Dare Seize the Fire

Chapter Two: Birth of the Macht Witches

Modern Reflections

I will fully admit I was young and foolish, but before you judge me too harshly, I should clarify another misconception. In modern day, my kind clashes with his regularly, as if we are ancient and irreconcilable enemies. But that has not always been the way of things.

The world is vast and history is long, and by the sixteen hundreds, the interaction between his kind and mine had been infrequent. There were not enough of either of us for there to be true discord.

In fact, when witch-kind was first born, as the ice receded and humanity spread into the cold northern climes, Kaleo’s kind was barely a glimmer in the distance. Somewhere, a lone predator walked the snow, trying to understand what he was, but our stories would not interact for many generations yet.

In that cold age, pockets of human settlement arose in the northern climes despite the cruelty of nature. Some survived through the intrinsic cleverness of humanity and its endless ability to adapt. Others survived by making deals with the immortal powers that called to them, promising strength and survival in exchange for worship.

Northlands, Long Ago

Sunbone they called her, for the faint yellow of her hair and the paleness of her skin.

She was not the first fair-haired, blue-eyed babe born among the Macht tribe, but the feature was not common. Her mother had the eyes, but had been dark-haired and slightly darker skinned, as was her older sister. Even in their relatively small community, the colors among them were varied, skin the dark brown of sealskin next to skin closer in tone to the flesh of the fish that could be speared off the shore.

On a cool summer day, Sun traveled in the company of her older sister Nightcry, so named not for her dark hair but for the time of her birth. She had been delivered quickly, with the time between her mother’s first pains and the baby’s first cry all happening in the brief span between when the last-quarter moon rose late in the night, and when the sun rose in the morning. It was an auspicious birth, so none had been surprised when she developed a talent for visions and healing as she grew older.

The sisters ranged further north from their usual territory that day, because Night was seeking a vision.

Their tribe had been taken by a strange wasting disease, which had already killed a handful of their number and threatened the extinction of their tribe. In the dark of the moon, Night had sacrificed a stag, spilling its blood into the ever-burning altar fire. In exchange, she had been graced with a vision of a cave, wherein the goddess promised she would find a cure.

Sun traveled with her, armed with her bow and her spear. There were dangers in the northern forest, other creatures who hunted the moose, bison, and deer that proliferated the area. Sun wished they could have brought more hunters to protect such a valuable member of their community, but few were sound enough to travel, much less fight, and some needed to stay to guard the camp.

“This way,” Night murmured, picking her way between two fir trees. Sun noted that they had branches laden with ripe cones, and added them to the mental map she always kept of such things, even though this was farther than the foragers usually went. “I don’t think it’s much further.”

Sun followed tensely, senses stretched for signs of danger, like one of the massive brown bears seeking food to prepare for the upcoming winter.

Instead, they passed what looked like the territorial markings of a lynx—if it were ten times the size of any lynx Sun had ever seen. Sun had heard rumors of impossibly large cats like that at the last two winter gatherings, massive creatures that stalked down from the colder lands in the north.

As they walked, she saw other signs: fur gathered on the edges of rough tree bark where the animals had rubbed, the marks of sharpening claws significantly higher than Sun’s eye level, and piles of scat with the ground around it scoured and marked.

“We need to find shelter or get out of this area before twilight,” she murmured to Night, who was so lost in her quest she might not even have noticed the danger. Sun hoped these beasts were like the lynxes, and preferred to sleep during the day and hunt in the evening or full-dark.

“It’s here,” Night responded, voice ringing with fatigue and relief. “Look.” She took two more steps forward, and as Sun followed her, the trees gave way to juts of stone protruding from the ground, first only a few feet high and then rising above her head. “We just need to find the entrance.”

“There’s smoke over there,” Sun noted, alarmed. “Is this someone else’s camp?”

Night tensed, scanning the area, though the rising stone blocked most of their view further north. “My vision didn’t say anything about other people.”

If there were others, hopefully they would prove friendly. They might even be kin, who Night and Sun would recognize from the winter gatherings.

They might not be.

As they circled the stones, looking for Night’s cave, bits of sound reached Sun’s ears. Singing, she thought, but too far off for her to make out the tune or words.

The rocks formed a maze that quickly blocked the view of the trees to the south, and bounced sounds unevenly. The rocky walls grew taller and more looming, threatening to wrap them in stone rather than showing them a neat cave entrance ahead.

If so, Sun hoped it would happen soon. The sun above was growing hotter, and she felt exposed without the dense canopy of trees.

Exposed to what?

What instinct warned her that the sky here was dangerous? She had never heard of such a thing.

But the voice in her head was whispering, danger, danger.

She scanned the rocks continually, wondering if one of the large cats might be waiting atop one, sleeping or stalking, but either way ready to pounce on prey foolish enough to walk into this exposed warren of rock.

The alarm cry of a bird nearby made her jump. It sounded like an owl, perhaps nesting in the stone and disturbed by their passage. Night didn’t seem to notice.

Then two more cries broke through the sounds of the day, picking up the alarm, owls carrying and passing on a call more like a flock of crows than owls. It was wrong. Unnatural. Hearing it made Sun ready her bow.

As she scanned the skies, a half-dozen birds burst from the rocks around her, owls whose massive wingspans were dark blotches on the blue afternoon sky.

Even Night noticed that. She looked up with wide eyes, but unlike Sun, she had focused her life on the art of healing, not fighting. She knew what plants could be used to draw out poison from a festering wound and what others could clear liquid from the lungs. She knew these owls were acting in a way solitary, nocturnal hunters should not act, and she knew the unusual often indicated danger, but she was not near any shelter and she had no way to defend herself other than looking to Sun.

“How close is the cave?” Sun asked under her breath, never dropping her gaze from the sky. She thought of how sharp the talons and beaks of birds of prey were. If they mobbed the intruders in their territory, they could do damage.

Night cast her gaze about, then sighed with relief, “There.”

“Go,” Sun said. “Don’t run, but go quickly.”

Night led the way, and they were almost at the cave when the screeches in the sky abruptly ceased.

Sun raised her bow as one of the birds–how could a bird be so large? Its wingspan had to be equal to her spread arms!–dove toward her, as if dropping onto a mouse.

Just as Sun let the arrow fly, the bird banked, changing direction so it landed on the rock above her and the fletching of her arrow harmlessly brushed over its spread pinfeathers.

Sun hadn’t even had time to let out a relieved breath when she saw the unmistakable glimmer of magic. As they touched stone, the bird’s talons became front paws larger than a man’s spread hand, followed in a ripple by the rest of its body shifting and growing until the beast that bristled above her was a massive cat with a dense, gray-gold coat.

Around them, other owls were touching down, and each went through the same transformation.

Oh, Night, what have you gotten us into?

“If we have intruded on your territory,” Sun said, glad now she had not succeeded in injuring the first owl, “we apologize. We did not realize.” She didn’t know if these creatures had any concept of human language, or if they would have known hers if they did.

The eyes that stared at her did not look human. Or patient. Or compassionate.

“Night, I think we should leave,” she said, keeping her voice as calm as she could. If these were simple beasts–magic notwithstanding–they might respond aggressively if they heard anger or fear in her tone.

No answer.

“Night?” Sun repeated, not wanting to look over her shoulder toward the cave mouth.

“We can’t,” Night answered, from further away than Sun would have liked. Her voice echoed oddly against the stone. “This is where my vision sent us. This is where we need to be.”

The beast Sun had nearly hit with her arrow bounded down from its rock so it stood on the path in front of Sun. Its feline head was as high as Sun’s ribcage.

She angled the spear toward it, knowing if it pounced, its weight alone could be enough to crush her even if she avoided claws and teeth. And then there were the others waiting further back.

“Any advice, Night?” Sun asked, as she edged further back toward the cave. These were magical creatures. Maybe Night’s vision had included some warning or explanation. Maybe this was some form of guardian, some test set by the gods, before they would be allowed to access the cure–but if so, what would it take to pass? Courage? Wisdom? Was she supposed to attack the creature, or set down her weapons?

Sacrifice, a voice whispered.

The sound came not from Night, but from deeper in the cave.

The message was almost clear, but it left a critical detail out:

Was the cat the sacrifice, or were Night and Sun?

The cat growled, a low vibration that trembled through Sun’s bones. She saw its muscles bunch to pounce, and knew if it hit her it would kill her.

She didn’t have time to wait for Night to guide her, or for the shadowy voice to clarify. She acted by instinct, and with a heartfelt prayer to the goddess, she drove the spear forward into the beast’s chest as soon as it started to rise. With a cry of effort and all her strength, she used the cat’s momentum to force the spear through fur and sinew.

At the last moment she threw herself to the side. The spear snapped.

The beast fell.

As it hit the ground, blood running from its chest and pouring between its parted lips, its body changed shape one more time, revealing a pale-skinned human form.

Sun couldn’t stop and examine it. The others were prowling closer, their growls deepening in pitch until the sound made the ground itself shake.

Sun raised her bow again, and took aim at the nearest beast.