FICTION: Death Rides a Dark Horse

Good Morning, Good Evening, where ever you may be.

Today I thought it would be fun to switch things up a bit and post a work of fiction I serendipitous found while cleaning out my old storage rental.

It's kinda an homage to the all the cheesy "B" movies I watched when I was younger. And since this is the time of year a lot of folks enjoy this type of entertainment I felt it was appropriate for the Steemit readers.

...So get comfortable, and turn down the lights and pull up your bed sheets. Get ready for a time of frightening on this Halloween!

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Part 1

The deafening silence of the night was broken by something moving deep in the woods. The sound of some bulky creature shouldered into a tree trunk and heavy steps on the bare stone of a dry creek. At the same moment, up the steep slope I had just descended came the thud of hooves on the ground, many hooves. The unmistakable note of a hunt horn blew close, very close by the sound of those many hooves.

It seems that I have a choice of two options to make at this moment and both would lead to my death. I quickly inventory the items I have to help me:

• An eight inch blade, already used to cut loose the leather knots which were around my wrists.
• The horse, Birous, he is carrying me now. He was given to me, I can only guess to make my chase more of a sport.

I must ride hard, if there is to be any chance of me staying alive!

Pulling at the reins of Birous I urge him forward with my knees into the trees ahead of us. He is nervous, but he moves willingly onwards. A sound in front of me grounded, and then, as I approached a tiny glade located deep in the heart this forest, I noticed a shape, dim, moving in front of my path. I grabbed my blade and waited, ready.

“John?” said the soft voice. The shape grew closer, going from dim to detailed. Now I can see clearly riding into the glade was Bonnie, on her black mare. I urged Birous on to meet her halfway. The moonlight clearly reflected from her pale skin. Her eyes looked as if they were almost completely coal black and her feathered hair blended into the dark night sky.

I still recall the first day we met…

My how our world has changed since then…

She was oddly quiet that day, with a seldom smile, yet when she did, my heart would light up to catch a glimpse of that smile. Her manner reminded me of someone who wished to be in a dream. Far away from real world before her. And, of course, living up to her family name she was superb rider, I was spellbound watching her gallop her horse through the meadow and hills.

I accepted that she was completely out of my league, however, I, of course, as a Warrant Officer still had a few things going my way other than my pay, yet I could keep dreaming, as long as I kept quiet my desires to tell her how I really felt. Then it seemed as though I had caught her eye somehow. I was amazed at my good fortune as at the time the Presidio in San Francisco was filled with gaudy men of high rank and I had thought they would be much more to her liking and status. This slight possibility gave me the smallest chance of hope.

We had met through her brother. At one time during my station at the Presidio, part of my duties included mixing socially as much as possible with the locals in San Francisco because of previous tensions with civilians and possibility of local recruitment. A sort of public relations duty. As a boy from back east, Pennsylvania to be exact, I grew up with horses and it made sense for me to join the local Equestrian Polo Club. I thought it would be a great way to be social and to stay fit and possible associate with the more affluent people in the San Francisco area.

I had made a large number of friends, one of them was a man by the name of Charles Brython. He was close to my age, perhaps a couple of years older and good company. The word around the club, I learned, was that he was on his way up through the political route and had already put in time as a junior member of the State Department.

He was extremely well off. It was very plain to see that whatever Charles’ business was, it had to be going well. He was a generous fellow, but not to where he could be taken advantage of. Often during our meals out, he would offer to pay the check, so many times, in fact, that one could easily begin to feel guilty and insist on paying likewise.

If I had to guess at his race, I would say that of Northern European descent with dark features. And a talented Polo player! I had once seen him catch a ‘Tail Shot’ with impeccable balance and horsemanship, then with complete calmness strike the ball for a goal. I wasn’t a bad player myself, but I’ve never seen anyone since match Charles Brython in skill and proficiency.

Once he was dared by one teammate to jump the fence that circled our field rather than lead the horse out through the gate. He calmly took the challenge and cleared it with ease. His stunt was made even easier by being mounted so well; he owed this to his special breed of large black hunters. No matter how well the others players rode their horses, he would continually outshine each of them.

One cold early fall morning, when the normal marine fog was heavier than normal and our teams had to wait for it to lift before we began our games, I had the opportunity to ask him why he always wore a particular grey Falcon helmet, I thought it was odd as that color was worn normally by non-club members. I also thought perhaps it was a color of a previous league he had joined and he was paying a type of homage to them by wearing it now.

“It’s kinda embarrassing to you, John, of all people,” he said with a smile. “Being that you’re from back East and all. My family sided with the Rebels during the Civil War. No Bluebonnets (the term Bluebonnets meaning Yankee) for the Brython family. So we wear the grey Falcon and honestly I do get tired of answering that question all the time.”

Our horses slightly shifted and gently stamped under the emerging warmth of the San Francisco sun breaking through the fading fog. He continued, “It eventually stayed with us because of a family hunt we gather for every year. No non-Brython are allowed to wear the family color grey slate during the hunt. My sister Bonnie wanted me to just wear it only at home, but I figured what would be the point of owning such fine gear and hardly ever using it. Oh, and here she comes now.”

Riding superbly, almost like an extension of the fine beast she was on. She came towards us, her eyes were dark, almost black. Her hair, the color of dark midnight, her ivory skin without as much as a freckle of imperfection upon it.

“Hello Sis, how was your ride down to the Marina?” asked Charles.

“Nothing to get overly excited about,” She said in a quiet tone while she glanced around briefly giving only the slightest socially acceptable amount of attention to Charles and me.

I found myself in somewhat of a hypnotic state taken by her beauty when I heard Charles suddenly say, “How’s about we give ol’John here some real sport.”
“When?” Bonnie responded to him in a snappy tone. She glared at him.

“How about the end of the season? The last week of October.” He grinned at me and gave a pat to his horse on the neck. “We’ll have most of the family there and some of our other friends. The hounds will be in prime shape. It’s the best time of the year.” He gave me a penetrating look, “How’s about it, John? Like to do some hunting Brython family style?”

I was completely surprised by his generous offer! Mostly because I heard several other club members were pining for the same invitation to the Brython estate, only to be politely denied. Meanwhile I quickly made up my mind to accept Charles’ invitation. Then, I noticed Bonnie’s peculiar reaction. I felt a rush of mixed feelings, simultaneous reactions of surprise and hurt.

Looking at her reaction, I saw her face had turned almost completely white and her dark eyes grew wider, “Not this October Charlie!” she protested. Her words grew in their intensity, “He can’t go!”

“Look as long as I am the head of the Brython family, what I say stands.” said Charles in an exceptionally stern tone sounding completely different from himself. His body suddenly looking visibly larger, heavy and domineering. This took me off guard and I was confused about his reaction as well.

Bonnie’s eyes watered up and I thought that at moment she was going to cry, but she choked it back and in a moment she pulled the reins to turn back her horse. Riding away, her slender back and shiny topper horse shrank smaller and smaller as she galloped across the field and disappeared into the misty morning of the bay fog which was receding back through the Golden Gate Bridge toward the Pacific.

I turned to Charles, “Hey Charles, I don’t know what’s going on between you and your sister, but I don’t think I can accept your invitation. It’s easy to see that Bonnie obviously doesn’t agree with you and I feel it wouldn’t be proper to get in the middle of something I have no idea about.”

Charles moved his horse closer to mine. Close enough for me to see the slightly etched wrinkles in his forehead. “You gotta, John. Look you’re not aware of this and believe me I will deny it if you are ever asked by Bonnie directly, but I’m going to let you in on this one secret. Bonnie was in relationship last year. A bad one. The jerk was rough with her. A guy that I liked also, he just walked out on her, without a word, just disappeared. Ever since then she seemed be slowly losing her will to keep on living, and to be completely honest, you’re the first man she has taken an interest in since then. I’m asking you I because I need your help to pull her out of this hopeless depression she’s in. Come now, I’m sure you noticed how she is behaving, how vague and dreamy she is acting? She has been trying to keep her melancholy away by blocking out any reality. I can’t even get her to go see a psychologist though I have my doubts seeing one would do anything for her. She needs to know that there are still decent people around and if you could show her some kindness in the same surroundings that she became unhappy in, I think this would at least give her a fighting chance at creating some sort of happiness. And when I first seen you out in that field fighting with all your strength to score the goal, I thought to myself now there is man with a heart of a lion. How you do that one thing is how you do everything, John.”

Charles’ show of emotion and concern took me aback for a minute and I could feel that he was in total earnest. “I understand what you’re saying,” I said still feeling the emotion of the moment, “but she’s dead against me going because you’re the head of the family and that means Bonnie would be my hostess.”

“Okay,” Charles responded. “Don’t turn me down just yet. She was really moody because of the weather here, she’s prefers the sunshine of our home in the Sierra Mountains. Tomorrow morning she’ll call you to ask herself, I swear. I promise. If not the whole thing is off. But if she does call you, will please come and help me cheer her up?”

I agreed, how could I turn the guy down? The next day Bonnie called me. She apologized for the way she acted yesterday. Her voice sounded a bit tired, maybe she was up late last night, but overall she sounded fine. I asked her directly, “Do you want me to come?” She assured me that it was what she wanted and apologized again. She told me that the cold fog combined with some inconveniences on her morning ride had irritated her. Hearing that, I agreed to go on the Brython October Hunt.

Part 2

The Brython estate was an amazing piece of property high in the Sierra foothills. High enough that the Tule fog of the great San Joaquin valley settled just below and not quite high enough for the winter snow to become a nuisance. On the way up I noticed sign postings to the Brython Gold Mine. Could this be the source of their remarkable wealth?

October was the end of the Indian summer and the Brython estate had warm sunny days with only the highest clouds traversing the tall Sierra peaks surrounding us. The cool clear nights gave me the most majestic views of the star filled sky, I was given a room in the west wing that provided me with a breath-taking vista of the San Joaquin valley covered by the morning tule fog, giving the illusion that the Brython home was an island above the clouds.

Our hunt was to say the least, insanely fun! We rode through ravines, gulches and up steep hillsides. Eventually, we came to the edge of his land next to the Native American reservation. I asked Charles if it was ok for us to continue onto the reservation, he replied that it was all good.

“The Brython’s have good relations with our Native American friends,” he told me. “We are all family here, according to our family records my Great Grandfather married into the tribe when he arrived here seeking his fortune during the gold rush. This tribe was a legendary part of a lost nation fairly advanced for their time.”

I looked around observing my surroundings, it was true. All the women and men in our group were pale with dark eyes and a striking family resemblance. Everyone that was riding were also well mounted and familiar with the etiquette, just like Charles and Bonnie.

Charles told me that his property extended well past the valley that laid at the center of his estate. Along the borders, he leased his land to other extended family. Smaller ranches and farms throughout the foothills delved deep into the mountains leading south to the famous Yosemite National Park. It seemed to me that almost everything was set up similar to the feudal lords of medieval Europe along with everyone paying some type of homage to Charles, willing to drop everything to oblige both Charles and Bonnie, eager to help them, as though Charles and Bonnie were royalty. Yet, when I asked Charles about the relationship with his relatives, he dryly affirmed that he only gave them an opportunity to prosper.

“The Brython’s family has been around for a long time. They’re simply used to Bonnie and me telling them what to do. When our great grandfather first came here from the south, he brought with him some tradition also. I realize it’s something you’re not accustomed to experiencing being you are from the north.” Charles’ voice was relaxed and I could tell that he was getting sleepy from the warm afternoon sun. I did detect a slight annoyance in his comment but I wasn’t sure if it was directed towards me or just my questioning of how things ran on his estate.

Part 3

The next morning at the start of our hunt, we were attended by a numerous people. Each of those wearing grey slate falcons were members of the Brython family closely related to Charles and Bonnie. I gathered there were approximately a dozen of them. That same morning during our preparation of the hunt at breakfast, I thought that it would be interesting to bring along some history of my own. An army jacket belonging to my great grandfather who had fought for the Union Army during the civil war. He was referred to as a “Galvanized Soldier” a term used for southern Confederate soldier that join the north after he was captured. It was excellent condition with the blue still in great shape with a bright yellow-lapelled vest. Everyone was amazed at viewing the rare jacket. I had been meant to show the jacket to the Brythons since Charles let me know how much history his family had with the Civil War. An older farmer, Cole, accompanied us on the hunt, he was seemed intrigued but looked shocked when he had first seen the jacket. He mumbled something that was tough to make out during the loud conversations taking place around us, it sounded like, “Saah ween” or “Sa win” and he made a gesture with his hands with a finger pointed outward while he was wiping away something invisible or something that I was unaware of.

Later at dinner, I asked Bonnie what a Sa Win is and that I had heard Cole, the local farmer, speak it when he nervously looked at my great grandfather’s union jacket. When she told me it was a local holiday and that I was, “not a really a Yankee.” I took a moment to analyze her reply and looked around realizing that the other conversations around the table had stopped. I felt a strong tension increasing everywhere in the group of people I was dining with. I could see darkening faces with black hair and intense dark eyes with penetrating gazes staring at me. It was uncanny, I felt like I had stumbled into a lair of large predators and I might be in danger.

Charles started laughing breaking the eerie silence,”Gotch Ya!” All the other members of the Brython party laughed as well. The tense feeling passed and I soon forgot about it.

The next afternoon Bonnie and I found ourselves alone separated from the rest of the hunt, a very agreeable happenstance. We rode together down towards the west edge of Brython estate and as we rode back to the ranch house, I spotted a small white church. We stopped, unmounted and tied our horse reins to a corner of the fence that outlined the small front yard of the church. The property almost looked abandoned with parts of wood siding loose or missing and shingles hanging in and out of pattern on the roof.

Bonnie and I were looking at the shabby place of worship when an old priest walked out onto the front porch and looked immediately in our direction on the dusty country road before the church. He was aged and tired like he had lived a difficult life. He glared toward Bonnie with intensity and anger. Bonnie didn’t speak or even move. The horses even stood still, tied to the fence a few feet away. I glanced over to Bonnie to see if she was aware of the hated eye she was receiving from the old priest and that’s when I noticed a subtle expression of pain in her face.

“Hola Padre,” I said, mostly to break the deafening silence. “Is this your church here? Looks nice with the cross and all.” I must have sounded like an idiot.

He turned head towards me and his expression of intense anger changed instantly to that of a kindly man. He spoke to me alone, “The church is always open to those who seek the blessings of God.” The he turned and walked back into the front doors of his church and closed them.

I looked over to Bonnie, “That’s was awkward and what was with that nasty look? Is he crazy? Maybe we should bring this up with Charles?”

“No,” putting her hand on my arm. “Don’t even mention this to Charlie; promise you won’t say a word to him!”

“Okay, yeah I’ve got it,” I replied feeling the sincere desperation of her voice, “What was all that stuff about the church always open to those,” I imitated the priest’s voice, “seeking blessings?”

She smiled slightly at me, “He… doesn’t really like our family,” her small smile was now replaced with an expression that was more serious. “Of course he has his reasons, jobs and money are tough to come by in these parts and Charlie refuses to cut down on our high living standard and give back a bit to the community. Not everyone is lucky enough to have an inheritance of a land and goldmine like us. Plus the last recession was tough on lots of folks and when you’re going hungry you tend to notice the people that are doing well… and you can get resentful. Mr. Falltacha is a good man and we don’t want Charlie to know what just happened. He might get angry.” She mounted her horse, “Come on, I’ll race you to the main road.”

I had just mounted my horse when she charged off in a full gallop.

Part 4

October 31st. I was coming to the end of my visit here with the Brython’s family estate. I glanced out my window as I awoke to see the passing of wild turkeys walking across a field moving toward where the tule fog meets the ridge; the fog was thick enough to cover the view of the San Juaquin valley below. I noticed a small envelope on the dresser in my room and it was addressed to me. Opening it, I found a small silver cross with a ring around its center and a note inside.

Please wear this cross for me always. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest and I was close to dancing and singing through the Brython’s home. At the large breakfast everyone gathered prior to our hunt, she looked as if she had a restless night and she barely glanced at me with everyone milling around.

When I was saddling up the horse with other riders of the hunt I saw that the fields were still filled with corn stocks and large pumpkins. I asked my neighbor, one of Brython’s younger cousins, “Don’t the locals use them for Halloween,” pointing out to the field of pumpkins.

“Saah Ween,” he answered back

“Oh, what’s that? Not Halloween?” I asked.

“It’s our family holiday for today,” His voice was seemed irritated, I wasn’t sure if it was because of the cool dry morning air or my question that caused it. “We don’t call it that. It’s the time of the Darker Half.” and before I could follow up with another question he quickly led his horse away.

Since my time began at the Brython estate, I had noticed that members of the Brython family including Charles and Bonnie were growing moody. In fact, since my arrival everyone seemed to increasingly behave more and more odd. Now I seemed to offend someone just be asking about pumpkins and Halloween. What the heck is a ‘Saah Win’?

Charles had told me that since it was my last day here that they had planned a dinner party for seeing me off. He also mentioned a special event that would take place tonight. “Where is your riding clothes? Because it will include a ride,” Charles said.

After a restful afternoon at the Brython house, I didn’t notice very much movement in preparations for the dinner party. Of course the place was large enough that something like that could take place without me even seeing a single chair being placed.

One of Brython’s cousins was sent to get me at my room a few minutes before dinner started. In the north part of the house was a large banquet room which looked to be full of members of our hunting party with some of the children as well, mostly the older sons of the farmers. All the men wore their gray slate jackets and I was given a blue dinner jacket to wear for the evening. Bonnie looked amazing with a beautiful blue evening dress.

“Come with me John,” Charles led me with his hand on my elbow. “You’re the only here that isn’t a Brython.” He took me to edge of a long table with an elegant bowl made of stone with something carved into the sides. The design looked like hieroglyphics or ancient runes that fortune-teller would use when reading your fate.

“Cole.” I said surprisingly, standing next to bowl was the old farmer I had met.

“This is our family secret mead.” Charles said to me as he poured me a large glass. “We have won awards from the quality and taste of our mead.” Then he rushed off to return to some visiting family members clamoring for his attention.

I was about to take a sip of the mead, when a hand was placed over the cup. It was Cole. He muttered something I could barely make out. It sounded like he said, “Wait.”

He took my cup and gave me a new one. This had a note with it attached to the bottom.

Drink Nothing

It was cryptic enough to send a chilling sense of fear through me. I was in danger. I was sure of it. All of the moodiness, the odd stares, seemingly strange remarks and the church priest’s attitude, connected at that moment, fast enough to make me dizzy. Everything coalesced into an ominous and menacing threat. I realized that despite what I was led to believe, no one here besides Cole was a friend. I pretended to sip from my cup at Charles’ toast. I looked around for an exit. All were blocked by groups of men laughing and talking and not moving away from the exits. My mind raced, for a moment I forgot what was happening and I actually took a small sip from my drink. The mead was sweet with a perfumed smell. Not at all unpleasant. I could feel my face flushing as heat rose to the top of my head. It must have been very apparent because I saw Charles with a small smile raise his cup for another toast to me.

After faking another sip, I turned to Cole and asked for another refill. My cup was still almost full. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed the glass and emptied it into a plant next to the large bowl and refilled it. The man was quick and smart. Thankfully I had an ally in this den of surrounding vipers.

I faced toward Charles and crowded room once again. Charles once again toasted the room. Cole leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Be still towards the end of dinner, like you’re frozen.” His words were instantly committed to memory. “You can’t move at all, understood?”

I placed my left hand behind my back and gave him a thumbs up to show I understood him and walked toward Charles in the center of the large room.

“Don’t stand next to mead all night, John, I know it’s good stuff but show a little restraint. You have a long night ahead of you.” The cruelty of Charles laughter showed me now that his handsome features were nothing more than a mask of devious evil. We moved through the room and everywhere the faces of both the men and the women, children and even the servants were the same. How could I have ever thought these people friendly bunch? I could feel and hear the contempt in their voices.

I noticed Bonnie was gone and I asked Charles about her. He laughed and said that she was checking on the dinner preparations. I would have to play my part flawlessly to pull this one off. Cole continued to give me refills after pouring out the previous contents. I realized that I was the only one who was drinking the Brython family mead.

Shepherded by several of largest Brython men, we walked to my seat at one of the tables in the banquet room. They weren’t leaving me much of a chance to leave even if I were actually drinking the mead.

The lights were turned down and candles were blazing at every table. I was sitting next to Bonnie and two tables away sat Charles. At first everything was quite normal, the waiters served wine and dishes to each guests; however, I did notice that some of the younger people in the room were watching me surreptitiously, giving me a somewhat unpleasant impression of feeling like a kettle of vultures were flying above me just waiting for the right moment to swoop down to eat.

Bonnie seemed the same throughout the evening. Her face glowed ivory white in the candle light. She was calm as if her past troubles were forever gone from her mind. Her eyes met mine quietly and gave me a knowing strength that whatever happens tonight she would be there for me.

Even without wine, dinner was filling and I ate a fair amount. Dessert was cleared and it was apparent that everyone was full because of the almost total silence. Now, I felt was the time to play the part.

Turning to the young lady on my other side, I spoke slowly and drew out my words much like one would do when intoxicated.

“Oh my, that was some strong family mead you Brython’s made. I feel light-headed and I’m having some numbness in my legs, it’s a good thing we’re not on a hunt now, right?” Thinking about it now I must have sounded like I was having a stroke.

The girl stared at me for a moment, then broke into some laughter as she passed the news on to the family member next to her. Other neighbors at my table that heard me speak laughed as well. Soon the entire room was staring at me with a malicious delight. I could see Charles bright white teeth glowing in the candlelight as the joke was passed on to him. I looked around as if confused and laughter even grew louder. Then silence.

A loud bell sound chimed, Charles raised his hands to focus the attention of the room on him.

“The stroke of Midnight is here,” he announced in a loud voice. “The time of Sam Hain has started and the Dark Half has arrived! Everyone don your ritual clothes and reunite because the time is here now.”

I told myself to stay completely still, don’t move a muscle. It was a good idea because the same large men that took me to my seat were now surrounding me. The room emptied immediately as if a large wind had blown the other Brython family member out like leaves. Charles stood up and walked slow yet powerful strides towards me.

“You Yankee bastard, don’t think I didn’t notice you catching glances at my beautiful sister.” Charles snarled, but now his slight southern accent was undeniable. “Do you really think she, High Priestess of the ancient clan of Trinouxtion, would go for someone like you, a grandson of a southern traitor? We had someone here like you last year. A Yankee from Boston. His polo-playing friends are still wondering what happen to him.” He was next to me with his hand gripping my shoulder looking at me with a savagery in his eyes. I did nothing, said nothing and moved nothing.

He commanded the other men. “Bring him, we are ready to begin!”

I stayed still and limp. The large men lifted me up and carried me through the dark Brython house. We started down the large hall in the center of the home. Finally, exiting through a side entrance into a large courtyard with large tree surrounding it. The stars were easily seen in the fall sky.

There was a huge granite boulder that towered at one end of the courtyard. It was illuminated with several large bonfires along the full length of the area. In front of the fires were all the dinner guest dressed in robes forming a path and chanting, regular and rhythmic. I could hear Charle’s voice but couldn’t see him distinctively. He stood in front of the largest fire and the smoke had was a strange scent to it. Then I saw that some of servants were throwing what looked like bones into the flames. Bonnie was standing next to Charles, both were dressed in the same ritualistic robes.

The large men that carried me set me down on top of what looked like a large stone bench without a back. Was I about to be sacrificed by one of the richest families in California?
Bonnie had in her hand something that resemble a scepter, only it was shiny in the light of the fires. The rest of the group had gone silent. Charles began to chant.

“Oh Great Calan Gaeaf, Summer is at it’s end and the Dark Half is upon us. The Feast of Mongfind is done, the Witch-King, Oengus son of Dagda and Morrigan is to be blessed with a bounty of gold from the earth. As foretold before the battle of Magh Turedh. To appease the God Trinouxtion we have a sacrifice before us.”

Bonnie walked towards my head. She held the scepter and gentle touched it against my forehead three times. Then she stepped back. “I, Somanii, High Priestess of the Dead have prepared the sacrifice and marked the beginning of the Three Nights of Summer’s End. May the Horses of the Hunt be mounted!”

I could clearly hear the stamp of hooves, snorting and some rearing. I could just barely see large outlines of dark horses and next to them the menacing robed figures. One horse was led to me. It was Birous. My horse from the all the hunts during my time here in the Brython estate.

“Set him on the horse,” Charles commanded. Immediately, I was lifted into the saddle, where I bent forward in a drugged position, hoping to look helpless. But before I could even think about grabbing for the reins, my hands were caught and tied together at my wrist with leather cords. Birous’ reins were knotted and placed underneath the front of the saddle. Charles or as he referred to himself now as Oengus stood next to my knee and looked up at me with an intense hatred in his dark eyes.

“You are now the hunted, Outsider!” Charles’ southern accent was thick and chilling. “You are no longer one of us and you have two choices in front of you, both leading to dismemberment and death. If we find you,” He was handed a large spear nearly six feet long and a broad edged tip and showed it to me, “There is another that hunts without a rider that may find your tracks. It is then you may wish for the quick death of our spears. Your God has forsaken you and left you in hell to burn. Now… ride and show how good a sport you can be on this HUNT!”

A snap of a harsh cut over the croup was administered to Brious. He hastily ran into the darkness with me no more than unwilling participant on the saddle. Everything was black, my eyes took a moment to adjust to the loss of light that behind me illuminated the large courtyard of the Brython home.

Part 5

Once my sight was accustomed to the dark night, I quickly noticed two riders herding me down the road next to the seasonal field of corn. The sounds of harsh whips could be heard if Brious decided to stray or veer from his given path.

We burst through a slightly wooded glade near the bottom of one of the mountainous ridges in the great estate. There was a fence line with a small gate that was already open and through the gate I could see a larger unkempt field that went on for a few acres. I could no longer see the Brython home and the large bonfires of the courtyard I was ushered from just minutes ago. I was forced through the gate with one more cracked whip to Brious. The riders stayed at the gate and one of them yelled to me in a strong southern accent, “Ride hard you Yankee. Two deaths follow behind you!” Then they turned back toward the Brython house closing the gate behind them. I could hear something else, not the two riders but something else. The unmistakable clear sound of a hunting horn could be heard in the distance, it would seem the hunt is on. Also mixed in a sharp whinnying of what sounded like a horse far off in the dark night… only much louder, savage, almost a shrill scream that cut deep into my ears. Unlike anything that I’ve ever heard before.

I felt something sharp poking me in my left thigh. I stretched and bent over to reach for it, thinking maybe I could use it to cut myself free of the leather bindings. It feels like a knife taped to the inside of the saddle! I squeezed my knees moving Brious to the right in a wooded area at the edge of the field. I must be fast. The galloping of horses traveling fast could be heard closing in on my position.

The leather cords were tight, I couldn’t cut them while Brious was moving. I had to stop until I was completely free. Luckily the knife was sharp and once I stopped, it quickly cut through the leather with only a couple of motions, I then placed the knife in my belt. I grabbed Brious’s reins, still knotted; we moved deep into the shadows and worked the knots free. It was a good thing I had some knowledge of the grounds. Perhaps not as well as the people that were in my pursuit but I had ridden the length of this land for at least a week by now.

I was supposed to be drugged, I’m sure Charles and his gang were expecting an easy hunt. Thanks to Coles’ help I still had my wits about me. The sound of Charles’ and gang were coming around to my left. He was moving to cut me off from the only safe passage off his estate. I was sure once they moved ahead of me they would just double back and hunt me down at their leisure.

“What if I go for the hills towards the south?” I asked Brious. It was more me thinking aloud than anything. The hills were much too steep for a horse. Unless I left Brious behind and proceeded on foot. Then I could travel until dawn and by then I would be out of Brython territory.

Brious and I traversed a few small dry creek beds, around masses of large shrubs and trees until we reached the southern hills. I was constantly on the lookout for trouble around every bush and tree we passed.

Suddenly Brious snorted and checked, stamping his hooves and refused to go further. This quick change in his behavior prompted me to reach for my blade on my belt. Ready. That’s when I saw a shape of a rider in the shadows. Looking like one of the Brythons’ hunt party. I recalled what I was told at the beginning of all this, “two deaths were on my trail.”

I sat there, frozen, as this other rider moved along the tree line next to a small glade. He was hunting me. Yet his shape was very difficult to see. Even in the darkest night sky I would be able to see some details at this distance. I felt weird, there was an intense cold about the air. On my chest I could feel heat coming from it. It was Bonnie’s gift, the silver cross. Suddenly I could see the rider’s eyes, they were glowing, red; my world was starting to spin almost uncontrollably. The rider slowly turned towards me and stared with those glowing red eyes! It took one step in my direction, hoof striking stone, echoed through the silent woods.

This startled Brious! He laughed a frightful squeal much like a jack rabbit, then turned around and ran. Luckily I still had my hands on him otherwise he could have thrown me. Bounding, gathering his quarters and every stride like a jump. Brious was running for his life!

Once I gained control of him again and we were well away from the hills, closer to the hunting party again, as quietly as possible, I urged Brious along the edge of the wood and down a gentle slope. We came upon some houses, dark with all the lights off, so I galloped down the dirt country road until I came to a wooden fence. I didn’t try to jump it. Not at night, there was too much of a chance of landing badly and making my situation much worse. I knew there had to be a gate, so I followed along the fence until I found it.

I could see on the far side of the field there was a dark wooded area. This would be a perfect place to find shelter. The temperature was starting to drop in the high sierra land and the granite peaks could be seen easily in the starlight.

From the woods I heard the unknown hunter again as he shouldered some tree trunk mixed in with the sound of the Brython hunt party horn, undoubtedly hot on my trail as well. I turned into the heart of the woods and entered a tiny glade...

“John?” said the soft voice. The shape grew closer, going from dim to detailed. Now I can see clearly riding into the glade was Bonnie, on her black mare. I urged Birous forward to meet her halfway. The moonlight clearly reflected from her pale skin. Her eyes looked as if they were almost completely black like coal and her feathered hair blended into the dark midnight sky.

“I’ve been looking for you,” She whispered, I could feel her warm breath through the cool night air.

“What’s the hell is going on? Is this for REAL?” I asked her in a panic.

“Lower your voice, I can help you if you promise to help me.” Bonnie said softly.

“Ok, what is it?”

“Once your leave here, you need to tell everyone about this place. My brother gets his power from the Black Magic he performs on this land, but he doesn’t see the consequences. It robs our neighbors and the other people that live here of their money, hopes and I also think he is stealing their dreams! All so he can be rich and powerful. The only way he can continue to get away with doing this is by keeping it a secret.”

She pulled at the reins of her horse turning it into the opposite direction. “Come on, this way!” I followed as we continued through the forest. Before long we came across a slope, at the bottom there was a dirt road. Sliding down the loose dirt slope, our horses reached the road and we rode hard. We came around a turn and Bonnie who was slightly before me pulled back and stopped as did I right after her. In front of us, the two riders that drove me to the first gate. They were about a hundred yards away. One rode towards us, he had the same spear that Charles had showed me in the courtyard. He raised it in his hands and charged to intercept me. I stood my ground, not moving, waiting, waiting, WAITING!

“JOHN!” Bonnie screamed.

At the last second I pulled at Brious’ reins and spun him around, giving me a leverage to grip the spear near its end and removed it easily from it owner. I spun it around then knocked him in the head just below his Grey Slate Falcon helmet, causing him to fall off his horse and onto the rocky road. With that I charged the Brython that stayed behind, yelling like a madman. This was enough to scare him off as he turned and ran away.

“That’s how a six-goal polo player does it!” I said when I started back toward Bonnie.

I could see that the rider I knocked off his horse wasn’t out completely yet, “No! John… Help!” Bonnie screamed as he tried for her horses reins. I rode quickly to aid her and he heard me and spun around readying himself, I could see he had a large blade in his hand. But before I could reach them, Bonnie had stabbed him in the neck while his back was to her. He fell like a ragged doll on the road.

“Are you Ok, did he hurt you?” I asked once I reached her.

“I’m fine” she responded quietly.

The hunt was silent now, but they were still coming. So was something else. I suddenly felt the cold breath on the back of my neck. I choked up on the spear and held it close. Bonnie’s horse reared, I saw that we had arrived close to the edge of the Brython estate. Something was between us and freedom and it was advancing slowly in our direction.

“The Death Hunter.” Bonnie said. “A demon raised from fiery depth of Hell. It’s the source of Charlie’s power. He and the Death Hunter are one and the same.”

The shifting outlines seemed to resemble a monstrous beast shifting between a horse and a man. It’s hooves struck the rocky road loudly. It looked blurry and oily constantly shifting between lighter and darker shades of black. Seeing those unmistakable glowing red eyes, sent chills down my back. I could feel Brious starting to tremble between my legs.

Time seemed to slow. I turned to Bonnie, “ROOOHHHUUUNNN!” I felt myself being raised off my mount. Brious too scared to move at all. I looked back and seen that the Dead Hunter now had me in his hands. The coldness was traveling up my arms and legs, as if it were freezing me. I looked at its red eyes, glowing. It looked like it was smiling at the kill it was about to make.

“John!” Bonnie called for me.

The Death Hunter looked down to my chest and caught a glimpse of the silver cross. His grip weakened, he dropped me slamming me on the rocky dirt road. Bonnie rode quickly to me and dismounted her horse to aid me as I lay numb on the ground. There was a wind that came from nowhere and blew heavily with a strength of a hurricane.

“I shall look upon my enemy,” Her eyes were all black and her hair was wild in the wind. “I shall look upon my enemy and they will return from whence they came!”

The hell beast shrieked as if it were in pain and waved its arm knocking Bonnie to the edge of the road.

“Bonnie….NO!” I yelled. The Death Hunter was already on top of her, picking her up. Still disoriented I used all my strength to get to my feet and reached for the silver cross around my neck, pulling it free. I then lunged and wrapped my arm around the beast backside. It dropped Bonnie instantly and suddenly shifted itself to face me and now I was in its grasp. I wiggled the hand that had the cross free and with all my might shoved it into the demon's face. Just between its glowing red eyes. My hand passed though like it was air, but it dropped me.

Bonnie raised her arms high above her, “I SHALL LOOK UPON MY ENEMY AND IT WILL RETURN FROM WHENCE IT CAME!!!” Then she dropped her arms…

Bonnie’s small body dropped down to the roadside and laid there as if she was sleeping. Everything was dark. The demon was all at once gone. At that moment a thousand thoughts entered my mind, it was tough to say why she chose to help me. I’m sure she had performed this ritual plenty of times before in the past. It was hard for me to understand…maybe she saw something in me worth saving, maybe it was the love she felt for me. God only knows what may have caused her to defy such a powerfully evil thing.

I went over and found Brious behind some bushes and led him to where Bonnie was lying. I picked her up, I could feel how light she was now that the life in her was completely gone, I placed her on Brious’s back. I heard the thunderous thud of hooves, from the Brython hunt party coming in our direction. I mounted Brious and held Bonnie steady with my left hand and we headed into the opposite direction. Passing by the dead man that Bonnie had killed.

We rode down the road until we reached a bend. Around it was a dozen armed men with torches and all their guns pointed at me. Everything was surreal. I glanced back and there was nothing but a dark rocky dirt road. Nothing followed me.

As I passed through the crowd of armed men I could hear them saying, “Hold your fire!, he’s not one of them, look that girl is dead. Someone find Father Falltacha!”
Everything sounded like I was dreaming. I felt nothing. I knew only one thing and that was that the woman I loved was gone.

Father Falltacha placed his hand on my knee. Another man came and lifted Bonnie off of Brious.

“She saved me.” I said still feeling like I was dreaming. “The Death Hunter got her but she saved me.” I dismounted and Father Falltacha led me to a rectory where I just collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

I woke up the next day with Father Falltacha next to my bed. He was holding my Celtic cross. The necklace was fixed.

“Did she give this to you? The girl that was with you?” His face was unshaven and he smelt of smoke, probably from the torches they were using last night. He handed it to me and I placed it around my neck again.

“Yes,” I replied. “It helped me in my time of need. Where is she now?”

“In my spare room. I intend to give her a Christian burial, she has saved us both.”

Remembering my promise to Bonnie I started to tell the Father about the Brython’s and the connection to the demon Death Hunter; and that Charles’ black magic was the reason everyone was starving and poor.

He looked calmly at me. “Don’t worry my son, they’re all gone.”

“What?” I asked.

“Once the Brython’s failed to provide their sacrifice Charles’ spell was broken. That Hellish beast that plagued this land for over a hundred years disappeared with all its evil power over us. Along with all its followers”

I got up and walked into the spare room in the rectory and said my last goodbyes to Bonnie. Her dark eyes were covered by her pale lids, her skin still flawless and her hair flowing around her, dark as midnight. I held her small hands between my hands and kissed her forehead. To this day, I still wear the cross she gave me.

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Resource:

Image #1 - Halloween Night

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Happy Halloween Everyone!

...And be Safe!