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The Hunt Of Lord Herne

Chapter Two

“A Life For A Life”

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

23rd May 2023

Lord Herne strode from the woodlands edge, tearing his spear from the corpse in passing as easily as a human would pull the wings off a fly. His eyes were scarlet, his tubular ears slicked back and muzzle wreathed in a look of disgust and apathy. His cloven hooves struck the ground with thunderous booms, as he marched deliberately towards the two humans who hid on the other side – their eyes wide and horrified at what they'd witnessed... and disbelief at what was coming for them.

“I know you're there – come out and reveal yourselves, your stink of fear and your heartbeats give you away mortals! Come, face your judgement for your crimes against Nature and be judged according!” Lord Herne roared, his voice like the crack of thunder.

“What the fuck is that...” Frank stammered, his mind unable or unwilling to believe what his eyes were telling it.

Jasmine too, was overcome, her fear rising exponentially, then as she saw the intimidating Cervid come closer and closer, something, something ancestral, primal, in her mind made her drop to her knees and bow her head in supplication and fear.

It was a dozen paces away – six – four... Each cloven hoof step built the fear and anxiety on them both. Lord Herne towered over them, gripping his spear in his right paw and bringing the butt of it down with a loud thump.

“Prepare yourselves for judgment for your crimes!” He spoke quietly, his crimson eyes swirling into an amethyst coloration. “Validate your existence mortal and I will be - “

As Frank's fear escalated to a point of irrationality, he unleashed a shot from his rifle at Lord Herne, driven by his desperation and a sense of defiance. The bullet struck Lord Herne's head with a deafening crack, causing the forest spirit to momentarily flinch and raise his arm defensively.

“Fuck you!” Frank shrieked, slamming the bolt backward and trying to reload for another shot.

Slower than a Glacier, Lord Herne turned his head back, before a sad smile spread across the great elk's furred lips. To both human's surprise – there wasn't a single mark on Lord Herne's muzzle or head. Not even a single hair was singed.

Looking down at Frank, Lord Herne's piercing gaze seemed to stare straight through him. Frank dropped the rifle, then sank to his knees, a sense of terrible dread washing over him as he found himself unable to look away from the forest spirit's gaze, unable to move or even speak. Power flowed from Lord Herne in a wave, as Lord Herne's lips curled back and he snapped a paw out and gripped Frank around the throat in a vice-like grasp.

“Pathetic child!” Lord Herne growled, tightening his grasp, then effortlessly, his forearm bulged and he lifted Frank two feet of the ground, holding him there almost as if he were holding a feather.

“Please...” Jasmine wailed, clutching at the great elk's ankles. “Mercy, I beg of you!”

“Mercy?” Lord Herne snorted, his leathery nostrils flaring. “Where was this one's mercy? Yes, human, I see inside your heart – I know everything – you have ever done, the lies, the lives you've taken – all for your shallow, vanity and self-aggrandizement!”

“Please!” Jasmine groveled, her voice broken, rivulets of snot flowing and mixing with her tears. “Mercy my lord...”

Lord Herne's crushing grip stopped, his eyes shifting from amethyst to emerald, as he lowered his arm and drove the choking human to his knees. His head bowed and he looked down at the broken, sobbing woman who prostrated herself before him.

“What did you call me - “ Lord Herne spoke quietly, his ears flicking.

“I beg you, mercy my lord, please! He did not claim the forest child's life, have mercy!”

Lord Herne felt the belief in her – faint, almost imperceptible, even to his ancient, powerful mind – he could scarcely believe. He was oblivious, as Frank clawed and tugged futilely at the forearm of the forest spirit which remained like a iron collar around his neck.

No, my children long ago turned from me – abandoned faith and belief in me – turned from the Old God's, denied us our strength, vitality and power... Yet in this one – I sense something I have not in time immemorial, almost even to me...

“Child, I will grant you my mercy - “ Lord Herne spoke quietly, as he turned his attention to the human who was barely conscious in his grasp. “You should thank her – human – for she is descended from one of the Draoi – Druid – in your modern language. Once, they were my loyal worshippers and followers – gave me power and vitality, yet over the thousand or more years since then... belief in myself and my kind faded, and our power with it...”

“Release...me...” Frank gurgled, his eyes bulging and fingers clawing at Lord Herne's wrist.

Lord Herne bowed his head, his eyes closing as he intoned softly. “So mote it be...”

*

Frank gasped in fear, as the emerald glow intensified, then spread from Lord Herne's paw and over Frank himself. In an instant, Frank's body underwent a grotesque transformation. His arms and legs twisted and elongated, fingers fusing together to form black cloven hooves – his toes the same. His skin rippled like melting wax, suddenly sprouting a pale brown fur that rapidly spread across his entire body. His clothing tore and shredded as if spectral claws were tearing it to pieces as his body continued its unnatural transformation. His skull cracked and reshaped, melding into the distinctive shape and muzzle of a whitetail doe. His ears grew long and pointed, covered in a fine, velvet-like fur.

Within moments, Frank's humanity was washed away forever, his body transformed into the appearance of a whitetail doe. Lord Herne gently lowered the doe to the ground, placing his splayed-out paw on her shoulder and pinning her to the ground as the convulsions rippled through her. He held her in place, bowing his head and then lifting away his paw, causing the emerald glow to dissipate like mist.

Almost inaudible, Lord Herne intoned. “It is done, by my will, so mote it be!”

Horrified, the young doe looked up at Lord Herne, struggling to her cloven hooves, her legs quivering and muzzle hanging open, as she panted and shivered. Realization swept over her, her eyes widening as she comprehended the true horror of what Lord Herne had done. An unmistakable sense of profound loss and despair settled over her, as she understood the consequences of her transgressions.

Lord Herne placed his index finger under her chin, lifting it up as he spoke, his voice gentle, yet filled with power. His eyes locked on hers, her cloven hooves twitching and pawing nervously, her movements clumsy – like those of a newborn fawn. Lord Herne's eyes remained their emerald coloration, his intense, unblinking gaze conveying the weight and significance of his decision that settled on her furred neck like a collar.

Lord Herne's whispered words hung heavy in the air, resonating with finality. The doe, marked by her transformation and punishment, listened intently as Lord Herne reaffirmed his mercy granted, only because of Jasmine, who remained kneeling at his cloven hooves in fealty. This doe, her former human crimes against nature unspeakable and numerous, would forever stand as a testament to the consequences she had wrought upon the natural world.

Lord Herne pressed his left paw against her chest, as she let out an agonized bleat, her voice piteous and filled with pain and suffering. Five branded marks appeared on her chest, searing through fur and flesh. Five hooflet-shaped burns become a permanent symbol of her transgressions, a visible reminder of her punishment, administered by Lord Herne himself.

His voice cracked with a mix of solemnity and sorrow as he delivered his final decree to the hysterically sobbing doe who lay before him.

“You will forever be denied the joys of motherhood, destined never to find peace or respite, for so I have spoken, so mote it be!”

Sobbing, the doe could only bow her head in resignation and reverence to him. Tears slipped down her furred muzzle as she extended one long foreleg, folding the other at the knee, offering her body in a gesture of respectful fealty and homage to Lord Herne for his judgement and mercy.

“It is done, now, child of mine, go...” Lord Herne commanded.

Struggling back to her hooves, the doe bowed her head once more, then turned and fled into the forest, her pitiful bleats making Jasmine cry helplessly, as she remained prostrated on the ground.

“Now, human,” Lord Herne spoke quietly, planting his spear into the ground beside her head as he crossed his arms over his furred chest. “I shall pass judgement upon you...”

TO BE CONTINUED...