Kraven lurked in forests all across the western world. They were the scourge of farmer and vulnerable traveller alike. Cowardly one on one but lethal in packs. They sniffed out the weak and the lost and bled them with vicious bites. Until their victim was weak enough to be devoured alive. Alfred sensed the terror from Domino, as all horses had an innate fear of Kraven. The vicious beasts liked to clamp down upon the long equine legs and trip them. Horsemeat was a delicacy to the predators.
In desperation Alfred had careered off the road and was slaloming between treacherous potholes. He gripped the reigns tight and whispered to his horse.
"Stay on your legs, lad, run until your heart bursts."
The horse weaved between the obstacles on the broken ground, but Alfred could tell he was close to panic. He twisted in the saddle, nearly falling off, and looked behind him at their pursuers. The Kraven were close, almost nipping at their heels. They were the brutal mix of wolf and giant weasel. Their long bodies weaving between the boulders like eels. Their front paws bristled with huge curved claws. Perfect for digging but adept at eviscerating prey. The long striped muzzles were drooling spittle from between their clamped fangs.
The terror overwhelmed him. He shouted out to the wind in desperation.
"Is there nothing in this accursed land that does not want to tear me apart?"
Ahead Alfred could see the vague outline of a broken building. As he got closer it was the shattered remains of what was once an amphitheatre of sorts. The round walls had fallen in many places, leaving the remains more like a circle of tall standing stones. Alfred thought that if he could climb high enough the hunting Kraven might not be able to reach him. He knew that he could not outrun them for much longer and he could see no other natural protection anywhere.
He spurred Domino onwards.
"Faster, lad, we're nearly there."
As they neared the ruined amphitheatre, Alfred's horse stumbled. Alfred tried to hand on but before he knew it the world had up ended and he was flying through the air. He landed with a terrible thump into the dust and for a moment could not catch his breath. He was wracked with a coughing fit and realized he had bit his lip as he fell. He sat up and spat blood into the sand. As his head cleared Domino had regained his footing and was still speeding towards the ruin. Five or six feral shapes sped past him and continue after the horse. He tensed, waiting on them to stop and turn, ready to take on the easy pickings on the ground. Yet somehow the Kraven missed him, driven crazy by the scent of fear on the horse.
Alfred struggled to his feet and stood there amongst the broken rocks. Watching his horse disappear into the ruins. The Kraven separated and scurried up walls, surrounding the ancient amphitheatre.
Alfred's heart sank as he realized that the creatures had cut off all escape routes and Domino was doomed. The sorrow and fear churned within him in a nauseating cocktail. His hand strayed down to the sword strapped against his leg, faltered, and then moved away. He caught his breath and shook his head as the fear overwhelmed him.
"I'm not supposed to die like that. Not like that. That’s not what Angall wants for me, I’m sure."
Alfred stood as straight as his aching back would allow and turned away. He began to hobble back towards the road. He could hear the terrified whinnies of his horse coming from within the ruins. And the low snarls of the clutch of Kraven as they closed in. Hot tears stung his cheeks and he limped further away.
"I'm sorry, lad. I'm so sorry. But they chose the wrong man for this burden. I’m no knight."
As he limped back towards the road, the horse continued to whinny in distress, calling out to him. To his shame Alfred wished the sound would stop, just stop. Alfred had experienced the same thought when Master Phillip had been delirious. Then he remembered seeing the burnt out stone walls of his family home, the carnage within. He remembered the defiant screams of Master Astara as the Witchfinder broke his bones with magic. He remembered again the terror of the Wendigo as they brutalized and ate his brother priests. And all Alfred had done was run as far away as he could. All those people protecting him and fighting to keep him safe. And all he had ever done was hide behind the shields of better men.
Alfred hobbled closer to the road, praying that the snarling Kraven would lose his scent. He tried to blot out the cries of Domino. Shutting his eyes tight against the image of the beasts bringing him down and eating him alive.
He limped onward, whispering under his breath.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.
Alfred stopped walking.
His hand slid down to his belt and before he knew it he had drawn the sword and turned. Running as fast as his bruised legs would carry him towards the ruins. He held the blade above his head and screamed across the dusty air.
"Domino! Hold fast!"
Alfred had never imagined that he could sprint so fast. He jumped over boulders and treacherous pits despite his injuries. His legs pistoling until he reached the broken stone circle. He leapt inside and saw that the round floor of the arena was sunk down several metres forming a natural bowl. In its centre, Domino cantered in desperate circles as the Kraven gathered around him. A few of them clung to the sloping stone seats that remained. Another was perched atop a broken pillar ready to pounce. Two of the beasts had closed in on the horse's legs and were snapping their jaws at him.
Domino was in a panic, turning and looking for a way out as he whinnied and snorted.
Alfred stood there for a moment at the top of the steps, breathing hard. At the last moment he wondered if his courage would fail him, and then with a cry he leapt down into the arena. He swung the sword and screamed at the Kraven. At first the predators were shocked and uncertain. The two nearest Domino scuttled back, bearing their teeth and snarling.
Alfred moved in close to the horse and turned to face the beasts.
"It's all right lad, I'm not leaving you. These bastards aren't eating us today!"
Within a few seconds the Kraven had decided that Alfred was not a true threat, and began to edge forward. A strange calm cast over Alfred. His breathing relaxed and his mind focused on the task in hand. He held the sword aloft and raised his eyes to the sky. He whispered under his breath.
"Lord Angall, let your light be my shield."
Alfred opened his mouth and unleashed his blessing. A tiny mote of light rushing out to coat the sword like honey. It glowed there for a moment and then burst into blinding flame. Alfred shielded his eyes and the two nearest Kraven yelped and jumped backwards. When he opened his eyes, Alfred was holding the sword in front of him in both hands. The blade was flickering with blue fire. Three more Kraven leapt down into the arena and their pack mentality fuelled their courage. They bunched together and began to close in on Alfred and his horse. Alfred gritted his teeth and swung as the first beast leapt. The huge jaws of the Kraven clamped down upon the sword and Alfred thought it would be wrenched from his grip. The beast shook its long snout side to side for a moment and then howled as the fur of its muzzle smoked. It leapt back whimpering. Two of its brothers closed in on either side of Alfred. Behind him, Domino jittered in fear.
Alfred charged forward and swung the sword in a figure eight, the blade trailing sparks as it whirled. The cinders caught one Kraven on its flank and it burst into flame. The creature snapped at its own tail before running off into the ruins.
The other was more vicious, and launched itself at the horse.
With a cry Alfred brought the sword down and almost severed the beast's head. It staggered around for a few steps, its head lolling on a few fibres of muscle, before collapsing to the ground. The wound hissed and was cauterized by the heat of the blade.
Alfred stood there breathing hard. The muscles of his shoulders ached with the weight of the sword. He was weak with hunger and thirst, had not slept in days. He did not know where his strength was coming from but he knew that this was the last of it.
Two more of the beasts leapt down and began to circle him, attempting to flank but now wary of
the hot blade. Alfred's face had broken out in a ruddy sweat from the heat he held, and he could feel his arms starting to shake. He spat at the Kraven as they bared their teeth.
“Not one of you will get out of here with four legs. And you're not getting my horse without spilling your blood. Make your choice."
The beasts made a couple of exploratory steps forward. Snapping their jaws and scraping claws across the broken flagstones. But they did not dare come within reach of Alfred. The largest one gave a low chattering bark to the others and they gathered close. Alfred tightened his grip and prepared to take down as many as he could. Then with a few snapping barks the Kraven scampered off out of the arena and into the Bleaks to nurse their wounds. Alfred stared in amazement as the yelps and barks vanished into the distance. He had scared them off. He stood for a long moment scanning the ruins for any stragglers. Then exhaustion got the better of him and he sat down on a fallen lump of wall. The sword fell from his grip and stuck upright in the sand with a hiss as its heat extinguished.
Alfred sat there for a long while, breathing hard. Only when the soft wet nose of his horse nuzzled into the back of his neck did he look up. Domino was snorting and rubbing his head against Alfred.
Alfred reached a hand up and patted his horse's nose.
"I'm sorry I took so long, lad. I thought you could handle them yourself."
The horse snorted as if he didn't like Alfred's joke. Alfred looked up, aware he was being watched and terrified that the Kraven had returned.
Instead, shrouded in the dust cloud at the top of the steps was a figure. Standing beneath one of the few remaining archways stood someone in plate armour. Alfred thought it a statue at first, it was too large and still to be a man. Then it raised a huge sword and held it aloft. The sword flickered with blue flame. It was the burning knight that had rescued him from the Wendigo. The armour shone with Angallic script, ancient words winding around grave and breastplate. It saluted him and then pointed the sword straight out in the direction Alfred had been heading. From its tip a blue spark shot upwards with a streak. It rose high into the sky and then exploded, illuminating the sky and clearing the dust for a few moments.
Alfred peered in that direction and saw a jagged range of mountains. A tall structure stood silhouetted against the pale sky. Alfred instantly knew what it was.
Ironghast Monastery.
Alfred turned back to the figure in the ruins but it was gone. He stood bewildered for a long moment, and then plucked the sword from the earth and sheathed it. He comforted Domino for a few minutes and then mounted up. He led his tired horse back on the broken path towards the imposing structure high on the mountainside.
Alfred rode with furrowed brow for the next hour, pondering what had he had seen.
"Why did he just watch? Did he need to see what I would do, whether I would fight to save you?"
Domino gave an exhausted snort and plodded onwards along the road. Alfred was beginning to doubt his own mind.
"I don't think he's even real. No more than my dusty companion from this morning. I think my mind has cracked, lad. The only reason I know you're real is because you stink."
Alfred sat back and caught a whiff of his own sweat stained robes. Domino gave a haughty little snort and dipped his head. Alfred nodded.
"Aye, fair point, friend."
By mid-morning, Alfred began to see the dark shadow rising out of the dust ahead. As he got closer, the scale of what loomed out of the gloom made him think his eyes were playing tricks. Finally he was here at his destination. Ironghast Monastery loomed high above him. But he had reached it at such a cost. All his travelling companions were dead. He was half starved and half frozen. He had not slept in days.
Great walls surrounded it. Alfred thought it looked more like a fortress than place of worship. From a distance he could see the tops of towers and domes jutting above the walls. Outwith the monastery, smaller buildings nested on promontories. All the way up the sides of the mountain. Some of them made Alfred dizzy to look at even from his place on the ground. From the mouth of a dark arch below the walls a waterfall spewed out into the void and crashed into a dark loch. Its source could only have been some deep river that wound beneath the mountains. It was the most foreboding place he had ever seen. As the wind and dust blew around him, Alfred thought he had reached the end of the world.
He drew closer and the narrow path wound around the base of the mountain. It looked wide enough for his horse. Seeing it snaking around and around the vast rock chimney, Alfred's stomach churned. He had never liked heights, just another in a long list of things he was afraid of. Yet in his current state, the thought of a warm bed and a hot meal gave him courage enough to climb to the moon.
He patted his shaking horse on the mane.
"Just a little bit longer, lad. We're nearly there."
The first spots of rain fell as he started up the path. The way was uncertain, strewn with loose pebbles and fissures. Several times Alfred's horse slipped and at one point he thought he was about to lurch over the edge. He held the reins in a death grip until his horse found its footing, and then he gave a prayer to Angall. Crows perched on the inner ledges of the mountain, laughing at him as he climbed.
After an hour the pale sun was starting to set. Alfred was terrified that he would be climbing blind. But he noticed phosphorescent moss clung to the mountainside. It began to glow as the light dimmed. He was grateful for the illumination, but it gave the monastery above an even eerier look.
The temperature was dropping the higher he climbed, and Alfred drew his fur around him. He was almost too exhausted to feel afraid now. As he neared the summit, tiredness and hunger overwhelmed him, and his head began to nod. He slipped from the saddle and only when the horse stumbled did he jolt awake and sit upright. He peered over the side and his head spun at how high he had climbed. To his right was a sheer drop of hundreds of feet, on a ground of jagged rocks. Pebbles fell away from the track and tumbled out into nothingness.
Alfred shook his head to clear it and spurred the horse onwards up the winding path. As he came around the curve of the mountain, the warm glow of torchlights lit a plateau beneath an overhang of rock. There seemed to be stables built into it but Alfred could see no horses or monks. Past the overhang was a huge wooden door set deep in an iron-grey wall. Alfred rode forward. Above the door, dark windows were set deep in the stone, but not one single light glowed from within. For one sickening moment Alfred feared that the monastery was abandoned. The last of his courage wavered. In the weakest voice he called out to the stables, to the door, to the lightless windows.
"Hello? Is there anybody here? I am injured and I starve. Please, I need sanctuary."
The horse's hooves echoed as he passed under the overhang. The last of Alfred’s strength faded. He did not remember falling from his horse, but he was awoken with a jolt of pain as he hit the ground. He forced himself up to his hands and knees, winded.
He crouched there for a moment, and then fell over onto his back. The cold rain fell upon his face, into his open mouth. He did not even have the strength to get up. The monastery was abandoned and Alfred knew he would die where he lay.
As he felt consciousness fade, his throat illuminated and the little mote of light he been blessed with drifted up out of his mouth and into the sky. The rocks around it shone as it floated upwards.
Then the door to Ironghast began to open with a gravelly creak.
Before Alfred stood several figures in monk's robes. Holding torches aloft and peering at him with grey faces. Alfred reached up a shaking hand. His croaking voice could only manage one word.
"Sanctuary."
3
Deena woke with a start and for a moment did not know where she was.
She raised her head and dirty straw clung to her cheek. There was a horrible stiffness in her neck where she had slept at an awkward angle. The stench of her filthy little cage reached her conscious mind. Her stomach lurched with the rhythmic rocking of the ship. S
he rose, her every joint aching. She plucked a few strands of straw from her face and hair and tried to snort the stink from her nostrils. Then she smelled something else, something muskier than old damp straw. A smell she recognized.
She looked across the cage and leaped back with a short scream.
There outside the bars sat Cyrus Blackweather. The last Karkaren in the world. Eight foot of furred muscle and deadly antlers.
His eyes reflected the torchlight like tropical sunset. Before she knew it she was pressed up against the far side of her prison. Blackweather just cocked his head at her and slid something through the bars on the floor. Deena's eyes adjusted and she saw before her sat a wooden bowl, piled high with dark cherries. The Captain gestured with a clawed hand.
Deena looked at the plump little fruits and her mouth watered. Her stomach rumbled and her trembling fingers began to reach out. But her distrust stopped her short.
Blackweather snorted and raised a brow.
"You think I've poisoned them, Scorchling? Tuck in. You’ve earned a treat."
Deena weighed up the odds for a moment and then decided if she was going to die, then it would be with a full belly. She grabbed a handful of cherries and tore the stones from them, stuffing her mouth full. The rich sweetness burst on her tongue and juices trickled down her chin. She spoke with muffled voice through the fruit mush.
“A treat for what? Saving your hairy arse from that Sorrowbeast?”
Blackweather laughed low and soft.
“Yes.”
Deena peered up from her feast, her lips dyed purple.
“So you believe me now? That the Sorrow is returning after a thousand years?”
Blackweather nodded.
“I’d have a hard time denying it. That filthy creature tore up half my ship.”
Deena gulped down a mouthful of fruit and licked her lips.
“Then you understand why you have to help me, Captain. You have to take me to the Bleaks, to Ironghast monastery. We have to prepare for the war that is coming. My blessing means that I am to be a general in that war. You must help me.”
A Prayer of Dusk and Fury Page 3