The Wild Hunt

by Thomas Galvin

  Miranda stared at me with astonished emerald eyes. I stared right back, trying to think of something to say, but in the end I just ran back up the stairs.

  I really wished I had time to prepare for this, but that’s the point of a sneak attack. What I lacked in planning I made up in sheer rage; Miranda and Ethel had nothing to do with this, but the Asatru had brought the fight to their home anyway.

  I gathered the Æther around me, forming my armor as best I could with such short notice, and gathered more energy around my hands, where it could be easily released as a blast of solid, shimmering light. I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and ran out the back door.

  The Æther crackled with energy, filling the night air with static electricity. The moon cast brilliant light over the lawn, making it easy to see, but my enemies were nowhere to be found. It was possible that they’d done a drive by–pulled up in a car, thrown lightning at the house, then raced off after they realized the place was warded–but it didn’t seem likely. Maybe they–

  White light flared from nowhere and slammed into me like a truck, knocking me from my feet and throwing me across the lawn. The ward absorbed most of the blast, but the wind still burst from my lungs, leaving me gasping.

  I got back to my feet as fast as I could, pouring more energy into my armor and getting ready to return fire, but I still couldn’t see the Asatru. I crept forward, searching every shadow.

  Lightning erupted from my left, slamming into my shoulder and bowling me over. I coughed on the stench of ozone.

  What the hell? Where in the nine fires were these assholes hiding? How were they …

  Of course. That illusion-casting son of a bitch must have been veiling them. I opened my vision to the Æther, and sure enough, there they were.

  They were again arrayed in a semi-circle. The lumberjack carrying Mjolnir was closest to me, on my left. Cyrano de Bergerac, the guy veiling their presence, was across from him, at the right end of the semi-circle. Sandra was standing next to him, magic as black as her Gothed-out clothes writhing around one hand. Ashlyn crouched like a tiger, fire curling between her fingers. All of them looked at me with either wrath and contempt.

  And in the center stood Doctor Matthew Warren, clutching his enchanted spear. Energy danced around the weapon, distorting the air. Hatred twisted his face. The muscles in his jaw twitched.

  Warren looked at Mini-Thor and nodded. White and blue sparks danced along Mjolnir’s surface. The lumberjack raised the hammer, ready to bring it down right on my head. I looked off to the right, ignoring him completely … and opened my left hand, palm up.

  Blue-white light slashed through the darkness. It caught Mini-Thor full in the face, nearly hard enough to snap his neck. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

  I whipped around and thrust my hand toward Cyrano de Bergerac, sending another barrage of glowing Æther barreling toward him. He gasped and covered his face, but the energy ran him over like a steamroller. The illusionist crumpled to the ground. His veil flickered and faded, leaving the Asatru exposed.

  Mini-Thor groaned and reached for his hammer. “Nice try, Paul Bunyan,” I said, and grabbed Mjolnir from the ground. It hummed in my hand, its enchantments sending a thousand pinpricks racing along my skin. “This is neat. I bet all the kids want one.”

  Ashlyn and Sandra attacked as one. Hellish fire and ebon smoke shot across the lawn. The magics entwined, wrapping around each other like mating anacondas, producing a coiled column of flame and fog that emitted and devoured light at the same time. The rage that fueled the deadly magic was palpable.

  I turned my hands palms-out and focused my will, drawing in the Æther and forming a ward. Their magic slammed into the barrier and spilled around me. I was briefly surrounded by an inferno, the fire and smoke enveloping me entirely, but the ward held and I remained unharmed.

  Their attack subsided and I let the ward fall away, freeing up my will and my strength for a two-pronged attack. I thrust both hands forward and growled. Twin lances of blue-white light struck Ashlyn and Sandra in the chests, taking them off their feet and driving them backward. The grass was torn up from the force of their impact.

  Warren’s face turned blotchy. “You weren’t this strong last night.”

  “I wasn’t this pissed last night,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’re dangerous, and I’m done fucking around.”

  “So am I,” he said, stepping forward. The tip of his spear began to glow red, then burst into flames.

  I tossed the hammer aside. Not out of some stupid sense of honor or pride, but because I didn’t know how the damned thing worked, and relying on an enchanted artifact that you’ve never used before when a guy is trying to disembowel you is a recipe for, well, getting disemboweled.

  I gathered the Æther, forming it into a protective weave all around my body, and poured more willpower into the energy gathered around my hands, forming hard shells all the way up to my elbows.

  Warren slashed with the spear, fire trailing behind it like a comet. He obviously expected me to duck to the side or jump back, because he eyes bugged out wide when I actually charged forward. I threw a haymaker at the spear. The burning blade smashed into my Ætheric shield. The air around me filled with fire, red and copper and gold. I spun around and threw a backfist, striking the shaft of the spear. The wood, which apparently wasn’t enchanted, cracked and splintered. The fiery dirk fell to the ground, sizzling against the icy crystals covering the grass. The flame burned for a handful of seconds, then faded.

  I grabbed Warren by the shirt, lifted him into the air, smashed my fist into his jaw, and dropped him on the ground. Warren scrambled backwards, but he was trying to crab-walk and he had just gotten his bell rung, so he wasn’t moving too fast. I grabbed the broken staff and brandished the spear tip. I wasn’t going to try to activate its enchantments, but it would still make a perfectly serviceable weapon. I raised the blade–

  And the world became white fire. Thunder roared all around me and drove me to my knees. The Æther I had gathered around me strained to keep the assault at bay, and I could feel the weave becoming hard and brittle. I poured my will into it, trying to strengthen it, trying to ride out the storm.

  The lightning subsided. I wanted to release the shield and create a new one, but a ball of fire flew toward me, too fast to drop and cast a spell, so I was forced to pump more willpower into the existing barrier. The fireball slammed into me, knocking me off my feet. Flame surrounded me, like I had been sprayed with napalm. The ward started to crack, and I could feel searing heat coming through its seams.

  I rolled onto my knees and into a ball. The less surface area the flames could attack, the less difficult it would be to keep my shield. The heat subsided, giving me a fleeting chance to catch my breath, but I knew the ward wouldn’t hold forever.

  Just sitting there would be suicide. Eventually the ward would fail and I’d be cooked alive. But I couldn’t release the ward to prepare a counter spell, either. So I had to split my attention, divide my focus. I had to force my mind to work two spells at once.

  One part of my mind held the ward. I could feel every tendril of Æther wrapping around me, feel them quiver and strain against the consuming fire, and I fed willpower into them, strengthening them, encouraging them to hold.

  The other part of my mind created a ball of pure force. I constructed it right in front of my face, right between my eyes, and when I looked I could see it floating in the air before me. Without letting my focus on the ward waver, I coaxed the ball to grow. It became the size of a pool cue, then a basketball. When it was four feet across I moved it up over me, then let it settle around me.

  The ball meshed with the ward, and the two spells became one, strengthening each other. I breathed deeply and regularly, pulling in energy with each breath and pouring it into the spell with each exhalation. The sphere glowed with sapphire energy, strong and true.

  I took one last, deep breath.

  With a shout, I threw my hands out to m
y sides. The Æther around me exploded, its raw force shredding the assaulting spell like wet paper. Cool night air rushed around me, the chill a beautiful relief after the fiery onslaught.

  I knelt on the lawn, breathing heavily and baring my teeth. The Asatru were scattered like tenpins. Slowly, they climbed back to their feet. They stared at me with hatred and fear.

  They ran. I let them. I was too tired to give chase. Instead, I grabbed Warren’s spear and headed back toward the bed and breakfast.

  Miranda stood in the doorway, her eyes wide. “Caden?” she asked. “What the hell are you?”

  Chapter Nine

  “Let’s get inside,” I said. Miranda just stared at me. “We’ll be safer.”

  Miranda hesitated, then walked backwards into the house. I followed her inside and ran my fingers along the door frame. The ward briefly flared to life, again protecting the structure.

  Miranda grabbed a pillow off the couch and stood by the fireplace, clutching it to her chest. “Okay,” she said, “talk.”

  “That was Matthew Warren,” I said. “His followers call themselves the Asatru. They worship an old god named Wotan. They’re responsible for what happened here Saturday morning.”

  I unscrewed the spear tip from the staff and set it on the table. I held the wood in my hands, searching it with my senses. Nothing, which is what I expected. Genuine enchanted artifacts are really hard to break, and the staff itself had snapped like a twig. The spear tip, though, sent a tingle running up my arm. I’d have to find a place to stash it until I could deposit it in the Vault. It isn’t a good idea to leave magical items laying around where just anybody can find them.

  “Okay,” Miranda said. She took a moment to process. “And the windows? And that thing you did with the salt? And the freaking lightning bolts that guy was tossing around?”

  I set the spear tip down, ran my hand over my face, and sighed. I hate conversations like this. They’re always awkward and no one ever leaves satisfied. “That was magic.”

  Miranda nodded. “So magic is real. And you can do it.”

  I held up my hand and summoned the Æther, creating tongues of blue flame around my fingers. Miranda’s eyes went wide. Well, wider. “Yes, I can.”

  “And so can they. The … the that’s true?”

  “Asatru. It’s Icelandic, means Faith of the Gods. And yeah, they can do magic, too.”

  “And you guys are what? Mortal enemies or something?”

  I chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. “No. I met Warren three days ago. We aren’t exactly pen pals, but it’s not like he’s the Joker to my Batman or anything.”

  “But you’re enemies. You’re the reason they came here tonight. They’re the ones who …” She looked at the windows, and the shards of glass littering the floor.

  “Yes,” I said quietly.

  “Okay,” Miranda said. “Leave.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to leave. I want you to pack your bags and get the hell out of my house. You’re dangerous, Caden. We’re in danger because of you. My grandmother, she’s old. She can’t take this.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s sleeping. I’ll think up something to tell her in the morning.”

  “You could try the truth.”

  “Yeah, I really don’t see myself having a conversation with my grandmother about how some freak cult came to blow you up with their magic lightning. In fact, I’m going to do my very best to forget that any of this ever happened, and I’m going to start as soon as your ass is out that door.”

  I sighed again. “I’ll leave if you want me to, but …”

  “But?” Miranda asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I think you’re safer with me here.”

  She laughed. “You’re right. I mean, sure, someone tried to blow up our house, and sure, we had to hide in the basement like Nazis were hunting us or something, and sure, it’s all because you decided this was a good place to hide out for a couple of weeks, but you’re probably right. Having you here is the best thing that’s ever happened to us.” A tear ran down her cheek. “God, we can’t afford new windows. We can’t afford to have this happening to us.”

  “I didn’t just decide to hide out here for a couple of weeks. I chose this house very specifically.”

  Miranda sniffed, dried her eyes. “Why?”

  “Because of you.”

  Fear and sadness and anger fought a brief battle for control over Miranda’s face. She hugged her pillow tighter. “I don’t know you. We’ve never met before.”

  “No, but I know who you are. I see things, Miranda. Visions.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You just saw me fight a guy who can control lightning with his hammer.”

  Miranda chewed on that. “Okay. So what does all of this have to do with me?”

  “Tomorrow night, the Asatru will try to summon their god. And it’s going to work. And people are going to die.”

  “And you’re here to stop them.”

  “No. I’m here to save you.”

  She threw the pillow aside and started pacing. “You’re crazy. You’re a goddamned lunatic.”

  “That isn’t the first time I’ve been called that.”

  Miranda wrung her hands as she walked back and forth. “We met three days ago! What the hell do you mean you’re here to save me?”

  I sighed. “I see things, Miranda. Things that haven’t happened yet. Things I might be able to stop. Four days ago, I saw Warren and his followers summon Wotan, the Norse god of the hunt, and I saw you die.”

  Miranda wrinkled her nose. “Do you have any idea how you sound? God.”

  “I know. On the other hand, a bunch of LARPers just tried to burn down your house, so…”

  “LARPers?”

  “Live Action–never mind. You saw what happened here tonight. You saw what I can do. You saw what they can do. If magic lightning and force fields are real, why not prophecy?”

  Miranda crumpled to the couch, shaking her head.

  I sat in a chair across the room from her. The fire crackled, bathing us in swirling amber lights. “It started five years ago,” I said. “I’ve had nightmares all my life, but my last semester in college, it got really bad. I woke up every night, screaming, sweating, shaking.”

  “You’re not exactly making a case for your own mental stability.”

  “I thought I was nuts, too, so I ignored what I saw.” I clenched my jaw. “People died, and I promised myself, never again.”

  “None of this makes sense,” Miranda said, staring into the distance. “This can’t be real.”

  “There’s a clearing in the woods. It’s … it’s complicated, but there’s a lot of energy there. It makes it easier for the Asatru to work their magic. I think it might have changed you, too. I felt it when we touched. Like a spark jumped between us.”

  Miranda glanced at me nervously. “That was just static electricity. We need to get a humidifier.”

  I shook my head. “You have a gift. Or the potential, at least. That might be part of why Wotan comes after you.”

  She made a face. “What, because I’m more interesting prey?”

  “Exactly.”

  Cold wind blew in through the ruined windows. Miranda hugged herself tight. “God, it’s freezing in here.”

  “Do you have any plastic sheeting?”

  “Painter’s tarp in the cellar.”

  “That’ll do. Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll take care of the windows.”

  She laughed. “Yeah. I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.” She looked away from me and muttered to herself, “This is crazy.”

  “Nothing is written in stone, Miranda. I might be able to stop them. You could leave town.”

  Miranda scowled. “I’m not going to run. I’m not going to be put out of my own house.”

  “Running doesn’t make you a coward.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve run too much already. God, I’m twenty-two and I make panc
akes for a living. I’m not doing anything with my life.”

  Miranda stared into the fire. It might have been the shadows that made her face seem so hard. “Teach me.”

  “What?”

  “Teach me. You said I had a gift. You said I’ve got a lot of Midi-chlorians or whatever. So teach me. Teach me to defend myself. Teach me to fight.”

  “Miranda, I–”

  “Because I’m not a victim, Caden. I’m not some damsel in distress. And I’m not running. So teach me how to protect myself, or get the hell out of my house.”

  December 21st

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning was predictably awkward. I offered to help set the tables for breakfast, but Ethel didn’t acknowledge my presence. Miranda was at least willing to look me in the eye, but I could tell she was still trying to figure out just how crazy I was. A guy came to fix the windows, and I slipped him some money when no one was looking. It was my fault that they were broken, and the bed and breakfast wasn’t exactly making the DuBois rich. Other than that, I spent the morning hours in my room, my face buried in a book.

  Until Miranda let herself in, around eleven AM. “Okay,” she said, “I’ve got a free hour. Let’s get started.”

  I slipped off my reading glasses and rubbed my face. “I’m sorry?”

  “Don’t you sorry me. You promised that you’d teach me to defend myself. If the bogeyman is supposed to show up tonight, we don’t have a whole lot of time.”

  I shut my book. I’m not the teaching type. For the most part, I’m not even the talking to people type. I’ve never had aspirations of taking on an apprentice.

  But I knew what it was like to feel helpless. I knew what it was like to stand in front of the supernatural with only the resources of a mere mortal. I knew what it was like to be terrified and lost. Miranda deserved better. “Do you have any more salt?” I asked.

  “How much do you need?”

  “Enough to make a circle about five feet around.”

  “I’ll grab a can from the pantry.”