by Hall, Ian
“I sent for you because in these visions I saw battles like men have not witnessed before. Whole peoples fighting against the Roman hordes; men, women and children, dying by the clan. I saw many images of our clans being beaten and butchered; our captured warriors being led away to serve the Romans in foreign lands. I also beheld pictures of victory, of glory and honor, and the blood of the Roman invaders turning the rivers and lochs dark red.”
“I sent for you because I wanted to witness in the flesh the leader of our victorious clans.
You see, it is you Calach.
Every time the clans were defeated, they were led by another. Every time I saw triumph, you were the leader.”
“It is your destiny to lead the clans Calach, but I cannot tell you how it comes to pass, only that it must surely do so. You must find some way of leading the clans yourself. Only by doing this can we be assured victory.”
“I know of your dealings with Finlass and Mauchty.... Yes, do not be alarmed. I cannot be inside your mind and not know these things. Only now, when I can see into your mind can I see that you have already put these things into practice. You have all done well. The alliances which you have begun must be forged to an unbreakable degree. But there is still more to be done. You must continue the friendship with Finlass and Mauchty, for there are those who will try to break it. Your method of joining the clans together was a good one, but I tell you now, you need to do more than just join with the Meatae to make it work. The clans need you to be the leader, Calach. Without you at the fore, they will perish. Without you to lead them, the Norlands will fall.”
Calach tensed, sensing the import of Kheltine’s words.
“But you must harden yourself Calach. You must become the leader your people need. You must grow up very quickly.”
Calach attempted to break from the dhruid’s grasp, he slowly found he had strength in his arms, and brought his hands up to grab the dhruids arms, but did not have the strength to prize the old man’s arms apart.
“One thing before I bid you farewell. This is of the utmost import. When I die, the dhruids in this room and others besides will be in a political turmoil. They will all vie for supremacy to take my place as arch dhruid. They do not know what I have told you. They do not know of the certainty of my dreams. In the midst of their machinations of power, they would think nothing of murder to achieve their aims. If they had an inkling of your plan, they might perceive it as a threat to their total power.”
“THE DHRUIDS MUST BE KEPT IN THE DARK ABOUT THIS!”
Calach winced, the power and strength of the dhruid within his head was deafening.
“There are also some amongst the dhruidic order who cannot be trusted. I do not know which, but one thing for sure. Do not trust the next Arch-dhruid, or his companions. The next Arch-dhruid will be a traitor to his order. DO NOT TRUST HIM!”
He felt his eyes spin, as if he was going to faint, then Kheltine shook him hard.
“Calach! Listen to me! You must say nothing of this conversation to anyone. No one, including your friends and especially dhruids, must have any idea of what I have said to you. I will be watching over you from the kingdom beyond to ensure you do not betray me. When they ask you what happened, just tell them I said nothing, they will understand.”
“The word you will say is..... NOTHING!”
“I leave you now, I leave the future of the Norlands in your hands. But you must lead. It is your destiny!”
“Farewell...........”
~ ~ ~
Calach woke abruptly to a great deal of water being splashed on his face and shoulders. He realized quickly that he was lying on the floor in the middle of the dhruid’s room.
“What happened?” He stammered, wiping the liquid from his eyes. He sat up and looked round the room to see all the dhruids standing round Kheltine’s bed. Their robes hid the old dhruid completely from view.
“Say Nothing!” Kheltine’s voice reverberated inside Calach’s head. He winced in pain as the sound flooded his mind. He shook his head briefly to rid the discomfort and the sudden movement only enhanced the sickly feeling.
“What happened to me?” Calach repeated his question.
A quiet female voice whispered into his ear. “Son, you just walked over to Kheltine, knelt down beside him, an’ fainted.”
He turned to see a middle aged Votadin woman, holding a now empty jug, offering her hand to help him to get to his feet. “My name is Winnie.” she said, “I was sent for, to help you get to a bunk.” She put her hand under his armpit and with more strength than he expected, lifted him to his feet.
“Can’t you hear him?” said Calach quizzically, looking piercingly into Winnie’s eyes. “Can’t you hear him?”
“Say Nothing!” Kheltine’s booming tones again exploded inside his head. Tears came to his eyes as the pain became almost unbearable. He put both heels of his hands to his head in an effort to dull the pain and when his knees buckled, Winnie had to abandon her jug to support him.
“Hear who? You had a fair bump to the head, maybe you should have lain where you were!” she said, whispering in his ear. “Kheltine didn’t say one word son, the dhruids seen it all.”
“Get him out of here Winnie!” Snapped one of the dhruids behind Calach.
“Aye, just going!” Winnie snorted back. “We’d go quicker if someone would lend a hand!”
Her impudent remark fell on deaf ears. The dhruids were too busy fussing around Kheltine’s body and chanting.
“But Kheltine grabbed me by the head, I couldn’t get away!” Calach half shouted at her. His eyes were glazed and puzzled.
“Wheesht, lad.” Winnie said sharply, clamping a hand over Calach’s mouth. “We don’t want to upset the dhruids now do we?”
Winnie slowly eased the pressure of her hand, shaking her head as she did so. Calach took the hint that he was not to speak. “Listen lad, Kheltine’s corpse is still warm on his bed an’ the dhruids are preparing his journey to Kernos.” She smiled and guided him through the covered doorway into the bright sunlight.
Calach tried to pull himself free, turning to face the entrance to the hut which held the dhruid congregation. “You mean he’s........”
“As dead as last year’s harvest.” She replied. “He died just as you knelt down before him.”
“No!” He roared in Winnie’s face, twisting and turning in an effort to break from her grasp and re-enter the hut.
This time the impact of Kheltine’s words in his head was even louder. So loud that the actual words were lost in the pain, but Calach knew the message by this time. The intense cacophony in his head assaulted every sense; he saw bright lights, he smelt and tasted Kheltine’s deathly odor. He opened his mouth to scream, then just as the first breath passed his lips, he passed out. His weight was too much for Winnie to support and his body fell to the ground for the second time in as many moments.
“Och, lad. You like fainting don’t you!” Winnie said as she tried to gain leverage under his armpits. “Oh, I’ll never lift you on my own.” She looked about the gathered onlookers for at least one more able body. “Kat’lana!” she shouted, “Give me a hand!”
At the shouted order, a tall slender girl ran up to help the struggling woman. The difference in their heights made the carrying of the Caledon warrior difficult, but with a few tries, they soon had Calach mobile again, although his feet more dragged than walked as they carried him forward.
“Where to?” Kat’lana asked, as she looked from Calach’s face to the way ahead.
“The guest hut, he’s to sleep there.” Winnie hissed between breaths. “An’ the way he’s been passing out he’ll need a’ the sleep he can get.”
They struggled across the short distance to the hut.
“Who is he anyway?” Kat’lana asked, straining her muscles to keep her grip.
“He came in wi’ the dhruid from the north.” Winnie replied. “A’ that way to see Kheltine, an’ the old man dies before he can speak to the lad.�
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At last Winnie and Kat’lana reached the guest hut where they unceremoniously lay Calach on the hide covered bed.
“Right, he can sleep it off in here.” Winnie crossed back to the door.
Kat’lana was pulling his body up the bed.
“That’ll do him lass, thanks for the help.” Winnie said on her way out. “It looks like nobody else was going to!” The last loud remark was aimed more at the people outside the hut than Kat’lana.
Winnie held the door curtain open for Kat’lana.
“Aye, it’s no bother.” She replied, arranging some furs on top of the recumbent figure. With a last look at the visitor, she left.
“I’ll find out who he is.” Kat’lana muttered under her breath as she walked into the dispersing crowd.
“What was that?” Winnie sniped at her back. The old lady let the curtain fall closed behind Kat’lana.
“Nothing, Winnie. Nothing.” The warrior girl skipped off.
~ ~ ~
Calach opened his eyes slightly to see the younger woman’s retreating figure, her figure was accented by the tight drawing of her belt, and even the tunic and trews could not hide the curves beneath, outlined against the bright daylight outside. He did not hear the small discourse which took place just past the doorway, his mind was occupied by the implications of what Kheltine had told him, or hadn’t, as the case may be.
Wait till Finlass hears about this!
He pulled the furs closer around him.
“Say Nothing!” Again the sound of Kheltine’s voice, but this time without the venom and pain of before. On this occasion it was only a small insistence.
“Alright, alright.” He whispered slowly.
“What was that lad?” Winnie reached back and pulled the curtain open slightly.
“Nothing.” Calach yawned. “Nothing.”
With the sounds of Kheltine’s voice still echoing in his ears, the bump on his head beginning to manifest itself in a dull ache. As he drifted to sleep, he thought that he could feel the motion of the waves coming softly to his bed. He twisted his body and leant out past the bed. There was no food left in his stomach to be sick with, instead a green bile dripped to the floor. With a sigh, he slumped back onto the bed and fell quickly into a deep slumber.
~ ~ ~
The three robed figures walked slowly to guest hut where Calach still lay unconscious. One by one they filed inside.
“I can’t understand why Kheltine would want to speak to him.” The speech was croaky with age.
“Perhaps he saw something in the lad when he attended the gather?” Murmured another; this one much younger.
“Did you notice anything on the way here?” The older voice, obvious from his tone, was the most senior of the three.
“No,” Sewell said. “But then again, we travelled faster than the wind to get here in time. I’ve never made the journey quicker; I couldn’t have pushed either the lad or the horses any harder.”
“We can question him when he wakes, but I have the feeling that we’ll never know. He blacked out as soon as he knelt down.” The old man again. “All that way for nothing.”
“It may have been my fault.” Sewell said. “I think I may have pushed him too hard, he had a bad crossing. There would not have been much left in his stomach after it; he was really weak.”
“He must have been, to just faint like that.”
“It was not obvious how sickly he was, otherwise I would have travelled slower.”
“He would have missed Kheltine anyway.”
“We couldn’t have travelled any quicker. I am sure of that.”
There was a slight pause in the conversation.
“He’s been sleeping for most of a day and a whole night recovering from the ordeal!” Said the old man.
“He actually fainted twice. I asked Winnie, and she said that he fainted outside the hut whilst we were busy with Kheltine!” The younger man’s voice had a trace of humor in it.
“In that case, he has a lot to recover from.” Sewell again.
“Especially if he lost his stomach over the side!” The young man again.
“I thought that he was going to lose his insides too!” Sewell, obviously smiling.
“Not a natural sailor then, eh?”
“No, definitely not. Just wait till I tell him that that’s the only way home!” Sewell again.
“You could go by land.” said the young man.
“Aye but it is a long way.” Sewell’s voice was tainted with apprehension. “I don’t have the time to spare now. We must arrange a council of elders soon to decide upon Kheltine’s replacement.”
“Ah the council.”
“We must act quickly. There are others who will turn this to their advantage.” This was the voice of the older dhruid.
“Yes I agree with Sewell.”
“We are all in agreement.” Sewell said conclusively. “Calach must be returned to the Caledonii as quickly as possible. The sea voyage is our only option.”
“I have the feeling that very soon this land is going to be in so much turmoil that a mere boat trip will be mild by comparison.” The parting comment came from the first voice to speak.
“Come on,” said Sewell, “Let us get breakfast before we wake him.”
~ ~ ~
Calach opened his sleep-encrusted eyes and watched the three dhruids leave the guest hut. Not one of the three looked back.
He had been dozing from first light, thinking of the events of the last few days. It was difficult, almost every time he gave any consideration to Kheltine, the voice boomed into his head.
Only I can lead the clans.
How, by the very gods themselves, am I going to manage that? Even if we were to get our plan going, both Finlass and Mauchty are older, with much more experience than I have.
We’ll beat the Romans, but I have to lead.
Don’t trust the dhruids. We were already ahead of him there!
One of the dhruids, the one who would become the new Arch-dhruid is a traitor. A traitor to what? the order? Why would that concern him?
His distrust of dhruids was growing. Thinking of their machinations against him, he drifted off to sleep again.
Chapter 6.
Kat’lana.
Summer 74AD.
Fighting!
The noise of swordplay woke Calach with a start, and quickly orientating himself within the hut, he leapt out of the cot. With warriors instinct he grabbed his dirks, one in each hand, and dashed outside.
Lugh!
Abruptly, he came to a halt as dizziness overcame him and, with his hands flailing in front of him, tumbled to his knees. He tried several times to focus properly, but was rewarded with bright colors shimmering in front of his eyes. Keeping a firm hold on his dirks, he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. Cursing again, he sighed with irritation as the rubbing made the feeling worse. There was nothing to do but wait until the feeling abated.
Slowly Calach became aware that the noise of fighting had ceased and he could hear the murmur and shuffling of a crowd. He shook his head and closed his eyes tightly in an effort to overcome his disability more quickly. The brightness of the sun made his task more difficult. Eventually his vision cleared and he could take stock of the situation around him.
Embarrassment swept over him in waves.
Whatever the fighting had been, it was now over, and the crowd of onlookers had their attention firmly on him. He knelt on the ground, his dirks still clenched tightly in both hands. Although some were armed, none had drawn weapons and Calach was puzzled by the previous sounds of fighting. To make matters worse, everyone was smiling openly at him. He felt his face redden further.
The crowd parted and a tall leather-clad figure quickly pushed her way through, her sword and shield exerting a calm pressure to the clanspeople. Within a few steps she stood before him, panting and smiling, her sword waving at his face menacingly. Calach looked up from his kneeling position.
Where have I see
n her before?
Remembering the dirks, he tried surreptitiously to slip them into his belt unobserved, but she had seen his maneuver.
“Just let the knives go.” She said, her accent strange and lilting. She advanced towards him and placed the sword tip firmly and steadily under his chin, the tip forcing his head upwards. He looked at the warrior girl’s face, then at the crowd. Their smiling faces told him all he needed to know. He was the butt of their joke. If his face could have got any redder, it would have. “Let the knives go. Drop them!”
Swallowing carefully, Calach did as he was told. On his knees, his hands nearly touched the ground anyway, the dirks fell close by.
He looked slowly up the length of the blade to the girl.
Oh by Lugh, I’ve done it this time.
Another figure pushed through the crowd to stand by her side, his sword loose in his hand. A squat and bald man, much older than the girl. He also was out of breath.
“What’s this you’ve found Kat’lana?” he said, smiling and pointing at the kneeling Caledon.
Kat’lana.
“I don’t know Warunt!”
Calach was again struck by her accent; strange and light. “Looks like he wanted to join in our wee fight!”
“Aye, maybe you’re right!” Warunt said, his voice getting louder, the words more pronounced. Calach watched as the bald man began to play to the crowd. “But the lad’s only got two wee dirks!” He swaggered theatrically round the motionless figures of Kat’lana and Calach, flicking the discarded dirks out of reach with his drawn sword.
Calach felt dust against his hands as Warunt kicked the dirks farther away. The girl’s pose was steady, her sword fixed at his throat, the tip wedged at his adam’s apple. Not able to move, but now feeling in no danger, Calach awaited her next move.
