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

by Donald D. Allan

  "Lord God! I thank you for this gift!" he yelled into the air.

  Seth snapped his head to stare at the large oak. He felt from it a hatred that reminded him of the demons. Was it possible? Could a tree be a demon? Seth reached out with his power and touched the tree. The hatred burst from the tree in waves. Seth reacted without thought. He sensed the entirety of the tree: from the leaves to the roots deep underground. The roots were everywhere drinking up nutrients and water from the soil. They spread out for hundreds of yards in all directions. And there, Seth realised with horror, right under the tree and pierced through with roots were the bodies of Peter and Jeremy. The tree was pulling sustenance from their corpses. Anger boiled his vision red and Seth reached out to the tree and ripped its life force from the sap running under the bark. Seth revelled in the shock and horror of the tree as it ended its long life in such a sudden and helpless way.

  Seth wasn't ready for the pleasure that would come from such a long and aged life force. It hit him all at once and it felt like being slammed into the ground if you fell from a great height. He landed flat on his back looking up at the big branch of the tree. He kept his pull on the life force as it arced through his body lighting every nerve in pleasurable fire. A screech heard only in his head started low and rose in pitch as he pulled the energy into himself. It was so immense; it filled him to bursting. Seth had no idea where it was going but the waves of pleasure rocked through him again and again. The power kept flooding into his body. It soon became painful and Seth joined the screech in his head. The two sounds were discordant and rose in pitch and intensity until the tree was simply gone. Seth panted into the absence of sound. Tears poured down the sides of his face and a sob escaped him. Seth lay with his arms and legs akimbo and spasming uncontrollably. He thrust his groyne into the air and a dark wet spot stained the front of his breeches. His lips were pulled back in a rictus of a grin.

  He lay there for an hour recovering. Before long he imagined he heard a soft whisper. He struggled to rise up on his elbows. Every nerve was on fire and the pain was exquisite. He looked around the clearing. He was giddy and not thinking right. I should be more alert. He fought to clear his head and then he saw her. A woman was hiding behind the tree he had just killed. He blinked to clear his vision and he saw her clearly. There was a look of horror on her face that frightened him deep to his core. Seth tried to sense her but she wasn't there. She was an apparition. A ghost. She wore vines for clothes and dirt fell from her hair. Like a corpse walking from the grave. He tried again to sense her with his powers but he felt nothing from her. His eyes told him one thing and his senses another. Seth felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

  "What are you?" whispered the woman and then she was gone. One blink and she was gone. Vanished. Without a sound.

  Seth scrambled backwards and ended up amid the remains of the wolf. A sharp pain lanced through his hand and he looked down to see a shattered rib bone piercing his left hand. Seth ripped it free, picked himself up, and ran from the clearing down the trail. He ran through the next clearing and out to his horse. He ripped off the hobble and threw himself on the horses back.

  "Ride! Ride!" he screamed at the horse and it bolted for the road. The horse felt the panic and ran hard. The chest expanded and collapsed with its effort to draw breath to feed the powerful legs. Seth felt the horse resist and he pushed until something snapped inside the brain of the horse. Seth sensed the horse now ran oblivious to its own death and it would die as soon as he released his hold. Seth shuddered as pain washed over him and he looked left and right.

  He spied the woman not more than twenty feet from him beside the road to the right, her arm around a tree glaring at him. He screamed in fright, the sound high pitched and screeching. "Dear Lord!" Unease and profound fear flooded him and he felt his bowel loosen on the saddle. "Run!" he screamed at the horse.

  The woman vanished again and Seth looked rapidly left and right for her. There! To the left! Standing in the field! Her head turned with him to follow his passage. No shadow, she has no shadow! Seth was losing control. The fear was consuming him. He felt the horse falter and he regained his control. The heart of the horse was straining to pump blood and air to the demands of the legs and muscle. Lord help me! Save me from this demon!

  With sudden dawning Seth recognised her. It was the Target's mother. The bitch I killed ten years ago. She now haunts me. Seth spewed scripture and kept the horse running for Lakeside.

  Fear and shame fought within him. He reached inside himself for the calm and surety he normally enjoyed. It was hard when she would disappear and reappear alongside the road as he rode the horse hard. She kept with him and stared at him with that look. Panic threatened to overwhelm him. He knew the horse would die soon. He felt it shuddering between his legs. With an effort, he slowed the horse but kept it moving. He was finding it hard to concentrate on keeping the horse alive and focusing on escaping the demon.

  He spotted the woman standing near a small copse of trees and with a will he stopped the horse and returned the stare. Foam fell in big globules from the horse's mouth to the ground. He reached out with his senses to the demon and bit his tongue when he felt her presence everywhere. The woman in front of him was nothing but an image. An apparition. A ghost, he thought. Her eyes bore into him with such an intensity that he felt small and insignificant. He forced himself to sit upright and glared back at it. God did not raise me to be afraid of the evil in this world. He taught me to fight it.

  "Begone!" he commanded with a wavering voice.

  "What are you?" asked the apparition. The voice was familiar. An echo of years ago. It was the voice of the bitch from Munsten. The woman that spawned the Target. That same sultry and smoky voice that he hated. With a hint of a tease but nought else. Wanton. Evil. The voice of a demon.

  Seth fought to control his voice and put strength behind it. "Begone! The power of the Lord compels you!"

  "What are you?" demanded the voice more loudly.

  "Begone demon!" Seth felt stronger, empowered.

  "You are not what you once were. How have you corrupted my power so? What are you?"

  "Begone!" screamed Seth and used his power to add force to the words. He felt the life energy around him react and fall back to the push in concentric circles around him. He yelled in triumph when the woman rocked back on her feet. I killed her once, he thought with satisfaction. I will do so again if God allows me.

  She slowly raised her head to look at him with an expression he didn't recognise. A mixture of hate and fear, perhaps. She continued to stare at him for a long moment and then she was gone. Seth waited for her to reappear and when she didn't he finally relaxed and took a hold of his final remnants of fear. He dismounted felt the horse try to lie down to die.

  "Live," he commanded the horse and poured his power into the animal. There is no way I am walking all the way to Lakeside. The horse fought him and Seth felt pain sear his nerves. Such lovely pain. He laughed and fought the will of the horse. It wished to die and he wished it to live. It was a simple matter and Seth laughed at the futile efforts of the animal and then gave a casual push of God's power. The horse went perfectly still. Its heart and breathing stopped and Seth counted to thirty before the heart started to pump at his urging.

  Seth was surprised. The horse was no longer a horse. It was something else. It lived and yet it did not. It breathed and its heart pumped blood. But everything else that was life was missing. The horse turned its head to stare at Seth. The blood vessels in the eyes had all burst. The teeth were tinged with blood and the foam was turning pink. Seth laughed out loud.

  "Don't you look charming!"

  The horse defecated and pissed all over the road. Seth stepped back away from the spray and splatter. In a matter of moments, the horse voided itself, all the while staring blankly at Seth.

  Seth stood in stunned silence and watched the horse for a few minutes. It stared at him non-stop and without blinking. It disturbed him. "Blink, da
mn you!" he ordered but nothing happened. "Move to the side of the road."

  The horse merely looked back at him. Seth thought about the horse blinking and pushed with his power and the horse blinked. He thought about the horse moving and Seth watched the horse walk over to the side of the road and stop.

  "Excellent."

  Seth felt a presence behind him and he turned expecting to see the bitch again. Instead, he found his Lord standing before him. With a cry, he averted his eyes and fell prone to the dirt and prostrated himself. "My Lord!"

  "Rise, Seth, and look upon Me."

  Seth scrambled to his feet and looked to his Lord's face. He was beautiful. He face was aglow and his beard full and white. He looked like peace and serenity and love. Seth felt small and insignificant.

  "You are doing well, my son. You must continue to Jaipers and seek the Reeve. He has answers you need. Find him. Kill him quickly. Then find the Target. The Reeve will tell you where he is."

  Seth felt a moment's confusion. He was connected to his Lord. He could feel his presence in a way that was unique. He could see that his strength and power came from Him. He also felt the glee coming from the Lord. An emotion that surprised him.

  "My Lord, it shall be as you command."

  "You are changing the world, my son. It will be a better place when you are done. Kneel."

  Seth fell to his knees with a crunch of gravel beneath his knee caps. The pain added to his pleasure of the moment. He knelt before his Lord looking up at His magnificence and felt such joy.

  He watched his Lord reach out with a hand and lay it on top of his head. "Seth Farlow. You are my most beloved. I bless you in My name."

  The power contained within Seth twisted painfully and Seth moaned. Something changed within him.

  "I am yours, my Lord. I suffer for your good graces. I am your sword and shield."

  "I am pleased," said the Lord and vanished.

  Seth cried out in the sudden absence. He felt it almost as a physical blow. He fell to his knees in the vacant space the Lord had just occupied and reached out with his powers to search for Him. At first, he felt nothing, but slowly he started to sense the presence of the Lord everywhere he looked. He was in the shadows, the brown grass and in his horse.

  Seth remained in the spot his Lord had stood for an hour until he recognised he was kneeling only a foot from a massive puddle of horse piss and a mound of shit. He chuckled and rose. He picked gravel out of his knees and used God's power to heal the wounds.

  Seth walked to his horse and rummaged in his saddlebag until he found his whip. He pulled it free and walked over to the grass on the side of the road. He tore off his clothes and tossed his soiled underpants into the brush. He knelt on the ground and started his prayers. He whipped his back after every line as hard as he could, rocking back and forth. Stroke after stroke landed and split his skin and soon his back ran red with his blood.

  Thirty-Four

  Jergen Garrison Complex, 900 A.C.

  MAJOR GILLESPIE STRUGGLED to remain standing at attention. It had been years since he had forced his body to position itself in such a rigid manner and already his lower back was starting to pain him. He stood in the middle of an office in the Garrison Officer's building with the sun just rising through the window to his right. He stood about four feet in front of a beautifully ornate desk surrounded by military memorabilia placed everywhere the eye chanced to look. It was the office for a flag officer and it was the one given to General Brent Bairstow during his stay in Jergen. Major Gillespie had presented himself to this office twice a day for the last ten days: once at dawn and once at dusk. He was inspected, questioned and dismissed. He learned on day one not to arrive smelling even remotely of alcohol. He had his hair cut to a stubble and was clean-shaven. Now, the General was behind him inspecting the crease of his trousers.

  "You have a spot of mud on the back of your right boot heel, Major."

  Gillespie kept his mouth shut. He had learned on the second day not to answer questions which were not questions. The General was offering an observation and it was not up for discussion. It merely was.

  "How did you get mud on the back of your boot heel when it is perfectly dry outside? It hasn't rained since we've been here."

  Gillespie thought hard. That is a question I have to answer. The problem is: I have no idea how it got there. Gillespie mentally retraced his path to the office. He had left the stables and checked himself in the full-length mirror kept at the back entrance to the building. I look pretty good, he had thought. He tried to remember any signs of water or mud and drew a blank.

  "Answer me, Major," said the General with a deceptively quiet voice. Gillespie knew the danger of that voice now. It was the voice he heard just before a shit storm came down on his head.

  "Suh, I have no idea, suh," Honesty. That was always the best policy when it came to the General. The General could ferret through lies faster than Gillespie had thought possible for any man. He felt a bead of sweat form beside his ear and start to move down his sideburn. It tickled and itched and he wished he could reach up and wipe it away.

  "A mystery then, eh Major?"

  Gillespie stayed quiet. It didn't felt like a direct question to him and he decided to keep his mouth shut. Not for the first time, he wondered how he had managed to put himself into this position. All his plans were in disarray. Gately and David had been dealt with the first night in Jergen. When they didn't show up the next day, Gillespie had reported it dutifully to the General. It should have been a quick report, a promise of a search, and then down the road to Jaipers. Instead, when he had reported the men missing he received a drilling from the General. When his answers became vague and evasive the General had changed. He went from a calm inquiring officer to a tyrant in a heartbeat. Now Gillespie's life was a blur of reporting twice a day in an immaculate uniform, with the remainder of his time organizing useless search parties and investigating the disappearance of the two men. He knew where the men were: they were long since devoured by the sea life. His men had killed both of them the first night in Jergen, then cut up their bodies, and disposed of them at sea. Nothing remained. They were gone. It was supposed to be it, done and done. But now look at me. I'm trapped in this nightmare with no way out.

  Gillespie had tried to make up stories to cover where the men could have gone. He spun stories of desertion to muggings to drunken wanderings. Each time Bairstow tore the stories apart or tasked Gillespie to hunt down the so-called leads and bring witnesses forth.

  Gillespie had learned on the third day he was not very good at making up stories to cover the actions of his men. He was struggling now and he was almost certain the General knew he was involved. He could see it in his eyes — the blatant hatred for him that lay smouldering there. It was unnerving. He had tried to drink but Bairstow smelled it on him and made his life miserable for days. None of the men were allowed to drink until the missing men were found. General's orders. And the men chaffed at it. One had broken the rule and now lay in military cells and was inspected hourly until his trial. The trial was tomorrow and Gillespie worried the man would break and tell the truth of what had happened to Gately and David. More sweat formed and ran down into his collar and Gillespie shuddered. This is a nightmare.

  "Cold, Major? Strange on such a hot day. Hopefully, you aren't coming down with anything," intoned Bairstow and he rounded his desk and sat down and looked up at where Gillespie stood. "Are you? Coming down with something?"

  "Suh, no, suh!" barked Gillespie.

  "That would be terrible, no? To have this burden of finding our lost men and fighting a cold at the same time? Nasty business. And summer colds are so hard to shake."

  Gillespie kept his mouth closed and waited for the first question.

  "Your dress is better than yesterday, Major. You have lint on your collar and the spot of mud is unacceptable. Report at noon for inspection and see to it those areas are corrected, clear?"

  "Suh, yes, suh!" answered the Major wit
h a loud voice. A loud voice was expected for those kinds of answers. He was supposed to answer like some dog for a treat. It grated on him to no end.

  "Report. What news do you have?"

  "Suh," Gillespie saluted smartly and remained at attention. "Situation: Since reported the morning of Luain, 14 of Lunasa, 900 A.C., Gately and David are still absent without leave. Last seen in the Split Crow pub when it closed at 0200 on Lunasa 14 leaving together, apparently heavily intoxicated. Mission remains to locate the men and bring them in for questioning. Execution: Search parties continue to be organised with assistance from the garrison personnel. Me and Captain Dixon brief all parties and provide details, routes, and timings. We debrief all search parties on their return. Almost all of Jergen has been searched without evidence or signs of the men's disappearance. As reported yesterday morning, the city Reeve and his deputies have organised a door-to-door campaign to see if the men are hiding or being held hostage. Nil reports to date. Nil ransom demands. The navy in Jergen has commenced trolling the waterfront with nets and hooks looking for bodies. Nil reports to date. Last night the reports from the garrison men on duty the night of the disappearance were compiled with no mention of the two men. Conclusion: men remain AWOL and no signs of their disappearance or reasons for their disappearance have been discovered. Search continues. End of report, suh." Gillespie saluted and remained at attention.

  The General remained seated, looking pensive and deep in thought. The silence stretched out and Gillespie wondered what new horror would be visited upon him now. He could hear the long case clock in the outside hallway ticking loudly and he focused on it to keep his mind from screaming in frustration. He hated the General more so now than ever. He hated how he humiliated him daily and in front of the men. He hated how he forced this military bullshit on him and forced him to continue to look for two worthless pieces of shit men. This isn't fair, he thought. When I kill him it won't be soon enough. Each night he fell asleep thinking of ways he would slay him. His fingers twitched as he imagined himself wrapping them around the General's throat and slowly squeezing, watching the fear light up those soulless eyes before they dimmed to become dull and lifeless.