Evangeline’s POV
If you see the Blackledge Raiders, run!
That is what we were taught when we were children and we were told the same thing every single day. If I wanted to go to the river to wash, my mother would stop me at the door and say, “Take a friend with you, and if you see the Blackledge Raiders...” I would finish the sentence for her. “Run. I know.”
The same rules applied to fruit picking, walking in the woods, feeding the horses and pigs, hanging out the clean clothes to dry. Everywhere I went was in tandem, and I never had a minute to myself unless I woke up early enough to sneak out alone and unseen.
I never really believed the raiders would come for us. Why would they? We were seven families living on the Blackledge boundaries, hardly worth their trouble or the distance they would have to ride to reach us. We had nothing of value, not really, and we caused no trouble.
Oh, how wrong I was.
The day they came, I was being punished as usual. My mother had caught me at the river alone again and sentenced me to a day at the grind stone making flour for the day’s bread. Of all the jobs in our little community, the grind stone was the worst. If it was being used as a punishment it was worse still. No breaks, not talking, no swapping out with a friend to rest limp and aching arms. Just hours and hours of back breaking, arm burning, solitary grinding. I don’t even like bread.
My friend Annekka had tried to sneak me some honeyed water when my mothers back was turned, but her goblin brother outed us at the top of his lungs. He was always there, in the back ground, causing trouble. I bet it was he who told my mother I was at the river alone. Annekka ended up at the stone next to mine, sharing in my punishment.
She didn’t mind and I would have done the same for her. She was my sister in all but blood and we had a secret which tied us together tighter than family lines ever could. We both had magic inside us, which we discovered by chance at the river one morning.
After weeks of catching not a single fish, we dipped our woven baskets into the water near the rocky bend in the river’s winding path. We knew that if we returned home empty handed, one of our pigs would meet the axe that day. What happened next both delighted and frightened us in equal measure. Fish swam right up to us, their scaly bodies brushed against our bare legs which were knee deep in the clear, icy water that had carved its way down from the mountains to the north, and headed out towards the sea.
We had been travelling the length of the river for most of my life, stopping to settle every autumn, just in time to ride out the winter and travelling through spring and summer. That year was our second in that particular spot. My father had been hunting with the other men, when he was hunted himself and killed by a pack of wolves.
The men who were with him said the wolves were like nothing they had seen before and insisted that we up sticks and find a new place to settle. My mother was adamant that we stay put and the land will provide what we need. When the fish ran scarce and two young men of eighteen years went missing from a near by settlement, the decision was made that the land no longer welcomed us. Annekka and I catching the fish changed everyone’s mind, and we stayed where we were. If only we had left, if only I had the knowledge then that I do now, the powers I have honed over the last five years. I could have saved them all, or at least most of them.
I stood as still as stone in the icy water, worried that any movement would startle our dinner and I would be forced to dine on Rose, Daisy, Poppy or their piglets. Bartie, the boar would be spared the chop, miserable beast that he was, he was our only boar. I closed my eyes and willed the fish into my basket with my thoughts. I could almost taste the flaky, tender flesh and feel the fat from the crispy, fire blackened skin on my lips. Annekka did the same and we did not dare to open our eyes until the current was so strong we could not keep hold of our baskets any longer. When I lifted my vessel out of the river it took both hands, clear water gushed between the loosely woven reeds and my basket bulged with flapping, gasping fish.
We dined like Lords that night and for many days after, all of us convinced that our fortunes had reversed and we would be able to remain indefinitely. Despite the threat of Raiders, we have been more comfortable and the land far more abundant than any place we had settled until then. The piglets were spared the chop and Annekka and I were praised for our persistence and success. I was happy to be able to remain in the place where the last memories of my father reside.
As we gutted and tied the fish to the drying rack we agreed we could never tell our families what had happened at the river. It was a secret we could not share for fear of being outcast. Magic is dangerous, but not in the way you might think, of course it could be used recklessly, but the real threat came from the castle. The Lord of the Shadow reapers does not abide magic and I had no doubt in my mind that the majority of votes would cast us out to protect themselves. I don’t blame them, but knowing what our fate would and could have been makes me heart sick.
Everyone knows his raiders come for witches, so as long as we kept our secret we would be safe, everyone would be safe.
The ringing of the bells was the first sign that that day would not end the way we thought it would when the sun peeked over the distant hills that morning. There were only two reasons to ring the bells. The first, was to call the hunters and gatherers back from the surrounding woods, but that only happened when the evening meal was ready. We ate together, around the fire, every evening no matter what had happened that day. It was our time to wipe the slate clean and give thanks for lands bounty, before retiring for the night, and attendance was expected.
The second reason to ring the bells was danger. Given that it was barely noon and the bells were ringing like a mad man was at the rope, it had to be the latter. I vividly remember my skin burning cold and feeling like I could not breathe. “Run Annekka!” I shouted at my friend who was stood, mid grind, rigid with fear. The air around her moved in hazy waves like when the sun bakes the desert sand and you can see the heat rippling in front of you. I grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her along behind me as I fled for the treeline, the few small stones which had began to rise from the ground around her all fell back to the dirt, hopefully unseen by our families and the invaders.
Vivid images of fearsome men with thick, glistening swords and evil in their eyes, came to my mind. I had been having waking dreams ever since the fish, but never anything like what I saw that day. I now know they were visions of the future, but at the time I was a terrified child who could not see the wood for the trees. I thought my imagination was running away with me, conjuring up images of the worst imaginable threat, but even my imagination could not have painted such monstrous men.
Annekka stumbled over the twisted, exposed roots of the giant redwoods and every time I stopped to pick her up I could sense the threat drawing closer. Everyone back at our compound would have scattered into the surrounding woods, that was the plan if the Raiders came. We knew if we ran in every direction then some of us would have a better chance of escaping. I ran in the wrong direction and the last time Annekka fell I stooped down to help her up and two booted feet stepped into view. They were here for us, they had to be. Somehow Lord Blackledge knew about our magic and he sent his raiders to kill the witches.
I straightened my back and pushed down the terror which pulsed and coursed through my veins, right down to my bare, torn up feet. My hair had picked up twigs and leaves as we fled for our lives and was now hanging in front my face in a big brown, matted mess. My hand trembled as I swept my unruly mane back from my face but I don’t think he noticed. If he did, he didn’t show it. The stories our elders shared around the evening fire told of how the Raiders relish in the fear of their victims. If I was to die that day, I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing my absolute terror.
A fleeting image flickered in my mind. The man who stood before me was sweeping my hair away from my face. He leaned in to whisper in my ear but I could not hear the words he spoke. I felt his lips gently brush the sensitive skin of my neck as he placed a tender kiss there and stepped away. That waking dream was unlike the others and my mind reeled with the possibilities of its meaning.
“Don’t.” That is all he said. One simple word. I knew what he meant, do not run. I looked around for a way out, some way of escaping, but even if I could run I would not leave Annekka behind, she and I were two of a kind.
I don’t know if it was luck, fate, or someone looking down from above, that landed us at Marcel’s feet that morning. He wasn’t like the ones I had seen in my mind. His eyes were filled with darkness but there was something else there too, something that told me I should do as he says. It’s not like I really had any other choice, but I had a feeling that if we were going to have any chance of survival it would start with listening to him. The reckless, inquisitive side of me was curious, I wanted to know what my dream meant. I wish I could say I was acting purely out of a sense of self preservation, but that would be a lie.
“If you try to run, the others will hunt you down. Trust me, you do not want to be their prey. Heed my words and survive this culling.” His voice carried warning and also an unexpected pleading quality, he lifted Annekka to her feet then gently bound our hands behind our backs. Blood curdling screams echoed in the distance and my breakfast of berries and oats landed on the ground near my feet in a lumpy purple puddle. Mother always told me I should chew my food more.
When he said the others would hunt us down, he meant like wild animals. The blood curdling screams were not of people fleeing, rather those of prey, caught and devoured by ravenous beasts. No matter how long I live, I will never be able to get those sounds out of my head and every time they come to mind I get the familiar feeling of food finding its way back up my throat.
Marcel, whose name we did not know at the time, walked Annekka and I back to our small cluster of brick and mud homes, topped with the neatly sewn, leather roofs stretched over light timber frames. They were perfect for keeping the rain out and the warmth in during the cold seasons, and in the blistering heat of the summer sun they provided protection for our fair skin.
Wherever we travelled we would always take only the bare minimum with us, which was usually the leather canopies that could be placed directly on the ground for shelter and later on top of the small round homes we would build when we found somewhere to settle for the winter, and our animals. I used to ask my mother and the other adults why we could not live in one place, and I was always told that I would understand when I was grown. Now I know we were running, we escaped one enemy and landed right in the lap of another.
Marcel walked with purpose as he led us past our gathering area right in the middle of the circle of homes. He told us his name and that Lord Halen was his father, he said if we wanted to live we should remain silent no matter what we heard or saw. He also warned us that if we were taken by his father we should not reveal our magic or anything we knew about our natural parents. My legs turned to jelly and my mouth instantly dried when I realised who his father was. Lord Halen was the Lord of the Shadow Reapers.
Evangeline’s POV I didn’t get the chance to ask Marcel how he knew about our magic or what he meant about our parents until some time later. We did as instructed, and he walked us right past the gathering of blood drenched animals who were crouched and contorted on all fours, picking through pieces of torn and mangled meat. Two men stood out from the others. One of them was tall and broad, with long silver hair and scars that crisscrossed his exposed chest, arms, and face. He was the Lord. It was obvious from just a glance. He was well dressed from the waist down, like Marcel, and the man like creatures would not look him directly in the eye. The man beside him was smaller in every way and looked to be nothing more or less than an average person, except for the leather collar around his neck and the long leather strap which hung from the collar, down towards the ground, then turned up and led right into Lord Halen’s hand where he was sat atop a magnificent stallion.When I looked
Marcel’s POV I stand in silent contemplation for a moment and consider my options. The answers to every question I have asked could be right behind this door and honestly, now that I’m potentially stood on the precipice of finding what I have been searching for, I’m terrified. If these people are descended from Hikura, they could be the answer to everything, the key to the lock I have been unable to open thus far. Well… they could have been had I found my voice and spoken out against my father. I know that not a single person survived this culling, Halen came here with the sole intent of wiping out the entire coven and that is precisely what happened. When it comes to witches my father becomes a whole different kind of beast and I get a glimpse of the pure evil that resides within his comparatively innocuous shell. As I reach out to push the heavy looking door open, it moves just a bit, as if of its own volition and my breath sticks in my throat. The hairs on the back of my neck stan
Marcel’s POV The ride home is not a particularly long one, and most of it passes in a haze. As expected, Halen set the meeting house alight and watched with sadistic satisfaction as the roof caved in, and flames leapt out of the windows as if desperately seeking an escape. I know that feeling well. Halen is practically foaming at the mouth with rage, and he stops on more than one occasion to feed from his unfortunate, human pet. Vincent is the current flavour of the month, I don’t see the appeal personally, he is almost as repulsive in both appearance and attitude as the man who currently dines on him, or perhaps that is the point, I doubt I will ever understand the twisted workings of my father’s mind. Blood quenches not only his thirst but also his anger. The way he feeds, by sinking his teeth into his victims neck, is unnecessarily brutal.If he knew I drank from a cup, he would most likely implode with shame and disappointment. The coven’s priestess, who I assume is Imelda, ha
Imelda’s POVI have been waiting for this day ever since I woke up in the stone circle surrounded by the spirits of my old coven.They say time heals all wounds. Well, I’m here to say, that is total bullshit. It’s been a century, one hundred years, since my mother chose to end her life and pass her deathless gift to me. One hundred years, and I still have a hole in my heart where she used to fit.The thing that hurts the most is that it was her choice leave. I understand, though I find it hard to accept, but she could have told me. She could have given me time to prepare myself, to ask the questions I will now have to hold onto until we meet again. It feels like she left a conversation part way through, she just turned her back and walked away.In my typical fashion, I did not take the news of her passing well. Okay, maybe I’m polishing that a bit. I fell utterly and spectacularly apart. One night, when I couldn’t carry the burden of my grief any longer, I sat inside the circle of tow
Marcel’s POVWith a deep and steadying breath, I embrace the dawning of a new day and take my first steps towards a future governed by myself. My heart beats furiously with a mixture of trepidation and hope.After several hours of running through fields, wading across icy streams and avoiding the main routes into and out of Blackstone, the forest finally comes into sight. The dark green haze which looms tantalisingly on the horizon is where my answers await me. Halen’s warning rings in my ears, ‘those who go in, do not come out’.“Another of your lies.” I utter to his disembodied voice inside my head. If Imelda could see me now she would probably think me a mad man. To be honest, it’s more for reassurance than anything else.As I venture closer to the densely packed treeline, the haunting echoes of howls reach my ears, a chilling reminder of unknown dangers which lie ahead. My hand unconsciously drifts back up towards the amulet Evangeline gave me. The sun is now at its apex, but its
Constance’s POVI watch from the window as my son’s tall, dark figure retreats into the thick mist. My heart is heavy with a potent mixture of grief and envy, I know he has felt like a prisoner here for almost as long as I have. I would give nearly anything to be running from this place right beside him. First there is something I must do, and when the deed is done, I too, will be free to begin living my life.It has been fifty-six long days since Marcel left. I am not losing my mind, not yet anyway. I know the figure I see in the mist is only a memory of the morning he left. It is the feeling of hope that this memory gives, that keeps me going when it feels like there is no point in waking up every morning. The hope that I too, will soon be free like Marcel.Evangeline creeps into the dining hall and the screeching sound of chair legs scraping along the polished wood floor sets my already tender nerves on edge. She is now my only comfort in this cold and lifeless castle, since Marcel
Halen’s POV“We are this fucking close to tracking her down.” I hold my finger and thumb a hairs breadth apart in front of Vince’s face, my body convulsing with anger as I fight the urge to rip out his throat and have one final drink from his useless corpse. “This close. And you and the rest of them can’t even keep watch over one silly girl and my wife. What the fuck is the point of having you around if you are incapable of earning your keep?” I can barely see through the descending red mist. It’s not just that they are missing, but they have no idea of the dangers outside our gates. They could be absolutely anywhere.Vinny looks terrified and rightly so. It wouldn’t surprise me if he soiled his breeches, it would not be the first time I have scared the shit out of one of the incompetent leeches hanging around the place. They come here, pleading for health, strength and immortality, but very few are prepared to pay the price I ask in return for the gift only I can bestow.Vincent has
Marcel’s POVDays turned into weeks and weeks into months.I have settled into a peaceful life with Blackledge Pack, it is about as different from my previous life as you could possibly get. The people here are all one big family. They hear each others thoughts, work together in everything they do, raise their children, or pups, as a community, and everyone has a place.I know I don’t really belong here, the wolves are not my kind, but I feel more at home with the pack than I ever felt under Halen’s roof. The old woman I met my first day here, Gladys, has become a real friend to me. She and Imelda have known one another since well before my time and it turns out Imelda is partially responsible for the pack's supernatural longevity. Imelda’s magic draws on their ancestral bond with the land and life is literally funnelled into the collective. I can’t help wondering if Halen knew exactly what lie within these woods or if he simply knew that whatever it was, was beyond his reach and unde