Chapter 3 Northern road

ln this journey he was alone, and above battles and orders from gods, he would seek his family first. He traveled north on roads gone to mud from the storm. The wonders of the night played through his mind as he hunched over his horse, favoring his aching ribs.

He passed fields where men worked and cattle grazed in the soft morning sunlight. And lakes that picked up their blue from the late summer sky. He wound through forests where the waterfall thundered and the shadows were the realm of the faerie folk.

As the miles passed, he struggled to straighten on his horse whenever he came to villages. His dignity cost him considerable discomfort until he was forced to take his ease by the side of a river where the water gurgled over rock.

He thought, he had enjoyed this ride from his cottage to his family home, through the fields and the hills. ln solitude, or company of his brother, he had ridden these same roads and paths, he stopped to eat and rest his horse.

Now the sun seared his eyes, and the smell of the earth and grass couldn't reach his deadened senses. Fever sweat slicked his skin, and the angles of his face were keener as he bore down against the unrelenting pain.

Though he had no appetite, he ate part of one of the oatcakes along with more of the medicine he'd packed. Despite the rest, his ribs continued to ache .

He closed his eyes a moment, resting them against the headache that drummed behind them. A witch, he'd been told. He disliked dealing with witches.

Then a scholar, At least he might be useful.

Was the warrior Dave? That was his hope. Dave wielding sword and shield again, fighting alongside him. He could nearly believe he could fulfill the task he'd been given if his brother was with him.

While in his thought, then a voice whispered.

Go back! Go back!! Hunt came to his feet, reaching for his dagger. Nothing moved in the forest but the black wings of a raven that perched in shadows on a rock by the water.

Go back to your books and herbs, Hunt the Alpha Sorcerer. Do you think you can defeat the Greatest Luna of our time, the Queen of the Demons? Go back, go back and live your pitiful life, and she will spare you. Go forward, and she will feast on your flesh and drink of your blood.

"Does she fear to tell me so herself then? And so she should, for l will hunt her through this life and the next if need be. I will avenge my brother. l will cut out her heart and burn it."

You will be screaming, and she will make you her slave for eternity.

"lt's an annoyance you are." Hunt shifted his grip on the dagger. As the raven took wing he flipped it through the air. lt missed, but the flash of fire he shot out with his free hand hit the mark. The raven shrieked, and what dropped to the ground was ashes. ln disgust Hunt looked at the dagger. He'd been close, and would likely have done the job if he hadn't been wounded.

But now he had to go fetch the bloody thing himself. Before he did, he took a handful of salt from his saddle bags, poured it over the ashes of the harbinger. Then he retrieved his dagger.

"Damn you. Slave for all eternity," he muttered. "We'll see about that." he went to his horse and mounted with gritted teeth.

He rode on, hemmed in by green fields, the rise of hills chased by cloud shadows in light soft as down. He dozed, and he dreamed that he was back on the cliffs struggling with Dave.

He woke with a start, and with the pain. His horse had stopped to crop at the grass by the side of the road. There a man in a peaked cap built a wall from a pile of steely gray rock. His beard was pointed, his wrists thick as tree limbs.

"Good day to you, sir, now you're wake." The man touched his cap in salute. "Seems you've traveled far this day."

"Yes, l have." Though he wasn't entirely sure where he was. "l'm to Norwich. What is this place?"

"lt's where you are," the man said cheerfully. "You'll not make your journey's end by nightfall."

"No." Hunt looked down the road that seemed to stretch to forever. "No, not by nightfall."

"There'd be a cabin with a fire going beyond the field, but you've not time to ride here. Not when you've so far yet to go. And time shortens even as we speak. You're weary," the man said with some sympathy.

"Who are you?" Hunt asked, on a low tune.

"Just a signpost on your way. When you come to the second fork, go east. When you hear the river, follow it. There be a holy well near the Bridget's Well, that some now call saint. There you'll rest your aching bones for the night."

Hunt didn't say a word as he continued to listen to the man in a strange way.

The man continued, "There you'll cast your circle, Hunt the Alpha Sorcerer, for they'll come hunting. They only wait for the sun to die. You must be at the well, in your circle, before it does."

Hunt continued looking in disgust, as he wondered who his man was.

"You bear Mayra's Cross. lt's that you'll leave behind with your blood and your faith." The man's eyes were narrowed, and for a moment, it seemed worlds lived in them. "The sun's in the east already."

He wondered and through to himself, what choice did he have? lt all seemed a dream now, boiling in his fever. His brother's death, then the destruction. The thing on the cliffs that called herself Lisa. Had he been visited by the goddess, or was all this a dream?

But he took the east fork, and when he heard the river, turned his horse toward it. Chills shook him now, and the knowledge that the light was fading.

He fell from his horse more than dismounted, and leaned breathlessly against its neck. The wound on his hand broke open and stained the bandage red. Towards the east, the sun was a low ball of dying fire.

The holy well was a low square guarded by the rowan tree. Others who'd come to worship or rest had tied tokens, ribbons, gifts and charms, to the branches.

He knelt to take the small ladle and sip the cool water. He poured drops on the ground for the god, murmured his thanks. He laid a sliver penny on the stone, smearing it with the blood from his wound.

As twilight crept in, he began to cast his circle.

lt was simple magic, one of the first that comes. But his power came now in fitful spurts, and made the task a misery. His own sweat chilled his skin as he struggled with the words, with the thoughts and with the power that seemed a slippery wriggling in his hands.

He heard something stalking in the woods, moving in the deepest shadows. And those shadows thickened as the last rays of sunlight eked through the cover of trees.

They were coming for him, waiting for the that last flicker to die and leave him in the dark. He would die here, alone, leave his entire family unprotected.

"Damn it, if I will." He drew himself up. One chance more, he knew. One. Then he ripped the bandage from his hand, used his own blood to seal the circle.

"Within this ring the light remains. Burning through the night. This magic is clean, fire Kindle, fire rise, rise and burn with power bright."

Flames shimmered in the center of his circle. As it rose, the sun died. And what has been in the shadows leaped out. lt came as a wolf, black belt and bloody eyes. When it flung itself into the air, Hunt pulled his dagger. lt was repelled as the wolf struck the force of the circle.

lt howled, snarled. lts fangs gleamed white as it paced back and forth as if looking for a weakness in the shield.

Another joined it, skulking out of the trees, then another, then another, until Hunt counted five. They lunged together, fell back together. Paced together like soldiers.

His horse reared and screamed, each time they charged. His eyes on the wolves as he laid his hands upon his horse. He soothed, lulling his faithful mare into a trance.

After a while, he took what food he has left, water from the well, mixed more herbs, though the gods knew his self medicating was having no good effect. He huddled in his cloak shivering, and after dousing an oatcake with honey, forced it down. The wolves sat on their haunches, threw back their heads, and as one, howled at the rising moon.

He sat, his sword on one side, dagger on the other. The fire dancing in his eyes until they began to close. As his chin dropped to his chest, he'd never felt so alone.