Voidhawk - the White Lady

by Jason Halstead

  Logan prayed on it and was determined to prove he was up to the task. He’d spent the month searching for signs and determining what was truly taking place. The killings came on full moons and when the bodies were found they were partially eaten by an animal. Not a scavenger, but a predator such as a wolf.

  A howl sent chills down his spine. He hefted his mace and shrugged the mail on his shoulders to a more comfortable fit. A final whispered prayer and he strode to the entrance of the barn. He pulled one of the doors open and threw it wide, holding his mace at the ready as he stood within the opening.

  The moonlight spilled in and revealed a four legged form that snarled at him. Clothing was scattered about the beast, torn and empty. The wolf was large and intimidating, but Logan could see no sign of the farmer aside from his clothes. His worst fears were confirmed.

  “I banish you, evil spirit!” Logan cried out, holding the symbol around his neck in one hand. “Leave this man and be gone!”

  The wolf leapt at him, surprising the young priest with its speed and, a moment later, its strength. Logan fell back, knocked aside by the wolf. He rolled and came up to one knee, though his hands supported him and the mace had fallen. He craned his neck to find it and saw the wolf was turning and growling at him again.

  “I’m not ready for this,” Logan muttered. He grabbed his mace and stood up, circling as the wolf started to trot in a circle of its own to try and flank him. “My Lord, grant me the strength to defeat this beast – I give you my life if it may save these people.”

  The wolf pounced again but Logan was ready. Or as ready as the untested young man could be. He swung his mace and met it, driving the heavy weapon into the shoulder even as the wolf smashed into him and bore him to the ground again. The wolf yelped and Logan grunted as the air was driven from his lungs. Rather than try to get away he fought to club that spine of the wolf with his mace while he used his mail and steel clad left hand to punch and push the wolf’s slavering jaws away.

  Logan could feel the strength in the wolf’s jaw as its teeth caught and chomped on his hand and arm. The steel links were crushed and pressed into the leather of his gauntlets, then the broken links and sharp teeth pierced holes in the armor and skin. Logan could do little but grit his teeth and fight back. When the wolf’s hind legs sought purchase on his mail shirt and kicked back, he gasped in renewed agony. The wolf’s strength was unnatural, it tore rents in both his chain shirt and the tender flesh beneath.

  They wrestled, Logan’s hands slick with blood. A telling blow that used the last of Logan’s strength made the wolf yelp and try to escape. Its hind legs had lost their strength, leaving it pinned beside the ravaged priest. He gasped for breath, tasting blood with each painful breath. “No matter the cost,” he vowed with what little air he could gather.

  Logan drove his shredded hand into the mouth of the wolf again. He twisted, breaking teeth and forcing the jaw wider. Hot blood fell on his face and lips, whether it was his or the wolf’s he didn’t know. He pushed further, twisting the wolf’s head and lifting it up. The contest of strength was nearly at a stalemate when he felt the wolf’s hindquarters jerk back to life. They kicked and thrashed, digging into him anew.

  Logan felt a tug from deep inside and he knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t survive the fight. The curse was what gave the wolf strength. It was what allowed legs that had been stricken lifeless to regenerate. He had to deal with the curse first, but his holy water was trapped in his pack, probably broken and soaking into the ground beneath him. His prayers hadn’t been strong enough and his holy symbol had been ripped off in the scuffle and was lost.

  The young priest snapped his head forward and bit into the wolf’s exposed throat. He clamped his jaws down with every bit of effort he could, grinding his teeth to fight past the thick fur and tough skin. He was rewarded with a fresh blast of hot blood in his mouth and across his face.

  The wolf scrambled against him, no longer seeking to injure but to escape. Logan swallowed, unable to breathe with the scalding liquid in his throat. He ignored the coppery taste of it but couldn’t keep his grip as the wolf yanked away. Another pulse of steaming fluid streak across his face as the wolf now strove to escape the death grip Logan’s hand held on its jaw.

  With room enough to swing, Logan took his only chance. He drove his mace into the head of the wolf, cracking the beast’s skull and dropping it back onto him like a stone. Logan swung again to make sure, then rolled over on top of it and pinned it to the ground while he felt something happen he couldn’t explain. He absorbed something from the wolf, pulling the essence out of it and into his own body. He didn’t understand it but he instinctively knew what he had to do to insure the creature was defeated.

  Logan rolled free a moment later, tears falling from his eyes. He coughed, fresh agony raking his body and sending his own blood running down his chin. His thoughts went to his father, a respected priest in the church and one of the best healers his religion had seen in generations.

  Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he realized he’d never be able to apologize to his father for not seeking help. He’d been so sure of himself, so confident that he could use the force necessary to solve any situation. Now he understood that force wasn’t always the best solution, or at least not without proper consultation. It was a lesson well learned, but one he’d never be able to use.

  Logan’s eyes drifted shut and his breathing grew shallow. He prayed, his lips moving even though he couldn’t find the strength to form the words.

  * * * *

  “I did it to myself,” Logan whispered.

  “You pulled the spirit into you instead of banishing it. It’s not a disease or a curse, it’s a living force that you invited to become a part of you.”

  “It was the only way,” Logan said, defending himself.

  “Don’t hide behind excuses!” Teyero snapped. “That farmer could be killed just as you can be killed. By pulling it into yourself you allowed yourself to live.”

  “I had no idea!”

  Teyero grinned. “That much is true. And your divine source?”

  “How could I do what I did without assistance?”

  “The same way you healed your companions.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “You’re not the first holy man we’ve dealt with,” Teyero said. “Your beliefs and your doctrines have been ingrained into you your entire life. You may persist in them if you believe, or you may question it. The legends of great healers were exaggerations or they were true.”

  “Wait – you accept they could be true?”

  The Fayer shrugged. “It’s of no matter. Perhaps they were talented as you are. The powers you call magic are limitless, only the abilities of the medium limit its application.”

  “So then they were charlatans?” Logan asked with more than a hint of skepticism.

  “It is right to doubt, remember that,” Teyero said with a twist of a smile. “Only be sure to doubt the right things. As for your heretics, in their time on your world it may have been the most prudent way for them to survive.”

  “I will think on it,” Logan admitted. He fought to keep his mind open. His recent experiences were too profound to denounce, as was the refreshed memory of what occurred when he’d invited the beast to become a part of him. “What happens now?”

  “Now we will be watching.”

  “What? Why?”

  “There is nothing you have that interests us. As I said, we are amused by your actions and choices.”

  “Amused? That’s a belittling way of putting it.” Logan fought the returning irritation but couldn’t keep it from showing in his tone.

  Teyero smiled. “Perhaps, but it is what we do. Should the day come when you can claim yourself equal to us then you may correct us. Until then, you and your companion have a long journey ahead of you if you wish to reunite yourself with the sorceress.”

  “A long journey? She was with us before your lights summoned us. What have you done
?” Logan demanded, forgetting the Fayer’s condescension.

  “She has chosen to face the one you know as the White Lady. Only moments ago she fell into her clutches and is being escorted to her prisons.”

  Without realizing it, Logan reached into the depths of his memories and pulled out one of the strongest curses he could remember Rosh ever using. “You let her go?”

  “Your affairs are your own. We watch and we wager. The freedom of choice is a power every sentient being has. It is as old and as powerful as magic. Some even say they are one and the same.”

  Logan swore again. “Will you send us there? Me and Bailynn?”

  “Our intervention is finished. It is up to you to do what you will.” Teyero waved as he spoke, then he held his hands together. A new wisp appeared in his palm then lifted free and grew until it was full size. It moved forward to float in front of Logan. “Follow this guide, it will return you to our borders.”

  Logan watched the ball of light begin to float away. He turned to Teyero but found the Fayer had already gone. Logan blinked, seeing nothing but the massive trees around him and the retreating wisp. With a growl of frustration he turned and trotted after the light.

  He caught up with it and fell into an easy jog. He considered shifting back to the wolf to make better time. Even the fact that he considered it nearly made him stumble. He controlled it now, or at least it worked with him. Was the fear of losing himself to the beast during a full moon the result of refusing to accept the spirit of the wolf?

  Logan slowed as he saw a figure waiting ahead of him. The wisp continued, widening the distance between them. Within moments Logan felt a grin find its way onto his face. Bailynn was waiting for him. His joy at seeing her even served to allow him to forget that he was still nude until he slowed to a stop less than a dozen feet from her.

  “Can’t wait to hear your story,” Bailynn said, her eyes deliberately taking all of his body in.

  Logan felt his blush spread warmth all the way to his chest and beyond. He hurried over to his clothing and pulled the stretched and torn items on as best he could. “There is a story, and it’s one that deserves a lot of thought still.”

  Bailynn nodded in agreement. “Not so different from my own then,” she said. “Where’s Bekka?”

  “That’s why our stories need to wait. The Fayer sent her back to the White Lady. They said it was her choice or something like that.”

  It was Bailynn’s turn to color the air blue with an oath. “How do we find her or get to her in time?”

  Logan stopped tying his breeches. He turned to look at Bailynn, taking in her petite but powerful form. “We’ll find her however we can. To get there, we run.”

  “Logan, we can’t run that far!”

  “No, but I can.”

  Bailynn scoffed.

  “Take my pack,” Logan offered, pointing to where it lay on the ground. She opened her mouth to respond but fell silent when he let his pants fall to the ground again. “Find a way to hold on.”

  Logan stripped off his shirt and then fell forward. Before his hands hit the ground they’d turned to paws. He shook once, as though throwing off the feelings of humanity, then turned to stare at Bailynn.

  “This isn’t what I had in mind when I hoped to be riding you,” Bailynn muttered. She shook her head but couldn’t shake the smile on her face.

  Logan’s clothing was stuffed in his pack and his dropped sword reclaimed. She fashioned it into a shoulder strap that allowed her to wear it across her back beneath her pack. His she loosened the straps on and wore over the top of hers. Her expression was one of annoyance and discomfort but she refused to give voice to her distress. She climbed onto Logan’s back, grabbing fistfuls of his hair until she found a position that caused a minimal amount of displeasure.

  She tucked her spear under her arm and chuckled. “Let’s go jousting,” she said to him. Logan snarled and set off, starting slowly to allow her to get accustomed to his movement, then speeding up as he turned and headed to the west. He figured at a jog he could circle the swamp at least as quickly as they could have attempted rowing their canoes back through the marsh. Not to mention the delays of whatever fresh encounters would entail.

  Logan ran through what remained of the night, pausing only when their positions grew too painful to continue or once when Bailynn bade him stop to tend to a matter of nature. When the sun broke free of the eastern horizon Logan stopped again. He collapsed on his side after Bailynn had climbed free.

  “Logan!” Bailynn cried out.

  Logan looked at her, panting hard. He knew he should put the beast away and speak with her, but he was too tired. The concentration necessary to cage the wolf’s spirit was lacking. He rolled over and let his head rest on the ground.

  He woke up without ceremony. His eyes opened and he stared straight ahead, seeing a familiar form sitting on the far side of a small campfire. She was staring at him. Logan started to sit up when he realized that he wasn’t alone, Bailynn had wrapped herself around him to keep him warm.

  Not only had she done that, but her cloak was over both of them and he felt her skin against his. He blushed, then felt thankful that their uninvited guest couldn’t see the effect laying next to the naked woman had upon him.

  “I followed you but the Fayer wouldn’t let me join you.” Haley said as she used a stick to rearrange some of the burning embers in the fire.

  Logan used her conversation to refocus his thoughts. He felt Bailynn stir behind him. Her arm tightened around him, pulling on his belly to give him a sleepy hug under their makeshift blanket. “Figured you’d run back to your life of slavery,” his tone wasn’t nearly as acidic as he’d hoped. Something about waking up next to a pretty—and naked—woman had a way of soothing his anger.

  “I was waiting for a chance to kill them one at a time and free you. Their were too many,” Haley said. “Where’s Bekka?”

  “They sent Bekka to face the White Lady. We’re trying to get to her and help.”

  “It took you how many days to get this far?” Haley asked.

  “We’ve found a faster way,” Logan said.

  “Logan, can you do that again? You were exhausted!” Bailynn asked.

  Logan squinted as he looked at the sun. “I feel fine now and it’s only been a few hours. Each time I’ll run further and faster.”

  “You’re going to run? You seem well enough, but the distances are great.”

  Logan shrugged and sat up, letting the cloak fall away from his upper torso. Bailynn yelped as it pulled away from her. “Come, we need to get on the move again,” he said. She slapped him lightly on the hip while he found a pair of pants in his pack.

  Logan pulled the pants on and grinned. “Thank you for keeping me warm.” Bailynn’s smile warmed his heart much as her flesh had warmed his body. He turned back to Haley as he stood up. Her eyes never left his, whether out of respect for him or because she wasn’t interested in his nudity. “If you’re not the coward I think you are, you’re welcome to come. I can’t carry both of you though.”

  “You run and carry her?” Haley’s tone was doubting. She glanced at Bailynn, who was struggling back into her clothes, then returned her gaze to Logan.

  Logan opened his mouth to respond when his stomach growled with a warning of its own. “Aye, but first some food I think.”

  Haley reached back and held up two dead game birds, both with their feathers plucked and dressed to be roasted. Logan felt the urge to lick his lips at the sight of them. “My thanks. Let’s cook them quickly, as you said we’ve many miles to travel.”

  “What about Ragnar?” Bailynn asked.

  “If I return, it will be on my terms,” Haley said.

  Logan was already spitting the birds on sticks to roast them. Bailynn dug through her pack and tossed some clothing to Haley. “You’ll need clothes if you want to come with us.”

  Haley nodded and examined the clothing. “I’ve no aversion to clothes, they make hunting difficult is all.”<
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  Logan took the first bird off the flames and bit into it, ignoring the steaming juices that ran down his chin. By the time he’d finished it he looked up and saw both women were staring at him. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “What? I was hungry.”

  Bailynn offered a skin of water to him. Logan took it with a smile and drained it before recapping it. She shook her head, chuckling. “Keep this up and we’re going to need Haley’s hunting just to keep you fed!”

  Haley and Bailynn split the other bird before they packed up their makeshift camp and made ready to set off again. “I’ll keep up with you,” Haley promised. “I ran through the night to catch you.”

  “You haven’t seen Logan run,” Bailynn promised.

  Haley’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Does he do it different than most people?”

  Logan smirked. “You could say that.” He untied his breeches and let them fall to the ground, widening the huntress’ eyes. He fell forward and called the wolf for another day’s journey.

  Chapter 9

  Bekka stood in a small room with only a bench carved out of the stone in the wall. A door had been fitted into the opening that led to the rest of the tower carved out of the mesa, but it was locked. Her pack had been taken from her, as had the knife she kept at hand.

  Her wait stretched on from minutes to hours. No one appeared, nor did she hear any noise through the door when she pressed her ear against it. A few times she thought she’d felt a vibration in the stone, but it might have been nothing more than nearby thunder. If the storm still raged, she’d lost track of time and had no idea what the weather might have turned to.

  With little else to do, Bekka’s thoughts turned to her meeting with the Fayer. She remembered the way the strangely attractive being had encouraged her to find faith in the choices she made. Only by accepting who she was, Prin had claimed, could Bekka hope to gain proper mastery over her sorcery.