“I write this journal for my successor. If and when I die or am incapable of taking care of this haven, watching from the distant hill, walking the paths, and guarding this realm, I hope this journal and the others like it may help you understand. Much rests with you, and more rests upon you. Let this knowledge guide you and let it be a light in the darkness.”

The preface of a journal found Under Stonehedge, written circa 1250.

Chapter 1- The Big Gray Man and the Walker

1237 A.D.

On the slopes of Ben Macdui

Father was gone. He had been missing for more than three weeks now. I knew it, Mother knew it, even Skye knew it. My sister, the oldest girl, had turned 10 only days before Father had gone missing, but she was what Mother called an “old soul”. She hadn’t cried or tried to rush out into the mists to look for him. She just did her best to take the load off of Mother. Like I had to now.

Eion was dead. It had happened only a few days ago. He had come in from the countryside, fresh from the search for Father, with some nasty scratches. That night he had sprung a fever and the morning after, he was gone. Skye had cried then. She had cried for our older brother, cried for the injustice. I had wanted to join her, but I couldn’t. I was the oldest son now. I had to show strength. I had to find our herds. I had to bring them in. We needed them if we were to survive this coming winter. I had to go into the woods.

I grabbed the essentials, everything Eion and Father had used. I had only started going with them a few winters ago. I took supplies from Father’s closet and Eion’s. They didn’t need them anymore. I took my staff, a good piece of hardwood, standing a little over my head. It wasn’t the match for Father’s in size, but I also couldn’t use his. It just wasn’t right. I took some food, some water, and the pocket tinderbox Eion had made last winter. As the final thing, I grabbed Father's long knife and Eion’s hatchet. The knife was longer than my forearm. Father had never let me touch it before. He barely used it himself, except to butcher the animals, but it was the only knife I could take. Mother and Skye had to use the others for kitchen work and I wasn’t going to take them.

As I got ready, Skye came over. Her long, black hair and dark hazel eyes watched me. She didn't say anything as I turned toward the door, only holding up Eion’s winter cloak. I took it. It would be good to have in the fall chill and I could use it to make shelter. I hugged her and bent down so I could be eye-to-eye with her.

“Help Mother. This pregnancy is hard. I’ll be gone only for a day or two, ok?”

Skye nodded, her dark eyes serious. “God be with you.”

I smiled. Hopefully, He would be.

I opened the heavy wooden door and stepped out into the clearing around our home. The paddock for the animals was around back, the mists ahead. I walked into a thick fog bank, the watery morning sun doing little to light the gray. I looked back only once. The peaceful little cottage. I had to bring the animals back. Somehow.

***

The lowlands were quiet, the fog rolling in and around the low brush. I followed the paths Father had shown me, the winding trails we used to drive sheep up and down the lower slopes of the mountain. After walking for a few hours, I reached the valley floor, the mountain walls rising around me. By midday, I had walked the length of the valley, following the streams. In the distance, I caught sight of dirty gray shapes.

Elation filled me. I had found them! And it hadn’t even been that hard! I sped up, glancing at the sky to check the sun’s position. An hour or two past noon. I’d be better off staying with the herd overnight and driving them up the valley in the morning.

As I neared, a large shape emerged from the herd. Stone, his gray-colored fur blending in with the sheep until the last minute, approached me silently. I dropped to my knees in front of him and hugged him. Tears stung my eyes.

“Thanks, boy. You kept them together.” My words were muffled by his coat, but his tail wagged behind him.

***

Hours later, after the sun had set, I sat huddled in the dubious comfort of my cloak. I’d used my staff and some of the taller brush to spread it into a windbreak, just as Eion had shown me. I sat on a thick pad of yet more brush, cut and stacked to provide me some bedding. I ate some of the dried mutton I had carried and watched the stars when I could see them through the clouds and mists. Stone kept me company.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Stone had kept the herd mostly together simply by being there. Sheep may be stupid, but they were not dumb enough to run away from their protector. Now, the stinking mass of bodies had surrounded Stone and me.

My mind drifted, drowsily letting my thoughts flow. Father, Eion, Mother, Skye. The youngsters, Ben, Tilla, and Avah. The unborn baby. The mountains, the streams. All flowed through my mind.

I jolted back to full conciseness when Stone lept to his feet. He stared into the dark, focusing on something out past the herd. The sheep moved, bumbling into one another, trying to get behind Stone and me. They moved farther up the valley, away from whatever was there.

I saw…a man? But not. It was man-shaped, standing on two legs and with two arms, but the thing was easily double, maybe triple, my height. Its arms hung to its knees and its head was huge, oversized for even its massive body. I felt the thing’s glare as it stood, still as the mountains, not 20 paces away.

My hands shook as they drew the hatchet and long knife. Stone was a comforting weight against my legs, his chest shaking with an inaudible rumble. We stared at the thing. Time dragged on.

Minutes ticked by. Nothing stirred but the wind and the sheep.

Eventually, my legs and arms grew tired. I still gripped the weapons, my hands still shook, and my heart pounded. But my leg was cramping, the muscles tensed to run for too long.

I took a chance. I eased out of my half crouch and took a single step to try to ease my leg.

I never stood a chance.

One moment the thing was 20 paces away. The next, it was behind me. I didn’t even comprehend it had moved until I felt the splash of hot blood on my face. Stone was…eviscerated. My poor dog, my friend who had been with us since my birth was…It’s probably for the best it was dark.

I whirled in time to see a sheep just…come apart. It looked like a butcher, just sped up. The head came off, the legs and everything just separated. The poor thing didn’t even have time to bleat. Gore fell to the dirt. I felt rage rush through me. Anger, but more, sharp, and cold. I felt the temperature drop, as if in response to my rage. Crystals of ice floated in the air.

I didn’t even have time to use my weapons or my rage when it came for me. A moment of pain, so agonizing I collapsed, unconscious. My last sight was of the thing, the monster, standing, holding something up to its mouth. Eating.

***

I woke up maybe 30 seconds later, still wracked with waves of agony. I could feel nothing from the middle of my chest and down. The slick sound of a liquid spreading and oozing around me, the cool feeling of my limbs, and the lightheadedness made it easy to guess. I was dying.

I heard nothing. No movement, no sheep, no…no Stone. Nothing but the wind, the ever-present wind. It was calm. Peaceful. I could only hope the damned thing wouldn’t go up the valley. That it wouldn’t go after what little of my family that still lived. I prayed to the Lord in Heaven that it wouldn’t.

As the night got dimmer, I felt a soft hand on my cheek. The monster was back! I panicked. I grabbed at the knife where it had fallen near me and drove it upward, hoping to hit the thing in the eye or the neck.

I shouldn’t have bothered, for all the good it did me. The knife was taken from me like I was a babe waving a toy. A soft, comforting voice chuckled.

“A fighter. Brave, to stay out here a night. Just your bad luck to come across my prey.”

The voice was like the…it’s hard to describe. Imagine the sound of walking. The crunch of gravel, of dirt compressing. The soft sound of the breeze, the soft rustle of plants. The sounds of nature and travel rolled into one. That was what the voice sounded like. Not a real sound, but…comforting.

I may have groaned. Maybe. I couldn’t be sure.

The voice chuckled again, but this time tinged with sadness. Hands, larger than my entire head, gently skimmed my body, pausing at my back. Or maybe I just couldn’t feel them. I watched, eyes dim, as massive hands covered in thick red fur skimmed down my legs, looking for injury. The voice spoke again.

“What’s your name child?”

I forced my voice out with difficulty. “Callum, sir”

The voice responded “Callum. The dove. Are you a peaceful man, Callum?”

I found it easier to talk this time, “Haven’t really had to be, sir. But I don’t go looking for fights. Have enough going on now to worry about.”

“But you would fight if you had to.” This wasn’t a question. “A good position to take. Horrible thing, fighting. Most of the time. I am Taratain”

I didn’t have an answer to that. This was a lot for me to comprehend and I was feeling light. Like I could float away at any time. My eyelids drifted downward.

The voice spoke again, “Stay with me, Callum. Cal. The damned thing took your spine, boy. Just ripped it out. It’s probably going to follow your scent back to where you’re from.”

That brought clarity rushing back. I was dead. My family might be too. I flailed my arms, my voice failing me.

“Easy boy, easy. Now, I could fix this. I could make you strong, make you whole. It is my fault that the itheadair na feòla is here. The frozen heart snuck past me. I am sorry. But to make you whole, there must be balance.” The voice was soft but quick; almost the being wanted to make use of my moment of lucidity. “There must be balance. If I do this, you will be whole, maybe better than whole. But you will owe me. Three favors. Unrestricted.”

I shook. I had no choice. My family could be dying. I would give anything. Three favors were nothing. I nodded.

“Are you sure? There is no going back, no getting out of this pact. It will be signed in your lifeblood. To break it would be to die, to have never existed.”

I nodded, the movement feeble, “Yes”

That word, spoken feebly, a mere breath of air, consigned me to 8 centuries and counting of life and power. I have power, magic, and life because of that word. I lost so much more. More than just about any normal person, practitioner, or otherwise, I have met in that time. But if I had to do it again, I would. I always would.