by Troy A Hill
“Ancient druids?” Penda cocked his head. “That means ancient evil. I’ve not been superstitious before. But this… and Baldwin’s corpse…”
“Afon says there are trees at the far end of the next valley,” Gwen sent. “We must walk all night to get there. We should be able to join with your party by sunrise.”
“Gwen is coming,” I told Penda. “By morning, with luck.”
“Good,” he said, but he didn’t smile. “We can use her counsel. I’ve never battled an ancient evil that sucks the blood from the dead and makes corpses walk. Have you?”
All I could do was shake my head. If he ever learned about my nature, I wasn’t sure how he’d react.
37
Pursuit
Penda had his men dig shallow graves for the men. There wasn’t time to deal with the horses before nightfall.
“Let us head down the trail,” he said. “We’ll make camp half a league farther. Then come morning, we ride hard and get serious about finding this creature.”
Talian again accompanied me off into the trees, our dinner bowls in hand. As I expected, yellow wolf eyes peered out from the underbrush.
“Dark dead is gone from sight,” my wolf friend sent as he edged out of the brush.
“Gone? How so?”
“Pack ran to find him,” he sent. “Pack followed his scent of death. Pack ran past the two-legs and four-legs it killed. Pack did not like the odour of death it left behind. None fit for food.”
I had noticed that too. Only a few insects had found the bodies. Larger scavengers hadn’t moved in to feed on the corpses, despite the hours they had laid there.
“How far away did your pack travel?”
“Half full time of light to get where pack found den.” The wolf raised its head and sniffed the night breeze. “One sister move into den. Dark death not inside. Just old dead.”
“The creature wasn’t in the cave?” I sent. “Did your pack search around the den? Did it leave anywhere else?”
“They search. Find den with bones. Odour of death strong. No dark death there. Only place for bones. Old bones. Where two-legs put pack after death.”
“Deodamnatus!”
“What?” Talian asked, his hand going to his sword’s hilt. I waved him quiet.
“Burial niches? You are sure?”
I got the equivalent of a wolf nod.
“Grave walking…” Gwen mused. I had linked her and Seren into the conversation.
“Thank you, my friend,” I sent to the wolf. “Will your pack continue the hunt for the dark death creature?”
“We hunt,” he said and faded back into the brush. “I hunt with them. You run too?”
“I will stay with these two-legs,” I sent. “Thank you for your aid. May your run be silent and your hunt successful.”
“We are pack,” he said.
“They lost the trail,” I told Talian. That was all I’d say for now. He spent most of his time with Dunstan, and I wasn’t always listening to their conversations. I doubted he’d share the information, but I couldn’t be sure. His new friendship might be enough for his caution to slip.
“Do I tell Penda?”
“I’m not sure there is much he could do with that knowledge,” Gwen sent. “When I arrive in the morning, we will hold a conference and inform the Mercian king of as much as we know.”
I settled in by the king’s fire again. Penda and the guard captain sat in camp chairs. Ludló raised the ale skin towards me. I waved it off and raised my cup to show I still had some.
No sooner had I sat in one of the open chairs than the black cat appeared and leapt into my lap.
“Wouldn’t expect a cat in these parts,” Ludló said, “especially with our dogs about. But he seemed to be waiting for you. Wouldn’t do more than rub against our hands or take a piece of dried meat.”
“Did you add dogs to the guard rotation?” Penda asked.
Ludló waved towards the men near the row of bedrolls ringing the second fire. “One handler and a dog will walk the perimeter with a guard.” He gestured at Dunstan, who was chatting again with Talian at the edge of where the guards and huntsmen gathered. “Even your man and our newest trainee are doing well. I have each with an experienced man, not by themselves.”
“Talian comes from good farm stock,” I said. “He’s the youngest from a family of yeomen. He’s learned how to get the job done without complaints.”
“Older brothers have a way of making sure the youngest do the work,” Ludló said, grinning. “I remember how my—”
The cat on my lap raised his head, his ears back. A second later, the sound of the dogs’ growls rumbled through the night. One sent out a few warning barks.
All the men had hands on blades and looked off into the forest towards the north. The cat had already leapt down and faded into the underbrush. I was on my feet with my hand across my belly, fingers gripping Soul’s hilt.
I heard them before they came into view. Father Adda and two of his men crashed through the brush.
“Oh, thank the Lord that you are here, Your Grace!” Adda exclaimed.
A hound growled and stepped forward. Father Adda was already pale. He stopped and stepped back. The dogs had their heads down, scruff raised and teeth bared.
“Where are your other three men?” Ludló growled.
“Dead, milord,” one of the witchers said. “The beast got them.”
“Which beast?” Penda asked.
“The shifter, milord,” the same man said. He still clenched his silver seax in his fist. It was streaked red with blood. “The beastie was tall, long arms. Claws and teeth. Half human.”
Deodamnatus! I had to bite my tongue to keep from swearing out loud. We were after whatever Baldwin’s corpse had become. Now the shifter was in this area too?
Penda waved the priest and the guilders into camp. Ludló directed his men out to form a perimeter.
“A dog and handler with every other man,” he said. “Stay quiet unless you hear or spot something.”
The two guild men were smart enough to pair with a Mercian guard and take a station. Father Adda stood alone in front of Penda. Penda, Ludló, and I settled into our camp chairs again.
“I thought your men were skilled in battling these creatures, good father.” Penda smirked at Adda. “To lose three men out of five in a single battle…”
“It caught us unawares around the cook fire, Your Grace.” Adda looked around for an empty camp chair. The best he could find was the folded blankets Talian had left right outside my tent. He looked my way. I suspected he’d try to use his rank and gender to commandeer my chair.
The black cat drifted back in. He eyed my lap. I smoothed my tunic and let him jump up. After a few circles, the cat settled into my lap and started to purr.
I looked at the priest and gave him my best “I can’t move because I’ll disturb the cat” smile. He turned, his throat clearing into a harrumph, and lowered himself onto the blanket.
Penda passed around the ale skin once the priest sat. I half listened while I sent my mind out to search the area. I wasn’t nearly as talented as Gwen, but I knew to look for a wrinkle in the area. A wrinkle of nothing meant that shifter magic was present.
“One of my guards was off in the bush after he had the horses set for the night,” Adda explained. “He was pissing when he screamed. He collapsed, gurgling as that creature leapt upon us. We were fortunate to escape.”
Ludló grunted. “There were still four men with your special silvered weapons.”
“Good, skilled guild warriors,” Penda said. “Shouldn’t four be enough to handle a shifter? And you could have grabbed the weapons from your downed man. Don’t they teach you how to fight? Every priest of Woden knows axe and shield. They are amongst Mercia’s best men in a melee.”
“Our religion is a way of peace, Your Grace,” Adda stumbled out an answer.
I continued my mental sweep. Nothing yet.
“Preaching peace won’t help with
an angry monster in your midst,” Penda said. “You had five men and arrived here with only two. One died taking a piss in the woods. What happened to the other two?”
“The creature.” Adda stopped to swallow and looked into the fire. His skin had gone pale. He raised the ale skin again and tried to aim a squirt into his mouth. Instead, his hands shook, and he sprayed his cheek and chin.
Ludló took the skin from the distraught priest and squirted some into a wooden mug, then he passed it over. After a swallow, Adda got his tremors to quiet. He took a longer drink.
“One man drew his blade and attacked. The beast slashed him right across the neck. Blood sprayed. The creature locked its jaws around his neck and drank his blood from the wound. I saw it swallow. My other men rushed in. They scored a few strikes on the beast, but it was too strong. It flung its victim at them. One dodged, but he was the next to feel its claws.”
“What did you do?” Penda asked, his voice hard.
We all knew the answer. We could see it in his eyes.
The priest swallowed and kept his eyes down. “I ran…”
“When a leader runs, his men will too,” Ludló said. “At least your two guards survived to alert us.”
“Were you followed?” Penda asked.
Adda shrugged. “The men said they thought not.” His shoulders hunched, he wrapped his arms around his chest and stared into the fire. Penda glanced at Ludló and jerked his head towards the outer perimeter.
Ludló whistled a bird call. One of his guards moved to the edge of camp. The guard captain motioned, and a moment later one of Adda’s men came into our circle.
“Tell us what happened,” Penda said. He passed the man a cup of ale.
The guilder related a story similar to Adda’s.
“Why did you run?” Ludló asked.
“The priest ran,” the man said. “Three of us might have taken it, but only two of us and a priest who beats his feet away ain’t enough to take on a beastie like that.”
“Did it pursue?” Ludló asked.
“No, milord,” the guilder said. “We’ve been running since right before sundown. Neither Eastmund nor I want to get ate by that monster.”
“How did you find us?”
“Luck, Your Grace,” the guilder told Penda. “We saw a glow of fire in the night and heard your horses and dogs. I thank you. More than a dozen swords should do the trick if that beastie shows again. Your men can keep it penned in, and Eastmund and I will take it down with our silver.”
“We’ll see how it works out if the creature does attack,” Penda said. He glanced towards me. The guilder saw the look. He shifted his eyes and looked at my waist, where two swords hung. He swallowed hard.
“Milady, you are of Penllyn?”
“I am,” I said. “Lord Penllyn is my brother.”
“Thank you, milady,” the guard said. “And thank your other brother, Lord Emlyn. We in the guild are trying to live down the shame that our rogue Seeker and his minion caused you last year. We had no idea that a witch like Bechard had infiltrated our guild at such a high level.”
Father Adda glared at me. When I shifted my eyes his way, his face reddened. He darted his eyes down into his lap.
“Your guild knows to stay far away from Penllyn, Mechain, and Meirionnydd, correct?” I asked, my tone firm.
“Yes, milady,” he said and bowed. “We are avoiding northern Cymru altogether until the new Seeker arrives and can negotiate terms for our return.”
“With the mood of the lords from that area,” I said with a smile, “your new Seeker should try getting the tide to stop its ebb and flow… or try to convince the sun to rise in the west and set in the east. That will probably happen sooner than the lords allowing your guild into our lands.”
“I leave such matters to the leaders of the guild, milady,” he said, then turned towards Penda. “Anything else, Your Grace? We’d be honoured to stand watch with Mercia tonight.”
Penda shook his head.
“Another hour on watch to make sure the creature isn’t lurking close,” Ludló said. “Then we’ll start rotations so everyone gets sleep tonight.”
“Do you have a spare tent, Your Grace?” Adda asked once his man had headed back into the brush.
“He can have mine,” I said. I didn’t want Adda out where he could see me. “I’ll stay on watch with the men and just doze in the chair.”
Penda glanced at the priest, then smiled at me.
“At least the cat will be enjoyable company,” he said with a wink.
38
A Quiet Night
The men had changed shifts again. Half on watch, the other half sitting by the fire and swapping stories. Father Adda tried to ingratiate himself to Penda.
“Leaders who run from battle and leave their men to die hold no credence with me,” Penda said and turned away.
The guild priest slunk away into the small tent set aside for my use. Even though he was close enough to hear our conversation, he was at least out of our sight.
I didn’t want to talk about my own experiences with the priest that close, so I asked Penda about his earlier campaigns.
“Edwin was a good battle leader,” he said. “Every leader has a flaw. Edwin’s was his conceit. He believed he was better than he was.”
“What is your flaw?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“I’m too good,” Penda said, his voice flat. “And I don’t mean me. The people around me, everyone, is the best at what they do. Eventually, one of us will make a mistake. That one little mistake will be enough. The only battle leader I’ve found better than Lazlow is your friend Mihangel. Even my queen is the best woman I could find, with the sharpest political mind.”
“Marry not for love, but for matters of governance?” I knew the answer, but we had a night to fill with conversation.
“There are more than enough women willing to share my bed,” Penda said. “Mercia needs a strong queen. Someone who can argue and negotiate with the best kings, bishops, and war leaders. Cynewise is that and more. If Woden gains me in his feasting hall because I make a mistake in battle, my sons will have a firm and skilled guide in their mother. Mercia will prosper.”
Our conversation drifted after that. “Wake me at the next shift change,” he told the guard captain.
He and Ludló seemed to have agreed that one or the other would be awake in shifts with the guards.
I stayed in my chair with the cat on my lap. Instead of rising, I sent my thoughts out into the surrounding forests. I wished Gwen was there. She was better at the magical sensing than I was.
“Slow down,” Gwen sent. “Take your time in the search.”
“How long before you’re here?” I replied. “If something is out there, I want to find it before it finds us.”
“Afon says we’ve progressed farther than he scouted earlier today,” she replied. “We’re perhaps just beyond the halfway point to get to that grove he saw. Another two hours of travel, at the earliest.”
Again, the shift changed, and the men who came in from duty rolled into their blankets and laid their weapons at their side for easy retrieval. I sensed a few of their minds dancing with agitation. A few lay awake, and some eventually slipped into slumber. This shift, Ludló was on watch. We sat in silence. He added another stout branch to our fire, then leaned back and sipped at his ale.
I sat and swirled the ale in the cup I had. Whenever he or Penda headed off to piss or walk the perimeter, I spilled more ale into the grass by my chair.
The cat in my lap stretched once and opened an eye to look at me.
“What?” I asked him.
Instead of answering, his ears perked up.
A dog barked in alarm. The cat streaked off my lap. A man screamed.
Sleeping men rolled out of their blankets, boots still on. Their hands grabbed their silver seaxes and tugged them from the scabbards. I ran through them, Soul in one hand, my blade borrowed from the deceased Osmund son of Tata in the other. Both we
re alight with the fire of the goddess. I smelled blood, and my demon stirred. Blood always made her awaken, even when I wasn’t thirsting. I groaned. Blood odour meant we had injured, if not dead, amongst our men.
The white glow from my swords lit the night, and I saw the shifter, its teeth clamped on the neck of one of Ludló’s guards. The other guard and dog lay dead. It was their blood I detected. Gwen gasped as I shared my thoughts. Seren’s mind was asleep, so I left it to Gwen whether we should awaken her.
I slid across the blood-slicked grass and aimed an overhead blow at the beast with Soul. The creature was startled by my approach. Its wolf-shaped eyes locked on to me. Black. Jet-black eyes, just like Undead Baldwin. No familiar yellow or blue. This was more than just a half-human, half-wolf beast.
The shifter twisted out of my blade’s path. I already had my second glowing blade angled at its side. The creature spun its victim and used the dead man to intercept my strike. Damn, that thing was fast. My momentum carried me beyond the shifter. The damn wet grass wasn’t helping.
The creature had time to fling its dead prey at the charging men. All went down in a heap. In the back of my mind, I heard the terrified baying of the hounds. No time for that. My attention was fixed on the creature before me.
I slashed in with Osmund’s blade, careful of my footing. Now I was close and didn’t need a lot of momentum. The blade was a feint. I already had Soul angled for a thrust at its belly.
The beast shifted away from the slash as I expected. Its hand or paw or whatever darted in, however, and intercepted my other strike. I felt fingers wrap around my right wrist and claws scrape across my skin. Damn, that hurt!
My soft leather boots slid on the damp grass. The creature’s clawed feet, however, could sink into the damp earth. This fight had just gotten complicated.
I angled Soul into its forearm and twisted enough to draw the glowing blade across its flesh. The beast snarled but didn’t release its hold. My other blade darted in. That damn creature was fast. And skilled. It caught my other wrist. Claws dug into my flesh again. Pain coursed through my arm. My demon started her song of hunger. Shifter wounds did that do me. A matching set of shifter claw marks graced both forearms now. Not deep. Enough, however, to make my demon take note.