Page 32 of The Ordeals
I kneel beside him in the soft pine needles, shaking his shoulders until his eyes open blearily. ‘Greg, can you stand? We need to find Tessa and Alden and get to the mirrors. Any idea which way they might be? Can you smell them?’
‘Maybe a few minutes ago, but now, nothing.’
‘Well, we can’t stay here. You’re exhausted and you’ve lost blood, and …’ I don’t want to say it, but I’m scared for my own skin too. And here, we’re sitting ducks. I brace my hands beneath his shoulders, trying to take some of his weight as he attempts to stand, but he struggles, then falls back, panting. I lean back on my haunches,pressing my lips together as I run through my options and what I know about the Morlagh. It’s partly to calm my mind as it spirals, partly to form a plan.
This forest is at the furthest point in our territory from Killmarth in the south. Hess must be a strong alchemist to create a portal that sent us all this way. I swear softly as I picture the scale of the Morlagh. Its vast on the maps I’ve seen, possibly too far to travel on foot to the nearest town and get medical help, and even if we come across a hunting lodge, it’ll most likely be deserted. I would be little more than prey for the den and their moonlit hunt unless we could barricade ourselves in until dawn. Which if I’m trying to stitch Greg up would be tricky.
Greg grimaces as another howl echoes through the clearing, clutching his side. ‘Go on without me. Find the others; I’ll try to stay hidden.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Can’t see any other option.’
‘But if Idragyou …’
A gunshot cracks through the air and I drop to the ground. Blood beats in my ears and I scan the clearing, searching the tree line, wondering where it came from.
Another shot, and a strangled snarl.
I creep backwards, motioning for Greg to shift further under the tree cover, thorn and bramble biting into us. I try to control my leaping heart, switchblade clutched in my trembling fist as another howl is swiftly cut short and a shape circles the trees to our right. It’s a man, stocky, dark-haired and almost silent, stalking quietly through the undergrowth. In his hands gleams a hunting rifle. I press my lips together, not knowing whether to call out to him, or if he’ll turn that thing in his hands on us.
A shadow breaks from the trees opposite, all vicious claws andragged fur, and I gasp as the man aims and shoots. The werewolf yelps, dropping to the ground. In the silver moonlight it twitches, once, twice … then stills. I release a breath and watch as the man strides to the hulking shape of the creature in the clearing. He’s wearing a waxed jacket, boots, the garb of a hunter out looking for poachers. But when he turns his face, eyeing the trees surrounding us, I nearly gasp in shock. He looks just like Alden, but older, a little shorter and with very well-maintained facial hair.
‘It’s one of the Locke brothers,’ Greg says in a thready voice. ‘Their family owns half the Morlagh. Must be near their hunting lodge. I bet he’s been hunting the pack. Locke! Over here!’
‘Shhh, what if …’
But the man has already stood, a frown pinching those unnerving features as he walks over to us, finger near the trigger on his rifle. ‘Are you bitten?’ he asks, eyes darting between us as he hisses. ‘Are youpoachers?’
‘We’re from Killmarth,’ I say quickly, standing slowly, palms spread. ‘Greg’s injured. We need to find our partners and get back through the mirrors.’
‘The mirrors?’ The man’s face relaxes and he nods. ‘Grant always was a wily one. Hess has changed up the first Ordeal then? Given it an alchemist’s twist? What is it, poisons? She’s got a sense of humour at least. I’d say a den of werewolves is pretty bloody poisonous.’
‘First Ordeal, yes. One of us in each pairing is poisoned; the other carries the antidote and we have to find each other,’ Greg says quietly. ‘And unfortunately, I have been bitten, and already changed.’
‘Well …’ the man says, considering him, his voice softening. ‘Not a lot we can do about that. Not really a cure, but are either of you a botanist? A bit of wolfsbane and a botanist’s wielding willrelieve the symptoms. You’re not too far gone like that one. You’re still human, there’s hope for you.’
‘I’m not,’ I say. ‘But my partner in the Ordeal is – that’s who I’m looking for. Alden Locke.’
The man’s features relax even further, widening to a smile. ‘Aldy’s out here, is he? Bet he’ll have made it to the lodge by now. He knows the Morlagh better than any of us. He’ll have made a beeline for it, I expect, and be forming a plan to find you.’ He pats his jacket pocket and it clinks heavily. ‘Silver bullets. We’ve got a cache of them at the lodge if you know where to look. Best get a move on though; I don’t like the look of this den. Doubled in the last quarter, and some of them are so feral, they don’t even change back to their human form anymore …’ He eyes Greg, then me. ‘Get him on his feet. We’ll have to brace him either side. It’s not far. I’m Edmund.’
‘Sophia, and this is Greg.’
There’s no choice but to trust Edmund and hope that Alden has indeed made it to this hunting lodge. At least if Alden hasn’t made it there, I can leave Greg in safety and head out alone to find him. Greg slips a couple of times, stumbling on tree roots along an overgrown trail, and I’m sure I hear the patter of paws, the shuffle of things in the undergrowth. It takes what seems like hours, and my thighs begin to cramp from the weight of holding Greg up.
‘We’re moving too slowly,’ I murmur to Edmund as another howl shatters the near silence in the forest. ‘They’ve scented us, haven’t they?’
Edmund grunts, pausing for a moment to brace Greg, scanning the gloom and trees. ‘Not sure what they’re waiting for, but if there’s a few of you hopefuls dashing about, I expect it’s not the full pack on our trail. Their attention will be divided. And if it’s only a couple of young wolves, we might be in luck.’
A growl, low and long, stills my heart in my chest. Greg moans quietly and I take all his weight as Edmund quickly readies his rifle. ‘Whatever you do, don’t run,’ he murmurs. ‘They love the chase.’
I shuffle along, trying to keep calm, even as my blood beats hot and quick in my ears. Edmund scans the tree line behind us as I grit my teeth, thinking of the gods I never bothered to worship. Edmund fires once and I jolt, but he mutters that it’s only to keep them away. My hips and shoulders throb from the effort of holding Greg up, sweat pooling under my arms as my breath gathers in ragged gasps. Edmund swears, swinging the rifle towards a rustling in the undergrowth to our left, and eyes appear, glowing in the dark.
‘Shit, we’ve got to move!’ I say, fear pounding in my chest as I wrench Greg away. Edmund fires into the undergrowth, covering us.
‘Next clearing!’ he calls. ‘Don’t stop!’
A rush of movement, of fur and fangs sweeps in on our right, and I shove Greg through the last line of trees and into a clearing. I only just have time to register a timber structure with small windows – a hunting lodge, the chimney already smoking – when Edmund falls through next to me, reloading the rifle with more silver bullets. Pulling out my makeshift stake, I round on the treeline as Greg whimpers on the ground.
