The Hornèd Moon

Prologue: The Waning

Kessil looked around the small, sheltered valley as he studied the people scattered in small groups in front of him.

<No, not just any people,> he reminded himself, <my people. My people, all together, at last, for the night of the True Change.>

He took a deep breath, feeling anticipation race through his body. Too long had he, and the others gathered here, hidden themselves among the Newcomers, pretending to be what they were not. Too long had it been since the Hunt had been called, and they had been free.

All those gathered here to await the Moonrise were linked; linked by kin-ties, by blood-ties; linked in ways that the Newcomers couldnšt even imagine.

The Children of the Hunt were here, and were ready; ready for the True Change, that, if all went well, would come tonight, before Moonset.

Kessil stepped up to the rock in the center of the valley, and everyone fell silent. The silence was calm and respectful, patient; waiting for the ceremony to begin, waiting for the Moon to rise.

Kessil had timed it perfectly; as he stepped into the center of the rock, the Moon rose above the hills surrounding the valley. As one, the people gathered there raised their arms in a gesture of both awe and welcoming, a gesture older than the valley in which they stood.

The Moon shone down on them with a brightness that was not wholly that of reflected sunlight; out of her fullness came two bright horns. This was the Huntressšs Moon, the Moon of the Mother of the Hunt. This was the Moon that brought the Time of the True Change.

Kessil felt a sudden surge of power race through him, to join with the anticipation already there. It was time; it was the Time.

He lowered his arms slowly, aware that all the others gathered there were doing the same; the Huntress was welcomed--now it was time to finish what had taken all month to begin. He stepped forward.

"Now is the time," he said, and though his voice was soft, it carried to every one of the Children of the Hunt. "Now is the Time of the True Change, when we can finally be free of the bindings place upon us. Now is the Time!" His voice rose to a shout on the last word, and it was echoed back to him from his people.

"Bring forth the children, the Marked Ones," he said then.

An aisle opened in the crowd, and two young adults, nearing the end of their adolescence, came forward, gliding to the rock on which Kessil stood with the grace that marked all the Children of the Hunt.

The young man had tawny-gold hair, bright amber eyes, and olivine skin; on his forehead glowed the mark of the twin horns that adorned the Huntressšs Moon. The young woman, his counterpart, had ice-pale hair, pale grey eyes, and white skin; and she, too, bore the Mark of the Hunt, glowing at the base of her throat.

Kessil crouched down and opened his arms in a gesture of welcoming much like that with which they had greeted the Moon.

"Come," he called softly, and the youngsters, moving almost as one, stepped up onto the rock.

Kessil then turned to the gathering. "Do you recognize these two?" he called out.

"Yes!" came the response, torn from hundreds of throats by the power of the ceremony he was invoking.

"Who are they?"

"The Marked Ones!" came the response.

"Who are they?" he called again.

"The Chosen Ones!" came the response.

"Who are they?" he called, yet a third time.

"The Hunt!" came the response, and it was a howl raised to the Moon.

Kessil then turned back to face the youngsters. Their Marks were glowing with a brilliance that threatened to overwhelm that of the Moon Herself, as the power from the Ceremony of Acknowledgement poured into them.

"Are you prepared?" he asked quietly; again, his words were heard by all in the valley.

"We are," the young man replied, with a self-confidence unusual in one his age.

Kessil looked at the girl.

"We are," she repeated.

"Then take your places among us, and--" Kessil began, just before he heard a blast of sound, and felt a sudden shock of pain under his ribcage. He whirled around, and stared in shock and horror at the Newcomers standing in the entrance to the valley.

<How did they get here? What have they done?> Kessil thought in alarm. The Newcomers had disrupted the ceremony!

There was another shock; this one went straight into his heart. Not even he could survive such a blow.

As he fell, and his vision grayed, Kessil heard a vicious laugh, and saw the glow of the Marks on the two youngsters fade to the colour of ash. And he had just enough time to realize that he had failed, before the darkness took him.

I hope that you enjoyed the prologue of The Hornèd Moon. Please send me any comments, suggestions, and/or constructive criticism you might have, in order to help me improve both The Hornèd Moon and my other stories.

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Last modified June 26th, 1996.
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Trudy A. Goold/tag@myna.com