Wilmurin: Land of the Druids

by H. J. Cronin

  Johan raised his eyebrows in astonishment but then smiled. ‘Well, my friend, I am glad for it, and Garpaw, thank you for allowing us entry to your city,’

  ‘No need to thank me Johan, it is I who will eventually be thanking you,’ he said, confusing Johan slightly, and they carried on walking to the citadel without another word.

  They walked up the great stairs and for a brief moment Johan turned around and took in an amazing aerial view of the great city of Weydon. They entered the citadel which opened up into an extremely large hall with doorways leading to other rooms. The ceiling was decorated with pictures of wolves in fierce battle with an unknown foe. Garpaw made his way to his seat beside the throne, and flanking him on either side were his twin brothers, Felclore and Scarpaw. The three companions stood in front of the three brothers while Garpaw explained everything to them, and waited for them to speak.

  Felclore was first to rise and looked directly at Bry, ‘Welcome, Bry, from the Clan of the Bear. My younger brother has told me much. You may have some food and drink, but then you must leave,’ he said, in a more unfriendly tone than Garpaw had used. He looked much like his younger brother, but was a more stockily built and his sideburns were thicker; Scarpaw, his twin looked much the same.

  ‘Thank you Felclore, we shall do that and then take our leave.’

  Scarpaw stood and scrutinised Johan, ‘You are the son of Haramithir, I hear? Do you intend to bring back the Night Hunters and bring down the Vandalore Clan?’

  ‘I do not know what I must do yet. We are on our way to talk to the Eagle, and he has some words of wisdom for me, King Bemnom said.’ Johan said with a shaky voice, feeling all eyes gazing at him. Johan paused and looked back at Scarpaw and Felclore. Bry had told him not to mention anything of Count Darkool.

  ‘Full of wisdom, the Eagle is, he will guide you well. Go now and enjoy some food and drink, some mead, then be on your way, we do not want to make hostilities with the Black Widow.’

  ‘They attacked us!’ Bry interrupted, ‘that is a declaration of war upon the Clan of the Bear, and as a clan of the north you should come to our aid.’

  ‘This is not our fight, little bear,’ Scarpaw said, quite irritated. ‘We have offered you hospitality and that is as far as our kindness goes. Leave us now and go into the city, find somewhere to eat. Regards, old friend,’ he finished dismissively.

  They sat in one of the many rocky inns in the city, sipping at their mead, which was very similar to the one that Ardag and Johan had shared in Bemon. None of them had said a word since the encounter with the three wolf brothers; they had eaten their first proper warm meal for a week and were given enough supplies to help them on their week long walk to the Eagle’s Tower. The previous day’s flight from the Black Widow’s men, and carrying both Johan and Ardag had exhausted Bry, making her too tired to carry both men, so they had to walk.

  ‘Now what do we do?’ Johan asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  ‘Soon we will make our way to my father,’ Ardag replied, and then looked at Bry who looked defeated, ‘what more could you expect from the Clan of the Wolf? They have given us food and supplies that will be sufficient for the coming journey.’

  ‘I was hoping that at least they would provide some men to escort us. If Felecia has indeed followed us the three of us couldn’t do much against all of them, we would be slaughtered. I have failed my father.’ Bry said, looking down at her drink.

  ‘Bry, you have done all that you can,’ Johan said, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘We will go to the Eagle and then we will know what to do. Bethegar will be avenged. Come, let’s go now and with haste,’ he said, helping her up. Ardag gave him a nod of approval.

  The trio left Weydon and made their way down the unforgiving slope, back to the rocky ground. They reached the bottom and carried on walking in silence. They suddenly heard a shout from behind and instantly spun around with their weapons in hand. It was not an enemy that approached them, but Garpaw, running after them waving his hands and shouting for them to wait.

  He reached them, panting, with his hands on his hips, and looked up at the three companions staring at him. ‘I apologise for my brothers, and I could not find you in any of the city’s inns,’ he said, still gasping for breath. ‘I have agreed with my brothers to join the three of you. I think you could use an extra hand. And if I were to transform into a wolf then we could reach the Eagle’s Tower in just a few days.’

  Before stubborn Bry could say anything Johan cut in, ‘You are very welcome to join us Garpaw, and you have our gratitude, doesn’t he?’ He said, aiming the question at Bry, who in turn shrugged and nodded.

  ‘Many thanks Johan. Now we must leave as soon as possible,’ Garpaw said, and took on his transformation as a huge grey wolf; much like the bears, fur started to grow from his skin and his face narrowed, and then he waited there on all four paws, bowing his head down signalling to Ardag or Johan to mount him.

  Ardag mounted Garpaw, and after Bry took her shape as the light brown bear, Johan climbed on her back. The four companions quickly set off on their way to the Eagle’s Tower, moving much faster than on foot, and would reach their destination sooner than they would have done if they had walked. Johan anticipated again what would be in store for them in the very near future.

  5

  The Council of the Druids

  King Bemnom and his eldest son Brehan walked the paved road approaching the grand city of Flordonium. The city was surrounded by a vast, flat, open green space with a single road leading to it. The city was six times the size of Bemon, King Bemnom’s home, and had a population of one million. Even though he had been here before, Bemnom had always marvelled at the great capital city, which was built on three different levels, each surrounded by a huge stone wall. Each outer level was larger than the last, and in the centre stood the citadel where the High King lived and where all of the druid kings would stay when they visited.

  High King Jasper was a very secretive man; he had no heirs to his throne, not even a wife. He was always extremely presentable with his smart trimmed hair and small frame; he almost always wore rich-looking robes to impress his subjects.

  King Bemnom and Brehan approached the large iron gate to the city, which was its only entrance, and were immediately granted entry as they were known to the guards. Only King Bemnom, Brehan and a small handful of guards had left Bemon. The meeting was to take place on the morning of the next day, so they had the rest of the evening to relax and recuperate. Inside the city they were immediately welcomed by a throng of beggars and poor folk who populated the first level. Women holding children begged for a little food or some gold. Crooks tried to sell their stolen wares and they even witnessed a few pickpockets at work. Truly this was the poorer sector of Flordonium. Passing through the main forum was as if battling through a thick marsh, moving people aside was a great task, for every one person you moved another took their place.

  They eventually made it to the gate of the second level; this one not as big as the first. They entered what seemed a totally different world from the one they had just witnessed. This was where the middle and upper class lived. Beautiful stone houses furnished with expensive items, shops selling expensive wares, even wine bars instead of the lower class inns and taverns found on the lower level. There were not as many people wandering about the streets on this level so they found their way to the third and final level easily.

  The last floor was the floor of kings. Great marble slabs were laid over the entire surface leading up to the citadel. This area, as well as the others, was well guarded; the High King boasted the largest army in the entire realm. They made their way to the citadel gates; the two druids looked like a couple of ruffians among the well-dressed nobles of Flordonium, with their shaggy beards and hair which had been tied back, and of course their crude leather armour and large fur coats. Flordonium was populated purely by humans. King Jasper was a fair man who was not a druid, but he welcomed them as allies and treated them all equally.
The council was a place of peace, he insisted; if there was any trouble the clan responsible would be told to leave Flordonium.

  King Bemnom and Brehan approached the citadel, and the guards in their beautifully kept white armour granted them entry. The inside of the citadel was purely beautiful; King Jasper had put his own little touch on it, making it a place suitable for kings. They walked through a corridor and entered the main hall, where dead centre stood a large round table with nine seats, one for each of the eight clans and the High King’s seat, which was slightly larger than the others. The Vandalore Clan were expelled from the council.

  Straight on from the table was the Grand Throne of Wilmurin, made of gold and diamonds; it was extremely suited to its owner who sat in it with legs crossed and arms folded. He was quite an elderly man with a gold and diamond crown on his head. He had a thin frame which was hidden under his opulent robes. His face was neat and the only facial hair was his small moustache.

  King Bemnom and Brehan approached the king and bowed, ‘High King of Wilmurin, we have come here to your council. Greetings from the Clan of the Bear,’ Bemnom said with his husky, powerful voice.

  ‘Welcome to you, King Bemnom from the Clan of the Bear, and Brehan his eldest son,’ the king started with his high-pitched, broken voice. ‘All of the others are here, we shall begin immediately with this news you have brought to Flordonium.’ He gestured to the council table and the two druids sat and waited for the others to arrive and be seated.

  The council table was fully occupied by Wilmurin’s druid clan kings and the High King, except for one seat, the Black Widow’s seat. Their companions had left the Great Hall to leave the business to the kings. They all sat in silence waiting for the High King, who was sitting there quietly waiting for the latecomer to arrive, to begin.

  Suddenly the main entrance gates opened with a large creak and in walked the Black Widow, flanked by her daughter Katrina. The Black Widow was the most beautiful woman in all of Wilmurin. Unlike her daughters’ dark hair, her hair was red and her lipstick black, her skin still pale and she had piercing red eyes; her breasts were very full under her revealing dark red corset, which was much different from her daughters’ black ones. She was wearing long, dark leather trousers with dark black boots.

  ‘Sorry I am late, council, I had matters to attend to. I trust you have not been waiting long,’ she said in her gentle but cold voice. She paused just before the table and looked over her shoulder at Katrina, ‘I do not require you any more my daughter. Go and tend to that business we spoke about.’ Katrina did exactly what her mother instructed and left the Great Hall.

  ‘It is nice of you to join us, Black Widow,’ High King Jasper said with a frown.

  ‘Apologies High King, shall we start?’ She said, sitting down full of confidence.

  The council members looked around at each other; many of them had not seen each other since the last war, and this kind of council was extremely rare. King Bemnom played with his thumbs, scrutinising each of the other council members.

  High King Jasper finally stood up and started the discussion, ‘Welcome, druids of Wilmurin, to Flordonium for this meeting called by King Bemnom. As with tradition, everybody stand and individually introduce yourself to the council.’

  Bemnom was the first to rise, the chair creaked as he stood, pushing it back. He ran his hand over his tied-back hair and exhaled; looking around the council, in his tough, deep voice he said clearly, ‘Greetings, I am King Bemnom from the Clan of the Bear.’

  The Black Widow immediately stood and gazed at King Bemnom, ‘I am the Black Widow from the Black Widow Clan. Greetings to my fellow beings of this world.’

  ‘King Wufclore, from the Clan of the Wolf,’ said an elderly man with short grey hair and grey sideburns which almost reached his mouth. He wore a dark brown tunic and upon his head was a crown in the shape of a wolf’s head.

  ‘I am King Persus from the Panther Clan,’ said the darkest man in the room; his skin was almost as dark as night and he wore an extremely costly looking robe.

  Another man stood up, whose skin was made up of vertical black and white stripes. He wore a dark kimono with a black and white tiger’s head on its back. ‘King Tarfall of the Dark Tiger Clan,’ he said with a harsh tone.

  ‘King Lionel from the Clan of the Lion,’ said a tall man with fair skin and bright blond hair.

  ‘King Zethorn from the Lizard Clan,’ said a man with a bald head and a face full of green tattoos.

  ‘And lastly it is I, King Farling of the Light Tiger Clan,’ remarked a man with dark skin and an orange and black tiger patterned coat. He looked at King Tarfall of the Dark Tiger Clan with utter contempt.

  All council members stood gazing at each other. Each clan had its own enemies and allies; although there had not been a clan war for nineteen years there was still a lot of mistrust and dislike between some of them, for example the two tiger clans. After being instructed by High King Jasper the council members took their seats.

  ‘King Bemnom, the floor is yours. Explain now why you have summoned the eight druid kings of Wilmurin,’ High King Jasper announced.

  ‘Thank you, High King,’ King Bemnom started and he continued, ‘I have come across news from one of my local villages. There are rumours from my land that Count Darkool has returned.’ The room now filled with gasps and whispers. ‘If this is true we must unite again and strike the Vandalore Clan before it is too late.’

  They turned as they heard the Black Widow laughing. ‘And you trust the words of a peasant? Count Darkool has been dead for five hundred years!’ she said, trying to contain her laughter. ‘You would bring war to this land again, King Bemnom, the blood of thousands spilt on the word of a peasant.’

  Bemnom shot her a sharp look and then turned his attention back to the rest of the clan kings, ‘I also have reports of undead soldiers attacking innocent villagers. Tell me Black Widow, if the Vandalore Clan has brought him back then do you not think that this world is in grave danger?’ he said, pointing at her.

  King Bemnom was furious, there was evidence that the world he loved was in danger of being destroyed if the clans did not unite under one banner. The Black Widow was not convinced and the other council members looked at him, some with sympathy and some with annoyance. Was she hiding something? Was she just naive? What he did know was that he had to persuade them.

  ‘That is probably a local necromancer trying to get some booty. The dark count has not returned. The Vandalore Clan are too weak anyway, they could not possibly raise an army to attack the mainland. You jump at shadows King Bemnom,’ the Black Widow said waving her hand dismissively.

  ‘You are convinced he has not returned? How can you be so sure?’ he said to her, and then looked to the other council members, ‘Druids of Wilmurin, the days will get darker, we must muster our forces and invade Blood Island.’

  ‘Nonsense! I did not come all the way to Flordonium to hear tales of returning vampires and walking dead,’ King Tarfall said with a bitter tone.

  ‘Do not talk to others on our council in such a way, tiger of the darkness,’ his rival, King Farling said, and then he turned to Bemnom. ‘I do not believe the count has returned, my old friend.’

  King Bemnom noticed the Black Widow’s smirk. King Zethorn of the Lizard Clan stood and with a hissy voice stated his opinion, ‘You have wasted my time King Bemnom. The dark count was destroyed five hundred years ago. Have you considered the possibility that you have gone insane?’

  King Lionel stood as well. ‘If Count Darkool was returned we would have known it by now. I will not waste words and men on a few tales from a northern peasant. The south is safe for now,’ he said with his straightened back and clipped tone.

  The Black Widow just laughed and watched.

  King Persus of the Panther Clan rose up and placed his hands on the table. ‘Fellow kings, this is not news we should be ignoring. We must investigate the Vandalore Clan. Sending soldiers in could ruin long built good relationships
between clans.’

  ‘You wrongly trust the words of King Bemnom. I will not allow the use of northern troops to start another bloody conflict,’ the Black Widow interrupted.

  ‘Was it not your men who attacked my son in the Dark Wood, Black Widow?’ King Bemnom said at once, pointing a finger at her.

  The Black Widow wore an innocent expression on her face as the rest of the council looked at her. ‘Another lie from the bear, do you have proof with you? Without proof you cannot accuse.’

  ‘The Black Widow is right,’ High King Jasper intervened. ‘Unless there is viable proof to lay on this table then the claims of King Bemnom will not be followed up.’

  ‘Thank you, High King,’ the Black Widow said, and smiled at King Bemnom. ‘You have secrets you keep from the council, King Bemnom, I advise you not to provoke me.’

  King Bemnom growled at her but King Wufclore quickly stood to avoid any escalation. ‘There will not be another war with the clans. We must avoid any hostile actions on this council.’ The rest of the council members nodded and sat back.

  ‘I will send a diplomat to Vandaloria to speak to the counts and find out what is going on,’ King Bemnom said.

  ‘A diplomat is a safer way of finding out the information, King Bemnom,’ King Lionel said. ‘It will avoid much unneeded bloodshed.’

  The Black Widow looked on, quite agitated at the fact that King Bemnom had given in so quickly. ‘Do not believe him, he will send in troops I guarantee it, do not trust his words,’ she quickly said.

  ‘Perhaps it is your words we do not trust, Black Widow,’ King Persus said, pointing his long dark finger at her.

  She quickly looked to the other council members with a sympathetic face. ‘You see! The northern clans will join together and bring our world to ruin. Maybe they are the problem.’

  ‘Shut up, whore of the west!’ King Bemnom said, now feeling angered by the lying tongue of the Black Widow.