Realm of Druids

by Mark Hogenelst

  Princess Eylon described how several days ago her elf rangers had witnessed a vast legion of hounds travelling south. Accompanied by skyriders and goblin mages, a great mist went with the army in what appeared to be an attempt to conceal it from view. Princess Eylon, however, was confused, the Wildpack, witches’ and goblins openly crossed through the edge of the Elvene lands which could be seen as a provocation to war. They had marched with little rest and crossed the western borders of the Elvene in two days before reaching the edge of the Cursed Marshes. Here Princess Eylon’s rangers stopped at her borders and merely observed as the army continued south. The mist was a strange enigma, though. It did nothing to conceal this army if that was their goal. The unnatural fog, noise, smell, and tracks they left after they had passed if nothing else had advertised their presence. Unless the mist concealed something else that was not meant to be seen? Princess Eylon hoped the Soothsayer Chalice under the guard of the bears would reveal some clues.

  A nearing sound of trotting hooves came to the company. They stopped and warily circled the Princess. The echoes in the woods made it difficult to determine which direction the sound originated. The noise drew nearer until Karvu the muntjac stared behind them along the path and snorted hard. ‘It smells like ponies?’ remarked Red Whiskers. Blackpaws and Jericho sprung to the back and stood either side of the muntjac, raising their noses slightly into the air to detect scent. ‘Ponies alright, and they’re in a hurry’ remarked Jericho. ‘Better get off the path and out of harm’s way’ added Blackpaws. The ponies were rarely a threat to anyone on the moors. However, nobody fancied being trampled over by a string of panic-ridden ones on a narrow path. They preferred the open marshes and grasslands of the steppes to the wooded forests and the Scarbia Mountains. So, it was unusual to hear and smell ponies coming along the path through the thick forest towards Aledran.

  As the company quickly moved off the path, six ponies cantered up towards them from the west. They were heading in the same direction as them. ‘Stop!’ barked Blackpaws in his loudest and deepest commanding voice. The lead pony, a shaggy coated black and tan stallion with a large white blaze below his eyes, jumped sideways in fright and turned to kick out at the wolf as he went past. ‘Raphos?’ said the Princess loudly. The pony ‘slowed and looked back to see Princess Eylon standing with two wolves and a muntjac semi-concealed behind large bushes off the path edge. Raphos let out a quick snort and shook his head, his long black mane curling like a wave down the side of this neck. The other five ponies, all with similar black and tan coats, were clearly offspring of Raphos. They stopped cautiously and pawed at the ground while shaking their heads and eyeing off the two wolves. They all had flared nostrils and were breathing heavily, for they had just trotted, cantered and galloped many miles. White salty sweatbands were visible down their chests and shoulders.

  ‘My lady’ acknowledged Raphos panting, as he dipped his head respectfully towards the Princess, but kept his eyes on Blackpaws and Jericho all the same. ‘We have come a long way’ he continued. Princess Eylon knew Raphos. He was the lead stallion for the pony string that roamed the East Marsh within the Elvene Lands. ‘What brings you here? What news do you have?’ She inquired. Raphos glanced at the wolves before answering. The Princess, seeing his concern added, ‘Raphos this is King Blackpaws and his son Jericho from the ‘Silent Ridge’ wolf pack. They are aiding me to travel to Aledran, where we seek an audience with the Shah Bragus.’ Raphos stared hard at Blackpaws for a short moment then said, ‘I have heard of you, king wolf and also of your wisdom and fairness across the eastern moors.’ Blackpaws replied, ‘You do me a great honour, Sir Raphos, but please tell why you are so far east?’

  Raphos turned to face the Princess again and responded to her initial question. ‘My lady, five days ago a large group of hounds travelled through your lands. They came from the north with Ravens, witches’ and goblins. A strange cloud followed them, and the hounds ranged out from the main pack to attack many of us as they passed. Many of my string was killed.’ Raphos went silent then snorted and shook his mane angrily. After a short break, he continued. ‘I could not get to you at the Elvene as the hounds were between us, so with what survivors of my string I could find we came seeking sanctuary at Aledran.’ Raphos looked at his four mares and one colt with him and shook his head in dismay. The Princess concerned, spoke ‘I was not aware that, that had occurred. I am sorry for your loss. You must come with us to Aledran and tell all of what you have seen.’ Raphos nodded and then added, ‘There was one other thing. A group of hounds that were harrying us diverted from our tails to attack a small swine clan hiding in the marsh grass. We had initially turned back to fight, but more and more hounds left the cloud and gave chase. I saw…saw something in that cloud.’ The Princess almost whispered. ‘What was it?’ Raphos continued, ‘A hulking brown shape of colossal size walked in there amongst those hounds.’ The princess thought to herself for a moment. ‘A Swamp Troll perhaps?’

  The late afternoon brought a quick rest by the river and a cold drink. The odd group resumed the steady walk on the path this time accompanied by Raphos and the survivors of his family. A sudden swoop from the trees above and the Falcon Ayah appeared, startling the company. He let out a small whistle and greeted King Blackpaws as he flew by to land on one of the great antlers of Karvu the muntjac. He perched on a branch of the antler as comfortable as he would any tree. Where his talons gripped, the blue veins rippled through the antlers like water. Karvu did not seem to mind but slowed his pace down slightly, dropping his head as he listened intently to the quiet conversation between Ayah and the Princess.

  Red Whiskers had never seen a Falcon this close before. They hardly ever ranged to the fox’s side of the moors these days. This Falcon had large dangerous claws and above them, some silver spikes. Jericho walked next to his father and looked back curiously. He then turned to his father and whispered, ‘If the Wildpack and goblins are moving to the south and have attacked scouts of the Duskfall province, should we not delay and get back home?’ Blackpaws replied, ‘We must wait and see what is so important that Bragus has summonsed us, and now the Princess of the Elvene elves wants us as well.’ The silver Falcon Ayah bowed to the Princess winked at Red Whiskers and then whispered something to Karvu which made him snort with silent laughter. With several great flaps of his wings, Ayah ascended into the canopy to disappear.

  A slight wind blew between the great trunks and boughs of the trees. Some big coloured leaves from an Oak tree whipped around to float to the earth in front of them. Blackpaws amused, grinned as Red Whiskers bounced forward on the path to snap at the falling leaves like some pup at play. ‘Ayah Cloudchaser has brought news.’ Blackpaws was suddenly aware that that Princess was next to him speaking. She continued, ‘He has come from your pack, and they have received Regus who is in good spirits. Scouts have been sent out to monitor your borders. Prince Lothian also reports that his scouts have found no sign of enemies in Duskfall and my Elvene rangers also report that our lands are still clear.’ ‘So why do the Wildpack travel to the cold south? And why kill Lothian’s sentries on the Duskfall Bridge?’ Blackpaws inquired. The Princess replied, ‘It is unknown why the Wildpack moves south. The only consolation I can think at present is that they appear to be far south of all our lands by now. As for the bridge, perhaps they were waiting for you.’

  Blackpaws a little shocked at this said, ‘Why would they wait for me? How do they know that I have been summoned by Bragus? If they have passed the Cursed Marsh, they will reach the Great Southern Marsh in several days and then Lands’ End? There is nothing after that except the frozen sea.’ ‘Questions, questions we all have mighty king’ said a concerned Princess Eylon as she patted Blackpaws on the back gently. ‘Questions I can’t answer; however, I do know that the Bloodwood Coven is only a few days travel from Lands’ End. Perhaps Lady Strala is up to something. Perhaps she had summoned the Wildpack. There are skyriders with them.’ The Princess said no more but dropped back behind Blackpa
ws on the path and spoke with Raphos briefly before becoming lost in her thoughts. ‘Is it possible Strala has knowledge of the same entity I have felt? The NaZuth Void Shadow was only a myth, yet the fox saw…’ Her thoughts cut short as a piercing screech echoed from the sky above the canopy.

  A muffled noise of wings and air disturbance could be heard above. A black shape appeared in the treetops and fell to the earth in a flurry of feathers, to land near the company. Jericho pounced and barked, ‘Raven!’ Its throat had been torn out. ‘I can hear more Ravens, Ayah is in trouble’ yelled Princess Eylon. ‘Behind me,’ she cried. Another screech heard, and a swooping of wings followed by several loud, hungry Raven cries. The wolves fell behind the Princess. Red Whiskers crouched underneath Karvu the muntjac who stood staring ahead towards the source of the sounds. The wolves growled and readied for anything while Karvu grunted and shook his great head, antlers at the ready. The ponies looked confused; for they were not used to this kind of hubbub. There was some commotion going on above and in front of them. As the sound came closer, the ruby at the Princess's neck began to glow from a dull to a deep, bright red. The silver Falcon Ayah Cloudchaser suddenly appeared in front of them and was in trouble.

  He dropped abruptly, then rose and darted sideways as he weaved his way down through the great boughs towards them. What then shocked the company was the 20 or so ravens that descended rapidly in a wide arc through the canopy in evident pursuit of Ayah. Their black eyes were gleaming in anticipation of the kill of this Falcon. Their formation tightened as they closed the distance to Ayah, who was struggling to stay airborne. Ayah tumbled in the air, exhausted and plummeted towards the ground. In anticipation, Jericho leapt forward and broke the Falcon’s fall. The Falcon semi-conscious crash-landed into Jericho’s side, which absorbed most of the hard impact. Ayah’s beak and leg spikes were covered in Raven blood. The Ravens nearing the company suddenly saw the Princess and tried to dart straight up and away, with the leading few ravens squawking loud warnings in fright.

  The Princess suddenly shouted. ‘Rigidum Indutae!’ The first dozen Ravens fell immediately to the earth with thudding sounds, dead before they hit the ground. A handful of Ravens further back from the influence of the Princess’s killing curse had managed to peel off and escaped high above the canopy. The Glow in the Ruby gem faded to its normal colour, and the Princess leaned back on the muntjac. She smiled weakly at Jericho and said, ‘The gem draws out my essence for power and leaves me drained for a short time. The greater the enchantment, the longer the rest I need. What of Ayah?’

  ‘I am merely exhausted, my Princess.’ He said sitting on the ground in front of Jericho. His wings were spread open in an attempt to cool down as he gave small fast panting breaths. ‘I was returning from Bragus when the filth appeared from the southern sky, and I had defeated one, then the rest were upon me. I only just managed to make it here as you saw.’ The Princess stepped forward and looked hard at the closest dead Raven. Its wings were spread out askew across the ground where it lay. It had bright yellow legs ending in large sharp looking claws. A great blackhead sported a long thick pointed bill. These were the Raven raptors, the most prominent handpicked Ravens from the Unkindness in the far south near the Bloodwood Coven. They were typically chosen for their strength, size, and savagery. These were not an average flock of Raven prowlers but usually chosen for specific tasks. ‘We are being followed, and we had best keep moving if we want to get to Aledran before dark and in case nightbirds are dispatched against us next.’ She said in a concerning voice. As the company continued along the path, a glimmer shone in the eye of the largest dead Raven on the ground that finally went dull. Lady Strala’s vision of the company through Raven’s eye also faded, and she screamed in frustration and anger.

  20.

  THE GOBLIN MAGE

  With a look of determination on his red face, Grell fitted the solid bar in place that sealed the thick timber and wrought iron door to his private chamber. The door had been stolen from Blackmire Castle many years ago and dragged across the southern moors to the hide by slaves. Enormous claw marks were visible all over the inside of this door made by some unknown Daemon creatures. The interior of his room was otherwise a simple affair, typical as it were to the standard goblin accommodation. A small straw bed in one corner, table, and chair in the other and some wooden and copper bowls mixed with other stolen artifacts lay strewn about on the floor. A handful of old parchments were spread across the table that had some significant arcane value. One of the manuscripts was rolling about and humming slightly. An array of thick grey spider webs draped the walls like curtains and contained an assortment of half-eaten dried out insects. There was even a cocooned mouse or two which gave an indication of the size of the inhabitant residing in this web. A single fire torch was fixed and protruding from the wall near the door, being the only light source casting eerie wavering shadows about the room.

  What was unique to Grell’s room, however, was the four-foot circular depression in the granite floor. It was a shallow pool of water with an assortment of rough-cut coloured stones around the edges. Random bloodstains of varying ages marked the sides of the pool between the coloured stones. This was a Divine Eye; although not rare, it was only found in the houses of one fluent in the magic arts. An ornate Oak carved lamp hung from the low roof over the centre of the pool. Six gnarled tree roots with intricately carved Raven claws at each end stemmed out evenly from the centre of the Oak lamp. Held in each claw was a candle made from a type of wax harvested from the fat of a slaughtered swine. As mage to King Boorag, it was not unusual for Grell to lock his chamber when performing enchantments. However, when he summoned and spoke to his patron Daemon, Grell discussed matters he would rather the king knew nothing of.

  Grell drew his onyx handled dagger from the concealment of his mantle and traced a quick pattern in the air. Instantly all five candles in the Oak lamp were lit with a small orange flame. The flames danced about as if in an invisible breeze and slowly turned to blue as wax began to drip simultaneously down each candle. The hot wax fell into the pool, making tiny ripples on the surface of a silver liquid. The chamber became immediately warmer as a red glow filled the room. Grell sat cross-legged facing the pool and held the enchantment dagger in front of him. He closed his eyes and repeatedly uttered a string of magic words over and over again. The unexplained warmth in the room and his deep concentration caused beads of perspiration to run down his face. Grell began to shake, struggling to stay conscious as he continued to recite his enchantment. The white hieroglyphs on his face began glowing, and he could feel a portion of his life force being consumed. A black impression in the pool appeared. It had no shape that was describable. It was blacker than the night, and it seemed to absorb the light in the chamber. A sense of doom and depression overcame Grell, but he did not falter. A foul odour similar to rotten eggs filled the air, and a large number of black millipedes and cockroaches crawled out of cracks in the floor and walls towards him.

  Somewhere in this black aspect, visible beneath the ripples of the pool, a torn hole resembling a mouth opened and moaned in an ancient dialect. ‘I am one, and I am many. The power of the Druid is fading’. Grell sat frozen, and his eyes fixed on the silver pool in a dream-like state. ‘I can already feel my bonds weakening, 2000 years, 2000 years…’ Grell spoke with a slightly shaky voice. ‘My Lord, the witches’ have sensed this also and rally to find the Talisman themselves, for they seek to fully control this realm and all who dwell in it to do their bidding.’

  The black shape named Mazamaag the Deceiver did not speak for several moments, then ‘The boy, the boy only he can control…’ The voice faded, and then started again, ‘The Elvene and wolves must be stopped. Do not let them reach Aledran, where they will conspire against me.’ Grell replied, ‘I have several trusted reavers to aid me with this task. But if Strala finds out…’ Now two voices spoke together from the pool in unison, and the shapeless mass turned to a crimson red. ‘I will take care of the boy
! Forget the witches’, and they gather the hounds for reasons they know not! Use the power I gave you to summon the NaZuth again. This will keep them busy for a while.’ A third voice chuckled. ‘Do this, do this,’ the voices said in unison ‘…And you will be great with me when I am resurrected.’ The voices echoed the word Resurrected several times until it was no longer heard. The water in the pool began to spin, forming a deep silver coloured water spout that climbed upwards unsteadily. As it reached a height that threatened to engulf the Oak lamp, it collapsed in on itself and tumbled back into the pool which went immediately still. The candles went out, and Grell stayed cross-legged on the ground, drawing his mantle tightly around him as he was suddenly cold. The only light left in the room is from the fire torch near the door.

  21.

  THE SHAHDOM OF ALEDRAN

  About halfway through the Great Rift, the sound of water was louder as the River narrowed and increased in depth. Here the Rift narrowed to a sort of gorge, where the high valley walls came closer. Several Owls hooted warning cries to one another, and the sound echoed distantly ahead of them, mirrored by other Owls. Two full trunks of enormous ancient-looking Oaks loomed in front of them on either side of the path, looking sinister in the failing light. A sudden loud grunt that was quickly answered by another grunt broke the silence as the company stopped suddenly and bumped into one another. A pair of giant black shaggy bears emerged from behind either Oaktree to block the path and looked down at Blackpaws in the lead. They immediately recognised the company and greeted them, acknowledging them in turn. Red Whiskers with his eyes wide, backed away further behind the muntjac. He had never seen a bear before but had heard of their might and size. These bears had colossal heads with sturdy looking jaws. The fox also noted the six-inch-long non-retractile claws at the end of each foot. ‘Greetings Dwarf Gron,’ said the king of wolves to the slightly smaller of the two bears.