Avilion (Mythago Wood 7) by Robert Holdstock Read Free Book Online Page B

the bowstring and pressed the iron point of the arrow against the Amurngoth’s bare-boned chest.
    It retreated, dropping the torch. Shrilling sounds, and a chatter like magpies, signalled the sudden and rapid departure of the raiding band, though Jack noticed, with human eyes and Haunter instinct, that they moved along the edge, rather than retreating inwards.
    They were out for prey, and they clearly had Shadoxhurst in their sights.
     
    The Amurngoth were the true ‘stealers’. Change-hunters. They stole the new and left their own behind. They carried a supply of shards, unshaped pieces of wood, usually rowan or willow, and when they found the opportunity to steal, they were adept at shaping the shard to reflect the stolen life, usually that of an infant child, sometimes an older child, though that involved a great deal of effort. In Jack’s father’s time, the Amurngoth had all but disappeared, though, in the generations before, the Amurngoth had become a considerable and tangible presence in the outer world. It was akin to a slow invasion. It had worked well for many generations; but the Amurngoth had been frustrated by the one thing they could not control: change.
    They never changed, and they lived by different rules of time. The world they coveted changed and was steady in the passing of days.
    The days, eventually, had passed the Amurngoth by. On the outside world, at least.
    But they were here again now, and Jack couldn’t help but think that they had been following him. This was more of his Haunter’s instinct. Having seen the traces of them by the river, mistaking them for the smaller kind, he’d assumed they existed at that location. But perhaps they had merely overtaken him.
    His journey from the Villa to the edge had been an opening of a channel, perhaps. He felt alarmed at the thought, since it meant he might have put the small town over the rise in danger, all because of his curiosity.
    Could they move that far from the edge of Ryhope Wood? It was a consoling thought that if a half-human could only just make it, a non-human would be drawn back far more quickly. Nevertheless, he would have to find a way of warning the priest without alarming him, and suggest he find a way to quietly spread the word: there is danger at the edge.

    The torch that the Amurngoth scout had dropped had ceased to flare, but it would still be useful. It burned again as Jack picked it up, but the flame died as he placed it in the kitchen sink. The chaotic chorus of birds was signalling first light and he made a rapid inspection of the dew-frosted land, walking rapidly as far as the silent outskirts of Shadoxhurst itself, inspecting the pasture and the rough tracks for signs of the Iaelven, but he saw nothing but animal traces.
    Returning to the sticklebrook, he stood at the place where twin alders crossed and let the Haunter look for signs of the band.
    They had been here. This was where they had found the open land. But they had not progressed further than this, returning instead to the deeper wood, and moving towards the Lodge on one side, and . . . yes . . . they had divided into two groups, the other exploring away from the house.
    Everything was silent now. There would be no piping, no singing, no enchanting summons. Not now, not in the day. But the Haunter was uncertain. It sensed that the Amurngoth were still close, folded up in their nests, awake and canny, listening and learning.
     
    Tired and hungry, Jack returned to Oak Lodge and savaged open another of the cans from the larder. The contents were soft and smooth, tasting of very little that he recognised, and he ate it with the chewy but sweet bread that Julie had brought him the day before. Once again, he tried to remember the joy of his mother Guiwenneth’s sharp-flavoured cooking, the solid, fatty meats, the belly-satisfying grain cakes, the scalding and soothing broths.
    He finished the can and the bread and made a quiet decision to go hunting later - but beyond