Excerpt

Cub snorted derisively and told Finn, "Leave this coward, we will go on our own." He took his brother by the arm and led him to the barn, sliding the door open enough that the moonlight would illuminate the stalls. He pulled a snaffle bit down from the wall pegs and pulled a horse blanket from the pile. Tormod's black Friesian snorted and kicked as they passed. They found Whitenose in the third stall, brushed down and munching on some oats from her trough. Cub tossed a heavy woolen blanket over the horse's back, and slipped the bit over her head, leading her from her stall into the yard. He boosted his little brother onto the horse's back.

"Hey coward," Cub hissed at the prone form. "After we leave, pull the gate to. Do not wake my father." Dundle merely moaned in response. Cub slid the gate hasp aside and leaned his shoulder into the heavy gate, pushing it wide enough for the horse to pass. He vaulted up behind Finn and, glancing back to see if Dundle followed his instructions, he dug his heels into to the old fell pony's side and snapped the reins. From the open gate, Dundle sullenly watched them trot off into the darkness.

Cub snapped the reins, kicked the horse and the old gelding leapt forward. Between his brother's arms, Finn gripped the horse's mane and held tight, loose horse hairs flipping in his face. His brother muttered curses, "Damned Dundle, he is a drunken coward, that's all he is, and he was the one who got this all started. I should have left it alone." The horse could see well enough in the light of the half moon, steering in the center of the lane and swinging wide into the old Roman road to Jorvik.

"I should have left it alone," Cub repeated to Finn.

Finn clenched his legs tightly to the horse withers, his brother steadying him from behind, the night clear and the way empty, only the hooves rhythmically thumping through the silence. Their passage made their own chilly wind, and Finn bit his lip, holding tight to the shaggy mane, and blinking in the breeze. Cub began to talk in his ear, "We're fine, Finn, we didn't need that useless Dun. I won't let that mare scare me. I have my sword, I am Agne Agneson. I am no coward…." Finn nodded, gritting his teeth and bouncing with the mount's gallop.

Slowing the horse to a cantor, Cub searched the roadway for the first fork. "I thought it was right along here…," he reined back, the moon sinking lower in the sky, the night darkening. The horse snorted and blew. Finn squinted, looking for the side road where they had turned to make their delivery only a few days past.

"There!" Finn pointed up ahead. Cub snapped the reins and pressed the horse forward, and they ducked into the darker path. Going slower here, the lane seemed treacherous in the dark, the old pony feeling its way, and despite Cub's urgings, it held back and carefully pawed onward. Finn could hardly see, and twigs snapped at their clothes when they got too close to the brush. Cub grumbled and forced the gelding forward. Frost covered leaves crunched beneath hooves. Finn could feel Cub's panting on his neck and in his hair.

"This is taking too long…," he complained. Too long, Finn agreed, holding tight to the horse's neck.

The forest at night became too dense, too dark to see ahead. Their mount slowed to a stumbling pace, swinging its head from side to side. Finn whimpered, "This ride is taking too long, Sorven is in danger, that monster could already have returned." Leaves and twigs brushed his face. Finn inhaled a ragged breath, holding back tears, and whispered, "Are we lost?" Cub grunted, reined in the gelding, and jumped down. Stepping out front, he led the animal forward, pushing headlong down the roadway. They advanced, hesitant stamping steps in the dark.

"This is the second turn, I am sure of it," Cub told Finn, his words ringing surprisingly loud in the quiet wood. The fell pony turned as Cub led, and Finn felt branches clutch at his coat and snap under the horse's gait. Disturbed in its perch, an owl just overhead hooted as they passed, Finn startled by the sudden, close call. He bit his lip and closed his eyes. Cub lurched through the overgrown pathway, pushing brush aside and trying his best to center in the unlit course. Cub pulled at the truculent beast, "Come on, old boy, come on…"

Finn peered over Whitenose's shoulder, watching for any sign of the open pasture. The trees began to thin, and he whispered to Cub, "I see the field, it's up ahead."

Cub stopped the horse at the edge of the pasture and tied it to a tree at the pathway. He helped Finn down and set him on his feet. Then he carefully drew his sword.

"You stay behind me," he cautioned, "At all times, just stay out of the way. I will do the fighting." Finn grasped his brother's coat and followed him across the grass. A frost had made the pasture sparkle in the light of the waning moon, frosty whitened leaves scattered like a sea around a dome shaped island. The humped hill in the middle of the field sat exactly as they had left it. A light breeze rippled the grassy lawn. Cub moved quickly to the hillside, Finn clinging to his coat tail.

As they approached the hill, they noticed a faint glow at the apex, like the washed-out glow of rotting wood in the deep forest. Cub hushed Finn and began to scale the hillside, crawling carefully using the handholds afforded by the worn carved steps. As quiet as possible, they inched over the rise on their bellies, Finn lifting his head to look over Cub's back.

The greenish light emanated from the stone lined crease cut into the summit. Brighter here at the hilltop, the strange light cast an eerie glimmering that reflected off the surrounding stones. A black humped shadow hovered over the spot where Sorven had placed the rusty pot. Finn climbed slowly along the ridge line next to his brother. Cub held his sword before him, his arms trembling enough to make the blade shake in the dim glow. Cub put his mouth right to Finn's ear and whispered, "It's that thing…."

Finn could see it! A breeze whipped past, and they could smell it too, the foul odor made Finn's eyes water. The night mare waddled back and forth, its wings folded back over its shoulders, its back to them, preoccupied with its efforts. The shadowy beast blocked a bile-colored flame, flickers showing between its legs, and sickly green glinting from its glossy hide. Slowly, Cub eased closer, crouching and working his way across the yard. Too frightened to fall behind, Finn crawled on his hands and knees behind him.

The beast moved to the side and revealed her.

Kneeling before the old pot, a hunched old woman waved clawed hands in the air, her mouth mumbling… the boys could hear nothing but the wind and the wheezing of the mare. Her grimacing face a mass of scars, her hair over her forehead burnt to a frizz while the sides stood out like a cloud, her tattered dress barely covering her sagging dugs, the sight of her stopped both boys. Glimpses of her body showed blotchy, pale skin, boils on her arms and rotted, sagging flesh, and her eyes glinted the same blood red as the creature. Her body seemed transparent; they could see the stones behind her. Finn held his breath—this is a ghost, a real ghost.

The witch and her night mare focused completely on the old pot in the cellar. Filled to the brim with a viscous, bubbling liquid, a noxious green flame burning beneath it, the entire cauldron radiant with a sickly eminence. Ghostly hands weaved in the air over the pot, and sparks and pops spat into the air. The witch motioned to the beast and it leaned over and spit a bloody drool into the pot. The flames flashed higher and the light within the witch grew stronger, her body growing more milkier, more solid right before their eyes!

"Balder's arrow!" Cub hissed. "It's Sorven's blood, it's bringing her back!" and with an angry shout he lunged across the remaining yard and flung himself into the narrow space between the rock walls. The night creature, startled by the noise, twisted in the confined space, lifting its wings and raising up on its hind talons. The witch, her face an angry scream, jumped to her feet.

With surprise as his ally, Cub swung an erratic blow, and he chopped into the night mare, by pure luck hacking a chunk from its side and ripping a tear in its wing. The creature clawed at him, snapping with its tiny fanged mouth, hissing and spitting.

Kneeling in the yard, Finn froze. He couldn't move, couldn't catch his breath.

Hurt and cramped in the narrow passage, the mare scrabbled up to the top of the wall above Cub, its damaged wing hanging useless. The witch charged Cub and grasped at him with her clawed fingers while a shouting Cub pressed forward into the ruins. Ghost fingers made no impact, and in return his swung sword bit no flesh. Frustrated, the evil apparition fell back a step to her cauldron, calling silently to the beast hovering above Cub.

Though he could not hear the witch, Finn recognized the mouthed call as a command. A call to attack. His brother in danger from above—that threat broke the spell that had held him captive. He croaked, "Watch out!" Cub raised his eyes in time to see the creature leap at him, and his two-handed swing connected with a dull thud. The monster shrieked, then whimpered, flopped to the ground and lurched away, dodging Cub's thrusts.

Finn watched his brother move back into the yard chasing the monster. He danced around the black, leathery thing, stabbing and hacking, trying to land a fatal blow while avoiding the wounded beast's claws. Both stumbled around the yard, circling each other in the dim light from the glowing cauldron. Finn pressed himself against the hillside next to the cellar opening, watching the battle.

A horrid visage flew out of the ruins directly at Finn! He screamed in terror.

The witch must have not realized he hid there until he gave Cub warning. Now she chased him, reaching out with her crooked fingers as he staggered backwards, scrabbling away from her clutch. He ducked and ran to his older brother, the ghost matching his pace. Tripping, he fell a few steps from his brother, and seeing him sprawled helpless before the ghoulish witch, the midnight creature bounded to attack him.

Finn's distraction provided the opening Cub needed. As the monster leapt to strike his little brother, Cub slammed his sword down and pinned the night mare to the turf. The creature screamed. The howl startled birds into the night air, caws and squeaks lifting into the sky. Withering, coughing blood, the monster collapsed into a pile, pus and ooze weeping from its mouth and the gash at its side, puddling on the frozen soil. Finn instantly forgotten, the witch dropped to her knees beside the dying beast, her empty hands waving stoking motions over the heaving, dying mess. Cub pulled loose his blade and swung at her, and swung again, hacking and slicing, frustrated that his sword passed through her translucent body with no effect.

Finn, panting and shaking, struggled to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest and ears. My breath, I can't catch my breath! His eyes locked on his furious brother, the eerie ghostly image and the dying monster, he slowly backed away. Turning to run, he faltered into the ruins of the stone walled cellar, bouncing off the stone walls in confusion.

Before he could recover his balance, Finn stumbled and kicked over the boiling pot, spilling the bloody fluid and dowsing the green flames. The glow around the cauldron extinguished with a pop!

Crackling with lightning, the ghostly witch rose into the air, arms raised with fists clenched, mouthing a scream. Startling Cub, she flew past him, directly at Finn and struck him with both fists.

For a moment, Cub saw the ghostly shape enter his little brother, disappearing into his chest, and Finn crumpled in a faint. But … he didn't!

Cub watched, awestruck, as his little brother and the witch, both now glowing like ghosts, both struggling in a desperate embrace, tumbled past him and right over the edge of the hill!