The Strangling

Veldor heard Cale muttering beneath his breath. Cale had not been eager to return to the settle, for he was still feeling guilty for abandoning the elders who had taken him in when he was but five years old. Veldor shot him a disapproving glance and then returned his attention to the elder.

Much to his annoyance, he felt the old man spoke the truth. He raised his hand, pointing at him belligerently. “You might as well tell me where they are, for I will sniff them out and find them."

Egremont gave a gentle smile. “Nobody knows where they are but Bron himself. No one needs to, because we are sure of him and his decisions in this matter."

Jealousy twisted inside Veldor, knifing in his gut. “Fools that you are."

Egremont stroked his beard, ignoring the remark. “He understands you well, Veldor."

"And I understand him. I know him as no other.” He gesticulated wildly. “I know his weaknesses.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

"Every man has weaknesses.” Egremont stared at Veldor deliberately. “Together we are strong."

"Ha, you refer of course to your precious chain. The one I broke."

Egremont seemed not to blink. “You are part of the chain, Veldor."

Veldor did not remember his mentor being quite so inscrutable. He noticed that the old man seemed even to smile at his remark about breaking the chain, as if amused by it, instead of being afraid. Veldor's temper was rising by the moment. “It matters not where they are now. Even if I cannot reach her—and believe me, I will try—I will wait for them where destiny calls to us all, at The Strangeling.” He grinned, baring his teeth.

Egremont ignored the remark and turned to Cale. “Tread carefully, young Cale. Demons and ghosts from the underworld do not make pleasant companions.” With that parting remark, he shimmered and faded again, a mere projection sent from the safety of the settle.

The smile left Veldor's face and he gritted his teeth. He shouldn't have mentioned his plan to ambush Bron at The Strangeling, but his foul mood was leading him. What did it matter? They would all descend upon The Strangeling soon enough and there they would thrash this out. He would take control of Maerose and of what she led to.

He looked at his men, waving them on. “Ignore the old fool. We wait no longer."

He mounted his horse, driving harsh heels into its flanks. The beast reared and whinnied, wild-eyed. He pointed into the distance, in the direction of the darkest place in Edren. “Our chosen land awaits."

Far away, a creature howled into the night. Thunder rolled overhead, the sky cracking open on the distant horizon. The wind whipped up around Veldor, lifting his hair to stream behind him. He breathed it in, sensing the underworld calling to him within the elements.

I hear you. I come.

Cale stared up at him, his eyes rounded.

"We will be as one,” Veldor bellowed into the cold, dark night. “And I will channel your power.” He turned to the men and waved them on. “Power and riches will be ours, as much as we want and more. With The Strangeling hordes as our foot soldiers, no one will stand in our way."

* * * *

The shutters rattled insistently, a dark, unfriendly wind rising across the land. Bron eyed them warily, wishing it away.

Maerose shivered and pulled her makeshift shawl around her shoulders. Bron noticed how the rough horsehair blanket emphasized her softness, her vulnerability. Her femininity.

"I think that you may need to go through it again, one more time.” She took a deep breath and looked at him with such an earnest expression that he couldn't help but give a quiet chuckle.

It was late and they had been sitting by the fire for some time, after feasting well on jug

ged hare and mead. The mead was strong and he had made them an apple brew afterwards, to warm their bones and level their heads. He was pleased to see her looking well again, nourished. She listened with more readiness now, cautiously willing to be part of it. He was grateful for that. He was grateful for more than that. “Take all the time you want. I am happy that you are ready to listen."

She reached over and touched his hand. She looked even more beautiful since they had joined together, if that was possible. She wore his shirt over her petticoats, and it swallowed her figure, but showed it to his hungry eyes all the same. At times it was difficult to draw his attention away from the outline of her breasts within the soft, layered cotton of his garment over hers.

"I may need that time. This is so far beyond anything I have ever encountered in my life."

He nodded.

"At home, on Samhain, the young men from the village scare the children by wearing fearful costumes and telling wild tales.” She smiled. “It all seems rather innocent, now that I hear about the dark and evil realities that exist farther from home."

It was so true. “Yes, but the traditions that each village develops are there for a reason, to ward off the evil spirits and protect the souls of the villagers. Tell me more of the Riversbend traditions."

"My young brothers and the other boys help the men of the village set up fires at the edge of the village. They believe it keeps the walking spirits at bay. Meanwhile, the women collect tokens to protect us from the demons. My sister, Russet, has a talent for fashioning corn dollies. She makes one for everyone in the village at the end of the harvest and gives them out on Samhain, to see us through the dark season. My father is the blacksmith, so he has one in the shape of a horseshoe. The baker has a plaited loaf.” She looked at him from beneath her lashes, shyly relating the scenes from her home.