The Winged Hunter

by F. T. McKinstry

  He said, “You would give me your love on the chance it would protect me from him? Why would you do that?”

  She gave a small shrug. “You saved my life.” She pulled her knees closer, as if to hide.

  “I wouldn’t ask for your maidenhead in return.”

  They sat there in heavy, uncomfortable silence. Eaglin’s gut coiled into a knot as the anguish of his memories muddied the pool of his integrity. “Tansel,” he said finally. “I can’t take you like that.” Caelfar will murder me, he added to himself.

  She sat there with her eyes closed. A tear crept down her cheek.

  If he doesn’t, Gabran will try.

  Eaglin rifled through his knowledge and the actions that had brought him here. He considered the Rites of Hawthorn, the deal he had made with the sioros and his conversations with Lorth and Caelfar. He tried to imagine what Tansel had experienced in the ofsinae. He looked for patterns, he looked for answers. But all he had was a young woman who had somehow broken an immortal seduction spell.

  She still desired the sioros. Of course she did. But Eaglin couldn’t give her that, even if she had seen his shadow. “Making love to you will not release me from my vow to him,” he said quietly, as if to himself.

  No, he’ll shred what’s left after Caelfar and Gabran are done.

  She rolled over and curled into a fetal position. Feeling he had missed the point, Eaglin got up and knelt by her side. As he placed his hand on her shoulder, she flinched. “Go away.”

  “Tansel, I’m not a crowharrow.”

  “I know that!” she cried beneath her cloak. “I don’t care.”

  As Eaglin blinked stupidly at her curvy form, he recalled something his mother had once told him: A maiden cannot remain innocent. She must become a woman, to know all the aspects of the Old One within herself, or she can’t be whole.

  This wasn’t about the sioros anymore.

  Tension arced across Eaglin’s heart and loins like a drawn bow. He rose and stepped around the fire, and then half stumbled to the opening of the cave, his senses swirling like a fiery maelstrom. He took a deep breath of the cold, moist air. His heart thumped and his palms were damp. The Destroyer rose up within him, a shadow on the sea, the sea itself.

  From far away, Tansel said, “Eaglin?”

  Desire flowed into his body like a potion. His senses grew more intense and refined. His mind spread out into the forest. He felt sap running in the trees, the pulsing of a bird in its nest, a mouse, a bat, the electric crackle thundering in the clouds; he smelled the musk of snakes, the breath of deer; he saw the complex, sweeping patterns of raindrops driven by wind.

  He turned around. Tansel sat up, alert as prey, holding her cloak around her body. Her face was flushed and desire glowed from beneath her womb, in the softness there, flowing and sighing with clover and salt, an ache of dark waters. Her scent mingled with earth, wood smoke, and cat.

  She shrugged her cloak from her shoulders. She fumbled at the laces of her dress and drew it over her head with an impatient sweep. And then she waited, naked, soft, blushed, and trembling.

  “Soth eala Menscefaros mothesrus,” Eaglin said in a voice from another world. His blood erupted in a conflagration as the shadows of wings soared up and over the walls and ceiling of the cave, darkening it.

  The cat fled.

  Lust howled in his veins, drove him insane for completion, to merge and penetrate the Void. He flexed his hands to feel the air against his claws, and then threw his face back and bared his fangs with a roar that shook the mountain.

  Hunted

  Tansel’s eyes fluttered open to the pre-dawn glow hanging in the entrance of the cave. She drew a deep breath of the cool, fragrant woods. The night rushed into her awareness, a beautiful, astonishing river of flesh, fire and care that left her intensely conscious of the throb where her maidenhead had been.

  The wizard’s heartbeat thumped strongly against her cheek. He stirred against her, and then drew her close. Tansel wanted to say something, but remained silent. Spellbound by shyness and disorientation, she feared breaking the moment by saying something daft.

  The fire crackled nearby. Something steamed from the small pot there. The wizard must have risen, gotten that together, and then lay back down with her.

  Thoughts flew around in her mind. She envisioned her mother’s face, furrowed and intense, as she had explained to Tansel what could happen if she lay with a man. Tansel might have scampered from the cave to find some bloodleaf, a plant the women in the village had often requested to keep their wombs free of child. But late the night before, as they lay in the afterglow of love, Eaglin had spoken to her of many things, beautiful, mysterious things, including a reassurance that she wouldn’t conceive by him. Something about being son of the Aenmos. A mysterious claim. But his sad, gentle way calmed her mind.

  The Raven sat up, leaned over, picked up a cup and filled it with tea. As Tansel took it, he reached into his pack. He held out a linen sack containing dried fruit.

  As she ate, the wizard sat very still and studied the dim woods outside the cave with a weird, inward-searching gaze. His eyes came into focus as he turned to her. “He’s out there, waiting. Do you feel him?”

  All Tansel felt was the blood leaving her face. She swallowed. “Why hasn’t he attacked us?”

  Eaglin gestured to the cave. “I brought you over the threshold of womanhood. That is the Old One’s domain; he can’t enter here. But he’ll come after us when we leave. I’ll have to change into a crowharrow again to elude him.”

  “Can you out-fly him?”

  The wizard coughed on a laugh. “Maern, no. He can move between dimensions. I can’t.”

  “Maybe we can stay here until he goes away.”

  “He won’t. Time is nothing to an immortal. We could die here of old age in the time it takes him to shift into the time-space matrix for only a moment, to wait. And he will wait. I’ve taken what I promised him would be his. He won’t care that you refused him. This is a male claim issue, now.”

  “I don’t understand why the Old One won’t protect you.”

  Eaglin made a face. “I dare not assume that. I made a bargain with an immortal and I have to answer for that. I’m on my own wits, now.”

  A short time later, they stood together before the mouth of the cave. In the eerie silence, Eaglin said, “There is something I want you to understand, Tansel. Not all maidens are as strong as you are. The shadow on my heart that you saw last night was deeply wounded. By accepting me as the Destroyer, you chose to be part of my healing, as I did yours. We’ll always be connected, you and I. Wherever we are. Always.”

  “That sounds like a farewell,” she said softly.

  “Just remember it.”

  She composed herself with a nod and a deep breath. “What are we going to do?”

  He picked up his pack and strapped it over his back behind his waist. “I have to throw him off our trail.” He stepped close and grasped her shoulders with an intensity that made her jump. “Now listen carefully. The crowharrow can’t kill you, and he can’t kill me while I’m holding you. He’ll try to frighten you into letting go, so he can claim me.”

  “That will kill me, if I fall.”

  “Exactly. This is just like his seduction. If you choose to let go, then technically, he’s not crossing the pale. Do you see the way of this? A crowharrow doesn’t play nice. He fights dirty. He’ll put all his power to bear on making you let go. He’ll draw your blood, if need be—and you’ll not see it coming.

  “I’m going to alter reality to lose him. We’ll be traveling to Muin just as we would, but it won’t appear so. As scary as he is, what I’m going to do will probably scare you worse so you must stay calm, and don’t panic. If you let go, the result will be the same: you will die. Do you understand?”

  Tansel envisioned the wizard as a crowharrow, his eyes aflame with lust as he descended upon her with immortal force. She had believed her death was imminent, but she opened her arms to him
anyway, and in that moment, a mortal man returned her embrace. Firm, soothing and strong, smelling of the forest, the wizard had brought her down and taught her the mysteries of love. She blinked up at him in a rosy daze.

  “No matter what you think is happening,” the wizard pressed, “you must trust me. Promise?”

  She relived the shocking sensation of his sex entering her. “I promise.”

  He stepped away, faced the sky and spoke a beautiful word that raised a pleasant shiver on her flesh. Her heart skipped a beat as he turned, tall wings settling around him. Though ferocious enough, his eyes were his own gray-green. This wizard wears the crowharrow well, she decided. He put his arms around her, gathered her close, one arm over her back and the other hand sliding down over her hips to hold her from beneath. A blush heated her cheeks.

  She clutched onto him as he leapt into the air with breathtaking strength. They rose up together through the canopy of the forest glistening with the night’s rain. But Tansel didn’t get a chance to bask in the thrill of soaring into the expanse of the clearing sky.

  In a crowharrow’s deep, hypnotic voice, Eaglin said, “He’s coming. Remember what I told you. Keep quiet, keep calm, and do not let go of me for any reason, no matter what.”

  Tansel nodded against his chest, and then twisted her head to look around them.

  The crowharrow came without warning, a gust of black that swept over Tansel’s back with a growl. She screamed. Cold wind blew through a long gash in the back of her dress.

  He was nowhere. Everywhere.

  She heard him say something in his no-language, an eerie sound that raised every hair on her body and caused the tender flesh between her thighs to throb. Eaglin answered him, in a voice as strange.

  Whatever the wizard said, it didn’t have a good effect. Tansel pressed her face against his chest with a cry as a bolt of wrath crackled across the sky.

  The crowharrow came again, from above. Eaglin twisted out of the way in a graceful tangle of wings and legs, but not before the immortal swiped the two of them, entwined. Tansel looked down in horror to see the hem of her dress blowing in tatters in the wind, and blood streaking Eaglin’s waist. A black feather the size of her leg spiraled silently down.

  “Hold on,” the wizard rumbled. He spoke another word that sounded like rain splashing on mud.

  Tansel clamped her thighs around him, slammed her eyes shut, and held her breath. The wind ceased; the air warmed. But as she began to relax, something writhed around her ankles and dug into her back. Snakes twined around her feet and legs, the tail end of a dragon moving through the air. Only several feet beneath her rushed deep green, clear water.

  She shrieked as the crowharrow materialized beside her. He lashed out and struck a row of numb, brilliant marks in her thigh. She felt the moisture of blood before she felt the pain.

  Her monstrous captor hit the water. Tansel barely had time to catch a breath as it burned into her flesh and eyes. For an impossible time he swam, the dragon snake, down into the turquoise depths. Soon, Tansel’s air ran out. If she let go now, she could swim to the surface before they dove too deeply. If she didn’t, she would drown.

  Hold on, she told herself. Don’t let go. Colors rippled over her eyes, bubbles, a swirl of currents and snakes. Water flooded into her mouth and lungs. Still, she held on.

  Paroxysms of coughing gripped her as she hit the air surrounded by icy cold mist. She hung from the talons of an eagle with the body of a cat and golden brown wings. Her wet dress clung to her, turning the wind icy. Hanging from Eaglin’s claws, she no longer had his warmth against her.

  An eerie roar sounded in the distance. Eaglin moved higher, into a thick bank of clouds in which she could hardly see him above her.

  The roar repeated, closer this time.

  Tansel felt horribly exposed, hanging in the air, connected to Eaglin by only his talons around her arms. Something black swirled to her left. Eaglin made a sound; she couldn’t tell if it was another command or a cry of pain.

  Once again, the wizard’s arms surrounded her, held aloft by the wings of a crowharrow. He descended with alarming speed through the moving boughs of mighty trees taller than any Tansel had ever seen, with trunks as wide a house. Golden light glowed in the enormous hollows between their roots. The beating of Eaglin’s wings ruffled seas of pale green ferns carpeting the forest floor. The air was warm.

  He landed. Still in his winged form, he lifted and carried Tansel to a tree with a rotted hollow the size of her old pantry. He set her into it, then knelt and put his hand on her thigh, turning it. “Let me see this,” he said in his creepy voice.

  Tansel straightened and twisted her leg slightly to reveal a row of bleeding gashes throbbing with pain. “The water cleaned it,” she offered, feeling suddenly weak.

  Eaglin tore off part of his shirt and wrapped it carefully around her leg. The intimate gesture made it fantastically clear he was not a crowharrow. “I need you to stay here. I’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to make him think I lost you, so we can get home. Stay quiet, stay still. You’ll be safe.”

  “But you’ll be exposed! He’ll get you.”

  “No he won’t.”

  “It won’t matter if he thinks I’m gone. He’ll not leave off until you’re dead.”

  The wizard didn’t respond—probably because he knew it was true. He tied a loose knot in the dressing on her leg. Blood seeped through the fabric. He withdrew, removed his pack and set it beside her. “There’s food in there.” He brushed his clawed hand over her cheek, and then bounded up and ascended in a spiral path into the canopy of the forest. The rhythmic movement of his wings was uneven and strained, as if he were hurt. Tansel watched him until he vanished into the sky.

  It felt as if he had never been there. Her heart started to pound. She peered out of her hideout into the dream-like forest. She reached around and felt the tear in the back of her dress and the wild ache of the scratches on her leg. That much was real.

  She sat back and pulled Eaglin’s pack into her lap. She opened it, pulled out the fruit sack and felt around in it. Apple rings. She put one in her mouth and chewed, not tasting it.

  Her body was warm, but her heart was cold with fear. No one evaded a crowharrow and Eaglin was marked, now. What if he never came back? She had no idea where she was. Did this place even exist? She would be stuck here and no one would know.

  She set the pack aside and leaned out again. Wind blew through the forest, whispering. Birds fluttered in the high branches. They had long, flowing tail feathers of black and red, dove-gray bodies, and wings tipped with the same red as in their tails. They made beautiful soft sounds.

  Tansel rose and stepped out of the tree, wincing as she put weight on her leg. The forest glowed with yellow light. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was, as the light didn’t seem to come from the sun. Soothing nevertheless, it emanated from the ground, the trees, and the air. She limped away from the tree. The light on the forest floor gathered into shapes, but she couldn’t tell what they were, for the size of them.

  Entranced, she moved through the velvety ferns over soft, moist moss and pools of light. In the back of her mind, she heard Eaglin’s crowharrow voice telling her to stay in the tree. But staying was not something Tansel did well. The forest felt so safe, she couldn’t imagine being in any danger here—unless she were left here for the rest of her life—but even that seemed far away.

  Her trance broke apart like a twanging bowstring as a low, rhythmic rumbling vibrated under her feet. Gradually, it grew louder, and changed in tone. She stopped as it rose into a crescendo, a sweeping gale that tore the forest with a caterwaul.

  Tansel bolted. She couldn’t find her own tracks, which would lead her back to safety of the tree where Eaglin had left her. Limping heavily, she darted this way and that, having no sun or landmarks to go by but her own terror and the light patches on the forest floor, which didn’t seem to be wher
e she thought they were. As she followed the light over a rise, she noticed from above that the patches resembled the paw prints of an enormous cat. With that realization, she avoided the light and kept to what shadows she could find.

  Before long, she was lost.

  When the winged hunter materialized in the air between the trees, Tansel sagged with relief: Eaglin had come back for her. But this sentiment fled as he uttered a trenchant command in the multidimensional no-language of the Old One, and then rested his ice-blue gaze upon her with a cruel, paralyzing flash of fangs that meant only one thing.

  Eaglin was gone.

  Tansel rent the air with a scream.

  *

  Eaglin didn’t look back at the tree that hid Tansel as he spoke a string of words and emerged into the morning over Loralin Forest. Tansel was somewhere below, hidden from the world, hidden from herself. Even a sioros wouldn’t find her there. For a while.

  Eaglin didn’t think the immortal hunter would bother looking, now. He recalled what the sioros had said when he had descended upon them above the cave.

  Thieving wizard! For the taste of her blood you will die.

  To say the sioros was not pleased that Eaglin had taken Tansel’s innocence would have made the gods themselves choke on laughter. But Eaglin had acquired something from the act besides healing: a scrap of linen with Tansel’s maidenblood on it. Though it did symbolize that which Eaglin had originally promised the sioros in return for his life, giving the bloody linen to the hunter as the culmination of that bargain was a nasty trick that would probably get him killed. But it was worth a try. As Aradia had said, It’s about blood, Keeper. However you throw it.

  Blood was one thing a sioros always responded to.

  Unfortunately, the sioros still had Aradia, and Eaglin didn’t want to use his only bargaining prize until he discovered whether she still lived. If she did, nothing short of Tansel’s blood would free her. And so, in the short time between one attack and the next, to plant the seed, Eaglin had replied: Her blood could yet be yours.