Tales of the Feisty Druid Omnibus (Books 1-7): (The Arcadian Druid, The Undying Illusionist, The Frozen Wasteland, The Deceiver, The Lost, The Damned, Into The Maelstrom)

by Candy Crum

  “He ain’t any better than any of the rest of us rearick, lad. All ‘r mothers were a few nails shy when they built us. In other words, ain’t none of us right.”

  “Samuel… I think that’s the first thing you’ve said about your people that makes sense.”

  Samuel? Cathillian thought. All this had started because of a rearick named Samuel, and there stood one. It was too much to be a coincidence.

  “Excuse me,” Cathillian said, quickly crossing the street to meet the two men.

  “Aye, lad,” Samuel answered. “Are ye lost? Ye don’t look like yer from around here.”

  Cathillian shook his head. “No, not lost, but I was wondering if you’d been in the Dark Forest lately.”

  The rearick’s eyes widened a moment before he looked Cathillian over. “Ah! Now I see why ye look so lost, lad. Yer one of ‘em. The druids, yeah?”

  Cathillian nodded. “I am. In fact, I’m here because you talked to my friend and my mother along the Kalt. They saved you.”

  Samuel nodded. “Aye. They set me right. Ain’t had a headache since. So, if yer here, are they?”

  Cathillian brushed some hair back that had fallen into his face, careful not to uncover his ears. “Arryn is, the younger woman that you met. After she talked to you and found out Arcadia had been freed from Adrien, she wanted to come back.”

  “I’m glad ta hear ye both made it here alright. The Dark Forest is no picnic,” Samuel said.

  Cathillian laughed. “No, it isn’t. We ran into four lycanthropes on our way out.”

  Samuel’s eyes widened. “And the two of ye made it ta tell the tale? Damn, lad. That's impressive. We had a fight of ‘r own recently. Remnant out by the Madlands.”

  “What the hell were you doing out by the Madlands?” Cathillian asked. “That’s even more dangerous than trying to log in the Dark Forest! And I wouldn’t recommend trying that to anyone.”

  It was the taller man that spoke now. “Wood. Right now, that’s more valuable than precious stones. We headed out there to convince the loggers we needed the help. Can’t rebuild the city with nothin’.”

  Samuel nodded. “That’s when the bastards attacked. A dozen’r more. We managed ta get everyone out alive. Had it been a bigger group, we’d’ve died.”

  “Were there a lot of injuries?” Cathillian asked.

  “Quite a few. Busted legs, large gashes from weapons. There’re a few that might be getting some infections,” the taller man said. “To survive a fight and then to die like that…” He shook his head.

  “Eh, keep yer curses silent, lad,” Samuel said. “They’re fighters. Ye’ll see.”

  “Maybe I can help,” Cathillian said. “Take me there, and I’ll heal what I can. Magic has its limits, but I can at least get each of them out of death’s door a hell of a lot quicker. In fact, I think I can help solve several of your problems if you’re interested.”

  The taller man’s eyes brightened. “You can do that? I’ve always heard of the druids, but only bad shit. You don’t seem so scary, not that I’d wanna take you in a fight. Not from the stories I’ve heard. Somthin’s gotta be based on truth. The name’s Andrew.”

  Andrew held out his hand, and it took Cathillian a moment to realize what the gesture was. He’d seen Arryn do it once. A handshake, she’d called it. A sign of peace, much like their own of placing their fists over their hearts. Cathillian took his hand and shook it.

  “We appreciate the help, friend. Whatever you can offer,” Andrew said.

  The three men walked and chatted about their individual battles, discussing strategy on the way to the medical building. Cathillian’s morning had been far more productive than he’d imagined. He couldn’t wait to tell Arryn when he got back.

  Arryn awoke to the sound of scratching talons on the footboard. Her eyes fluttered open, but it took a moment or two before she was able to focus. Rolling over on her back, she looked down to the end of the bed to see that Echo was perched there, tilting her head to the side as she studied Arryn.

  "Where's Cathillian? Why aren't ya bothering him?"

  The bird squawked in response, unfurling her wings for a moment before shaking her body and tucking them back in.

  "Well, you're no help. And you better not shit on the floor. If you do, you’re cleaning it up." Arryn got up and stretched before making her way out of the room, searching Cathillian’s bedroom and the rest of the house, but coming up empty.

  On one hand, his absence surprised her, assuming he’d be too uncomfortable to go out on his own or to leave her alone, but then she remembered it was Cathillian of all people. He couldn’t sit still if his life depended on it.

  She figured he must have decided to go ahead and explore instead of waiting all day for her to wake up. It was almost noon, so she couldn't really blame him. Lately, Arryn had been sleeping late. She wasn't sure why she slept so long, but since being back in Arcadia, it seemed that was all she could do.

  After a change of clothes, she headed out the door so she, too, could explore the city. They’d been there for a couple of days, and she hadn't actually made her way out of the house yet.

  With so many students and teachers absent from the Academy to help with the factory, she had no reason to begin her new job, so she just hung out at Girard’s creepy old house.

  The added wait time had been a blessing in disguise, allowing her to get used to being back in the city before leaping into socializing with everyone.

  When she walked outside, she was greeted with warm air and beautiful sunshine. It was so nice outside there wasn’t even a need for her cloak.

  Every brick and every stone in every home looked familiar to her. She knew the streets like the back of her hand.

  When she was young, she and her friends would run through them, playing and hiding from one another. She'd only gotten lost a couple times, but she always found her way back.

  Wandering around and winding through them now reminded her of her childhood, bringing her back to those old memories. Right then, she was happy that Cathillian was nowhere to be found.

  She had been exploring for nearly a half an hour when she stumbled across her old street. Though she had assumed she might come upon it at some point, it still came as a surprise due to not paying attention to where she was going—just walking and taking in the city.

  That street in particular was built more for the middle class, those who weren’t quite rich enough to own the stone homes, but not poor enough to belong on the Boulevard.

  Each home was made of brick, yet each one looked very different. She swallowed hard as she turned toward the seemingly desolate road, willing herself to walk down.

  All the homes seemed run down, possibly even vacant. Had no one been living in these homes? Or was it that these people had recently fled after the battle?

  She saw the house where she often used to play when she was a child. Her friend Esther lived there with only her father, her mother having died in childbirth.

  The more she walked, the more memories flooded her mind. Birthday parties, friends, pranks, and so much more filled her thoughts. There was a squawk that echoed off the exterior walls of the empty homes, one she knew from anywhere.

  "Echo, what are you doing?"

  "She led me here," Cathillian said.

  Arryn sighed. There was no part of her that wanted Cathillian there, not right then.

  There was a myriad of emotions running through her mind, and she needed to process them alone. She wanted to experience them and let them go. Get on with her life for good with her past planted firmly behind her.

  To do that, she needed to have her moment to reflect in peace without the worry of someone seeing her, without wondering what they would think of her.

  Even her best friend, Cathillian.

  "Well, then she's more rat than eagle, I'd say," Arryn quipped.

  "Ah, don't be like that. She was just worried about you. I left a window open for her before I left earlier so she could fly if she wa
nted. She came and found me and led me here. Speaking of which, what are you doing?"

  Arryn's arms momentarily lifted at her sides before falling again. "I don't know. Something I probably shouldn't be. Something I'm not ready for you to be here for."

  Cathillian looked around for a moment, taking a few steps forward. "Is this where you lived?"

  Arryn couldn't help the mixed emotions that filled her chest or the blank expression on her face as she thought about answering that.

  Finally, she nodded. "Two houses down from here on the left. This morning, I ventured out just wanting to explore—to see how the city had changed since I'd been gone. I think my memories led me here, not that it means I wanna go any further."

  "Maybe it's time you should. You’ve been having those dreams. It might help you put aside whatever’s crawling through your head at night. You aren't weak. You never have been. But ever since you met Samuel, your past life’s been weighing on you harder than ever. I'll stay with you, or I'll leave. It's up to you."

  Arryn turned, slowly bringing herself to face the house. After a few moments, she looked back to Cathillian. "I don't want you with me—but I also don't want you to go. I guess… I guess, you should go with me. Just in case. Besides, I'm sure it'll need broken into, and there's no one better at breaking in or breaking out of places than you are."

  "Damn right!" he said, a reassuring smile on his face.

  Arryn sighed again before turning and heading toward her old house. When they reached the door, just as she'd assumed, it was locked. Arryn stood to the side while Cathillian broke the lock to let them in.

  A swell of emotion rose in Arryn's chest as her eyes took in the interior, but she managed to shove it away as she stepped inside. The magitech light hummed to life, and she wondered how they could've possibly lasted for the past ten years.

  Everything was exactly the same. Nothing had changed.

  The family portrait that had been painted over a decade ago still hung over the fireplace, her mother's art still hung on the walls around the living room, and all three of her father's uniquely crafted swords were still in the corner, leaning against the wall behind the door.

  He'd left them there in case there was ever an emergency, but that had proven to be a mistake, an unfortunate place to leave them since he'd needed them upstairs that night.

  As musty as Girard’s house smelled, this home was far worse. There were cobwebs everywhere, but sheets were over the furniture. Someone had been there since they’d disappeared, someone that cared enough to preserve their things.

  Arryn imagined if she pulled off the sheets, her family's furniture would still be in perfect condition underneath, though the original scent would be long gone, replaced with that of old, stale air.

  She was silent for a long time as she walked through the bottom floor, taking everything in. The modest, yet well-done living room, the kitchen, the downstairs office; they even had a music room. Everything was exactly as it had been left.

  She walked back through the living room, pausing to look at the family portrait. They'd sat for quite some time while the artist painted them. It was an expensive gift, but one that her mother had desperately wanted. They had only gotten it a few days before they were forced to flee.

  "My mother begged for that," Arryn said, her voice barely above a whisper as she pointed to the painting. "I say begged, but really, my father couldn't deny her anything if he'd wanted to."

  "It's beautiful," Cathillian said. "She looks exactly like I remember her. I'm sorry I never got to know her. But if she was anything like you, I'm sure I would've liked her a lot."

  Arryn smiled. "She was far more. I am what I am because of her. Her strength made me who I am, which is why, even as I stand here, even as my heart breaks into thousands of pieces, I refuse to show it. I won't let her down."

  "But you still need to process it," Cathillian said. "You've pushed it away for too long."

  Arryn slowly nodded as she stared into her mother's eyes in the painting. "And that's the only reason why I let you push me in here. There’s something I need to remember. My father told my mother something the night we left, and I need to figure out what that was."

  Arryn turned away from the painting and made her way up the stairs, Cathillian following close behind. As she reached the top, she looked to her right only two doors down where her room once was. It only took a few steps to get there, her hand stalling on the knob for a moment before finally twisting it open.

  She walked in and made her way across the room to her bed, sitting on it for a moment before finally laying down and staring at the cobweb covered ceiling before speaking.

  "I was asleep when they came, the sound of them beating on the front door waking me in the middle of the night. Those dreams that you wake me from, they always start right here. This is exactly what I see."

  Looking to the left, she saw the familiar flower vase, but there were no flowers inside. At some point, someone had removed them. Probably the same someone that had covered all the furniture with sheets. She sat up, looking past Cathillian to the door and then around her room.

  "My father came in to wake me, but I was already awake from the guards pounding on the door downstairs. He told me we had to leave, and when I didn't move fast enough, he picked me up and carried me out of the room."

  Arryn stood, taking one last look at her things while dusting herself off before making her way past Cathillian and out the door. He never said a word or asked a single question as she spoke, for which she was grateful.

  Even while talking to him, it was easy to ignore his presence. Easy to lose herself in her thoughts as she walked and talked through her memories.

  "The guards were in the process of breaking in while we were running down this hallway," she said as she led Cathillian down that very hall, coming to stop at another room. She twisted the knob and opened it, walking into the upstairs office.

  She briefly looked around the room before continuing on. "We had bags packed and stashed away in here, ready to go in case something like this would happen. My father closed the door, but it did nothing to keep me from hearing them screaming downstairs. I could hear them coming for us, hear them directing each other on how to clear the bottom floor to make sure we weren’t down there."

  Arryn continued studying the room, taking in the mahogany desk and bookshelves that lined the room. As her eyes reached the window, she saw a familiar bag sitting there, covered in dust. It had been her mother's. The very emergency bag that Elayne had packed for their escape.

  Arryn walked over and picked it up, setting it on the desk before opening it. Inside, she found her mother's clothing, some emergency supplies, and a canteen of water. Arryn thought back to that night, to all the confusion.

  She laughed, but it wasn't happy or amused, having finally come to understand something. "She knew she wasn't going to survive that night." Arryn looked up to Cathillian, holding the canteen in her hand before placing it back in the bag. "My bag was right next to hers. There's no way she forgot it. She purposely didn't bring it."

  "You’re her daughter. You’d sacrifice yourself in a heartbeat if that meant saving the life of any other person you cared for."

  She nodded as she thought his words over. "You're right. I sometimes doubt myself, but when I stop and think about it, I would die to protect anyone that I loved. I may not do it skillfully, or intelligently, or even valiantly, but I would do it. I’d take a sword to the gut to save your life.”

  “Aw! See? You do love me!” Cathillian said, placing his hand over his heart with a sarcastic smile. “Keep denying it all you want, though. I’ll continue pretending that I believe it.”

  Arryn rolled her eyes, a smile threatening to spread across her lips. “I’d also do that for your mother—or your grandfather. You cocky prick. And thank you. I will keep denying it. Being mean to you is an excellent way to cure boredom.”

  Cathillian stepped closer, placing his hand over hers as it rested on th
e edge of the bag. "All that aside, you have a lot to give to this world, and I have a feeling you'll have plenty of chances to make her proud."

  Arryn turned her hand over, giving Cathillian's a quick squeeze before letting go, not particularly enjoying the closeness, but not wanting to be rude and push him away either.

  While she and Cathillian had always been close, somehow it felt like there had been a change in that in the last few weeks. A change that she didn’t quite feel comfortable with given all she’d been through.

  She stepped back and looked around the room and over to the window she’d jumped from that night. After opening it, she looked outside and down, seeing just how far she jumped with her mother. It was quite a long fall, but the straw that had been placed there—as well as her mother—had gone a long way to cushion the descent.

  "I clung to this window, looking at my father and watching him speak to my mother, but with my racing heart and terrified thoughts, they drowned out anything that he said to her. I remember it perfectly, but I can't remember what he said because I didn't really hear it. I only saw his lips move.”

  She sighed as she thought back, hoping that physically being there would spark something. “There was something big he told her, the entire reason we were forced out of Arcadia. The entire reason he was taken. Even if it’s pointless to know now because it would do no good, I need to find out what that was. If it was important enough for him to be threatened and then have his family attacked, then it was important enough for me to find out."

  " Maybe Amelia could help. She mentioned having people you might talk to. That one—Doyle or whatever—was his closest friend. Maybe they'll find him, and he'll know what got him taken."

  Arryn pulled back inside and closed the window before turning to Cathillian. "There’s one thing that gives me hope above everything else."

  "Yeah? What's that?" he asked.

  "There's no blood anywhere in this room. I half expected to see large, red stains all over the floor in here from all those years ago, but there's none. That means he was alive when they took him. Maybe he still is."