I’ve been wanting to publish more short stories from amazing indie authors for a while now, so when my friend Kylee Aagard told me she had a short story to share, I jumped at it and immediately offered to publish it here as a guest post. I hope you enjoy, because it has characters from her upcoming debut book, The Hunter of Fareldin, so you’ll get a chance to get to know these characters. Be sure to keep an eye out, as well, because promotion is going to start for this amazing story very soon, and I’m so excited to share with you! For now, enjoy The Achta Gway, short story by Kylee Aagard.
Silence. An oppressive, deafening stillness enshrouded the forest. The trees crowded around Strider like silent mourners awaiting his death. He’d encountered graveyards livelier than the mountainside he’d found himself in. Unlike the dead marked by gravestones, the animals who lived beneath branch and bough feared for their lives. But it wasn’t the Hunter that they sought shelter from. Something darker prowled these lands.
Hot breath brushed against Strider’s ear as a large tongue and fangs appeared in his peripheral vision. The creature’s heavy panting wreaked of dog breath. He reached up and scratched the massive wolf’s furry neck and cheek. “You need to chew more antler.” Strider said. “And a few apple slices to be safe.”
Greer planted a kiss on Strider’s ear as he crouched among the bushes. Strider brushed his muzzle aside, scratching under Greer’s chin, earning appreciative grumbles in response. “Find anything?” Strider asked. Though his companion resembled a wolf, he was actually a mutt. A mix of wolf and di’horvith, massive wolf-like creatures the ravack people rode into battle. His fur was a smokey gray, rare among both wolf and di’horvith who were various shades of brown and black. Greer looked at Strider before letting out a sneeze that shook his head and body.
“Same here.” The Hunter said, as he looked up at the canopy of towering hemlock, birch, and beech trees, “It must be moving through the trees.”
That would explain why the village hunters hadn’t been able to track it, and why finding traces beyond its ravenous aura proved difficult for even him. He disliked the idea of climbing about the trees like a squirrel in search of signs of a creature moving among the canopy. He considered abandoning the job but knew he wouldn’t go back on his word. This was why he avoided roads.
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A group of weary people were herding animals around Strider, when a woman noticed the felaris feather attached to his bow. Mistaking him for a Ranger, she stopped him and explained that her people were fleeing their village, because of an unknown monster who had slaughtered five of them. The first victim had been a farmer, simply working late in his field. They found him the next morning, his hair and skin ashen, body sunken in and mummified. His shrunken neck was bloody from a bite that left hundreds of tiny holes. His family died the following night. All with marks from a monster whose mouth appeared to be full of countless needles.
They’d begged for him to hunt down and kill the beast, placing a small pouch of copper rints in his hand. It’d been two days already and their fields would soon perish without people to tend them. He didn’t have time to be doing a job, but the trail of the man who’d killed his loved ones had grown cold. Coin loosened lips, and he was growing painfully short. Plus, word of a Ranger refusing to help would attract the attention of actual Rangers. He didn’t have the time to fight with them. So, he agreed, pocketing the money.
The town lay at the border of the forest, squat wooden houses seemed to cower beneath the silence. The dark trees that normally offered refuge for the Hunter now held a lurking beast. Unwelcomed memories of hunting such a creature with his father clawed their way through mental walls.
“First, we need to dig up the bodies.” His father had said. “Then behead and burn em, or else we’ll have more than one monster to kill.”
It wasn’t hard to find the graves. The disturbed earth held no signs of bodies escaping their eternal resting place. It’d been two days. He had to work fast or else he’d have a fight on his hands. He gathered as much firewood as he could find, stacking the wood in a square pyre he turned to the graves. Greer had already begun digging the earth away, his massive paws shoveling dirt high into the air.
Strider gave a click of his tongue and Greer drew back. “Stand at the heads, be ready for a fight.” It normally took four days for the transformation to complete. Given it’d take at least a day to abandon the town, he could be uncovering five very angry, dead people. Metal hissed against leather as he drew his longsword, then called to the magic within.
Like an underground lake, it lay deep inside, softly humming with his heart acting as the base rhythm. It met his call and trumped through his veins. The earth responded as Strider willed it to move. Dirt shot into the air like five earthen snakes before coiling and crumbling into two piles in front of Strider and Greer. If they were going to be charged by snarling shrieking beasts, they’d have to fight their way through the dirt that’d seek to return them to their graves.
The five holes remained as quiet as the world around them. Strider knew better than to use magic to raise the actual bodies. He used a scythe fashioned into a makeshift hook to spear and drag each body from the earth. He’d behead father, mother, and children before tossing the mummified corpses into the blazing fire. Dried lips split open, letting forth disembodied howls no human could produce. Greer whined in protest; ears flattened against his skull. Strider stroked his head as he watched the flames dance. The inferno consumed the dried bodies as if they were sap-soaked tinder. Soon only ashes would remain.
Strider knew what he was facing now.
“Achta Gway.” His father’s voice returned like a phantom. Memories of an early hunt returned unbidden.
“What the Tarn is that?” Strider asked, as he beheaded the final body and threw it atop the others in the fire. The screams reached a new crescendo as the young man stepped away from the blaze’s heat.
“They feed off of the magic within people, sucking it and the life out of their victims. They’re counterparts, the Achta Dwah sucks all the blood from their prey.”
“And those killed by them become monsters themselves.” Strider surmised.
“Correct. Gotta behead and burn or a lesson you’ll learn.”
Strider inwardly groaned at his father’s terrible rhyme. He chose to stoke the fire, then voice his opinion.
“Who was this guy?” He asked, eyeing the large mound of ash left when the fire finally died.
“Some sort of cult leader. Claimed to be an enlightened messenger of the life gods.” His father said, scratching his chin. “He was using his followers to help extend his life. He did it one too many times and his followers paid for it.”
Strider had only recently learned the risks of bringing another back from the dead or using magic to prolong the lives of others. The body and soul did not care to be forced back together, or to remain longer than the life gods intended. Such an affront angered the god of Tarn, responsible for collecting souls, and the life gods who’d giving the being their very breath. And so, anyone seeking to cheat death risked becoming warped into a monster beyond recognition.
Greer sneezed, drawing Strider out of his reverie. Wood and bone popped as sparks flew into the sky like splashing blood. He let the flames burn down on their own before scattering the ashes with a powerful gust of wind.
The sun fell, bleeding behind the mountains. Bruise colored clouds swam lazily within the crimson hue. Night would bring the fiend. He positioned himself on the roof of the house nearest the forest, blending into the shadows cast by the chimney. From his perch, he surveyed the dark fields and forest, kissed by silver moonlight. His golden eyes never settled on one place for long. Despite the warm night, nothing stirred. The monster didn’t return. It had already learned the townsfolk had fled and so it hunted within the forest. Come daylight, the Hunter would enter beneath the canopy and search for signs of the creature.
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He’d made camp in a small clearing near a deep ravine carved out by a long dry river. Here, he had only three directions to watch while his back remained protected. He sat on the carcass of a long dead tree, his fire placed far enough away from his position so as not to harm his night vision. The shadows shifted and danced in the trees, chased and teased by the firelight. Greer sat with his back to Strider, watching the canyon just in case the monster attempted an ambush.
Though they could subsist off of animals, they had a lower magic content than the beasts of The Wilds and people. Even those who’ve not tapped into their inner Wells possessed more magic than the fauna here. His mother’s bloodline gifted him with a large Well of magic. The creature wouldn’t be able to resist. It had to be starved for a good meal.
Strider stirred the air with his magic, sending small ripples through the forest, disturbing the natural song the land’s magic created. Normally, he adapted his own inner magic to blend with the world around him. But tonight, he wanted to be found. He had his sword drawn. The magic eater was fast. Any second he could save would be crucial.
So, he waited, golden eyes turning silver and green as they reflected the firelight. Pinpricks of light within the shadow cast by his hood. Only the chatter of the fire occupied the air. Strider cocked his head, opening his ears to the surrounding magic. It whispered a soft tune of the forest, ancient trees, death and new growth. Intermingled with its own gentle song was a darker intent. It warped the notes, speaking of hunger and a lust to consume beyond need. That contorted, jagged desire was growing closer, until it vanished as it blended into the symphony, its true nature hidden. Strider’s lips twitched into a small smile as he repositioned his hold on his sword.
It was here.
An ungodly shriek shattered the soundless night as a form burst from the shadows. Its gaunt, dried form moved with shocking speed as it lunged across the clearing towards Strider. Its triumphant cry turned to a shrill scream of shock and pain as the earth collapsed beneath it. The Achta Gway plunged into a pit, wooden spikes soaked in lamp oil pierce through dried skin. With a flick of his wrist, Strider sent a shot of flame towards a line of flame powder. It flared to life; the flame rushing towards the pit. With a defiant howl, the beast wrenched itself free of the spikes, hurling itself out of the pit before the burning powder ignited the oil.
It crouched, the flaming pit between it and Strider. Cautious of traps, the monster skittered backwards on all fours as it considered its next move. Strider watched it closely. The beast resembled the husk of a person, its limbs stretched longer than natural, skeletal fingers ending in claws. Its gray skin stretched over bone as if dried in a harsh desert sun. As was usual of its kind, it held no sign of what gender it had once been. It hissed again, the air rattling through thousands of needle-like teeth.
Hate radiated from hollow eye sockets as it hissed at the Hunter. Strider met its glare as he slowly twirled his sword, stirring the air with his magic, taunting it to come closer. No spell could kill the devil, conjured fire couldn’t directly hurt the beast as it would devour the magic the fire fed on. No, the fire needed to burn from a physical source, like flame powder and oil. It’d have been much easier if this were an Achta Dwah, as only magic could harm them. Only fire or beheading would kill this enemy.
With a jerk, it rushed again, its lean shape arced through the air as it leapt over the pit. It landed barely out of his sword’s reach before lunging. Strider channeled his magic inward. It rushed through him, strengthening muscle and bone. His sword moved faster than the normal eye could follow, even still it barely arrived in time to cut off reaching hands aimed at his eyes. The creature screamed as it dodged a following strike from Strider’s blade. It danced backwards as a sickening pop and crackling noise joined the sound of battle. Bone and withered flesh sprouted from the severed stumps, replacing the lost appendages.
The magic around Strider seemed to stutter and warp as the unnatural creature healed. He ignored the sense of wrongness caused by the fiend’s magic, as he sidestepped another attack. He brought his blade down again, aiming for the head, but the monster’s speed allowed it to slip past. He clipped its shoulder instead. It whirled and ducked under a sweeping strike before lunging upwards at his throat. He brought his blade up under its ribcage as he allowed himself to fall back, forcing the shrieking monster up and over him.
It flailed, propelled by its out momentum and the sword in between its ribs, right into the waiting fangs of Greer. The di’horvith mutt tackled their prey, his fangs aimed for its throat. He snarled and snapped, the Achta Gway howled as the two rolled. His teeth closed a hair’s breadth from the creature’s throat before Greer jerked back to avoid being bitten himself. Their fighting sent pine needles and leaves spraying into the air, as the two rolled, then broke apart.
Greer stood with his back to the open pit, teeth bared as a snarl thundered within his chest. The monster returned the challenge with a bellow. A rope flashed over its head, the rough cord synching around its arms and chest, cutting the beast’s cry short. It looked back in time to see Strider launch the log he’d been sitting on over the side of the cliff. The rope snapped taut, yanking the creature towards the Hunter, who brought his blade up in a flash, severing the creature’s neck as it flew by.
Its head hit the earth with a hollow thud still screaming as its body plummeted into the canyon. The Hunter stabbed the still snapping head through the eye, raising it from the ground on the end of his sword. He walked towards the fire. With a flick of the blade, he sent the skull crashing into the fire. The flames erupted as if he’d poured an entire bag of flame powder onto them as they devoured the head.
Within moments, it was not but ash. The screams within the canyon fell silent. After several heartbeats, the sound of a loan nightbird warbled as crickets began their wavering song.
Thanks for checking out this short story! It’s a “deleted scene” from Kylee Aagard’s upcoming debut series, The Hunter of Fareldin, so if you enjoy this short story, you’ll for sure want to check out book one, that releases in just a couple short months! Preorders will go up soon, so watch out for it! Head over to Instagram and follow Kylee, so you’ll get notified about new releases and see her amazing artwork.
Until Next Time, Friends!
