by Ross Turner
The sky above was clear for a change, with not a cloud in sight. The ground was still damp underfoot and the drenched fields that stretched out before them seemed to reflect the brilliant light of the moon. It’s misty white glow was encompassed all around by twinkling, boundless stars, painted across the pitch black canvas sky in their millions.
Reaper turned to Marcii in the moonlight and wove a dance with his enormous hands, clear as day in the glorious whiteness.
He assured her that they were very nearly halfway to Ravenhead and that they would reach the abandoned town the following night.
“How do you know?” Marcii asked.
Clearly she still had no idea exactly how well Reaper knew this route, and indeed Ravenhead itself. She simply presumed that it was just another of Reaper’s extraordinary demonic talents.
Nonetheless, though Reaper could quite clearly see how unaware Marcii still remained, he knew now was still not the time to reveal what he knew. And, not only that, but he also very much doubted that he should be the one to divulge to Marcii all that she would eventually need to know.
Reaper’s hands wove his reply as they walked, speaking only the truth and answering Marcii’s question fully, but at the same time, revealing almost nothing.
He explained to her that he could sense a deep gorge up ahead, dropping almost a hundred metres down through rock and stone, carved through the earth over time by a rushing, racing river that coursed along its bottom.
He told her that the gorge cut across the land from north to south, blocking their path, and there were only one or two safe places to cross. Purely by chance, the gorge marked the exact halfway point between Newmarket and Ravenhead.
Reaper told Marcii that, when she saw it, she would see deep into the world in a way that most people couldn’t even dream of.
There was perhaps much more to his words than Reaper let on, but the young Dougherty didn’t quite pick up on it.
The enormous demon was not deterred however.
Reaper suspected that in time she would come to understand.
The rich, moist grasslands gave way to a rough, rocky carpet underfoot as they approached the deep gully.
He slowed his pace in the dim light and instructed Marcii to do the same. Though he could see the perilous edge as clear as day, it came up fast in the darkness, and he most certainly did not want his young Dougherty stumbling upon it all of a sudden.
“Is this it?” Marcii asked, her voice catching for some reason as her body filled with excited apprehension.
There was no need for Reaper to answer her though, for as she spoke his enormous right hand reached out to hold her back. Even with eyes that were nowhere near as sharp as Reaper’s, Marcii could see the black abyss that opened up in the ground before them. It cut across the land like a deep scar left behind by a blade that surely could be wielded only by a God.
It looked to be about two dozen feet across, more in some places and less in others.
If she listened hard enough Marcii could hear the faint roaring of the crashing waters below, far down in the canyon: the very waters that had so abruptly and unexpectedly carved the gorge through this landscape.
Marcii felt suddenly filled with questions that brimmed and overflowed her body, tiny next to Reaper’s.
“What’s it doing here?” She asked of him.
Reaper looked at her for a moment, wondering whether perhaps he’d been wrong.
Already she was more perceptive than she probably even knew.
“I mean, when everything else is fields and forests, why all this rock right in the middle?” Marcii asked again, rewording her question, thinking Reaper hadn’t answered because her question hadn’t made sense.
The great creature at her side smiled kindly and lifted his hands to speak, understanding her intrigue wholly, and with great respect in fact, for curiosity is always a mark to take note of.
He told her that the river and the rocks were here long before the fields and the forests, so, if anything, it was they who were out of place, for they had intruded upon the gorge, not the other way around.
“Intruded?” Marcii queried. “You make it sound like they’re human…”
But Reaper’s hands quickly corrected her mistake. He assured Marcii that they were not human at all, but instead much, much more.
“More?” She questioned and his huge hands wove their fluid agreement right before her eyes.
He explained that the rocks and the fields and the forests had been here long before humans and that they would likely be here long after too. His thick fingers wove a hundred and more intricate signs and shapes and Marcii swallowed them hungrily with her eyes, for yet again they spoke of truths she had never even dreamed of.
Reaper told her that many years and decades and centuries might seem like a long time for a man. But for Mother Nature a century passes by in a mere heartbeat, as her home continues to turn endlessly. Many millennia would slip by and very little would change, for when you are talking about altering an entire world, it takes much longer than a mere thousand years.
Marcii couldn’t quite believe what Reaper was telling her, but at the same time, there was no way she could ever doubt him.
Man had been here very little time at all, he told her. And likely it wouldn’t be long before they were gone again too.
“Gone!?” Marcii asked, a little startled, and even concerned.
Reaper only smiled and cast his hands into yet more words, telling her not to worry. People had been here more than a few thousand years already, he assured her; they would likely remain for at least a little while longer.
“It just sounds like we’re all so insignificant…” Marcii noted, her voice laced with sorrow.
Reaper thought for a moment before he replied, choosing his words carefully.
Eventually his hands spun into motion once again.
He agreed with her at first, telling her that anything would seem insignificant if you always looked at it in that way.
“I suppose that’s true…” Marcii conceded, though she was not convinced.
Nonetheless, Reaper’s hands wove their magic once again and revealed a truth to Marcii that perhaps she had absolutely no right to know.
But then, on the other hand, she had possibly the only right.
He revealed to the young Dougherty then that Mother Nature did not, and would not, interfere with the workings of man.
She has no interest in human quarrels, for they are often petty and always pointless.
Marcii nodded in sombre agreement, though she did not speak, for she had seen the consequences of such quarrels first hand.
But Reaper continued, pressing on. He told Marcii that sometimes, if the need arose, and more importantly if they were willing to listen, Mother Nature would speak to a chosen few.
He explained that She was not heartless and cruel as many believed, but instead kind and nurturing. When those who lived in her world cared for their home, She too would care for them, just as any mother should.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The canyon widened and narrowed alternately. Marcii could see quite clearly here and there, even amidst the clear darkness, where massive chunks of rock had broken away from the impossibly steep walls of the gorge and plummeted down into the river below.
At no point did the walls of the canyon weave close enough together for Marcii to cross.
Nonetheless, Reaper led her to the very edge of the deathly precipice, looking to do exactly that.
“Reaper…” Marcii started, her voice wavering.
The enormous creature that was Reaper turned to the young Dougherty and his hands stirred into sudden flurries of motion.
He explained that they would have to go for more than a few miles either way to reach a point where she could cross without him, and that it would slow them down considerably.
“Okay…” Marcii replied nervously. She understood the logic to his words, but that wasn’t to say they didn’t fill her wit
h fear and apprehension.
He asked her if she was ready.
At first Marcii didn’t reply.
Reaper only smiled, understanding her hesitation.
His hands spun into speech yet again, reassuring Marcii that he had her, and that as long as he lived he would not let any harm come to her.
“Okay.” Marcii repeated, with much more certainty now. She knew there was nothing but truth in Reaper’s words and they filled her with confidence anew.
As he held out his massive arm Marcii clambered up into Reaper’s warm embrace. She clutched at his thick fur and hide and he held her close and safe.
With his free hand he asked if she was ready.
Marcii found she could only nod and swallowed hard, shouldering her fear as best she could.
Stepping slowly to the edge of the canyon, facing off directly against the vicious scar that cut so deeply across the landscape, Reaper squared his enormous stance and judged the distance in the darkness with his perfect vision.
Squatting down and tensing his powerful legs like huge springs, Reaper readied himself.
He seemed to pause for only a mere moment and Marcii held her breath tightly, clenching her hands into tight, balled fists around Reaper’s warm, matted fur.
In an instant, released like a coiled spring, Reaper exploded from the ground and launched himself and Marcii into the air.
They sailed over the vast emptiness of the canyon in a blur of motion.
The cold wind rushed into Marcii’s face with the speed of Reaper’s jump, stealing her breath away and robbing her for a moment of the ability to regain it.
Her heart leapt into her mouth, mirroring Reaper’s action in of itself, and they careered through the perfect black sky and towards the opposite side of the steep, jagged ravine.
The arcing leap seemed to last a lifetime, but in reality it was only mere seconds before the ground came rushing up on them once again.
Reaper had judged the distance perfectly. Just as they began to descend horrifyingly towards the river far below, solid ground once again appeared beneath them.
He smashed into the floor with a crack so loud that it echoed for miles all around, making the very earth shudder beneath him. Having chosen his spot carefully, there was no danger of any part of the cliff face breaking away.
As he hammered into the ground, cradling Marcii gently in his arms, he dropped to one knee to help absorb the impact and cupped her head tenderly in one massive hand, ensuring she did not get whiplash.
He knew the workings of the human body well, as he had already demonstrated to Marcii several times. He knew he would have to protect his young Dougherty; her frame was just as fragile as they all were, if not more so.
Catching her breath as Reaper rose slowly to his feet, Marcii looked up in something of a windswept daze.
As he lowered her slowly and carefully to the ground the young girl took her weight on slightly wobbly legs.
With one hand Reaper asked if she was okay.
“Oh my life…” Came her somewhat unsteady replied, though it was followed by a nervous laugh that told him she was perfectly fine.
Reaper smiled comfortingly.
Marcii was indeed strong, more so than most of mankind it seemed.
He knew in that moment she would cope with anything and everything she needed to.
Well, almost anything.
For the rest of that night they continued their journey, making good time through the early morning as dawn fast approached.
Marcii walked some of the way and Reaper carried her the rest: it was much faster that way and they covered much more ground.
Just as before, when the sun finally reared its head upon the horizon, Reaper found them a suitable place to rest and recuperate for the day. That gave Marcii a chance to sleep and allowed their wounds to fully heal.
Though Reaper’s injuries had been more severe than hers, his body healed faster than Marcii’s ever would. By the time evening came round once more, though his wounds had been deep and malicious, the enormous creature Reaper was fully recovered.
It was just before dawn the following morning when they at last reached their destination.
Marcii’s heart and stomach were so filled with nervous excitement as they approached Ravenhead that she felt as if an army of butterflies was dancing through her body.
She had dreamed of this moment ever since she and Kaylm had first spoken of running away. As she thought of her dear friend a sharp pang of regret struck at her chest.
The memory of him outside of Reaper’s cave stuck in Marcii’s mind, battered and bruised. Memories of him taunted her terribly and she knew that those images would likely haunt her forevermore.
Reaper was filled with dismay all of his own.
Although he was troubled by memories altogether different to Marcii’s, they were at the same time so hauntingly similar they may as well have been one and the same.
Needless to say, Reaper’s enormous body brimmed with dread.
As the odd pair approached the abandoned settlement, each tormented, ironically, by their own demons, Ravenhead loomed out of the darkness before them, undisturbed for so many years gone by.
But, as had been the case many a time of late, that was all about to change.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The mood of the men was mixed as they returned to Newmarket.
Some were furious that the evil witch and her beastly demon had escaped their grasp, whilst others had not expected to find the devilish monstrosity in the first place. Those amongst them were simply grateful to be alive.
Speaking of which, surely only by way of a miracle, not a single life had been lost during the hunt.
Even though they had found and indeed truly fought both the beast and its creator, they had all returned home with their lives, with but a few meagre injuries between them.
Luck and good fortune had clearly been with them.
But then, of course, when they were fighting to rid the world of such foul and evil beings, how could it not?
The man with the scar surveyed Tyran’s troops as they re-entered the outskirts of Newmarket.
Undoubtedly Lord Tyran would not be best pleased, and though he would never have admitted it, the man with the scar feared for his life upon their return. Their Lord was always quick to anger and his arm was long and wrathful.
Tyran’s men appeared before their Lord, dishevelled and demotivated. But more to the point, empty handed.
He surveyed them with piercing eyes as they filed dutifully and almost mournfully into the square in the centre of Newmarket.
He could tell in a heartbeat by the looks on their faces that they’d found the witch Marcii Dougherty, and at the same time that they’d allowed her to escape.
The evil tyrant was not the only one to scrutinise the return of his men however. There were plenty of others who hadn’t joined the hunt who all looked on just as curiously.
They saw no real injuries, and though of course they could not account for every man in a single glance, it seemed to be the case that all had returned.
There was one man however, looking on with eyes as black as coal, whom had not joined the hunt, on account of being deaf and dumb and riddled with old age.
Though his other senses might have betrayed him, his pitch black eyes were as keen as ever.
The old man Midnight saw every face that reappeared in the square and the fearful expressions cast across them. He saw awe mixed with terror, and certainty mixed with doubt. Haunted eyed glanced about nervously.
Those amongst them who had once been certain that the witch Marcii’s demon would undoubtedly slay them all, now held themselves with obvious doubt. They had returned and were surrounded still by their fellow townsfolk, alive and almost entirely unharmed no less.
Nevertheless, such minor doubt, especially at this stage, would never have been enough to shake Tyran’s irrefutable hold, and his people’s hesitation simmered just below their unwave
ring, fearful obedience.
Midnight saw immediately that one face was missing amongst the crowd and no matter how hard he looked, and looked, and looked again, he only saw the mother, father and brother.
The young boy Kaylm Evans, for some reason, was not amongst them.
When Tyran’s words rang out across the square, reverberating endlessly down every alleyway and street, his tone was sharp and displeased.
Without even waiting for an explanation his berating tongue lashed out across the crowds, slicing through the air at them from every direction.
He expressed, at quite some length, his extensive displeasure, and was most certainly not ungenerous with his far reaching vocabulary.
Perhaps luck and good fortune were indeed with the troops, for now it was undoubtedly only by the stroke of an absolute miracle that none of them found themselves attached to the end of a very short rope.
Threats were made, as they were bound to be, but orders were given in equal measure.
Tyran made it very clear that failure was not acceptable. He announced that he would lead the next hunt himself, save having to endure their incompetence once again.
A rather light sentence for the men, all things considered.
They dispersed back to their homes in droves, seeking their beds in exhausted relief.
The man himself, Lord Tyran, did not find rest so easily however. He seethed and simmered for hours upon their failure.
Stupid!
How could he have been so foolish as to let them go alone!?
And where was the cretin witch Marcii Dougherty now!?
There was no way of knowing.
He did know one thing for certain at least.
He knew he would not make the same mistake again.
Next time, he would lead the Dreadhunt himself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kaylm found himself alone in the dark of the night.
