Phillips Harbour
Friday, October 23, 1868. Dawn.
In the grey pre-dawn world, a curious and grim procession meets at the crossroads of Phillips Trail and Blackwood Road. It's early enough and far enough outside town that they do not appear to be attracting any attention. The woman of the party rides on a grey mare, with a rifle slung across her back. The others go unmounted: two men and one squat chimpanzee wearing a belt full of holsters and pockets for oddly shaped equipment. The older of the two men also wears a rifle on his back, while the other has a couple of conspicuous bulges in his jacket. The last man carries a small contraption of wires, leather, tatters, and concentric rings. Everyone glances at it from time to time as they proceed north and west towards the old forest, but the device does nothing but sway in the young man's hand.
At the forest's edge, the woman dismounts to lead her mare over the uneven ground. The forest maintains its unnatural silence. The world holds its breath, waiting.
A quarter mile into the forest, the man's contraption comes alive. Everyone comes to a halt as the rings revolve of their own accord, twisting and pivoting before all of them resolve to indicate one direction: north east.
"So, northeast some.. distance," Herbert says, interpreting the compass reading.
The ape peers thoughtfully at the compass, one hand on a peculiar instrument hooked into his harness. "Ook eek?" he suggests, gesturing north and then pointing east.
"You think we should go north, then come back and go east to triangulate her position?" Shaft asks the ape, then blinks.. having forgotten that Miss Townes (and likely Hale) can understand Caliban perfectly.
Bernice nods thoughtfully at the simian. "Might be a good idea, Mr. Caliban. If you think you can take a more or less northerly course, then I can scout ahead and rendevouz with you again to report."
Reverend Hale follows the Compass's indicated direction with his eyes. "Either she's much closer than I'd hoped, or she's not in these woods, if that thing's working."
The ape nods at his master. He gives Bernice's suggestion a somewhat less enthusiastic reaction - in fact one might characterize it as slight horror and worry.
"I'm not too keen on the thought of splitting up either," Herbert says. "Triangulation may not be useful either if St. John is actually on the move."
The reverend doesn't look any happier than Caliban about Bernice's idea. "I do not think that your splitting from us at this juncture is advised, Miss Townes." Whether his assertion would apply to anyone scouting, or to the sole woman of the group in particular, is anyone's guess.
"She is most certainly in these woods, sir," asserts Dr. Townes. "I worry she may know of our presence, in fact." Catching Caliban's reaction and the reverend's words, she waggles her hands in front of her. "I understand your concerns, gentlemen. I appreciate your concern, really. It is with all due respect that I reassure you I haven't lost my mind or gotten some fool idea in my head. The fact is, I know these woods in a way you can't, on top of my tracking and hunting experience. I can move through them in a way I don't expect anyone to follow."
"Eek eek ook eek," the ape says. His hands show two people walking, one splitting off in a different direction; then he turns the other hand into a fangy maw which proceeds to devour the first stray.
"How about you lead us, Miss Townes," Shaft suggests after watching Caliban's display. "Just don't get too far ahead?"
Rev. Hale exchanges glances with to Mr. Shaft, and grits his teeth. "With all due respect, Miss Townes, you may know these woods but you do not know Sara St. John."
"You've fought with her successfully before, haven't you Reverend?" Herbert asks Hale.
Bernice touches a hand to her temple, but keeps both voice and expression even. "I do not know her intimately, I admit. I do know some of what she is capable of, down to the slaughter. Perhaps I neglected to mention the entire community of people that she wiped out that I am one of three survivors of, including my horse.. I would also add, sirs, that my tagging along as an attachment to the party would defeat the purpose of my coming out here. I fully admit that scouting may be dangerous and I may be killed. However, if I am not doing it, then frankly, what am I doing here?"
"For certain values of 'success'. Which is to say, I survived her attempts to kill me." He shifts his rifle into his arms. "Gunshots that would be fatal to a man or beast were only a hinderance to her. But she was hindered by them, and she does fear and respect guns."
Caliban scratches behind an ear, then shrugs, obviously deferring to the others in the party. He crosses his arms behind his back.
"She knows guns, but we have more than just guns," Herbert notes. "If we can surprise her in her human form, I think we have a chance of subduing her. Lead on, Bernice. This is your area of expertise."
In answer to her question, Hale gives a pointed look to Townes's own rifle. He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. "Do as you feel best, Miss Townes, and may God go with you."
Caliban peers at the compass thoughtfully.
Townes nods, reaching back to briefly touch the barrel of Old Henry when Hale glances at it. "Thank you, Reverend. I assure you, I fancy no fantasies of single revenge. I won't do anything to endanger ourselves, our mission, and least of all this forest. I am a doctor, sir, I don't wish to be a martyr." She looks back and pats the nose of her Morgan mare. "Slate, is the ground too uneven for us to stalk in together? If you think so, I'd like you to stay with the men. If we can go it together, then let's. I'll report back frequently either way."
Bernice adds, "Per Mr. Shaft's suggestion."
Slate whickers, nudging Bernice's shoulder and stepping forward to go with her.
With that agreement, Miss Townes and her mare disappear into the forest ahead, leaving the two men in the eerie silence of the woods. Within moments, they can hear no sound from the woman. At least that means she's not screaming in mortal terror or pain. They continue to the north at cautious pace, the crunch shoes on leaves the only thing to relieve the silence. Several tense minutes pass. As they advance to the north, the Compass points gradually more easterly, although the change is slow enough that it's not obvious at first.
"Hmmm," Herbert muses as he watches the compass. "How much ground would you say we've covered, Reverend?" he asks quietly.
Hale pauses to look over his shoulder. "A half mile, perhaps? Since we enteredt the forest."
The ape keeps a watch on the surrounding forest. His usual jacket has been forsaken for a more utilitarian work shirt, around which his harness fits.
"I'd say St. John is perhaps a half-mile or so away then," Herbert suggests, "If she hasn't moved."
The preacher grimaces, nodding to Shaft. He pulls a worn map from the pocket of his cassock and unfolds it to take a look, glancing between it and the Compass.
The strange quiet of the woods muffles Bernice and Slate's return, but she calls out softly before coming into view so as not to startle anyone. "News, gentlemen."
"You've found the campsite?" Herbert asks the woman.
The ape glances suspiciously up at the branches. "Eek eek ook," he says, greeting Miss Townes.
Slate whuffles at Caliban, following the chimpanzee's gaze.
The doctor shakes her head, auburn braid wagging. "No, but I know more or less where it is. We can reach it quickly, about a mile in. St. John is no longer there, however. She realized the Silent Wood has withdrawn their protection of her, and has fled. They don't know where she went to, but we can investigate her abandonned lair for clues. I'll pick a path to get us there most quickly, if the sirs are agreeable." She pauses at the ape's eeking, and looks up, shading her eyes. "Is someone up there? We won't hurt you."
The ape eeks and ooks back at Slate and Miss Townes. He glances up sideways at the treetops with obvious misgiving on his face.
Townes spots a squirrel on a tree branch, just before it darts down the branch and disappears behind the trunk of a tree.
Herbert also looks up and studies the tree branches for movement. "Are the animals still on St. John's side?" he asks Bernice.
"Eep," worries Caliban.
Bernice purses her lips. "It may well be. The Forest shelters the animals, but it doesn't govern them any more than it governs us. I have to hope they'll be willing to speak with me. The crows did, back when I was first searching... they're cagey fellows, if anyone will give us a fair shake, they will. Shall we proceed, gentlemen? I think it could be useful to spend at least a few moments investigating her old lair. I can pick out a quick path for you."
Hale catches their meaning and tightens his grip on the rifle. "If the animals are on her side, she'll soon know we're looking for her. Investigating her lair might be a good plan if we had more time, but I think in this case we had best follow the Compass to her while we've still some hope of surprise."
Herbert checks the Compass again to see if it has changed direction.
The young woman nods. "That sounds reasonable, Reverend. Press on then, and leave me to investigate the camp. Slate will get us caught up in short order, and you won't waste any time."
"Be sure to mark its location on a map," Shaft notes.
The ape ooks and eeks at Slate and Miss Townes, before he turns to follow the men.
The doctor gives her mount a gentle squeeze with her knees, the pair shifting a few paces in place. "I will, Mr. Shaft. Please, I know you may be suspicious of the animals, but please don't hurt them if you can avoid it. They're not to blame here."
The Compass hasn't changed position while they've been standing still and talking. Hale doesn't look pleased by Townes's suggestion, but he does not take the time to argue. Instead, he checks his own map. "Assuming she doesn't move, we should find her ... Oh, merciful heavens." He shakes his head in disbelief. "Tell me I am reading this wrong, sir." He gives the map to Shaft. "Where do would you estimate her to be?"
"If she's left the forest, the animals may not venture into the hills to contact her," Herbert reasons, sounding optimistic until he looks at Hale's map. "Ah.. the old Spirit's hill?"
The ape raises his eyebrows, then looks at the map under their arms. "Ook... ook eek."
Hale sighs. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that."
"She must think it will protect her," Shaft says. "But it could also isolate her. We'll know more the closer we get."
"I certainly hope it is not protecting her, but I am afraid that seems most probable to me." Hale looks to the northeast, glowering. "Facing St. John is bad enough. Her and the Hill ... if they're working together, we must find a way to separate her from it."
The monkey's hackles rise visibly. He reaches back to try and pat them down, then grumps audibly.
"Perhaps we can lure her out, but first we must be certain she is there," Shaft says, and starts looking for a path.
Bernice and Slate trot a few yards away, but the pair pause at the mention of the hill, the horse cantering in a circle. "Gentlemen, though the Hill sounds dire, I should offer what the Still Woods told me about it. It's malevolant yes, but the Woods have never known anyone to go in and get some actual advantage from that place... the Hill is for itself. St. John is formidable, but I don't know that she's necessarily going someplace that'll help her. I'll ask more about it. Slate, hup!"
The two gentlemen and their monkey companion proceed to the northeast, following the Compass's direction at the best pace they can manage through the uneven terrain of the woods. "I wish I could move as well through this undergrowth as that horse does," Hale remarks dryly at one point. When they reach the sloping ground at the hills, with its shorter and scruffier trees, the footing does not improve any. The direction the Compass is taking them in is only becoming clearer: they are steadily closing upon the Hill that trapped Hale at the beginning of the month.
"Eek, eek eek ook," the ape advises. He gestures up at the hill, then pantomimes two hands evidently gabbing at each other.
"Maybe we should circle around to make certain," Shaft suggests.
Hale has the look of someone who would really like to be swearing now. "As you say," he concedes to Shaft. "I fear with each passing minute we are losing whatever hope we had of surprising her. But charging into whatever defenses she and the Hill can arrange together holds even less appeal."
"If the hill spirit cannot stop bullets, then we just need to find St. John's location on it," Shaft reasons, and starts to circle the mound with his eyes on the compass.
The ape gives his master a doubtful look. His eyes go toward Hale, as the resident authority on the Hill, but nevertheless he follows.
Together, they circle at the foot of the hill, following the uneven and trackless ground as best they can. The Compass continues to point steadily towards the Hill's summit. By the time they are halfway around the front, it's clear that she can't be anywhere else. "Perhaps if we're really lucky, the cursed thing's swallowed her up," Hale says.
"Eek ook," Caliban says glumly.
Herbert looks at the surrounding hills, to see if any are high enough to give them a vantage.
Hale adds, "I don't know if the Hill can stop bullets or not. Certainly it'd do us no good to shoot it, but it may not be able to shield St. John from attack. If we can get within range." The Hill in question has the tallest of the summits in this area; its top would not be visible from any of the adjoining hills, and they'd be out of gunshot range even if one could get line of sight on it.
"Ook, eek eek ook," the ape points out to the Reverend. He pantomimes holding a gun and squeezing the trigger, then uses his other hand to illustrate a four-legged thing that falls over dead. Then he points up to the hill, then turns around and looms menacingly over the former 'hunter'.
"Lure her out by pretending to be hunters?" Herbert asks the ape.
The ape shakes his head. He points up at the hill, then at Mr. Hale. He pantomimes a large fanged thing chomping up a small two-legged thing.
Hale considers Caliban's pantomine, and then looks to Herbert. "We are certainly armed for the part. I suppose we could fire shots to attract her attention. Though that might attract too much attention."
The reverence winces at Caliban's imagery. "In any event, it would be foolhardy to engage her here, so close to the Hill's influence."
"We'll wait then for Miss Townes," Herbert says.
Caliban looks distinctly worried. He casts about, looking at the forest in hope of someone's timely appearance, and then mutters little despairing ooks.
"Slate may be our best hope of luring St. John away," Shaft notes. "And we still don't know where her companion the Stag is."
The ape scratches behind an ear. "Eek ook eek," he suggests. He points up at the top of the hill and pantomimes talking.
Hale shifts uncomfortably, glancing around them. "I don't know whether to be glad or sorry that I ordered Prayer to remain at the church. I half-wish I had him here to investigate; he's a good deal less conspicuous than any of us."
"They know your allegiance, Cal, and may not be so forgiving this time," Herbert says.
Caliban pulls a face. He gestures toward the forest, then points up at the hill. Then he pantomimes a small four-legged creature and a larger one, and makes the smaller one talk to the large rone.
"The forest talking to Hill?" Hale guesses, glancing at Shaft. "You can't make him out half the time either, can you?"
The monkey gives his boss a plaintive look.
"Hmmm. Use the squirrels to send a message?" Shaft guesses.
Caliban shakes his head and sighs longly.
The ape tries again. He points at the forest. Four-legged creature, small. He points up at the hill. Four-legged creature, big. Small four-legged creature scurries up to big one. Talking. Then he points at Rev. Hale and his master, then has a big fangy thing eat a two-legged thing.
Hale clears his throat. "By now, the squirrel, or whatever, has likely had time to reach St. John and warn her. If we remain here, she may come after us whether we are trying to attract her attention or not."
Nod. Nod. The ape agrees with Rev. Hale.
"Let's find a summit of our own then," Shaft suggests.
The ape looks over the nearby countryside for any likely coverts.
The closest adjoining summit is to the west. Shaft and Caliban were up there once before, so they should have no difficulty reaching it again, even if it's not as tall.
"Let's take that peak, it'll put us between St. John and the forest at least," Shaft suggests, pointing to the familiar hill.
As they move off, Hale looks thoughtful. "If coming after us convinces her to leave the Hill, it's to our advantage. I rather wish there were some way to ensure that she attempted pursuit."
Caliban kneels down and moves some stones into a triangle, pointed at the nearby hill. He gestures back to the forest and pantomimes a two-legged figure, next to a four-legged one.
"The good Doctor, Caliban?" Herbert asks.
Nod. Nod.
Herbert eyes the triangle, and kneels down. "So, if we're at this point, St. John is across at this point, then you think Bernice should be at this third point, ready to shoot once St. John comes for us?"
Caliban shakes his head. He makes the signs for Miss Townes and her horse again, then pretends to be walking up to the clearing. He shades his eyes, evidently looking around for people, then catches sight of the stones. He points at them, then turns that way and pretends to walk off in that direction.
"Oh, you mean to leave markers for Miss Townes to follow?" Shaft says.
"We should leave a trail for her to follow. Reasonable enough. And if St. John follows it too ... well, we were trying to find her." Hale points out.
The ape nods. He points up at the other hill, then pretends to shade his eyes from the sun and scrutinize the land with great caution.
Herbert looks across to the other hill, and rubs his chin. "We need to set a trap. I have the sticky-tape - any animal walking across that will find it awkward. At least, when the neighbor's cat got it into it he was in quite a snit."
The ape scratches behind an ear, looking a little dubious.
"Let's get up there, we'll have a better vantage from there. We can leave markers as we go," Hale suggests. He leaves Caliban's existing marker as it is, continuing ahead. "St. John is rather more formidable than a cat, I'm afraid, and I don't know if we could cover enough area to deter her spies."
"We don't want to deter them, I suppose," Herbert says, following along. "My only strategy right now is to lure her out, have Bernice shoot her, then use the flash bulbs to further disorient her until Cal can get in close with the stunner."
Caliban sets a marker now and then, but his attention seems mostly on the surrounding area, as he looks back now and then to see if anyone has emerged from the cover of the forest, or perhaps come down from the hill.
"You're not truly thinking of trying to capture her alive, are you, man?" Hale sounds incredulous.
"Well, you said that bullets don't do much to her," Shaft notes. "If we can knock her unconscious.. well, it would be easier to deal with her then."
"Ook ook eek," the ape says defensively.
This place doesn't have the too-still nature of the Old Forest; there's birdsong in the air and the rustling of insects and small animals in the undergrowth. Hale starts for a moment when a garter snake slithers away from his step. But none of the animals seem to be paying them special attention to them. After recovering from his surprise at the snake, Hale nods to Shaft. "Fair enough."
The ape peers at the compass again, to see if the pointer has wavered at all.
Since they've been moving, the Compass's position has been changing slowly with theirs. However, it's still pointing at the summit of the Hill.
Caliban points this out to his master. "Ook?" he asks, pointing at the summit, then cupping his hands and pretending to sleep.
"That's odd," Shaft notes, looking at the compass. "She should be pacing around at least, unless.. oh, yes," he says, nodding to Caliban. "She could be asleep!"
"That would be a stroke of luck." Hele's eyes lighten for a moment, then sober. "But surely her friends would've warned her? Perhaps she is trying to trick us into thinking her asleep, or incapitated. There's still her Companion to consider -- and the Hill. Unless the Hill did swallow her."
Caliban rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Ook ook."
"The Hill reacts to magic, doesn't it?" Shaft asks. "When we examined it before, it didn't react to Caliban or myself at all."
Caliban shakes his head at his boss. He points at the Hill's summit, then pretends to loom. He points at himself and cowers, looking awed and maybe a bit frightened.
"Well, that was more you reacting to the Hill," Shaft poitns out
"Still, I wish we had a bird to tell us if the Stag is guarding over St. John or not," Herbert adds.
"The Hill has long been the site of blood sacrifices; my sources informed it has reacted to those by offering boons to its devotees, on occassion. And, as I have learned through my own experience, it reacts to attempts to harm it," Hale says, wryly. "There's a set of six stones at its summit. I am given to understand that dislodging those stones would damage and possibly destroy the Hill's spirit and power."
The ape looks worried. He points up at the summit, then pantomimes a four-legged creature standing up onto two, then pretends to stab a knife downward.
The reverend pales. "You think she might have found someone to sacrifice to the Hill?" He looks around. "Shouldn't Miss Townes have made it back to us by now?"
"That is a scary thought," Shaft says. "I suppose we need to find out for certain."
Caliban sets out that way, leaving a marker to show the change of direction.
"Do you want to run up and take a peek, Caliban?" Shaft asks. "You're the fastest of us."
Caliban grimaces, then nods. He reaches into his harness, checking a supply of small round things, then starts toward the Hill at greater speed.
"I suppose we can wait here for Miss Townes, or your call. If there's trouble, call us, Caliban. I mislike this more by the moment." Hale doesn't look thrilled by the prospect of waiting.
Herbert says, "If there's trouble, set off a flash."
The ape moves with no trouble through terrain that had been much more of a hinderance to the humans. Even so, it takes him some time to cover nearly a half-mile of ground, not to mention the elevation change from up to down to up again. At length, he nears the summit of the Hill and advances with greater caution through the short trees and underbrush. As he pokes his head gingerly around one tree, he realizes he's at the top.
Caliban looks back over his shoulder to see if he can still make out the figures of his master and the Reverend, then looks forward. Stones... He remembers those stones. Where were they? He scans the area with a hand to one of the flash bulbs in his harness.
The ground ahead is covered in knee-high grass and fringed by white flowers, making a meadow that would be pleasant were it not for the shadow lying over it ... a shadow without an obvious cause to be casting it. Caliban can sense the Hill all around him, but unlike on his last visit he doesn't have the feeling of it watching him. It seems intent on something else. Big boulders mark the meadow, though Caliban can't count six of them from his vantage.
After some jockeying in the trees on the fringe of the summit for a better position to scan the area, Caliban shifts enough to see two figures that had been hidden from him by the outline of a houlder earlier. One looms tall and antlered over the other, grey in the shadow that lies over the Hill. The second figure is human, and kneels with a knife in her hands. But if there's a human here for her to be sacrificing, Caliban can't see who it is. She shifts the knife in her hands. The stag over her has a concerned, suscpicious look to his demeanor, although he shows no signs of being afraid for his own safety or of feeling threatened by the knife.
Nuts, the ape thinks. Asleep would have been nice. Was that too much to ask for?
Well, here goes nuttin'. He gathers up his courage, pulling a flashbulb out of his harness and moving to a position where he'll have a good throw-path. Throw it, he figures, then make like mayhem back down the hill.
The two appear to be engaged in some kind of conversation. Sarah, the stag says, it's madness even to contemplate this thing. Even the Hill is not convinced it will work. And our enemies pursue us even now. We should move to safer ground.
There is no safer ground, the woman says. She talks like an animal, in growls and twitches of her body. And if our enemies pursue us, then it is more important than ever that this be dealt with. I am not afraid. She raises the knife and strikes --
-- her own throat.
The ape stares horrifiedly. What in the spirits' name... Then he recollects the shadow. It's some kinda crazy ritual! Whatever it is, it can't be good. And light banishes shadows! His first instinct is to do something, anything. Screaming, he throws the flash bomb before turning to run for the hillside where he can signal his master and the Reverend to arrive as soon as they can.
The stag rears to his hind legs in frustrated anger as the knife bites into St. John's neck. She crumples forward slowly; she still hasn't finished falling when the flashbomb goes off. Her body twitches and writhes on the ground. Surprised and blinded, the stag twists to fall to one side, trying to ensure that he does not kick his companion. Earth's curse! Who's there? he shouts, but the chimp is already running for the path.
Caliban waves wildly as he hurries down the hillside. He reaches into his vest and hefts another bulb, looking back over his shoulder, expecting to find St. John with a knife through her throat, or some giant wolf ghost or... Either way, best to have it ready. Or to use it as a flare, if he doesn't see the humans making a move.
Neither St. John nor a ghost wolf is after him. A very white and very angry stag, however, is charging in his wake. She should have killed you when she had the chance, he snarls. The dazzle of the first bulb must have worn off.
She killed Mrs. Everchild! retorts the chimp. He throws the bulb, hoping for the stag to look away and keep going down the trail, while he jumps down the hillside in a shortcut. Eyes forward again, he concentrates on not killing himself with the jump.
As anticipated, stag ducks his head aside and closes his eyes at the throw. Caliban tumbles neatly through the air as he takes a shortcut down a steeper slope, catching himself briefly with feet and hands on intervening trees. From the sounds of it, he's lost the stag, who is thundering along the swtichback trail.
Worked like a charm, the ape thinks as he keeps going down, brachiating like a born monkey. He'll get wise pretty soon -- where are the humans?
Catching sight of Miss Townes, the ape waves frantically from the tree near the bottom of the slope, where it bends to meet the other hill. "OOK! EEOOK!" St. John just killed herself! Her companion's on my tail! Help!
The woman doesn't stop to ponder the bizarre notion that Caliban presents. St. John killed herself? Her friend is in trouble, that's the important thing. In a practiced motion, her Winchester is unslung from her shoulder, and a round levered into place, Bernice watching for the ape's antagonist.
The sounds of the pursuing hart have already faded; either he's coming on more cautiously and quietly, or he's given up and gone back.
The chimpanzee slows down as he notices the lack of hooves. Looks like he lost my trail and decided to go back. It's some kinda ritual, dunno what she's tryna do. We better hurry, maybe we can stop him from finishing it!
Mind if I hitch a ride, Slate? asks Caliban.
Hale and Shaft aren't far behind Slate and Bernice -- it's not a great distance and much of the horse's speed advantage is negated when going downhill.
Bernice pulls up under the tree. "Hop down, we've got you! What're you talking about? The hart is doing a ritual? St. John killed herself?!"
Caliban drops down into Bernice's arms. "Ook ook ook eek!" he says, pointing up the hill to the summit.
"What?" Hale says intelligently, running up behind Bernice with his rifle at ready. "The hart sacrificed St. John to the Hill?"
Herbert catches up, huffing and puffing.
Shaft looks up towards the summit, and draws his pistol. "Is she coming down?"
The woman looks shocked, but keeps urging the Morgan forward. She shouts a hasty translation as she goes. "Caliban had to run because the hart was after him! The stag said what they were doing was a 'bad idea', but St. John said there was nowhere left to run, and stabbed herself in the throat! Caliban saw some sort of... of shadow apparition, and threw a flash device at it, and ran for it!"
"Apparition.. the wolf spirit or whatever that was inside her?" Shaft asks, wide-eyed.
"Eeeeek!" shouts Caliban to his master, peeking back to see him.
"Cal, how are you feeling right now?" Shaft asks, seriously.
Bernice shakes her head, thick braid flailing. "I haven't the foggiest. Caliban's speculating it might be some sort of ... of presence from the Hill. St. John's dead, that's all we know. We have to disrupt whatever's going on there."
Hale looks little better informed than before, but he shrugs off his confusion to follow in Slate's wake along the trail up. The horse has a little trouble with footing and the overhang of low tree branches. Still, encouraged to speed by her mistress she does outdistance the men afoot. In minutes, she bears her mistress and Caliban to the summit.
The ape points forward and yips.
"Alright, we've got the Stunner, let's use it," Shaft says, looking up at the hill. "Especially if anything moves towards you, Cal. You were bitten, so you might be the next likely host for whatever was in St. John."
At the top, Bernice sees a meadow in shadow, though the source of the shaddow is not obvious since the day is clear and the summit is above anything else that might leave a shadow. At the center of a of triangle marked by six boulders is a large quantity of blood, but another sight is more even more eyecatching. A large white stag, streaked in blood, is staggering beneath the weight of a monstrous black beast. At a glance, it looks as though the black creature had jumped atop the stag ripped it open, judging by the quantity of blood around. With some difficulty, the hart is stumbling from one of the smaller inner boulders to the next, in more or less a line.
"Eep," whispers the chimpanzee quietly.
"Steady, Slate," says Townes, bringing her Winchester up to brace the weapon on her forearm, taking careful aim down the iron sites but holding her fire. "What's going on down there? Is the stag carrying the best from stone to stone? He must be completing a ritual between them... do... do I shoot?"
Caliban sizes up the situation, then ooks and eeks, nodding grimly.
"Shoot!" Hale shouts from below, although he can't possibly see the situation yet.
A single shot rings out from the rifle; fresh red blossoms on the side of the hart's chest, directly over the animal's heart. The stag throws his head back as the force of the shot rocks him to one side and his left foreleg gives way. The dark beast on his back slides off, falling to the ground.
Hale finishes his clamber to the summit as the hart falls. Without hesitation, he brings his rifle to bear one the stricken beast and pulls the trigger.
Caliban had held still, even holding his breath, when he sensed Miss Townes aiming. Now that the shot is off however, he reaches into his harness to withdraw the Spirit Stunner, a strange black-handled instrument. He watches the fall of the dark beast with amazement and fear. "Ook."
Shafts makes to the top, and points his pistol at the hart first. "Is it dead?"
If the stag is dead, he hasn't figured it out yet. He is struggling to get back to his feet, though his hide is as much red as white by now.
The trembles that had threatened to throw Bernice's aim off at first return, but she levers another round anyway, spent brass tumbling away and tears stinging at her eyes. She doesn't answer Shaft, simply saying, "Don't look, Slate..."
Herbert tries aiming at the hart's head, and fires!
The ape's eyes widen. He taps Bernice's hand and points at the rising hart - though he's sure that was as clean a shot as could have been made - then jumps off so he can free himself to lend a hand.
As Hale reloads his own rifle, he advances on the fallen stag and wolf, moving at an oblique angle to avoid interfering with the line of fire of the others. The shadow over the hilltop is darkening; perhaps that throws off Shaft's aim. Bernice's next round shatters another hole in the hart's ribcage. The animal's hooves scrabble against the ground, still struggling. never should have .... the animal seems to say. Hale is reciting something in Hebrew, shivering in the cold shadow on the summit but not backing down.
When the reverend finishes chambering his next round, he takes aim and blasts a hole in the stag's neck.
On the far side of the stag, the black beast is stirring.
"The shadow on the ground must be the hill spirit?" Shaft guesses as cocks his pistol and moves a little closer. "I wish we'd brought some dynamite for the standing stones as well," he says, and then takes aim at the dark beast.
"Ook eek," Caliban says, noticing the shadow, reaching into his harness for another flash bomb and shifting the Stunner to his left hand. "Oook OOK!" He motions to his boss, then mimes throwing something, then points at the hart's legs. He circles his hands around and around.
The darkness on the Hill doesn't stop Shaft's next shot from exploding in the massive head of the black lupine beast. Fragments of bone and brain spray the grass and boulder adjacent. .
Hale chambers another round and stops walking as he stands perhaps ten feet away from the two. He shoots the hart again, in the head. The animal's twitching stops.
Seeing Caliban's pantomime, Shaft takes the roll of sticky-tape from his pocket, and then pauses after Hale's shot makes it unnecessary.
The shadow over the hilltop turns as dark as night. The shapes of the animals and everything else turn to nothing more than the dimmest outlines. "Not again!" Hale shouts. "Run!"
Shaft turns and stumbles away from the stones, knowing what Hale must mean!
The doctor lowers her smoking Winchester, shivering a little in the saddle. "Is... is it over? I don't want to think we have to have anything to do with the Hill. It feels like looking down from the brink of... oh no..."
Caliban, at first relieved at the signs that the stag had stopped moving, turns about swiftly and begins to hightail it out of there. "EEEEK!"
The ape stops long enough to throw the flashbulb - maybe that will buy some time!
At Bernice's prompting Slate springs into action -- but is urged forward and not away. She pelts towards Reverend Hale. Hale, meanwhile, is running for the far and steep side of the clearing as the fastest route out. Bernice makes a grab for him as she goes past, but only succeeds in nearly unseating herself. Hale's own momentum carries him over the edge and down the brush-covered slope. A half-second later, Slate follows him. Her hooves skid for traction behind them.
By some miracle, Slate manages to stay upright and keep her rider intact until they finally slide to a bruised and shaken stop at least a hundred and fifty feet further down the slope. Not far away, a dusty Reverend Hale opens his eyes. "Ah," he says. "I can see. This is a marked improvement over the last time already."
On the other side of the Hill, Herbert and Caliban made good their rather less dramatic escape. And at the very top ....
The summit is sunny and still, although the presence of two dead and bullet-riddled bodies prevents it from being what a normal person would call "peaceful".
"I think I'm going to be sick," Herbert says to Caliban, but manages not to be. "We'll probably have to take the wolf's body back to town, to show that it is dead and hopefully get rid of those witch-hunters."
The ape looks back up the hill, having heard a distinct absence of bodies being slurped up like kibbles into a dog's mouth, then up at his boss as he slowly replaces the stunner in his harness. "Ook," he says weakly.
For all her usual grace on horseback, Bernice looks positively amateur, clinging to her horse and savior's neck like a frightened girl at the equistrian academy. Somewhere a few yards back lies Old Henry, the rifle's wooden stock scuffed where it clattered to the rocky ground. "Oh Slate oh Slate oh Slate bless your heart..." Townes stammers, and the horse can feel her rider's heart pounding where her chest is pressed to the mare's mane.
Just to be certain, Shaft takes out the divining-compass from his jacket and checks for movement.
The Compass swivels around through several slow rotations after Shaft retrieves it and holds it out. At length, the rings line up and point ... at the summit of the Hill.