by Ross Turner
Stephen hit him again, even harder again this time and Kaylm’s vision blurred terribly.
“Say it again!” His father hissed through cruel, bared teeth.
Kaylm could hardly focus as the room blurred and spun around him. His head pounded and throbbed and he could taste the blood streaming from his nose.
“She’s a witch…” He eventually managed to stammer, though he had to force the words from his tongue.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it sweetheart?” His mother, Victoria, asked then. Her smile was sickly sweet as she spoke and she fingered the loose curls hanging at the bottom of her hair negligently.
Kaylm couldn’t find the breath nor the strength to reply.
Without another word, though his father did grunt with slight satisfaction, the three of them sat back down at the table to finish their breakfast.
None of them aided Kaylm, and he didn’t ask for it.
He didn’t want their help.
Without a word, though with much agony, Kaylm crawled slowly to the stairs and dragged himself up them, one difficult step at a time.
He had agreed with them, but that had simply been to escape a beating that may well have killed him.
Silently, he still absolutely refused to yield.
Commencing that afternoon, if he could even walk, he would join the hunt for Marcii and Reaper. He supposed there was no better way he could escape from here to find her. Tyran’s men had been combing every inch of the wilderness ever since Marcii had fled.
He reasoned that, now he’d been recruited for the hunt, his best chance of saving Marcii was to find her while Tyran’s troops were fighting the demon.
Hopefully it would take them long enough to kill it for the two of them to slip away.
It was a ropey plan, he admitted to himself, with plenty of pitfalls. But, considering the circumstances, it was the best he had.
Hauling himself up the last of the steps and into the bathroom, Kaylm gritted his teeth as he splashed cold water on his face, cleaning himself up the best he could.
If Tyran’s men did not kill the demon Reaper, he would have to find a way to do it himself, for he absolutely had to save Marcii.
And then together they would leave, never again to return.
Chapter Thirteen
Strangely enough, considering everything that had happened of late, Marcii hadn’t had a single dream, nor, perhaps more surprisingly, a nightmare. Not one she could remember anyway.
She woke up feeling drained and tired. At first she thought it was just because she’d gone from sleeping through the night to sleeping through the day and her body was having a hard time adjusting.
But as the weeks went on and her body grew accustomed to Reaper’s routine, the young Dougherty did not awake any less exhausted.
Each night when they ventured out under the cover of darkness, Marcii discovered more and more the blissful and undisturbed silence of the night.
She had lived her entire life in a busy, bustling market town, never really knowing peace.
Though she knew virtually nothing of Reaper’s past, his life now revolved around such things. He revelled in the tranquillity of silence and stillness like no one she had ever known.
Of course, she knew that’s not what other people saw when they laid eyes upon him, for he was a fearsome looking creature.
But he was no beast.
Regardless though, in such matters the truth is often of no consequence.
Just because he was not a monster did not mean he wouldn’t be treated as one.
Marcii’s strange visions grew more frequent and more vivid as they days went on, though she still had no idea what they were or what was causing them.
She saw all manner of sights that made her blood run ever colder. From widespread rallies and speeches to public floggings and executions, by the time Marcii had witnessed only a meagre handful of the visions delivered upon her, the young Dougherty’s sheer will and resolution to oust Tyran from his rule was unmatched.
Many times she tried to convince herself that they were in fact only dreams, and once or twice she even half succeeded in doing so.
But somehow, instinctively, she knew they were much more than that.
She simply could not ignore them, for she knew almost beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were the cold, hard truth.
She felt as if they were important, and that she should heed them, but she had no idea how or why.
If they did have real meaning, as she feared, she knew things in Newmarket were worse than ever.
The thought made her skin crawl and deepened the pit in her stomach, for imagination always trumps knowledge and her mind whispered to her constantly that there was only worse to come.
Chapter Fourteen
Marcii lay awake listening to the sounds of the birds and the trees and even the very cave itself, for the world seemed much more alive during the day than it did at night.
Her life with Reaper was one lived in perpetual darkness.
Not that she minded.
She understood the need for it, absolutely.
But even still, as she lay there, listening to the birdsong echo down from above and wishing she could sit amongst the rustling leaves and swaying branches, the young Dougherty sighed deeply, wondering just where in the world it had all gone wrong.
She pondered that thought, considering if indeed it had actually gone wrong.
She was perhaps happier now than she ever had been, in a strange, free sort of way.
Though there was, admittedly, one thing that she desperately yearned for. Or, perhaps more accurately, one person.
Reaper sat watching as Marcii tossed and turned, troubled by her tumbling thoughts. He remained perfectly still as ever, resting his enormous body back against the flat wall of the cave.
He saw everything.
Though he could not tell exactly what Marcii was thinking, he could tell that something was bothering her.
Usually the young girl slept on his lap to keep warm, but that night, or day, whichever way you look at it, she lay restless on the hard floor by the crackling fire.
She had not been her usual self for a few days now, but Reaper didn’t know why.
Though she had not mentioned it again, he knew she wanted to leave.
She wanted to go to Ravenhead.
Alas, for the simple reason that she had not again spoken of it, Reaper knew something was holding her back.
Eventually, unable to lie there any longer, Marcii pushed herself wearily to her feet. Their pattern of waking at night and sleeping during the day meant that her body felt as though it was the middle of the night and her limbs were heavy as lead.
Reaper’s eyes watched her every move curiously, though he still kept completely motionless, like a vast, black statue of thick fur and tough, leathery hide.
It was quite an ominous sight really. But Marcii had grown accustomed to Reaper’s many curiosities over the past weeks and they no longer surprised her so.
“Can I go outside, please?” Marcii suddenly asked.
Her question broke the long held silence so abruptly that it seemed to echo around the cave a hundred and more times before it finally quieted.
Reaper looked at her for a moment through the dancing orange light of the cave, wondering if that was what had been bothering her the whole time.
He had no way to know about her yearning for Kaylm of course.
Lifting his hands slightly to speak, moving for the first time in hours, he warned her that it would be dangerous to go out during the day. But then, in the same movement, his fingers flickering in the crackling light, he assured her that he would not stop her.
Marcii smiled her thanks and skipped over to hug Reaper, wrapping her tiny arms as far as she could around his massive body.
She stepped back to speak again, but Reaper’s hands were already dancing more words.
He asked her if she would like some time to herself for a while.
&nb
sp; She had not been alone since he had found her in the woods and he knew that humans were strange creatures. Sometimes they wanted only to be around the company of others, and then other times they wanted nothing more than solitude.
“Is that okay?” Marcii asked, though her eyes betrayed her, indicating to Reaper that was indeed what she wanted.
His hands constructed their reply, assuring her that it was. He promised that he would wait right by the entrance to the cave so that if anything happened she need only call and he would be right there.
“Thank you, Reaper.” Marcii replied. As she spoke he pushed himself onto all fours and followed her through towards the entrance of the cave.
The ground sloped upwards and arced into the blinding light cascading down from above. Even though they were being filtered down through the thick canopy the sun’s rays were dazzling and Marcii shielded her eyes against their strength.
Reaper, of course, did not need to. He looked up ahead entirely unaffected by the brightness. As he had so aptly explained to Marcii before, his eyes did not need light by which to see and so he was relatively indifferent to it.
Taking a seat just inside the cave entrance, ensuring that he still would not be seen, Reaper crouched and sat, assuming the same position he always did.
Marcii on the other hand, filled with sudden exhilaration, crept upwards towards the cold sun.
All traces of her weariness were gone and she looked back to Reaper only once for reassurance, as if she thought what she was doing was wrong.
His motioning hands told her to enjoy herself, though not to stray too far in case Tyran had troops out on the hillside. She nodded eagerly and smiled warmly at the enormous creature who seemed to have so willingly designated himself her protector.
Without another thought Marcii clambered up the slope that led to the forest and disappeared from Reaper’s view.
The giant creature did not move.
But, as ever, his mind was busy at work and his perfect senses stayed constantly attuned, monitoring for even the slightest hint of a sound or movement to suggest that Marcii might need him.
Fearsome though he might have looked, he was gentle and kind and caring, as the young girl had so quickly come to learn.
He was most certainly not about to let any harm come to her.
Chapter Fifteen
The air was freezing and bit at Marcii’s skin, but rather than making her shiver, it seemed to revitalise her, freeing her from her worries, even if just for a brief time.
As she rose to her feet, glancing around nervously at first, the forest seemed so full of life and colour that she felt as though at any second it might burst at its seams. The sodden black earth beneath her feet and the rough, brown bark of the trees was so contrasted against the brimming, baby blue sky above, dotted with but a few wispy clouds.
It all seemed most unreal.
She could have sworn that from down in the cave below she’d heard the rustling of leaves in the forest’s branches and the sound of birdsong as they flitted between nests. But, of course, it was the middle of a harsh winter, and now that she was here among them, Marcii could see that the trees were empty and bare.
That saddened her for a moment, though she tried not to let it bother her too much.
Though she couldn’t really think why, she had imagined before she’d ventured up here that she would find lush green meadows and rippling, swaying forests, all bathed in the glorious light of the soft afternoon sun.
There were huge plains and numerous forests in the distance that Marcii could just about see as she peered through the dense woodland all around her. But they were not lush as she had hoped, nor bathed in as gentle sunlight. It was the very heart of winter after all and Marcii shouldered her disappointment with a large pinch of realism.
She was wishing for things that simply were not possible in this, the harshest season of them all.
Marcii frolicked slowly through the naked, lifeless trees for a time, running her hands across their freezing bark trunks and passing unheard beneath their leafless branches.
Had the forest been more vivid and full of life her view would have been greatly restricted. But as it was she could see in all directions, for the forest, though dense, was bare as winter’s frost.
Unfortunately, she realised, though her own view was improved, the barer the forest remained the more easily their cave might be found.
In the far distance she could see mountains already capped with snow that reached up towards the sky, seeming to part the clouds as they towered over the landscape. In another direction she could see yet more woodlands, equally as leafless and with vast plains surrounding them on all sides like extensive patches of dead man’s land.
Ambling this way and that in her wanderings Marcii never strayed too far from Reaper’s protection, though admittedly it was nice to be out of the cave.
She knew in which direction Newmarket lay, although she could not see it. The thought made her shudder slightly and she turned immediately back to the forest, but she could not escape the feeling that pervaded even the very trees and earth all about and beneath her.
As she turned, even though she had not turned too quickly or too sharply, Marcii’s head began once again to spin. Her feet felt all of a sudden lost beneath her body and she stumbled uncontrollably this way and that, dizzy and dazed beyond belief.
She tried to save herself: to catch it and control it before she fell.
But it was not to be.
Once again, as her head spun faster and faster, as if the world was shaking, her vision hazed and blurred and went black.
She could not hear.
She could not see.
She could not shout for Reaper.
Her feet finally went from beneath her and, unable to stop herself any longer, Marcii fell blindly to the floor.
She hit the ground hard and cracked her head against the unforgiving cobblestones.
Laying there for a moment with her eyes closed, realising all at once that her senses had returned to her, along with a throbbing head, Marcii’s fingers clawed at the cold, wet road in horror.
All around her she sensed feet scurrying and scampering in every direction, pounding heavily against the stones.
Her heart pounded as she realised all at once she was no longer alone in the forest.
Finally, knowing she had no choice, she opened her eyes, only to immediately see a heavy boot fling forwards, inches from her face.
She gasped, bracing for the impact.
But once again the figure passed straight through her. Her concern eventually faded into a dull ache and she slowly sat up to look around.
She was back in the square in Newmarket.
Swallowing nervously, Marcii glanced round at the hundreds upon thousands of scurrying figures that rushed this way and that. They walked unwittingly straight through her as they went, without even realising she was there.
She took a very deep breath as she pushed herself carefully up off the floor, for she knew she was wanted by every last one of them.
Likely most of them would have finished her themselves, had they known she was stood right there.
Nonetheless, they didn’t.
Marcii had no idea how or why she was there. So, with little other option, she began circling through the vast square inquisitively, wondering many different things.
She had been gone more than just a few weeks now and she was curious to see the results of Tyran’s reign.
Marcii still wasn’t really sure if what her visions showed her was even the truth. Nonetheless, she had found herself coming to trust them for, she reasoned, what else could they be if not the truth?
Much of what she saw was the same. The same stands and stalls had the same keepers, the same brightly coloured tents were pitched here and there and the same people browsed the same places.
But then, at the same time, much of what she saw was very different.
Instead of tools and food and wares many
stalls now sold equipment and weapons and armour, either makeshift or expertly crafted, it didn’t seem to matter.
Marcii passed at least a hundred and more enforcers as she slipped quite literally through the crowds, each one armed to the teeth.
There was one thing though that chilled Marcii’s bones more than anything, and that was the sight of the townsfolk.
Many of them were also now armed and wore expressions that somehow looked infinitely more lethal than their weapons did. Whether they had purchased swords and spears and armour, or whether they had crafted their own, the sight was still unsettling.
Then, all of a sudden, surging forwards like angry, weaponised sheep, the crowds began to flock towards the centre of the square.
Marcii was relieved not to be caught up between them as she had been in the past.
The sensation was unnerving as people ran through her, but although she did not really want to look, she simply had to see what was going on.
She must be here for a reason.
Perhaps this was it.
She walked directly through the crowd, passing through each and every person in her path, one by one, until she emerged out into the centre of the square itself.
But, as she appeared she found herself abruptly almost face to face with Tyran. Her breath caught in her throat, for he was not the only person that the crowds were gathering to see.
“No…” Marcii breathed, though nobody could hear her.
She felt herself go weak at the knees.
She looked on desperately, knowing she could not do a thing about it.
Tyran spread his arms wide, which seemed only to extend his pot belly as his clothes pulled tight about his middle.
He smiled cruelly and flashed his teeth.
He adored executions.
They built morale and courage: serving better than anything to strengthen his following.
And this particular execution was a very special one, for it would signal the beginning of the second Dreadhunt.