Galen slid his hand over the saddle and pulled the great sword from the scabbard. “I offer myself as your champion, my king.”
“There is one who rides in that place, my brother,” the king said, Rob's smile on his face.
“I challenge him, my king. I stand before you and offer the challenge, asking for the worthiness of his loyalty to stand beside you.” The words rolled off his tongue easily. Galen stood in the center of the stone, balancing the heavy sword in his hands, it was closer to Rob's bastard sword than Galen's falcata, but he was well trained.
“How dare you?” the champion hissed, several others gathering behind him. He had his sword in his hand as he glared at Galen.
“It is his right,” the king said.
“I will stand in your stead,” one of the riders said to the champion.
The riders had gathered around the stone, ringing the two combatants, the king waiting patiently at the head of the stone. The horses were whuffing in excitement as if they sensed the battle waged between the two facing each other, swords in their hands.
“You don't have the stomach for this fight?” Galen sneered at the champion.
“He can fight this battle, I don't fight with common dogs.”
“Coward,” Galen snapped.
“How dare you!” The champion dove at Galen.
Galen stepped forward, raising his sword as his opponent took the first swing with the large blade. The blow vibrated down the sword as Galen blocked it. He countered with a swing, too wide, the tip of the blade cutting a slash across the rider's shoulder as he ducked away. The champion came at him again, another swinging blow, nearly driving Galen down as he blocked it. He realized that the champion was trying to use brute force to win the fight. Galen didn't know if that indicated a lack of skill or lack of practice, but he planned on taking advantage of it.
Dropping out from under the rider's blade, he rolled and was back on his feet an instant later. The champion growled as Galen leveled a blow at his back. The other danced away, escaping without injury before he stepped in again, his blade moving so fast Galen could barely see it, not a swinging blow, but a savage thrust. Galen managed to duck, but the sword caught him on his arm, slicing flesh and scoring the bone. He got his own sword up and swung, catching the other on the thigh, he felt the vibration in the blade as the sword stopped hard against the bone. The champion howled in pain and attacked blindly, driving Galen away from the Great Altar with the force of his attack.
Galen waited, watching the other, letting his training take over. He parried another swing and landed a blow, a cutting thrust aimed at the champions chest. A shout from the watching riders spurred him further, fighting his way back to the altar. Galen recognized his moment when it came—his opponent stepped in, sword raised for another blow. Before he could even move, Galen swung his own blade, using the huge weight of the sword to add momentum to his blow.
And it was over.
His opponent dissolved in a blackened pool on the Great Altar, head severed from body. One of the waiting horses gave an agonized cry and it, too, disappeared from amongst them. Small creatures flitted in, circling the Altar in joyful swoops, crying Galen's name on the wind. Their laughing song filled the clearing with noise. Guy came forward and embraced him, joy flowing through the contact. The riders cheered him, some coming forward to pound him on the back, others held back and the group that had been with the champion turned their backs and walked away.
“My brother,” the king said, approaching him. “Well fought.”
He dropped to his knees before the king, head bowed. “I but offered the challenge, my king. My arm knew who it served.”
He felt the king’s hands on his shoulders, gently applying pressure. “Rise, my brother, my champion. You shall serve at my right hand.”
“I am honored,” Galen replied, standing. His brothers grinned at him, joy lighting their faces.
“We ride the hunt,” the king called to the circle of riders. “My brothers, let us ride this night.” He turned to the each uisge. “You, too, ride with us.” The each uisge threw their noses to the wind and turned as the riders mounted their horses.
Galen walked to his mount and ran a hand over its neck. “Come, we ride, we serve our king this night.” The horse blew a playful, death-scented breath through his hair. Galen breathed in the scent and swung onto its back.
The Hunt waited as the king walked his horse to the front. Galen reined in on his right side. The king turned and smiled at him. “I have waited too long for you to ride beside me again, my brother.”
“I beg forgiveness, my king,” Galen said, dropping his head, feeling the sorrow, the loss the king had known as he waited. Galen fought the loss of himself, the pull of the Hunt towards oblivion and struggled back to the surface.
“No need, you are here now.” The king slapped him on his back and then turned to the others. “We ride!”
Cheers erupted from all around them, the happy laughter becoming the shout of the Hunt as they moved out, the hounds and the each uisge ahead of them as they coursed through the fog-shrouded fields. Someone began singing, the voices joined together as they sang of the Hunt, of times past and of brotherhood. Galen sang with them, the words known, the melody well-remembered, joy filling him as he rode together with them. The wind washed over him, ruffling his hair as the horse galloped over the fields. He laughed as he rode, enjoying the night, the strength of the horse beneath him and the songs of his brothers.
Suddenly, the baying of the hounds changed, they had scented something and increased speed, their barks now howls in the quiet night. The each uisge were uttering a growling howl of their own as they ran with the pack, heads down, following the scent of the thing they hunted. The riders yelled in excitement.
“We are close! You brought us luck, my brother!” the king yelled to him.
Galen laughed. “It is you who brings us luck, my king!”
A terrible growl issued from amongst the dark trees. Something was there, waiting, it had heard the cry of the hounds and was waiting for them. It suddenly burst out of the cover of the trees and ran ahead, a dark shadow in the mists. The hounds were nearly on it when it turned back. Racing through the pack toward the riders, it launched itself at the king, pulling him off the horse and dragging him away at a gallop as fast as any horse.
“No!” Galen yelled. He drove spurs into the horse and they raced ahead. As he rode he pulled the sword from its scabbard, driving the horse faster, pushing it to its limits. They caught up with the thing and passed it. Galen swung the horse around to stop the thing, thrusting forward with his sword at the same time.
The blade plunged into the dark shape, cold, painful cold, ran up the blade and into his arm, pulsing in the dark scar in his chest. It tugged at him like the hand of death. He pulled the sword from its body and leaped from the horse, reaching a hand out to pull the king up from where the creature had dropped him. He pushed the king behind him as it attacked again, this time a hand was suddenly there, claws glistening on the ends of shadowed fingers. The claws caught Galen, ripping through flesh and bone. Gasping in pain, he managed to swing his blade, imbedding it in the creature's neck. At that moment the rest of the Hunt was on them, his brothers driving their own blades into the thing. It screamed its death cry and fell, leaving a smoking ring in the golden grass.
Galen had dropped to his knees, pain running through his body like molten lead. Hands clasped his shoulders, pulling on him until he was propped against someone. “Bring the skin from my horse,” the king said. Galen realized he was lying against the king, and struggled to sit up. “No.” Gentle hands restrained him. “Wait for a moment.”
“Are you unharmed?” Galen said.
“Thanks to you. Drink this.”
He did as he was told, letting the sweet liquid fill him, warm him, even as he felt life flow slowly away. His muscles tensed at the thought. He struggled to get back to himself, aware that the soft velvet of the drink was pulling him aw
ay from the world with a crushing finality. A tempting thought wound its way into his mind, if he let himself go, gave into that soft velvet, he could ride, he could serve his king, he could be here with his brothers. Galen let himself drift on the thought, swirling like the fog around him. It was too late when he recognized the throb of poison someone had put into the king's skin, tainting the healing wine.
He threw open the bond, reaching out for Rob in those last moments, hoping to reach him, let him know the plan. It was sooner than he'd planned on this happening, and he was still unsure how the king and Rob would react, but he had no choice, he let him know the army waited, willing to take the risk at this juncture. He focused as much of the Gift as he could and sent it out towards Rob, hoping it would be enough to shock a little awareness into his brother. He had no idea if it was working, consciousness was fading and he was slipping into the cold, an icy plunge into a frozen lake.
Galen let his head drop against the king, he was almost gone when warmth began to ease the cold and light drove away the dark. He struggled, trying to figure out what was going on. At first, he recognized the touch of the king, but there was something under that and the warmth was insistent. He caught it and used it to boost his Gift, sending the healing through his body, driving the poison out. A soft tug touched the healing. He followed that tug along the bond with Rob, sending a shaft of light into his brother, nudging the king aside. The healing gained strength and he used it to reach Rob. A shock ran through the bond, sending a jolt into his brain.
“Galen?” Rob asked softly.
Galen opened his eyes. His brother met his gaze. “Rob?” Galen whispered out loud.
“Yeah, it's me, I'm pretty sure, at least for now. The king's trying to take control again.”
“I'll help as much as I can.”
“Thank you,” Rob said, relief followed by concern sweeping through their connection. “How do you feel?”
“Better.” Galen took a deep breath, Rob stood and offered his hand and hauled Galen to his feet.
“My king!” Guy shouted.
They turned towards him, the other members of the Hunt had turned to stare as well.
The world was beginning to shake at the edges.
“Oh fuck,” Flash said softly.
Chapter Nineteen
Rob
The edges of the world were trembling, the Veil that marked the division between worlds glowing like the Aurora Borealis as creatures on both sides began to move. Rob took a steadying breath, fighting the nausea caused by the shifting vision. Galen's hand rested on his shoulder, the healing keeping him focused, the warmth of his brother's Gift keeping the king at bay. Galen's plan was clear in his mind—and he was grateful for that. The moment Galen had opened the bond in that last desperate gamble, Rob found himself again. It had been the barest whispers of awareness at first, but as Galen flooded him with the healing, the king had fought—but ended up being slotted away.
The riders were watching him with curiosity. He could see the dark power around them, the fog moving as they shifted in the night. There were several staring at him with open hostility, blood-red sparks of anger moving sluggishly through the mists. One of the riders had a grin on his face, it took a moment for Rob's brain to identify him. When he did he let out a small gasp of surprise. “Flash?” he asked.
“One and the same,” Flash said, the mists shifting around him. “You didn't expect me to let you and Galen play horsies without me?”
“My king, what do we do?” the rider who had shouted the warning asked. There was something familiar about him as well, Rob focused his Gift, the soft shine of the Custodes Noctis simmered under the fog.
“We fight, Guy,” Galen said. He squeezed Rob's shoulder. “This is Gaius Emrys, Rob.”
The rider held his hand out and grasped Rob's forearm in the formal greeting of the Custodes Noctis. “It is good to ride with you, my king.”
“And with you, my brother,” Rob said with a smile.
“This might not be the best time to socialize,” Flash grumbled, his eye fixed on the undulating light where the Veil was beginning to give way.
“Your servant shows no respect,” a rider said. Rob turned, but no rider stepped forward to elaborate on the comment.
“You again?” Flash asked. “I thought I bashed your skull in, fuckhead.”
“Flash,” Galen warned, holding his hand up. “It's also not the time for a brawl.”
“Fine.” Flash turned towards them. “I'll kick his ass later.”
“You can try, cur,” the rider said.
Flash growled and would have tackled the group surrounding the man who was taunting him, but Galen stepped between them, shoving Flash back. “Stop. Later. I promise,” he said, authority in his voice. Rob looked at his brother in surprise, something had changed in Galen, he wasn't sure what it was, but it was there, under the surface.
“They're coming,” Guy said softly.
“Yes, they are,” Rob said, taking a deep breath, he faced the group. “The feorhbealu have returned my brothers!” A collective growl issued from the riders, the each uisge joining in the cry, the keening sound sending the mists dancing around Rob. “They call the other creatures together. They will come for us, then for our worlds. We are the shield, the thing that will stop them. Our swords long for their blood, to regain what we lost to them, to take back our own.”
A rider stepped forward. “This is not who we are, we should join the feorhbealu! They will give us power, and we can ride the Between World and the world itself. We will call new members and be what we once were, powerful, feared by all, not just the weaklings of the Custodes Noctis!” he said. He was the champion's man. Rob could see a hint of the champion himself lurking in the man, and something more as well, a darkness that pulled the light away. The rider nodded. “Yes, I serve my master, and his masters, even now!”
“His masters, not his king,” Guy said, stepping into the fray. “Disloyal turncoat!”
There was a mutter of agreement from most of the riders, some edged closer to the one who had spoken. Rob understood that lines were being clearly drawn. He could feel a tug of something pulling him to agree with the riders aligning themselves with the feorhbealu. The king started to break free, his deep voice moving through Rob, urging him to act. He shook his head, trying to ignore the call of the king. The warmth of the healing flowed out from Galen's hand, Rob caught it and pushed the king away again.
“You would rather align yourself with those that have pursued us? Filled our ranks with their cast-offs like this piece of shit that stands beside the king, mocking us and his role?” the rider continued.
“You speak too much,” Guy said, stepping towards him.
“You want to try and silence me? You are the turncoat, serving these weaklings.”
“I've had enough,” Galen growled from beside Rob. He walked purposefully towards the rider, the man backed away until he ran into his horse. “You and yours will serve our king, and the Hunt this night.”
“Or what?” the rider asked. Rob saw the mists around him shiver with fear.
“No or,” Galen said simply. “You serve.” He raised his voice. “You will all serve, this is who we are, what we are! We ride to remove the worlds of the filth of the feorhbealu! It is as it was, as it should be!” A ragged cheer erupted from the group. “We serve you, my king,” Galen continued, then lifted his blade, point upwards, towards the sky. “We serve our king!” he shouted, the other riders followed suit and raised their swords in the ancient pledge of loyalty.
Rob felt a surge of pride, the king nudged against his consciousness, acknowledging the pledge as well. He tried to shove him away, but the voice was becoming insistent, trying to return and control the Hunt once more. “No,” Rob said firmly.
The king laughed at his refusal. “You will need me,” the king said.
The Hunt: A Custodes Noctis Book Page 28
