Page 9 of Corvus and the Broken God

As if he heard my last thought, he shook his head. Then he settled down on the ground, no longer straining to meet my gaze.

Okay, today I will tell you about the other one who was like us. He was here before I showed up, a mountain man from nearby. His name was Brandon. His family had owned the land due north of here for over a century. They kept to themselves and lived off the land. The Monster’s territory bordered their lands on three sides. You can see the log house from the top of the ridge. He pointed behind him with his snout. Even from my high perch, all I could see were trees.

Because he was solitary like his family, he never found a wife or a lover. One by one, all his living relatives died off. He mourned them and then went on with his life. He was a simple man. He hunted and fished, cultivated a small garden, and only drove his old truck into town once a month in order to get supplies. But he was a well-read man, surprisingly so, and a kind man, a bit naïve. While he didn’t mingle much with the rest of us, he saw the best in everyone he met.

One day, when out chopping wood, his axe slipped and wedged its blade into his leg. He slumped down to the ground in agony. There was no one to help him. If he pulled the axe free, he would quickly bleed to death. He couldn’t move from the pain. He wondered if he would die there, all alone.

A few hours later, the Monster showed up. Bran thought he was dying, and it was the devil himself who came for him. He wasn’t wrong, although not quite how he thought. The Monster offered him a deal. He would transform him into a Stag and save his life. If he managed to survive for a year, then he would turn back into a man and go back to his life.

And if he didn’t survive?

The wolf looked up at me, a glint in his eye.

Then Brandon’s property, the land that had been in his family for generations, would belong to the Monster.

I shook my head. How dreadful. Before the horrible truth could sink in, he continued.

He took the deal and was transformed into a magnificent Stag. I wasn’t a hunter, so I’m not sure how best to describe him, by the points on his antlers or whatever. I saw him only a few times, and he was impressive. Tall, perfectly muscled, quick, and athletic. A formidable creature. I watched him speaking with The Monster a couple times, and they appeared to have long discussions. I couldn’t hear what was happening in their heads, and The Monster didn’t seem too interested in talking to me, but I watched. From the outside, it was impossible to predict what would happen.

He paused and looked up at me, straining his neck.

What happened?

Can’t you come a little closer? This is just rude, making me strain to see you.

I hopped down a few branches closer, still well out of his reach, but he seemed satisfied.

So, when The Monster sprang from seemingly out of nowhere, landed on the back of the magnificent Stag, latched onto his neck, and wrestled him to the ground, it was such a shock that I froze. Instead of helping, I watched as he broke the stag’s back, blood spurted to the ground, his knees collapsed, followed by the rest of him. He was dead within a minute, the life leaving his large, surprised eyes.

Like you, I fled. I never knew if he ate the flesh or buried it on the land he stole.

I pondered the story, feeling sorry for a man I had never met. Why did he change us?

What?

I know it’s screwed up to save his life only for a little while in order to get the land. But you and me? Why did he change us?

Why don’t you ask him that? You think he confides in me?

I tilted my head, trying to read the wolf. He stayed still, watching me with luminous eyes.

Go. Check and see if the second one is still here. See if you can discover anything that will help us and let me know tomorrow.

I bobbed my head. He disappeared into the thick forest brush, but it felt like he or something was still watching me. I flew back toward the building at the top of the hill. I needed to get some sleep. Wandering around tired would only get me killed. Especially since Camazotz was nowhere to be seen.

The abandoned gates with their guardian gargoyles passed beneath me, and I continued toward the main structure, flapping and gliding down to land. I perched on the outer wall and surveyed the large building. The back section, of which I had seen a little of the night before, was low and squat, with actual buttresses holding up the heavy stone walls. They were thick and functional, predating the elegant flying buttresses of the more famous Gothic style. The windows were narrow and angled, as if bowmen waited in the shadows to fight off an approaching army. Not all had glass, but the ones that did were leaded, tiny diamonds on point in neat rows. The front portion looked like an old church, complete with a tower on the far-right side, but despite having a long set of openings for windows, I didn’t see a bell or any religious iconography.

I knew better than to go in there. The Wolf’s story played in the back of my head. As if I needed any other reason to fear the creature who had transformed me and threatened to eat me. And yet the strange structure called to me. Who had built it several hundred years before Europeans arrived on this continent? The Monster? But why had he let it crumble?

Curiosity ate at me, mixed with a sense of recognition I couldn’t explain, compelling me to move closer. I could take a quick look before retreating to a safe tree for some rest.

My wings moved before my common sense could take the upper hand, and I flew in through the open front door, landing softly inside the large space. The old stone floors were covered in a layer of dirt, but otherwise, the room was empty. Two stories tall, the ceiling pitched with a row of arches and a matching row of tall openings for windows. I could picture how they would’ve looked with stained glass, only in my imagination, they held pagan images, horned gods, instead of the usual religious iconography. I took my time and looked around, telling myself I wouldn’t go deeper into the house.

At the far end of the wide space was a corridor. The night before, I had found him inadvertently on the left side of the house, in the back. I knew I shouldn’t go down the dark hallway. As far as terrible ideas went, this was up there.

Something called me though, a physical tug toward the room the two creatures had been in the night before. Freya, get it together, weirdo, you know better than to do this. Procrastinating, I examined the materials used to build the heavy walls. In some places, the stone walls were covered in some sort of adobe or plaster mixture. It, too, was ancient, chipping off and missing in places.

I listened for some indication I wasn’t alone, but the place was eerily silent. He had been up late entertaining and should be asleep. Maybe I could just take a quick look, see if I could find that room again.