“If a dragon breathes fire, how can it be cool?” Mareck asked.
“Don’t be silly, Darling,” said Gareck. “Dragons don’t breathe fire.”
Rozen formed her hands into fists.
“So, there are dragons?” said Wyatt, wide eyed.
“Oh, yes, but you shan’t wish to meet one,” Mareck said. “Not as a human.”
Gareck laughed and even Rozen’s stern expression cracked for just a moment. Wyatt frowned, but shifted it into a wide grin at the thought of dragons. Could this place get any cooler?
“What of you, Wyatt? It is strange to find one so foreign to the ways of our realm. You must have traveled from a very distant land to be so…”
“Foolish,” Rozen finished. Mareck frowned at her, but the Draygan had returned to her stew.
“Oh,” said Wyatt, straightening. “I’m from Ridge Summit.” Three blank expressions stared back at him. “New York?” More stares. “The United States… Planet Earth…”
Mareck and Gareck exchanged confused looks. Gareck scratched at his ear with a thick claw.
“Well, how is it that you happened upon the Shadow Forest?” Gareck said at long last.
“And strung up by the false fruit,” Rozen added with a venomous smile.
Wyatt looked around the table. Their eyes were all glued to him, awaiting his response. A million sparks burned me here, he thought of saying. Or, magic green vines consumed me. His fingers found the pendant stashed beneath his scratchy brown habit. Before he knew what he was doing, the pendant was out and swinging from his fingers.
“With this,” he said.
Gareck and Mareck simultaneously fell to their knees and pressed their round heads to the dirt. Rozen stood up so fast her stool tumbled backwards. Her brilliant golden eyes went wide and she uttered a single word; “Druid.” Wyatt could not identify the underlying emotion.
“We had no idea,” said Mareck, speaking into the soil.
“Please forgive us, Master,” said Gareck. “Mother be praised, they have returned.”
Wyatt looked around, stunned. Druid? He looked at the pendant. It was no different than it had ever been.
“Um, what’s a Druid?” he said slowly.
Mareck and Gareck stood and exchanged confused looks. Wyatt could only shrug and flash his lopsided grin.
“You carry the symbol of a Druid,” Gareck said.
Wyatt looked at the pendant again as if expecting to see something new. Symbol? A piece of wood clutching a green stone?
“Oh my, we have been so…” Mareck said, wringing her hands. “Please, forgive us, Master. We had no idea.”
“Truly,” Gareck said. “We knew the Druids would return, but…”
“We thought not in our lifetime,” Mareck finished. “We should have been more prepared. Tsk tsk.”
Wyatt could feel his eyes bulge and fought to restore dignity to his expression. “Uh, it’s OK… You can, uh, sit down.”
“Very well,” Gareck said with a nod and the Children returned to their stools.
“See, Rozen,” Mareck said in a whisper. “One should never doubt the Mother.”
“The Mother?” Wyatt said.
“Aye, the Mother has sent you to us,” Gareck said.
“Oh… uh… yeah, of course… Druid… yeah…” Wyatt was having trouble getting his thoughts in line.
“Tell us, Master. Is it the Regency that has prompted your return?”
Mareck nodded at her mate. “What else would it be? The Regency drove the Druids from Hagion long ago and have brought naught but corruption and death. Clearly, we have suffered enough penance. And good riddance to them, I say. Tsk tsk.”
“Regency? Uh…” Wyatt said.
Rozen grunted. “See? He’s no Druid. False stories.” She turned away.
Wyatt bristled. “No… I am… well… yeah, a Druid.” He looked at the pendant still clasped in his hand. He studied the green stone for a moment before tucking it back beneath his habit. It felt warm against his bare chest. “I… I’m just… well, learning still…” He forced a smile.
“Learning?” said Gareck.
“It has been many generations since the Druids disappeared.” Mareck said. “The Master is clearly young and not of this world.”
“Hmmm, I suppose you have the right of it, Darling.”
“But I am a Druid,” Wyatt protested. Whatever that means.
“Of course,” Gareck said with a nod. “It is only we expected…”
“Tsk tsk, Dear. What is it that we expected? Many would claim the Druids do not even exist and here is one at our table.”
Gareck looked to Mareck and smiled. He nodded sharply. “Very good, Darling. Of course.” He turned to Wyatt. “Forgive us, Master, and welcome to our humble hovel, our hole in the ground, as it were.”
“Thanks,” Wyatt said. “So, uh-”
A loud shout came from a lower platform and arrested the conversation. It was just as well, Wyatt thought. He had no idea what to say. I’m a Druid? What on Earth does that mean? He wasn’t even certain it was a positive title, but couldn’t help but to rise to the obvious reverence the Children had bestowed on him.
Gareck trundled to the edge of the platform. “What news of you, Tarez?”
Wyatt could not hear the response, but Gareck’s reaction was clear. The round man straightened and turned, his cheerful expression exchanged for a scowl. He nodded at Rozen and gestured his heavy hand toward the hatch. Rozen sprinted around the table and leapt to the hatch, her long fire braid trailing behind her.
“What is it, Dear?” Mareck said.
Gareck smiled, but even Wyatt could tell it was forced. “Naught to worry about, Darling. Just a scouting band, I’m sure.”
“We have already given for the season,” Mareck said. “Is there no end to their greed?”
Rozen dropped back onto the platform, her face ashen and contorted. Her golden eyes were wide and jumpy.
“The Regency, they breach the hill’s crest,” she said frantically.
Gareck grunted. “Off to the storage tunnels for you, young Draygan. There are empty casks in the far-”
Rozen exhaled loudly, spittle spraying between clenched teeth. All eyes went to the trembling Draygan. “No,” she said. “They come from all sides.”
“All sides…” Mareck said.
Wyatt could hear Rozen’s quickened breath. “Not scouts, an entire… A full Regency attack force. Hundreds…”
Mareck scowled. “It can’t be… How could they…”
“It makes no difference. You must hide, Rozen. We won’t allow them search of the storage tunnels. We’ve done it a dozen times before.”
Rozen shook her head. “I saw Shamans and Wights in their midst.”
“What’s a-”
Gareck cut Wyatt off with a sharp grunt. Mareck pounded the table. “My Dear,” she said. “We must not let them find her here. You know what they will do to her… and to the-”
“I know,” he said sharply. “We can hide her.”
“From a Wight? We cannot.”
Gareck looked to Rozen. The Draygan had donned her cloak and drawn the cowl over her head. Gareck frowned. “What do you suggest?”
Mareck fixed her blank gaze on him, but said nothing.
Gareck bristled. “No, we cannot. It would be suicide during the season of Birth. It is still swollen from the rains.”
“Birth season?” Wyatt’s inquiry fell on deaf ears.
“We must,” Mareck said.
Gareck looked to Rozen. “Please,” came a whisper from the shadows of her hood.
“Dear,” Mareck said and nodded at Wyatt. “The Druid.”
Gareck looked to Wyatt as well. A sly smile split his wide face. “Of course, Mother be praised, the Druid. Master Wyatt, we have need of your power.”
Rozen cut in before Wyatt could summon a response. “He is a babe. He knows naught of our world. He is no true Druid. There are no-”
Wyatt stood and scowled in
credulously. “Just because I don’t know about your screwy world doesn’t mean I’m not a Druid.”
Gareck waved a thick hand and stepped before Wyatt. “Master, do you wield the Mother’s gift? Her power?”
“Uh, I, er,” Wyatt stammered. Power? Did he mean magic? “Of course, I have the, uh, Mother’s power. I am a Druid, after all.” He stood tall, trying to look impressive. He just couldn’t help himself.
Gareck bowed and turned to grab Rozen by the arms. The drastic difference in size made Wyatt grin. “The Master will help us flee, don’t you fret, Rozen.”
The Draygan remained still and silent. Mareck appeared at Wyatt’s side and placed a clawed hand on his back. “Many thanks, Master,” she said. “Your arrival is nothing short of miraculous. Mother be praised.”
Wyatt grinned sheepishly.
“My Darling has the right of it,” Gareck said and turned to Mareck. “Best grab the diggers, Darling.”
Mareck nodded and fetched a pair of giant hammers from amongst the chests and crates. Each was the size of an infant, a flat maul on one side and a thick spike on the other. Mareck shouldered them as if they weighed nothing. She nodded.
“Uh, what… uh, where…” Wyatt’s thoughts were evading him. His head was beginning to hurt.
Gareck flashed a toothy grin. “The Torrents, Master Wyatt. We shall ride the Torrents.”
Chapter Five
BY THE TIME they reached the bottom of the cavern Wyatt’s hands and feet were raw and blistered. His shoulders screamed in pain and his face was a sheet of sweat. The ill-fitting habit chafed his skin. He wanted to protest, but he had not the breath. He wanted to put voice to the multitude of questions in his head, but the searing pain in his limbs stole his focus.
He was not meant for such physical activity. The round Children glided down the rope ladders with uncanny grace. Rozen forwent the ladders in favor of falling from platform to platform, her long sinewy limbs absorbing the impact with grace. Wyatt could do nothing but wince at each unsteady hempen rung.
“Do we really… have to…” Wyatt gasped when they reached the cool dirt floor of the cavern. It was just as bright as the above platforms, but there were no fires to be seen. Wyatt was in too much pain to give it any consideration.
Rozen disappeared into an opening carved into the stone and soil wall. Gareck stooped and assisted Wyatt to his feet, though he hadn’t remembered falling. The cool soil soothed his torn feet, but exhaustion reigned supreme over the rest of his body.
“Please, Master,” Gareck said. “We must hurry.”
As if to support his claim, a cacophony of shouts came from high in the cavern. A sharp horn blast split the air and the mysterious ambient light seemed to flicker and dim. The crescendo rippled across each platform of the monstrous cavern. Even the stone seemed to shout and tremble. Wyatt shuddered.
When he turned, he saw the Children disappearing into the same tunnel that had swallowed Rozen. He grunted and hobbled after them.
The light was dimmer in the tunnels and the air much cooler. It clung damp to Wyatt’s skin, allowing him to once again breathe. It took everything he had to keep pace with the quick shuffles of Mareck and Gareck. Short, fat mole people and still I can’t keep up.
After a dozen twists and turns Wyatt found his voice again. “What’s the Regency and why can’t they find Rozen?”
He heard a distant snarl somewhere up ahead before Mareck responded over her broad shoulder. “They rule the realm.”
“Hagion?” Wyatt said, trying to put the pieces together.
“Just so,” Gareck said. “And even further, to the other realms, if the tales be true. Perhaps the entire world.”
“Shouldn’t a Druid be taught their history as a child?” Mareck said.
“Hey,” Wyatt called. “I’m new here. It’s not my fault.”
“Just so,” Gareck said.
“Our apologies, tsk tsk.”
The Children banked left at an intersection of identical and dimly lit tunnels. Should he lose sight of his guides Wyatt knew he would be forever lost in the subterranean labyrinth. He quickened his pace, ignoring the ache in his feet and the burning across his palms. At least the ropes are behind us. Walking is much easier.
“Are you rebels or something? Is that why we have to run?”
Gareck laughed, but it was Mareck who answered. “Mercy, no. We’re honest beasts. We flee to protect the Draygan.”
“What do you mean?” Wyatt said.
The tunnels turned right and began to slope gently downward. Wyatt could hear a distant gurgle of water. It sounded peaceful and the damp air was cool and cloying.
“They have sent dozens of scouting parties in search of her,” Gareck said. “They promise death to any that are found assisting her.”
“But, never before have they sent an entire army,” Mareck said.
Wyatt felt the underlying tone in her voice and grew defiant. “Hey, it’s not my fault. I just got here.”
“Just so,” Gareck said. “But should the Regency discover a Druid has returned to Hagion…”
“Tsk tsk,” Mareck said.
“Just so,” Gareck said. “Don’t you fret, Master. You shall find sanctuary as our ward. On the Mother’s grace, we will protect you.” He patted the tunnel side.
Why? he wanted to say, but instead he said, “I don’t need protecting. I’m Wyatt the Mighty. I need no babysitter.”
The sound of rushing water drowned out Gareck’s response.
Another sharp right and the tunnel spilled into a large cavern. Wyatt stumbled and nearly fell, his coordination stolen by the shock of the raging river before him. The sound was deafening. It looked to span nearly a quarter mile and coursed by in an angry white froth. Cold water spat and sprayed, creating a perpetual mist along the mud slicked bank.
“There she is,” Gareck shouted. “The Torrents.”
Wyatt numbly followed as Gareck led them to a line of crude wooden rafts lashed to the near stone wall. Mareck had already freed one from its tether and was struggling to shove it toward the churning river.
Wyatt snapped to attention. “Whoa,” he cried. “We’re not going in there are we?” He pointed at the river.
Gareck turned to him, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Aye, Master. Five furlongs down her back is another bank. The tunnel there leads deep into the Shadow Forest, far from Métra. We can take shelter in the forest until the Regency has left.”
“I… uh…” Wyatt couldn’t tear his eyes from the churning froth.
“We cannot,” Rozen said. “Your Druid is not capable.”
Wyatt snapped from his reverie to glare at the towering Draygan. Her hood had been knocked back, revealing her stunning features. Her face was contorted in an expression Wyatt did not recognize. Hate? Fear?
“Do not fear, Rozen, my dear,” Mareck said. “Master Wyatt is a Druid, he will guide us with the Mother’s will.” She turned and fixed Wyatt with an expectant look.
“I… uh… yeah… well… er…” He fought to wrestle his own fear. He couldn’t let them discern it. “Of course, yeah… I am Wyatt the Mighty, after all. Just… uh… tell me what to… uh… I am new here…” He grinned sheepishly and tried not to look at the swollen Torrents.
Gareck slapped him on the back and sent him headlong into the short wall of the large raft. “Just so, Master. I will give the command when we near the bank.”
“And you call to the Mother and shape the currents to drive us ashore,” Mareck finished.
Wyatt looked uncomfortably between them. The raft had not yet reached the pitching current. There was still time… Wyatt cleared his throat and thought to speak, but Gareck cut him off with his booming laugh. His face was laid wide in a toothy smile. Is he enjoying this? Mareck is grinning as well…
“In you go, Rozen,” Gareck bellowed. “And the Master, if you would.”
Before Wyatt could protest Gareck seized him by the waist and hoisted him over the side with seasoned strengt
h. He rolled onto the rough deck and surged to his knees, disoriented and desperate.
“I-” he began, but the roil of the Torrents drowned out his words.
Mareck tossed the diggers into the makeshift barge and the two round creatures gripped the sides with thick claws.
“Dig, my Dear,” Gareck shouted.
“Aye, my Darling, dig.”
The two creatures dug into the soft mud and let loose a guttural growl that shifted into a chant. “DIIIIIIIIIIGGGG!” They bellowed in concert and the barge surged forward, toward the Torrents. “Dig Diiigggg Diiiiiiigggggg.”
A second push jolted the craft and Wyatt fell to all fours. He stared at the lashed logs beneath him and wished he was somewhere else. He lifted a hand for his pendant, but a third surge sent him sprawling. The floor pitched and a wash of water filled his nose. He sputtered and scrambled to his knees again. The current bit hungrily at the wooden barge and tore it from the mud shore. Wyatt tasted the wooden deck again and came up coughing. He floundered for balance, spitting at the torrential spray that surged over the leading edge. A clawed hand wrenched him upright.
Wyatt wiped frantically at his eyes, but the floor pitched and he grabbed at the side. Gareck and Mareck stood in the center of the unsteady craft, emblazoned with toothy grins, their arms joined around each other. Rozen clutched the short wall and stared solemnly ahead. Wyatt struggled to reach her side.
He looked to her, seeking to catch her golden gaze, but she remained still, rigidly fixed to the wall. Wyatt opened his mouth, but the river water gagged him silent. He fell to coughing and gripping at the stout wooden wall as if it were his life. He figured it was.
The Torrents cut through stone and soil, burrowing somewhere deep beneath Métra and its strange inhabitants… and the mysterious Regency.
The ambiance was darker than in the cavern, but still held eerie glints of orange light. Where is it coming from? Is it the stone that glows? The air? The river ignored his thoughts and turned sharply to the left, sending the spinning barge within a hairbreadth of colliding with the rocky side. Air bit at his skin, chilling the river water and stealing his breath. He could no longer feel his fingers and the pain of traversing the rope ladders was long forgotten. Everything was numb.
The Druid's Guise: The Complete Trilogy (The Druid's Guise Trilogy) Page 4
