“Oho,” called Gareck’s cheery voice from somewhere nearby. “Darling, it seems our Druid has returned to us.”
“How wonderful, Dear. Rozen, put your spear away and help the Master to the fire. We don’t want a soggy Druid. Tsk tsk.”
Rozen made a sound like an animal cornered. Angry, definitely angry. She grabbed him tightly by the arm, wrenched him from the muddy bank, and dragged him roughly up the embankment despite his protests and flailing. He found himself marveling at her lean strength despite the pebbles and dirt lodging in his most sensitive areas. She dropped him in a heap by a large campfire and walked back toward the Torrents without a word. Wyatt rolled to a sitting position and found his habit had returned. Strangely, he had missed the short brown robe. The smile on his face was beginning to hurt.
Gareck and Mareck sat atop a long log, each holding one of the Fallen arrows over the open flame. A slew of small fish graced each spear-sized missile and crackled in the heat. Gareck pulled one off and offered it to Wyatt. He shook his head and held back a gross instead opting for the equally juvenile “Ewww.” Gareck shrugged and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
Mareck wiped a thin line of grease from her mate’s chin. “Didn’t know if you’d be back, Master Wyatt,” she said with a smile and licked her finger clean.
“Up and vanished in a great green flash you did,” said Gareck. “Didn’t know you Druid types could do that.” His habit remained torn and tied around his waist, his smooth scales dimly flickering in the firelight.
“Well, you wanted an adventure, Dear.”
“Aye, that I did, Darling,” Gareck said and crunched into another fish.
“Amazing he found us,” Mareck said. “Half a day’s float from where he left. I half thought he’d drowned. Again.” She smiled.
“Well, that’s a Druid for you, Darling. Simple beasts like you and I can’t understand all that magic stuff.”
Wyatt smiled back. He hadn’t even considered that. A different place and time, he thought. He didn’t want to think of what may happen the next time the amulet thought to awaken. So, he didn’t. Grandma always said ‘ignorance is bliss.’
“Just as well, Dear,” Mareck said. “Tsk tsk.”
“Where are we?” Wyatt said and spread his legs before the fire. The warmth felt good on his bare thighs. The air at his back was chilling.
Gareck shrugged and popped another crisped fish into his wide maw. Grease ran from both edges of his mouth as he grinned ruefully.
“Don’t quite know,” Mareck said. “Somewhere down the Torrents.” She shrugged and smiled as well. Lost and still they grin like… children.
“Just so,” Gareck agreed. “We’re just as strange to these lands as you, young Master.”
Wyatt frowned for a moment, but the wide grins of the feasting Children overwhelmed his thoughts and loosened his smile as well. What do I have to fear? I’m Wyatt the Mighty, after all. He reclined back on his arms and looked toward the river. Rozen’s vibrant fire braid could be seen just over the steep mud bank. It shone brighter than the diminishing sun.
“What’s her problem anyway?” he said, his stare never wavering.
Gareck sighed and looked to Mareck who mirrored the oddly solemn expression. The Children seemed strange without giant grins slapped across their faces. “That one’s got some demons following,” Mareck said, her tone heavy and smooth. “Keeps it all locked inside though, tsk tsk.”
“But, she’s running from the Regency, right?” Wyatt asked.
“Just so,” Gareck said as he thrust his empty spit into the soft ground.
“Why?”
Gareck grunted. “Can’t say for sure. Does the Regency need a reason to chase a beast?”
Mareck grunted, but remained silent, chewing the last morsel of fish.
“Someone ought to stop them,” Wyatt said.
Gareck tilted his large head to the side, but it was Mareck who spoke. “I assumed that’s why you had returned, Master.”
It was Wyatt’s turn to cock his head. How much was he willing to admit to these strange creatures? That he wasn’t a Druid after all, but some boy sent from another world with naught but empty boasts to back him? Certainly not, but there was something about the Children that made it hard for Wyatt to lie. It made him terribly uncomfortable. Naked, exposed, vulnerable.
“I, uh, well…” he said, still mulling over his words. “I am a Druid, that’s true, but, uh, like I said, I’m kind of new to the whole thing. Don’t know why I’m here. And I… well, I don’t know much about, er, well, you see… Druids…” he swallowed, fighting a sudden rise of nausea. Grandma always said that telling the truth would set you free… but, why does it hurt so much?
Mareck and Gareck shared a long look. Did they see through his guise? Would they proclaim him a liar and abandon him to this strange and violent world? The silence was longer than Wyatt could bear and he fussed at the hem of his ill-fitting habit, painfully aware that it hardly covered more than a few inches of his thick thighs.
“Truly green, Darling,” Gareck said at last.
“Aye,” Mareck agreed. “Would the Mother send us one of her chosen so… void?”
Wyatt looked up to see Gareck’s wide smile glittering in the firelight. His eyes shone as well, glowing white stones set in an oddly joyous face. “Of course, she would, Darling.”
Gareck’s smile leapt to Mareck and she nodded softly in Wyatt’s direction, a knowing look on her face. “Aye, it is we that have been called as well,” she said. “To guide the guide.”
Both Children laughed at that and Wyatt felt the knot in his stomach unwind and his muscles melt into the cool soil. He watched them for a moment, his mind ever jumping from thought to thought, often getting lost between leaps. Occasionally something coherent would form as it did then.
“I’m here to… stop the Regency…” he said slowly, forming the words into more of a question than a statement.
“Just so,” Gareck said. “You lead and we shall follow.”
Wyatt grinned. “So, uh, what happened to… well, the others… Druids, I mean.”
“Ah,” said Gareck, slumping to the ground. He splayed his thick legs out in front of him as he reclined against the log. “The Master wants a story, I feel.”
“Aye, it would seem. Will you begin, or shall I?”
Gareck considered it a moment. Too long a moment, it would seem, as Mareck cleared her throat and began, “Well, what we know of your history is only from the odd text that passes through Métra from time to time. Dusty tomes in various repair from the odd trader. Not all agree.”
“Just so,” Gareck said. “Many generations back, some say seven, others eight or nine, the realms were cared for by the Druids, a caste of creatures chosen by the Mother to protect and serve her, blessed with her gift.”
“Magic?” Wyatt said.
“Aye,” Mareck continued. “The realm flourished under their watchful eyes. Harvests were plentiful, the nights short and the cold seldom seen. A truly wonderful time it would seem, but just as the Mother teaches her children, all things in life exist within a delicate balance.”
“Just so. Light and dark, life and death, growth and decay. Everything has two sides. While the Mother and her Druids taught of life and growth and reveled in the peace of the realm, some others did not and turned to… darker gifts.”
“Aye, my Dear has the right of it,” Mareck said. “It is written that some rose against the Druids and the Mother herself, turning to the dark side of her gifts. The Druids and their followers struck out to banish these heathens and heretics, but their numbers continued to increase, spreading out over the realms. War ensued and with it death and decay.”
Gareck grunted. “The realms fell to chaos, each side twisting the Mother’s gift to their own desires. Kin fought kin and many died.”
“And the Regency?” Wyatt asked impatiently.
Mareck chuckled, her earrings swinging wildly from her large ears. “It
is not clear where they came from, some say to the east, past Alfuria and the great desert, others claim they came from the deep north, scrambling down the mountains, bathed in snow. Others would argue they crawled up from the Mother herself, but one thing is agreed upon. They came. They came and ended the wars.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Wyatt said.
Gareck sighed. “Though the Regents ended the war they did so in such a manner that left all sides so bloodied they could not continue. They swept the realms like a plague, killing and enslaving at will. They curse the Mother, twist her gifts and practice every darkened art without reproach.”
“And the Druids fought them? Because they battled for the Mother and all things good?” Wyatt said.
“Just so,” Gareck said. Mareck nodded and continued, “Those left met in battle, aye, but it was the Druids who found themselves outmatched. The Regency banished the Druids from the realms by death and even more sinister means, if the texts be true.”
“Aye,” Gareck said. “For many generations since the Regency has ruled nary a Druid has been spoken of. Some practice the healing arts, but many more have turned to the dark gifts, not wishing to draw the ire of the Regency. The true gift of the Druid has not been seen in the realms since they came.”
“Until now,” Mareck added, to which Gareck nodded and the pair smiled.
Wyatt nodded, trying to soak up the tale. The Regency killed off all the Druids and took over the realms… They’re all gone except for me? The knot in his stomach returned. I can’t be a Druid. I can’t be the only one. I can’t take on an entire… whatever they are…
His mind and heart were heavy as lead, dragged down by the uncertainty he felt. But as he looked at the gleeful and expectant faces of the Children something changed inside. Warmth embraced him, and though it could well be from the fire casting sparks up his robe, he thought it was something else. Something deeper.
He nodded his head sharply, and tried to look as serious and forthright as possible. “Aye,” he said and almost laughed at the word. “I am a Druid, come from a distant world to chase those… stupid Regents away again.”
Gareck and Mareck clasped their giant hands together. “Oh, I just knew it to be true,” Mareck gushed.
“Just so, Darling,” Gareck agreed. “A new age has befallen Hagion. Mother be praised.”
The feeling in Wyatt’s chest threatened to rupture it, but he had never felt more appreciated. I am a Druid, he told himself. And I will save Hagion and the other realms. Somehow.
The sun finally vanished from the sky, leaving the crude campsite to the flickering orange shadows of the fire. Gareck and Mareck rose in unison, bid Wyatt goodnight and traipsed away from the fire, their large forms quickly swallowed by blackness.
Wyatt turned his attention to the Torrents. The peaceful pass of water could just be heard over the crackle of the fire, but only black could be seen. He knew she was there still, and with a chest full of confidence he strode into the night in search of the Draygan. But, as he approached her on the bank of the Torrents, he couldn’t help but wish her teeth weren’t quite so sharp.
The tall Draygan knelt at the water’s edge, her hands placed beneath the surface in the murky silt. Her head was lowered, her long vibrant braid wrapped around her neck, coiled like a fiery snake. As Wyatt stepped off the grassy bank and onto the slick mud of the shore his footing surrendered, stretching his legs into a split. He bit down on his tongue to save himself from yelling out. Rozen reared from the water and accosted him with her golden gaze. He grimaced and rolled to a seat on the grass. He tasted blood, sweet and metallic.
It felt as if his groin were on fire, slowly burning away his manhood and searing the inside of his thighs. Wyatt shook his head at her and said, “No, don’t you worry, I’m fine. Druid and all, you know.”
The night disguised her expression, but Wyatt thought it was one of disappointment, or perhaps a deep desire. He couldn’t be certain. “What are you doing in the water?” he asked.
Rozen tilted her head to the side. “Praying to the Mother,” she said as if he should have known.
“The Mother?” he said, suppressing a grimace. “Didn’t think you believed in all that.”
Rozen tilted her head the other way, golden eyes never leaving him. They bit like yellow vipers and he shifted uncomfortably, only partially due to the throbbing pain in his groin. After several moments Rozen crossed the slick ground with practiced steps and sat along the grass bank. He could have reached out and touched her. How many fingers would I lose? He kept his hands tight to his side.
He watched her for a moment, but a distant glow dragged his attention skyward. A pale moon had shown itself low in the sky, flawlessly round and pink. Something at his back called to him as well, and turning, he saw another moon rising from the opposite horizon. He whirled back to the first and then back to the second. Twin moons. With all he had seen the presence of two moons should not have surprised him, but it did.
“You have two moons here,” he said, eyebrows arched and shifting. “On Earth, we only-”
“I am sorry for brandishing my weapon at you earlier,” she interrupted, her gaze cast into the idyllic river. “You startled me. I have never known a Druid. I… did not think them real.”
Lucky for me, he thought, but said, “Yeah, my magic can be pretty crazy.”
“Tell me, young Master, does the Mother truly hear my cries?”
Wyatt’s mind fled to the countless Sunday School classes he had endured as a child. Surely the information could translate. He hoped. “God, I mean, the Mother hears every prayer of his, uh, her children.”
“I am not one of the Children,” she said, dropping her gaze to her fidgeting hands.
“Oh, um, I didn’t mean those Children,” he said looking back at the fire.
“Master?”
“Oh, yes,” Wyatt said, desperately grasping for his last thought, but it evaded him. “Ah, well, I’m still learning.”
“I see,” she said and turned back to the river.
“But, they say I have great potential. I am a genius,” he said. She made no show of hearing his boast. He frowned, but then the thought faded and he was left with another.
“What are you running from?”
She didn’t answer.
“Why does the Regency want you?”
Rozen stirred a bit and turned away from Wyatt. Her long-clawed fingers found her braid and began tracing the strands around her neck.
“The Lord Regent rules the realms,” she said slowly as if each word burned her tongue on the way out.
“Not me,” Wyatt asserted. “We Druids answer to no one.”
Rozen laughed nervously. “Aside from the Mother, no I suppose the Druids do not.”
Wyatt nodded and beamed, but Rozen did not turn. At least she’s talking, he thought. I do have the Druid charm. He smiled again and stared into the perfect solace of the river, lost in a reverie that involved both Rozen and Athena. Two worlds, two girls. He was invincible.
“Is it the Mother’s presence that you travel to, Master?” Rozen said after a long silence.
“What?” he said, shaking himself from the daydream. “Oh, the Mother. No, I’m from a different world, much further away.”
“What is further than that which is impossible to reach?” She turned slightly, a single eye glinting in the moonlight.
Wyatt didn’t understand the riddle. Word problems were not his strong suit. He shrugged and said, “Placement.”
Rozen turned away again. “You are running just as I?”
“Uh, well,” he said, grasping at the ripple of words in his mind. How had she taken so much meaning from a single word? “I think I’m more trapped than running.”
Rozen nodded softly. She stood and drew her hood. Once again, a dark shadow stared at Wyatt, but it felt less menacing than it had before. He shifted and wrinkled his brow nervously and smirked. She nodded sharply and gracefully flitted away, bounding up the bank and hea
ding for the fire. Wyatt waited until her shadow passed the radiance of the blaze before he fell to his side, grasping his groin with both hands. He buried his face into the grass and screamed.
Eventually he rolled to his knees, but found he was unable to stand without daggers of pain cutting between his legs, so he crawled. That proved agonizing as well and he abandoned the effort two feet from the edge of the bank. He collapsed into the grass and found it far softer than he had expected. It smelled of watermelon, clean and fresh. A light breeze ran over his bare legs and slipped up his robe. He shuddered and drew his knees carefully toward his chest and slid an arm under his head.
“Oh, Mother,” he whispered into the grass. “If you’re listening, my name’s Wyatt, I’m a Druid. You, uh, I think you chose me… I, uh… fix my junk. Oh, please and thank you. Ok, bye.”
Chapter Ten
WYATT WOKE WITH the sun. Warming rays crept slowly across the river, transforming it with brilliant color. Reds, purples, and dark blues shimmered together and danced across the surface in a beautifully choreographed ballet. He yawned and slowly sat up. His hands went tenderly up his robe and carefully prodded the creases of his legs. Wow, he thought. All better. He patted the ground and whispered, “Thank you,” and then patted his chest, feeling the small pendant below his habit. “And thank God I woke up here.” Or the Mother. Or whichever deity had kept him in Hagion.
He stood and looked to the sky. It was flawless and held a faint purple hue. It made Wyatt smile. He took a deep breath and strolled toward the fire pit, which had been reduced to a smoldering mound of cinders. He was fully engrossed in the vibrant sky when an errant step met only air and he was pitched forward with a howl of surprise. He landed on something round and hard.
“Well, good morning,” said Gareck, his breath hot on Wyatt’s stunned face.
“Well, this is unexpected,” said Mareck. “Tsk tsk.”
Wyatt twisted around and found Mareck’s pale face and her empty eyes staring back. Wedged between a rock man and a rock lady, he thought, but found no joy in it as he struggled to free himself. With a grunt, he wrenched his body free and fell against the side of the wide hole in which the Children lay. He hadn’t remembered seeing the hole the previous night.
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