by C.S. Fanning
Liam, particularly since he had no idea where Mellan and Finnis were at present. Liam guided them straight across the potato fields to the thick timber that stood where the fields ended. Soon they were wondering along paths that Aeden could not even see until Liam would suddenly turn and they found themselves upon a new track through the dense undergrowth that Aeden would have sworn was not there only moments before. At one point he chanced a look back in an effort to determine their direction, when he noticed that he could no longer distinguish the trail they had just traversed only seconds before.
Liam pushed them onward, leaving Aeden no chance to inquire about the peculiarities of their flight. Gradually the dense thickets gave way until they were travelling in open wood and Aeden began to recognize landmarks with which he was very familiar. They were headed directly for the boy’s hangout near the stream. Was it by chance or did Liam know of this place, and if so, how?
They were almost at the stream when the rider appeared. His horse leapt the stream and galloped toward them. The brown robes of the rider swirled around him as he drew up sharply. A group of five men charged through the stream behind him swiftly overtaking and passing the rider.
“Aeden, protect Riordan” Liam whispered fiercely before moving forward toward two of the approaching men. The remaining three were moving; two to the right and one to the left of them, circling around the pair that Liam confronted.
Calling to Riordan to follow him Aeden started off toward the boys old hideout built of driftwood at the water’s edge. The single aggressor that had moved in that direction shifted to bar his path and was brandishing a wicked looking knife. Aeden could hear the other two closing from behind them as they ran, and knew he had seconds to get past the man before him if he and Riordan were to have any chance of escaping.
Aeden had worked around dangerous beasts since he was very young. Pig farming might be dull, but it had its dangers. A protective sow with piglets or an angry boar could injure, maim, or kill an unwary farmer, so learning to recognize the signs and avoid the charge of a crazed beast was something Aeden knew well. When the man, who was arguable more intelligent than the hogs that Aeden had worked with, began to lunge at him with the knife extended, Aeden was already acting to counter the attack which he had recognized almost as fast as the man thought it. Just as the man committed his weight to the lunge, Aeden stopped in his tracks. As the man passed mere inches in front of him, Aeden brought up his sword, thrusting it out, and pierced the man’s side just below his ribs and thrust up into his chest. Aeden spun as the man’s weight drove the sword forward and the two went down in a pile.
“Run Riordan!” Aeden yelled as his body became entangled with his adversary. The fall left the man, now dead, lying across Aeden’s legs and pinning him to the ground. The warm blood poured from the enormous wound that Aeden had inflicted in the man’s side, and as Aeden pulled free his sword, long ropes of the attacker’s entrails spilled free in a loose coil. Someone who had not slaughtered more hogs than he could count might have been queasy at such a sight, but Aeden barely took notice as he pushed the man off his legs and rose to assess the situation.
Riordan had almost made it to the relative cover of the hideout, with the remaining assailant’s in pursuit. Liam was cut and bloody but somehow the old man was holding his own, unarmed against two much younger enemies. Riordan might make the shelter of the hideout, but what then? There was no door and the construction wouldn’t hold up against a determined assault even if there was. Aeden had to make a choice that could not only determine whether he lived or died but also which of his companions would likely die, alone and outnumbered.
His indecision might have proven fatal for both his companions had he not noticed something that chilled him to his core. Riordan was looking back at his pursuers while running over the familiar ground as fast as his legs could carry him, so he didn’t see the shadow detach itself from the darkened entrance to the hideout and move in his direction. Aeden broke into a run that would never arrive in time even as he shouted for Riordan to watch out. Riordan was only feet from this new danger when the newcomer drew two knives from his belt.
The knives were unlike the sleek little blades carried by the other assassins, instead being the large curved knives used to skin and scrape hogs. Aeden experienced a moment of confusion as Riordan nearly crashed into the newcomer. With one hand the cloaked form grasped Riordan’s cloak and guided him toward the waiting opening of the shelter while with the other he hefted one of the blades and threw it straight at the nearest of the pair in pursuit, striking the man in the chest, knocking him off his feet. The newcomer held his remaining blade before him in a stance that Aeden thought looked very familiar. The remaining assassin proceeded warily to approach the hooded man standing between him and his quarry. His attention was divided by Aeden’s swift approach, and he attempted to circle so that his opponents would no longer be on either side of him and this proved his undoing. The assassin caught his foot on a root, stumbling, and fell to one knee. In the moment it took him to regain his balance both Aeden and the stranger were upon him.
The would-be assassin dove for Aeden at the last second, just as Aeden’s sword descended with a sickening crunch into the man’s shoulder. Aeden winced as the assassin’s blade grazed his side, but the life had gone out of the man and he lay bleeding upon the ground his breath gargling in his chest once, twice, and then no more. Aeden whirled to face the stranger who had saved Riordan only to find himself looking upon the face of his dearest friend Faolan. There was no time for questions or greetings however, and both young men turned and raced for the spot where Liam still fought.
Liam’s white robes were stained with blood, but somehow he still struggled on. Before the boys could reach him, they heard a twang and a whistling sound as something streaked out of the forest and struck one of the one of Liam’s attackers in the back. Aeden and Faolan both stared as the man fell dead, an arrow sticking out of his spine.
A sharp crack echoed across the clearing a moment later and the other assailant crashed to the ground, his leg bent in an unnatural direction. He lay groaning on the ground as Liam haltingly stepped toward the mounted figure who had watched the scene play out passively.
“Not in living memory has a member of our order so desecrated our sacred bond of brotherhood. Leave this place or be utterly destroyed” Liam intoned with a booming voice that sounded far more vital than the blood-soaked old man appeared capable of producing.
“I answer to no simple country priest” countered the rider. “I answer only to the High Druid of Gaul, and you are the one who dishonors our brotherhood. You and your false High Druid are nothing but impotent charlatans. We no longer recognize your Master’s authority, and break all ties to your council!” screamed the irate rider. “I am High Priest of the forest arts, and your better. Bow before me priest!”
Liam’s laughter was long and hearty, and sounded so sincere that those watching surely thought that the rider had spoken some particularly funny jest. “You have been warned” Liam said, suddenly turning serious. “Ride for your life.”
The rider’s haughty aspect burned with pure rage and his hands moved in intricate patterns. Suddenly the bushes around Liam moved as though alive with animal intelligence, reaching toward him as though to grab him. Liam shook his head slowly as though he had all the time in the world. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and the movement of the plants ceased as though it had never been.
“You may be gifted, but this is my forest!” Liam said with rising furor.
Both Druids moved then and to the shock of Aeden and his friends, a large section of the forest came alive. Limbs and branches lashed at one another like soldiers clashing at the onset of a great battle. Branches were snapping, trunks cracking, and smaller shrubs were ripped wholly from the earth. The whistling of another arrow passed near him causing Aeden to flinch as he stared in awe at the duel of powers he n
either understood nor would have believed existed were he not seeing it with his own eyes.
The arrow struck the rider in the thigh passing through flesh and jabbing into the already panicking horses ribs. The sudden sting of the arrow was all the poor beast could stand and despite its rider’s attempts to rein it in the animal bolted back across the stream at a fast gallop.
As the strange Druid was carried away by his crazed mount, two things began to happen at once. Liam, who had fought so bravely, suddenly collapsed to his knees coughing and to the young men’s dismay frothy blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Riordan ran toward his mentor swiftly just as yet another figure stepped into the open. It was Fianna, and the leathers she wore and the bow in her hand finally explained to Aeden who had delivered his gear to him before his Naming.
“Why are you here?” Aeden demanded, but Fianna ignored him and continued straight to Liam.
“I am sorry that I cannot serve as your mentor Riordan” Liam was saying. “I would be honored if you would accept this and use it in your quest” the old man said, tugging a worn pouch free of the cord belt at his waist and