The Hunt: A Custodes Noctis Book

by Muffy Morrigan

  “But Dad... If I had... I don't know,” he said desperately. “Accepted my place—or never taken it—this wouldn't be happening. Rob wouldn't be lost. I... Gods, sometimes I just wish,” Galen stopped the words before they were all the way formed.

  “I understand,” Bobby whispered.

  Galen felt a surge of emotion from his father, lifting his head he looked at his uncle. “What?”

  “Bobby,” Parry began.

  “No, he needs to know, Parry.”

  “Needs to know what?” Galen asked.

  “Bobby, no!” Concern colored Parry's angry demand.

  “Yes, Parry,” Bobby said firmly.

  “What are you talking about, Uncle Bobby?”

  “This might be partially my fault, too,” Bobby said, looking over Galen's shoulder.

  “It's not,” Parry growled.

  “Knowing what we now know, you know it could be, Parry.”

  “What are you talking about?” Galen demanded, trying to read the other two.

  “It happened thirty years ago. I considered walking away,” Bobby said, his voice flat.

  “Walking away?” Galen didn't understand. Custodes Noctis couldn't just leave once they'd performed the Ritual of Swords. “How? Why?”

  “We fought something unlike anything we'd ever seen before, a dark force that sucked the light away. What is it?” Bobby asked, when Galen swore under his breath.

  “The things in the park, they were like that, they're the precursors of the feorhbealu, I think.”

  “Oh,” Bobby said softly. “It was bad, they came after me.”

  “Us, they came after us,” Parry corrected.

  “I wasn't ready, they killed...” Bobby stopped, tears shimmering though his presence. “They killed my wife, and we followed their trail and found them. During the fight, Parry was injured.”

  “Bobby?” Galen reached out an put his hand on his uncle's arm, letting the warmth of the healing flow, hoping it would calm him even in this state. Grief flowed back, grief so profound it took his breath away. Parry hadn't just been injured, he'd been a hair's breadth from death. Hopelessness colored the grief as well.

  “He was dying, Galen, dead for all intents and purposes. Our father and uncle had given up hope.” Bobby took a deep breath and continued. “There was more going on with him than just physical injuries.”

  “And?” Galen frowned. When a Keeper died, his brother followed.

  “I thought I could stop it. I went out to where we'd found the creature,” Bobby said quietly, guilt joining the grief.

  “And?” Galen asked quietly, trying to breathe through the grief flowing off his uncle, it ached deep in his bones with a desperation Galen understood all too well.

  “The creature was there, I could see it, just beyond the world, hovering there like a dark mist.” Bobby met his eyes. “I tried to call it out, make it fight me. It had done something to Parry, and I was a little...”

  “Suicidal? I know the feeling.” Galen nodded, then understanding hit him. “It was Fae?”

  “Yes, like the each uisge, but more intelligent—and devious.”

  “You spoke to it?”

  “I did—and didn't,” Bobby replied. “It wanted us—the Emrys Keepers—dead or...”

  “Or?” Galen asked.

  “I never understood what it meant, but it said dead or 'kept faithful like those that serve us.'”

  “Like those that serve?”

  “I don't know what it meant.” Bobby was shaking his head.

  “You were dealing with the Fae, something like each uisge, Bobby,” Galen said.

  “I know, but I tried to call it out. It's why the Hunt is here,” Bobby continued.

  “No.” Galen said gently. “And Dad lived, Bobby.”

  “Yes, three days later he woke up, the doctors said it was a miracle, our father said it was a miracle. He was a good healer, but nothing like you, Galen. I thought it was over, then they came for you.”

  “The Hunt came for me, not the Fae, and they had every right to come for me,” Galen said, meeting his uncle's eyes and letting the thought flow through the healing. “I denied my place. I didn't walk away in grief, yes, Bobby, you were grieving and there is no fault there. I denied everything I was, I died, I didn't want to see Rob, gods, when he came back, I tried to get him to go again. I thought I was at peace with it after the fight with the Old One, but then when Rob was hurt by its minions. I tried to leave again, I tried to block him and just stop it all. It only lasted a moment, less than a second, but it was enough for the Hunt to find me again. I don't think they're here because you called out a member of the Fae thirty years ago, Bobby.”

  “I called them, Galen,” his uncle insisted.

  “The Hunt was here before that, the chapel has been here for a long time. You might have contacted them then without realizing it, I don't know, but I do know I was supposed to ride with them, by the rules of the Custodes Noctis. I denied everything I was, I am.”

  “Galen,” Parry said.

  “And none of this changes the fact the feorhbealu are back, and we're in this whether it was my fault or just a trick of fate.” Galen heard the confidence grow in his voice as he spoke. Something whispered along the bond, the softest brush of Rob's consciousness, still there under the darker touch of the king. “Hang on, Brat,” Galen said, trying to still the sudden leap of hope. “We need a plan, and something Blake isn't party to. I still don't trust him.”

  “You need to call the former Keepers, Galen,” Parry said.

  “I can't without Rob.” Galen shook his head. When he'd called the army of former Keepers to help fight the Old One his brother had helped, boosted his power enough to raise the army from their rest.

  “Yes, you can,” Bobby added firmly. “We'll help, but you really don't need us. Blake will figure out what's happened, but once they're called he can't do anything about it.”

  The calm presence of the elder Keepers helped center Galen. He had no idea if he'd be able to accomplish what they were asking of him—any of it—but he was determined to try. The few items he needed to use for the spell to call the former Keepers were in the Jeep, he gathered them and returned to where his father and uncle were waiting. They wouldn't need long, if they could manage it at all. Galen laid the items on the ravens' altar, took a deep breath, and began to build the magic he'd need to raise an army.

  Flash was bending over him when he opened his eyes. Galen was lying in the damp grass, looking up at the fog lit by the lamps from the motel. He could hear whispers in the dark, the voices of other Keepers preparing for war. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rhiannon talking to Greg and Marc. Blake was standing beside Bobby, a set look on his face, annoyance flowing out of him to buffet Galen.

  “Galen?” Parry asked.

  “Yeah,” Galen answered and pushed himself up.

  “I told you,” his father chided.

  “You sound like Rob when you do that, Dad.”

  “Should I be offended?” Parry chuckled and waited as Galen stood.

  “Are you okay?” Flash looked him up and down.

  “I am.” Galen rolled his shoulders and looked at the bandage on his arm, he knew the spell required blood, but he never remembered the act that led to the wound. “I really am, Flash. How much time do we have?”

  “We need to head back to the Great Altar if we are to be there by dawn,” Blake said, walking over to Galen. “That was very nicely done.” Something akin to fear flowed off Stephen.

  “You seem surprised,” Parry said.

  “Not surprised, well maybe I am. I can see the power there, sense it, but I didn't realize there was quite that much there. We need to gather the army and go,” Blake said.

  “Not much of an army,” Galen said.

  “You have us, Galen Emrys,” a shimmering figure said. Galen recognized the First Emrys, founder of the Custodes Noctis.

  “And us,” Rhiannon said.

  “I'm here,” someone ad
ded sourly. Mike Silva walked up beside Rhiannon.

  “Mike, you don't have to,” Galen said.

  “I know.”

  “We are with you as well,” a voice said from behind Galen. He turned, Jeff and Vivian Owain stood at the head of a group of people. “Our families were once honorable, vassals of the Custodes Noctis. We fell, like the Hunt, but we wish to serve you, serve the Keepers once more.”

  “How can we serve?” the First Emrys asked.

  Galen swallowed, emotion threatening to overwhelm him for a moment. He wished Rob could be there to see the group gathered before him. Warm affection and pride flowed through him as he considered the plan. They would be fighting in two worlds and he had no idea if he'd remain himself or be lost, no idea if he could bring the Hunt into play at all.

  “Galen?” Parry said gently.

  “Dad? What do I do?” he said, unsure.

  “What's the plan?” his father answered.

  He met Parry's eyes, then looked at Bobby. “Okay.” Galen took a deep breath. “Rhiannon, Emrys can you come here?”

  The area surrounding the bog was empty, only the remains of the dying fire left to indicate where the ritual had taken place. Fog was still blanketing it, the world bathed in the soft twilight that preceded the sun. The strange stunted trees with their black trunks were dripping with moisture, the undergrowth was dark, the canes of reeds sticking out from the bog. Galen could hear the others behind him as he stopped beside the Great Altar. There was a wreath of evergreen placed on the stone.

  In the silent morning he could hear it, the call of the Hunt, the joyful longing aching in his bones. He would serve, he would ride the Hunt and stand loyal to his king. Shaking his head, Galen thrust away that tempting thought. It was pulling at him, the bells becoming audible as he stood there, the harsh laughter of a raven coming from the trees. They, too, served the king.

  At the edge of the bog, he could see the soft curtain of the Veil. It was visible in the growing light, a dark slash moved through it, those who would precede the feorhbealu already gathering on both sides of the Veil. Galen knew their time was running out faster than he'd thought it would. Guy had said time moved differently for them as they rode with the Hunt, but hadn't elaborated. Longer? Shorter? How much time would it take before he could attempt to reach Rob?

  He could hear the horses as he turned to his father, uncle, friends and—he felt odd thinking the word—vassals. “It's nearly time. They're coming. I'll try to bring the Hunt to the fight, but I trust you will all do your part.”

  “No playing horsies for eternity, Galen,” Flash said softly.

  “I hope not, Flash.”

  “No, wait.” Flash shook his head, took a deep breath and walked to Galen. “I'm going with you.”

  “No.”

  “You think you get to go off and play horsies without me? Oh, fuck no. I'm your servant, remember?”

  “Flash, I can't. I don't know what's going to happen.”

  “All the more reason to have someone at your back. I can hear them, you know, I have since last night.”

  “He's right,” Parry said gently. “You need someone you can trust.”

  “The idiot would be good for that,” Blake added.

  “No,” Galen said, shaking his head.

  “You don't trust me,” Blake went on, “and I don't blame you. Guy and Robert are my friends, I am willing to fight for them, and fight in this battle. My kind will be wiped out by the feorhbealu, we know that, and we will fight here. We helped form the Hunt and we will be on this field.”

  “We?” Galen asked, confused.

  “Yes, my kind are here as well, we will serve your interests today.” Blake gestured towards the trees, Galen saw something form into existence and wait beneath the dark branches. He could sense them now, the flowing power of the Fae gathered in the growing light. He looked at Blake for a long moment, he couldn't “see” a lie the way Rob could, but he could feel the emotions moving through the other. He might not be telling the whole truth, but Blake was determined to fight.

  “Thank you,” Galen said quietly. He was debating saying goodbye when he saw movement, one of the each uisge gallop into the clearing, its skeletal muzzle red with blood. The riders followed, parting to make way for the king. He swung off his horse and came towards Galen, the face no longer shifting like the mist, but Rob there in the death’s mask visage.

  “My king,” Galen said, bowing his head. “I beg you, let me join you, let me ride with you and serve you under these stars.”

  The king stepped forward and laid a hand on Galen’s shoulder, dead eyes meeting Galen’s. Cold flowed through him, robbing him of thought as the call became deafening. “My brother, you will ride with us, I have been waiting for you.” The king smiled. “It has been a long wait.”

  “I, too, have waited long,” Galen replied. “We will ride together.”

  “Yes,” the king said. Then, just for an instant Galen saw something flicker in the dead eyes—recognition. “Galen?” Rob whispered through the bond. “You're here to ride with me?”

  “Yes.”

  The next second Rob was gone and the king was back. “We do not have much time,” he said impatiently. “I am tired of waiting.”

  “I understand. My... My servant rides with me,” Galen said, glancing at Flash and seeing his friend swallow nervously.

  “I wish to ride with you,” Flash said in the language of the Hunt, then looked surprised at the words that came out of his mouth. “What the fuck, Galen?”

  “It's okay, Flash.”

  “It is time,” the king said and led Galen to the Great Altar. Galen glanced back and met his father's eyes briefly before the king laid his hand over Galen's heart and the fog flowed around them, the mists curling through him, chilling him. He heard a startled cry from Flash, but the fog, the call of the Hunt overwhelmed everything else.

  He was falling, dropping down thousands of feet into darkness, into the abyss. Gentle hands caught him and lowered him onto the Great Altar. The king bent over him. “Rest my brother, soon, soon you will ride with us.” He reached a hand out and gently closed Galen's eyelids as the fog pulled at him, tugging like the claws of a thousand creatures, rending him apart. There was a wrench of pain and something shifted, pushing at him, the cold changed, the light against his eyes, it was all different.

  He could hear them singing as he opened his eyes, a fire was burning, the song of old swirling around night filled with smoke and the sound of the Hunt—his brothers’ laughter.

  “My brother.” The king stood over him. “Welcome, welcome.” He laughed in joy as he held a hand out and pulled Galen to his feet.

  Galen smiled. “My king, we will ride this night,” he said, walking over to the horse he'd ridden the night before, running a gentle loving hand over the dead flesh.

  “This is a little, um, gross,” Flash grumbled. The gray horse had its nose buried in Flash's hair, snuffling happily. “Yes, I'm here,” Flash said to it with an affectionate chuckle.

  “You okay?” Galen asked him.

  “Yeah, weirded out, but okay.”