The Druid's Guise: The Complete Trilogy (The Druid's Guise Trilogy)

by Michael J Sanford

  “Sorry,” he said with a coy shrug, but then saw them clearly in the morning light. “You’re naked! Ugh!” he bellowed and scrambled for the edge of the hole, dragging himself up to safety with his eyes shut tight.

  Hysterical laughter filled the pit and drifted along the morning breeze. Wyatt sat dazed in the grass, mindlessly brushing dirt from his habit.

  Gareck’s head appeared over the edge with a wide smile, soon followed by the rest of his round and scaled body. Wyatt covered his eyes and looked to the ground.

  “Master Wyatt,” Gareck boomed. “Don’t be shy. Open your eyes, young Druid.”

  Don’t do it, don’t do it, his mind screamed, but he lowered his hand and raised his gaze. He just couldn’t help it. He immediately regretted it as both Mareck and Gareck stood before him, stark naked, their hands placed proudly on their wide hips.

  “Nothing to be embarrassed by,” Mareck said, her earrings softly jingling as she spoke. “We’re Children. Look.”

  Wyatt had dropped his gaze again, analyzing a single blade of grass. After a moment, the curiosity and impulse won out and he looked. Not only were Mareck and Gareck identical above the shoulders, but also below. Their gray stone scales continued down their thighs and disappeared at the knee. His eyes gravitated to Gareck’s crotch. There was nothing but pale skin and stony scales, the same with Mareck. His eyes further wandered up Mareck’s rounded stomach and fixated on her chest.

  Gareck laughed. “The Druid seems to be looking for human breasts, Darling.”

  Mareck returned the laugh, her great stomach rising and falling. “But, we are Children, Dear.”

  “Aye,” Gareck said. “Another thing you must know of the Children, young Druid.”

  The shock wore off and Wyatt stood, but found he couldn’t tear his eyes from their strange and abstruse bodies. It took another moment, but his mind loosened and his mouth soon followed.

  “Where’s your junk?” he said.

  Gareck stared back with unseeing eyes, but didn’t respond.

  “Uh, I mean, er, your… penis,” Wyatt said and felt his face flush red.

  “The Children have no need for such things,” Gareck said plainly.

  “Um, then how…” Wyatt began, but found himself entranced by their void bodies and his words drifted off into the breeze.

  “Do we reproduce?” Mareck finished for him. Wyatt nodded.

  “Tell him how you mate,” called Rozen with a soft laugh. How long had she been there? Wyatt’s face burned even hotter and he vainly hoped the strange tint from the sun would obscure his shame.

  “Oh, we’re embarrassing the Master,” said Mareck. “Tsk tsk.”

  Gareck’s smile faded and he said, “Yes, Dear. We have been inappropriate. Forgive us, young Master. We merely meant to educate you as is the Mother’s will for us.”

  Mareck nudged her mate. “Let us prepare some breakfast, Dear.”

  “Aye, Darling,” Gareck responded.

  Wyatt stared after them as they waddled toward the river, still completely nude. Rozen glided to Wyatt’s side softer than a shadow. Wyatt looked at her, but could not find any words and so stared back after the Children who had waded into the Torrents.

  “They hatch,” Rozen said with a smile.

  “Eww,” he said, but wasn’t entirely sure why. He merely could not come up with any other coherent thought.

  “You’ll get used to them,” Rozen said and then added, “Master,” with a short bow.

  He was too distracted to try to discern the sincerity of the gesture. “Is Gareck male?” he said after a long moment. “Is Mareck… a she?”

  “Not really,” Rozen said. “But, they let other races treat them as such. It saves… the awkwardness.”

  “Oh,” was all Wyatt could say.

  * * *

  Breakfast was another round of fire grilled fish. Wyatt frowned as the Children coaxed the fire to life again and set to cooking the assortment of fish. He sat, arms crossed, atop the log, his mind imagining a line of marshmallows and hot dogs along the arrows. His frown and uneasy disposition persisted until Gareck thrust the hot spit in front of him. Tendrils of fragrant steam invaded his nostrils and set his stomach growling. He looked around, hoping to find a box of donuts or bowl of cereal, but finding none, he turned back and accepted the crackling skewer.

  In time, his stomach won out and he took a tentative bite. The crisp skin cracked and the soft flesh flaked against his tongue, filling him with a ravenous fury. He had never tasted anything so delicious. Before long the giant arrow was empty and his stomach churned with approval.

  “That was awesome,” he said and let loose a loud belch.

  Gareck and Mareck grinned, nodding their approval. Rozen rolled her eyes and popped a fish into her mouth.

  “So, what now?” Wyatt said.

  “Should it not be the Druid that leads us?” Rozen said with such a hint of disdain that Wyatt had no difficulty recognizing it.

  He bristled. “Mareck and Gareck are guiding the guide,” he said.

  Rozen rolled her eyes again.

  “Just so,” Gareck said. “Though, it is with your desire that we guide.”

  Wyatt frowned. Another riddle?

  “Tell us what you want us to do,” Rozen said sharply.

  “Oh,” Wyatt said, tilting his head. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

  Gareck merely smiled.

  “Well,” Wyatt said. “I guess we should go back to Métra and… uh, get supplies?”

  “Is that a question?” Rozen said. The Draygan had finished her fish and was using a dagger to cut the giant arrows in half.

  “Tsk tsk, Rozen,” Mareck said. “I think that’s a marvelous idea. Can’t be traipsing about without proper supplies.”

  “Just so,” Gareck said. The round creature kicked a spray of dirt, smothering the fire, and shouldered his digger. Mareck took the other. They looked to Wyatt.

  “Guide the guide?” he said.

  * * *

  They traveled all morning, without break, following the river upstream. The plains were largely barren and dry, the only vegetation a short scrub grass that became progressively more abrasive as they walked. Wyatt began to see the value of the wrappings Rozen wore on her feet as his deteriorated with each pained step.

  Gareck and Mareck, despite their short stocky legs, outpaced Wyatt with ease. His bare thighs burned against each other, slick with perspiration. His brown habit was completely soaked with sweat and the rough material began to chafe, feeling more like sandpaper than clothing. The red sun burned high in the sky, without blemish or even a whisper of cloud cover. Wyatt squinted upward and silently cursed the baneful glow.

  Evening was nearly upon them when the party halted on top of a grassy crest. Wyatt stumbled to a stop and fell to his knees, his mouth too dry to complain any further. He thought to take a mouthful of grass for just a trace of moisture when Mareck cried out, her voice sick with grief. Gareck fell to his knees as well. Rozen brandished her spear.

  “What’s going on?” Wyatt managed to gasp through parched lips, but no one answered.

  His eyes darted between the party members as he wearily climbed to his feet and joined at their side. They were high atop a hill that overlooked the wide valley of the Children. They had made it back. Why are they so upset? he wondered, a wave of relief washing over his trembling limbs. He stared out over the open expanse for several moments before he saw it. Like a thousand tombstones erect and foreboding amongst the vibrant grass of the valley, the hidden hatches were open. The air was calm and clear. Not a single wisp of smoke drifted from the underground city, creating an eerie peace.

  Gareck roared with anguish, unslung his hammer, and ran toward his home, quickly followed by Mareck and Rozen, weapons drawn. Something is wrong, Wyatt thought, though he knew not what. Seeing his party storm down the hill sent a flood of adrenaline through his veins and he stumbled down the hill wishing he had a weapon of his own.

  Gareck
halted their advance at the first open hatch. He crawled to the hole and peered down into the cavern below. A moment later he lurched to his feet, grabbed up his digger from the ground and stepped back, weapon at the ready.

  “Fallen,” he growled, his typically cheery demeanor banished from his face.

  A figure emerged from the hatch, shroud in a hood and dark leather armor. It rose and stood in front of the party, menacingly twirling a rusty dagger in each of its four hands. It was much larger than the ones that had appeared in the shallows of the Torrents, nearly seven feet tall. A warm wind gusted through the valley and brushed away the Fallen Regent’s hood. Wyatt stifled a gasp and took a step backward. The face looked human, but was deeply scarred and burned. Thick pink lines webbed over half of the twisted face, from temple to chin. The scalp was bare and ghostly pale. The Regent snarled through purple lips and fixed the group with a single bloodshot eye. The other socket lay hollow, matching the gaping hole that had once been a nose.

  It let out a shriek and charged. It had only advanced a single step when Rozen sprang, thrusting her spear deep into the belly of the creature. It doubled over, still shrieking, dark blood wicking down the protruding shaft. It twisted and lifted a pair of daggers, seeking Rozen’s taut body. She spun away and a descending digger caught the back of its mottled head, driving it to the ground where it disintegrated into a mess of red jelly and ivory fragments. Wyatt felt his stomach turn, but he couldn’t look away. So awesome, he thought and vomited into the grass.

  Rozen howled in victory and the Children began to chant. Wyatt righted himself and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. A shadow in the distance caught his eye. Then another. And another.

  “There are more of them,” he bellowed and stumbled to Gareck’s side to point them out.

  “Aye,” he said and turned to Mareck.

  Mareck bared her rounded teeth and held her bloodied digger at her side. “Filthy jackals,” she said.

  Rozen pointed out a fourth and fifth Fallen crawling from distant hatches. Six, seven, and eight emerged from holes to their left. Nine through thirteen climbed from their right. They lurched toward the party with an array of salvaged weapons. Some had rusted daggers, others notched and twisted swords. Some carried chains and some had odd pieces of timber. A twisting wall of arms closed in and slowly circled to three sides of the group. Wyatt looked longingly behind at the hill they had descended and longed to hasten back up its slope, but the others made no indication of retreat.

  Gareck and Mareck stepped tightly to Rozen’s sides, white eyes flickering wickedly in the low sun. Rozen pulled two of the shortened arrows from her quiver. She gnashed her teeth at the closing enemy as if she sought to taste their dead flesh, while the Children bellowed their chant. “Dig, dig, dig, dig…”

  Wyatt’s eyes shot from Fallen to Fallen, each clearly twisted and deformed beneath their dark armor and shallow hoods. Unlike on the Torrents, they were all Fallen Regents, large and foreboding. The Children had said that the Fallen were birthed from death and decay. If there are so many here…

  He continued to step back, his heels finding the steep slope. He nearly fell, but steadied himself, eyes trained on the advancing horde. This is getting too real, he thought and flicked his gaze to the shattered skull of the first Fallen. His stomach heaved again, but he managed to swallow the bile back down.

  “Master Wyatt,” shouted Gareck over his shoulder. “Your services would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Aye,” yelled Mareck. “Grant these Fallen what they seek.”

  “I… I… can’t,” he mumbled to himself and took another step back.

  Warmth spread over his chest and brought with it a sense of relief. Oh, thank God, he thought and dragged the pendant out into the red sunlight. It shone and crackled with life, dimming even the sun.

  Rozen hazarded a look back, her golden eyes alive with bloodlust… and something else. Wyatt couldn’t discern what it was before the ethereal vines tightened around his body and everything vanished in a blinding flash.

  Wyatt fell backward out of his wall locker amid a rain of shirts and jackets, landing hard on his back. It was still dark, only a dim glow from the hallway providing light. He stared at the ceiling, trying desperately to arrest his thundering heart. As the flood of adrenaline waned and his heart slowed, a new emotion crept in like a fog. He felt… ashamed. I abandoned my friends, he thought with a grimace. I’m Wyatt the Mighty and I ran away. He wiped away a lone tear and crawled into his bed, burrowing deep beneath the blankets, wondering if he had condemned his friends to death.

  Chapter Eleven

  ATHENA WAS ALREADY at the lunch table when Wyatt wearily sat down. The plastic tray clattered, and a shower of peas jumped onto the table and rolled to the floor.

  “What the hell, man?” she exclaimed at his entrance.

  He shrugged apologetically, locked eyes with her and immediately felt nauseous. Her bright red hair was unrestrained and framed her entire head in a wavy haze. It was as if a red sun beat at her back…

  “You alright, Wy?” she said.

  Wyatt forced himself to answer. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”

  “I know what ya mean,” she said and took a bite of turkey. “Those beds they give us are murder.”

  “Yeah…” he murmured, but he hadn’t heard what she’d said. His mind was churning over the look on Rozen’s face as he left them to die, her piercing golden eyes and the strange expression he couldn’t read. Had it been fear? Hate? I can’t go back now…

  Wyatt pushed his food around with a plastic fork in silence, not daring to look at Athena. He worried she would sense what he had done, how he had left them…

  Twenty minutes passed before either spoke. “I didn’t mean to leave them,” Wyatt said, still toying with his food. “I was just…”

  “Scared?” Athena offered.

  Wyatt snapped his gaze to hers. “I… uh…” He hadn’t meant to speak aloud. In fact, he was certain he hadn’t. Could she read his mind? Well, can you? he thought. Are you listening to me? Can you here this? I… I want to kiss you.

  Wyatt leaned back to watch her response, but the only sign of shock was pasted on his own face. What if she could read his mind? I just said I wanted to kiss her, he thought, horrified. Oh, no. I thought it again. Stop thinking about it.

  “You alright, Wy?” she asked him for the second time.

  “I… uh…” He shook his head and tried to restore his tenuous composure. She can’t read my mind. That’s crazy. But, what if she can…

  “Who’d you leave?” she asked casually, her golden eyes giving no inclination that she had heard his inner thoughts.

  “I… leave… oh… I…”

  Athena rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Stop starin’ at my tits and get your mind together.”

  Wyatt snapped to attention, a fire lit across his cheeks. “I wasn’t looking at your… uh… I wasn’t.”

  “What is your problem?”

  “My friends… I left them…”

  Athena shrugged. “Well, you’re the one got thrown in placement, same as me. No use cryin’ o’er spilt milk.”

  “My grandma says that a lot,” he said, staring at table. “But, no, I didn’t… well, er… different friends. We were attacked by Fallen Regents and I-”

  “Ah, what the fuck?”

  Wyatt reared back. “I know. I shouldn’t-”

  A pea bounced off Athena’s hair and she hissed through clenched teeth. Wyatt smiled for a moment at the familiar sound, but quickly felt overwhelmed by… what was it? Guilt? Regret?

  A chorus of suppressed laughter rippled out from a nearby table. A trio of girls dropped their heads and turned away, attempting to disguise their mirth. Athena glared at them, her golden eyes every bit the daggers Wyatt had left to die in the Valley of the Children.

  “Throw one more fuckin’ pea,” she said through clenched teeth. “And we’re gonna have a problem.”

  A nearby staff chastised the vu
lgar outburst. Athena feigned an apology, much to the delight of the pea slingers. The murmur of laughter rose to a tempered crescendo. Athena gave them one last hard stare and turned back to her lunch. Another pea arced skyward and became lodged in her tight fray of red hair. The laughter was no longer restrained. Wyatt watched for a reaction, but Athena displayed no notice, taking another bite of turkey and a brief swallow of chocolate milk.

  I should do something, Wyatt thought. I can’t save… them… but, I can save Athena. He scrunched his bushy eyebrows tight together and then smiled wickedly. He raised his eyes and arched his brow, getting Athena’s attention. She caught his gaze, but said nothing. He grabbed a handful of peas from Athena’s tray and sent the tiny projectiles high into the air. The mass crossed the gap, spreading as they did, and rained down on the trio of girls along with a few others nearby. They gasped in unison and eyed Wyatt with slack mouths. He grinned back and stuck his tongue out. He beamed with pride. He hadn’t run away.

  “Fuckin’ freak,” one of the girls said as the trio got up from their seats and made a beeline for Wyatt’s table.

  Wyatt was too pleased with his action to see the carton of milk hurtling toward him. It imploded against his temple, sending a spray of skim milk in all directions. He reeled back in shock and stumbled out of his chair onto the floor. His mind struggled to decipher the event as Athena exploded from her chair. It clattered against the wall and her tray swung a wide arc through the air, leaving a streak of blue plastic and a trail of brown gravy. It hit the first girl flush in the face, crumpling her nose and driving her to her knees. Golden eyes and a rainbow of fingers found the second girl’s throat and drove her against a table, sending trays and residents alike scattering in all directions. The third girl seized a fistful of vibrant red hair, but only for an instant before catching a spinning elbow in the mouth. She fell to the ground amid a shower of blood and tears.