Tales of the Horns: Part 1 The Berserk Beast

by R Mountebank

Chapter 9

  New addition

  They carried Stephen between them down the stairs and into the sunroom where there was the only ready source of light. The older man cursed and shrieked the whole way. They found Laedwynn looking out the drawn curtains at the raging storm when they entered. She cupped her mouth in shock when she saw the three of them; bloody, soot stained and soaking wet. She pointed a finger and said something which probably translated to “What the heck did you do up there?”

  Remy spoke back to her in that oddly musical language, his free hand pointing and gesturing all over the room. Laedwynn’s voice took a sharp turn as she yelled back at him, stamping her feet and shaking her fists all the while. Mary ground her teeth while waiting for them to stop bickering. Finally Laedwynn pointed to a spot on the floor near the fireplace.

  “Down,” she said gruffly.

  Mary and Remy laid Stephen down as gently as possible. As soon as he touched the floor Laedwynn had a long bronze dagger in her hand. She was so quick about her work, Mary could hardly take in what she was seeing, how she quickly bent over him, how she hovered the dagger only briefly over Stephen’s chest before easily slicing off the leather apron and opening up his ruined cotton shirt.

  Stephen licked his lips nervously at the sight of the angry elf maiden wielding a hunting knife over his exposed abdomen but there was little he could do to get away. “Does she know what she’s doing?” he asked Remy.

  “More than me,” Remy shrugged back.

  “Oh, that’s just great.”

  Laedwynn shot Stephen a hot look that told him not to question her. With her free hand she gently probed his body for damage. She tisked and tutted over every bruise and broken bone; the splinters only received a raised eyebrow. With the initial examination over, she turned to her lover and spoke in her native tongue. Remy nodded his head and gave her prognosis to the rest of the family.

  “Okay. She says that your wrist is snapped in several places. You have three cracked ribs, blood loss, slight internal bleeding and severe bruising. Oh, and a few first degree burns and lung scarring to boot. Good thing is she can fix you. Bad thing is, it’s going to hurt… like the dickens.”

  Stephen looked at Laedwynn, his expression blank. “Just fix me.”

  Laedwynn folded her arms defiantly, her mouth pouting.

  “Please?” Stephen finally relented.

  Laedwynn showed the faintest trace of a smile and bowed her head. She pointed at Mary and said a few words.

  “She needs loam, water, and a pot big enough to cook a stew to mix it all in. Nothing made of iron, though. Could you get those for her, kiddo?” Remy translated.

  “What’s a loam?” Mary asked.

  “Dirt, soil, mud… that kind of thing.”

  “Okay…” Mary got to her feet and sped out of the room.

  The pot and water were easy to find. The loam was another story. There was no way she was going outside in that demon of a storm to pick up mud. Mary dashed down the hallway looking to recover soil from one of the potted plants. Unfortunately they had all been smashed by Stephen’s unexplained rage earlier. Sighing, she scooped up several handfuls of spilt potting mix, removing shards of ceramic and the remains of flowering shrubbery. She placed the soil mixture in the pot and ran back to the sunroom.

  Laedwynn took the pot from her and inspected the contents, tasted the soil and poured in a measure of water. Picking up the bronze knife she touched its gleaming edge to Stephen’s wrist and paused.

  “She is going to draw some of your blood now,” Remy instructed, “just relax and let her do her job.”

  Stephen nodded his head, his eyes not leaving the wicked blade poised on his flesh. Laedwynn ran the blade lightly down Stephen’s palm drawing a trickle of blood. Stephen winced at the fresh pain but didn’t move. Laedwynn collected the dripping blood into the pot of water and soil and stirred it all to a paste with her hands.

  Next she lightly painted it on Stephen’s chest in swirling knotted patterns. Mary watched in fascination at the spectacle. She inched closer to her brother and whispered in his ear.

  “Do you know what she is doing?”

  Remy spoke without turning his head. “Her people are attuned to the earth, an integral part of any healing spell. She needs the blood to act as a catalyst for the patient, probably because he’s human.”

  “Can you do that stuff too? Could you show me how?” Mary whispered excitedly.

  “I’m a novice in all magical arts. Laedwynn has decades more experience on me. I still struggle to heal a paper cut…”

  Mary clapped her hands. “But you could show me a few things? I could be your apprentice wizard!”

  “Novices don’t have apprentices, Mary. Now be quiet. She is almost done.”

  Stephen looked like a Celtic warrior of old, painted with spirals of wode, the designs corkscrewing over his chest, up his neck, face and down his arms. With him lying on the floor before her, Laedwynn spread her arms wide and began to chant. Guttural and harsh at first, her voice rose in cadence to a high-pitched wail.

  Mary covered her ears at the unbearable sound. Hairs at the nape of her head began to rise and her body felt cold. The patterns on Stephen’s skin began to glow, first white then blood red. The light hurt Mary’s eyes as it burned brighter. She turned away from the maddening sight, the afterimage of the magical light imprinted in her vision regardless. Laedwynn shrieked a wordless scream as the pattern’s dazzling light shone brighter still. Stephen howled in pain and convulsed on the floor.

  Just when Mary thought she could not take any more, and must either flee or blackout from the stress, the horrible shrieking died down and the light vanished.

  Mary opened her eyes warily. Stephen lay on the floor breathing hard, sweat glistening on his exposed skin. The patterns had vanished along with the splinters in his shoulder. The blood that had stained his shirt had disappeared too though the shirt was still caked in soot and grime. Laedwynn swayed drunkenly over him, her eyes still closed. Her face was drawn and pale, her hair damp with sweat. She gave one meek cry and fell over backwards. Remy dashed over to Laedwynn and, cradling her limp head in his hands, spoke softly in her ear.

  Meanwhile, Stephen was flexing his wrist and wiggling his hips, marvelling at the feeling of his renewed body. He suddenly scissor kicked to his feet in a remarkable flourish of skill and, arms akimbo, yelled, “I don’t know about you, but I feel great!”

  He jogged on the spot and dropped into some lunges, testing out his newly healed frame.

  “I feel like I’m twenty again! I could run the whole road, from door to door, no problem!”

  His smile soon faded. He looked to the floor where his dirty, ruined garments lay beside his precious cane. The memories of his exchange with Bodb came flooding back.

  Stephen cradled his face in his hands as he started to weep.

  “What’s wrong now?” asked Mary.

  Stephen sniffed loudly several times and wiped his tears away with his hands.

  “My last gamble didn’t pay off. I’ve lost your mother forever I’m afraid…”

  “What?!” shouted Mary. Her anger was returning, with dividends, now the man she had been raised to think of as her father had let slip that he too knew of her mother’s whereabouts.

  “You know where she is? And you lost her!?”

  Stephen was taken aback by Mary’s outburst, probably for the first time ever. Mary was staring murder at her grandfather, as her skin flushed red and her muscles started to bulge.

  “I’d hate to interrupt you two,” said Remy. “Do you have a spare room somewhere? I need to get Laedwynn comfortable.”

  Stephen took two steps back from Mary. “Why?” he asked without looking away.

  “She just told me that she’s going into labour,” said Remy softly. “The baby is coming. Now.”

  ________________________________________________________________________

  Mary paced up and down the hall, feeling
useless. The two men had forbidden her from helping during the birth.

  Like they know anything about women or babies, she thought bitterly.

  In some ways she was glad to be excluded. The secrets of life and birth were filled with blood and other icky fluids. She had enough on her mind tonight, with Remy’s return, the news of her real parents missing and her family mystery lurking at the edges – childbirth was not something she needed to have a hand in on this night.

  She also didn’t want to be around Stephen if she could help it. Her unstable feelings of family duty had been spent during the rescue of him from the fire. She couldn’t fathom ever loving the man as a father again. He was too cold and mean-spirited to even like as a friend.

  What about the deceit regarding her true parentage?

  Why had this been kept a secret for so long? Where were her parents? Why were she and her brother abandoned?

  Her mind raced from question to question, unable to answer anything on her own. Almost walking into a wall, Mary spun on her heel and paced in the other direction. Ahead of her the door to Remy’s old room opened, spilling warm yellow light into the dim hall. Stephen edged out and closed the door, a worried look on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and stared into the distance. As Mary came closer he shook the tension out his shoulders and rounded on her.

  “What are you doing up? I thought I told you to go to sleep!” he barked.

  Mary took a deep breath to calm herself before she could speak. “I couldn’t. Not with all of the day’s excitement. Explosions and babies and family reunions and all.”

  Stephen made to speak then stopped. Shrugging, he finally said, “Do what you want. I just don’t care at the moment.”

  Mary sneered back at him. What a surprise.

  “How is the birth going?” she said, trying to change the subject back to neutral ground.

  “I don’t know. She’s not human, after all,” said Stephen jamming his hands in his pockets.

  “I haven’t a clue what a dark-elf’s labour is meant to be like… how long… how much blood…”

  Mary winced at the idea.

  Stephen rambled on with his thoughts. “I mean, she looks human. But so does Remy… is the anatomy the same throughout the subspecies? Do the same medicines work on all of us? I wonder if anyone has studied that. Written a journal or the like…”

  Stephen’s curiosities about academic journals were of no importance to Mary. His first statement pricked her interest, far more than any musings on subspecies anatomy. He let slip a kernel of truth, one she would not let go. “What do you mean, Remy looks human?”

  Stephen rounded on her. “What? He didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” Mary replied nervously, unsure if she wanted to know now that this was hanging between them.

  A bitter smile creased Stephen’s face. “Both of you aren’t human. Far from it in fact. Well, perhaps a little. I was responsible for some of your good looks after all.”

  Mary started to shake. The idea that she wasn’t what she thought she was unhinged her. What could she be, if not human?

  “What am I then?”

  Stephen scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Part mongrel wolf-man, part fairy, quarter human…?” His voice trailed off as he thought of more.

  “Our line is allegedly descended from an elf of unknown origin so you could probably claim that too. Oh and on the fairy side you’ve got horrible fish people for relatives. Nasty bunch, that lot. Violent and broody and all fishy… You two are quite the pair... Very unique.”

  Mary raised a trembling hand and wiped away the tears.

  “This is all too much to hear in one night.”

  Stephen stared at her, impassive, cold, distant. “You see? Sometimes I know what I’m talking about. You’re too young to learn the truth.”

  “Thank you, Grandfather, for thinking of my best interests,” Mary replied sarcastically.

  Stephen snorted and turned away, attempting to end the conversation.

  Mary followed him.

  “Will you tell me who they are at least? My real parents? Why they left us here with you?”

  He stopped in his tracks and turned back to face her.

  “Your father is the King of the Western Reaches, a descendant of Remus. Your mother is my daughter, a princess of the Irish fairies. I had arranged a marriage between the two to prevent a war. That failed and your mother and my wife were taken from me by their own people. As a result, your father has declared war against the worlds. I have spent the better part of the last fifteen years trying to bring them back and stop this foolish war. But I’ve failed. Again.”

  Stephen leaned against the archway, rubbing his temples with shaking hands. Mary had never seen him this way before, had never imagined the stern, imposing man to be so defeated.

  “I’m sorry, Mary,” said Stephen, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  He turned his back on Mary and returned inside Remy’s room without another look at her. Too tired to resume her pacing of the halls, Mary slumped down on the floor, her back to the wall. She waited and thought. Thought and waited.

  She woke with a start. The air felt heavy with electricity, dense and charged with excitement. Mary moistened her lips and stretched her aching limbs. Checking her wristwatch she saw that it was almost dawn. She had fallen asleep several hours ago, it would appear. There was a noise above her as something fell on the roof, seemingly breaking some tiles.

  Mary waited, a breath frozen on her lips. Silence echoed down the lonely hall. Mary shook her head and laughed. The storm had probably knocked over a tree or something. Rising carefully and with sore bones, she tiptoed over to the heavy oak door that barred Remy’s room. She pressed her ear to it, hoping to hear the wail of a new-born. The door opened unexpectedly and she tumbled into the room.

  Remy stood above her smiling broadly. “Come on in, sis. You’re now an aunt.”

  Tears gleamed in his dark eyes and his voice buckled with emotion. He offered a hand which Mary gladly took. She padded softly over to the bed. Laedwynn was propped up on the headboard, surrounded by pillows and crumpled sheets. She held the babe delicately in her arms, an exhausted smile fixed on her face. Laedwynn didn’t take her eyes of the child. With a pang of longing, Mary wondered if her mother had looked at her that way

  As Mary came closer she saw the baby’s face. It was remarkably serene for a newborn. Large dark eyes surveyed the room keenly whilst two pointed ears stuck out like wings, channelling all available sound. Laedwynn looked up at Mary’s approach.

  “Is baby. Not Dragon. Like said.”

  Mary offered her wiggling pinkie finger to the baby. “Wow. It’s so… calm, and smart. Is that normal?”

  The baby took the gift with one chubby hand and wrestled it side to side.

  “Elf babies are more advanced than their human counterparts it would appear,” spoke Stephen from the corner of the room.

  “So he’s smarter than you?” Mary quipped without looking away. “Do you have a name for it?”

  “Him, Mary. It’s a boy,” said Remy, laying a hand on her shoulder.

  “And no, not yet. According to Laedwynn’s customs, children are named by the council of elders. Seeing as we eloped, so to speak, we may have to settle for something less. Any ideas, Stephen?”

  Stephen shrugged. “Call him Steve.”

  “I think we’ll forgo that little family custom.”

  “Suit yourself, Remigius. I think it is a fine name. Steve Horn…” said Stephen, shrugging his shoulders.

  Laedwynn looked at Remy expectantly. He shook his head, dispelling her fears.

  Mary was busy making faces at the baby when the ceiling collapsed.

  Plasterboard and timbers rained down in a heap at the foot of the bed, narrowly missing Remy. Mary screamed in fright. Laedwynn clawed her way out of the bed, one hand clutching her baby tightly. Rainwater drizzled down through the hole. Something large was
unfurling itself from the mess on the floor. A hand the size of a frying pan grabbed hold of the bed’s footboard. Inch-long talons on the end of its fingers scoured deep furrows into the hardwood. The creature raised the rest of its bulk up until it towered over everyone in the room. It had two broken and cracked horns jutting from its brow. Misshapen teeth spilled out from a terribly wide maw. It shook out its sail-sized leather wings, flicking dust and wood splinters around the room. Two burning eyes shone beneath a craggy brow like lanterns, lighting the dim room with their unholy glow. Its mottled skin was grey with blue tinges, wet with slime and pox. Dust clung to it like filthy scabs. Studded leather armour covered its chest and legs. Cuts and nicks had been stitched over badly in several places. It turned its head slowly around the room.

  “Which one of you is the prince?” it rumbled.

  Remy arched an eyebrow at Stephen questioningly. Stephen shook his head. Remy stepped towards it with his arms held wide, palms open. “You are mistaken, there is no prince here. I suggest you leave before things get serious.”

  The intruder locked its glowing eyes on Remy. “I’m big. Not stupid. You are the one I want.” It reached a massive clawed hand towards Remy’s throat.

  Lightning lanced it before it could reach him, scorching a fist-sized hole in the creature’s chest. It toppled backwards into the wall, cracking the stone.

  Stephen walked towards the creature, his cane pointed forward, white light flaring from the studded brass foot. Mary dared to edge closer to the rank beast for a better look.

  “What is that thing?” she whispered.

  Stephen sighed and bowed his head. “A creature corrupted by foul magic, The Old Man’s favoured soldier. Come to collect his due, no doubt.”

  Remy grabbed him by the collar roughly, rage twisting his face.

  “Him?! What does he want with me? What have you done, you old bastard?”

  Stephen tore himself free from his grandson’s grip.

  “I made a deal with him many years ago, before you were born. In exchange for giving me the means to find your grandmother, I allowed him to take something of mine, no matter what it be after the birth of the third generation of my line. That something is you, it seems.”

  Remy stood stone-still as he listened. His breathing deepened and his skin flushed red. He gained an inch of bulk to his frame then two inches…then three. His already torn clothes bulged, fitting tightly to the hulking mass beneath.

  “I am going to kill you,” he snorted slowly, taking a step towards his grandfather.

  Stephen sneered back, the energy from his cane crackling around him.

  The house shook as other bestial creatures smashed through the roof in distant rooms of the house. Mary darted between the two men before it came to blows.

  “Calm down, you two meatheads! It’s going to hell out there and all you two care about is slugging it out? We need to work together!”

  Mary waited until both men had dropped their staring competition and looked at her. “Good. Now what are we going to do?”

  “I am not giving myself up to The Old Man. I’ve got a family to think about now,” said Remy between clenched teeth.

  Stephen lowered his cane, its glowing tip cooling.

  “We have to give him something. We must honour the bargain or I bring a curse down on all of us.”

  Remy shot him an evil look.

  They heard the smashing of windows and doors being broken down. Guttural shouts and laughter echoed from downstairs.

  “How about somebody else?” asked Mary looking at Laedwynn silently weeping in the corner and holding her baby to her chest. “What if we tricked them into taking someone different?”

  Stephen looked down at her sharply. “Like whom?” he asked coldly.

  “Like me.” Mary shrugged back.

  “No,” said Remy.

  “Yes,” replied Stephen almost in unison.

  “Could we do it?” asked Remy uncertainly.

  “I do it.” Laedwynn said from behind them. “I change you. For short time.”

  There was a sound from the hallway of a suit of armour collapsing and heavy cloven feet clomping on the stone floor.

  Mary nodded. Her lips set in firm determination. “Do it.”

  Remy shook his head. "No, Mary. I can't let you do this."

  "Is there any alternative?" asked Mary looking at her brother with a steady gaze.

  Her grandfather looked at the floor, his face unreadable. "I... I can't do or say anything. I can feel it beginning... The Old Man's curse. Whatever you do will have to be without me."

  "Bloody typical," growled Remy. "I can't let those things take my only sister!"

  Mary touched her brother lightly on the shoulder. "We have to, Remy. There's no other option. Besides, I always wanted to leave Pennysworth. Now's my chance," she said smiling weakly.

  Remy looked at her for a moment as he weighed his options. He finally nodded once and squeezed Mary’s hand.

  "We will find a way out of this, Mary. I promise you."

  “I need much time,” said Laedwynn.

  Remy nodded back to her and moved toward the door. He paused with one hand on the door handle, looking back at his sister. “I won’t forget this, Mary.”

  Howling an inhuman cry, his shape shifted into something akin to a large hairless wolf. His shirt split open in tatters revealing an extra set of arms beneath. His enormous muscles rippled with tension. Flinging the door open he bounded out, arms milling into the first thing he saw, a creature with a goat’s hind quarters.

  “What the heck just happened to Remy?!” shouted Mary.

  “That’s from the Sidhe side of the family. The royal family have a berserker transformation. Seems sonny-boy has it too.”

  “Shii… what?” asked Mary.

  “Fairy voodoo,” said Stephen, wiggling his fingers at her.

  The building shook. An ear piercing laugh echoed through the door.

  “What now?” asked Mary holding both her ears.

  “The boy has gone berserk. He’s probably lost his mind.”

  A series of gunshots went off in the hall way. Then, they abruptly ended. Still that horrible screaming taunt filled the room.

  Stephen laughed darkly. "Curse be damned. I can't let that boy have all of the fun." And unsheathing his cane, he now held a thin glowing sword. He slipped through the door and hacked at anything that wasn’t family.

  Laedwynn laid a soft hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Now we begin.”