Wilmurin: Land of the Druids

by H. J. Cronin

  ‘They head into the Whispering Forest!’ He said, mounting his steed right away with a new burst of excitement at the possibility of catching the Night Hunter. The count and his Blood Knights, followed by a dozen skeletons mounted on bone steeds, charged off towards the forest.

  Katrina loosened the hold of her whip around the elvark’s throat causing it to fall back down to the ground dead. She looked around the small battleground where her men had slaughtered an entire elvark fellowship. All two thousand of them: men, women and children. She had suffered few casualties out of her remaining twenty thousand men and spiders.

  The stories of the Whispering Forest made her feel nervous so her army travelled five miles around its right side. They had encountered one village which now lay in ruin behind them. It hadn’t been long before they stumbled upon the elvark camp one hundred miles east of Bruskany; the fools thought they had a chance against the Black Widow Clan. Katrina looked at the dead elvark on the ground and smiled at its unfortunate mistake.

  She formed her men up and they carried on marching towards Bruskany.

  A week later the army of the new Black Widow arrived at the wooden gates of Bruskany. The Lord of Bruskany looked down at Katrina with anxiety. What few men remained to him now occupied the walls ready to defend the town should they need it.

  ‘What business do you have here, druid?’ Lord Carlin called down to her.

  ‘We come in peace, if that is what you desire,’ she replied, loud enough so that his men heard as well as him.

  ‘Peace?’ Lord Carlin replied nervously. ‘Why do you require an army if you come here in peace?’ He asked.

  ‘I do not wish to spend my day treating with you, Lord Carlin,’ she said, obviously feeling impatient. ‘My army will burn this town to the ground and everybody in it if that is what you desire,’ she said, getting to the point with a sinister voice.

  The lord shifted wearily, ‘There is no need, kind lady. Who do you fight for?’

  ‘I am the Black Widow and this is your last chance. Let us in and there will be no bloodshed I give you my word. If you comply you will have my protection from the war and your people will be free. What say you?’ the Black Widow said, moving her hand down to her whip in case the answer was a fight.

  Lord Carlin turned around and bellowed, ‘Open the gates!’

  The gates swung slowly inwards and Katrina smiled with satisfaction. In the lead she marched with her army into the town and kept her word.

  ‘What happens now, mistress?’ Katrina’s captain asked as they walked towards the citadel.

  ‘You will gather a sufficient force and carry on with our conquest. There are some minor villages to the west. Our task is to take these villages and capture their people who are to be given to High Count Darkool as a gift. On your travels to the west you will take the port of Selarmus – it is north Wilmurin’s main port. Nobody leaves and nobody enters unless you personally see to it, captain.’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  The Black Widow then looked at him. ‘If you come across a traveller by the name of Johan he is to be sent to me either dead or alive, which one I am not fussed. Set up checkpoints along the way. Go now.’

  The captain obeyed and was leaving to go and get his men when Katrina stopped him. ‘Captain, if you fail these simple tasks then I will personally rip your head from its body and drink you dry.’ The captain swallowed nervously, nodded again and then left.

  The undead horde searched the city of Perthyon for seven days and seven nights. Not a single living soul remained in the great city, not in the black tall tower in the centre or the circular shaped city surrounding it. There were no fires or signs of death except for the huge battlefield forty miles to the south of Perthyon where still the carrion feasted on the many dead.

  High Count Darkool stood impatiently and annoyed. He felt a presence behind him and quickly spun around. He saw it was one of his vampire soldiers. ‘My lord, the city is entirely deserted, not a single being inside or out.’

  Darkool grabbed the vampire by throat and lifted him into the air. ‘Tell me some good news to avoid me parting you from this world,’ he said, glaring into the eyes of the frightened vampire.

  ‘Some good news, my lord, yes, some good news,’ the vampire replied and Darkool dropped him. ‘There are tracks leading into the Dark Wood. Thousands of them, an entire city’s worth. We believe they have fled to the stronghold Bemon. I have sent some vampires on winged bone beasts to scout.’

  ‘You have done well, unimportant one. What is your name?’ Darkool asked with a satisfied smile at the vampire’s good work.

  ‘Villiam, my lord,’ the vampire said with a bow.

  ‘I now promote you to Count Villiam,’ High Count Darkool said, and Villiam smiled. ‘Gather my force, we march for Bemon.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ Count Villiam said with a bow, and hurried away.

  High Count Darkool nodded with satisfaction; he needed counts around him and this one proved to have initiative.

  As the army formed again into its dark mass it marched north towards the Dark Wood. Thanks to Shalon the army had multiplied; what had been lost in the battle of Flordonium had now returned in even greater strength. Three hundred thousand skeleton warriors marched to war. He knew that it would be over swiftly; the Battle of Drugar’s Fields had devastated the northern army, and this new campaign was only pest control.

  The army moved extremely slowly through the Dark Wood. The dense forest made it extremely difficult to pass through but eventually the tireless undead army reached the open ground. In the distance they could see the mountains and in a small indent stood the enormous city of Bemon, home to the Clan of the Bear.

  High Count Darkool stood upon his chariot, which had been dragged by human slaves rather than horses, and gazed out at his new prize. He wanted to see that the northern druids were killed, so he would not burn it until their bodies lay in front of him.

  It would still be many days before his army had left the Dark Wood and prepared their siege weapons. Above them the bone beasts flew circles around the city, scrutinising movements and defences. High Count Darkool raised his arms into the air and gave out a loud cry of excitement as either side of him the skeletons marched towards the city. High Count Darkool could smell and taste blood in the coming days.

  14

  Almost There

  Johan ducked as the blow from the katana came in swiftly towards his neck. He raised his sword up and parried another blow. Now that he had the momentum he came on fiercely against his opponent, his sword swung and slashed but his opponent managed to block each blow with ease. He brought his sword over his head and swung it down in an arc motion at his opponent, who saw it coming.

  Using the blunt side of the blade Ardag hit Johan on the back of his legs, bringing the man down to the floor. Johan cursed and was immediately up again. This time each blow was more precise and quicker than previously. With great speed and because his sword was very light, Johan managed to out-manoeuvre Ardag and disarmed him. The katana fell to the ground and Johan placed the tip of his blade to Ardag's throat.

  Ardag laughed and applauded. ‘Soon I will not be able to teach you anything Johan! You learn quickly, you definitely are your father’s son. Just remember the calmer you stay the more in control you are,’ he said, patting Johan on the shoulder and picking up his blade.

  ‘You teach me well, Ardag, soon I may be an even greater swordsman than you.’

  ‘You have a long way to go before you have that title, smart arse,’ Ardag said, and immediately attacked Johan again, who managed to block the blow just in time. Again they duelled, with Ardag coming out on top.

  Bry, Palar and a recovered Garpaw sat nearby watching the exchange. The five companions had travelled on the west side of the Whispering Forest next to the sea. At one stage they had seen Vandaloria in the distance on Blood Island, which troubled them all deeply. A few merchants who had passed when they were on the road spoke of an army of skeleton
s which had taken the capital and destroyed it. Bry feared for her brothers and her father, as did Ardag for his father and wife. They knew they had to hasten.

  After the two friends had finished their practice they joined the three who were already seated in the long green grass. Ardag took out his pipe and began lighting up another small clump of narnum.

  ‘We should keep on moving, staying here is dangerous,’ Johan began.

  ‘I agree with the lad. If the enemy are looking for us then we are at a disadvantage here,’ Garpaw said.

  ‘I do not think we should all go to Selarmus,’ Ardag said, and the rest of the group looked at him.

  ‘We cannot split up Ardag, you know that,’ Bry exclaimed.

  Ardag shook his head, ‘We will not split up for good. It is too dangerous to venture into a populated place, we will not risk Johan being found.’

  ‘What do you propose?’ Palar asked with his husky, mysterious voice.

  ‘We continue our journey to Selarmus avoiding all major roads and all villages. Once we arrive I, Bry, Garpaw and Johan will hide outside. Palar, you know Selarmus, you are familiar with its people. You will try and get us a ship. We have enough gold.’

  ‘What!’ Palar said angrily, ‘you would send me there on my own? With no back up? What game are you playing, druid friend?’ he said, emphasising the last two words.

  ‘Exactly that. I would be recognised, it is too dangerous for Johan, and Garpaw just looks like he’s asking for trouble,’ Ardag said, and Garpaw nodded with satisfaction at the description of himself. Ardag then looked at Bry. ‘I will not send a woman to her death – they will know her as King Bemnom's daughter—’

  ‘I have never been to Selarmus, no one will know me. I am not just a woman, I am a bear, the toughest of all clans, you do not tell me where I go and can’t go,’ Bry interrupted.

  Johan watched the exchange and smiled at Bry. He was amazed at how tough she was as well as beautiful, but this was not a time to pursue romance.

  Bry continued, ‘I will wear a cowl and go in with Palar. Just in case it gets heated in there and we need to escape. He saved us – I will not let him go in alone.’

  ‘So be it then, Bry, you must choose your own fate,’ Ardag said, submitting.

  The five companions carried on their journey to Selarmus. Not much was said over the next week, and only the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs below and the wind blowing against the trees broke the silence. They were extremely far from any road and had not seen a single living thing except for a few deer. They used Garpaw, in his wolf form, to scout the land ahead so that they could be alerted to any danger.

  At one stage a heavy rain fell upon the companions, they could not find any shelter so they braved the wet out in the open. Thankfully it did not dampen their spirits and at first light they continued their march to Selarmus.

  It had been many days since they had left Sworcadia when they arrived within ten miles of Selarmus. In the distance they could see the large port town and flanking it was the vast sea.

  The companions stood in a field of long grass which grew nearly as tall as their legs. Ardag spoke first, ‘Right, this is where you leave us. We should be all right setting up camp here. It is far from the road and this grass will hide us. Remember, take no risks – it is just a ship we need.’

  ‘Understood,’ Bry and Palar said in unison.

  Just as they were about to set off Johan approached Bry, gave her a kiss on the cheek and said, ‘Good luck Bry, I will be waiting for you when you return.’

  Bry smiled at the sudden move by Johan and then returned the kiss with another, on the lips this time, ‘And I will be coming back for you when I return, Night Hunter.’ She kissed him again and caught up with Palar who had already started walking.

  Palar and Bry arrived at the gate of Selarmus; a crude palisade had been erected around the port town. Bry could see dozens of large ships and many smaller ships harboured in the town. It was the largest town in Wilmurin, it almost had city status but no clans had taken residence here so it remained a town.

  There were no guards to challenge the two strangers who walked straight into the town. Selarmus was alive with the usual hustle and bustle of people going about their daily business. It wasn’t long before Bry noticed men in dark armour with a red spider painted on their breasts throughout the town. What could the Black Widow’s men be doing here? she wondered to herself. She pulled her cowl further over her head to hide her face.

  The Black Widow’s men were doing random searches on passers-by. Within moments, two men in civilian clothing suddenly attacked three of the armoured men who had searched them; it didn’t take long for back-up to arrive and the two civilians were taken away. Bry could sense an on-the-edge atmosphere in Selarmus.

  ‘I do not feel safe here, Palar,’ she said, leaning over and whispering to him.

  ‘We head down to the dock. I have a friend who owns a boat, and he owes me a favour.’

  ‘Let us get to him as soon as possible then.’

  Selarmus was built on a hill which ran straight down to the sea. The sloped, cobbled pavements made it easy to descend to the waterfront.

  Even down here the armoured men were patrolling and questioning people. Luckily no one had approached Palar or Bry. Palar lead them along the pier which was lined with various shops and inns. They entered an inn which was packed inside with patrons. The Black Widow’s men were in here too, obviously on a break from their duties.

  Palar approached the bar keeper, a small, bald, fat man with a dish-cloth around his neck. The bar keeper looked up at the two hooded people approaching him and once he realised who it was. His face lit up, ‘Palar! Welcome, my friend,’ he exclaimed and gripped Palar’s hand. He then looked at Bry, ‘Who is this? Has Palar got himself a woman?’

  ‘I am not his woman, friend,’ Bry said coldly.

  ‘Ok my love, I meant no offence. What brings you here, Palar?’ The bar keeper asked.

  ‘Good to see you, Yarnok. I require assistance, may we speak in private?’ Palar said, looking over towards the Black Widow’s men who had looked up at the two new arrivals.

  ‘Of course, follow me,’ Yarnok said, leading them to the back of the inn.

  As soon as the door closed behind them Palar started, ‘We need a ship to allow me and some friends to leave Wilmurin.’

  Yarnok laughed but then stopped when he noticed the blank expression on Palar’s face. ‘Don’t you know? The “occupation” force has said that no one is allowed to enter or leave Wilmurin – to do so means death.’

  ‘What is going on here?’ Bry asked.

  ‘The Black Widow’s men have been here for nearly two weeks now, they entered Selarmus unchallenged, exiled our lord and now rule the port. Many have died trying to stand up to them. What soldiers we did have, have now defected and joined their ranks. It is a dangerous situation here, Palar, you and your friends should find another way.’

  ‘You must help us, Yarnok, you are our only hope,’ Palar pleaded, and brought out a small purse filled with gold coins. ‘There’s more if you help us,’ he said, and tossed the purse to Yarnok.

  ‘Let me think,’ Yarnok said, stroking his chin. His face then lit up as a plan came to his mind. ‘I will help you escape. Your best bet is to sail out of here, anchor up against the cliff and meet your friends there. It would be too dangerous to bring them through Selarmus. You know my ship, be there at first light. You will meet my captain – he will help you out.’

  ‘Thank you friend, I owe you my life,’ Palar said and gripped his friends wrist firmly.

  ‘Not your life Palar, just your gold,’ Yarnok said with a wink. ‘I have two spare rooms, go and make yourselves comfortable. It is goodbye for now – I will not be seen to be helping you.’

  ‘Thank you very much Yarnok,’ Palar said again.

  Bry could barely sleep that night; her head was full of excitement at how easy it had been to find a ship. All they had to do now was not get c
aught.

  There was a loud bang on the door in the morning, which startled Bry, and in walked Palar.

  ‘We leave now,’ was all he said.

  They both said farewell to Yarnok and went straight to the pier. They walked along the pier looking out for the black and white chequered flag of Yarnok’s ship. There were many ships harboured along the port so finding this one particular ship was quite difficult. They stopped for a moment and enjoyed some fresh sea crab and shark tail.

  There was a gentle breeze from the sea and the noise of the sea birds above overpowered the crowded pier.

  ‘So where is this ship your friend supposedly has?’ Bry asked. She was getting frustrated due to the heat from the sun and their inability to find the ship.

  Palar looked around and raised his shoulders in submission as if to say he wasn’t too sure. Suddenly behind one of the large ships he saw a black and white flag blowing in the gentle sea breeze. ‘Over there!’ Palar said, launched up onto his feet and Bry followed.

  They ran over to the ship, but something wasn’t right once they arrived. There were three armoured men from the Black Widow Clan, and standing in front of them was Yarnok. The two companions cautiously walked over to the waiting party.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Palar asked, and before he could say anything else, more soldiers came from behind. They were now surrounded.

  ‘I’m sorry my old friend, but business is business,’ Yarnok said with a smile, and one of the soldiers gave him a big sack which sounded like it was full of coins.

  ‘Bastard! How much did they pay you?’ Palar shouted out to him as Yarnok walked around them back to his inn.

  Bry was fuming and turned to face Yarnok who was safe behind the soldiers, ‘Next time I see your sorry, disgusting, fat body I will tear you limb from limb!’

  ‘Enough!’ one of the soldiers said, ‘I am the captain and by the orders of the Black Widow I am now placing you and your associate under arrest, Bry sister of King Bethegar.’