by A. E. Rayne
It sounded as though all the trees in the forest were breaking, hooves pounding the earth, shaking it beneath their feet.
Eddeth’s eyes sprung open, and wheeling away from Alys, she disappeared into the darkness.
‘Eddeth!’
Another long call of a horn and Alys ran back to the servants. ‘Wake up! Quickly!’ She didn’t need to try and wake anyone up, though, everyone was already hurrying to their feet, huddling together, sleep-dazed and scared.
Stina stumbled towards her, hand out in the darkness. ‘What is it? What’s happening?’
‘I don’t know,’ Alys admitted, wondering where Eddeth had gone.
‘The Hunter is coming! The Hunter is coming!’ came a bellow.
And then the baying of dogs in the distance.
‘Move! Now! Into the trees!’ Alys ordered, dragging Stina towards her. ‘Go with them! Stay safe! I have to find Eddeth!’ And squeezing Stina’s hand, she took one last look at her friend before disappearing after Eddeth.
Eddeth was working hard, trying to calm Wilf as she dug a hand into her saddlebag. She had one more packet of flying powder tucked away somewhere, though perhaps Alys didn’t need to see anything at all? It appeared quite obvious was what coming. She could hear the hooves, the hounds, the rattling, creaking trees brushed aside like blades of grass as the forest opened itself to the hunt.
Alys tapped Eddeth on the shoulder, and she swung around, screaming, packet flying out of her hand. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I... wanted to see if you were alright!’ Alys called over the thunderous noise.
‘Well, not now!’ Eddeth called. ‘I’ve lost the powder!’
‘What?’ The noise became louder. It was impossible to hear. ‘Come on! We have to leave the horses! We have to clear everyone out of their path!’
And then screaming.
Alys and Eddeth left their horses behind, secure to the rope that ran between the trees, hurrying back to the camp as quickly as the snowy darkness would allow. There was a hint of moon occasionally as it popped its head above the swirling clouds; just enough to reveal the chaos unfolding before them.
‘Get back!’ Lief yelled, dark cloak nearly torn from his broad shoulders in the roaring wind. ‘Clear a path! Hurry!’ And sweeping his arms around, he pointed everyone into the trees.
There was no path to clear, or so it had seemed when they’d made camp, but now the trees were crashing in the distance.
A path was certainly being made.
The horn sounded again, and Hakon was there now, slumped between Njall and Rikkard. ‘What is it?’ he called to Lief.
‘My lord!’ Lief turned around in surprise. ‘Njall, take him into the trees! Hurry!’
Hooves sounded louder now, getting closer. Hounds barking viciously.
Ivan stumbled towards them, boots sinking into the snow, tripping often. ‘Hakon, come with me! Njall, help Lief!’ And taking over from Njall, he helped Rikkard guide Hakon into the trees. ‘Move! Move!’ The howls from those hounds rose the hairs on his arms, and Ivan stumbled again, biting his lip, head swivelling, trying to see what was coming.
Screams from somewhere. Thunder cracking overhead.
The earth vibrating beneath their feet.
Alys and Eddeth hurried back to Stina, Eddeth limping, having fallen over some snow-buried roots, tearing her trousers. Stina grabbed Eddeth’s arm to steady her. ‘What can we do?’
‘It’s the hunt!’ Eddeth cried, yelping. ‘There’s nothing we can do now!’
The dogs’ barking intensified. Bridles jangling.
Voices shrieked in warning, echoing all around them.
‘Move back!’ Ivan yelled, hands out, having left Hakon with Rikkard, wanting to guide more of their people to safety. He froze, mouth open, glimpsing The Hunter sitting astride his two-headed shadow horse, charging towards them, antlers rising out of his head like an enormous stag. He was as dark as a moonless night, eyes glowing like embers as he led his army of shadow spirits forward, tearing through the camp.
The story of the hunt was one of Alys’ favourites, and she thought of her grandfather and how much he’d liked to tell it. Though this was no story, and this was no dream, and Alys froze as The Hunter spurred his horse towards them.
The terrifying sounds blurred around her, Jonas’ voice rising out of the noise. ‘The Hunter comes for Thenor’s enemies, for the weak and corrupt, the feckless and disloyal. For those who have displeased the Father of the Gods himself. And if you’re unlucky to be caught by The Hunter in the dark depths of a forest, he will mark you with Thenor’s symbol. A powerful mark that will eat your soul. And if you do not redeem yourself, Alys, that mark will take your life! For The Hunter needs riders for his shadow army. Will you be one?’ Jonas’ voice was deep and gravelly as he leaned over, chuckling, kissing her goodnight.
Alys saw herself gripping his arm, wanting to know one thing before he left. ‘But how do you save yourself from The Hunter, Grandfather? How?’
But Jonas was gone, and Alys couldn’t remember his answer.
Hakon stumbled towards them, having batted away a fussing Rikkard, who’d remained hidden in the trees, frantic eyes seeking Eddeth. ‘What do we do?’
Njall was running towards Lief, who had bent down in the middle of the camp, helping one of the servants, who’d tripped into a buried fire pit, breaking her ankle.
And then he was gone.
Hakon blinked. ‘Njall!’ He saw the horses, the hounds, all of them as though they were shadows, bleeding into the darkness, just memories of shapes.
Teeth bared. Eyes blazing.
Guttural noises that tore strips of terror off them all.
And then blades, shining and scything through the bitter night air.
Lief threw himself into the snow, hand on the whimpering servant’s back, screams of panic echoing around him, horses thundering past, Njall’s headless body falling into the snow with an almighty thud beside him.
Alys turned, slamming her hand over Stina’s mouth, sensing that she was about to scream. She lifted a finger to her lips, and together they slipped away from the tents, moving further into the trees. Eddeth, watching them, put her own finger to her lips, urging the servants to follow them.
Hakon was unsteady on his feet, unable to move. There was no Njall, no Rikkard to support him. He couldn’t see Ivan anywhere.
He couldn’t move.
Dark horses and their shadow riders sped through the camp, blades swinging, hacking down any who stood in their way, scavenging hounds tearing the flesh of those who had fallen.
The Hunter blew his horn, spinning his horse around in a circle, eyes bright, searching the darkness. And dropping the horn, which hung from his neck, he unsheathed his long sabre, inlaid with symbols that glowed like stars, urging his horse forward. The hounds and horses flew by after their prey, The Hunter oblivious to it all, his own horse stepping through the snow almost delicately now, eyes on Hakon.
‘How do you know so much, Grandfather?’
Alys was eleven. They sat at their table, shelling peas.
‘Me? Oh, well I’m old, you see. The old know many things, though the young are usually too busy to ask.’
‘You’re not that old.’
Jonas smiled. ‘I’m old enough to know some things. Your grandmother taught me a lot. She was a wise woman.’
Alys peered at him, seeing the sadness lurking behind his smile. They didn’t talk about her grandmother. They didn’t talk about her mother either.
She knew that.
Dropping her head, she stared at the tiny green peas, glistening in their pod. And lifting it up, she scraped her finger under the peas, watching them slide into the bowl.
Jonas reached across the table, hand on her arm. ‘What use is knowledge if we never share it? That’s what Eida always said. Though some things make you unsafe. It’s better never to know about them. The darkness is not frightening if you don’t know what’s lurking in it...’
Frowning, Alys stared at him. ‘But what is lurking in it, Grandfather?’
The Hunter pointed his sabre at Hakon, his two-headed horse rearing up angrily; big teeth bared, flicking saliva, impatient to rejoin the shadow riders. The Hunter leaned forward, antlers towering above his head. ‘Soon!’ he bellowed, jerking the sabre at Hakon’s chest, beams of moonlight glinting from its sharp blade. ‘Soon!’ And yanking his horse away, he charged off into the night, thunder shaking the forest all around them.
Alys blinked, the stench of blood and death wafting towards her like smoke; screams ringing in her ears, loud now. She gripped Eddeth, who was hopping on one foot, glancing around, eyes on Stina.
They stood like that for a heartbeat, maybe more, and then Alys woke up, sensing a change. The terrifying noises had retreated; the rattling and howling and sounds of killing too. And squeezing Eddeth’s arm, she let her go. ‘We need to help the injured! We need fires. We have to see!’
Ivan ran up to them, sword drooping in his hand, mouth hanging open. He turned slowly towards Hakon, who leaned on a tree nearby, shivering uncontrollably. ‘Cousin?’
Hakon was stunned, and then quickly panicking. ‘We have to get to Slussfall. We need to be back in the fortress! Now!’
Ivan turned back to Alys. ‘I have to go. I have to... see who needs help. I have to... help Hakon.’ He thought of Njall, wondering what had happened to Rikkard.
And then Falla’s screams rang through the night as she ran towards her fallen husband, snow twirling gently now, sprinkling her dark hair. ‘Lief! Lief!’ Throwing herself onto his body, she tried to turn him over, relief surging through her as he groaned, eyes flickering open, rolling over himself.
His head was bleeding, having fallen onto the stones of the fire pit, knocking himself out. He blinked, confused for a moment, then, grabbing his wife, he held her to him. ‘What happened?’ Struggling back to his feet, Lief pulled Falla up with him, blood pouring from his head. He lifted a hand, wiping it away, eyes meeting Ivan’s.
Bodies littered the campsite.
Many of them headless.
‘The hunt.’ Ivan saw Njall, lying beside his giant head. He felt sick. ‘The hunt.’
Lief’s eyes went to Hakon, who was shouting now.
‘Double the men on the perimeter!’ Hakon called, his voice cracking. Coughing, he tried to clear his throat. ‘Jerrick!’ He was relieved to see him still alive. ‘Double the watch! We need to...’ Head swimming with terror, memories of The Hunter staring him down flashing before his eyes, he lost the ability to speak.
Ivan took charge. ‘We need to gather the men together! Bring the injured here. We’ll make fires!’
Alys ushered a hobbling servant towards the centre of the camp, and leaving her on a log, she turned back for Eddeth and Stina.
‘You need to help!’ Ivan’s head was swimming, too unsettled to feel any relief that it was over. ‘Help my men. Please!’
And nodding, the women moved past him, past the bodies of the headless, who were not in need of help, aiming for those who had been wounded by The Hunter and his shadow riders; chewed on by his hounds.
Eddeth slipped her hand through Alys’ arm. ‘The gods have taken up against him for sure.’
Alys swallowed. ‘And what will that mean for us?’
‘Nothing good,’ Eddeth warned. ‘Nothing good that I can think of.’
Sigurd felt ill. Ale and Ilene were no cure for heartbreak.
He rolled out of bed, looking for his trousers.
His and Tulia’s bed.
He shook his head, not wanting to see the shape of Ilene lying there.
He hated himself.
Wriggling on his trousers, he raced to grab his tunic, tugging it over his head. And with one, long, regretful glance back at Ilene, he eased open the door, slipping out into the corridor where Agnette was pacing up and down with Liara, trying to get her to sleep.
Sigurd blinked in surprise.
‘Running away?’ his cousin whispered with a weary smile. She wasn’t sure if she’d slept yet, but at least Bjarni was, she thought, listening to him snoring through the wall. ‘Running away from your own bed?’
Sigurd stood beneath a flaming sconce, not wanting to be seen, especially not by Agnette, who was far too insightful for her own good. He shrugged, moving away from her, towards the hall.
Agnette followed him.
‘Where are you going, Sigurd? It’s hours till dawn, I’d say.’
‘Going to check the wall. See what’s happening.’ He didn’t turn around, but then, sensing that his tired, baby-carrying cousin was still following him, he stopped. ‘Agnette, go back to bed. Please. Get some sleep.’
‘Oh, you don’t think I’d like to do that? But look at this little ball of trouble. Does she look tired to you?’ And she held the swaddled baby towards Sigurd, who stared at her.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ he mumbled, not wanting to think about babies. They all looked and sounded the same to him.
‘Well, she doesn’t, I promise, and the moment I put her down she’ll be bleating like Bolli’s goat, waking up the entire hall. And Gerda’s already going to be in a foul mood after you and Ilene, so I don’t want to make it worse.’
Sigurd’s head hurt, and Agnette’s words made him cringe with embarrassment. ‘Don’t remind me.’
‘No? You weren’t enjoying yourself, then? Sounded like you were having a wonderful time!’ Agnette jiggled Liara, smiling at her miserable cousin.
‘I don’t know what I was thinking. What I was doing.’ Sigurd’s shoulders slumped, and he flopped down onto a bench, sighing.
‘You were trying to feel better,’ Agnette smiled, sitting beside him. ‘Nothing wrong with that. You don’t think Tulia would have done the same?’
Sigurd leaned towards her. ‘I don’t want Ilene.’
‘I know.’
Tears came as he dropped his head to his hands, feeling desperately alone. ‘Fucking Torvig. If he wasn’t dead, if Alys hadn’t killed him...’ He lifted his head, rubbing his eyes, staring at Agnette. ‘You remember his father?’
‘Who could forget Tor Aleksen? Like father, like son, I suppose. He was a terrible man. Stellan never liked him.’
‘He was. No one ever spoke about him, though. After Stellan killed him, no one ever spoke about him again.’
‘Well, Reinar was betrothed to Elin. Torvig was his best friend. They felt sorry for them both, I suppose, orphaned as they were.’
Torvig and Elin’s father, Tor, had been a highly skilled warrior, fearless in battle, but an argumentative man, unable to hold his ale. Merciless and vengeful, he had maimed and killed more than one of Stellan’s men without cause. In the end, Stellan had been forced to kill him, and after his death, rumours had continued to swirl that Tor had even killed his own wife.
‘But didn’t anyone think that his blood ran thickly in his children’s veins? Or, at least, his son’s?’
‘He was a horrible man, I know, but Elin was always so lovely. Is so lovely,’ Agnette corrected herself with a yawn. ‘She takes after her mother, I’d say, not that we ever met the woman. But Torvig... he was definitely his father’s son in the end.’
‘I wish Tulia had killed him. She was only here because of me. It’s all my fault! And Amir. It’s all my fault, Agnette!’ Sigurd tried to rub away the tears before they fell from his eyes. He wanted to rub away the pain too, and the memory of what he’d done with Ilene.
Everything was broken. Ruined forever.
Nothing felt right without Tulia.
‘And you thought that wolf was t-t-terrifying!’ Eddeth spluttered, unable to stop her teeth chattering. They were standing in a tent, tending to the injured, and though its makeshift walls were shaking violently, it was almost keeping the worst of the weather at bay.
Though it was colder than ever.
Alys glared at Eddeth, and Stina froze, needle in hand, stitching Lief’s wound. He gripped the sides of a tree stump, trying not to wobbl
e, though the ground was uneven and the stump tilted occasionally, causing Stina to jab Lief in the head.
‘What wolf?’ he asked, wanting to take his mind off the pain. He felt impatient, exhausted, and desperate to find Falla. She had left the tent, unable to stand all the blood. He was worried about her and the baby. About how they were going to get back to Slussfall now.
‘We saw a wolf!’ Eddeth announced loudly. ‘On our travels, before you kidnapped us. Seemed to be following us, though it did not linger long.’ She tried to wake herself up, not wanting to ramble on, tangling them all up in an even bigger mess.
Stina was eager for Lief to be gone. He had such strange eyes: black and slightly twisted with scars. He didn’t smile, but he always appeared to be listening, and she wanted him far away from Eddeth before she said anything else. ‘Well, rather a wolf than what we saw out there. I’m not even sure I’m awake. Surely that was a nightmare?’ She smiled nervously at Lief, but he looked past her to Eddeth.
‘Do you have knowledge about these things, Eddeth?’
Eddeth looked excited to have been asked, but glimpsing the warning in Alys’ eyes, she tried to grab the reins of her enthusiasm. ‘I have... some, yes indeed. The Hunter!’ She pulled up a stool, wishing she was holding a cup of steaming elderflower tea in her numb hands. ‘He is sent by the gods. They have many willing servants, and The Hunter is but one.’
Lief remained silent, encouraging Eddeth to continue.
‘They say he belongs to Thenor. That he marks those doomed to die, those Thenor wants punished. He gives them a mark, and that mark is a promise of a miserable death to come.’
Lief shivered. If the gods had forsaken Hakon, they weren’t safe. The Hunter would come again. Or worse.
Was there worse?
Ivan hurried into the tent, eager to escape the wind. ‘The fires keep blowing out! It’s going to be impossible to get your hot water going, Eddeth.’
She looked disappointed. ‘Well, what else could we expect, cursed as we are!’
Ivan frowned, glancing at Lief, who was looking on with sharp eyes. ‘You think we’re cursed?’
