THE HUNTSMAN

Fiona Patton

THE sea sparkled invitingly in the late autumn sun, belying the thin lines of whitecaps that hinted at its true nature, but the old woman who crouched on the nearby escarpment was not fooled. She had bathed her feet in the surf that morning and knew just how cold and wild the waves had become. Ordinarily she would have sought her portents in the clouds and on the wind— she was too old to go fishing for the future in autumn—but the Gotri, the ancient enemy of her people, would be making one final attack before winter. She had Seen it. They would come from the sea, using its own restless power to shield their movements, and she must be ready to catch the earliest hint of their approach or all would be lost.

Turning, she glanced through a copse of birch trees at the gray defensive walls of Ruthgreen. As the most accessible of the coastal Asti villages, it was no stranger to attacks and raids from both the landward and the seaward sides, but this time the enemy drove powerful magics before them, raised by powerful Gods. It would take more than mere walls to stop them. It would take blood and loss willingly embraced and, even then, it might not be enough.

Rising, she made her way back along the winding path. On the edge of the village she glanced through the trees at the outline of a half completed labyrinth just visible in the center of an open meadow. It would take more than those walls as well, she thought, whatever the Master Builder believed. They were as tied to blood as the walls of Ruthgreen, and the blood had not yet quickened, if it ever would.

The wind, dancing through her hair, sent the long white strands whipping about her face in a complicated forecast, and she snapped her shawl over her head with an irritated flick. She’d made her prophecies; it was up to the Huntsman and His Chosen to fulfill them. If they ignored her words, it was no concern of hers. She’d survive the coming attack whatever else happened. She’d Seen that.

A man’s presence, tinged with a bitterness that made her Sight twitch, whispered through her mind, and she clucked her tongue in annoyance. In her view, the Huntsman had less sense than the prey He hunted. Erik Blackthorn had been His most powerful Captain in a hundred years; with his guidance Ruthgreen might have flourished, but now they’d be lucky to survive the season. Shaking her head, she glared at a blackbird who regarded her with one bright eye from high in a nearby tree.

“There’s more to a man than the strength in his arms,” she told it sourly, “but try telling that to any of them.”

Especially Erik. If he didn’t figure it out soon, though, they’d all pay the price of it. She’d Seen that as well. Twitching the edge of her shawl away from a greedy pine bough, Ruthgreen’s Oracle stumped on down the path, chewing over the past and the future with equal vehemence.

In the meadow, a small, greenish-brown house snake paused to taste the old woman’s scent on the breeze before continuing its journey over a large jumble of stones piled just west of the labyrinth. It had no interest in the past or future, only the present, and in the present the midday sun was warm and inviting. Resisting the instinct to curl up on the very top of the pile and sleep, it stopped before a fist-sized piece of granite and raised its head, waited for the man whose power kept it awake to notice it.

Feeling the weight of its expectation, Erik Blackthorn brought his shadowed gaze to bear on the tiny serpent.

“Is that the one?”

The snake fanned its delicate, red tongue at him, but otherwise remained motionless. Wrapping his fingers about the rock, Erik felt the latent power tingling through his palm before carefully lifting it away with both hands. They weren’t good for much else, but they could still feel the Touch of the Goddess even if they couldn’t respond. Noting the round indentation on one side and the scattering of fossil remains across the top, he nodded.

“That’s an entrance piece.”

He laid it carefully to one side, then reached out. The snake slid along the back of one weakened hand, around his wrist, and up to his shoulder, gently pressing its smooth, blunt muzzle against the crooked scar which ran along his jawline, then settled loosely about his neck. He glanced up.

“Berne?”

The barking of two dogs in the distance was his only answer.

Closing his eyes, Erik sent his thoughts out on the afternoon breeze, searching for his younger brother’s presence. He tasted leaves and newly harvested grain, salt water and raw earthworks, but no Berne. His brows drew in. He didn’t like the boy going off alone even if he was with Erik’s two hunting dogs. The Oracle had said the Gotri would attack within the month but could not specify the day. Until they were defeated and driven back, no one was safe.

His mind traveled over the newly repaired walls of Ruthgreen, still searching. Since the Oracle’s prophecy, the village had been a hive of activity as everyone, young and old, had scrambled to bring in the harvest and strengthen their defenses. So far no one had fled farther inland, yet, and that was because of Bri Jensen.

Turning, Erik glanced toward the man crouched in the center of the labyrinth, a large, flat piece of shale in one hand and a pendulum of pointed amber swinging from a finely braided chain in the other. The amber moved gently back and forth against the breeze; when it began to weave a complicated figure eight, he set the rock carefully down between two others, then reached for another. His gaze was drawn inward to a design only he could see, and Erik could sense his power cast over the entire creation like a giant net.

He blinked deliberately, and the vision disappeared.

The labyrinths were the Asti’s answer to the continued threat from the Gotri and other seafaring raiders. Bri had built five, linking the three largest inland villages with their neighbors on the coast. Ruthgreen was the sixth and final link in a chain of mystical defenses which, when activated, would band the Asti together, able to invoke their Goddess with one, strong voice to aid them against the enemy. Bri had promised them She would respond; the Oracle wasn’t so sure.

Erik didn’t particularly care. The process of drawing out the most powerful stones from the pile the villagers brought each morning was healing. It made him forget the weakness in his hands and the pain of his other injuries for a time. As the autumn waned and the rest of Ruthgreen had turned their attention to the harvest and the defense of the village itself, he and Bri had fallen into a smooth pattern of choosing and placing each stone, aided only by Berne and one or two of the other village youths. But progress was slow and Erik was beginning to believe the Oracle was right. They would not be ready in time. The other Asti villages would cower behind their own walls as they always had and Ruthgreen would face the Gotri alone.

“Berne!”

Two huge dogs came bounding through the trees; a tall, gangly boy of twelve, black hair tumbling into his eyes, loping along behind them.

“Where have you been?”

Berne held up a brace of rabbits in explanation. “Supper.”

“A good catch. Did you call for them?”

“Tracked ‘em.”

“Still, you might want to show them to Pieter.”

His brother’s eyes, so like Erik’s, darkened slightly.

“They’re not for Pieter; they’re for us and for Bri.”

“And one for the Oracle?”

“If she needs it, but Pieter took the Chosen out this morning. They downed a big buck east of the inlet, so she should be well looked after.” Setting his bow against a tree, Berne tied the rabbits to a high branch where the dogs couldn’t reach them, then glanced at the smaller pile of rocks.

“That’s a lot today. You must be feeling stronger.”

Erik’s eyes darkened much as Berne’s had.

“Snake helped,” he said simply.

“Still. Snake didn’t pile them up.”

“No.”

Stroking the serpent along its pale, yellow throat, Berne took in his brother’s gray pallor and the faint tremors in his hands before indicating the pile. “I’m finished now. Did you want help carrying these over?”

“Could do.” Erik began to slowly fill the sling about his shoulder with the smaller rocks while Berne collected the larger ones, careful not to take too many in case it hurt his older brother’s feelings. Erik just shook his head with a smile.

Ever since their parents had died in the Gotri attack two years ago, he’d struggled to care for his younger brother, but, in truth, with the injuries taken in that same attack hampering even the simplest of tasks, it had been Berne who’d done most of the caring. He’d say by Erik’s bedside for weeks while the Goddess decided which world he belonged in, then spent another two years helping him along the path to partial recovery. He’d grown into a strong, responsible young man who, at nearly thirteen, was more than ready to set out on his own path, but he’d lingered, unwilling to leave Erik to his own melancholy devices. Ruthgreen’s elders, especially Pieter, wanted him to follow the Huntsman—he was as powerful as Erik had been at his age—but Berne, showing a flash of uncharacteristic anger, had flatly refused. The Huntsman had allowed the Gotri to destroy his home and murder his parents, then abandoned his older brother when He might have used him to save them all. He would not give the Huntsman the chance to do it again. Not even the Oracle had been able to change his mind, and Erik had no wish to. Berne would make his own choices when he was ready to, but, right now, he needed him to carry rocks.

Together, the two brothers made their way to the labyrinth, pausing to pile their load by the entrance while the dogs chased each other along beside them. Bri had made it to the first path’s west turn, and he accepted the stone Erik held out with a smile.

“That’s a fine one. It will anchor the left side.” He passed his hand over the rest. “These feel farther in. Will you take them to the center, please, Berne?”

The boy eyed the pile with glum resignation. “You could have asked before I dropped them,” he observed in mild reproach as he began to fill Erik’s sling again.

“I wasn’t sure of their position until they touched the ground.”

“Uh-huh.” Heading for the entrance, Berne paused to smile mischievously at his older brother who frowned back at him.

“Don’t cut across the path.”

“Who said I was going to?”

“You did. You practically shouted it.”

Berne eyed the much shorter distance between the entrance and the center, then cast his brother another sly glance. “The labyrinth isn’t even finished yet,” he pointed out, knowing Erik’s response before he voiced it.

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t cut across the paths. It’s disrespectful.”

“It’s rocks and meadow grasses.”

“It’s the womb of the Goddess made physical. You pass in, are transformed, and pass out again in the way She prescribed, third path first, then second, first, fourth, sixth, and finally fifth. To do it any other way is contrary to Her desire and very, very dangerous, you know that.”

“I should, you remind me every second day. But Bri cuts across the paths all the time, you know that.”

The Master Builder turned an amused glance in their direction, waiting to see how Erik would respond to this logical bit of heretical teasing.

“It’s his labyrinth. When you build, one you can cut across the paths, too.”

“I would, but by then my feet will have worn off.”

“It’s good for you. Teaches you to control your talent instead of just letting it run wild wherever it fancies. Jake! Spike!”

The two dogs came bounding from the north woods, cutting straight across the low line of stones which marked off each of the labyrinth’s paths. Berne turned a withering look on his older brother, who just shrugged.

“Dogs are special.”

Glancing over to where the larger of the two animals had paused to rub his muzzle into the remains of a dead bird, Berne’s face twisted in disgust. “Even Jake?”

“Especially Jake. Black dogs belong to the Huntsman who is beloved of the Goddess.”

“Well, I’m beloved of the Goddess, too. The Oracle said I was born in Her regard.”

“She said you were born in the light of Her regard. That’s not the same thing.”

Berne dismissed the difference with a simple flick of one hand. “Either way, She still loves me.”

“Either way, don’t cut across the paths, or She might give you a smack you won’t soon forget, love or no love.”

Berne just laughed at him. Hefting the sling over his shoulder, he whistled for the dogs.

“Don’t forget to bow at the entrance.”

“I won’t.”

“And, this close to completion, you should invoke Her presence and meditate on your task while you walk the paths,” Bri added.

“I know. You told me this morning.”

“And don’t run!”

The two men watched as the boy sprinted for the entrance despite his load, took two steps inside, then shook his head and retreated to the entrance stone to bow, then carry on at a half-walk, half-trot. The power of the labyrinth rose up around him like fine dust.

Bri chuckled. “He has talent.”

Setting the house snake down on the entrance stone, Erik nodded. Berne did have talent, talent to feel the birds in the trees and the animals in the thickets—Pieter was right, he’d make a powerful Chosen—but Berne could also see the shape of an object in wood or clay, sense a storm coming from miles out to sea, and know if an arrow would hit its mark or miss. And the labyrinth wrapped about him like a cloak whenever he walked the paths. Erik had been serious when he told him he might build his own someday. Berne had the talent to turn his hand to whatever he chose, regardless of what the elders wanted.

If he survives the coming attack, that is, Erik’s mind amended caustically. If any of us do.

Something—a chill along the back of his neck like a whisper of approaching danger—made him glance up as an errant cloud touched the west side of the sun. The sky began to darken. The wind picked up, tossed a few leaves over the labyrinth, and momentarily obscured the sight of his brother.

“Berne?”

He stood. The boy was pelting along the third path, both dogs in full pursuit.

“Don’t run!”

As Berne turned sharply toward the first path, Jake suddenly swerved, leaping over the fourth path and knocking against his legs. The boy went flying over the rocks, to land sprawled in the entrance just as the sun passed behind the cloud.

“Berne!”

Erik made the labyrinth in half a heartbeat as his brother picked himself up, both knees scored and bloody.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Jake, go away!” The boy shoved the dog back as Erik knelt beside him.

“Don’t scold him.”

“He knocked me down.”

“You were running.” Erik tried a smile despite the fear suddenly wrapped around his heart. “Maybe he thought you were a deer.”

“Very funny.”

“Well, next time …”

“I know, I know, don’t run. I start out walking, mostly. It’s just hard. The labyrinth makes me all… I don’t know, twitchy.”

“All the more reason to move slowly, then.”

“I know.”

“Is he all right?”

Both brothers looked up. They hadn’t hear Bri approach, but then they never did. The Master Builder crouched down to lay one finger on Berne’s bloody knee.

“You should see Collyn.”

Berne ducked his head in embarrassment.

“It’s just a scrape. I don’t need a Healer.”

Bri turned the boy’s hands up to reveal the bloodstained dirt and gravel embedded in the palms. “See the Healer anyway. Blood left to flow unheeded is an open doorway to the Gods, and even incomplete the labyrinth calls to them.”

Something in Bri’s tone made Erik glance over at him. “Take the dogs with you, Berne.”

“Yeah, all right.”

“And bring the Oracle back when you’re done,” Bri added. “It’s time to begin the labyrinth’s consecration.”

Berne nodded and limped off, the two dogs in tow. When he was out of earshot, Erik turned to the other man with a questioning frown.

“I thought we were at least a week away from consecration?”

“We were.” Bri crouched, pointing at the smear of blood across the right entrance anchor stone. “It’s formed the shape of a ship, Erik. You know what the Oracle will say.”

“That the Gotri are coming by sea and from the west. We already know this. They always come from the west.”

“Right, within the month, but I’d say looking at this, within the week is more likely.”

“You said we’d be finished in time.”

Watching Berne’s blood slowly dry in the rising breeze, Bri shook his head. “I was wrong.”

They caught up with the boy quickly and, after leaving him at the Healer’s, went in search of the Oracle themselves. They found her crouched on the escarpment, staring out to sea. The waves were dark and wild, crashing against the cliffs and scattering spray across her face and hair. She ignored it, turning eyes as gray and fathomless as the water below, toward them as they came up.

“They’ll come on a clear night,” she said, her voice deep and throaty.

Erik glanced up at the now cloudless sky, the power in her voice causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.

“And on a cold one.”

The wind had already begun to grow chill, now it whistled past the cliffs with a new pitch and urgency as if the words themselves had called it into being.

“On the full moon.”

Bri glanced toward the south where the moon was already rising in the afternoon sky.

“It’s the full moon tonight, Oracle.”

“Then it will be tonight.”

“Tonight?” Erik stared at the waves in disbelief. “They’ll never make it.”

She stood. “Their Gods drive the storm before them. It will reach the coast first; they’ll come after. They’ll come in force…” Her eyes widened and, as she whirled about to stare into the trees, her faced grew suddenly pale.

The men turned with her. “What… ?”

She threw up one hand to forestall the question, then her eyes cleared.

“It’s a feint. They’ve come overland as well.”

“What?”

“They’re already here.”

“Where?”

“At the village.”

Erik and Bri locked stares.

“Berne!”

Together, they ran for the path, leading the defense, but as they watched, he fell, taken by an arrow in the throat.

With an incoherent shout, Erik flung himself down the hill.

Bri caught up with him at the bottom.

“You can’t go down there!” he shouted above the wildly blowing wind. “You’ve no weapons. You’ll be killed!”

“Berne’s down there!”

Half a dozen arrows zipped past them as their movement attracted notice from the enemy, and Bri jerked him down into a crouch. “Seek him through your blood-link!”

His eyes rolling wildly in his head, Erik forced himself to take a deep breath, then reached out. Contact with Berne had him nearly faint with relief.

“He’s safe,” he gasped. “He’s heading this way.”

“Smart boy. Come on.” Together, they sprinted back up the hill and, supporting the Oracle between them, made for the other side.

The sun had dropped below the trees when they finally found Berne. The storm tearing at his clothes and hair, Erik caught his brother up in a desperate embrace.

“You’re safe!” he shouted.

The boy nodded. “After I left Collyn’s, I felt something dangerous on the wind. I tracked it south and saw them coming through the forest pass from Tarluth! They must have attacked it first. There are hundreds more than last time, Erik! What are we going to do? The whole village will be overrun!”

“I don’t know!”

“Invoke the Goddess.”

They both turned to stare at the Oracle. She hadn’t raised her voice, but her words echoed through the forest.

Ducking a wildly swinging pine bough, Bri shook his head. “We can’t, the labyrinth’s not finished yet!”

“We can.”

Erik tasted saltwater and blood on his lips as a scattering of small pebbles scored against his face.

“How?”

She caught him in a powerful stare, her eyes glowing with green fire. “Walk the paths and call on Her to send the Hutsman to save the village.”

His own eyes went dark. “Are you addled?” he grated, using his own power to cut through the howling wind. “The Huntsman’s feral. He’s as likely to kill us all as save us. Only His Captain has a hope of controlling Him in full manifestation.”

“Then be His Captain again.”

“I’m crippled. He won’t use me.”

“Then let Him use me.”

Erik whirled about to stare into his brother’s strained, young face. He was about to forbid it outright, but Bri began nodding emphatically.

“He’s beloved of the Goddess, Erik, he said so himself! He can do this!”

“No.”

The wind tore a sapling from the ground and sent it spinning toward them. Berne caught Erik around the chest, flinging them both to the ground just as it whipped by over their heads.

“I don’t like this any more than you do,” he shouted, “but one of us has to do something before we’re all killed! I can See it!”

“If a Blackthorn does not invoke the Goddess this night,” the Oracle intoned, “Ruthgreen will fall.”

Erik continued to stare searchingly at his younger brother, seeing their mother’s eyes in their father’s face, then slumped. “All right.”

The storm fought them every step of the way, but once they made it through the trees, the meadow was hushed as if the enemy had yet to penetrate the sanctity of Bri’s working. They headed for the center at a run and, as the labyrinth came into view, Berne caught Erik by the arm and pointed. All around, the ground writhed as hundreds of snakes, both domestic and wild, flowed from the forest to take up position by each of the directional stones. Erik couldn’t see his own snake, but he knew it was somewhere among them. A dozen dogs also stood guard before the entrance; as they ran up, Jake and Spike came out to meet them, their eyes glowing red in the moonlight. The Oracle climbed to the top of the entrance stone, and Bri caught up Berne’s bow, fitting an arrow to the string before jerking his head at them.

“Go.”

The two brothers ran for the entrance. The center stood out clearly, and Berne licked his lips, the urge to run straight across obvious on his face. Erik caught him by the shoulders.

“Now remember,” he said vehemently, “even though it may not seem like it, the paths of the labyrinth are laid out in a nonlinear pattern for a reason, with each path representing a separate aspect of ritual and each one building on the last. You’ll feel the power grow, both yours and the labyrinth’s, and they’ll start to merge. That’s good, that’s what you want to happen. You can control it just like you can control the Huntsman. It’s in your blood and well within your abilities if you stay calm and focused, understand?”

Berne nodded, but Erik could sense his heart beating wildly. “Believe that you’re Captain and you will be. That’s half the secret.”

“And the other half?”

Erik made himself smile. “Well, He has to believe it, too. But He will,” he added as Berne opened his mouth to protest. “You’re beloved of the Goddess, remember. Born in the light of Her regard.”

“I am.”

“Then trust in Her protection and walk.”

Armed figures suddenly broke from trees.

“Go. We’ll hold them. Jake, Spike!” As Berne bowed to the entrance stone, and took his first two steps inside, Erik threw his arm out toward the enemy. “Sic ‘em!”

The dogs leaped forward.

Time seemed to slow. As Erik led the dogs’ attack, he could sense Berne making the first turn onto the third path with stiff, deliberate steps. As the wind began to rise, more figures poured into the meadow. The dogs drove them back, but others followed only to be met by a barrage of green fire from the Oracle’s outstretched hands. Those that fell were quickly overrun by snakes. They did not rise again. Throughout, Berne kept his focus locked on his feet. Erik sent as much of his own power to aid him as he could spare and felt his brother’s resolve grow stronger. As he rounded the third path and began the ritual with thought, calling on the Goddess to aid him as the Captain of Her Beloved, the power of the labyrinth began to rise around him.

The wind whipped about the meadow, bringing the smell of burning homes and burning flesh. Berne stumbled, but righted himself and made the turn onto the second path, sending out his feelings as he did so, forming his fear and his need into a great ball of power, shooting it through the barriers between this world and the next.

The labyrinth began to glow.

More Gotri appeared at the edge of the meadow, but now they were met by the survivors of Ruthgreen who flung themselves at the enemy with a rage born of desperation as Berne reached the end of the second path. As he turned onto the first and outermost path, Erik could see his eyes widen with both fear and the growing power that almost obscured him altogether. He reached out, locking their minds and talents together around the blood-link and, with the extra power, Berne brought the physical into his invocation, weaving his wildly beating heart and shallow breathing into the call as he took step after deliberate step. This was the longest path and the hardest on which to maintain focus. He seemed to take forever, and Erik’s own legs ached with tension as he resisted the urge to press him into moving faster.

A thread of amusement trickled through the link as Berne recognized the thought before he brought his attention back to the ritual. He reached the turn for the fourth path, and Erik let out a great breath of relief. But Berne made the turn as if he were forcing his feet through heavy clay, and suddenly Erik realized that someone else was hampering his efforts. He turned and saw a man with wildly flowing hair and blazing gray eyes leap onto the west cornerstone, scattering the guardian snakes as he went.

The Oracle spotted him at the same time. Without a word, she launched a bolt of green fire at him. He met it with a wall of burning fog that quickly settled over everything it touched, but it stopped just short of the labyrinth and could go no farther as Bri Jensen brought his own considerable power into the fray to protect his working. The meadow grasses began to smolder, then the ground around the enemy burst apart as a dozen serpents flung themselves into the air. He fell, his muffled screams cut short almost immediately.

Freed from the enemy’s attack, Berne headed a bit too quickly up the fourth path, then made himself slow, weaving his faith and his own personal oaths into the ritual. A dozen steps, a dozen more. Erik found himself counting each one and forced his mind to still, setting Jake and Spike on yet another enemy. One dog took the man low, the other high, snapping at his throat as the first tore at his hamstring. As he went down screaming into a nest of spitting, striking snakes, Erik returned his attention to Berne. His brother was already on the seventh path, his unshakable trust in Her love shimmering around him like a green mist. Resisting the urge to glance hopefully at the center, he turned his back on it and made the turn onto the sixth path, the paradox of the labyrinth sending him both one step farther from and closer to his goal.

The wind began to tear leaves and limbs from the trees as the storm entered the meadow in full fury. Trees were uprooted and the piles of rocks so diligently gathered by the villagers of Ruthgreen became deadly missiles that struck friend and foe alike. Most of the smaller snakes fled underground, their tiny powers unable to withstand the wrath of a God-induced wind, but the larger ones stayed to fight beside their human and canine counterparts and slowly the tide of battle began to turn their way.

Now on the sixth path, Berne formed the invocation into one clear image of the Huntsman trampling his enemies underfoot. Beneath his own feet the ground began to shift. The power of the Goddess rose in the center of the labyrinth and with it something else, something wild and dangerously chaotic. The sharp scent of musk filled the air and in the meadow, Asti and Gotri alike found

new reserves of strength and aggression. A heartbeat more and Berne made the turn onto the fifth path, once again one path farther from his goal yet closer since the fifth path would eventually lead to the center. By now the power of the Goddess was so strong that only the blood-link kept Erik in contact with his brother at all. He could feel Her press against the barriers between the worlds as Berne made the final turn and set one foot inside the center. Slowly, very slowly, the figure of a huge man in hunting greens began to overlay his features as the Goddess pushed the Huntsman into the world.

The arrow came from the forest. It caught Berne in the chest, and the Huntsman leaped free as he crumpled to the ground.

Erik screamed his brother’s name. He leaped for the labyrinth just as another arrow streaked out to catch him behind the left knee. It felled him like a tree inside the entrance and, as his hand scraped across the anchor stone smeared with his brother’s blood, the force of it sent his mind slamming into Berne’s. Unbound, the Huntsman towered above him, growing larger and larger with every second. A rain of arrows scattered harmlessly across His legs and He reached into the trees to scoop up the archers and dash their heads against the ground. Then with a wild laugh, He turned toward the forest but came up short as a man, blood streaming from his leg, rose up to bar his way.

Erik Blackthorn had followed the Huntsman since childhood. The Oracle had passed a stage horn over his cradle when he’d first leaned to focus his gaze, predicting that he would be a talented Chosen, and he’d trained and fought and risen to be the most powerful Captain in a hundred years, but when the Gotri had attacked the village, ambushing the Chosen, and leaving him bleeding out his life on the ground, the Huntsman had turned his feral gaze away from his broken Captain and melted back into the forest. Erik would not allow Him to do the same to Berne. Screaming out the ritual words, he flung his crippled hands wide and caught the Huntsman in a vast green net of power.

“Jake! Spike!”

The dogs responded immediately to his ragged call, leaping to his side. Gripping them both by the scruff of the neck with a strength he hadn’t possessed for two years, he turned toward the labyrinth. He began to run, green God-fire outlining the arrow still embedded in his knee, the dogs keeping pace behind him. As he reached the crossed walls which separated the entrance from the center, he leaped.

Power coursed through his body, outlining every scar and every injury, old and new, as the Huntsman struggled to free Himself from his damaged Captain. Erik landed hard, losing his grip on the dogs but not on his prize. Snatching his brother up in his arms, he screamed out his demand and slammed the Huntsman into the boy’s abilities with one great bolt of fury. The Goddess caught him as he fell, and then the Huntsman burst into full manifestation, held tightly under the control of Berne Blackthorn. The blood-link exploded.

In the meadow, the force of the Huntsman’s passage knocked Bri off his feet. He saw the Oracle flung from the entrance stone and dragged himself to her side as Berne’s and the Huntsman’s towering figure strode from the center of the labyrinth, chest burning hotly around what should have been a killing wound. The Huntsman reached down and caught up four of the Gotri invaders at once, squeezing their bodies into a bloody pulp. Three more were crushed as He brought one great foot down on top of them and two more died instantly as He kicked them from His path.

Bri was nearly killed by the Huntsman’s next step, but managed to throw himself and the Oracle behind the west directional stone just in time. The Huntsman swept the meadow clear of enemies, then gave a great whistle. With every surviving dog scrambling along behind, He headed for the village. Bri stuffed his jacket under the Oracle’s head, then followed as quickly as he dared, faded into the distance. Bri continued down the Huntsman’s destructive path all the way to the inlet. He made the escarpment just in time to see Him smash His huge fist into the side of the invader’s flagship. The rest of the fleet followed the first to the bottom of the sea, then, as the great figure threw back His head to laugh, the water grew calm. The attack was over.

The Huntsman beat the waves for a long time before turning to the escarpment. He stared up at the Master Builder with Berne’s wide, dark eyes, then just as quickly as He’d come, He vanished. Berne slowly crumpled to the rocky beach.

Somehow, Bri made it down the escarpment in one piece. He dragged the boy free of the surf, then collapsed beside him, one arm wrapped about the pulsing wound in his chest. It was the last thing he remembered for a long time.

He awoke to Spike licking his face. Shoving the dog’s head aside, he sat up carefully and looked around. Bodies lay scattered across the rocks. Berne lay as he’d left him, and Bri knew a moment of panic before he saw the boy’s chest rise and fall. The injury that had nearly ended his life was now a faint, pink scar formed into the shape of a ship and, breathing out a quick prayer of thanks, he took him up in his arms and headed back toward the village.

In the dawn light there wasn’t much left of it. People huddled together looking dazed and lost, most either bloody or bruised. The Headwoman turned a blank gaze on him as he approached, indicating the burned-out buildings with a weary gesture.

“The grain stores are all gone,” she said woodenly.

“The inland villages will send more,” he promised. “We can call them now that the labyrinth’s been fully consecrated.”

“Yes.”

Bri moved on, still carrying Berne. Many of the survivors reached out to touch the boy on the arm or hand, murmuring praise and thanks as they passed. Bri followed the path of uprooted trees and ragged ground and finally came to his working still set firmly in the nearly destroyed meadow. The Oracle was seated in the center, a bloody rag pressed against the side of her face, Erik’s body cradled in one arm. Crossing the paths, Bri laid Berne down beside them.

“Is he … ?”

“Yes. The Goddess took him up as the Huntsman left the labyrinth.”

“And Berne?”

She peered down at him. “He’ll awake eventually.” She sighed. “Well, the blood quickened, and just in time, too. I was half afraid it wouldn’t.”

Bri passed one weary hand over his chin, scratching at a glob of dried blood imbedded in the stubble.

“Was it worth it?”

She shrugged. “Erik gave up his life and power so that Berne might save the village. The village is saved—what’s left of it—so I’d say yes. Still, it was quite a price,” she amended. “If you ask me, we’d be better off with a less violent Patron, but nobody does.”

“What do we do now?”

“Rebuild, of course, what else can we do? Care for our wounded and grieve for our dead and rebuild.”

“And if the Gotri return?”

She turned a toothy smile in his direction. “I think they’ll find a new Captain quite strong enough to send them packing, don’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose they will.”

“And a Master Builder able to turn his hand to both physical and metaphysical walls.”

“Are you asking me to stay?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m telling you to. Berne will need you, so will Ruthgreen.”

“You’ve Seen that?”

With a snort, she got stiffly to her feet. “Don’t ask idiotic questions. Now, help me get the boy to Collyn. This lying about on the cold ground can’t be good for him.”

“What about Erik?”

“Spike and Jake will wait with him until he can be prepared for burial.” She rose with a groan, and together, Ruthgreen’s Oracle and Master Builder carried Berne from the labyrinth, leaving two hunting dogs and a small greenish-brown house snake to stand guard over the body of the Huntsman’s greatest Captain in a hundred years lying in the center of his Goddess’ womb.

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