Season of the Wild Hunt(Book 1 of The Seventh Gate series)

Portends

 Music: Loreena McKennitt - Mummer's Dance

Far to the north-west, on an island in a lake, all the priestesses, acolytes, and novices slept peacefully. All except one. This priestess, for so the young woman was for the past month now, tossed and turned in her narrow cot in the stone cottage. Strange dreams unsettled her rest. In this dream she was merely an observer, watching the action play out before her.

A wolf ran across bare hills in a dim half-light that was neither day nor night, its golden pelt glowing warmly despite the dull light. It raced over the ground at great speed, and she could sense its urgency, and its fear. In the incongruous way of dreams, the wolf wore some sort of golden collar or chain about its neck. In its jaws it carried a chalice. The priestess knew it was running away from the hill called An Tor Mór; she could see the standing stones, black silhouettes sharp as thorns against the grey sky, on the cone-shaped hill off to one side.

A surge of anxiety flooded through her, and she felt herself urging the wolf on. Run. Run.

The dream twisted. A horrible, screeching howl echoed across the hills. The wolf ran faster. Then the priestess caught sight of the creatures pursuing it. They were dark and ugly, hunched up in front, and they were huge, much larger than the golden wolf. She tried to count them - eleven, twelve - more? Red eyes gleamed and yellow teeth in gaped in their jaws. They were gaining on the wolf.

The wolf lifted its head, putting on a last desperate burst of speed up a hill. A shadowy figure appeared on the hilltop. The priestess could make out no details of the cloaked and hooded figure, other than that he leant on a sword, its tip resting on the ground. Without knowing how or why, the priestess was certain it was a man, and that he was someone she knew. He seemed to be waiting for the wolf. He raised the sword and stretched out his other arm as if to help the frantic animal up the hill.

It was too late. The nightmarish creatures leapt onto the wolf, bearing it down to the ground before it reached the man. They tore at it, yowling in triumph. She caught a last glimpse of the wolf's face. Tears streamed from its eyes, but it looked straight at her.

"Morganna!"

The despair in the wolf's plea was agonising. Then it disappeared beneath the heaving mass of snarling, rending beasts. Morganna looked wildly at the man on the hilltop, screamed at him.

"Help her!"

But he was dissolving as if made of smoke. The sword dropped from his hand, melting into the earth, and a cold wind blew the last shreds of his spectral form away. The priestess felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest.

"No!"

She shot upright on her cot, woken by her own shriek. It was that other voice that echoed in her mind, however - she had heard it as clear as the sunrise bell. It was oddly mispronounced, but it was her name.

Her heart was still pounding madly, adrenaline coursing through her blood, and her throat was raw from the scream. It must have been very loud indeed, because the door to her room opened and the First Priestess came in, her hair black crow's wings flying about her shoulders in the gust of wind that accompanied her.

"Anna, what is it?" Rhiannon's face was creased with concern. She sat on the cot, reaching out to wipe the tears that Morganna had not realized were streaming down her face. "Tell me."

Morganna took a couple of deep, calming breaths. "Just...just a strange nightmare, Lady. I'm sorry I woke you."

"You may have woken the entire island, perhaps beyond as well!" Rhiannon smiled at her. "It must have been some nightmare." She looked deep into Morganna's eyes, smoothing damp hair from the girl's face. "Listen to me. You have not long been a full priestess, and it is not uncommon during these first moons to be troubled by strange dreams. Sometimes they are nothing. More often, they hold some meaning that you must try to discover." She reached up to the peg on the wall, lifted Morganna's blue mantle and laid it around the girl's shoulders against the autumn chill. "Tell me the dream, before it fades or your mind plays changes with it."

Morganna left out nothing, including the emotions roused by her dream. Her priestess-trained mind recalled every detail. Rhiannon sat absolutely still for such a long time after Morganna had finished that it was the younger woman who eventually broke the silence.

"Lady? What...?"

Rhiannon gave her a level look, such as only she could. Morganna felt like a disobedient novice again, brought in front of the Lady for disciplining. It made her defensive.

"I know - it wasn't just a nightmare, but I have no idea what it means!"

"Your gifts will do no good if you cannot bring yourself to trust in them, Anna. As to the meaning..." Rhiannon trailed into silence, and Morganna watched her face. The First Priestess was frowning, but it was an odd expression, as though she concealed some kind of excitement. Then she suddenly smiled.

"Why don't you make a pot of tea? Be a good girl and light the fire. I'm going to fetch Mervydd. He should hear this, too. Right now."

"He should?" Morganna's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she knew better than to question further. She got up and began stoking the coals in the hearth as Rhiannon disappeared out the door.

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Apologies for such a short part. It didn't feel right to tack it on to the previous chapter, as it's a different pov and place...hope you enjoyed anyway! There are occasional alternate pov's from here on - but always healthy chunks of Nya, Ash & co so you don't get seasick by me chopping about :)