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The Hunter and the Templar	By : BurneHazard Category: +A through F > Diablo III Views: 6471 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Diablo III (3) and all content therein is the property of Blizzard Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I make no money from writing it.

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            It was hot. She was burning up. She knew she was female. She knew she hurt. Little things began to trickle into being one by one. The trickle grew as memory returned. She heard voices, felt something cold. It felt so good it hurt. Her lungs burned, she needed to breathe. How did she breathe? Her chest. She had to make her chest expand. Where was her chest? Sensation began to return sluggishly just as everything else did.
            Suddenly, she drew a sharp breath. Pain was instant and she released the hastily drawn breath in a scream. Pain and fire. It was eating into her side, spreading along her body. Arms rose to strike out as she thrashed, instinctively trying to get away. Something grabbed her, weight fell over her. Anger rose and she fought harder.
            Voices. Noise. Something was roaring in her ears and she realized it was her own voice. But there was another--no, two. Words. They meant something. More things came to hold her arms together over her head. Thrashing, kicking, the pain and fire consumed her as she screamed in rage at whatever was holding her down. Then the voices and this time she understood the words as something covered her mouth to quiet her.
            "I don't understand why this is not working!"
            "Kormac, take her arms. I will try. But do not let up on that wound!"
            Both voices were deep. Men's voices. They were familiar. Faces swam before her as she realized her eyes were closed. Opening them, she thrashed the moment the weight left her but her arms were caught again as there was a satisfying cry of pain. Her knee came up--making her burning side scream--and connected with something that gave a different cry.
            "Hellspawn! Tyrael, are you all right?"
            "I'm fine. Hold her down! The bleeding's started again."
            Pressure against her leg and suddenly she could not move either of them. Her mouth was open, screaming into whatever was covering it. Suddenly she remembered to bite. Another cry of pain and she tasted blood. But the sound made her freeze. It was familiar. Suddenly it was important to look to the source as she blinked her eyes rapidly and tried to focus on the blur over her head.
            "Killa, stop this! We're trying to help you!"
            Finally, her vision cleared enough to see a face. Disheveled hair of dark brown, nearly black where sweat made it cling. Blinking, she stared at the harsh features worn and darkened by sand and elements. The face was familiar. Unconsciously, she settled down as she tried to remember who this was and why he was so familiar.
            "Keep her still, I'm almost done."
            The second voice drew her attention down. Even though the first man's hand was covering her mouth, he did not try to hold her head down. Lifting it, she saw another with even darker skin. Silver and gold armor wrapped in a dull green cloak. She knew this one too, but could not remember. Then he turned his head to look at her and the golden eyes made her freeze for a moment.
            Fire ate into her side again as she arched, fighting against the dark stranger sitting on her legs, wrenching her arms down to try and break free of the lighter stranger. They both almost fell at the sheer strength of her struggles. Light played over her bared middle, emanating from the dark one's hands. And it hurt like hell!
            "It's hard to believe she's still this strong after losing so much blood," the darker commented.
            Her eyes snapped open again and she glared bloody murder up at the one holding her arms. His shock was clear and her hatred suddenly raged as her eyes blazed crimson.
            "By all that is holy, Tyrael! Is this normal?"
            The other looked up from what he was doing and froze. "I...think so."
            "What foul creature has possessed her?"
            "None, that is, I believe, the curse of what she is. Because she has gazed into the souls of demons...she has seen enough of hell it has left her mark upon her."
            They were both distracted. She took the chance to bite down on the hand covering her mouth again. This time the cry was music to her ears. His eyes flashed with golden light turning forest into emerald. And a sudden realization made her go still in surprise. She remembered. It triggered everything else that had not yet returned to her. The wall, the demons, the battle, the name.
            Even though her side burned, she did not move again. Staring into those green eyes with fascination, she returned to her senses and held still for the healing light to wash through her. Now that she had stopped fighting, it no longer hurt. Warmth filled her rather than burned her. And when the dark hands finally left her side whole, she continued to stare into those green eyes.
            "I think it's safe to let her up now," the second man said.
            The first blinked, breaking eye contact to look at him. Slowly, he drew his hand away from her mouth as he looked back down. Blood stained her lips and chin, smeared over her face. The marks of her teeth were deep and she had torn a lot of flesh.
            "Kormac," she said.
            "Are you back with us, hunter?" he asked, still holding her arms.
            Blinking, she took several deep breaths. There was a lingering ache but no pain. "I...think so. Tyrael?"
            "Welcome back, Shandra. How are you feeling?"
            The templar's grip on her arms eased and she slowly drew them down, relaxing strained muscles. When she did not lash out, the mortal angel also moved to slide off her legs. Slowly, she collected herself and tried to sit up. Kormac's hands caught her when she started to fall and helped her upright before he withdrew, cradling the hand she had bitten.
            "You really want me to answer that, Tyrael?" she nearly croaked. Her throat was raw from what she gathered had been a lot of screaming.
            "Given that you're able to answer me verbally now, I simply wished to make sure. You gave us...quite a scare."
            Groaning, she let her head fall back against the stone wall. That was when the most recent of memories returned and she looked around. They were not in the keep but they were inside shelter. A fire was burning as were several torches. A kit with medical supplies was laid out near them but there was little else present. She moved one hand to her side but there was no gaping wound to be felt.
            "Where are we?"
            The templar rose, going to the kit to tend his hand as he answered, "When you fell, I carried you to the nearest tower to get out of the battle. You were bleeding...very bad. I tried to heal you."
            "And you nearly took his head off. Do you remember?" Tyrael asked as he offered her a waterskin.
            "No. What else? What did I do to you?" she asked, noticing several other bruises and marks on both.
            "I am no healer, but I believe that you were...reacting on instinct. Your body was burning hot and every time we tried to heal you, you lashed out."
            "I never want to hear you scream like that again, hunter," came from Kormac although he did not look up from binding his hand.
            Taking a sip, she let the water trickle down her throat to moisten it before taking a bigger sip. Only when her throat no longer cracked with each swallow did she take a longer drink.
            "I remember...one of you saying something. What was it that possessed me?"
            Tyrael looked to Kormac. The templar only cleared his throat. Seeing the man was going to be of no help, the ex-angel looked back to the still-bloodied hunter.
            "I am not that well versed in demon hunters despite what I do know of them. Shandra, is it normal for your eyes to glow?"
            Blinking a few times, she considered the question. "Well, most of the more experienced hunters have glowing eyes, yes. Mine never have before."
            "They do now. Or did, the light is gone now."
            She remained silent for a few moments. Tyrael watched the frown form on her face.
            "I take it, this is not a good sign?"
            Looking up, she met his gaze. "That depends on perspective. When a hunter has reached that point, they have to become more careful. It becomes far easier to loose focus and stray from their path. It's a good thing they have survived so long and gained such power, but all power comes with a price."
            "Shandra, does this have anything to do with...what we spoke of in Caldeum?"
            Too sore to tense, she sighed and fixed the angel a glare. While he did not say what they spoke of, it was too close for comfort.
            "Partially. I've seen several signs that...I may be nearing the end of my hunt. And it is likely best I warn you of it now." Her eyes flared crimson when she met the angel's gaze and he tensed. "But I give you my word, Tyrael, that I will destroy the last lords of hell before I fall down the path of chaos."
            "Given what I have seen you do, I have no doubt of that."
            "Just what are you doing out here anyhow, Tyrael? You're needed in the keep to help guide the remaining forces."
            Tyrael was rising slowly and straightening his armor. "I was on my way to join the battle when I felt something very wrong. Kormac ran into me on his way to bring you to the keep." He looked to the silent templar. "However, had he brought you back in such a state, it would have devastated the men and they would have lost the hope you have given them. They look to you to save them and fight because of you. I persuaded him to return here so I could tend your injuries."
            "Since when are you able to heal anyhow? A broken arm is one thing..."
            Tyrael smiled in a way that would have been infuriating had she not been exhausted as she was. "I am mortal now, but apparently I still have the ability to do many things mortals cannot."
            "Hm. Why does that not surprise me?"
            "Rest and recover your strength, Shandra. I'll return to the keep for now to make certain the men remain focused. But the sooner you return the better."
            He nodded at Kormac and turned to go. Killa remained where she was propped up at and watched him depart. Once the door closed on the blast of icy wind, she sighed. For several moments it was quiet save the ever-present sound of thunder and minute tremors passing through the stone. She took another sip of water and looked down at her bared middle.
            Kormac stood suddenly and hefted his helm, pulling it back on. She looked up as he picked up his shield and fastened it to his arm. The sword belt was next, fastened into place so the weapon was at hand and the heavy tome hung at the other side. He refused to look toward her as he took a few steps toward the door.
            "I will return shortly. The remaining fire must be lit."
            "Be careful."
            A nod was his only response before he, too, left her alone. Minutes passed and she finally moved to struggle up to her feet. Her head was too light and spun dangerously, but she stayed still against the wall until her vision cleared. Careful steps took her to the table near the fire and she sank down in the crude wooden chair close to it. Suddenly, she was so cold. The heat felt good. Good enough that she folded her arms on the table and lowered her head to them to fall asleep in a few moments.

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            Warmth was spilling over her shoulders, embracing her like wings folding around her. It was enough to draw her out of a dreamless sleep as someone tucked her in. Only two people had ever tucked her in and for a moment, her sleepy mind was not tainted by past horror and burning hatred. Struggling to open her eyes, she sighed and turned her head where it rested on an outstretched arm.
            "Papa?" she murmured sleepily at the tall figure blurry eyes glimpsed. Her hand went out to capture his hand in a tight grip.
            The blur paused and a soothing weight touched her shoulder, rubbing over her covered arm and circling her back slowly then moving to press lightly with a pleasant coolness against her hot forehead. "Shhh...sleep."
            The voice was odd, but reassured, she sighed. Letting her head fall back to her arm--unaware that she was not laying in a bed, she smiled softly and let sleep re-claim her. But her hand remained locked on the hand she held. And Kormac stood there at a complete loss. Looking down at the sleeping hunter, he felt a mix of strange emotions before he finally moved around to sit down on the other side of the table. Their hands rested atop it at an angle that was only awkward to him.
            He found that he was drawn to watching her sleeping face rather than the flames in the hearth. Never before had he ever seen her so...peaceful. Always she was moving and glaring and focused when awake. But in sleep her features were so soft, so...innocent. There was no pain and no struggle, no consuming need to destroy and kill evil. She was...beautiful. Just like Eirena but different.
            Fighting back the sudden urge to reach out and touch the raven black hair spilling over her arm, Kormac sighed--quietly. In the firelight, her tanned skin was almost golden kissed. Even the faint stains of red he knew were made by his blood when she bit his hand were transformed into something else...almost as if she had been eating berries before falling asleep. Strawberries. When she should have been picking them instead.
            Confused by the trail of his thoughts, he looked at the fire again, making certain it was going. Leaning forward and twisting so he did not pull on her arm, he reached out and managed to use his free hand and one armored foot to get some more wood upon the flames so it would keep her warm. There was still a bit of a chill to her fingers where they were curled against his palm and he wanted her to be warm.
            The templar waited in silence, confused, and yet patient. Even with the sounds of the battle around them shouting at the warrior in him they had to be up and moving to save lives, he could not seem to really put forth the effort to disturb Killashandra. She had more than earned a moment of peace. And if it meant he had to sit still by a fire to make certain she had it, he would. That realization alone made him frown in thought.

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            Her head was pounding with a monster of a headache as she started to wake. It took a shifting of her limbs to actually realize they were present. A tingling numbness had spread through her body and betrayed the fact she had likely fallen asleep in a position other than lying down. Stiffness was the next sensation before her hands twitched. One was gripping something. Lifting her head, she took a deep breath and yawned before her eyes decided to open.
            Free hand rising, she felt a faint tug from something draped over her. It was not her blanket. Rubbing at her eyes, she cleared them enough to focus on what it was she had caught hold of. A hand. Blinking, her gaze automatically slid to the side to see Kormac looking back at her. There was a very unusual expression on his face that made her wonder as she uncurled sleep-heavy fingers.
            "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, templar."
            Since she had already returned to rubbing her aching eyes, she missed the flicker of loss that crossed his face. And her mind was still too slowed by sleep to notice that he was still holding her hand even though she had released him. It was when she moved to sit up and drew her arm away that he let her fingers slide away from his. A wince caught her as she hitched her breath.
            The heavy blue cloak fell away from her and she felt a sudden chill. Pushing it aside, she rotated sore shoulders to work out the stiffness, moving her legs and knees to return circulation and regain mobility. It also gave her a chance to look at her side. What she saw made her go still and frown. Where the wound had been was not newly healed flesh. In fact, it looked almost as if it had been a cauterized wound received years before. There was a touch of roughness to the scarring but the rest was smooth and aged.
            Poking at it, she found it tender but not as much as her arm had been after the bone had been mended and the muscles healed. After a moment, she sat back in the chair and sighed.
            "How are you feeling, hunter?"
            "Sore. And hungry."
            Kormac rose at last and moved to where their packs rested. As he walked past her, he unthinkingly reached out to pull the cloak back up over her shoulders. This time, Killa was fully aware of the gesture and studied his back in silence. By the time he had turned back around with the bundles of their food, she had schooled her expression. And again the templar felt a strange pang of loss at the familiar set of those sharply curved black brows.
            "How long was I asleep?"
            "A few hours. Not long."
            Her hand brushed along his when she took the bundle he offered her and he felt a strange warmth spread from the contact. Blaming the fact it was his injured hand she had touched, he moved back to his seat and they unwrapped the food to begin to eat.
            "Why did you not heal your hand?" she asked after several moments of quiet between them.
            Looking down, a touch of surprise entered his expression. Kormac suddenly realized that he could have done just that. Instead, he had bandaged it up and more or less forgotten the injury as he worked. He remembered it hurting every time he clenched his fist when using his shield to block a demon's attack, but it had only driven him to fight harder. That from just a bite?
            "I had other things on my mind. The last fire was lit and more guardsmen rallied together. They stand a chance now with the increased numbers."
            "I apologize," she said.
            "You were mad with pain and fever. I should not have been covering your mouth but holding your jaw. Do not be concerned with it."
            The silence again fell between them. Only for once, it was somehow awkward. Then Killa spoke as she tore a piece of bread free to toy with.
            "Did I...say anything? All I remember is fire and pain...and that I was trapped and had to get away."
            Kormac looked back at her, jaw pausing in chewing on the hard cheese he had bitten. Considering, he thought back over the entire struggle, ignoring the sound of her screams that echoed in his mind. "You did not say anything, only the screams."
            Taking a deep breath, she released it in a sigh. Nodding, she bit into the bread and just chewed. Although neither of them were aware of it, they were not tasting what they ate. It was merely habit they ate at all.
            "Why did you go out alone, hunter? Why did you leave Lyndon behind?" he finally asked.
            He received no answer. But when he looked at her, he saw the hunter's gaze rested on the fire, staring through the flames as she thought. Moments stretched on as she ate a few more pieces of bread without really being aware of the motions themselves.
            "Because I had to test how much this...power I have has grown," she finally answered without breaking her stare at the flames. "I had to see if I was...still in control of it. Or if it was going to consume me. None of you...I couldn't risk any of you if it happened that I was..."
            "This...these signs you mentioned. What did you mean?"
            "It's part of the curse of a demon hunter. After enduring so much, living and breathing so much hatred for so long, not even the most skilled and focused can escape it."
            "Curse?"
            Her eyes reflected the flames when they turned toward him and he found himself trapped listening to a tale that was more like a scary story than reality.
            "No demon hunter dies of old age. If we are not killed during one of our hunts then... Then comes the cycle. One of the best among us left a lesson every demon hunter is taught. "Rage. Hate. Fear. They all feed upon one another. A demon hunter learns how to direct hate. But such a balance is precarious. And when that balance is lost, the cycle begins: Hate begets Destruction. Destruction begets Terror as Terror begets Hate."(*) And all of us to have survived long enough to be sent on our hunts have witnessed this in those who have fought and perished before us."
            Pausing, she finally blinked and broke her stare away from the fire. Looking down to the considerably smaller selection of food, she took a strip of dried meat to chew on slowly. Kormac shook himself free of some strange spell and considered the words. However, she resumed speaking after a moment.
            "When a demon hunter loses themselves to their hatred and abandons restraint or discipline for whatever cause...they lose reason. They kill for the sheer pleasure of it, seeing everything and everyone as a target. If it moves, they will kill it. Friend, foe, demon, human, guilty, innocent. They cease to care about the dividing lines and must be destroyed."
            "That...is a truly dismal fate."
            Rolling her shoulders, she caught the cloak with one hand before it could fall far. "Perhaps. But it is what I chose. I do not delude myself with false hope that I will have anything but to meet my death taking as many demons with me as possible. Sometimes cold comfort is the better type to have."
            Kormac found himself frowning at the utter sense of wrongness in such a view. After another minute, he broke their thoughts.
            "Do you believe in the afterlife, my friend?"(1) he ventured.
            "No. Isn't this life bad enough?"(2) she replied without a moment of thought.
            The green gaze regarded her steadily. When she looked up, she saw the confusion there. The lack of understanding even though there was a clear struggle. He was trying and failing.
            "We are very different, aren't we?"(3) he finally said, sounding defeated.
            "We are both living weapons. Where you are that of Light, I am that of Dark. And the darkness knows only destruction and death. Light knows only creation and life. It is how it must be."
            Rising, she shrugged his cloak off and draped it across the table. The burn-scarring was vivid against her side as she turned to go to where her armor had been placed when they tore it free to get to her wound. Kormac found his gaze drawn to the bared waist as she moved. Strangely, the burns reminded him of something. Like an abstract picture he could not quite place. It began to nag at him. And for once he did not even have his thoughts wander toward sin, merely solving what his eyes beheld.
            When she dressed once more, he finally turned his attention to cleaning up the remainder of their food and bundling it away. His mind continued to try and solve the mystery of what the pattern reminded him of as they repacked their things. She did require some help as the new scars pulled when she tried to get her armor back on. The mail was broken but the metal-layered leather had remained intact.
            Kormac assisted her like any proper gentleman. His mind was too full of thoughts to be distracted as he often was around the enchantress. And he even missed the way her hands lingered whenever they brushed his. It slipped her notice whenever his hands lingered upon touching her or fastening the strap of her armor. Killa was already focusing on clearing her mind for the return to battle. As she checked her bow and quiver, she paused.
            "Kormac."
            The way she said his name was as powerful as if she had cracked a whip. He immediately turned to face her, listening as their eyes locked.
            "Once, you asked me to promise you something...if your sins came back to possess you."
            "I remember."
            "Now, it's come full circle." Something cold traced sharp edges up his spine, gripping his lungs briefly. "I believe that you are the only one that will be able to do this task if it comes before my hunt for Azmodan ends. Should I fall into the chaos of Cycle--"
            "You will not!" he broke in, refusing to let her ask what he knew she was going to ask. "Stop doubting yourself and have some faith like the rest of us. We believe in you. The men defending these walls and dying in the keep believe in you. No one will let you fall into that black pit. Now, let's go. We have evil to fight!"
            He almost stormed off as the hunter stood there, staring after him. It gave her no chance to ask him for his word, no chance to ask him to do the very thing he had asked of her. And it gave him no chance to admit that just the thought of it made his heart ache in a way he was unfamiliar with.
            "Light curse you, demons!" he grumbled to himself when opening the door to step into the cold once more. "You will pay for this...all of it!"

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Author's Note:
            Writer's Block dead! Thank you random violent movies! This chapter is far longer than I'd intended. But now that it's out, I have another plot-bunny bouncing and ready to go. So hopefully I can use up the last of the damn things before this all ends.
            As before, numbers are for the actual character dialogue in the game. In this chapter, the (*) marks a direct quote taken from the lore on the Diablo 3 wiki site on demon hunters.
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The Hunter and the Templar