Diarmuid nodded. “We don't want to overstay our welcome.” He paid the innkeeper and they rose from the table.
They found the horses waiting. Roan whinnied at the sight of Brahm. She stroked the charger's nose and mounted.
“We should just head east then, and search out this army?”
Diarmuid nodded. “We'll have to be careful. There could be more Hunters along the way.”
Brahm led them out of the stables and gasped as they rounded onto the main road. In the midst of the town, two bodies hung lifeless from makeshift gallows. They had been branded. The pearly-white crosses on their uniforms gleamed in the morning sun.
A faint bell chimed in the distance, not like the obnoxious bells of the Church of the Ascension, something more delicate. Brahm shook her head and spurred Roan to a gallop, leaving the hanging bodies of the Hunters, and the town of Underwood, behind.
***
Favorable winds swept the Lady Misia across the sea, her sails unfurled and tight. Beside her sped her sisters, the Lady Milene the Lady Saldanha. Friar John searched the seascape for land and anxiety welled inside him at the sight of it. On the horizon, New Boston slipped towards them. Beside him, Miguel leaned over the rails, retching incessantly. The Baron had offered him a potion to stop his heaving, but he had refused.
Stubborn fool.
Meega danced with her wooden doll near the prow of the ship, the wind playing with her hair, blowing it about like scarlet feathers. He told her to stay within his sight and to remain out of the bowels of the ship. The Barons were known to sail with the Nameless Ones in the depths of their galleons — ravenous beings that plucked out their own eyes and tongues in service to their god. He wanted her nowhere near them.
He smiled as she frolicked, and hoped that one day he could find a quiet place to raise such a child. Somehow his heart thought it might help to redeem his former actions, but a part of him thought otherwise. Some things were beyond forgiveness.
The men called out orders and clambered up the rigging, adjusting the sails. Off to the side of the ships a whale spouted and splashed its tail before submerging. John smiled at the great being and her calf.
The wonders of this world.
He looked back to Meega, but she was no longer there. He stepped towards the front of the ship, searching for the little girl.
Where is she?
Her doll lay upon the deck, its straw hair straggled and knotted.
“Meega?” he called.
He thought he heard faint giggling, and perked his ears.
“Meega?” he called again, his voice louder.
Worry settled in the pit of his gut.
Miguel stumbled over. “What has happened? Where is Meega?”
John searched for the girl as he clung to the hair of the wooden doll. He hastened his stride as he scoured the deck.
“Meega!”
Oh God, no!
He ran to the stern of the ship and peered over the edge, searching the wake and the water. His heart pounded as he searched for stark red hair, but found nothing.
He turned around and Miguel waddled up to him, Baron Jorge in tow. The man carried a look of concern.
“What has happened to the girl?”
“I don't know. She was dancing near the front of the ship and then she was gone. Here’s her doll.” John held it up, the straw hair slipping through his sweaty fingers.
“Did you see her fall over?”
“No.”
The Baron ran to the edge of the ship and scanned the waters. The ship swiftly approached the docks of New Boston. Regret dappled his eyes.
“I must see to mooring my Lady. If you did not see her fall over, then likely she is still on the ship.” He paused. “My keen eyes do not see her floating on the water, but if she has fallen over I am afraid she is lost to us. Wait here and I will help you search for her once we are docked.”
John wanted to protest, but as the ship neared the dock, he knew the Baron could do little. He nodded and the man left them.
Miguel rounded on him, his face puffed and crimson.
“I told you we should not have brought her with us! It is too dangerous for a little girl. We are on a fool's errand, don't you see that? The Pope sent you out to be rid of you. There is no substance to your so-called truth. And now you have jeopardized the life of an innocent girl with your folly.”
Doubt riddled him.
Was I wrong to bring her? Was he right about the Pope?
He gripped the rails as a thought niggled him. It sat in a dark place within him and he rebuked himself for thinking it.
Perhaps it was for the best.
She might get in the way of what he needed to do. Guilt caught in his throat and he swallowed it down. He then cast his gaze out to the water as they sailed to port, losing himself in the swell of the sea and thoughts of a little girl's shrill laughter.
***
They rode for half the day, and Brahm scanned the firmament, watching for any sign of Talon.
There was nothing.
The bird was absent from the skies and a heavy feeling sat in her stomach.
The ride had been quiet, all three keeping to themselves, until Diarmuid halted and dismounted, leading them off the main road and well into the brush. White Feather sat on a moss-covered log, sharpening his dagger with slow, meticulous strokes.
“It seems we have an advantage in not being expected.”
Diarmuid nodded. “We have to be careful. They might kill Lya. The Witch Hunters are probably aware of Talon and we can't afford to lose the only advantage we have.”
White Feather continued to whet the blade.
Brahm sighed. “I wish Fang was here. We need a wolf to scout.”
“I’ve seen no sign of Talon. Do you think she’s in trouble?” Diarmuid asked.
She looked up through the canopy of trees once more. Still nothing. Her gut twisted.
“I don't like the feel of this,” she said.
“Are there wolves in the area?”
“I don't know,” she said, scanning the trees. “I can try to find them.”
White Feather remained seated, but cast her a glance of concern.
“I'm coming with you.”
Brahm shook her head. “Wolves tend to avoid humans. The less of us, the better. I go alone.”
“I don't like this, Orenda. I was sent to watch over you.”
She stared him down. “Keep watch with Diarmuid for any Hunters that pass through here. I will return as soon as I can.” She grabbed a small pack and filled it.
As she walked into the woods, White Feather called after her.
“If you're not back within a day, I'm coming after you!”
She waved backwards to them and strode forward, alone.
For five hundred yards Brahm crept, past columns of cedar and sugar maple, careful not to trip on the underbrush that grew in clumps between the trees. It was a long walk, and with every step her second soul muttered in her head.
-Mine. Mine. Mine.-
Brahm forced the voice down and eventually found the prey she sought; not the wolves, but deer. They were jittery creatures, sensitive to the slightest noise.
Not surprising, she thought, with wolfen scouring the land.
Brahm crouched. For some time, the deer chewed on leaves from the underbrush, oblivious to her presence. The larger of the two snorted when it finally noticed her. Brahm remained still and let their thoughts seep into her mind.
The deer were surprised, almost enough to scamper off into the woods. She issued calming images to them, reassuring the deer she posed no threat.
Not this time.
Although a meal of fresh venison was long past due. She inquired about wolves, and an overwhelming sense of dread emanated from the deer. Reluctantly, they stared south — the direction from which the wolves always came. Brahm thanked them, and they sprinted off into the woods, a potential dinner lost.
She walked for hours, the kahbeth her only companions
. The deer not only warned her about wolves in the area, but also of an evil that skulked near the army of two-foots — Nightwalkers. Horned and hoofed, they walked upright, stalking the midnight hour. Brahm could not decipher what those might be. Either way, it was best to be prepared. She kept the kahbeth in hand.
She estimated it would be well into the following day before she found any sign of wolves. She only hoped they would be willing to help. Wolves were notorious for avoiding humans, and with good reason. Staying clear of mankind had become a creed; where two-feet walked, trouble followed. Fang was the exception.
Brahm let her spirit slip into its dance, as if summoned to it. She was one with the forest, immersing herself in the life force of the trees, the stones, and the land. The leaves rustled in the depths of her soul, the birds singing with the thrum of her heart. Reaching out with the wind as her fingers, she probed and searched as her feet glided through the woods. Sensing from which direction the animals aimed their fear, she sailed forward. For hours her soul danced, and her spirit relished its freedom.
Finally, as a curtain of darkness draped across the sky and the creatures of the night stirred, Brahm came back to herself. Withdrawal tore at her soul as she stepped back into the reality of the world, and she sheathed the kahbeth. Sitting against a dying oak, she pulled out her water skin. She felt exhausted. Soul Running did that to her, but it was worth the effort, if not for the high.
The wolves were not in the vicinity, so she decided to rest and try again in the morning. Brahm wrapped herself in a blanket for warmth, not daring to make a fire. If anything, it would drive the wolves away.
As darkness settled on the land, sleep came to her.
*Orenda.*
Brahm jerked awake. Eyes were set upon her in the dark.
She reached for the kahbeth, thoughts of wolfen and Nightwalkers foremost in her thoughts. She waited, opening herself to whatever was out there. She heard a low growl.
Wolves.
Knowing this was their territory, Brahm waited on their thoughts. They had the right of first greeting. The lead wolf crept in closer, the scent of it flooding her nose; dank fur, blood and dirt. The others hung back, waiting for the first one to inspect her. For what seemed forever she lay there, waiting as it inched closer, sniffing the air before it finally gave greeting.
*Orenda, we have been expecting you.*
Brahm stared at the wolf in disbelief. It used language to communicate with her.
The wolf sensed her astonishment.
*You are surprised that I speak to you in this fashion. Few are so gifted. I sensed your dance through the woods. What do you want of us, two-foot?*
She passed her thoughts in plain language.
I need your help for a young woman. She has been taken by Witch Hunters.
Her second soul stirred.
-Mine! Mine!-
Brahm remained silent. As she stared into the wolf’s eyes, she caught a faint image of his name.
Night.
*The fate of two-foots are not our concern, but you have been marked by Fang.*
Marked? She wondered how the wolf had managed that.
*Fang has my respect and devotion. She will have my help, as will you. At first light we will return.*
The wolf then turned his back to her and faded into the darkness.
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 f
ailing 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.”
The Second Coming Page 18
