The Ragged Man - By Tom Lloyd Page 0,84

relief. The now-familiar sense of detachment from his surroundings was a welcome indication that the witch’s magic still worked. He just had to hope it would be enough to keep him hidden from whatever was stalking them.

A dark shape — a long black head — broke the surface of the lake, followed by forelegs that delicately tested the mud back at the water’s edge. After a moment the creature heaved itself forward and Mihn saw a sinuous body with a flattened, abrupt muzzle and four powerful legs. The hind legs were significantly larger, and once the creature had left the water and was standing on firm ground Mihn saw its chin dipped so low it nearly brushed the ground. It moved like an animal hunting

A second one broke the surface just behind it - and Mihn caught sight of something on its back. The creature had a whip-like tail curled forward like a scorpion’s but lying almost flat along its back. What chilled him more was the wet gleam of pitted iron chains running from the tail’s barb and all along its bony back to trail on the ground behind it.

When it turned slightly and its legs caught the moonlight Mihn saw chains running down its legs to its claws. When the tail rose slightly, the chains clinked as they were lifted. The chains were part of its tail, Mihn realised, like a flail that could be whipped forward at its prey, and this was no natural creature, but a daemon rising from the Dark Place itself, dragging chains of sin after it.

Enkin, Mihn realised with a start, and seeking a trail they cannot find. He remembered the stories about the Enkin, but even as a Harlequin he had never truly believed them.

The hounds of Jaishen, they were called, daemons that had hunted Aryn Bwr, the last king of the Elves, for seven millennia, and brought horror in their wake. Many referred to Aryn Bwr as the Great Heretic because he had led the rebellion against the Gods and forged the weapons that had killed many of the Pantheon. No mortal’s damnation had been more assured despite the last king’s best efforts to be reborn in Isak’s mind. Now the last king’s soul had been sent to Ghenna, they were without purpose — but it appeared Mihn’s harrowing journey had brought at least a taste of Aryn Bwr back to the Land. The witches were sure Aryn Bwr’s soul had been torn from Isak as he fell to Ghenna, and Mihn could not doubt it — he would not have been left like forgotten scraps after a kill had the two not been separated completely.

Mindless hunters without prey, he guessed, watching the first lift its body high and taste the air with its tongue. Unless that prey is Isak now? Do hounds care if they find a different prey to the one whose scent they hunt?

The daemon turned its head towards the cottage and Mihn felt his hand tighten on his staff. His tattoos wouldn’t mask Isak’s scent on the ground, nor that of the puppy. It looked directly at him for a long while, then jerked around to the right, to the tree-line, upwind of them. As Mihn watched, the daemon and his hounds moved swiftly away.

Mihn let out a sigh of relief. He’d found the bi-toed tracks of a gentry pack that way — daemons or no, they wouldn’t enjoy it if they did track down a score or more of the fierce forest spirits.

As though to confirm his notion, when the Enkin disappeared into the trees Mihn heard a warning hiss, the sound clear and unmistakable in the silent night air, first from the trees where they were heading, then closer to Mihn. Then an inhuman chatter came from deeper in the woods. He scanned the shadows but he could not see the gentry anywhere; they were perfectly hidden, and not about to reveal their location yet.

The Enkin shuffled through the undergrowth, pausing at every warning hiss, but continuing until they had reached the tree-line — when the whole gentry pack began growling, sounding far more threatening now. Mihn tried to follow the sounds, but they came from different directions and he guessed the full pack was there, two dozen males and females, each stronger by far than a human.

Whether they could count or not, the Enkin appeared to come to the conclusion that they were outnumbered. Mihn glimpsed the angled body of one turn and head

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