The Harrowing of Twilight by J M Guillen

Author:J M Guillen [Guillen, J M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Irrational Worlds
Published: 2018-12-25T05:00:00+00:00

2

The autumn storm-wind swam around me, whispering sweet songs of hunter and prey. It cavorted, teasing at my maple-red hair.

Four of them, I frantically thought. I all but laughed, cackling with mind-bent fervor.

Horn and Hunter, how could I possibly bring the mongrel-fiends down? Ciaran and I had scarcely taken one!

“Think, Tommy.” I could hear the rasping huffling of the elken-beast, still giving chase. As I lengthened my stride my mind flit through possibilities.

I had no help to call upon, not really. Even if I knew where Ciaran stood, bringing yon horrors upon her would only assure her death as well. I couldn’t imagine anything less than a score of men with true iron could destroy the mongrels.

Even that seemed a reckless throw of the die. These people had sent for help. Ciaran had specifically asked for a boon. Perhaps this meant the glamour bearing residents of Unterfels found themselves unable to bring the obscenities down.

So I tallied that thought out. I had no help, no boon companion.

I had one other option. A terrifying one.

I could call the hawk. I could invite the Hunt. All it would take would be to seek my gauntlet. Once I held it, my hawk would come. Then, with bow, horn, and hawk, the fervor of the Wild Hunt would eventually fall over me. No matter how I might try, it would come. That red haze would sing in my blood, a feral, primal song.

The people of Unterfels would rise up, mad and manic. They would howl and cry and follow the Hunter. We would ravage and savage the mongrels. Misbegotten things, the Hunter would certainly seek them.

But… what after? We didn’t exactly tread mortal soil here. Oft the Hunter grew weary within the lands of men, unable to stand, to fight. He would fade to fell Twilight, dream until called again.

But here?

Would the Hunter fade, if called so close to Twilight?

I felt certain he would not grow weary, at least not as he typically did.

Fearsome imaginings of the Hunter carousing across the Hedge haunted my dreaming eye. The people of Unterfels might never be free of the Wild Hunt, not if it came. They might carouse for all time, hunting the strangeling beasts in shadow.

Which left me where I began.

With lightning spearing through a distant sky, I ran for my very life.

Amethyst tendrils seeped from me as I fled; my strength ebbing. I fought to ignore the wheezing shrieks behind me, focusing only upon winding the paths of corn. Perhaps if I ran hard enough, I might return to the labyrinthine part of the Thornèd Hedge. There, the Hedge itself might tarry—

A squat building , all but hidden by stalk and stem, loomed out of the field.

“Oh!” I had forgotten the shed, left hidden among the labyrinth of corn. There, some freeholder had seen fit to build a small shack, likely to store supplies for those who worked his fields.

“Perhaps…” I only had a moment to consider.

I threw a fearful glance over my shoulder. Not four paces behind, the elken horror shambled after, sometimes on two legs and sometimes on four.

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