by H B Lyne
In Hepethia, the hidden realm of shifter kind, the tunnel opened up into a vast cavern lit with more of the brightly coloured torches and a million sparkling fairy lights wrapped around the many crystalline stalactites that clung to the ceiling. All of Hepethia was made of these incredible crystal structures and the cavern shone in a rainbow of colours.
The cave was filled with shifters, approximately sixty altogether. They were assembled roughly by pack, each adorned with costumes representing their uniqueness, though there was some intermingling going on already.
There was a collective intake of breath at the sight and Stalker grinned at her pack mates, pride swelling in her chest.
'Greetings,' a deep voice said from just beside them. Stalker knew it at once and turned to give First Strike a warm smile. 'Welcome to the Danegeld.'
Chapter Two
Stalker discreetly touched First Strike's hand, their fingers gently brushing, and they exchanged mutually appreciative grins at one another's attire. He was topless, wearing a heavy, ornate gold cross around his neck on a thick chain. Stalker saw Weaver trying to hide a grin as she pointedly looked away from the couple.
'I'll catch up with you later,' she said to him quietly, and led her pack down the roughly carved steps into the cavern. There was a large fire burning in a pit at the head of the cave, behind it, on a dais was a huge stone throne with two ravens carved into the arms. Below the dais stood Crimson, dressed in a deep red dress that left very little to the imagination. Her long, red hair was loose and adorned with flowers. She carried a tall sceptre with a cross upon the top, and a shimmering black satin cloak lay across her shoulders with a glittering red crown emblazoned on the back. She was speaking with another female shifter that Stalker didn't know, but judging by the similar crown and cross motifs in her outfit, she must have been another member of The Hand of God.
Around the cave were several smaller fires, the smoke drawn out by the many narrow cracks and passages of the cave. Elementals of fire, wind, and shadow danced in the firelight, largely ignoring the shifters. The Danegeld was giving them life, feeding them, so they participated willingly and caused no problems. Ravens perched on many of the higher-up platforms, observing silently.
Stalker spotted Scribe-of-the-Fallen and Last-Breath-Echoes talking together near the dais. Echoes was dressed in loose, black clothing, as she so often was, but like her pack mates, she was wearing the symbols of crown and cross in gold and silver-coloured jewellery all over her body. She had a carved wooden mask perched on top of her head. Stalker caught her eye and they exchanged smiles and small waves. Scribe was in his typical Goth garb: big boots, black clothes and long black leather coat. His shoulder-length hair, however, was hidden by huge synthetic extensions of red and white. He too wore a mask, a partial skull of a fox that perched on his nose and covered his eyes and forehead.
The rest of the Hellsclaws stood out from the crowd too. Like the Lightning Lords, they were all wearing flashing, glowing accessories commonly seen in cyber-goth clubs like their own, The Dragon's Den.
On opposite sides of the cavern were two tight-knit groups of shifters, eyeing each other carefully: The Watch on one side, all bearing the insignia of Caerton, that of a raven; and the Glass Wolves on the other, each decorated with tiny glass ornaments. Theodore Harris, their Alpha, was wearing a striking helm of glass cut to resemble the top of a panther's head. The Alpha of The Watch, Warden-of-Stones, looked very different from the only other time Stalker had seen her. That day she had been dressed for work in a neat suit with her hair tied tightly back. Tonight she was dressed in the ornate robes of a warrior priestess, adorned with shining black raven feathers, and her long black hair was intricately braided around golden ribbons. She wore a huge broadsword across her back.
Many of the shifters present were armed, particularly Odin's Warriors. Huge swords, axes and hammers were in bountiful supply. One member of the Glass Wolves had a shotgun strapped to her back and Stalker pointed her out to Claws. He grinned at her and dashed away from the pack to go and introduce himself. He returned a few minutes later looking humbled.
'What happened?' Stalker asked him quietly.
'Not much,' he replied with a shrug. 'She didn't seem interested in talking. I recognised her when I got closer though, it was Vengeance-of-Steel, the police officer.'
'Not exactly Officer Friendly, then?' Stalker asked with a wink.
'Not remotely.'
The cave was filled with noise from shifters talking and the fires roaring, but somehow, over the din, a voice rang out calling them to order. Stalker looked towards the dais and saw Red Scythe standing beside the throne, his huge scythe in hand. He was wearing robes of blood red with a golden, rising sun embroidered on the chest. Crimson was at his side and Warden-of-Stones had made her way up there too.
'Welcome!' Red Scythe called out. 'We come together tonight to participate in the Danegeld, the paying of tribute to Odin and the Gods to whom we owe fealty.' There were a few shouts of agreement and several murmurs of dissent and Stalker looked around anxiously, trying to identify which shifters had spoken.
'We owe no one fealty, nor tribute.' A clear, loud voice echoed around the cave. All eyes turned at once to the entrance, above the gathered shifters. Five newcomers stood on the ledge, the coloured torches at their backs casting eerie shadows. Stalker could just about make out that they were all wearing mail armour and ornate, Anglo-Saxon helmets that covered the whole face.
'We acknowledge The Fyrd,' Red Scythe called out. 'It is your right to refuse to pay the Danegeld. In so doing, you are offered no protection.'
'We need no protection,' the Alpha of The Fyrd replied. The newcomers strode down the steps and took up a position beside one of the fires.
'What was that about?' Eyes whispered, close at Stalker's ear.
'It was ceremonial,' she replied, not taking her eyes off the mysterious newcomers. 'Ragged Edge explained it to me. The same exchange has been recited at every Danegeld, every five years since they began, however many hundreds of years ago.'
'Who are they?' Claws whispered to Stalker.
'A pack from outside Caerton,' she whispered back. 'They have territory in the middle of some packs of Furies and are on our side against them. But they don't bow to Odin.'
'Each pack will come forward with their tribute,' Red Scythe announced. 'Beginning with The Watch.'
Warden stepped down from the dais and her pack strode forward to join her by the huge fire at the front. She held up a large knife, cut into her palm and held it over the fire for the blood to drip into it. The fire elementals were whipped into a frenzy and some of the sparks turned bright red. Warden went to each of her pack and cut all of their palms. Once their tribute was paid they returned to their positions.
Red Scythe called on the Glass Wolves next and Theodore repeated Warden's actions. Crimson Dawn's Blood were next, followed by The Hand of God. Both Red Scythe and Crimson paid tribute with their packs, as did the other members of Odin's Warriors. They were mere messengers, not the recipients of the tax. 'The Storm Riders,' Red Scythe called.
Stalker's head whipped around to see these curious shifters, whom they knew so little about. Her friend, Fire Talon from Odin's Warriors was among them and he fell into step behind his Alpha as they made their way forward. The Alpha carried a trident and Fire Talon wore a cloak with a storm printed on it. They all wore trinkets rescued from the sea, lots of green copper and nautical symbols. The knife that the Alpha used was encrusted with precious stones.
Next were the Hellsclaws, led by their Alpha, Voice-of-Truth. They were followed by The Savages. The cavern was utterly silent as they made their way to the front to pay their tribute. Stalker watched this small pack carefully. There were only three of them, but they were dressed in furs. The Alpha wore what appeared to be a bearskin, complete with a head that covered his own, and one of their number was wearing antlers. They wore bones on their belts and carried vicious, handmade weapons. Stalker felt a sudd
en stab of recognition when she laid eyes on the third member of the Savages, it was Hunter, the shifter she had once tracked across Blue Moon territory, and her fellow member of the Path of Night. He was wearing a fox pelt across his shoulders and she gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of him acquiring it himself.
'Where is their territory?' Eyes whispered.
'Elmswood,' Weaver replied. 'South of the city.'
Red Scythe called on the Factory Boys next, who seemed mildly bored by the proceedings; and then the Wrecking Crew. Rust led his pack and Stalker noticed that they were all dressed in quite clever costumes made from bits of cars and machinery. They must have spent a great deal of effort on their costumes and she was impressed. She caught Fury's eye and her rival sneered at her maliciously. Stalker ignored her and promptly dismissed any positive thoughts about the pack.
'We welcome Caerton's newest pack,' Red Scythe announced. 'Come forward, Lightning Lords, and pay your tribute.'
Stalker's palms were sweating and she felt the apprehension of each of her pack mates through the empathy granted to them by their patron, Unchained Lightning. Eyes led them to the fire and took out Wind Talker's ritual knife from his own belt. He cut each of their palms and they added their blood to the mix. Stalker watched the fire fae reacting to their blood, just as they had done to all of the shifters who had gone before them. She felt a mixture of awe and trepidation. When they were finished they returned to their place by a smaller fire.
'Tribute is paid. We call upon Odin Allfather and his pantheon to recognise the fealty of Caerton and grant us fortune and favour in return.'
The fire that contained all of their blood suddenly flared up even more; a burst of heat filled the vast cavern and the fae were stirred into a frenzied dance to the beat of drums, though Stalker could see no drummers. Goose bumps popped up all over her arms, despite the heat, and the ravens all around the cave suddenly rose up as one and soared around over the heads of the gathered shifters. They cawed, the sound echoing off the walls and sending chilling vibrations through the floor. Black feathers dropped on the crowd as the birds made their course around the cavern and out through a narrow crack to the outside world.
A cheer rose up among the crowd and the sound was deafening. Stalker joined it, but the rest of her pack looked a little surprised.
'With that business taken care of,' Crimson said, stepping forward and the crowd fell quiet at the sound of her melodic voice. 'We call now upon the Olympian deities. We welcome Persephone back from her time in Hades as winter draws to a close, and entreat Demeter to return life to earth and bring spring forth.' She plucked several of the flowers from her hair and threw them into the fire.
A great plume of smoke rose up and the flames erupted to form a beautiful flower shape with petals unfolding. The effect resembled burning paper, curling and blackening at the edges, with glowing embers and tiny sparks emitting from the blazing flames. Stalker gasped, along with several others. It was one of the most incredible things she had seen.
Crimson stepped away from the fire as it settled back into normal flames and Red Scythe returned to the front of the dais.
'We have endured winter, though it was not without loss. But spring approaches now and with it the threat of war. The Furies rise around us and are preparing themselves. The main assault could begin at any time. Many of us have experienced border skirmishes and flash raids.' Stalker flinched and she felt her pack mates tense up with her. 'But winter is not a time for open warfare. It is our strong suspicion that they have been saving their resources for a summer campaign. All of Caerton's shifters must be prepared.'
There were mutterings throughout the cavern as the shifters heard this news and felt compelled to discuss it. The Lightning Lords exchanged worried glances but remained silent. It felt to Stalker like Red Scythe was talking explicitly about the Blue Moon, but from the reactions of some of the packs, and with her new knowledge of The Fyrd, it seemed that her pack mates were not the only ones to have been hit by Furies recently. 'Odin's Warriors declared war on the Furies some months ago, but we too have been biding our time. Some of our number fulfilled their oaths early.' He caught Stalker's eye and she felt a ripple of heads turn her way. She felt a little embarrassed to be singled out and extremely uncomfortable with the memory of killing the young Witch. It hadn't been a deliberate act to fulfil her oath, it had been a brawl gone too far and a terrible mistake. It was a miracle that the Witches hadn't come marching to her door for retribution. She had to assume that they didn't know who was responsible for the murder. 'But,' Red Scythe went on. 'Now is the time for all to make good on that oath and for the wider community to also pledge their service in this war.'
The cavern erupted with shouts and dozens of fists pumped in the air, including Eyes and Wind Talker, which caught Stalker slightly off guard. Yet some held back and the war cry died prematurely.
'How can you be so sure?' a voice called out. Everyone searched the crowd for the speaker and Stalker's eyes fell upon Theodore Harris, standing with his arms crossed near the front of the crowd. 'There's no evidence to suggest that they're planning a full scale assault. They've never attempted such action before. Why now?'
'The signs all point,' Red Scythe said, a little reticently.
'To what?' Theodore interrupted. 'To more of the same minor squabbles that have irritated us for centuries.'
Stalker felt a stab of insult at his words and beside her Eyes flinched. She glanced at him and placed a calming hand across his chest when she saw that he looked ready to pounce across the cave towards Theodore.
'We must be prepared!' Red Scythe insisted.
'Prepared to defend ourselves, of course. But not for war. We are not the aggressors. You would make warmongers of us all.' Theodore's pack mates patted him on the back as he stepped back and relaxed a little. He had said his piece. Red Scythe looked taken aback and stood silently. Crimson stepped forward and raised her hands.
'You are all welcome to remain here and feast. Enjoy the celebrations, partake in the glory of our spring celebration and all of the diversions available. We thank you all for coming.'
The gathered shifters immediately burst into animated conversations and the cave was filled with noise and movement. Stalker stood still amidst it all and looked around at her pack mates, who were equally stunned.
'Did Red Scythe just try to unite the packs for war?' Eyes asked.
'And failed,' Wind Talker replied.
'That's what it will take though, isn't it?' Eyes asked. No one replied. 'I'm going to talk to him.'
'Careful,' Weaver warned. 'You work for Theodore now, remember that.'
Eyes stopped mid stride and considered her carefully. He gave a curt nod and strode off towards Red Scythe. Stalker watched him and heaved a great sigh. She had never seen any elder get shot down like that and it stung that it was her own leader from Odin's Warriors. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Theodore enjoying the attention of various other shifters and she wondered, not for the first time, where his loyalties lay.
Stalker looked around the crowd for a familiar face. She saw Fire Talon heading straight for her and greeted him with a warm smile and brief hug.
'How are you?' she asked him.
'I'm very well, thank you. You?' he replied.
'I'm great, thanks.'
Fire Talon took her by the elbow and led her to one side.
'It's been a hard winter, I can't lie,' he said quietly. 'Something dark is coming. We've been fighting back hordes of walkers from the sea, the chosen of Poseidon and it's been getting worse all winter. The storms have been unusually severe and I know that might be something your pack might understand.'
Stalker listened attentively. She could see how worried he was and up close she saw that the harsh winter had aged him.
'Yes, of course. I can look into it; perhaps The-Lord-of-Storms-and-Rain can give us some information.'
'Thor? Thor is on your territory?' Fire Talon asked.
'Yes,
at the top of the telecoms tower.' She saw the expression of stunned disbelief in his face and suddenly worried that she had revealed something that she ought not to. 'Best keep that one to yourself, I assumed others would know, but if not then it must be for a reason.' Fire Talon gave her a reassuring smile.
'I won't mention it. But look, seriously, Iron Sky has tried to warn the other Alphas, but no one is listening to him. They all think he's lost his mind. But these creatures from the sea are real and they are dangerous. But more worryingly, we're sure they are just the first wave of the offensive. There are worse things to come and without the King-of-Glass-and-Steel, well, I don't fancy our chances.'
Stalker nodded solemnly.
'Okay, I absolutely take your caution seriously and I'll talk to my Alpha. Thank you for talking to me about it.'
'No problem. I honestly hope we're wrong by the way.' He tried to smile and she gave him a pat on the arm before he headed back to his pack.
Stalker felt his warning gnaw at her insides. Everyone said the Storm Riders were crazy, distracted and deluded. But she knew Fire Talon and knew that his head was screwed on right. He had been genuinely afraid, she had seen it in his eyes. What did it mean for Caerton if they were facing war from the sea as well as the Furies?
'Stalker!' She turned at the call of her name and saw First Strike waving to her. He was standing with a cluster of other Berserkers and she went over to greet them. He pulled her into his arms and lifted her off her feet. She laughed but felt embarrassed and patted him as a signal for him to release her. She awkwardly fiddled with her hair and he looked at her quizzically.
'This isn't the place,' she mumbled under her breath and he gave a slightly hurt nod.
'This way,' Ragged Edge said, his voice low and serious. He led them across the cave to the fire nearest the back. All of Odin's Warriors gathered together. They were a formidable sight, all decorated for the Danegeld and armed to the teeth. Red Scythe stood at the centre of the circle, looking angry enough to cause severe harm to the next person to cross him.
