The Midnight Raven

         Keiran chewed absently on his toothpick. “As long as we’re all going to be doin’ this thing, we might as well get to know each other. Where’re you two from?” He said, looking at the other two men sitting around the fire.
         The lean one, Tutner, spoke first. “Southern parts. My father was a merchant that sold rugs near Calimport. The entire city disgusted me. I knew my life would be wandering as soon as I met a man named Entreri. He was a wanderer and he sparked the desire to roam in me.” Tutner crossed his booted feet and stretched his arms. “It has never died.” He eyed the first speaker. “What about you, big guy?”
         Keiran crossed his arms over his expansive chest. “Came from the mountains. Got my first big kill when a bruin wandered into the town, when I was a boy.” Keiran thumbed his chest. “Killed it with my bare hands. Eventually I bought this here,” Keiran said, tapping the double-headed axe lying across his legs. “I’ve been hunting game ever since. This will be the big one, I think.” Keiran regarded the final member of their group. “What about you, old timer?”
         The final man sighed. “You know I’m barely forty. Just because I’m older doesn’t mean I’m an ‘old timer.’”
         “All right Acteon, don’t get angry, just wanted to know,” Tutner said. “You don’t have to tell us everything.”
         “I was born in the capital, and was a student of magic at the royal academy,” Acteon said.
         “The what?” Tutner asked.
         “It was a school that was founded and funded by the king. It‘s in the capital,” Keiran explained. He frowned and regarded Acteon. “But that would mean-”
         “Yes.” Acteon interjected. He flexed his fingers. “I was there when the midnight raven appeared.  I was the only one to get away. It killed all of my friends. My entire family, everybody I ever loved. That’s why I hunt it, and that’s why I hired you two.”
         Keiran and Tutner looked at Acteon, across the fire. The flickering flames splashed shadows across his face, His eyes were hidden by the long hair that fell over his brow. The man was mysterious, they both knew. Some secret lay hidden in his heart.
         Keiran took the toothpick out of his mouth and threw it into the flames of the fire. “Well, we won’t be able to catch th’ thing if we get no sleep,” Keiran said as he lay in his makeshift bed, two heavy sheets stitched together on three ends. He placed his axe tenderly next to him, rolled over, and promptly fell asleep. 
         “Can’t argue with that, can we?” Tutner said. He unbuckled the leather belt that supported his unique blades and climbed inside his own bed roll. “When are we moving?” He asked Acteon.
         “We rise with the roosters,” Acteon answered, not moving. Tutner, like Keiran, was soon breathing quietly and regularly. Acteon stood and moved to the edge of the camp, looking east. His hand cramped again, and he flexed the muscles.
         “I can feel you out there,” Acteon whispered.
         “You can’t hide from me.”

         “How are you tracking something that doesn’t have tracks?” Tutner asked Acteon the next day. They were walking through a sparse forest, Acteon in the lead.
         Acteon panicked. “It has to land. I find those tracks. And feathers,” He said. He knew he was wrong, but neither of them raised objections.
         “I’ve only tracked land animals. Haven’t been seeing many tracks around here, though,” Keiran said. His axe was strapped onto his back. The handle poked out from behind his right shoulder, and the man was moving with startling silence.
         “I’ve never hunted anything,” Tutner said. “I just go where the money takes me.”
         “Is that all you’re doing this for? The money?” Keiran asked. Tutner nodded his head vigorously. “You’re a fool. Think of what people will say after we kill the beast.” Keiran adopted a higher tone. “There are the men that slew the midnight raven! Let them pass, these are brave, gallant men!”
         “So you’re in it for the fame, I’m in it for the money.” Tutner looked at the back of Acteon’s head. “And you, Acteon? Why do you hunt the beast?”
         “To return all the evil it has done,” Acteon simply said. “All of it.”
         “Revenge? Is that all?” Tutner asked.
         “That’s what’s kept me going for twenty years,” Acteon said, his eyes focused forward. He spotted something in the distance, a small black speck in his vision.
         “A feather!” Tutner shouted. He ran towards it, which was stuck in the ground under a tree, undisturbed by the winds around it. Keiran and Acteon quickly caught up to him.
         The feather was black with a glimmer over it, reflecting the light onto their faces. “Is it one of the Raven’s feathers?” Tutner asked. Acteon took the feather from Tutner and broke it.
         “No, for two reasons. The first is, none of us would be able to break this feather if it was from the raven. The second is, unless this is a brand new feather, it is far too small,” Acteon said.
         “How big are the feathers normally?” Keiran asked. Acteon stood still, then held his hand waist high, about three feet.
         “That’s pretty big,” Tutner said dryly. “Are we sure we’re still following it?”
         Acteon made no move for several moments. His eyes followed the trailing length of a massive oak, and he snapped into action.
         His hand flashed to his waist and unraveled the hide whip that hung there. His feet pumped rapidly, defying the eyes. He jumped in the air and ricocheted off a rock, slapping the end of the whip around a high limb on the oak, curling around the branch and swinging Acteon all the way around it. Now upside down, flying fast due to his momentum, Acteon braced his feet on a branch directly above the one his whip was entangled on. He snapped his wrist and the whip unrolled from the branch.
         Acteon stretched his legs out and leapt to the next branch on the tree, grabbing onto the tree itself to stop his motion. In three seconds he had gotten himself over fifty feet off the ground.
         Keiran and Tutner stood dumbfounded on the ground, both men trying to piece together how exactly Acteon made his way up the tree so quickly.
         Perched high, Acteon opened his senses. His nose tingled with the scent of the trees, acorn and pine filled his nostrils, and his finger tips responded as he brushed the strong wood of the oak. His vision stretched for miles and every sound reached his ears. He could even detect the taste of the oak leaves and the roughness of the wood.
         Then, his final sense kicked in. He felt the pulsing blackness from the east, a few degrees north, the very thing that kept him moving, kept him walking. “I‘m getting closer,“ he said. “I‘ve almost got you.“ He turned until his body faced the evil directly, and a wave of pure malicious thought swept over him. His body seized and he nearly fell from the height he stood. He relaxed his muscles and bent down on his haunches, then stood. Over the years he had become resistant to the terrible feeling that the raven put upon him. He memorized the direction they were to take, as staying connected to the raven was a terrible drain.
         He snapped the whip out again and flung it around a branch below him, and swung to the ground. Keiran and Tutner watched him closer this time, but he did nothing spectacular.
         “We are on the right path. Let’s keep going,” Acteon said. He looked back at the other two. “What are you waiting for? We have a lot of ground to cover.”

         That night, Acteon sat up late, flexing his hand. The muscle spasms and cramps were coming more frequently. It was all he could do not to have a gnarled claw for a hand. His back prickled and his legs felt like there were being pressed by clamps. “This must end quickly,” Acteon said to himself. His left hand removed a small dagger from a sheath belted to his left hip, and griped it tightly. He pressed it to the back of his right hand.
         The cool feel of the tool soothed him. He sat for a moment, thinking about the day the dagger was forged…
         Then plunged it into his hand. He let it sit there for a minute, then yanked the dagger out of his skin. He could almost feel the energy seeping out of him.
         The blood pooled onto the ground. Acteon used bandages from his pack to wrap the deep cut. He was tempted to use his magic to heal himself, but there was little reason to suspect that he even had the talent anymore. Acteon flexed his hand some more, then laid his head down to rest.
         That very moment, Keiran bellowed and awoke, snatching his axe off the ground and flinging it, sending it soaring directly over Tutner’s head to lodge it in a tree. Tutner sat up and nearly cracked his head himself on the axe’s handle, as Keiran leapt to his feet and nearly charged deep into the forest, before he realized where he was.
         Keiran dropped to his knees, panting heavily. Acteon ran to Keiran as Tutner dislodged Keiran’s axe.
         “Keiran, what’s wrong?” Acteon asked. Keiran’s face was pale and his chest heaved.
         “I saw it,” Keiran gasped. “In my dreams. It was there, tormenting me.”
         “The raven?” Acteon asked. Keiran nodded. Tutner, finally managing to dislodge the axe, brought it over to Keiran. Keiran grabbed it and wrapped his arms around it.
         “It was black as pitch, I heard screams in my ears like a banshee’s torture. I saw the red of its eyes as it drew closer, and I was powerless to get away. It looked like it was walking. Its form came into view, its red eyes illuminated the rest of its body,” Keiran sobbed, nearly dissolved. “It was a man!” He shouted. “It was a boy barely into his second decade! He leered at me and opened his mouth, and my ears began to bleed though I could hear nothing but the pound of my heart! He had teeth like rot, black as the night! I could do nothing! It was upon me, and the stink of its breath put me in a stupor.” Keiran stopped. Acteon raised a water sack to Keiran’s lips, and the man drank.
         Keiran’s breathing softened. “Speak. Tell us more and you will feel better,” Acteon said. Tutner half watched the dark forest around them and half listened.
         “It came at me as if it was going to bite me,” Keiran said, more in control, “Then it spawned black wings, giant, from his back. His hands turned into talons and his feet melded to form a wide tail. His red eyes stretched, but remained ever focused on me, ever glowing and beady. The wings! It is as you said, Acteon, they blocked all of my vision. The feathers were massive. Then it charged at me, and I awoke,” Keiran finished. “Just a nightmare,” he trailed off.
         “No,” Acteon said. Tutner and Keiran looked at him. “It was the raven acting on you. The very evil that it possesses affects those around it, especially those who follow it. Fear not, the dreams have no more power over you than a tame horse,” Acteon said.
         “You have hunted the beast before, haven’t you?” Asked Tutner. “Have you ever seen these dreams?”
         Acteon nodded. “Too many to count. The raven knows that I hunt it, so it has sent its very worst images. Sights that reduced me to a trembling babe wailing for its mother.” Acteon looked at Keiran. “What you saw was a mouse in the realm of giants. Pray that you are not visited by the stronger dreams.”
         Acteon looked to the east. “We draw closer. Try and get some more sleep, we resume the chase at dawn.”

         They exited the sparse forest to a rolling plain, the trees tapering off. Tutner walked in the head, his blades swinging at his sides. Acteon walked to his right, and Keiran to his left. Acteon strode casually, enjoying the visibility of the open plains. Keiran kept his hands clenched in fists, and looked around frequently. Tutner’s cloak and shoulder-length hair flowed behind him from the brisk wind. The sun was high in the sky, nearing midday.
         They moved swiftly. The fresh grass beneath them bounced with their steps, and the sweet scent of twin-berry plants lifted their spirits and sped them on, towards their goal.
         Tutner felt it first, a bit of a rumble in the wind, like a distant crash of thunder.
          Then Keiran said he felt the ground roll slightly. Acteon, who had the best eyes, saw the approaching dots of brown charging at them, cresting the nearest hill. Hairy shoulders and fuzzy faces, sharp horns and pounding hooves. The herd of bison rushed them.
         “Weapons!” Acteon shouted, snapping his whip on the ground. Keiran steeled his brows and hefted his axe from his shoulder. Tutner shoved his hands in leather holsters and gripped metal handles, revealing his weapons.
         The leather holsters stuck at his forearms, linking his arms to long blades running from his elbow to extend a foot out from his clenched fist. The sharpened blades ran down his arm, a defense and a weapon in one. 
         “They mean to kill us!” Acteon said, readying the whip behind him. “The raven has taken control of their minds! They are no longer beasts but part of its will!” Tutner crouched, preparing for the maddened animals. Keiran held his axe out in front of him, so that the points of his double-headed axe resembled the bison’s horns.
         The beasts rushed on with black eyes and clouded minds. There were twenty of them, an entire herd under the sway of the raven’s evil. The lead bison was to Acteon’s right, training on the whip-wielder.
         The three men struggled to keep their balance on the thundering plain and the very air shook with the weight of the charging animals on the plain. Acteon bent his knees as the first bison roared and bowed to gore him.
         Acteon dove to his left just as he snapped his whip straight into the bison’s eye, tearing the orb out. The bison roared and stumbled to the ground. Acteon came up on his knees. Another one veered to bare down on Tutner. The man sprung his legs like a frog, flipping over the animal and dragging his weapons across the bison’s back as he did, landing behind the beast, the ragged edges of his blades trailing streams of red.
         Keiran met the charge of his first opponent directly, swinging his axe to smash the bison straight through the head, then jumping to his right to avoid the animal as it fell. He planted his feet and finished the beast with a downward chop, cutting through the neck. Acteon kneeled to the majestic animal before him, wrapping the whip around a leg and pulling it out from under the animal, the animal‘s horns cutting ruts in the ground.
         Tutner rolled to his right, slashing across as he did, slicing ribbons out of the side of one charging bison, standing and spinning to cut through another one‘s neck, killing it. Keiran drove the horns of his axe into the side of a bison, gutting it, then swung his axe to his side, cracking and splitting the ribs of the bison Acteon had just brought down. The remaining members of the herd were circling and charging.
         A bison charged at Acteon from his left, in too close for him to crack his whip. He dragged out his dagger and simply let the attacker push it’s own brain into the weapon.
         All around the three, the bison fell, crashing all around them. Acteon’s eyes cracked open as Tutner came over to him and helped him up.
         “What happened?” Tutner asked after returning his blades to their leather holsters.
         “The connection the raven had over the bison must have been severed somehow,” Acteon lied. He rubbed his forehead, and his hand came away with sticky blood.
         “It looks like you got hit by one of them. You should feel lucky to be alive,” Tutner said, picking up the dagger on the ground. “Is this yours?” Tutner asked, holding the dagger for Acteon to see. Acteon nodded, and Tutner made to hand the dagger back.
         The dagger slipped a little, and sliced a bit of Tutner’s finger on his left hand. “Ouch. Sharp little devil,” Tutner said, handing the dagger back to Acteon. Acteon took the dagger with his right hand and put it back in the leather sheath on his left hip.
         “That dagger is my last defense.” Acteon stared out over the plains, over the slain bodies of the bison, pointedly avoiding looking at them.
         “You need to bandage that cut on your forehead,” Keiran said.
          “I’ll be fine. We need to keep moving,” Acteon said, and started walking away from the bodies that looked back at him with empty eyes, damning him.

         They built their camp on a hill overlooking a good amount of the plain. Acteon had led them unerringly towards the evil he felt from the raven, though they didn’t know that. The sun fell slowly, obscuring the west. A campfire had been built to ward off the cold, and they were all preparing to sleep.
         “Before we get any farther I need to tell you two some things,” Acteon said. Tutner and Keiran paused in their preparations and listened. “This is not the first time I have hired others to help me hunt the raven. The first time I did, it ended in disaster. All of them,” Acteon’s hand spasmed, “They were slaughtered. The reason they died is because they knew nothing about the raven. I resolved to always tell those who assist me about the raven. It will give you, and me, a greater chance.” Acteon looked from one to the other.
         “Do either of you know about physics?”
         “I had some formal schooling,” Tutner answered.
         “In physics there is a rule that states: any force acting upon an object will have an equal and opposite reaction. The same is true in magic. Whether it drains the caster, releases magical energy into the air, or some other effect, it can be very dangerous. The first thing students must do is learn to control the effects of their casting, before they actually start it.”
         “So? You should have mastered that long ago,” Tutner said. Acteon breathed out.
         “I did. But the last time I tried to control magic, things,” Acteon twined his fingers, “things didn’t work out the way I planned.”
         Tutner and Keiran were listening now. Keiran laid in his bedroll, his head turned for better listening.
         “I had a friend named Devin. He was the mischievous type, but very gifted with magic. He proposed a plan to summon a magic helper, a beast from realms unknown. I was to direct the magic reaction, and he was to cast the spell.
         “We believed everything would go well, that the spell would work, and we would have a servant. It was a relatively simple incantation, even though it was forbidden.
         “Devin did more than just the simple summoning spell, though. He put his own flair into it. He danced and spun, twirling his hands to excite the magic.” Acteon stared at the ground. “It was more than I could handle. What happened, I will never forget.
         “I was hit by a rush of energy so powerful it nearly knocked me off my feet. Devin had inadvertently summoned a creature much more powerful then anything we had heard of. It was born in the land of shadows men know as Cocytus.”
         “Hell,” Tutner simply said.
         “Not exactly,” Acteon said. “The place of those requiring restitution for actions on earth is called purgatory. Inside the ring of Purgatory is the final resting place of the damned, called Gehenna. In Gehenna, there are many levels and tiers, from the lowest, the ninth level, up to the first level. The lowest level is the residence of Lucifer. That is Cocytus. It is a frozen lake, chilled by Lucifer’s wings, filled with his tears. It is both the place of traitors, and the land of the foulest demons.”
         Acteon’s voice became low. “They say that the wife of Lucifer is a she-demon called Lilith. Lilith’s child is a beast called Ahriman. That night I believe we summoned Ahriman by accident.”
         “How did you survive?” Keiran asked.
         Acteon closed his eyes. “I funneled the released power into everything around me that I could. The one item that responded positively,” Acteon took out the devilishly sharp dagger on his hip, “was this. But the power released when Ahriman came into this world was too much. It was that energy that destroyed the Royal Academy, and part of the Capital.”
         “Do you mean to tell me the thing we hunt is Lucifer’s child?” Tutner asked, standing and clenching his fist. “You couldn‘t give me enough money in the world!”
         “Makes it all the better for me, though!” Keiran said. “That man killed the devil’s child, that’s what they’ll say!”
         “No,” Acteon said. “What we hunt is not Ahriman himself, but a shadow. It is as evil as Ahriman, though nowhere as powerful. It was one of the reactions that occurred because of the summoning. Ahriman himself did not stay in our realm, as he is forbidden by Heaven’s laws. The shadow rampaged. I was the only one to walk away from the academy that day, though I don’t know why I was spared. The shadow was named the midnight raven.” Acteon
         And the dagger?” Keiran asked.
         “It is linked to the raven. In a way, it cancels the power of the raven. That is how the bison group died, the raven was controlling them with one link. Killing the bison with the dagger broke the link to all of them,” Acteon said. He replaced the dagger in its holster. “It has saved my life many times.”
         In the weak light of the fire and the moon Tutner studied the man. Tutner could barely imagine witnessing the horrors Acteon had seen. Then Tutner noticed something strange.
         “Acteon,” he asked. “Why do you have so many scars?” He pointed them out.
         They crisscrossed Acteon’s arms and legs. They were thin and shallow, spreading sometimes like spider webs, sometimes like crinkling cracks in glass. In the dark light of the fire they were hardly visible. Keiran could see them now, too.
         “My journeys have taken me places I hope you never see.” Acteon drooped his dark eyes, nearly black. “Some of these cuts I inflicted upon myself, from the raven’s nightmares. Images you can’t fathom assailed me like a whirlwind. I was lost. I took up this dagger and cut myself. Maybe I thought I would die, maybe I thought it would help. They have healed slowly, as you can see. Some of them I got from my travels directly. This one,” Acteon brushed back his dark hair, where a long scar ran across his brow line. “I got from a tribe of nomads that didn’t take kindly to my presence. They tried to scalp me.”
         “How did you get out of that?” Keiran asked. All hope of sleep was lost.
         “Their tribe, just then, was massacred by the raven.” Acteon’s eyes went back to that time, staring off. “I had never seen so much blood. It draped the tents and flooded the ground. That was the second time I had seen the raven. The great reach of its wings and the points of its claws are more horrible than any dream it could conjure, because they are real.” Acteon’s eyes floated down to the ground. “That is where I got the whip. It was stained with the blood of the man who tried to scalp me. It is just another testament of the raven’s evil.” Acteon crawled into his bed roll. “I have more to tell you, but for now we need to sleep.”

         The plain ended and led into a much denser forest, shadowed by snowy mountains. They had marched for three days, not finding any other clues of the raven’s passage. None, save the ever growing feeling of dread that Acteon experienced, in the direction they were walking. He knew they were getting closer, the black feeling growing stronger. The cold wind from the mountain rolled off and buffeted them, chilling them and driving them to find cover. The trees shook and shivered in the wind.
         Chilled clouds covered the sun, further darkening the already dark forest. They walked through the day, maneuvering around the thick trees and heavy undergrowth. Keiran had the most trouble with this, due to his ponderous size, while Tutner flowed effortlessly between the plants.
         Keiran and Tutner kept quiet. They were both thinking about Acteon. It was obvious, to both of them, that Acteon was not as he appeared. He was hiding something, even after the explanation he had given them, but neither were sure what.
         When they stopped to make camp for the night, Acteon offered to gather wood for the campfire.
         “The fool has been risking his life for twenty years trying to find the raven,” Tutner said. “I’d just let it be.”
         Keiran shook his head “I know what drives him. He feels that he is responsible for the tragedy at the academy. He is trying to make reparations for what he has caused, though he didn’t mean it.” Keiran ripped a hunk of dried beef with his teeth. “He believes himself guilty,” he said through the meat.
         “It isn’t his fault, certainly,” Tutner said. “It was his friend’s fault. He should blame his friend.”
         “He can’t. His friend is dead. Don’t you understand the grief he must have had to get through to be able to even stand? You are too young, you don’t know how wide-spread the destruction of the Capital was,” Keiran said.
         “I’ve heard the tales, and I have seen the capital, but it was rebuilt,” Tutner said. “What more could you tell me?”
         “They say the instant the raven appeared, a blast, coming from the academy, swept across the entire city. It crumbled buildings and killed the inhabitants. Women, children, men, visitors or locals, everybody in the blast was killed. The explosion didn’t cover the entire city, it missed some of the heavily inhabited portions, but it did get the marketplace and the Capitol. Thousands perished in a matter of seconds.
         “The loss of life could be felt all over the world. Farmers fell to the ground, women shrieked and babies wailed. It was a tangible weight pressing down on your shoulders, like a bag of heavy seed was dropped on you. Only those who had been near the blast knew what had happened, but word spread fast.”
         “How old were you when this happened?” Tutner asked.
         “I was only eight, helping my father tend a litter of pigs. One pig, a little one, had escaped the pen and ran away, squealing happily. It wouldn’t get far, but it was safer for them in the pen. It ran to the top of a hill and I followed it. I had just gotten to it when it dropped down, seemingly dead. I felt it moments after, and I fell down as well. My father found me lying there after he had recovered. He said I was a quivering ball. He had to carry me into the house and keep me in bed all day,” Keiran said. “I still remember how cold and alone I felt when it happened.”
         “Was it really that horrible?” Tutner asked. The night had grown around them, covering them.
         “Very,” Keiran said. He stood and stretched. “But that’s all behind us. We had better get some rest, we could meet the raven any day now.”

         Acteon strode through the forest with an armload of wood. He had been focused on the task, and was becoming tired.
         The air was still and chill, as if it had been frozen. The mournful cry of a wolf sounded from somewhere on the mountain near them. The moon was completely covered. He stepped over a fallen log, then stopped.
         The feeling in the east had turned around. It was coming for him. No, not him. Them.
         Acteon dropped his armload and ran, pounding the ground with all of his energy. He had his dagger and whip out as soon as he got the chance, brushing aside branches and bushes with his arms. An evil wave passed over him, clouding his mind. It was moving faster than he could run, he wasn’t going to make it.

         “Did you hear that?” Tutner asked. Keiran separated his lips from his flask.
         “Hear what?” Keiran asked.
         “It sounded like a scream. A boy, maybe,” Tutner said.

         Acteon charged until his muscles yelled at him to stop, but he ignored them. There was no way they would survive unless he got there first. He would not have another chance like this for some time, even if the other two did live.
         Acteon draped his whip over a branch and used it to clear a dense pile of fallen logs. He didn’t have the time to get ready for this fight, it was approaching with no time to spare. He spun and kicked off of a pine, dislodging his whip and careening over a low limb. He tucked into a roll and came up running.
         The campsite was only a few hundred meters away.

         Keiran’s flask dropped to the ground, splashing mead that seeped down. Tutner turned to look at Keiran.
         Keiran’s face had turned white, his pupils had grown to cover his entire eye. He said nothing.
         “Keiran? What’s wrong?” Tutner asked. Keiran still did not respond. Instead, he ponderously clenched the axe handle and hefted the axe off of his back.
         “What are you doing?” Tutner asked, fear seeping into his voice. Keiran’s head turned slowly to look at Tutner. The big man’s expression was blank, emotionless. Keiran hunched his shoulders, like he was going to charge. To Tutner, the man looked like a bison.

         Acteon’s muscles had long ago run out of energy. He was running on pure adrenaline. He could see the flickering light of the campfire filtered through the trees, but the light was acting strangely.
         Two figures near it seemed to be dancing around, one continuing to advance on the other, the other always moving away. Acteon forced his muscles further when he realized what this meant.

         “Keiran, get a hold of yourself!” Tutner screamed, deflecting another blow with his weapons. Keiran didn’t respond. Instead he simply swung his axe with crashing might. It was a low swing, to cut Tutner’s legs. Tutner jumped backwards over the swing, landing behind even the axe’s formidable reach.
         Keiran charged soundlessly, raining a heavy blow, his axe flashing like lightning. Tutner jumped to the left but tripped and sprawled onto his back. Keiran took advantage and sprung down atop the man, thrusting the head of his axe at his neck. Tutner barely managed to get his blades up in time, and the connection of steel sounded with a clang.
         Keiran shoved his axe in again and again, smacking against Tutner’s weapons. The smaller one’s arms were losing strength rapidly, each hit pushing them back farther, each hit shocking the muscles.
         Tutner’s arms gave way after a final crushing hit. The wind whistled as Keiran’s mighty axe came down towards his neck.
         A strand of hide wrapped itself around Keiran’s arm and pulled him to the side, his axe missing to stab in the ground only inches from Tutner’s neck, digging up the loam.
         Acteon snapped back his whip and snaked it around Keiran’s axe. He pulled it out of Keiran’s grasp and flung it away from the big man.
         “He’s being controlled by the raven! It’s going to attack!” Acteon said, grapping Keiran by the back of his tunic and throwing him off of Tutner.
         “What do we do?” Tutner shouted.
         “You keep Keiran occupied, and I’ll deal with the raven. The only chance we have to save Keiran is to kill the it!” Acteon said, snapping his whip on the ground impatiently. “Don’t let Keiran get in my way, I need all the concentration I can!”
         “I understand,” Tutner said, then moved to intercept Keiran.
         Acteon opened his senses, as he had done standing on the limb of the oak. The closeness of the raven overwhelmed him, but he was confused. Why hadn’t it reached the campsite yet?
         Then the evil shifted, from in front of him to behind. “No!” Acteon shouted, spinning and pushing his already tired muscles to get to the other side of the campfire before-
         A shadow slammed through the trees, chopping them down. It soared into the sky and opened its beak.
         Even those living leagues away said they felt and heard awful things that night. The wind carried the cry, and many stopped to listen to its haunting tone.
         Closer in, the screech pounded at Tutner’s and Acteon’s ears. Keiran heard nothing, but instead continued to run at the frozen Tutner, his now-basic instincts plodding him onward. Tears welled in Acteon’s eyes as memories of this same cry returned to him from many places, all of which now bore marks of the raven’s slaughter.
         He blinked away the tears. He was not going to allow it this time.
         The raven swiveled down to charge them again, aiming for Tutner, now grappling with the brain washed Keiran. “Get down!” Acteon shouted, moving into where he thought he could act best.
         Tutner dropped to his back and Keiran fell over him. The raven’s massive wings swept over them.
         Just as the wings reached Acteon he leapt in the air, twirling to land near the shoulder of the raven. It crowed, sending waves of pain through Acteon, but he held on. The raven lifted into the air, and flapped its wings to throw Acteon off. At the last moment hethrew his whip around the raven’s neck and caught the other end, reining the monster like a horse.
         Below, Tutner could not sit and watch Acteon this time; he had his own problems. Keiran’s body still continued to attack Tutner, but the man’s motor skills had been reduced to lurching and lunging. It was becoming simpler and simpler to distract or outsmart the hunk of flesh that used to be Tutner’s traveling companion.
         But things were made difficult by the fact that Tutner could only defend. Usually he would have split open the man by now, but he knew it was not Keiran himself, but the raven. He had to turn away the big man’s fists or dodge completely, and he was beginning to tire more severely now, his arms already bruised and weakened from Keiran’s earlier onslaught.
         Finally tiring too much to care, Tutner released his grip on the handles of his weapons. They dropped to the ground and Tutner used his forearm to block the next attack by Keiran. The two fought hand to hand, Tutner enacting simple defense styles to keep Keiran from landing a blow. He used his forearm to turn away a fist, and jabbed Keiran in the stomach, forcing the man back.
         Above them, Acteon fought to hold on. He didn’t care if he fell, he just wanted to get into position. Finally sidling over far enough, he used his dagger and stabbed it into the crook of the shoulder, above the armpit. Blood shot out of his own arm as the dagger plunged through the veil of feathers and stuck into the flesh of the raven.
         It screeched, fierce and painful. The cold cry smashed Acteon’s ears, his entire body cramping and barely managing to hold on. The raven’s long flaps broke and it tumbled to the ground, spinning wildly. Acteon pulled the whip hard, hanging while also strangling the raven. It may be born of darkness, but it still needs air. The raven crashed onto the ground, throwing Acteon off. He slammed into a tree. He heard rather than felt the bones of his back snap and crack at the impact. He forced his body to lift off the ground and go towards the midnight raven, which was flailing and twisting on the ground.
         Acteon picked up his whip and rushed the raven. He snapped the whip in the face of the bird, and it lurched backwards, rolling onto its back. Its disabled wing flapped with its wild convulsions.
         He kicked the raven in the neck and jumped on its chest, dragging his dagger across the raven. He had to fight to get his arm to obey his commands. The thin line of blood on the raven was mirrored by blood that began to seep from Acteon’s own chest. his arm rose and fell, the sharp dagger fulfilling its purpose.
         Acteon fell off of the dying beast, feeling true pain for the first time in twenty years. His heart spurt blood out of the deep cut on his chest.
         Tutner ran to Acteon’s side. Keiran had fallen to the ground, but he was still alive.
         “Acteon, are you all right?” Tutner asked as he pulled Acteon away from the screeching beast. “What happened?”
         Acteon grasped the front of Tutner’s cloak and pulled himself closer. “Should have told you sooner,” Acteon swallowed laboriously. “You need to know the truth.”
         Tutner listened as Acteon spoke.
         “My name is not Acteon. I don’t know what my name was. Acteon means ‘hunter.’ When I and my friend summoned Ahriman, I told you of the magical consequences-” Tutner nodded. “One of the results was the beast itself. He is Devin. He was changed into the raven by the energy released.” Acteon gasped, his lungs searching for air it could hold “Another result was me.”
         Still Tutner said nothing. “I am dead. I tell you that now not only because I am dying but because I have already died. I was brought back as a link to the raven, we are connected. I only have fragments of memory before I died. I feel no pain, except for what I feel now. The dagger I held is the liaison between us. Anything living thing that the dagger cuts also harms me and the raven. It is the only thing that can kill us. We both must live for either to survive. Now that I have killed him, I will die as well. My hunt is over. I am no longer Acteon, just a poor soul that can finally rest.” Acteon looked to were Keiran lay. “He will live. Now that the raven has been killed, Keiran’s mind will return to him, though slowly.”
         Acteon lay still and the raven stopped struggling. Tutner felt for a pulse. Nothing. He heard a crinkle of dry leaves behind him and turned to see Keiran getting to his feet, staggering a little. Keiran, obviously dazed, walked to where Tutner was kneeling, Acteon lying in the grass and the raven sprawled over many cracked and broken trees.
         “What happened?” Keiran whispered. Tutner sighed, and rose.
         “He gave his life to end the raven’s.” Tutner looked at Keiran. “Are you all right?”
         “Confused, tired, and with a splitting headache. I still don’t understand.”
         “There will be time for stories once we give Acteon a burial,” Tutner said, lifting Acteon up. He was light, lighter than Tutner expected.
         “And what about-” Keiran gaped as he realized the Raven had shrunk down into a man. A young man. Keiran stepped up to him. “It is the boy from my dream. I don’t understand.”
         Tutner clapped him on the shoulder. “I do. I’ll tell you. Let us get these poor souls buried, then make for the nearest village, where we can spread the news.”
         “The midnight raven is dead.”