Wilmurin: Land of the Druids

by H. J. Cronin

‘Go on,’ Johan said, running his hand over his short bristly hair.

  ‘Seven hundred years ago there was a race known as the elves. They had pale green skin with pointed ears, they were taller than the average human and their numbers were vast. They had powerful armies and dominated the human race. The human leaders were made up of druids, who worshipped the earth and all living things, and a god named Drugar. There were nine families, each with their own animal mark, they were: the Bears, the Black Widows, Wolves, Black Panthers, Lizards, Fist of Vandalore, Dark Tigers, Light Tigers and the Lions. Eventually the druids, led by Darkool, would stand up to their masters, thus starting the first Great War of Wilmurin between the humans and the elves. Hundreds of thousands died—’

  ‘What happened,’ Johan interrupted without thinking and with anticipation.

  The Eagle smiled and carried on, ‘The war lasted for one hundred years and ultimately the humans destroyed their elvish overseers. As a reward for their service to humanity the god of the druids, Drugar, granted each family the ability to transform into their family’s animal, to become shape shifters. These new druid clans now became the new lords of the land, each following a pact never to go to war with each other. The High Kings of Wilmurin would be granted the largest army in the land to oversee the clans; the current one is High King Jasper. But one of the clans did not want the power of transformation, they wanted immortality for their service during the war, so Drugar granted their king, Darkool, what he wished for and cursed his line with the curse of the vampire, eternal life in the dark and a thirst for blood. The Counts of Vandalore had arrived. For one hundred years Count Darkool outlived the other clans’ kings along with his dark council. Soon he prepared them for war and they invaded Wilmurin. An army of evil invaded, but the unity of the clans and the High King at the time soon fought them off, and a small clan of humans known as the Night Hunters, who are said to be descendants of Drugar himself, managed to stop Count Darkool. The war ended swiftly. Count Darkool was the most powerful and cruel being this world has ever known, but numbers had the advantage over his evil human and vampire horde and they were banished back to their island. This leads to nineteen years ago, with the Vandalore Clan seeking out revenge against your family.’

  ‘What happened to Count Darkool? There are rumours he is back,’ Johan said with a worried expression.

  ‘I am sad to say that Count Darkool has indeed returned. I am a druid mage, I have the ability to transform into an eagle and travel the world looking out for danger. The other birds have whispered of the count’s return and it would be wise to believe them.’

  ‘But how is this possible?’ Johan asked. ‘If my kin destroyed him then how can he return?’

  ‘No, Johan, he was not destroyed. His corpse was never found. His flesh was killed but his bones still remained. They were found by some unknown beings and a great necromancer must have reanimated the corpse and brought him back. That is the only logical answer. He will be preparing an army to invade Wilmurin again and the druids are not ready, they are too divided. King Bemnom travels to Flordonium to warn the council but I fear he cannot persuade them. There is a task I must ask from you as the last remaining Night Hunter.’

  ‘I will do anything, Eagle,’ Johan answered without hesitation.

  ‘Count Darkool cannot be allowed to return. Drugar created three scrolls, each scroll contains part of a spell with the power to destroy the count forever.’

  ‘Where can I find these scrolls? How will I know what they look like?’

  ‘They are the same as any usually scroll. You will know them when you see them. Where they all are I do not know. What I do know is that one is kept guarded in your old home, Sworcadia. It is guarded by stone golems, formidable enemies who will not allow anyone into the old ruined castle without a fight. I have heard of a special scroll being traded in the thief town of Bruskany. It is just south of this tower beyond the mountains. The third, I do not know. You can start your search in Bruskany, and my son will accompany you. I can fly you over the mountains but just as far as that, I am too old for long journeys. I fear my days here are numbered,’ he said with a sad expression. He looked up and smiled at Johan, ‘I am six hundred years old after all. Anyway, rest and recuperate, we have beds. You leave next week, and there is a long, dangerous road ahead of you Johan, son of Haramithir, last of the Night Hunters.’

  That night Johan had an uneasy sleep. Thoughts of what the Eagle had told him haunted him, there was a great task ahead of him and he may not live through it. He had not spoken to his companions in the evening; he just trotted off to bed quietly. The smell of a tasty cooked breakfast and the sound of a loud tweeting bird woke him up the next morning. He put on his clothes, just a plain shirt and trousers, and wandered into the kitchen. At the table everybody sat; there was a place next to Bry so Johan sat next to her, and she smiled and winked at him. In front of him was a plate with lovely cooked bacon, sausages and eggs. A lovely treat aside from the usual porridge they had eaten for breakfast since leaving Bemon.

  After they had all finished their breakfast, Johan and the Eagle began discussing with everyone their conversation from the previous day. Everybody listened silently as they heard the tale of the return of Count Darkool. Bry gently placed her hand over Johan’s for comfort after hearing about his quest.

  When they had finished their explanation Bry stood up with her hand on Johan’s shoulder and said, ‘Right, I trust my father will persuade everybody the count is back so I am wasted in Bemon. Johan and Ardag, I shall accompany you to wherever this road leads you.’

  Johan nodded his approval and the Eagle smiled. Klaret clasped Ardag’s hand as if not to let him go; who could blame her, he had been gone for the past near twenty years, now he was to leave again.

  It was Garpaw’s turn to stand up gazing at Johan, ‘Although I have just met you Johan, your task affects us all. Besides, I feel you could use an extra wolf in your arsenal should we encounter danger. I will join the three of you on this quest.’ He clasped hands with Johan and they both nodded at each other.

  ‘It is so then, the four of you will travel the world and locate the three scrolls to put a stop to Count Darkool. I just hope he does not know of these scrolls, otherwise your search will be in vain. Next week you shall all leave, I will take you over the mountains but only as far as that, I am too old to go the full distance.’

  The following week the four companions stood outside the Eagle’s Tower with the Eagle and Ardag’s wife, Klaret. The previous day had been used to plan and rest. They were to land just south of the mountains and make their way to the den of thieves also known as Bruskany, which would be a one and a half week walk. Upon arrival at Bruskany they would have to find out what had happened to the scroll.

  They had gathered enough provisions for the journey to Bruskany at least. Johan felt at ease having these three with him; one was a ferocious bear, one was just as ferocious but a wolf and another was a master swordsman. Even Johan had quickly learned how to use a sword in his short time here, so he had faith that they would see it through.

  Johan watched as Ardag and Klaret had an extremely tearful goodbye. His father the Eagle had assured Ardag that she would be safe with him. Klaret had also told Ardag the previous night that she was pregnant with his child, which made it all the harder for him to leave. But he knew his duty and couldn’t let Johan go without him.

  After Ardag had said his farewell to his wife the companions were ready to leave. The Eagle started to transform into his alternate body; his arms expanded into enormous beautiful white wings, his nose and mouth narrowed into a long hooked beak, his body took the shape of a giant eagle with a wing span of at least thirty feet. Upon its head was a black diamond; the Eagle gave voice to a loud screech that echoed. It lowered its head, indicating that the four companions should get on top; they grasped where they could and at once the Eagle took off and flew them away.

  They flew over the large snow-capped mountain range which seemed to st
retch for miles; they covered most of northern Wilmurin. This always served as beneficial to the Eagle and of course the Clan of the Wolf. Cold air blew in their faces making it quite an uncomfortable, cold journey. Once they passed over the mountains they flew over a beautiful green landscape, the aerial view really showed Johan the true beauty of Wilmurin. This was as far as the Eagle would take them. They came to rest down on a road in the open with the mountains still looming behind them.

  With a loud screech, which seemed to be encouragement, the Eagle allowed the companions to dismount, and kicking up dust again took off back home, leaving the companions to their task, ‘Right, well that’s that, now what do we do?’ Johan said picking up his equipment pack.

  ‘We head west to Bruskany immediately. It is a nine day trek, we must move with haste. Heed my warning, Bruskany is a den of scum, people will try and deceive or even kill you. Be vigilant,’ Ardag replied, looking at his companions as his father flew away.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be a lot quicker for Bry and me to take on our animal forms?’ Garpaw asked.

  ‘We need to be at full strength when we arrive at Bruskany, Garpaw. Taking on our forms and riding all the way there will exhaust us both. If we meet confrontation at Bruskany we will need our strength, they will not care for the fact that we are druids,’ Bry said, answering Garpaw’s question, and he nodded his agreement.

  ‘If we get started now we can reach the town quickly,’ Johan said, pointing towards the west. He then looked around nervously, ‘Are we likely to encounter any trouble on our road?’

  ‘There are dangers along any road in Wilmurin, just be vigilant Johan,’ Ardag said reassuringly.

  ‘There is a part of me that feels that I wish this quest was not bestowed upon me. I do not feel I am strong enough,’ said Johan quietly, so that only Ardag heard.

  ‘That is a feeling that would be shared by this entire world. All you have to remember is that there are hidden strengths inside you that you will find. You will have the power to possibly change the course of history. Everyone will know your name and write songs about you. It is a burden that you need not carry on your own, for you have friends who stand by your side,’ Ardag said to Johan, and placed his hand on his shoulder and smiled. ‘You are a chosen one Johan. You shall bring light to the world when all lights are gone.’

  Johan looked up at his friend, sighed and then nodded.

  So the four companions set off to Bruskany, they walked as far as they could until nightfall and then rested. The terrain was flat for much of the first half of their journey which made walking easy; they set down only twice in the day to enjoy some dried mutton and to drink from their canteens.

  On the fifth day they came across an old set of ruins on a hill. They were large rocks set in a circle and within, more rocks formed another circle.

  They approached the ruins cautiously, ‘What are they?’ Johan asked as they climbed the hill and walked into the peculiar ring.

  ‘The elves used to worship and sacrifice their victims in these places, the ground often flowed with blood,’ Ardag said, looking down at the blood-stained stone ground. ‘I feel uneasy in this place,’ he added, placing a hand on the hilt of his katana.

  Johan did likewise, uncomfortable as the air around them started to feel cold. Garpaw and Bry were also visibly getting anxious.

  ‘They say these ruins are protected by elvarks, worshippers of the elf kind,’ Garpaw said. ‘It is said that they hate the druids for wiping their masters out. Be aware friends, I smell something approaching,’ he said, crouching low.

  The air seemed close, and Bry, who felt nervous, looked at Garpaw, ‘Enough of your stories, wolf, you bring shivers to my spine. There are no such things as elvarks—’ a low murmur from behind stopped her cold.

  They instantly spun around and behind them approached a dozen figures in dark hooded cloaks. They were murmuring in a long lost language, and upon their faces were masks made of bone. They surrounded the companions armed with tiny daggers; they spoke a language that none of them could understand.

  Ardag stepped forward and looked at their leader who wore a white robe, ‘We will leave your grove at once, friend,’ he said, lifting his hand from his blade. Garpaw growled but Ardag shot him a warning look.

  ‘You are druids,’ the white robbed individual said with a horrible hissing voice. ‘Druids stain the floor of my grove with their blood. The gods have brought you to us and you will follow the fate of your predecessors. There is no escape from the elvarks.’

  With that an elvark in black, next to the white robed one, pounced at Ardag with his dagger pointing towards his throat; little did the elvark know was that the great swordsman was decisively faster than him. Ardag instantly withdrew his katana and spun around in a circle, slicing the stomach of the unfortunate elvark, spewing his guts onto the floor. The elvark leader shouted a command in his language and his men attacked.

  Bry and Garpaw instantly took on their animal forms and pounced at the nearest enemy. Bry, now as a light brown bear, landed on two of them and bit both of their heads off, another ran at her and she easily swiped him away with a single stroke of her strong paw. Garpaw, in his wolf form, clawed and bit at anything that came close, tearing one of the cult members limb from limb. He saw one approach Bry and pounced on him, biting his throat out. He looked up with a bloody smiley mouth and howled.

  One man tried to flee but Bry saw his folly. She snarled and ran after the man. The much larger than average bear pounced onto the man, pinning him down, she roared and with one strong swoop of her mighty paw she broke the man’s neck. Two more came running at her with their pathetic daggers drawn; these elvarks were no match for the druids. She attacked them and quickly overwhelmed them.

  Johan managed to parry an attack from one of the elvarks and sliced his dagger hand off. The elvark screamed in agony, gripping his handless wrist, gazing in horror at the blood spurting from the stump. Without a moment to think Johan looked for another enemy and duelled briefly with one, before sticking his sword into the elvark’s ribcage sending the man to the floor. He fought to release his blade as it was jammed in place, so he placed a foot on the man and yanked it free, then stabbed him again in the stomach.

  Johan gazed up, with fatigue setting in quickly he watched as Ardag made easy work of the three remaining cult members, slicing and cutting them with his sharp curved katana. The leader in the white robe called out for more men as the companions approached him. From all angles there was a rush from the elvarks, there must have been twenty of them at least. The companions, already tired, charged into the new mass of enemies. Johan managed to decapitate one and then immediately stabbed another in the neck; the protruding sword struck another. He withdrew it and pierced another in the back.

  Ardag carried on with his calm approach. He easily disposed of four of the dagger wielding fanatics with cuts, slashes and decapitations. The katana could slice through flesh and bone as it would a water melon. He spotted the leader making a run for it and ran after him. The white robed elvark tripped and fell and Ardag was upon him instantly. Without a word Ardag brought his blade down and rested it upon his throat. The white robed man laughed a horrid and cold laugh as if to mock Ardag. Without a second thought he sliced the man’s throat, releasing a gush of blood into the air and staining his beautiful white robe red.

  Ardag turned to his companions who had just caught up with him, ‘We must get to Bruskany with great haste. There will be more of these fiends coming very shortly,’ he said looking around.

  After the brief battle of the grove the companions made their way back to the main road. They hadn’t rested in case the elvarks were following them. Eventually they rested and fatigue set in, and they spent that night fast asleep. Within the next two days they arrived at the crude wooden gates of Bruskany. From a distance it looked like any old fort.

  The sentries looked upon the new arrivals and one of them, quite a large thuggish looking man, challenged the companions, ‘And what are
you doing here? Come to sell us that nice bit of arse you have with you? She will do fine in one of the many pleasure houses we have here,’ he said, looking at Bry and licking his lips.

  ‘Well met, friend, we come for provisions and rest from our long journey,’ Ardag said, bowing and ignoring the comment about Bry. She too found it wise to ignore.

  ‘You won’t find much rest here, friend,’ the sentry said. ‘Trouble is what you will find inside these gates, but it’s your own funeral to enter Bruskany,’ he warned, and opened the gates, laughing.

  Inside there was a certain unhealthy look to the huts and taverns. They walked past whore houses and gambling shops with workers at the doors hustling unfortunate people in. Truly a den of scum was this Bruskany. It wasn’t the whole town, but the majority had been taken over by gangs who had been driven out from the other towns and cities of Wilmurin.

  The company walked into a tavern which seemed the best out of a bad bunch, but this didn’t mean it was a pleasant tavern. Two large doormen had warned them of the consequences of starting trouble. Inside they had eyes staring at them from all angles, just like all newcomers received. They ordered four flagons of ale and sat down in a relatively quiet spot in the extremely noisy tavern. The ale was horrible and bitter, but it suited the companions who cherished the drink after their hard journey. But they were here and had to start looking for the first scroll.

  Garpaw looked around the tavern, defensively stroking his bushy sideburns, ‘So now we are here, where do we start looking for this scroll?’

  ‘We stay here until morning and then begin our search. I fear it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack,’ Ardag replied.

  ‘That sounds good to me,’ Garpaw said, downing his drink and then getting up to fetch another.

  ‘I think that this journey will be in vain, how we can hope to find something so small in such a large world – and there are three of them. It just seems impossible,’ Bry said with a sigh.