Druid Knights 1.5: The Druid Knight Tales

by Ruth A. Casie

***

  Max put his arm around her waist. “The Ancestors are not much farther.”

  They moved on and arrived at the land bridge at sunset.

  “There are many pitfalls hidden there.” He ran his hand through his hair. “We’ll have to wait until morning.” He searched the perimeter where they stood. The area appeared safe and as good a spot to rest for the night as any other. She worked at his side but one look at her drawn and weary face told him she couldn’t have gone on much further.

  She stared at the land bridge. “Something is not right.” She paced back and forth like a caged animal.

  “What bothers you?”

  “How long will it take us to cross the bridge?”

  “A day.” The humor was gone from his voice.

  “We only have one more day. If we face any delays on the other side we will be out of time. What happens if we don’t find the Ancestors in three days?” He heard the determination in her voice.

  He approached and studied her closely. “You know, don’t you? You see events before they happen.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and almost shook the answer from her. “What did you see?”

  “Max, let me go,” she said.

  Stunned by her thin, weak voice and shocked by his own actions, his eyelids slid closed and he clutched her to his chest. “What did you see?” he asked her tenderly.

  “I see us following a light but I cannot tell you what it is, where it leads, or if it is a good or bad omen. That’s what scares me most.” She hesitated. “I’m…tired. I have no energy to coax a deeper vision.”

  “Rest. We’ll cross the bridge tomorrow. We will find the Ancestors and go home to Avebury.”

  Ellyn woke in the morning and found a gray mist covering the ground. The campfire was out and Max was gone. She shot up, wrapped herself in her cloak, and picked up her staff.

  “Where are you going?”

  She turned toward his voice. Max entered the camp, a load of wood in his arms.

  “I was going to search for you.”

  He dropped the wood by the fire pit.

  “When do you want to leave?” she asked.

  He pointed to the gray wall of fog. “We’re not going anywhere. We’ll have to wait until the fog lifts.”

  “You have no idea how long that will be. It could be days.”

  “Or it could be hours. Ellyn, if we did get across the bridge I won’t be able to see any of the landmarks to lead us to the Ancestors. We will have to stay where we are until the fog clears.”

  He lit the fire and she sat close to it to keep out the dampness. When her legs stiffened, she paced the small area until she knew the number of steps in every direction. Tired of tramping around and getting nowhere, she returned to the fire. The ritual repeated over and over, making each passing hour tedious. Finally, Ellyn leaped up. “I can’t wait any longer.”

  Startled, Max appeared at her side. “What are you doing?”

  She wrapped her cloak around her closely and got her staff. “I’m going to find the Ancestors. You can stay if you like but I’ll not let this day end without finding them.”

  “We can’t go out there. I don’t know if I can keep you safe.”

  She searched his face. “Is that why we have stayed in this place? To keep me safe?” Her heart skipped a beat at the confirmation that he cared. “Thank you, Max, but staying here won’t solve our problem. We need to get to the Ancestors before the end of the day. You need to give them the mistletoe. And they need to send you back to Avebury.” She rested her hand on his arm. “We need to move now.”

  “Yes, you’re right. I can’t stop what is fated.” He let out a deep breath.

  She gave him a questioning stare but did not pursue the issue. They doused the fire, took their belongings, and picked their way across the narrow walkway.

  “It must be midafternoon.” Max checked the outline of the sun through the thick clouds. He stood at the beginning of the steep decline. “We haven’t much farther to go. This is the deep fissure we have to manage through. We’ll have to climb down and up the other side.”

  She nodded her understanding.

  The first part of the descent wasn’t too difficult. As they continued on, loosened rocks tumbled down in front of them. In some areas Max slid as if he skated on ice. He helped her down, blocked her slide, and made the climb as easy for her as he could. Finally at the bottom of the fissure, they both scanned the steep climb ahead of them.

  “I’ve only been this way once.” He moved back from the cliff wall trying to see through the mist. “I think I see the sun. I want to look at what we face.” He turned to Ellyn. “I’ll go up a bit, see how thick the mist is, and look for an easy way up.”

  Her face blanched. “Perhaps we should make the climb together,” she said. “If anything happens, the other would be near.”

  He took off his pouch, still evaluating the cliff. “That won’t be necessary. I promise not to get into any trouble without you,” he said with a smile. “I’ll leave these with you. Take care of the mistletoe. I will be back with good news.” He got a good handhold and scaled up the face of the cliff.

  As he moved up he sent a shower of small stones raining down. At least she knew he was moving on the wall.

  “The mist seems to be thinning,” he shouted down to her.

  “Can you see the top?” she called.

  “No, but I am walking rather than crawling up the side.”

  She sank to the ground and waited.

  “Max,” she called.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Max,” she shouted urgently. She knew she should have insisted on going with him. In a panic she sprang up and spilled the contents of his pouch on the ground. She searched for handholds in the stone to climb up after him.

  “Ellyn, can you hear me? The fog is clearing. I see an easy way for us to get up the cliff. I’m coming down.”

  “Yes, I hear you.” Relieved, she sank to the ground and waited. Her hand found the spilled contents of Max’s pouch. She picked up each item and put it back. When she picked up the rolled cloth it came undone. The sacred mistletoe lay on the ground shriveled and dead. She stared at the withered plant then up at the cliff. He had to take the mistletoe to the Ancestors. He couldn’t give them a dead plant. She raised the plant to her lips and kissed it. For Max.

  The shriveled brown leaves unfolded in her palm. The edges sparkled as if they were on fire. The glow traced the fragile veins of the leaves until she held a glowing lace network. New life surged through the plant as the glow faded and turned a healthy green. Next the withered berries pulsed and plumped until they were filled out and white. She rolled the renewed mistletoe into the cloth and replaced it in Max’s pouch.

  “If the fog hadn’t lifted I would never have found this path.” He stepped out from around a boulder not far from her. “It’s an easy trail.” He stopped midstep when he saw her. “Ellyn.” He ran to her. Her eyes were dark hollows and her face was ashen. She rocked back and forth, clutching his pouch. Fear like he’d never known before welled in his chest. He had to get her to the Ancestors. They would know what to do.

  He lifted her into his arms and with long, determined strides navigated up the twisted path. The higher they got, the brighter the sunlight.

  “When we are back in Avebury we will celebrate our journey.”

  She laid her head against his chest.

  Worried by her shallow breathing, he pushed himself and quickened his pace. He glanced at her face. Were her eyes brighter? He hoped he was right. “You’re not going to speak to me?”

  She tipped her face toward him and smiled at his admonishment. “What do you want me to say?” she asked so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

  “Tell me the secret of your healing.”

  “You know I can’t tell you.”

  “I thought at first it was magick in the vials you keep, but I think your magick is more potent than a potion.” He stepped onto the top of the cliff and into a poo
l of warm sunlight. He turned and they both glanced back over the route they’d taken. The sun sat low, near the horizon but not yet set.

  “There is still time,” he told her. The smell of the wild forest, the feel of the cooling breeze across his back, and even the taste of wild herbs on the air, sharpened his senses as he pressed on. He was getting closer. He stepped into a large clearing.

  “Ellyn. The standing stones. And it’s not yet sunset.” His voice was alive with excitement.

  “Max, leave me there and go speak to the Ancestors.” She pointed to the pool of sunlight.

  He hesitated, not wanting to leave her. “Are you certain? I don’t want to be far from you.”

  “I’ll be right here. You must speak to them alone.”

  She was right. Gently he put her down inside the outer circle of stones on a soft patch of grass and covered her with his cloak. “Rest here. I shouldn’t be long.” He started off.

  “Max.” She kissed the pouch before she handed it to him. “For good luck.”

  He bent down and kissed her tenderly.

  “You needn’t worry.” She settled herself and smiled at him. “Now go. We’ve taken long enough.”

  He quickly navigated toward the sacred inner circle and glanced up as the blood red hunter moon began its climb. A cold knot formed in his stomach. The blood moon was not a good omen.

  ***

  Max approached the inner stones with more confidence than he felt.

  “As above, so below.

  As within, so without.

  The Grand Master and Healer in this place be,

  Ask the Ancestors to speak to me.”

  A swirl of clouds filled the center space.

  He stood by the stone altar. The mist thickened in deep pools and drifted to the bottom of the great sarsen stones. Churning like a phantom stew, fingers of mist crept up the stones, leaving a shimmering outline in its wake. The silhouette thickened, revealing the hooded forms of the Ancestors.

  “Grand Master, who do you bring to the sacred circle?”

  “The healer—” his voice boomed.

  “Only you, the Grand Master, are permitted to approach us for our guidance.” The angry voice of an Ancestor reached his ears. “But we are forgiving.”

  “I come to seek—”

  “Before you tell us what you seek, tell us of your quest.”

  A flicker of apprehension pulsed through him. He was certain Ellyn didn’t have much time and the full red moon hung large in the sky. Only a thin arc of sun remained on the horizon.

  He removed the wrapped cloth from his pouch and laid the package on the altar stone. “I have passed your test.” He did not expose the mistletoe. He didn’t want the Ancestors to see the dead plant, not until he had Ellyn safely back to Avebury. After that he didn’t care.

  “You have found your mate?”

  Max hesitated. “Perhaps. I have much to tell you, but before I begin I ask for a boon.” He glanced over his shoulder. She waited for him.

  “What do you seek?” the Ancestors rumbled with a cold, hard voice.

  “Ellyn of Brodgar is ill. I ask you to help her. She is honorable and has served the people well and denies no one at her own expense.”

  “You are the people’s Grand Master. She is your responsibility. We can only guide and help those who have passed on to our world.”

  “No,” he insisted, pounding his fist on the stone altar. How could this be? For the first time in his life he felt helpless. He could not lose her. He knew if he did he would lose a part of himself. “She has done everything—”

  “It is not for us to interfere.” The voice was calm and without empathy.

  “You do not interfere? You demanded I find a mate.”

  There was no response.

  He tried to keep his control. “She told me she was compelled to come here. Why?”

  Still they did not respond.

  Anger surged through him. “You brought her here. She needs your help. She’s dying.” He pointed to where he left her.

  “Only you can help her, Grand Master.”

  “Me?” He stopped short. “How? If I could she’d already be cured.”

  “Why do you care what happens to her? She is just a simple Orkney witch. Nothing else.”

  Ideas flashed across Max’s mind. If he was the only one that could help her the answer must lie in his greatest gift. His magick. He must get her back to Avebury, back to his magick, before the sun set.

  “Here.” He unrolled the mistletoe. “Here is your talisman. Send us back to Avebury,” he demanded.

  “So, you found your mate,” the Ancestor said with a satisfied voice.

  Max looked at the healthy mistletoe and gaped in astonishment. The plant was dead when he’d last looked. How could it now be alive? Icy fear raced up his back. He glanced at Ellyn on the far side of the circle. Her kisses. He had teased her and it was her kiss all along.

  “You hold her destiny in your hands.”

  His eyes moved from the mistletoe to the Ancestors.

  “I don’t understand.” He gave the Ancestors a questioning stare.

  “It appears that with her last breath she has made certain you will succeed. Is there any other way for her to prove herself to you?” voiced one Ancestor.

  “No,” Max whispered. “Not her last breath.”

  “No? Were you not willing to fight, sacrifice yourself, to save her?” another Ancestor said. “Can you not see the love in your heart for her?”

  “Then why these tests?” he demanded. “Am I not worthy? Is. She. Not. Worthy?” he asked.

  “This was not your test,” the Ancestor said.

  Not a test? “Then what?” Anger rolled off him in waves. “The time we’ve wasted, the pain she’s suffered.” He fisted his hand and forced himself to remain calm. “What would have happened if we didn’t find each other?” he demanded.

  “It is fortunate for you both that you did,” the Ancestor said.

  Max lowered his head and stared at the ground. His mind raced to think of a way to save Ellyn.

  “You both needed to find your soul mates. We provided opportunities. For both of you. But know that, in time, your love for each other will be greatly tested. Your love will have to be very strong for that…test.”

  Max raised his head. Of course their love was strong. His eyes found the altar. The mistletoe, alive and healthy, caught his attention. A ray of hope blossomed. Max grabbed the mistletoe from the altar. “We will be ready for your tests when the time comes.”

  He rushed to Ellyn and held the mistletoe under her nose. Silently he begged her to breathe deeply but he saw no response; instead she shivered.

  He knew from her shallow breaths and pale skin that she didn’t have much longer.

  “Don’t leave me, Ellyn. Not when I’ve just found you,” he demanded. Distraught, he could think of nothing else but to hold her and love her.

  He rested the mistletoe on the rock ledge above her head. “Stay with me,” he murmured in her ear. Her eyes closed, he kissed them, and moved on to her lips. With her cradled in his arms, he held her to his heart, and silently prayed. He witnessed the sun slip below the horizon and the last remnants of light darken—their fate sealed.

  Her eyes fluttered open and a smile spread across her face. “I dreamt of you, Grand Master,” she said in a sleepy voice.

  He looked deeply into her eyes and held her close. “My heart,” he murmured in her ear. “Oh, is it Grand Master now? I much prefer Max.” He let the realization of his love for her wash over him. “Ellyn. I have much to tell you.” He spoke with as reasonable a voice as he could manage.

  She put her fingers to his lips.

  He searched her face. Yes, her eyes were brighter and the dark hollows surrounding them were almost gone. He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. She was warm and in the fading light he thought her ashen pallor was fading. Max glanced at the mistletoe.

  “I know, Max.” She peered deeply into his eyes
. “I know what is to come.”

  He held her tight. “I almost lost you,” he whispered.

  “I love you. You are my greatest gift,” she declared.

  He broke away for a moment. “And you, mine. I love you, Ellyn.” He bent down to kiss her again but she held him off. She turned her face to the moon.

  “The sun is gone and moonrise is almost complete. We’re too late,” she spoke in a weak, trembling whisper.

  He grabbed the mistletoe and gave it to her. “Hold this.” He scooped her up and hurried back to the inner circle.

  “Max, don’t do this. It is forbidden.”

  “I’ve been a fool. I would give anything for you to be well. Anything for us to be together.” He came into the inner circle.

  “You are fortunate, Grand Master,” the Ancestor said.

  Max halted and gave the Ancestor a questioning stare. He stood with Ellyn next to him.

  “You must return to the great oak before the full moonrise,” the Ancestor said, motioning to the moon.

  Max turned and watched the great shadow cover the orb. “Thank you. I am humbled.” He bowed his head.

  “You have the sacred mistletoe.” The Ancestor pointed to the sprig Ellyn held. “Guard it well. But know that the mistletoe did not heal you. Only the love of your soul mate could do that.”

  “Yes, I know.” Ellyn stood at Max’s side. She planted her great staff solidly in the ground between them. Max’s hand covered hers—it glowed.

  “Your mighty staff knows the truth. Its light will always lead you to each other, amongst other things, but—” the Ancestor said.

  She and Max looked first at her staff then at the Ancestors.

  “I have foreseen the future and I go willingly,” Ellyn said. “We will set the mistletoe at the door of our house and decorate the boughs—not only to keep us from harm as you have prescribed but, at this season in particular, to remind us of our love for each other.”

  The Ancestors nodded. “Well done. You are a worthy partner for the Grand Master, especially this Grand Master.”

  Max put his arm around her. “I will guard her well and love her more.”

  “It’s time you returned.” The Ancestors stepped back to the stones and spoke in one voice,

  “As above, so below,