WEREWORLD: THE WEREBEAST

WEREWORLD: THE WEREBEAST

CHAPTER ONE

  Called to the wild, she answered, beating her way past low hanging branches and clawing through the thick, dense undergrowth towards a sound resonating within the silence, deeper than the night. Removing all of her clothes she fell naked to the ground where bathed in sweat and body trembling, she arched her back and bared her teeth before spreading wide her claws.

A kaleidoscope of scents and sounds assailed her wakened senses as on paws of silent velvet she stalked the shadows, hunger raging. And with the moon shining high out of a vast indigo starscape  casting a spell of shimmering twilight down through the leaves of the forest canapé, enchanted, the woodland all around her hushed as if in reverence, upon entrance of the werekind into its domain.

  In a clearing nearby, foraging amidst a bed of fallen leaves, a young doe lifted its head but turned too late as in an arc of streamlined grace a streak of black fur ripped through the darkness and leaping the distance between it and prey brought the creature down with an effortless precision. And before news of the fresh kill could carry on the warmth of the midsummer night’s breezes, scaling the nearest tree she hauled her prize to the sanctity of its branches where assured of her privacy, settled down to feed.

Another, not of her kin but of her kind, intoxicated by the aroma and with a hunger to match her own, followed his nose to the foot of the tree but without the means by which to climb could only circle vainly, salivating as the tear of flesh and the crunch of bone emanated from high above, tortuously beyond his reach. Then like manna from heaven, a cut, not prime but lean fell to be caught up in ravenous jaws almost before it hit the ground. With a backward glance the grateful beast disappeared into the undergrowth to, like his hidden benefactor also dine alone.

 

  The old man was feeling hot and cranky. The sun was too high in the sky and he had been riding for too long.

  “Slow down you great brute!” The horse, though only going at a slow canter duly obliged, gentling his pace with a quiet blink of his long lashed eyes. But the old man continued, unrelenting. “Anyone would think this was a race the way you’re tearing along, I said slow down!” At which the animal came to a sudden and complete halt.

  “Why you...” The old man clanked his heels against the horse’s ribs but to no avail. “Stubborn son of a donkey­ goat!” But the horse just snorted. “Alright, alright!” Out of breath, eyes raised to the sky, “Maybe you weren’t going that fast!” But the horse still would not budge. “OK,” finally conceding, “Just take it easy, I’m not getting any younger you know!” Only then, and in his own time did the horse deign to continue leaving the old man to mutter under his breath, “Stubborn... wilful... stupid...”

The last surviving members of the Keepers of the watch had been summoned together by the High Initiate to be told that, within their lifetime, the long awaited prophecy was about to come true.

“The Child is among us!” The gathered faithful, though only few in number raised their voices in high exultation at the news, their shouts echoing through the hollowed caverns, the location of which, having been guarded secretly by forebears and passed on from father to son, had not been visited since the last summoning three generations ago.

“Where? When? How?”  The questions came too fast, eagerly demanded by those who had known a life of patience and tolerance in preparation for their worthiness to receive these most long awaited tidings. The High Initiate quelled the surging rise in passion with a calming gesture, raising his arms so that the intricate coils of tattooed snakes were clearly visible to the muted congregation.

“From my diligent observance of the skies,” declining their acknowledgement of his efforts with a slight movement in the angle of his head, “It has been made known to me that on the horizon to the east, where the land meets the sky and the horsemen roam untethered, to the ringing of bells shall He descend to walk among us so that we may behold the countenance of His face.” Trembling at the reverence of his words, rapt in awe the devoted bowed their heads.

“But what does it mean?” The question came unbidden from one who voiced the thoughts of others: “How shall we know him, find him?” Fixing his eyes on the questions, holding each in his gaze he answered without a trace of intolerance.

“It is for each to interpret according to the role they are fated to play in His destiny, and to know by the devotion of their hearts which direction to take on the path.” And it was with these sanctifying words to sustain and guide them that the sole remainders of those in service to the Ancient Divinity set out in their quest for the lost child of the given prophecy. But after travelling far and wide with no clue or sign being made apparent, wearied by his duty, the old man began to question his faith and doubt the reason of his sanity.

It was then that his eyes found the faint outline of a building in the distance up ahead. Set alone amidst a beak wilderness of dry grass and barren wasteland, the sight was a welcome relief for eyes tired of searching the skies for a sign, the skyline for inspiration. The old man’s good spirits returned to him.

  “A cooked meal, maybe some oats for you and something to warm my belly, loosen these old bones. Well, what are you waiting for, directions? Get a move on!”

The couple who owned the building had been impelled to turn their home into a traveller’s inn for the regular trade of those en route to the trader’s fort, earning just enough to cover the expense of living under the protection of the ‘rogues’ as Rogalis’ men were called, the owner of the fort and of the livelihood of the people of the surrounding territories. So on that late afternoon, the innkeeper stood outside his establishment appraising the incoming traveller for the worthiness of his custom. Larger than a pony but smaller than a horse the animal was not of a breed he recognised but as he neared, the poor dress of the rider put him somewhere between beggar and alm seeking holy man causing the innkeeper to stand grim faced, arms across the barrel of his chest as they approached.

  “We don’t give charity here if that’s what you’re after!”

Not unused to the ways of the common world, the old man fumbled about in his shabby clothing and removed a small pouch. It resounded well when he shook it.

  “Ah well, that’s a different matter altogether!” And smiling broadly the innkeeper stepped forward to take hold of the reigns. The horse backed up sharply, nostrils flaring.

   “He’s ... highly strung,” apologising over the ears of the animal as if he couldn’t hear.

“There’s a clean stall in the stable, you can put him in there,” eying the animal curiously. The horse allowed himself to be coaxed by the pleading eyes of the old man as he clambered down and led him towards the inhospitable looking enclosure.

  “You’ve got to behave normally,” he hissed between his teeth, “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves,” before turning to smile anxiously at the innkeeper.

  “I know,” eying them both dubiously, “He’s highly strung.”

Inside, the inn was dark but warm and the large pot hanging over the hearth fire filled the room with a thick smell of meat and vegetables seasoned strongly enough to camouflage the quality of the meat and conceal the freshness of the vegetables. A dour faced woman appeared from a door behind the serving bar to walk across and wipe a small table in the corner with her apron.

  “Ale comes by the jug and you can have as much stew as you can eat.” The old man took the seat and nodded to her smiling but she turned away, returning with a frothing jug and a wooden mug. “You’ll have to wait for the stew,” this time he just nodded.

By the time she returned with a steaming bowl, he was sitting back in his chair mug in hand, already relaxed and at ease.

  “You’ll be wanting a room for the night?” She managed to lighten her tone in an attempt to appear pleasant.

  “Oh no, I won’t be staying that long,” but the thought of a warm bed after a good meal already began to appeal. The woman poured more ale form the jug.

  “I’ll leave you to think about it then,” and turned to go stand and watch the door with her husband.

  “They should’ve been here by now.”

  “Maybe they’re not coming.” But the old man heard no more as he noisily consumed the sumptuous fare relishing every bite, and after draining the contents of his mug, welcomed the offer of a helping hand to a door to the side.

  “Well maybe for a little while,” he slurred and stumbling across the small room, collapsed into the straw bed and fell promptly to sleep. When he woke some time later he was still feeling groggy and was nagged by the vague recollection that he’d forgotten something.

  “The oats, I’ll never hear the end of it!” He mumbled to himself and scrambled unsteadily to the door. He was surprised to find that the place had filled out; all the tables were occupied and there were a few men at the bar, laughing and drinking. Both the innkeeper and his wife were busy and his gestures for attention went unnoticed. As he got closer he noticed that two men, similarly dressed seemed able to monopolize the innkeeper’s time, then one grabbed him by his arm and whispered threateningly. Those who had noticed behaved as if they didn’t and the old man did the same. Then another appeared at the door motioning for the other two men to come outside. The old man finally got the innkeeper’s wife to notice him by waving his coin purse under her nose. She insisted he pay for the full night’s rate for the room even though he had only spent a few hours in it, but he was unwilling to haggle, beginning to have a bad feeling about the place. The oats would have to wait. He handed over a few coins and wound his way past the other patrons to the door.

It was already dark outside and his feeling of unease grew as he noticed the three uniformed men standing at the entrance to the stable. As he got nearer he realised that they were attempting to throw a noose around the horse’s neck.

  “Get away from him!” the old man shouted in a tone he soon regretted as the men turned, dangerously. One of the men stepped forward and the old man willed himself not to take a step back.

  “The animal is yours? He inquired coolly. The other two glanced at each other but stayed back. The old man felt his knees begin to buckle but found his voice.

“Y...Yes.” The uniformed man took another step closer.

  “You seem unsure.” Fixing his eyes on the old man whose own gaze flitted between him and the others.

  “No, I’m sure,” squaring his shoulders, “The horse belongs to me.” The man glanced back at the others who smiled.

  “Then you’re the man to talk to, we’ll buy him off you, smiling, though his eyes had the same fixed stare.

  “He’s not for sale.” The old man returned the stare but wavered as the other man’s smile broadened. The old man looked back at the door to the inn but it was still closed and he was alone.

“Then maybe we can negotiate,” and before the old man could refuse, he saw, then felt the force of the man’s forearm against his throat and then the ground rushing towards him.

  “See if he has any money,” was the last thing he heard before blacking out. Waking again and finding himself in the same small room he hoped that it had all been just a bad dream but the innkeeper’s wife was sitting on a chair by the door with an intense look of curiosity on her face. He touched at his throat finding it difficult to speak.

  “The Ravan, where....?

  “You were talking in your sleep, delirious, but I’m glad to see that you’re better now. You’ve paid for the night’s room so....”

  “Damn you woman! I asked you about the horse, where....” The innkeeper’s wife took offense at his tone and stood up.

  “You’re lucky that’s all they took, just be grateful that you’re still alive,” turning to the door.

  “But you don’t understand!” Helplessly, “It’s important that I...” But her husband was calling to her.

  “Must be some more travellers, it’s been a busy night tonight,” then over her shoulder, not too unkindly, “You just rest up, you’ll feel better in the morning,” and left the room closing the door behind her.

Three small hooded men were seated at the table nearest the door and the customers who had arrived earlier had all bedded down for the night so the place was otherwise empty. The innkeeper stood behind the bar watching the strange men carefully as his wife approached them.

  “What’ll it be? There’s not much left in the pot and I’ll probably have to warm it back up again...”

  “We have no need of your food,” said one but with a slight incline of his head one of the others silenced him.

  “Good woman,” his features barely distinguishable beneath the deep recesses of the hood, “We are searching for a ...friend and we have reason to believe that he might have come through this way.” She glanced over at her husband.

  “We offer food, drink and lodging here, anything else...” Coins rained down onto the table from a deft movement of the speaker’s hand. The innkeeper quickly came over from behind the bar.

  “And what does your friend look like?”

  “You will know him by his horse, small, finely boned.” The innkeeper and his wife’s reaction was enough to tell him that no further description was necessary.

  “He was here but he left,” the woman answered too quickly. Her husband glanced over at her.

  “And would you know where he was going?” More coins fell. This time the innkeeper answered.

  “The fort, the trader’s fort, run by a man by the name of...”

  “Rogalis, yes, I know of him,” and getting up to go almost in unison they filed out through the door without another word. Husband looked at wife.

  “We owe him nothing, for all we know he might have stolen the horse.” His wife collected the coins from the table making a silent calculation.

  “That’s as may be, but he did seek shelter under our roof, business or no. And anyway,” putting the money into a fold of her skirt, “I didn’t like the way they... smelt.” The innkeeper looked with consternation at his wife then at the door before hurriedly going over to bolt it. But when the innkeeper’s wife went back to the small room she found it empty. Walking over to the opened window she looked out at the darkness. She narrowed her eyes but still could see nothing and was glad of it. Closing the window she barred the shutters and wiping her hands on her apron went back to join her husband.

  “Well?” he asked, his face anxious. She smiled reassuring him.

  “Put the kettle on Love,” and he smiled back at her.

  “Forgive me, forgive me!” hands clasped together, the old man wandered in the darkness not knowing where he was or was going, but away, he had to get away. He had intended to speak to the woman, convince her of the severity of the situation but as he opened the door, he had seen the three strangers and froze. He had made a fatal mistake doubting the true nature of his quest and jeopardizing what so many had lived their lives in service of. “Forgive me, forgive me,” hopeless now, he ran blindly stumbling through the night knowing that his fate was sealed, retribution imminent. He could hear them now, and they were getting closer. “Holy Divinity!” He ran and fell and would’ve cried if he could remember how. And then they surrounded him, only one had not assumed the form. The old man cowered, covering his head with his arms.

  “Do not be afraid, you know that it’s not you that we want.” His tone had an almost calming effect, but the old man felt the circling movement of the other two and knew that there would be no escape. “Give us his location, you know that we will find out anyway, it’s just a matter of time.” The finality and sureness of his voice weakened the already crumpled spirit of the old man but he was firm.
  “Even if I did know, I would do everything in my power to...” The small hooded man chuckled lightly to himself.

  “And what power do you have old man? Your best days are behind you and all those years of waiting have come to what, this? You’re life has become forfeit in a game that you were never told all the rules.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” the old man, resigned to his fate got to his knees and bowed his head.

  “Oh but it does,” and motioned to the moving creatures to close in. “Or did you think that we could be so easily fooled?” He smiled as the old man’s cry of resistance was swallowed up in the frenzied attack that left him bloody and unrecognisable as ever have been human. The small dark man stepped back from the mutilation. “Watch it!” as the two creatures skulked around the mess as if admiring their handiwork. “Now let’s see if we can find that horse shall we?” The creatures came to him as to a master, “And get some real answers,” And patting them gently stepped around what looked like part of a dismembered limb.

 

  “Adeius... Adeius, wake up.” The voice came gently and from far away.

  “What is it?” After realising that was indeed his name.

  “It is time.”

  “For what?”

  “Your becoming.”

  Trying to fathom what was meant, “What should I do?”

  “Forget... for now,” drifting, distant, and he woke on the mountainside as if from a dream with the goats all around him bleating wildly.

 

CHAPTER TWO

  Kiera shifted uncomfortably in her sleep and fell, grabbing handfuls of air before waking on impact, hitting the ground with a soft thud.

  “Ouch!” Bruised but unbroken she rubbed at her sore limbs. In a moment’s disorientation she panicked at the taste of blood on her lips but realising that it was not her own breathed a sigh of relief. She was cold and knew that it would be a while before she remembered where she had left her clothes.

The sun had not yet broken through the trees but there was enough light for her to examine her surroundings and see that she had no idea where she was. She could hear the sound of running water coming from beyond the clearing and plucking bits of twig and bone from her dark mess of curls she stepped beneath the low hanging boughs heading in that general direction, anxious to wash away the scent of the night from her skin and the sleep from her eyes. The forest floor was soft and grassy, wet with dew, and tiptoeing lightly towards the sloping bank of a winding stream she waded in, tentatively at first then willing herself to take the plunge. Immediately regretting it, she clenched her teeth as the sudden rush of invading cold almost took her breath away. But succumbing to its tingling caress, she allowed the weightlessness of a drifting tide to carry her further down the stream where it widened and deepened, and closing her eyes lay back, lulled by the ebb and flow against her thigh until the birdsong hailed the sunrise. Then a twig snap broke her reverie.

She wheeled around, twisting her body, forcing it vertical. Two men were standing on the opposite bank watching her and smiling. Berating herself for being so easily caught off guard, but still managing to direct enough venom across the surface of the water in a look of utter contempt, she clenched her fists treading water furiously.

“Hey, no, we didn’t mean any harm!” One of the men still smiling stepped forward good naturedly. “You see, me and my friend here,” indicating to the other man who was watching her intently, “We made a bet, and were wondering if you could settle it for us.” Kiera looked around for an escape.

“No wait, you see, I said...” Not waiting to hear the rest, she ducked her head beneath the surface of the water and swam back to her side of the bank, emerging through a cluster of reeds to make a dash for the trees.

“Damn! She’s getting away, after her quick or we’ll lose her!” The two men gave chase, splashing through the water further downstream where it was narrower, scrambling up the bank to follow, darting left and right between the trees catching a glimpse, “Through here!” and “Over there!” They tracked the fleeting image deeper into the forest until suddenly they realised that they had lost the trail and with it, themselves.

“Hold on,” sucking in great gulps of air in an effort to at least catch his breath.  “Which way now?” The other man shrugged.

“I dunno, I was following you!” They both looked around as the shadows began to close in and the forest became deathly quiet.

“D’you hear that?” Wide eyed, his voice barely a whisper.

“No,” after listening intently, “I can’t hear a thing,” adamantly.

“Exactly!” making his point, then a low noise came from the bushes up ahead. Both men froze and looked at each other, their faces mirroring the other’s wide eyed stare.

“Did you hear that?” But not waiting to hear the answer, falling over themselves and each other they ran as fast and as far away from the unknown threat as was physically possible.

 

Pegas had always been too big. Too big for his shoes, too big for his clothes even for his mother’s womb and he got the feeling from his grandmother that that had been his fault too, though she never said, not in so many words, but she had enough to say about his father, none of it good but what she seemed to reserve most of her hatred was for horses. Pegas loved horses, he could think of nothing in the world more beautiful or refined ever since he could remember, but his grandmother would have nothing to do with them. So Pegas, as soon as he was big enough, which was sooner than most, took over the heavy work on his grandmother’s small farm. He could pull the heavy plough by the time of his twelfth year and at fifteen haul great bales of hay all day without complaint and when his grandmother died soon after he cried, having known no other as family. And all alone in the world and free to seek his own path, came to live amongst a community of men that he had once heard of, a brotherhood of monks who were said to reside in a valley overrun with the magnificent creatures and who were known by association as the ‘horsemen’.

Pegas had been with them for more than a year now, his natural affinity with the animals as well as his great strength and dutiful nature made him a welcome addition to the small community of mostly middle aged and older men who for one reason or another chose to live a life of quiet solitude, away from the harsh realities of the common existence to study and contemplate within the peaceful reserve of the valley, to meditate. But Pegas was only there for the horses. And he put up with the restrictive rules and punitive regulations with good humour, for it meant that he could ride, tend to and be near the beloved animals. There were times though, when he grew restless, more and more wanting to explore new horizons, roam new territories, but...

“But Brother Elder, I...” Too large for the door frame, the novice had to lower his head and turn his body at an angle to stand meekly under the ceiling of the senior monk’s study, with barely an inch between it and his head. Though diminutive in comparison, the Brother Elder imposed enough of a presence to silence the young giant with a look of stern disapproval.

“You are not yet advanced enough in your training to be able to represent our order in such a place, maybe next year...” Pegas nodded his head in compliance with the Brother Elder’s decision but his shoulders drooped a little. They both heard the shuffling steps nearing the other side of the door and ignoring the usual protocol of knocking and waiting to be acknowledged, a grey bearded monk rushed in out of breath with concern filling his eyes.

“Forgive me Brother Elder, but it’s Brother Thomas, he’s hurt, his leg...” The Brother Elder’s eyes turned abruptly to stare at the young novice. His head was still bowed.

“Well it looks like you’ll be accompanying Brother Sirius after all,” knowing that no other monk would be willing to take the journey or was good enough with the horses to keep them calm and under control on the drive. He swept past the novice to see to the injured monk before Pegas had the chance to exhibit any signs of unseemly excitement in the wake of such timely misfortune. And hardly able to contain himself Pegas rushed out to find Brother Sirius to inform him of the change in plans, until he found him in the stables packing a small bag.

“Brother Sirius!” The young giant’s bounding entrance into what had been the quiet calm of the older monk’s contemplative preparation for the journey was met with a demonishing glare.

“What is it, and where is Brother Thomas? He should have been here...”

“That’s what I came to tell you, he’s hurt his leg and the Brother Elder said that I was to go with you...” stopping to see if he had left something out. Brother Sirius looked at the young novice dubiously.

“You must have understood incorrectly, the Brother Elder would never have entrusted such a duty to a novice,” turning dismissively to resume his task. Pegas stood there frowning, not knowing what to do, his soft brown eyes clouding in confusion. He was still thinking of an appropriate response when the older monk realised that he was still there.

“Well?” he demanded, turning impatiently. Pegas replied with the only measure of humility afforded to one of his station.

“It is not for me to question the Brother Elder’s decision,” he said quietly, lowering his eyes. Brother Sirius searched the novice’s demeanour for the slightest hint of defiance but finding no trace of it was given no choice other than to assume that their esteemed leader had, and not for the first time shown an error in judgement regarding the suitability of the overgrown boy to the life but accepted that he would have to concede to the will of the most senior monk, that was, he reminded himself, while he still held that position... Brother Sirius cleared his throat.

“Well, don’t just stand there, there’s been too much time wasted as it is!” watching the novice jump at his word with something of an emotion akin to pleasure. The boy was obviously a simpleton, unknowing of the ways of the world and as big as he was, at least he had the sense to know to bow to the superior knowledge and understanding of those better at the complications of spiritual wisdom. Unlike... the people of the village that Sirius had hailed from who had not known how to respect a man of his worth within their midsts and in their ignorance had shunned his efforts to guide and instruct them on how to better live their lives. At least here, amongst the brotherhood of monks, a man was not judged by his physical prowess or his ability to support a nagging wife and howling brats by the sweat of his brow or any number of the petty indignities that went along with living amongst the common crowd. Here, he had dignity and standing, and as one of the longer serving monks he was in the privileged position of being called upon to instruct the newer members of the order and sometimes at great length on the joys of abstinence and the purity of self denial, and it was as part of his own reaffirmation that he would return again and again to the vice ridden practices that were a regular occurrence at the fort, not only to exercise  his disgust at their indecency but to show by example the standard of behaviour he had attained and how it far exceeded their own.

He watched as the broad shouldered young giant pulled the heavy wagon out into the courtyard before harnessing the horse to it. The boy’s sheer physicality sickened him. In an animal brute strength was acceptable, even admirable but in a man? It was grotesque. He saddled his own horse and attached the guiding rope to the wagon horse as Pegas bounded off to spring lightly up on to the herd leader, a pale grey that Pegas had trained himself. He might as well have been born astride one of the four legged beasts, so at ease was he aboard them, with or without the saddle. And they in turn had an uncanny fondness for the overgrown brute, responding to his word, touch, even presence as if he were one of their own and the show of affinity repulsed the older monk. Pegas took to the trail, the other twenty or so horses in tow, riding free of his hands. Brother Sirius pulled a face, absently shaking his head.

“How many times has that boy been told,” turning his own mount to follow, “Use a saddle!” he shouted after him but his words were deafened by the tide of horses hooves, come, a racing down the valley.

 

CHAPTER THREE

The little girl was poking a stick at the bushes.

“What’re you doing there?” asked her mother, thinking that it was some kind of game.

“There’s someone in there, the little girl replied pointing with a finger and her mother hurtled towards her child, grabbing her up and backing away.

“Come away from it!”There was something in there, she could see it moving and holding the wriggling child in a double armed restraint called to the men over her shoulder. Quick, get over here, there’s something in the bushes!” A boy of fourteen and his grandfather were the closest and taking the stick from the little girl’s hand the boy inched forward with his grandfather a step behind administering instructions.

“Careful there lad,” as others began to take notice, grabbing whatever came to hand. The boy edged forward carefully, probing, until wide eyed he turned and exclaimed, “It’s a girl, and she’s naked!” The men rushed forward but the women got there first.

“Get back, let me see,” taking the stick from the boy who had to be forcibly dragged away. A matronly face leaned over the hedge to find that it was a girl huddled like a cornered rabbit amongst the thorns.  “It’s alright dear,” she said gently and removing her shawl offered it to the girl and turning, “Send the men a way and find a blanket!” A blanket was found and with the men at a safe distance the girl was coaxed out of her hiding place to be surrounded by the concerned faces of women.

“Where are your clothes dear?” Kiera looked around at the intense stares.

“There were two men...” she faultered, lowering her eyes. The women understood, needing to hear no more, for now.

“Men!” one said sharply and narrowing their eyes they all turned to glare at theirs who at that moment were surrounding the boy whose status had suddenly undergone a radical upgrade, plying him for a detailed description.

“Which one of them...” Kiera looked over at the men.

“No, it wasn’t any of them, they were dressed, differently.”

“The rogues,” someone surmised and the women’s expressions changed.

“Come sit with us,” a young mother holding a baby smiled at her shyly. A small child clinging to her leg piped up.

“Did the bad men take her clothes mummy?”

“Shh!” smiling apologetically for the child who still wanted to know.

“Why?” innocently.

“Hush now, and go and play with your brothers, but Kiera looked at the child and smiled and the women were relieved: she wasn’t taking it too badly after all then.

Sitting in a circle on the soft grass, the women returned to their tasks of sewing, wiping, scolding and cooing as their children milled around them, skipping, tripping and complaining, with the men back to their pastimes of sharpening honing, discussing and stealing glances, excluded from what the women were saying.

“Do you have a family, a husband?” while separating two toddlers at each others’ throats. The girl was striking. Even with hair unkempt and dressed in a blanket, she managed to carry herself with a refinement and grace that no other woman there could hope to attain, and with deep green eyes set against skin of a flawless honey gold, if it wasn’t for the helplessness of her predicament it would be easy to feel inclined towards something close to jealousy. One of the men ventured near to take an uncommon interest in the welfare of his child before being impatiently shooed away.

“No, I am alone,” she answered quietly.

“A young girl travelling alone without escort, no wonder...” but stopped herself as sharp eyes turned.

“I lost my family as a child and am not ready to take a husband,” and getting to her feet, “I thank you for your kind hospitality and the loan of the blanket, and I promise to return it when I find my...”

“Now look what you’ve done! Don’t be silly child, it isn’t safe out there alone, you’re staying with us, we don’t have much but what we do have, you’re welcome to share,” and to the surprise of every woman there she sat back down again blinking away real tears.

“Mummy, why is she...?”

“Hush dear, and be a good girl and fetch me a cloth for the baby.”

 

CHAPTER FOUR

“Keep them in line there, we don’t want any of them going astray!” Brother Sirius was well suited to the task. Of all the monks of the brotherhood he cared least for the animals which for Pegas were the finest and noblest of all creatures. And rather than lamenting their loss, he seemed eager for their sale and though the provisions bartered in exchange were necessary, he had no qualms in accepting that the fate of the gentle creatures, chained to the plough or cart, or worse still, traded to the rogues who had little enough care for the people let alone animals was not only appropriate but commendable.

They had been on the road since early that morning and though not yet dark, the sun had already made its way across most of the sky before they reached sight of the high walls of the trading fort. Poles of sharpened timber driven into the ground with hardly a space between them circled the rim of a large mound of raised earth. As they approached, Brother Sirius raised his cowl over his head and motioned for the younger monk to do the same.

“And remember, I’ll do all the talking, just stay back and follow my lead.”

Guiding the horses up the shallow incline they were waved through the high, heavy gates by the guard and admitted into the realms of the stronghold of Rogalis.

It was larger than it seemed from the outside but what struck Pegas the most was the noise and strange mixture of smells but remembering that for the horses, the unnatural environment was even stranger still, he endeavoured to keep his emotions under check; the pale grey that he was riding would sense his disquiet and he relied on him to keep the others calm. Brother Sirius led the way, guiding the horse pulling the wagon past the barracks and training ground and forgetting to keep his head angled at a discrete distance to the ground, Pegas stared open mouthed. Brother Sirius turned and he hurriedly lowered his head, but still could see stock set up on carts, produce like grain and corn stacked up in rows in barns, doors opened wide. Trinkets on an overturned box, a shoe mender on a stool in a back turned cart, and the rogues horses lined up beneath a roofed aisle. Pegas noticed that their water trough was running low. Without thinking, he jumped down from his horse and found a bucket to pour water into it from a large container. Only when it was filled to his satisfaction did he turn to find eyes were upon him. His cowl had fallen back revealing a mane of light blond hair lied loosely at the back in a long pony tail. Brother Sirius was looking over his shoulder. Pegas repositioned his cowl before returning to his mount.

“He’s a big’un!”

“Light on his feet though, look at the size of ‘im!”

“What’re you feeding ‘em on out there Brother?”

“Same as the horses I shouldn’t wonder!”

Buyers and traders alike poked fun and jeered but let them on their way, but Pegas was astonished: that Brother Sirius would allow them to talk to him like that, he was a senior brother! But the rules of non retaliation that marked them as peaceful men reminded the novice that years of training made a senior monk oblivious to such jibes. Pegas didn’t find solace in the words of their doctrine, ‘Forgive the barbarity of the common man and be cleansed of his impurities’, but he could see the hard lines and heavy brows of a struggled for living and this was just their way.

“Peasants!” muttered Brother Sirius under his breath and leading the way through to the trading square held his head high enough to look down on them.

A crowd already formed from the previous sale of livestock turned to watch as the horses were led into the selling ring and Pegas, acutely aware of their stares and pointed fingers concentrated on settling the horses as they circled around. They had indeed been trained well. Unruffled by the clamour, responding to the strong and soothing words of assurance, they stood as directed or walked in parade, showing themselves to be the equal of their renown.

There had once been a time when roaming wild in the valley, they had been chased down, and thought untameable, cruelly spirit whipped to breaking point and beyond to serve as beasts of burden for as long a time as their backs could hold out, or their legs could stay strong, unsplintered from the strain. It was for this reason that the brothers chose to hand rear them, part with them in this way so they could be handleable by even the most horse ignorant. It made for a better fate for most but there would be always those that would be treated with less than indifference, or cruelly spurred or whipped.

But Pegas drove that thought to the back of his mind as the horses where being taken one by one by bidding hands, until a wave of nausea overtook him. Hand over mouth and half stumbling away, he found his way behind one of the barns and released the contents of his stomach. His head was spinning. The crowding noises and smells: he would be happy now to return to the clean air of the valley, the quiet solitude of the order and realised that it was of this that the Brother Elder had been trying to protect him from. He resolved to apply himself more diligently to the wiser council of his elders and feeling better, straightened up and turned to go back to face Brother Sirius’s certain condemnation of his inappropriate departure. And then he felt, then heard a sound, uncannily familiar, foreign yet recognisable alerting him to another direction. He turned one corner then another, and heard, felt it again this time louder, more distinct. It was coming from behind the locked door of a stable and wondering why his heart was beating so fast against his chest, leaned his shoulder against the door until it gave way.

There was no light coming in through the closed shutters but with the door ajar, a shaft of the sun’s rays crossed the carpet of straw to a stall in the far corner from where the sound was coming, along with a dark, nervous movement.

Pegas lifted back his cowl and stepped quietly forward. As his eyes became accustomed to the meagre light, he could see the form, but there was something else, that strange affinity, this time stronger. Then into the light, noble, graceful, a pure black stallion stepped forward. Stunned by the wild beauty of its bearing and manner, Pegas hardly dared to draw a breath. That a rare animal such as this could be locked away, hidden; he reached out, but as the animal took a step towards him, something tugged, holding him back and yet again, the same cry came plaintively. He was tethered to the stall, not only by the neck, but also at the leg and in pained empathy Pegas reached out to untie him. The horse backed away sharply.

“What’s going on in here?” Lifting back up his cowl, Pegas turned. A uniformed man was standing in the open doorway.

“A horse should not be tied up like this,” in even, measured tones.

“That is no concern of yours, no one’s allowed in here.” Folding his arms in his sleeves, Pegas looked back at the dark shape in the corner making a silent promise before lowering his head to pass through the doorway, impelling the dwarfed guard to stand aside.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

Pegas had tried hard to get Brother Sirius to understand.

“But you didn’t see him, he was...” They were in one of the rooms of the lodging house across from the drinking house and the bawdy shouts and laughter were offending the older brother’s ears and his patience held no more.

“It was a mistake allowing you to come.” Pegas withdrew from his eagerness to be understood, looking down. “We can only protect them in the valley, train them so that they are easier to handle, we have no say after that.” Brother Sirius’s tone softened, more because he was tired than that the novice seemed to be having a hard time accepting the reality of the situation. “You’ll have to learn to become less attached,” yawning as he lay down on the bed nearest the door. “You will, in time,” closing his eyes. The noise from the drinking house subsided for a while but then returned, louder, with shrieks and howls. “They’re just like animals!” he almost spat before turning over. “Close the shutters and out the flame, we have an early rise at dawn,” and was soon gently snoring.

Pegas closed the shutters and outed the flame before checking that the monk was deeply enough asleep and quietly tiptoeing to the door. Taking one last look back he opened the door to a wide enough crack before lowering his head through the frame and closing the door gently behind him. He kept to the shadows and for a moment, lost in the darkness, he couldn’t remember which direction he should go. But then he sensed it, and with an emboldened determination remembered the promise he made, forced a feeling of calm and after a few wrong turnings found his way back to the stable. There was a uniformed guard stationed outside the door. He hadn’t expected that. But he couldn’t turn back. The man had his back towards him and before he could think too long or hard on what he was about to do, Pegas was creeping up behind the unsuspecting guard and though having never raised a fist in anger or for any other reason, punched him squarely on the head. The man fell like a stone. Alarmed, Pegas checked to see if he was still breathing, and relieved that he was leaned him up against a sack of grain just inside the door and stood to listen. At first he could only hear the sound of his own breath and the distant sounds of the revellers on the other side of the fort. And then, out of the shadows, the horse moved forward slowly. His breathing was short and his coat foaming, patchy with sweat. Pegas took a second before hastening to untie the ropes and when he did, the horse backed away.

“You’re going to have to trust me,” Pegas whispered softly but the animal still stayed back, half hidden in the darkness. Maybe it was really ill, and the thought made Pegas feel unwell too: that same sense of nausea that he had experienced earlier on that day. His stomach was empty but he still retched and his head began to feel light; his legs weakened beneath him and he went to the floor. There was a mist clouding in front of his eyes changing the colours... into something else. And then the mist changed the shapes too or maybe it just seemed too... His nose touched at the ground and flicking his tail wondered just for a moment how he learned to do that, and feeling how much better it was without clothes, whinnied.

From the corner, the crouching man stumbled to his feet, pulling his arms away from the floor and his long black mane of hair back away from his eyes. The mist was clearing, a little. He could see the white horse in front of him and knew. The clothes were a good fit, though a little short and snug around the fullest circumference of his upper arms and biceps, but it would have to do. He looked around and saw a man apparently asleep by the door:  he would have to be quiet. He made his way unsteadily across the strewn hay on the floor which muffled his uneven footfalls before bowing his head low enough to fit through the doorway. The horse stayed inside. The big man half turned leaning on the frame. The horse was waiting. The big man took a deep breath before straightening up. The mist had all but cleared from his dark long lashed eyes and the part of him that still retained the remnants of his pre lived form reached out to his kin. The horse came willingly to his hand.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said in soft, rich tones, looking round as he climbed onto the animal’s back, and seeming to, the horse headed towards the guard at the gate. The rider pulled the cowl over his head and lowered it. They were waved through without question and when they were clear, feeling the horse’s muscles tense, the rider weaved his fingers through the flowing mane and squeezed in his knees as, choosing his own path, his horse kin ran into the night’s wind.

 

CHAPTER SIX

“Adeius.” But this time he wasn’t asleep, neither had he need to look around to wonder where the voice was coming from.

“I hear you.”

“It is time.”

Understanding now, he made his way down from the mountain, and the bells that were hung loosely around the necks of the goats as they milled around him, chimed.

 

Nosing around the freshly dug earth, it checked to make sure that nothing was left uncovered and only when completely satisfied did it turn with careless abandonment to lope away off in through the green foliage.

Scent trails were irresistibly made to be followed but led to something prickly or foul, but worth the chasing anyway; scent marks were sniffed at or ignored and burrows pawed at, while noises tickled from every direction. And then there was something in the air, an odour, fainter than most could even detect or recognise as one, but then distracted by a rising flight or an itch that felt too good scratching to put off, or a fluttering creature, too helpless to eat or too weak to play at being chased and caught... and there it was again, nagging to be followed, something... and then nothing could dissuade from its pursuit. Pulled along now, led by the nose it flung past, through and over obstacle, minor and major as the light grew dim and the world rushed past, ringing in its ears. And then it stopped, tongue loosely hanging, ears up, tail low. It sniffed around the tree stump and the dented trail to the broken walls and fallen door. It sniffed around the moss covered floor and in the corners; around the objects littered, scattered, lilting, leaning. It looked up at the branches as they parted the roof to the light shining up in the sky and lifting its head back, howled at the moon until his voice broke to a cry.

 

Kiera had had to get away. With their kind meaning words and their communal cosiness she had felt stifled. After leaving them sleeping, she made her way back into the forest to where her clothes were where she had left them, high in the nook of a curiously shaped tree. She knew they would wonder, even worry where she’d gone... but would not let such concerns cloud her vision. Since very young she had never stayed in one place for too long, maybe years, sometimes months or even only weeks, accepting the hospitality of those who took pity on her and paying back with a helping hand or a hard day’s work or caring companionship. Having been foster daughter to an aging couple, mother’s helper, kitchen girl or farm hand, she always moved on before ties were made or bonds formed, in search of something that she had never been able to find, that she had left far behind, lost to too many years... Her thoughts then drifted back to as far as she could remember, or chose to, to running away in the middle f the night with her mother, face forgotten now, calling to her, then the screams... but were they her own? Maybe she was running still, with nowhere left to go back to...

She covered herself in the blanket and lay back against the lean of a tree, smiling to herself at the children’s games of laughter, the women’s movements as they sat, talked, tended to; and the men of these women, young and old, all together, with each other and she found herself drifting to another place, another time, long ago when these same thing were so strong in memory; when she was small and hands and arms were big around her and she knew all was safe and good and right in the world. Her needs were met just for the asking and the games played: hiding for her mother to come and seek and remembering the last time...

“Go, run hide, and whatever happens, don’t look back, don’t look back...” But it wasn’t a game and she had tried to protest but her mother’s voice was stern. “Run Kiera, run!” And she ran, further than she ever had before, falling, hurting, and with no strong arms to hold her, picking herself up and running again, as the screams, the screaming... She woke with a start all alone in the cold dark of the forest.

“It was just a dream, a bad dream,” she told herself, having dreamt it enough times throughout her life to know. And then remembering that she had to return the blanket, went back and with that sole intention in mind, to the warmth of the bodies of the people who had taken her in.

 

He was running, no, it was the horse beneath him, with hooves beating as steady a rhythm as his own heart, but there were two heart beats... The mist had all but cleared from his eyes but his mind was still unready yet to form the questions, though the answers he instinctively knew as he knew by the nature of his rescue and rescuer that their fates were sealing, and though his limbs ached at every joint so long held against the turning, bound by the link peculiar to their kind, horse and rider met the dawn in the manner of their ancestry paired as one.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

The fort was his. It was he who had turned the floundering community of farmers and land settlers, wandering tinkers and skilled craftsmen, musicians, tailors, healers and shoemakers; all those whose talents could be profited from into a thriving township where life of relative ease and comfort segregated the inhabitants from the vagaries of the world outside. Others with less specific talents could find work on the farms or the fields under specially appointed managers, receiving a portion of the fruits of their labour, while the greater part, the cream of the crop went to Rogalis’ select redistribution: guards who patrolled and collected taxes from the surrounding territories had to be paid and fed to facilitate the smooth running of such an extensive organisation; there would always be those who thought to stand in the way of progress or those whose resistance undermined his wave of reform. Those who could not be dealt with by reason or reward were bribed or by force of action shown the cost of their error in judgement. And those who dared incompetence...

“Captain! Captain!” Loud knocking jolted Rogalis out of his slumbering self satisfaction and he swore, raising himself heavily from his bedding and across the well furnished room to the door.

“This had better be good!” opening the door before it could be banged again.

“The horse, it’s gone!” and before the guard could elaborate Rogalis closed the door on the agitation. It was too early in the morning. He sat back on the bed rubbing his head sourly. Being able to drink every man under the table had its price but he sobered up when the full impact of what the man had said hit him. He dressed himself in his specially commissioned uniform, one befitting a man of his rank and stature and went outside ready to vent his anger on whosoever was foolish enough to get in his way.

Hands clasped behind his back, Captain Rogalis walked down the line of men summoned to him daring each to meet his gaze, and holding it before willing their eyes to fall.

“Somehow,” looking them up and down, “With all of you at your posts, well paid and well fed by the citizens of this fortress to guard them from theft and intrusion, someone managed to remove from your watchful protection and take unnoticed, as large an object as a horse right from under your noses.” He paused weightily. “Which one of you is responsible?” None dared reply, step forward or look up, each holding their breath for what was coming next.

“All of you!” Rogalis boomed, thundering, and even those who felt otherwise shook in their boots. “But the one who fell asleep at the gate,” searching the line ready to pounce, “Who had the duty?” One of the men hesitantly took half of the proper step forward.

“It was me Sir, b... but I didn’t fall asleep.” Rogalis stood in front of the man square on.

“You know the penalty for falling asleep on duty.”

“No one got past me Captain,” meeting his eye, “Only the monk...” Rogalis steadied himself with a long drawn out breath.

“And was he by any chance riding a horse?” His voice rose to a crescendo as he looked around incredulous for confirmation of the man’s idiocy.

“Yes Sir,” he stammered, “But the horse was a light colour and the monk, the big one, I remember, had a light coloured horse when the y rode in.” There was no doubt in the man’s eyes and Rogalis had no reason to doubt his veracity. He wheeled around and the guard visibly slumped from the sheer effort it took to stand his ground.

“Then it must still be somewhere within the compound, search the fort, question everyone until it is found. Well, what’re you waiting for?” His men scurried away to carry out his orders, while unsettled, Rogalis watched them go and looked around. That anyone would dare to take the animal was a wonder enough, but how, where? Were his men in collusion against him? Surely no one in the fort, no, the animal must’ve got loose somehow and was wandering about somewhere. And with that thought to ease his mind Rogalis looked forward to a hearty breakfast, his hangover by then had disappeared.

 

Along narrow building with another, smaller, set at an angle, were the only signs of human life that the rider could see within the valley. Set low beneath the rise of a high mountain that backed off against a colouring sky; all else from one end to the other, grouped or alone, running or still, of every colour and blend, were horses. Feeling a sense of belonging, the rider allowed the fatigue that he had held back to reach him, and as one, then more of the monks came out to welcome his approach, he struggled to retain consciousness.

“We welcome you Brother, it has been a long time since we received word from our Brothers of the Eastern Plains.”

The monk’s open smile of welcome made it easy to overlook the mistake.

“I offer greetings Brother, I am Boregius of the ...”before realising his error. These men were not of his creed but believed him to be of whatever manner of brotherhood they belonged to. But then, what of the horse...? Overcome, too tired to remain upright, he gave in to his body’s helplessness and slipped from the horse as those who thought him one of them rushed forward to gather him to then and carried him inside.

 

After searching high and low the guards returned empty handed expecting the worst which their captain wasn’t about to deny them until a thought came to him.

“Have any of you noticed the forest people lurking about acting suspiciously?” Sensing a way out, a few seemed to recall that very same thing now that he had mentioned it.

“There have been more reports of theft from the farms,” others nodded, commending the good answer, even though the theft comprised of  only a chicken and a few eggs.

“And they have been waiting for their chance too...” another, inspired by the warm response to his comrade’s contribution faultered, lacking sufficient premise to continue.

“Yes,” Rogalis agreed, coming ably to his rescue. “So they thought they could come in here and make fools of you did they?” The men didn’t have to think too long to work out that that they didn’t like to be made fools of, and that settled, “Well I think that it’s about time we taught those tree people a lesson, don’t you?” And relieved to be let so easily off the hook, the men rallied round their captain.

“Yes Sir!”

Rogalis doubted that the forest people had the where with all or the gumption to pull off such a stunt, but it gave the men something to do and him time to think. His headache returned.

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

The warm bodies were stirring now, stretching and yawning: Kiera turned over, back to sleep. A baby crying, men coughing and pots being clinked made her pull the blanket over her ears. One of the older women tut tutted.

“There’s water to be fetched and washing to be done before gathering.”

“We must all do our share,” came another disparaging voice through the thin protection of the blanket, and eyes still half closed, Kiera rose unwilling to start the day.

Everyone was milling around her, whether gathering sticks for the fire or returning to jobs unfinished from the previous day; children had to be changed and breakfasted and soiled garments brought to the river. She felt like she was in the way and would’ve said so to retreat into the forest but a child was thrust at her with a bowl if mush by a mother who had others to attend to. Kiera reluctantly sat down and managed to fight the squalling toddler, who seemed just as adverse to the idea of being fed as she was to feeding it, until they both gave up having made a reasonable concession to the tiresome task. She left the child to crawl and fall back to her mother, suddenly realising that she was hungry herself.

“Keep the children away from the fire,” another called to her. The older children, the ones still too young to be of any use helping a hand, busied themselves with the game of seeking attention, that their mothers were too busy or their fathers too uninterested to play. They got Kiera to chase them. Laughing, and she involved herself with their pranks at her expense. The men were watching her. Her own clothes fit well over her body, toned and sleek from underfeeding and long travel and the women began to notice.

“You can help with the washing.” A few of them were going to the river with bundles she was expected to help carry, and Kiera noticed that the women still hadn’t eaten yet. They chatted, ignoring her, in the daily ritual of slapping wet cloth against rock, boring her to distraction, so when one spoke her name, she hardly noticed.

“I said, this is not the kind of life you’re used to.” Kiera shook her head, smiling politely’

“Oh leave her alone,” said another, “It’ll come to her soon enough, there’s plenty a man to see to that!” Giggles and cackles fell about her as her cheeks rose to a colour.

“I have things yet to do before I’ll settle to this life, she said quietly.

“As did we all dear, but men have a way of undeciding you,” humoured nods and smiles accompanied in affirmation.

“I will not let that happen,” jaw firmly set. A woman laughed but not unkindly.

“I said that after each one and now I have four!” Laughing again and was interrupted by  a woman with a firm eyed gaz

“And what would it be that a slip of a thing like you might have to do that makes the worthy chore of motherhood not to your liking?” And then they all seemed to want to know.

“I have to find...” but then reluctant to share her thoughts with strangers looked away before they could see more.

“Well whatever it is, guard yourself well, because the way men look at you, it won’t be long before one of them finds his way between...”

“Marta! The girls!” Though laughing, another woman reminded of the younger females present who were too young yet to have to know.

“Maybe you should take your own advice Marta dear,” said an older woman barely looking up from wringing wetness out of cloth. “The rounding of your belly’s showing strong now I see, and at your age!” Scandalized, the women’s attentions were turned and the youngest suppressed a giggle while others covered open mouths: that Marta could still be put in her place. All she could do was remind the women that with the washing done, the morning’s tasks were still unfinished and shooting a look across at the new girl, led the women back to the others of their clan. Kiera’s stomach growled.

The men were to go and see what they could scavenge on the edge of the farms and the women and children where to gather nuts and berries from the forest.

“If we’re lucky,” confided one of the younger girls to Kiera, “We’ll be able to catch...”

“The rogues! The rogues are coming!” And like a well rehearsed choreography of movement, everybody grabbed something or someone and kicking over the fire scattered in every direction into the forest. Caught up in their fear Kiera ran too, in through the trees, and could hear the horses’ hooves as the guards were getting closer. Angry shouts, a woman’s cry, a baby’s scream, protesting, yelling, but all sounding further and further away as on she ran till she fell to her knees, lungs starved of breath, and as she raised her head she met silent grey eyes staring at her from the bushes up ahead. The sound of a horse coming closer, behind her and then the growling threat inches from her face made Kiera unlock her eyes and cover her head with her arms. She felt a rush past her and heard the horse rear and then she ran on and when two legs weren’t enough she fell to four until it became easier and she needn’t fear anymore.

The wolf watched the horses retreating but didn’t chase them further, they were going, that was enough. But sat guard, for there was no one else to, and having nothing else to guard, protected the forest and its inhabitants from the intruders, marking his territory.

 

CHAPTER NINE

Boregius of the Ravans woke to find that he had been placed in a bed, comfortable enough save for the fact that his feet dangled off the end of it. There was a short, plump man who came smiling, offering a foul smelling liquid. Boregius shook his head, then closed his eyes at the pressure to his brain.

“This will help,” said the monk, concerned, and taking it, he drank, finding it tasted better than it smelt. His head almost immediately felt better. “It’s still best that you do not move yet Brother.” Boregius began to remember, then suddenly focused.

“What place lies the moon?” His voice was rich and dark and full of an unknown authority. The monk was startled; the big man hadn’t even opened his eyes.

“It has passed its fullness last night.” A slight movement in his brow was the only indication gave in acknowledgement.

Then opening his eyes suddenly, “Where is... the horse?”

“With the others, he seems quite at home...”

“What is this place, I must find...” But beginning to rise, fell back again as the medicine had not time to work its way through his system.

“I will get the Brother Elder, he said to call him when you woke. Be rested. I will not be long.” The little man was right. Rest, he must stay calm and find out whose hospitality he was accepting. The little monk returned with an older man whose eyes seemed no wiser for his years.

“I greet you and welcome you Brother. I am Michalus, Elder of the Brotherhood of the Valley. You have travelled far; how goes it with our Brothers of the Eastern Plains?” He smiled openly, genuine, and Boregius left the misconception uncorrected, touching at his head so as not to have to lie.

“Brother Bovine says you have still yet to recover, so I will leave you to rest, there will be plenty of time for questions later, unless there is something pressing?”

“No, it can wait Brother Elder,” and feeling a sudden warm drowsiness as the medicine took effect, closed his eyes and fell asleep. When he woke again the two men were gone. He felt better: whoever these men were at least they had herb knowledge. His mind had cleared and he sat up to test how much. He looked around. There were two other beds and a table with various containers and folded linen neatly presented. He assumed that this was where injuries were attended to and a small opening in the wall let in light enough to see that it was still day. He stood, and his head swam a little. He was close to the ceiling and touched it with his hand. The view to the outside was minimal. He was in the smaller of the two buildings; he could see the length of the other one and a few of the horses. He sat back down again knowing the lightness in his head was only from hunger and concentrated his thoughts. The old man had been his companion. They along with others had been sent to search for the dragon child. Their secret order had protected the knowledge of his coming for generations passing down from father to son the promise that the dragons power would rise again in the world. But the old man had perished, he couldn’t feel his life force anymore, but the visions he had spoke of indicated that they were close. He must continue the search and meeting the other horseman was a sign. His hunger began to overtake him and deciding not to wait for the monks return, crossed the room and opening the door lowered his head beneath its frame.

 

“When Brother Sirius woke to find Pegas had gone and more disconcertingly routinely questioned by Rogalis’ men on the whereabouts of the black horse, he thought to put the two together but then dismissed it outright. The young novice was undisciplined true, negligent at times and even wilful but would not have gone against his express orders let alone everything that their order stood for. When the guard had asked if there was a reason for the novice’s departure at so late an hour, Brother Sirius had been at a loss to explain but formulating his own conclusion surmised that fearful of the Brother Elder’s disapproval, had gone on ahead to explain his actions before he could make a report. Brother Sirius knew he had been right when he had been against him joining their order from the start. Theirs was a life of purity and devotion to the healing arts, in the cleansing of the body, to free the mind to spiritual expansion and possibility. To be freed from the coarse nature of the commoner and the vile practices of solicitous women. The peaceful life they sought in the valley was to free them from youthful excesses, uncontrolled emotion, violence and passion and to this they held in sacred compliance, sworn to honour the code of the brotherhood an uphold and maintain its rules of behaviour. When the young man had come, pleading to be allowed to join their order, even the Brother Elder had been reluctant at first, but he had a way with the horses, uncanny it seemed at times and with his great strength and youthful enthusiasm had won over even the most cautious, and these very attributes would be the reason why he would prove unsuitable to the life. But he had heeded their instruction, deferred to their better judgement and apart from the occasional lapse had succumbed quite adequately to the wisdom and guidance of the older brothers. Until now.

Brother Sirius left the fort, eager to return to the fold and to regrettably inform the senior brother of the damage to their reputation caused by the young novice’s actions. It was on this he was pondering when, half way back, kneeling by a stream to refill his water pouch, he slipped against the wet edge of a jagged rock. He let out a cry and found that he was bleeding from the ankle. It was then that a hand reached into the water: the man had appeared beside him unnoticed to wet a corner of his own garment to stem the flow. The cloth was old, of a style and fashion long since unused by the fraternity.

“Why Brother, I didn’t hear you approach! No, there is no need, the wound isn’t that...” and then the helpful stranger in the monk’s garb turned to face him, the hood falling away from his forehead. Brother Sirius fell back wide eyed, his face contorted into an unreadable expression. Adeius quickly covered his face and moved away as the monk scrambled to his horse and rode it speeding away. What was it that he had seen? Adeius stared at his reflection in the clear water of the stream for a time, then continued on his path none the wiser.

 

CHAPTER TEN

The guard at the gate could see the men returning at speed.

“Where’s the Captain?” as they jostled their horses through into the safe confines of the fort. They found him at his table in the drinking house leaning back in his chair, legs crossed at the ankle, hands on belly, eyes closed.

“Captain, Captain! The Beast, it’s here!” Rogalis leapt out of his seat to reach out and grab the man by the throat.

“Fool, keep your voice down!” The men were obviously shaken: whatever they saw, or thought they saw was written all over their faces.

“It was in the forest.”

“You saw it?” “It had these staring eyes, reared my horse, but we managed to get away.”

“You ran?”

“”But Sir...”

“How many of them were there?”

 “I only saw one but there could have been more, for all we knew the forest could’ve been crawling with them!”

“The people in the forest seem to live there safely enough!”

“Maybe they’re in league with it, maybe...”

“Maybe you’re just frightened of your own shadows, all of you,” raising his voice, “Cowards!”

“Have I come at a bad time?” No one noticed the small dark man’s arrival and Rogalis groaned inwardly before turning around and smiling open armed in welcome as if to an old friend.

 

“The wolf waited until it was dark before digging up the man’s clothes. Then gripping the bundle between his jaws followed the trail left by the horses’ hooves. The wall rose high, and seeing no way around it over it or through it, began to dig.

 

There was a knock at the door.

“Come.” Rogalis accepted the offer of entry and ingratiating himself, put on a warm smile.

“Ah, I see that you have rested, I hope the room is comfortable.”

“Comfort is for the weak and easily satisfied,” dismissively. “Are you easily satisfied Rogalis? With your safe little for and your weak little men?” Rogalis furrowed his brow in readiness to stubbornly refute the accusation but the small dark man waved away his objection with a gesture. “It has been a long journey,” expressing weariness, “And I see more for you, that’s all,” and turned to look out of the high window on to a darkening sky. “There is much that can be done here.”

The trader was one of the smallest men Rogalis had ever come across and only one of a very few who had the ability to cut him down to size. But Rogalis owed much to this man. It was he who had first put the idea into his head to build the fort, centralize the workforce and concentrate farming output to produce more than they needed for trade. The trader could supply almost anything Rogalis required for the people or himself: fine metals luxury materials, exotic wines and spices, foodstuffs and other fineries in exchange for their excess crops and grain. But what had begun as an equal partnership gradually and almost imperceptively turned into an imbalance of power in the trader’s favour.

“I hope that whatever trouble you have with the outsiders hasn’t interfered with our agreed consignment,” still with his back towards the room.

“Oh no,” hastily reassuring, “Just wild talk. The forest people’s stories have got to some of my men but...”

“As they should you!” The trader turned suddenly fixing his eyes on Rogalis. “More will be coming, frightened, weak, they could all be put to work, build this fort into a city!” The candle light showed his eyes to be glowing before he turned away again. Then carefully, “You still haven’t done anything about my suggestion.”

Rogalis shifted uncomfortably.

“They don’t cause us much trouble, it would be difficult to get the people to accept putting them to work without reasonable cause.” The small dark man took a deep breath.

“What constitutes a crime? Surely that is decided by those able to meet out the punishment.” Rogalis had to think on that for a while. “If their manpower can be made use of, then a crime can be found.”

“But...” Rogalis was about to object when the trader pulled back from the window turning to Rogalis, his eyes filled with terror. He was pointing, unable to speak. Rogalis rushed to the window but looking out could see nothing. Rogalis had never seen the trader look or behave in such a manner and when he found his voice, Rogalis could hardly believe his ears.

“Beast!” Have your men find it, kill it!” Rogalis called to his men and instructed them to search, but was dubious about what they would find.

 

The man brushed the dirt off his clothes before putting them on and kicked the loose dirt back into the hole inside the wall. He could hear men’s shouts coming his way but knew that he hadn’t been seen.

“This way, I think I saw something!” Then moving out of the darkness, low to the ground, coming steadily towards him were a pair of emerald green eyes locked to his, they both stared. The men were still coming.

“This way!”

The eyes broke contact to search for an escape route and seeing that there was none crouched even lower, eyes once again on the man. The guards were turning the corner. The man looked up at the high wall behind him and backed up as the animal charged. He stood his ground as the creature leapt, and vaulting onto his shoulder sprung over the wall as the guards rounded the corner. They inched their way to the figure they could just make out by the wall.

“Hey, you there!”

The figure made no move or gesture of acknowledgement.

“Hey!” Even louder and with more deliberation, and moving close enough to see by torchlight, found the man facing the wall. “I’m talking to you,” reaching out a hand, then quickly grabbing it away again: the man was peeing up against the wall. He adjusted his clothing and turned.

“If I realised I was going to draw a crowd, I would’ve sold tickets,” with amused non challence. The guard coughed, shifting his weight. Then remembered it was he who had the uniform and numbers.

“Did you see something come this way?”

“Something?” he sounded perplexed.

“Some kind of animal.”

“What kind?” innocently.

“Any kind!” holding his temper.

Looking around, “ Well I don’t see anything of any kind,” and glancing at the other guards, “Have you asked them?” smiling helpfully. The guard feigned amusement.

“Let’s go see the Captain, maybe you can explain it to him,” and motioned for the other guard to hold him, the man didn’t resist. Rogalis was waiting for them outside the lodging house.

“Well?”

“We didn’t find it Sir but this man was lurking around.” Rogalis peered at the held man.

“What were you doing out there?” The man looked Rogalis up and down, then across at the guard who was holding him as if for clarification.

“Is this him?”

Rogalis stepped forward. The man shifted his head slightly to one side.

“I’m in charge here,” he snarled barely moving his teeth and the held man raised a brow.

“Then I guess you’re going to be wanting details,” staring him down. Rogalis turned and barked his orders at his men.

“Take him to the work farms,” then over a shoulder, “And make sure that they make good use of him,” before the guards led him away. Rogalis was left with the feeling that he had met the man somewhere before but he couldn’t think where. It would come to him he thought before returning to his visitor. The trader had calmed down a bit but couldn’t hide his nervousness.

“Did you find it?”

“No, what was it that you thought you saw?”

“Something I never want to see again,” almost to himself, “And more reason for me to step up my plans.”

“Plans?”

“Sit down Rogalis,” the trader had already begun to refocus. “The world is changing and you can play a part in the new way or be left behind. I have... acquaintances who have been pleased with the reports I have made about you,” watching very carefully for Rogalis’s reaction. “A man in your position could do very well.”

“How well?” cautiously intrigued.

“You would own a city, head an army, and have the respect of many great men. You’ll have to step up production on the farms of course, double, even triple your output and as more refugees arrive you could put them to work, and horses, we’ll need more horses.”

Then Rogalis remembered. “One of those horses you asked me to keep a look out for...”

“Yes, I had information about that, good work Rogalis.”

“It was in my possession but it was stolen.”

“And you have no idea where it is now?”

“No, but I think the forest people might have had something to do with it...”

“The men who found it, bring them here.”

Rogalis had them called for. Rogalis’ men didn’t like the trader and even less that he seemed to have some kind of hold over their captain.

“Tell me how you found the horse.” They looked at Rogalis who nodded for them to answer.

“The traveller’s inn.”

“What about the old man?” How did he know about him?

“There was an old man but he...” The trader’s tone became sharper in his impatience.

“Did he say anything?”

“Er, no, not really, but he didn’t put up much of a fight...” unsure of what was being asked of him. But the trader didn’t seem too concerned and motioned for Rogalis to send the men away.

“And you say the horse was taken without your knowledge?”

“I can’t explain it, my men assured me that the horse didn’t leave the fort, only the monks...”

The trader smiled to himself.

“Of course, another horseman,” but didn’t bother to explain it to Rogalis. “Have you questioned the monks?”

“No, there’s no need. Not only would they not dare, any kind of crime is against their religion or something.”  The trader dismissed his reasoning.

“Take your men and question the monks.”

“But...”

“It is important that the horse be found, it is worth much to me, you will be well rewarded.”

“We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”

The trader suddenly looked very tired.

“I have much to think on and my own preparations to make,” signalling an end to their meeting. “Do not disappoint me Rogalis,” turning his face away from the captain and not for the first time, Rogalis regretted ever having set eyes on the man but the thought of more power eased his growing distrust. He nodded to the small man’s back as he closed the door behind him.

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The caged wagon smelt bad. The prisoner assumed that whatever had been transported in it before him had not been well or had been held captive for too long. He moved to the farthest corner, crouching: there was not enough room to stand. He held onto the bars. From what he could see they were moving outside the compound, he heard the wagon driver exchange humorous  unpleasantries with the guard at the gate. He continued the jibe at the accompanying guard.

“What d’you call a sentry on night duty?”

“I dunno,” grinning in anticipation.

“A whore.”

“Huh?”

“He’ll let you come in after dark but you can always leave while he’s sleeping.”

The prisoner leaned back: it was going to be a long trip.

“What d’you call a...” but they had arrived. It was too dark to see more than the vague outline of a large building. The wagon stopped in front of it. The guard in position there walked over.

“What’ve you got?”

“Trespasser,” and not getting down, “Need a hand?”

“Is he tied up?”

“No, but he won’t give you any trouble.” Even so, the guard watched the prisoner carefully as he opened the cage. The prisoner stretched indulgently after getting out and when he was done, “Where d’you want me?” His expression was one of relaxed amusement. The guard pushed him roughly toward the large wooden doors. He didn’t see the prisoner’s expression change.

“What do you get when you cross a...” the wagon driver began to the guard. The prisoner moved quickly.

“Do you want me to get that?” reaching for the door, “I’ve heard this one.” The guard was not amused.

“Shut up!” and lifting the bar off its hooks pulled the door open himself. The smell that greeted him made the prisoner step back but the guard pushed him forward and closing the door confided, “So have I.”

There were no windows and in the darkness he took a step forward and nearly tripped over something on the floor.

“Hey, watch it!” He moved more carefully and as his eyes grew more accustomed he could just make out the shapes of people all around, lying on the floor, clustered together or alone, shifting in their sleep and coughing, disturbed by the late arrival. He found a space in the corner nearest the door. There was not much room to get comfortable but he’d slept in worse places. The figure lying closest to him let out a volley of coughing and belching noises: it was going to be a long night.

 

The corridors were neat, sparse and clean and the monks that he passed smiled, he smiled back. And then he recognised the man who had given him the medicine.

“Brother Bovine,” the little monk turned and was pleased to see that his charge had made a good recovery.

“Brother, you have rested well, are you hungry?”

“Very,” and followed as the little monk smiled, leading the way to the kitchen.

“Sit, sit,” and brought over a large tray with a heavy loaf of dark bread and a block of cheese. “The vegetables are fresh from the garden,” and was about to bring a knife but the big man had already began eating from the tray. He nodded as he tore off great chunks of the bread and the little monk brought over a large bowl of carrots, corn and tomatoes, which soon needed refilling. He stood by and watched as the food was being consumed.

Boregius excused himself. “Forgive me, it must be the freshness of the air here.”

“No apologies are necessary, you have been asleep since yesterday, your body has a lot of catching up to do.”

Boregius looked up at the smiling monk then out at the day. The medicine had worked well, but time was something he could not afford to waste. He smiled back.

“It is a peaceful life here Brother.”

“Indeed,” sitting down. “Far from the common crowd and disturbances, it is good for meditation as I’m sure are the plains of your home.”

Carefully, “Tell me, what do you know of the old stories, the legends?”

“The little monk’s brow furrowed.

“We are forbidden to talk of such things, they are wild fantasies.”

“Of course, of course, but as a historian, I am collecting interesting facts on past event, peculiarities.”

The monk thought for a while.

“Well the only strange thing that has happened here is the old monk on the mountain.” Borejeus appeared politely interested. “It seems he had a child up there, raised from birth, it was either his own or left by some wanton female ashamed of her indiscretion.”

“And what happened to them?”

“Well,” even though he shouldn’t say, “ The old monk must’ve died, he used to bring goats milk and sometimes their hide in exchange for bread and fruit left at the foot of the mountain but that stopped a while ago.

“And the child?”

“Never saw it, but it’s strange you should ask. The goats are even gone now, you could always hear them but since these last couple of days... but tell me, how goes it with our brothers of the plains? Is Brother Stephen still collecting those...?”

“Brother, I see you are better.” The Brother Elder’s timely arrival stopped short their conversation. “Shall we walk?” Then nodding to the little monk they went out into the courtyard. Then out of earshot of the other monks, “There is more to your visit than it would at first seem.”

Boregius looked surprised at the elder monk. And by his reaction, “I knew it! So have you made your decision yet?” Boregius smiled non commitedly waiting for a hint to what the man was talking about.

“Of course, it’s not for me to interfere with your decision but I do feel that amongst the senior elder I have the most experience and the position of High Elder, though a great responsibility, would be a challenge that I could prove worthy of...” And Boregius understood. The Brother Elder had mistaken him for a member of their high council and he did not see any good reason to convince him otherwise. He decided to press the advantage.

 “You understand that no final assessment can be made until I finish my observations,” they walked past the stables. “The position of High Elder holds great responsibilities, to react wisely to difficult problems or unfamiliar circumstances.” The Brother Elder nodded as sagely as he could. “So it would interest me to know about the unfortunate business of the old monk on the mountain and the child.”

“How did you...” the Brother Elder realised that one of the monks had spoken out of turn, but the imposing figure of the man walking beside him would account for that. “He used to be a member of the order but... his behaviour became erratic, he began disappearing for days without explanation. Then we found out that he had begun to drink heavily and had been spending time with the common folk.” It obviously pained him to talk about the man but Boregius had to know.

“What happened after that?”

“I wasn’t Brother Elder at the time. His decision was to bar him from any contact with the monastery and ban the brothers from any interaction. Then we found out that he was living up in the mountain and some of us would leave food and provisions out for him.”

“But you were forbidden to speak with him?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the child?” The Brother Elder grimaced.

“He brought it here, still bloody from its mother’s womb wrapped in goat skin. He and the Brother Elder were arguing, the shouting woke us up. It troubled us greatly. It was unheard of for one monk to raise his voice to another let alone an elder.”

“They were arguing over the child?”

“Yes. He wanted the child to be brought up at the monastery but the Brother Elder wouldn’t hear of it. He then left with the child. The Brother Elder died a little while after that and I was chosen as his successor. We tried to convince him to take the child to one of the villages but he must’ve grown attached to it.”

“And how long ago was this?” The big man’s eyes were intensely concentrated.

“Sixteen, seventeen years, maybe more. The rules of the order were abided by,” now curious for a reaction.

“Yes, yes,” absentmindedly, then realising that more was expected, “The conscientiousness of your actions will be taken into account. I would like to take a look around, stretch my legs, I am not used to too much inactivity.”

“Of course,” trying to gage how well he had done, “I will get one of the brothers to accompany you.”

“If Brother Bovine is not too busy... Oh, the name, the old monk.”

“We were forbidden to use it, but I guess, there’s no harm now, Elias, his name was Brother Elias.”

Boregius of the Ravans turned away so that the Brother Elder could not see his face, and as he went to find the little monk he folded his arms inside his sleeves to hide his hands that were shaking. The old man, his companion, had spoken of that name from one of his visions.

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

His mother was shouting at him, pleading with him to get off the other boy but she didn’t understand, the names he’d called him, her... then bigger rougher hands lifted him away and threw him across the ground. Instinctively he crouched, ready to attack but then he saw the fear and dismay in his mother’s eyes which he knew was not out of concern for her own safety, but his.

“Look at him, he’s an animal! He shouldn’t be allowed to mix with our children!” The words stung but he could see that his mother resisted all urges to retaliate against the woman who was on her knees next to her son.

“He’s not badly hurt, and you know what boys are like...” The man who had pulled him off tried to calm the tension between the two women.

“Oh, you would say that, always taking her side. You’ve had your eye on her ever since she came back with that half...”

“Hey!” Someone was nudging him awake and almost before he opened his eyes, he grabbed the offender’s wrist. “Ow! They’ll be opening the doors soon, I just thought you might like to know!” He let go, and the man that had been sleeping at closest quarters to him rubbed his wrist. The others were beginning to stir. “What’s your name friend?”

“I know who my friends are and I don’t remember you being one of them.” They heard footsteps outside the door and the bar being lifted. The other man pushed ahead of him his tone less friendly.

“In hear, you’ll realise that you need all the friends you can get,” and though it was still dark outside, the rush of fresh air made the newcomer promise himself that he wouldn’t spend another night there.

“I won’t be here that long,” mostly to himself as he pushed his way through the shuffling crowd, and there was something about the way he said it, or the quality of his presence that made the others give way.

 

Brother Bovine noticed the look of consternation in the big man’s eyes and looked back across the stretch of valley.

“Maybe we have come too far, you have not rested enough yet Brother.” Boregius regarded the small monk quizzically, his thoughts were softened by the concern.

“I am not wearied by the pace,” his eyes searched some far away distance, “But the journey,” and before the little monk could attempt to fathom his train of thought, “Though without your understanding of nature’s medicine I am sure that my returning... to health would not have been as expeditious. “But,” lifting up air through to the broad range of his chest, “I would be glad of the shoulder of the rock to lean against for a while,” as they approached the rim of the mountain at the edge of the valley.

Brother Bovine, flattered by the commendation, sought the humility of deferral.

It was Brother Elias when he first arrived here who shared with us his knowledge of plant life,” but then realised that he had said too much.

“The Brother Elder mentioned him, and the child,” offering authorization. The little monk continued.

“He taught us how to mend and heal the horses, and ourselves in ways that were truly miraculous, from simple roots and herbs gathered from the mountain.”

Boregius’ heart began to beat hard against his chest as the subtle blends of sounds that had accompanied the background of their conversation now occupied the forefront of his mind. There was the sound of horses, their hoof beats neighs and whinnies a steady constant, the sound of the grass falling beneath their footsteps, the distant call of a bird irregularly intervalled against the sweep of a low breeze dipping the bowl of the valley and high above it all, distant and recognisable, a breaking theme pierced through Boregius’ consciousness.

“And the chime of bells shall accompany his descent...”

“Yes, it was Brother Elias’ idea to have them all attached...”

Boregius suddenly stopped.

We must go back.”

“But it’s not too far now and you said you wanted to see...” but then realised that the exertion must have been too much after all. “Of course Brother, I have been inconsiderate,” but as he turned, something in the distance caught his eye. “That’s strange.” Preoccupied with his own thoughts Boregius nevertheless allowed himself to be distracted into following the small monk’s line of sight. He could just make out the outline of horses entering the valley from the same direction as he had arrived, moving at the speed of a herd, no, they were travelling in formation, ridden. “It must be Rogalis’ men. But why would they be coming here?” But Boregius was scanning the other horses in the valley.

“Where is... my horse? I don’t see it.” Brother Bovine looked around.

“It’s probably back to the stables,” but he had other concerns on his mind.

“Brother Sirius and Brother Pegas have not yet returned, I hope there hasn’t been any trouble,” then casting a worried glance back at Boregius, “Maybe we should be getting back,” and led the way with the big monk following, and as broad as they were, his big shoulders struggled under the burden of knowledge that was his to carry alone.

 

The work was not hard but still the workfarmers complained, grumbled, thwarting any attempt to make their toil harder or faster, making excuses, resting frequently and the guards on horseback and on foot seemed equally as unzealous in their duty.

“Get back to work, you there, put your back into it, stop slacking,” the commands were taken little notice of but were repeated with monotonous regularity.

They were clearing and turning the soil of a large field with the women and children following at a distance behind, dispensing seeds from small bags. The men and older boys frequently turned to wave or just look. The newcomer looked also. The man to his left, heavy set, middle aged kept on glancing over to him.

“Hold the line there,” sternly, under his breath. The newcomer looked across the row of men either side of him and pulled back. “You come her alone?” The new man regarded the question with expressionless scrutiny. The man explained himself with a nod back to the women.

“My wife and daughters are back there.”

“You there, stop slacking,” and the line moved forward again. The newcomer looked again at the women and men. They weren’t criminals! The realisation hit him suddenly and he stopped.

“Get back to work!” The guard on horseback almost turned away before he realised that the new arrival had no intention of obeying his command. He wheeled his horse around. “Hey, you!” The other workfarmers glanced up but quickly resumed their work. The newcomer distracted by his own thoughts watched the guard steer his horse towards him with a lack of even the mildest concern. And then casually lowered his eyes to focus on those of the horse. It was then that the guard noticed his horse beginning to stall. Firmly, he kicked his heels urging the animal on. With the slightest hint of a curl of his lip and a shift in his body weight, the prisoner’s posture changed from one of relaxed composure to one of malignant aggression. A native of the language, the animal read the body movements fluently and reared suddenly. It was all that the guard could do to hold his seat and position of command. The horse then backed away, and looking around, the prisoner noticed that the work had stopped and all eyes were on him. Glancing across, he stepped back up to the line. They waited for what he would do next, and when he returned back to his work, so did they.

“Get back to work!” the guard commanded unnecessarily and those nearest the new worker were amused enough to smile.

The midday meal was brought around by the older women who were delivered along with the fare in a food wagon. Each man kept to the position he was working and was handed a bowl of a meat and vegetable stew, the bread was optional. Some of the workfarmers grumbled and grimaced while the newcomer downed the food, barely chewing it before he swallowed.

“There was bone in that!” one of the workfarmers advised with a look across of mild disgust but intense fascination, and it looked as though something had indeed got lodged in the new man’s chest. He hit it a couple of times with his fist, then lowered his chin before letting out a long drawn out belch. He then smiled up at the woman who had served him and promptly lay back on the ground, stretched out his legs and closed his eyes, hands linked over his stomach. The old woman moved on down the line and one of the workmen nominated himself to ask.

“So you don’t like horses then?” His tone was light, friendly but he still had to wait for an answer. The newcomer’s eyes were still closed.

“I like ‘em fine, they don’t always like me though,” those who had heard chuckled.

“What did you do to it?” A voice less friendly cut through the easy mood. The newcomer raised himself from the ground before opening his eyes and sprang to his feet with surprising alertness and even though he hadn’t seen who had questioned him, strode directly up to the startled man and stopped. He fell to a crouching position inches from the man’s face.

“What do you think?” And the man fell back, dropping his bowl. There were more laughs this time and as the new man turned to return to his place in line, a big man stood, blocking his way.

“We don’t need people stirring up trouble round here.” The new man seemed to be weighing up the other man’s size. Then looked into his face unthreatened.

“Don’t worry, when I stir up trouble, you’ll know about it.” The big man tried to read his eyes then stepped out of the way. The newcomer went back to his place and lay down again in same position as before.

“Have you got a name?” The new man lifted a hand to scratch his nose and the nearest man flinched.

“A few is,” all he would say. The old women were on their way back.

“That’s the one,” he was being pointed out to another of the old women. “I saw an animal eat like that once, a jackal,” and then carried on down the line before returning to the food wagon with the empty bowls. The workfarmers looked at each other. The man on the ground crossed his legs at the ankle and eyes still closed, they saw him smile.

“Get back to work, all of you!” which they all slowly did taking glances back at the man still laying on the ground.

“What’s up with him?” The guard began to approach.

“I think he’s asleep,” said one of the workfarmers lowering his voice.

“Well wake him up!” No one seemed to want to, but one leaned towards him carefully.

“Hey, Jakal,” the man opened his eyes, stretched, then looking across, stepped up to the line.

 

Night was beginning to fall. The small dark man waited for the other two at the edge of the forest and contemplated on how best to serve Anatu. Their kind were growing in numbers and had to be fed, the people manipulated to provide for them. The only threat to their operation was the one they told of in prophecy, their sworn enemy who could not be allowed to fulfil his destiny. The only information he had been given on his whereabouts was that a horseman would lead them to him. Had he found the right one though? The two emerged from the trees, straightening up to their full height.

“Have you kept out of sight? We must not alert them of our presence, not yet.”

“The urge is strong,” said one, “Many people, easy meat.” His superior slapped him hard across the face.

“You must not touch the people in the forest! They will panic the others, too much is at stake here.” They both cowered. “Just keep your eyes open and inform me of any strange happenings, there may be others who are on his side.” He turned, looking in the direction of the fort. “I have to get back, remember...”

They nodded and slunk back in through the trees.

 

The man, two women and a little child were being pulled along in the wagon cart by the old mare when the wheel broke.

“Well don’t just stand there!” to the man in the hooded garb who had suddenly appeared, “Help me with the wagon!”

Between them they managed to right the wheel while the two women watched. They smiled in gratitude while the man, already back in the wagon beckoned. Then the man in the hood reached out to touch the younger woman’s belly.

“You have a child,” surprised. His voice was unexpected, melodious, lyrical and the young woman smiled shyly. The man jumped down from the wagon and pushed him away.

“He meant no harm,” said the young woman, He’s only a monk!” But the other woman slapped her and called her a whore. Adeius didn’t understand and the man grabbed him by the arm.

“See what you’ve done?” he hissed, but Adeius didn’t, but the hood had fallen back enough for the man to get a glimpse of his face. He hurriedly let go and turned.

“Get back in the wagon!” The little child was crying so the two women climbed back up and Adeius watched them go. Then looked back at the mountain.

“Am I going the right way?” he asked, but not hearing an answer carried on the same path.

 

The food wagon was brought around for the second time that day as the sun was setting and the old women walked down the line. The food was the same as before and this time the Jakal just stared into his bowl. And then he put it down beside him on the ground.

“Aint you gonna eat that?”

“I like a bit of variety,” looking around, scanning the edge of the field. One of the workers nearly choked on his food.

“We’ll see what you’re saying after four years of this!” The Jakal looked across at the man.

“The only place I intend staying anywhere that long is the grave,” and pausing to think,” And even then...” he raised a chuckle.

“Well there’s no point in trying to escape. The guards’ll chase you down and even if they don’t get you... and there’s nowhere to go anyway. At least here you get a warm meal and a safe roof, and it’s all the same, working your own land or someone else’s.” The man said a mouthful and the Jakal watched him. He handed the man his bowl.

“Here, I don’t have the stomach for it.” He looked in the distance towards the forest then over to the valley and the mountain.

“What’s out there?”

“Some take their chances in the forest and the monks live in the valley. It wasn’t always like this, we had our farms, our lands and then...”

“Were there always people living in the forest?”

“No, just Jacob the woodcutter but he...” The old women were coming back along the line for the bowls. One of them looked at him strangely.

“You were always like that with your food. I remember your mother used to scold you...”

He began to object.

“Just humour her,” the man beside him whispered. “She thinks I’m her grandson, blind as a bat, deaf as an...”

“...Always off in the woods...” and then her face contorted. “If only your father could see you now, shame, shame,” and she went off muttering to herself. The workfarmers shook their heads in perplexed amusement but the Jakal stared after her. Then she turned and pointed a stern, bony finger at him. “Now you mind your mother’s words, don’t go down to the valley, shame, such a waste...” The men around him snickered and the Jakal just smiled.

“Well she told you didn’t she?”

“Yeah, yeah,” absently. The guards were beginning to round them up to take them back.

“So have you planned your escape then?” The Jakal looked up surprised.

“Well it’s not exactly a plan...” The workers next to him laughed but then stopped as he began to walk away from them towards the edge of the field. The guards hadn’t noticed yet but the big man had and started a fight with the man closest to him, others joined in. By the time the guards had broken them up the escapee was clear into the next field which hadn’t been cleared yet of bushed, hedges and rocks. There wasn’t much light left now.

“Quick, after him, he won’t get far!” the guards rode their horses at the gallop and were soon closing in. The workfarmers watched but lost sight of him behind a rock.

“What’s he doing, hiding?” The night was descending quickly, they could barely see now.

“What was that?” those with the keenest eyesight thought they could see movement between the bushes.

“Have they got him yet?”

“I dunno.”

“Come on, move along, he’ll be back, don’t you worry,” and the big man had a feeling that the guard was right.

 

“Get back in the wagon!”

“I’m not going anywhere until I get an explanation!”

“Look, it just happened, it doesn’t mean that I don’t...”

“Not you, her!” The little girl started crying. The younger woman looked up at the sky.

“It’s getting dark, we have to find shelter, and she needs changing.”

“Are you telling me how to look after my own child?”

“No, I...”

“Obviously that’s not the only thing you think you know how to do better than me!”

“Now come on, both of you...” They both shot a glare at him and he threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of helplessness. “Well we can’t stay out here all night, look, we can camp out by the trees...”

The forest was not far away. The two were watching.

“People, easy meat.”

“No, forget?”

“Not forget, not in forest.” They looked at each other.

“...How long, how many times?”

“It was only once and he, I didn’t want to, he...”

“Don’t give me that, you couldn’t wait to...”

“What was that?”

“Oh don’t try to change the subject, you know there’s nothing...” but then she heard it too.

“Quick, get back into the wagon!”  The younger woman managed to but the older one wasn’t close enough. They were moving  fast. The younger woman screamed.

“Do something!” And he was.

“Yah!” he slapped the reigns against the old mare’s back urging her on.

“No!” the young woman pulled at him frantically. The older woman had stopped screaming now, one of the creatures had her by the throat, the other by the leg, pulling. The man shoved the young woman aside.

“At least we have a chance!” but she clawed and scratched at him. The creature with the firmest hold wasn’t about to let go so reluctantly dropping the leg, looked around at the screaming toddler. It wasn’t as big but...  the creature advanced but then pulled away as if stung. The smell, it wasn’t that hungry!

The old mare wanted to run but she knew the wagon was too heavy, she reared trying to break away from it. The man was screaming at her now, trying to fend off the young woman who was also screaming. The mare could feel one of the creatures coming towards them and kicked back at the wagon. It turned over and she broke free and ran the way she used to, before being held back by the weight of the rope.

The man began to crawl away as the creature, now close enough to see in detail closed in on the young woman. She stared wide eyed unable to scream. Slowly it circled her sniffing then rejecting her looked over at the man and pounced. The young woman suppressed a sob as she carefully crawled over to the little child and gathered her up in her arms.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” as the two creatures ignored them, busy with their meals. She stumbled and fell through the forest, through the night until finally exhausted, her and the child fell asleep and when she woke the next morning, she cleaned the child as best she could and picked berries for their breakfast, and laughed with the child and put flowers in her hair.

“What a pretty girl you are, come to Mummy.” The little girl hesitated for a second then saw her smile and open arms and did as she was told.

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rogalis and his men rode into to valley, breaking the agreement that had been held by both sides: the monks would be left in peace in the valley if the horses were delivered regularly, in prime condition and well trained to the fort for trade.

The monks came out in force with the Brother Elder at their head. He walked up to Rogalis and stood in front of his horse.

“We weren’t expecting you Captain Rogalis,” stern faced.

“Enough of the socialities, where’s the horse?”

“What horse?”

“The one one of your monks stole from the fort.”

“Brother Sirius and Brother Pegas have not yet arrived but when they return I’m sure that the matter can be cleared up. But I can assure you that none of the brothers here would have stolen anything from you, let alone a horse...”

“Search the place!”

“You can’t...” The Brother Elder was aghast. Some of the monks tried to bar the way but before Rogalis had to order his men to go through them, the stable door behind them opened and Pegas stepped through.

“Forgive me Brother Elder but what he said is true, I stole the horse.”

“Take him!” Pegas didn’t resist as they bound his hands.

“And where is it now?”

“I let it go.”

 

“You what? Where?”

 “It’s probably miles away by now.” The Bother Elder stepped forward. He could not understand what was going on but for a monk to be treated in such a way was unthinkable.

“I’m sure that this is unnecessary,” moving to loosen the novice’s hands. “You can have any of the horses here in return, even two...”

Rogalis kicked the monk away and he stumbled back and fell. The monks were ready to retaliate but Pegas shouted, “No!” Even the guards were taken aback. None had heard a monk raise his voice with such defiance and the monks rushed forward to help the Brother Elder to his feet. “These were my actions and I take full responsibility,” and to Rogalis calmly, “I’m ready to go.”

The guards sat him up on a horse and tied him to it, his hands behind his back with the monks staring after him not knowing what to do. By the time Boregius and Brother Bovine got there they were away in the distance.

“What is it, what’s happened?” Brother Bovine had never seen his fellow monks in such disarray.

“Brother Pegas has been accused of stealing a horse.”

“What will they do to him?” Boregius’ voice full of concern. The monks looked at each other.

“We must do something,” one said, and they all turned to the Brother Elder.

“Yes, we will meditate on this,” and they all filed past Boregius as he watched them amazed.

 

“We’ll get plenty of work out of this one!” One of the guards jeered. “Horse theft, that’s a pretty serious crime, come on, tell us, why d’ya do it?”

“He probably ate it!” The other guards laughed.

“Got hungry did you?” Pegas looked across at them, the reigns of the horse he was riding was held by the nearest guard.

“Yeah, we’ll get a lot of work out of you and if we run out of horses...” They laughed again.

Rogalis rode on ahead allowing his men their fun. He doubted that the big man would talk even under torture but had a feeling that the trader would have his own methods, if finding the horse was important to him. They were nearing the trees, the men looked nervous.

“It’s broad daylight,” he jeered. “What, d’you think something’s gonna jump out from the bushes?” He laughed and his men laughed nervously along with him.

Pegas looked towards the trees and saw it first. A dark, angular creature sprung at great speed from a low branch at the edge of the forest onto the back of Rogalis’s horse. The mount reared but Rogalis managed to hold his seat, spurring his horse away. Two of the guards fell, unable to stop their horses from panicking, while the rest got away. Pegas’ horse reared also but he squeezed his knees against the animal’s ribs holding on. The dark creature headed towards the men on the ground.

 “Help us!”

Pegas turned his horse hands still tied behind his back but the sight of the creature was too much for the animal. It reared and this time Pegas was thrown off it’s back, landing heavily on his side. The guards looked panic stricken.

“Keep still, don’t move,” he said to them while wrestling with his binds.

“That’s easy for you to say!” but they did as they were told. The creature began to circle. Loosened, the rope made a loud snap as Pegas pulled apart the thread. The creature turned towards him. Kneeling, he stared motionless into her emerald green eyes. She advanced towards him and rubbed gently against him as she passed. The guards took this as their chance to inch away. She turned, showing them her teeth and they froze.

“I told you not to move,” Pegas warned, unsure himself of the creature’s next movements.

“Just keep it away from us!” The creature did indeed seem tamed in the presence of the young horseman. He got to his feet still holding the broken ropes.

“What’re you going to do with us?” He couldn’t leave them running around but he didn’t want to hurt them. He looked down at the rope still in his hands. “We were only following orders!”

Pegas reached down and tied the men’s hands together at the back. They protested.

“Hey!” But the creature stalked by and they held their tongues and their breaths.

“The fort’s not too far, you’ll be alright, maybe they’ll come back for you,” walking away.

“Hey, where ‘you going, you can’t just leave us like this!”

“Why not?” half turning.

“You’re a monk!” not able to think up any other reason.

“Just don’t make any sudden movements,” he gave as parting advice and with their attention given to the more immediate predicament, the horseman headed towards the trees.

 

When Rogalis returned back to the fort, before they reached the gates, he pulled his horse back to walk alongside his men.

“There will be no talk of this to the others.” The men turned to one another.

“But...”

“There’s no need to panic anyone,” he affirmed solidly.

“What about Thorrig and Edgar?” Rogalis mused on the unfortunate reminder.

 “Their memories will be honoured by the sacrifice they made with their lives, at least now, we know what we’re dealing with.” And though the men nodded to themselves none were filled with less unease. “You’re all off duty,” he ordered riding on ahead, and they followed him in through the gate.

The trader was waiting for him at his table in the drinking house. It was difficult to tell from the trader’s expression what he was thinking but as he approached the table, Rogalis looked frayed around the edges and straightening his clothes sat down in the opposite chair. The trader poured into a tankard from a corked bottle of wine for him to taste. The liquid went down smoothly.

“Better than the last batch,” he nodded appreciatively.

“As I promised,” pouring more from the bottle.

“As you promised,” swallowing it down. “But what of your other promise?” The pitch of his voice rose as he slammed the bottle back down on the table. Eyes turned. Rogalis leaned forward with his fist on the table. “What about your assurance to me that we wouldn’t be running into any of those creatures again, those beasts, huh?” he hissed.

The trader’s eyes widened.

“You saw them?”

“I only saw one of them, didn’t hang around long enough to begin a head count!” fists still clenched.

“Calm down Rogalis,” pouring more form the bottle, “Your men are watching, they will need to see you as a strong leader.” Rogalis eyed the trader closely then sat back in his chair and drank the wine. “I got rid of them before for you,” fixing his eyes on the captain in a way that made him feel uncomfortable.

“But you said they wouldn’t come back again, two of my men are out there and the others are restless.”

“I’ll deal with it. But what of the other matter, did you find the horse?”

Rogalis breathed a tired breath. “You were right, one of the monks admitted it but he said he let it loose, we were bringing him here when the creature attacked.” The trader suddenly got up.

“Stay calm Rogalis, nothing will be gained by you losing control now,” and left. Rogalis felt his men’s eyes upon him. He poured the last of the wine from the bottle and raised his tankard to them.

“To courage!” gesturing broadly, “For without it, life on the workfarms awaits.” The men looked at each other nervously.

“Here’s to the Captain!” One tankard was raised and held high followed by a chorus of the same marked by a lack of overall enthusiasm.

“And a full weeks wages,” standing up, “To the first one of you gutless tripes to drink me under the table!” The cheer went up and Rogalis knew that he still had them, for now.

The trader made the guard open the gate, ignoring his protests about the dangers, especially so late after dark.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said to himself as the diminutive figure became lost to the darkness.

“I won’t ,” came back the answer, whispered out of nowhere. The guard hurriedly shut the gate.

To frighten the people into building the fort they had strategically let their creatures loose as in other places then once the people were under control had allowed them to believe they had controlled the menace. It had been effective. He met the two dark creatures at the edge of the forest. They skulked towards him.

“You disobeyed me,” he said quietly and they cowered before him. “But,” reaching out a hand to them, “Rogalis was getting too complacent,” he patted them gently. “But no more,” firmly, “We can’t have then too frightened, they’re uncontrollable then,” he mused, then ready to head back, “Keep looking for the horseman, the will of Anatu must be obeyed. Go.”

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

He had reached the forest after covering the wide expanse of tangle weed and thorns in more time than it would usually take if the ground was more even and the bundle he held between his jaws didn’t keep getting snagged and caught on the barbed terrain. He made fresh scent marks adding to his territory and followed the stream for a while before dropping his bundle on the bank to lap at the water. He raised his nose to an intruder’s scent. He growled softly, baring his teeth in the darkness, and focussed on a direction tracking the night. He was getting closer and drawing nearer could smell the intruder, a bitter unpalatable scent. He could see movement and was downwind so wasn’t detected.

He readied himself to jump and the quarry turned just in time to see what was coming, and with quicker reflexes managed to spring out of the way. Landing, the attacker snarled and it was only then that he noticed the other one, crouching, ready to spring. Twisting his body, the wolf lunged at the closer target and they met in the air in a joust for the other’s neck. They landed, rolling but with the wolf having found the better grip when they stopped the creature was already dead or close enough to it to warrant no further attention. The other one circled, the wolf breathed, a growl rising in his throat. The creature that was still alive glanced down at the one that wasn’t and making a quick decision, turned tail and ran with the wolf hot on his heels. He gave chase and enjoyed it, but not so the taste in his mouth. He lost its trail and made a half hearted attempt at finding it again before returning to the stream to drink the clear water. And gripping his bundle between his teeth headed off in another direction until he was clear of the trees. The terrain was more open and he dropped the man’s bundle to look out over it and listen. The wind moved direction. He sniffed at it. There was a moving herd a way off in the distance, he shifted an ear slightly, adjusting for sound. He lifted his nose. The day would come soon, and lifting his bundle charted the most direct route across the space of land dividing the forest from the valley.

 

Kiera woke under a leafy bush and had to fight the tangles in her hair to sit up. She had no idea where she was or again where she had left her clothes and though she had learned over time to accept this as a formality of her life, she still gave in to that sinking feeling of being weak and vulnerable, unable to link the last chain of her life to her current predicament, unable to keep track of the holes in her life. But thinking like that wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and careful of the prickles she crawled her way out of the bush. She would just have to retrace her steps, still freshly marked in pawprint indents in the grass. Idly she looked up. A man was sitting next to what looked like the remains of a last night’s fire. Though he leaned back, his hood still covered most of his face. Kiera darted back in the bushes.

“They’re behind you,” Kiera trembled and thought it was because she was cold, but looking behind her did indeed see that her clothes had been where she had left them suddenly recognising the tree. She turned, the man hadn’t moved so she made a low dash towards the tree and reaching up pulled her bundle out of the split of a high branch. He looked up then away as she darted back to behind the bush. She dressed then peered around, he still hadn’t moved. How long had he been there and why had she slept so close...? He turned to look her way and she thought that she caught a glimpse of his face in the dawning light. “You were running away,” he said matter of factly but with a gentle curiosity that was softened by the way his voice sounded to her still heightened sense of hearing. She came slowly from behind the bush. He looked down as the last of the embers curled away in a grey smoke, steamed by the morning dew.

“Are you one of the forest people?” she asked but was sure that she would have recalled him. He didn’t seem to understand. She took a step closer, his face turned slightly away. She stopped.

“One of the people,” he repeated slowly to himself and she stepped back. He noticed. “I’m running away too,” calling her back to him and she could almost hear the firm set to his jaw behind the veil of the shadow cast by the cowl. She stepped across a broken tree stub and perching on the higher end of it asked, “From what?” Softening her voice as befitted the mood and the man seemed now to be exuding an inner radiance from the very essence of his being

 Or was that just the hazy shimmering of the dawn. She searched for his eyes but could only see the vulnerability of his demeanour as he struggled with the question, seemingly too meaningful to answer adequately.

“A place I can never go back to,” and she heard it like her soul was in echo with his thoughts and she shook her head slightly. Then she noticed the pawprints leading up to him. She pulled away: she did not know this man, and yet...

Adeius watched her go as he had watched her sleeping, dreaming, and leaning back, let the sun now streaming through the trees touch his face.

 

The horses were restless, Boregius was too, still awake, pacing the short distance of floor from the windowless wall from the door in long, slow strides, turning after every three or four. The brotherhood of monks had deemed the matter of the other horseman’s behaviour private to their monastery, and though it had taken most of the day, they finally informed him of their decision to send a delegation to the fort to plea a bargain for his release. Boregius had had to fold his arms in within his sleeves to restrain himself from pointing out the ineffectiveness of their proposed course of action. But it gave him time to think. He could do nothing but wait, but he had run out of signs to recognise and the destinies of others around him were intertwining rapidly.

He had gone over all the details in his mind that could furnish a clue as to what he was to do nest and could only find something his father had said that was half meaningless to the boy that he was, waiting to be understood if the need ever arose. “If there is nothing to be done, prepare, for when there is,” when he would talk of the battle strategies of the warrior steed. Boregius remembered that he had wanted to be one when he grew big enough, but pulled his mind away from the insignificance of the thought. He had waited, but how could he prepare for a fate he had no way in? But stopped pacing when the restlessness of the horses outside began to get to him. He opened the door. He had been awake long after the last of the monk’s movements had been heard. Lowering his head he made his way down the corridor past the sleeping rooms to the door outside. Opening it he realised it was almost dawn. He sensed something almost at once. The horses in the valley were agitated, their movement erratic, nervous, the stabled horses were restless too. Boregius felt his own disquiet. By now, some of the monks had risen, disturbed, one approached the horseman adjusting his habit.

“What is it?” he whispered with a look of deep consternation, but Boregius was listening. One by one more of the monks emerged from their slumber to stand alongside their brothers. Boregius slowly lowered his frame to pick up a loose stone from the ground. The monks watched his movements and froze.

“What’re you all doing...?” the Brother Elder demanded in unquietened tones stumbling out. All eyes turned to him sharply and he stopped. Boregius proceeded to undo and remove his waist cord and doubling it up placed the stone at its cradle and lowered it carefully to hang like a pendulum unswung, close to the ground.

“What is he doing?” Barely a whisper was met with sidelong glances filled with their own curiosity. Then the wolf stepped out into plain view. He had been quite close, around the side of the nearest end of the stable. He was in no hurry, loping casually towards the monks with no fear or caution. Then the animal fixed his eyes on the horseman, staring at him intently before cocking his head to one side. Boregius began to bounce the weight of the sling before swinging it round in a full circle and shifting his weight to release the stone. The wolf turned sharply but was caught at the side of the temple and went down in a crumpled heap. The assembled monks stared in shocked amazement at the fallen animal, then at the horseman, then back again.

“Is it dead?”

“No, Boregius’ rich, dark tone assured. The monks who had started to inch forward stepped back again.

“What shall we do with it?”

“Then a voice from behind them hissed, “Kill it!” And they all turned to find Brother Sirius leaning heavily against the door frame, as dishevelled as they’d ever seen him with a look of angered violation in his eyes, widened, darting wildly about. The brothers came to him but he pushed them away.

“No, kill it!” pointing as they stayed him with their hands, searching his face. “There was a wagon,” trying to convince them but faultered as the image replayed itself in his head. His expression began to contort in such a way as to leave his stunned audience in no doubt as to the competency of their fellow brother to decide his own actions.

“Let’s go inside Brother,” one of the bigger monks moved forward and glancing back signalled to the other monks to gather to him. Brother Sirius tried to resist but the Brother Elder came forward to reassure him.

“You just need a little rest, you’ve obviously been under a lot of strain,” reaching out to the monk who’s  eyes darted over to the horseman.

“Where did he come from and why is he...?” The monks overpowered him with their gentle concern.

“Do not leave him on his own,” the Bother Elder confided to the nearest monk as they ushered him inside.

“But the creature...” his eyes filled with consternation.

“It’s alright, we understand, everything’s going to be alright, we’ll take care of it, be at ease Brother.” The words must have sunk in. Brother Sirius slumped and allowed himself to be helped along the rest of the way. The Brother Elder and two of the senior monks stayed behind. Boregius walked over to the unconscious animal and knelt beside it. Leaning forward, he said something inaudible and lifting the animal and rising, turned. “He can be kept in a locked stall until something is decided on what to do with him.” The Brother Elder nodded as if that would have been his suggestion but looked sideways on at the ease in which the visiting brother felt around so dangerous an animal, and was about to say something but didn’t. Boregius of the Ravans felt the wolf’s heart beating steadily and knew that he hadn’t caused the animal too much injury. But where had it come from and why here, now, when such an oddity as this was so boundful a sign: but of what? He place the helpless creature down on a bed of straw in the corner of the stall. It was completely enclosed all around, right up to the ceiling. He closed back the stall and lifted the bolt down before taking one last glance back and leaving the stables.

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When Kiera finally found the forest people deeper in the forest, she was surprised at how little they took notice of her. But there were others, new arrivals, other groups. One girl she noticed straight away. Barely out of her own childhood she was holding fast to a young infant who wasn’t resisting her close embrace. The girl was aware of her also, their eyes shared a recognition, but of what? Kiera knew that she hadn’t set eyes on the girl before but was reminded of someone, something she had known, knew. She looked around, but the girl seemed to feel safe enough: there were women around, not too close but attending, stealing casual looks that if caught, turned into smiles. Some men, one or two from each of the different groups were making makeshift shelters out of bent and broken branches and boughs.

“If we head for the mountains it would take two or three days...” one of the younger men was saying as he tied a length of twine to a high bough.

“With women and children?” reminded an older man and removing the length of twine tied it more securely to a lower branch.

“More like four or five if the weather holds and nobody gets  sick and anyway,” turning to the other men, “We’d be better off heading for the plains, I know it’s further but...” Kiera didn’t listen anymore, they were making plans to leave, move on and she felt like running away with them.

“Lend a hand with this,” one of the younger men was smiling at her, “Hold it down while I tie it on.” She held down the branch smiling back.

“It’s a shame they can’t be made more permanent,” she commented. His smile turned down slightly at the corner of his lips.

“It’s not safe here anymore,” was all he would say as he finished knotting the twine. One of the other men called him over. “Maybe I’ll see you later,” his smile returned, with the hint of a twinkle but hers was non committal and she looked around to see where else she could be useful.

 

Pegas was lost. He did not know the woods, and thinking once that he had found a trail, followed it but it led to nothing. He sat down, leaning against a tree. Closing his eyes he tried to block out the strange sights and sounds, forcing himself to be calm. What had happened that night? But he already knew, but how? They had been connected in a way that Pegas felt had always meant to be and it explained much. He could feel them running, no, he was, the rider on his back so in tune with his every movement...there was a sound next to his ear, a fly buzzing, he  brushed it away. He felt calmer, and leaning back against the strong spine of the tall oak stared up at the high sun through the trees. He closed his eyes and felt the soft grass through his fingers and the lightest of breezes across his cheek, then  he was away, running, freed from the constraints of any other thought than how fast and how far, as the sun drifted late into the afternoon.

 

The monks were waiting for him inside the greater of the assembly rooms. They all sat around the long table exchanging words nervously and excitedly. They stopped as the horseman entered. The Brother Elder who was sitting at the narrow head stood up, regarding him questioningly as they all did. He indicated to the chair at the opposite end and the horseman sat down. The chair creaked.

“The peace and quiet of our monastery has been shattered by recent events but it is our duty as holders of the faith to keep to our vows and not allow the actions of others to dictate ours.” Boregius allowed his focus to wander to the smallness of these men’s lives.

“Wouldn’t you agree Brother?” Boregius nodded, thinking of an appropriate answer for the little man.

“These times are a trial for us all,” he said to a round of nodding, appreciative of his choice of phrase. The Brother Elder cleared his throat.

“A small delegation, led by our esteemed brother, Brother Renus , nodding to a studious looking man, “Will submit our case to Rogalis and maybe he will be lenient with our younger brother. As for the animal that our visiting brother so ably disenabled with the ingenious application of his belt... forgive me Brother but such an accurate and violent, potentially deadly skill, where would a man of our cloth acquire that?” The other brothers turned to look at Boregius who lowered his head slightly.

“My father taught me, and in the whimsy of youth, I considered myself quite able when I could fell a rabbit or aim fruit out of a tree,” he looked up again. “The animal would have been dead if I had intended it, but it must be kept alive, it is a sign.”

Those assembled recoiled in horror at the blasphemy. Boregius had forgotten himself for a moment, allowing the fraternity of the room to sway his judgement towards confiding in them.

“The reading of signs is one of the Ancient Arts denounced by the leaders of our faith, the penalties for misinterpretation are grave,” regarding their visitor with a new suspicion. “How came you by this exemption and by what authority do you flaunt it?” The Brother Elder began to question his earlier evaluation of the dark giant. Boregius held back. These men were not worthy of an explanation, they were merely a pale and distorted imitation of the older creed of horse brothers. Whoever had founded their order had kept to the main themes, humility, geniality but it was in their allegiance to the horsemen as shelterer, handler or companion, the older version of horse brothers entrusted with the Mysteries proved invaluable at the height of the wars, the remnants of whom were scattered in all directions of the wind with only misguided men such as these to take their place. But these were different times.

“I know very little,” carefully, “Unverified rumours,” placing his large hands on the smooth surface of the table, “But when events collide such as they have done, it would be a foolish man who disregarded the proof of his own eyes.” The members of the brotherhood looked to their leader for a response.

“We shall suspend sending a delegation to the fort. When Brother Sirius has taken enough rest we shall learn more about Brother Pegas’ actions and be in a better position to take a more relevant course of action.” The brothers nodded to each other in approval, while the horseman issued a curt nod. “And,” collecting his arms up in his sleeves, “We will inform you of our decision regarding the animal,” and turning almost on his heel, signalled the end of the meeting. Boregius returned the cautious stares of the monks with a polite smile and allowed to leave to pursue his own course of action,  formulated a plan. Feigning weariness he retired to the room he had been assigned to wait but not for too long, as the walls of the too small room began to close in.

 

The trader was half asleep when the vision of Anatu came to him.

“Have you found him yet?” The trader bowed his head.

“Not yet, but the horseman...”

“He is hidden from me, I cannot pick up his scent, but there is a wolf.”

“A wolf?” looking up.

“A man in wolves clothing who has been sent to help him, and another, I cannot see clearly. He cannot be allowed to realise his full potential.”

“We will find him.”

“That is my will, do not incur my wrath.” And the vision was gone. The trader wrestled with sleep after that but with a fresh determination to find the dragon child at all costs.

 

Adeius walked for a while in the forest, touching at trees, flowers, bushes, tuning in to the nature all around him then sat down in the middle of a glade and closed his eyes. When he opened them a faun had wandered close and stood in front of him showing no fear. He smiled and closed his eyes again and found himself drifting to another place, another world. He sees creatures all around him looking at him and he looked down at his body and saw that it was the same as theirs. Then one came up to him shouting and shaking him by the shoulders. He could not understand him and then he opened his eyes and he was back. The faun had gone. He had never experienced anything like that before, was it real? But the forest was real and he lay back to take it all in.

 

The man known as the Jakal woke to find himself naked, cold surrounded by bars with a throbbing head. He could see nothing through the bars save for that he was in a large building that smelt of horses, but there were none there now. The sounds were different outside,  he had come far, but to where and why? He heard footsteps and crouching in the furthest, darkest corner, waited.

 

“Those who could hunt, caught, those who knew how skinned, those who could fetch brought wood for the fire and those who could cook made enough for all. Kiera found the food less than appetising and preferring to go without gave hers to the old man sitting next to her who gummed a smile.

“They never give us much,” he slurped, “Figure there’s not much point in feeding us, no telling how long we’re gonna last,” he cackled at her. Kiera smiled but inched away a little. “Don’t know how many more summers  I'll  see,” he went on, “But I won’t make it through the mountains, not all of us, not that the journey to the plains would be a stroll in the park either.” Kiera looked a t him, trying to ignore the food spilt on his whiskers.

“Why don’t you stay? I’m sure that there are others that feel the same way as you do. You shouldn’t have to be forced to leave your home...” Kiera stopped. Those around her had been listening, halting their own conversations to do so.

“Home? You call this a home? Scraping a living out of what they leave us or what Rogalis designates for us?” A woman older than her and with eyes more tired than hers raised her voice and others began to listen. Somebody tried to hush her.

“She is young, she has not yet understanding,” but the woman would not be hushed.

“Each winter there is less here to eat, less of the land to feel free in,” she looked around as more began to listen. “Some of us have birthed babies here, buried kin, but we must move on,” her voice was firm, “For those yet to be born.” She resumed eating.

“I only meant...” but didn’t know how to carry on. Another woman further down on her side reached out a kindly hand.

“We know how you feel dear. My grandmother was born on the land Rogalis now owns, or claims to, but there is nothing we can do about it.”

“We can fight,” said Kiera, not knowing where that came from and all eyes turned, deciding whether or not to laugh.

“What do you know of fighting?” A strong male, humourless voice scolded. There were a couple of smirks and a few admonishing glances but not everybody found the idea so easy to disregard, but the climate was insufficiently buoyant to mention it. Kiera helped with the clearing away but as soon as she discreetly could she wandered off into the forest to be alone. She hated Rogalis, she didn’t even know why, she cared about the forest people, even liked them, some of them, but not that much she thought stubbornly. So why did she want to join them, stand alongside them even fight?

Did she feel a belonging here, were they too much of a reminder of her past? Or was there something else? And then a rage called from within her that had been nagging at her unheeded since returning from the ‘were’. Her head turned unbidden to the direction of the fort. She had been there she realised suddenly, but why? Her arched brows deepened with the frustration of not knowing. She could remember nothing of her time in her other skin as it had always been with her and she presumed all her kind. Oh, she knew there were others, catching a scent or a look in a stranger’s eye but she could never be quite sure, she had never sought an introduction. But she was better off alone, although sometimes finding herself too lost to bear, she followed the lead of her other self who’s  judgement she never disallowed. She had been travelling east, always, even after detours of time and circumstance, but still returning to the trail, even finding a way through the mountains where others had failed. But never before had she felt her past pursuing her so closely: she had been running away, hadn’t she? Or had she been pursuer all along? Had she been hunting the perpetrators of the crime of taking away her childhood, her happiness, her  home? She looked up again in the direction of the fort. There was something there! She gripped her fists at the sudden realisation. But what was she to do? She found herself walking by the river. The sun was far descending into its last quarter, casting light beams, silver dusted in burnished amber gold. And then there was a horse. Head bowed low, nose touching the water with an almost white flow of mane and luxurious tail and a pale gold coat reflecting on the trembling water where it sparkled. She froze. Maybe it didn’t see her, horses had never been comfortable around her, they could always sense her and became wary. Whoever owned the animal was probably nearby but it had neither reign nor saddle. It looked up and saw her but carried on drinking and she held her breath. Then suddenly it darted away from the water and in through the trees. Where did he go? She took a few steps towards where he had been, intending to follow, but to her surprise he came back, cantering towards her, not close enough for her to reach without stretching out her arm, staring at her. His eyes were a soft brown and his lashes long and as pale as his mane, a tuft of which fell down between his ears onto his forehead. She took a step back but began to have the feeling that she’d come across those eyes somewhere before. He turned once more and this time she followed him in through the trees. He stopped beside a bundle of clothing. She looked over at the horse who had found a juicy clump of grass to nibble on.

“Nah,” she said to herself, then cocking her head to one side raised her eyebrows in a facial shrug. The she picked up the oversized garment and held it up, the horse looked back at her. Sheepishly she put it back down again but then a thought struck her. The horse monks were allowed to come and go freely at the fort. She lifted back up the habit. She could gather it up at the hip she supposed and tilting her head to the side to catch the horse’s eye,”That’s if you’ll let me ride you of course.” The horse went back to nibbling the grass. Kiera sniffed at the garment and wrinkled her nose a bit before putting it on, adjusting it at the waist until she felt comfortable. The horse allowed her near but when she reached out to touch him he shied away. She looked at him hands on hips.

“What am I supposed to think? You show up, here, now, and me, I’ve got somewhere to be and without my four legs...” he came towards her then, shuddering slightly at her touch allowed her to mount. She held on to his mane tightly but he shook his head a little, she loosened her grip, but only a little. But finding that the slightest movement or indication of one was interpreted with such finesse and immediacy, she loosened her hold even more and soon they were clear of the trees and running, exhilarated by the speed and rhythm of the ground against them in companion.

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Adeius, come.” He followed the voice in his mind to another place another world. He didn’t have to look down to know he was in another body and there were different creatures all around him but this time they were all laughing at him. And then a bigger, vicious looking creature came and the others ran away afraid. He stood his ground and the creature come up to him and roared in his face. Adeius wasn’t afraid and then he felt that he should climb on the creature’s back, which he did. It took him to the foot of a mountain and he got off and looked around. He saw a large stone with a curiously shaped marking. He came back to himself this time more sure that the place had been real. But what did it mean? He made a fire and stared into the coloured flame for answers.

 

A big, dark figure entered the stable treading softly for one of his size. He approached the stall carefully. Boregius resolved that he would have to free the animal. He had hurled the stone to save it from the monks as much as the monks from it. Whatever its presence portended he would not have any harm come to it as a cause of his intervention. He could not see the animal and moved closer. The Jakal felt an intense liking and trust towards the big man but also something else, he couldn’t quite work out what, but when he stepped closer to the bars and there were fresh instinct gave him the urge to attack the big man, he held back and closed the snarl that was beginning to appear at his lip, waiting to see what he would do next. Boregius couldn’t sense the animal as he had done before, maybe it was still unconscious. He reached down to lift the bolt, and then his eyes began to get accustomed to the dim light. There was no mistaking the figure of a man, crouching in the half darkness where a wolf should have been. The big horseman blinked, twice.

“Where are your clothes, I have little time,” and the Jakal stepped forward out of sheer surprise at the big man who on closer inspection was bigger and broader than he first realised.

“I think I left them behind the stable,” scratching his head then feeling at the sore point at his temple. He looked sharply up at the big man, half remembering something, but he was starting to get a headache so thought better of it. The big man nodded and turned and was soon back with the clothing.

“You bury your clothes,” looking curiously at the naked man as he passed the clothes through the bars. The Jakal had never thought too much about it before so he didn’t have an answer, but he did want to know what was taking the big man so long to open the lock.

“There will be a horse waiting for you outside, but you must wait until the sun fully sets,” looking into the other man’s eyes to see if he could be trusted.

“I’ll wait but...” looking a little sheepish, “Where am I?” The big man showed no surprise at the question.

“These are the stable at the monastery, in the horse valley.” The Jakal then looked at the big man up and down.

“Of course,” he exclaimed to himself, then searching the horseman’s big dark eyes, “ Then  you know of the woodcutter Jacob.”

“I know of no such man,” then realising the misconception, “I am a visitor here, the members of this brotherhood might know of whom you speak but I think that it would be unwise... they are not as worldly as you , or I,” he watched the wereman regard him thoughtfully and lifted the bolt before turning to leave.

“Hey!” called the Jakal in aloud whisper. The horseman turned.

At sun fall, no sooner,” the horseman reiterated. There will be a saddle and bags,” he faultered, unsure of how much needed to be voiced, but the Jakal had something to ask.

“Am I gonna need to know your name?” The horseman thought about this before bowing his head through the outer door.

 “I am Boregius of the Ravans,” he added and waited to hear a reply.

“They know me round here as the Jakal,” only then noticing the anomaly. The horseman hesitated for a second before closing the stable door behind him, wondering what kind of man buries his clothes? And how soon before the mists would come to relieve him of his burden of too much knowing...

 

Adeius had not been surprised by the black leopard’s approach to his fire; he had never encountered a living beast that would cause him harm and liked the way the smooth, strong animal purred and felt. What had surprised him was the girl, and he instinctively knew that the people he had newly met were not the same. He did not want her to react to him as they did. He would have liked for her to have stayed and talked, and started to miss his view from the mountain top and the less frequented air. His thoughts roamed the crags and the ridges, their crests and their peaks, the sweeter smelling grasses and the coolness of the breeze and he felt himself rise through the treetops up into the clouds. He shook his head: he felt dizzy but it passed. And crumbled loose earth over the ashes.

 

“I will be leaving in the morning.” Rogalis looked at the trader, surprised but said nothing of what he was thinking.

“I will have two of my men ride with you to the next territory,” but the trader shook his head.

“There are safe routes used by traders, I will have no need of them, but know this, if I cannot rely on an increase of output from your workforce, \I will have to think about trading elsewhere,” giving Rogalis something to sleep on while he looked to his own plans.

“As long as I can rely on not having those creatures running about, you will get what you want.” The agreement made, Rogalis watched the small man with his neat little movements turn away and wondered, not for the first time if what he gained from their connection was worth what he lost, and called for another bottle.

 

As promised the Jakal waited until it was dark and found the horse outside the stable door and the saddle. He didn’t check the saddle bags but took a moment to size up the animal. It stood apart from others of its kind, mainly from the way it didn’t react to his presence in fear or agitation and if he hadn’t been impressed by that fact, the nobility of its stature was enough for the wereman to know that the horse and the big man were one and the same.

“I guess we had better get out of her e then,” and the horse didn’t object when he climbed on his back. The night was dark enough for the Jakal not to see, but the horse knew where he was going and he leaned back. He would not be steered and the Jakal wondered how he would have to be in the saddle as they ran into the night. Then spying a building up ahead and realising the horse was heading for it, thought about the futility of his mission. His father was dead, that much he knew. He had come this way on the instruction of his mother to find a clue to his identity, his reason, his character: where to now? But he had to know at least, how the man died. The horse stopped outside the building and wandered off to what looked like a stable, but it was dark, there were no lights on. He banged on the door and a big gruff man answered, heavy from sleep.

“Were closed,” was all he would say before closing the door again. The Jakal banged at the door again, for whatever reason the horse brought him here, he was hungry, they were bound to have some food. This time a woman answered.

“I just want something to eat,” placing a foot in the crack of the door so that she couldn’t close it but she didn’t. And stood staring at him with a look of surprised animation.

“Come in,” she smiled and watched him closely as he did so. “There’s some cold meat and bread,” motioning for him to sit as who he assumed to be her husband looked on hostily. “It’s alright love, you go back to bed, I’ll see to him.” As she returned with the food. She went back for the jug of ale.

“Just water,” he said between mouthfuls and she did as she was asked, smiling as she sat down across from him, watching him.

“Just like your father,” and the Jakal almost choked.

“You knew my father?” incredulous, then looking back at the door to where the horse was, somewhere on the other side.

“Very well, it was he who... we were very much alike, your father and I.” The Jakal looked at the woman closely but could find no sense in her meaning.

“So you know how he died then?”

“Yes, but I remember more, how he lived.” The Jakal paused for a moment before downing the last mouthful. The woman was about his mother’s age, her face, hardened by her life softened when she smiled at him.

He looked so much like the man she had once thought she was in love with, but the memory was old, unused, a reminder of the life she left behind...

“He helped me, he tried to help other but,” her face hardened against the thought, “They turned on him when Rogalis convinced them that he...”

“Rogalis?” standing, “At the fort?”

“Sit,” and waited until he did before carrying on. “The land where the fort is now belonged to a man called Paron. He was one of the biggest landowners of the territory. Rogalis used to work for him. When he was killed, Rogalis took over and that’s when everything changed. Your father was accused. There were reports, sighting, of an animal... and because Jacob chose to live in the forest away from the rest of the community rumours began to circulate. They began to see him as a threat. And when he spoke out against Rogalis that’s when...”

“He was wrongly accused...”

“There had been attacks, and the evidence seemed to point to him, I began to fear not only for him but...” Then the Jakal realised what she had meant earlier and looked away from her eyes. “I said that your father helped me, and I could not do it myself,” indignantly. The Jakal looked back up at her unbelieving.

“You chose to...” he had only come across such a person once before in his life. “But is it not a punishment?” She sighed heavily, doubtful that she could make him understand.

“I could not live that life any more, always running, scared, hiding, waking up to a different place than where I’d fallen asleep...”

“And my father...”

“He was against it, he refused, I had once thought that he and I... but then I met my husband and wanted a normal life...”

“But...” trying to understand. He didn’t want to condemn the woman, but to deny her own self, her very identity!

“I pleaded with him, begged him, and it was only when I said I would try to find a way to do it myself that he agreed.”

“And you haven’t regretted it?”

“Not a day, only when they killed your father would I have been glad of the skin, but the creatures that were the real attackers, they are not like us, they killed and terrorized the people out of their homes on to the workfarms, then more people came with stories of attacks.

“And Rogalis?”

“He is kept safe up in his fort. The men that work for him used to live alongside the rest of us but were tempted by the easier life, turning on even their own families,” with a look of disgust.

“So these creatures...”

“Few have caught even a glimpse of them but the damage they’ve caused to livestock, lives...they are small, dark, utterly ferocious, I don’t know how many of them attacked your father but,” and seeing the look on the young wereman’s face, “But since then, at least in this territory, there have been no more sightings or attacks, until now.”

The  Jakal got up.

“Where are you going?” concerned.

“Back.”

“You can’t, they’ll only do to you what they did to your father and at least I chose...” The Jakal looked at her, angry now, his eyes steely grey.

“You weren’t going to tell me?”

“What good would it have done?” resigned. “But you cannot... They were here, there was an old man, we found.... what was left of him, they were looking for the horse...” The Jakal stopped in his tracks.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, but it might have been something to do with what the old man said in his sleep, something about a child and a raven...” the Jakal stared at her.

“What else did he say?” I don’t know, something,” trying to remember, “Before it’s too late...” He turned and when he reached the door, “Thank you, but don’t worry,” then glancing back at her, “You did the right thing,” and left.

The horse was waiting and came to him.

“Ravan,” the Jakal said quietly and the horse pricked up its ears. “We’re going back,” climbing up on its back and the horse seemed to know what direction to take, and as they sped through the night, the Jakal, fuelled with anger for those of his kind who would choose to take such drastic measures, having their tail removed or like his father misunderstood by those he was trying to help, knew he would find a way to avenge all of them and without understanding or caring how, bared his teeth at the night.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Adeius put some more wood on the fire. It was dark and the shadows hung around him closely. He stared into the fire and his thoughts went back to the old man Elias, the only other person he had known growing up as a child on the mountain. He had taught him about the world, strange stories and tales and had told him he was not like the other people of this world and that he had a special destiny. Sometimes the old man would rant incoherently but Adeius would try to sooth him and wait until he calmed down. He never once talked about his parentage but said when he came of age, all would become known to him. When he was dying the old man had made him promise not to leave the mountain until he received a sign and that he would know what it was when it came. And Adeius had waited those long years of the rest of his childhood with only the goats to keep him company. But what was to become of him now? He leaned back and closed his eyes. Almost immediately he found himself in a cave on another world. He looked down but he was in his own or it seemed to be at least human. A man appeared in long robes and lifted up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo which Adeius recognised as the same curiously designed symbol he had seen on the stone of the other world. The man beckoned him to follow. He led the way through a tunnel of caverns until they reached one where all different kinds of creatures, some human like were seated around a large table. There was an empty chair and the man motioned for him to sit. They had been waiting for him. They joined hands and closed their eyes and he did the same. Then he heard in his mind, “You are the Dragon Child, you must help us.”

“How?”

“You must unite the worlds make them work together, there is an evil that threatens the balance that holds the worlds together.”

“But what must I do?”

Another voice said, “Is it wise to put all our faith in such as him? He is but a child in his world.”

“The Dragons chose this way,” said another, “We can trust their reasoning, they will find a way.”

Then one said alarmed, “They are coming, we must leave.” They all stood and broke the circle. The Adeius felt it, an evil coming closer. He opened his eyes and was back in the forest. What was happening? The shadows danced in the light and then the echo came to him like a soothing balm.

“Adeius.”

“What am I?” he cried. The echo was silent for a while.

“You are an Avatar in the spirit world. You can enter other bodies in the different dimensions, see through their eyes sense their feelings, react to their instincts. You have power in these worlds but it is up to you to find out what they are and how to use them. The way will become more clear to you. But sleep now, you are safe.” And Adeius lay down suddenly tired and mind too full to fathom, and gratefully he succumbed to sleep.

 

“Hey, isn’t that one of the monks?” Two men now manned the gate as an added precaution and they took turns sleeping.

“Huh, what?”

“Look!”

He did.

“Are you sure?” Squinting, there wasn’t enough light yet.

“What d’ya think he wants? Should we wake the Captain?”

“Only if he’s brought back that horse!” But they saw that the animal was a pale colour.

“But late for you, eh Brother?” The rider’s head nodded but was kept low.

“And don’t you usually travel in pairs?” as the horse passed through the gate. A non committal gesture was all they got in answer.

“Hey, where’re you going? The lodging house is that way!” The guards looked at each other as the rider stopped the horse and turned. They moved from their posts to bar its way.

“What business have  you here? You don’t have any horses with you, unless you’re planning to sell this...” One of the guards reached out for the horse. It reared and the rider fell back, landing on the ground with a high pitched cry. She tried to pull the cowl back over her head but the men had already seen.

“You’re not a monk!” one exclaimed.

“You’re that girl...” the other remembered her from the river. “You get the horse, I’ll see to her,” looking at Kiera in a way that made her scowl.

“Why don’t you get the horse?” Which was already heading off in the direction of the stables.

“’Cause I’ll tell the Captain you were asleep on duty.” The other guard looked at him betrayed.

“But you said we were gonna take turns!”

“Well it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting any sleep now, does it?” waiting for an answer. The other guard gave in and followed after the horse.

“Well,” smiling laviciously, “This is a surprise. Where did you get to and how did you get away from the...” He frowned at the recollection. Still on the ground Kiera tried to stand but grabbed at her ankle, wincing at the pain.

“Life in the forest not to your liking anymore? You know all I have to do is tell the Captain of what you were trying to do and it’ll be the workfarms for you, is that what you want?” Kiera shrank away as he leaned in closer. “No, I don’t think so. But I can’t just let you go can I? What say we make a little deal eh?”

“And then you’ll let me go?”

“You know, I could get in trouble for not reporting this, but if you make it worth my while...” Kiera managed to attach a shy smile and the guard helped her to her feet.

“There’s an old store room, I’m gonna have to lock you in but when I get off duty... Just make sure not to make a sound OK? Then after, I’ll let you go.” Kiera nodded as he closed the door and turned the lock, leaving her in the darkness.

 

“How long have I been sleeping?” rising heavily. The two monks assigned to watch him rushed forward but he pushed them away. “I can stand by myself, I must speak to the Brother Elder!” One of the monks went to fetch him while the other fussed around.

“You slept through the night,” urging him to sit back on the bed and fluffing his pillows. “And how are you feeling?” Brother Sirius looked at the other monk as if at a fool.

“Don’t patronize me, if you’d seen what I’d seen...”

“Brother Sirius!” The Elder Brother looked anxious as he walked in. “How is he doing?” to the monk attending.

“I’m fine Brother Elder,” before the other monk could answer. But he did anyway.

“He seems to be back to his old self.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” grumpily, confirming it.

“Well, forgive us our concern Brother,” said the Elder sitting down on the edge of the bed, “But yesterday, your behaviour was, to say the least, disturbing.”

Brother Sirius looked at each of the men in the room.

“You all know me not be given to fanciful behaviour or immoderate speculation,” and they nodded, “But something very weird is going on here, and to retell what I have witnessed may cause you to doubt my ability to reason, even my sanity, so I beg your indulgence, hear me out first.”

Each of the men nodded at what, for Brother Sirius was tantamount to an emotional outburst. He took a deep breath before beginning.

“I felt it was a mistake to have allowed young Pegas such a responsibility, and going by recent accounts...” he left the rest unsaid. The Brother Elder frowned. “He had shown concern for the animal but never would I have expected him to so far as to commit...”

“So it is true then,” said the Brother Elder, resigned.

“But that is not the worst of it,” he took another deep breath. “That boy, the child, from the mountain...”

“You saw him?” incredulous. “Where?” The Brother Elder was deeply concerned.

“He was wearing Brother Elias’s old habit, but, his face...” searching for words.

“Where did you see him, on the mountain?”

“No, by a stream, he tried to...”

“Well I could see how that could cause distress, we all believed him to be dead...”

“No, I saw dead people.” And closed his eyes, pained. Beside an overturned wagon. They had been...eaten...” The monks covered their mouths in horror.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, the beast is back! That animal,” rising suddenly.

“It’s OK, the visiting brother disabled it. Quite ingenious really...”

“Where is it now?” eyes watchful.

“You need not concern yourself, it is safely locked away where it can cause no harm.”

“Then before it does, we must kill it!” The other monks in the room looked at each other.

“Now we mustn’t be too hasty, we can’t be sure...” But Brother Sirius was up and demanding to see for himself.

“Ok, if it will put your mind at ease.”

When they found that it was gone they went to find the visiting monk and finding him gone also began to suspect that Brother Sirius’ use of the term ‘weird’ was as he attested, and appropriate.

“We must warn the people and Rogalis.”

“Maybe they already know, it’s  better that we stay here...”

“No.” The Brother Elder was firm. “These are strange occurrences and it is a time for the community to stand together, set differences apart...”

“With those things loose?” Brother Sirius was seriously considering mutiny, but the Brother Elder was decided.

“Who’s to say that we’ll be safe up here and, though this may not seem like the best time to mention it, the supplies, you didn’t manage to get them?” Brother Sirius’ forehead creased.

“I left the wagon by the forest when I saw... I’m sorry, I...”

“We will be safe in numbers and at least at the fort...” But the Brother Elder had more to worry about. There was something wrong, terribly wrong. The big monk’s disappearance, the animal’s appearance, but more, the child. He had been the first to be woken by the shouts, when Brother Elias had brought the child to the monastery. The child was special, Brother Elias seemed convinced of it, but what could be so important about a child? These men’s lives were his concern, but also their souls, and suddenly he felt lost and afraid. They would leave immediately and once behind the walls of the fort...

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

He’d always seen the world from the mountain, high above it. People, small moving shapes, like herds, mostly together. They were different close up, not like Elias at all. But he’d said that would be so. The ground was different too, level and the trees, tall, and looking up at the mountain rather than down from it. Everything was different even the air and he felt different, altered also. The birds that flew high overhead didn’t call to him as they used to, too high to see him, to be close... He closed his eyes and there was another world surrounding him. A mountain just ahead seemed to want to be climbed and he did so eager to reach the top. When he got there he looked down. The ground seemed barren and there were other mountains far off in the distance. Then he looked up. High in the sky he could see a flight of birds, no, other creatures, he could just make them out and he felt a longing so strong to be up there with them, like they were calling to him. Then he heard a voice in his head said, “Fly,” and he threw himself off. Immediately regretting it he fell like a stone and frightened he shook himself back. But found that he was still up in the air, over a different landscape and this time, he was flying. He soared, looking across and seeing his wings and testing the winds currents and himself against them dipped and rolled, careered and cascaded. He flew over people, so small, so far away, and as he swooped and whirled, closer, he saw them looking up and pointing. He fell back into himself and found himself on the ground in his own body. He felt dizzy and it didn’t leave him for a while. Did they see him? Of course not, he hadn’t really been flying, only dreaming, just remembering...

 

“Mummy, what’s that?”

“What dear?” The child was looking up but her mother was busy. Everything was packed up and they were ready to go. Anything that could not be carried was left and the children who were bog enough walked.

“Isn’t it pretty Mummy?” Patiently, her mother looked up but could only see the clouds.

“That’s very nice dear,” adjusting the heavy burden of their possessions on her back.

“But...” her little face began to crumple, “Can’t you see it Mummy?”

“Now Calia, I need you to be a good girl for Mummy. Do you remember? I told you that we were going on a long trip and I need you to be...” But the child was beginning to cry. Though the burden was weighing her down, the little girl’s mother looked up, straining to see. “Oh yes, look...”

“Can you see it Mummy?” the little girl’s face brightened.

“Yes, yes,” the clouds were shaped rather oddly, especially where... the mother looked away. “It’s just a shape in the clouds dear.”

“But Mummy...”

And then there were others looking up, pointing. Some thought that they could see something, others thought they were just imagining it. And then a little girl was waving, looking up and smiling, and the girl with her, barely out of her own childhood was looking up and with tears in her eyes was smiling too and laughing, and though she hadn’t said a word since she joined them causing those around her to worry about her sanity or ability to care for the child that she sometimes clung too close to, she spoke loud and clear.

“We can stay, we don’t have to go now, everything’s going to be alright.” And looking round at the questioning faces. “Can’t you see it?” Her face was radiant. As, more began to notice, were the children’s and those older, nearer death.

“She’s right,” the oldest of them said. “I’m not leaving, this is my home, you can go without me.”

“And me!”

“And me!”

“But there’s nothing there!” said a man who’d never seen shapes in clouds before and wasn’t about to start now, and looking up, the strange anomaly did seem to have disappeared.

“It doesn’t matter,” adamant, “I’m not going anywhere,” and sat down, crossing his old legs on the ground. The children came and sat down too, wrestling themselves away from their mothers to those whose  eyes they recognised had seen the same sight and were assured of the same belief.

“And how are we expected to survive?” Angry and impatient with those unwilling to accept the reality of their situation. And then a horse pulling a wagon appeared out of nowhere, laden with supplies, as if in answer. All looked, waiting for the reaction.

“Well I’ll be...” breathing out and looking up.

 

“Get a move on there, stop slacking!”

Since the escape, the workers had been more resilient, less cooperative , though not enough to report to Rogalis, and it was only one man... But this morning they were particularly restless. It was the guard who looked up first, then rubbed his eyes, then again. Tools were dropped as those who weren’t looking up, looked at those who were.

“If that’s not a sign I don’t know what is!” And others seemed to agree, they started to walk away.

“Get back to work, stop slacking, stop...” And then it was gone.

“Well?” looking around at each other. A big man stepped forward taking the lead.

“I think it’s about time we had a word with Rogalis!” The guard on horseback were beginning to feel outnumbered, and thought that maybe now was a good time to make that report, kicking their heels, and as their horses ran, cheers flew up as those who had worked land that had once been their own, marched.

 

Brother Sirius nearly fell off his horse. He screamed, covering his eyes. The other brothers reacted similarly if not as dramatically but the Brother Elder could not see anything, he searched the sky. They had all been in the valley too long,  cut off from normal society, the Brother Elder was beginning to get tired of his job, his responsibility. It wasn’t far now...

 

The residents of the fort were rising. Those who had had the night duty handed over to those who were rotaed  for the morning shift; the stables had to be mucked out, and the chickens relieved of their eggs. Rogalis had not yet stirred but the trader who had found it difficult to sleep all night, looked forward to leaving the place; there was much to inform his superiors of. But that would not account for the feeling of foreboding that was heavy in the air, and when the feeling began to intensify, he fell to the floor, hands over head until it passed. When he left his room and went outside, the guards were milling around with dazed, confused looks on their faces. He grabbed one.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” But the man just stared blankly.

“Didn’t you see?” The trader shrank away from the man, all around the men seemed to have lost their reasoning. Some had fallen to the ground crying, others laughing or just walking around purposeless.

“Get Rogalis!” He had to repeat the order before the man went to fetch the captain.

“What’s wrong with everyone?”

“You tell me!” said the trader as they watched the normally smooth running of the fort descend into chaos. And then, from the gat, one of the guards called.

“Captain, I think you’d better come take a look at this!” The guards from the workfarms were riding at top speed towards them.

“Why have you abandoned your posts?” The first man to reach them was out of breath, wide eyed.

“Didn’t you see it?”

“See what?” The man didn’t know how to answer.

“The workers,” straightening up, “They’ve rebelled Sir, there was nothing we could do...” And then they could be seen, the whole of the workforce, still at a safe enough distance away, but coming.

“Is everyone going mad?” Rogalis was fuming. The trader willed himself not to panic and pulled Rogalis to one side.

“Listen to me Rogalis...” Rogalis yanked himself away looking down on the small man as if he too were crazy.

“Listen to you? I have been, and look what’s happened!”

“Er, Sir...” The man at the gate was looking out in the other direction. Rogalis followed his line of sight as did the trader.

“Ok, now I’m listening,” but all the trader could do was stare.

 

There wasn’t much night left and the Ravan’s lungs, though big, and his heart willing, could not sustain the pace that had taken them so far in such a short time.

The fort was still far enough in the distance to not be seen yet and the Jakal had time to think about what he was going to do when he got there. Avenging his father, a man he hadn’t even met, the man who hadn’t watched him grow or been there for his mother when she cried and he, too small, too young to be a shoulder for her. She had spoken little about the man and the Jakal had often wondered if it was to save him from knowing what he had later found out to be his heritage, one that would, when he had come of age, separate him from even his mother and her kin and send him in search of the man that his father was and the one that he was to become. And what had he found instead? He had thought to collect from the man and all he had was a debt to pay.

The dawn’s rays came sifting through the cold, grey sky as having slowed the pace enough to recover his breath, the Ravan, feeling the new urgency of the rider drove on until the fort was in sight. 

The sun was higher in the sky when, what at first looked like rippling grass, coming from the direction of the workfarms from the other side of the fort. And the people of the forest were coming out from the trees to meet them, join them. By now, he was ahead of them, closer to the fort and didn’t need to look around to know that they were following.

“Guess I’m not the only one come visiting,” he said to the Ravan who shook his mane and flared his tail taking position at the head of what was now an army.

 

“Well?”

“No, it can’t be!”

There was no mistaking the horse: no other kind could carry themselves with such noble bearing, such a proud stature, and the man who was riding him, so much like... no, it couldn’t be!

“Get your men together, quickly!” But Rogalis stood dumbfounded.

“But how...” The trader grabbed him, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of his upper arm.

“We have no time to lose we must act now!” Rogalis looked down at him, barely focussing.

“There are too many of them, my men aren’t a match...”

“Do you know who that is?” Pointing to the man on the black horse, instantly recognising the features. Rogalis squinted at the man at the head of the slow moving advance.

“No, but isn’t that the same man...”

“The woodcutter,” giving a hint.

“But he’s...”

“That must be his son,” spelling it out for him.

“I knew this would happen,” panicking, “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you...” There were shouts now, and arms raised  aloft, he could hear his own name being mentioned along with threats and his men began to look at him doubtfully.

“There can still be a way out of this, but you must listen to me very carefully Rogalis. You still have the upper hand, you must...”

“What should we do Captain?”

“There’s too many of them!”

The trader quietly whispered in his ear.

“Tell them to open the gate.”

“What?” incredulous.

“The people, do they know that the man they follow is the son of a murderer, a horse thief?”

“That’s the one who escaped from the workfarms Sir,” a guard helpfully added.

“I remember him,” added another. “He’s the one we found lurking around the night the trader thought... the trader saw something...”

“An escaped criminal!” the trader then added to the list.

“How would they feel if they knew...” But the wheels of Rogalis’ mind had begun to turn.

“Mount your horses!” he ordered his men who were beginning to wonder the worth of their loyalty. “Or are you afraid of a few women and old men? Once we cut off their head, they’ll soon turn tail and run and I have just the weapon for that job, well don’t just stand there!” The men moved at his command but were nervous as the gate opened and the full extent of the opposition could be seen. Yes there were women and children, but they held flanking positions or followed on at the back. The main thrust of the oncoming aggression were men, old and young, men who they had, in the name of Rogalis driven from their homes, terrorized at will, separated from their families.

“Hold steady men,” Rogalis exuding confidence and control took the lead, steering his horse past them to stand between them and the onslaught and they once again remembered that it was they who had the right, and in their uniformity, held their positions and to their captain, steadfast.

 

“who’s  he?”

“I donno, but he seems to know what he’s doing,” came the reply and most agreed as they followed the man on the black horse who was going in the same direction as they were ahead of them. The people of the forest had heard shouts, coming towards them and at first were getting ready to run thinking that Rogalis’ men had returned.

But then one by one they recognised individual voices, names family members, relative, friends and saw the wonderment of all who they thought lost to the workfarms now free, proud and strong. And though most went along to see what was happening, their numbers made them more than the independently disgruntled and aggrieved, collectively they were a force that they were beginning to realise, that Rogalis would have to reckon with and answer to.

“You can’t hide anymore Rogalis!”

“Come out of there!” And when he did, it took them by surprise, and some held back, but the man on the black horse kept going, and shoulder to shoulder the people marched on.

 

Both sides advanced to a point to where they were close enough to see each other’s eyes and stopped, Rogalis’ men in a line on either side of their captain on horseback and the people, forest and farmworkers, a mass congregation behind the man on the black horse on foot. Rogalis raised his arm calling a halt which they all responded to.

“What are your demands, what do you want from me?”  His demeanour was strong, unhurried and unthreatened, and ignoring the man at their head looked out over the people as one by one, they furnished him with answers.

“Our lands back!”

“Our homes!”

Our freedom!” The shouts increased and multiplied and Rogalis raised both hands to quiet them.

“Anything else?” Taking them by surprise. “And this you hope to attain by unlawful methods,” and before they could surge forward, “Why else would you have such a man as this,” barely indicating, “As your leader?”

Rogalis’ men smiled to themselves and each other; he had them now.

He took his time. The people, not so sure of themselves took another look at the man on the black horse. What did they know about him?

“What do you mean?” a big man shouted, not trusting Rogalis but wanting to know.

“The horse he’s riding on was stolen, taken from my possession, he is an escaped prisoner, and if the saying’s true, ‘like father like son’ if he’s anything like his father, there’s no telling how many people he’s murdered!” Then rounding on the accused man, “Or do you deny that the woodcutter Jacob was your father?”

The Jakal almost smiled at the cleverness of the man, but there was something missing in his eyes, this man alone could not be responsible for what had happened here.

“Well?” The big man was looking up at him demanding to know as were the rest of them.

“I don’t deny it.” Rogalis got what he wanted.

“You know since the attack on my predecessor, a man we all remember with fondness, that more care had to be taken to provide protection and security for all. No one said it was going to be easy but with those creatures running about loose...Have my men not kept you safe? Driven off the threat of at any time being attacked? Together we can build a new home, for each and every one of us, but it will take time...”

“Yeah, while you sit up there in your fort growing fat off the sweat of our brows...”

“We cannot work together of we can’t even agree on what constitutes a crime,” then including all of the people who stood opposing him, “Which of you stands with this man and will, with him accept punishment for his crimes?” None stepped forward. “Then,” turning to his guards, “Arrest him!” And they would have if they hadn’t completely and suddenly lost control of their horses.

“What the...”

 

Everyone was behaving strangely but the guard who’d been woken up when relieved of his post at the gate saw it as a great opportunity to go unnoticed to where he’d left the girl locked away in the store room. He opened the door carefully. There wasn’t much light and crates and boxes littered the floor space. She could be hiding behind any one of them. He smiled to himself.

“Now come on, don’t be shy. I told you, I’ll let you go, after...” He heard a movement behind one of the boxes at the back. “Ah, so you want to play!” and edged towards the sound. At first, he didn’t recognise it as a growl, but as the dark shape moved towards him out of the shadows leaving him in doubt as to what it was he had been attempting to stalk, he turned, diving into one of the open crates pulling the lid down over him. He could hear the creature’s breathing as it circled and even after it left, stayed where he was, too afraid to venture out, even after his leg began to cramp from lack of movement.

 

Rogalis looked back at his men.

“You fools! What d’you think you’re playing at?” But then his own horse began to step and whirl, then  suddenly reared, pitching him to the ground. The other horses began to do the same, either felling their riders or speeding off in any and every direction with the guards holding on for dear life. The trader, who had been standing by the gate out of harm’s way ventured out as Rogalis struggled to pick himself up from the ground. The Ravan took a few steps back, snorting.

“Get up you idiots!” The trader hissed at the guards, what was left of them, scratching their heads and rubbing their rumps with the forest people and the workfarmers looking on bemused. It had all been going so well, Rogalis mused and looked up at the man on the black horse who seemed to be smiling.

“What did you do?” Rogalis, now standing, balled his fists, eyes narrowed, twitching. The accused man smiled innocently looking around at the people behind him.

“I have witnesses, did any of you see me...?” his humour was beginning to grate too heavily on the Captain who had to stand by and watch his power inexorably unravelling right before his eyes. But the trader stayed his arm. He spoke in a low enough voice that only Rogalis and the Jakal could hear.

“It will relieve you to know that very few witnessed your father’s demise,” dagger eyed. “He begged, but then, for a man such as he, the loss of that which makes one a man...”

The Jakal leapt down from the Ravan but the trader was quicker, positioned close enough to Rogalis to take cover behind his broad frame. The guards now recovered were quick to come to their Captain’s rescue and many hands grabbed the attacker and held him, carrying out the previously issued order. Rogalis addressed the gathered multitude.

“This unwarranted attack, proof, if any were needed that this is not a man to be trusted or followed...” but they stopped paying attention to him. He could hear the sharp intake of breath from the trader and seemed to be the only one not mesmerised by that, which on turning, held him also in its  vice like grip of terrorizing alarmity.

The black leopard, glancing left and right as she moved, sleek backed and purposefully into view, at first seemed out of place but the ferocity of her presence demanded acceptance, as more than real.

Those nearest held their breath, hyperventilated or soiled themselves, resisting with all their might the reasonable and natural urge to throw their arms up in the air and run away screaming and hoped, silently praying that anyone else, further afield or neighbouring would be chosen as a more suitable target for the blood thirst that such a creature would harbour inside so efficient a killing frame.

Unable to see, those at the back of the massed throng pushed forward but were propelled back by those who wished they couldn’t and the guards who had been holding down the accused man removed their boots from his ribs, holding back the follow through of a kick to the head or the stomach as applicable, letting him go to inch away behind the man in front.

“Don’t move,” the man on the ground warned, spitting blood through his teeth, and the creature alerted, turned, focussing on the helpless man.  Changing her heading, she seemed to have chosen a target as the man on the ground held his eyes locked to the oncoming menace. Horrified by the thought of the impending carnage but choosing not to turn their heads away, when all the animal did was lick the certain target’s hand in passing, many allowed themselves something of a sigh of relief, but then she reached down, gripping the ground with claws that descended deep into it, and pulling back the on her upper jaw to growl with teeth that made no empty threat to those who had been attacking the man on the ground.

“Have then kill it, kill it Rogalis!” In spite of the closeness of the impending danger, Rogalis turned his head in disbelief at the trader cowering behind his back.

“Kill it, kill it!” No longer a hoarse whisper, his voice became shrill with imploring urgency and Rogalis, stupefied by the man’s serious lack of understanding of the situation risked, through clenched teeth, “Are you mad?”

She turned sharply, but Rogalis saw the movement in slow, meticulously effortless motion and involuntarily stepped back almost falling over the small man who was poking him in his back, trying to push him forward.

“Do something Rogalis!” He screeched overcome with a terror, understandable in the circumstances, but unwise, not only in retrospect.

The creature seemed curious, even wary,  enough for all whose eyes had been fastened to her dark presence to glance away at the nonsensical behaviour of the small dark man. He was pointing now and screaming, but the words were malformed, his gestures too erratic for even one in the throes of severe madness. He began to tear at his clothes prompting Rogalis to move away as hair on his throat, arms and shoulders became visible, growing. His face darkened as more hair thickening into fur grew out of it. Misshapen now, his features distorted making unrecognisable the man that he once was. His ears grew too big and high above his head and his limbs shrank into his body, small stumps that, with every stitch of clothing removed could be seen to still have fingers and toes withered to the size of a small child, and the rest of his body was covered with a hide of coarse dark hairs.

Rogalis seemed most shocked by the transformation and finding himself to be positioned almost directly between the two creatures hurriedly moved aside but their point of focussed interest was not on him or any other, human or otherwise. Many would later describe the creature that the trader had once been as rat like, overgrown, with too large a head for its body. But what was most disconcerting were its eyes, though small, burning a fiery red while its opponent, now beginning to circle had eyes like dark emeralds, blazing just as brightly, with cold deadly contempt. Now divest of his human apparel, the were rat appeared to have lost its timidity, spitting caustic threats through its fangs, elongated and curved into razor points. Circling wider now, the combatants expanded their arena as the spectators, close enough to see but far enough out of harm’s way, crowded round.

The black leopard was the larger of the two, her movements assured, predatory, the were rat, smaller, more compact, but with the look of a cornered animal, wound to spring. A baby at the back of the crowd began to cry and the black leopard turned her head to the side, slightly, momentarily, but that was enough for her opponent to steal the first advantage, clearing a distance from the ground with alarming speed, directly aimed at the exposed side of the neck. But the were cat curved her body away, whipping back her head to counter and making contact with its cheek, drawing blood as the werebeast snapped at dead air. It fell, rotating onto its back but twisting its head hooked its teeth deep into her shoulder. Those in closest proximity winced as the wounded animal let out a sharp cry, almost human in its profoundness. They both pulled away, a breath, then screaming fur flew again the beast lunging low, with the vault from her hind legs sending the were cat high and in the air, landing on her opponents back, clawing deep into its flesh, her own sharp teeth ripping into its hind quarters, till screeching it tore itself away limping badly, eyes crimson with rage.

The spectators had barely a chance to gasp another breath before the dark creatures met again, the sheer force of their impact driving the other off its feet but unable to sustain a hold against the ground the were rat was propelled towards it and the instant before it fell, the were cat found its throat and as it thrashed viciously, writhing in agony of its defeat the black leopard tore into its gullet and spat it out before falling back, and breathing hard. The body was still twitching and those who’d found time to eat that day threw up and still the were cat, unfinished, went back to the dying creature whose eyes, still open, were fading, losing their colour. At first, it wasn’t apparent what she was doing, but as its tail came away in her mouth and was discarded the transformation was reversed and the trader’s body, weak, naked and blood soaked, lay dead on the ground.

No one moved, for a long time, stunned by what they had witnessed fearing less now the wounded victor as she limped towards parting as the people backed away. Rogalis beckoned to the nearest of his men.

“It’s weak now, we shouldn’t have any trouble...”

“What do you mean?” The Jakal, though bruised and bloodied himself from the earlier beating got gingerly to his feet.

“We can’t have something like that loose in the territory, if we kill it now...” But the Jakal was calling to the Ravan. He struggled to climb on the horse’s back gripping the mane tightly and easing himself astride.

“Where d’you think you’re...? And with my horse!” reaching out.

“It ain’t your horse,” turning, as the Ravan reared sending the captain falling back into his guards who struggled to hold up his weight.

“You won’t get away with this!” He called out after the Jakal as the Ravan followed the trail of blood that led towards the trees.

“Get the horses!” Rogalis barked to his men but they just looked at each other unsure. The man who their captain had been in close confidence with had turned out to be not even human and the people, still amassed were watching, waiting, outnumbering.

“Or are you waiting for it to heal up and decide that killing one of its own kind isn’t enough? Are you going to sleep well at night,” turning to the crowd, “Knowing that one of those things could be out their waiting to grab your children and do to them what it did to...?” They all turned with him to look back at the monstrosity that the dead man had been. Many shuddered.

“You may not like the fact of me or my men,” with stoic forebearance, “But we are all that stands between you and those of their kind, and its my duty,” accepting the reigns of the horse handed to him, “To protect and uphold the safety and prosperity of these lands,” mounting the animal, “And though their lives may be at risk, these brave men in service to you, will do the same!”

A tentative round of applause ushered Rogalis’ men to gather to their own horses, and to the rising cheer of onlookers, swept along by the mood of kindled emotion, set off in Rogalis’ wake like heroes on parade.

“What should we do with him?” when Rogalis and his men were out of sight.

“Bury him?”

“No, burn it!”

And as some went to gather sticks and wood for the pyre and a few of the older boys played dare, kicking up and throwing the docked tail, other ruminated on the turn of events, while others still wondered, but only to themselves at what the world was coming to.

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Something terrible was happening, Brother Sirius knew it, he was right, they should’ve stayed back at the ...

“Look! It’s the Brothers!”

People came rushing towards the monks who saw the fire burning high in front of the fort and would’ve turned their horses around knowing that they could outrun the people on foot but the shouts and calls were of welcome and the smiles on closer inspection were warmed and relieved by their presence and the Brother Elder knew that their attendance at this time was appropriate beyond mere chance, and with a ministering hand laid calm upon them as they congregated to the Brothers of the Valley. Many spoke at once and the Brothers smiled and nodded, barely able to distinguish between the rush of overexcitement of their words.

“The beast...”

“Two of them...”

....Killed it....”

“Rogalis went after...”

“Pray for us...”

“We burned it...” They were hanging onto the horses, pulling at the reigns.

“Where is Rogalis now?”

The elder brother had to raise his voice somewhat, to hush them.

“He’s gone after it, the man on the horse...”

They weren’t making sense, thought Brother Sirius. Had they all gone mad? Staring at them wildly.

“We’ll be safe inside the fort, until he gets back. There are women and children to feed and settle, there’s plenty stored...” And if the monks hadn’t had their horses, the rush towards what the people were now realising was an unlocked, unguarded treasure house of stored provisions, and if they hadn’t established some kind of queuing system, for orderly rationing, the fort would have been ransacked, rampaged, with little or no concern for the judicious proprieties.

“One at a time, one at a time!” But the stores a t the drinking house were in the most danger of imprudent self distribution. Brother Sirius was incensed.

“Get away from there you lawless rabble!” They did stop, long enough to look back at the monk, wildly gesticulating from his horse and then at each other before dismissing with a shrug the minor hindrance to their determined charge. It was only when , before the first man had a chance to taste even the first drop, the monk, eyes gleaming desperation, clambered up on to the serving bar, arms splayed in resolute protection of the liquid hoard did they stop to think what they were about to do.

“You’re right Brother,” a big voice shouted, “We can’t just come in here and help ourselves!” And the others seemed to agree prompting the monk to almost weep with the joy of their acceptance of his sagacious reasoning over their common vulgarity. They lined themselves up in front of him in an orderly fashion.

“A large tankard of your best ale Brotherkeeper,” and looked up at the smiling, pleased with himself at the self control demonstrated by his behaviour. The monk was taking too long to respond, the man next in line could see there was a problem.

“Need a hand Brother?” vaulting over the bar to be on hand for the expected deluge of orders. The monk looked around helplessly.

“I think the tankards are there.” Pointing to a space under the counter, “You just turn the tap on the barrels...”

“I know what I’m doing!” I don’t need  you to...” then remembering himself, looked around at the men waiting for his next word.  “A large one,” he affirmed, reaching down under the bar.

 

It was quiet, too quiet. The man hiding in the crate was safe, he knew, as long as he stayed there, but from there he would have no idea what was going on outside. Was everybody dead? Was he the only one left alive? Were the creatures waiting, silently for him to emerge to rip him to shreds too? But he hadn’t heard any screams, maybe, maybe... and carefully he reached for the lid. He heard a strange sound, strangely stepping and quickly withdrew his hand. The horses were left unattended in the unmanned fort and were wondering about, those that had managed to get loose. One had found its way to the store room and unable to fit through the door, waited until the man could. He lowered his head through the frame.

Unable to work out where he was or what he was doing there, Pegas’ concern was more immediately applied to his state of undress, but without fathomable reason knew where they had been left, as if for him to find. He puzzled over the woman’s clothing lying on the ground next to his habit but picked them up anyway, secreting them in a fold of his garment.

He had been in the forest, from what he could last remember, but after that, he had no clue. He was definitely not back at the monastery and returning back outside found to his dismay that he was inside the fort, and what was worse, if he could believe his eyes, there were a mass of people about to enter heading towards it with... was that the Brother Elder, Brother Sirius, in fact all the brothers coming at speed? What had he done this time? Before they saw him he headed towards the stables and while the strange mists still floated in front of his eyes, took shelter behind a stack of baled hay.

 

“I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all Thorrig!” who didn’t like it at all either. “There’s something definitely not right here.”

“You’re not wrong Edgar,” agreeing whole heartedly as they passed the smouldering ashes of the fire of badly burnt, badly smelling meat and saw as they turned, drop jawed in through the gate, people who shouldn’t be there making themselves at home within the fort walls. A youngster toddled over towards them and Edgar shrank away towards Thorrig.

“Definitely not right,” he repeated.

“Where Rogalis?” someone asked, pre empting the question that they were about to ask.

“He went... on ahead...” confused by the lack of hostility and more by the show of indifference to the response.

“Thorrig?” said Edgar.

“Shut up Edgar,” said Thorrig as noticing something, he made a bee line for the drinking house. Then Edgar noticed it too, earlier than usual, the bar was open.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

Rogalis’ men rode tall in the saddle in the wake of their esteemed captain all the way up to the tree line, where he turned to face them, and they slumped slightly.

“What is it Captain? Did you see the way they treated us? We...”

“We what?” steamed Rogalis, into the man with violence in his eyes. “We stood by while those creatures, and that man, that son of a ...” His men couldn’t understand it.

“But we...they cheered!”

“Fools, fools,” Rogalis looked away suddenly. “If I hadn’t got us out of there... give’em time they’ll soon realise they have no need of us, our rules, our orders, our taxes. Right now, they’re probably taking the place apart...” looking back the way they had come, and the men followed his line of sight, beginning to see.

“So what should we do when we get back?” Rogalis looked at the man almost pitying his lack of understanding.

“We can’t go back,” trailing off.

“So what, now we’re to become the forest people?” snorting. Rogalis stared at the guard who wouldn’t look away.

“There are other territories, other regions, other who do not know yet that they need the protection of men such as us. Virgin lands, where men such as us can, for a reasonable share of profit, defend the undefended, watch over the unguarded,” finding once again his stride.

“Protect them against what?” the question raised, like a hand of a willing yet obtuse student. But Rogalis just laughed indulgently at the thought as he turned his horse and men to a new heading.

“Fear,” he imparted, as if of a secret wisdom and leaving them to work it out in their own time busied himself with his own calculations, eyes fixed on the new horizons.

 

There was a night’s chill, uncommon for the season and the howling wind seeming to have cause, spoke of what words would not say, even if they could. Bruised and battered, the man known as the Jakal kept his seat on the horse that responded to being called Ravan for as long as there was light enough to follow the trail and long after until he fell unconscious to the ground. And when the horse could not make him respond, it followed its own trail back through the trees, where it was less dense, the forest, less close.

Breezing through the trees, a whisper reached the ears of one heightened on sensitivity to the acute resonance, and though fatigued by blood loss, battle worn and travel weary, the black leopard turned to the sound, retracing her prints. She circled the ground, tasting his cheek before looking up through the leaves that covered the tree tops and the sky. She felt for a grip at the loose covering around his neck and pulled, tugging until she could lean back and drag the dead weight to the nearest tree. It was high, she looked up, but its trunk leaned favourably away at a deep enough angle for her to haul to protective safety, the man, to a high enough branch where, exhausted, she fell, on him, asleep.

 

Pegas had found a few over ripe apples but apart from that he had eaten nothing the whole day. There was less noise outside now and he felt that if he could get away unseen, he wouldn’t have to face any questions or accusations he wasn’t sure he could answer. He reached the gate before he heard his name being called. The Brother Elder didn’t seem too surprised to see him or too displeased but Pegas still dragged his heals and lowered his head as he came back in answer to his name.

“You’re leaving us I see,” surprising the young horseman who looked up into the other man’s eyes which were looking into his, curious, searching.

“Yes, Brother Elder,” was all he felt he could say.

“You were never...like us,” and before Pegas could question what was meant, the older monk turned to walk away. And then as if only just remembering something, “Oh, and if you ever come across another... brother by the name of Boregius, tell him,” he stopped to think, then getting it, “Tell him, he was right, and if I’m reading it right, the child was a sign,” leaving Pegas to commit to memory a message which had no meaning to him, for a man he knew not of and for a reason he could not cipher. He stared after the elder monk until he was out of sight and now once again alone went in search of what he was to find in the taking of his own path, unafraid but hungry, eagerly searching the ground.

 

The black horse was waiting for him, as if it shouldn’t have been a surprise, and without a word they rejoined, like it had always been that way.

 

Anatu appeared to those he chose worthy, rallying the faithful to his cause, instilling in them reason and purpose to do as they were bidden and the werebeast, hidden from the eyes and knowledge of the humans of their world knew it wouldn’t be long before his power served by them all would make the world his and they would rule in his name. The only thing that could stand in his way, his enemy, was but a mere child...

 

Kiera woke up feeling luxuriously comfortable. She stretched, and would’ve fallen out of the tree but strong arms held on to her and she snuggled back down into them. Then her eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring into the silent grey eyes of a man who was smiling, amused, back up at her. Enraged, she started to pull away but realising that that would leave her more exposed fell back to where she was, seething. His eyes sparkled with even more amusement. There was a sound of horse’s hooves below them, approaching and she pulled up even closer, looking down through the leaves warily. An overgrown man, whose too long hair was strikingly pale in contrast to the jet black mane of the horse he was riding, was looking up at her through long blinking lashes with the gentlest soft brown eyes...

“Oh there you are!” and the noticed the man so closely entwined with her and frowned, took his eyes away and pulled something from a fold in his clothing.

“I thought you might need...” holding her clothes up, with his eyes still looking away.

“How...?” The man that was holding her had an even more curious look on his face and she pushed him aside to scramble down the trunk of the tree and made a grab for her clothes.

“Where did you find them?” dressing. Then she noticed that the horse hadn’t bolted, or shown any sign of alarm at her presence.

“Where you left them,” without turning. She looked up at the man’s broad back.

“Oh.” And then the man on the horse took a glance up at the man still in the tree.

“Maybe it would be better if I...I’ll wait up ahead,” and still without turning went through the trees. She could hear the man climbing down but turned her back to him, crossing her arms, stubbornly refusing to pay even the slightest bit of attention to him. She waited for him to attempt to find a way to apologise for his blatant ingallantry and when he was taking too long she turned, about to give him a piece of her mind, but he had disappeared.

“Well of all the...” She found the big man a little way up ahead but the horse was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s...?” The big man looked past her expecting to see the man. Kiera shrugged, pulling a face.

“And your horse?” The big man also shrugged.

“I guess he had somewhere he had to be.” A lone bird’s call filled out the sound.

“I suppose we’d better...” indicating a direction.

“Yes...yes...” following him, then walking alongside as he pushed away the branches, clearing their way. They had reached the other side of the forest and a wide open stretch of long grass reached far across new lands with only a tall, spreading, misangled tree breaking the view. It was still a distance away but they could see the black horse standing, as if taking shelter under it, and a smaller figure sitting, leaning back against the trunk. And then a rustling came from behind as a wolf dashed past them, carrying a bundle between its teeth heading towards the tree. The weress and the horseman looked at each other.

“Who’s that?” asked Pegas, as they could see the figure turning to look their way.

“I guess he’s one of us,” Kiera answered, and as they drew nearer, with the wolf at his feet and the Ravan in close attendance, the figure stood, allowing the cowl to fall back from his head to reveal the face of the most beautiful man Kiera had ever seen.

And then he smiled.

                    THE END...OR IS IT?

                   BOOK 2 COMING SOON, FOR PREVIEW