Chapter 15: Discussions and Preparations: Part One

  The sun rose, and the Wild Hunt hid from its rays.

  Such was the nature of things, they were beings of the night, the hunters in the dark. When the light of the day shone they became shadows, unmoving, untouchable, unliving. Still, they could communicate, the bond of the Hunt sufficient for such exchanges, even when they were nought but shadows.

  “We have the scabbard, but lost the boy.”

  It was Herne that spoke first, his voice rippling through the common link, all hearing his words.

  “A demigod is valuable, especially one so powerful at such a young age,” Skliros replied. “The sheath of Albion’s King is a unique treasure. That Merlin had a hand in its fate will only make it more attractive to them. It may well be the coin we need.”

  “The scabbard and the demigod would have made for a better payment.” Old Hefnd grumbled, her tone subdued, her wounds from Kali tiring her even after being healed.

  “Perhaps, but our ploy failed. At least we were able to secure the prize of greater value.” Herne intoned.

  “Do you think it will be enough?” Skliros asked.

  “With them, there is no way of knowing.” The one who spoke this time was Mihnea, one of the old vampires who had long been a member of the Hunt. He was no leader, lacking any desire to lead more than his small group of blood spawns, but his voice carried some weight due to his experience and his power.

  “Since the paths have opened once more magic has returned. They will want to take advantage of that, and they shall need all the power they can muster. The scabbard of Avalon’s king, one of the few artefacts of immortality in the world, that should be enough to satisfy them.” Herne’s reply held as much certainty as the rise of the sun. The scabbard would pay their price, and the shadowy hearts of the Wild Hunt felt a rare glow of anticipation and hope.

  “We have not reached them yet though. And I do not think we shall without at least one more challenge.” Ravananaer spoke up. Despite being regarded as the hero of the last battle, keeping the winged demigod engaged long enough for Loraxis to launch his surprise attack, he sounded subdued.

  “That demigod and his allies are formidable, but we no longer need to confront them. They shall not be an issue.” Mihnea replied, several of the other strong Hunters lending him their silent agreement through the link.

  “They have Athena with them. Do you truly think there is no way for her to hunt us? If nothing else she can ask her half-sister Artemis for aid.” It was Skliros who replied, a faint note of derision in his rumbling voice.

  “Artemis once hunted with us, would she aid our foes?” Herne questioned the centaur.

  “Was that a jest? To hunt the Hunters, that would be a chase she would relish!”

  A moment of silence followed at the thought of the goddess of the hunt as a foe. A thought daunting enough to inspire trepidation in the hearts of most of the Wild Hunt.

  Most of them.

  “If it means that I can face Kali again then I do not care!”

  Hefnd’s voice broke the silence, the eagerness and battle lust all but dripping from her words. For a moment there was only silence, as though nobody could quite believe what they were hearing. Then Ravananaer replied.

  “Well, you are insane, so I hardly think your opinion matters.”

  “Care to repeat that, brat?” If her words had dripped with combative desire before, they now carried only fire, ice and the promise of pain. “Would you care to say that to old Hefnd again?”

  Despite the threat there the last son of Ravana replied without hesitation.

  “You want to fight Kali, the Black One, again! On your own! After having fought her once already! Do you think that is anything other than insane?!”

  Again silence took hold of the link between the Hunters, only to be broken again by Hefnd.

  “. . . It is still rude to say it.”

  Her words were now more grumpy than venomous and tinged with some embarrassment. The fact that she was not denying Ravananaer’s words against her was also telling. The earlier tension started to dissipate, only to return as a new voice spoke.

  “If they come then they will burn.”

  It was as though a volcano had somehow chosen to voice its thoughts. The words spoken might have been brief, but the power behind them, the rage, the certainty, felt as though an impending avalanche. Even so, the Wild Hunt was no place for the weak, and Herne replied, uncaring of the titanic presence that had just spoken.

  “They are formidable, and they have a dragonslayer in their number.”

  Lancelot had been known to slay dragons during his time as a Knight of the Round Table. His sword, Arondight, had tasted their blood and gained power from it.

  “I am not the guardians of the Vale Without Return, I am not the pets of a sorceress. I am old, I am travelled, and I am mighty, I am Loraxis!”

  The words reverberated along the link of the Wild Hunt, fire, earth and air roaring along with them as though the very world was breaking.

  “And they have two goddesses that will not be so easily held at bay if we need to fight them again.”

  It was Ravananaer who spoke, one of the few that the dragon allowed to speak to him in such a way.

  “Gods are formidable, but they can bleed. They can die. If they seek to keep us from paying the price demanded of us we will find if they can burn as well.”

  The dragon’s reply was delivered with the same towering self-certainty that characterised his every word. For any other, it would have been arrogance, perhaps even delusion, but not Loraxis. His words were not boasts, they were statements of fact. He was old, old enough to have grown up while the Titans still ruled their part of the mortal realm. He had flown across the world when Osiris was still king. His fangs had clashed with Gilgamesh’s sword and he had lived. Few of his kind had reached the same age he had, and backed by the power of the Wild Hunt he was even more dangerous.

  “We shall have to take a night to recover fully,” Herne spoke, his voice cutting through the tension. “We shall begin our journey to the Black Forest tomorrow evening. Whether we are forced to face the demigod and his allies again will be determined by our skills.”

  “What, you wish to act like prey animals?” Hefnd practically spat the word, the thought of acting as the hunted instead of the hunter grating at her pride. “Cone on, we should find a decent battleground away from mortals and draw them in. No more running, no more hiding. Let's beat them down and drag the demigods along with us. Them along with the sheath . . . we will not simply be paying the price, we shall have those old tricksters throwing a party for us!”

  “You would risk much for your fight,” Herne replied, his words cold and hard. “This is the greatest opportunity we have had since the Path of Eternity opened once more, do you suggest we so casually endanger it?”

  “True, but what if those old buzzards become greedy,” The old woman’s voice snapped back like a whip. “We shall be bringing them a treasure, but what if they say it is not enough? What if they demand more? We have brought them this prize, perhaps they shall think it a waste to surrender their leash upon us so easily. After all, what other gems might we bring them if they can make us desperate enough?”

  The words were ugly but also had some ring of possibility to them. Those they sought to bargain with were greedy. Would they allow their greed to rule them in this matter? Would even the scabbard of King Arthur not be enough? Would they demand more?

  “They will not deny me!”

  The voice of Loraxis would have made the earth itself shake had they not been suspended in shadows as they were. Of all of them, he had been the one that had lost the most, who most wished to see the debt paid. If the buzzards once more denied them . . . Well, the last time the Hunt had only just managed to keep the dragon from rampaging. Perhaps they would not be so fortunate this time.

  “Enough!”

  Herne's voice descended upon the communication like a smothering wet blanket, heavy and clinging, leeching away strength and warmth. Even Loraxis’ presence drew back slightly. This was the power of the Herne the Hunter, the current leader of the Wild Hunt.

  “We shall take this day, the coming night and the next day to rest and recover, then we shall take the scabbard and make for the Black Forest.”

  His words might as well have been carved into the side of a mountain by some mad prophet, there was no give to them, not uncertainty, no compromise. They were simply statements of how reality would unfold, and that defied them would be crushed beneath their weight.

  “Should that winged demigod and his allies impede us, then we shall show them how foolish a choice it was.”

  There was no further discussion, the Hunt simply sank into their rest, preparing for the journey to come. And for any obstacles they might face.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  I came back to consciousness slowly, as though I was waking up from a deep sleep.

  Darkness gave way to a sort of muzzy awareness that threatened to sink back into that comfortable dark at the slightest opportunity. But even though I felt warm and relaxed the darkness slowly receded like an outgoing tide. My mind slowly cleared and I became aware of the world more and more until I could no longer lie in the comfortable embrace of my wings. Instead, memories came back, and with them the realization of just how bad things had gone.

  I’d lost the scabbard! King Arthur’s Scabbard! It had been stolen by a freakin’ DRAGON!

  Oh hell, Lancelot was going to Kill me!

  My wings pulled back and I tried to sit up. My body felt stiff as I moved, but the was no pain, no aches, no stings. I’d been expecting something, given what I’d gone through with Ravananaer and then the dragon, but I actually felt pretty okay. Rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck I sat up and took a look around me.

  From what I could see I was in some sort of clinic or hospital. It was in were all predominantly white, with those curtain screens that you typically saw in most hospitals, white office chairs, a desk, and a frosted glass window. The room itself was fairly large, and it needed to be since the bed I was on was one of four. I took that all in at a glance, but what drew my attention was who I saw lying on the bed opposite from me.

  The kid, the demigod that Wild Hunt had taken. He was lying there, a white blanket over him to just over his chest, and he was still in the same battered clothes he’d been wearing when I’d seen him at Ravananaer’s feet, the same ones he’d been wearing when they’d taken him. His brown hair was still messy, and his face had a drawn look to it, even relaxed in sleep as it was.

  But he was here! I’d gotten him away from the Hunt!

  That . . . that was something. Something big! Maybe I’d screwed up and lost the scabbard, but I’d at least managed to save the kid, and that was one worthwhile thing I could take away from this mess.

  As I got off the bed I noted that I still had my trainers on. They were scorched and soot-stained, but surprisingly they were still holding together and were still pretty comfortable. It was funny how my mind wandered, but I did my best to get my focus back as I stood up and took stock of myself.

  My wings were fully healed, my body felt okay, and though my halo was gone I could feel from my connection to it that it simply waited in the strange not-existing state it took when not in use and wasn’t damaged. All in all, I seemed to be completely recovered, even my magic channels felt fine, maybe a bit sore, but barely noticeable.

  That had me a bit worried. How long had I been out? If I was fully recovered like this then had it been days? Had I lost any chance to recover the scabbard? Fortunately, I noticed a big digital clock on the wall, one showing the date and the time. Unless it was completely off then it was the early afternoon of the day after the fight, just coming up to one o’clock. That meant I’d been out for at least nine hours.

  That was kind of weird. I knew I recovered quickly, but this seemed too complete, and thorough.

  “Uuu . . . uuugh . . .”

  I was pulled away from my uncertainties as I looked back to the bed and saw the kid sitting up and looking at me. His eyes were still bleary and squinted as he tried to focus on me. Also, I didn’t need to be any great reader of body language to realise he was acting defensive. His arms were pulled in close, his fists were bunched, his muscles were tense. He looked like someone ready to fight or run.

  “Hey kid, how’re you doing?”

  I tried to sound as calm and friendly as I could manage. As the younger demigod came more and more awake I could see him start to edge towards panic, his eyes flicking around, focusing on me and the only door out of the room more and more.

  “Hey, calm down,” My efforts at a soothing voice might have needed some improvement, but at least they got his attention. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We got you away from the Hunt.”

  “No, no you don’t get it!” The words seemed to burst out of him, slightly shrill and increasingly panicked. “They’ll come back! They always do! They’ll come here, and then people’ll get hurt! I’ve . . . I’ve got to go!”

  His leg swung out from under the sheets and he jumped off the bed . . . then collapsed as his knees gave out. The only reason he didn’t crash painfully to the tiled floor was that I instinctively reached out with telekinesis and caught him with my colourless magic. I lifted him until he was sitting on the bed again, then moved over and grabbed the chair that was by his bed. I swung it around and straddled it, my wings once again making sitting on it an uncomfortable prospect. I offered the kid as comforting a smile as I could manage as I started talking.

  “Take it easy,” I reassured him. “We’re good for the time being. My friends are here, and I don’t think the Hunt is going to go through them any time soon. Take some time, okay?”

  Well, I wasn’t quite sure if that was accurate. For all I knew they’d dropped me here and were right now pursuing the Wild Hunt across the Asian continent, but I was willing to bet that at least some of them were nearby to keep me safe while unconscious.

  “I . . . you, I . . . I know you, don’t I?”

  As his panic settled and he started to speak clearer I noticed that there was a slight American twang to his words. Even so, he had another accent as well, something faint but familiar. Dismissing it from my mind I nodded at him, not letting myself get distracted.

  “Yeah, we fought the Hunt and Herne together. You were a bit bigger at the time though.”

  I smiled as I said that, doing my best to make sure he knew I was joking.

  “Are . . . are you an angel?”

  He was looking at me with wide eyes now, and I was once again reminded of just how young he looked. He couldn’t have been more than . . . what? Fourteen? Thirteen? I’d kept on thinking of him as the kid, but suddenly it seemed so much more appropriate than it had before.

  “No,” I denied, still smiling. “But I do have some angel in my ancestry. I’ve actually got a lot in my ancestry, truth be told.”

  “Oh? Me too!”

  I almost frowned at his reply but managed to keep it from showing.

  “You do?”

  “Mmhmm,” He nodded enthusiastically. “I’m a Legacy to Bear, Amaterasu and Ogun.”

  He said it proudly, but I had to struggle to keep my shock from showing. One of the things that had made up my education had been Joan hammering it into my head about how rare convergent Legacies were. Dual Legacies were rare, and me, a fourfold Legacy, seemed unprecedented. This kid had three Legacies. It wasn’t unheard of, but from what I’d learnt from Joan it had only happened twice. And his progenitors . . .

  “Okay, I know Amaterasu, she’s the Japanese Goddess of the sun, right?” He nodded and I continued. “When you say Bear, do you mean and bear in specific, or are we talking about just some spirit or something?”

  “No,” He assured me. “Bear is The Bear, over in America he was everywhere long before any of the settlers landed.”

  Ah, so we were talking about the Native American Bear? I didn’t know too much about that one, only that Bear featured heavily in many of the legends and stories that had been passed down from the Native Americans to the modern day.

  “And Ogun? I’m sorry, but that’s not someone I recognise.”

  “He’s an African god of war and iron. He’s strong too. He appeared in my dreams and told me I was Awakening and that I’d have to be careful. If he hadn’t I’d have tried turning into a bear in my room.”

  Yeah, I could see how that could be a disaster. That bear form of his was the size of a small elephant, at least. If he’d changed into that while still in a house . . . the best outcome I could see was some broken ceilings and a massive replastering bill. At worst the whole place might end up crashing down. This kid had some backing, a divine ancestor that cared enough to talk to him. So, what was his story?

  “Okay, how about we start again,” I offered. “I’m Adam, Adam West. Pleased to meet you. And you are?”

  The boy blinked at me, then seemed to realise that I still didn’t know his name.

  “I’m Mato Carran. Thanks for saving me?”

  The last part was asked as a question, his expression a bit awkward as he looked at me, unsure of what to say or do.

  “Don’t worry about it. So, what’s your story? How’d you end up with the Wild Hunt after you?”

  He sort of went still, his lips pressing together, and I wondered if maybe I’d stepped on something, maybe triggered some painful memory.

  “For me it was Joan of Arc showing up on my doorstep,” I admitted, figuring that sharing my own story might make for a good first step. “Can you imagine that? She was all dressed in armour and carrying a sword. Anyway, she told me I was a demigod and that I had to go with her. Since arguing with the saint that’s meant to be keeping you safe seemed like the stupid option I went with her. A few weeks later I’ve got wings and magic. That was cool. Having to fight monsters trying to eat me, less so.”

  The younger demigod was now looking at me with big eyes, and I couldn’t help but show off a bit. A small ball of fire sprang to life in my left hand, burning a merry orange-yellow. I flicked it over and caught it with my right hand, and as I did so the flame’s colours switched to different shades of blue. Back it went to my left hand and it was changed to pink and violet. Back to my right and it was in shades of green.

  The kid’s eyes followed the fireball back and forth as though I’d somehow managed to hypnotise him, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide. In the silence, I took a moment to look at him, for the first time getting a chance to really take him in.

  He was definitely young, and looked as if he’d been living on the streets for a while. His clothes were rumbled and dirty, and he smelt a bit on the ripe side. His light brown hair was, greasy, unwashed and matted. He looked a bit thin and underfed. His eyes were surprisingly dark, the brown of his irises barely a different shade than his pupils. All in all, he looked dishevelled, but there were hints that when he grew up he might end up as quite the handsome guy. Idly I wondered how many demigods got a boost to their looks when they Awakened, and whether or not his kid had been one of them. It was a silly thought, but I couldn’t help it.

  It also proved enough of a distraction to make me miss catching the fireball, now a mixture of red and purple, which sailed across the room and hit the wall.

  “Ahk!”

  With a strangled squawk I reached out and dispelled the fire, then dispelled the fires the fireball had started. It had left a singed mark on the wall, a few bits of wallpaper having caught fire before I extinguished it. Slightly panicked at this inadvertent vandalism I noticed that the scorch mark was next to a filing cabinet. With a minor application of TK, I moved the cabinet to the side, covering the scorch mark. Yeah, the cabinet was slightly out of place now, but it was pretty heavy, enough so that moving it would be a chore for any normal person who wasn’t a powerlifter. With any luck, it would be years before anyone moved the thing and found the concealed evidence.

  “Hrk. Hhm. Heh hehumph!”

  Looking over I saw that Mato was staring at me and doing his best to strangle any laughter at my antics. His best wasn’t too good though, because even though he had his hands covering his mouth muffled sounds escaped. I just rolled my eyes at him and offered as good-natured a grin as I could manage.

  “Yeah yeah, laugh it up, kid. I know I need some more practice.”

  That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, because the young demigod collapsed on his bed, laughing so hard he struggled to draw breath. Honestly, I didn’t think it was that funny, but I decided that this must be a bit of venting for the kid, a chance to let go of the tension he’d obviously been carrying around.

  After a bit, the laughter tapered off into chuckling, and he sat up again.

  “Th-thanks, I . . . I needed that.”

  “No problem,” I smiled back. “Now, I’ve got some questions, okay?”

  Mato nodded and I continued.

  “How’d you end up here?”

  I tried to ask about his past, this time being as gentle about it as I could. For a moment I saw another flare of stubbornness in his eyes, but it faded as his hands clenched in his lap.

  “I . . . after I got my powers I got too excited,” he admitted. “I went out one night and tried them all out, turning into a bear, playing with fire, summoning iron, everything I could do at the time. I . . . I ended up getting spotted by a scout of the Wild Hunt.”

  “Where were you living?” I asked, wanting to get a better idea of just where this had all started.

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  “Near Tralee,” Mato replied.

  “Where?”

  “Tralee, on the Ring of Kerry.”

  “What, you mean in Ireland?”

  “Yeah.”

  I just stared at the kid, trying to remember what I knew of Irish geography from a holiday I’d taken there a couple of years back. Mostly I remembered that the stews were great, the beer was even better, and the scenery out in the countryside had been beautiful. I’d had some great hikes, but it had been in the northwestern areas. I’d heard of the Ring of Kerry but never been there. Still, this all did beg a certain question.

  “So how’d you end up here? And what about your family? Did . . . did something happen to them?”

  A terrible suspicion started to rise in me. His fear, his situation, and the ruthlessness of the Hunt. Had his family been . . .

  “No, they’re okay.” He insisted as he shook his head. “Ogun . . . he spoke to me in my head, told me that the Hunt’d found me, told me to run or they’d hurt my family trying to get me.”

  That made sense. I was more surprised by the level of care this Ogun was showing for his descendant. True, I didn’t know too much about how gods were treating their Legacies, but I was pretty sure that such a level of interaction was . . . uncommon at the very least.

  “So, what happened next?”

  “I . . . I got the idea that if I could make it to King Arthur then he could help me,” Mato explained. “I grabbed my savings and got on a coach to the coast, then I tried to stow away on a ferry going to Britain. I had a lesser power from Amaterasu that helped me hide, so I thought it’d be easy.”

  “So how’d you end in France?”

  The younger demigod’s eyes dropped in . . . embarrassment?

  “I got on the wrong ferry,” He admitted. “It wasn’t ‘til I got her that I realised what had gone wrong, and it was getting dark by then. I had to run, and then things just got worse.”

  His face crumpled and I realised that even if I had managed to get him to open up he was still carrying around a lot of pent-up emotions.

  “I had to keep running, keep hiding. Every time someone tried to help me the Hunt ended up hurting them . . . and then they’d just . . . just let me go again!”

  His face was turning red now, outrage and frustration so thick in his voice you could feel it.

  “They had me! They kept on catching me and then they’d let me go! Sometimes I got away, but even when I didn’t they’d just let me go! Why?! Why’d they just keep . . . playing with me?! If I didn’t run then they’d hurt me! They’d hurt others! I don’t . . . Why did they . . .”

  His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white, his shoulders were shaking now and he couldn’t seem to get his words out properly. For a moment I wasn’t sure what to do, then I just went with what felt right. I was off the chair and at his side, pulling him into a hug as I made sure not to squeeze him too tightly. It felt oddly personal, but this was a kid, barely more than a child, and it wasn’t hard to see that he’d been through way, way too much. Without meaning to my wings also entered the hug, coming around and settling over my arms to wrap the boy in a sort of feathered blanket from the neck down.

  My action seemed to catch him by surprise, but Mato relaxed into the hug, and after a bit, I could feel at least some of the tension going out of him. he rested his head on my shoulder with his eyes closed and seemed to be taking some time to pull himself together and recover his calm. I just waited, patient enough to give him the time he needed.

  Before too long Mato pulled back, only to sneeze as one of the softer feathers on my left wing managed to tickle his nose. The look of confusion on his face was oddly amusing, and I had to fight the urge to try and tickle him with it again. Instead, I pulled back, sitting beside him on the bed but leaving some space between us.

  “You were brave,” I assured him. “The Wild Hunt . . . they can only take you when you give up, when you quit. That’s why they were hounding you, but kept letting you go. You were too brave, too brave and too strong. You never broke, they couldn’t break you, understand?”

  As I said it he just looked at me, as though I’d suddenly started trying to explain quantum uncertainty principles to him. I tried to explain, to offer encouragement.

  “You won. They couldn’t take you, not when you hadn’t given up. So, they kept hounding you, but you held out long enough for me and my friends to find you. We got you back, and we’re not going to let you get taken again. You’re safe.”

  He blinked at me, and I could see tears forming at the edge of his eyes.

  “I . . . won?”

  “Yeah, you won.”

  He just burst out crying, and I pulled him back in for another hug. This wasn’t how I’d expected things to go, but it wasn’t too bad. Once again I didn’t push, I just waited giving him the time he needed to get it out of his system. After a bit, he went quiet, then pulled back and looked up at me.

  “So . . . now what?”

  Now what indeed. My first impulse was to offer him a spot on my team. After all, he was powerful and having a giant bear radiating fire and summoning iron spikes would be all kinds of awesome. However, I ruthlessly crushed that impulse down. He was a kid! For God’s sake, I should at least wait until he was legally old enough to drink before I even thought of dragging him into life-or-death fights with supernatural beings! I mean. Sure, he’d already been fighting them, but I wasn’t going to drag him back to that, not as long as I had a working conscience anyway.

  “Well . . . first thing we’re going to do is get in touch with your parents. I know you wanted them to be safe, but I promise you, they’re worried sick about you. It’s part of being a parent, or at least a decent one.”

  I saw guilt touch his eyes before he looked down.

  “I left them a letter,” He mumbled.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear from you,” I promised. “Just be prepared to get an earful as well.”

  He winced but nodded.

  “Hey, at least you’re not the only one that can look forward to some . . . stern words,” I offered, trying to smile as I did so, though I think it might have come out as more of a grimace. “I know I’m definitely going to get yelled at soon.”

  “Huh? Why?”

  I paused for a moment, then decided that I wasn’t going to just leave him ignorant. I knew that I’d have hated being kept in the dark.

  “During the fight where we rescued you, I made a bad mistake. I ended up losing King Arthur’s scabbard.”

  He just looked at me, his eyes wide.

  “Yeah, what makes it worse is that I’ve got Sir Lancelot here, and I bet that he’s going to give me an earful about that that’ll make your parents look like rank amateurs.”

  “Lancelot?”

  “Yep, and trust me, he is not going to be happy with me.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? Still, I did have a few aces up my sleeves, which was probably the only reason I wasn’t too worried about my neck being introduced to Arondight’s edge.

  As though summoned by my thoughts there was a knock on the door, then Joan in. She was still in her armour, though it had repaired itself of any battle damage and once more looked pristine, and looked every inch the warrior saint that she was.

  “Adam, you are awake.”

  I nodded to her, gesturing to the younger demigod next to me.

  “Yeah, and so is Mato here. Where are we?”

  “It’s a clinic,” She explained. “It doubles as an emergency hospital, so there was room for you two when we arrived. We are in a small town, not too far from the site of our battle.”

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “Oui, as you might have guessed Sir Lancelot is not in the best of temperaments, but all members of our group are of sound body. Honoured Hadriel was struck by the dragon but has since recovered.”

  “Good.”

  As I got off the bed I felt something snap in one of my trainers. I took an experimental step and noticed that part of the sole had come loose.

  “Once we’ve sorted out what we’re going to do I’m going to need to do some shopping,” I noted, tugging at a sleeve that was half scorched.

  “Sensible,” Joan agreed. “However you will need to first discuss matters with our allies. Fair warning, it may not be the most pleasant task.”

  “Lancelot?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Well, that’s fair, I guess,” I acknowledged. I’d made promises, I was going to have to own up to my screw-ups. That didn’t mean I was looking forward to it.

  “Can . . . can I come?”

  Mato’s question surprised me.

  “What?”

  “Look I . . . can I come to this? I don’t know if I can help, but I might know some stuff. I was being chased by the Hunt for weeks, I think I know some stuff about them.”

  My first instinct was to say no. He was a kid, for god’s sake! He should be at home, trying to avoid homework, playing, having fun. He shouldn’t be part of some sort of war council!

  But . . . hadn’t he earned this? Not to be a part of it, he sure as hell was too young for that, but at least to be given some consideration, right? He’d been hounded by the Hunt for weeks, and then he’d fought them. I’d been there, I’d seen how strong he was. He’d been a freakin’ juggernaut, and if he’d been fighting anything other than immortals then it would have been carnage. He had power and he had skills, that deserved recognition and he deserved some respect.

  “I can’t promise we’ll agree with everything,” I admitted. “But you can join, and at least we’ll listen, I promise you that.”

  He nodded, and I had to hold back a smile as I realised he was trying to be . . . Serious? Professional? Whatever it was, he was making an honest try of it, and he didn’t deserve to get laughed at. Instead I turned to Joan.

  “Okay, once more into the breach, I guess.”

  --------------------------------------------------------

  Joan followed Adam and the young demigod into the room where the others waited. The clinic had been built next to some sort of institute, and a conference room had been available for their use. The room in question was large, well furnished and even had a whiteboard fitted to one wall. Unfortunately, the atmosphere in the room was thick with tension, most of it coming from the knight who surged to his feet almost as soon as her charge stepped through the door.

  “YOU!” There was no hiding the accusation in his tone, nor the barely repressed anger. “The scabbard was lost! You had it in your hands, and it was taken from you!”

  As much as she wished to defend Adam, Joan understood Sir Lancelot’s grievance and frustration. He had been reluctant to endanger the sheath, and what had happened was almost exactly what he had feared. In response to the knight’s words, the winged demigod grimaced as he awkwardly sat down in a chair, his wings having to bend sharply to let him sit at all.

  “I wasn’t exactly planning on getting blindsided by a dragon!”

  As far as reasons for failure went the resurrected saint had to privately admit that an unexpected attack from an elder dragon was one of the more excusable. Lancelot seemed to be of a different opinion.

  “Do you think that matters?!” Angrily the knight started pacing back and forth, as though trying to burn off energy to keep his anger from overwhelming him. “The scabbard is gone! The Hunt has it, and they are most likely fleeing into Russia by now! By the time we find them again, they will have sold it to any who can give them the best price for it! Do you intend to hunt it across the world until you can return it to my king?!”

  No. The simple fact was that Adam could not allow himself to be caught blindly adhering to a single task, no matter how worthy. His destiny was wider than that, even if Joan did not know the full shape of it. Her charge was meant to help establish and safeguard the peace of the world. The Wild Hunt were powerful, but they could also be elusive, and the scabbard might well prove even harder to locate once sold. But if Adam refused he might well make a deadly enemy of Sir Lancelot, and King Arthur himself, the guardian of his own home nations!

  This was bad. There had to be something she could do! Perhaps if she contacted the High Heavens once more? Could another oracle help? What if-

  “We won’t have to blindly search for it. Athena?”

  Her charge’s calm reply halted her thoughts as she looked at him, then followed his gaze towards the Greek goddess. Zeus’ daughter held up a hand, a small globe of light with something flickering within it appearing and then fading away after a few moments. During that time Athena gazed into it with a surprising intensity before letting it fade.

  “The Hunt has not left the country yet. After they fled they made for the east. I believe they are trying to make their way towards Germany, possibly Belgium. With the rise of the sun, they have gone to ground, and they are not so far that we may not catch up to them.”

  For a moment there was silence. Lancelot had frozen in place, Hadriel was glancing back and forth between Adam and Athena, and even Kali seemed slightly taken aback.

  “How?”

  The Knight of the Round Table was the one to voice the question, voice slightly strained as he did his best to maintain his composure.

  “All credit to Athena here. She suggested that we plan for the worst, for the chance that we might lose the scabbard, so she whipped up a tracking spell that we stuffed inside it. We can use that to track it, so we’re not out of the running yet!”

  Though her charge was doing his best to present a calm front Joan was sure she could detect a hint of satisfaction in his tone. I suppose that having a valid rebuttal to Sir Lancelot’s justified outrage was something he took pleasure in? A small and harmless mischief I supposed, but something that bore taking note of.

  “Adam is too modest,” Athena commented, nodding to our shared charge. “The use of the tracking charm was his suggestion. I merely advised him to be prepared for the loss of the sheath. He asked if I could create such a spell, and when I confirmed it was within my ability it was he that thought to hide it inside the scabbard.”

  Interesting. When did this take place? I knew they had spent some time discussing potential strategies, had it been then? Regardless, it was good that Adam was showing such initiative. One of Joan’s concerns had been that with some many powerful allies, he would be unwilling to take a more active leading role. It would seem some hints of leadership, or at least trying to stand on an equal footing, were showing themselves.

  “But . . . will the spell not be discovered? There are many in the Wild Hunt that have their own knowledge of spells and sorcery, will they not sense it?”

  Lancelot’s concern was an understandable worry. Were that to take place then they could be sent on a wild goose chase while the Hunt made a clean escape.

  “The spell I employed was a subtle one,” Athena assured them. “Rather than exploiting a constant link or sending a signal my crafting exploits sympathetic resonance. I can determine its location without alerting even those Hunters who have skills in magic. However, it is not perfect.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The question came from Hadriel, who had been silent until now.

  “If the two parts of the spell are separated by sufficient distance then the resonance will end. We must prevent the Hunt from fleeing too far or we shall lose them.”

  “What manner of distances do you mean?”

  This time it was Lancelot who spoke the question, his gauntleted hands restlessly clenching as he did so.

  “Just under six hundred miles,” Athena spoke with all the professional conduct of a general addressing their government. “A great distance for mortals, but we are all aware of how swiftly we could move ourselves if we wished. The Wild Hunt can achieve similar speeds, the only reason they have not has been that their clashes with us have cost them power, and they need to take time to recover. Once their full power they can travel at hundreds of miles an hour, enough to make catching them a nightmare.”

  There was a moment of silence as they digested her words, then Adam stood up.

  “Okay, so we’re working with a timer. We know where they are and we can catch up to them, so we’re gonna do that, agreed?”

  Nobody voiced any disagreements, so he took a step around the table so he could face the rest of the room’s occupants at once.

  “The question is: what do we do when we catch up to them? We’ve fought them twice so far, and each time they’ve come away with more of a win than us.”

  That was sadly true. Though they had never been defeated by the Hunt, each battle had left them in a poor position. Firstly when they took Mato as a hostage, then when they escaped with the scabbard. Each time they not only denied their enemies a victory, they also placed them on the back foot. They had also managed some minor psychological wins, such as leaving Hadriel unsettled after facing the effigy of Satan or leaving Kali highly unsatisfied with how her last battle had ended. Bringing out a dragon at the last moment was daunting all on its own, something else to consider.

  “How do we fix that?”

  Adam spoke the question with a certain amount of determination that seemed . . . enthusiastic. It was hard to fully understand, to pin down exactly how it was done, but somehow he had dispelled much of the tension that had been choking the room before. Instead, there was the beginnings of . . . interest? Eagerness?

  “Both our previous clashes our poor performance was mainly caused by surprise,” Hadriel was the first one to speak up, offering a view that Joan certainly agreed with. “Phantoms of previous members of the Wild Hunt, new members we had not yet seen, even the arrival of a truly mighty dragon, there was little way to prepare for any of these.”

  “Wotan was able to stonewall me some, but that crazy woman I fought . . . she was something else,” Kali commented. “If I have to fight her again I’m ready though, her tricks won’t work again. Still, both times they’ve made good choices on who should take me on.”

  And was not that the truth? It made sense though, as matters stood the Hindu goddess was the mightiest amongst them, as far as raw power went. It made sense that the Hunt would do their best to keep her occupied if they could not take her off the board. Wotan was a version of Odin, a god known for his cunning and versatility. His rune magic had led to entire schools of magic for mortals, and he knew more runes than just about any other being in existence, even a phantom of him would have been a formidable challenge. As for the old woman that had attacked Kali the night before . . . Joan knew nothing. She was nobody the saint recognised, which was strange since anyone able to stalemate the Black One, even if only for a few minutes, should have been worthy of a few legends.

  “I do not believe they shall have any surprises left to employ against us should we face them once more,” Athena commented. “During our last battle, they had too much to gain by victory and too much to lose to make hiding trump cards worth it. We have already seen what they have, their champions and their hidden powers. They have their strengths, but they have lost the element of surprise.”

  Joan nodded in agreement. It was a relatively simple analysis, but it was also very accurate. It was unlikely that any new players would enter the game at this point, all they had to concern themselves with was desperation tactics from those they had already faced. Well, that was hardly ‘all’ since their foes were gods, demigods and monsters from legend. Still, it was less so than completely new threats out of nowhere.

  “That still leaves us with a lot to deal with,” Adam opined. “Still, I think we can handle it.”

  Turning he glanced at the board and then grabbed a pen on a ledge below it. He reached for it . . . then paused.

  “You know,” He commented as he turned back to them all. “I was just about to start listing out all the enemies we’ve got to face, like Herne and that dragon, but you know what? I think that’s overthinking things.”

  He gestured out at the rest of them, one of his wings following his arm and stirring up a small breeze, lending his action a greater emphasis.

  “Look, you’ve all fought them, you’ve got a good idea of what we’re up against, and every single one of you has a much better idea of what you’re doing than I do.” That last was said with self-deprecating humour. “I can line up names and ask for suggestions on strategies and try and throw out some ideas I’ve stolen from films or books that won’t make me look stupid, but is it really worth it?

  “We’re not going to try any grand ambush or elaborate surgical strike, that doesn’t play to our strengths, does it? So, I’ve just got one idea, tell me what you think of it, okay?”

  He paused for a moment, then, when Kali offered an enthusiastic nod of her head and Hadriel also inclined her head, he continued.

  “Let's go blitzkrieg on their asses!”

  There was another pause, then Kali’s mouth spread in a grin that would have made a hungry hyena proud.

  “Now you’re speaking my language!”

  For her part, Joan was momentarily confused by the choice of a German word in Adam’s statement. Yes, she knew what it meant, she knew every language on Earth after all, but she was unsure as to what use a ‘Lightning War’ would be. Did Adam intend to summon a storm and harness its power? Yes, a rain of lightning could be devastating, but given the Wild Hunt’s ability to recover it might not be an effective tactic.

  No . . . wait. A memory sparked at the back of her mind, of her familiarising herself with how her home country had fallen to the Nazis during the last World War. Blitzkrieg was a military tactic that relied upon the rapid movement of concentrated forces to defeat an enemy overwhelmingly. The sheer speed and impact of such a tactic delivered psychological damage as well as physical damage.

  That meant-

  “Forgive me, I do not recognise this term. What tactic does it signify?”

  Hadriel asked for clarification, and the winged demigod replied.

  “It means we hit them hard and fast! No picking our targets, no trying to play Rock-Paper-Scissors with powers, we just go in and do as much damage as fast as we can and then pick the scabbard out of the ashes and leave while the Hunt is still trying to put itself back together.”

  “Simple but effective,” Hadriel commented, nodding her approval.

  “No plan survives contact with the enemy, right? Make the plan simple enough and I might be able to prove that wrong.”

  “No plan is foolproof,” Lancelot opined. “Even if there are no fools upon your side, there will be fools upon the other. Still, I believe this idea has merit. If we deny the Hunt the chance to retaliate, to bring their greater numbers to bear and keep their champions upon the back foot then we may well be able to snatch away the scabbard.”

  Adam nodded, then paused and frowned.

  “How hard do you think it’ll be? Will they have the scabbard with them, or will it be in a safe or something?”

  “Highly unlikely,” Athena replied. “The Wild Hunt is nomadic by nature, they rest in shadows during the day and rarely form any sort of camp. The closest thing to structures they possess are tents that are erected when they hold some manner of ceremony or celebration. The scabbard will be kept as a personal property, something to be held and carried around.”

  “Who’d have the scabbard anyway? Herne? The dragon? One of the others?”

  It was Kali who asked the question.

  “That could be important,” Adam agreed. “If it’s someone tough enough to survive our first strikes then they might be able to get away.”

  “It will be the dragon.” The statement was calmly delivered by Sir Lancelot. “A treasure such as the scabbard, all its instincts will scream at it to hold onto it, even if only until they can reach the one they wish to sell it to. Also, I do not believe that any of the others can match the dragon in terms of pure endurance. All that muscle and scales are not for show, even a god such as Herne is fragile by comparison.”

  “Where will it keep the scabbard?” Joan asked. “It is not as though it has a belt from which to hang it.”

  “Dragons had a hollow space in their mouths,” The Knight of the Round Table explained. “It acts as a pouch where they can store things they wish to carry without swallowing. They normally use it to carry such treasure as gold, jewels or the like. The scabbard will be in there I wager.”

  “In a dragon’s mouth?” Adam looked bemused at that, even a bit more so when Sir Lancelot nodded. “Well, I guess that’s probably safer than a safe.”

  “Did anyone catch the dragon’s name?” Kali asked. “Because I never knew that a giant winged lizard could look that swole.”

  “Loraxis.”

  “Adam?” Joan asked.

  “That was what that guy, Ravananaer, called the dragon. Loraxis.”

  “Is the name familiar to any of you?” It was Athena who asked, glancing around, only to receive shaken heads in return. “Strange. It is clearly a mighty specimen of its race, but I do not recall hearing such a name in legend.”

  “It is rare for dragons to remain unknown,” Lancelot agreed. “Their egos normally do not allow them to even entertain the idea of anonymity.”

  “Well, every race has its outliers, right?” Adam suggested. “I mean, surely one dragon worked out that if you stick your neck out someone’s going to take a swing at it, right?”

  “Colourfully put, but not inaccurate,” Athena commented. “That simply makes it a more dangerous threat. Dragons are powerful, but a dragon that can control its ego is something else entirely.”

  There was a moment of silence, which was then broken as Kali spoke up.

  “Wait, that guy you fought was called Ravananaer?”

  “Yeah,” Adam confirmed. “He said he was a son of Ravana. Ever heard of him?”

  “Nope. As far as I know, none of Ravana’s kids survived the war with Rama. He might just be lying, trying to leech off Ravana’s rep.”

  The winged demigod shook his head at her suggestion.

  “He was strong, and he was smart. If it weren’t for him I wouldn’t have lost the scabbard. He’s not the worst I’ve fought, but he’s dangerous, y’know? I don’t think a guy like that’d be coasting on someone else’s rep.”

  “Oh?” Kali’s interest was clear, as she sat up and grinned. “Maybe some of his blood survives then. Well, that means there's just one more guy it’ll be fun to fight.”

  “Before we continue,” Athena spoke up. “I do not believe you have introduced us to your young friend. We have been so focused on retrieving the scabbard that we have not paid him any attention.”

  The younger demigod had followed Adam and Joan to this room, but he had remained by the door, half hidden by a large bookshelf nearby. At the goddess's words, he stepped out, his posture uncertain but not afraid. Adam smiled at the boy, then gestured to him.

  “This is Mato Carran, a Legacy of Bear, Amaterasu and Ogun.”

  Three Legacies? Joan felt her eyes widen in surprise, and she noted that she was not the only one to take notice. Athena was evaluating the boy like a soldier present with an unfamiliar weapon, Hadriel was notably curious, Lancelot seemed taken aback, and Kali appeared vaguely amused. She could understand their reactions. Amaterasu was a powerful god of the Shinto pantheon, one with powerful political ties as well as being highly revered even in the modern day. Ogun was less well known but was still a deity with surprisingly deep roots. Bear . . . few deities were as elemental as that spirit, a being tied to the concept that was its name.

  A powerful trio of Legacies, it was hardly a surprise that the Wild Hunt had tried to snatch him away.

  “Ah . . . hi?”

  The young boy offered a slightly strained smile to the room, half raising his hand, then lowering it. There was a pause, then Sir Lancelot stepped forward.

  “Well met, young demigod,” The knight offered. “I . . . I am sad that we lost my king’s scabbard, but do not believe I am unhappy we were able to free you. There are few I would find deserving of being subject to the Wild Hunt's tender mercies.”

  “They’ve got mercy?”

  There was a pause as everyone looked at the starstruck boy who was gazing at the Knight of the Round Table with wide eyes. Eyes that widened further as he realised that he had apparently spoken his thoughts aloud without meaning to. There was a moment of panic, but it faded as a small chuckle escaped Sir Lancelot’s lips.

  “It mostly depends upon their leader, but they have been known to show mercy before. I do not believe it shall be a factor for us though, so we should not rely upon it.”

  Athena broke in, explaining what the knight had meant. Mato looked at her and nodded. He then paused for a moment then turned and faced Adam.

  “I want to help!”

  “What?”

  The winged demigod seemed to be taken off guard by the statement and voiced the question without thinking.

  “You’re all going to attack the Hunt, right? I want to help.”

  Her charge seemed to be momentarily stunned, then brought up his arms and formed them into an ‘X’ across his chest.

  “No kid! No, no, nope! This’s going to be dangerous! Understand?!

  “I’m pretty powerful, and I’m literally the most fragile guy here! Kali’s terrifying, Athena’s a goddess that’s been kicking ass since before books were a thing, Hadriel’s an angel that eats demons for breakfast and Joan can turn into an angel that eats demons for breakfast! We’re going after the Hunt because the worst they can do is get away from us with the scabbard, but if you come along then the worst they can do is keep the scabbard and take you with them!”

  “Adam, you know I do not eat.”

  The look that he sent Hadriel was equal parts confusion and disbelief, and privately Joan was pleased at how familiar Adam had grown with the angel.

  “Not really relevant right now, Hadriel.”

  “Look, what if I go in my bear form? You know I’m strong like that! And if I’m not alone then I won’t go down like I did against Herne, right?”

  The boy, Mato, was not willing to let go of the discussion, and Adam turned back to face him.

  “Kid . . . that’s brave, no denying that. But you’re not really expecting me to say yes, right?”

  The boy’s eyes narrowed, and Joan felt the temperature in the room start to noticeably rise as tiny glowing cracks started to spread from the corners of the younger demigod’s eyes, as though his skin were only just covering a molten core.

  “They hunted me! For days! For nights! They hurt me and made me run and I couldn’t do anything!” “If you’re going to fight them then I want in!”

  Adam came around the table until he was only a few steps from the boy, meeting his eyes.

  “But . . . don’t you want to go home? Don’t you at least want to get back to your family?”

  Mato grimaced, but he also relaxed, the cracks fading and the sudden heat fading with them.

  “I can do that later! I can call them today, let them know I’m okay, but I’m going to hurt those assholes!”

  Again, the room fell silent as the two demigods stared at each other, the Adam spoke.

  “Okay.”

  “ADAM!?”

  The word burst out of Joan before she had a chance to hold it back. What was he thinking? This was a child! And he was going to let him charge into a battlefield? Had she completely misunderstood her charge? For his part the winged demigod looked over to her, then very clearly glanced back to the kid.

  “Kid, tell me the truth. If I say no are you going to do something stupid, like sneak out after us?”

  Mato did not reply, simply offering a look somewhere between sullen and defiant.

  “Yeah, that’s about what I thought,” Adam replied. “So, if you’re going to get there one way or another . . .”

  He stepped forward and put a hand on the younger demigod’s shoulder, looking down at him from his greater height.

  “If you come with us then we can at least tell where you are. But listen . . .” Adam leaned down, looking Mato in the eyes, gold meeting honey brown. “If you come with us then you’re going to do what we say, got it? I’m not joking here. If I think you’re going to do something stupid that could get you captured or killed then I’m going to have Athena hit you with a snoozing spell that’ll have you out cold like Sleeping Beauty, understand?”

  There was another pause, and the younger demigod nodded.

  “Good, because if you’re coming with us then you’re going to listen to us!”

  “Is this the wisest choice?”

  It was Hadriel who asked the question, but Adam just shrugged at her.

  “I don’t know, but hopefully it’s the one that won’t blow up in our faces.”

  “Then the plan is set, and we have a new ally,” Athena commented. “We shall have some time to rest, but we must be ready for when we confront the Hunt once more.”

  There were nods all around, and Adam turned to the room’s door.

  “Okay, on that note, I’m heading to the shops. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve got some shopping to do.”

  To emphasize the point he lifted one of his shoes, showing that the sole was half hanging off. He also glanced at Mato.

  “How about you, kid? I don’t want to be mean, but I think you could also use some new threads and a decent meal.”

  It was true, the poor boy looked as though he’d been wearing the same clothes for weeks. They certainly smelled as though they had.

  Evidently, Mato thought the same, because he grimaced and nodded. Adam smiled at him as he gestured grandly, as though trying to impress an audience.

  “Okay, let's head out and find the best this place has to offer! Onwards my minion!”

  His joke managed to draw a smile from the boy, and Joan watched as they left. Hopefully, this would end well, but she offered up a silent prayer for her charge, just to be on the safe side.