Chapter 15

The morning birds were silent, and a hush settled upon the dawn with the fine mist that drifted through the burnt stumps of Haven.

Fang nudged Paine.

He groped to pet her.

A razed wasteland awaited them; buildings that lay in piles of still smoldering ruin; stone foundations on which homes no longer sat; and slaughtered livestock, some of which were half-burnt.

Eventually Great Bear led them forward. Each member of the troop scoured the landscape in quiet, searching for some sign of life in the charred remains.

Smoke wafted from what remained of the buildings. Their feet crunched burnt stalks of young corn as they cut across the blackened land. Paine thought of Lya, and of Diarmuid. He could sense that she no longer sped away from him. She’d been stationary for a couple of days. Perhaps it was time to find her.

Now that Haven is lost.

He hoped he would find Diarmuid with her. Then he considered what would happen if he found her.

Where would they go after that?

He almost voiced that thought, but reserved it in front of Truitt, knowing that the Lastborn would scarcely care.

Truitt scanned what was left of the village. “I have no desire to linger here any longer than necessary. This place makes me uneasy.”

It made him uneasy?

Truitt then led Paine through the north end of Haven.

The two took crept through the ruins, cautious of what may still be there. After a few steps, Paine found hoof prints in the ashes, mixed with oversized paw prints.

“The same prints as last night, hundreds of them,” he whispered. Fang growled as she sniffed at them.

Truitt nodded. “Wolfen and demons.”

…waiting….

“But there are no bodies.”

“They would have taken them back to a place of sacrifice.”

“Maybe we should look for them. We might find them.”

The man shook his head. “They eat them. Alive.”

The two continued searching through the smoldering ruins. Paine’s nostrils were flooded with the scent of scorched earth. More footprints marred the ground, cascading from the north.

The two continued through the mists to join most of the group that gathered at the south end of Haven. Puck wandered with Two Moon along the perimeter. He would pick up small items and clap when he found something shiny.

Great Bear’s shoulders sagged, but there was hope in his black eyes.

“My people left signs, so we know they made it here. The survivors have made for Lindhome through the southern pass.” He shook his head. “I found a funeral pyre, still smoking. Many fell here.”

Paine looked at Great Bear. “So what do we do now?”

The towering Haudenosaunee looked to the sky, towards two crows that had cast their shadow upon him.

“We follow the survivors.”

***

Ten miles south of what remained of Haven, Paine chewed on a piece of dried meat, thinking his saddle less tough. He might have offered it to Fang, but she disappeared into the woods, as she often did of late. It made the longing for his sister all the more painful. He needed to rid himself of this curse. He couldn’t live the rest of his life yearning for his sister. It was unnatural.

He put the meat down, his appetite quelled. He was forcing himself to eat. Along the way, they had found a small village that had been pillaged and burned. Bodies had been staked upside-down to makeshift crosses. The carcasses of dead animals littered the ground, and the earth had been stained black and red with their blood. Fresh skulls had been set upon spikes, the skin and flesh gnawed from the bone, leaving only the hair.

Paine tossed his food into the brush.

Who was he kidding?

Great Bear tended a fire before them, adding kindling to it.

“I cannot help but wonder where the demons and wolfen came from,” he said.

Two Moon spat on the ground. With his hair pulled back in a braid, the firelight glowed on his protruding forehead. “I say we hunt them down.”

Great Bear said nothing, but simply looked at the wiry man.

“We should avenge those that have fallen,” he continued, pleading his case for revenge. It was not the first time he brought it up since they had departed Haven.

Great Bear shook his head. “We would stand no chance.”

Two Moon’s face was still as the night. He said nothing and stalked away from the fire.

Great Bear spoke after a time, his voice soft as a summer breeze.

“He is still angered over the loss of his parents. Two years ago they were killed by wolfen. He has not forgiven himself for failing to save them.”

Nods from some of the other Haudenosaunee passed around the circle. Great Bear placed a log on the fire.

“I am troubled by the Confederation. We heard rumors of their plans to attack Haven, so what happened to their army? I did not see signs of them in Haven.”

One of the women of Lindhome looked up from where she sat — Nissamin. She was a rather muscular woman with hair the color of autumn wheat. She was Nymph, but almost looked Lastborn with her iron gaze and powerful hands. It was obvious she hated her heritage and preferred to be of another.

She tossed about some odd stones with runes. “A shadow has curtained my heart. I fear some ill has befallen Lindhome.”

Truitt said nothing, though others of his kind nodded their agreement.

For the remainder of the evening all were silent, wrapped in their individual thoughts as the fire dwindled to embers.

As the night grew chill, sleep took the group, except for Paine, who lay gazing at the whiteness of the half moon and wondered about his sister. He heard a slight stirring and thought Fang had returned, but found Puck sitting awake, close to the woods.

Paine rose and tiptoed around the sleeping bodies that lay about the camp. He approached Puck and found him toying with a small black orb. It dangled on a dirtied chain.

Puck did not turn as he approached.

“Paine, no sleep?” he asked, and hung the amulet around his neck, placing it beneath his shirt.

“No. I cannot sleep well without Fang. You?”

“No … there are … demons.”

“What is that around your neck?”

Puck stared off into the woods. “My mother's. She is d-d-dead now.”

“I'm sorry.”

Puck remained silent.

Paine looked around, and noticed something was awry. “Where's Two Moon?”

Puck shrugged. “He go with … horse. I see him.”

“Where would he go?”

“He kill w-w-wolfen now.” Puck lowered his head. “My family … killed too, by … demons. I … kill them all, like T-T-Two Moon.”

“Killing the demons or the wolfen will not bring your family back.”

Paine regretted the words the moment they slipped off his tongue.

Puck turned his back to him. “I … be alone now.”

Paine swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted to apologize, but withheld.

What good would it do?

Instead he crept back to his blanket, pulled it around him, and fell into a sleep filled with nightmares in which he pined for demon lovers.

***

John panicked as his search for Meega dragged. They had been at port for hours and the men on the ship rushed to unload and take on fresh supplies. Baron Jorge had been of little help. Miguel searched the docks in case Meega had left the ship unaware.

John ran his fingers through his shaggy mane, pulling his hair as he searched. Even the darkest recesses of the ship revealed no trace of her, and the Nameless Ones, with their silent gestures, had no knowledge of her. He had sensed only truth from them.

What had he done, bringing a little girl on such a trip?

He felt sick.

Baron Jorge approached him, his eyes no longer set with a twinkle.

“I am afraid I have not seen her.” The man hung his head. “Perhaps the sea took her as an offering.”

Tears welled up in John’s eyes. He clutched the wooden doll to his chest and pulled his pack against his back; its rigid contents pressed against him.

Little One, what have I done?

And John knew that redemption was never to be his. He looked to his hands, hands that were never meant to heal or to love, but only to inflict pain and death. He felt his heart solidify in that moment, like it had once been, like when his brother had been chosen over him.

Stone.

He let the doll fall to the deck of the ship and wrenched the drawstrings of his pack once more. The ancient blade pressed harder against him.

He said nothing to the Baron, simply nodded his head and then strode from the man’s presence. He collected what few things he had brought with him, a few tools of his former trade. He stared at the steel objects before him; all dull with lack of use over the years. He would need the blades sharpened.

He placed them with care among some of Meega’s clothing to mask their rattling. She would no longer need them. He packed his worn leather bible as well as a shard of mirror that he took from the Baron’s chambers. With these slung over his shoulder, Friar John made his way down to the docks, abandoning his senses and Friar Miguel at the port city of New Boston. He had been chosen for a task and he would now see it done.

John strode to the edge of the city, marching through its cobbled streets.

The place stunk. It wasn’t just the city. It was the land. It smelled of stagnation and refuse.

Heated blood coursed through his veins. In the commercial part of the city, the area where the rich Barons sold their wares, he found the place where he could whet his blades. He aimed for the one that had older stones and sold his services to the less fortunate. A man like that, in the interest of making money, would keep his fat trap shut and not question the sorts of devices that John required to be sharpened.

And it was as expected. The near toothless lout did just that with no word or look at what sort of man would carry such diabolical devices. And he smelled as bad as the land.

John then set out for the crossroads of need and insatiable desire. Along its rubbish-strewn streets, he eyed a young man, dressed in enough rags to barely cover areas that most would consider private. At the other end of the street, there was a woman garbed in much the same. The sun caught her stark-red hair and John knew exactly which path to take. He walked to the entrance of an alleyway and motioned for his victim to join him. John gave a coy smile, one that alluded to a desire other than what he intended. He grabbed himself in a sudden lurch that hurt his loins, but he bit back the pain. With his newly sharpened tools, he stood waiting with patience and a different form of desire set in his eyes —one that would rid himself of any softness.

He thought of the book of Revelation as he waited.

I know thy works, and charity, and service, and faith, and thy patience, and thy works; and the last to be more than the first.

With every step she took towards him he thought of his chances for redemption, lost. With every footfall, he contemplated the challenge before him and immersed his heart and mind in a sea of darkness he thought he had long abandoned.

Notwithstanding I have a few things against thee, because thou sufferest that woman Jezebel, which calleth herself a prophetess, to teach and to seduce my servants to commit fornication, and to eat things sacrificed unto idols.

His skills were old, unhoned, and required practice. The cold blades in his hands slid against each other, a clean and deliberate slice. His ears delighted in their slow grating.

And I gave her space to repent of her fornication; and she repented not.

His victim sauntered towards him, a stride of those that have practiced this profession well. She was a half-breed; and the part of her that was Naiad had taken control. Her desires were insatiable; her footsteps intense. She drew near.

Behold, I will cast her into a bed, and them that commit adultery with her into great tribulation, except they repent of their deeds.

She stood before him and exposed her white flesh. She waited for his hunger and he gave it to her with all his might.

The blades pierced her, in a place that suppressed her scream.

And I will kill her children with death; and all the churches shall know that I am he which searcheth the reins and hearts: and I will give unto every one of you according to your works.

The scarlet hair spilled over his arm and John trapped her soul in the crude ceramic urn he had purchased in the market. It was set with a spell and sigils to house souls. John left her body in the alley as well as his outer robe. It was stained crimson.

He strode into the street, making for the edge of the city and then hummed a few bars of Ave Maria as he walked.

It somehow brought him comfort.

***

Seven days later, after hugging the shores of Lake Michigami and then heading south and west to trace the broad path of the Illinois River, Paine and the others tracked the footprints of the survivors to a small town called Perry. It lay ten miles north of where the Illinois River shook hands with the mighty Mississippi. Great Bear chose to leave Two Moon to his own fate, determined not to delay finding the survivors of Haven. No one had disagreed with him.

The Mississippi River, lined with white oak and red buckeye, swept past them. The soft sound of the waters greeting the rock-strewn shore soothed Paine’s frazzled state. He was tired of running.

As the midday sun melted into the horizon, they were greeted by some of the survivors — Haudenosaunee warriors on lookout. Great Bear spoke with them hurriedly in his native tongue, and then charged on. The others spurred their horses to follow.

When they reached the camp, they found a large clearing full of people, their faces drawn and filled with desolation. The few greetings they received were only half filled with cheer. Great Bear and Truitt approached an old man and woman. Two men from Lindhome stood with them, Lastborn. They were both dark of hair and eyes, brothers from what Paine could tell.

Paine dismounted and approached, catching Truitt's words. “Lindhome is gone?”

The taller of the brothers clenched his fists. “Demons and wolfen poured into Lindhome from the north — hundreds of them. They came upon us in the night. The protection of Lindhome was breached and the full evil of the Westwood flooded in.”

Truitt looked up. “How is that possible? The barrier should have kept the Westwood out.”

The shorter one hung his head. “Elenya's Soul was lost.”

The old man that stood beside him reached to his chest, pressing his hand over his heart. He muttered something inaudible. He looked at the brothers, bags under his aged eyes.

His sagging jowls quivered.

Truitt looked at the old man. “Gregor, you were there when the orb was created, how could it have been lost?”

Gregor poked his staff into the ground. “Someone has discovered the nature of its power and turned it against us.”

The taller of the two brothers eyed the Witch Hunter who stood beside Great Bear, still clamped in chains. He spat on the ground.

“What is her kind doing here?”

Great Bear stepped in front of her. “She is to be freed of the Wormwood, and questioned.”

“I want to be there when you question her, for as we ran from the demons, the Confederation was waiting for us. It was a slaughter. I want to know what she knows.”

Truitt's eyes raged. “What?”

“We had been expecting the Confederation after you left. There was rumor they were invading the mining towns, but they reached us sooner than we expected. We fought hard, but in the end, many were lost. Those that escaped are heading this way, a day behind us, running from the Confederation. A few of us were sent ahead to prepare for crossing the river.” He spat once more, this time striking the Hunter’s face. “If we do not get answers from her, I will gut her myself.”

Gregor cleared his throat. “How many of Lindhome are left?”

“Four hundred.”

“Out of two thousand?”

Silence sat heavy on the air until the old man lowered his head. “Then we must flee.”

***

Paine woke to find Fang at his side. He remembered her crawling in beside him before sunrise. His head swam with fatigue, tired from another night of terrors. The demon that stalked his dreams was relentless.

The day brought little to keep him distracted. Those he traveled with were busy making preparations for a potential defense. Even Puck was busy, enthralled with a young woman from Haven. Paine caught her name in passing — Farin. Apparently she was responsible for sending Diarmuid to them. She, too, was from the south and knew that a great many needed saving. Thankfully, Paine thought, Diarmuid had taken her advice.

He looked at Puck. Yet again the young man failed to hide the type of interest he had in the woman. Farin didn’t seem to mind.

Later in the afternoon, after seeing Great Bear talk to a short, older Haudenosaunee woman, Paine finally found some company.

“Greetings, child. I am Little Doe, but most here call me Mother, for I am a Clan Mother among our people.”

Her smile was warm and made him think of hot stew on a cold day.

“I have heard of your long journey. I can see on your face the weariness you bear from the great hunt. They are wearing you down, but you must find courage, Little Badger. There will be rest in the end.”

Little Badger.The name made him smile.

She reached out and Paine took her hand without thinking. They walked through the camp, no one paying them heed, except for Fang, who loped along at his side. Little Doe stopped in front of a deer-hide tent, the smell of freshly tanned leather and sage emanating from it.

“Sit.”

She gave him some dried venison to eat and he accepted it gratefully. They sat in silence for some time, Paine enjoying the peace — an easiness that seemed to be a part of the Earth itself. And somehow the woman’s presence, in addition to Fang’s, made the aching in his heart almost completely disappear.

She put her hand on his shoulder. There was comfort in her touch.

“Your worries are great.”

He swallowed. “What happened to Haven? There are so few here.”

“We fled Haven as the packs of wolfen and demons invaded. Their numbers were too many.”

“But your people were there.”

The old woman shook her head. “We did not have the full strength of our people. If the others had come, we might have stood a chance against them.”

“Where were they?”

“Building our new villages.”

“Didn’t you send for them?”

“Yes, Two Moon sent messages for them to meet us in Haven. Something must have gone wrong.” She shook her head. “Foolish boy. He went on a futile hunt to avenge his family. We will probably never see him again.”

“I’m sure he’ll come back.” He tried to sound reassuring, but his voice lacked the sincerity.

She shook her head. “Not since the Wendigo have I had such an ill feeling in my gut.”

“The what?”

She seemed hesitant to answer. “The Wendigo —a creature that stalked us long ago, taking our people in the night. I used to get a bad feel when it came and the night it slaughtered over fifty of our people I was sick for three days. I have not shared this with others, Little Badger, but I can see honesty in your eyes. Keep this to yourself, young one; my gut churns over this.”

“Is it the Wendigo?”

She shook her head. “No, that creature—“

Sudden shouting turned her attention. At the river, near the water’s edge, Paine saw a crowd surrounding the Hunter. She lay on the ground, convulsing. The Clan Mother ran over, fast for her age. She knelt at the woman’s head and held it as the Hunter shook. Her arms flailed and legs kicked and then a sudden stiffness took her. She was rigid, like a plank. She shook her head in a slow, jerky motion. Each turn looked painful. She showed teeth, a grin of either glee or malice, and her eyes turned from side to side. Paine felt as though she strained to see him where he stood, like she searched him out. Then the Hunter spoke and it was like her tongue was not her own.

It was a voice that was grinding and deep, an old voice that was slow with its words. “… I know who you are. I feel you. I am coming …” She paused as her voice rasped. She strained to breathe.

The Clan Mother fiddled with a pouch at her side. “Speak true, fiend. What are you called that we may name you?”

The voice of the Hunter chuckled. “…I have many names, ancient and new. Tell me, where is the fruit of your loins? You will share her fate, old woman.”

Little Doe paled.

The Hunter’s head jerked for a second and opened her mouth, but the voice that came out was softer. “…ake'nihstenha…yothore.,” it whispered.

Paine’s amulet caught the words. …mother… it is cold.

Little Doe wept. Her fingers tore at the earth. “Eksa'a,…”, she said.

Child…

She stroked the Hunter’s face.

“Mother…,” said the voice, and then struggled to speak once more, like it was fighting with the other presence within the Hunter, or the Hunter herself.

The hunter chuckled once more, gurgling as the first voice laughed.

“She is mine, old woman, as you will be. All of you—”

The Clan Mother cried out and then stabbed the Hunter’s leg with a yellow-coated knife. The woman shrieked in agony; Paine was unsure if the pain was hers or that of whatever had taken her body.

“Mine!” it shrieked and then hissed. It spat at the Clan Mother and then the Hunter went still. Her breathing was labored and her body and head were moist with sweat. The Clan Mother put an herb in her mouth and saw to the wound that she had inflicted. Everyone else stood around, saying nothing, waiting to see what would happen to the body that had hosted the strange presence. Then the Hunter’s breathing suddenly eased and she relaxed. As she exhaled, so did those that watched. Each then departed with their thoughts and their fears, except Paine.

He stood and wondered when his chance to pay retribution to this woman would come.