Forbidden Game 4: The Hunted
Prologue
Slowly and deliberately the shadow man with the crocodile eyes finished carving the new name into the rune stave. His tongue clicked unpleasantly against the roof of his mouth as he brought the tip of his serrated fingernail out of the wood-flesh with a flourish. A sinister smile stretched across his jagged jaws.
"Juuuuulian…" he whispered, the word an unpleasant hiss in the tense silence.
A collective whispering began, as soft as rustling branches. The other shadow men watched from the darkness, each pair of eyes luminous with their own intense malice, the hatred of centuries past. No mortal would ever have been able to decipher that language. It was too old. So ancient that it could have outlived the human race itself.
Though the conversation seemed to immerse all of them, each and every pair of eyes was determinedly fixated on the rune stave balanced precariously on the palm of the leader's hand. It pulsated softly with it's own primeval power, omitting a hidden electricity. On that rune stave laid the key to the lives of every deformed creature gathered around it, ancient names that glowed, dimly at first, then began to brighten. The light reflected in the leader's reptilian eyes and in one fluid motion he plunged the rune stave into the snow, standing back warily.
Rooted in the ground it seemed to undertake a life force of its own. The glowing intensified, it pulsed with waves of energy resonating like earthquake tremors, as if something were trying to escape.
Or someone.
Then suddenly there was a blinding flash that eclipsed everything in pure white.
White like fresh snow… White like death…
The light thickened turning into a hanging mist quickly cleared by the wind. In the place of where the rune stave had been materialised the form of a naked young man.
Born in perfection, a pale, unearthly and indescribably beautiful creature. A creature because nothing that perfect could have been human. He lay huddled on his side, his eyes closed, silvery-white hair playing softly on his face. His features displayed a calm that seemed beyond sleep, the kind of calm that could only be obtained through complete release. The shadow men watched him hungrily, their cruel, ancient eyes awaiting his awakening with baited silence. Awaiting the touch of his azure irises.
Like a sleeper heavily drugged, Julian slowly stirred, his heavy lashes lifting. At first there was nothing but white, then a blurry silhouette began to materialise.
"Jenny…" he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking slightly from neglect of use.
But of course it wasn't her. The figure was too tall, its features too sharp. There was no glowing golden aura about the thing stood before him, only the darkness of shadows. As his senses returned he could hear the mocking hiss of laughter rising around him, every creature crept out of the shadows, hideous bodies becoming visible. His ancestors. Conniving and sadistic, all of them merciless, all of them longing for blood.
A smaller shadow man resembling a withered grey foetus ran forward stopping close to Julian and resting his hands on his hair.
"Welcome back…" he sneered.
Indignantly Julian sat up, swiping at him with the back of his hand. The tiny creature leapt out of the way, untouched, with reflexes that its form suggested it was incapable of. Its laughter was like wheezing bellows.
The crocodile-eyed shadow man shook his head in mock disapproval, "Glamour yourself Julian… We would so hate for you to catch a cold…"
His voice was like wind chimes echoing, his smile stretched wider revealing broken, pointed teeth.
Julian threw him a resentful look, clearly incensed with the patronizing way he was being spoken to. Of course it was impossible for him to catch such a trivial human disease. He was a shadow man, immortal, striking and dangerous, but was obliged to do as his elder asked out of modesty. His body began to glow with a faint illumination, though he remained where he sat, motionless. It faded to reveal clothes, a plain white t-shirt and jeans.
"Yes… I'm sure you'd hate that, Ing," he replied, a sarcastic edge to his hoarse voice.
The shadow man named 'Ing' tilted his head looking down on Julian with a certain distain that seemed to suggest a haughtiness that considered himself higher in ranking. He appeared unfazed by the lack of respect. His hideous smile remained constant.
"I expect it makes sense that your mourning clothes are white," he said, his tone riddled with scorn, "Black was always such a large part of your daily attire…"
Julian's angry gaze fell behind his sooty lashes, he didn't need to ask what Ing was implying. He knew perfectly well. He was right.
It had been nearly eighty-eight years since he'd seen the real Jenny Thornton, bidding him her last goodbye. Nearly eighteen years since he'd lost the warmth of her mind- her dream self- always young and glowing, calling to him from sleep. He knew, in that last dream, where he'd held her, crying that he still loved her, that death had finally come to take her away forever. He'd done his grieving, even in his half dead state he supposed was limbo, but he'd never really gotten over her.
"What do you want?" he said, his voice expressionless, he was in no mood to get into that kind of conversation.
Ing seemed to take pleasure in his resigned tone, "We want Julian…" he crooned, leaning down closer to him, "We want you to hunt with us again."
Julian turned his face up so that his gaze met the acrid yellow of Ing's eyes, he couldn't say he hadn't been expecting this offer.
"Then you can cut my name back out of the rune stave," he hissed in reply, "I'll never hunt with you again."
The rest of the shadow men burst into angry whispers, Ing signalled for them to be quiet, "Why not Julian?" he said, "This acceptance is more than you deserve… And we've got such an unusual prey lined up-"
"Didn't you hear me? I said no!"
A silence ensued after this outburst, everyone standing and watching. They didn't need to say anything to express that if Julian weren't one of their own kind they would already have mutilated him. The foetus-like shadow man giggled.
"You might change your mind after you see her…" he sang.
Ing nodded, "Sindri thought she'd be of particular interest to you."
Despite himself, Julian was almost intrigued, but he stubbornly refused to be taken in by their words. He had seen how they could twist a person's mind, manipulating them into hating their own children if they wanted.
"You're not still angry about that girl are you? She's been dead for nearly eighteen years."
He didn't answer.
"She's changed you Julian, what happened to your contempt for human-kind? What happened to your dangerous nature?"
In one movement, Julian was on his feet, suddenly threateningly close, "That is still here," he snarled, "Now are you going to do as I say? Or am I going to have to make you?"
Ing laughed quietly to himself, he obviously thought there was no way he could make him do anything. He swept Julian aside with one swipe of his bony hand and he landed sprawled with very little decorum onto his back.
"Very well Julian," he said, continuing as though this were a completely rational conversation, "I should have guessed that the possibility of a reincarnation would be of no interest to you…"
"What?"
He sat up, his attention caught helplessly, "What do you mean?"
The superior smile was back, Ing knew he had control, "You know the story as well as any Julian, when a spirit is so torn between two lovers that their afterlife becomes unbearable, there is a possibility that the unhappy wanderer will return in another body…"
He waved his hand dismissively, "But as I thought, that would be of little interest to you-"
"Show me the prey."
Julian's voice was terse and demanding. If there was any possibility that a trace of Jenny remained, then he wanted to claim it. His cobalt eyes were brighter than when he had awakened, his body tense, a sign he had been determined not to show, the sign that the dormant hunter still burned deep within him.
Ing laughed, "And what makes you think that the offer is still open to you? After your insolence I doubt any will hunt with you."
"I don't want to hunt with you," Julian snapped, "I want her for myself."
Sindri laugh, "What makes you think it's a her?" he piped up.
The other shadow men laughed, Ing's grin grew wider at Julian's horrified expression, "It is a her," he assured him.
Julian's jaw clenched furiously.
"Alright Julian, since you are so insistent, why don't we make this into a little game? You like games don't you?"
Julian tried to keep his face expressionless, he liked games when he was the most advanced participant and, even in that scenario, there were risks. He'd found that out the hard way. How could he win when he was faced against players much older and experience than himself? Players with much more intent on being sadistic.
But he was desperate.
"What are the rules?" he asked calmly and without hesitation.
Ing seemed quite satisfied that he had gotten his own way, he spoke as though he had rehearsed the speech, "The rules are quite simple. You find the prey and entice her willingly into our world, giving you a claim. If you can obtain her consented submission to be bound to you, then she is yours to keep, to do with as you please."
"And if I can't?" Julian replied, almost sure he knew what the answer was going to be.
"If you cannot obtain her consent then you will rejoin our ranks without question."
He'd guessed as much, but this seemed too simple… Far too simple for his elders. What else could they have planned? He knew better than anyone that the shadow men never did anything good without wanting something pricey in return, something they often couldn't afford. He imagined that price would be more than his compliance.
But what did he have to lose?
"Do you agree to the terms?" Ing asked, "You will have one lunar cycle to complete the task."
Twenty-Eight days… Plenty time enough. Pushing the doubts to the back of his mind, Julian flashed a wolfish smile, "Agreed."
Ing returned a smirk, "Good…"
He sketched a shape in the air, like a vase tipped on its side, a fiery line followed his pointed finger, lingering like a neon light in mid-air, "Perthro, the rune of gambling and divination, has been evoked. That means no cheating."
"I know what it means."
His smirk stretched wider, "Jarl, bring the looking glass."
At his command, another shadow man came forward, he was only beginning to show the signs of deformity that the others displayed and faint traces of his once stunning beauty still showed. Especially in his fathomless, grey eyes. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in an unkind sneer, he was holding out a shard of solid ice. Ing took it and held it up, tilting it to a certain angle.
"Here she is," Ing said, beckoning Julian to look.
Julian got up easily and stepped forward, the surface of the ice started to shift and change, forming silhouettes and beginning to shape into a focused image. They were hazy at first, then the picture sharpened like a camera adjusting. Julian's eyes widened in suppressed astonishment, he almost had to physically stop himself showing any other feeling on his face. He touched the glass tentatively, he hadn't been prepared for it, the complete similarity and yet… Utter difference.
There was a young girl, about seventeen years old. She was sitting on a bed in what appeared to be her bedroom leant over a spiral bound book, scribbling quick and messy notes. She seemed completely absorbed in it, her hair hanged down concealing some of her face. It was a dark honey brown, like Jenny's, but duller, without the liquid amber quality he remembered. She bit her bottom lip as though she were concentrating hard.
Julian leant forward, the mirror brought him close enough to see the slight furrow of her brow, the shimmer of an earring, the colour of her eyes. Again, they weren't as catching as Jenny's pine forest green ones, they were misted over and tired-looking, as though she were too jaded for her age. She scraped her hair behind her ear, leaning back. Those eyes met his for a brief moment.
She had the same golden aura… Just fainter…
Ing watched him intently, he could sense his surprise, could see it in his cat-tilted eyes. He lowered the mirror a fraction.
"She's a pretty one, isn't she?"
Julian didn't reply straightening up, Pretty, he thought, But not beautiful like Jenny used to be…
"Uruz will get you there," Ing said, formally setting out the start of the game, "Your time ends when the sun rises after twenty-eight days time."
He held the mirror back up for him, indicating what he was to do. Julian nodded. The rules were simple, the stakes absolute. He had twenty-eight days and twenty-eight nights to make Jenny fall in love with him again. If he failed, it may prove to be his complete undoing.
With his index figure he traced the rune of Uruz on the surface of the icy glass, an inverted 'U' shape that glowed faintly with fiery red.
"Uruz," he said solemnly.
The rune began to blaze intensely, like the names on the rune stave. Julian could feel and hear the old magik awakening, the electric vibration reaching out to his body, gently pulling him toward the glass, he stepped forward, allowing the enchantment to take him. Staring intently into the mirror he could see the girl, she'd gone back to writing in her little book, completely oblivious to his approaching. His throat tightened for a brief moment.
He shut his eyes. Tendrils of crimson had arisen from the rune and were stretching out, enveloping him, all of his senses were blocked out in a flash of white he could see even behind his eyelids. Despite himself, he smiled, this was the start of a new hunt, with new quarry, and after all, it was in his nature to want to chase, to capture, to claim.
And this time he was going to win.
