Fireblood (Whispers from Mirrowen 1)

There was a crunch and crash deep in the blackness, followed by a shower of branches.

The fire snapped and hissed as the mist curled around the stones hedging it in. A thick, silent fog came from the trees above, blotting out the stars.

“Do we run?” Annon whispered, his throat dry.

Paedrin held up his hand, his head cocked. “It’s coming from below, not above. I hear it in the woods.”

“I hear nothing,” Hettie said, swinging the bow around and aiming it down.

Paedrin took a deep breath and exhaled it quickly. He turned to the others. “When it comes, I will slow it. You run as far and as fast as you can. Try to find shelter, a cave or something narrow where it may not fit.”

“You are coming with us,” Hettie insisted.

Paedrin shook his head. “Remember the Uddhava. Trust me, I will not be easy prey. I will make it hunt and chase me all night if necessary. I am faster than all of you. It improves the odds of our survival if I face it alone.”

“No,” Hettie said.

“Your injuries,” Annon said, his stomach lurching. He respected the Bhikhu now. The thought of losing him was painful. “This is not fair to ask of you.”

There was a half-smirk in response. “Of course it isn’t fair. But I promised I would be your protector. My duty is not yet fulfilled, and I will face it. Get ready, it comes.”

Even Annon could hear the approach from the south. Twigs and branches snapped and cracked. The crunch of vegetation was obvious now. Annon tried to swallow his fear, but he could not. In a moment, they would see it.

“Be ready,” Paedrin said. “I will face it.”

“There!” Hettie said, bringing up her bow and stretching it back.

“Hold!” Annon said, bringing his arm down over hers. The figure approaching was large, but not monstrous. The girth was enormous, or Annon would have thought it was Tyrus. A bushy, mottled, gray-and-black beard emerged from the cowl of a cloak.

Paedrin paused, weapon ready, scrutinizing the stranger.

The voice was deep, as deep as a barrel. “You do not have much time to determine whether to trust me. But I can lead you to safety this night if you choose to believe me. Either way, the Fear Liath comes. Make your decision.”

Dark eyes appeared in the concealment of the cowl, which the stranger lowered, revealing a huge mane of gray-black hair. The mustache just below his nose was darker than the rest, as were his prominent eyebrows. But his swarthy skin and bulk showed him to be a Cruithne. And the talisman around his neck revealed he was also a Druidecht.

A gush of relief went through Annon’s heart on seeing the token. “I trust him.”

Hettie no longer resisted and released the tension in the bowstring.

“In a few more moments, your time to decide will be shattered by raking claws and the most horrible hide-stench you can imagine. You are in its lair still. I, for one, would prefer safety to debate. The choice is yours.” He turned abruptly and started back down the mountainside at a solid pace, crushing the branches and debris as he walked.

Paedrin glanced at Annon in surprise.

“He is Druidecht,” Annon said, grabbing Hettie by the arm.

Erasmus needed no convincing. “The odds of surviving until daybreak have just improved,” he said.

Paedrin lingered amidst the campfire a moment, then followed them down the hillside. The mist continued to fall until it engulfed them all in a fetid-smelling cloud. A terrible roar sounded behind them, splitting the air with a shriek that went down into Annon’s marrow. It was close behind them. Very close. There was a shuffling noise in the distance. The Fear Liath was tracking them.

The Cruithne increased his pace, each step announcing their location with thunder. If a small tree stood in the way, he simply went through it, snapping the trunk and causing it to crash awkwardly away. Redwoods towered over them, but the lower branches were lost in the thick gauze of milky white fog.

Annon nearly twisted his ankle on a root, and Hettie helped catch him before he fell. He wanted to keep turning around, but Paedrin scowled at him and gestured to keep his eyes on the Cruithne ahead. The shuffling noise grew louder, turning into a bark-like sound.

“This way,” boomed the deep voice as he approached a lightning-struck redwood, one that had fallen and shattered so that only the tangle of exposed roots lay revealed. The thorny fingers of the roots made it seem like some enormous monster, but it was hollowed out by fire and created a small cave. It was not quite tall enough to stand in, but the Cruithne did not hesitate; he hunched forward and entered the cave-like entrance of the tree stump.