The others turn their attention to him when he clears his throat several times, as bile from an ancient sickness rises from his insides.
“I have seen two possible paths that lie ahead in the shifting mist of our future. We will once again rule this land. Our shrines and altars will be rebuilt. All the mortals will worship us as before. Offerings of gold and jewels will flow into our keeps. Young Maidens will go willingly as sacrifices. The altar stones will be red with blood. The gods we serve will find pleasure in us again. Even the kings of the lands will bow before us.
Then there be the path of our destruction if the White Witch lives and the light flourishes. No dark rule; we would be hunted and killed. The gods would shun us for all time as weak and foolish.”
Edalvin sits heavily in his chair made from the bones and skins of those who fell to his magic. It is a befitting throne for the leader of the Blood Druids. His red eyes focus on the age-old Druid as he asks. “Can your far-reaching vision see whether we will be victorious over her?”
The ancient sorcerer turns his head in the direction of Edalvin. “What I have revealed is two possible futures. However, there is a joining where one path will win over another. I cannot see where or when this will happen, only that it will.
Know this my brethren; whether what I have foretold of the coming times comes to pass or not—the Maiden and her Goddess blessed Saber are the key to our future.”
The ancient Druid made a sign in the air. A glow follows his hand gestures. “Now I see she has united with others. Those who follow her banner hold two more of the Kcaj Pentadiene. Her magic and powers have been magnified three-fold.”
Edalvin jumps to his feet and faces his elder. “What of Urel, the sister to the Maiden and servant to us. Does she have the power to defeat the Witch?”
“It is most difficult to see far into the comings of time. The seasons to come are veiled as if in swirling smoke. Our future lies beyond that shroud of mist. Standing between us, and our destiny is the Maiden Amari. She must be defeated before the cloak of light is lifted and our path clear. We serve the shade—the light is our enemy.”
Edalvin motions to one of the Crogan Elves standing just beyond the dais. “Bring me Drakkar from the Shadow Clan. Be quick about it or your bones will compliment this throne.”
The frightened elf bows low and backs away, adverting his eyes from the Druid leader’s glare. He knows what will happen to any who opposes or anger this follower of the shade. Too many of his fellow Crogans have been set afire by a wave of Edalvin’s hand while his laughter can be heard over their screams.
It is but a short time and the Crogan returns leading the way for Drakkar of the Shadow Clan. The elf bows and scurries away, leaving the clansman standing there.
Wearing the leather Tarten helmet of his people, he stands a full meter above his kin in both the Shadow and Moon Clans. Dressed in the hides of several different kinds of beasts, he bows and then kneels before Edalvin and the Council of Ten.
While his head is lowered and eyes focused on the ground in front of him, he pulls his sword from his belt. With one hand on the hilt and the other on the blade, he lays it on the ground before the druids. It is a warrior and servant’s sign of respect to their masters. “What do you wish of me?”
“Rise,” says the Druid leader. “I have a task to bestow upon you. I have selected you because you have found favor with us. Your skills in the past have won you a rank far above the clans you call kin. What do you know of the White Witch? The Maiden called Amari.”
He keeps his head lowered, and eyes averted as he answers. “I know only of myths and legends Lord Edalvin. Around our fires, the elders tell stories of her battling your kin and brothers ages ago. We rejoice that she was defeated and sent to death by our masters.”
Edalvin taps his staff on the hard ground. “Look to me Drakkar and hear my words.”
The most feared of the Shadow Clan lifts his eyes to the dreaded leader of the Blood Druids.
“The myths and legends as you say are true. She was our greatest adversary; struck down in battle and buried in a hidden tomb. Hers was the half-sleep of death formed from a great magic.
Now through some interference from mortals, she has risen and builds an army to attack us once again. She favors the light as we caress the darkness. For this cause, the Maiden will never turn away from her quest. We know of her vengeance raging like a blacksmith’s kiln fire…waiting for the time to be stoked into a roaring flame.
Here is the task I have set upon you. Go to the mountains where the Black Angels have their keep. You will not be able to climb to their cities. You must wait for the Maiden and her warriors to come from their perch above the clouds.
Secure, as many of your clansmen you think will be required. Lay in wait and attack when their defenses are down. Only by surprise can she be overcome. Be warned, the Maiden has grown increasingly powerful with the addition of those that joined her quest.”
Edalvin thinks of the beast so easily slain. I had commanded the beast Ragnot to bring me her head and saber, but he was defeated. I put the same task in your hand. Also, bring me all the weapons of her companions. Any treasure they possess is yours.”
The Shadow Clan leader bows low to Edalvin and the other council members and leaves the central chamber.
Drakkar needs not confirm the wishes of Edalvin or the other Druid leaders. His oath, like the rest of the clans are to serve the Druids until victory over the lands is assured. They serve at the pleasure of their masters and for the riches promised them.
Returning to the lower caverns and caves, he growls like a bear. In answer to his voice, Shadow Clan warriors rush to his side. They are prepared to do battle, as swords are bared and the rustling of shields and armor can be heard. He selects two dozen of his best fighters. Without another word, he turns and heads to the passage which leads to the surface.
One of the many openings to the upper world is through an ancient collapsed dwelling in the Fire Woods. In shambles now, it hides the secret entrance to the Druid’s realm below from which the Shadow Clan climbs out.
The clansmen fan out and follow Drakkar without question of where and why. He does not need to tell of the task—these warriors will follow him to the gates of the underworld.
Waiting for them outside the entrance is Tarrino.
“Hold Drakkar and obey. I am to be your eyes and ears on this journey. My commune with the animals which roam the land and the birds that fill the skies will lead us to your quarry.”
Drakkar merely grunts and wipes a grimy hand across his face. He motions with his head to the lesser Druid to go before them. The shadow warrior cares not for the robed priest who boasts of his rank and magic. Even though Drakkar knows the direction, he must take this fool to the Black Angels’ Mountains; Edalvin must have attached this one to the undertaking.
Within a day and night of steady running the band of Druid minions led by Drakkar, arrive at the southernmost mountain of the Black Angels.
Not knowing where his quarry will light to ground, Drakkar must break up his men and position them at the base of all three peaks. He talks to the Druid who finally catches up to them.
The warrior is growing increasingly tired of this fool slowing them down. The Shadow Clan warriors must be positioned before the witch can escape. Any more delays, or if his quarry gets away, this lowly Druid will lie beneath the forest floor—food for worms.
“Priest, command your eyes of the forest to go about the mountains and find where the enemies of Edalvin are hiding.”
Tarrino drops to his knees and attempts to catch his labored breath. “Give me a moment Shadow Warrior. I am not used to the pace you set. I require rest for a time.”
“Fool—those we seek will slip away while you succumb to the weakness of a fat body under those robes. Your years of idleness have made you slovenly and feeble. I am under the command of your leader Edalvin, so be about your set task.”
Taking deep breaths, Tarrino clim
bs to his feet and holds a young sapling for support. Looking into the sky through the breaks in the tree tops and reaching out with his mind, he contacts several birds in flight. He touches their primitive minds and commands them to fly to the top of the three mountains and report on what they see.
The Druid watches as the birds change direction and pass into the clouds. In minutes, they reappear from the mist and land in the tree above where he stands. His face is contorted as he picks the minds of the feathered ones.
“What did they see Druid?” Drakkar asks.
They cannot pass above the clouds. Something holds them from climbing further above.”
“What?”
“I do not know. You must remember these are animals and birds. Their minds are limited and react instinctively to their environment or what threatens them. True, my winged spies are not frightened of what lie above. It is only that they cannot go any further. I have no answer. It may be the clouds which surround the Black Angels’ land are enchanted.”
Drakkar grows weary of this useless Druid and says so. “You are no help to me Druid. Go back to Edalvin as a lowly messenger and report of our progress. Tell him we have the three mountains surrounded and wait for the quarry to be flushed out to our swords.”
“You cannot command me. You are but a pawn of our mightiness!”
“You will do as I say,” Drakkar yells as his temper turns his face red. “Edalvin has charged the Shadow Clan with this task and made me leader. You are only a master of lower beasts’ minds.
You have no magic within you that can be used on my mind or body. Now go before I run my sword into your belly and leave you for those animals you command, so they can feast upon your remains.”
From the corners of his eyes, Tarrino can see the other Shadow Clan moving around at his sides and back. A few have raised their bows constructed of animal bone and sinew toward him.
“I will depart from thee. Know this slave; Edalvin will take your head for threatening a Druid. I may possess little magic, but my standing in the Blood Druids is valued.”
The Shadow Warriors laugh at the Druid as he stomps off into the woods muttering to himself.
Drakkar motions to one of his men. “We will camp here with the mountain in our sight. Light no fires. We will eat from our salted stores. Post sentries and send a messenger to the other mountain sentries. Tell them of our position and be ever watchful. If those we seek are seen, have them send runners here and to the other posts. We will form up on their flanks and attack from all sides. Their end will be quick.”
Chapter 13 – The Goddess’ Omen
The shaft of warm and comfortable light carries us through the clouds and into the clear sky above. We arrive through the bottom of an open-air building constructed in the middle of a stone bridge. The span sits squarely in the middle of the three peaks of the Black Angels. Other bridges go from the central span where we arrived to the cities on each of the mountain peaks.
Gareth leans over the wall and looks below at the clouds. It is unnerving to think they are above the white mists where only birds soar. They are so high into the sky he looks up expecting to see the faces of the gods.
Gareth scans the stone support arches that go from the middle of each bridge and into the mountain sides. It gives the impression of a giant spider as there are eight spans going from the center where they stand to the cities on the peaks.
“Mimna,” Gareth asks. “How is this done? Mere cemented stone cannot truly support such weight as this. And the way the spans move in the wind, it is like when I was high in the sails aboard my ship when it flexes and yaws.”
“I know what you are thinking—there is no magic or enchantment working here. The mechanics of the construction is what mortal men have wrought. Within the center of each span surrounded by fused stone is a great wire, the thickness of a large red tree trunk. See there,” as she points to a round stone set in the floor of the bridge under our feet. “Beneath that removable cover is an opening one can crawl along the wire support. A space of a meter is enough for someone to scuttle along the cable’s surface.
Every three cycles of the sun, the caretakers of the bridges remove the cover and climb inside. They crawl along the wire to its terminus smearing a mixture of tree sap and animal fat along its surface. This combination hinders the rusting of the iron wire. Water cannot penetrate and rot the wire that ties these spans together. It has been thus for centuries, and will continue for eons to come as long as we maintain our tasks.”
“Remarkable, says Dian. “I work with water in both my blade and magic. It is hard to stop any moisture from creeping into anything it wants to. Decay is inevitable—it can be delayed, but never stopped!”
“Tis true water warrior, but it is as I told you. Inspection of the support reveals it appears like the day of its construction.”
Amari raises her hand. “Gareth and Dian; Mimna speaks the truth. No work of magic causes these spans to stay, but the workings of man. If this is a sampling of the wonders with the Cities of the Three Sisters, the rest must be great.”
The Maiden shields her eyes from the unrestricted sun and asks. “Are they always called the Cities of the Three Sisters, or are they known by another?”
Mimna beams with pride. “Yes, they are called thus; the North Sister, Arcadia. The Sister of the East, known as Marsgate; named after the god of war and battles. That is my home as well. Finally, there is South Sister, Linkhorn Point. We seldom refer to these names, but call the whole of it Skye.”
Truk who has been silent for the length of their journey here asks. “These cities are small in comparison to what lies below in Aventine. How many of your brethren call this their homeland?”
“My warrior brother, I cannot answer that question. As for decades, everyone here knows each other. Many are related through marriage and ancestry. No strangers come and go. No census is needed, so the count of those that dwell above the clouds has never been asked for or tallied.
Life is simple here. We have no conflicts or wars. Disputes though seldom are handled by the council. We have no prisons or jails. Everyone contributes to the whole in whatever talents or skills they possess.
I once was a warrior who traveled in the lands below. My sword arm raised as it was with you Truk and our perished friend Roarken. I fought because our cause is to fight for the light which triumphed over evil.
However, here above the clouds I am a teacher of the young ones. My gift is to mold the minds of those who will follow us through life. They will grow and take the reins and teach the little ones after them. The cycle is endless.”
Truk smiles at Mimna. “You are a courageous warrior and battle mate, now a teacher. I would have never thought this of you.
Mimna bows her head at Truk and motions to the others. “Come my friends. I have sent word ahead to prepare rooms for you to rest and refresh yourselves. Tonight we feast with my father Ataltalean at his table. He is a member of the cities’ council and worthy of an attentive ear.”
With Mimna leading, they head east toward Marsgate. It takes a good measure of time before they finally step from the bridge to the cobblestones of a well-worn street. Several people of Skye stand alongside the road or peer from doorways and windows watching the newcomers pass. They are most curious about these downlanders.
Natsha tugs on Gareth’s sleeve. “Remember the last time those of a city remarked at our passing. It was Yerin by the sea. We hardly had a measure of time to sit and rest before the king’s soldiers put us in the dungeon.”
“This is a different realm Natsha. Mimna is friend and ally to Amari. These people are her kith and kin. I also would be curious if I lived my entire life here and suddenly, several weapon-clad warriors traipsed through the streets. They are only curious about our kind. I expect few from below are welcomed here above the mists and clouds.”
Gareth breathes a contented sigh. “This is the first time I dare relax my guard. I sense no threat. The Maiden and Holl-tu seem at ease. Those
two workers of magic and spells would be the first to know of approaching danger.”
“It is as you say my large friend.” Natsha smiles at several children they pass. A few point and snicker; others seemed inquisitive and come closer to the former thief enough to touch her garments. The mothers carrying baskets upon their hips do not scold the little ones to come away. “Word must have spread of Mimna’s friends from the lands below,” she tells all those who can hear her.
“Yes Natsha,” Mimna replies. “My people know of you, and that you are guests under my roof. None will show hostility or raise a staff to your heads. The wee ones have not seen your manner of dress and warrior’s weapons. I am sure there will be many questions come next schooling time.”
The roadway goes up several steps to a landing. A few more paces and another series of steps. At the third landing, they move to the left down a narrow alley. A brightly-colored building of reds and greens stand before them.
“This is my father’s house, please come inside.” Mimna goes through the open portal.
Only after they all have entered do they realize no door is set upon hinges that can be closed, nor shutters on the windows. Gareth walks the length of the room to a large window opposite the doorway. It looks down onto the level below. Beyond that is the open sky. He scratches his head.
“What troubles you friend of Amari?”
“It is the lack of a door or shutters. How does one shut out the thieves and meddlesome neighbors?”
Mimna smiles at Gareth’s words. “We have neither here my friend. All our homes are open to anyone who wants to enter. What we possess is shared with all who call this realm their own. If another has need of something, they have freedom to borrow or keep.
I may one day have need of a tool or food. I would go to another’s house and borrow only that which I need. I would return it later after a time. Such is this custom in Skye.”
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