Relieved was probably the best way to describe Loch’s state as he trudged past the mountainous trees of the Iladir Wood. Still, the weight of confusion he carried wasn’t to be lover looked. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t explain the scene he’d come across with the crow.

The deer had been felled by one of his arrows. That much was certain. It bore the signs of Loch’s handwork and the feathers plucked from his chickens. And yet, it had not flown from his bow. No other hunters had trodden this part of the Wood since the spring before. Loch had wasted precious daylight searching for signs of such. When nothing supported reason, Loch felt forced to accept the unreasonable.

Was it truly the bird that had plunged the arrow into the deer’s eye? Loch remembered with distinction the earlier theft of his arrow by the feathered troublemaker. And after the crow had been following him with such commitment, it was difficult to deny there was something different about this crow.

Loch’s eyes peered up at the distant canopy where he could still see the dark shape of the bird dart from one branch to another, almost as if it were leading the way home. The thought of reaching home elicited a cruel pang. With it came the revelation of Loch’s tired body. Days of sleeping in the cold and wet had taken their toll. His body was stiff and his legs and back called out in protest of carrying the weight of the slain creature.

The hunter came to a stop on the web of roots that covered the forest floor. Of the great and lush Iladir, the Southern Reach was the darkest, and most dense stretch of forest. The trees towered over everything except for the Cairn Ring. Their roots formed a dense, knotted mass that made travel difficult. The thickest were taller than a man, creating a wooden maze that could leave one prone to wander indefinitely or quickly tire themselves climbing.

Loch, the experienced hunter he was, knew how to avoid getting lost, but the added weight made the journey much more difficult. Trying to go around the Reach would have added days to his travel. With all of that weighing on his mind, Loch elected to stop for a brief respite, leaning against the nearest tree, feeling the rough bark against his palm.

Apparently, the decision to rest was not shared by all. With a flurry of wing beats, the Crow lighted on the root and cawed up at the man. When a tired glance was all it received, the bird cried out again, almost sounding perturbed.

“Alright, I was just taking a breath,” Loch sighed, adjusting the weight on his back and setting off again, continually heading downward towards the center.

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

Unconcerned with the desires of the lowly moral, the sun continued its arc. It sunk lower and lower until it threatened Loch’s hope of making it home within the day. By then, Loch had left the thickest portion of the Reach, but it had taken far longer than he had wished.

Perhaps it was the deer; it was fatter than the ones the other hunters had brough back in recent weeks. Monsters had been on the prowl, keeping the prey animals in such a state of moving they rarely got to graze. Perhaps this one, having been secluded beyond the Southern Reach, was given the opportunity to fatten up.

One comfort that was offered was the signs of civilization in the distance. Loch’s path had returned him to territory with which he was more familiar. He had reached a wide creek that marked the location in his mind. That creek flowed just outside of town to the lake in the middle of the Cairn Ring. Looking up, he saw thin trails of smoke just as he expected.

Town was only a few hours away, but that would unfortunately mean he would have to travel the last hour in darkness. Not wanting to make that duration any longer, Loch set off again, with vigor, still shadowed by his coal-colored friend.

An open field of wildflowers added beauty to the journey that had largely been in the shade of forest leaves thus far. The crow marked the opportunity by soaring higher into the air. No longer had he need to be careful not to fly into a branch. For once, the slow speed of the human was a boon. It gave the crow a chance to fly from one end of the meadow to the other, announcing loudly for the Brothers to assemble.

From their evening roosts and idle conversations, beaks turned to hear the herald. The other crows turned to their neighbors. Quietly, they muttered doubts to one another.

Again, came the cry of the crow, beseeching its brethren to call the other Brothers.

Still, the murder was discontent.

Loch had nearly reached the far side of the field, the evening sun was soon to set, and the crow needed cooperation. One last caw of command came from the crow’s beak as it turned to return to the human’s path.

Sorrow swelled in the bird’s breast. It was certain that the time was nigh, but it could not roust the others into believing.

Then a dark shape climbed into the air above the trees. A spark of hope soon ignited back into the fire of joy as dozens more took flight. The crow cawed in thanks as the murder of Iladir Wood rose into the darkening sky. In all directions they separated, soaring over the Cairn Ring which enclosed the Forest, their cries spreading word to others of their kind to take and do the same until the Brothers were summoned.

Meanwhile, Loch paused but for a moment at the sudden stirring of the birds. His mind was set on making it to safety. Silence thrived as Loch found one of the well-worn paths through the woods near the village, his eyes straining for dangers in the twilight. Through the trees ahead, Loch spotted the glow of firelight. It seemed strange that people would camp at this distance from town. Strange, at least, if they were honest folk.

Bandits, mercenaries, poachers, wanted men, all were equally fond of such an arrangement. The men in town would want to know of such people on their outskirts. Loch himself, for the sake of his family’s safety, felt it was his duty to weed out those who would bring the town trouble.

As the crow watched from a branch overhead, Loch retrieved his bow and notched an arrow before silently creeping towards the burning glow.

A sudden rush of movement made the hunter freeze. Something large had skittered about. Once it was apparent the motion wasn’t carrying danger towards him, Loch peered at the campground from his cover.

What Loch saw made his stomach churn. A long, segmented body was snaked around the three ramshackle tents. Two insectoid legs sprouted from either side of each segment, which gleamed as firelight reflected off the creature’s thick carapace. Loch’s eyes followed the twisting body to the horrific head. A human face, badly torn and twisted was plastered to the small portion of the monster’s head just above its massive pincers. Fresh blood dripped to the ground.

This was no shuck. Loch hadn’t ever seen a monstrosity such as this. He watched as the front of its body lifted like a serpent. The legs that were no longer in use shivered as they folded onto the beast’s fleshy underbelly. Wrenching laughter emanating from the monster. Its body seemed to writhe as it looked down at something on the ground. Two fleshy tendrils sprouting from its head rapidly moved over whatever it was looking at.

Loch had heard travelers and traders tell tales of monsters more devious and eviler than shucks, but this was the first he’d heard of, much less seen, one in Iladir. He needed to get away; fighting would be asking to face his executioner.

While the human was trying to find the best means of extending his life, the monster’s tendrils went taut. Loch watched, uneasy, as they hoisted the faceless body of a man into view. Now it was known where the creature’s stolen face had originated. A smaller set of whip-like feelers danced over the body, as if they were measuring it.

The monster uncurled one of its larger front legs and held it up against the man’s arm as if it were comparing the size. Chortling laughter spewed from the monster’s deadly mouth as it lunged like a strike of lighting, cleaving off its own leg before snipping off one of the man’s arms.

While the corpse dangled, the creature brought the arm to the stump of its leg. Fighting back rising bile, Loch looked away as bloody, red tendrils squirmed from the detached limb before crawling inside the human arm, wearing it like a glove.

“I’ll be one of them again.”

It spoke? Loch though he must have misheard. Then it came again, not audible words, but a shifting, grating chorus of sounds. It was like a dozen chairs were being raked across the floor. It, Loch realized, wasn’t speaking; it was singing. The tune was one the hunter was familiar with, a nursery rhyme for the young…

Coming from the monster, it wasn’t soothing or beautiful. It came with it the sounds of madness and slaughter.

Loch inspected the body again, hoping that it wasn’t someone he knew. The corpse was all but bare; its pale, gaunt form seemed sickly. Red markings covered its chest, making runes that the hunter had seen before in the old book.

He, along with the others here, no doubt were worshipers of the old gods. Poor souls…they kept up a dead tradition, coming here to praise Iladir, to praise a pile of bones. Some of Loch’s pity drained away. Worship of the old ones called to the monsters in the darkness. The twisted divine blood that flowed in them heard it and flocked to it. Such is the reason for the impoverished state of the camp. They would be driven away from any sane settlement, never given quarter. Their domicile was the ruined world their masters had birthed.

They were likely the reason this horror was here. And now…it was hungry.

“I smell death.”

With the man’s remaining arm now attached, Loch fought the primal urge to run as the monster’s body twisted to look in his direction. The deer: it could smell it.

“Are you there?”

The monster’s new hands reached towards Loch’s hiding place, grasping the air like they could not wait to tear him to pieces. The hunter now had a clear view of the monster’s face. Its stolen mask did nothing to cover or hid the large glass-like orbs that were its eyes.

Hoping it could be put down like a shuck, Loch drew back his bow and let the arrow fly. The creature erupted in pained laughter as the weapon hit true, bringing forth a fountain of dark crimson. At the same instant, Loch bolted, trying to reach some place of safety.

“Why do you wound me?” The laughing voice of the monster echoed through the woods.

“Do you not see I’m one of you?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Then came a terrible thundering and shuffling, like hundreds of men were chasing Loch through the woods. It was gaining, able to flow over and around obstacles. Mocking laughter made the hair on the hunter’s neck stand on end.

Frantically, Loch looked for some place to escape the creature. He knew that he was getting further from the village with each step but turning could prove fatal. The crashing was dangerously close now; the creature must have been right on his heels.

Caw!

Loch dove to the left when he heard the crow cry. It had traveled with him so far, trusting seemed like his only hope. It proved to be expedient; there was a sound like closing sheers as the monster’s jaws snapped shut where his head had been.

The momentum of the creature carried it onwards as it roared in frustration. Loch scrambled to his feet and looked at the legion of legs marching past. Already, he could tell the monster was longer than ten or more horses with yet more unseen. He didn’t have time to stand there, horrified. The monster was turning, lining itself up for another attack.

Loch sprinted again, this time towards the village. Movement up ahead caught Loch’s eye. It was the crow, loudly cawing as it banked to a patch of trees that were thick enough to slow the monster down. Loch agreed, following the bird as he scraped between two trees, continuing as fast as he could.

A scream of frustration peeled out from the creature.

“Come back let me embrace you.”

The hunter only pushed harder, focusing only on escape. Dark shapes of tree trunks loomed out of the darkness, but they all turned to a dull blur. He scarcely noticed as he returned to the main road and saw lights from the wall ahead.

“Halt! Who goes there?” shouted the night watchman.

“Loch the hunter! Monster!”

Caw. The crow agreed.

The watchman shouted something to the other side of the wall, and the heavy gate made from oak logs swung outward ever so slightly. Loch squeezed through the opening before collapsing from exhaustion. Three burly men from the village pulled the gate closed once the hunter was safe; sliding the large beams to hold the gate shut into place.

Then, they climbed the ladders to the top of the wall and drew their bows, keeping lookout with the watchman.

“What in Moriai is that?” One of them exclaimed in revulsion.

“Loose!” The watchman yelled.

Four bowstrings twanged in the darkness, followed by another scream of pain.

“It’s retreating.”

Loch breathed a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet.

“Loch, what was that monster?” The watchman asked, climbing down from the wall.

In the fray, Loch hadn’t paused to see who was on watch that night, but now realized it was Ezry. They were roughly the same age; peers as they were growing up.

“You saw it same as I,” Loch replied between breaths. “I came upon it consuming corpses in a camp outside of the village.”

“Who were they?” Ezry asked.

Loch shook his head, “Followers of the old ways, I didn’t know them to be from here.”

The watchman nodded, “They came seeking shelter to praise Iladir; Provisin turned them away at the gate.”

“Damned fools brought it right to us,” One of the burly men, Tavir spat.

“Go wake Provisin, he needs to know there is a new monster about,” Ezry ordered.

“Right,” Tavir said.

“Wait,” Loch said, “There is something else; tell him it spoke.”

“It spoke? Are you sure?” Ezry asked, puzzled and alarmed.

Loch nodded, grimly, “As clear as day.”

“I’ll tell him,” Tavir said, looking between Ezry and Loch uneasily before setting off.

“Waslen, go tell the other watchmen the same.”

Another of the gatekeepers nodded in agreement, and climbed the wall again, circling around to tell the others.

“At least it seems your hunt was successful,” Ezry proclaimed, looking at the deer still tied to Loch’s shoulders.

“It is a tale I’ll have to tell you sometime,” Loch said with a grin.

“Of that, I’m sure. Now go home and get some rest; I’m sure Amela will be happy to see you.”

Loch nodded as Ezry went to return to his post. In turn, the hunter turned and set off down the streets of the settlement. Most were dark save for a few who had lit candles to peer out at the commotion. After passing four homes, Loch turned down a narrower street that carried him near the edge of the town.

Finally, the Crow could relax; the human was back to its nest. It watched from a vantage point on a roof across the dirt road as Loch knocked and called out to announce his presence. After a moments delay, the bar lock slid to the side, and the door swung open. A woman with fiery hair swept Loch up in an embrace before smaller humans clambered through to hug Loch as well. Biding his time, the Crow lifted its wings, waiting. And then the moment came, as the hunter’s family moved to return into their wooden nest, the bird lighted from it’s perch. Low it flew along the ground, tucking in its wings to slip into the home before flaring them wide again to soar to a stop on the edge of a table.

“The crow is back!” Jasha squealed with delight, running over to pet the bird who politely bowed its head.

“You know this crow?” Loch asked his daughter.

“It landed in the garden when you went hunting,” Oren answered, joining his sister in gently running their hands down the bird’s back.

“I tried to shoo it away, but it wouldn’t leave,” Amela answered, helping untie the deer from Loch’s back.

“Did it eat the seeds?” Loch asked, astounded by the revelation.

“No, it just watched and let the children pet it. Then it flew south.”

“Then this bird is even stranger than I thought. Oren, fetch it some bread. It can rest here tonight.”

“You’re letting it stay?” Amela asked, slightly surprised.

“I shall tell you the tale on the morrow, but this bird is why I have the deer to show for my hunt and for my very life.”

“It saved your life?”

“Unbelievable, I know. But I pledge my honor on it.”

“Then it seems I owe you for bringing my husband home safe,” Amela said, bending down to pet the bird, who greedily drank in the attention.

It gave a soft croak, almost as if exchanging a pleasantry.

“It’s late, and I need rest,” Loch said, setting his equipment near the door.

“Do you want any food yourself?” Amela asked, watching as the bird carefully tore pieces from the bread the young Lochsson brought it.

“What I need more is sleep; I’ll still be hungry by daybreak.”

“Aye, I’m sure you will. Alright children, off to your room,” Amela said, gently gathering the two older children who seemed enamored with the bird.

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

Peaceful sleep soon overtook the Hunter’s home. The Crow watched over Loch and Amela’s bed as the knighted toiled on, knowing its brethren would be soon to come.

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

Loch woke to the pleasant smells of food drawing him from the sea of unconsciousness. Sitting up, he saw a pot simmering over the fire, promising a hearty meal.

“Papa!” Came the cries of excited children as they smothered their bleary-eyed father. “Papa, the bird’s gone!”

Lock looked at the table where the creature had roosted, and sure enough it was devoid of a feathered resident.

“Did you release it?” Loch asked Amela who was toiling to prepare breakfast.

“No, it was gone when I awoke.”

The disappearance of the bird was the subject of discussion for the entirety of the morning as the family set to work butchering the deer. No one could explain such a miraculous vanishing; all the shutters were latched, and the chimney was too narrow.

It weighed on the hunter’s mind as he went about his day, taking a portion of the butchered animal to the fletcher to replenish his arrows, and another to the baker for bread, and a third to the smith who had repaired their tools. Precious little was left from the animal; meaning that Loch would have to hunt again.

That wasn’t a promising proposition, especially not with that creature on the loose. Provisin, the town Regent had met with Loch to get a fresh description of the creature, doing little to raise hopes of killing it soon.

But that was a matter for the town watch, not the hunters.

Amela had raised the idea of exchanging some of the meat they decided to keep for dried fish. Loch agreed, hoping he could potentially speak to the fishermen for hiring him on for a season; hopefully keeping him away from that monster until it could be dealt with.

And so, as the day’s end approached, Loch arrived at the docks that reached out like wooden fingers into the lake. He could see the great form of Iladir himself lying in the center of the water. His colossal skeleton draped in moss and vines.

The crater the god had made formed the Cairn Ring that encircled the forest and marked the edge of Iladir Wood. It was a macabre reminder of the age of old, but also a reminder that they served their own destinies, not the whim of celestial beings.

Loch made his way to the edge of the town to a small shack built right against the perimeter wall that extended out into the lake. Borvir had been open to bartering for venison before, and Loch hoped the fisherman would be again.

As the hunter readied himself to knock, the Crow let out a loud croak.

“So, there you are. I was worried you had run off,” Loch said, looking over to where the bird sat on an old rowboat.

The bird cried again, taking off and flying towards the corpse in the center of the lake before coming back to rest on the boat, calling out for the hunter.

Loch approached the edge of the waters where the boat was run aground, untethered to the dock that was nearby.

Again, the bird made the motion of flying out and back again.

The hunter’s eyes narrowed, “You want me to go to Iladir?”

The bird cried again, repeating the motion.

“How smart are you, little crow? Can you understand me?” Loch was sill bewildered by this bird, but he felt it was owed something, even if that meant making himself a fool.

CAW.

“Lift your wing.”

Frustrated, there was still the lack of trust, the Crow lifted a wing, pointing towards Iladir.

This bird was not normal, of that there was now no shadow of a doubt in Loch’s mind. Knowing he was possibly abandoning sanity; the hunter pushed the boat out into deeper water before jumping inside and taking up the oars.

Crying with excitement, the bird flew in circles around Loch, who was unaware of the dozens of similar creatures descending from above, congregating on the centuries-dead remains of Iladir.

It took a few minutes to cross the waters, and longer still when the Crow guided Loch to the far side of the fallen god. Iladir had landed on his side, almost in the fetal position. His great ribcage formed a cavernous space, with moss and lichen forming a living canopy.

Trusting his feathered friend, Lock rowed his boat into the cavern of the giant chest. Much to Loch’s surprise, there was dry land inside. In fact, there was an entire island with several trees growing in the darkness there.

“Where have you brought me?” Loch asked aloud.

That was when the hunter noticed that the two were not alone. Crows, ravens, and magpies rested on every available branch, watching as Loch disembarked the boat.

His eyes traced the crow’s flight as he circled the chamber once, crying out as if announcing Loch’s arrival. Then it angled itself down, its form changing; growing larger as it landed on a large rock next to a raven and magpie, both far larger than others of their kind.

All the birds were silent, except for the Crow that Loch knew, who seemed to call Loch forward.

Feeling reality abandon him, Loch walked forward into the center of the clearing which the trees encircled.

The Crow gave a cry, its voice unnaturally deep. Loch felt the sound roar through his form, echoing through the chamber. All around him, the crows cawed once in unison. Next was the large Magpie, who gave a call much like the Crow’s. Then the magpies in the trees cried out in one voice.

From it’s perch on the rock, the Raven looked over the stunned Hunter who didn’t know if he should run or not. It seemed inquisitive, distrusting, looking for flaws. But then, it too gave a call, the loudest and deepest of the three. It seemed to shake Iladir’s corpse. The ravens seconded the call, which seemed to signal the others to take flight.

With the sound of a thunderstorm, thousands of wings began to beat as the birds took to the air. They didn’t fly away, but instead began to circle the island.

They began to fly in formation, a funnel of black closing in from all sides. Light seemed to flee as Loch could feel old magic began to stir. Thinking this could be his end, he turned to run, but a force of wind stopped him, pulling him off the ground.

He tried to yell out, pleading with the birds to stop, but they only called out in reply, the sound hitting him like a hammer from all sides, drowning out his voice.

The human continued to rise until he was held aloft in the center of the swirling mass. Through the wind, he could hear a quiet voice.

When the birds were given colors

The Winged Queen called them by name

Asking the colors they desired

One by one they came

And one by one they received splendor

Until all that remained were the Three Brothers

Crow, Raven, Magpie

They asked for red, and the Queen replied there was no red

They asked for blue, but none was left

They asked for green, but none was left

Then they asked for anything, but all the color had been taken by the others

That was when Night spoke

Saying come to me

And I will paint you in my colors

And set you apart for greatness

Loch’s eyes landed on the three large birds from the rock. Their wings beat fiercely to hold them in place, level with the human. The Crow gave a cry, and Lock watched with wonder as the Raven and Magpie dissolved into light that infused with the body of the Crow.

With one last cry, the Crow flew forward, its body becoming a purple light as it speared into Loch’s chest.

The human cried out in pain, consciousness slipping away, as everything faded to black.