The Last Druid
Colleen Montague
The Last Druid
Copyright © 2014 Colleen Montague
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
The people, places, and events depicted in this work are fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, is unintentional.
To Joseph A. Montague.
I did it Grandpa.
I
The Nymph
She was one with the wind, going wherever she wanted without much thought; with her ability to change forms it was effortless, whether she became the wind or took the shape of a bird. But it wasn’t important what form she took right now, as long as it helped her complete her task as quickly as possible. If she made even a small mistake, in all likelihood there would not be enough time to fix it.
She had never travelled so far from the Lady before. She could not understand why she had been asked to do this—she saw herself as too young, too inexperienced. Her going out on one of these missions without having enough skill to survive was insane; one of her more-experienced fellows would have been better for this.
Yet the Lady had insisted that she go.
How much good would sending her do? She only knew the major details of the ancient prophecy; she wasn’t the best person to explain any of its finer points. She felt herself frowning as she flew. That damned prophecy—she wished a thousand curses on the person who made it. So what if she found the chosen Forest Child and convinced her of her higher purpose? Even if she had a way to find the girl she could be anywhere in the world, and chances were she would have no idea of what she was truly capable of. Besides, the Dark One was far ahead of them; He had already found the Son of Shadows, and they had begun to move against the Lady.
The thought wasn’t comforting. She quickened her pace, hoping she wouldn’t be too late, that she would not fail when so much depended on her success.
The storm was closing in on them all.
II
Calla
Warm summer days meant little to no activity for the Elves of the city of Kida in the province of Ganeuen, the oppressive heat draining the energy from every living thing. The city was left silent, the usual buzz of distant activity nowhere to be heard. The sky was perfectly clear without a single cloud to be seen and the sun shone brightly over every inch of the land, but instead of being able to enjoy such a beautiful day the heat had driven everyone indoors where it was hopefully cooler.
Calla liked to think she had found a happy medium: she spent her time in the branches of a tree on such days, where there was a little more shade. She found being higher up meant she had a better chance of feeling the passing breezes, almost chill as they blew across her sweaty skin. Here, she could still sit in the shade and yet still enjoy being outdoors.
Calla rested with her back to the bole of a maple tree, stretching her legs out along the limb she sat on. She really didn’t mind days like this—they gave her peace and quiet in which to think, to do one of her favorite pastimes, or do nothing at all. Unfortunately most everyone else had to do something more productive with their time, sweltering temperatures or no.
She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the drops of sweat running down her face. Sure, she was sixteen—the age when the desire for laziness tends to take over—but she was actually wishing she could do some kind of work instead of baking under the midday sun. She ran her hand over the top of her head, sections of her red-brown hair getting slicked back from the moisture. This was the one element of summer she hated. At least the occasional breeze felt somewhat refreshing.
As such a breeze picked up and started blowing through the maple leaves she suddenly found it anything but refreshing.
Come, said a whispery, childlike voice. Come dance with us.
Her eyes popped open and she sat up straighter, her hands gripping into the bark to steady herself. Not again, she thought, her body tensing.
When she was younger, at least seven years old, she’d started hearing voices. At first she did her best to ignore them, thinking perhaps her friends were trying to trick her somehow; yet none of them had been around on any of the occasions when this first happened. Thinking it to be nothing more than her imagination, she shrugged off each occurrence and went about as though it had never happened.
Yet as she grew older it grew worse. Now she could hear those voices most of the time—usually when there was wind, rain, or some other form of weather—some shouting as if from a distance and some in a faint whisper. Unnerved by the whole thing Calla never told a soul—she didn’t dare to, fearing that anyone who listened would think her mad. With no other options she forced herself to believe that this was just what happened in the world around her and that the voices were just an illusion, a trick of her ears; she was able to keep herself from going insane with such thoughts and get used to these happenings to a certain degree, even as the frequency increased over the years.
She sat incredibly still, listening as the air passed over her. Those voices were back again, though this time they weren’t saying anything. Their pitch was high and they seemed to be laughing, like a group of young children at play—but she was completely alone out here.
So much for that, she thought. Could it be that I really am…?
“Hey dreamer!”
Calla almost fell out of the tree. Regaining her composure she looked down to see someone standing at the base of the tree, partially obscured from view by the leaves around her. She didn’t need a clear view to know who it was. “Marrin!” she shouted. “You good-for-nothing, idiotic, clownish—”
The young Elf, still grinning, just watched her as she climbed down from her perch, continuing to shout at him for sneaking up on her. His smile still stretched from ear to ear even when she turned and started snapping at him directly, as though this were a regular occurrence—which it was.
“—ridiculous practical joker!” She ran her sleeve across her forehead as she gasped for breath after her ranting. “Honestly, I could have been killed if I fell out of that tree! Don’t you understand that it’s really too hot out for this kind of thing?”
“Well, it’s not like we can do much else,” he said. His brown hair was plastered to the back of his neck and patches of his shirt were a shade darker where they were soaked with sweat. “Did you really expect anything less from me?”
“Perhaps.” Calla reached her arm up behind her as best she could to brush bits of bark off her back. “I keep hoping someday you’ll get at least a little more serious.”
“But I am.”
“Meaning more than you already are. But to your credit, I will confess that your constantly-positive outlook on everything means we won’t have much in the way of dull moments around here.”
“Ah, now you see the truth!” Marrin’s voice sounded a little overly-dramatic. “Behold! I shall bring you relief from the ever-present threat of boredom, and so shall strive—“
“Sheesh, enough already!” Calla had placed her hands over her ears to block out at least some of his improvised performance. Marrin’s one goal in life was to be an actor, and it went to such a point that he made a performance of any moment at random; everyone hoped he would get to have such a career, but only so they could get some form of reprieve from his spurts of theatricality in public.
The two friends started walking uphill back towards the city. The streets were deserted, the people having retreated indoors. It was a tight-knit community, where everyone knew everyone and few feuds broke ou
t. Marrin and Calla took their time as they strolled along the main road, despite how intensely the sun bore down on them. Marrin kept chatting excitedly as they walked about an audition he had coming up with the local theater group. Calla listened as he rambled on about his plans, nodding and laughing when it seemed appropriate to do so, and waiting patiently for her turn to talk.
She didn’t have long to wait for her turn. Her plans and doings were a sharp contrast to his. Most of the time she busied herself with gardening, her most favorite hobby. Given the summer days were quite warm, she made sure to do that work early in the morning and later in the evening when the air temperature was much cooler. Unlike her friend, she didn’t feel a life devoted to the arts was really her calling—instead, her plan was to train to become a member of the Royal Guards, an elite military unit whose duty was protecting the royal court. Perhaps it was rather ambitious of her, but since her father was one of the captains she did have an in.
After she had finished her rambling she and Marrin walked in silence for several minutes. They passed a few vendors that had taken up various spots along the street, the salesmen themselves trying to hide from the scorching sunlight by crouching in the shadows of their carts; only a few of them on this street had an actual storefront. The two friends paid a visit to a small bakery they came to and bought some sweets to snack on while they continued their walk.
While Calla focused on catching the crumbs that fell from her muffin as she ate, Marrin’s face grew serious. “So,” he began with a bit of uncertainty in his voice, “how are things with…you know, her. Your stepmother.”
Calla didn’t answer right away. She didn’t really like talking about that subject since she and her stepmother didn’t get along well at all. When she was seven years old, around the same time those strange voices started, her mother just disappeared without any kind of trace; everyone thought that for some reason she went mad, and after a while assumed she was dead. The incident left Calla’s father distraught, so much so that he didn’t give another thought to marrying again for several years. After that he courted Mika, a lovely young woman who lived outside the city and had a reputation for playing hard-to-get with her suitors; in a surprisingly short amount of time she gave in to Morlan’s requests, and they later married and had two daughters. Calla didn’t really mind her half-sisters, but after they were born the relationship she had with her stepmother abruptly turned foul. For reasons Calla couldn’t find, Mika couldn’t stand being in the same room as her without giving her a glare or some nasty comment.
“It’s about the same as usual,” she said at last. “I don’t understand it—no one does. It’s like she can’t stand the sight of me. She’ll leave Mia and Melna to their own devices for the most part, but I hardly get a moment’s peace; she’s always looking for a fault in everything I say and do.”
“She spends more time on your sisters, eh?” Marrin looked highly skeptical.
“That’s a severe understatement,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “She spoils them so much it’s sickening to watch; even they can’t stand it. No wonder they ask me if they can tag along on market—they want to get out of the house and away from her as much as possible.”
“Your father still supports you then?”
“Oh yes, without hesitation. I don’t call him the ‘Voice of Reason’ for nothing. Last week she told me right to my face that I spent all my time with lowlifes, that I was a whore and a disgrace to the family, and so forth. Father happened to walk in at that moment, and he went and reprimanded her for it with volume and language that could’ve frightened the dead out of their graves.”
“How he’s been able to maintain his sanity all these years while living with her is beyond me.” Marrin shook his head. “How he’s been able to just live with her is beyond me.”
“He thought she might have been drunk when she said it; apparently she told him later that she went for only a sip of wine from one of the barrels in the cellar and it went on from there.”
“I doubt that, since she says similar things to you when she’s perfectly sober.”
“Imagine, though, being treated like that by someone who holds a grudge against you for no good reason. I don’t think anyone around here understands her reasoning.”
“Heck, anyone would say you’re one of the best people around without hesitation.” Marrin’s smile was back. “Besides, if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have so many friends looking out for you. I mean, I was probably the one who gave you the best advice when you needed it.”
Calla punched him playfully in the arm. “Best advice, huh? I seem to remember an instance back when I was eleven where you told me I could win the endurance race if I took a shortcut that happened to cut across a bog; I ended up sinking to my waist in mud thanks to you. Lucky for me Kira happened to notice me fall in and ran over to get me out, else I’d probably still be there right now.”
“Speaking of Kira, are you still going to join us and the others down at the tavern tonight?”
“What, you think I was out looking for an excuse not to go? Kira made me promise to be there for when you two make the big announcement.”
He seemed genuinely shocked. “How’d you—”
“Kira told me herself, genius. She doesn’t believe in keeping secrets from me.” Kira and Calla had grown up together and were incredibly close friends. Calla wasn’t jealous about Kira falling for Marrin; Kira was probably the best match for him, as she was able to help him get back under control whenever he got a little too dramatic. “Don’t worry, I’ll act surprised like everyone else. But I promised Kira I’d be her moral support if she got nervous, so I’m not planning on missing it for anything.”
“All right then.” He was overly lively again. “See you at the party then?”
“Do you have a heavy wax buildup in your ears?”
“All right, I’ll see you later!” Marrin turned and started dancing down the street the way they had come. Calla stood for a moment and watched him go before turning to head for home.
“What a clown,” she said to herself as she walked away. “Kira’s definitely going to have her hands full with that one.”
Calla and her family lived on the outskirts of the city. It was a nice, quiet spot close to the eaves of the Canu Forest away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It had two floors, lots of wide windows, and a very large garden full of various flowers, trees and shrubs. It was a lot of space, more than the family needed, but none of them complained.
Calla opened the gate and walked up the front path. A few vines and a couple weeds stood out of place, but she wasn’t going to worry about that right now—she’d pull them out later, maybe tomorrow. The sun was already starting to dip towards the horizon behind her, and she should probably get changed for the party. She was still in thought when two small figures darted out from the bushes to her left, almost crashing into her.
“Ouch! What in the—oh, it’s you two.”
Her half-sisters were beaming as they looked up at her. Mia was the older of the two at ten years old, but was quite small in stature for her age. At eight years old, Melna was taller than her sister and quite slender, but was very shy.
Calla patted both of them on the head. “Seriously,” she said, “don’t just jump out like that without warning.”
“We’re sorry, Calla,” said Melna. Without waiting the two girls turned and skipped up the main path to the door of the house. Calla followed after them slowly, shaking her head. They were at the right age for causing mischief, even if they were girls.
Suddenly Calla stopped. Her body immediately tensed as the sound of voices reached her ears. These weren’t voices she knew—the pitch was too low to be the girls or any of the other children, and definitely too high to be someone else she knew. The thing was there was no wind blowing this time. She started thinking about what they could possibly be as she continued to hear them over the other evening noises. The voices seemed to be a little chirpy, like the songs of bi
rds…
Night’s coming—it might be cold.
Calla struggled to keep her nerves steady. Crickets…She shook herself awake and ran the rest of the way up the path and inside the house.
III
Mika
Mika stared out the kitchen window at the three girls as they gathered at the end of the walkway. She could feel the corners of her mouth pulling down; she didn’t like this. She glared at the red-haired girl standing with her daughters, the monster, the one that would destroy everything that was promised to them. Mika cringed as her stepdaughter touched the heads of the other girls, who promptly gave a small hop before running up the walkway. She ducked back behind the curtain so she could still see without being seen.
What did her girls see in that…thing? Mika scoffed quietly, grateful Morlan wasn’t there to see her disgust. He hated it when she said or did anything against his firstborn child, and he didn’t hesitate to make the fact known. She could still remember the time she called the girl a drunk and a whore; after Morlan cursed at her she used drinking as an excuse and barely managed to save herself. Things like that he couldn’t stand. He stubbornly defended that girl, showering her with more affections that should have been given to his younger daughters—their daughters. He didn’t care about how she felt about it, refusing to see that he was protecting a nightmare.
But worse, the children of her flesh and blood didn’t care either. They never saw their father keeping all attention and favor from them deliberately, just to spite their mother. They were completely blind to their half-sister’s true identity. They didn’t care—they interacted with the girl constantly, loving her, their strange fascinations with her growing stronger when she gave them love in return.
Mika turned away from the window as her girls came running up to the house, unable to bear looking at the scene anymore. They should have been more like her: strong, gifted, able to see the truth about their half-sister. They had less of her, and more of their father’s blood in them instead—they had inherited his blindness.
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