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

by Michael J Sanford

  Julia rummaged around in the far corner and produced a pair of granola bars and a can of orange soda. She handed him one of the bars and set the can between them. “I have everything here.” Then she frowned and shook her head. “I mean we have everything here.”

  Wyatt grinned and tore into the granola bar. He leaned against the crude wall and looked out into the night. It was difficult to see anything from their lit clubhouse and it felt as if nothing else existed beyond the broken stone and odd treasures. Or at least nothing that mattered in the moment.

  They ate in silence, passing the can of soda back and forth until it was empty. Wyatt swallowed the last bit and let out a rumbling belch. Before he could decide if he should be embarrassed or not, Julia retorted with a belch of her own. It echoed in the small space and brought with it the scent of orange soda and granola bar. Wyatt eyed her in disbelief.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

  Wyatt laughed and picked up a cluster of plastic medallions tied together with a rainbow of ribbons. He flipped through them and couldn’t help but think of the brightly colored bracelets Athena always wore. His vision tunneled in on the colors and his periphery faded to black. I’ll be more, he vowed. And I’ll find Rozen. I can protect them. I know I can.

  “No, you can’t,” said a voice, snapping Wyatt from his stupor with such vigor that he dropped the medallions.

  Julia was sitting with her legs crossed, back perfectly straight, her eyes locked on Wyatt’s as he turned to her.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  Julia cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. A lock of hair fell across her face, but she didn’t bother to move it aside. “You can’t protect any of them,” she said with cool disregard. “You’re far too weak to protect anyone. You have always failed. And you always will. It’s your fault they’re dead. Your fault!”

  Her voice reverberated in his head and sent him scrambling from the cave. He scuttled backwards, cleared the space, and stumbled to his feet, eyes locked on the small girl that slowly and calmly followed after him.

  The wind picked up and transformed Julia’s hair into twisting serpents, darting about her head. As she advanced, the moon broke free from the clouds and bathed the rooftop in brilliant white light. Wyatt now saw that the rooftop was not just lined with a short wall of stone, but also stone gargoyles placed at regular intervals. As he continued to retreat, he thought he saw their heads turn toward him, but he was too transfixed by Julia to be sure.

  “What’s going on?” he gasped, knowing he didn’t want the answer.

  Julia stopped and extended her arms at her sides. Her eyes were hidden behind her mess of hair, but her smile shone vibrantly in the moonlight. She sneered. And then began to laugh. It was deep and throaty, not the shrill giggle that had so thrilled him just moments before as they shared a secret hideout.

  They came then. From behind the maniacal child, the shadows stepped from the secret cave of crumbled stone. They flanked her, far more solid appearing than ever before. They each lifted a single arm and pointed at Wyatt. Julia continued to cackle, lifting her face toward the heavens.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Wyatt shouted, but the wind tore the words from his lips and tossed them aside.

  He turned to run, but fell as his feet caught each other and sent him to the stone. He tried to rise, but a force struck him in the ribs and rolled him onto his back. Somehow, in the span of a breath, Julia had closed the gap between them. She pressed a knee into his chest and grabbed his jaw with both hands. She was other-worldly strong. The shadows had followed as well, each leaning over Julia’s shoulders. The black mist of one shifted and showed a woman’s face. The other remained ambiguous.

  “Why?” The shade said with a softness unfitting of her form.

  Hot tears laced Wyatt’s eyes and blurred his vision, but not before he recognized her. “You were there,” he stammered, no longer bothering to struggle against Julia’s hold. “In Ouranos. In the Temple of…the Mother. I saw you.”

  The shade nodded. “And I want to know why.” The sudden shift in her tone brought clarity to Wyatt’s senses. The previously sullen face was now twisted into a grimace and dark rivulets of blood ran from her shadowy temples.

  He pressed his head backwards, hoping to fall through the roof. “I…I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  The face faded into mist once more and the trio of oppressors lunged toward him. Their voices rang out together. “WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY.”

  Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t free himself from their hold. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t hide. And he didn’t know what they wanted. I have to escape, he thought with bitter desperation.

  “I…I’m a Druid,” he sputtered, eyes still squeezed shut, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  “You are nothing,” said the voices.

  “I’m not nothing. I’m Wyatt…Wyatt the…Mighty,” he said with little force.

  “You are nothing,” the voices repeated, sounding more and more like a single entity. Sounding more and more like his own voice.

  He thought of how he had escaped the Crook and he thought of Athena and Rozen. He held the images of Gareck and Mareck in his mind, and imagined the shrill chirp of Grenleck. I can escape, he thought. I can control my power. I’m not nothing. And with that thought and the images of his friends, both lost and abandoned, rich in his mind, Wyatt activated the green stone within the dark wood that always hung from his neck.

  I am done being weak, he thought as the world burned away. And Mother help any who stand in my way.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “ABOUT TIME,” SAID a voice from the haze.

  Wyatt blinked heavily and moved his lips. It felt as if his face were made of mud.

  “Wake the hell up, Wy’.”

  The sharp words wrenched Wyatt into full consciousness. He spun, looking for his lost companion and fearing he’d see Julia and the shades. Athena glared back, her arms pulled behind her back, her torso lashed with thick green rope. Wyatt cocked his head to the side, trying to decipher what he was seeing.

  “Well, we found her,” Maia said from a position to Wyatt’s left.

  He scowled again. The spriteling was tied to a tree as well. It took another moment for sensation in his limbs to return and for him to notice his own arms were pinned roughly backwards. He looked at his own body and cried out in surprise. Immediately, he began thrashing against the bonds, his feet raking air and the rough manacles yielding nothing.

  “Master, you must not resist,” Maia said.

  “Shit, Wy’, take it easy.” Athena said in her usual barbed tone.

  He shook again and grunted. Then his mind centered and he remembered the stone wall of the temple. “I can get us out of here, just give me a minute. I am a Druid after all.”

  His mind went to the whisper coursing through the restraints at his wrist, but Athena’s voice brought him away from it. “That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had,” she said.

  “But I can rot these ropes…”

  “Look down, dipshit,” Athena said.

  He frowned at her, but obliged. His stomach lurched at the sight. Wyatt squinted, barely able to distinguish the distant fog. He kicked his feet reactively, swiping at nearly four hundred feet of open air, the only thing solid being the rough trunk he was tied to. He swallowed a mouthful of bile and forced his gaze to his companions. Suddenly, he felt quite dizzy.

  “Fine bit of shit this is,” Athena said.

  “What happened?” Wyatt asked. “I left…” Hadn’t he? He’d never returned to the same spot and same time before. The transition was always unpredictable, but his companions made no show of having seen him vanish at any point. Were Greenwood and Julia just a dream?

  “Pretty obvious, ain’t it?”

  Wyatt ignored the barb and looked to Maia. The spriteling hung perfectly still, her face disguising any discomfort. “Go
t any songs or stories for this?” he asked.

  “Oh, a story!” shouted a new voice, from somewhere in the canopy above their heads. “I do love stories. Please, spriteling, do tell us a lovely tale.”

  Movement overhead gave way to a dark shape. A hooded creature dropped through the canopy from branch to branch with uncanny grace, coming to rest upon a particularly thick branch that ran level with the captives. Long, ragged, black fabric disguised the creature’s form as it sat on the branch and faced them.

  “Are you an elf?” Wyatt said, a quiet anger building in his chest. Flashes of the taunting shades still danced in his mind and further fueled his fury. He was tired of being held powerless.

  The creature laughed, thick and wet, as if his mouth was filled with too much saliva. With a fluid motion, the hood fell away, revealing a large, hooked nose and pointed chin covered in a thick black beard. Giant pointed ears sprouted from pale skin and were fitted with an array of strange piercings. Thin lips did little to obscure rows of jagged teeth as he laughed. Pale eyes watched intently beneath thick brows and a head of long, knotted hair. Feathers of all colors grew from the tangled mess. Some strands were braided; others were knotted with grime.

  “An elf?” he said, his eyes bouncing between them. “Ye mean a wicked, bone-crunching, flesh-rending, creature of the haunted Gazarian pines? One of a brood that captures and eats all manner of wayward beasts, letting none pass through unharmed?” His lips smacked noisily with each word.

  “Uh, yeah, I guess,” Wyatt said.

  The creature laughed again, spraying the air with bits of spittle. “Aye, I be an elf. Are ye afraid?"

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” Wyatt spat back. “I’m a Druid. Let us go and I might spare you.” He was still toying with the idea of destroying his bonds and facing whatever cost would be charged should he fall.

  “Aye, aye, a Druid,” the elf said dismissively. “It is that very fact that has you strung up like a drawn hog.”

  Wyatt couldn’t speak for a moment. When he found his voice it was less steady than it had been. “You knew I was a Druid? And you dare tie me up like this?” Wyatt shook against his bonds, but the rough rope cut at his wrists. He hid a grimace and forced his muscles to relax.

  The elf laughed again. “A Druid, aye. And just seeded. There is naught the Coven does not see within the pines.” He pointed at Wyatt’s chest and grinned.

  Wyatt followed the gesture. His shirt was torn from collar to hem, displaying his bare chest and…

  “Ah!” he cried and reflexively thrashed again. The green stone and dark hand no longer hung from a tired hemp string. They were embedded in his chest. The dull green gem pulsed gently from his sternum, half of it covered by his own flesh. The wooden fist remained fastened to the round stone and seemed to grow into Wyatt’s pale skin, sending out faint dark lines toward his neck and shoulders, like branches of a great tree reaching for the sun. And it had grown.

  “Ah, it’s in me!” He struggled until the pain overwhelmed his shock and he relented, falling limp against his bonds. He couldn’t rend his gaze from his chest.

  The elf laughed maniacally, slapping the branch with clawed hands. A flash of Julia’s manic sneer flashed across Wyatt’s vision for a moment and stole his breath. It was growing difficult to tell where he was.

  “Holy shit,” Athena said softly as Wyatt turned lazily to face her.

  They shared a moment of shock before the elf spoke again. “A Druid, aye, but never have these eyes seen one so…hmmmm….”

  “He’s not from the Realms,” Maia suggested.

  “Hmmmm…not from the Realms…” the elf mused. “Nevertheless, he will have to do.”

  Wyatt kicked at the air in a vain effort to strike the elf sitting a dozen feet away. When he had settled both his motion and mood, he said, “I’m the only Druid in the Realms and I will make you—”

  Laughter erupted from the elf, drowning out Wyatt’s threat. “You know naught, young Druid. But as you are the only Druid in the pines I will let you live provided you…well, live.”

  “What do you want?” Athena said with grunt. “We didn’t do anything to you. We’re just trying to make up for Wyatt’s heap of shit.”

  “An interesting dialect, night-skin,” the elf said, the mirth washed from his face. “Very well, straight to business with this one. I like that. Should your precious Druid complete the task, I will let you live. If not…” The elf leaned back and rubbed his stomach while his thick purple tongue ran over his lips. “…I’ve always wondered at the taste of Druid bones.”

  “I’m not doing anything for—”

  “Tell us what to do,” Athena said sharply, interrupting Wyatt.

  The elf scowled at him, then turned to Athena. “You are the Druid’s conscience I see. Best send you as well. Aye, you will go with the Druid. Ensure his…compliance. But the bard stays with the Coven. We do enjoy stories. Particularly ones of the haunted pines and its bone-eating monsters.”

  The elf nodded sharply and climbed to his feet. Wyatt saw they were much like hands, long multi-jointed toes gripping at the branch. “Moxez fzuif cmadj tlip,” he shouted to the forest.

  At once, the vines around their middles snapped. Wyatt and Athena swung away from their respective tethers and began to descend, their ropes being unwound from some unseen crank.

  “Hey, what are we supposed to do?” Athena shouted, spinning in a lazy circle.

  “The Fae have something of mine,” the elf called from the canopy. “You will bring it back for me.”

  “Please, Athena,” Maia called after them. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Don’t worry,” Wyatt called back. “I’m a Druid!”

  “We’ll be back for you, Maia,” Athena shouted. “I’ll get you back and cut that motherfucker’s throat.”

  Thick, wet laughter rippled through the gloomy forest as Wyatt and Athena continued to slowly fall, leaving the spriteling alone high above. Wyatt looked at Athena. Her face was contorted in a mask of thinly veiled fury. But she looked far more resolute than Wyatt felt.

  Once on the ground a pair of cloaked elves appeared out of the fog to untie their wrists. Wyatt’s arms fell to his side like sodden logs. He groaned, trying to loosen his screaming limbs. Every inch of his body radiated pain.

  “Well, let’s go,” Athena said. “Let’s find the bastard’s treasure and get Maia back. And then get the hell out of here.”

  Wyatt looked at her and shook his head. “He never even said where to go or what he wants us to get.”

  Athena glared at him. “If you think we’re going to leave her, you got another thing comin’.”

  He shook his head again. Leave her, his mind screamed. Leave the spriteling and leave this god forsaken forest. You don’t need her. You don’t need anyone. You’re a Druid. His hand went to his chest and traced the edges of flesh and wood and stone. He thought for a moment of how he had entertained the idea of discarding the pendant. It won’t let me go now.

  Athena lunged and grabbed Wyatt by the throat, her nose brought nearly to rest against his. Her breath was hot on his face, but he shivered nonetheless. “It’s been nothin’ but shit with you Wy’. This is your fault. Now, be a big bad Druid and buck up. And if you won’t…” she stepped back, her hand still at his throat. “…then fuck you, but I’m going to save her.”

  Something passed over her face, a fleeting emotion that Wyatt still couldn’t identify. “Well, then lead on,” he said with bitter disregard. His fingers twitched with rage. He could sense the blood pulsing through Athena’s body. He could sense her vibrant life.

  Athena leaned in close for a moment then released her hold with a sharp push. She turned to the two silent elves. “You! Where are the fuckin’ Fae and where is your boss’s goddamn treasure?”

  Without a word, the pair pointed in the same direction, bowed their heads, and began walking. Athena grunted, glared at Wyatt and followed after the dark pair.

  Wyatt watched them go, but a
s Athena’s blazing hair disappeared around a pine a sick feeling crept into his chest. The silence. He looked uneasily at the silent pines shroud in silent tendrils of fog, abed wet ground that disguised all sound. His rage vanished and a dizzying feeling washed over him. For a moment, he thought he was on the rooftop of Greenwood again. From behind a tree, he thought he saw a stone gargoyle. He shuddered and hastened after Athena.

  She looked at him and nodded when he had caught up. He forced a smile. How could I leave her? he thought. How could I think to leave anyone again?

  They walked in silence, weaving among the pines, following the elves. What awaited them Wyatt couldn’t say. What they sought he didn’t know. But that had never stopped him before, so why should it now?

  “You okay?” he said after they had walked for some time.

  Athena glanced at him. “Soon as we get Maia back and the hell outta this forest I will be.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “No, I mean physically. You got roughed up pretty good back in the Dunes.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Wyatt stumbled, but maintained his balance. “I wasn’t making fun of you. You gave worse than you got, for sure.”

  “No shit, but you pick now to ask about my health? Little late for that isn’t it?”

  Wyatt shrugged. “I know. I got caught up in all the…”

  “Crazy ass shit?”

  He nodded.

  Athena sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Not the first time I’ve gotten the shit kicked out of me. But, you’re right, I gave worse than I got.” She smiled.

  Wyatt nodded at his shoulder. “You’re still bleeding. It doesn’t hurt?”

  “It all hurts,” she said. “Hurts like hell, but I just block out the pain. It’s not hard if you know how, or have had the practice.”

  “You can just…not feel it? Where’d you learn to do that?” Wyatt thought it sounded like a useful skill given his penchant for getting into danger within the Realms.

  “Fuck off,” Athena said sharply. She started walking faster, leaving Wyatt to catch up.

  “What’s with you, all the sudden? I was trying to be nice,” he said as he caught up with her long strides.