Green Rising (The Druids of Arden Book 1)

by AZ Kelvin

  The village proper held a large population and covered much ground. Beyond was the keep and castle grounds, where the guard patrols tripled. Beyond still lay her goal of the castleTorr Amhairc and her rooms within. The way she saw it, getting into the castle unnoticed would be her greatest test yet.

  The main part of the village, the keep and castle grounds and even the outer castle walls were no match for her prowess. She moved through the castle halls avoiding guard patrols and the occasional person wandering by. The room she needed was now right down the hall. After waiting for one more patrol to pass, she snuck up to the door and slid a couple of small metal wands into the door lock. Five seconds later, she was inside the room with the door closed and locked.

  She smiled, sighed happily, and calmly walked over to a table stocked with a few food items.

  “Bless yer heart, Marteen,” she said to an absent woman whom she knew had left the food.

  She picked up a fuzzy red round fruit and bit deeply into the plump flesh. The fruit’s juice ran down her chin, neck, and hands at first bite. The taste was so overwhelming; it almost brought her to tears.

  “Ohh…” she moaned and devoured the rest of the fruit. She took a knife from the table and cut through the protective wax layers of a cheese round. She filled both cheeks with cheese as she pulled a wicker lid off a basket to see what was inside.

  “Bread!” She ripped off a chunk and tore into it.

  She tilted a pitcher, pouring water into a glass. She filled the crevasses of her food-stuffed mouth with the water and mashed everything together trying not to choke in the process.

  The hunger momentarily satisfied, she peeled the rags from her body and threw them into a corner. She drew a bath from the large cauldron housed behind the fireplace to warm the water. The cauldron was connected to a valve placed over the edge of the bathing tub. Soaking in the warm bath, she was glad she only had one homeless waif persona to maintain. The destitute lived a bleak existence.

  Freshly fed and bathed, she put on her uniform and left her rooms. She would have loved to sleep for even an hour, but there wasn’t time. A large man with deep red hair was walking down the hallway as she came out.

  “Lady Ronirah, pleasant evenin’ ta ye.” The man bowed as she walked by.

  “And ta ye as well, General Gilburl.”

  Ascending the upper levels, she entered the council chamber to find she was the first to arrive. She barely had time to fill a glass with wine before she was joined by a man dressed in a uniform matching hers.

  “Well, well, well…” Saith Callan said as he walked into the chamber. The man apparently couldn’t resist taunting her at every chance. “If ’tis nae wanderin’ Ronni MacRory herself.” His voice held as much contempt as the look on his face. “Takin’ a break from yer slummin’, lass?”

  “Piss off, Saith,” she said with matching contempt. “I’m in nae mood fer yer shite, moron.”

  “Ooh, ’scuse me, I’ve forgotten yer a—milady.” He clearly meant to insult her.

  “Yer jealousy disgusts me.” She turned her back on him. Knowing him, he was picturing some kind of harm being done to her. Yet, he could not openly move against her without risking his position and lands. She enjoyed toying with Saith, but she had similar limits on how far she could go without risking her own status. Even being of royal blood as she was, she was so far down the family tree, Ronirah knew she would never advance any closer to the throne than she had already.

  The two officers were counterparts in the Raskan Foreign and Political Affairs Bureau and each had their own network of agents, but that’s where the similarity ended.

  Captain Ronirah MacRory knew Saith’s method of operation was far different from hers. Her focus was on the kingdom of Shaan, enemies they were currently at peace with. She was well versed in the art of disguise and subterfuge. The agents under her command were trained in her methods. They infiltrated Shaan, monitored military operations, reported back to her, and she to the minister of foreign affairs.

  Captain Saith Callan oversaw covert operations within the kingdom boundaries in order to protect it from domestic threats and covertly monitor the comings and goings of the minor houses of Raskan. The methods he preferred were bribery and coercion. She knew him to be a skilled interrogator as were the agents under his command.

  The door opened and a guardsman swung it wide and stepped back to attention. King Renalth MacRory of Raskan entered the room followed by his foreign affairs minister, Modgrin Macreeth.

  Ronirah and Saith both snapped to attention and bowed sharply as he entered. “Sire!”

  “Captains,” he said, “as ye were.”

  Renalth had been king for eight years now, but he still preferred the furs and leathers of Raskanish tradition over the silks and satins of most royal courts.

  “Captain MacRory, yer report, if ye please.”

  Ronirah moved to a table topped with a map of the entire northern continent. “The Shaanlanders have cleared the woods up ta the border, here and here.”

  She pointed to two valleys on both sides of a mountain range crossing Raskan and extending into Shaan territory.

  “Right up ta our very toes,” Renalth said.

  “They’ll be steppin’ on our very toes if they get much closer,” Modgrin replied.

  “Even though the cuttin’ stopped when they reached Raskan land, their work camps grow daily as do the guard outposts.”

  “Did ye get a count?” Modgrin asked.

  “Aye, Minister, six outposts now, a thousand men at each.”

  “Six thousand troops?” Renalth seemed mildly surprised.

  “Stables goin’ up at three outposts, Sire.”

  “That means cavalry,” Modgrin said.

  “Aye, but nae enough ta invade,” Renalth replied. “We still outnumber them and have the high ground.”

  Ronirah wondered if she should tell them of what she saw or actually thought she saw. Modgrin was watching her when she looked up.

  “Something else, Captain?”

  “I’m unsure, Minister, but I believe one of the Tenneth royal family was in the Shaanlander capital of Trossachsmuir.”

  “Why would ye think that?”

  “Do ye recall the crippled lad?”

  “Garett fell from his horse when he was youn’,” Saith said.

  “Aye, and Lord Tenneth had a carriage built so it’d be easier fer him ta get in and out,” she added.

  “Right, I remember the carriage,” Modgrin said.

  “’Twas the carriage I saw go through the streets. Cannae say as ta who was inside. I tried ta follow but lost them.”

  “Now, what would the royal family of a Raskanish minor house be doin’ in Shaan?” Renalth asked.

  “Here’s a curious thin’, Sire. One of our men was found dead in the Grannagh capital of Glen Arwe,” Saith said. “He was stationed there under the guise of a merchant. The word just came overnight. He appears ta’ve been robbed, but now with Captain MacRory’s report, I think he may’ve found somethin’ and was murdered fer it.”

  “Ye think they’ll take up with Shaan?” Renalth asked.

  “If they do, we’ll be fightin’ skirmishes on both sides: the Shaan outposts ta the southwest and the Raskan minor houses ta the east. The Shaanlander main forces’ll come straight up the middle, ye can be sure.” Modgrin tapped the map table for emphasis.

  “’Tis nae secret they’ve been wantin’ ta secede from Raskan. Shaan’ll grant them their ancestral lands, nae doubt.” Renalth studied the map. “Give me yer assessment, Captain MacRory”

  Ronirah quickly scanned the map so she could give her best recommendation based on the intelligence she had recently gathered. The largest portion of Raskan held the capital city of Cammachmoor and the ancestral lands of the House MacRory. The rest of the kingdom included the three provinces belonging to the minor Houses of the Grannagh, Tenneth, and Bothain. Lastly, there were the five fiefdoms of Hest, Cromarty, Inverbehg, Aonghus, and Colquenagh.
/>
  Shaan held the capital city of Trossachsmuir and the ancestral lands of House Tavish, the two provinces of Cavall and Hevonen, and the three fiefdoms of Soen, MacAlaway, and Cambeul. She realized all three of the Raskanish minor houses were on the east side of the kingdom and Shaan to the south.

  “Sire, the potential threat from Shaan cannae be ignored if any one of the minor houses were ta join with them and turn against us, let alone two or all three houses.”

  Renalth’s frown deepened. “What of House Bothain, Captain Callan?”

  “My agents report the border outposts and outlyin’ roads are bein’ repaired. They say ’tis an effort ta beautify the province. I say that’s a load of manure. They either see somethin’ comin’ or they’re a part of it.”

  “Our position dinnae improve with this news, Sire,” Modgrin said.

  “There’s somethin’ else, Sire,” Ronirah said.

  “Tell of it.”

  “The Shaanlanders executed two men in the public square the day afore I left.”

  “Nothin’ new there,” Saith said and smiled.

  Modgrin silenced him with a look.

  “Continue, Captain,” Renalth said.

  “Black as shadows they were, Sire. One so dark I could nae see the lines of his face ’til he was brought inta the light ta face the block.”

  Renalth and Modgrin exchanged looks upon hearing her news.

  “Ye’re nae surprised, Minister. Ye know of them then?”

  “By word only, but sounds ta me they’re men from the southern continent,” he replied.

  “Southern continent, same as those disciples?” she asked.

  “Aye.”

  “One of them was there. He was the one presidin’ over it.”

  “An architect presidin’ over an execution, Sire?” Modgrin looked at Renalth intently for a moment.

  “It seems the disciples have a bit more than the king’s ear these days,” Renalth said. “They’ve taken his mind and his heart.”

  “Ye turned away the disciple who came here…” Ronirah’s voice trailed off as a memory surfaced. “Sire,” she quickly finished.

  “Aye, I dinnae care fer the smell of him.” Renalth grinned. “Besides, any man who talks of clear-cuttin’ my highlands is nae friend of mine, lassie! I mean—Captain.”

  “Kenri’ll be glad ta hear that, Sire.” She meant it to be an informal comment about the druid.

  “Kenri’s the one who told me ta expect him,” Renalth replied.

  “The druid told ye ta expect an architect?” she asked. “Ha, I think the old mystic has overcooked his noodles.”

  Renalth turned his countenance upon her. “Tread lightly, Captain. Regardless of the growin’ disdain fer the Order across the rest of Arden, Kenri and the druids are still friends of Raskan—and of mine.”

  “Yer pardon, Sire, I dinnae mean ta show disrespect.”

  “Interestin’ ’twas though”—Modgrin crossed his arms and eased a butt cheek up to lean on the map table, which groaned in protest of the man’s weight—“ta see the flicker of surprise run across the disciple’s face when he saw Kenri standin’ alongside us.”

  “Surprise that let his hatred fer the druid ta show through a moment,” Renalth said. “Lends credence ta what Kenri tells us.”

  “That the disciples are overlords of an ancient and evil god, disguised as architects who’re out ta cut down all our woods?” Saith took a turn at being skeptical. “Sire, that’s—”

  “Very difficult ta believe, aye, I know, lad,” he replied. “Regardless of what we believe, though, the disciples do all but sit on the throne in Shaan.”

  “The deep woods in Shaan are nearly gone,” Ronirah said, “and the disciples’ve been there barely a year now.”

  Renalth repeated Kenri’s favorite saying. “Ye kill the trees and ye’ll kill the world and all who sit upon it.”

  “I fear King Traelin Tavish has become a puppet of the Disciples of Nemilos,” Modgrin said.

  “And I’ll nae be their next fool,” Renalth said. “Did that disciple leave Raskan, Captain Callan?”

  “No, Sire, he’s still in Glen Arwe.”

  “Is he now?” Renalth seemed pleased by that news. “Minister Macreeth, inform General Gilburl and ask him ta extend an invitation ta the man.”

  “Aye, we could do that, Sire”—Modgrin nodded—“but if the disciple says nae?”

  “Ask him again at sword point.”

  “We take him out in the open then the people of Glen Arwe’ll be askin’ questions. Questions we should avoid fer the time bein’, Sire.”

  “Minister, I could have ma men grab him with no one the wiser we’re lookin’ fer him,” Saith said.

  Modgrin looked to Renalth.

  The king nodded. “All right, do it. I’ve questions of my own ta ask the man. There’re grim days ahead, I think. We best nae get caught with our hands under our arses when they come.”

  Ronirah thought about that a moment before she pointed to several areas on the southern border of Raskan. “Sire, we could post scouts at these positions ta watch fer troop movements alon’ the border with Shaan. That should give us some advance warnin’.”

  Saith Callen nodded as he leaned over the map table. “I’ll send men, Sire.”

  “Nae Captain,” Renalth replied, “Yer task is ta apprehend the disciple in Glen Arwe. Captain MacRory’ll handle the scouts.”

  Ronirah straightened up and bowed sharply. “Gratitude Sire, I’ll get ma agents afield at once. If any forces approach, we’ll know well ahead of time.”

  *~*~*

  Chapter Seven

  The orders in Quinlan’s packet were not what he was expecting and he wasn’t pleased with them at all. Once he read them he doubled back to the conclave hall. He waited outside Tretjey Sayon’s audience chamber for his chance to speak with his superior, Adjutant Tretjey Clarin, who was currently inside.

  The doors opened after what seemed to Quinlan as nothing short of an hour, yet in truth, barely a quarter of that had passed since he arrived. Zendis, Clarin, and the Gwylari leaders from the meeting emerged from the office.

  “Siestrey Quinlan?”

  “Lah ahm, Adjutant Clarin, I was told you’d be here. May I speak with you?”

  “Your timing is terrible, Siestrey. I have only the briefest of moments.”

  “I feel the Seyna is weakening.”

  The entire group stopped at his words and even Tretjey Sayon, who was at the door, came out to hear. He motioned the group and Quinlan to step inside and closed the doors.

  “Continue,” Clarin said to Quinlan.

  “More and more plants are dying among the Seyna when none should even be in ill health. I have found unusual patterns in where and when the plants die. There is a strange feel to the flaura when I mend these plants—as if some force works against me.”

  “Yes, and of course he does, doesn’t he?” Sayon asked him. “As an eternal being of the Vast, Acimasiz will never stop trying to escape.”

  “My orders are to travel, Tretjey. May I ask they be changed so I can continue my watch over these areas?”

  “There are more than enough druids here to take over your watch, Siestrey,” Sayon said. “There are important matters afar we need adept brethren to lay eyes on and report back what they find or be able to take any necessary action. This is critical to our ongoing plans.”

  “I agree indeed, but I feel I could be of greater benefit here. To continue to watch over areas I have—”

  “And it is vital, Siestrey Quinlan, that we gather knowledge from afar. Would it be prudent of us to focus only on the Seyna and see not what goes on around us?”

  Quinlan found wisdom in his statement even though Order of Arden teachings stated Fairtheora and the Seyna were of the greatest priority. “No, it wouldn’t be.”

  Sayon answered in a calm but firm voice. “The druids who wander the land tell of distant disasters they believe have been created by the dreyg. We need groves to investig
ate, report back, and where possible, begin to heal the land. The health of the land is of primary importance to all who dwell upon it. Some days, I fear we druids and the Gwylari are the only ones who remember the ancient threat.”

  Clarin moved in and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Quin, your grove and the other groves with the same assignment were chosen for important reasons. We need to send capable groves of druids out to these threatened areas to identify the threats and be able to confront them. The same method was used to confront and destroy the red plague that attacked your childhood city of Calamere years ago. Now, it is your turn to provide much-needed aid to others.”

  The thought of aiding people who’d been run out of their homes by the poisoned mists of Acimasiz struck a chord with Quinlan. The druids were the only ones to respond to Calamere’s need. They drove back the red plague and eliminated the source, healing the land in hope it would never return.

  Sayon walked to a mural of Fairtheora on the wall. “Centuries ago, we imprisoned Acimasiz to protect the people of Arden. Even though many of them now shun us and no longer believe in the ancient threat, we cannot turn our backs on them now.”

  “Of course not,” Quinlan said. “Please, forgive my arrogance, Tretjey, and gratitude for your council. I am honored to give aid to any who need it.”

  Clarin patted his shoulder and moved off. “I have much confidence in you and Grove Seven, Quinlan. I sense there is great potential within.” She walked with Quinlan to the door. “Send élan with reports as frequently as you can. Go carefully, my friend.”

  “Gratitude, we shall. Fair paths to you.”

  Quinlan left the chamber and made his way down from the upper levels before he let his disappointment show. He stopped at ground level to collect his thoughts.

  “Dung!” was the first thing that came to mind and out of his mouth.

  “Can’t be as bad as all that.”

  Quinlan turned to see Lissa coming down the same stairway right behind him.

  “Heard that, eh?”

  “Yep—ha ha.” She stopped one step up from him so they were eye to eye. “What turns your mind to cursing this early in the day, Quin?”