Paths Not Taken
I didn’t fare any better. Marcellus hit me expertly behind the ear with a leadweighted cosh even as his wife sold me out to Herne, and I was already on my knees and only half-conscious when the Court hit me from all sides. And for a long time there was only the impact of blows and kicks, and the pain of flesh torn by tooth and claw, and blood spilling thickly onto the dirty ground around me.
Eventually they tired of their sport, or Herne called them off, and the monstrous Court reluctantly drew back, resuming their previous positions around the perimeter of the clearing. They were panting and laughing, and all of them had some of my and Suzie’s blood on them. We were hauled to our feet and held roughly in position before the Throne by the pig-headed men. Herne sat regally before us and regarded the damage his people had done with smiling satisfaction. There was blood on my face and in my mouth, and I hurt everywhere I could feel, but my head was already clearing. I’d been worked over by professionals, and this bunch of animals didn’t even come close. Let me get my thoughts together, and I’d show this wood god a few tricks he’d never forget. I grinned savagely at Herne, ignoring the blood that spilled down my chin from split lips, and for a moment he looked uncertain. He had made a mistake in not letting his creatures kill me while they could; and I vowed I would make him and them regret such foolishness.
And then I looked across at Suzie, and forgot about everything but her. Her leathers were torn and bloody, and her head hung low. Only the pig-headed men kept her upright. Blood dripped steadily from her damaged face. They’d really done a job on her; because Suzie Shooter would never stop struggling as long as there was an ounce of fight left in her. And so she hung between the pig men like a bloody rag doll, and didn’t answer me when I called her name. Marcellus and Livia laughed at me, and the Court laughed, too, in their various ways. I fought madly against the hands holding me; but there were too many of them, and my head hurt too much for me to concentrate enough to work my usual tricks. I couldn’t even get my hands near my coat pockets.
They hit me some more, just because they could, and I tried not to cry out. But of course I did. After a while, I realised dully that they had stopped, and Herne was speaking to me. I raised my head and glared at him.
“Lilith’s son,” said Herne, in a thick gloating voice. “You have no idea how pleased we all are, to have you here. In our presence, in our power. There is no name more hated to us than that of Lilith, who created the city Nightside, in the name of absolute freedom, then banned us from it. Because we are wild, and like to break the things we play with. Because we would tear down the city, and stamp out the human civilization she favours. There is the city and there is the wild, and only one can triumph. We have always known that. Lilith offered freedom for all, but only on her terms. And only we were wise enough to see the contradiction in that, so only we were banished. Lilith has made us the past, a thing to be passed by, to be superseded and forgotten, and we will have our revenge for that.”
“This is all news to me,” I said, as clearly as I could. “But then, Mother and I have never talked much. What do you want with me, Herne?”
“To hurt you, and thus by proxy hurt Lilith,” said Herne. “You shall be the prey in our Wild Hunt, and we shall chase and harry you all through the wild woods, hurting and killing you by inches, driving you on till you can go no further. And while you grovel before us and beg for mercy, we will tear you apart. Only your head shall be left intact, that we might send it to your mother, as a sign of our regard for her.”
“She won’t know me,” I said. “My death will mean nothing to her.”
Herne laughed, and the monstrous creatures of his Court laughed with him.
“This is all about me,” I said. “You don’t need the woman for this. Let her go … and I promise you, I’ll give you the best run you’ve ever seen.”
“I think not,” Herne said easily. “She is your woman, and so by hurting her we hurt you. So she runs first. And when you see the terrible things we have done to her, it will give you reason to ran even faster.”
“You know,” said Suzie, lifting her beaten face, “I am getting really pissed off with everyone assuming I’m Taylor’s woman.”
Her elbow shot back into a pig man’s stomach, and he fell backwards, squealing loudly. She broke free of the hands that held her and kicked a pig man square in the nuts, actually lifting him off the ground. He folded up and hit the ground without a sound. She grabbed another pig man by the head and twisted it all the way round till the neck snapped loudly. She threw the body aside, and headed for Herne on his Throne. The pig men swarmed around her, trying to drag her down by sheer force of numbers, but she was tall and proud and strong, and would not yield to them. Her burning gaze was fixed on Herne, and step by step she forced her way towards him. I struggled fiercely against the hands holding me, but I was never as strong as Suzie Shooter. And I’d never been as proud of her, as I watched her fight against such odds and refuse to fall. And then the giant Hob In Chains stepped forward, and one of his long iron chains snapped out to wrap itself around Suzie’s throat. The cold links tightened cruelly, choking all the breath and strength right out of her, until finally she fell to her knees, and the pig men brought her under control again.
“We really should be leaving now, Lord Herne,” said Marcellus, a little nervously. “We have brought you a great gift and beg only a single boon in gratitude.”
“You find me in a giving mood,” Herne said lazily. “What do you want?”
“Power,” said Livia, her voice cold and flat and vicious. “Power to revenge ourselves upon our enemies, to spread fear and suffering against all those who brought us low. Make us into Beings of Power, Lord Herne, that we might join your Court, and prey on Man as you do.”
“And is that the wish of both of you?” said Herne.
“It is,” said Marcellus, his voice thick with anticipation. “Give us Power, that we might never be parted, and we shall see that all suffer as we have suffered.”
“As you wish, so shall it be,” said Herne, and the disdainful amusement in his voice really should have warned them. Certainly they sensed something, for all their stupid wide grins, and they moved protectively together. Herne smiled upon them. “You shall be a Power, together forever, my curse to unleash upon Man and his Nightside city.”
He laughed, and again his whole monstrous Court laughed with him, a horrible hellish sound. Herne gestured abruptly, and Marcellus and Livia slammed together. They both cried out as their bodies pressed so tight their ribs cracked and broke. Their flesh stirred and became fluid, merging and mixing together. Their faces melted into each other. They were screaming by then, in a single awful voice. And all too soon there before the wood god stood a single joined creature, twice the size of a man, with protruding bones and too many joints, and a horrible mad gaze burning in its single set of eyes. The creature tried to speak with its single mouth, but shock had driven speech from it, for the moment, so it mewled and howled piteously. It fell forward onto all fours, unable to find the balance in its single form, shaking its malformed head again and again.
“Go forth, and be a plague in the Nightside city,” said Herne. “All who suffer shall be drawn to you, and from their pain you will find the Power you crave. Hurt and horror and despair will make you strong, and the suffering you cause in turn shall be your vengeance on an unfeeling world. And by my gift, you shall never be parted again. That is what you wanted, after all.”
He sat back on his Throne and gestured contemptuously, and the creatures of his Court drove the new-born Power out of the clearing. It scrabbled away on all fours, like an animal, howling and screeching like a mad thing, its long torment just begun. And of all of us there, only I knew that someday it would be called the Lamentation, the Saint of Suffering; and I would be the one to destroy it.
Time has a great fondness for circles.
Hob In Chains stepped forward suddenly, and all eyes went immediately to his great form. He jerked cruelly on his chain, an
d Suzie was pulled forward to kneel before Herne. All the fight had been beaten out of her, for the moment. Herne looked thoughtfully at the giant with the boar’s head and nodded his permission to speak.
“We have this woman for the Hunt,” said Hob In Chains. Its voice was grunts and squeals, only made clear to me by Old Father Time’s magic, but still it was a harsh and ugly thing to hear; the sound of something that should never have learned to talk. “Let us give the son to Lilith. Trade him back to her. Who knows what she might grant us in return? To spare him torment and death.”
There were barks and yells of agreement all around the Court, but most stayed silent, watching Herne for his response. And the wood god was already shaking his great shaggy head.
“Lilith is too proud to yield to anyone, even over her own flesh and blood. She would never give up an ounce of power, no matter what we threatened to do to her son. She’d probably kill him herself rather than have him used against her. No; all that is left to us is a chance to hurt her, by destroying something that belongs to her. To show our contempt for her city and her restraints. A chance to prove that whatever she can create, we can destroy, as we will one day tear down her damned city.”
“I really wouldn’t bank on her being that upset,” I said, in my most reasonable voice. “I’m from the future. Many centuries from now. She doesn’t even know I exist yet.”
The Court stirred uneasily as they tried to make sense of that, and again they looked to Herne for guidance. They weren’t really equipped for abstract thought. Herne rubbed slowly at his bearded chin.
“I hear the truth in your voice … but past or present or future, you are still her son. She will recognise that in you.”
“All right,” I said, thinking quickly on my feet. “How about this—since I’m from the future, I know what’s going to happen to you, Herne. I know your future and your fate; and you really need to know what’s coming if you’re to stand any chance of avoiding it.”
Herne considered this, while his whole Court looked confusedly at each other, then he nodded to the pig men holding me, and they beat me savagely, driving me back down onto my knees, my arms wrapped around my head to protect it. Suzie cried out and tried to reach me, but the iron chain around her throat tightened again, until she had to stop, to breathe again. I retreated deep inside myself, away from the pain. Finally, the beating stopped, and I slowly raised my head to look at Herne. I tried to speak, but all I could do was drool fresh blood from my slack mouth. He laughed in my face.
“Nothing matters as much as the pain and horror you will suffer, at my hands and by my will. Revenge will be mine.” He stood up from his Throne, and raised his hands above his horned head. “Let there be a Hunt! A Wild Hunt, of old standing and most ancient tradition!”
The whole Court roared and bayed their approval, stamping their feet and hooves and paws upon the ground, and raising their faces and snouts and muzzles to the full moon above the clearing. There was a new hunger and urgency on the air, hot and heady, pulsing like a giant heartbeat. The fever of the chase was in their blood and in their heads, and they could already taste the bloody slaughter that would end it. They looked at me with hot and happy eyes, and their musky stench was thick on the air.
“We shall start with the woman,” said Herne, smiling almost fondly down on Suzie. “A lesser sport, of course, but still a sweet and savage run, to pique our appetite for the main event. Look your last upon your woman, Lilith’s son. When you see her next, or what’s left of her, you probably won’t recognise her.”
He laughed at me, savouring the thought of my horror and helplessness, and so did his Court. But I am John Taylor, and I am never helpless. I pushed the pain and weakness out of my head, thinking furiously. I couldn’t let this happen. Couldn’t let Suzie suffer and die on my behalf. I had sworn to bleed and suffer and die before I let that happen, and I meant every word of it.
“What’s the matter, Herne?” I said loudly. “Haven’t you got the guts for a real Hunt? Haven’t you got the balls to go after Lilith’s son, that you have to work up your courage by first hunting a woman?”
The laughter broke off abruptly. The whole Court looked at Herne. He strode forward, raising his hand to strike me, and I laughed right into his face. He paused, suddenly uncertain. I shouldn’t have had any fight left in me. I should have been broken in body and spirit by now. But I was Lilith’s son, after all… and for the first time Herne began to get a feeling for what that really meant. He looked round his Court, to see how they were taking this, and saw uncertainty building in their eyes, too. I had planted a seed in his mind and in theirs, that he was only proposing to hunt Suzie to put off the moment when he would have to raise his courage to hunt me. I’d challenged his pride and his daring, in front of everyone, and he knew he couldn’t afford to seem weak in front of his people. In front of Lilith’s son.
“Very well,” he said finally, and he gestured to the pig men, to hold me on my knees so he could stick his face right into mine. I’d forgotten how short he was. “Forget the woman. She shall die here and now in front of you, and you shall come to envy her swift and easy death, as we drive you screaming and bleeding through the wild woods, ripping and tearing at your hide every foot of the way, drawing every last drop of blood and suffering and horror out of you, killing you by inches… until you can’t run any more—and then we’ll rip you open and eat your entrails as you watch.”
“Hell with that,” I said flatly. “If you kill her, I won’t run. I’ll just stand here and die, to spite you, and refuse you the pleasure of the Hunt. No. The deal is, you get me instead of her. You let her live, and I promise you a run like you’ve never seen before.”
Herne scowled. “You think you can make a deal with me? You think you can enforce terms with Herne the Hunter?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m Lilith’s son.”
He laughed suddenly, and turned away from me to bark orders at his Court. Hob In Chains released his hold on Suzie, and the iron chain slithered back to him like a shining snake. There was much milling about and raised growling voices, as the various creatures argued over orders of precedence, and the proposed route of the Hunt, and other matters I was too tired and too hurting to follow. I concentrated all my strength and will into moving slowly across the clearing on my knees, to join Suzie. It seemed to take forever, but eventually we were kneeling side by side. We leaned against each other, shoulder to shoulder, holding each other up. The pig men watched us carefully, but no-one had given them orders to do anything else. So Suzie and I sat together for a while, comforting each other with our presence, our blood-streaked faces close together.
“Not one of your better ideas, this, Taylor,” she said finally.
“I’d have to agree,” I said, testing my teeth with the tip of my tongue, to see which ones were loose. “Don’t worry. I’ll get us out of this. I always do.”
“I’m in better shape than I look,” Suzie said quietly. “Werewolf blood, remember? My strength’s already coming back. All I need is for these swine to take their eyes off me for a moment, and…”
“They won’t,” I said. “They’ve done this before. And what could you do, anyway? Attack Herne, with one of those daggers you keep in your boots? You wouldn’t get within ten feet of him before his creatures dragged you down. You could run; but they’d catch you, and kill you. Eventually.”
“I wouldn’t ran, without you,” said Suzie.
“If I work this right, you won’t have to run,” I said. “I’ve got a plan.”
She smiled, briefly. “You always do, John.”
I closed my eyes for a while. I’d never felt so tired, so beaten down. “God, I feel bad, Suzie. I’m sorry I got you into this.”
“Stop it, John.” She sounded worried, for the first time. “You give up here, and we’re both dead.”
“I’m all right,” I said, forcing my eyes open.
She looked me over, her cold face controlled as ever as she took in the extent
of my injuries. “You’ve looked better, Taylor. I don’t think I like the odds on this one. You’re in no shape to run before the Wild Hunt. Don’t think you’d even necessarily make it out of the clearing. You’d better let me do it. Once the werewolf factor really kicks in, I can outrun anything they send after me.”
“No you couldn’t,” I said. “Anyone else, maybe, but not Herne and his Court. They live for the hunt. You have to let me do this, Suzie. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
She looked at me for a long while, her face cold as always. “You don’t have to do this, John. Not for me.”
“Yes, I do,” I said.
I couldn’t tell her why. I couldn’t tell her I was ready to die, to save her from the future I’d seen for her. I couldn’t tell her I needed to do this, to prove to myself that I wasn’t just the ruthless bastard Tommy Oblivion had named me. To prove I was something more than my mother’s son. So I would run, and maybe die, to save her life and my soul.
And besides, I had a plan.
I looked round sharply, as I realised the clearing had suddenly gone quiet. Every animal and creature in the Court had frozen where they were, all the beasts and Beings watching intently as Herne the Hunter and the Neanderthal known as Tomias Squarefoot squared off against each other, glaring unflinchingly into each other’s face, neither prepared to give an inch. There was a new tension in the clearing, a clash of wills, and seniority. Herne was scowling fiercely, Squarefoot as calm as ever, but there was an ancient dignity and steadfastness in the Neanderthal that the wood god, for all his power, couldn’t quite match.
“I am the oldest here,” said Tomias Squarefoot, in a voice slow and steady as a flowing river. “I was here before you, Herne. I walked this land, this forest, long before there was a wood god, or any of the Forces you have gathered around you. I was here before the Nightside. I alone remember when the forest was truly alive, and the trees still talked, with slow, heavy voices. I remember the spirits of stone and water and earth. I have seen all my people die, and vanish, and the rise of Man. You came after Man, wood god, though you prefer not to remember that, I am the oldest here, and I say you have forgotten the way of the Wild Hunt.”