by Ian Hall
had gone, leaving a beautiful face in its place.
“I have no powder,” I said, remembering my pack, lost in the canoe.
“What do you need?” Winnie asked. She began to rummage in her own bag.
“Some alder would be nice, some rowan too.”
“I have those.” She unwrapped small leather pouches, to produce the required ingredients, and in good form too, obviously dried and crushed with precision.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Kat’lana said. “I’ll find something to eat.”
And off she went, clutching her spear, as lithe as a young deer, and just as graceful.
With the comfort of a small fire, and some hare meat in my belly, I slept well that night.
The next day, as morning broke, we were already on our way, when Kat’lana looked over my shoulder. “They have found our tracks.”
I could not see the men, but accepted that she could. “What do we do?”
“They are gaining on us,” Kat’lana said. “We cannot outrun them, not with the boys.”
I shielded my eyes with my hand, but still could see nothing. “How many are there?”
“I’ve seen five, there may be more.”
“Then we can’t fight them.”
There is a stone circle to the west. Oh, Kheltine’s voice shot through me like never before. I buckled to my knees, holding my palms to my temples. I waved my hand in the general direction, my eyes still closed. “There’s a stone circle to the west, I think we can make it.”
“But what good will that do?” Kat’lana’s voice was close to heresy, but I was too deep in pain to care.
“We go to the west.” Winnie’s calm delivery seemed to mollify Kat’lana’s protest, and I heard them hustling the boys into a run. “They might respect the sanctity.”
“I doubt it. What of him?” Kat’lana asked. “What of the wise one?”
“He will follow.” Winnie replied. I wondered if she’d heard Kheltine’s command.
In the moment of quiet, I collected my thoughts, driving the pain away. I opened my eyes to see the four retreating figures, and rising slowly to my feet, hobbled off in the same direction.
The stone circle was closer than I’d hoped, and as we neared, I could hear the shouts of our pursuers. Six men, running, their gait lazy, relaxed, closing for the kill.
Stand in the circle. Kheltine’s voice sounded quieter this time.
Yes, Ancient One. I grinned.
Stand around the center stone.
I joined the four already in the circle. Tall grey stones, probably bluestone. They reminded me of the great henge in the south. The center stone had either toppled or been placed flat, and I walked across the grass to it. “We stand behind the altar stone.” I said. By now the pursuers were nearing the circle, and slowing to a confident walk, drawing their weapons. To my dismay I recognized the disfigurement of the leader, One-eye.
“Approach no further!” I held my hand out in prohibition. “It is sacrilege to enter the circle when a dhruid is present.”
The men stopped at the edge of the circle, each man standing between two stones. None seemed particularly respectful, and they certainly seemed to hold no fear.
“Hand over the boys,” One-eye said. “No harm needs to be done today.”
“The boys are under my jurisdiction.” I said, hoping some deeper dread might manifest in the men. “Just let us be on our way.”
“I cannot do that, wise one.” One-eye’s deference to my position did not transfer to his tone. He seemed to sneer at me. “I will only leave with the boys.”
“Who do you work for?” I snapped back. “The Roman spineless ones? Cartimanda?”
He stepped forward, his feet now inside the circle. “The Queen will pay well for the sons of Venutius.”
“And what will gold be worth when your soul is darkened by the murder of a dhruid?” I raised my staff, holding it across my chest. “You will never walk in the Havens. There will be no afterlife for you or your men.”
The one on the left is called Rasia.
I turned to face him. “You, Rasia. Do you wish eternal damnation for the kidnap of two boys?” I could see his lip quiver, and he looked to One-eye for guidance. “Do not be guided by this fool, he thinks only of gold.
Suddenly, a figure appeared on the grass between our two groups. A dhruid now stood between us, his back to me. “Rasia, go home, tell Cartimanda that the boys drowned.” The voice was deep and accented.
“Damell, wise one,” Rasia now stood shaking, his eyes wide with fear. “I meant no part in this.”
Then another robed figure appeared. “Hirren. Go home. Go home or be an outcast forever.”
One-eye looked from side to side as another two dhruids came to their aid. “Come, on, don’t listen to those fools!” he swung at the nearest dhruid, and shrank back in shock as his blade swept straight through the figure, leaving no wound. “They are ghosts!” he roared in delight.
But the men were not listening, their eyes frozen on their respective dhruid, drinking in every word spoken to them.
With a roar, One-eye dashed forward to the altar stone, determined to finish the job on his own. But he had forgotten our warrior guide. A mere girl she may have been, but more than equal to the task. Her blade caught One-eye’s throat, ripping it asunder. He died before he hit the ground, his head folding limply back, his mouth open in a silent cry.
As one the men turned and ran from the circle.
Then the dhruids turned to us, bowed and shimmered from sight.
“What happened?” Kat’lana asked, her protective arms snaking round the boys’ shoulders.
“Kheltine,” I replied, although I was not quite sure how he had accomplished the task.
“The old man?” Winnie enquired.
I nodded. “He is indeed old, but it was his voice that told me to run to the circle.”
“I heard him.” Winnie nodded, looking down at the stricken figure on the grass. “I’m quite certain the whole world did.” She turned to me. “I must meet this man, and learn from him.”
“He is the Arch-dhruid.” I said deliberately. “He will not teach the old ways.”
Winnie flashed a knowing old-woman smile. “We will have many evenings together.”
The rest of the journey went without incident. When we approached Tra’pan, I watched Winnie and Kat’lana climb the hill to the high gates, and then carried on my own journey north.
In time I reached the lands of my birth, the lands of the clan Caledonii.
I met with many new friends, but that, alas, is another story…
Thus ends the free taste of the epic “Caledonii: Birth of a Celtic Nation.”
I hope that you enjoyed the Roman/Scottish world created by Ian Hall and continue to read the hundreds of pages to come.
The Caledonii books are available in eBooks everywhere, and soon in paperback.