Realm of Druids

by Mark Hogenelst

  Strala claims she could sense the power about this mancub. No other witch could, however, so Ravyne wondered if Strala’s birth from the mankind species had finally caught up with her and warped her mind? Ravyne looked to the sky from the shadows of the coven entrance. She was satisfied that the suns influence had now departed over the western horizon. Grey clouds raced across the sky from the east drowning out the crimson sky left behind by the sun. They strangely slowed down and almost froze in the sky above her. She stepped from the entrance of the Night Grove Coven out onto the open grass of the moors.

  Marshes and quagmires lay all over this flat land, and the grove marking the entrance to her coven was an oval of giant upright stones spaced evenly apart. These rock pillars were uneven, pitted and displayed wear from thousands of years of beating wind and rain. Each stone had symbols carved deep into their surface that faced the stone either side. These magical properties had served the coven since the beginning that rendered the entrance invisible to the mortal eye. Perpetual nightshade hung over the grove that also concealed the access to the coven. The opening was a squat concrete square leading underground to a series of levels, ruins built by an older race of mankind that once dwelt in these lands.

  Not a blade of grass moved, or insect flew or crawled inside the stones, Lady Ravyne had forbidden the natural light, lesser creatures and most of the elements from entering the grove. Only the nightbirds were permitted to enter, as they were Lady Ravyne’s favoured creatures that possessed a similar taste to hers. She waited somewhat impatiently for the lower witches’ to join her. They had recently brought the news that her faithful witch Lilura had completely destroyed Duskfall and that Shum’s brawlers were cleaning up the few survivors who had fled. She expected Lilura to meet her soon near the recently discovered entrance to the Grelen maze.

  Lady Ravyne stood looking out to the distant east. Somewhere near the Glistening River, she would invoke her most powerful enchantment yet. It came at a high cost and the soul reaping of the mankind village they call Brineburg was the price. It mattered not, as the mankind species had an uncanny skill to breed rapidly like moor rabbits. Her unnatural white-bleached hair hung down to her slim waist. From out of her cloak protruded two pale hands through which veins, muscle and sinew could be seen below an almost transparent skin. Long sharp nails as hard as iron were on those fingers and they had been recently used to render and tear. Her face resembled an ordinary look of a handsome mankind female in her 30’s. Her bright green eyes marked her as a member of the witch caste. However, her teeth were long and curved, black in colour and filed to sharp points that indicated something much older.

  She was ancient, and it was well known that her patron Daemon favoured more than souls. She looked down at the two mankind animals that lay in contorted positions on the ground. Pale and white with the look of terror on their dead faces, they bore terrible wounds to their upper bodies. These two were the last of the captured mankind animals taken by the Grey Reapers during the ‘Pigra’ incantation several days ago. They had been delivered to the Night Grove Coven to sate the lady’s thirst. A dozen nightbirds sat upon the bodies drinking what was left, as a dozen more flew in a wide circle above the witches head. The lady Ravyne of the Night Grove Coven was more than a witch; she was also the last nosferatu of the old realms, a vampire.

  Distant chatter came to her as she cocked her head slightly to sense that other witches’ were on their way up through the coven to join her. She examined her sweep; it was different to most as the timber handle was a dark knotted dense material with a fine grain from the extinct Gargantuan Laburnum tree. It was once found high in the colder regions of the Scarbia Mountains. The full handle of her sweep was cleverly carved to resemble the head of a Rust-Serpent that had two rough-cut oval jewels embedded to resemble glowing dull green eyes. The sweep had been a gift from a rogue Druidpriest over 500 years ago. Without an exchange of words from the two witches’ behind her, she mounted her sweep and kicked off the ground. The entrance of the coven and the oval ring of grove stones fell away below her. Long dark shadows draped the moors below as the warmth of the day faded away with the last of the twilight.

  A large group of nightbirds appeared and flew in formation above her. The night sent a blasting chill against her body, but devoid of any emotion or feeling she felt nothing. She could see the Glistening River in the distance cutting east to west like a long black snake. Several hours ride to the east laid her prize. She slowed down and signalled the witches ‘Jeveran the Faceless and Naarlix to approach her. Jeveran’s long black greasy hair whipped about her head, and she yelled above the rushing wind from a mouth that could not be seen. ‘My lady, I enacted the rune that traced the Grelen magic paths to an area north of the North Marsh.’ ‘Show me.’ Replied Ravyne.

  Jeveran and Naarlix altered their course slightly south and flew for another hour, over the Glistening River to stop and hover high above the northern tip of the gigantic North Marsh. Ravyne knew that the swamp troll Huldra lived somewhere between the North and East Marsh, but he had marched south with the Wildpack some months ago to join Strala. Lady Ravyne and her two skyriders sat high in the sky and surveyed the marsh below. It looked ordinary enough, water, mud and marsh reeds in seemingly endless supply. A stand of brown dead stunted trees huddled together on the near edge. A grey and brown owl perched on a protruding branch surveyed the water’s edge for a meal. He screeched and took fright upon sighting the witches’ above and flew away quickly crying a warning.

  Lady Ravyne tilted her head and made a series of clicking sounds. Several nightbirds peeled away from the formation above her and pursued the terrified owl. She closed her eyes and swayed slightly upon her sweep quietly reciting the guttural words to enact the revealing spell. The twin jewels hummed to life and pulsed in a rhythm that mimicked Ravyne’s speech. A light rain began to fall around the witches’ as they looked down in anticipation. An extensive green line of smoke appeared and rolled across an area of the marsh surface below. It seemed to roll harmlessly for several miles into the marsh before dissipating.

  The surface of water and mud rippled behind it and became still. The witches’ noticed a small distortion in the water that just caught their eye and indeed appeared to be unnatural. ‘Naarlix, go.’ Naarlix hesitated, she knew how crafty the elves were and if this was indeed one of the entrances to their maze it would almost certainly have a guardian or at the very least a trap. That meddlesome owl had just alerted everything around that they had arrived. However, Naarlix knew better than to argue or question her Lady. She had witnessed firsthand what happens to witches’ that do. They were usually subjected to all manner of unpleasantries before death.

  Naarlix pointed her sweep towards the distortion in the water and descended cautiously. She muttered a defence charm as her green mist tightened around her, and the runes on her cloak formed a particular pattern. Several moments later she hovered directly above the strange distortion. A small patch of water with tiny waves curling about them completely contrasted the marsh water encircling it. The rain was coming down steady now yet did not seem to fall on this area at all. Naarlix leaned curiously over one side of her sweep and stared at the contortion of water. Her eyes were having difficulty focusing on it.

  She sighed in relief as nothing happened and faced towards Lady Ravyne. She began to rise when the jewel in her sweep suddenly glowed alertly bright. A roar and crash below her as an enormous head of a serpent with a mouth opened wide rose quickly out of the water. The Grelen stone guardian reached high into the air as Naarlix glanced pleadingly towards Ravyne. The guardian could draw the magic away from any entity close by. The power in Naarlix’s sweep faded, and she fell backwards. The giant stone mouth snapped shut and in an instant Naarlix was gone. In a display that defied all logic the serpent made of stone-faced Ravyne and Jeveran who had backed safely away. It roared in defiance, a challenge, a warning and slowly it sunk back down into the water, creating a series of big waves that washed up on the
edges of the mud bank.

  The surface of the marsh eventually returned to normal, and the only sound was of heavy rain falling through a gusty cold wind. The lady Ravyne looked at Jeveran’s face. Her eyes, nose and mouth were replaced with red warts and welts. Jeveran scratched aggressively at a group of puffy looking welts in the area where her mouth should have been. Ravyne hissed through pointed black teeth. ‘Well, that was entertaining.’ Jeveran replied nervously. ‘What now my lady?’ A line of lightning strikes erupted some distance away to the north as the rain continued. ‘Go and call them quickly.’ Jeveran the Faceless was one of the fastest skyriders of the Night Grove Coven, she sped away back to northwest on her ladies’ orders.

  Lady Ravyne landed on an elevated grassy hillock above the edge of the marsh and faced the water in the distance that concealed the entrance to the Grelen maze. She held her sweep in both hands above her head as her green eyes faded to dull black. This was the incantation that would cost many mankind souls, and it would, at last, expose those despicable elves hiding in their hole. She murmured a passage from a forgotten ancient language to invoke the ‘Chaotic Energy’ conjuring. She spoke louder and repeated the passage until her words formed in the air before her, carving a white light into the pitch-black night air. The words streamed together and suddenly shot straight upwards into the heavy black clouds above and disappear.

  The distant lightning came closer, and no longer struck the ground but arced horizontally through the black sky above, building momentum. Hundreds of strikes a second flashed together high above Ravyne to light the moors like daylight. The energy from the barrage of strikes circled around with an immense roar above the marsh. Lady Ravyne rotated her sweep above her head and watched the mile-long energy bolt in the black clouds follow the path of her sweep. She swung her sweep suddenly downwards towards an area of marsh. As if sensing an intruder, the stone guardian appeared and reared up out of the water with a roar. It looked about briefly before focusing on Ravyne.

  The burst of pale white energy struck down through the stone guardian, obliterating it in a split second. An enormous explosion then erupted where the bolt penetrated the marsh with incredible force. Water and mud sprayed high into the air as the ground shook. Ravyne’s green witch mist formed a horizontal dome in front of her as she went down on one knee from the shockwave blast. She opened her eyes to see a substantial black cavity in the ground into which a stream of steady muddy water and grass was now pouring in. This part of the North Marsh was now draining into the Grelen maze. She smiled, quite satisfied with the results so far.

  Many days travel to the north, under the light of a cold moon, unearthly screams echoed through a still, misty Trunarth Forest. The sound came closer to the edge of the moors until a white figure with a badly crushed skull stepped out of a line of trees and into the open panting like a hound. The grass and small shrubs immediately surrounding it blackened and froze. It paused and raised its deformed head to sniff hard like an animal scenting prey. It screamed incomprehensively and was answered with a chorus of ghostly wails. Hundreds of pale dishevelled figures that were once mankind animals from Brineburg poured into the moors. They all bore injuries of some sort, clothes torn and eyes cold, black and lifeless. Grass, dirt and mould covered the vast majority of their bodies as they had slept in the Trunarth quagmires since the souls had been ripped from their bodies. They had heard the witches’ call and were forced to obey the summoning. Birds and small animals scattered in fright as the Draugen witchlings ran south at an unholy speed towards the North Marsh and home to the Grelen maze, marked by a boiling sky of black clouds and heavy rain.

  57.

  THE DEFENSE OF ALEDRAN

  The Vale of Aledran was a hive of activity. Panicked survivors from the moors were flooding in, many with fresh wounds and showing battle fatigue. Silent Ridge wolf pack had faired considerably better than Duskfall. King Blackpaws had already learned the fate of Prince Lothian and the Duskfall warriors and knew he would meet the same demise if he did not enlist the help of the bears and elves. Apart from Silent Ridge, other minor wolf packs from the steppes had also arrived relatively unscathed. The Grelen Elves appeared isolated in the north with a Wildpack army between them and Aledran. The remaining muntjac lords had fled further north now that the flower of their army had been annihilated at Duskfall. Several herds of swine and warthog sounders that hadn’t been killed and eaten had made it with a few strings of ponies in tow. The majority of elf rangers from the Elvene maze in the south had arrived safely, only a few days in front of a large Wildpack and goblin army trekking northeast.

  Aledran forest to the west at the entrance to the Great Rift was filled with warriors fanning out in preparation for the defence of the border leading into the moors. It had been decided that every able-bodied creature that could make its way to Aledran and fight was to do so. Bragus in consultation with other leaders had agreed to set their first line of defence in this place where the open steppes met the entrance to the Great Rift. Should the enemy breach this area, defenders could tactically use the dense forest to pull back and continue fighting through the Rift. This was a day’s march away from the Vale of Aledran where further defensive strategies would be set.

  They sat and stood on rocks and the ground in a rough circle on the lower plateau entrance to Aledran Mountain. The Shah Bragus and his trusted advisor Captain Gron, Princess Eylon and her companion Karvu the muntjac, a stiff and sore Prince Lothian leader of the destroyed Duskfall stronghold, Barney of the mankind species, who still had no clue why he was here and twins Shalia and Dafina the shadow trackers from the Grelen Elf Clan. The group spoke excitedly about possible tactics and strategies, defences and contingency plans. Every one present glanced frequently at an object that had recently come into their possession. On the rocky ground between them all, lay a faded ornate bone horn fixed to a black chain.

  The horn of Serpentine recently acquired from nearby the dead witch, Lilura the blind on the bloodied battlefield at Duskfall. They all looked at it wearily; for they knew the power, it could command. ‘The use of a Dread-Realm weapon such as this carries a terrible scourge. I can well imagine the rage Lady Ravyne will be in when she discovers the horn has been stolen.’ Said Princess Eylon. ‘To use it forms an unconditional pact with the Daemons that is irreversible. It must only be used as a last resort, as its user becomes forever cursed.’ Added Bragus. He continued, ‘Gron, please take the horn and secure it in the chamber of weapons.’ Gron grunted in acknowledgement and reached down. Being careful not to touch the horn itself, he scooped it up by its black chain and lumbered away inside the entrance to the mountain.

  Prince Lothian still in pain from a dozen wounds sat uncomfortably on his haunches and winced slightly as he addressed the group in a heavy tone. ‘Duskfall is lost and most of my pack slaughtered by Shum and the witches’.’ Dafina spoke up ‘After Holk had knocked the witch off her feet, I saw the Warlord Shum kill her.’ ‘Perhaps we can use this to our advantage?’ Added Princess Eylon. ‘The fact is that thousands of Wildpack brawlers, witches’ and whatever other Daemons they have recruited march unchecked through Duskfall to the steppes above the moors and then the entrance to the Rift.’ Bragus commented sadly as he looked up at the bright afternoon sky. They could all see the black line on the horizon many miles to the distant west over the moorland steppes marking the witches’ progress. ‘Perhaps Ravyne already knows of Shum’s treachery, but need the Wildpack for their savagery and numbers to fulfil their final goal. I am afraid the doom of chaos will soon come to Aledran.’ Said Bragus quietly.

  Barney stood next to Princess Eylon. He was still slightly overwhelmed at being in such strange company. Now rested with his clothes brushed off and looking considerably better than he did several days ago, he looked around at the peculiar company and spoke for the first time. ‘I am grateful for your hospitality Mr Bragus, but I am confused as to why I am here or what you want of me.’ Bragus looked at Barney's white freckled face and replied wit
h a smile, ‘I need you to meet another of your kind, from your tribe in fact.’ Barney replied in a confused tone. ‘I am not sure what you mean?’ Princess Eylon spoke. ‘He is a mankind boy, who the witches’ desire and is facing considerable challenges of his own to get here. Our scouts tell us he is getting closer.’ ‘Unfortunately, there is much of the witch’s chaos legion between him and us.’ Added Bragus. ‘However, he possesses a Talisman of great raw power and other company that have helped him get this far.’

  Barney spoke again, ‘Who is he and what can I do in all of this?’ Bragus let out a great sigh. ‘We need you to bear witness to this evil. You will then return to your tribe by the sea and warn your elders of all that has happened. Be assured the witches’ if successful in their campaign here will march west with the hounds and wipe mankind out. The Daemons they are in partnership with crave the essence of your kind and demand payment for their services to the witches and goblins.’ Princess Eylon interrupted. ‘You saw what happened at the mankind settlement you call Brineburg. Mankind must survive to ensure the equilibrium of this realm is maintained.’ A sudden screech and the Falcon Ayah Cloudchaser landed. Slightly out of breath, he told the group of the two armies converging from the north and the south towards the entrance of the Great Rift at the west border of Aledran. He added in his whispery voice, ‘They move like a tide, rolling over the land and killing everything in their path. Their numbers grow stronger by the hour, while creatures I have never seen before continue to join their ranks.’