Rough, tangled vines split into orderly rows at the demand of a tall horned shape. It most resembled a man, from the moon-given shadows cast down upon the newly exposed dirt of the forest floor, if men came with fourteen points of antlers large enough to belong the oldest of stags. The clearing shook with his coming, and the council shook with it. This is not to say they were afraid, as they showed no signs of being unsettled, not a wince, nor a side glance to any of the others. These figures along the clearing’s edge could only be described as diverse. The only feature shared by all nine was their quasi-human frames, not that any would be mistaken for human. Regardless, they stood their ground unflinching before the newcomer.
This same newcomer’s horned head turned and surveyed the circle carved into the earth, and strode into the clearing, gracefully and with uncanny balance for such a large creature. He, and it most assuredly was a he, seemed to belong there. He nodded to his neighbor, a women whose hair shone like silver in the moons’ light and whose skin was dark and like bark in its appearance. The earth settled and seemed to sigh as he took his place. The council was complete.
The Horned Man bobbed his head, and his forest green eyes moved from face to face before he spoke, “It is time to return to our once favored hunting grounds.”.
“Mundus has changed much since the last Awakening”, said the figure opposite the Horned Man. He was a tree-like creature, whose skin was mossy and who towered over the rest of the circle. “Our seed have learned much and forgotten even more.”
“They will be hunted.”, the horned figure said. His voice sounded brassy and echoed in his chest, like the call of a horn through a mountain valley. He shifted from foot to foot, but his head remained still, and his eyes shifted not at all.
“I worry, I really do, that the fickle kith will fall fast. Their heroes are gone, their warriors waning, wimps all. They’ve turned inward, away from their once greatness.” These words chittered out from the jaws of a fox, whose tails twist and flicker in the wind.
“They will fall, certainly.” This voice was different from all the rest. The horned man’s was eager, the tree-man’s was somber, and the fox’s was nervous. This voice was full of ease and comfort. It was higher than the rest, the warbling of birdsong and mewling of kittens could be heard in its tone. The lady with the moon-bright hair spoke again, “They should fall, for they have forgotten how to live. But, just as some fall, others will rise.”.
“They too, will be hunted.”
The tallest of them, an uncommonly mobile tree, hooms and harrumphs “We understand that they will be hunted, everyone understands that. I am concerned with the lives of these kith. It would do my roots no good to be planted in a world with no life.”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“Ahem.” The clearing stills and tenses.
“Perhaps it is not a problem of what must be, but rather one of when it must be brought into being.” An aged figure, clad only in a dust gray robe, creaks his arms up like an orator would. “The world shall be tested by your mighty hunt, Horned One, but it need not be tested all at once or even all within the world.”.
“Hrmph. The Hunt must be a true test.”, snorts out the horned figure.
“And so, it will be.” The aged one smiles, revealing a sparkling set of teeth. “A test for those worthy of it, those who can provide you with fitting sport.”
“I do not play games, Wormwood.”, snarls the Horned One
“But your prey are called game? I must have gotten confused in my old age and mistook you for a hunter. Regardless, I have a proposal. Let us take some kith from their world and hunt them here. If they survive, let them glean what they may from our children before they rush back to ‘save’ their world”
The circle paused and each one looked taken aback in their own manner. The fox’s tail swooshed, and the moon lady stroked her chin.
She said, “How should we choose which to hunt?”
The dusty old man smirked and just as he was about to answer, a deep voice like that of a giant bell sounding, cut him off.
“We need not choose.”
The speaker rose from a crouch and stretched out his long limbs. He wore a crown of holly and juniper leaves high on his blonde head. He nodded towards the Horned One and strode into the center of the clearing. Where his bare feet touched the grass, geometric weaves of the plant sprang into being. He stopped in the middle and turned to face the aged man.
“My power is waning, and here in this world there is precious little upon which to anchor myself. There are few who share my attitudes or embrace isorro.”
He paused and looked over to the Horned One and said “Let those who could be mine be tested by your Hunt. Let us see what balance can be wrought from this world.”
“You would toss your own out to the mercy of the Hunt?”, said a woman who most closely resembled a bear, with a grey pelt and cunning green eyes. “And I thought Wormwood to be cruel.”.
“Is it cruelty to throw a baby bird out of the nest?” growled out the Horned One. He nodded and stroked his bare chin. “I agree. Let us see how your whelps serve as prey.”.
Wormwood said nothing in return, his face was sour and twisted like rotten oak. No objections were said, though, and the rest of the circle seemed relieved and the moon-lady’s sigh was felt in the air. The Horned One stepped forward, chest to the face of the crowned, blonde man.
“Agreed, then.” The crowned man stretched his hands around the boughs on his brow. “From one Erlking,”, he lifted the bough off of his head and reached up to place it between the horns, upon the Horned One’s head.
“To the next.”, finished the newly crowned Erlking. “Let the Hunt begin. Now.”
A shift was felt throughout the land. Howls filled the gaps of the forest, and in the distant mountains, echoes rumbled through the peaks and valleys. They were heard by the dragons in their caves, djinn in their markets, and beings more mysterious still in places yet to be described by any mortal. With a howl and a wager, Tol Domas embraced a little-known world, best known by its residents as ‘Earth’.