Page 59 of Jailer to the Death God
We’re in a valley between some low hills whose slopes gleam with fresh snow. Jutting black rocks and scruffy evergreens dot the hillsides. Between the hills I can make out some bushes and short trees, just smudges against the snow.
I open the carriage door a crack.
An eerie silence reigns.
“It took Cadz,” says one of my guards.
“What the fuck was it?” another asks.
“Silence,” says Arawn.
He’s taking off his coat. Then he removes his vest and his shirt.
When his huge wings unfold, three of my guards gasp and swear. The other two are the guards who came along on the night of the ritual. They already know who Arawn really is.
“The hound is here because of me,” Arawn says, while antlers branch from his dark hair and his skin shifts to jade-green. “I will speak to him.”
I bite my knuckle, centering myself with the pain. This will be over in a moment. Of the two hounds who rebelled against him, there’s only one left—the one who fled last night. Arawn can scare him off again, easily.
But my heart breaks for my dead bodyguard.
Two red dots wink to life in the dark middle distance.
There it is. A rogue hound of the Unlife.
And then another pair of red dots, and another, and another.
I count eight pairs of eyes.
Shit.
26
Eight of my oldest hounds are out there in the dark on the left side of the road, closing in. I would bet my furnace the other two are somewhere to the right, waiting to attack while the larger group distracts me.
All the members of my original pack have turned on me. I must have angered them by killing the hound last night. I didn’t have a choice, but that doesn’t matter to them. They consider it sufficient cause to openly challenge me. Not to mention the fact that I’m more vulnerable right now. They’ve seen their chance, and they won’t let it pass.
I face them, standing as tall as I can in this form, my wings outspread. I summon my stag’s-head mask, and it seals to my face, adding another set of antlers and a bony visage to my already imposing appearance. The mask is a reminder to them of the day I first turned them from men into hounds.
That was a permanent transformation, not a temporary one like I performed on Hessie. A permanent transformation cannot be undone, though it has allowed each hound to alter certain characteristics of their appearance over the centuries. But I can’t turn the hounds into anything else, like beetles I could easily squash. Nor will the sleep of death have any effect on creatures of the Unlife. More’s the pity.
The five human guards are practically pissing themselves with terror at the sight of me.
“Your Majesty!” calls one of them, his voice cracking. “Your orders?”
I hear the shift of skirts, the creak of the carriage step as the Queen descends. “Gentlemen, this is the death god, Arawn. He and ‘Vaughn the Healer’ are one and the same. His good work among the plague victims is real and true. There is nothing else you need to know in this moment. You will stand your ground until he commands you, and follow his orders as if they were my own.”
“Yes, Majesty,” chorus the guards.
I dare not glance at the little Queen; I must watch the hounds, listen for their howls, and anticipate their movements. But I almost smile at the calmness of her voice, the masterful way she yields command of her men to me. The act makes her no less their leader, no less worthy and strong. It’s a mark of wisdom that she knows when to trust me with her defense.
The hounds are moving, pacing back and forth in the shadows as if they’re waiting for something.
“Three of you go to the other side of the carriage,” I tell the guards. “Warn me if you see the slightest movement.”
They obey at once.
I stride forward a few paces and call out to the hounds among the hills, in my echoing, divine voice. “This rebellion is Macha’s doing. She has twisted your minds. Perhaps she has made you promises of how different your existence will be under her rule. But those are false words. Have I not been a just lord to you? You have served me well, and in exchange I have granted you some freedom of form. I’ve allowed you to hunt in the mortal plane, and to run free throughout large areas of Annwn. After the thousands of years we’ve shared, you would turn on me now? Go back to the Unlife, and I may forgive you.”
