Wilmurin: Land of the Druids

by H. J. Cronin

  ‘I will have order on my council! We will get back to the matter in hand about Count Darkool. Who would vote action?’ High King Jasper asked the council. Only King Bemnom raised his hand. ‘Who would vote no action?’ The High King asked again and the rest of them, even the northern clans, raised their hands. ‘Then that is that, no action is to be taken against the Vandalore Clan.’

  ‘I will send a diplomat. We cannot leave it to chance,’ King Bemnom said, obviously upset by the vote.

  ‘No, King Bemnom. No action against the Vandalore Clan, not even a diplomat. They are exiled to Blood Island and that is where they shall stay, unvisited and alone,’ High King Jasper said firmly.

  King Bemnom thumped his fists down onto the table causing it to rattle. ‘How can this be your decision? The world is in danger and our very lives and families as well. Count Darkool will want revenge and will seek to eliminate every single one of us,’ he said, full of rage; his voice echoed throughout the hall.

  ‘Enough, King Bemnom!’ High King Jasper stepped in quickly, intervening. ‘The council’s decision is final King Bemnom, to go against it will bring dire consequences upon your clan. Give it up now.’

  King Bemnom sucked in a deep breath and stormed out of the hall and back to his quarters, all he heard behind him was the cackle of the Black Widow.

  King Bemnom sat in one of the citadel’s many guest rooms, where Brehan had waited while his father had gone to the council. It was huge with an arched ceiling and a bed fit for a king. He sat there drinking mead, and explained to his son everything that had happened. He was not in the kindest of moods and it showed in the way he described how the Black Widow had humiliated him. He drank the strong mead glass after glass; years of drinking made it so it had no effect on him. King Bemnom knew what he had to do next. He had to go back and talk to the Eagle and then focus on keeping Johan safe; if Count Darkool had returned then Johan was the only one who could kill him.

  There was a deep thud at the door. Brehan answered it; standing at the door was one of the Black Widow’s servants. ‘The Black Widow requests your presence, King Bemnom, only you. I will lead the way,’ she said, bowing, and then turned to walk away.

  Bemnom walked with the servant through the torch lit corridors of the citadel. The wall was lined with portraits of kings from the past and pictures of the various clans of the world in their animal forms. She led him around a corner and on the left was a door. They knocked and then walked inside. This room was much larger than his and Bemnom knew it had once housed the queen of Wilmurin; trust the Black Widow to acquire it, he thought to himself. He wasn’t anxious as to why the Black Widow had requested his presence but he was extremely curious. She sat on a chair in the middle of the room with her daughter Katrina standing behind her, arms folded. She gestured to the empty seat in front of her and Bemnom sat.

  ‘Enough of formalities. Hello Bemnom, welcome to my room. I have some things to tell you,’ the Black Widow said. King Bemnom listened with curiosity. ‘What you say about Count Darkool is true, Bemnom, he has returned, and has an extremely large army at his command ready to invade,’ she said without any sign of emotion.

  ‘But how have you come by this? You must tell the council! We must let them know!’ Bemnom said with haste in his voice. ‘Why did you not say anything at the table?’

  ‘Because the council members cannot know yet, not until the dark count is ready.’

  ‘How do you know of him? You are on his side?’

  ‘We must all join the clan who will achieve ultimate victory,’ she said. King Bemnom just looked on with a face full of shock. He stood immediately but the Black Widow cut in, ‘I have not finished Bemnom. When were you planning on telling me and the rest of the council that the last Night Hunter has returned?’ she said, with a grin forming on her face.

  ‘How can you know of his return? Your men attempted to attack him but were all killed, how have you come to know of Johan’s return?’ He said, almost losing his words.

  ‘My men failed, but my spy informs me that he has made his way to the Eagle’s Tower. I have sent a detachment of armed men to retrieve him and kill all who are with him! They will ambush him at the Valley of Wolves,’ she said with an evil piercing smile.

  ‘Your spy? What … who? You have betrayed the druids! I will kill you where you stand!’ He said, infuriated, and made to attack the Black Widow when he felt a rough hand on his shoulder pulling him back down to his seat. He looked up and saw Brehan looking down at him; he was holding a short sword.

  ‘Father, forgive me, but I will now be King Brehan, the king of the Clan of the Bear,’ Brehan said, and before King Bemnom could do anything Brehan cut his throat, creating a waterfall of blood pouring from the wound. Knowing of his son’s betrayal and contemplating the death of his other children and Johan hurt him much more than the blade ever did; King Bemnom fell forward and died in a puddle of his own blood.

  Katrina looked on with a smile, and shock that Brehan had actually done it. Her mother laughed and clapped her hands while Brehan stood there staring at his father’s corpse.

  ‘Well done, King Brehan, our plan is now in full motion. Return to your home now and muster your army, with your siblings dead you will not have any competition. Your orders are to send your army to join with mine and then we will conquer the north and wipe out everything together,’ the Black Widow said, rejoicing.

  ‘Yes, mistress. I will do your bidding, I thank you for helping me to the throne,’ Brehan said, now smiling with an evil grin. ‘I will take on my father’s black bear form, the shape of the king! And together we shall rule the northern kingdom.’

  ‘Good, now go with haste, time is not to be wasted,’ the Black Widow said, pointing to the door.

  As the new King Brehan left another man walked in, King Tarfall, the black and white striped man from the Dark Tiger Clan; he stood by the dead Bemnom and looked down at him with a smile. The Black Widow looked up at him, ‘You like my handiwork?’ she said in a cold tone.

  ‘Very good, my lady, very good indeed. I take it the plan is in full swing,’ he replied, kicking the corpse as if to make sure he was dead.

  ‘Yes it is, your turn to act is soon, you will attack the Light Tiger Clan when I send word. Annex their kingdom and then attack the lions.’

  ‘And what of the Lizard Clan, mistress?’ He asked, looking into her eyes with a bloodthirsty lick of his lips.

  ‘They will stick to their jungle as they always do, Count Darkool will not be bothered by the scaly beings. We did well to persuade the council he had not returned,’ she said, playing with her hair.

  ‘Yes, very well indeed, King Bemnom almost had us. I take my leave my lady, my land is a long journey from here, and the south will be ours very soon.’ He nodded and left the Black Widow, with her daughter Katrina and her hand maidens, alone.

  The Black Widow turned to Katrina with hungry eyes. ‘With the help of the bears the north will fall. We shall then wipe them out as well as that pitiful Dark Tiger Clan. The world has room only for two clans, the Vandalore Clan and the Black Widow Clan!’ she said, when King Tarfall was well away from the room. She and Katrina cackled loudly, full of evil.

  ‘You are very clever indeed mother, your plan will succeed,’ Katrina said.

  ‘Of course it will. You will come with me to Vandaloria; I must meet Count Darkool as soon as possible. I need you to accompany me. You have been there before, now you will take me there, we leave tomorrow. As a reward for your service to me, my daughter, you can feed on Bemnom.’ The Black Widow left and Katrina took on her large black widow spider form and devoured the old king of the Clan of the Bear. The Black Widow walked away, hearing her daughter feeding, and she again smiled a smile of satisfaction. A new world was upon them, a world where she would be queen.

  6

  The Eagle’s Nest

  Johan rode upon Bry’s bear form and Ardag upon Garpaw’s wolf shape. They rode along the coast for many days; it did not take long fo
r Johan to see the Eagle’s Tower closing in on them. It was so high it looked as though it almost touched the sky; it was a long round tower with a large domed top. There were no walls surrounding it and no visible defences. It stood in between the mountain and the cliff edge, and surrounding it was a large area of grass, the only grass this side of the mountains.

  Johan worried constantly about the threat of being attacked again by the Black Widow’s daughter Felecia and her soldiers. He wondered why they had not pursued them all this way. If they wanted to they could have quite easily killed the companions. Maybe they couldn’t keep up with them. They all still mourned for Bethegar who was last seen on the ground, with Felecia in her black widow form approaching him; she didn’t look like one for taking prisoners.

  They came closer to the tower and now Johan could see that there was no visible entrance. They arrived and the two druids changed back into their human forms. The tower was a lot larger than it looked from the distance, and from where they were Johan couldn’t see the top. The stone was dark grey and the base was extremely large. Ardag approached the wall, placed his hand on it and started to mutter.

  Johan gave Bry a bewildered look and she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. Before he could say anything she spoke, ‘There is no door, the Eagle has enchanted the stone to open a doorway with the correct password, and only he and Ardag know it.’

  Johan nodded his acceptance; not much could surprise him now in this world. He had seen people turn into bears, giants, a huge castle, a city within a mountain and a tower that almost touched the sky. This world was truly magical and Johan just wanted to learn more about it. For some reason he had forgotten the majority of his previous life, even his name in that world. A loud creak broke his concentration and he saw the stone of the Eagle’s Tower begin to part into a door way. They all stepped into a lit room which could easily fit two dozen people in it, with a large spiral staircase which Johan assumed must lead to the top. Ardag closed the door behind them and they began to ascend.

  While walking, Ardag turned to Johan. ‘I almost forgot: welcome Johan, to my home. It is a rather long walk to the top but this tower is safe,’ he said, with a warm smile.

  ‘Rather long? It goes on for bloody miles!’ Bry said with a huff.

  ‘I have never been inside the great Eagle’s Tower, truly amazing it is,’ Garpaw said, gazing around.

  They all carried on walking for what seemed an extremely long time. Johan anticipated finally meeting the famous Eagle.

  At long last they reached the top; there was a small landing with an oval wooden door at the end. Ardag led the way and opened the door. They walked into a dome shaped large room, which looked a lot smaller from the outside. All over the place Johan marvelled at otherworldly instruments and apparatus. There was a loud clanging and banging noise from great machines that worked independently as if an invisible force moved them. Johan could make out a young lady working with one of the machines, she was petite, with olive skin and long brown hair; her eyes, he could make out, were a green kind of grey colour. The instant she saw Ardag she ran over to him and embraced him.

  ‘Ardag! It has been many, many years my love! I have missed you and waited for you.’

  ‘Klaret, not a day has gone by when I have not thought of you,’ Ardag said; holding her hands he turned to his companions and introduced the newcomer, ‘This is Klaret, my wife.’

  The others smiled showing their happiness at seeing the reunion.

  Klaret looked at Johan, ‘You must be the famous Johan,’ she said shaking his hand. ‘Ardag, your father is waiting for you. He is upstairs,’ she pointed to some narrow stairs leading to a separate room.

  Ardag kissed her and led his companions up the stairs. The stairs were brass but their footsteps could not be heard above the noise of the machinery. They went through a low arch and into another small dome shaped room with a patterned carpet floor. With his back to the four companions, a man stood at a table hunched over, with his hand over his chin. He turned around after sensing the presence of the newcomers. He was extremely elderly with a beard which came down to his chest and he wore a purple robe which obscured his hands and feet. He had lost the majority of his hair save a few strands. He noticed his son standing there and his frown grew into a wide smile.

  ‘Welcome home, my son,’ he said with an aged, crooked voice. He embraced his son and then looked at the others. ‘You are welcome here too, Bry daughter of King Bemnom, and Garpaw son of King Wufclore.’ He exchanged a few pleasantries with Ardag and then looked at Johan and clasped his hands together as if he was praying, ‘And you must be Johan, son of Haramithir, and the last of the Night Hunters, you I welcome most to my home. I am the Eagle’

  ‘Nice to meet you sir, I have heard much about you. Thanks to your son here I am in good health.’

  ‘Well, that is lovely Johan, you remind me of your father, always kind and honourable he was,’ he said, with a hint of sadness in his voice.

  ‘You knew my father? What was he like?’ Johan blurted out.

  ‘I will tell you in due course, child. I have a task for you, a dangerous one, one you may not survive.’ The Eagle let it sink in; Ardag looked over as if he knew this would come. The Eagle continued, ‘There is a special quest, but first I shall tell you of our world.’ He looked at Ardag and gestured to Bry and Garpaw, ‘Ardag, would you be so kind as to show our two friends to the guest refreshment room and offer them some of my home-made brew? Johan and I will share words with each other.’ Ardag nodded and led the two out of the room, leaving Johan standing with the Eagle.

  The Eagle offered Johan a seat and then offered him a glass of yellow and black, horrible looking liquid, which actually tasted quite nice; it was bitter but left a magical after taste. He had been in Wilmurin for over a month now. He had first been teleported into a dark wood with his friend, now known as Ardag, they had been attacked but then saved by Bethegar in his bear form, and his men. Then he had met the king of the Clan of the Bear, Bemnom and his beautiful daughter Bry, they had been ambushed by a large group of men and their black widow spider, Felecia. Bry, Ardag and Johan had managed to escape down a treacherous rocky valley and then into a beautiful city built within a mountain, and there he had met Garpaw and the four companions had left for the Eagle’s Tower. Now he sat in front of the Eagle feeling more comfortable than he ever had, and now he was going to get some sort of information.

  He had been sent here by King Bemnom because the Eagle had requested his presence; what could this man sitting in front of him want? He knew he wasn’t in any danger and this man was a friend. All he could do was wait for the man scrutinising him to start; he cleared his throat as if to cue the Eagle to speak.

  ‘Oh, sorry Johan, I was day dreaming. I’ll wager you have a ton of questions that need to be answered,’ the Eagle said, with his hands closed together.

  ‘Yes I do, but first thing, why am I forgetting my previous identity? Everything I once knew?’ he asked.

  ‘You were transported to a dream world which does not exist, and that world is fading from your memory. Within the next few days I suspect that it will be gone from your mind entirely.’

  Johan nodded and looked down at his feet, not knowing whether that was good news or bad news. ‘What happened to my family? The Night Hunters,’ he said, twiddling his thumbs.

  The Eagle sighed, knowing this would come. ‘Just over nineteen years ago the Vandalore Clan, which I trust you have heard of, invaded Wilmurin with their army of evil humans and vampires. They struck fast going straight for Sworcadia, your home,’ he paused and then carried on. ‘They broke through the defences within days and before any aid could come. The Night Hunters were wiped out; the Vandalore Clan killed everyone without mercy, apart from your father who managed to escape with you. He fled and arrived here with you as just a baby. He knew that there had to be a way his family could survive. The Night Hunters were responsible for killing the most powerful being this world has ever known, C
ount Darkool, some five hundred years ago, and for some reason at the time the Vandalore Clan waited out their revenge. The Vandalore Clan were eventually defeated by the druids of this world and beaten back to their island to live out their days in small pitiful numbers. But it was too late for the Night Hunters.’

  Johan fought back tears at the impact this tale had on him; he had known nothing of his family and now he knew. He was still confused and still looking down at his feet when he asked, ‘How did I end up in the other world? Without my father? What happened to him?’

  ‘Your father asked me to protect you; he died some years later through unknown causes. So using a powerful spell I transported you to a world in another plane of existence where you would be safe, and in your twentieth year in that world you were set to return so therefore you dying in that unreal world at that specific time was meant to happen. Only one of mage blood could go with you, which is why your father couldn’t. Although my son chose the life of a warrior he still has my blood so I sent him to look over you and protect you. From the looks of it he done a good job,’ the Eagle said, smiling at Johan, and he patted him on the shoulders, noticing a tear running down his cheek.

  ‘So why did you request my presence here?’ Johan asked. ‘Am I to stay here under your care? Has it got anything to do with the rumours of Count Darkool’s return?’

  The Eagle now stood up and walked over to his table in silence. He poured another glass of the ugly looking drink and downed it all in one go. For a brief moment he stood by the only window in the room and gazed out over the sea. Something was troubling him, Johan could see. But what could it be? Johan knew that the Eagle would request something from him, but what it was Johan could not know.

  The Eagle returned and sat back down in front of Johan. ‘I have another story to tell you, and then something to ask of you,’ he said and shifted uncomfortably.