by Dan Bilodeau
“Deliver these messages as quickly as possible. This is an urgent matter. Do not fail me.” He handed the letters to one man to pass around.
“My Lord, these are all addressed to Mulbar.”
“Yes, they are. When you get to Quork, all of you head north of the town and then go in different directions. One of these letters must get to Mulbar before he engages the Druid he’s chasing. I do not want that Druid killed. This is imperative.”
“Yes, Lord Wulf,” four voices boomed in unison. Each courier took a letter, and this time there were no shaky hands. These men knew what was expected of them and left the room with what Wulf viewed as stark determination.
Wulf sat back. He would now let everything play out. He half expected Mulbar’s forces to fail, even with the additional patrols. If one Druid and a boy and a girl could destroy a brigade, what good would it do to add 30 more men to Mulbar’s forces? But if Mulbar found the Druid and forced him to seek refuge with the Brotherhood, their secret location would be exposed and Wulf could send in an army of 2,000 Andal soldiers from the north. Wulf was getting excited, so he breathed deeply to slow his heart rate. It’s all about control.
FOURTEEN
Hadrian studied Dalziel, worried. He had healed his wound some time ago, but the color was just now returning to his face. Young fool. You should have paid closer attention to my stories. Seraphs can still die, just like other men.
They had made it to the woods on their way north. Hadrian had used his magic to carry Dal and Deidre, and Curran had managed to help Pad walk so they could get this far and stop long enough so Hadrian could heal everyone. But this had taken a lot out of him, and he barely had enough energy to tend to the girl. “I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said after he finished with Deidre, and grimaced. The truth was, Hadrian had no idea about his own age. He’d been abandoned as a baby and left out in the cold to die outside the small town of Mullster in western Ibernia. A farming family had found him and taken him in.
The farm was small and cozy, and filled with love. The house smelled of azaleas in the morning and jasmine in the evening, the latter which only grew in western Ibernia. Hadrian was a bright boy, albeit slightly lazy. His adopted mother forgave him his sloth because, as she put it, “He has a good heart.”
He supposed that his own experiences with farming were why he had a soft spot for Dalziel. But he must not grow too close to him. He was a weapon to be honed, and problems would become manifold if Hadrian viewed him as more of a friend than a Seraph.
He’d seen too many of his friends die. Too many boys he had trained who weren’t ready for combat. Too many young men cut down before their time. Too many companions who thought themselves invincible because they could wield the elements. He knew better and had personally learned this bitter lesson early in his youth.
He had been young when the Andals came to his village, but he remembered it well, how three soldiers showed up one night, bellies full of whiskey. How they shoved a spear in his father’s chest when he tried to protect his family and then forced his mother into the bedroom. He recalled how helpless he felt, with the soldier guarding him smiling all the while his mother screamed. He had to do something--but what?
A moment later, it happened. The Andal soldier had been standing there grinning; now, pieces of him were all over the wall, the aftermath of his implosion. A soldier came out of the bedroom to find out what had caused the commotion, and Hadrian sent a miniature fireball straight through his eye. Howling in pain, he grabbed his head and fell over. Hadrian ran into the bedroom and gave the other soldier a similar treatment. He rolled around on the floor as his brain melted.
Hadrian watched as the man’s movements slowed and then he stopped breathing. He went to his mother and was met with a look of terror, and a reflection of the fear she felt that night remained etched in her features until the day she died. He vowed never to be helpless again, and to perfect his skills and fight the Andal invaders with all of his heart. And he had done so for dozens of years.
Hadrian ran his hand across Dalziel’s face. Despite all his knowledge and experience, this boy could eclipse his prowess in no time. But this wouldn’t happen until he exorcised the demons inside him, ones that Hadrian knew all too well. Shame at being unable to save a loved one. Guilt over a needless death. But above all, the deadliest demon for the young lad was one Hadrian was most familiar with: rage. If Dalziel let it, his rage would destroy him. Before the boy could unlock his true potential, he had to conquer his anger and not let it control him. Indeed, this would not be an easy task.
Hadrian sighed deeply. Teaching Dalziel how to be a Seraph wasn’t something he could do. True, they both were Druids, but Hadrian knew little about the stones. The writings the Brotherhood had uncovered were embarrassingly meager. While Matioch had written a detailed account of Luan’s life, he’d discussed little about how he and the other Seraphs had developed and expanded their awesome powers. Dio operated on His own time, and Dalziel would learn when He decided--and not before. The job was to keep him alive until that time came. With the Andals hot on their trail, this had better occur soon.
The boy could already see weaves. It had taken Hadrian fifteen years to witness his first one, while some Druids in the Brotherhood couldn’t make them out after a lifetime of using magic. And then there was the episode that had occurred during the rescue, when Dalzeil became death itself. The amount of fire the boy used would have been enough to destroy the Brotherhood. And he'd had more left in him if the spear hadn’t struck him down.
But he had relied on his rage too much, and it had cost him. That much was clear. He had almost killed his female friend during his all-out, uncontrolled anger. Hadrian’s master had taught him laugher as a tool to deal with his rage and frustration. Perhaps that would be the key to Dalzeil’s ultimate salvation as well.
He thought back with fondness to his master, Uther, who was still a Brother when he found Hadrian, not having yet ascended to the rank of Elder. He trained the young Hadrian in everything he knew of magic and Dio. He had also taught Hadrian to live and love again, and to open himself to others, all difficult considering what had happened to his parents.
Uther’s wisdom, power, and humility eventually enabled him to attain the position of First Elder, which he held until an arrow took him in the eye during the Andal rebellion ten years earlier. Hadrian hadn’t witnessed it himself, but he wept for days at the news.
It seemed that pain and suffering followed Hadrian wherever he went. He prayed he wasn’t cursed, but sometimes he felt that way. For the second time in his life he had experienced the death of a male parent, since he’d felt no less a bond with his Druid teacher than he had with his adoptive father on the farm. During the past few years, Hadrian had come to believe those days of walking under a black cloud were behind him, but he could be far from certain, especially since it was obvious he couldn’t protect his new friends from injury.
Witnesses from the marketplace would be able to help the Andals piece together what had happened, and he had no illusions that their escape from Quork couldn't be tracked. He’d used his magic to show them going this way and that, but with enough men on horseback, all the routes would be covered, and if they stayed in one place it would be only a matter of time until a patrol happened upon them.
Dalziel’s friends were all talking together in low voices. Padraig, the big lad who had been badly wounded, was healing nicely and his leg hadn’t festered, which had been Hadrian’s greatest concern. Curran had required minor attention, but the girl had extensive burns. He was able to repair a lot of her skin, but some ugly scars remained on her torso. He’d become worn out from using so much magic and had to quit working on her for the time being.
Hadrian smiled, in spite of the situation. Dalziel had loyal friends. That would be crucial in the near future if he was correct. And he wasn’t wrong very often. There also was no mistaking the way Dalziel and the girl looked at one other. This could certainly complicate t
hings, but what’s an adventure without a little romance? Maybe their affection could be channeled to everyone’s advantage.
Hadrian had just come from the three friends to check on Dalziel. He murmured something and the boy opened his eyes and started blinking. “How long was I out?” he asked and groaned.
“Two days.” Hadrian had thought about lying.
“That’s too long. I had this dream…Deidre!” he yelled.
“I’m right here.” She rushed over and cupped his head in her hands. “Hadrian healed me, and I’m fine now.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Really, I’m fine. But we’d all be dead if it weren’t for you.”
Dal relaxed until his eyes shifted to her legs. She had severe burns from her knees to her ankles. He pointed feebly at her wounds and said, “It’s all my fault.”
“You’re crazy, you saved us all.” She hugged his face to her bosom. “That’s worth a scar or two, don’t you think? Hade says these are just temporary, anyhow, and he’ll get rid of them once he gets all his strength back. ”
“I am so glad…I, I thought I’d lost you.”
“You’ll never lose me, not in a million years.”
Dalziel sat up, grunted, and felt his side. The wound had healed without even a red mark left from where the spear had entered. He stared at the spot until the sound of Hadrian’s voice interrupted his amazement.
"'Thank you,' I believe are the words you’re looking for,” Hadrian said.
“Hade, I definitely owe you one.”
“Considering that you cooked so many Andals soldiers to a crisp, we’ll call it even, shall we?”
“Okay.” Dal smiled, pleasing Hadrian. As long as one can laugh, life still has meaning. Padraig and Curran came over.
“Thanks for getting us out of that horrible jail,” Padraig said. “Another day, and if the Andals hadn’t killed us, the stench would have.”
“You guys were in that cell because of me. There was no way I was going to leave you there.”
Curran gave Dal’s shoulder a playful punch. “We thought we’d lost you,” he said gruffly, but his voice cracked enough that if he had said much more he’d have broken down.
“Come on, I’m harder to kill than that.”
Hadrian frowned. “Only just barely. There’s no way you can appreciate how much effort it took to bring you back to the land of the living. I told you that you’re not invincible, but you had to learn this the hard way, didn’t you? I trust it’s a lesson you won’t soon forget.” Dalziel looked down. “You did well,” Hadrian added gently, “but you must work to get a handle on that temper of yours.”
Dalziel looked at Deidre’s leg again. “Yeah, Hade, I think you’re right.”
“Good, we’ll train as we travel.”
The looks that passed between the four youths indicated that none of them felt like moving yet. Hadrian understood being tired, but this was not the time to rest any more than absolutely necessary.
“In case you young folks are wondering, those soldiers Dalziel barbequed back there have friends. I’ve been too busy concentrating my magic on carrying Dalziel and Deidre back with me to be exactly stealthy covering our escape. I sent out some mixed signals, but with enough Andal patrols, someone will be on our real trail soon. Our best chance is to make our way through the forest, traveling throughout the night to get as big a lead as possible, and hope we lose them along the way. We will need to cover our tracks, and I cannot do it alone, so I will teach you to weave earth, young Dalziel.” Hadrian paused and stared up at the sky. “But if they send the Weepers, even weaves won’t help. In all honesty, I don’t know why we haven’t already encountered Weepers, but we must pray we don’t, because we’re not nearly ready to defend ourselves against them”
“I think I’m doing just fine with fire, Hade.”
“Are you? While fire is very powerful, it is the least subtle of the elements. There will be situations when you’ll need to use other forces. For instance, what happened when you put up your firewall the last time we trained?”
“It blocked your fireball, that’s what happened.”
“Ah, very true. But your wall broke up because of that. What happened when you shot those tricky orbs at me?” Hadrian could see the young man’s brow furrow. Good.
“You blocked them…your water shield didn’t fall.”
“Very good. Do you know why?”
“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
Hadrian embraced air and made a small yet intricate weave. Dal yelped as if something had bitten him. He rubbed his rear and glared at Hadrian.
“That was for being smart. Notice that no one saw anything. That is one advantage of using air. But I digress. My water shield didn’t fall because water obviously puts out fire. Instead of using the same magic on itself as you did, I used a counter element.”
“So water is stronger than fire? Great. Thank Dio I’m the Fire Seraph.”
“Not so. Water is mostly a defensive element, as I demonstrated with you. If it’s used offensively, such as ice, then fire has the edge, as fire melts ice.”
“I get it.”
“You don’t get it yet, young Dalziel, but you will.” Hadrian chuckled. “The one thing we all can get is a move on. We’ve wasted enough time here as it is.”
They started off at midday when the sun was at its peak. Hadrian wished they could have waited until nightfall, but they couldn’t remain in one place any longer. If they made it to the Enclave, the Brotherhood could protect them. But if the Brotherhood’s location was compromised, they would all be exterminated. There simply weren’t enough Druids left to challenge the entire Andal Empire and its Weepers if they forged one onslaught after another.
In the distance, Hadrian heard a hawk shriek as they did only after a fresh kill. From Hadrian’s experience, hawks were usually good luck. All of Dio’s creatures were. Except for Andals. He couldn’t understand the purpose behind their creation.
Hadrian turned around to make sure the others were close by. Dalziel and his friends were together, 20 yards behind. Padraig said something and Dalziel and Deidre laughed. That was good. Those friends would all be leaning on each other in the coming days, and much depended on their camaraderie.
Not only that, but his three friends were also strongly aligned with Dio’s magic. Whenever any of them displayed strong emotions, the pulsing grew louder, like Hadrian’s own heartbeat. They all had great potential. They hadn’t yet "Flared," the term Druids coined for a user’s first time when connecting with Dio through magic, but Hadrian would work to fix that. And wouldn’t young Dalziel be pleasantly surprised when he learned that Deidre would also be able to use magic for herself?
Hadrian was excited to learn which element each of the other three would be attuned to the most. Padraig and Curran would be wonderful additions to the ranks, and Deidre would be welcomed to the female side of the organization.
Hadrian was also eager to see his old friends at the Brotherhood. He was keeping his fingers crossed that he’d still recognize everyone, he’d been away for so long doing Dio’s work and attempting to restore Ibernia to its former glory as a free country. Something beyond even the Andals was sapping the nation physically, spiritually, and magically. Dalziel might not be the one to cure all of this, but his presence would go a long way to getting everything on the road to recovery. He slowed down to let the four of them catch up with him. He was in the mood for a good conversation.
FIFTEEN
“So, they are indeed headed toward Dunkirk,” Mulbar said. Scouts from his patrols had just reported in, and the tracks and locations of their camps had pointed in one direction: north. Following them had been the easy part; the hard part was getting his soldiers to enter the forests, which he wasn't eager to do either.
He was getting close and didn’t have time to seek Wulf’s agreement to request the Weepers, so he’d gone over his head and sent a man to the Emperor to ask for them to join the
hunt. He received Wulf’s letter about not killing the Druid and his companions, but threw it on the ground in disgust. Once these people were out in the open, they would be his to do with as he pleased, Wulf be damned.
Mulbar was excited. Then he would find the Druid stronghold, which this small band of rebels had to be nearing. No more hulking and skulking around, killing one at a time. He much preferred an open battle, and now he’d have one. Complete extermination was his goal. He wanted to ride the Druids down and see the fear in their eyes as he extinguished their lives with his sword, their puny magic of no use against his cold steel.
“Prepare to move out!” he barked. The men put out their campfires and mounted their horses.
At Mulbar’s order, the other patrols had all joined up with his, and they were now more than one hundred strong. He gave the command, and as his brigade-size unit followed the scouts, he couldn’t contain his excitement. Soon his prey would be there waiting for him. Then he would have some fun with the Druid before he killed him. Maybe that girl would be in for a bit of sport as well. He grinned. Lord Wulf couldn’t possibly care if he killed them so long as all the Druids were destroyed in the end. Then everything would be right in the world. Today was going to be a glorious day.
Dal couldn’t help but stare at the scars on Deidre’s legs as she walked ahead of him. I did that. Thank Dio that Hadrian can fix her. I hope he does it soon. She pulled her wrap lower to cover her legs, making him think she could read his mind. She glanced back at him and smiled. Embarrassed, he was glad her look had been brief. Things had been so crazy that he hadn’t thought about her like that lately. He hadn’t even thought about Soren or his mother. His mother!
“Wouldn’t it be a good idea to go back and get Ma?” he ran up to Hadrian and asked.
