The Herald of Autumn (Echoes of the Untold Age Book 1) (7 page)

We sat then, for long moments, before
I spoke.

“It wasn’t foolish or cowardly.” I
watched the fire. “Mine almost had me more than once. If I hadn’t found a
friend, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

His grin turned rueful. “Yet sit yeh
do, so I’ll wager yeh put yours down.”

I slowly nodded. I wasn’t trying to
brag.

He chuckled. “What came after? Was it
a cloud of biting flies? Mayhap scores a’ maggots pouring from the wound?”

“Spiders.” I gave him a questioning
look. “Like water, they flowed from it.”

He chuckled again. “That’s the
reality of the thing, right there, Tommy. Not Wendigo nor hungry ghost. The
darkness that burns cold pours from them when dead but reforms later in another
poor creature. It’s never whatever yeh thought i’ was.”

“A fetch.” I bit my lip in
frustration. “That’s what I thought it was. Changeling-kin.”

He shook his head. “No. True night is
what they are, night and cold beyond cold. You killed the shell, but the
darkness remains. Shaediin is the best word I’ve found, for it’s not from any
of the old tales.”

I nodded. “They’re new.”

He gave me a sideways grin. “You did
better than I, O Herald. I ran the first time.”

I shrugged. “I had help.”

His lips curled back into a smile as
he looked into the fire. “It’s more than that, Tommy. Yeh know it as well as I.
Huntin’ is yer nature. It’s what yeh do.” He took a long draw of his cider. “
That’s
why I called yeh here. I needed someone else to see what I seen, someone who
might be able to do more than I.”

I mistrusted his wording. “I doubt I
could do more than you, Old Man.”

“My nature is secrets and glamour,
Tommy. My strengths are illusions, smoke, and lies.” His laugh turned bitter.
“These ’bominations drink me. Like syrup.” He paused. “You, on the other hand,
could call the Great Hunt.”

Fear clenched my heart. I gazed into
the fire.

“I could.” Uncertainty wound its way
through my voice. “I don’t know what would happen, Coyote. The Hunter is
greater than I. Once he comes, I cannot control the chase.” I turned to him.
“The Hunt is beyond anyone’s will, even mine.”

“I don’ claim to know all the tricks
of the Hunter, Tommy. But I know enough. Once yeh call ’im, I think his path
will be clear.” Coyote rested back into his seat.

His certainty bothered me. There was
more. Something I did not know. “Why?” I leaned forward, my aspen-eyes hard.
“Why do you presume to know what the Hunter would do, Old Man?”

He let out a long sigh. “Because,
Tommy, I’m not expectin’ him to hunt one of the wraiths. I wouldn’t cry your
Name for somethin’ so small.” He grinned, fiercely.

“Tell me.”

A long pause. “I know where they’re
comin’ from. I know what’s spawnin’ the things.”

My eyes must have been the size of
dinner plates. “Something
spawns
them?”

“Everything comes from somewhere,
Tommy. The story of me tracking the thing is long and long, but I can make it
easy.” He sipped his cider. “It’s here, in these woods. It seethes with
darkness and cold. It births the things in a cave, north a’ here. They pour
from it like serpents. Dozens and dozens of the empty shadows. I seen it.”

I gaped at him, stunned.

I had defeated one of the hollow
creatures but only just. Coyote had fled from one because it was too strong.

Whatever birthed them must be truly
monstrous.

He nodded when he saw the look on my
face. “Choice is simple, Tommy. Kill it or don’t. If’n yeh don’t, then it’ll
just birth more of ’em.” He shrugged. “If’n yeh hunt it alone, I can’t say
yeh’ll come back.”

“I scarcely killed the one shadow.
Whatever births them must be…” My voice trailed off as I looked at him.

This was hopeless.

He sipped his cider. “But if’n yeh
call the Hunter, I think he’ll seek it. If’n he don’t, it’ll still be fine. The
beast is a hungry one.” He gave me a look. “It’ll seek to find the Hunter.”

I sat back, speechless.

He knew me. He had known before he
even called.

The hunt was my nature. In the end, I
had little choice.

“Yeh think that yer Untold Age is
somethin’ that’s comin’.” He took another sip, and the firelight danced across
his face. “I’m tellin’ yeh, it’s here.” He leaned toward me, his eyes like
steel.

“It’s here, and these things are the
spirits of the end.”

My hand trembling, I grasped my mug.
I sipped at Coyote’s cider, my thoughts a storm.

Firelight flickered warmth across my
face.

May we meet on far shores.

Time drifted, and we sat in silence.
The firelight wove shadows across our faces, and I gazed into the dancing
flames. Inwardly, I hoped to see some omen, some path that did not end in
death.

I should have known better.

Autumn had its own special kind of
horror, a sense of certain darkness that grew with every setting sun. The
inevitability of darkness and night stalked in its wake.

If one were to listen on a moonless
night, one might hear the truth, the whispering murmurs of death in the autumn
sky. The sun still casted warmth, but slowly, the leaves dropped. Birds fled
for warmer lands, and animals began to dig deep, seeking warmth and sleep.
There, they dreamed until the world bloomed again.

In winter, death came. The world
slept in quiet, peace. In the autumn, however, one can literally feel the
horror of summer’s warmth, its life, slipping away.

Once, even the human-born knew the
secret turnings of the world. Long before my kind began to wane, the mortal
kith protected themselves from the oncoming darkness with story and song, spell
and steel. Even today, lost and confused in their towers of glass, part of them
remembered this fear. Out there, in the vast beyond, a cold darkness stalked
them with a hunger that could never be sated.

It was no coincidence that harvest
festivals often made for frightening affairs with straw men and stories of
ghosts and woe. Hallow’s tales tended dark for a good reason. As the days
shortened, death stalked the world. Its chill grasp touched everything in
nature, and slowly, the world itself fell to winter’s grasp.

This was my nature as the Herald of
the world’s dying.

Of course Coyote well knew all of
this. He knew I had seen more than my share of dark mysteries. I always found
the twisted things that lived in the cracks between places. Wherever I went
strange things lurked at the edges, unseen by men. Often, these things fled me.
Sometimes, they sought me. Either way, the ending was always the same.

It always came down to the hunt.

The hunt formed the crucible between
life and death, a sacred holy passion. In that moment, when the hunt came upon
me, there was no right nor any wrong. There was simply death, and I danced with
it like a lover in joy and terror, exhilaration and horror.

Hunting was primal.

If my passions exceeded my control, I
would inadvertently call the Hunter and a Great Hunt. This, of course, was just
as Coyote wished. Coyote well knew my nature. He’d beckoned me here for a Great
Hunt.

“So, later, when yeh’re playin’ the
part of a young buck, all wild and free, rearin’ to hunt what ails the world…”

Not that the Old Man was alone in his
knowledge. My own kind also well knew my nature. For all of my
thousand-thousand awakenings, they bore my adventures with some chagrin or even
a touch of disdain.

They somehow believed I sought out
the darkened monstrosities, simply so I could hunt them.

Preposterous.

“I don’t know how much I can do,
Tommy. You must stop poking at the things in the darkness.”

Without question I would seek the
creature in the wood. To not do so, as it birthed living filth and darkness,
went against everything I held dear, everything in me. Yes, I brought the
autumn. My every step was a harbinger, a call that soon death’s voice would
sound upon the world.

I brought the hunt. I brought death
to the world and to those who stood against me.

I reflected, and memories of this new
abomination washed over me.

I had no choice. Such unnatural
creatures blighted the world.

They would have to be slain.

“I see it in yeh.” His gravelly voice
sounded neither smug nor triumphant. “I see it as I knew I would. Yeh don’ have
a choice, boy.” The latter words fell softly, almost sad.

I sipped at my cider, glaring at him.

“One might look at all this and claim
an act of aggression. You’ve called my Name. You’ve beckoned me here to a place
where darkness walks. You know full well what I shall do.”

“I’ve done yeh no harm.”

“Not directly, mayhap. But don’t
insult me. I’m no fool. You’ve snared me well, and to pretend otherwise only
adds insult to your crime.”

Unbelievably, he broke my gaze. “I
can’t say yer wrong, Tommy.” He looked back toward me. “But yeh’ll do it?
Yeh’ll hunt the beast?”

The weariness in his voice surprised
me. At his dim spark of hope, my heart almost went to him, seeing him, for the
briefest of moment, as a tired old man.

But no. I remembered his true nature.

“I can’t say what will happen, Old
Man. I’ll seek this cave. I’ll see what I see.” I sipped my cider. “You must
understand how difficult it is to trust, particularly when you coyed me into
being here.”

“So yeh’d’ve simply come for the
askin’?” His voice turned sharp.

I turned away from him, taking
another sip. He knew that answer as certainly as I did.

He sighed. “I can’t say I don’t
understand, Tommy.” His tone turned slightly rueful. “More so, because this
fight doesn’t exactly cater to my strengths.” He gave me a canny gaze. “If’n
I’d realized what yeh would do, one might think I might’a prepared a little
something to lend yeh a touch o’ help.”

“The cider is quite enough, Coyote. I
won’t have you hold any debt over me.”

“No debt is implied, Herald.” He
steepled his fingers. “The way I ken it, one might say that
I
owe
you.
”
He laughed. “Not that I would ever say as much.”

“Of course.”

“But, after all, I
did
call
yer Name to the four winds.” He held up a single weathered finger. “And, one
might
say that I was a touch sly about when and where I called yeh, almost luring yeh
into a situation.” A second finger rose.

“One might indeed say that.” I kept
my voice cool.

He grinned at me. “Then, there’s the
matter of how I came by yer Name to begin with.” He held up a third finger.
“If’n yeh knew that, yeh might say I owe yeh thrice.” He shrugged. “If’n yeh
were the kind to tally.”

“If I were.”

He leaned back into his chair. “It’s
also true that I know the nature of this thing. And Tommy, it needs killin’.
Would yeh be willin’ to let an old man pay his debts by offering a touch of
glam? Mayhap a tool or three that could make a difference for yeh?”

I saw through his trick.

“You imply I said I would kill it. I
never did.” If I accepted his tools, that could be seen as an agreement.

He grinned ruefully. “Canny one, yeh
are.”

“I’ll scout it out. I agree to that
much.” I leaned forward. “If I decide that I’ll hunt it, perhaps I’ll take you
up.” I sipped the last of my cider.

“If’n yeh decide to hunt it, I think
yeh’ll need all the help yeh can get, Herald.”

I said nothing.

He was probably right.

“Jes’ call for it. I figger I owe yeh.
Call for my boon when yeh need it.”

I gave him a grim smile. “By name, I
suppose? Certainly. Just give me your Name and—”

“You
know
my name, Herald.”

“Not the same as
having
your
Name, and you know it. Someone gave you
my
Name, after all.”

“Jes’ call. That will be enough.”

I let the silence hang between us for
a few heartbeats.

“Just
tell me where to go.”

I took my leave of him then. All that
mattered, he had given me.

“At least let me get yeh a coat, boy.
Yeh can’t wander back to town nekkid.”

“I’m not going back to town.” To be
honest, clothing was the last thing on my mind. “I’ll head north now and see
what there is to see. See if you’ve spoken straight.”

“Yeh know I have. Yeh can feel it.”

He was right, but I said nothing.

“Yeh’ll be lookin’ for a crick, north
o’ here. They call it Emri’s Branch, even though tis naught more than a
spring.” Coyote emptied his mug. “It’s about four hours north of town, near the
highway. Yeh’ll want to follow it into the back hills. Its lair is there.”

I was certain I didn’t need my
directions to be much more specific than that. I had felt the hollow creature
while it was still well away from Molly’s. Chances were that whatever had
spawned it would beckon to me as soon as I grew close.

Coyote met my gaze. “This knowledge
is yers, without debt or lien. This ain’t how I pay yeh back for what I did.”

I studied him. “Fair enough.”

We simply looked into each other’s
eyes for a long moment.

Awkwardly, Coyote held a hand to me.

I took it and shook. “No promises.
I’ll go and see what I see. No debts incurred.”

He smiled at me. “Fair enough, O
Herald. Fair enough. These things, the cider, all part of hospitality.” He
opened his door. “If’n yeh want more, however…”

“Perhaps I’ll decide you owe me after
all.”

“Agreed. And yeh’ll give a call.”

I glared at him, briefly. “I suppose
that’s my only choice.”

As before, he twisted the door as he
pulled. It opened not only inward, but somehow
sideways
. A pale,
flickering light shone into Coyote’s lodge. It took me a moment to comprehend
what I saw. I gaped at him, trying to keep my face straight.

“It’s the closest I can get yeh, if’n
yeh ain’t going to town.” He smiled. “Put yeh right next to the highway, ’bout
a half hour from the crick.”

I sighed but said nothing. Keeping my
eyes on him, I stepped into the bright light.

Eyes gleaming, Coyote shut the door.