Sarah Palin: Vampire Hunter (Twinkle)

by Dan McGirt

  I grew more uneasy with every step away from the river road. Darnkites were not by nature travelers. My homeland was so isolated from the rest of the Eleven Kingdoms that it didn’t even share a border with its nearest neighbor, Brythalia. Between the two realms lay this unclaimed wilderness of rocky hills and scrubby forest that now we crossed. All manner of beasts roamed the area—bear, goat, deer, boar, hobcat, and various fowl, including the noisome stinkbird.

  But that wasn’t all.

  Darnkites delighted to tell one another tall tales about the dangers beyond our borders. When we gathered in our drafty taverns or around the smoking dung fires at night, we spoke of the many fearsome creatures said to dwell in these strange hills beyond our stony pastures and familiar turnip fields. Gruffasaurs and grumpsnorts. The pearly-eyed horngrim and the irritable stumpthrower. Rock toads the size of small boulders. Bully beetles that would bore a hole in your skull while you slept and lay eggs in your brain. Bands of vicious goblins, brutal hobgoblins, and pretentious snobgoblins. The hairless boggins, who stole buttons in the night, and their magical cousins the frownies, who would gruntingly relieve themselves in any pair of boots carelessly left by the doorstep when the moon was full.

  Nor were the supernatural terrors of the region limited to such third-class fairy folk. There were slithy troves here. Ghosts who drank blood. Scare hags. Phantom creepers. Free-range enchanted kettles that would cook anyone unwary enough to climb inside them. And the terrible, terrible Jib-Jab Man. Having heard these stories all my life, I had every reason to fear venturing cross country. Yes, it was possible that the monsters rumored to stalk these hills did not exist outside the alcohol-addled imagination of my countrymen. But maybe they did.

  Maybe they did.

  “What is that sound?” said Rubis.

  “All is hear is wind and rain,” I said.

  Night was near. Though we could not see the setting sun, the wet gloom grew gloomier.

  “No, there is something more,” said Sapphrina. “There! Do you hear it?”

  I did. Cutting through the storm came a distinct wailing cry. It rose and fell, then was gone. The sound was distant, but not distant enough.

  “A raccoon,” I said.

  “Raccoon?” said Rubis.

  “That was no raccoon!” said Sapphrina.

  “Could have been,” I insisted. “A scared raccoon stuck in a tree.”

  “Are you serious?” said Sapphrina. “It sounded more like a lost soul.”

  “Like the wail of the shanbee,” said Rubis, nodding.

  “That’s it!” said Sapphrina. “The dreadful spirit whose mournful keening is heard when someone is about to die. How does the verse go?”

  “Beware the shanbee, ye who shan’t be,” quoted Rubis.

  “Do you think so?” I said. I had not considered the possibility of encountering a shanbee.

  “Much more likely than a raccoon,” said Sapphrina.

  “Might be a lamia,” said Rubis. “Half-woman, half-beast. Devourer of men.”

  “Only men?” I said.

  Seeing the stricken look on my face, the twins laughed.

  “Oh, Jason, we shan't let the lamia have you!” said Sapphrina.

  “We're hardly done with your ourselves,” said Rubis. She licked her lips.

  “But a shanbee could give us trouble,” said Sapphrina. She turned serious. “You don't think it is one really, do you?”

  “It is neither shanbee nor lamia,” said Mercury.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Because I've heard both and that is neither. Now, hush, all of you!”

  The cry came again through the wind. It was distinctly louder.

  Merc frowned. “We need to find a defensible position, and fast.”

  “Why?”

  “Whatever is out there—it’s hunting us.”

  We rode blind now, or nearly so. Ghostly lightning gave occasional glimpses of the trail ahead. Mercury continued to lead the way. His flameless lantern, an enchanted crystal sphere attached to a leather loop hung from the horn of his saddle, shone faintly. The dim glow was enough for the rest of us to follow without, we hoped, serving as a beacon for pursuers.

  Mercury found the path with the aid of his sunshades. These wondrous enchanted spectacles absorbed sunlight during the day. The energy so gathered could be released in various ways. One such use was seeing in the dark.

  Though wet, chilled, miserable, and exhausted from a hard day’s travel, we dared not stop moving. Whatever was behind us, it was getting closer. The wailing sound above the wind was now discernible as a chorus of baying howls from multiple throats. Though he said nothing, I knew Merc was thinking what I was thinking: the Red Huntsman.

  Every bounty hunter in the Eleven Kingdoms wanted to collect the fantastic ten million carat price on my head. The Red Huntsman was one of the most dangerous. Even in Darnk, where crime was rare and bounties were paid in pine cones, we had heard of his exploits. He was a powerful fighter, ruthless and unstoppable, who kept a pack of giant wolves as hounds. According to Merc, the Huntsman was last seen in Brythalia. If he had since come north and found our trail this could be a long night indeed.

  Or, for me, a very short night. Depending how things went.

  “How long until we reach shelter?” I said.

  “How should I know?” said Merc.

  “I thought you might have come this way before.”

  “Why would I? There is nothing of interest to anyone out—get down!”

  Mercury grabbed my arm and all but yanked me from the saddle. The twins screamed. A large, dark blur swooshed over me and thwacked to the ground nearby, throwing up a geyser of mud and water that splattered us all. Not that we much minded, being already thoroughly drenched in mud and water.

  “What was that?” I asked, righting myself.

  Merc flashed a quick beam from the flameless lantern, revealing a gnarled and splintered tree stump newly embedded in the ground beside the trail. It had the circumference of a wagon wheel. Five men could not have lifted it, much less flung it through the air with such velocity.

  Giants? Ogres? A renegade catapult crew?

  “Stumpthrower,” said Mercury. “Off to the right. Probably aiming at the light. Not the brightest of creatures.” He extinguished the lantern. “Follow as best you can in the dark.”

  “Wait! Stumpthrowers are real?” I said.

  “Why wouldn’t they be?” said Mercury.

  “I had almost convinced myself they are imaginary. Like the Jib-Jab Man.”

  “The Jib-Jab Man.”

  “The terrible, terrible Jib-Jab Man? He’s made up, right?”

  “Some local flavor of boogeyman, I presume?”

  “Of the worst kind.”

  “Then fifty-fifty he’s real or not. You don’t really know with those sorts until you look. And it’s best not to.”

  “Fair enough. But what does a stumpthrower look like?”

  “Imagine a badger the size of a rhino and twice as mean.”

  “Yes?”

  “That’s a stumpthrower.”

  “Oh,” I pondered this. “What’s a rhino?”

  Merc sighed. “Nothing you need worry about.”

  The howls of pursuit once more broke through the wind.

  “Worry about what is behind us,” said the wizard.

  We pushed on through the deepening night. Our spent horses staggered across the rocky wasteland beneath the awful majesty of the towering dark clouds. The steady percussion of the thunder, and the implacable rain beat at us. No stars could we see, nor even the horns of the waning moon. A bewildering medley of distant roars and bellows and cries sounded at intervals from every point of the compass, keeping us mindful that many fell things indeed stalked these dread hills, heedless of even a storm so terrible as this.

  At one point a fantastic red streak slashed across the sky. Whether it marked the passage of a comet, a dragon, or some winged fiend of the Assorted Hells, I could not
say. But its ominous afterglow lingered for many a minute before fading like a dying ember. This did not help my spirits at all.

  On a downward bend of the trail, Rubis’s horse, unnerved by one crack of thunder too many, nipped at my steed’s flank and darted past me, taking the second position. Sapphrina’s horse bolted after its companion. My steed, irked to be passed once, was not standing for twice. The beast shouldered her mount against the rocky bank, blocking the way. The jostling of the horses almost pitched Sapphrina from the rain-slick saddle. I caught her arm and steadied her as we mastered our mounts.

  “Thank you, Jason,” said Sapphrina.

  “My pleasure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “The horses are cranky.”

  “The horses are tired,” she countered. “Your wizard had best find a suitable rock to hide under soon or we’ll be walking the rest of the way to Brythalia.”

  “I’m sure Merc knows what he’d doing.”

  “Are you? Well, you’ve known him a whole several hours longer than I, but I can’t say I share your faith.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He has no idea where he’s going.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Yes, but you aren’t bossing us to hurry this way, hurry that way, on we ride!”

  I laughed at her impression of Mercury’s curt speech.

  “You’re a fair mimic.”

  “I have my talents,” she said. “As you may learn.”

  We urged our horses up the next rise, joining Mercury and Rubis on a rocky overlook that gave a broad view of the surrounding country. We looked back the way we had come. A dramatically sustained barrage of lightning illuminated the hills. We saw, at last, what was chasing us.

  “Dear Gods above,” said Mercury. “We're doomed.”

  There were hundreds of them. A veritable swarm of fur and fangs and wagging tails and wet noses. Running shoulder to shoulder, they poured down into a small hollow we had crossed not half an hour ago. The beasts were packed so close together they might be covered with a sheet. With their domed heads, squarish snouts, and coats of black, brown and white, they presented an appearance that was utterly—

  “Adorable!” said Sapphrina.

  “No, not adorable,” said Merc. “Deadly.”

  “They're so cute!” said Rubis.

  “They are far from cute,” said the wizard. “They are killers.”

  “But, Merc,” I said, “Aren't those—”

  “Yes,” said Mercury. “Yes, they are. Beagles. Feral beagles.”

  “We’ve been running from beagles?” I said.

  “Would that we had run harder and faster,” said Merc. “I would rather face a gruffasaur, a death beaver, or even your Jib-Jab Man than these horrid things.”

  “Really?”

  “Or a dragon.”

  “A dragon?”

  “Well, a smallish dragon.”

  “Merc, they’re beagles!”

  “Feral beagles.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. Beagles are merry little dogs, so gentle and even-tempered. And usually they are. But not these.”

  “No?”

  “No. You see, sometimes a pet beagle strays from home, is abandoned by its owner, or falls into a river and is carried away. Perchance a small pack gets lost on the hunt. It matters not. Eventually, these lost dogs find each other. They band together. They hunt and forage. They turn wild.”

  “But they’re still beagles.”

  “Outwardly, yes. Oh, they still remember the tricks of the domesticated dog. The sad face. The hungry face. The rub-my-belly face. But make no mistake, their allegiance to man is long forgotten. All we are to them now is prey—and beagles are bred to the hunt.”

  “Beagles are bred to hunt rabbits. We’re much bigger than rabbits.”

  “Not if they pull us to the ground, we aren’t. What you see coming closer with every flash of lightning is a horde of vicious animals who will use all their natural hunting skills and doggy wiles to destroy us.”

  “How can beagles destroy us?” I said.

  “Oh, I want to hug them!” said Sapphrina, clapping her hands together.

  “Like that,” said Merc. “They lull their human prey into fatal passivity with their infernal adorableness.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Tosh!” said Rubis. “You’re mad—wook at their cute widdle waggy tails! Waggy tails! Waggy tails! Cute widdle waggy tails!”

  “I rest my case,” said Merc.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But beagles aren’t very big.”

  “It is a large pack.”

  “I see that. But I doubt they can even reach us on horseback.”

  “Beagles are better jumpers than you might think,” said Merc. “In a pack, they can also form a canine pyramid, allowing the top dog to seize prey otherwise out of reach.”

  “Oh, come now!” I said. “They can’t do that!”

  “Yes, they can.”

  “But why would beagles want to kill us?”

  “To eat us. Or for mere sport. I don’t care to find out. Come on!”

  He started down the trail. We didn’t follow.

  “They are so adorable!” said Sapphrina.

  “I know!” said Rubis.

  “This is what they do!” said Merc. “They mesmerize you with their canine charm—and then you’re beagle chow!”

  “I want to pet them,” said Rubis.

  “No! No, you don’t!” said Merc.

  “I don’t see what harm that could be,” I said.

  Merc threw up his hands. “You too? It seems that I am failing to impress upon you the horrible danger we are in! Danger that deepens with every passing moment that you stand here like fools while that murderous pack draws closer!”

  “Maybe they only want to play with us,” I said.

  “If by play with us, you mean strip the flesh from our bones and engage in doggish tugs-of-war with our gnawed skeletal remains, then, yes, they do want to play with us.”

  “You’re sure they want to kill us?”

  “I am.”

  “Look at their little tails wagging all together!” said Sapphrina. “They’re so happy!”

  “Yes, they’re happy because you’re standing there waiting for them to rip you to bloody shreds!” said Merc. “I ride. Come or stay as you please!”

  Merc urged his horse down the trail. I wasn’t entirely convinced of the danger, but there was no point in standing out here in the rain until the dogs reached us. Whether the beagles were friendly or feral, we still needed rest and shelter.

  “Sapphrina! Rubis! Let’s go!” I urged. “The dogs will be here soon enough.”

  Reluctantly, the giddy twins tore their gaze from the approaching pack and followed me. Once we left the hilltop and the beagles were out of sight, the sisters seemed to lose interest in the animals and regain their awareness that we were all cold, wet, tired, hungry, and sore. While I too had felt a compulsion to pet and play with the dogs, the twins were almost entranced by them. If nothing else, the strength of their response and its sudden passing gave me pause. Perhaps the beagles did possess some mind-clouding power. I waved the sisters past me and took the rear.

  We soon caught up with the wizard. He said nothing to acknowledge us, but I was sure that he was pleased we had heeded his warning, if belatedly. We rode on for a short time without speaking. Then Mercury called a halt.

  “This will have to do,” he said.

  “What?”

  On cue, lightning flashed, revealing a huge mass of rocks that jutted from a hillside, like the entrance to a buried castle. Before us was a yawning blackness between two mighty planes of rock. Leading from the trail to this inky portal was a series of broad, wide steps carved into the living stone. Scattered across them were broken chunks and fragments of what once was a gargantuan stone door. Etched into many of the pieces were strange glyphs an
d runes unreadable to me. Curiously, the whole threshold of the cave was utterly devoid of plant life, though the surrounding hill was thick with grasses, shrubs and scruffy trees.

  “You want to go in there?” I said, aghast.

  “Why not?” said Merc.

  “Does it not look to you as if there was once a giant rune-covered door sealing this cave?”

  “Very observant,” said the wizard. “Though from the lie of these fragments I’d say the door was shattered from the inside long ago.”

  “Right. Look, I’m no seasoned, worldly adventurer.”

  “Obviously.”

  “But when a cave is sealed with a giant rune-carved door, is that not a clear sign that one should not go in there?”

  “That is often the case,” said Mercury. “But, as you see, this cave is no longer sealed.”

  “And that makes it safe?”

  “Nothing is safe, Cosmo.”

  “It looks creepy,” said Sapphrina.

  “And spooky too,” said Rubis.

  “And mysterious and ooky,” I said. “I’m not sure about this, Merc.”

  Mercury exploded. “Not sure? Not sure? What is it with you lot! Find us shelter! When are we stopping? It’s dark! It’s wet! I’m cold! How long until we get there? I’m scared of monsters! Ooo, look, pretty doggies! If you think you can do better, then run along! Find a cave full of plush couches and fluffy kittens, where sprites and fairies serve warm milk and cookies! Go! But I’ll be passing the night here, snug and dry in this mystery cave!”

  A roll of thunder punctuated the wizard’s tirade. The twins, abashed and a bit intimidated, looked to me for guidance. I took a deep breath.

  “You’re right, Merc. I’m sorry. We couldn’t have made it this far without you.”

  “That’s certain,” muttered Merc.

  “This looks like a wonderful cave you’ve found. Quite spacious. I’m sure it will be splendid. Don’t you think so, girls?”

  “Sure,” said Sapphrina.

  “Fine,” said Rubis.

  “I mean, if there was something truly awful in there, the door would still be closed, right?”

  “Right,” said the twins, with only a slight hesitation.

  “So you’re with me, then?” said Mercury