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

by Michael J Sanford

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  D’MOIYGAN WAS BLIND and spoke in broken bursts. Wyatt wondered if the fumes from the numerous vats around his shop were to blame for the tanner’s condition. He wrinkled his nose, attempting to maintain his Druidic reputation, but had to resort to plugging it and squinting, as the very air stung his eyes. Athena cursed with each breath.

  “Armor?” D’moiygan said when Wyatt told the tanner what D’orca had said. “Needless. Elves use only the shadows. Armor? Phfff.”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Athena said, her voice nasally, as she too had pinched her nose shut. “But I’m no elf and if I’m gonna be scrappin’ on your behalf then I want somethin’ better than what I got.”

  “Hmphf.” D’moiygan felt his way to the stout wooden counter in the middle of the room and pounded his fist three times. “D’aryn!”

  A young elf, wearing a thick leather apron and matching gloves burst from a back room, sweat dripping down his pale cheeks. Fine stubble covered his upper lip. “Yes, sir?”

  “Human. At D’orca’s bequest. Needs armor. Frightened of Fae claws. Ha!”

  “Oh, dear. Yes, of course. The Fae. The village is abuzz, pardon the expression. Yes,” he said turning to address Wyatt, “This way. Of course.” He bid them follow into the back room.

  “Hmphf,” D’moiygan scoffed as they went.

  Though D’orca admitted to being a creature of stout deception, he had not lied. There was no armor to be had. However, D’aryn dug out several scraps of ringed leather and, with deft skill and speed, the young apprentice stitched together a set of makeshift armor, using the ringed leather, thick woolen pants, and a sleeveless jerkin. Athena shrugged on the armor behind a stack of crates and emerged a warrior.

  “What do you think?” she said, spinning in place, the silver longsword slung over her shoulder. The fit wasn’t quite ideal, but Wyatt had to admit, she made an intimidating figure.

  “How fierce,” Maia gushed.

  “Except for those bracelets,” Wyatt said, eying the plethora of twisted yarn, charms, and rubber bands that covered the teen’s wrists.

  Athena pointed the sword at his chest and smirked.

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “All right, never mind. Please, don’t skewer me, oh mighty Athena.”

  “Athena was the goddess of wisdom and warfare,” she said, reining in the glimmering blade. She smiled like Wyatt had never seen. “Yeah, I know things, too.”

  Maia darted behind the crates Athena had used for cover and appeared again with Athena’s pink pants. She tore a strip from a leg and extended a hand to Athena. The warrior teen raised an eyebrow, but allowed Maia to wrap the strip around her forehead and tie it in the back. The spriteling stepped back, surveyed her work, and clapped her hands together.

  Athena brought a hand to the headband and grinned. “All right, let’s go kick some faerie ass.”

  * * *

  The Druid, the warrior, and the bard strode confidently down the center of the wooden street on the third level of the elven village. Not far from the tanner’s shop a small elven child poked his head out of a nearby house, squealed with delight, and began to follow the trio. As they continued through the weaving path, they attracted a growing train of young elves. They followed in a tight pack, whispering and giggling.

  “It seems ye have formed quite a caravan of young minds,” said D’orca, suddenly appearing at Wyatt’s side like he’d stepped out from between the winds.

  The elven leader had donned a long-sleeved shirt and billowing cloak. Both were as dark as the night. Combined with his black hair and beard, it was easy to see how the elf could disappear into shadows, only to reappear someplace new. He was of a height with Wyatt and matched his stride, becoming an eerie shadow himself.

  Wyatt cast a look at the crowd behind them. It had swelled to three dozen and each step brought another eager elf stumbling from a crooked hovel. “So, what now?” he said, turning back to D’orca.

  “We wait. Heh,” he said. “Some of the Coven has been sent to harass the enemy advance. It will irritate and delay the Fae, but will not stop them, I am afraid. Last report estimated their numbers north of a thousand. Armed and angry.”

  “How many warriors do you have?” Wyatt said.

  “Warriors? Heh. None. But Deceivers? Three hundred eighty and two.”

  “I’m no math whiz,” Athena chimed in. “But those are piss-poor odds.”

  “Whether a thousand or a thousand-thousand, the Fae cannot defeat what they cannot see.” And with that the elf vanished in another puff of blinding smoke.

  Wyatt wheeled away from the smoke, gagging on the air, much to the merriment of the children. They erupted in raucous laughter, some falling to slap the wooden boards of the street.

  “Does he always do that?” Wyatt said when the haze had faded.

  One of the elven children spoke up, her voice high and shrill. “Oh yes. D’orca the Wise is a master of deception. Some say he is more spirit than elf.” A series of agreeing murmurs answered the statement.

  “Well, Wy’, what now?” Athena said, shifting her sword to the opposite shoulder.

  Wyatt shrugged. “I guess we wait…” he looked at the children and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You know…the attack.”

  Athena rolled her eyes.

  One of the elves stepped up to Maia. He tugged on the spriteling’s arm. “You’re the tale-teller, aren’t you?”

  Maia smiled and crouched to bring her freckled face level with the child’s. “Yes, I am Maia. What’s your name?”

  The elf stood tall and puffed out his bare chest. There was not a single hair on his body aside from the thick crop of red hair that stood straight up from his scalp. “I’m D’etang.”

  “D’etang the what?” Wyatt asked.

  D’etang deflated slightly, but looked Wyatt in the eye as he spoke. “One does not receive his elven moniker until proven in the pines.”

  His peers agreed with a wave of murmurs and head nodding.

  The young elf turned back to Maia. “Do you know any stories?”

  Maia smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know all the stories. Would you like to hear one?”

  Over three dozen voices burst at once, sending up an affirmative crescendo of tiny voices.

  “Is this really the time?” Wyatt asked.

  The spriteling remained crouched and turned to face the Druid. “You said we are to wait. Nothing passes the time like a well woven tale.”

  Athena elbowed Wyatt in the ribs. “Yeah, Wy’, lighten up.”

  He scowled at her, but agreed. There would be time for war later. And likely more than any of them truly wanted. Even so, the strange hunger that snaked through his chest willed the Fae on. He coughed, trying to shake off the feeling, but it lingered in the depths of his being, waiting as well.

  “Very well,” Maia said. She stood and surveyed the crowd of children. “I bid you sit.” The elven children did not need to be asked twice; they fell to the ground immediately, taking up a fair portion of the roadway. Maia looked to Athena and Wyatt, and nodded sharply. Wyatt sat alongside a chubby elf with blindingly white hair, not wishing to draw the ire of the tale-teller. “Good,” Maia continued when everyone had settled and fallen silent. “Of what tale do you wish?”

  Dozens of voices rang out at once, creating a muddy noise of incongruent words. Maia settled the uproar with a wave of her hand. “D’etang, would you be so kind as to speak for the group?”

  The red-haired elf sat in the front and nodded fiercely. “We want a tale of the evil elves of the haunted Gazarian pines.” The noise at his back stoutly approved the decision.

  Maia looked taken aback. “You desire a tale of your own kind? And one that is undoubtedly false? Your wise leader has told of their insincerity.”

  “Oh yes,” D’etang responded immediately. “D’orca the Wise made the tales and spread them throughout the Realms. They keep us safe. Please tell a tale of the fierce elves. It s
hall protect us against the Fae.” His words were met with solemn murmurs. “And don’t leave out the bloody bits.”

  Maia’s expression softened. “Of course,” she said. Her wings unfurled with gusto and the children gasped. When she took to the air in three strong beats they squealed with mirth, some clasping hands over their mouths, others bouncing with excitement.

  The spriteling stroked the air, soared over the group, circled slowly back to the front and hovered in place, her wings slowly and silently keeping her small frame aloft. Her face adopted a serious look, but Wyatt could see her familiar smile curl the edges of her mouth ever so slightly.

  “This is the tale of an army of Gazarian tribesmen sent to the pines never to emerge again…”

  * * *

  When Maia finished her story, the elven children let out a roar of celebration, hooting and hollering. Some sprung to their feet and threw victorious fists into the air. Wyatt found himself caught up in both the masterful storytelling and the juvenile enthusiasm and was on his feet shouting as well. Athena remained seated, though she and Maia shared a warm smile.

  After some time, the cheering subsided and the children swarmed around Maia, praising the spriteling to the point of blushing. She giggled and tried to dismiss them with a wave of her hand, but they persisted. Some called for another story. Others were busy reenacting the previous story, battling each other with dramatic flourishes and elaborate deaths.

  Wyatt couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps Maia’s not too bad a creature after all, he thought, though he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy as he watched the way Athena looked at the spriteling.

  Distant shouting rang out from the end of the level, somewhere nearer the spiral staircase. A sudden hush fell over the group of jovial children and dozens of pointed ears went rigid. Maia’s smile faded and Wyatt felt a pit form at the base of his chest, just below his Druids’ seed.

  The noise grew, echoing down the crooked street. A lone elf appeared in the middle, running toward them. He was waving his arms and shouting something that Wyatt could not discern.

  “Fae avvadl. Ruidl jife djimfzep,” he shouted.

  Wyatt could only understand a single word of the frantic shouting—Fae. It that was all he needed to hear. The Fae had launched their attack. The battle had begun.

  The children began muttering anxiously. Maia waved them silent, using both her hands and broad wings. She turned to the breathless elven warrior and nodded. “Vemm qzovedv. Gihjv xemm.”

  The elf nodded, his long hair and beard seeming to tremble as he did. He took a deep breath, placed a hand to Maia’s shoulder, nodded again and ran back the way he had come.

  “What’d he say?” Athena said.

  “Fae,” she replied, her voice strangely stoic. “We must protect the children. That is our duty now.”

  The children shifted nervously, moving like a single amorphous organism. Wyatt looked the way the elf had run and listened to the distant battle grow in volume and intensity. “No,” he said. “I promised I’d help fight. I’m a Druid, not a babysitter.” And I’m hungry. He felt the gem in his chest pulse with latent power, begging for release. It sent a shiver down one arm and forced his fingers to twitch into a claw. He grabbed it with his other hand and loosened it.

  “Don’t be a dick,” Athena said. “Maia said we’re to protect the kids, so that’s what we’re gonna do.”

  “She’s not the boss. I’m the Druid. I say what we do.”

  Maia stepped gently though the crowd of elven children and laid a gentle hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. Her eyes locked on his and he felt a strange calm wash over him. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

  “Master,” she said softly. “You are right; I am but a traveling bard, not a mighty Druid. I claim not to have your ability nor do I commune with the Mother as you do, but I ask you…” she nodded to the children and held out a hand. The elves had shifted with the spriteling and now surrounded Wyatt as well. “There is no duty more vital than protecting the lives of the young.”

  Wyatt looked to the hopeful faces that surrounded him. He shook out of Maia’s grasp, despising the way it made him feel. Whatever power the spriteling had repulsed him.

  “But my gift is best used against the Fae,” he insisted. The odd hunger festered in his chest, renewed now that Maia no longer touched him. His mind longed for the enemy. He could feel their presence nearby. He could taste the life within them.

  “That is so,” Maia agreed, her gaze never wavering. “And if it is the Fae you hunger for…” Wyatt stirred at the word hunger and scowled at her. “…I fear that you may find your desire fulfilled should the Coven fall to the enemy advance.”

  Wyatt looked again at the ocean of young, expectant faces. He was not a babysitter. It was battle and life he craved. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

  “Wy’,” Athena called from just outside the mob of children.

  Wyatt looked at her and felt the dark hunger battered down by the teen’s expression. Her eyes were like daggers, boring into his, and though she said no more than his name, a wealth of meaning traveled between the two. It reminded him of the constant whisper that ran through his mind, communicating not in words but intense emotion and silent implication. For that moment, gazing back at Athena, clad in makeshift warrior garb, he relented. She looked so much like Rozen in that instant.

  “Okay,” he said, as the gem cooled and the mysterious hunger abated. “Let’s get some place safe.”

  Athena smiled warmly. The children cheered in unison and turned as a single unit, fleeing toward the far end of the level, their protectors close behind.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  THE LAST BUILDING on the third level, farthest from the spiral staircase and the din of battle, was a large, three story construction built around a web of thick pine branches. None of the walls appeared straight and each floor sloped noticeably in a different direction.

  The children poured into the building and quickly spread throughout the three floors, whispering in hushed tones, but not seeming overly distraught by the distant battle. Inside the crooked walls, the shouts and cries were silenced and it was easier to pretend that nothing was amiss. Wyatt, however, could feel the enemy on the wind. Their lives had voices and he found he was capable of hearing each one.

  Wyatt stayed on the first floor, while Athena and Maia took to the upper levels. Brightly glowing torches lined the walls, casting the interior in near sunlight clarity. A dozen spigots sprouted from the thick branches that crisscrossed through the large, open room. Long troughs littered the floor.

  “What is all this stuff?” he asked.

  The only other creature in the building was a rotund elf with eyes like sapphires and a beard that dragged on the ground as he waddled amongst the children. His hair was nearly as long as his beard and brushed against the back of his knees, though it boasted no feathers. Even through the dense mat of hair, Wyatt could see deep wrinkles running across his face. Though his body betrayed his age, the light in his eyes and the cheerful timbre to his voice said he was far from decrepit.

  D’umbra—as he had gathered from the greetings the children had given him—patted a child on the head with a smile as he walked past. “Sap taps,” he said with a rough chuckle. “This building is one of the Coven’s Sappers.”

  Wyatt had to smile despite what his mind told him waited in the pines. “You make maple syrup?”

  “Syrup? Nay, that’d be a waste,” he said as he leaned forward to adjust a spigot. Thick amber oozed slowly out of the spigot, thicker than honey. “Sap is the Coven’s greatest resource. There is no more versatile a substance in all the Realms,” he boasted, obviously quite pleased to share his knowledge with an outsider.

  Wyatt was glad for the distraction. As much as he hungered for the Fae he couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that hummed between his ears. It was as if he were being pulled in two directions with no inclination of the best course. And he still didn’t know where Rozen was, and that c
oncerned him most of all.

  “Hmmm,” D’umbra mused. The wide elf stroked his beard, surveyed the room, and sat atop a low swinging branch. “Gather round, young ‘uns,” he said loudly. “We had best educate our guest. It is only right since he has pledged to watch over the Coven.”

  The elven children were as eager as ever and crowded around the thick elf, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Some came down the stairs that ran along the back wall and lined the steps, listening in.

  “Who can tell our Druid friend a use for sap?” D’umbra said.

  Dozens of hands shot into the air. Wyatt found it oddly comforting to see something so akin to the world he had left, though he had long ago decided that he’d rather call the Realms home.

  “D’grom?”

  “Fire!” shouted a male from the stairs.

  D’umbra nodded. “Very good.” He turned to Wyatt continuing, “Sap is quick to burn, but slow to die. A dozen drops may burn for a full day, but though it burns bright as the red sun, it cannot be quenched by water or wind. It must be smothered to be destroyed and as such, great care is taken when using it for such a task. Next?” he said, turning to the sea of hands. “Yes, D’araes?”

  A slender female stood as she said, “Sap can be used as medicine for those in pain.”

  “Wonderful,” D’umbra exclaimed. “You see, Master, when diluted to the proper ratio and mixed with the tea of the needles, the sap becomes a powerful numbing agent, both applied to the skin or ingested. Care must be exercised, however, as mixed too strongly or infiltration of the blood can render a creature unconscious for quite some time.”

  Wyatt rubbed at his neck, remembering the feathered dart. “Like if a needle were dipped in it and shot at someone’s neck?”

  D’umbra smiled and several children laughed aloud. “It is so. A valuable weapon for the Coven for it is silent and quick, and as indefensible as a shadow.”

  Before D’umbra could address the room again a chubby male elf shouted out, “You can harden sap into all sorts of stuff. Like cups and such.”