Wilmurin: Land of the Druids

by H. J. Cronin

  The Black Widow came at Wufclore again, this time slashing at him with her legs. He was not fast enough to block every attack and was struck more than once. It didn’t stop him though, he carried on fighting the Black Widow with all his strength, but she came at him with unmatchable speed.

  One wrong move caused King Wufclore to fall to the ground. The Black Widow instantly drove one of her sword-like legs into the king’s body, pinning him to the ground. She hissed at him as she looked at him, her many eyes staring down at the helpless wolf. Her fangs dug down into the furry flesh of the giant wolf, injecting her potent venom and instantaneously killing the powerless king. Within seconds she sucked all the goodness from his lifeless body and left it lying there like an empty shell. She then looked up for her next victim.

  The king of the Black Panther Clan, Persus, saw the death of his ally. He immediately made his way over to King Wufclore’s still body. The coat of the giant black panther shone in the sun as he ran over to the downed king; he paid no heed to the men that stood in his way, most were smart enough to move out of the way of the black beast approaching them.

  He stopped just before Wufclore’s body and nudged him with his nose. The wolf king had returned to his human form, now pale and cold. Persus growled with anger and immediately looked up with bloodthirsty eyes, trying to see the Black Widow anywhere; he wanted revenge. He gave out a loud roar that made the men fighting nearby stop immediately to look up at him. In the distance he could make out the large abdomen of the black widow spider and without any hesitation he charged towards her.

  As he got closer he could see that she was surrounded by bodyguards as she surveyed the battle. Because the battle was so chaotic she did not see him coming at her from behind, and neither did her bodyguards.

  With a divine leap he flew through the air over the guards and landed on top of the giant black widow spider. There was a squeal from the seven legged beast as King Persus drove his dagger-like teeth into her abdomen releasing dark green blood. He tried to scratch at the Widow’s body, but the skin was like armour and he knew his claws were not sharp enough.

  Recovering from the shock the Black Widow suddenly regained control and flung Persus off her back onto the ground. The giant panther landed with a thud, but quickly got back up and growled at the black widow spider. Simultaneously they ran at each other; the Black Widow stopped and shot a batch of sticky white web at the panther.

  Persus managed to dodge out of the way of the incoming sticky mass. He was able to dodge another but a third came towards him and caught him directly on his front two paws, sending him crashing down to the ground. The Black Widow hissed with excitement at the prospect of killing two kings on this day. She crawled over to the panther and stopped on top of him, forming a dome over his body. She reared up, ready to sink her fangs into the helpless cat.

  Suddenly she screamed with pain and lurched onto her back legs. She fell down onto her back with her legs thrashing in the air. Out from under her came Persus’s son, Parmeus. Although he was a smaller panther than his father, Parmeus circled the black widow. From the other direction came his brother, Paral, the same size as Parmeus, also in his black panther form.

  Persus got back up and joined his sons as they circled the Black Widow spider. The two brothers had despatched her guards and now it was three on one; the rest of the battlefield was too occupied to take notice. By now the Black Widow was back in her normal stance, and she hissed at the three black panthers staring and growling at her. Suddenly the three of them lunged at her; she did not stand a chance against the three large black panthers.

  They bit and tore, tearing her legs from her body and spilling green blood onto the ground. Just as Paral came in for the final bite she found enough energy on her three remaining legs to drive her venomous fangs into the son of the king. He fell to the ground motionless. Persus and Parmeus, furious, jumped on her and quickly finished the Black Widow off with vicious bites and scratches. The Black Widow dropped to the ground as lifeless as a stone, a mangled heap of body parts and green blood.

  Both Persus and Parmeus took on their human forms as soon as the possibility of imminent danger was gone and Persus’s men fought off the Black Widow’s men. They knelt beside the fallen Paral who had returned to his human form. His veins had turned green and grown large against his dark skin because of the venom. He said not a word as he died, staring up at the sky. His last sight was that of his father staring down at him with tears streaming down his face, and his last feeling was his brother gripping his hand firmly. Then there was darkness.

  Bethegar and Katrina circled each other. Bethegar had suffered many cuts and scratches; he was growing lethargic from battling the black widow spider for nearly two hours. Neither gave any ground and neither of them was prepared to lose. It wasn’t until they heard an enormous screeching sound that they both stopped and looked around. Katrina instantly knew what the sound was – she made a strange hissing sound starting off low, then becoming high and repeating.

  The giant spiders and the humans that were part of the Black Widow’s army obviously understood this strange noise because they all suddenly stopped fighting and began to flee. Thousands of humans and spiders retreated back in the direction they had come from and soon Katrina did the same. The northern clans began to rejoice and cheer; they jeered at the enemy who were now in full flight.

  Bethegar growled with satisfaction and returned to his brute sized human form. He started to wander around the battlefield. The bodies of thousands and thousands of men littered the ground; with each step his feet sank into the earth which ran with blood. A couple of times he stepped on a large dead spider, his feet going straight through the body. He began at once to search for the other kings, and he sent some men to gather his forces so that he could see how many losses his clan had suffered.

  Just a few metres away he could see King Persus standing with his dark son and King Wufclore’s two sons. He made his way over to them wondering what had happened to Wufclore.

  ‘How are you, friends?’ Bethegar called out as he approached them. He suddenly noticed a look of great sadness on the faces of the men he approached.

  ‘My father is dead, King Bethegar, slain by the Black Widow,’ Felclore said, not even looking up.

  ‘Great sympathies to you, he was a good father and a great king,’ Bethegar said in a low tone, and then looked up at Persus, ‘what brings you sorrow?’

  ‘The Black Widow killed my son just before we killed her. He saved my life,’ Persus shook his head and then regained his posture. ‘We cannot mourn the dead for too long. We have a war to win here, Felclore. I assume you will take position as King of the Clan of the Wolf?’

  ‘I do King Persus,’ Felclore said with a nod. ‘A fate that was not of my choosing,’ he added.

  ‘A good king you will be. Now Bethegar, what is our next action?’

  ‘With the Black Widow dead her only living daughter, Katrina, will now take the vacant Black Widow position. She will return, I am most certain. We may be able to defeat her again but if Count Darkool decides to intervene then we are all dead. We must return north.’ Bethegar then eyed Persus. ‘You must evacuate Perthyon and bring your people to Bemon.’

  Persus shook his head as he interrupted, ‘We cannot abandon Perthyon to the enemy! We can defend it.’

  ‘No we can’t, King Persus, and you know it. Bemon is one of the largest cities in all of Wilmurin, its strategic location in the mountains provides it with a natural defence. It can only be attacked from one front.’

  Persus nodded.

  Bethegar placed a hand on his shoulder, ‘Do not let the death of your son be in vain. Come with us and save your clan, this war is not yet over.’ He then turned to Felclore who sat by his father’s body. ‘You, Felclore, must take on the title of King of the Clan of the Wolf and lead your people.’

  Felclore continued to stare at his father’s body. ‘I will avenge my father. I will lead my people.’

  ‘Good.
There is a task for you, King Felclore,’ Bethegar began. ‘The remaining army of the Black Widow will surely travel north west and provoke the towns and villages until Count Darkool comes. You must lead the remnants of your army to the north west and reclaim the towns if they have fallen, and if there are some still free then tell the people to flee to Bemon where it is safe.’

  ‘Understood. What happens next? What of my home?’ Felclore asked.

  ‘King Persus and I will defend Bemon; if Bemon falls then the north will fall. Your brother must take a small force to your home and defend it should we fail,’ Felclore sighed in response, which Bethegar noticed. ‘A good king leads his men to war rather than hide in a cave and let his men do the leading.’

  Felclore nodded. ‘True words spoken from an honest king. I will do as much as I can. Kindest regards, old friend,’ he said in a sad yet determined voice. Felclore was near to Bethegar’s age and they had always played together as children when their late fathers had business to attend to.

  Bethegar regarded his friend. ‘May Drugar watch over you King Felclore,’ he said. Felclore bowed and walked away towards his men.

  The northern clans had lost nearly half of their combined strength in the battle. They had defeated the Black Widow’s army and now they were preparing to face an even greater foe. Bethegar looked around at the battlefield and sighed. He hoped that Johan, Ardag and Bry were safe and that they had found a way to stop Count Darkool before it was too late. He was glad to learn that Garpaw had joined the three companions to aid them, but the four of them had a lot to contend with in this unforgiving world and Bethegar knew all too well what this harsh land could bestow upon people.

  A vast horde of humanity fled the soon to be empty city of Perthyon. Men, women, children, the old, the young, the sick, the healthy and the remaining soldiers of the armies walked in one mass column towards Bemon. It was as if the great victory won earlier was forgotten about as the druids anticipated the coming war.

  13

  Throne of Bones

  Count Darkool sat in the newly renamed city of Vandaloria, previously Flordonium, on a custom-made and dreadful throne, constructed from the bones of the dead. The blood-stained streets and walls were never cleaned, the rotting bodies that littered the streets were not moved but just left for carrion. The smell did not offend the dead who now controlled the city; the few prisoners who were kept by Count Darkool were turned to vampires, destined to serve him for eternity.

  The beautiful green area surrounding the new Vandaloria had been scorched and turned black. The surrounding villages had been emptied of their inhabitants who were now used as slaves to Count Darkool, to feed the hungry vampires that now lived in the city.

  The once beautiful throne room had been destroyed and redesigned in the sick and evil style that Count Darkool liked. High King Jasper was impaled on a long spear through his anus through to his mouth still wearing his crown. Count Darkool thought it would be good for the old High King to watch over the Vandalore Clan council, a council which no longer discussed matters but followed Count Darkool's orders.

  For the first two weeks of his reign he had ruled with an iron fist. His necromancer, Shalon, had raised more warriors for his new campaign in the south. The clans were all but destroyed, and all Count Darkool wanted to do was pick up the pieces, subjugate more people and finally wipe out the druids.

  He sat on his dreadful throne and watched two humans fighting over a small bit of dried meat; he had told them that whoever killed the other would eat this day. Of course once one of the men had killed the other and enjoyed his small portion of food, Count Darkool would instantly set upon him and drink all of the blood from his body, leaving both dead.

  Next to him sat Counts Vermon, Silco and Kharki. They were all expressionless and could not be distinguished apart, their grey faces and red eyes watched as Count Darkool had his dinner. Their long white hair never moved or swayed. Count Drakar was out in the wild searching for Johan.

  ‘Take these pathetic dead men out of my sight!’ Count Darkool ordered one of his guards.

  Count Darkool then suddenly laughed out loud and clapped his hands together as his associates looked on silently. He sat back down on his bone throne and looked out over his hall. Suddenly the door burst open and in walked Katrina flanked by some of Count Darkool’s guards.

  He eyed the approaching woman suspiciously and greeted her coldly, ‘greetings Katrina, daughter of the Black Widow. What brings you uninvited to Vandalore?’

  Katrina looked up at him with fear and guilt in her face. Count Darkool could instantly read her expression. ‘We fought a great battle Count Darkool, Lord of Wilmurin. My mother, my mother was killed and our army routed—’

  Before Katrina could utter another word Count Darkool slammed his fists down onto the arms of his throne and stood up. ‘Do you mean to say you have failed me?’ Darkool shouted, full of fury.

  ‘My lord, we were betrayed. The Clan of the Bear were meant to fight alongside us but they turned on us and took us by surprise. Before my mother died she ordered a retreat to save what army we had left.’

  ‘Insolent cowards! That is the beauty of my undead army – they do not retreat, they do not beg for mercy and they do not lose,’ Count Darkool said, pointing a finger at Katrina. He approached her and put a sword to her neck. ‘Tell me now, new Black Widow, why I shouldn’t slay you where you stand and wipe out your pathetic clan.’

  ‘We can still be of value to you, Count Darkool, I promise. I will be more ruthless and much better than my mother ever was. My sisters are dead and so I will start a new clan.’

  ‘You will refer to my new title now: High Count Darkool. If I have one more betrayal from you then I will wipe your clan from the history books and make sure you suffer a thousand years of rape and torture,’ Darkool threatened with a sadistic smile.

  Count Silco stood up. ‘High Count Darkool, I do not believe the spider will keep her word. One betrayal will lead to another,’ he said.

  ‘I agree with Count Silco,’ Count Kharki added. ‘She is not to be trusted, the Black Widows fought against us in the Second War of Wilmurin. Kill her now.’

  Katrina still stood looking defiant, and her fear did not show. She prepared herself to transform into her black widow form and fight to the death, but Darkool made no move.

  High Count Darkool looked around at the other counts and a blank expression turned nasty. ‘You think you can tell me what to do?’ he said with a snarl. ‘The Vandalore Clan had been a weak, pathetic excuse of a clan before I returned. You all sat there around the table discussing things. Not once did anyone think of restoring our power. Now I am here I will make the decisions – not pathetic, weak, useless ones like you did. Next time somebody suggests anything to me I will rip his head from his shoulders.’

  The other counts sat silently for they knew the threat was very real.

  It was Katrina’s turn to speak, ‘What are my orders, High Count Darkool?’

  ‘You will travel north again, this time to the west, to Bruskany and Selarmus and the other pathetic human settlements. There you will rule with an iron fist and make slaves out of them. I will take the remainder of my army north and crush the worms under my boot.’ He then turned to the counts to give them their orders. ‘Vermon, Silco and Kharki you will travel south with Shalon and conquer it with the army the necromancer has recently raised. Any failure, and the three of you will meet with swift ends.’

  They nodded in unison, stood up and bowed. The three counts left the hall and made their way to find Shalon. Katrina stood alone with High Count Darkool who regarded her with uncertainty.

  ‘Black Widow, I see more power in you than your mother ever had. Do not fail me – there will be no more chances.’

  Katrina said nothing and left.

  Count Drakar dismounted his dread steed just outside Sworcadia. He looked around and then sniffed; he could smell the blood of humans. He whistled and the Blood Knights who accompanied him followe
d on foot; they had been joined by a dozen mounted skeleton warriors as well. Drakar was not going to make the same mistake that his counterpart, Count Varko had made. This time he had more soldiers.

  The undead beings slowly walked under the ruined gate and into the courtyard of Sworcadia. He sniffed again but could not see anything or anyone.

  ‘Blood Knights, fan out and search for the Night Hunter. Skeletons, stick with me.’

  As the Blood Knights split up Count Drakar and his dozen continued into the dark keep. He lifted his sword into the air and shot out fire balls towards the torches mounted on the walls. The hall immediately illuminated to reveal the abandoned hall. He carried on walking and finally came upon Varko’s armour on the floor; he gave a snigger and carried on.

  The small party searched for some time but saw no trace of the companions. Drakar felt impatient and started to feel angry. They were not here but he could still smell human blood. He stood back in the courtyard and then suddenly heard a twig snap behind him. With lightning speed he turned to face the noise and saw a man standing there, a peasant.

  Anger boiled over Drakar at being fooled by a peasant.

  The man saw the angered look over the count’s face and stood motionless. He then looked over the count’s shoulders at the terrifying sight of the skeleton warriors. ‘Please sir, don’t hurt me! I … I … I’m just passing by, please, I have kids,’ he pleaded.

  Count Drakar knew no mercy. He pounced on the man and sucked the blood from his body.

  He then looked up and saw his Blood Knights approaching. ‘They are not here,’ he said, looking around. ‘Judging by a recent fire by the gate they were here shortly before us.’

  One of the Blood Knights hissed and motioned for Drakar to follow. They returned to their mounts and just a few metres away there was broken ground, obvious footprints.