The Fire Road

by Tymber Dalton

  “Really? Why’s that?”

  “It’s rumored Dark Ones were killed and buried there. Who’d be daft to take up property like that, except someone not right in the head? Or perhaps witches.”

  She slowed her steps. Technically, some problems were her domain, if they were supernatural. But many people labelled “witches” were simply not liked by others. Few times had she bumped against cockatrice or other supernatural beings in this region, other than the shifter races who already belonged there. She vaguely remembered the shifter battle where cockatrice and others had been killed in this area, although it’d happened closer to a thousand years earlier.

  “Tell me more about this woman.”

  “Isn’t worth thinking about. I’d rather be thinking other things.” His hand slid down her back and cupped her ass through her skirt, squeezing hard.

  Just a little harder…

  She let out a sigh.

  * * * *

  Barthyn slept through his lover leaving his bed during the night. He was growing used to that, but still regretted awakening alone in the morning.

  Perhaps if I try harder to convince her to stay.

  He sat up and was scratching his head when he heard galloping hoofbeats racing up his path and stopping in front of his house. He was already out of bed when the visitor pounded on his front door.

  “Barthyn!” his brother yelled. “I need you!”

  He hurried and unbolted the door, throwing it open. “What? What is it?” His younger brother looked distraught.

  “Please, come quickly! The baby disappeared during the night!”

  “Disappeared?”

  “It is feared a witch or cockatrice”—he spit while forking the ward against the Evil Eye—“took him!”

  “I’ll be right there!” He hurried inside to grab his bow and hunting knife. As he barely stopped to take a piss after bolting his door, he didn’t even think to wonder how his nightly visitor left and locked the door behind her every night.

  In his haste to make ready a horse, he never saw the small footprints in the dirt under the window looking into his bedroom, either…

  * * * *

  The Cailleach awakened that morning later than usual, but had found Barthyn still sleeping next to her. She took a deep breath and tried to clear the strange, musty fuzziness out of her brain. Like cobwebs and cotton stuffed in the nooks and crannies of her mind.

  I need to move along.

  Just the way she felt this morning was proof of that. As if it were a sign.

  She’d never felt like this before.

  Slowly getting out of bed, stretching, she donned her clothes and walked into the next room. Closing her eyes, she silently muttered the chant to take her away. She had no permanent home as of then. Not like Babs. She had no use for one. Gigi sometimes took a home somewhere, for a time, before moving on.

  Whatever the Cailleach needed, her powers could conjure them. Be it shelter or clothing or coin. No need to saddle herself with a dwelling any more than she needed to saddle herself with a male.

  Especially a male who in no way could control or handle the real her.

  Although this morning she wouldn’t deny it’d be nice to have a place to retreat to for a warm cup of mint tea and a place to stretch out in front of a comfortable fire.

  She’d never felt like this before. It wasn’t until noon that she’d been able to finally shake the feeling.

  Hope I don’t feel that again.

  Even more reason why it was time to move on, investigate other areas under her charge.

  And not take time to look back at the past.

  Chapter Four

  A good while ago, but not so long in the past that all memories have completely faded…

  Jasper paced along the outer perimeter of the small village, his senses on alert. The full moon cast a silvery glow on the recently harvested fields and the thatched roofs of the houses in the valley below.

  He wished he wielded a sword, but the best he could do was a spear with an iron tip. There was something…unsettled about tonight.

  As he walked, on alert, listening, his breath lightly frosting in the air ahead of him, he couldn’t help but feel he was being watched.

  Phooka.

  He hoped. If it were only them and not the Dark Ones, who were reputedly attacking small villages and destroying all within.

  Four other men were stationed around their village, single men not yet mated, as was Jasper. Jasper’s family was of the dragon Clan, but their lines were so diluted that none could shift. Only three shifters remained in their village, and one was so old he could barely walk, much less fight.

  And he wasn’t an Elemental, either.

  Their village was five dozen strong and made a fine living in their little corner of the world. They started no trouble and sought none out.

  That did not mean trouble wouldn’t find them.

  The moon was high in its journey across the sky when Jasper thought he heard a cry from the north. One lone shout cut off too soon.

  His heart raced as he tried to decide on action. Was it Gorvin, who also stood watch tonight?

  No signal from the man, either. No hint of the whistle they would give each other to indicate all was well.

  From the south and east of him, where Gorvin’s older brother Kahlin kept watch, Jasper heard a whistle, the one of inquiry if all was well.

  Jasper didn’t know what to do. Leave his post and investigate? When they’d been subject to harmless pranks by phooka in recent weeks? To be scolded later for falling for a trick?

  Jasper whistled back to Kahlin the code for “unknown.”

  Then, in the distance, he thought he caught sight of shadows quickly moving through the night. Too big to be game, and not moving like deer or ponies, their destination appeared to be the town.

  Now Jasper sounded the alert, whistling back to Kahlin, who in turn whistled so the next guard could hear him. Then Jasper ran toward where Gorvin should be standing guard. It wasn’t long before he nearly tripped over the man’s body. His throat had been slit, the blood covering him looking black in the moonlight.

  His dirk and spear were also gone.

  Now Jasper whistled again, an alarm repeated by others, as Jasper raced toward town.

  Already, he could tell, they were too late. Angry orange flames lapped at thatched roofs and people were screaming as whatever these things were attacked the village.

  From the whiff of stench, he realized his worst fears had been realized.

  Dark Ones.

  He couldn’t tell how many of them there were, only that they were hideous to behold in their shifted form, and they could throw fireballs. As he tried to fight, he was slung away by the swat of one of the beasts’ tails and as his head hit a rock, the world went black.

  * * * *

  When Jasper awoke, it was nearly dawn and deathly silent. Thick, acrid smoke hung low in the cold, damp air like a malevolent fog. He tried to move and not only did his head hurt, so did his belly. It was then he realized that he’d been sliced open and was bleeding.

  A shadowy form slowly moved through the haze and Jasper realized he could barely move.

  If they were to kill him, he hoped it was faster than the death now coming for him.

  The woman’s form emerged from the smoke, a small, black pony trailing in her wake. Cloaked in black, she sadly stared down at him as the pony walked around her and gently sniffed him.

  “I am sorry, my son,” she whispered. “You fought fierce and true and with a good, strong, faithful heart.”

  “Who are you?”

  The black pony nuzzled his hand, as if trying to comfort him. Somehow, Jasper knew this was one of the phooka they saved back a little of their crops for every harvest. The ones who took the last of the blackberries.

  The ones who’d never harmed them before.

  “I am Biróg, daughter of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

  “You are myth. My dying madness.”

&nb
sp; She sadly smiled as she knelt next to him. “I am sorry, child. None survived but you.”

  He didn’t care his tears stung his eyes, freely flowing for her to see. “My sisters? My parents?”

  “None.”

  “And I soon follow.”

  “I can help you.”

  “Send me along to my death sooner?”

  “Save you. In trade for something.”

  “I have nothing.”

  “You have heart and soul and a fierce loyalty. I can grant you the ability to save others.”

  “How?”

  Two more black ponies and a goat materialized out of the mist around the woman, all staring at him.

  “I can allow you to live as they do. The Dark Ones grow stronger. While other shifters can fight them, there are many who cannot. I can grant you a nearly eternal life, in exchange for you dedicating it to helping protect innocents. Give warning of the Dark Ones. Wherever that takes you in this world. The ability to shift into different forms to fit in. To move amongst them undetected so you can alert and guard.”

  He felt his life force ebbing from him. “What of my soul?”

  “It is clean. Your Clan and kin have gone on to the Ether. If you wish to follow them, you can. Or I can give you another chance.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because the Dark Ones wish to destroy others. There is more than one battle being waged. Rome seeks to destroy us and who we are. People believe less and less in shifters and Clans and even the Dark Ones. That will, unfortunately, work to the Dark Ones’ advantage. Allow them to more easily move amongst the population. There need to be guardians.”

  A black bull had walked up behind them and stood there, watching.

  “I…I become an animal?”

  “You become a shifter of sorts. Have you not wished to shift? Only this way, it is different.”

  He thought about his family. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to see their bodies. His youngest sister was only seven.

  Had been.

  Slowly, he nodded.

  Cocking her head, she stroked his brow. “Close your eyes, brave one. The pain will leave you.”

  Certain he was about to die anyway, Jasper closed his eyes. And then…

  Then the agony disappeared.

  When he opened his eyes, he stared down at his body lying in the moonlight. Around him, the animals who’d watched still stood, but were now looking at him. And he could see their souls, not just the forms they wore like cloaks.

  As they could now see him.

  He realized he was a large dog, much like the beloved one he’d had as a child who’d been ancient even then before peacefully passing from old age. A sweet old boy who’d faithfully watched the children in their family, and others.

  Biróg stood and turned to him. “How you use this form is now up to you,” she said. “As long as you use your powers for good, to protect the innocent, you shall have our blessings and the backing of our kind. Cross that line, and we shall not fail to end your existence.”

  A shiver raced through him. He couldn’t speak as a human any longer to answer her.

  “Think it to me, Jasper,” she said. “I can understand you.”

  “What do I do now?”

  Her face hardened. “Keep the balance. Protect the innocent. Your mission shall find you. Follow your heart and instincts and do not cower from a fight. You will do well, my child.” She placed a hand on his head. “Go with the Goddess, my son. Be brave, be fierce, and love hard and well those you protect.”

  The animals, as one, all nodded to him before they faded with the first rays of sunlight that appeared. Biróg alone remained.

  “Please do not disappoint me,” she whispered to him. “I have stretched the boundaries of my role by doing this, but I cannot allow the Dark Ones to destroy this world. Live well. You will find yourself able to change forms as need be.”

  “To human form?”

  “No. Not unless someone with more powers than I can grant that to you. I am sorry.” With that, she faded from sight. On the still morning air, he heard, “Go. Begin.”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant, exactly, until he realized that all the scents around him were now a thousand or more times sharper, clearer, more distinct, than ever before.

  A low growl erupted from him as he realized he could smell the Dark Ones.

  Even better, now he could track them.

  As he grew comfortable running on four feet instead of two, he followed the scent trail out of the village, following the Dark Ones and leaving everything behind.

  Dark Ones.

  He would find them.

  And he would root them out so others could kill them.

  He would channel his anger and grief into a purpose and try to keep others from meeting the same fate as his family and village.

  No matter where it took him.

  Chapter Five

  Another walk through memory lane. Now we’re much closer to the current time, although still a little in the past. Just why will be obvious soon enough…

  Lina Zaria paused as she stared at her campus map and tried to figure out where her next class was that hectic Monday morning.

  I should have let Zack bring me here last week to look around like he suggested.

  Eighteen and an incoming freshman during her first day at USF’s Tampa campus during their summer semester, Lina fought an overwhelming case of the nerves that threatened to make her puke or pass out.

  This isn’t high school.

  No, this wasn’t high school, with all the accompanying cliques, drama, history, and general bullshit.

  This was college.

  Shoving a stray hair out of the way, she shifted her bag on her shoulder and headed—she hoped—in the right direction. It was not without some measure of relief that the building she approached did in fact prove to be the right one. Quickly finding her classroom, she took a seat in a desk toward the middle of the room and hoped she’d remain anonymous.

  Hard to do sometimes with her curly, flaming red hair.

  There were less than ten people in the classroom already. As it started to fill, a guy who looked to be maybe a couple of years older than her took the desk to her right, offering her up a friendly smile as he did.

  “Hi.”

  She nervously returned his smile. “Hi.”

  “Edgar,” he said, extending his hand to shake with her. “Edgar Callaway.”

  “Lina Zaria.”

  He pulled out a spiral notebook and pen. “Are you a fan of early American lit, or taking the class for a credit?”

  “I’m a fan.” The class covered 1900-1930. “You?”

  “Love it. Lot of people seem to ignore the classics.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Upton Sinclair, Fitzgerald, Faulkner, Hemingway. I was one of the few kids in English in high school who didn’t groan when we had to read them.”

  Lina thought it fortuitous she’d apparently met a guy who might turn out to be a new friend. “Me, too!”

  They talked for several minutes about some of their favorite classics of American literature before he dug a tin of peppermint Altoids out of his bag and opened it, then extended it to her. “Mint?”

  “Sure, thanks. I love these.” It seemed to have a slightly odd aftertaste for just a second, but she was positive she’d seen him take one and pop it in his mouth, so it must have just been her.

  She’d thought he was maybe in his early twenties, but no, he was eighteen, and a freshmen like her. While they’d been talking, the class had pretty much filled up. Edgar left the tin on the corner of his desk, and before she could ask anything else about him, like if he had a girlfriend—or wanted one—a woman walked in, closed the door behind her, and headed for the desk at the front of the class.

  “Hello, I’m Sandra Faulkner. Before you ask, yes, I get the irony, and no, I’m not related to him.”

  A soft wave of laughter flowed and ebbed through the classroom as Lina prepared to t
ake notes. Some students had notebooks, some had tablets, and others had laptops. She’d opted to go with a trusty spiral notebook and pen today, until she got a feel for her classes.

  Throughout the class, Edgar occasionally opened the Altoid tin, took one, and silently offered it to her. Since he wasn’t offering it to anyone else, Lina wouldn’t deny she felt special. She also didn’t notice any more weird taste from them, so maybe it’d just been her.

  Edgar was handsome, brown eyes and brown hair, but the longer the class went on…there was just something about him she liked more and more.

  They’d have class together three days a week, at least. She had no illusions that a guy as good-looking as him would have any romantic interest in her, but at least maybe he would become a friend.

  He offered her one last mint at the end of class before tucking the tin away. “See you Wednesday,” he said.

  “Thanks. Looking forward to it.”

  They headed in separate directions once they’d exited the building’s front door. She had an hour before her next class.

  He seems nice.

  * * * *

  Over the next couple of weeks, Lina became friends with Edgar and had even introduced him to her bestie, Zack Armstrong. She and Zack had been best friends literally their entire lives. In fact, if Zack hadn’t been gay, she suspected they’d already be married.

  There’d been a little initial friction between the two guys, but since Lina was increasingly realizing that Edgar had no interest in her as anything other than a friend, she played referee until the two of them figured it out. Edgar was nice, friendly, not at all creepy, and he had a lot of the same interests in literature that she did.

  She’d also jokingly dubbed Edgar her Altoids pimp, since he always seemed to have them on hand in class.