Samhain Host
#1 of Competition Submissions
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Universe: Halloween
Story: Samhain Host
When the leave turn read and all the fields lay naked and fallow, the Harvest Moon blooms bright and full and stillness comes upon the world. The hearts and minds of man cleave to the waking Wild of the Other. Wearing faces not their own, on a night that does not belong to them, men and women walk side by side, hand in hand with beast and fey. When the sun has set and the human world has turned to slumber, the Wilder Host rides out and claims the world as its own; yet even in the wake of the Courts' passage, other creatures come to play.
In the moment between sunset and sunrise, and ancient stone archway stands silent, unmoving and forgotten in a secret glade. Leaves fall and birds pass overhead, the trees remain firm and unyielding. Then, in the faintest of breezes, the sounds of a whinnying horse, metal hooves on dirt and voices calling out can be heard. At first there is but one, then another and another; as the last moment of dusk fades to night, the archway's surface shines with an intricate pattern of mercurial silver. In a sudden onslaught of noise, the Host arrives. Carrying themselves with an unearthly grace, possessing an alien and impossibly enthralling beauty dozens of fey folk pass through the archway. At first only solitary and pairs of fey folk pass through, regal and wild at the same time almost classical in their appearance. In ever increasing numbers, more and more fey folk pass through the archway; a vanguard for those yet to arrive. Following the first wave of fey folk come the Fey Lords and Ladies, infinitely more ethereal than their classical counterparts. Somewhat more alien than their classical counterparts, the Lords and Ladies have a greater bestial, ethereal or mystical quality about themselves; aquiline, lupine, canine, feline, avian and even piscine features are mixed in amongst the higher class of fey folk.
Resplendent in glittering precious metals and wafting silks, the Host's arrival is serenaded by the tinkling of fragile bells tied to the reins of horses. Delicate, seemingly gentle fingers bare graceful banners with an ease that belies the strength within, four banners of distinct styles announcing the climax of the Host's entrance. Dozens upon dozens of the fairest fey pale in comparison to the four highest lords of the Otherworld, as regal, wild and resplendent as they are rapacious, perfidious and avaricious.
First is the Queen of Spirits, cruel and aloof from her fellows. Ever stern, ever severe she weaves dreams nightmares with equal abandon, she is the mistress of the phantasmagorical and ruler of the ethereal beings. Her dominion is the ephemeral and ethereal; the tree branches scratching against the window, the shadows on the moon and the breeze that gives life to dead leaves. Her constant companions the specters and poltergeists of the world, the nightmares and dreams of mortals so easily toyed with. The Queen herself is as much a dream as she is a physical being, her glossy black hair waving in the breeze seemingly of its own accord, her eyes pale and luminescent and her garb a pool of purple and translucent blue robes gently hugging her lithe figure.
Second comes the Lord of Beasts lusty and passionate, the powerfully handsome figure of the Wilder. Insatiable in his appetites he is the master of the hunt, forever seeking partners to slake his lust or food to quench his hunger. His dominion is the impassioned and primal; the light of the bonfire, the smell of roasting meat and the frenzied couplings of lovers. His constant companions the satyr and werewolf, the hunters of lovers and prey ever unsatisfied and bound to the Hunt. The King bares his role proudly and eagerly, ever the embodiment of gluttonous revelry; with auburn hair that shines seductively, an ambience of erogenous pull about him, his eyes full of a never dying fire and his virile body exposed to the elements save for a pelt to cover his loins.
Third is the Mother of the Harvest warm and loving, a buxom and voluptuous woman of indiscernible age. Kindhearted mistress of the fertile field and groaning tables, she rules her twin domains of abode and field with a gentle but firm grip. To fill the bellies of men, women and children alike she is all the joy that is found within a fresh pumpkin soup or a carefully aged cheese. The most connected to the human spirit, she watches over children when they go a trick or treating and sets her devotees to watch over the fields; pumpkin heads and bodies of straw. Glorious brown hair spilling in cascades down her shoulders, mirth filled eyes and an ever lasting smile the Mother of the Harvest is everything her brother and sister are not; as corporeal as the Queen of Spirits is ethereal and as grounded as the Lord of Beasts is lost in lusts.
Fourth is the Sage of the Wilder Folk, the penultimate mystery of the changing seasons, the bearer of fairy tales and the herald of the magical. The Sage brings within him all the ancient powers of the Other, a cornucopia of powers that are granted but a scant handful of days throughout the year to act upon the world. Once a male of striking presence and charisma, he became that which he was once lord over becoming in turn the vessel of his dominion. His territory is the intrinsic enchantment of the end of Autumn; the creatures of imagination, shadows and magic hearken to his call and are granted tenure upon the world of Humankind. The very embodiment of the thinning of the Veil between worlds, the Sage is unknowable and ever a mystery, as much a mystery as the world of the Fey from which he and his brethren hail.
As a Host they will ride out and seek out those in the world that are drawn to them. For the total span of a single night, magic and mystery returns to the world and rewards those who remember it, punishes those that would claim it to be naught but ash and changes those whose lives are empty and hollow. They are the Samhain Host, their names many and few. Together they ride out, each on a different course to fulfill their tasks before the All Hallows 'Eve is spent entirely. For a single night, the full turning of the Earth in the time of the Harvest Moon, the Host affects the souls of Humankind twisting, blessing, cursing and changing without conscience. On that one night of Halloween the otherwise technology dominated world of Humanity is exposed once more to the once powerful, ancient denizens of the past.
The twilight of their power a mere shadow of what it once was, yet still strong enough to have far reaching consequences for the coming year, till once again they ride out on their endless quest serenaded by the gods' own nocturne.