Leaf and Branch (New Druids Series Vol 1 & 2)

by Donald D. Allan

  I turned the pages over and found some writing on the bottom of the last page. Two words: April and Munsten. This was translated in the month of April in Munsten, the capital city of the Realm, well north and on the east coast. I had no idea what year and even if the book still existed, but it was real and might still be there.

  With this knowledge, my path was laid out in front of me. I was going to have to head to Munsten. I had to find and read the entire manuscript.

  I spent the morning of the next day reading and re–reading Daukyns' notes and the three manuscript pages until I had them memorised. When I was finished, I hid the pages back inside Daukyns' book and tucked it safely into the bottom of my pack. For a time I thought ahead to the journey I was contemplating. The thought of travelling to Munsten was daunting, to say the least. I only rudimentarily knew the way and I would need better directions and better supplies if I were to survive the distance. I knew the roads were patrolled but the highwaymen would know the patrol timings better than anyone and they would pose a constant threat. I could only hope that a sole traveller like me would not make for a tempting target. But the hard truth was that no one traveled the roads alone and lived to tell about it – except for one man that I knew: the Reeve. It was tempting to simply slip off into the night and attempt the journey by myself but I knew that my chances would be slim. For a moment I considered staying to the woods and fields, but that would add months and months to my journey. The roads were the only sane route I could take and once I committed myself to that choice, I would need to seek the confidence of the Reeve. There was also the benefit of knowing that someone at least knew where I was heading.

  I found myself down at the stream and rinsed the grime from my face, savouring the cool feeling in the heat of midday. I tilted my head back and let the water run down my neck and back. I closed my eyes, listened to the sounds around me and drew strength from them. I thought ahead to the days I would be alone in the coming months of travel and realised that perhaps I had a way to insure my relative safety. I eagerly pulled the coin from my pouch, closed my eyes, stroked its surface, and reached out to my campsite. Through my vision, I found that I could discretely survey my surroundings.

  Encouraged, I swept my gaze around the area and marvelled at the lights from the animals that hid in the undergrowth and trees. They glowed like bright stars in the night sky, each standing out clearly to my mind. The trees, plants, flowers, grass and even the insects that burrowed in the ground and flew erratically in the air – they each gave off their own inner light. I never felt so aware of the nature that surrounded me and an intense sense of belonging and acceptance filled my body, threatening to overwhelm me. I reached out to embrace the nature in my area and I suddenly felt refreshed and renewed as if I had been dropped in a cool vat of water. I opened my eyes in shock at this unexpected boon. What was this gift I had? The sounds of life around me grew stronger and for a moment I could feel that the animals and insects around me were aware of me as well. There was a feeling of surprise surrounding me. Awareness grew and suddenly elation erupted, growing and spreading out farther and farther from where I stood. Suddenly, I was very afraid, and I clasped my hands to my head and willed, begged, for it to stop. With an almost audible snap, the connection broke. I was alone by the stream and sagged in relief. The surrounding sounds returned to normal and I took a deep breath to steady myself.

  What had just happened to me? What was this power that I had? What was that sense of elation? It was so strong! My thoughts leapt from one idea to another and my confusion grew. One thing was certain: I had to know more and the journey to Munsten would be the first step to coming closer to that goal. It would also mark a significant transition in my life. Once there, I would be able to research my gift and try to make sense of it.

  My thoughts then turned to my mother, and I wondered for the first time if she was part of this secret society and if she had this gift. It might explain the sickle and my talent. I shook my head in frustration. They were linked, I was certain of that, but knew not how. My memories were so incomplete.

  My clearest memory of my mother was so vague now that I doubted how real any of it truly was. The memory was a strange one. My mother's name was Belle Arbor, I had never forgotten that. In my memory my mother and I were fleeing something that I had no concept of at the time but knew now that it had to do with the coup attempt in the capital ten years ago. I was six. She was frightened but was trying to hide it from me. Although she didn't realise it at the time, the fact that she was trying to hide it from me made it all the worse for me. I remember being frozen in fear most of the time and my mother dragging me by my upper arm. I could still feel the grip of her hand, so strong and so painful. I am sure she bruised me. We found refuge in the root cellar of one of the city homes. The musty smell of the root vegetables permeated the room. We waited just inside at the exit and it was one of the few times that we had stopped during our flight. I remember reaching for a potato in the basket near us and my mother slapping my hand away and muttering under her breath. She shushed me and closed her eyes.

  I feel at times that I can remember her face and what she looked like. But if you were to ask me to describe it I would be unable. I would know her if she came to me but her image is one of fancy now. Known but forgotten. It frustrates me and sometimes overwhelms me with anger or sometimes sorrow.

  Soon I heard feet pounding on the cobblestones of the street outside followed by an angry yell and knew that they were close to finding us. My mother slowly drew her hand up and with tenderness, gently covered my mouth. As I turned to question what she was doing, her hand clamped hard over my mouth, sealing my voice just as the root cellar door burst open. I screamed in fear into my mother's hand and my eyes large with fear, shot to the opening. I kept trying to scream as the city guard who stood on the other side of the open door looked directly at where we lay crouched and huddled together. We were found! And then, miraculously, his eyes wandered away, and he looked about the small cellar. Clearly disappointed, as evidenced by the fierce scowl on his face, he slammed the door closed and I could hear him stride away on iron shod boots, calling out to search the next home.

  The urge to scream slowly subsided from me and my mother released her hand from my mouth. Before I could ask, my mother grabbed my upper arm in her rough grip, and with a whirl of memory we bolted out the cellar and ran silently down the cobblestones. To where – I remember not.

  My next memory was watching my father's back as he walked away and abandoned us.

  My last memory was finding myself alone in the wilderness knowing my mother was dead and having promised her to always stay hidden.

  I shuddered as the memories came back so vividly. For the first time, I could remember the glimpse I had of my mother's face as I turned to stare in stark fear at the man in the doorway to the cellar. The look on her face was strangely peaceful and her eyes had remained closed throughout. Her serenity was such a wonder compared to the terror I had felt. I often wondered why I could remember the escape that night but not much else. I have desperately tried to recall anything that happened next and how I ended up, days later, alone in the woods with the small sickle grasped tightly in my hand and sobs wracking my entire body at the recent loss of my mother. There was nothing to connect the two events. What memories I had of what I did next were nothing but a blur of wandering the woods and fields and stuffing anything that looked edible into my mouth. In the end, I survived despite the odds and now I had the skills to let me survive on my own without much fear. I could forage for food just about anywhere. I knew how to watch for signs of predatory animals and avoid their territorial areas. I knew how to make an honest living off the land and keep myself in pleasant extras like flour and dried meats. I could find shelter and make a fire in almost any condition and I could find fresh water just by examining the lay of the land. I was proud of what I had learned on my own. Especially my herb lore – painfully gained over the years and hard earned.

 
I looked down at the three pages and book I held in my hands and knew that they confirmed that at least what I knew was real and more importantly that it was truth and that there was so much more lore to gain out there.

  And I had confirmed that I could at least survey my surroundings and discover anything that lurked nearby. I wasn't certain of the range I could achieve but it was sure to provide me a greater level of security. Knowing this, I started to feel an irresistible pull toward Munsten. I felt that the coin and the manuscript secrets would only be revealed there. My promise to my mother had been made when I was just a little boy and now I must now set it aside and follow the paths to my life that were laid out before me. I had the mystery of my past to solve, my new abilities to explore, and a manuscript that tantalizingly provided clues that I needed to follow. Perhaps in finding those answers I would find the truth of what happened to my mother and I so long ago. Perhaps. Of my father, I knew nothing and cared less to know. The image of his back turned to us was the only answer I needed from him.

  For the first time in years, I spoke to the memory of mother: I'm sorry, mother. I can no longer keep my promise to you. I am a man now and I must seek the truth.

  I listened for a reply, unsure what I should expect. I waited but no feeling of acceptance came to me, no apparition of my mother appeared nodding her approval, and no shackles broke from my wrists and ankles to clatter to the ground. I merely stood there and waited and felt intensely more stupid the longer I stood there. I shook my head and laughed, breaking the spell.

  I returned the translated pages into the book's back cover sleeve and tucked the book into my backpack as I looked around the clearing. The trees surrounding me swayed slightly in the light breeze and within them the occasional cheerful chirp of a bird would fill the air. The buzzing of insects pulsed in intensity and reminded me of the beating of a heart. I closed my eyes and tentatively drank in the peace and solitude, wary of nature spiking in elation once again. All I sensed was tranquility, and I sighed in gratitude but with some sadness. My past would remain, for now, a mystery. My promise to my mother was broken, but I was firmly taking charge of my future. It all seemed so anticlimactic.

  Chuckling, I shouldered my backpack. By the height of the sun above the horizon, I had a few hours left to gather the herbs that Dempster had asked me for and still be able to make it into town before dusk. I owed the man one last haul of herbs and spices and looked forward to the gathering. I adjusted my backpack more snugly to my back and started up stream to a particularly good area for collecting herbs.

  A little while later, I found the area I wanted and dropped my backpack to the ground. After carefully checking the area for observers and finding none, I pulled out my sickle and moved over to a rich patch of herbs. I crouched down beside them and closed my eyes. The rosemary plant in front of me filled my senses and I could feel the vibrant health of it. I could almost taste the roots reaching out for nutrients and water from the rich soil. This plant was content and reached strongly for the sun. The pleasant smell of the rosemary filled my nostrils, and I reached out to a branch covered in the spiky leaves. I caressed the branch and spoke to the plant, asking it to release the branch. I placed the sickle at the base and as always, I imagined I heard agreement from the plant. Gently, I drew the blade across the branch and it came free with an inaudible sigh. I soothed the plant and urged more nutrients toward its roots in return for the gift. I noted with some surprise that what I did was not too different from how I felt when using the coin and wondered at that. I was also surprised by how much easier this reaching out to the plant had been than before. It usually took me longer to accomplish this task. I opened my eyes to inspect the area where the branch had separated from the main plant and was happy to see that no marks were left behind. The plant was undamaged and content. The loss of a single branch meant nothing to it. I wished all things in life were so simple.

  I spent the next couple of hours gathering the herbs for Dempster. I soon had rosemary, thyme and marjoram gathered in bundles and decided to reward Dempster by tying them with catkin ties and reached out to the bundles and halted their activity. The need for the branches to draw water and nutrients stopped, and they simply were. They would retain their water content if kept in a cool place. I knew no other way to describe what I did but knew through experience that these herbs would stay fresh for many, many weeks.

  I packed the herbs, hoisted my backpack to my shoulders and started the walk toward Jaipers, squinting at the sun in my eyes. I paused at my old campsite and said farewell to the plants, animals and insects and I imagined their sad goodbye.

  It was a little while later that I realised that I had unconsciously solved the problem of who deserved my healing gifts. It was so clear now and I wondered how I could have made the problem so complex. I didn't need any complicated set of rules to guide my actions. It was a simple matter: everyone deserved my healing gifts regardless of circumstance – with no exceptions. I knew at once that this was the correct choice and I felt an eagerness to put my new healing powers to practice.

  I had a purpose and a goal in my life for the first time. I had gone from a wandering herb gatherer to a healer in only a short time. My mother had this gift – I knew that now. What images of her face I retained clearly showed the care that lay there. The amount of pleasure in my heart that I could follow in my mother's gift made my heart lift with joy and I felt lighter on my feet. I felt then that I could walk for miles and smiled at the road ahead of me.

  Nine

  Jaipers, 900 A.C.

  I ARRIVED IN Jaipers with about two hours of daylight remaining. My new boots were chewing up the miles, and I truly appreciated them. I no longer thought of them as the assassin's. They were well and truly mine now. As I entered the town, everyone was talking about the illness, the cleanup of the water in the well and the removal of the rats. I avoided these pockets of conversation and stayed to the quiet areas of town. Few noticed my passing and thankfully, no one knew of my involvement. The few people who did stop to speak to me simply said that they were glad to see I had overcome the sickness too and passed on their best wishes. I was glad to know that to the townsfolk I had merely fallen ill to the same sickness as everyone else; my secret was safe.

  I stopped outside the common hall and struggled with my emotions. It was strange that I would not be entering that room with Daukyns and creating my unguents. I felt disconnected and a little lost. After a moment, I turned to the inn and hurried over to meet with Dempster. That would set things back to normal. I found him out back, fanning himself from the heat that hung oppressively in the early evening air.

  "Back so soon?" he asked as he led the way into the kitchen. Once inside, I took a deep breath through my nose and savoured the wonderful smells of his cooking. I moved over to his prep table and placed my backpack on top.

  "Yes, well, I've pretty much got all the herbs mapped out now. It's just a matter of getting around." I removed the herbs and placed them on the table. Dempster made cooing noises and reached out with eager hands to grab a bundle of savory. He rubbed the buds between thumb and finger, breathed in the released aroma and closed his eyes.

  "Ah," he sighed. "Beautiful." He fingered the cattail frond that bound the herbs but didn't remark that the bundles I laid out were tied up differently than normal.

  I had wondered if he would notice the subtle change, but if he did, he said nothing. In time, he would notice that these herbs were lasting significantly longer than they should, but by then, I would be long gone and safe from questions I did not want to answer.

  I had decided not to tell Dempster where I was headed, or that I was actually leaving, and felt guilty in not sharing that information with my friend. In truth, it was for the best and I thought perhaps I would get the Reeve to explain it all to him in a few weeks time.

  "Here," he said. "Let me give you something in exchange for these wonderful herbs." Dempster turned to his pantry.

  "No, no! Please! I want for noth
ing! My backpack is already close to bursting."

  Ignoring me, Dempster rummaged through his stores.

  "Seriously, Dempster," I pleaded. "I've no room. I'll come back some other time, alright?"

  This finally stopped him and he looked dejected. "Ah, young Will," he said. "It hurts me not to give you something for all this." He waved his hand over the pile of herbs on the table. "Have you eaten today?"

  "Yes," I said quickly and turned my face away from him so he couldn't see the lie. I wasn't hungry. I was too excited and wanted to get away and start my journey. When I looked back at him, I could see that he hadn't bought my lie but nodded, anyway.

  "You know," I said, eager to change the topic, "you could start a small garden outside the kitchen. You could grow your own plants. You've a perfect mix of shade and sun."

  "Why would I do that?" he asked. "I have you and I have no desire to tend plants! Can you see me bending over pulling weeds?" Dempster laughed and patted his rather large stomach.

  I had to admit he had a point, but I didn't want to see him do without after I was gone.

  "You could get one of the kids in town to tend it for you," I argued. "You would always have access to the freshest plants! Think how wonderful that would be."

  "Maybe," he said. "Maybe." But he didn't look convinced.

  We talked for a time about plants and how to tend them but in time, Dempster sensed my need to leave. He followed my quick glances to the back door and smiled and clapped me on the back. "Off you go, Will. I see that you are eager to leave."