CHAPTER SIX

 

 

THE MAN KNOWN as Shadow sat crossed-legged on the ground, gazing ahead and waiting.

This place had tried to repel him from the moment he’d entered. He could feel it. The whole forest was somehow against him. Its inhabitants as well; the creatures that called this their home. Birds flapping up in the trees, their song shrill and piercing instead of beautiful. Things scuttling about in the undergrowth. And the trees themselves had done their best to get him lost, even when light broke, making one part of this place look like another.

Then came the open attack. He’d only just managed to dodge the vicious charge – and as it was he’d been whipped sideways, a sudden pain in his side causing him to wince. He’d glanced down to see blood seeping from a tear in his clothes caused by the animal’s antlers.

Rising slowly, he’d found himself facing a large stag. Shadow stared at it, losing himself momentarily in those black eyes. When he hadn’t listened to what the forest was telling him, this creature had been sent to encourage him to leave.

He wasn’t about to.

The stag charged again. Shadow dove out of its way, but crouched on his knee this time, ready with his bow – nocking an arrow in seconds. But his aim was off – impossible, his aim was never off! – and the arrow flew wide. Thankfully, when the stag came by for another pass, Shadow was able to draw his hawk axe and deliver a blow to the back of the animal’s neck with the blunt side. Crouching next to the felled beast, he placed a hand on its side and felt the rhythm, the pumping of its heart.

He is you and you are him, Shadow said to himself.

His true quarry was linked to this animal somehow, in a way he couldn’t explain.

Show me, he said to the creature. Show me this place’s true heart.

It defied him, of course, but the sudden flash Shadow saw in his mind was enough. He’d recognise the location even if it took weeks to find it.

In the end, it didn’t. He stumbled upon it by accident, a clearing he doubted whether he’d find if he’d been actively looking for it. And sincerely doubted he would ever leave again if this didn’t work.

After stitching up his wound, Shadow set to work; time was growing short. This forest was attempting to expel him, like a body fighting a disease. But he wasn’t going to be defeated.

First he built his fire pit. Then he placed wood – logs he chopped with his axe – in the bottom of the hole. By the time he’d completed the pit, it was a good five foot by seven, the sides forming a kind of semi-circle and strengthened by rocks.

Next he chopped more fire wood, ignoring what sounded like screams in his head. Lies, tricks. Telling him this wasn’t his to cut, to burn. It belonged to Hood. Only he could use it. Shadow was trying to evict the guardians, or at the very least subdue them, as he had done with the stag. It wasn’t theirs at all; it belonged to the universe, to the Great Spirit. He would show them that.

He kept on ignoring the screams as he chopped wood for the framework of the small lodge: facing the fire pit, with an opening at the front. He covered it with hides he’d brought with him, stitched together in the traditional way and weighted down with rocks. Tied inside the lodge were pouches filled with tobacco as offerings. Using some of the longest logs he’d cut, Shadow built a box about three feet square, which he then built up, filling it with kindling, before building up a dome of rocks – then more wood until the pile was quite high. He had problems getting the fire to light, the wood refusing to respond to the spark of rock, the kindling unwilling to burn, but finally nature took its course as he knew it would. Soon a roaring fire was going.

It took some time for the rocks in the pit to grow hot enough for his purpose. Shadow removed anything metal from his person. He also made sure he had the bottles of water he’d brought with him, for drinking and for wetting the rocks he’d be using.

He also set up an altar made from dirt found in the hole. On this he placed several items personal to him as offerings, including ashes from previous sweats – through which his mission had been imparted.

Shadow stripped to the waist and began his spirit calling ceremony. He started by chanting words known only to him, the lodge preparing him for his journey to another plane of existence. Once there, he would call forth those who watched over him, to do battle with the ancients of this place. The prize would be the forest, for he needed to sever the link with Hood before he could defeat the man. Sherwood’s favourite son fought with old gods on his side, but so did Shadow. It was just a question of which were the strongest this day.

To help him on his way, Shadow smoked the pipe he had prepared. While it was in his hands, it represented a conduit through which the universe and the creator’s power could flow. It would help him to commune with those he sought.

Shadow felt it flowing through him, felt the rhythms of this place just as surely as he had the stag’s heartbeat. He begged the spirits he worshipped to come: to cleanse not only him, but the forest.

They appeared in a miasma of colourful scenes, taking on shapes: wolf, the bear, the buffalo. The creatures of this forest were pitted against them, led by the stag, not felled as its body was, but strong and majestic, a symbol of the old god’s power and dominance. For now. It was a battlefield unlike any other, way beyond anything ordinary humans had ever witnessed. Beyond guns, tanks and helicopters.

Mighty hawks swooped and fought with owls, spinning over and over in the technicoloured clouds. The stag rammed its antlers into the bear, just as it had done with Shadow, only for the wolf to leap on its back and begin tearing at it. Even the smaller animals, like badgers and foxes, fought – pitting themselves against the creatures of the desert, like the rattlesnake.

Shadow marvelled at the complexity of it, then at the simplicity: a glorious contradiction. The fight seemed to rage for hours, but there was no telling the passage of time. The only way Shadow realised it was over was when the bear picked up the stag and held it aloft, delivering it to him.

Shadow gave thanks to the Great Spirit, just before the connection was severed. He managed to crawl out of the lodge – staggering a few yards with a bottle of water he’d grabbed – before collapsing.

But he knew that no harm would come to him now. He was protected by the new keepers of Sherwood. And Hood was soon to find out exactly what it was like to be the prey instead of the predator.

A trap would be set before long, and as Shadow drifted off into unconsciousness, he realised exactly where he would find the bait.