by Alice Wilde
"Theodore!" a woman's voice snapped angrily at him from somewhere across the room. "Why aren't you attending to your lessons?"
"Damien was bothering me, mummy."
"How dare you, Damien!" the woman said, storming across the room. "We take you in out of the goodness of our hearts, and you can still be so ungrateful. I should have known better than to take in a witch's child. If it weren't for my husband, I'd never have agreed to this."
"Theodore, sweetheart, go back to your lessons. I'll deal with this wretch."
Theodore smirked as his mother grabbed Damien by the ear and twisted, forcing him to rise to his feet.
"Lessons, now!"
Damien watched as he was dragged from the room and Theodore made faces at him, while his own scrunched up in pain.
"I swear, Aunt Mariam, I didn't do anything to him," Damien said.
"Shut up, you, vile little beast! Let's see if you'll stop lying after you spend a night out in the cold."
Damien clenched his jaw in anger. His aunt never believed him, even when she saw things happen with her own two eyes. Damien didn't know what he had done to deserve the way he was treated, but he had stopped caring why a long time ago.
"Don't come back until the rooster crows," Mariam shrieked at him, tossing him out into the kitchen yard and slamming the door shut behind him.
Damien carefully got to his feet, brushing off some of the mud and dirt as a slow smile spread across his face. Reaching into his pocket, Damien pulled out a small key that he'd managed to slip out of his aunt's apron as she ranted at him on their way down from the study.
Checking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being watched or followed, Damien ran off into the woods. It was only early evening, but he had a long way to go if he was going to manage to get back to the house before dawn.
"Why dearie," the old lady said as she opened the door to Damien a few hours later, "I didn't expect ye back so soon."
"The sooner the better, isn’t that what you said?" Damien asked.
“I did indeed,” the old woman mused, pulling the door open further to let Damien inside. “Come in. Take yer boots off, I don’t want ye dirtying my floor with all that mud.”
Damien yanked off his boots and tossed them to the floor as he entered the ivy-covered cottage. The old woman poked her head outside and checked the nearby surroundings, listening intently before ducking back inside to shut and lock the door. She jerked the handle of the door roughly, checking to make sure the locks held tight and then turned and chucked Damien gently under the chin with the crook of her finger.
“Ye must be weary after such a long walk. Even a fine young boy like yerself, that is no an easy journey.”
“A bit,” Damien said, “but I don’t have much time to waste.”
“Nonsense,” the old woman said with a dismissing wave of her hand. “There’s always time for a bit to eat. Come, sit yerself by the fire while I fetch ye a morsel.”
Damien stayed his tongue from arguing further with the woman and took a seat by the fire. Damien glanced over his shoulder as the old woman tinkered away in the kitchen, and then lifted his feet up toward the fireplace. His worn, woolen socks were full of holes and damp from his muddy run through the forest. Damien shivered as the warmth from the fire began to lift the chill from his icy toes. He was already dreading the walk back as the wool began to steam.
For early autumn, the nights were quite cold, and Damien’s clothes barely fit. Even though Theodore was bigger than him and often outgrew his clothes, Aunt Mariam refused to give them to Damien for fear he’d somehow curse her son by wearing them. Instead, she would send him to the nearest town to collect new clothes from the charity boxes twice a year and there was rarely anything that fit him well.
“Here ye are,” the woman said, placing a plate and mug on a nearby table.
“What is it?” Damien asked, peering into the steaming mug.
“Tea, it’ll warm yer bones. Don’t worry yerself, I have no intention of poisoning ye.”
Damien took the mug and drank from it gratefully, the hot liquid pouring like molten lava down his throat, but he didn’t care. The searing pain was worth the heat that surged through his body with every gulp.
“Careful now. I don’t want ye burning off yer tongue.”
Damien replaced the mug on the table and turned his attention to the plate. The woman had given him a lump of cheese and hunk of bread as well as a bit of meat, more than he’d seen in days. He laid into the food even more eagerly than the bitter tea, biting of chunks of the bread and cheese in turn until his cheeks were full and it was hard to chew.
The old woman chuckled as she watched.
Damien finished the small meal and washed it down with the rest of the tea. He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his belly, more satisfied than he’d been in a long while.
“Now, tell ol’ Agatha what ye’ve decided,” the woman said, leaning forward toward the boy.
“I want to be rid of them. All of them.”
The old woman smiled, a wide, surprisingly toothy grin. “Do ye now?”
“Yes. I’ve decided.”
“Very well, but ye must know such a thing comes with a cost.”
“What cost?”
“If I do this for ye, I expect ye to pay me back when the time comes for me to need yer help.”
“Fine.”
“Pay attention,” the old woman said, her voice cold. “Don’t ye make this deal lightly. Ye may just be a little boy yet, but yer mother’s blood runs through yer veins. A deal made with me can no be undone.”
“I said fine,” Damien huffed. “I swear I’ll pay you back when the time comes to return the favor.”
Agatha watched him with wild, hungry eyes for a long moment and then nodded slowly.
“Then I’ll do this for ye, but we must hurry if yer going to make it back before dawn. Grab yer shoes.”
A smile spread across Damien’s face, and for the first time in a long while, he was excited. He followed the old woman out the back door of her cottage and along a winding path through a tangled garden. They passed over a broken-down wall and out into the dark woods beyond.
“Where are you taking me?” Damien asked after they’d been walking for what seemed like ages.
“Ye’ll know soon enough. Now, be quiet, it’s best not to speak in these parts.”
Damien didn’t like being told to be quiet, but he gritted his teeth together and did as Agatha bid. Soon enough, he’d have what he wanted, and it would all be worth it in the end. As the moon climbed higher into the night sky, a damp fog crept through the trees making it difficult to see and forcing Damien to keep a close eye on Agatha lest he get lost. Suddenly, she stood still and Damien bumped into her.
“Hey,” Damien growled, but Agatha only raised a hand to silence him, peering out at the forest around them. It was only then that he saw the orbs of light surrounding them from a distance, golden and bobbing, and growing ever closer.
“They’ve come,” the old woman said, giving him a crooked, toothy smile.
“Who’s come?”
Agatha didn’t answer, but giggled like a young girl meeting her lover for the first time. Damien watched anxiously as the orbs of light filtered through the mist toward them until they were close enough to reveal the cloaked silhouettes carrying them. The figures were far taller than Damien and Agatha, their faces hidden in darkness beneath oversized hoods.
“Welcome,” Agatha crooned, clapping her hands gleefully, “’tis an honor to have ye join us.”
“Is this the boy you spoke of?” a deep, but decidedly female voice asked as one of the tall figures broke rank and stepped forward.
“Yes, ‘tis he.”
“Then let us make haste,” the tall woman said, raising an arm to signal the others onward.
Damien watched as they moved past him, almost appearing to glide over the surface of the forest floor.
“Come along, lad,” the old woman urged. The tall fig
ures moved quickly, making it hard for Damien and Agatha to keep up with them. It was only once they reached a moonlit clearing at the entrance of a large cave that they finally came to a standstill. Agatha ushered Damien into the middle of the glade as the cloaked beings formed a circle around them.
“Who are you?” Damien asked, unable to keep quiet any longer. Agatha shot him a dirty look.
“I told you—”
“We are nightwalkers,” the tall female cut in, instantly silencing the old woman. “We are often confused with druids and forest spirits, but we are more closely related to our cousins in the Shadowlands.”
Damien glanced around at them, even more confused than before. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about nightwalkers…or the Shadowlands.”
“Don’t worry,” the woman continued, “you’ll understand soon enough. Are you ready to begin?”
“Begin what?”
“The ritual.”
“You never mentioned a ritual,” Damien said, turning on the old woman. “I thought you were just going to give me some portion or a spell.”
“Didn’t I now,” she pondered to herself. “Ah, no matter, ’tis all the same either way. Ye’ll get what ye came for.”
“Will it hurt?”
“He’s all yers,” Agatha said, leaving Damien’s question hanging on the air as she backs away from him.
“Boy,” the tall figure said, laying a long, bony hand on his shoulder, “face the cave and do not move. Whatever happens next, remember, you must not move from this spot. Do you understand me?”
Damien nodded, but secretly wished he had the courage to turn tail and run away. The woman then turned and signaled to the others and they plunged the long rods carrying their orb like lanterns into the ground. Then, in unison, they removed their long cloaks and let them fall to the ground.
It was hard for Damien not to stare. They were all long and willowy, and not altogether unlike the strange, moving silhouettes of trees one might think he sees at night…the dark shape that moves at the corner of your vision only to be gone when you turn your head to look. Their faces were craggy and narrow, with hollowed-cheeks and gigantic, sunken eyes. As unusual and somewhat terrifying as they were, the beings were not completely without their charms. Their movements were perfect, rhythmic, and graceful as if everything they did was a part of a choreographed ritualistic dance… and then Damien realized that was exactly what they were doing. These odd, tree-like entities were dancing, although it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He was tempted to move, to join them in their dance, when a deafening roar drew his attention back to the cavernous opening directly in front of him.
The dancers began to move more wildly and Damien’s heart beat hard in his chest as two reflected droplets of light flashed from within the dark abyss. Eyes. Regret flooded Damien, and he wondered if it was too late to take back his request, and then the beast showed itself driving all thought from his mind.
Damien watched, dumbfounded as a massive bear stepped out into the light. It was ten times bigger than any he had ever seen and darker than night, its thick, shaggy fur unkempt and nearly as wild as its eyes. The bear lumbered forward directly toward Damien, the ground shaking with every step, and seemingly completely unaware of the strange dance going on around the edge of the clearing. A stream of warm, steamy liquid trickled down Damien’s leg, but still, he did not move.
The beast stopped just inches from the boy and lowered its head to look him in the eye. Damien flinched as the bear sniffed at his face and breathed out hot, rancid stench over him. The two stared at each other for a long moment, both standing their ground before the bear leaned back on its hind legs, its head framed by the moon and roared into the night.
“Here,” the lanky, sapling-like creature said, leaning down toward the boy.
Damien glanced over at her, although he was afraid to take his eyes off the colossal bear even for a moment. The woman was holding a knife out toward him, the lengths of her thin, twig-like fingers quivering slightly.
“What’s this?”
“A silver blade.”
“But what for?”
The creature’s long face creaked as it broke into a toothless smile. “To kill the bear, of course.”
Damien looked blankly at her and then down at the knife glinting in the moonlight. “How can I kill…kill that?”
“It’s up to you,” she answered, “but know that only one of you will be leaving here alive. Now, take the knife.”
Damien snatched the blade from her hand and turned his head back toward the bear, the knife trembling in his grasp as he raised it in front of himself. The bear dropped back down onto all fours, and tilted its head to the side as its eyes rested first on the blade and then Damien’s face. Much to his surprise, the bear did not attack.
“Come on, beast. Fight me!” Damien shouted, waving the blade in front of the bears face and licking his lips nervously.
But the bear only yawned, its giant mouth opening wide enough to swallow Damien whole, before it gave him a final look and turned to lumber back into its cave.
“Remember what I said,” the willowy creature whispered. “Only one of you can survive the night.”
Damien wrinkled is nose, his nostrils flared and his mouth turned up in a snarl…and then he lunged at the retreating colossus, using both hands and all his strength to sink the blade as deep into the bear’s side as he could possibly manage. The bear let out a gut-wrenching yowl of pain, and briefly glanced over its shoulder at the boy. Damien braced himself for an attack, but the beast only continued to retreat.
Damien looked back at the creatures watching, but they only nodded encouragingly. Turning back toward the bear, Damien ran forward and pulled the dagger out of the animal’s side before plunging back in. The beast cried out in agony once again, but still, it did not attack. Rage and adrenaline coursed through the boy’s veins as he ripped the knife out of the bear’s body and stabbed it again.
His anger increased with every thrust of the blade. “Turn and fight me, you cowardly beast!”
But the bear did not.
Damien’s mouth turned down, his blood boiling as he seethed with rage and the hemorrhaging animal resumed dragging its body back toward its home. Then the boy felt something new. As he watched the bear struggle to crawl back to safety, a dark, oozing sense of satisfaction seeped into his soul.
He, Damien, the worthless nobody had bested the monster. It didn’t matter that the creature hadn’t fought back, all that matter was that he had won.
“Finish it,” a voice breathed next to his ear, long knobby fingers pressed against his back in encouragement.
A smile crept over Damien’s face as he stepped forward to stand over the animal’s blood-soaked body. The bear looked up at him with large, sad eyes, and for a second the boy felt a pang of guilt in his stomach.
He hated the feeling. It felt like weakness… Failure.
Damien’s face contorted with rage and he fell to his knees, plunging his blade into the bear’s body over and over until he no longer had the energy to continue. Now covered in blood, several of the nightwalkers pulled him to his feet as Damien panted.
“Well done, you’ve proven yourself worthy of your reward.”
“My reward?”
The woman nodded, a dark smile spreading over her face as she pointed a long finger back at the bear’s body. Damien turned to look where she pointed, and there, lying in a pool of blood was a figure. The motionless form was no longer that of a bear, but of a woman.
Damien’s eyes darted back to the smiling nightwalker and then the dead body. He wrenched himself out of the two creatures holding him up and moved to look at the woman’s face, and something in him broke.
“Mother?” The boy whirled around on the clearing. “What have you done?”
“What have we done? It was not I, nor any of us who wielded the blade.”
“You tricked me!”
“No, we only granted you your
deepest desire.”
“My deepest desire?” Damien bellowed, storming toward them. “I only wanted to be rid of my family!”
“And now, you are.”
Damien’s face fell as he realized that even as wrong as she was… she was also right. “I didn’t…if I had known she was still alive…”
“Details,” the woman said with a callous wave of her hand. “A deal is a deal.”
“I made no deal with you,” Damien snarled.
“Oh, but you did. As soon as you accepted the sorceress’s offer, we became part of that arrangement.”
“I’ll kill her,” Damien growled.
“No,” the woman laughs coldly, “no, you will not.”
“You can’t stop me!”
“Kill her, and you’ll die, too.”
Damien scowled at them all, a deep, dark hated filling every bit of him until all that was left was hate. “Fine, what do you want from me?”
“Only this,” the nightwalker said, stepping forward and holding out a thick, black book.
“What’s this?”
“It’s your future…it’s our future. Read it carefully. We’ll be back when the time has come.”
“How will I know?” Damien asked as he flipped through the pages, not understanding a single mark scribbled inside.
“Oh, you’ll know. Now, run along, little bear,” the creature cackled.
Damien looked up from the book but the clearing was empty, and then he screamed. Searing pain ripped through his body. His sight turned red as the ground grew further and further away, and then he fell forward onto his hands…his paws… His lip turned up in a snarl and Damien let out a furious roar. Rage boiled inside him once again, and this time… this time he wanted to kill.
Taking one last look at his mother’s body, Damien set his course and lumbered off through the forest.
We’ll see who’s a worthless piece of dirt now…
One
Annalise
"Is this it?" I ask, looking up through the canopy at the mountain looming above us.
"Yes," Li says.
"You can't even see the top," says Roan.
