Druid Knights 1.5: The Druid Knight Tales

by Ruth A. Casie

  ***

  Max and Doward rode up the ancient earthwork slope that ringed the henge at Avebury and stopped to take in the scene below. The lacy flakes of the soft snow glistened in the waning light and fluttered to the ground. Dusk colored everything in a deepening blue patina. From their vantage point, the pattern of bright yellow campfires that dotted the field easily identified which families had arrived as they took their prescribed place. A flash of a new fire to their left caught their attention.

  “Ah, Fendrel has arrived.” Doward motioned across the field. “It is good to see their fire burning. Too many years have passed since they last attended.”

  “I suppose we will have to accept his request and make the ceremony memorable.” Max took a sideways glance at Doward. “Right after we greet the winter sun and before I leave for the Ancestors would be a good time.”

  His mentor shook his head. “That’s the most honored portion of the ritual. Sometimes I think you are more a politician than you admit.”

  Max nudged his horse forward. He led the way down onto the wide causeway and passed the sacred circle. The brisk air was alive with excitement. The familiar tingle of magick ignited him now as it had in the past.

  He glanced again at Fendrel’s fire. Apprehension skittered across his mind and sent a chill between his shoulders. The rune tattoos on his back warmed. The Ancestors. He would deal with them when the time came. For now he would be the Grand Master the people expected and needed. He let out a deep breath.

  He scanned the campfires scattered across the ground and saw the results of his hard work and leadership in uniting the clans and seeing to their well-being. Once again he would stand with them as they gave thanks and honor to the Great Mother Earth.

  “I’m looking forward to tonight’s campfire,” Doward said. “It is good to get reacquainted with old friends, meet their new clan members, and remember those who are gone.” They made their way from the causeway. “Ah, there’s our campsite.” Doward gestured at a gray smudge on a rise beyond where the clans camped.

  The men rode on. By the time they reached their campsite and dismounted, everyone knew the Grand Master had arrived. Max settled their gear while Doward lit the fire.

  “Ah, here comes Fendrel,” Doward said over his shoulder. “He hasn’t wasted any time.”

  Max cast a glance in time to see the elder making his way up the rise. “It appears he’s come by himself.” He edged over to the campfire and leaned close to his mentor. “No healer to acknowledge,” he whispered.

  “Grand Master, how good to see you,” Fendrel shouted as he approached.

  “I’m glad you decided to join us this year. I hope you had an easy journey. How have you fared?” Max extended an arm and motioned him to take a seat by the fire.

  “Many thanks. I am well, as is my clan.” The man took the offered seat, which wasn’t more than a rug draped over a large stone. “I have much to tell you since I’ve last been here.”

  “I understand you have a new wife,” Max said. He noted the man’s face light up. So, the match was a good one. Somehow that pleased him.

  “Not only a new wife but a new son, too.” The pride in the man’s voice was evident.

  Max clapped him on the back. “Congratulations. I would like to meet them both.”

  “Dimia and my son are with me. They are resting now. You will meet them tomorrow.” He paused and gave Max a hesitant look. “I also have a healer who I would like to present to you. She has traveled from Brodgar.”

  Max glanced at Doward and gave him a knowing smile. “Bring her to me. I will gladly meet her.”

  Fendrel popped up from his perch. “I will be right back. She wasn’t far behind me.” Before Max or Doward could say another word he trod over the rise and returned with someone in tow.

  Penetrating blue-gray eyes stared out from the cocoon of dark wool that enrobed the woman. The cheeks on her porcelain-white face appeared tinged with a splash of pink. Her natural berry-red lips were turned up in a welcoming smile. “Grand Master.” She dipped a well-executed curtsy.

  Fendrel’s healer was much different than the old crone he had anticipated. This woman was regal and beautiful. The gleam in her eyes was calm and comforting. He had a strange sensation, which made no sense at all, that he had known her for a long time. At ease with her, he allowed himself to relax and returned her open smile with one of his own.

  “This is Ellyn of Brodgar,” Fendrel said. “She has been our healer for the last year. Our situation was grave. It was her healing skills that kept us alive. I would like you to accept her into our clan.”

  The knuckles on Ellyn’s hand turned white from grasping her staff firmly. Her head whipped around at Fendrel.

  Max observed, fascinated the elder was oblivious to the daggers the woman’s eyes flung at him. So, Fendrel hadn’t told her of his plan and if Max wasn’t mistaken, she wasn’t pleased.

  “Thank you, Fendrel,” Ellyn said. “Your request is a great honor. I will be your healer for as long as I am with you.” She turned to Max, her face serene. Her iron grip on the staff relaxed.

  Fendrel sputtered.

  “You are welcome into Fendrel’s clan for as long as you see fit to stay with us,” Max said. He was certain he saved Fendrel from getting his head bashed with the staff the woman carried. “Brodgar is in the Orkneys. You are far from home.”

  “I go where I am needed.” Her voice was soft—her tone evasive.

  Max gave her a benign smile. She was tall and graceful. Loose tendrils of curls softened her face. Dark lashes swept down against her cheekbone. She gazed at him with bright, intelligent eyes. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He sensed her trying to press in on his mind and blocked her attempt so fast she winced in pain. He’d made his point. She would not try that again.

  “If you will excuse me.” She turned to leave. “I would like to look in on Dimia and the baby to make certain they’re settled in for the night,” she said to the new father.

  “Of course, Ellyn. I will see you back to camp.” Fendrel approached the two men. “Thank you, Grand Master. Doward. We will see you tomorrow.” He and Ellyn went back down the small rise.

  “Interesting girl,” Doward remarked after they were gone. “You didn’t have to be rough on her. She was only curious.” Doward chuckled.

  Max stared after her.

  She wasn’t at all what she seemed.

  ***

  “You didn’t tell me your stay was temporary.” Fendrel stomped across the field toward his tent.

  “You didn’t ask.” Getting angry was useless, so why did she want to bludgeon him with her staff?

  “Fendrel,” someone shouted from a nearby camp.

  “Who’s there?” he called, walking toward the sound. He looked back at Ellyn.

  “You go on and visit. I know the way to our campsite,” she said.

  Fendrel turned back toward the voice. “Gavin? Is that you?” With his hand shading his eyes, he struggled to peer past the bright firelight to see who hailed him.

  “Fendrel. You’re here.” The tumult of voices obscured his reply.

  Ellyn continued without him. The corners of her lips pulled back in a smile. For all his posturing he was a good man. Maybe a bit overenthusiastic. She rubbed her temples, still smarting from the Grand Master’s retaliation. Why had she been so bold? When he relaxed and let his guard down the air around him was filled with his distress. It clung to her as if it were her own. Yes, she overstepped her boundary, but he was clearly in pain and something drove her to help him.

  A wave of fatigue made her feel as ancient as the Ancestors. Luckily, she could see the campsite in the distance. Eager to rest, she quickened her pace and finally stepped into her tent.

  Empty. Dimia must have taken the baby and returned to her husband. Ellyn let out a long, exhausted sigh. She was glad for the solitude and the hot stones left to heat her pallet. That must have been Dimia’s work. She smiled and removed her heavy cloak. Dimia
was a good match for Fendrel and there would be more children, of that she was certain.

  It took a lot of energy to maintain her facade and the Grand Master’s reprimand sapped even more of her strength. But she was here, at the ritual. If only she knew why. All year the vision had plagued her. At first it appeared randomly but as the months went by the visions came more often and became more urgent. Now the same scene drifted close to the surface, peeking through at odd times again and again. It was always the same. No more. No less. She stood next to the Grand Master in front of the great oak tree. She had puzzled over it countless times and found no answer.

  Perhaps this is how healers end? Called to return their healing gift to the Ancestors in order for it to be passed on to another? For the past year every healing cost her dearly. With each healing kiss she became weaker, her energy drained, and lost more of herself. She knew she was dying. If she were honest, she found the idea of an eternal rest appealing.

  She let out a heavy sigh. She gladly helped many but for herself she wanted more, to be part of a clan, have a child. Even though people surrounded her, she was alone—her heart was empty. She remembered the tender look on Dimia’s face when she first saw her son. She batted away the lone tear that tracked down her cheek.

  Well, everything would be clear tomorrow.

  Exhausted from the trek, she lay on her pallet and fell asleep before her eyes were closed.

  She woke before sunrise refreshed by a good night’s sleep. After her morning routine she picked up her staff and joined the others at the standing stones. Today, the shortest day of the year, they would welcome the day and celebrate the sacred marriage between Father Sky and Mother Earth. She waited while Doward finished cleansing and purifying the area for the Grand Master.

  Ellyn and the people from all the clans proceeded through the outer circle to the Cove and its three standing stones. Doward came up to her. “Another year. They seem to hurry by.”

  A wave of unease washed over her. She hardly made out what Doward said. She was too busy trying to control her rising apprehension.

  The clans formed a large circle around the stones and waited. The Grand Master walked down the wide avenue and took his place. He stood beside her. She had imagined his tall, commanding presence quite correctly.

  Everyone in the large circle faced east and waited for the sun to peek over the horizon. Slowly sunlight crept up and bathed the central Cove stone with its first rays of light.

  “Hail and welcome,” declared Max.

  “Hail and welcome,” the clans around him responded.

  In unison they faced the center of the large circle.

  “Hail this new day and year. We remember those who have left us. And we welcome those who have joined us by marriage, birth, or simply by choice.” He nodded toward Ellyn. “Ellyn of Brodgar, we welcome you into Fendrel’s clan.”

  “Thank you, Grand Master.” Ellyn’s voice carried loud and clear. She faced Fendrel. “Thank you for making a place for me at your hearth.”

  The first part of the morning ritual completed, the circle broke. She followed Max and the others as they made their way to the great oak in the nearby grove.

  “Are you familiar with this part of the ritual?” Doward asked.

  “Yes. The Grand Master will enter the Otherworld and meet with the Ancestors.”

  “There is more to the ritual,” Doward said. “To ensure a good year and banish evil, when the Grand Master returns with the message from the Ancestors, the women will cut down and collect springs of mistletoe from the sacred oak tree. The Grand Master will give the sprigs to the families in the clan for them to hang in their house.”

  Everyone gathered around the ancient oak. Once again she and Doward stood in the great circle next to the Grand Master.

  Max waited for quiet before he faced the east and raised his arms. “Hail, Guardians of the East. I summon the power of air.” His voice echoed through the grove.

  “By the air in her breath, be with us now,” the congregation replied.

  He turned to the south. “Hail, Guardians of the South. I summon the power of fire.”

  “By the fire in her spirit, be with us now,” came the reply.

  He faced the west. “Hail, Guardians of the West. I summon the power of water.”

  “By the waters of her womb, be with us now.”

  Turning north he said, “Hail, Guardians of the North. I summon the power of earth.”

  “By the earth that is her body, be with us now.” Every eye turned to Max when he faced the ancient oak, mistletoe hanging in great bunches from its mighty branches.

  “As above, so below.

  As within, so without.

  Four stars in this place be

  To open the door to the Ancestors to me.”

  The cold air chilled even more and the sky turned an array of colors. Every muscle in Ellyn’s body tensed. This was magick she was not supposed to see. She must be too close to the Grand Master. She struggled to move away but was fixed to the spot. Slowly the world began to spin. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, planted her staff deep into the ground, and held on. She peered through a hazy filter and witnessed Doward’s nod. She studied his lips silently mouthing, Safe journey.

  The cold wind pricked her skin like hundreds of tiny needles. She closed her eyes and firmly held on to her staff.

  Shiver after shiver made her shoulders quake. She had never been so cold. A strong hand covered hers. She strained to pull away but it held her fast. The muffled chant in a deep baritone voice washed over her. The cold shivers melted into a comforting warmth and the tempest calmed.

  When she opened her eyes the swirling had stopped. The weather was agreeable but the Grand Master’s expression was deadly.

  “What are you doing in the Otherworld? How did you get here?” He pulled his hand away from hers.

  She removed her staff from the ground. “I have no idea. I stood by you during the ritual but many others did too.”

  “The portal only obeys the command of the Ancestors. My powers are limited here. I have no way to send you back.” He ran his hand through his hair and paced in front of her.

  Standing tall, she waited and spoke not a word. Curious, she looked around.

  The Otherworld. This was a place of stories, not reality. The dark silhouettes of the trees and bushes were dramatic against the deep blue of the retreating night. The sweeping clouds brightened with vivid colors of magenta and red. The waking sounds of the forest were soft and clear. The oak they stood near took her breath away. The light caught the morning dew on its bare branches and made them twinkle like thousands of sparkling gems.

  She didn’t look at the Grand Master. She was certain there would be murder in his eyes.

  “I can’t leave you here.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to come with me,” he droned on.

  “You can leave me here.” She spun around and followed the flight of two butterflies that caught her attention as they fluttered by.

  “No, I can’t.” He ground the words out between clenched teeth. “Don’t let the tranquil beauty fool you,” he said with quiet emphasis, trying to contain his anxiety. “It’s difficult traveling in the Otherworld alone. This place is not like any other. The Otherworld has traps and villains. They are just well hidden.” A muscle flicked angrily at his jaw.

  “Yes, Grand Master. I will keep your warning in mind.” She waited, her hands folded in front of her.

  “We may be here for a while.” His eyes searched the horizon.

  “A while?” Her brows furrowed. “You must be back by the full rise of the moon.”

  He gave her a stare with hard gray eyes that were like silver lightning. “Time is different in the Otherworld. We must meet the Ancestors within three days. They will return us to the oak at moonrise. To everyone there we will return the evening we departed.”

  Her eyes widened and her brows arched in surprise. “How curious.”

  He nodded toward th
e forest. “We’re going there. Follow me closely. We’re searching for a rope bridge. It should be nearby.”

  They crossed a small clearing. Max held up his hand and brought them to a stop. “Wait here.” He started off.

  “Is anything wrong?” she asked.

  “I’m not certain.” He hesitated and searched her face, debating whether to tell her he had no idea where they were. Usually he arrived standing at the rope bridge. Today was different.

  “I want to see what is behind that thicket. Wait here.” He moved off the path and headed toward the undergrowth.

  Murmured voices rode on the breeze. She couldn’t make out what they said but as the breeze buffeted around her, they became more insistent. Trying to stay calm, she stared where the Grand Master had vanished. A vision of him in danger slammed behind her eyes. She took off at a run. She made her way to the other side of the thicket and skidded to a stop in front of a broken bridge platform. A wide gorge loomed in front of her. On the other side she made out a matching platform with the walkway dangling from its supports. She tenuously moved to the rim of the cliff and glanced to either side. There was no one there. She peered over the edge and was filled with relief. Within arm’s reach, the Grand Master climbed up what remained of the rope bridge, a small rock outcropping below him.

  “Grand Master,” she called.

  “Aye,” he said as his head popped over the edge. She gave him her hand.

  He stared at her outstretched hand in disbelief. “You can’t pull me up.” He panted and strained to find a hold. “We’ll both go down.”

  When he found none, his eyes widened and he began to slide backward. Ellyn grabbed his arm and tugged. Putting her full weight behind it, she dragged him up far enough for his other hand to find a hold. He scrambled over the top and lay face down panting at her feet. His tunic was bloody and in shreds. She examined the deep scrapes clawed into his back by the face of the cliff. It would take time for these wounds to heal. Time they didn’t have.

  “I thought they called out and I followed,” Max said.

  “Who called out?” she asked.