Winter Kills

More than a month, and many skirmishes later, he was again patrolling the edge of the Western Woods. It was a clear, chilly night; lit by a full moon and millions of stars. As Daredevil cantered along, he remembered the exhilaration he had recently experienced, striking terror into the hearts of his enemies before he ended their lives. They slowed to a trot and he enjoyed the still darkness of the night. He reached the spot at the boundary of the woods where he had encountered the Lady of the forest with a certain amount of unease. He reined Daredevil to a stop. There was a disturbing presence coming from the woods, which sent a shiver up his spine. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew this had something to do with the hexe. He dismounted, feeling almost compelled to investigate, and led Daredevil carefully through the moonlit woods.

He reached a clearing in the woods where she stood facing a small fire, her back to him. As he moved closer to her she turned to face him, the starlight reflecting impossibly in her eyes. “She is at peace, Albrecht. You were not to blame, she never thought it was your fault, and she will always love you.” He was taken aback. How did she learn his name? And her voice! There was an uncanny, otherworldly resonance to it that hadn’t been there at their first meeting. He looked into the fire and saw, briefly in the flames, a face that until now he had successfully buried deep in his memories. He looked back to her again to see she had collapsed unconscious to the ground. He strode over to where she lay and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her awake. “How did you know my name? What did you say that for? What did you do? Answer me!”

She opened her eyes, still dazed from her trance, to see the Hessian before her. He kept shaking her and asking her how she knew what she said, how she knew his name. “I don’t.” She said. “Please, stop shaking me. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He pushed her away and started pacing as she tried to steady herself, as he was very strong and had almost knocked her over backwards. When she regained her balance and her head had cleared, she thought of the night’s events. She had gone to the river with a small jack-o-lantern to do her customary Soul sail. The lit pumpkin held the message she had consecrated to beloved souls since departed, and she let it drift down the river. Then she had lit a fire and done her Samhain ritual. The next she remembered, he was shaking her. She watched him pace until he fell to his knees, staring forlornly, almost searchingly, into the flames. “Giselle.” He whispered. He bowed his head, shoulders slumped forward and looked at the ground. She could feel the misery and desolation coming from him in palpable waves. As soon as she felt strong enough to stand, she went over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched, and then looked up at her with an excruciatingly despairing expression. “You said she was at peace, that she didn’t blame me, that she would always love me. You said my name. How did you know? Why did I see her face in the flames?” He asked, almost brokenly. She realized that in her trance she must have discovered something about his life, not surprising since she had been thinking of their first encounter that evening. However the Sight, and whatever she had seen, had vanished with her reverie. “Is that news to bring such despair?” She asked. “It seems like good tidings to me. I’m sorry I can’t remember what I said, but the Sight comes and goes as it will sometimes.”


He stood suddenly, gripping her arms hard and turning her to face him. “What were you doing out here to begin with? How did you come to be in such a trance?” She decided she could tell him her reason for being out this night, as she was certain he wouldn’t be carrying any tales to the village priest. “I was celebrating the Festival of Samhain, as I do every year… as my mother taught me long ago.” He held her arms tighter, in a vise-like grip. “What is Samhain? You are a Hexe, aren’t you?” She winced slightly; his fingers were sure to leave bruises on her arms. “Please, let go of my arms and I’ll tell you.” He let go and she walked a space, coming to a bench-like log by the fire, rubbing her arms to get the feeling back in them and sat down. She motioned for him to sit beside her, however he walked to her and stood over her instead, arms crossed. She looked up at him and spoke. “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘hexe’. My mother trained me in the Old Ways, as her mother trained her, and so on long ago for countless generations. We celebrate the turning of the seasons and hold nature and all the Goddess’ creations in reverence. The Festival of Samhain is the last Harvest, and the time when the veil between this world and the Spirit world is thinnest. It’s a time to remember and honour souls that have gone before us, and loved ones that have gone from this lifetime.”

He listened, intrigued despite himself, and found he was sitting on the log beside her. What she was telling him of her beliefs was so much different from the Christianity he was raised with. ‘Of course,’ he thought half bitterly, ‘I lost my faith in anything but myself and my sword long ago!’ “So how did you end up seeing spirits from my past?” He asked. “Well, Magick is somewhat wild, and the Sight comes unexpected at times. Besides, I had been thinking about our past meeting. Perhaps that created a link for her spirit to come through?” She looked up at him. “I certainly didn’t wish to upset you…” He looked at her again. “I’m not really upset. I was rather startle, but the impact has had time to settle in.” The October air was getting chilly and she was shivering. He took off his cloak and wrapped it around her. “Here, your fire has all but burned out.” He hesitated a moment, then said. “You know, you’re the only person in a long time who hasn’t been afraid to talk to me.” He smirked wryly. “Of course, that could have to do with the small fact that I’ve become the ‘Demon Warrior’ that I set out to be so long ago. But still, it is a wonder to me that you were never afraid. Especially since I fear I’ve lost any touch of humanity I ever had.” He was quite surprised, himself, that he was sitting here talking to her like this, actually talking to someone who wasn’t frozen in terror… and the way they were talking! An emotion came back to him… one he thought long dead. He thought he had willed himself not to feel any emotion but rage, but here it was… and disturbingly enough, he didn’t really mind. “Obviously you haven’t.” She interrupted his musing and almost reading his thoughts. “You’re here, aren’t you, carrying on a decent conversation?” She put her hand on his shoulder and their eyes met. “I knew I had nothing to fear from you. But then, I can see more in people than their outward appearances.” They sat for a moment, their gazes locked on each other, then she stood up and placed more wood on the fire. It flared momentarily and then burned steadily, warming them where they sat.

He looked into the flames again, as if searching once more for her face, and spoke. “Her name was Giselle, but I called her Sonnenschein, for she was as bright and warm as the sun itself. She was beautiful, with pale gold hair and the biggest sky blue eyes. All the young men in my village, myself included, were smitten with her. However, it was me she loved and we had pledged to marry each other.” He sighed and looked down, lost in memory. “It’s been so long since I’ve thought of her and longer still since I’ve spoken of her…” She looked at him, putting a hand on his arm and asked. “What happened then?” He continued. “We pledged ourselves to each other, but her father had other ideas. I was only a stable hand, you see, and her father had ambitions to marry her to the son of the wealthiest merchant in town. Werner was his name… he was well aware that he was the wealthiest young man in town, and very full of himself. Unfortunately, he was also a brute. He made sport of the maids in his father’s household, and of the poorer girls in the village. They could neither say nor do anything about it, and it ruined a lot of families.” He looked at her, his eyes bleak, and continued. “Giselle and I were miserable. She had to obey her father’s wishes, of course, and marry Werner though her heart was pledged to me. There was a big wedding… the biggest the village had ever seen in a long time… Then I ran away to join the army, so I wouldn’t have to see them together. I did well in the army, and decided to make a career out of it. I learned all manners of warfare and strategy, and I think I was fairly content… until chance brought me back to my childhood village. I sought her out to find how well things had gone with her, and found instead of my bright Sonnenschein a broken spirited woman. He beat her, you see… for any reason, or no reason at all. I could see it plain on her, the bruises and marks, the pain obvious in the way she carried herself. She cried as she told me of his brutality, how he seemed to enjoy it, even… and how she wished she could have married me as we had intended. My heart broke even more that day, and it was all I could do not to find the bully and kill him for treating her so badly. I said I would take her away with me and she said, quite wisely, that that would bring more trouble. She said. ‘Just be here for me. Be my friend.’ Of course I agreed. My squadron was not far away, and I would be able to see her often. However, all I could do was watch miserably and comfort her as I could while she deteriorated even further. Werner, of course, liked it not that we were friends… or that she spent time with me. He forbade her to see me, but she defied him and saw me anyway… and he bided his time until the day he saw us walking in the village square together. He made a big scene, calling her all sorts of vile names, and dragged her home.” He closed his eyes, shuddering to the depths of his soul. “He beat her to death that night…”

Her heart went out to him. She watched as he looked up at the sky, at the fire, at the ground, struggling for composure. Such misery as this man had faced, agony that was with him to this day. She gave him time to collect his words, saying nothing, and he continued. “I went a little mad, I’m afraid. Though I blamed myself for her death, I nearly killed him at her funeral and was run out of the village. As I rode away I pledged I would never love another woman. I vowed I would become the best soldier and the most ferocious warrior ever and never be vulnerable like that again. I willed my heart to become hard as stone. I fought in many battles, both in Germany and around the world, gaining a fearsome reputation even among my fellow soldiers. I filed my teeth sharp to make my appearance as horrific as possible and began wearing only black armour… like Death himself, so along with my battle skills I would terrify my enemies. I resolved I would never think of her again, which I hadn’t, until recently.”

He looked at her again, his eyes hard over the misery behind them. She spoke then, softly. “But you shouldn’t ever have blamed yourself, beloved. I need no message from the Spirit world to tell me that. Werner was solely to blame for her death, and he’ll have to answer for that, among other things. I don’t know what else to say, except that I have much sympathy for you. And as I reportedly said earlier, she doesn’t blame you either… she never did.” He said nothing. So, after a moment’s silence, she retrieved her harp from its case and began to play, singing in her native Irish a blessing to the Lady and Lord… to the moon and stars and all of nature; and to the beloved souls that had passed before. She sang in English as well, that he might understand and find comfort in the words. She continued to play even after her singing was done, soothing and healing music for the lost soul beside her. She saw the tension and some of the anguish leave him, and he turned to look at her once again.

She was playing upon a strange stringed instrument, and singing with a voice as clear as crystal. He listened, his soul aching, to the strange words she sang in a language he had never heard before. She sang then in English, and he knew somehow the words were the same as before, but sung for his benefit in a language he knew. Her singing stopped, but the music went on… and it seemed to lift away the tension and anguish he had felt for so many years. He didn’t want the music to stop, but there was something he had to know. He laid his hands on her own, stilling her playing. “What’s your name? I never thought to ask you before.” He asked. “Niamh.” She replied softly. “Niamh.” He repeated, his hands still on hers, “Thank you… for the message, for listening, and for the music.” He looked down into her eyes.

She set her harp down gently and returned his gaze once more. “Be at peace, beloved.” She whispered, and leaned her head against his shoulder. He put his arms around her, enjoying the closeness as well as the peace that radiated from her very being, and they sat so until the fire had once again burned down. Finally she stood and murmured, “It’s getting cold, I should be getting home. You’re welcome to join me if you like.” He replied, somewhat regretfully. “Better not. I should get back to camp and get a little sleep.”

She picked up her harp and they walked a short distance. She pointed to her cave, the opening obstructed by a weeping willow. “There’s my home.” She said, handing him his cloak. “You’re welcome to return when you can.” He embraced her once again, and swiftly bent to place a gentle kiss on her lips before he lost his nerve, then put his cloak on. “Until then, Niamh.” He said, and mounted Daredevil. “Until then…” she trailed off, trying to remember his name from her entranced vision, but not finding it. “Albrecht.” He said to her inquiring gaze. She blew him a kiss and said “Goodnight, Albrecht. Be safe.” He nodded, turned and rode off. She watched him go then walked home