The Hunt: A Custodes Noctis Book Page 20

  “Welcome,” she said, gently.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I am here, the Ritual has been met.”A cry resounded through the clearing, the note echoing back from the water to swirl around them like dancers.

  The king approached leading a black horse behind his huge mount. “Ride with us, brother, before the final joy of the night,” he said.

  Rob's heart pounded. “Yes, please,” he said, swinging up onto the horse. The others gathered around him, skeletal hands patting him on his back as they chanted their welcome in the ancient tongue, the words beautiful as the song rose around him.

  “We ride together tonight,” the king said, his face shifting, young to old and back again.

  “Together, brother,” Rob said. “Galen? Where are you?

  “On the way, Rob, the Ritual will be met.” The soft answer shivered up the connection with Galen. His brother's voice whispered in his head, the words forming but taking a moment before coalescing into something that held meaning. Then they were gone again, the horn blaring in the night as the hunting cry was ripped from a dozen throats, his own voice joining in as the howling of the hounds blended with the voices in rapturous welcome.

  They moved out, the dark horses coasting through the night like the fog, the small dark creatures flitting before them, like a flock of birds. Rob’s heart was beating wildly, the longing to ride with his lost brothers filling every fiber of his being, his mind chanting the hunters song as easily as if he'd always known it. The dogs ran ahead, baying, chasing the small creatures that moved from the Hunt. The laughter of his brothers filled the air, his own voice joining them with glee. Bright eyes on fleshless skulls turned to smile at him as they rode. “It is right, it is good, it is joy,” he sang. “It is as it should be this night.” Hands touched his back, his shoulder, a pat, a slap, a welcome.

  Finally, seemingly moments later—but it could have been weeks for all he knew—the longing was too much, the other longing, that deep and profound pain. He smiled at the riders of the Hunt. “My brothers, it is time to return to the ritual place, it is time to finish this night’s joy,” he said. They shouted around him, the ancient song beginning, the words of triumph floating on the air as they galloped back, the cold wind streaming over his face, blowing through his hair as his heart shouted in joyous freedom and he sang with them, his bright laughter ringing out loudly in the silent night.

  The fire was already burning by the bog when they arrived, others had gathered, singing the songs of the Hunt, of days past. One of them he recognized, or part of him thought he did. He glanced around looking for someone else that should be there, but he was disappointed.

  He pulled the horse up and slid off, running a grateful hand over blackened flesh and naked bone. “Thank you,” he whispered to it. The horse gently nuzzled his ear. “Tomorrow we will ride again.” It threw its head back in happy affirmative. He patted the nose one last time before turning to the lead rider, the king.

  “It is time,” the king said.

  “Yes,” Rob said, looking into ancient eyes. Two each uisge walked to stand on either side of him. The priestess came forward with a silver chalice and held it to his lips. He drank, the sweetness of the liquid filling his mind with velvet. Holding out his hands he turned and walked into the icy water of the pond, the each uisge moving with him until he was chest deep. They took his wrists into their mouths and pulled him under, the pain of the bites mingling with the agony in his chest as his lungs fought for air. They held him there until darkness danced before his eyes, until he was fighting to keep his breath, until the need to draw air into his lungs was nearly overwhelming, and then they pulled him up and out of the water.

  As he emerged, the chanting began again. The king and the woman were waiting for him. She guided Rob down to the large flat stone by the fire. The Great Altar was swirling with colors, the dark lines carved into its surface alive with movement as power flowed through the stone. He smiled as the warmth from the fire touched him, the fog shifting around the Great Altar and those gathered there. The soft chiming of bells began as those waiting began to dance, skeletal riders with humans, dancing together in the dark night as the fire burned.

  He could hear his voice chanting soft words as he lay there. The priestess came and held a silver bowl, the ancient metal nearly worn through in places. The king smiled at her, then down at Rob. “Yes, it is time, it is good,” the king said. “My brother, myself, we begin.”

  “My brother, myself, we begin,” Rob repeated the ritual words. His shirt was slit open and he felt the first kiss of the knife, gently tracing a pattern on his chest. The priestess stepped forward and handed the bowl to the king. He reached a fleshless, yet fleshed, hand into the bowl and smeared the paste onto the pattern on Rob’s chest, the fragrant unguent sparking memories of rituals of the ancient past. They laid a wreath of the sacred bough on his chest and the singing got louder.

  “My brother, myself, soon, soon the night comes, soon you will end, so my brother, myself, you can begin,” the king said softly.

  “My brother, myself, I welcome the night when it comes, I wait for it to begin,” Rob answered.

  “The king will soon be dead,” the king said loudly into the night, his voice carrying over the chanting and the ecstatic ringing of bells.

  “Long live the king,” Rob’s voice rang out. He let his head drop back down onto the ground, the king bent over him. “Let the night come, my brother, myself,” Rob begged.

  “Soon, you must wait, only the first touch of night under these stars,” the king said softly, the ritual playing out gently between the two of them, the words, remembered, ancient, flowing around them like the black water of a flood, caught in a deep pool.

  “My brother, myself, let it begin,” Rob begged again.

  The king placed a hand on his head, the touch agony, burning into his brain, a violation, welcomed and terrifying. “My brother, myself, it is begun,” the king said.

  The dancers increased their pace, swirling around them like the sparks from the flames, the horses were grunting softly in the night and the small dark creatures were there, joyous, at the edge of the trees. The sounds filled Rob before the first touch of the night claimed him, the empty dark burning into his veins and he was pulled away. “It has begun,” he heard himself chant as the world slid away.

  Pain, an eternity later, returned first.

  Burning his chest, his throat, his head, his hands.

  Then cold.

  Filling his body, seeping up from the ground under him and from the icy mist surrounding him.

  The light came next.

  Against his eyelids, the brightness burning his eyes. He tried to put a hand over them to stop the burning light.

  Smell awakened.

  The remnants of a smoldering fire, the sweet unguent on his chest, blood, something acrid and vile.

  Memory, last of all.

  The riders, the king, the ritual. “My brothers, my king,” Rob whispered.

  Rob paused, a groan of pain was pulled from him as his memory shifted. He tried to move again, his body refused to answer his commands. Someone should be there, who? Galen! His brother should have been there. Rob could hear someone coming. He braced himself, wondering what would happen. “It is good, the ritual will be met,” the king's voice whispered in his head, bringing the fog and the ringing of the bells. Rob struggled to sit up, but he couldn't move, the remnants of the ritual holding him in place. “Galen?” he called. When there was no answer, dread began to fill him. Something was wrong. “Galen?”

  “I'm almost there, Rob,” Galen said through the connection. Someone dropped down beside him, a hand, gentle, warm, was placed against his forehead and chest and the healing flooded him. “Rob?”

  “Galen?” Rob said, opening his eyes, blinking against the bright light. The healing was chasing the fog away, releasing paralyzed muscles so he could push himself into a sitting position. “Galen?” he said again, surprised at how hoarse his voice sou
nded. “Where were you?” Galen had a mark on his face that looked like a burn—except it was shaped exactly like a hand.

  “Long story, Brat, I'll tell you over breakfast.”

  “Is he okay?” Flash shouted, the call coming from behind them.

  “Yes!”

  “Thank god!” Flash came into view a moment later, he was pale, a large bruise blossoming on his face.

  “Are you two okay?” Rob tried to bring his Gift into play, but it was muted again. Focusing inward, he discovered he'd damped it down during the ritual at some point. Taking a deep breath, he released it, knowing it would take time to return.

  “Mostly,” Flash said, stopping beside them.

  “Can you get up?” Galen asked.

  “Yeah.” Rob held out his hand and his brother hauled him to his feet. Reality was shifting, the fog still there, the voices gently singing to him. He tried to push them away where he couldn't hear them.

  “Can we eat? All that fruit last night made me hungry,” Flash grumbled.

  “Breakfast sounds good,” Rob said, the voice sounding more and more like his own. Galen walked beside him, his movements stiff, Flash was limping. “And you two can tell me what happened to you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Galen

  It was warm in the restaurant, the smell of coffee comforting. Galen had driven directly to the pancake house they'd eaten at the day before, ordering coffee for all of them before they even sat down at a table. The waitress appeared with a pot and cups and after looking them over, left the pot with them. The burn on his cheek was aching, and it resisted all attempts to heal. He was planning on stopping at the small pharmacy in town to get something to ease the annoying sting before it became more than a distraction.

  Rob's eyes were on him, watching him as he sipped his coffee. His brother's eyes were clearer than they'd been since first arriving at the beach. Galen could feel the bond slowly strengthening as Rob's Gift came back, and Galen wondered how he'd been able to ignore the slow dissolution of that connection over the weeks he'd been affected by the Hunt, it was so obvious now.

  “Not your fault,” Rob said softly, proving just how much of the bond was back.

  “What's not?” Flash perked up when he saw the waitress headed towards them with several plates balanced in her hands.

  “How much did you order?” Rob asked him, diverting his query.

  “Stack of blueberry pancakes, sides of sausage, bacon and hashbrowns with toast. I might need eggs later.”

  “How can you cram that much food into your body?”

  “Years of excess.” Flash chuckled and sliced into the stack of pancakes with a grin.

  “I guess.” Rob looked up at Galen. “What happened to you two last night?”

  “We had so much fun,” Flash mumbled happily through a mouthful of pancake and bacon.

  “Flash had fun,” Galen corrected.

  “He did?” Rob asked Galen, then turned to their friend. “You did?”

  “I did.” Flash washed some of the food down with coffee and grinned. “I finally got to use my war hammer. Whacked them good.”

  “Whacked who?”

  “These weird creature thingies and then one of the assholes,” Flash said with relish.

  “One of the assholes?” Rob frowned, Galen felt his brother's concern buzz along the link.

  “Yeah, this fucker on a horse showed up with his little gang and slapped Galen. I took down one of his horse-riding asshole buddies.”

  “What?”

  “I think it was the king's champion, Rob,” Galen said. Rob nodded, but didn't say anything. “There were dark creatures last night, they first appeared not too long after you rode off with the each uisge.”

  “Which stink, by the way,” Flash said.

  “The creatures?” Rob looked confused.

  “Well, them too, but that each thing reeked.”

  “I'm getting confused, how about one of you start at the beginning, from the moment I left?”

  “Flash, let me.” Galen held up his hand to stop the other before he could get started. There were things that Galen could tell Rob that Flash wouldn't see as making any difference. Flash picked up his coffee and waved at Galen to continue.

  The Previous Evening

  Galen watched the each uisge carry his brother off into the fog. He kept his eye on them as long as he could, until the heavy mists obscured his vision. The only thing that echoed along the link was the soft chiming of bells and the call of the Hunt; Rob was gone—for the moment. If the ritual went well, and Hugh was right, the bond should return in the morning. At least Galen knew he would be there at the altar to watch the ritual and wait for his brother to return from his first ride with the Hunt. The next night would be Galen's first ride, part of him sang happily with that knowledge.

  “What now?” Flash asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  “I head out there.”

  “Out where?”

  “Where we were this morning, that's where the altars are.”

  “You are not leaving me here and romping off alone. Nope, don't even start with me, Galen. You two need someone watching your asses and that's why I'm here.”

  Galen knew better than to argue with Flash when he used that tone. He slapped the other man on the back. “Thanks. Let's go grab the weapons and head out.”

  “Weapons? I get to take my hammer! Bring it on!”

  They quickly went to their rooms and collected the items Galen thought they'd need, then headed down to the parking lot. Flash was excited, talking almost non-stop. Galen smiled, his friend got that way sometimes, it was a way to cover nervousness and that ever-present fear that Flash took into every battle.

  Galen had just stepped off the bottom stair when he heard an odd sound, half-growl, half something that made the hair on the back of Galen's neck rise. Turning, he saw the fog move in non-existent wind, and something dark coming straight at them. “Flash!” he shouted a warning as he brought the falcata to bear. He had only a moment to get an idea of what was coming, gaping maw, black claws glittering in the motel lights.

  The creature lunged at him, Galen landed a hard blow, nearly severing its arm. It swung at him with the other, knocking him from his feet. Pushing himself up, he braced himself for another attack, when he saw the reflection of something silver and Flash's war hammer slammed up against the creatures head. It roared in fury, but the distraction gave Galen enough time to get to his feet, Flash was beside him a moment later.

  The sound of galloping horses filled the air. Galen saw five riders headed their way. They pulled up at the edge of the parking lot, but rather than drawing swords as they had the night before, they sat there, alert, but not participating. Galen had no time to wonder why they were there and not at the ritual. They made no move to help and Galen had to turn his attention away as the thing growled.

  It came at them again, Flash diving to the left as Galen thrust forward with his blade. It slid into the creature's body as Flash came up behind it, bringing the hammer down again and again. Galen pulled his blade free and shouted to his friend. Flash stopped and Galen swung, taking the creatures head off in a single blow. It dropped to the ground, its back legs tearing through the air as it died.

  Flash grinned at him, black ooze dripping from the end of his weapon. “Bang, bang, Flash's war hammer came down upon its head. Who the fuck are they?”

  “Part of the Hunt,” Galen said, starting towards the riders, before he could go more than three steps, they turned away, galloping into the thick fog.