Pathways of the Druids

by Christopher J. Pine

  Speedy Travel

  Days of nightmare and travelling...

  In the early morning light, the cart trundled along the narrow track, its heavy wheels cutting through the edges of the scrub. Nohj was trying to sing.

  “Do you have to make that noise?” said Regor.

  “It’s only to keep the donkeys happy. I’m sure they like it,” said his brother, and started again. Then Regor heard another noise in the back of the cart and turned round to pull open the canvas flap, peering into the back of the cart. Rronish was screaming and Sirarch was gently shaking her awake.

  “Wake up, wake up, Rronish. Don’t worry, you were only dreaming. It was just a bad dream, you’re safe here, we’re both safe.”

  “Oh no,” said Rronish, grabbing his arm, “that wasn’t just an ordinary dream. The slavers are coming back and they’re going to raid my village. All my family and everybody I grew up with will either be taken or killed! That was no priest we met last night. That was a god, Aengus mac-Og himself. He’s sent me a warning. I must warn my village...”

  The cart suddenly juddered and came to a stop. Sirarch looked over the large pile of pelts towards the dwarves, who were busy arguing. Then he saw the cause of the delay - they’d arrived at a river and the donkeys were refusing to cross it.

  “What’s the matter with your donkeys?” demanded Regor.

  “They don’t like water,” Nohj replied. “It’s not just the noise of the river that’s worrying them. They just don’t like water. There’s nothing else for it, I’ll have to lead them across.”

  He rolled up the bottom of his trousers to his knees, took off his boots and socks and placed them in the back of the wagon. Then he climbed down and began talking to each one of the four donkeys in turn. Gently and gradually he coaxed them forwards, leading them into the river. He grasped the lead donkey’s bridle and walked in front, beginning to wade across. The donkeys followed willingly after their master. As Nohj walked into the river, the muddy water was cold and he shivered, breathing in sharply as it quickly rose up to his chest. Seeing the depth of the river, Regor leaned out of the wagon and looked down, worrying about the pelts getting wet, but the water had only risen up to the height of the axles. After they’d crossed over, Regor stopped the wagon and Nohj clambered back up onto the driving board.

  “Pass me the reins, please!” insisted Nohj. “You know they prefer me handling them. It’s probably best I drive them for the rest of the day.” He lightly tapped on the reins and the donkeys sped forward. Regor looked at him.

  “I promised our mother that I’d look after you,” he said, “but just look at yourself, you’re soaking wet. Please sit as far away from me as you can.”

  “Don’t worry, Regor, it’s a nice hot day and I’ll soon dry out. And don’t complain so loudly, you’ll upset the donkeys. All they needed was a little encouragement.”

  “What do you mean, I’ll upset them? They’re only donkeys.”

  “No, Regor, they’re not only donkeys!” said Nohj. “I’m sure they have feelings. Once I get them moving, they’ll be quite happy to do their best for me and travel for the rest of the day.”

  In the back of the wagon, Sirarch opened his pack and took out a small loaf of bread. He tore off a portion and passed it to Rronish. Then he sat down and began to study the leather map they had traded for in Camulodunon.

  “Is there far to go?” asked Rronish. “That dream was so real, I feel there’s so much danger. We must hurry, or we’ll be too late.” Sirarch looked up from the map.

  “Yes, we’ll hurry,” he agreed, “and we’ll go to your village first before I go on to deliver the other package. I would never ignore a dream from a god. I ignored my own warning once and it cost me very dear. I’ve already arranged with the dwarves that they’ll drop us off at a track way I know on the other side of the forest. Then, depending on our luck, it should take us three or maybe four days to reach the Cantiaci. That is, if we travel by foot. But looking at the map, I wonder if we could go by the river... the Tamesa might be a better way to travel - I’ll have to think about this. There’s another track that leads to the Tamesa. Yes, I’ll have a word with Regor. Now, dare I suggest you should try and get as much sleep as you can? Use some of these pelts - they should be quite comfortable to bed down on.”

  “A boat does sound faster, you’re right. After I’ve had some food, I’ll try to get some sleep. Have you got any water?”

  “Yes, here. Let’s eat and rest, and leave the worrying to the dwarves.”

  Just then the wagon jolted as one of its wheels hit a large pothole. The water bottle that Sirarch had taken out slid across the floor of the wagon. As they travelled on further, they both slipped in and out of a light sleep. Finally the wagon came to a stop and Regor woke them up.

  “We’ve arrived at the track you wanted,” said Regor. “You asked me to wake you when we got here. The light is breaking open and it’s time for you to be going.” Sirarch and Rronish climbed out of the wagon.

  “Yes, we have little of the day to waste and we must be travelling on,” said Sirarch. “Will you be resting here for a time?”

  “A short time only, so I can feed and rest my donkeys,” said Nohj. “I wish you good luck, my friends, and may the gods travel with you.” As they strode off down the track, the dwarves watched them leave.

  “That’s not a track that I’d want to go down,” observed Regor. “To me it looks like a bad trade. But elves take many risks that a dwarf wouldn’t. Nohj, we’ve been lucky on this trip, the gods have smiled on us. The rest of the journey from here should be easy.”

  They had been walking for some distance when Rronish looked up at the trees whose branches were overshadowing the track. The branches were blocking most of the light from entering the forest, making the area feel chilled and dark.

  “Sirarch, I need a rest,” she said. “How much farther is it on the map?”

  “Not far now, I think we’re quite near a village.”

  Then, as if coming from nowhere, a girl’s sultry voice began to tease them.

  “Tell me you’re not lost, nightwalker? That’s strange, for one of your kind. Why are you rushing around during the day with a little human friend? She makes enough noise for ten men!” Startled, they looked around, hearing the light-hearted giggling of young girls. The voice called to them again, flicking around the woods. “No, not there. Or over there. Look harder. Oh, nightwalker, will you try and find us? No, not there! I am up here on a bough. Stay awhile and talk with us.” There was more giggling as Rronish turned round, searching for the voices; then she looked up into the trees.

  “Sirarch, do you see, there is someone up in that tree.”

  Sirarch signalled to Rronish not to worry and not to touch her sword. He looked upwards into a tall, dark tree and saw several pretty young dryads, one of them languidly lying on a branch. Her head was resting on the trunk of the tree, her hair long and dark brown, and one of her legs was lightly dangling over a branch. A green and brown light was gently covering her. Two other dryads were standing a little higher in the tree and were smiling mischievously down at them.

  “My name is Sirarch and my friend is Rronish. We are peaceful travellers and happy to meet you.” He slightly bowed his head to one side as he spoke to them. “I would enjoy a conversation with you. What are your names? Would you please come down?” The brown-haired dryad looked down at him.

  “My name is Eszuann, and my sisters are Shiaa and Lauriee. We’ve heard of you.”

  As Sirarch watched her, the light around her shimmered and she was absorbed into the tree. Then Eszuann emerged from the base of the tree and walked towards them. She went directly up to Sirarch, gently flicking her hair back, and placed both her hands onto the sides of his face. The forest seemed to darken as she spoke.

  “We are distant relatives of your wife, Chres
ald. My heart goes out to you. Her tree was too young to leave this world. When we felt her death, the whole forest became saddened at her passing.”

  “I miss her sorely and I shall find those responsible. But at this time I’m in haste, guiding my friend Rronish to her home. We have to cross to the other side of the dark one, and we’re being hunted. Will you help us?”

  “Don’t worry, Rronish,” said Eszuann, turning to her. “I’ll guide you through this forest safely and hide all your signs and tracks from any who might follow you. And the forest will turn dark for your pursuers.” Suddenly they heard the sound of heavy rustling in the tress, as if someone were rushing through the forest towards them.

  “It’s a bear,” said Eszuann. “Quick, run, climb high up into my tree.”

  Sirarch dashed for the tree, climbing quickly, and Rronish ran after him. As she tried to climb up, the dense brambles seemed to be clawing at her face and snagging at her clothes, when helping hands reached down and she was pulled swiftly up onto the lower branches of the tree. A dryad with long dark hair looked directly into her face and the words flowed into her mind.

  “My name is Shiaa. My sister Lauriee and I are going to help you. Now just relax and don’t look down. Just sit there while we have some fun hiding your scent from the bear.”

  Sirarch leaned over to Rronish, touching her gently on the shoulder and gesturing to her not to make a sound as the dryads moved around the tree lightly shaking its branches. The great tree shook gently and spread its scent around them, as Rronish held tightly onto a large branch. Silently, they all watched the bear as it prowled the ground below them. Confused, it scrabbled at the earth looking for their scent, then stood up on its hind legs swaying from side to side as it sniffed at the air. Turning around, the bear dropped back down to the ground and ran back along the track towards the heavy scent of the donkeys. Rronish still held tightly to the limb of the tree as Shiaa and Lauriee sat down on either side of her and began to examine her clothes.

  “Sister, look at these horrible colours,” said Lauriee. “Blacks and blues, they should be greens and browns. We do know what shades are best to use in our land.” At this point, the dryads lost interest in her and went to check that the bear had really left.

  “Sirarch, help,” whispered Rronish. “When can we get down from here?”

  “Not just yet,” he replied. “The bear has gone, but I want you to climb a bit higher up to where I am and take in the view. I can hear the river and see a village, so the river must be just beyond it. I’ll try and trade there for a small boat or for someone to ferry us across for some coin.” The tree’s branches swayed a little as she carefully made her way up to where Sirarch was standing.

  “Oh, I can see a long way now. Yes, I see the village. But that’s a village of slavers - I remember now, I recognise it from one of Nylen’s warnings. We mustn’t go in there or we’ll be trapped. There must be a way around it or another way we can go, perhaps further up the river.” They climbed down and Sirarch poured a gift of water at the base of the tree to say thank you. Eszuann was waiting for them at the root of the tree.

  “Eszuann, what do you know of the people in that village? Are they slavers?”

  “Thank you for your gift of water, Sirarch, it is well given,” she said. “In regards to the village, yes, I have often seen them chaining together their own kind, for trade I believe. Without a doubt they’re evil people that you must avoid. Tonight we’ll guide you past their guards and all their traps, and then you could take one of their boats for your journey.”

  “We have few choices left to us,” said Sirarch, “and you’re right, we’ll have to steal one of their boats. Slavers deserve no respect from us. But first I’ll have to make a diversion, to stop them following us.”

  For the rest of the day they kept themselves hidden in the forest and rested until the light of the day began to fail. Then they prepared to cross the dark one.

  “We’ll leave now, it’s time,” said Eszuann. “I won’t say farewell, for I’m sure we’ll meet again. Now, no more words, for they’re never enough. Just follow me as silently as you can.”

  “Rronish,” said Sirarch, “once we are at the river, there’s a job I need you to do. Take my bow and pack and go down to the forest edge. When you’re there you are to wait for my signal. When you see it, find a small boat and get it ready. I’ll join you there.”

  Sirarch smiled and Rronish could only manage a wave as they followed the dryads. Soon the dryads were leading them quietly through hidden paths around the village and down to the forest’s edge. Rronish tripped on a tree root and fell, but before she could cry out with pain Lauriee’s thoughts entered her mind. “Make no sound now, swallow the pain. It’s very dangerous here, we’re too close to the village to make any noise.”

  Lauriee ran over and helped her to her feet. Rronish grimaced with the pain but signalled to the dryad that she was fine, and limping only slightly she continued following Sirarch and the dryads along the trail. Upon reaching the forest’s edge, Sirarch signalled to them and headed towards the stables. Eszuann smiled at Rronish as she and her sisters, their work now done, dissipated into a mist and drifted slowly back into the trees.

  Rronish waited just inside the edge of the woods and looked over towards the stables, watching for a signal from Sirarch. When she saw him again, he was holding a lighted brand; then he quietly opened the large door, the horses flinching as he went inside and drove them out of the stables. Seeing this, Rronish carefully made her way down to the jetty where she was hoping to find a small boat.

  Looking along the jetty, she saw that there were several small, round boats covered in leather and lying upturned on the shoreline. They looked far too weak and small for two people to travel a river as wide as the dark one safely. But at the far end of the village there was another small jetty where Rronish could see a wooden, flat-sided boat in the water that looked like it could be big enough to take both of them. She felt nervous as she made her way towards it; the river looked black, cold and deep. There was no noise apart from the chill wind whistling through the trees and the quiet thud of her footsteps on the planks of the damp jetty.

  The river was calm here and the boat was rocking gently on the water. She put the packs and bow down, and placed her hands on the side of the small craft to steady it as she carefully climbed on board. Suddenly, from underneath the covering on the boat something moved. It was a town watchman, who had been asleep while he should have been on watch. He was of heavy build, but still only half awake when he stood up, grabbing at an oar and clumsily lunging forward at Rronish, trying to knock her off her feet.

  “Who are you and what are you, a thief? Come `ere girl, you’re mine...”

  With a startled look of surprise, his attacked stopped. Rronish’s sword had deftly parried the oar to one side, then she felt the sword continue on upwards, cutting deeply into his throat. She didn’t even remember pulling the sword from its scabbard. But now she could see that she was holding the hilt of the weapon.

  The dead watchman’s eyes rolled upwards and went blank as he slowly collapsed, the boat rocking violently as he dropped the oar. He fell away from her, tumbling over the side of the boat and splashing down into the dark river, leaving the blood-stained sword in her hand. After the boat had stopped rocking, she carefully wiped the sword’s blade on the covering. Looking at the engraving on the blade, Rronish saw that the picture had changed. It now depicted the dragon standing proudly.

  Rronish was still shaking a little as she looked over at the stables, where she heard the sounds of panicking horses that had been driven out of the burning building. Sirarch was still carrying the firebrand and was now running towards her. Quickly she turned round and reached over to the jetty, picking up the packs and the bow. He was much closer to the river bank now, and as he ran past a small stack of boats he paused for a moment to toss the lighted
firebrand in amongst them, then he climbed into the boat. Rronish placed the oars into the rough notches carved into the side of the craft and began to row, pulling away from the bank, when something bumped against the side of the boat. Sirarch looked over the side of the boat at the body of the watchman.

  “You had to kill someone? Sorry, I didn’t think there’d be a guard. Are you injured? Ah, no, good! Don’t worry about him, he was just a slaver and didn’t deserve the life he had.”

  “It all happened so fast,” said Rronish. “No, I’m not worried about him. I will never be taken as a slave again!”

  Her voice sounded cold. Rronish looked down, concentrating on her rowing. The blades of the oars glistened in the light from the goddess, as at a steady pace they broke through the surface of the water. They could now hear the noise of the straw and dry wood that was beginning to crackle with fire as the flames took hold of the stables. The horses were bolting and someone was ringing a bell, the town starting to wake from its sleep.

  Gwydion and Tristan were standing on the walkway above the second gate, watching the Roman camp. Gwydion’s mood was grim. He knew that this lull in the battle was just a ruse. The Romans were waiting for the right time to attack. Mestrathax walked over to them.

  “Gwydion, all the tribe has left now. It’s time to move the men towards the portal. To distract the Romans, I need some of your people to help me by placing lighted torches around the palisade.”

  “Detach three-quarters of the men and tell your lieutenants that they’re to lead them out through the portal,” Gwydion instructed Tristan. Tristan was about to speak when Gwydion spoke again. “No arguments, Tristan, just go and do it. It’s all finished here. We have to leave, so take your men out of here now!”

  Tristan quickly split the men into two groups, and as ordered sent his men through the portal to safety. Then with Gwydion and the remaining warriors he set about lighting torches around the palisade and creating a disturbance to mislead the Romans.