Wilmurin: Land of the Druids

by H. J. Cronin

  ‘We must keep on walking, but I do admit it’s starting to make me feel uneasy,’ said Ian warily.

  They carried on walking. The forest seemed eerily subdued, when suddenly they heard a shot from the distance. John felt as though he had been hit in the chest, and reeled back a few steps. He looked down and saw a tiny stream of smoke coming from his chest, and then blood. He put his hand over the wound and felt the blood flowing on to his hand. He had been shot. He fell down holding the wound.

  Ian rushed over to his friend. ‘John, John, can you hear me?’ No response.

  ‘John, can you hear me?’

  There was nothing that Ian could do, John was dying and he knew it.

  ‘Men! Form a perimeter,’ he screamed.

  The men rushed over and surrounded them while Ian held John’s hand. John looked at his friend and spoke, ‘I … I … I feel so cold. Ian … Ian … Ian, thank you for all you have ever done for me.’

  ‘That’s okay my brother. Rest now. I promise that you will be well.’

  John looked up at his friend and managed a smile. Ian looked down at him and then out of nowhere a bullet hit him in the side of the head, exiting from the opposite side. He slumped down on John and they died together in that freezing forest in Belgium.

  Land of the Druids

  John awoke with a start, and looking up he could see the trees towering above him. The sky had turned dark; he saw the stars and moon lighting up the sky and the pine forest around them. How could this possibly be, thought to himself. I was shot in the chest. He felt himself die and saw the light at the end of a tunnel, he even saw his good friend Ian take a bullet in the head. He sat up and his head hurt; he felt nauseous. He looked around and saw Ian sitting on a rock staring at him. He still wore his military uniform but something seemed different about him. Their rifles were gone and there was no sign of their comrades or any snow just ordinary pine woodland.

  ‘Ian, what … what … what happened? Last thing I saw was you getting killed. Where are the men?’ John said still his head ringing.

  ‘Everything will be explained in due course. But now there are men approaching,’ Ian replied.

  Suddenly they were surrounded by twelve men in thick dark armour, all wielding spears and shields and each with a black widow spider painted on the front of their breasts. Helmets obscured their faces. They pointed their spear tips towards the two men in the centre.

  ‘Greetings friends,’ Ian started. ‘We mean no harm. These are the woods of the bear.’

  John looked on mystified by what was happening here. Did Ian know these men?

  ‘What’s going on? Who are they?’ John asked but was ignored.

  One of the mysterious men approached them; he carried a large sword and a kite shield with the same symbol as his comrades.

  ‘I am here for Johan, son of Haramithir. Move aside or I will kill you where you stand,’ the captain ordered.

  ‘I am John Bean. I do not know of any Johan or Haramithir.’

  ‘You lie! The Black Widow will see to you. Men, lock this boy up and take him away,’ the captain screamed. He then looked towards Ian.

  ‘Kill that one.’

  ‘Captain of the Black Widow, withdraw from this land now. The king will not be pleased,’ warned Ardag.

  The men did not heed the warning and they all approached the two men.

  ‘Johan must survive, but kill his companion!’ the captain bellowed as his men charged towards John and Ian.

  Out of nowhere, an arrow hit one of the captain’s men in the side of the head, killing him at once. Another hit the captain’s leg. There was a loud roar and a cheer from some incoming unknown men. The captain and his soldiers turned to confront the new threat. Forming a line of spears, they braced for the impact.

  A dark brown bear, twice the size of any known bear, leapt at the captain, ripping his head off with one single gruesome bite, crushing it in its ferocious jaws. More men charged on to the scene, each with a sword and shield bearing the image of a roaring bear. They fought a minor skirmish with the Black Widow’s men, but soon their overwhelming numbers gave them the upper hand and they despatched their enemies to the soil.

  More enemies appeared from the south of the party. There were thirty of them, forming ranks forthwith and charging towards the bear and the men. The bear gave a violent roar and its men charged. The two sides clashed to the sound of metal and wood, the cries of battle soon filled the air. John watched in horror as the bear took out four of the men with only one sweep of its huge paw, and pounced on another, ripping limbs from the body.

  John looked on in awe at this spectacle. He had been transported to another world. Where were the Germans? Where were the British? All he knew was that these men were apparently helping them and were friends. The Black Widow’s men were destroyed as quickly as the battle had started.

  The newcomers surrounded the two men but did not raise their weapons. One of them approached and held his hand out, ‘Welcome back, Ardag, son of the Eagle. It has been many years,’ he addressed Ian, which confused John even further.

  ‘Hail, captain of the guards of Bethegar, son of King Bemnom,’ Ian replied.

  ‘Ian, what the fuck is going on? Who the fuck is Ardag?’ John demanded.

  Ian turned to face his friend, ‘I cannot explain it all now. My name is not Ian, it is Ardag, and I am your protector,’ he spoke with a reassuring smile.

  The man who had approached them nodded and whispered to the bear. The bear came towards the two men, and John stepped back anxiously as this giant animal came closer. The bear stood up on its hind legs but instantly shrunk down to the size of a human, the hair receded into its skin and its nose narrowed into the shape of a human nose. The bear was no longer a bear but a man wearing a dark brown tunic he had shaggy brown hair and an equally shaggy beard which almost covered his face.

  ‘Welcome, Johan son of Haramithir to Wilmurin, the land of the druids. I am Bethegar from the Clan of the Bear. I have come to take you to the king, who will explain all to you, Johan. The road is dangerous. Come now!’ Bethegar repeated.

  ‘I will come with you, but first tell me what is going on? Who were those people? What are you? And why do you call me Johan?’ John pleaded.

  ‘Answers you shall receive once we reach the king. I am not permitted to speak of such matters, Johan,’ replied Bethegar. ‘All I can say is that the Black Widow wants you for reasons unknown. But it was vital that we reached you first. Now come!’

  Ardag nodded towards his friend, ‘All will be well, Johan. This I promise. All will be explained fully to you. I am so sorry for my deceit.’

  They walked for some miles. The land was similar to the world John had always known. They followed a path through the dark pine forest and eventually arrived on an open green plane. They passed through a large village in which people went about their daily business: selling goods at the market, children playing, women doing their domestic work while their husbands were absent working.

  The column halted in the centre of the village, and John could see Bethegar talking to one of the village elders. He could not make out what they were saying but the village elder seemed distraught. Some sort of agreement seemed to be made and Bethegar made his way down the line. He finally reached Ardag and John and explained the situation.

  ‘Sakrem, the village elder, says that a group of his men has been ambushed by some creatures. One of the men survived and is in that tent over there,’ he said, pointing towards a large tent on the left, ‘I must go and speak to him and I want you, Johan, to accompany me. Ardag will wait for you here.’

  ‘No! We stay together,’ John replied defiantly.

  ‘Johan, because of who you are you must see to this. I wish I could explain, but only the king can do so. Now come,’ Bethegar replied firmly. ‘You are safe here with me and my men, I give you my word.’

  ‘Go on Johan. I will be fine here.’ Ardag agreed.

  John and Bethegar walked into the tent and found
the man lying on a bed, soaked in his own blood; he was missing an arm and a hand from his remaining arm. His skin was pale and he looked up at the two men walking towards him.

  ‘Hello friend,’ Bethegar said gently, laying a hand down on the man’s shoulder. ‘I am Bethegar from the Clan of the Bear. What happened to you?’

  ‘We … we … we … they … they … they,’ the man said trying to catch his breath.

  ‘Calm down. I am here to help. Quietly tell me what happened to you.’

  ‘They … came at us, monsters from the abyss … there were many of them. Dead men and women who walked, vampires in armour. They kept on coming. We did not stand a chance.’

  ‘Where did this happen?’ Bethegar asked, while John looked on, bewildered by it all.

  ‘It … it happened about five miles from here, in the Dark Wood.’

  ‘Thank you, friend. You rest now. We will find answers to this. Come, Johan, we must rest for the night and then get to the king.’

  As Bethegar and John turned to go, the man called out to them, ‘My prince, one more thing, there was a man with them in red armour with long white hair. He said something … he said … he said that Count Darkool had returned and that I must return to spread the word. My prince, do you think that is possible?’

  Bethegar quickly turned around upon hearing this, but reassured the man, ‘No, my friend, the Count has not returned. He has been dead for five hundred years. The undead you saw must have been an illusion, because you were under a spell.’ And with that, they departed.

  ‘Bethegar, who is Count Darkool?’ asked John as they walked back to the column.

  ‘He was a vampire lord who founded the Vandalore Clan. He had vast legions of evil men and attacked all of the other clans. Many fell to his armies, defeat was almost certain for us. Your kin defeated him, Johan. Do not mention this to anybody. Dark times may be upon us,’ Bethegar said, placing a hand on John’s shoulder.

  They returned to the column and John went immediately to Ardag to demand some answers. ‘Ian, or Ardag, or whoever you call yourself. Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on? Am I dreaming?’

  ‘Oh, no, Johan, this is very real. King Bemnom will tell you all you need to know. Just know from me that I was sent by my father, the Eagle, to protect you in the other world.’

  ‘Even so, why does this King Bemnom have to tell me? Why can’t you?’

  ‘Because the king has the authority to tell you all you must know for now. I will not leave your side.’

  Ardag paused to let this sink in and he finally looked at his friend sympathetically.

  ‘Johan, we are among friends here. The Clan of the Bear are good people and they will protect you.’

  All John knew was that there was nothing that he could do. He was here and that was that, and he had no choice but to accept whatever was going to happen to him in this newly found, strange, but beautiful world. He still had a picture in his head of that fierce battle in the woods where the bear, or Bethegar, tore through those men. It was a scene that he would never forget. They rested in the village inn for the night but John found little sleep. He had too much to think about.

  They carried on walking throughout the next day until they reached a hill, and in the distance John saw an imposing fortress, surrounded by mountains on three of its four sides. It was a spectacular sight. A vast open space led to the fortress which was surrounded by the forest they had travelled through. From where he stood, he could make out the size of this fortress, which was vast beyond compare. A city of that size must have an equally huge population. It had great timber walls protecting it from any possible attacks and he could just about make out a keep on the top of a hill in the centre of the fortress.

  Bethegar turned around, approached John and announced, ‘This is Bemon, the home of the Clan of the Bear. It is my home. You will find it safe here. There are no enemies.’

  ‘I thank you for your help, Bethegar,’ John replied. ‘Will you take me straight to the king?’ he asked.

  ‘That is the first thing we will do, Johan,’ Bethegar replied.

  The party moved towards Bemon and John could only anticipate what they would encounter.

  2

  Bemon

  As they approached the great oak gate of Bemon, John looked on in awe. He felt completely intimidated by the sheer size of the fortress. He had never seen anything like this before, and nothing could have prepared him for this. The sentries on the gate had seen the approaching column and as the creaking gates opened, John slowly gazed into the city of Bemon. At first sight it didn't appear much different from any other city. People milled about doing their day-to-day business. Straw roofs covered stone hovels, with a single trail of smoke from a chimney giving evidence of families living within. Market places seemed to be booming with trade, while horses and carts transported both goods and people. However, John soon realised how truly magnificent this metropolis was.

  While they walked along the cobbled road towards the keep, thousands of citizens came to greet the column. It was clear that Bethegar was loved among his people. They cheered and offered him gifts and blessings. John wondered where he was and how it had come about that he was here. He still wore his military uniform, but that was all he had from his former life. John knew that he would soon get some much-needed answers.

  They came upon another gate, this time one made of stone. It was a quarter of the size of the main gate and swung inwards to reveal a great courtyard to the king's keep, which itself was surrounded by a stone wall. They continued along the main walkway and climbed the stairs to the entrance door of the keep, and on this door there were images of great bears. John remembered what he had witnessed in the forest with Bethegar and thought that these may be relatives of his.

  Bethegar, John and Ardag entered the keep and walked down a corridor towards another door which led to the Great Hall of the Bear. This huge room much resembled a Nordic scene, with two long oak tables parallel to each other, over twenty metres in length. This was clearly where the king held his banquets. Directly in front of the tables carpeted steps led to a platform, upon which was a huge man with a hide jacket and a crude crown of bronze, seated on an oak throne. A beard covered much of his face, much like Bethegar's, and his hair was neatly tied back, which made him look presentable.

  The king stood at their approach and greeted them, ‘Welcome back my son, Bethegar.’ They locked arms in greeting; the king looked at the two other men standing with his son.

  ‘You must be Johan, son of Haramithir. I am Bemnom, the king of this clan. Welcome to the land of Wilmurin.’ He looked at Ardag and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Welcome back home, Ardag, son of the Eagle.’

  ‘Greetings, King Bemnom. I think you and your men have me confused with somebody else. I am John Bean, from England. I have spent the last three years fighting the Germans …’

  King Bemnom smiled sympathetically and sat back down. ‘That is a false life you talk of Johan. This is a tale you will not take lightly.’ He motioned John and Ardag to follow him into a small room, to the right of the throne. They sat down and King Bemnom explained.

  ‘Nineteen years ago a family of vampires known as the Vandalore Clan invaded Wilmurin with an army. They hit their target, the Night Hunters, hard. The Night Hunters were a clan of vampire hunters – and your family. This was the clan who somehow stopped the most powerful being this world has ever known, Count Darkool. Nineteen years ago the Vandalores managed to wipe all but one of them out. You.’

  John looked stunned at this revelation and he did not believe it.

  King Bemnom continued, ‘You were just a baby, and a mage known as “the Eagle” rescued you. He sent you to a dream world, a land that does not exist. Ardag was sent with you to be your protector. You were set to return when you were ready to leave that world.’

  ‘But … But … But, that cannot be. What about my adopted family?’ John asked, barely able to utter the words.

  ‘They no l
onger exist, Johan. They will soon be but a memory to you,’ Ardag answered.

  ‘You see now, Johan. You are the last surviving member of the Night Hunters. You have come home. We will be your family and teach you the ways of our world,’ said the king.

  Ardag sighed and nodded at John. ‘It is true brother, you are really home.’

  John took a deep breath. It was a lot to take in, but it all made sense to him.

  ‘King Bemnom, I find it hard to believe you, but it makes sense now,’ John concluded. He continued, ‘Without wishing to offend you, what is your son? He was a bear when he rescued us from those men and then he transformed into a human.’

  King Bemnom laughed and explained, ‘Wilmurin is a vast land inhabited by creatures of all kinds, humans, monsters, good and bad. But it is dominated by the clans. Each clan has a family which leads it. We are the druids, shape shifters. My clan has the mark of the bear. There are many clans in this world and not all of them are good. The Panther Clan for example, is our closest ally, and King Persus is a good friend of mine.’

  ‘There were men who attacked us, and on their shields was a symbol of a black widow spider. Bethegar said that they were the Black Widow’s men. But why were they after me?’ asked John.

  ‘They are the Black Widow Clan, a clan of women served by an army of men willing to do their every bidding. After the Lion Clan, they are the largest. I do not know why they would attack you,’ King Bemnom said with a puzzled expression. ‘But we shall find the answer to that. Now go and rest. Change your clothes, find an inn, have some ale and reflect on the day’s events.’

  ‘One more question my lord,’ John carried on. ‘We stopped off in a village quite far from here. There was a man there whose party was attacked by something called the undead,’ King Bemnom looked on curiously. ‘He said that he was told that Count Darkool has returned … ’

  ‘Such things need not concern you, Johan. It is best you forget about this for now. Leave me now and rest,’ King Bemnom replied, nodding towards the door, thinking hard about what he had just heard. Could it be true? Had the Count really returned? He needed answers and so he called for Bethegar.