Witching Fire: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 16

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Witching Fire: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 16 Page 11

by Galenorn, Yasmine


  A moment later a great gray wolf appeared, almost up to my shoulder. Kipa’s eyes were an intense blue when he was in wolf form, and he was both beautiful and terrifying. When we went on camping trips, he would transform and I would ride on his back like Ember did on Herne’s back when he was in stag form, and we would traverse the back paths of the forest where most hikers never set foot.

  He lay down beside me so I could climb aboard his back. I took hold of the fur on his neck to brace myself and then swung my leg over his back. As he rose, I held on to the fur. It didn’t hurt him, and it gave me a way to balance. Kipa let out a bark. We had established a way for me to understand him, and I knew that meant he was asking me if I was ready.

  “Ready, love,” I said.

  And then, we were off. He ran so fast the snowbanks to the side of the path were a blur, shimmering like crystal as we raced along. I leaned forward, holding on tight, the wind and snowflakes gusting past me. The slope was daunting, but Kipa’s paws were surefooted and his stride even. When we reached the bottom, he kept going.

  Instead of heading through the village toward the palace, he turned to the right and we ran parallel to the town. The houses were made of stone, and smoke rose from their chimneys. Their yards were covered with snow, but barren oak trees were plentiful, as were conifers, and it reminded me of the rural areas back home, with more of a magical feel.

  A few people were out and about, but they hurried along, the chill of the winter keeping outdoor interactions at a minimum. Most of the villagers were Elves, with a very few humans in their midst. From what Kipa had told me, over the millennia, some humans had migrated to Annwn and set up their homes here—usually at the behest of friends who were Fae or Elven.

  We continued past the village, running parallel to the great trees of Y’Bain, through the open clearing. A small thicket up ahead loomed. It wasn’t part of the forest, but a copse separate to itself, and was a mix of fir and cedar, birch and oak and maple. The barren limbs of the latter spread like webs through the sky, and the white bark of the birch stood in stark contrast to the trunks of the other trees.

  Kipa paused at the trailhead and at first I thought he wanted me to get off, but when he didn’t kneel, I said, “Are we almost there?”

  He let out a warning bark. I stayed where I was and didn’t try to scramble off. It would have been difficult to get off his back anyway, since he was still standing. He raised his muzzle to the sky, his nose twitching as he tested the scents in the air, and then, after a moment, he began to walk again, giving me time to once again grab hold of his fur before he took off, running along the path, lightly jumping over root and branch and stone.

  The first thing I noticed about the copse was that the snow was thick here as well, but the path seemed fairly clear. Which meant either someone came out here and shoveled it, or some magical force was in action. Snow didn’t decide where to drop by itself. I made a note to ask Kipa once he had shifted back.

  As we loped along, we saw other animals in the thicket. I saw a great deer to one side and it made me think of Herne and his father. And we also passed foxes chasing rabbits, and dozens of birds who were hopping from branch to branch, looking for food.

  I began to wonder how long we’d keep going when another clearing up ahead caught my attention. There were two houses in the meadow, with smoke swirling from both chimneys, and the cottages looked snug and well-made. To one side of the meadow was what I assumed was a shed, and next to it, a fire crackled beneath a frame that held row after row of fish, skewered on metal sticks. The fire bathed the fish in smoke.

  Kipa came to a stop in front of the first cottage and knelt so I could slide off his back. I winced—his form was so massive that it always strained my thigh muscles when I rode his wolf form. I was standing on a path that had been shoveled clear. It led to the other cottage, then to the shed, and in the other direction it led back out to the path through the thicket.

  As Kipa emerged from the mist that always swirled around him when he transformed, he motioned for me to take his hand. “Hey love, what do you think of Thicklewood?”

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, looking around.

  “Yes, it is. Y’Bain is an ancient forest, and Thicklewood is a remnant of it, divided from the main woodland. Once Y’Bain covered this entire part of Annwn—a sprawling woodland, until Cernunnos moved in and took over, building his palace and the villages surrounding it. The forest pushed back, and he made an agreement with the massive devas of Y’Bain that he would keep his people from destroying more of the woodland, and he and the other gods would stay out of its borders.”

  I frowned. “So the gods can’t enter? What happens if they do? Is Y’Bain an entity in itself?”

  “Exactly. Y’Bain is more than a forest. The entire forest is an entity, and it’s capable of acting through any of the smaller woodlands around here. Through the animals, through the trees, through other, more sinister methods. Y’Bain has eyes and ears everywhere within its borders, and it’s an ancient and crafty soul. If the gods enter, Y’Bain will make it rain hell on their followers.” He stopped at the door and knocked.

  A few seconds later the door opened and the man standing there looked at us, then he clapped Kipa on the shoulder. “Kuippana, what are you doing here? Come in. And who is this?”

  “Dek, how goes it, you old salt?” Kipa grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a hug, in the way brothers in arms hug each other, giving him a thud on the back. “Let us in out of the cold, man.”

  Dek ushered us in, then shut the door. Kipa immediately aimed me for the fireplace where there was a cushioned bench in front of the flames.

  I glanced around the cottage. We were in what looked to be the living–dining area, and it was spacious, with the massive stone fireplace as the focal point. A table to one side looked like it could seat ten, with long benches replacing the chairs, and there were two sofas along with a rocking chair near the fireplace. There were three other doors that led to what I assumed were other rooms, and through an open archway I could see what appeared to be the kitchen, with a massive wood cookstove.

  “Dek, this is my mate, Raven BoneTalker. Raven, this is an old friend of mine, Dek. He’s a bear shifter, and has lived out here for years.”

  “How do you do, miss?” Dek said, scrutinizing me. “You aren’t an Elf.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said with a laugh. “I’m one of the Ante-Fae.”

  His eyes widened. “I’ve heard of your kind but never had the opportunity to meet with any of you.” He glanced at Kipa. “You’re running with a dangerous crowd, my man.”

  I wondered if Dek knew Kipa was a god, but there was no reason to think he didn’t. And it was true, the Ante-Fae were known to be dangerous.

  “I can handle it,” Kipa said. “How about a drink?”

  Dek glanced at me. “Would you care for a brandy?”

  Brandy sounded like a good idea. “I would welcome a drink. It’s cold out there.” While he was pouring brandy into three very ornate goblets, I asked, “Who lives in the other cottage?”

  “My daughter and her husband and my grandchildren. My wife was killed several years ago,” he said, his expression stoic. But beneath it, I could hear the edge of pain.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Hilde was killed by a hunter. He mistook her for game when she was in bear form,” Kipa said, his voice soft.

  I winced. That was one danger all shifters faced, no matter where they lived. It was a hazard almost unique to their species—shifters always ran the risk of being killed by non-shifters. Most shifters could tell when someone was one of their kind, even if it was a different variant of animal form. But humans, Fae, and Elves weren’t quite so clear sighted when it came to the subtleties that went into discerning shifter from animal.

  Dek turned around. “Yes, and that hunter paid blood money to me, and has done his best to make up for the mistake…but all the I’m sorrys in the world won’t bring back my wife. Anyway
, yes, my daughter and her family live next door.” He let a soft breath whistle between his teeth. “Tell me, Raven, what are your skills and strengths?”

  That was one of the more formal ways in Annwn of asking what you did for a living.

  “I’m a bone witch. I’m pledged to Arawn and Cerridwen. I live over through the portals, and I read fortunes, clear spirits out of houses, and other odds and ends like that.” I accepted the crystal goblet. The warm scent of strong brandy rose to tickle my nostrils.

  “Then a toast, to long years and many of them for all of us,” Dek said, raising his glass.

  Kipa and I followed suit, then I took a sip of the brandy. It was like fiery silk trickling down my throat. Smooth, yet with a punch that clouded my senses. This wasn’t any generic brandy, that was for sure.

  “This is good,” I said, my voice cracking from the alcohol. “What is it?”

  “It’s a special blend that I get from an Elf I know who makes it. Knocks your socks off, doesn’t it?” Dek said, settling into one of the chairs near the fireplace. “So, old man, I don’t often get to see you. What brings you to my doorstep today?”

  Kipa swirled the spirit in his glass. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve been embroiled in quite the mess back home. But that’s for another time. We need to know about a particular entity, and whether it’s a Crypto, or an astral creature, or what. You’re the expert on the subject, so I figured, go to the best, first. And Raven needs to ask your advice on gargoyles.”

  “And so they all come to my door for answers,” Dek said, grunting. “All right, suppose you describe this creature to me?”

  I described what Raj had told me about the astral entity, and told Dek what had happened.

  “So, a bat-like creature with a pitchfork tail and horns? And it probably used its tail to try to strangle you? That sounds like a barrel of laughs,” he said, standing and heading for a bookcase that spanned half a wall on the other side of the room. He searched through row after row of books, and then finally pulled out a thick volume with a black leather cover. He carried it over to the table and motioned for us to join him.

  “It’s easier to skim through the pages here,” he said, lighting the table lamp—an oil lamp that gave off a surprising amount of light. Kipa and I joined him, sitting opposite.

  Dek handed me a notebook and a pen. “Can you sketch what the creature looked like?”

  I stared at the paper and pen. “You didn’t get these over here.” The notebook was a college-ruled theme composition book and the pen was a gel-ink pen, common on Earth but not in Annwn.

  “No, actually. A friend of mine returned from over on your side of the portal with a massive stash of goodies, and these were a gift. He knows how much I enjoy drawing, so he outfitted me with notebooks of all kinds, these wonderful ink pens, some colored pencils and paints—basically enough to last me for several years of sketching and writing.” Dek beamed. “I envy your easy access to these sorts of things, but I don’t envy what he tells me of the crowds in your lands, and of the pollution.”

  “Well, you’re right to not envy that,” I said, taking up the pen. I began to sketch out what Raj had described. “Mind you, my gargoyle saw it, not me—so this is based on what he saw.”

  “You have a gargoyle living with you?” Dek asked. “You get more and more interesting with every minute.”

  I glanced up at him. “Yes, and I wanted to ask some questions about gargoyles, if you happen to have any answers.”

  “Has he ever attacked you?” Dek asked.

  I paused in my drawing. “No, never. I love him dearly and he loves me.”

  “Then you have an unusual gargoyle. They can be highly volatile and dangerous, Raven. I’m surprised he hasn’t broken bones or scratched you bad enough for stitches.” He motioned to the paper. “Finish the drawing, please.”

  I went back to my work, but in my heart, I was worried. What he said about gargoyles didn’t mesh with Raj at all. I needed to know more—and I needed to know sooner rather than later.

  Chapter Twelve

  When I finished, I handed the notebook back to Dek. He stared at it for a moment, then snapped his fingers and began thumbing through the massive book.

  “What’s the name of that book?” I asked. “Have you ever heard of Beltan’s Bestiary?”

  He glanced over at me. “Beltan was an impatient man and when he copied the texts from my book, he skipped a lot of them. I never understood why he didn’t want all the information. As you can see, this volume has twice what he ended up with.”

  I stiffened. “You knew Beltan? He wrote the definitive guide on Cryptos—”

  “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, my dear, but Beltan was nothing more than a copycat. And a bad one at that. I’ve seen what he published in your world and it’s a poor imitation of what I have here. I’m the one who researched and gathered this information over the centuries. When he accidentally came through a portal, I happened to be the first person he ran into.”

  “How did he end up with your grimoire?” I asked.

  “He landed through a portal in this wood and I saved his ass. I brought him home and he stayed with us for a bit. Not only did he steal my work, but he tried to seduce my wife, the asshole. Before he made moves on her, though, he happened to see me working on the compendium and asked if he could have a copy. I told him he’d have to copy it, but sure. He did, but he grew impatient and skipped vast numbers of entries. And then he laid hands on my Hilde and she beat him senseless and told me to get rid of him. I escorted him back to the portal. I didn’t give him permission to claim the work as his own, but he did anyway. Since he did so outside of Annwn, there’s not much I can do,” Dek said. “I do begrudge that he made a fortune off of my work and didn’t even think to give me credit.”

  Sitting back in my chair, I said, “That’s not right. But I don’t think there’s much I can do about it. But…I wish I could have time to read through your grimoire.”

  So Beltan had plagiarized his entire book and done a bad job of it at that. The thought made me simmer. I valued having the resource at hand, but he could have at least thanked Dek in the acknowledgments.

  “Here, is this your creature?” Dek turned the book around and pushed it over to me. The language was one I didn’t understand, but the shape of the creature matched what Raj had described to a T, and my inner alarm began to ring.

  “Yes, that’s it. I’m certain. My instinct is shouting that’s what tried to kill me.”

  Dek ripped out a piece of paper from the notebook and handed it to me. “Since I doubt you can read my scribbles, let me dictate to you what you need to know.”

  I took the pen and paper and waited. “All right.”

  “This creature is known as an aztrophyllia. It lives in the astral plane most of the time, but it can emerge into the physical realm if it finds a host. Usually the host will be weakened through grief or illness, to where it doesn’t have the will to fight off the aztrophyllia. The creature feeds on life force, and will drain the host dry over a number of months—it’s a slow feeder. Then, once the host dies, it will either return to the astral plane or it will look for yet another host.”

  I jerked my head up. “Lenny.” I turned to Kipa. “I’ll bet this is the thing that attacked Lenny.” Looking back at Dek, I asked, “So, can it dislodge from the host and then return to it?”

  He nodded. “They’re actually great tactical creatures. Yes, it can do that, and it can also remain invisible when it enters the physical plane. But when it attaches to the host, it does so from the astral. Aztrophyllias are common in the astral plane—think of them as psychic leeches. But it can attack on the physical level as well, and the attack you described is its primary mode. You’re lucky, though.”

  “Why?” I had a feeling there was more coming than I wanted to know.

  “The point on that tail? When it’s in the astral plane, that’s how it attaches to the host, by inserting the tail into the back side of th
e heart chakra. However, when it materializes on the physical plane, not only can it become invisible, but the tail contains a venomous stinger. I’m surprised it didn’t sting you, which would have allowed the creature to drain your magic and life force. For some reason, it saw you as a threat that it needed to dispose of quickly.”

  “It knew that I was onto the fact that it was attached to Lenny,” I said. “So did Raj kill it?”

  “No, I doubt very much that he managed to kill it. It’s like the cockroach of the astral plane. Not much can eliminate it. You can wound it with a silver weapon, however. That requires stabbing it with either a silver weapon when it’s in physical form, draping the host in silver—which will dislodge it astrally. Another physical attack is to immerse it in a saltwater bath or a pile of salt like a slug.” Dek leaned back. “So, you say this thing has a friend in its power?”

  “Yeah. I thought it was a Walk-In at first.”

  “The aztrophyllia can control its host, but that’s not its main focus. The creature’s primary goal is to thoroughly drain every ounce of energy out of the host. It’s a predator, and a parasite. And they’re clever.”

  “Then it definitely could have sensed that I knew something was wrong with Lenny and come after me to protect itself and its food source?” The thought of an astral leech that was also intelligent and that could recognize a threat was daunting.

  “Yes, I believe that it could.”

  I glanced at Kipa. “Well, at least we know what we’re dealing with. How do I go about detaching it from Lenny, though? And how do we keep it from reattaching itself to him again?”

  Dek frowned. “That’s a tough call. You’ll have to go out on the astral to do that. Once you’re out there, you’ll have to wound it enough to keep it away while you fix a seal of protection on your friend. That’s your best bet. If you try to destroy the creature, I’m thinking you’ll end up in a fight you may have trouble winning.”

 

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