Syth and Axe (part 15) - the Liminalis

 

Syth and Axe vol. 15 - The Liminalis

1963 - Santa Lucia Mountains, California

A brilliant scar still ran across Paul’s back - a sign of treachery. He’d followed the signs to this place… a place where Cole had been sighted before - just under a different name.

Paul gazed across the peaks. “This is your old home?”

Raven nodded. “Yes.”

Syth watched the mist rolling up from the sea. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was, until the feral were unleashed.”

“Feareaters?”

“We all are, in some respect, Feral moreso.”

Paul gazed over the landscape. “I thought you said you couldn’t leave. What changed?”

Raven shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I’ve heard those Dark Watchers’ve been sighted movin’ elsewhere through the country, think that could be it?”

Paul nodded. “I’ve heard that, too. They seem to be heading east - Nahanni?”

“No, at least I doubt it,” Syth said. “There are already Dark Watchers in Nahanni.”

“But they didn’t mess with us then.”

“We were in and out of the fairy realm so often they probably didn’t have a chance.”

Syth eyed the mountains. “I wonder, if I passed the border, would I be trapped here?”

Bill laughed. “Doubt they’d even see ya. Heck, I don’ even see ya half the time. Gotta remind myself yer there!”

Raven laughed. “Guess we beasts are immune to each other, because I see you all the time.”

“Even when yer not around,” Bill said with a whistle and a wink.

Paul laughed and stared up into the mountains. “They’re beautiful,” he commented, changing the subject. “Is the war still on?”

Bill shrugged. “Can’ imagine it’s not.”

“Raven, you said your people can’t use the fairy realm?”

She shook her head. “Not that I’ve ever seen. You and Bill were the first I ever knew to freely enter and exit.”

Paul fumbled at the small amulet he wore under his shirt. To his knowledge, just he, Bill, and Rip had one. Though, maybe Cole had one now, too, since he seemed to be able to enter and exit the realm - he didn’t used to have that ability…

Paul held the amulet for a moment, lost in thought. Cole had given him this in order to access the fairy realm decades ago, but how had Cole gotten this one? Had he stolen it from the Lemurians or had he received it some other way? 

Raven poked him in the shoulder with a clawed finger.

“Hey, are you listening?”

“Sorry,” he replied, releasing the amulet and staring down at the girl. “Say it again.”

“I can transform if you think it would help avoid too much attention.”

He nodded. “Probably.”

She turned to Syth with a wink. “Do look away, won’t you. It’s rude to watch a girl change.”

If Syth could have blushed, Paul imagined he would have gone beet red. He turned away, even shading himself with his wings. Raven chuckled and tapped on his wing membrane, which gave a sort of metallic thonk when she did.

“I’m joking with you, stupid.”

He lowered the wing.

Before them stood a black-haired girl with deep olive skin. Her brown eyes looked back at them from dark eyelashes.

“Hey, my daughter’s kinda cute when she’s not a dog!” Bill cried. “Just got that ability or ya’ve been hidin’ out on me all this time smellin’ like wet dog?”

“I’m still a dog, you old coot!” She replied. “I’m just projecting a different image to the world. Rumor has it all of us used to have this ability before the fairy realm came into being. With it weakening, apparently we’re getting it back.”

Paul noticed the image shift slightly, and her more canine form came through. His ability to see through illusion was still there when he wanted it to be. Right now, he didn’t care too much, and so she remained mostly human.

Bill sniffed. “Can your glamour affect your scent, too.”

A breeze shifted, and the scent of roses and fruit caught the air. “Like that?”

Bill laughed. “You’re good!” Then he paused again, “you’re telling me I didn’t have to put up with the smell of wet dog all these years? You could have made yourself smell good this whole time?”

She punched him hard in the shoulder, enough to make him wince, “and where would the fun be in that?” She asked, “I enjoy making you suffer.”

“Clearly,” he retorted.

Something sniffed at his hand. He recoiled, then regained his composure, casting a glance over at Raven’s new form. She laughed.

“Ah, Goat. Good to have you back with us. I see you’ve been eating well?”

The chupacabra trilled happily, his spines engorged and red. He had, indeed, been feeding well.

Bill looked about to ask, then paused. “You know what… I don’t want to know whatcha bin eatin’.”

Goat purred.

Scarlet laughed, startling Goat, who stared up at her. He waddled over and began to sniff at her hand. “It’s me, boy.”

Satisfied, he nuzzled against her leg.

“Don’t get any ideas, you still can’t eat me.”

Goat gave her a dejected look and waddled away.

“Ah, you hurt his feelin’s,” Bill bemoaned, chasing after him. “He’s gonna be Alpha someday, and you’re gonna wanna be on his good side!”

Raven rolled her now-human eyes and sighed. “He keeps trying to bite me. It’s getting annoying.”

“Have you tried biting back?” Paul laughed.

She smiled, and her human teeth momentarily flashed as sharp fangs. “It would probably cause him to pop like a balloon.”

“Has that actually happened?”

She smirked, letting a single fang hang out from her upper lip. “Maybe. There are a lot of annoying creatures in the fairy realm, and the chupacabra’s at the top of the list, just behind those pale crawling things.”

“So you’ve seen those, too,” Paul asked.

She nodded. “They’re an infestation these days. I’ve even seen some in the desert regions.”

“Where are they coming from?”

“No idea. They’re tall and almost-elflike, but it’s like they’ve been sucked dry.”

“Chupacabra snack?” Paul joked.

“Goat won’t touch them,” she replied. “Seriously, I’ve seen him sniff the dead feral in the mountains and reject them - same thing with these pale creatures. It’s like they’re…” she sought for the right word.

“... tainted,” Paul concluded. “I’m starting to feel the spread of some sort of corruption. I think we’ll find more and more things Goat won’t eat.”

“What’s causing it?”

Paul thought back to the young Sasquatch, left to die against that pillar outside Nahanni. The… feeling that shattering that pedestal released. He’d felt similar in the Pine Barrens, in Louisiana… in the Dakotas, Danvers… so many places…

“Cole.”

“You’re sure?”

Paul nodded. “Everything he touches… I was wrong not to stop him when I had the chance. I let him deceive me.”

Syth frowned. “What’s his end game?”

“Power, greed, I don’t know.” Paul replied.

“He’s never threatened me, but he’s passed up and down through my territory more times than I can remember.”

“Did he know you were there?”

“Probably. At least a time or two,” Syth replied. “He intentionally sought me out… was curious about some things - the Blue Hole, the fairy rings, things like that, but he never threatened me or anything.”

“Wise.” Raven said.

“Oh, he could take me out easily.” Syth clarified.

“Are you serious?” Raven replied.

Syth nodded. “The power he has stored up inside - I don’t know how many curses he’s bearing, but yeah, he could destroy me without much struggle at all. I’ve sensed it rolling off him whenever he’s near.”

Paul stroked his beard. “And yet…” he paused, looking back and forth between Raven’s shifting form and Syth. “I’ve never actually seen him kill… well… anything.”

“It’s impossible he’s lived this long without killing someone - at least something.”

“Yet, in all our interactions, it’s never happened.”

“Are you saying you think he just finds those heads lying around?” Raven replied, sarcastically.

“He insists that’s the case,” Paul replied.

“Don’t be so gullible,” Raven retorted.

“He did send you shooting through time, don’t you forget!” Syth observed.

Paul nodded. “Oh, you don’t tend to forget it when someone almost doubles your lifespan on a joke… I’m not saying he’s on our side, but he seems to have some twisted code of conduct. Things that… despite all else… he won’t do.”

“He did betray you to Spearfinger.”

Paul nodded. It had been a close rescue. But, if he really had gone all these centuries without killing, why start now? Why start there, with so much to lose?

“Or he’s trying to trick us into thinking that.”

Paul nodded. “Could be. And honestly, I think he is up to something, but he hasn’t resorted to murder yet. That’s all I’m saying.”

Raven sighed. “Everything I’ve ever heard about this guy is negative - why wouldn’t he kill? He’s certainly caused enough trouble - I think he’s the one who tried to break more feral out of the mountains.”

Syth nodded. “He’d certainly have the means and the motivation.”

Paul eyed them both. “Perhaps.”

“And this mysterious Newcomer Bill keeps talking about -”

Paul shrugged. “It could be. I’m not sure. I don’t remember whe he looks like. And I didn’t get a good look at this visitor of yours, not enough to compare the two.”

“Well, I know one thing for sure,” Raven replied, “he’s the one responsible for that young Sasquatch’s death, even if he didn’t pull the trigger.”

Paul nodded, thinking back to Cole’s presence in the fairy realm… what had he done there? What was he trying to accomplish? Was he just checking on his work, making sure he spread as much misery as possible? And getting Spearfinger to raise John… why?

Something howled off in the night.

Raven turned her gaze back up into the mountains. “That… that wasn’t my clan.”

Bill reappeared, Goat trotting along beside him. “He forgives you.” He said, nodding at the chupacabra. “Was that one of your clan?”

Raven shook her head, then listened again.

A vicious snarl rang out across the hills.

“Not this again,” Bill muttered, drawing one of his pistols. “I’m not lookin’ to start another dog-war, darlin’.”

“I don’t think this is a war,” Raven replied. “I think this is a massacre. A clean-up.”

Something shrieked in the night.

The sound of tearing flesh, yipping howls of some sort of doglike creature, and the baying howl of something calling to more of the pack, echoed in the night.

Paul drew his axe. “So, you think your people really know about ‘feareaters’?”

“Well, there’s something out there, seems to fit the bill,” Raven replied.

Syth’s wings burst out to each side and he shot up into the air. They watched his dark form vanish into the sky, reappearing briefly as he shot out toward the distant mountains.

They watched him vanish into the mountains, and in a moment, he returned, dropping silently onto the golden-brown grass before them. He folded his wings tight against his body. “All dead.”

“Were they my people?”

“I couldn’t tell,” he replied, “I was able to examine one body of the fringe… something had ripped its throat out.”

“On the fringe?”

Syth nodded. “It was a bloodbath. Dozens slaughtered - I’m sorry, but I can’t tell the difference. The whole region smells of contamination.”

“The Feral,” Raven muttered.

“Either that field is full of those Feral, or there’s enough of them to taint the whole region.”

Raven nodded. “Thank you for checking. Did you find any survivors?”

Syth shook his head. “No.”

“That was fast,” Paul observed.

Raven nodded. “Something’s changed - our battles were always brutal, but they were never over that fast.”

“I dunno, I finished off my share of the ol’ biters.”

“You dealt with outlying members of the packs. When two packs struck each other, the fighting would go on for half an hour at least, then the hunt would continue for those who escaped. You’d never have one pack - or especially both - getting completely wiped out like that.”

“So what’re you sayin’, girl?”

She eyed Bill, a nervous look passing over her glamoured features. “I’m saying they’ve been unleashed, and this world has become far more dangerous.”

“I don’ like how you just stressed ‘they’ like I’m supposed t’ know what yer talkin’ about.”

Her hands rose to her face and she pushed a shock of loose hair from her eyes. “Do you know what the war was over?”

“The Feral were trying to eradicate your people.”

“Yes, but do you remember what my people were guarding?”

Bill shook his head. “Can’t say I do.”

“A prison.”

Paul leaned in. “What kind of prison?”

A look of realization spread over Bill’s face. “The same type of prison I opened at the request o’ that ‘Newcomer’ I toldja about,” Bill spat.

Raven nodded.

He continued. “I removed what I thought was a water stone from a cave, releasing the first wave of Feral into the mountains - needless t’ say, that began a sequence o’ events that, wel… upset the natural order.”

“Understatement,” Raven interjected.

“Listen…” Bill gestured, waving a finger.

Raven ignored him, “so my pack and these Feral warred, and someone made an attempt on the other prison.”

“But failed,” Bill replied.

“Yes,” Raven agreed, then continued, “but that’s where I had to choose to help Bill escape, because my people were going to kill him for what he did.”

“Totally over-reacting!”

“You got a third of my people killed.”

“Well… yeah, but…” for once, Bill didn’t have a clever comeback.

A roar-like howl rumbled through the hills.

Raven’s hackles raised, and her camouflage dropped momentarily, black fur coursing across her human flesh and then vanishing a moment later. “I don’t recognize that howl.”

“Then what?”

“A new pack, new calls…” she turned to Bill, “we need to get my people out of here!”

Bill groaned. “Paul, I needja to head on back t’ camp. Let Lightnin’ know I forgive ‘im for whatever ‘e did. Send ‘im my way, pronto!”

Paul nodded.

“Syth,” Raven whispered, taking one of his thin hands in her fake human ones. “I need you to scour this mountain for any signs of the Watchers. I think I know the answer already… based on what we saw in Nahanni… but I need to know what I’m getting into. Bill, you still have that stone?”

Bill nodded, tapping at his wrist.

“Let’s go.”

“Right behind ya, darlin’.”

Syth watched them go, then turned to Paul. “I’ll meet you back at camp when I’m done.”

Paul nodded.

Syth swept up into the sky and vanished into the darkness of the mountains.

Raven watched him vanish, then turned to Bill. “We’ve got to find my people.” Her glamour dropped, revealing her wolf form. “I need to focus,” she explained, then sniffed at the air. “This way.”

Bill absently tapped at his hips to check for his revolvers, then turn to Goat. “C’mon, boy!”

And they were off.


Before the moon had even risen fully into the sky, they were standing in a familiar field. The stone off in the distance - where Bill had performed a daring escape with the air of whatever wind power he could muster - was soaked in blood. Bodies lay strewn about.

Goat sniffed at them, then turned away.

“Feral, then. Goat could never stomach those.”

“Then my people are not completely lost,” Raven replied, a slight note of hope touching her voice.

As if on cue, a roar rippled from nearby. Another battle.

“I know that voice. It’s my cousin,” she said. “I thought him lost in the ambush that almost wiped out our clan.”

Bill chuckled. “Which one. Every time ah turn around, yer people’re gettin’ ambushed.”

“Watch it, old man. My father still wants you dead.”

“For runnin’ off with his daughter as my own?”

She glared at him.

“Relax, darlin’. We’re here t’ help get yer people t’ safety, if that exists anymore.”

She thought of the battles raging across the country, and the encounters with dogmen in Nahanni and elsewhere. “Do you think there are more of us, or did they finally escape these mountains?”

“Have a feelin’ we’re about t’ find out.”

The snarls began anew, this time off in the ridges to the north.

“Up here!”

And they were off. Goat sniffed at another corpse, turned his nose up, and trotted after them.

This field was fresh. Steam, small particles of dirt and who-knew-what, hung suspended in the air, as if the whole ridge was covered in spirits of the damned.

“Orbs.” Syth muttered, dropping from above. “The last just fled off to the West.”

“That’s the ocean,” Bill observed.

“And the Watchers?”

“Gone. No sign anywhere.”

Raven scowled. “Then they’re all free.”

“And have been for some time,” Syth replied. “I scoped out the prison location you described. It’s been empty for long enough to gather a good layer of dust.”

“And the prison?”

Syth shrugged. “Whatever was in that prison is gone. Your people aren’t protecting that location anymore. To the best of my knowledge, no one’s been in there for maybe years.”

Raven listened to the chaos ripping across the valleys. “Then what are they doing? Why are they staying here?”

“An’ where’d them Watcher go to?”

“Maybe back to Telos? I’ve heard strange rumors coming out of Shasta - maybe something’s gone wrong?”

Snarls and yips. Something tore.

“I need to get back to Paul. He’s waiting for me at the camp. We’ll search for you. Do you still have the flares?”

Bill nodded, tapping his satchel. “Never thought I’d see the day where I could shoot fire at somethin’. Don’t dare use it, though… this whole area’ll go up in smoke. See this grass?” The blood-soaked grass was light in the moonlight - golden in the sun. It would go up like a tinder box if something so much as breathed at it wrong.

“Well, if we get separated, you might not have a choice.”

Bill nodded. “I’ll just shoot my gun a whole bunch or something.”

Syth shook his head. “I need to find Paul. Signal if you’re in danger.”

And before they could stop him, he vanished back into the sky, a small dot with wings that was soon lost among the distant trees.

“Your kin’re headin’ to the sea. We need to catch up with them.”

“But why?”

“Why what?”

“Why stay when they don’t have to?” Raven asked.

“Somethin’ else is goin’ on, clearly.” Bill replied. “Now, we must go.”

Snarls and yips, a few barked orders, and something splashing.

They crested the peak and stared, gasping and wheezing down into the valley.

“Coulda really used Lightnin’...”

“He’d never climb these crags willingly.”

“Yeah, but I coulda had some’n t’ yell at.”

They gazed down into the valley, where the mountains dropped down to the ocean. Beneath the crashing waves lay several bodies, highlighted in the moonlight. Dark forms draped across every rock, every crag, every nook. It seemed as if whatever was being sought had culminated here. A few bodies were still settling, as if so freshly slain that they were still in the last throes of fighting whatever battle had ended them.

Blood pooled. Goat sniffed it, lapping at it greedily.

“Easy boy, you dunno where tha’s been.”

Raven scrambled down the ledge, her dark fur glistening in the moonlight. “Over here,” she growled. Clambering into a ravine.

A dogman lay bleeding, his throat hanging in ragged strips. He gazed up at her, his eyes trying to register who she was. He snarled, then paused, sniffed slightly, causing small spurts of blood to spray from his wounded neck. He reached to her, as if recognizing.

“He was from my pack.” She explained, clambering on all fours to his side. They growled something to each other. He coughed, a spray sending fresh gouts. He choked, claws raking at the stone as he tried to retain consciousness.

Raven growled at him.

He growled back.

And she ripped out his throat.

“Whoa!” Bill cried out, hand dropping to his side as he released a stream of curses at her.

She turned, wiping the gore from her snout and shifting into a human form. “It was a mercy. He was in excruciating pain.”

“You coulda warned me,” Bill spat, hand easing away from the pistol. “Thought you’d gone Feral or somethin’.”

“It’s not contagious,” she replied. “It’s based on bein’ in that prison.” She wiped the excess blood from her mouth and pointed. “He was hiding that.”

She pushed the body aside, revealing a blood stain where he’d landed. Yet he’d clearly struck the rock a bit farther on before dragging himself onto this spot and allowing himself to be attacked. Underneath him, stained in blood, was some sort of talisman.

“What is it?” Raven asked.

Bill frowned.

“What?”

“If this is here,” he said, “then…” he trailed off.

“Don’t leave me in suspense,” she replied, “what is it? What does it mean?”

“Ya’ve never seen it?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

Bill slowly picked it up, letting the fresh blood drip from it as he eyed it warily. The leather strap looped through a metal ring imbedded in the top, allowing the crystalline rock to sway back and forth as the cowboy examined it. “I don’ like it,” he muttered. “Don’ like it one bit.”

“You know what it is?”

The blood dripped heavily from the stone, as if resisting gravity.

“Mine…” he paused, as if trying to find the words, “mine always hung onto water like that,” he observed, watching the droplet stick to the surface of the stone as if it were thick as honey.

Raven eyed him, then gazed down at her fallen companion, then at the stone, which had stopped dripping blood, and was currently absorbing the droplet back into itself.

“Funny…” Bill mused, without a trace of humor, “all’ve it’s come full circle.”

Raven sat silently, looking again at the cooling body at her feet - the one she’d just created by tearing out his throat. 

“So… this is one of the stones… the…”

“Keystone, I guess they’d call it,” Bill replied. “Yeah.”

“So the prison really is…”

“Open? Yeah, that was obvious though. This…” he eyed the blood-soaked medallion. “This is somethin’... somethin’ else.”

Something splashed down below.

“There’s another survivor,” Raven whispered, pointing down where the roots of the mountains spread out into the ocean.

“Yers ‘r theirs?”

She shook her head. “Dunno.”

Bill folded the bloody medallion in his handkerchief and tucked it in the pocket of his vest. 

Something howled from inland.

“We ain’t gonna be much help, I think. Might wanna fall back while we can.”

“I have to know.”

Another howl. The pack was coming to finish off whatever survivors remained, maybe even hunt the keystone.

He sighed. “I’ll stay up here. Get whatever info ya can, but don’ put yerself in danger. I’ll watch fer anythin’ coming from above. Go!” He drew a pistol with one bloody hand. Raven hesitated. “Whatcha waitin’ for, girl. Gowon and get down there. I’ve gotcher back.” 

She scrambled off down the hillside.

Bill turned as a werewolf-like dogman growled from the darkness. “How many more o’ yer kind do I got to put down before ya’ll leave me alone?”

Goat cowered at his ankle.

“Ah, so yer one o’ them Feral types?”

The large white dogman stalked forward, arms as his side, claws extended. One eye peered at him, the other gouged out from some long-past battle. A healed scar ran along the side of his scalp. It seemed… familiar. Bill filtered through all the beasts he’d fought through the last several decades - and it had been decades since he’d last been here. The creature didn’t seem to recognize him either, but strode forward, growling. “You stand in the way of progress, human. You and that stinking beast of a girl you brought along. Pity you both get to die here… alone… for nothing.” His accent was thick, as if spoken through thick teeth, though nothing seemed to be impairing his mouth from this angle.

Bill raised the pistol without much of a thought and plopped a round between the beast’s eyes.

Except it wasn’t there. With a slight shimmer, the beast vanished from where it had been, appearing at Bill’s side. No matter, Bill spun with a shot, sending a round in the beast’s new direction. But it was already gone, and a claw to the face sent Bill spinning off the mountainside and into the ravine below.

He felt a slight thrill of weightlessness as his body pitched through the air, the sky and ground swapping places as he sailed, almost like a leaf on the wind, drifting down onto the rocks below. The sharp… unforgiving… 

Rocks!

He cursed as his senses snapped back into focus. His fists clenched around nothing, his pistol having sailed free with the initial blow.

But if he could right himself… get his orientation…

He had moments before his body would strike…

Mere moments before all the pain in the world would be his…

He swung his hips, sashaying midair with just enough grace and aplomb to right his focus. His boots hung down, just enough weight to keep him somewhat grounded as he unceremoniously toppled down into the rocky hillside.

His boots caught the rocks first, sliding in an awkward, sole-sheering slide that terminated with his balance throwing him butt-first toward the sharp shards below. He heaved backwards, overcompensating for the backside-splitting collision that would have happened, instead sending him soaring upside down off the rock, spinning almost fully around, and landing in an awkard, half controlled slide in the loose gravel of the hillside.

He laughed at the monster on the ridge. “Never thought I’d have the reflexes of a –!” his gloat ended as his body crunched against a scrubby tree.

Everything went black.


Raven gazed up, hearing gunshots and growls.

She had to know. She had to find out what had happened here - why had her people not left the valley? What were they seeking to protect? Where had the Watchers gone after all these generations?

The body lay half-submerged in the water, blood pooling from some unseen wound. The seeming-corpse rose and fell with the waves.

Her dogman form returned in full as she reached down, looping him under the arm and dragging his heavy, sodden wet form from the murk. Drenched to the bone and sliding on the shore, she heaved his body up onto the driest ground she could find. A small patch of sand slowly darkened from the blood.

“Draugs-in…” the beast muttered through halting breath.

“What did he do?”

“He… broke through. The Unscarred…”

“Father? What happened to him?”

“Held him off. More came. Treachery…” the beast gasped.

“Where are they now?”

“Last stand. Caverns. Nearby.” The dogman raised a mangled arm and pointed off to the north.

“What’s there?”

“Last… stand.”

Something clattered up on the ridge. Raven gazed up. Something pale loomed up there. Was it a Watcher? One of those Pale Crawlers? A Feral?

Then it was bounding down the ridge toward her. She gazed at the dogman in her arms. His eyes lolled. Dead.

She looked up again. The pale creature coming from the ridge had vanished.

She gazed back down at the body in her arms.

He was dead. His scarred body eased into the loose sand, staining the dark soil with his blood. She slowly stood, her fur and clothing soaked through, dirt clodding her knees and legs.

She heard more than saw the blow coming.

She dropped to the ground as a claw swept over her head.

With a growl, the pale dogman rose to full height. “I see you’re better than your friend,” he growled.

“Draugsin,” Raven spat.

The wolf eyed here with is one good orb, his other long-dead, buried beneath a mat of scarred flesh and torn skin.

“I see Bill’s bullet-trench is still there,” she said, referring to the pale pink line running up his scalp, just barely missing his ear.

He bared his teeth. “That pathetic human who shot me? Is he still alive?”

She bared her teeth. “You tell me.”

For a brief moment, he seemed confused.

“What did you do to him?” She demanded, claws extended.

“Him? You mean the man on the ridge?”

She growled.

“He’s dead. I knocked him into the valley. His broken body lies among your kind.”

Her lip twitched in anger. “Prepare to lose your other eye, beast.”

His mouth split into a broad grin. “I’ve come too far to die to the likes of you,” he spat. “My pack needs freeing, and you won’t standing the way.”

“My father will destroy you.”

“Your father?” His mouth split into a broad grin. “He thinks you’re dead.” He extended a claw, probing it under her chin. “And soon, you will be.”

She glared up at him. His pale fur seemed mottled in the moonlight, his one good eye glaring down at her with a demonic glint. “All this time… he thought you kidnapped, murdered… yet holding out hope. Then the first betrayal, and the second. And now, I’ll restore his hope long enough to dash it to pieces.”


Bill groaned and pulled himself into a sitting position. Something sticky and wet. His back. He was bleeding… or had been. He blinked several times, trying to clear his head. He reached into his pocket for his flask…

“Gone. Nahanni… great.”

He rolled over onto his side, gazing down into the ravine below. Two forms stood there. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head, and eased back into a sitting position.

A few stones clattered down the rock face.

He froze.

“Okay, Bill… inventory.” He patted his side. “One pistol.” His back. “Rifle.” His other side. “Missing that pistol.” His boot. “Knife.”

He rolled his neck. Something had broken - or stretched beyond comfort.

Something popped.

“Oh, that’s better,” he groaned, then reached out for the rifle across his back. He checked it over for any substantial damage. “Well, let’s see how ya shoot, ol’ girl.”

He sighted down the barrel, eyeing the beast below. The same white-furred thing that had sent him flying off the ledge was currently threatening Raven. A dead dogman lay at their feet.

The hammer clicked.

Then the dogman moved.

He groaned.

His clear shot would pass right through that white beast and into Raven.

His finger tickled at the trigger.

No.

He wouldn’t shoot her - couldn’t.

Then, they were gone, vanished into the night faster than a wink.

He cursed and lowered the hammer on his rifle, replacing it across his back. He groaned and leaned forward, trying to stretch the muscles - to restore some semblance of life to the numbness slowly spreading across his shoulders and spine. He looked up at the ridge. Several bodies still lay strewn about, evidence of the violence that had raged across this place.

He groaned.

Raven was gone. The wolves patrolling this area were all dead or dying. Paul and Syth were who-knew-where. “Good… like normal then,” he observed.

Bill felt the small amulet lashed against his wrist. He instinctively clenched his fist around the cord, feeling a small trickle of cold seep into his arm. “Well, for such a time as this…” he muttered.

A burst flooded his system, and a massive thrust of air launched him straight up out of the ravine. He sailed up and over the lip, landing lightly on the grassy swath beyond, touching down next to the mangled corpse where Goat was currently feeding.

“Do you ever stop?” He asked.

Goat chirruped at him, his spines all vibrating in unison, creating a strange thrumming melody.

He petted the beast. “Don’t overindulge.”

Goat trilled happily.

Bill stared down at the beast - not nearly as far down as he used to. Goat was nearly up to the middle of his chest now. “You’ll be the Alpha soon, and won’t be able to get through those fairy circles anymore, ya ol’ tub.”

Goat cocked his spined head.

“Wait just a darn minute…” Bill muttered.


Paul stood at the campsite, trying to coax Lightning to move. But the horse wasn’t having it.

“What’s his problem?” Syth asked.

“No idea. He’s more stubborn than normal. I wish Bill or Sue were around.”

“Sue?”

“Bill’s wife. She could always get Lightning to move.”

Something crackled in the brush.

Paul paused, drawing his axe. Lightning huffed and settled onto his haunches, watching the forest with disinterest. Syth turned slowly, spines rising from the edges of his wings.

“Lightning would move for Sue, but only to launch her into another continent. Isn’t that right, ya ol’ grouch.”

The horse snorted dismissively.

“Bill?”

“In the fairyland flesh,” he replied, stepping out of the brush. “I figured there’d be one somewhere near here.”

“What are you doing? Where’s Raven?” Syth asked.

Bill sighed. “One of the dogmen took her.”

Syth vanished into the sky.

Paul groaned. “You’d think someone over two hundred years old wouldn’t be that impulsive.”

“Heard he was pretty sheltered,” Bill joked, watching Syth vanish up into the sky.

The winged form swept from the sky and into the distant hills.

“Do you think he knows where he’s goin’?”

Paul shrugged. “At least we know they won’t see him coming.”

“Even I don’t see him coming sometimes.”

Lightning huffed.

“What is it, boy?”

Huff.

“All right, ya ol’ grouch - wha’s goin’ on, you cranky piece o’ leather?”

The horse stared beyond them.

Knowing what they’d see, Bill turned. Several dark forms stood at the edge of the clearing, just out of the fire’s glow.

“So, ya found us.” Bill muttered.

Paul readied his axe. “What’s goin’ on, Bill?”

“Seems my little miss got herself taken and some of her captor’s friend’re here to make sure no one intervenes. Now, have a question fer ya,” Bill said, drawing out a revolver. He absently checked the cylinder, gave it a playful spin, and closed it. “How’d ya track me through that fairy realm.”

The lead beast growled and charged, raking claws sweeping at Paul’s face.

He dodged neatly, his speed hampered only slightly by his bulk, which was growing by the moment. Soon, he was twice the height of the largest Feral. He grasped it by the scruff like a misbehaving puppy and heaved with all his strength, launching it off into the distance. It cleared the trees, probably not touching down until it hit ocean. He rounded on the others, dodging a stray bullet from Bill and a rampaging, very angry horse.

His boots crunched down on a Feral’s tail, eliciting a yelp. He punted the creature with his other foot, shearing the tail clean off and sending the tail-less wolf straight into some of the scrubby trees that ringed the campsite. A bloody pulp strained out the other side.

Bill went down under one, shots flying wild. A clever horse with a strong kick sent that assailant flying, and the cowboy slowly rose, clutching a bleeding gouge in his shoulder.

“That was my fav’rite vest, you heathens!” he cried, firing in all directions before reloading, and then unleashing several more rounds. The acrid stench of gunpowder filled the air. Several waves of Feral flooded upon them, some sailing back as Paul punted them, some crunched under Lightning’s powerful blows. Others dropping from Bill’s expert shots.

Then all went silent, and as if they’d never arrived, they were all gone.

Paul stood, still towering over the others, his gaze fixed on the nearby hill where the shadowed forces were fleeing. Something seemed… wrong - something was off about the whole scene. He felt…

“Betrayal?”

Bill stepped up toward Paul’s leg. “What did you say?”

Paul felt his grip on his size slipping, and he slowly retracted back into his normal, albeit staggeringly large, lumberjack self. He plucked his axe from the ground and pointed toward the hills.

“It felt… like betrayal.”

“Of us, or of them?”

“Of them… Why attack us if they know they’re no match?”

“The Feral are powerful, but stupid.”

“Not that stupid. Even wolves know when not to fight. I kicked one over a mountain, you think that would prove enough deterrent.”

Bill gazed the way they had gone. “Then we follow them.”

Goat sniffed at the corpses, then waddled off in a huff to join Lightning.

Lightning stepped over a few corpses, kicking and poking them out of the way until he had enough room to settle down. Then he lowered himself heavily on a patch of unsoiled ground, glaring up at Bill, daring him to say something.

Bill sighed. “Goat, keep him company. Paul, guess it’s the two’ve us on this hunt.”

Paul chuckled and threw his satchel over his broad back. He paused.

“What?”

“Just wondering if I need the dynamite.”

“Thought you stopped carrying that after that… incident.”

Paul thought back to the Tree Walker, and the misadventure of Syth stealing his supplies and using them himself.

“Yeah, I think it’s worth it again.”

“Why’s a lumberjack carry dynamite?”

Paul shrugged. “Really stubborn trees.”

Bill chuckled. “Well, might as well keep it.”

Paul rolled his satchel over onto his back. “I forgot the lighters anyway, so not much point either way.”

The two crested the ridge, eyeing several broken bodies - some shot while fleeing, others punted here by Paul’s giant self.

They bodies formed a mangled path into the distant hills, as if several dropped from injuries as they fled - there’s no way Bill’s bullets would have reached this far.

Blood stained the ground, trickling like the headwaters of some forsaken river.

“So many dead.”

“We did our job well, then,” Bill commented, eyeing the carnage.

“Yes, but… these are all young. Some look… different.”

“Maybe if Goat were here, he’d tell the difference,” Bill said, half-jokingly.

“I wonder,” Paul mused, “perhaps these were killed up here as they fled, by another pack?”

“This war has been raging for decades - why all this now?”

Paul shook his head. “I don’t know. But something shifted.”

Bill paused, “Ugh… that hurts.”

“What?”

He stretched his shoulder and bent nearly double, his lanky frame folding over. “There was this big dogman thing… sent me flyin’. I…” he groaned again, sighing heavily. “Let’s just say I’m glad I heal fast these days. I think he broke something.”

“This was the one that took Raven?”

Bill paused, then felt in his pocket. He pulled out the bloodied amulet. The liquid had dried, and the small crystal gem was a deep reddish brown.

“What’s that?”

“I found it on a dying dogman,” Bill replied.

“A Feral or the other ones?”

“The ones Goat likes,” Bill explained.

“What is it?”

Bill pulled up his torn sleeve, revealing a gem-like amulet nestled against his wrist. “I’ve been thinkin’ about this a lot.”

“Good for you,” Paul said, sarcastically.

Bill continued, uncharacteristically ignoring the jab “... years ago, I was … convinced t’ remove a stone from these hills. Turns out, it was a sorta key, ‘cept I had to ‘add’ somethin’ to it in order to use it. Wonder if this is similar.”

“And what did you release?”

“I think…” Bill replied, hesitating, “I think I released the Feral.”

Paul nodded.

“I think I started the war.”

“When was that, almost a century ago?”

Bill nodded, “Probably. I was… it was for the good o’ Texas.”

“You were tricked.”

“I wou’n’t say that.”

“I know, so I did. And this stone you have - that allowed you to bring the rain back to Texas?”

Bill nodded, touching it. “It keeps gettin’ more powerful. Gives me some… powers t’ control weather.”

Paul listened. “As the barriers weaken, these powers grow. I know.”

“An’ this new one… it’s the same.”

“More weather control?”

“Not sure, but it… absorbs elements. In this case, blood.”

“So… a bloodstone? That doesn’t sound safe.”

Bill regarded it. “Thinkin’ the same thing.”

“So… does that mean the prison is already open?”

“Probably, or the door is elsewhere... I ‘magine somethin’ happened that broke them doors wide open, an’ them dogmen’re on their last legs against the Feral.”

Paul gazed around. “Could it be the Watchers?”

Bill followed his gaze. “Might be,” he replied.

“If they’ve broken out, though, why not just leave? Why keep fighting?” Paul asked.

“You talkin’ bout the Feral or the normal ones?”

“Either.”

“‘Parently they both’ve got somethin’ t’ gain in these mount’ns still.”

“And that bloodstone probably plays a role.”

“Safe guess,” Bill replied, holding the bloodied rock in his palm. It didn’t leave the slightest stain against his flesh, even though it still somehow appeared wet.

As they strode across the hillside, Paul gazed over at the amulet. “Seems… tainted.”

Bill eyed it. “Maybe.” His fist closed over it for a moment, then reopened. “Dunno. Never been too good at knowin’ that kinda thing. Taint or no, I usually just shoot at the stuff. I leave the thinkin’ for others.”

“That’s what led to this whole mess, right?”

“I mean, maybe,” Bill replied. “Nothin’ for sure.”

“Those dogmen sure think so, even Raven’s convinced of it.”

Bill shrugged as they crested a ridge and stared out over the valley. “More bodies.” Stretching out before them were the mangled corpses of even more of the dogmen, apparently both sides were still butchering each other, though one nearby had weird wounds.

Bill paused and examined - the dogman’s neck had nearly been severed by what seemed like a sharp blade. Another nearby had a series of long cuts, like parallel blades.

“Claws?” Bill asked.

“Not exactly,” Paul replied, lifting the corpse and examining the long line of cuts. “I know this. It’s Syth’s work.”

“What’s he doing?”

“His own detective work, apparently,” Paul replied, easing another corpse over. Many on this side of the battle had been speared or stabbed through. Long cuts almost split several of them in half, as if they’d been caught at full speed by the stabbing wings and nearly ripped in two. “But is he killing them all or just one side?” Paul continued. “Where’s Goat?”

“Probably with Lightning.”

“He could tell us.”

Bill nodded. “Yeah, that little stinker’s been doin’ his own thing more and more lately.”

Paul lowered the ravaged corpse. “I’ve always been curious - how do you know it’s a he? I’ve never seen any difference. Do those things have a sex?”

Bill shrugged. “Guess ‘e just always acted all tough and stupid-headed, so just assumed ‘e was a ‘e.”

Paul laughed and rolled over another corpse. “Now that would be a surprise.”

“Yeah, if the Alpha turned out to be a girl?”

Paul smiled and looked off to the horizon. “Which way did he go?”

Bill knelt and examined the body. “Blood sprayed this way. Here’s a print from him landing. Bit o’ ripped grass - he was heading this way, then that, then that.” He followed the path, leading along the battlefield. A few final droplets of blood and a severed claw led them to a small copse of trees. “He’s in there.”

Paul looked up at the grove. Several long grooves were scored in the bark a good height up - wings?  Syth had said that his wings had become more armored lately. Had they become like a giant blade?

Bill pointed. “Somewhere in there. Look, trail goes on.”

They followed. A few strips of flesh, a stain of blood, a few new scars. A dogman with a severed head lay against a tree, a long blade-like gash in line with where his neck would have been. Mangled bits of flesh and fur hung. A severed head lay nearby, teeth still bared.

“There.”

In a small clearing, just up ahead, sat a dogman. His severed arm lay several paces away. He gazed up in horror at the cloaked figure standing over him.

“Mercy.”

“Tell me where they are.”

The dogman cast a glance at the severed stub where his arm had been. “I don’t know…”

“Wrong answer.”

A wing shot down - for that indeed was what the cloak was - and another arm tore free, spinning off across the clearing with a gout of fresh blood. The dogman roared in pain.

“Now, I can let you die here… painfully, or I can finish you quickly. Your choice. Where are the others? Where have they taken her?”

The dogman rumbled and growled incoherently.

Syth glared down at him, then leaned over, his wings forming a strange sort of cocoon around them both, bladed wingtips pointed inward. The dogman seemed to reel in panic, then the blades shot in. There was a yelp, and the wings retracted. The body fell back, blood pooling.

“Where is she?”

Incoherent growls again.

Syth strode away, leaving the writhing body to bleed out on the ground. He barely noticed the two men nearby.

“None of them are telling me where she’s been taken.” He muttered as he passed their location. “And I’m running out of witnesses.” He strode to the edge of the clearing, where one more dogman lay. His ankle was severed cleanly at the base of the tibia. He had clearly tried to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood to mark his passing through the yellow grass.

Syth plucked the dogman from the ground, eliciting a growl and a few clawed swipes. A bladed wing neatly swept through the fingers of one of the hands, sending them flying.

“Try it again,” he said, coldly.

The dogman half-groaned half-growled in protest. Syth leaned over, his wings curled up around his back like an ancient demon, blades extended from each finger-like tip. He traced one down the chest of the dogman, drawing a pink-red line through the fur.

“Speak.”

Again, groans and growls.

A spike dug into the flesh on the upper part of the dogman’s chest.

“I said ‘speak,’” he said once again. Blood welled up and out of the wound, puddling down the beast’s chest and dropping in thick globs to the ground.

Syth removed his claw and stepped back. The dogman held his severed fingers, as if willing them to reconnect to the stubs. He barely seemed to register the other wounds currently pouring blood down his body. Syth stood silently.

The dogman looked up, anger and pain mixing in his features in equal measure.

“Well?”

“What do you want from us?”

“Where has the white one taken the female dogman? Where have the others fled?”

“I don’t…”

“Before you finish that sentence,” Syth warned. “I want you to look at the mangled body of your friend over there. He’s still alive. How long do you think I can draw this out?”

“The white one doesn’t share any knowledge with us…” growled the dogman, his speech thick and foreign, as if human words came with great difficulty.

“Then what are you hunting for?”

“Any… stragglers.”

“Killing or capturing?”

“Both,” replied the dogman, still cradling the severed fingers.

“And where are the captured being taken?”

“Caves…” he groaned.

“Which ones? I need specifics.”

A gunshot rang out. They both looked over. Bill stood over the other dogman, his pistol drawn. He cast a contemptuous look at Syth, smoke still billowing from the end of his gun-barrel. He holstered the revolver and stood, his judgment obvious.

Syth glared down at the dogman. “Which cave?”

“Mountains, directly south of here.” He groaned.

Bill appeared nearby, his face cold and angry.

The dogman’s gaze shifted from him to Syth and back again, a look of hope quickly vanishing under the wave of anger radiating off the cowboy.

A single bullet ripped through the dogman’s skull, and he pitched sideways, blood spraying from the exit wound.

“Torture ain’t the way.”

Syth glared at him. “You’re not committed enough if you’re not willing to get your hands dirty.”

Syth felt a hand grasp his shoulder. “Don’t go down that road, son.”

“I’m older than you,” he hissed.

“Agewise, perhaps,” retorted the grizzled old cowboy, “But I’ve spent my years witnessing pain.”

“And I’ve spent mine causing it, why stop now?”

Bill smirked in that crooked, disarming, sort of way. “Because once ya go down this road, there ain’t no redemption able t’ bring ye out.”

“Then it’s too late for me,” retorted Syth.

Bill gazed around the clearing, holstering his revolver. “Either way, ‘tis a moot point. They’re dead and we have a destination.”

Syth’s wings folded back against his shoulders, draping over him like a cloak once more. He slowly pivoted, his eyes red with anger. He gazed at Paul. “You come to judge me, too?”

“No,” replied Paul, “I’ve come to help.”

“Good,” Syth spat, striding off to the south, ignoring Bill’s presence completely.

Bill followed his gaze with a scowl, then turned to Paul.

“We’ll follow,” the lumberjack responded. “We’re heading that way anyway.”

Syth strode through the forest.

“Hold up!” Bill hollered.

He turned slightly. “Time’s wasting. You remember what happened in Nahanni? Remember when we delayed too long?”

Paul folded his arms. “We’re better together on this. We’re coming with you.”

“You’ll only slow me down.”

“And we’ll back you up.”

Syth swept up into the air.

Bill stumbled for a moment, then gazed up into the sky. “Where’d he go?”

Paul watched him sail toward the south for a few more moments. “He’s trying to find that cave without us.”

Bill felt the amulet against his hand. “I have an idea. If this prison cave is like the others… there will be a fairy ring nearby.”

Paul felt for his own. “Okay. Then what?”

Syth dropped from the sky. He was a flash of silent death. Two dogmen stood in front of him. They didn’t seem to notice him at first, until one sniffed the air, then turned. Spotted.

He felt his muscles tense, and he shot forward, fast as a wink.

A bladed wing made connection with the neck of the left dogman, severing a long line of flesh. The creature staggered back, blood spraying into the air. His hands absently reached up to where his head had been. He twitched, then toppled backwards. His head toppled nearby and rolled a short distance.

Syth paused. He heard the other dogman scrambling away, clattering loudly over stone and gravel as he attempted to put distance between himself and this dark-winged demon that had suddenly dropped in death from the sky.

He could feel the blood pounding behind his eyes. He rose from his kill and turned toward the fleeing beast. The creature galloped away on all fours, casting a panicked gaze behind him, then slowed for a moment.

“Mistake,” Syth replied. He could smell the fear on the wind.

He shot forward, seemingly too fast for the dogman to recognize his presence. He cut him down before the dogman could respond. The body had barely struck the ground when Syth burst off the ground, vanishing up into the sky once more, on the hunt for that cave, wherever it could be.


The fairy realm enveloped them like an old friend - a deranged old friend with a hoarding problem and a few skeletons in his closet. Bill glanced around. He’d seen the inside of this realm many times - had practically lived here for a time. But after hearing what had happened to Rip, he’d decided that spending as little time as possible in here was probably the best bet - at least until they could understand how long you could spend before having your arm eaten off.

“It’s empty.” Paul observed.

Trees, rocks, and the like - but nothing living. This was an abandoned region.

“It’s like Lemuria never settled here.”

“Or ran away,” Bill replied. “Hey, you think them Lemurians actually built this place?”

“I have no idea,” Paul replied.

“If they did, then somethin’ invaded pretty quick, don’t ya think?”

“Or something corrupted them into those forms.”

“Never thought of it that way,” Bill replied. “Think them Pale Crawling things could be Lemurians in disguise?”

“Maybe not disguise, maybe what happened to Rip happens to them, too?”

“Who’s that guy you talked to - up in the mountain.”

“Ger’maine?”

“Sure, sounded foreign. Talked to him recently?”

Paul shook his head and pushed some strange plants out of the way. Small figures crept out of the way. He eyed them warily. They were strange, balloon-like shapes that seemed to float in some sort of pairing effect - as if mimicking the movement of human legs. One would glide forward on an invisible hip joint, then the other.

He watched the strange figure float its way forward - a pair of walking pants for lack of a better description, then slid into the next clearing. “I haven’t seen him since our visit. I should probably check in. Maybe he’s stabilized the corruption?”

“After Nahanni,” Bill replied, “don’ think so. Seems t’ be gettin’ worse, I’d guess.”

“One can hope.”

“And one can also see how this ol’ world works,” retorted the cowboy. He eyed the strange pants-like creatures, then pointed. “Exit ring over there.”

“Not the right spot,” Paul replied. He stopped at its rim, though. “Such a simple little tradition. You think any circle creates a fairy ring?”

“Breakin’ the circle closes it, so seems it.”

“Who’s making the rings?”

“Prob’ly kids. They like pilin’ things up.”

Paul knelt by the ring and tapped the stones with the edge of his axe. “When I was growing up… in Canada… I kept finding these things. Never knew what they were for. Oh, of course the legends existed, but I didn’t typically believe them. Who could?” He pushed at one of the stones. It slid out of its socket, almost like a tooth wobbling loose. The air shimmered slightly. Paul removed his axe and let the stone fall back to where it had been. “Then our lumber camp was attacked by… something… and I began to search for answers.”

“All on yer own?”

Paul shook his head. “No, a strange monk - I don’t remember his name - pushed me to search for answers.”

“Did ya have powers back then?”

“A little bit. I could see things no one else could. I was stronger than normal. Maybe I could grow a little - I never really knew for sure. I always thought it was just naturally being bigger than everyone else.”

Bill knelt at the ring as well. “I never had much ‘fore that stranger showed me this stone. Could shoot like a sonuvagun, talk t’ animals and stuff… or at least tame them. But tha’s not too abnormal. Crack shot’s practice, and tamin’ might be magic… might be skill. No one pushed me on a journey. Kinda found it on mah own.” He stood, rubbing his hands on his pants. “Well, we’ve mused on the hardship enuff, I think. We’ve got places to go.”

Paul smiled at the lanky cowboy. He’d been this way for years - moments of melancholy quickly replaced by closed-off silence, bravado, or some other “sudden action.” Something seemed… different here. He hadn’t even seen him act this way toward Sue - his wayward (and distant) love. Something about Raven being taken had snapped something into place (or out of place, depending on perspective) in Bill’s heart.

“I’m gonna kill any o’ em that took ‘er,” Bill muttered, as if understanding Paul’s stare.

“What?” Paul replied.

“Them Ferals, gonna kill ‘em all if they’ve harmed a single fur on ‘er head. Nothin’ll stop me, and you can bet it, it’ll be a cold vengeance.”

Once, they exited the fairy realm into the real world, pausing to get their bearings.

“Corpses,” Paul observed, pointing at the mound just a short distance away.

“Feral.”

“How can you tell?”

Bill shrugged. “I began t’ pick up the scent whenever Goat refused ‘em. I think I’m startin’ t’ tell the difference. It’s like somethin’ unchecked in the blood - some sort of visceral musk, if that makes sense?”

Paul sniffed the air. It just reeked of a heavy musty smell, like rotten deer left in a swamp for too long. “It doesn’t, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Bill turned the corpse. “I think the normal ones were heaping up them corpses, an’ got interrupted.”

“By more Feral?”

“Or somethin’.” Bill observed. “Whole lot o’ ‘em rushed off that way.” He pointed off toward the southeast, away from the ocean.

The ground was still scuffed, but not as badly as Paul would have expected.

“They’re quick an’ quiet.” Bill replied, noting the slight damage to the plants and dirt. “Probably wouldn’ta left any mark if they weren’t in some kinda hurry.”

“They went to the caves?”

Bill nodded. “Best guess.”

A quick trip into the fairy realm, and they were on their way again.


Syth dropped down in front of the cave’s entrance. This had to be the place. Several glowing eyes stared back at him. “We’ve heard news of your coming, Dark One,” growled one of the beasts from the shadows. “And we’ve been watching for any sign of you. Leave, or die.”

“If you’re heard of me, then you know what you face if you stand between me and the one I came to save.”

“The wolf pup? Ah, well… the pale one has need of her… services.”

Syth hissed in rage, his wings shooting out. The lead dogman snatched the edge of the wing in a broad clawed hand, stopping all the momentum with a single, smooth, almost-effortless motion. A slight trickle of blood oozed from the pad.

“We know about you. Our fodder has been eaten up stalling your advance. Don’t think you’ll get past us now, Dark One.”

Syth tried to wrench his wing back, but the clawed hand clenched.

He heard something crack, as the armor-like rigidity of the wing collapsed under the powerful grip. Something fractured along the edge.

“Fool, coming here alone.”

The dogman shoved him back. He staggered, and the creature lunged, using his full strength to gain extra momentum. He landed heavily on Syth’s narrow chest, ramming him into the ground. Something cracked in Syth’s side. He groaned, lashing out with his own clawed hand. Long fingers probed toward the dogman’s eyes. He whisked a clawed hand up, blocking the strike, then closed his clawed hand into a fist, driving it into Syth’s neck.

A gap in Syth’s memory.

He awoke a few yards away. Groaning, he picked himself up off the ground, then choked. His blurred gaze cleared just in time to see a whirl of fur crash into him. Claws dug into his flesh, pain tore through his shoulders and back. He toppled, must and sweat filling his nostrils.

His wings shot around, digging into the unprotected flesh along the dogman’s back.

A howl tore the night. He ripped it free, taking sections of muscle along with it. A broad backhanded strike sent him reeling.

Syth fell back, his head cracking against the ground. His horns protected much of his skull, but it was still enough to send a ringing pain running through his mind. He blinked several times before having the clarity to kick upward, pushing the beast off him.

Claws tore free of his shoulders as the beast sailed up and over his head.

Syth scrambled to his feet, using his wings to try to pull himself upward. He cracked the bones back into place and spun, drawing his whip as the dogman lunged. He leapt to the side, cracking out across the dogman’s face. The lash looped around the jaw and throat.

Syth wrenched back, the sharp leather strips tearing long ribbons of flesh free, leaving deep furrows along the neck and cheeks. The dogman howled, the fresh line of raw flesh glistening with rivulets of blood. He stepped back, out of reach of Syth’s whip, wiping the line of blood from his face. A fresh scar rose on his neck as a flap of ragged flesh settled, exposing a raw, dripping ribbon of red.

He clenched his fist and released a low, menacing growl that made Syth’s own blood crystallize, then struck.

The devil paused, just for a moment, unable to react. He went down in a flurry of blows, a toothy maw snapping and slavering inches from his face. He used his wings to push up and over, again sliding away. He tried for the whip. It was gone.

“No more tricks,” growled the beast, leaping up and at Syth.

Then he vanished.

Syth gaped, staring around him.

Then he registered the hand on his shoulder.

“Paul?”

The lumberjack smiled. “Gotcha, just barely. If you didn’t stop moving so much, we wouldn’t’ve been able to get to you in time.”

He stood in a fairy circle - one partially overgrown with grass and clods of dirt - but still functional.

“How’d you find me?”

“Lucky guess,” Paul replied. 

Bill stood a short distance away, revolver at the ready. “I said we should leave ya, but ‘e disagreed.”

“Remember those reports you read about shadow people?”

Syth nodded.

“I think I’ve figured them out. I’ll tell you later.”

Syth turned, watching a shadowy figure moving in circles just beyond his vision - as if he were looking just beyond the veil into another world.

“Looks like you figured it out,” Paul said with a laugh.

Syth stretched his broken wing again, popping the final bones back into place. He rolled his bleeding shoulder. “We need to get inside.”

“They won’ let us in,” Bill replied.

“Who won’t?”

“There’s a large wolf runnin’ this place - call him Unscarred. I tricked ‘im once and stole away his daughter. He’ll make sure that can’ happen again. I bet mah bottom dollar there ain’t a single ring in that place.”

“Destroyed?”

Bill nodded. “Like ol’ Scar was doin’ in Nahanni. I think the only reason we got this far was that one was overgrown.”

Paul looked down. “I wonder… remember when we restored the ring?”

Bill nodded.

“If we do it again, we could make a portal.”

“Probably only one-way, right?”

“I don’t think so… not sure. We’ve only done it from the outside.”

“Then I’ll go in.”

“You nuts?”

Bill shrugged. “I stand the best chance o’ gettin’ in. An’ these beasts want my hide more’n any. Maybe I c’n get close enough to restore the portal, an’ it c’n give us a chance to grab Raven and run again.”

“And the civil war?”

“Let ‘em clear themselves out. Both will be left all the weaker cuz of it. Not my problem.”

Paul eyed him. “I think we’ve let enough evil walk away.”

“Yeah, well it ain’t my job to cure the world. It’s my job to care for me and mine.”

Paul frowned. “And the more evil we let walk, the more difficult that job becomes.”

Syth cast a glance sideways at the both of them.

Bill checked the ammo in his revolver. “If yer done preachin’ at me, I have a friend t’ save.” He gave the cylinder a spin and holstered the weapon. He stepped into the circle and vanished. A shadowy form seemed to linger. Paul stepped to follow him, but the portal had sealed.


Bill knelt, prying another rock free from the circle and tucking it in his satchel. Hopefully, whatever damage they had done could be fixed with just a few stones. If it required much more than that… well, he’d have to get creative.

The dogman Syth had fought was nowhere to be seen, had probably slipped back down the cave entrance to warn the others. Bill drew his revolvers and took a few cautious steps toward the cave’s mouth. 

He swore to himself. “I really hope this turns out t’ be the right cave.”

He could feel the bloodstone resting against the palm of one hand, the elemental stone pressing against his other arm’s wrist. He flexed the skin of his palm around the stone ever so slightly, just feeling the strange crystal and wondering what power it held.

The dark cavern mouth swallowed him, and soon he found himself absorbed in the gloom. A dark shape moved ahead of him, heading deeper into the tunnel. He was tempted to launch a flare down the gloom, but quickly thought better of it. No need to draw that extra attention. He was about to present himself to this wonderful little underworld, no need to do it on anyone else’s terms.

A dogman stood before him, back turned to the entrance, gaze staring off into the slightly-lit room far beyond.

Holstering his revolver, Bill drew out a long dagger from his boot, praying he could sneak well enough to get close.

Success!

He grasped the dogman by the ear, wrenching back his head before the beast could so much as howl, and plunged the dagger deep into the vocal cords. The wolf attempted to vocalize his shock, but a swift slash from ear to ear ended him. His body dropped to the floor, twitching and bleeding. Bill wiped the blood free of the blade, passing a gaze down at his hand to see the blood congealing on the stone, already absorbing into it.

Another dogman fell to his blade before he could see clearly what was beyond.

A dimly lit room came into focus as the cavern expanded into a broad, arching hemisphere of a room. Stalactites, like razor teeth, hung from the ceiling. In the center of the chamber sat a pedestal, much like the one he’d stolen the elemental stone from those many years earlier.

Except this one was guarded. A large wolf-like dogman, his fur whiter than Bill had remembered, stood, amulets and rings adorning his body. Several long scars ran the length of his form. At his back, around the edge of the cavern and seemingly materializing from the depths, were his pack.

Between him and Bill stood a large, pure-white dogman - equally large - the same that had knocked Bill senseless on that hillside. His large clawed hand rested on a young dogman - Raven.

It was a standoff - Unscarred on one side, the large white wolf on the other. More Feral dogmen stood scattered behind the large white dogman, some seemingly more intelligent than the others. One bore long, fresh gashes down the length of his body - Syth had done quite a number on him before escaping.

“Impressive,” Bill whispered, “ol’ devil c’n hold ‘is own.”

Bill crouched, trying to find a single thing on the floor.

The Feral and Unscarred’s forces seemed in some sort of standoff, all centered around Raven.

The Unscarred - Marcellus, was it? - stood with his back to the pedestal, claws extended at his sides, body in a menacing crouch, lips pulled back, revealing stained fangs.

For his part, the white dogman holding Raven seemed unphased at the whole situation, calmly standing there, one hand almost-gently resting on her shoulder, as if introducing them with no other motive.

Bill couldn’t quite hear exactly what was happening, but by the growls and protests, he could imagine. An ultimatum was being made, and the big Unscarred only had so many denials before it was clear that Raven would be dead.

He had to find it.

His gaze passed up and down the floor. Nothing. Just loose stones.

This wasn’t going to end well.

He stepped out of the shadows, dagger in one hand, revolver in the other. “Ah, you all gathered in one place for me!”

All eyes shifted to him.

The Unscarred took the slightest moment before his face registered, dropping in a malice-filled glare of unbridled hatred. The white one seemed amused, if confused, at his arrival. Their followers looked to them for guidance, though some of the Unscarred’s forces seemed to recognize their ancient enemy, though they waited to act until given definitive guidance from their leader.

“Marcellus!” Bill began, “you don’ mind’f I call you Marcellus? You don’ really live up to ‘the Unscarred’ - pretty pretentious if ya ask me. ‘S been too long since yer own daughter sold ya out and rescued me.”

Raven shifted uncomfortably.

“And you,” he continued, pointing a finger at the big white wolf. “You did me dirty, smackin’ me off that cliff back there. Coulda killed me.”

The wolf frowned. “Least I could do after you gave me this.”

Bill registered the long scar and damaged ear.

“That’s right… I shot you.” He laughed, “you dogmen have good memories. I’ve shot so many of your kind between the eyes I’ve forgotten. After all, most o’ ya flea-bitten lot look alike to me. I only regret lettin’ ya out of prison - wish I could put ya all back in.”

A look of betrayal crossed Raven’s face for the slightest instant.

Oops… crossed a line there.

He continued. “An’ what’s this? Another prison? Marcellus, you couldn’t keep the other one protected an’ ya think you can do this one?”

Growls rumbled around him.

More dogmen were appearing from the various tunnels that stretched off from this location. He mentally counted - at least seven other tunnels stretched off like spokes on a wheel - eight including the one he’d just come down. So far, four were occupied by Unscarred forces, three by the white dogman and his Ferals, and one - the only known way out - by him.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a good ol’ fashioned standoff.”

The white Feral leader shrugged, then turned to the Unscarred. “Trifling nonsense. Now, deliver me the keystone and I’ll give you back your daughter.”

“Even if I had it, I wouldn’t turn it over to you, Draugsin.”

“Ah, so that’s yer stupid name. I was gonna keep callin’ you Whitey.”

Draugsin barely passed a glance to Bill, then continued. “Marcellus, we once fought together. You know those I seek to unbind. Release them to my custody and we all walk away.”

“I know the ones you’ve already freed and what they’ve done to my kind.”

Draugsin shrugged, “they got a little… carried away, is all. Once you move out of the area, they’ll run out of those they view as enemies and they’ll settle down. The bloodshed will cease.”

Marcellus scoffed.

“I won’t allow you to free them.”

A rock whipped by Marcellus’s face. It clipped off the pedestal in the middle of the room, bouncing harmlessly to the ground. Another sailed through the air, eliciting a growl, even though it passed harmlessly enough, landing a few inches away from the first.

The wolf turned with a growl, “I’ll take care of you soon enough, you treacherous cur.”

He dodged another rock.

A howl ripped out of the throat of one of the Unscarred’s forces, but Marcellus held up a hand before the dogman could attack. “Save your strength. He’s prey for another time. A gnat.”

This time a rock pinged off the large dogman’s face, causing one of his bangles to ting loudly as he fought to control his anger. “One more, human, and I’ll deal with you first.”

The large white dogman chuckled, a low rumbling sound that rumbled in the cave.

“Do you not see what he is doing, brother?”

Marcellus looked at the ground.

Several stones had already landed in a sequence of grooves where the last fairy ring had been. The rocks had been pried loose and scattered at some point, but the slight depressions still persisted.

And Bill had been reforming it from the other side of the room.

“Worth a shot,” Bill said with a grin.

And his iron cleared leather with a smooth motion. Wind-directed shots began to rip through the surroundings, arcing a clipping as they seemed to hunt after prey - always hitting the Unscarred non-lethally, always clipping the Feral directly between the eyes.

The Unscarred dropped, a bullet ripping through his shoulder, blood splattering across Bill as it did. Bill wiped the blood from his face with his gemmed hand, then used his wind to shove Marcellus away from the tunnel and against the far wall before he could react. Bill blasted the entire chamber clear with a sustained gust, pushing back all comers, ripping stones and dirt from the ground and pelting all comers as he reassembled the ring before any of the dogmen could stop him.

The chaos raged. In the whirling storm, Draugsin grasped Raven by the arm and dragged her down the tunnel the Unscarred had been guarding at the start of his attack. His Feral pack, the surviving ones at least, flocked in after him. Bill shoved one of the Unscarred’s forces back, slowly tracing his way around.

Then the wind stopped.

He turned to Marcellus, who growled angrily at him and lunged…

Only to be stopped by a broad-shouldered man with a very large log-splitting axe.

“You fool! You’ve let him into the one place…” the old wolf lost his words.

“That’s enough.” Paul commanded, grasping the wolf in his oversized mitt of a hand and throwing the dogman back.

Marcellus held a paw to his bleeding shoulder.

“Once a traitor, ever the traitor, human?”

“I’m doing this for your good,” Bill replied. “Now, stand down.”

A howl ripped from deeper in the chamber.

“You’ve led them right to what I was trying to protect!” Marcellus spat.

“The pedestal is here.”

“One of them, yes!” Marcellus barked. “But he has gone for the more powerful of the two options!”

Bill turned down the tunnel, conflicted. “But he doesn’t have the keystone.”

“He doesn’t need it, not now!”

Bill held out his hand. The bloodied keystone. Flecks of blood were slowly absorbing into it.

A look of understanding passed between him and Marcellus. The dogman growled.

Syth held a hand on his still-healing wing. “I don’t believe I can aid in this fight, I will guide you and your pack to safety. We can fight this battle another day.”

“No,” replied Marcellus, “I will stay and see this through.”

Syth stepped forward. “Then let me lead the others to safety.” Several still lay wounded in the area, bleeding or dazed from the sudden barrage.

The large wolf gazed around, then eyed the devil. “I feel as if I know you,” he replied, “you have spent much time with my daughter.”

“Yes.”

He turned to Bill and sniffed, but said nothing. Paul unlooped the amulet from his neck and tossed it to Syth. “Take this and get them out of here.”

“What about you?”

“We’ll stop this.” Paul replied, turning to Marcellus and Bill.

Bill looked as if he were about to say something, when a howl rang out.

“This way!” cried Marcellus, shoving Bill non-to-gently out of the way and storming down the tunnel.

Syth turned to Paul. “They’re safe with me. Rescue her and bring them back.”

Paul nodded. “I will. Get them out of this valley.”

And with that, the parted ways, Syth vanishing into the fairy realm with a dogman-chain in tow while Paul, Bill, and a large, bejeweled dogman stormed deeper into the network of caverns.

Paul and Bill struggled to keep up with the large wolf as he ducked and dodged his way through the network of tunnels. A gunshot rang out, deafening them all, and a dogman fell back, twitching. Marcellus eyed him, cast a single gaze at Bill, and continued the hunt.

“Ya could say thanks.”

“My thanks is not killing you,” replied the Unscarred.

They passed another side tunnel, and this time Paul shouldered a dogman ambusher, crushing him up against the wall and leaving a bloodied smear where he had been. His mangled corpse dropped to the ground, only for the axe to rise up and catch a third under his muzzled, crunching him into the ceiling above.

“You work well together,” growled the old wolf.

“Years of practice,” replied Paul.

They stopped.

“What’s going on?”

Marcellus pointed up around the dark spot ahead of them. “This is the final prison. My men were hoping to keep them away from here, but I fear our friend’s little… interruption allowed them to slip past.”

“But he doesn’t have the bloodstone,” Paul replied.

“He doesn’t need it, now,” he turned his gaze to Bill.

“What do we do?” Paul asked.

“We don’t go in violent,” Marcellus replied. He gazed at Bill, “he was threatening to use Raven to unlock the seal.

“The blood… it’s literal.”

The Unscarred nodded. “The blood of Feral, the Unbound, and the Pact must be shed.”

Bill’s hand absently clenched around the gem.

“And this gem.”

“Yes, my blood is now within… but Raven’s blood would do as well.”

“He means to…”

“Yes. And you’ve allowed him entrance.”

“Why?”

“Why would all the tribes of dogmen be required? The Liminalis were the most powerful and evil of our kind - all packs would have to agree to free them, and the others were imprisoned, so none could ever break them free and thus, the Liminalis would never be free.”

“And then…”

“Yes, you broke the first boundary, and it has all gone downhill since then. Even the Watchers no longer keep a check on their spread.”

Paul was about to interject when Marcellus held up a scarred paw. “Enough questions. We’ll either have enough time to answer them when we finish this or we’ll all be dead. It doesn’t matter now. Around that corner, my daughter is about to be sacrificed to break an ancient evil free.”

“I won’t allow that.”

Marcellus scoffed. “You have no choice in this matter. You led us all here to this moment.”

“I’ll make it right.”

Again, the large wolf huffed in disbelief.

“We need to stop Draugsin, no matter what.”

He roared around the corner and almost stopped.

There before him lay a broad table of stone. Carvings laced its edges, grooves and channels that ended in a small cut that seemed to be designed to collect and drain…

It wasn’t water draining off the table right now.

Blood.

Pools of blood.

A dogman corpse lay sprawled across the stone, throat torn open. A red-stained wolf stood over him, fangs glistening. Glowing red eyes met them, and the fangs dropped down, wrenching enough flesh free to sever the head from the shoulders. The body twitched, spraying a last gout of blood, and lay still.

Two other dogmen hefted the corpse from the stone.

Draugsin smiled and dragged a claw across his palm, then squeezed. The blood flowed freely, mingling with the pools beneath him and drenching the stone before draining off the sides into small recessed sit off in the sides of the table. Where the blood went from there was anyone’s guess.

“Blood of Feral, blood of Unbound…” he reached out a bloodied claw and clasped it around Raven’s throat.

“... and blood of the Pact.”

Before he could run a claw across her throat, a deafening shot rang out, and a bullet tore through Draugsin’s forearm. He twitched and fell back, dropping Raven.

She hit the table, cracking against it and toppling to the floor.

“Grab her!” Bill cried, rushing forward. As Paul darted forward, Marcellus lunged across the room, wrenching free several rings. He seemed to grow in power as he bore down the large white wolf under his weight, bearing him to the floor with a blood-curdling howl.

Paul clutched Raven and gently lifted her like one would a child, racing back across the room. Bill fired off several rounds, taking out a few Feral as they charged. One toppled back across the blood-soaked table, flopping over it and onto the floor beyond with a spray of red.

Marcellus reared back a claw and drove it down into Draugsin’s throat. The white wolf blocked the strike and thrust up, catching the Unscarred in the stomach and sending him flying. He crashed across the stone and slide free, landing on the other side.

A gunshot rang out again, splintering off the table and causing Draugsin to cower for a moment before lunging again. Another bullet pinged off the table and tore through the fur on the edge of his bicep.

“Back off!” Bill cried. He rushed forward and helped Marcellus to his feet.

The old wolf seemed about to push the human away, but realized the futility of rejecting the help. He staggered up.

Paul was still holding Raven. She groaned. “I’m fine… I can walk… let me down.”

The large lumberjack obeyed, and she rushed to Marcellus’s side. “Father, we’ve got to get you out of here.”

As they vanished down the tunnel, Bill turned toward the carnage. 

“I’ll never stop hunting you. The Liminalis will be freed.”

“Get them to the portal.”

“What are you doing?”

“Stalling. Go!”

The trio rushed down the tunnel, Raven and Paul supporting Marcellus as they hobbled away from the bloodied scene.

“You need hers or Marcellus’s blood, that right?”

“What’s it to you, human?”

“If I give you their blood, will you keep your word to never hunt them?”

“How could you possibly?”

Bill held out the gem. It glistened with the blood of so many dogmen it nearly oozed.

A look of pure lusty greed passed over Draugsin’s bloodied face. “Give it here, human, and you have my word.”

Without a word, Bill tossed it down the tunnel.

It clattered against the floor of the chamber, sliding into the congealing blood, which slowly began to draw into the already-glutted stone. Draugsin looped it with a clawed finger, a wicked smile slowly splitting across his features. “Fool…” he muttered, “you have invited your own destruction. The more blood, the more powerfully he returns…”

Bill checked his revolver. He was out. He turned back up the tunnel. He could escape if he acted quickly. So he did.

Paul stood a few dozen paces up the gloom.

“You waited?”

“Wasn’t going to leave you to get eaten. What happened?”

“We’ve got to get out of here. I misjudged somethin’.”

They fled up the tunnel, listening to the howls and roars coming from back down the way. They arrived in the main chamber. Raven and Marcellus stood at the portal, unable to cross the boundary. Bill stepped forward. “I messed up.”

Marcellus scowled. “What did you do?”

“I gave him the bloodstone… it was the only way to keep him from huntin’ you.”

“I could’ve fought him.”

“But there was no reason to…”

“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed.”

Bill held out a hand. “Take it and cross the threshold.”

“No,” replied the Unscarred. “You’ve unleashed the darkest being.”

A wave of fear seemed to wash over them. Even Bill felt a quiver in his guts.

“He’s growing as we speak.”

“Then we have to escape.”

“No, he must not leave this cave,” demanded Marcellus, shaking off Raven’s grip and stepping forward. He staggered to one knee.

“Paul?”

Paul turned and stepped away from the mouth of the cave, carrying a long rope with him.

“What’re you doing?” Bill asked.

Paul held up the rope. “Do the honors?”

Bill patted his pockets. “I don’t have a lighter.”

Paul’s gaze dropped just as another wave of fear seemed to physically overwhelm them.

Bill groaned as he staggered to a knee.

“We… have… to go!”

“No!” Marcellus cried. “We fight this!”

“We… can’t!”

Paul forced himself upright and gently lifted Raven into the portal. She winked out of existence. He turned to Marcellus. “We have to go!”

The wolf growled. “No!”

Another wave rolled over them. It was growing more powerful.

Then a dark form appeared at the cavern’s entrance.

“We could really use that lighter now,” Paul observed, one hand still on Marcellus’s shoulder.

Bill’s finger went to the handle of his revolver. What good would a revolver do in this situation? He needed something with more fire power…

Fire power…

“Paul! My bag!”

Bill’s satchel had fallen free near the mouth of the cave, near where Paul had planted the dynamite. “It’s there!”

Bill rushed forward, running toward the overwhelming waves of fear that seemed to roll off of this new being. It was dogman-like, with nearly-black skin that seemed almost to be energy rather than form. Blackness seemed to absorb inward, as if its entire being had been sucked into some sort of other reality, leaving the shadow of a form behind.

Was this the Liminalis? Was this the being the Feral had sacrificed to resurrect?

It seemed to look through him through its nonexistent eyes - the entire shape was uniform.

Another wave of fear - like the pulse of a heartbeat - rippled over him.

He turned. Paul and Marcellus were on the ground now, the waves of paralyzing fear cascading around them. Bill quivered and reached for the satchel. Fire power.

He dropped the bag and fell to all fours.

Whispering echoes at the back of his brain, itching at his mind. 

“Submit… feed…”

He clawed at the ground.

“Submit…”

“Give in…”

The voice was hollow… empty… like wind blowing over an open well.

Wind.

“Yield…”

Wind. Free as the wind… this being was…

“Bow…” the breath came again, whispering at his mind, tickling at his ears - all promise and vapor.

Bill quivered and slowly pushed himself to his feet, the hissing and whistling whirled around him. His hand absently closed around the gem of the fairy cross.

“S-sorry…” he spat as heroically as he could… “n-never been… good… at submittin’.”

And with that, he blasted the being with whatever element he could control. A blast of air swept the shadow back. A flash of water burst into being, flooding after the shadow as if to wash it away. Then another gust for good measure.

The radiating fear vanished for a moment before the spectral form seemed to begin to reform - rising up from the floor like a strange puddle of evil.

“The blood gives us life… the fear is our food… Consume…”

Bill plucked up the satchel and rushed back. He rejoined the others at the portal. Raven was still gone, Paul and Marcellus were standing, ready to step through.

“We have to go!” Paul said. “We don’t know what that being’s capable of!”

“He’s bound to the blood.”

“Then the amulet,” Marcellus replied.

“Amulet?”

“The bloodstone - it contains the essence of the creature.”

“So destroy the amulet?”

“Yes.”

“But who?” Before he could complete the question, Draugsin appeared at the cavern entrance, covered in blood and darkness.

“Be the first to fall beneath the tide of the Unbound.”

Bill fumbled in the bag. 

“Fire power… fire power…”

The white dogman took a step forward.

“There!”

Bill stood and drew his revolver.

“Fool, you’ve never killed me in the past, what makes you think you can stop me now?”

“Oh, I’m not tryin’ t’ kill ya,” Bill replied, chambering a single round. “Ya know, a pretty little dogman girl got me t’ quit drinkin’, so while not alcohol, this is the shot…”

He fired the round. It struck the beast in the chest, knocking him back. He staggered into the depths of the opening with an angry growl.

“... an’ this is the chaser.” He drew another gun out of his bag - a flare gun. “Get outta this.”

He fired the flaming projectile at the dynamite then, before it could strike, grabbed Paul and Marcellus and shoved both of them back into the fairy ring. They stumbled past the opening, staggered beyond the stones on the other side, and winced as the blast erupted with such force that the shadows could be seen dancing on the other side, even this far away.

Bill stepped into the ring. Nothing.

The cavern, the other pillar, the tunnels - all was gone. Sealed.

Marcellus lay on the ground, having stumbled over the ring of stones. Paul stood beside, hand outstretched to help him up. But Raven had already sprawled across him. “Father!”

Marcellus groaned, then gently placed his good arm around his daughter’s frame. “Dear one…” he whispered, “it’s been too long…”

They embraced for a long while, then Raven pulled herself off him and helped him to his feet. “I - I’m sorry for my part in this deception. I was never kidnapped. I - I freed him.”

Marcellus gazed down at Bill.

“He was innocent.”

“Sure…” replied the large wolf with a suspicious snort. “Stealing the weatherstone, allowing them access into our sacred places, and then unstoppering the bottle that was this valley, releasing the dogmen to the wind.”

“You’re wrong,” Raven replied, “they’d already escaped. Dogmen are everywhere.”

Marcellus gazed incredulously.

“They’ve been seen for thousands of miles around - there’s no way they were all from the prison break.”

“Unless…” Marcellus gazed at the circle, then at Bill, then trailed off.

Bill stepped up, holding a hand to wave off Raven. “Never been able t’ admit it, ol’ wolf. But yeah, this ‘s all on me.”

Marcellus gazed at him, a confused scowl on his face.

“She’s tellin’ the truth. I didn’t kidnap her - but yah, I was tricked int’ takin’ yer weatherstone, and I accidentally upended your defense durin’ the early war. Tha’s how Raven an’ I met. We was on the run until we got to you, then we was on the run again until we came back.”

“Then why’d you come back?” Marcellus growled.

“Feareaters have been seen on the other coast - near a town called Salem. I think they’re Feral. We came to get help… and information.”

Marcellus’s face showed no emotion. Bill gazed around. More of the Pact were slowly appearing from the gloom. Syth stood there. Raven rushed to him.

“There’s another reason I stayed,” Bill explained, “wanted to say ‘I’m sorry,’ I meant to help my people an’ I screwed yours. I was deceived, but tha’s no excuse.”

Marcellus gazed at the surviving Pact members. “Well, it seems we have a decision to make. With the council dead and all ruling members of the upper classes either joining the Unbound or falling in battle, I move for a vote among those of us who are left. Have we shed enough blood this day? Shall we shed his as well?”

A rumble rippled through the crowd. The Unscarred smiled, his jaws splitting in a toothy grin. “Despite my better judgment, human, we’ve decided you’re not worth killing today. You did rescue our pack and drive away the Unbound. They’ll be free again, but you’ve bought us valuable time. Despite all you’ve done, we thank you for this final act of service.”

Bill nodded in return.

“A truce, then?”

The Unscarred folded his broad, muscular arms and eyed the lanky cowboy. His mouth twitched slightly - a grimace or a grin?

He extended a scarred claw to Bill.

“Aye, a truce betwixt us.”

Bill reached out and grasped the dogman’s broad paw.



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