4.
The seven men stood in absolute dumbfoundment. Horace had swept his eyes to the weapon he held when he heard the first blast, unsure for a moment if he still possessed it. Then came the second blast. And the third. And finally a fourth. By then the seven weary hunters were in an almost religious awe, heads aimed upwards and eyes quivering. They stood atop a hill rise at the edge of the region they called home, staring beyond at the vast arrangement of trees, rivers, mountains, and the endless rain-filled sky that encompassed it all. They looked with a desperate wonder as the sun died away beyond the Valley of the Undead and the hills beyond it at the spot of forest that was oh so briefly illuminated by those impossible bursts of mythic fire. It was Elijah, the youngest of them, who finally broke that profound silence.
"What- what does it mean? Are there others out here we don't know of?" The lad was barely fifteen, and the mere thought of a new village filled with new possibilities, new discoveries, new girls… had his mind bouncing from one dream to the next.
"Impossible," said his father, Jakob the farmer. He was a sun-burnt beanpole of a man, with a long curly beard and a straw hat. "We've spent a lifetime roaming these hills. Sorry to say, but we're the only humans here, m' boy." He clapped his son on the back with a knowing smile and a nervous chuckle.
"But we've kept hidden. Who can say for sure there aren't others as good at such?"
"We've kept hidden because we're careful." snapped Horace. "Nothing careful about blasting away like that." This was true. They never used their sacred relic without just purpose. It was only to be used for defense. Food was grown, or captured by net or spear. In his lifetime Horace could count the number of thunderclaps he had heard from the relic with the fingers of his two hands, and he still had almost all of his fingers left. It was only ever to be brought out if their home and families were threatened. And only if that threat was absolute in its destructive cause. His mind flashed to the eyes of those two were-beasts…
"So one of the monsters is armed-with-fire? Some goblin or troll is walking around ready to blow us in half? " croaked the leatherworker Sheamus. He was a fat, burly man with more neck than head and a similar egg-like disposition had passed down to his two sons, Colm and Ethan. Ethan was visibly quaking at the notion of an armed devil lurking the Wood. Colm seemed to be pondering how a troll would fit his finger in the little ring that went around the trigger.
"They do not use guns. Never have." They all turned towards Yuri, the eldest of their party and only still-surviving founding member of their community besides Jonah. But aged or not, there wasn't a man there that would challenge him. The old hunter was more cunning and vicious than any creature that stalked these hills, and bigger than most to boot. He sat back under the shade of an oak, resting himself against its base. The sunburnt leather of his skin was indistinguishable from the gnarled bark of the tree behind him. "They consider them an affront. Mankind's pitiful attempt to rival their accursed and ancient ways. Let them think so. They can be singing Hosanna to their elder gods whilst I unload a slug in their damnable faces."
He rose up and leisurely strode past Jakob and Sheamus and their boys up to Horace. He made no threatening stance or gesture because he didn't have to. The metal in Horace's hand made no difference when Yuri was towering above him. "What's our next move, Horace?"
Horace was shaken by this. He had expected Yuri to take the reins on this expedition then and there, but he yielded command. Why? Horace didn't allow himself the moment to ponder, rather taking the opportunity to reaffirm his control. "How many times have we truly had to defend ourselves, boys? I'm not talking about one of the stray chompers roaming in from the fields or a lost troll wandering too close to the village. How many times have we faced an honest threat? A true monster that had to be put down? These woods are all but empty now and I can think of only five or six times we truly had to put use to the fire, or 'gun', as you call it, Yuri. And in three nights we've seen werewolves, abductions, and now fire-blast being rang out with abandon. There's a connection to be made here, and I says we find out who or what is armed-with fire out there."
"Well it's not as if we're spoiled for other leads, are we?" said Jakob. Horace shot him a look as friendly as a charging bull. "Come Elijah, let's keep clearing a path," the farmer said quickly and the two took out their scythes and started cutting away at the bramble that trailed off downhill in the direction of that cacophony of gunfire. Sheamus read the air and motioned for his boys to follow him in doing the same. Ethan hacked away at the tall grass with much more vigor than skill, and Colm looked as though he might accidentally throw his scythe on any random swing of his great blubberous arms. Horace and Yuri watched them make their way forward without looking at one another. When the distance was adequate between them for privacy, Yuri spoke softly to Horace.
"It's hard life out here, Horace, I know. I've buried my fair share on that wretched hilltop. And countless more before we made our home here. Man has to do what he must to survive in such times. And a father wouldn't be a father if he wasn't willing to walk into Hell bare-footed to save his own. You took that gun and you took charge because that's what needed doing for her sake. I can respect that. That is why I am here, and I promise you I will walk into Hell with you to reclaim little Lucia."
Horace was more dumbfounded by this than he was by the fire-blast. He began to place his arm on Yuri's shoulder when the elder man shrugged him off. "I make you another promise this night: When your daughter is safely returned, there will be a reckoning for what you did to Jonah. And you will suffer it willingly. Be glad that is the only sin for which I demand atonement."
He strode off, leaving Horace in his equal gratitude and fury. His fury was not entirely aimed at Yuri, however. He was furious that no matter how hard he tried to picture his sweet Lucia's eyes in his mind he could not bring them forward with any clarity. He strained then as he had been straining for the past two days. Were those the eyes of his daughter? Or perhaps these? Dozens of sets differing in colors, years, and expressions danced before him but none of them were hers. He saw his wife's filled with hatred and resentment. He saw his son's and his neighbor's filled with shock and unfamiliarity. He saw Jonas' filled with disappointment and understanding. He saw Yuri's filled with condemnation and resolve. And most all he saw the eyes of those two god-forsaken were-beasts from three nights ago… filled with confusion and fear… But not hers. The image of his daughter seemed to be drifting farther and farther away. As though the Wood had claimed both her and all memory of her at once.
He looked down at the great metal double-barrelled monstrosity held in his shaking hands. His eyes ran along the metal columns and past their end to Yuri's back as he marched down the hill towards the others. What other eyes shall be burned into mine before this night is done?
Without turning back Yuri called back once more.
"Come now, my friend… It is time we go to Hell."