Fiction logo

The Wings of Death

The mythical origin of the Barn Owl

By Joseph DuncanPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 15 min read
Like
Photo by Todd Steitle on Unsplash

Long ago in the land of the Keldoni, in ancient times when men still feared their Gods and mystical creatures ruled the nights...

It was a grisly murder scene, first happened upon by Talorc the Sheepherder while tending to his flock up in the rock strewn highlands. Drest the Drunkard had been ripped to shreds by some wild animal, dragon, or perhaps an ungodly sized bird of prey that flew the night.

His clothing and flesh were stripped from him, torn and tattered. His eyes were plucked out, with his guts disemboweled from him and littering the blood-soaked ground. No human could've done this. No human would've done this, not even the murderous Torgans.

Fear gripped the small village down in the valley below, as Talorc reported his find and led a party of men back to the scene of death and an unknown evil.

The leader of the men spoke after gathering his composure from the horror that lay before him, "This is second devil's work that you've led us to, in as many months. The third if you count the woman with her throat slit. How do you explain that, Talorc?"

Talorc, alarmed that suspicion was being cast upon him, replied "What do you want me to say! Do you think I could've done this? I've been roaming these grounds for years, now some monster appears to be roaming them too. I had no hand in this..."

"It was that woman, the sorceress witch," offered one of the men in the group. "It on the account of her that this has come to us. She cursed us with her death. Now, every time the moon becomes full, we find another."

The leader spoke again "Alright. You two men scrape this mess up as best as you can. Make a shallow pit. We're going to burn it right here, lest we have wolves coming to feast as well. The rest of you, go gather the wood... and some stones to cover after the fire has done it's work."

*

No one knew where the woman came from. She just showed up one day, over a year before, bringing nothing but the clothes on her back. She never said much and mostly kept to herself. Most of the villagers assumed she had escaped from the Torgan raiders that had been plaguing the lands to the south.

The Torgan raiders would kill everyone they could get their hands on - men, women, children, even the livestock they could not carry off or devour on the spot. They would loot the villages and burn them to the ground, occasionally carrying off attractive females to use as sex-slaves.

If the woman, Kemna, had been one of those poor souls, it was thought best to just leave her be to heal on her own terms; to receive as much or as little attention and social interaction as she desired. They would just let her find her own peace and contentment.

Kemna built a small shelter for herself about a half-mile away from the outskirts of the village, up on a tiny hilltop clearing surrounded by a few trees and some brush. She planted a small garden and grew vegetables and herbs.

She also crafted small items and trinkets to occasionally use as barter with the villagers and had a talent for healing the sick or injured, knowing just what herbs and plant to use to aid in a speedy recovery.

Because of this, some thought she may be a sorceress witch, but as long as she did them no harm, in fact being a benefit, they were accepting of her presence.

Then came the morning, about three months ago, that Talorc the Sheepherder found her naked dead body out in the fields. Her throat had been slit. Most had assumed she had been raped, but by who they did not know.

Her small hovel had been ransacked but nothing much of value could've been there, she had came to them with nothing. The inspection of her abode was quickly done due to the ill-tempered barn owl that seemed to have taken roost nearby and acted as some sort of guardian.

The villagers buried Kemna in a shallow grave next to her garden and covered the grave with rocks and stones. Later that night, everyone in the village could hear the barn owl screeching his omens of death, and they prayed it would not come to them.

A few weeks later, during the time of the full moon, the body of Galam the Worthless, elder brother of Drest the Drunkard, had been found ripped to shreds in the sheepherders fields. It was ghastly.

Now there were two, each during a full moon. Two brothers, both capable of rape and murder, destroyed by their own evil. All of the villagers quietly hoped this would be the last, but the next full moon would reveal the fate.

Photo by Ganapathy Kumar on Unsplash

* *

The stranger approached the village on foot from the east, along with the morning Sun. He was a cleanly dressed man, all in black, with a cloak upon his shoulders. He wore a thin gold chain, hanging a bronze medallion, about his neck.

Several of the villagers wondered who he was as he passed them by. They didn't get many visitors here, especially now with a death-reaper hunting the moonlit nights.

He made his way to Duffin's house, which was open to all weary and hungry travelers. He placed two coins on the table and sat down.

"May I get a bite to eat?" he asked.

"Of course, Sir." came Duffin's reply as he motioned for his daughter to snatch up the coins. "Bring him a bowl of last nights stew and a piece of the roasted chicken, if there's any left."

Duffin continued, as he brought the stranger a cup of cider and a tear of bread "We don't get many travelers here, especially now with the troubles that come with the rising full moon. The next is only a few days away so you might not wish to tarry here long."

"Oh, tell me of these troubles" inquired the stranger.

"There's a beast devouring men." volunteered Duffin's daughter as she delivered the bowl of stew. "They murdered the outcast woman and now she's placed a curse on us."

"Kemna?" came the man's reply.

"Yes. How do you know of this?" asked a slightly surprised Duffin.

"Word travels far when there is fear in the land." was the reply. "Kemna was my sister and I've come to claim her and settle her affairs."

Duffin spoke again "Well, there's not much to claim. She came to us with nothing. We buried her near her dwelling. It was a good burial, according to our ways. My daughter, Retta, can take you there after you've eaten."

A short time later, Retta and the stranger were on their way. Retta, being about fifteen years of age, talked the entire time as some young girls tend to do, while the stranger remained mostly silent.

"I use to come visit your sister about once a week, trading goods for my father and others. Sometimes just to talk and learn about the garden and things I'm not supposed to talk about.

She read my fortune, one day, from her cards. She said my intended love would soon arrive, but I don't think he will ever come. We don't get many visitors here, especially now.

Some say she was a sorceress witch, but I know she wasn't. Do no harm to none, is what she taught me. Are you a... are you, you know, like her?"

The stranger replied "A warlock is the word your tongue searches for. It does not matter what I am. I am simply who I am, and can be no more or no less."

The pair soon arrived at the path leading to Kemna's clearing. They went up the hill and emerged from the trees.

"Here it is." Retta motioned with her out stretched hand. "There's a big mean owl that roosts up in that tree over there. He doesn't seem to like anyone coming here and will start screeching and acting up when they do. Sometimes he will let me tend to the garden a bit, but not for too long. I think he was one of Kemna's pets, an animal friend, because there's a necklace around his neck."

The stranger immediately spoke "Listen to me, my young friend. You are not to come here again until after I leave. No one is to come here until after I leave. Tell them. There is an evil here, and I will banish it from these lands. Go now."

* * *

The visitor, the warlock, made himself at home at Kemna's, as if he had always belonged there. He tended the garden and his sister's nearby grave. The owl did not challenge him, but remained watchful from his roost.

He went into the hut and browsed through it's contents. A collection of feathers; clay from a nearby spring; various herbs; several small pots and cauldrons. He continued to search as if something was missing.

Later that night, he sat by the fire crafting an object from the clay and feathers. Occasionally speaking words that no one else could hear. He continued his activities through the next day, preparing for the next full moon. The owl also continued his watchful eyes, preparing for the next full moon.

On the evening of the full moon, before the sun had set, the warlock emerged from Kemna's cabin with his crafted creation in his hands. It was a clay effigy of an owl, covered with feathers, and placed on a stake. He then pushed the owl-stake into the ground at the head of his sister's grave.

Next, he prepared for a fire between his sister's grave and the garden, which would not be lit until the sun had set. Over the fire circle he placed a tripod with a small melting pot hanging from it. Beside the fire circle he placed a small stool and on top of the stool he placed a small clay mold prepared in the shape of a coin.

Once the sun had set and darkness consumed the land, the owl flew off into the night. His horrifying screech echoed out into the moonlit sky. With this departure, the fire was lit. All would be ready for the owl's return.

* * * *

Photo by Sammy Williams on Unsplash

Back in the village, the Blacksmith Jeric, a widower who had become a bit of a drunkard and a bully after the passing of his wife six years prior, sat behind his bolted and barred door. His chair faced the door and not the fire behind him.

In each of his hands he held his heavy blacksmithing hammers and he just sat there staring at the door. He knew the beast of the night would come for him next, after what he had done with the brothers Drest and Galam. His mind was fixed on not going without a fight.

The owl carried a large flat stone in his clutches and landed upon the blacksmith's roof. Instantly, the owl transformed into a man and the man placed the stone over the blacksmith's chimney, blocking the rising smoke.

The Blacksmith Jeric was taken by surprise as his home filled with smoke, choking his breath. After a few panicked moments he could not breathe at all and rushed out the door gasping for smoke-free air.

He immediately stood face to face with an unknown man and swung his hammer at the man's head. It missed, striking nothing but air! Before he could strike again, the man plunged the blade of a large knife into his guts.

As Jeric dropped to his knees, the man stepped slightly behind him and grabbed him by the hair of his head. He then pulled Jeric's head back and slit his throat. As Jeric's life drained from him, the man transformed into a hideously huge owl larger than the size of a man.

The owl's claws dug deep into the flesh of the crumpled blacksmith. It spread it's wings and with a few mighty flaps, flew off into the sky carrying Jeric away. In the morning there would be another slaughter site for Talorc the Sheepherder to find.

* * * * *

The warlock stood by his prepared fire waiting. Several hours passed before a man appeared and stood before him.

The man spoke "Who are you to come here and do these things on the sacred ground of my beloved?"

The warlock replied "I am Kemna's brother and I've come to finish her affairs and deeds. Did you get them all? Is this thing finished now?"

"The blacksmith was the last one" responded the man, "but this is not finished! I'm going to kill every one of those villagers, one by one, all except that young girl who places flowers on Kemna's grave.

They are an evil creation, preying on all the creatures of the forest and the field. They even prey upon themselves."

"I can not allow you to do that!" gasped the warlock.

The man indignantly huffed "Who are you to stop me? Do you not think that I could easily mangle your flesh across the ground? Do not press your luck and goodwill with me!"

With that, the warlock held up his hand and dangled a necklace with a heart-shaped pendant hanging from it. It had been Kemna's and was the thing he had searched for when he first arrived.

A female voice now spoke from behind the man "I can not allow this to continue either, my love."

The man spun quickly "Kemna!"

"Yes" she replied, "but do not touch me for I am here only in spirit. My flesh has already rotted into the earth. The necklace my brother holds, holds my essence as well. I can not wholly move on to the divine since I gave a part of me to you, through the necklace around your neck."

The man knew he could never transform from an owl again without it, but his love for Kemna was stronger than his lust for vengeance. He removed it and instantly transformed back into an owl, as the necklace fell to the ground.

The warlock spoke "Kemna, why did you do this thing? You knew such things were forbidden. You knew this kind of deed always has unintended consequences. That's why it's forbidden!"

"I know" she softly murmured, "but I was lonely for a companion that I did not have to hide my true self from. I was slowly teaching the young girl of our ways but didn't want to give her too much, too soon.

The owl lived here at this place long before I arrived. Never did I hide myself from his watchful eyes. I thought it would do little harm to be able to speak with him as a man, but a few nights per month, when the moon was full. Forgive me."

"I understand." replied her brother. "Do you wish to be with him now? To become an owl like him, for the remainder of your days, never again to have a human form?"

"I do" she affirmed.

The warlock placed Kemna's necklace around the neck of the owl effigy he had created from the clay and feathers. Kemna's spirit entered into it through the necklace and it became alive, with flesh and with blood.

He then removed her necklace, forever trapping her into the shape of an owl. He gathered the former man's necklace from off of the ground and placed both heart-shaped pendants into the small melting pot that hung above the fire.

As the pendants melted, the faces of the two owls transformed into the shape of a heart. Forever to remain. Once the pendants completely melted, he poured the metal into the clay mold he had fashioned, where it would cool into the likeness of a coin.

When he finished, he spoke "You two need to leave this place before I regret what I have done. Fly to the south. Fly far and never return."

Wikipedia image. Peter Trimming from Croydon, England, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

* * * * * *

Several days went by before the warlock returned to the village. All of the villagers looked at him with fear and dread in their eyes, for they had found the mutilated body of Jeric the Blacksmith.

As they gathered around him, he said "Fear no more for it has been done. The blacksmith, murderer of my sister, was the last. No more will the predator of the night's sky hunt you."

Duffin spoke up "Well, that's a blessing to have the murderers in our midst and the creature of vengeance removed from us. Now, I guess we will have to make due with being a village without a blacksmith."

The warlock countered "I don't think you'll have to worry about that for long. Word travels fast and I'm sure there is an eager young apprentice blacksmith ready to come make his mark."

He turned to Retta and handed her the coin he had fashioned, briefly grasping her hand as she took it. Then he continued speaking while looking directly at her "Welcome him and you will all find what you seek."

The warlock then turned to the east and began walking out of the village. He would return to where he had came. His work had been finished and he regretted not what he had done.

* * * * * * *

To this very day, the owls of Kemna retain their heart-shaped faces as a reminder that love is stronger than vengeance. To this very day, the screech of these night owls brings fear and trembling, as omens of death and forbidden magic. Fear not. If you have done no harm, no harm will befall you.

The End.

Horror
Like

About the Creator

Joseph Duncan

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.