Larger magical beasts produced even stronger effects.

What kind of silence would a creature like Ironclaw create?

The answer unsettled him. They continued moving.

The defensive formation tightened naturally. Soldiers remained closer together. Gareth and Rowan alternated positions near the front. Cedric stayed protected near the center where he could cast without interruption if necessary.

An hour passed. Then another. Nothing attacked. Nothing appeared.

The absence felt worse with every passing minute. Roland had always preferred visible threats. Visible threats could be measured. Invisible threats forced imagination to fill the gaps.

A shout suddenly echoed through the forest. “Sir Roland!”

Everyone pivoted instantly. One of the scouts stood atop a rocky incline overlooking a narrow section of woodland.

The knight reached him first. “What did you find?”

The soldier pointed.

At first, Roland saw nothing unusual. Then he looked closer.

Several branches had been broken intentionally. Not snapped through force. Broken in specific locations. Beneath them, vegetation had been flattened repeatedly. The position overlooked a long stretch of terrain the expedition crossed earlier that day.

Roland’s expression hardened. Someone had spent time there.

Watching.

Rowan arrived seconds later. The hunter examined the location carefully. His jaw tightened. “I don’t like this.”

Cedric climbed the incline behind them. The mage studied the flattened vegetation. Then the broken branches. Then the view.

Understanding appeared almost immediately. “It’s an observation point.”

Nobody disputed the conclusion. The location was perfect. Concealed. Elevated. Excellent visibility. Protected routes for approach and retreat.

Roland slowly scanned the surrounding terrain. A human scout would choose this location. A veteran hunter would choose this location.

The realization bothered him more than he wanted to admit. The expedition resumed movement.

Less than an hour later, they discovered another observation point. Then another. Then another.

Each one overlooked a different section of terrain. Each one provided excellent visibility. Each one suggested prolonged use.

By the fourth discovery, even the soldiers understood the implication. The silence hanging over the group grew heavier.

Finally, Gareth voiced what everyone had been thinking. “It’s been watching us.”

Nobody responded immediately. Because there was nothing to argue.

The evidence surrounded them. The first observation point overlooked their eastern route.

The second overlooked a stream crossing. The third overlooked a ridgeline.

The fourth overlooked their current position. The pattern became impossible to ignore.

Roland stopped beside a fallen tree and studied a rough map in his mind. The locations formed a chain. Not random. Connected. Deliberate. A cold sensation settled in his stomach.

The expedition spent four days believing they were tracking Ironclaw. The reality might be exactly the opposite.

Cedric seemed to reach the same conclusion. “Intelligent monsters shouldn’t behave like this.”

Roland glanced toward him.

The mage rarely sounded uncertain. “What should they behave like?”

Cedric considered the question. “Most intelligent monsters learn.”

The mage folded his arms. “They recognize danger. They avoid threats. They adapt.” Reasonable and expectedly.

Then Cedric frowned. “This is completely different.”

Roland waited.

The mage looked toward the nearest observation point. “How do I put it…it’s as if, it’s all planned.”

Nobody enjoyed hearing that. Planned implied intent. Intent implied strategy. Strategy implied thought. The implications grew steadily worse.

Rowan spat onto the ground. “I preferred the version where it was just big.”

Several soldiers nodded immediately.

For once, Roland found himself agreeing. A giant predator could be killed. A giant predator capable of planning complicated hunts represented an entirely different problem.

The afternoon sun slowly descended through the canopy. Long shadows stretched across the forest floor.

The expedition continued moving cautiously. Then they found the tree. At first glance, it appeared ordinary. Massive and ancient.

Thick enough that three men could not have wrapped their arms around the trunk.

One of the soldiers noticed the marks first. The man’s reaction drew immediate attention.

Roland approached. Then stopped. The claw marks carved into the bark looked almost unreal. Four deep gouges extended across the trunk.

Each channel measured deeper than a greatsword blade.

Pieces of bark lay scattered below. Fresh damage. Recent damage. The spacing froze everyone in place.

Roland slowly stepped closer. Then measured the height. The marks sat well above his head.

Well above Gareth’s head. Even a mounted rider would have struggled reaching that height.

Nobody spoke. The numbers formed automatically inside Roland’s mind. The tracks. The carcass. The observation points.

Now this.

Every piece of evidence pointed toward the same conclusion. The reports were wrong. Badly wrong.

Cedric stared upward. For the first time since leaving Frostwood, genuine concern appeared on the mage’s face. Not caution. Concern.

That alone attracted Roland’s attention. “What is it?”

Cedric answered quietly. “If those marks were made naturally during movement…”

The mage hesitated. “…then the creature is larger than any intelligent monster I’ve personally studied.”

Nobody liked that answer. Not even slightly.

Rowan moved beside the trunk. The hunter slowly placed a hand inside one of the gouges.

His entire forearm disappeared. Several soldiers looked away. The comparison made the size feel real. Not theoretical but real. Dangerously real.

Gareth broke the silence. “I remember it.”

Everyone looked toward him. The hunter’s gaze remained fixed upon the marks. “I remember the eyes.”

A pause. “The armor.”

Another. “The claws.”

His expression darkened. “But I don’t remember this.”

Nobody questioned him. The evidence stood directly before them.

Roland studied the gouges one final time. Then looked toward the surrounding forest. The feeling returned immediately. That sensation. The one that had followed them throughout the day.

The certainty that unseen eyes lingered beyond sight. Watching, measuring and waiting.

A realization settled over him with uncomfortable clarity. The Ironclaw knew exactly where they were. It probably knew where they had been. Perhaps even where they intended to go next.

Meanwhile, they still had no idea where the monster actually was. The imbalance frustrated him. More importantly, it worried him.

Roland slowly drew his sword. Steel whispered from the scabbard.

The sound seemed unnaturally loud inside the silent forest. “Close ranks.”

The order traveled instantly through the formation. Nobody questioned it. Nobody hesitated.

Because everyone finally understood. The expedition had spent four days searching for the Ironclaw.

The Ironclaw had spent four days studying them.

And that realization was far more frightening than any track, carcass, or claw mark they had discovered so far.

End of Chapter 14