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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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            "By my honor, I swear this! I must repay this debt," he persisted.
            Killa only covered her face with her free hand and groaned. In truth, she was hardly surprised. The templar had already proven to be a steadfast and stubborn character even in their brief interlude together. Grasping frantically for any possible excuse or reason to try and throw at him in order to dispel his perceived debt, an idea suddenly struck her.
            "Just how are you faring anyhow, templar? Have you fully recovered from the black magic they were working upon you?"
            That made Kormac pause. Apparently the sudden shift of conversation threw him for a loop. Blinking a couple of times, he just stared at her. Then one hand rose to comb back through his hair.
            "Well, yes. I still feel a little...out of sorts, but... Nothing I can't handle!"
            Regarding him intently, the hunter merely tilted her head to one side. It made Kormac shift a little like a boy caught in the middle of doing something he was not supposed to and trying to pretend nothing was going on. He did not meet her eyes. It was almost cute.
            "Are you certain of that?" she asked gently.
            "As certain as you are that you can fight with one broken arm," he responded almost smoothly.
            Even though logic was telling her to keep pushing, she had to admit he was sharp with his thoughts. For just a moment, she did wish that it were possible to have him tag along. But if she should soften, she would never be rid of him and it would be one more dead companion shadowing the path of her vengeance. Not that it was a bad thing since each death of someone she knew fueled her hatred of demons--but death was death and she fought to bring it to demons, not to humans.
            "My arm is my only injury. Their magic was attacking your entire body. And to fight through the Cathedral after that...I'm not so sure that you are going to be able to keep up with me, even if I wanted you to. Which I do not."
            For a moment, Killa found she did regret her words and the flash of pain that crossed the man's face. He covered it well though.
            "Fine. Then I'll make you a deal. If I should be slowing you down at any point, I will return to town, no further protestations."
            Killa frowned at that proposal. Still, she also realized that she was seriously considering it. "That does sound fair."
            "And if I am not slowing you down, I will remain with you to serve as your arm until I should happen to become less than worthy!" he finished.
            Standing there in the middle of the road with him, for a moment a tiny voice in the back of her mind was saying they were acting ridiculous. Ignoring it, her hazel eyes instead moved away from his face to look the rest of him over speculatively.
            Kormac stood on an even height with her which meant he was at least six feet tall, give or take an inch. His body was thick with muscle gained from fighting under the weight of heavy plate with broad shoulders and sturdy hips. Not that it made him that unpleasing to look at. Even though his current armor was lighter than some she had seen, he had a touch of leanness to him that aided in his agility. With his short-cut chocolate brown hair and those piercing green eyes, he was an attractive man when he did not scowl.
            Realizing her trail of thought had strayed extremely far from the initial goal of sizing him up, Killa blinked and gave her head a shake. Instead she thought back to how he fought--and yes she had watched him. After all, they had been working together for a couple of days before the accident. He was not that poor a fighter even if his methods seemed and had proven clumsy. That could be rectified.
            When her gaze returned to his, she saw the same measuring look in his eyes. Perhaps something could be worked out. It was the familiarity of the look in those green eyes within the Cathedral that had first made her decide to allow their hunts to merge. For a few days, she had actually forgotten what had made her change her mind.
            "I will accept that deal, provisionally."
            "Provisionally?" he asked. Puzzled, he tilted his head forward rather than to the side. "What provision would you have?"
            The hunter smiled and brought her free hand up to tap the metal plates stamped into the leather tunic visible between each rectangular section.
            "That if you do not uphold your end of the deal and leave me alone when you see you're slowing me down, I get to make you go away."
            Kormac automatically looked down to her hand. When his eyes rose, they went to the crossbow at her hip before meeting her gaze. Satisfied that he understood exactly what she meant, Killa nodded and lowered her hand to offer it to him in order to seal the deal. It took him a few moments before he took her hand in his.
            "Agreed."
            "Very well. Now, let's find Haedrig. I'll need this fixed before we do anything else."
            "You mean it's broken?" Kormac asked incredulously.
            "Of course. Why else would you still have a nose instead of a bolt where it had been?" she asked drolly.
            All the templar did was shake his head and follow her as she moved on. One of the snootier merchants had been watching them openly without any attempts to pretend otherwise. It was the only reason she chose to interact with him given his haughty attitude.
            "Excuse me, did you happen to see where Haedrig might have gone to for his meal?"
            The upturned nose was a natural feature from his birth so she did not hold it against the merchant when it turned up more from the wrinkling he gave it.
            "That crude lummox did not take his typical meal break." Despite the distaste for the blacksmith's profession, the merchant's expression grew pitying. "He's gone to his wife. Apparently something happened while she was tending the injured in that pit in the ground. Just follow the road and you may manage to catch up with him."
            Nodding, Killa turned to go in the direction indicated.
            "Thank you," Kormac said to the merchant as he turned to catch up.
            Sure enough, they came around the bend in the road to see the sooty and filth-stained figure of the blacksmith making his way with an oddly harried shuffle toward the cellar where the worst of the victims from undead attacks had been moved for safety.
            "Haedrig!" Killa called out.
            The man paused and turned. Even beneath the thick beard and fire-darkened features, he looked like a man haunted by the gallows.
            "I've some work to ask of you, if you have the time."
            "Not now. It's my wife... She's locked in the cellar, like all those who've been bitten. I'm to put them all down. But how can I kill my own wife?"(1)
            Even as he spoke, Haedrig's countenance turned from grimly haunted to painful despair. Killa knew that look all too well. She made her voice gentle but with a slight edge of certainty.
            "Sometimes death is the only mercy we have left."(2)
            When his head fell forward to hide the glistening of tears in his eyes, she made a decision that was truly coming almost too easily in recent times. "I will help you."(3)
            Gratitude made bitter by pain was in his eyes when he looked at her again. There was no smile but she expected none. At least his voice was steady even if filled with relief that he might have a way to ease his burden as well as do what he knew was necessary.
            "Thank you. Follow me,"(4) he said as he turned to continue on.
            Instead of following immediately, Killa turned her head to look at Kormac. The templar's features were unreadable but his eyes held the same look she had seen in her own reflection many times.
            "We must be ready to finish this work if he cannot."(5)
            All she did was nod in agreement with his words. They did not need to be spoken but it was a relief in itself that they shared such a thought. Both followed the figure of the blacksmith as he headed for the cellar beneath one of the empty houses in the village. It had been built of stone and wood rather than more fragile materials which was why all those bitten had been moved there. It would be harder for them to break free if they turned.
            "Haedrig, before we proceed, I need you to take a look at this weapon. The firing mechanism has been jammed for a couple of weeks and it is the only weapon I can use one-handed."
            Surrendering the crossbow to the smith, the hunter took a moment to study the heavy cellar doors and the bar across them. Below would be all of the villagers and militia that had survived the attacks of the undead only to fall prey to the affects of the bites. One wife would not be the only one to die.
            "Ah, this is simple enough," Haedrig said, pulling her from her thoughts. "I can fix this now, but you'll need something better if you will be going outside the walls again."
            "Won't it serve?" she asked.
            "No. The weapon is old and although I can get it to work for you, it's only a temporary fix. The wood is badly cracked and the metal has a buildup of old rust between the fastenings and the supports. That's why it jammed. And it will do so again if used too long."
            Regret came and went. The crossbow was more of a sentimental item than anything. She could always keep it somewhere to hold onto the memories attached to it later--provided she lived beyond tomorrow. For now, it would serve. And when Haedrig offered it back, she took it and tested the weight once more. Even without examining it, she could tell it was ready to fire. It felt right.
            "Very well, then I'll use it this last time and follow your advice. Let's go."
            "Right."
            Haedrig turned to remove the heavy bar locking the cellar. Kormac drew closer to the hunter but maintained enough distance he evaded any repercussions from her. They followed the smith down into the dark gloom of the cellar. Since Killa already had her weapon in hand, it left Kormac to pull his shield from his back and take his spear in hand, ready to fight once more.

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Author's Note:
            Took longer to work this chapter out than I'd planned. And again, direct quotes from the game are numbered. I admit, I did switch around the progression of the Acts given this quest comes BEFORE you go after the Skeleton King but...well, this is where that plot bunny problem comes into play. Work with me--and on that note, REVIEW! Over 600 hits and not a single comment? Tsk, tsk!
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The Hunter and the Templar