Emma and the Banderwigh

by Matthew S. Cox

  The foreboding sight of the destroyed house brought back memories of the awful dream the Banderwigh had forced on her. Branches rustled in a sudden breeze, and the forest seemed colder. Emma grabbed the silk and ran, leaping the fallen fence and coming to a halt by the chimney. The hearth space was large enough for her to crawl into and it offered a place to hide at least from three directions.

  She curled up against the wall of the old fireplace. The last time anything burned here was long enough in the past that only dirt and moss remained inside. Wind howled in the distance, though no air moved. The broken gate hung idle, sparse grass in the space that was once a home did not move. For no specific reason, Emma pulled her dagger out and held it at the ready, flat of the blade cold over her knee.

  Eyes closed, she heard Father’s voice in a faraway memory.

  “If you ever find yourself lost in the woods, find a safe place and stay there. Wandering about will only make it harder for us to find you.”

  She nodded at the memory voice. The snap of a twig opened her eyes. She pressed tight to the stone, barely breathing. Anything friendly would be calling my name. With thoughts of bandits in her head, she stuck the spidersilk to the inside of the chimney, out of sight. Another snap in the distance put both of her hands on the dagger again. Emma looked up, wanting to trade places with the silk and hide in the flue, but it was too small. Tam couldn’t even fit up there.

  Tam.

  Despite her anger, tears streaked her cheeks. She wanted to go home, wanted her family. What if it was only a boar sniffing around for food? The incantation would let her talk to it. At worst, she could ask it not to hurt her, and at best, it might know how to find town. It had to be harder to eat something that could talk to you, goblins notwithstanding. That thought shed new light on Mother’s distaste for meat. Nan thought her silly, but for once Emma was inclined to disagree with her grandmother. Can wolves talk to deer? She scratched at her foot, debating the odd question to take her mind off all the scary sounds creaking and cracking in the night.

  Wolves.

  Emma felt stupid. She crawled out of her hiding spot and spun around, pointing the dagger in a circle. Nothing there. After a sigh of relief, she took in a great breath, threw her head back, and howled like a lost wolf until her lungs were empty. She did it again, adding a pleading tone to a second baying howl that echoed into the woods.

  The two long cries left her light headed. Greyfang has to hear me. She remembered Nan’s face, smiling and wrinkled as she learned how to ask the Owl Spirit for the gift of the wildkin whisper. The magic of druids seemed like it only required knowledge of who to ask and what to ask for. Of course, not just anyone could ask of the spirits, but her family had the gift. How much could she figure out on her own?

  She sucked in another lung full of ice-cold air, not noticing the drop in temperature as she cut loose with another lamenting howl.

  “Ylithir, wolf spirit, carry my plea to the pack!” she shouted.

  The dizziness that followed could have been from howling, but she believed she had done magic again. Taken by the mood, she dropped to all fours, sitting like a dog, and howled again. As the last traces of her cry echoed to silence, she looked down at her dirt-covered hands and feet and blushed. Anyone that sees me will think I’ve gone mad, like a wild girl that doesn’t live with people. She frowned. I don’t care. It’s gotta work!

  Her teeth chattered. She stood, rubbing at her arms. “That’s strange. It shouldn’t be this cold.”

  Crunch.

  Dread fell over her. She didn’t have to look to know the Banderwigh had found her. Of course he had, with her making so much noise. The cold and the evil floating in the air left her no doubt. She clutched the dagger close to her chest, moving it behind her back as she turned to keep it hidden. Even though she knew what she would see, the shaggy silhouette with piercing yellow eyes made her tremble.

  He stood at the gate, axe head all but glowing in the moonlight. After a momentary pause, he swung its weapon around and grabbed it in both hands, as he had done before. Emma took a step back. Dead wood cracked under its boot as he crushed through the old fence.

  “I won’t let you hurt anyone else,” said Emma, barely hiding the fear in her voice. “No more like Hannah.”

  Strong dizziness pervaded her mind. The fallen house became a three-walled diorama with hanging cages. Tam, and two unknown boys screamed and wailed for their mommies. Kimber sat in silence. The burned girl teased Kimber for not having a mother to cry for.

  Emma looked away from them. “You are lying.”

  He growled, moving at her with unexpected speed.

  She was ready for it, and leapt to the side as the axe embedded in the dirt. Her dagger came out of hiding and caught the creature unprepared. The strike sank inches into his thigh; the blade froze over in an instant, becoming painful to touch. Her grip held firm and she yanked it free, bounding backwards.

  The Banderwigh unleashed a wail of anguish as he stumbled to a knee with a hand on the wound. No blood flowed from his tattered black pants. She gasped as the wound closed. He growled and got back to his feet, tearing the giant axe blade from the ground with a swing that spattered her with dirt. The hasty strike went high, allowing Emma to duck and run around it. She had seen her Father fight once; compared to this creature, he moved swift and with precision. The ponderous axe seemed to drag him around, as if the man had been a simple farmer with little skill.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” said Emma. “Please… stop this.”

  The Banderwigh glowered at her, slouching. Hope sparked within her, but shattered as the axe swung high. Emma dove left, somersaulting into a run. Behind her, the metal on dirt sound of another miss. He roared with such rage that it made her want to cower, filling the air with pure hate. A swing from behind made her leap to the right, crashing against the still-standing chimney. She flattened against the stones, unable to breathe.

  He loped sideways at her, hauling his weapon behind in an erratic rush that betrayed no hint of where it would swing. She shot a one-second glance at the dagger in front of her and threw herself forward. The ten-inch blade sank into the Banderwigh’s chest before he could round the axe overhead. White frost raced over the handle, forcing her to release the weapon with a yelp of burning pain. Emma scurried away, rubbing her hands on her dress in a furious search for warmth.

  The Banderwigh screamed in rage and anguish, axe drooping to the ground in one hand. He seemed unable to swing his free arm up to grab the dagger, and lurched forward, stumbling down to one knee. Emma ran to the side, getting some distance as the monster collapsed on all fours. Heavy, gurgling rasps came from him, the sound of a wounded beast. The air smelled only of cold, which seemed to freeze her nose with every rapid breath she took. Her mind searched for anything she could use against him.

  “I’m not afraid of you! You don’t make me sad! You are not scary!”

  His body shook as he rocked back on his heels and howled at the treetops. The Banderwigh released the axe and clutched the dagger handle with both hands.

  “Go away! Go back to where you came from!” shrieked Emma.

  Her confidence was short lived.

  With a wrenching screech of metal on bone, he yanked the dagger from his heart and hurled it to the side. Grunting and rasping, he raked at the ground in search of his weapon. Emma ran to the axe, intending to drag it away, but stopped.

  Cursed. Don’t touch it!Wait, will the curse work on a girl?

  In her moment of indecision, his icy hand sprang out and seized her by the ankle. She screamed as he pulled her to the ground and dragged her close.

  His left hand crushed her shoulder into the dirt. Ice crept into her skin, a numbness that spread down her arm and up her neck. His right hand grasped the axe close to the bladed head. The edge gleamed as it hovered over her defenseless neck. She stomped at him, able to tolerate touching the creature for only seconds at a time. He ignored her pummeling heels and stretched the axe skywa
rd, animosity burning in its eyes.

  She took a breath to scream, but instead howled, kicking at his chest and clawing at the arm holding her down.

  Answering howls echoed from the woods. Blurs of grey, black, and white streaked across the clearing. The Banderwigh brought the axe down, but vanished in a smear of dark fur. Emma sat up, clutching her frozen shoulder and wailing. Greyfang had the axe handle in his mouth, rolling in the dirt with the creature. After three flips, the Banderwigh recovered his footing. The alpha wolf hauled the monster off his feet, spinning him in a circle. The once-man got his legs to the ground and wrestled with the huge wolf, boots trenching the earth in a battle of inhuman strength. With a baleful growl, the Banderwigh wrenched the wolf airborne and flung him to the side. Greyfang hit the ground, tumbling, and skidded to a halt, dizzy and shaking his head.

  The Banderwigh rushed straight for Emma, but fell forward as Howls at Rain and Runs in Shadow each sank their fangs into a leg and twisted. Moonsong appeared behind her, nipping at her dress and dragging her away with such force Emma had to hold onto the fabric to keep the mother wolf from tearing her dress off. Stalks the Wind leapt over her, silent, and bowled into the Banderwigh from a blind angle, savaging at his head.

  Moonsong stopped dragging her when she reached the fence line, and moved to stand between her and the monster. Emma rolled forward, kneeling next to the black wolf and clinging to her side.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled into her fur.

  Snarls and snaps mixed with grunts and muted thuds. Moonsong twitched, as though she wanted to join the fray, but held her station. Emma got to her feet, pawing at the wolf by her side.

  “Moonsong, we have to run away.”

  The animal did not react.

  Dammit! “Strixian, please give me the gift of the wildkin whisper.” She held her arms out, concentrating on her desire. A faint tug of exertion came in time with the flickering white light.

  “Moonsong, we need to run. It can’t be killed.”

  The wolf glanced at her, head snapping forward at the sound of Howls at Rain yelping with pain. Her pup went skidding away from the fight, driven off by a hard kick to the side. Moonsong snarled.

  “Go to him,” said Emma, patting her. “It’s okay.”

  The mother wolf looked at her with apologetic eyes and seemed about to do it when Howls at Rain got back up. Greyfang staggered out of the weeds and raced in, taking the axe handle in his mouth again. His weight and strength dragged the Banderwigh to the ground, giving the others free rein to bite anywhere they chose. Wolves yelped, sounds that Emma now understood as cries of pain and the wolves’ word for cold.

  Howls at Rain swooned over sideways, blood dripping from his mouth. Moonsong bolted to him, preventing him from rejoining the fight. The Banderwigh grabbed Stalks the Wind by the scruff and hurled him ten feet through the air into a tree. He bounced off and landed on his feet, but staggered.

  Runs in Shadow backed away from another grab, snapping at the creature’s hand. The Banderwigh twisted his axe back and forth. Greyfang tried to yell something as he wrestled, but with a wooden staff through his clenched teeth, it came out unintelligible.

  The other wolves circled. The Banderwigh glared at Emma, stunned and angered at her unexpected assistance. With a violent shove, he sent Greyfang sprawling to the ground and raised the unburdened axe.

  “No!” roared Moonsong. A black streak of fur raced in, and she drove her fangs into the Banderwigh’s side.

  Her attack diverted a beheading stroke into a severe gash to Greyfang’s chest. The alpha stumbled sideways and careened over. The Banderwigh roared again, reaching for Moonsong’s neck. The black wolf evaded his grasp, snarling and snapping her teeth. Emma grabbed one of the healing elixirs out of her pouch and ran to Greyfang, heedless of how close it brought her to the monster. She slid to a halt on her knees, gnawing on the cork to get it out of the little glass bottle. Metal on dirt announced the axe crashing down behind her. Emma’s arms shook, and she emitted a feral snarl and twisted the bottle. The cork popped free at the same time a heavy thud came from her left, the Banderwigh’s frustrated grunt mixed with a yelp of canine rage, trailed by the sound of snapping underbrush.

  Emma pulled Greyfang’s head into her lap and poured the elixir into his mouth. She lifted his muzzle and held it shut, rubbing his throat to help him swallow.

  “Emma!” shouted a weak sounding Moonsong.

  She whirled.

  The Banderwigh was right behind her, axe over his head. The pack was running, but would not get there fast enough to matter.

  “No!” screamed Emma, shielding Greyfang with her body. “Why are you so mean! You wanna kill me. Leave him alone.” She lapsed into sobs. “Please don’t hurt the wolves. They were just trying to help me.”

  Thud.

  Gleaming metal landed in the mulch a few inches to her side.

  Thud.

  The Banderwigh collapsed to his knees, right in front of her. White spots appeared at the center of his all-yellow eyes, a trace of a human pupil. Emma sat up off Greyfang, who wheezed. She did not move as the ragged man reached for her and closed both hands around her neck. Emma shut her eyes, tears streaming down her face.

  “I love you, Nan.”

  Ice spread through her throat as he squeezed.

  “I love you, Mama an’ Da.”

  Emma shuddered, gurgling for air.

  “…ove you T-tam… an’ Kim―”

  The world seemed to spin away. Snarling neared. The Banderwigh shook from the impact of several wolves against his body. Her air came back, her eyes opened. Coarse, icy hands slipped from her throat to her shoulders. Growling wolves bit into his elbows and legs, struggling to pull him back. The creature’s face had changed; sallow and drawn, he looked like a broken man. Gone was the yellow in his eyes, replaced by brown―and tears.

  ensing something different in the air, the wolves released him and backed away. Howls at Rain limped sideways, hackles raised in an effort to look more threatening than he was. The hands clutching Emma by the shoulders lost most of their strength as well as their unnatural chill. Emma slid a hand over the front of her throat as she fought to breathe, hoping to warm the numbness away. The breeze gave up its graveyard chill, allowing a trace of summer night to warm her.

  A wheezing cough puffed frozen through her hair. The man who knelt before her had changed. No longer did he seem powerful and tall; what was before her now was a wasted and drained shell. Deathly grey pallor receded from a face with many more wrinkles than it should have had at his age. Sunken cheeks stretched as his mouth opened, frozen in a silent mournful cry. His fingers squeezed Emma’s shoulders; he went from holding her down to struggling to hold himself upright.

  Emma stared at him. One tentative hand reached up and touched his cheek, finding his skin as dry as soft leather. Widowswood hung in eerie silence. Moonsong nosed at Greyfang who emitted soft growls in response. The other wolves shifted, ready to pounce on him in an instant.

  Emma shivered. “Are you…”

  “I…” He croaked and coughed, a thin line of saliva falling from his lip. “Do not know.”

  She glanced at the hands on her shoulders, no longer trying to squeeze the life from her neck. More grey receded; he seemed close to alive.

  “What do you remember?”

  He leaned forward, and she clasped his arms to help him steady. “You… So much love for that animal. I saw it…” His eyes grew wider. “A shimmering light in the dark. It made me remember”―he slumped sideways, coughing up a blob Emma refused to look at―“who I used to be.”

  “Nan said you were cursed.”

  “My son… Ewan. He went into the forest.” Tears ran through the deep channels in his face. “He was not allowed to go. Ewan did not listen.” Wild eyes searched the trees. “I remember a horrible figure clad in rags of―” He gazed upon his tattered clothing and shook with horror. “No! What have I done? What have I become? How many have there been?”
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br />   He released her and covered his face, weeping.

  Emma fed the second elixir to Greyfang. His injury had grown smaller, but he still did not attempt to get up.

  “I remember a girl.”

  “Hannah,” said Emma. “She came to town a few days ago.”

  “I killed her,” wailed the strange man, breaking into sobs again.

  “She’s still alive.” Emma took his hand in both of hers. “She is nutters, but alive.”

  His weeping stopped with a belabored sigh. “I killed her spirit. She will not be right again. I stole her childhood.” The man shook his head, pulling at his hair. “I can never atone.”

  “I don’t think it was your fault.” Emma pointed at the axe. The sight of it made the man jump, startled. “It has a curse that made you bad. A monster had taken your body.”

  He raked his fingernails over his cheeks, leaving smears of dirt. “I… There were many of us. We had gone out to search, and we found the wretch. I remember believing he had killed Ewan. It killed nine men, but we slew it.”

  “You took the axe.” Emma rubbed his hand.

  “Aye. I took it.” He gazed into nowhere. “I can still see my hand reaching for it in the leaves. That’s the last thing I remember.”

  Emma was quiet for a moment, reaching back to stroke Greyfang’s fur. Moonsong gave her an urgent look. She focused her intent on the wolf.

  “I don’t have any more elixirs, but I can try the magic.”

  “What?” The man looked up. “You’re making wolf noises.” He blinked. “Oh, please tell me I haven’t broken you too.” He reached to run a hand through her hair, but hesitated.

  “No. I’m a druid… or, will be.”

  He let his hands rest on his legs. “Can you talk to them? Is that why they came?”

  “Yes.” Emma shifted towards Greyfang. “Uruleth, spirit of life, hear me and grant me the gift of life.”