by Dan Bilodeau
“I’ve never felt anything magical in my life, except maybe when Pad shuts his mouth for more than two seconds,” Curran said.
“You boys need to trust me.” Hadrian placed his hands up to his head to indicate the need for deep concentration. “Now close your eyes and pour your emotions and thoughts into a bubbling brook, as if emptying a bucket of water. Let the world melt away until there is only you. Let go of your perceptions of reality, and surrender to Dio and let His power flow into you. You are his conduits, nothing more, nothing less.”
“Pretty deep, Hade, have you been breathing in too much smoke at the campfires?” Pad said, then yelped and grabbed his ear. That seemed to be a favorite move of Hadrian’s. Dal was going to have to learn that one.
Hadrian began to levitate, peering down at the boys and smiling as he rose higher in the air. Pad was interested in his sore ear, but Curran had opened his eyes and was observing Hadrian intently.
“Very good, young Curran,” Hadrian said. “It appears your Prime is air. Very useful, very useful indeed. And you can leave me up here awhile longer. Whereas it seems Padraig’s Prime is stupidity. I don’t think anyone I’ve ever encountered has been able to channel it as well. Yes, I believe the boy has got it mastered.” Dal and Curran burst out laughing.
“Shut up, old man,” Pad said in a serious tone that was so far from his nature that Dal raised an eyebrow.
“Or what?” Hadrian said. “What are you going to do, joke me to death? We’re going to be here a long time if that’s the case.” Another fit of laughter. Pad grew red.
“I said, shut up, Hade.”
“Poor Padraig, he spends so much time worrying about what others think of him, he never stopped to learn a thing or two other than being a clown. It’s time to grow up, son. People are dying around you, and we’re all running out of time.”
“I said, shut up!” Pad yelled. A patch of earth in front of Hadrian exploded and he was thrown backward. Before he hit a tree, he held out his hand and steadied himself in midair. He slowed down and stopped in front of the tree, landing softly on the ground.
“I’m sorry, Padraig,” Hadrian said. “But riling you up was the only way to crush that smarmy streak of yours. I had to get you to focus.”
"You, you, you tricked me,” Pad stammered, panting with anger. He fixed Hadrian with a stare.
“A very astute observation,” Hadrian said, sporting a broad smile.
“So me and Cur, we’re magic-users too? Druids?”
“Yes, my boy, you are. I noticed this in your friend and you a long time ago, along with Dalziel.”
“How come I haven’t been able to use magic before?” Curran asked.
“Yeah. Or me,” Pad said.
“Your abilities were already there, you just didn’t know it or how to harness the power. Chances are you may have used a bit of magic here and there without even noticing. For instance, young Padraig, I’m sure some interesting things have happened when you've become angry.”
Pad stared at Hadrian. “I don’t…I don’t know. When I’m angry I don’t really notice what’s going on around me.”
“But other people do. That may be why people go to great lengths not to anger you, Padraig. I’ve heard that your anger is not easily roused, and I admit that it took more goading than anticipated to get you to unleash your anger. With you, anger is the key, much like with Dalziel.”
“Why couldn’t I use my anger to summon magic when the guards were torturing me in jail?”
“That’s a great question, but you already know that answer. Which emotion was stronger, your anger or your fear?”
“I was scared I was going to die.”
“Your fear was dominant. If it had been the other way around, those guards wouldn’t have had a chance, and Dalziel wouldn’t have had to come to your rescue.” Hadrian looked up at the sinking sun. “I think that’s enough for tonight, gentlemen.”
“What if I don’t want to use magic? Just choose not to?” Pad asked.
“Then you will end up lashing out at people, as you just did with me, and possibly do some real damage to someone you care about. I can teach you to control magic’s flow through you, but you will have to be a good listener and practice every chance you get.”
Pad stared at Hadrian and Curran nudged him. The two friends walked over to the fire that Deidre had made.
Dal had been trying to talk to Deidre, but she was plucking a turkey she’d shot dead center with an arrow and paying him no attention, so he went over to Hadrian. “I’m thinking we should try to make as much time as we can tonight. Maybe eat, take a short nap, then leave.”
“It will all depend on how fast your friends can recover their strength. Padraig looks especially weakened.”
“If you mean him looking dumbstruck, he walks around like that all the time. Seriously, if we were attacked, and Pad and Curran had no grasp of magic yet, we really wouldn’t have a chance. You said that before, but I didn’t know how serious you were until now. You risked our stopping tonight so they could at least have something to start with. I was surprised how easy it was for you to make Pad angry.”
“That one appears not to have a care in the world, but his immature antics may one day get him killed. He’s a good friend to you, and loyal, but he has some growing up to do. I believe you could help him. And you need to do it fast.”
“Me? How can I help him? I have my own problems.”
“That is true. You have a rage inside of you, and you carry guilt around like a sack of potatoes on your back. It can and will drag you down if you don’t set it aside, and soon.” Dal flinched as if slapped. “But you also have a strength in you that you don’t see. Your friends recognize it, though, and this is why they listen to you.” He gestured toward Deidre, who was now roasting the plump turkey as Curran and Pad looked on with obvious glee at such a good meal in the offing. “That young lady there also sees it, which is what draws her to you. That and your country charm.” Hadrian chuckled.
Dal glared at Hadrian. “Drawn to me? One minute she’s holding my hand, telling me everything is going to be all right, and an hour later she acts like I don’t exist. She won’t even look at me now.”
Hadrian shook his head. “You have as much to learn about women as you do magic. I can help with one. The other, well, you will have to learn on your own, the same as all the rest of us males.” He laughed as he walked past Dal to join the rest of the group.
Dal waited a moment to let everything sink in. Women and magic, a deadly combination. Which did he really know less about?
SEVENTEEN
After eating the turkey and some roots Deidre had boiled, Hadrian decided that everyone should sleep for a few hours but leave that night. He didn’t want to risk the Andals getting any closer than might already be the case. Deidre volunteered to stay awake and keep watch.
Pad and Curran were curled up close together on the other side of the fire. The embers had died early in the night, with only ash now left in the pit. Hadrian was by himself, propped against a tree, snoring loudly. The insects around them were making even more noise, as if in protest to the mighty roars coming from the sleeping Druid.
Dal was asleep, only to be awakened by Deidre, who snuggled close to him, he assumed for warmth. She was facing him, her body pressed against his. The moonlight that managed to make its way through the trees gave her a mysterious look, heightened by her disheveled hair, wisps of which covered one eye. Dal gently pushed a strand of hair out of her face. Dio, she’s beautiful. She smiled and moved a little, but he awkwardly inched backward to extricate himself from the situation. In response, she got up and walked away. Once again, he was bewildered by her actions.
Dal was still tired, but he couldn’t sleep. Deidre and a dream he’d had took care of that. In the dream, Soren was falling into a black pit, and he’d called out to Dal to save him. Dal dived from the sky to catch his brother. But the faster Dal went, the quicker Soren descended. He cried, “Dal, I don’t wa
nt to die. Help me!” Dal reached out his hand, only to miss his brother. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach him, and he had to watch in horror as Soren was swallowed up by the darkness below.
Dal stumbled over to Pad and shook him awake. “Wha--?” Pad said sleepily as he opened his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Time to get up.”
“I’m still tired.”
“Get up, you lug. I want to talk to you about what happened with Hade.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
Pad rubbed his eyes. “Hade got under my skin, is all. I shouldn’t have let that old fart manipulate me. I walked right into it.”
Dal was embarrassed, remembering his first day of training. “Don’t worry about it. He’s too crafty for us.”
“You mean, he got you too?”
“Oh, yeah. I couldn’t channel at all until he started hurling fireballs at me. Then I learned real fast.”
Pad cracked a faint smile, then glanced toward Curran’s sleeping form. “Everything comes easy to Curran. The guy’s got nerves of steel. He never does anything wrong. Hade is right about me. I’m a clown, always trying to be funny to keep people from really looking at me.” Pad kicked the ground next to him.
“Hade’s just trying to get you to use your Prime.”
“But he meant what he said about me not taking anything seriously.”
“Everybody copes with life differently. You joke around. I think that’s healthy. Sure, you could be more serious at times, but Hade uses humor too. Surrounded by a half-dozen Andals he just killed one morning, he was making fun of the situation and calmly eating breakfast. Did you ever think that Hade might know your weaknesses so well because you remind him of a younger version of himself?”
“I never thought about it.” Pad scratched his chin. “But it makes sense.”
“Now, the real question is, do you want to get back at him for what he did to you?” Pad’s eyes lit up. Dal grabbed a pan and motioned for his friend to do the same. They held the pans directly over Hadrian’s head and started banging them.
“Andals!” he shouted as he shot up and his head hit one of the pans, his eyes searching around frantically. Pad and Dal doubled over laughing. Dal couldn’t remember his side ever hurting so much except when the spear was stuck in it.
Deidre came running over with her bow notched and Curran sat up. “What was that?” Curran asked.
“Nothing,” Pad answered. “Hadrian just got excited is all.”
The Druid was rubbing his head and looking at Pad and Dal with distaste. Dal was still laughing. “You think that’s funny, do you?” Hadrian said.
“No,” Pad said with a serious face, “it’s hilarious.” Another bout of giggles took him. Hadrian grunted and stood up.
“If you children are done playing around, and since everyone is now fully awake, time to get moving. So let’s pack and start walking.”
Once underway, Dal was still dead tired, and Pad muttered about his legs feeling like logs. Curran had to stop often to rest, and since Deidre had been up all night, she was walking as if in a trance. But regardless of the grumbling about fatigue, getting to safety was all that mattered, and the commitment on everyone’s part was unwavering in this regard.
Morning broke, and after a quick breakfast of some berries they found, they started walking again. A few minutes into their trek, the ground began to vibrate a little. Then the mild quivering turned violent. “Get down!” Hadrian yelled. “Earthquake!” Helpless, each looked at the other in terror. Even Hadrian’s eyes showed fear, and Earth was his Prime.
Everything was being shaken hard, and Dal was bouncing around like a twig in the wind. It got to him when he saw Deidre wrapping her arms around some tree roots for support. Dio, please don’t let it end here. We’ve come too far. Then, the tremors stopped.
“Dio, that was a big one,” Pad said.
“Let us hope that was it.” Hadrian said grimly.
Shortly before noon, they reached the clearing Hadrian had predicted, with no tree cover to hide and protect them, and the sun hitting them full in the face. Dal raised his hand to block the rays. With no further animal noises to create a din, it was eerily quiet, and Dal wondered if he was the only one who felt that way.
“Now begins the most dangerous part of our journey,” Hadrian announced. He grimaced.
“How far to the Enclave, Hade?” Dal asked.
“If your friend Padraig can keep up, we should be there two days from now,” Hadrian replied.
Pad informed Hadrian where he could put his Enclave.
“When are you going to train me?” Deidre asked. “Am I not worth it because I’m a girl?”
“No, I haven’t neglected training you because you’re a girl. I did it because I had my hands full with these three.” He pointed to the boys. “You seem to have a calm head on your shoulders, young lady, and the least likely to lash out in anger. In short, I judged you the most capable of surviving without training. That’s why I saved you for last. Not to mention, you’re a skilled archer who’s proven herself under pressure.”
Deidre stuck up her nose at the boys and walked ahead. Pad stuck out his tongue at Hadrian, who had started after Deidre. Suddenly, Pad jerked back yelped loud and long.
“How did you know what I did?” Pad asked as he massaged his behind.
“Never you mind, young Padraig. Just keep up with us. And if you do that again, you won’t be able to sit for a week.” Hadrian groaned. “Some people never learn.”
They proceeded through the open fields for several hours, with no sign of anything but sky on the horizon. When the sun started to go down, they stopped to eat and rest. Pad pulled out some cheese that Slaig had given them at the market. Coupled with what was left of some bread Deidre had brought with her, it made for an adequate meal. They munched in silence, then some movement over Dal’s shoulder caught Hadrian’s eye. A moment later he yelled, “Run.” The four of them stared at him. “Run!” he yelled louder.
Dal turned to see a cloud of dust, growing larger by the second, and he felt his stomach drop. That cloud could mean only one thing, and this was men on horseback. A lot of men on horseback. Dal, Curran and Pad lined up behind Hadrian, with Deidre to his side. She nocked an arrow and aimed almost straight up in the air, pulled the string all the way back, the muscles in her arms taut and defined as she released the arrow. Dal lost sight of it in the sunlight, when just then the riders appeared over a short rise. This assault was not led by Andal horsemen, but by a column of riders dressed all in black. Deidre’s falling arrow hit the lead rider in the neck. He clutched at the shaft and fell from his mount.
The men in black pulled out long bows and extended pikes. Deidre fired again, this time taking an armored Andal rider in the throat, and like his predecessor, he grabbed for the arrow and fell from his horse. Dal took a quick count. There had to be a hundred riders coming at them.
Hadrian was deep in concentration, and Dal saw blue lines coming from him and thought he knew what was coming next. Instead of large, deadly icicles, a giant, self-contained sphere of water appeared in the midst of the approaching riders. Already huge, it began expanding even more.
A dozen riders were enveloped in the sphere. A few managed to scream before their cries were cut off as they went under, held down by their heavy armor. Dal was reminded of the tale he’d heard of an Andal warship that sank off the east coast of Ibernia some years earlier. The Andal solders on that ship were said to have been dragged down by the weight of their armor to a watery grave.
Some men, who got free of their mounts, attempted to swim out of the sphere, but when they reached the sides they could go no farther, and they pounded in vain as their air ran out. By that time, most of their confederates had already stopped moving.
Beads of sweat poured down Hadrian’s brow as he lowered his hands. The sphere collapsed, and the men who were inside fell to the ground, their corpses crushed by th
eir horses, which had also drowned.
Hadrian’s efforts had slowed down the full-frontal assault, and while the next wave of riders advanced with more caution, they kept coming nonetheless. Hadrian was breathing heavily and he looked exhausted.
“I had hoped to draw more in,” he said between breaths. “Dal, I need your help. Padraig and Curran, you too. We have no time to dally. Those men in all black are Weepers, and they are relentless and more ruthless than any ten Andals.”
Dal watched as red weaves emerged from Hadrian, and four riders flew from their mounts. Next, a small orb appeared, much like the ones Dal had used before. This one, however, pulsed, as if searching for something. It passed several flanks of mounted soldiers, many of whom pulled up their horses to turn and gaze at the orb. When it reached the center of the brigade, it exploded. Men were thrown in every direction, now fiery projectiles themselves. Many were Weepers.
But much more needed to be done, as Dal estimated that 70 Andals and Weepers remained on their horses, and they were now realigning themselves for their next attack. Just then Hadrian fell to the ground, panting but managing to say, “I need to…rest.”
A new frontal phalanx of ten riders charged. Just as they got up to speed, they were knocked off their horses. Every animal was hurt or dead, most with broken necks as they rebounded off an invisible wall. The impact had just as serious an effect on their riders, as some were impaled by their own lances and swords while others were crushed by their mounts. Not one man appeared to be moving, and Curran was seen to have white weaves extending from his body.
The earth exploded around the riders, bits of earth and rock shooting in all directions. A few more horsemen fell. Pad was standing next to Curran, also using magic. Several more blasts occurred. These were not well directed, however, and burst around the riders instead of among them. Dal had been watching, in awe of the power his childhood friends possessed, but now he too had to help.
The remaining men on horseback formed what amounted to two and one-half lines with five Weepers leading the pack. They charged. Dal closed his eyes and envisioned the stream. In the background, he heard the twang of Deidre’s bow. He felt the earth tremble as the riders approached. They don’t exist, he told himself. Only I am here. He felt the air dampen around his body. Dal breathed deeply. Only he and the stream existed. Everything went silent. All Dal could hear was the rhythmic, rapid beating of his heart.
