by Ian Hall
the slightest of nods. “Wise one.”
I learned much in her lack of emotion in such a parting.
We left with no ceremony, no displays of affection, no carnyx fanfare. With a sullen glance from Venutius, I led the way north, picking my way up the glen, keeping parallel with a small stream. Once I had lost sight of the encampment and passed the outermost sentries, I stopped, and took the small robes from my pack. “The boys will wear these.” I said, passing one cloak to Tasani and slipping Benelek’s tunic from his protesting body. “Until we reach the safety of the northern clans they are now acolytes of mine, and are protected from harm.” As Tasani fixed Fetasius’s robe I noticed a worn slave necklace around her throat, the completion of her disguise.
“But not from Romans.” Tasani chided. “Or from Cartimanda’s men.”
I wanted to roar at her. Only your presence makes the children unsafe.
She lifted her head as if she’d heard me. For a moment we shared a look of connection, then she shook her head dismissively, and turned to the north. I used my mind with care that afternoon, only scouting ahead as we walked.
Then to my dismay, I felt the pain again; a piercing jab of white-hot steel, slicing into my skull, much more profound and shocking than before. My senses reeled and I crouched instinctively. “Down!” I hissed, sensing the sudden danger around us, then flattened myself to the ground. With much sadness, I knew another dhruid had just been dispatched to the spirit realms. His identity was known to me; Aldam, my friend and companion.
When the pain had subsided, I crawled through the bracken to Tasani and the boys. “Curl up in balls.” I said to Fetasius and Benelek, “Pull your hoods over your heads, we have to hide.” I could sense men approaching from the north at a quick pace. I turned to a worried-looking Tasani. “We are in their path, we have no time to run.” I unfastened my robe and sidled closer, pulling my grey robe over her body. I could smell her fear as I pulled her firmly to my naked form. “Do not worry, I have certain skills.” I closed my eyes.
We are but rocks. We are but rocks on the hillside, worthy not of a single glance.
From somewhere close came an echo of my litany, but I had no time to question it. “Keep very still.” I whispered.
The men came closer. By now I knew they strode in single file, skirting round rocks and bracken, leaving little mark of their passage.
We are but rocks. We are but rocks on the hillside, worthy not of a single glance. We are rocks.
I could now hear their footfalls, their hushed conversations, but there was more. For such a silent band, they travelled with purpose, their feet almost falling in unison. Then their words were upon us; foreign words that made no sense. They were both armored and armed, yet no sound came from their equipment. They moved like a snake towards us.
We are but rocks. We are but rocks on the hillside. I pushed with all my might.
Rocks. I heard.
Then, with their feet landing a hair’s breadth from my side, they passed us, and were gone, slithering down the hillside into the darkness below.
I waited until I could sense them no more, the rose, fastening my robe quickly. “We go north.” I said. “We follow their trail.”
I did not take long to meet my old friend. Naked and spread-eagled on the ground, his robe discarded, his head gone, cut roughly from his body. The spirals on his chest announced him as a dhruid, and Tasani and the boys did not approach.
“Greetings, Aldam, my friend.” Tears fell unbidden to the blooded grass as I knelt close by his side. With my body hiding my work from my companions, I took a knife from my pack. I slit carefully below his ribs, opening his whole belly. With care I folded my sleeve up my arm, and pushed my hand under his ribs, upwards, searching for his heart. His body still felt warm and when I pulled his heart out from under his ribs, I felt a calmness overcome me. Aldam would be dispatched to the afterlife with the ceremony he deserved.
“Gather wood.” I said over my shoulder. “Lots of wood; we make a pyre this night.”
I lifted the heart above my head, the organ dripping blood down my arm. “Lugh, lord of the living, I give you the life of my brother Aldam.” Then I wiped both the heart and my hand on the grass beside his body. “Lugh, I give the blood of his body back to you, Lord of the Earth.”
Thankfully the area of his death held a half dead forest of silver barked trees, and firewood proved easy to find. I dragged the thicker, heavier branches, and arranged them in a framework, the straight silver branches proving ideal for such a purpose. By the time it neared night, a chilly dampness had descended on our considerable pile of branches.
With as much deference as I could muster, I placed his body carefully on top. The boys had discovered his head, frozen in fear and pain. I laid it as close to his neck as I could, wedged between silver barked branches.
“The wood is wet,” Tasani said, her body coddled by her two wide-eyed boys.
I ignored her, and sprinkled some dry pine dust near the base of the pyre on the windward side. I rose to full height, and touched the powder with the tip of my staff. Within moments it glowed red, then mall sparks crossed from the tip, into the pine dust.
With a surge of flame it burst into fire, its heat warming my aching, cold frame. I heard the gasps of my onlookers.
As well they should.
And yet, I detected a sense of humor, an appreciation of my art. With little surprise I followed the thought to Tasani, and glanced at her, finding her staring entranced at the pyre.
She has the beginnings of power.
“Rise, Aldam,” I chanted, turning to the crackling yellow flames. “Rise and walk in the lands of our fathers. Kernos, lord of the earth and afterlife, I give you my brother!”
In time I felt her fingers intertwine with mine. “Did you know him well?”
I nodded. “Different clan, but we were raised into dhruidry at the same time. We show the same two fingers.” I looked at my tattooed fingers; the blue now faded, then at Aldam’s hand, engulfed in the long licking flames. “He was of the Venicone clan.” I said to no-one in particular. “May he find peace in the afterlife.”
Tasani wore Aldan’s bloodied robe the next day. With us now heading towards Selgove lands, I gave her more chance of survival as a dhruid than a slave.
I turned our direction east, making for the comparative safety of the coastline. We walked in the evenings, and slept each night, remaining hidden for most of the day. The progress proved slow, but after two of my fellow dhruids already being killed in the mission, I felt my caution somewhat appropriate.
We saw patrols and search parties, both clan and Roman, but my skills to evade their attention proved enough to keep us concealed. As we made progress towards the coast, the activity around us lessened, and I gave no small thanks to Tasani’s calming presence, both physically and in the spirit realms.
Then, almost without warning, I found myself looking at a distant blue line on the horizon. My heart surged, my mind racing to the surf.
“We will make the coast by nightfall.” I said over my shoulder, pointing ahead.
“A roof over our heads?” Tasani asked, hustling the boys in front of her.
“Not yet.” I felt her elation dampen. “But perhaps in a few days. If there is a ransom for you and the boys, there is little point tempting our fate.”
An area of mist ahead caught my eye, and I stopped to look at it. In a depression in the ground, a white cloud had formed its edges indistinct. I raised my hand to halt our progress. “Wait here.” I walked slowly forward toward the shimmering cloud. As I neared the edges, I could see a figure inside, shrouded in white. Slowly, the face became recognizable as the mist coalesced into firmer details.
Kheltine.
The arch-dhruid’s eyes opened, looking directly at me. Sewell, my son.
Ancient one. I allowed myself a grin of humor at my impudence.
Beware the man with one eye.
That flummoxed me. I could think of no one of that descriptio
n.
I have not met such a man.
Good. Beware.
And the cloud began to dissolve. Ancient one! I need more!
I turned to see Tasani and the boys right behind me. “What did you see?” she asked. “Who were you talking to?”
“Nothing,” I shook my head. “Come on, the sea is just over that hill.” I led the way again, contemplating Kheltine’s words, beware the man with one eye. When we crested the rise, the dark grey sea lay at the bottom of fearsome cliffs. “We make our way north, until we get a way down to the water’s edge.”
“What good will that do?” Tasani asked.
“Shellfish over a hot fire,” My mouth watered at the prospect. But the next bay that we could climb down to had a small settlement near the shore. Just six huts, but built into the dunes, a permanent site. Two small canoe boats lay pulled high up on the small curved beach. I could see figures at work outside.
“Shall we make our way down?” I asked. Beware the one-eyed man.
“It’s getting near to dark,” Tasani said. “It’d be nice to spend a night under some shelter.”
I actually agreed. There seemed little point in avoiding the settlement because of the one-eye prophesy, as he might be at the next one.
We carefully walked down the path to the bay, and by the time we’d reached the huts, four of the occupants stood in front of their dwellings. “Welcome, wise one.” The man addressed me, but looked carefully at the others. “I am Yassir.”
I bowed, keeping eye contact. “I am