X. Saga Hwaet ic Hatte?- ii.

Prim spent the evenings and most of the early mornings in the train's sleeper car. At late breakfast, he usually watched the early October snow continue to fall and landscape of changing leaves from the window of the dining car then spent the remainder of his days reading and watching the vast prairies fill with snow from the observation car. The special train was filled with interesting people on their way to many mysterious places. The trip was fun. Descending from the train, he was the only passenger arriving at the colonial village in New England. Wherever he traveled people were glad to see him. "It's a daemon!" the man shouted. "I am satis terris nivis!" Prim inquired if this had wings. The man was uncertain having never actually seen it with his own eyes; however those who had tried to vanquish it had never returned. He had knowledge of the exact location where it could be found. Prim was surprised at the antiquated mode of transportation as he boarded the open horse drawn carriage. The road was snow covered, however the amount was nothing exceptional and Prim wondered at the inappropriate panic in his guide's voice as he continued to explain that the appearance of the demon had reawakened fears among the villagers that their women would soon seek out its favors in exchange for bewitching powers of their own and that such a benefactor was unwanted there. It was a chimney corner tale out of step with most modern urban views, a nostalgia and longing for a simpler yet harsher and less equitable period of history. Their trip was unimpeded and uneventful, but they seemed to be rising upwards at every turn until Prim noticed they had traversed to a height that left the village below them several miles in the distance. At the last winding curve, they finally arrived at the mouth of the serpentine trail. They stepped down from the carriage at the edge of the drifts where the ground was still manageable and both wondered at a field of snow that had accumulated to such an otherworldly height that only the skeletal branches of the top of a singular tree could be seen. This was hardly a battlefield for those adventurous men who had allegedly proceeded here before them. The elucidator of the eerie began to suspect that it was merely a winter's tale nearing the apex of yet another lunar cycle of October. A thunderous, booming disembodied voice announced its presence from the surrounding forest and shook the windswept field. "Frod waes min from cym, fyren gefaelsad!" The frightened man scurried back up into the carriage and searched blindly for the reigns. Prim stood his ground and gave a wry smile, knowing full well all the Latin exclamations in the world would do neither one of them any good.


Copyright 2018 by L. P. Van Ness. All rights reserved.