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I could tell it was a witch’s skull because large gold runes glistened from it.
Nobody spoke. Austin gripped Grace’s arm, his beady eyes glanced nervously at Hakon who strode ahead and bent down almost touching a beast’s skull, then thought better of it. I rasped, about to call to him not to touch it, but he’d stood up, turned around and was surveying the area.
I muttered nervously, “I need to be quick, this isn’t safe. The rest of you go. We’ll stay, perform the ritual. Hurry.”
Leaning into me, Lycaon murmured, “Those runes… Why the symbol of mercury?”
It was clearly visible. Covering most of the witch’s skull, an eclipsed moon, a symbol of the sun and a cross. I clenched my fist. At the edge of the place I noticed the ground moving.
Pointing, I spoke quietly. “Look what is moving at the edge of the circle… snakes. Mercury and snakes can symbolise transcendence of death. Someone has been trying to raise the dead. No doubt raising or channelling Loren’s spirit, this is the reason for the killings. We need to be quick and the others definitely need to get out of here.”
A whistle on the wind followed by a thud as Hakon teetered, clutching his arm, mouth open then quickly with clenchedteeth as he yanked out the dart that had been fired into him.
Austin shouted something to Grace, the next moment I felt nausea loll in my stomach, everything was black and silver, like thousands of stars surrounding me.
Grace and Austin had tried to get us out of here, as she said, fast access through a portal. It hadn’t bloody worked! We were still here, trapped! My legs wobbled. Falling forward I fell flat, landing on Lycaon who had gone a pale shade of green. Austin’s voice was full of fear, muttering, spitting as he and Grace cast a myriad of spells, the sigils breaking up fast, fading like steam in the air. Rolling off of Lycaon, I rasped, doing the same. Weaving something, anything to protect us. But nothing worked.
Another thud, then another.
Hakon, Austin, Marrock and Grace toppled, falling like felled trees as darts fired into them.
I couldn’t swallow. For a moment I was frozen in fear.
I tried to scamper up, Lycaon pulled me back to the ground, his face etched in horror. I wanted to cry out, to run, to save my friends, but I couldn’t move. My eyes darted around the copse, looking for the enemy.
Lycaon’s eye line focused on a tree close to us. Strange runes were etched on it.The symbols looked like arrows with crosses running through them. Churning, my stomach lolled, fighting it I braced.
I had to channel magic. This wood, Savernake, had become Hell.
Whispering, he leaned into me. “No. Do not practise magic here, not now. It has become a beacon. Those marks in the tree, that’s the sigil of the Svefnthorn. A Norse sleeping spell. They are not dead. Someone is trying to capture us.” He raised his chin, sniffing the air. “We need to go. Now!”
As he finished speaking, a horn bellowed across the forest followed by the sound of feet, running, tramping through the woods.
My heart skipped a beat, a beading of sweat broke on the back of my neck.
“Elsa, we have to go.”
I glanced hopelessly at our fallen friends. “How are we going to get them out? I have to use magic.”
“No time. Follow me.”
“I won’t leave them. You go then.”
He snarled, which made me flinch. His pale blue eyes flaming scarlet suddenly. “They’re not dead. If this enemy wanted them dead, they’d be corpses.”
The thudding of feet drew closer. I was torn. I glanced from him to my friends, the sound growing closer and closer and the horn resounded right through us. The icy night pressed in around us. Air filled with the scent of blood, of beasts. Hostile magic.
“I, we can’t help them now. We’ll come back for them, Elsa…”
He spat the words through gritted teeth. Nodding, my body like lead as reluctance weighed me down, I followed him. Scampering low back into the forest, he reached for my hand and pulled me close.
He led me through the thickest part, running as if his path was clear. Stumbling, I faltered.
“Elsa, come on.”
“Wait... Do you hear that?”
Above us, a melodic beating pounded on the breeze. A stir of wind swept Lycaon’s hair across his face. The rhythmic sound grew louder and heat prickled on my face.As we glanced up, craning our necks to see through the canopy as we crouched beside a tree.
