The Wild Hunt

by Thomas Galvin

  “Hey,” I said, “if you want to fight this raging hell-bitch, her pack of giant horse-wolves, and her murdering cheerleaders, feel free. I have an entire season of Breaking Bad to catch up on, so–”

  Holda interrupted me. “People of Washington, I have come to barter with you. I have proven that your families cannot resist my song. Last night I proved that it was within my power to destroy you all. But in my great mercy, I will spare you all, and all I ask in return is three favors.”

  “Let me guess, you need someone with a pickup truck to help you move your stuff out of that cave you live in. Transporting furniture on the back of a dog must be a pain in the ass.”

  “Somebody shut him up,” a woman called.

  “Answer me, good people. What has this man done for you? Has he protected you? How many have died because you followed him?”

  The crowd rumbled. Shit. This had the potential to turn ugly, real fast.

  “And now, for my favors. First, I want him.” Holda extended a long, graceful finger and pointed it squarely at me. The crowd seemed to surge forward, their eagerness to comply with Holda’s demand was almost palpable. I couldn’t blame them. As far as they knew I was the cause of all their problems, and as far as they knew, I was the solution, too. They didn’t know they were making a deal with the devil.

  But I did. I’m not above a little bit of martyrdom now and then, but I’m not the type to needlessly sacrifice myself. Turning myself over to Holda wouldn’t have done anything to protect the people of Mirrormont. In fact, it would have taken the one player with a chance of defeating her out of the game. I suppose I could have explained this to everyone, could have calmly stated my case and rationally presented the logic of the situation.

  Instead, I blasted Holda in the face with blue-white light, dropping the ward just long enough to allow the attack to pass through.

  The crowd gasped and jumped away from me. Holda howled as the light streaking from my palm burned the evil inside of her. She growled and threw emerald fire at me. The ward around the building shuddered and it felt like someone had driven a red-hot spike between my eyes. Another burst of jade flame shattered the ward and dropped me to my knees.

  Holda strode into the room and lifted my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. “You shouldn’t have rejected me, Caden. You’re still so young, so inexperienced, so weak. Under my tutelage you could have become truly powerful. But now you’ll never have the chance.”

  She raised her hand up high, ready to slash my throat or crush my skull or whatever it is Norse gods do when they’re pissed at you. “Stop,” I said weakly.

  Holda raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

  I crawled forward, slowly and painfully, and laid my hands on her feet. “Stop. Please.”

  A triumphant, wicked smile spread slowly across Holda’s face. “Why Caden, are you surrendering to me?”

  I hung my head, my whole body shuddering. “Yes.”

  “Are you ready to serve me?”

  “Yes.” My voice was weak, barely audible.

  “Are you ready to worship me?”

  I hesitated for a fraction of an instant. “I am.”

  “Excellent,” she crowed. “Then kneel before me. Kiss my feet, servant mine, and pledge yourself to my name.”

  I dipped my head down and brushed my lips against the top of her right foot, then her left. “Frau Holda, White Lady, Queen of the Snow …”

  “Yes?” Holda asked.

  “I can totally see up your skirt.”

  Holda snarled. I unleashed twin blasts of energy, raw, ragged willpower made manifest. The light was blinding in its purity, overwhelming in its intensity. The entire room was washed out in the harsh glare of my magic. My hair stood on end as the Æther created an electric charge in the air. Holda flew backwards, bathed in flame, writhing in pain.

  I got to my knees, my light still burning her, then climbed to my feet. I stalked toward her, my rage fueling my assault. Ashlyn’s form crumbled, her perfect skin charring and flaking away, revealing the grotesque monster hiding within. The cement beneath her cracked and chips flew through the air.

  My spell dissipated. Holda lay in an indentation on the ground, her skin blistered and blackened. Her teeth had become tusks, her feet cloven hooves. Her fingernails had become obsidian daggers, long, black, and gleaming. Her eyes were blood red, her pupils yellow. I drew the Exorcist’s Dagger and stalked toward Holda, ready to cut her throat.

  “Sisters!” she shouted with a voice like gravel. “Kill them! Kill them all!”

  Outside, dozens of emerald eyes started moving toward us. “Oh,” I said. “Well. Shit.”

  The Valkyries rushed forward, screaming. They hit the building like a tornado, racing through the ruined garage port, crashing through doors, shattering windows. Some of them burst right through the walls, tearing metal and crushing concrete like it was paper. Golden blades glittered in the neon lighting, thirsty for blood.

  Chaos broke out. I fired light from both hands, taking down two of the Valkyries. The sheriff, his deputies, and everyone with a weapon opened fire, but only the police seemed to have silver bullets, and absolutely no one had any kind of fire discipline. Blades and bullets hissed through the air. The sheriff’s men managed to fell some of the Valkyries, and I was able to hobble several more, but their numbers were overwhelming.

  And that was before Holda rejoined the fight.

  She lifted her legs over her head and jackknifed them down, launching herself onto her feet. Well, her hooves. The cement cracked from the impact, tiny spiderwebs racing out from beneath her. She crouched, her black fingernails etching furrows in the concrete, and snarled at me.

  Holda roared and sprang at me, claws aimed at my throat. I threw magic at her, catching her in the shoulder and spinning her around, but she recovered, dodged my next attack, and wrapped her talons around my neck. My armor rippled, protecting me from the worst of the assault, but Holda still hoisted me off the ground and hurled me through the air. I struck the rolled-up bleachers, denting them. The Exorcist’s Dagger clattered away.

  Holda was on top of me almost before I had regained my feet. She threw a fist at me; I ducked and the punch missed my head, barely, and shattered the bleachers. I threw a blast of light into Holda’s stomach, knocking her back a dozen feet, then swept out her legs with a rushing ward.

  Shotgun blasts roared and one of the Valkyries fell. Another leapt over her and cut the shooter in half. Literally in half, from the top of his skull all the way down his body. I screamed and threw light at her, catching her full in the face. She went down, but Holda was getting back up. I whipped around and gathered the Æther for another attack, cupping my hands and focusing my energies into a single beam of white-hot light. I wasn’t sure if it would be enough to kill her, but–

  Fire ripped through my back, pain like I had never felt before. My strength failed me, leaving me completely unable to stand. I touched the burning spot. My hand came away wet and red. I turned, numb, to see who had done this to me.

  Miranda, or at least Miranda’s body, stood behind me, emerald eyes aflame, holding the Exorcist’s Dagger. The enchanted blade had passed through my armor like it wasn’t even there.

  “My Lady?” she said. My vision shifted briefly, revealing cat’s eyes and needle teeth. “I have a gift for you.”

  The Valkyries stopped their assault and gathered around us. An opening appeared in the circle and Holda came forth, looking down at me with contemptuous, blood-red eyes. “Excellent. Bring him along.”

  “And the others?” one of the Valkyries asked.

  Holda looked at them dismissively. “Kill them.”

  The crowd wailed. “Wait!” someone shouted. “We’ll do whatever you want!”

  “Whatever I want?” Holda asked.

  “Anything,” a woman cried.

  Holda surveyed them like a farmer choosing cattle. “Bow down before me,” she commanded. “Worship me. Give me my due honor.”

&nb
sp; The Valkyries grabbed the nearest man and threw him down before Holda. He looked up at her, confused, then bent down to kiss her cloven feet. He looked up, wondering if his act of submission was enough.

  It wasn’t. A Valkyrie kicked him in the ribs, hard enough to crack bone. “Say her name,” the demon said. “Pay homage to Frau Holda.”

  The man coughed. His lips were stained red. “Fr, Frau Holda, I pay homage to you. I, I worship you. I adore you.”

  “As well you should,” Holda said imperiously. “Next?”

  One by one, the Valkyries brought the people of Mirrormont forward, forcing them to bow down and worship. And as they did so, as their faith flowed into her, the Holda’s terrible form shifted back into that of Ashlyn West. Her injuries healed, her beauty was restored, and even the tatters of her clothing were made new.

  “My Sisters, let us depart,” Holda said, walking toward the doorway. The crowd breathed a sigh of relief, but Holda stopped just before the threshold. “Oh, one more thing.” She surveyed the crowd, letting her words hang in the air. “I’ll need replacements for the Valkyries you took from me tonight. Sisters? Which of these young ladies should join our company this fine eve?”

  Mothers and fathers began to sob. My injuries overtook me, and the world turned black.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When I woke up, the first thing I realized was that I was cold. Not freezing-to-death cold, just the mildly uncomfortable kind of cold that would keep you from falling asleep at night, the kind of cold that sends a mild shiver through your body.

  The second thing I realized was that I was alive. I had been stabbed in the kidney with an enchanted artifact, so my survival was more than a little surprising. Maybe the Exorcist’s Dagger only worked on magic and demons.

  Regardless, the fact that I was still alive was a positive development. I tried not to think too hard about the fact that the only reason Holda would keep me alive was to do something worse than kill me.

  I was in a cave, laying on a stone floor. The walls emitted eerie blue light, and I could hear water trickling somewhere nearby. I was still wearing my jeans, but everything else had been taken from me. My clothes lay in a pile in the corner of the cave, out of reach.

  Heavy iron restraints shackled me to the floor. The chains were the kind of thing you’d use to anchor a boat, with links about an inch thick. The manacles stretched from my wrist almost to my elbow, and were etched with complicated, squarish-looking runes cast in silver.

  Footsteps echoed outside my cell. I backed into a corner and got ready to throw up a defensive spell, but the being who appeared didn’t seem particularly dangerous. She was short, three and a half feet tall, and about four and a half feet wide. Her face was flat and round, with rosy cheeks and intelligent eyes. Her hair was the color of burning brass and tied into a thick braid that hung nearly to the floor. She wore a long leather coat marked with runes, thick woolen pants, and iron-shod boots. She carried a copper bowl, a copper pestle, and a bag of herbs.

  She set her accouterments on the floor next to me, then grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. “That’s healing well,” the dwarf said.

  “My lucky day,” I said.

  “Luck has nothing to do with it,” she said sourly. “You can chalk the fact that you’re alive up to sheer skill. Lay on your stomach.”

  I did as I was told. The dwarven healer poured water from a skin on her belt into the bowl, then mixed in a few handfuls of herbs. She ground the concoction with her pestle, and the cave began to smell like spearmint and cinnamon. She dipped a cloth in the mixture and applied the compress to my back.

  I jumped involuntarily. “It’s cold.”

  “Quit being such a baby,” the dwarf said. She pulled a bag of stones off her belt and laid them on top of the bandage, then muttered in a harsh-sounding language. The stones began to glow, and chilly, numbing energy spread through my body.

  “Thanks for fixing me up,” I said as the dwarf collected her materials.

  “Don’t thank me,” she said. “I’m just following orders.”

  “You probably saved my life.”

  “And you will probably regret that when Kára starts in on you.”

  “Who the hell is Kára?”

  “I am,” Miranda’s voice said. I turned around as best I could without disturbing the compress. The Valkyrie that had taken Miranda’s body stood at the entrance to my cell, examining the Exorcist’s Dagger with flaming green eyes.

  “Oh good,” the dwarven woman said. “I was afraid I was going to have to entertain him or something. I’ll leave you two alone.”

  “Thank you, Brilda,” the Valkyrie said. The dwarf toddled past her. Kára stayed in the doorway, playing with the Exorcist’s Dagger, twisting it this way and that, watching the strange blue light reflect off the blade. “You should have accepted Holda’s offer, Caden Lyndsey. She is a kind goddess, and generous. You would have been happy by her side. But that’s all right. I’m sure we can find ways to entertain each other.”

  I stared hard at the knife. Which is totally what she intended, and I knew that was what she intended, but it didn’t make it any less effective, or any less intimidating. “What? She expects you to break me?”

  “Break you, toy with you, whatever. Holda has given you to me, to do with as I please.”

  “Well that sounds interesting and all, but maybe you shouldn’t have let your dwarf patch me up before you started in on me.”

  Kára smirked. The smile looked nothing like Miranda’s. “And why is that?”

  “Mostly because of this.” I thrust my hands forward and growled, releasing the Æther I had gathered inside of myself.

  The runes on my manacles glowed bright red. I screamed as the metal seared my flesh. My control over the Æther was shattered. The runes dimmed, but the iron was still hot. I fell back against the cavern wall, gasping. I could smell my skin burning.

  Kára laughed. “You are not the first mage to grace our cells, Caden, and our dwarves have talents besides healing.” She crouched down beside me and took my hand, examining my injuries. “Brilda could fix this, but I believe I’ll let you think on your sins a while first. And then,” she touched the dagger’s tip to my chest, scratching me lightly, “we’ll begin.”

  The Valkyrie stood suddenly and walked away. “Rest well, Caden Lyndsey. I want you strong and ready.”

  I watched her leave, hyperventilating. The pain in my arms was bad, but didn’t even compare to a dagger in the kidneys … or what the dagger could do when Kára decided to go to work on me. I needed to escape, obviously, but I had no idea how. I tried to summon my armor, but as soon as I began to gather the Æther the dwarven restraints glowed with hellish light. I cried out in pain.

  When I recovered, I tried another tactic. I gathered just a touch of energy, forming it around my arms, trying to create a barrier between my flesh and the manacles. If I was careful enough, slow enough–

  No good. The restraints roared to life as soon as I released the spell, burning my skin and shredding my magic. The shackles had no sense of proportional response; they were either off or on, and any attempt to use my magic would result in nothing but searing pain and failure.

  I caught my breath. My magic was useless, but I still had my body. I grabbed my chains and braced my feet against the cavern wall, then strained as hard as I could. The chains didn’t even struggle to overcome my merely human strength, and the loop that held me to the ground was just as strong.

  Maybe I could use the chains to chip away at the stone floor. I worked for an hour, building a tiny pile of stone shards at my feet. “Well, what have we here?” a voice called out. I whipped around. The chains snared my feet and I toppled over. Brilda was standing in the entryway, smirking. “That ring goes down ten hand lengths. You could dig for a year and still be stuck here.”

  My lip quivered into a snarl, but I kept my mouth shut. The dwarf walked into the room and set a tray beside me. “Here. Dinner is served, your majesty
. Eat up. You’re going to want to be at your best when Kára comes back. I saw her picking out a whip a few minutes ago.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered. She had brought me a cup of water and a loaf of bread, but even that meager fare seemed like a feast. I couldn’t remember when I had eaten last. “But I can’t eat food from the Otherworld.”

  The dwarf laughed. “Oh, because then you’ll be trapped here?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Honey, you’re stapled to the floor with fifty stones of dwarven steel. You’re already trapped here.” She grabbed my bread and tore a chunk out with her teeth, then patted me on the head. “But you go ahead and tell yourself otherwise. Kára likes it when you guys put up a fight.”

  The dwarf walked away, munching on my meal. I waited until the sound of her footsteps faded before I started chipping away at the stone again.

  “That isn’t going to do you any good.”

  “Jesus!” I spun around, holding my metal-clad hands up to protect myself. I hadn’t heard anyone coming, had no idea I wasn’t alone. But when I saw who had entered my cell, I wasn’t surprised that she could move quietly. She was, after all, adept at hiding from the Wild Hunt.

  “Esmeralda! What are you doing here?”

  Her wide eyes darted left and right. “Quiet!” she hissed.

  “Right, sorry,” I said in a whisper. “But seriously, what are you doing here?”

  She came close and whispered in my ear. “I saw the Hunters drag you in. I followed them, and now I’m here to set you free.”

  Good god. This creature was risking her life for me. “Esmeralda, I … I don’t know what to say. Why did you come here?”

  She shrugged her bony shoulders. “You seem like a nice man. Besides, you promised to kill Holda, and that idea excites me.”

  “Oh. Well, okay then. So, how do you plan to get me out? I’ve been at this for hours, and I’m not really making any progress.”

  Esmeralda held up her hand. “I found this in your coat. It’s magic, and your shackles are magic, so I thought it might be the key.”