Free The Herald of Autumn (Echoes of the Untold Age Book 1) by JM Guillen Page A

Often, these things fled me.
Sometimes, they sought me. Either way, the ending was always the same.
    It always came down to the hunt.
    The hunt formed the crucible between
life and death, a sacred holy passion. In that moment, when the hunt came upon
me, there was no right nor any wrong. There was simply death, and I danced with
it like a lover in joy and terror, exhilaration and horror.
    Hunting was primal.
    If my passions exceeded my control, I
would inadvertently call the Hunter and a Great Hunt. This, of course, was just
as Coyote wished. Coyote well knew my nature. He’d beckoned me here for a Great
Hunt.
    “So, later, when yeh’re playin’ the
part of a young buck, all wild and free, rearin’ to hunt what ails the world…”
    Not that the Old Man was alone in his
knowledge. My own kind also well knew my nature. For all of my
thousand-thousand awakenings, they bore my adventures with some chagrin or even
a touch of disdain.
    They somehow believed I sought out
the darkened monstrosities, simply so I could hunt them.
    Preposterous.
    “I don’t know how much I can do,
Tommy. You must stop poking at the things in the darkness.”
    Without question I would seek the
creature in the wood. To not do so, as it birthed living filth and darkness,
went against everything I held dear, everything in me. Yes, I brought the
autumn. My every step was a harbinger, a call that soon death’s voice would
sound upon the world.
    I brought the hunt. I brought death
to the world and to those who stood against me.
    I reflected, and memories of this new
abomination washed over me.
    I had no choice. Such unnatural
creatures blighted the world.
    They would have to be slain.
     

 
     
13
     
    “I see it in yeh.” His gravelly voice
sounded neither smug nor triumphant. “I see it as I knew I would. Yeh don’ have
a choice, boy.” The latter words fell softly, almost sad.
    I sipped at my cider, glaring at him.
    “One might look at all this and claim
an act of aggression. You’ve called my Name. You’ve beckoned me here to a place
where darkness walks. You know full well what I shall do.”
    “I’ve done yeh no harm.”
    “Not directly, mayhap. But don’t
insult me. I’m no fool. You’ve snared me well, and to pretend otherwise only
adds insult to your crime.”
    Unbelievably, he broke my gaze. “I
can’t say yer wrong, Tommy.” He looked back toward me. “But yeh’ll do it?
Yeh’ll hunt the beast?”
    The weariness in his voice surprised
me. At his dim spark of hope, my heart almost went to him, seeing him, for the
briefest of moment, as a tired old man.
    But no. I remembered his true nature.
    “I can’t say what will happen, Old
Man. I’ll seek this cave. I’ll see what I see.” I sipped my cider. “You must
understand how difficult it is to trust, particularly when you coyed me into
being here.”
    “So yeh’d’ve simply come for the
askin’?” His voice turned sharp.
    I turned away from him, taking
another sip. He knew that answer as certainly as I did.
    He sighed. “I can’t say I don’t
understand, Tommy.” His tone turned slightly rueful. “More so, because this
fight doesn’t exactly cater to my strengths.” He gave me a canny gaze. “If’n
I’d realized what yeh would do, one might think I might’a prepared a little
something to lend yeh a touch o’ help.”
    “The cider is quite enough, Coyote. I
won’t have you hold any debt over me.”
    “No debt is implied, Herald.” He
steepled his fingers. “The way I ken it, one might say that I owe you. ”
He laughed. “Not that I would ever say as much.”
    “Of course.”
    “But, after all, I did call
yer Name to the four winds.” He held up a single weathered finger. “And, one might say that I was a touch sly about when and where I called yeh, almost luring yeh
into a situation.” A second finger rose.
    “One might indeed say that.” I kept
my voice cool.
    He grinned at me. “Then, there’s the
matter of how I came by yer Name to