Shadowland (11 page)

‘What of me, druid?’ Usher asked. ‘You said I would
become a dragon. How can that be?’

‘I have nothing more I can tell thee, nor the nice
young lady.’ He smiled at Clarise and then bowed low, but she hid her face
behind Cal,
which was where the druid’s eyes now settled. ‘Remember thy dreams, Calvador.
The wolves are with thee - on both sides of death.’ With that, he dropped Cal’s startled gaze and
dusted down his rags. ‘Visit the well, drink deeply, and return to me when thee
are rested. The spirits of the well wait to bless thee.’ With that, he settled
back to his rune stones and Meryn led the group past him and down the path.

The
well, as they descended the twisting path, was bigger than it had appeared at
the top. At the overgrown entrance where the narrow path disappeared, there had
been little to indicate that this strange place even existed. Now, as they
descended below ground level, it was gloomy. Motes of dust and pollen floated
in shafts of fading light and air rich with the heady aromas of earth and
decay. The path had become slick and muddy in places as it continued through a
thin mist that hung across the deep hole about half way down, like a veil between
two worlds. A steady dripping was all that disturbed the silence, along with
the occasional soft whimpering of Clarise and Cal’s incessant muttering.

‘
Shhh
.’ Meryn held a
finger to his lips as the sound travelled slowly around the well, then smiled
at Clarise. ‘This is a holy place,’ he whispered. ‘There is nothing here that
will harm you. Come…’ He held out his hand in the half-light, and Clarise took
it, still staring wide-eyed as they descended further to the base of the well.
There was a wide shelved area next to the black stillness of the water and they
gathered there to gaze about.

‘What do we do?’ Usher asked. ‘It’s cold down here.
I think we should leave as soon as we can.’ The mist moved and swirled as Meryn
bade them all to crouch down. Cupping his hands, he scooped up some water and
drank, then indicated they should do the same.

The water was chill but refreshing and tasted good.
Usher dipped his hands a second time, not realising how thirsty he had become.
It had been a long, strange day and he felt the need to sleep begin to
overwhelm him. He was comfortable here. Why he had thought the well cold and
scary, he couldn’t remember. Now it seemed warm and welcoming. Glancing across,
he saw Cal,
yawning, already leaning back on his pack. Then, as Clarise went over and
cuddled-up next to her brother, Usher lay down as well.

Meryn remained unmoving, kneeling at the side of the
well, staring into the deep dark water.

Usher would later recall that just before sleep
overcame him, he looked past Meryn and saw three women walking towards them
through the mist. Two were beautiful and bore smiles that reminded him of his
mother, the last was a hag, and it looked to him like she was scowling.

****

Horses and men screaming
surrounded him. The sound of metal clashing against metal… the sickening sound
of edged steel biting into flesh. Fear, panic, breathless and tired, a
desperate desire to go on, must not fall, searching… but for what?

Chariots amid
a sea of fighting warriors, cutting, slashing, screaming; winning through to
the side of another chariot….

A blinding
light crossing the sky, chanting, cheering; a funeral pyre ...
 

****

Clarise snuggled against her
older brother… wandering happily through a warm summer meadow filled with
flowers and butterflies… a stream with someone lying on the ground next to it,
it was Calvador. Reaching down to roll him over, he rises from death; a wolf
walking at his side… they slowly fade away.

A standing
stone, tall and ancient, a garland of flowers, druids, Meryn smiling down, a
blinding light travelling across the sky; the dragon, a celebration.

A final
battle, a bargain made... a crossroads in the shadowland, the mists once more
surround her…

****

Meryn felt the cool touch of
a hand on his cheek and knew comfort, his mind feeling as if it had finally
awoken. He watched detached, as visions of battle moved about him, knowing no
blade could reach him as warriors fought and died all around… a flock of ravens
disturbed from their feast rising into the air.

The familiar
feel of his bow in his hand but now hung with shells and ribbons.

Images
changing faster, faster, apple trees, a setting sun, flashing blades, chariots…

****

The smell of blood was thick
in his nostrils, movement close by, men approaching, moving away into the shadows
where the men will fear to follow. Listening, sensing the movements of the
others as they travelled... a stag, sick, old, tired… tracking the herd,
separating the sick one… at one with the pack, with his family… the excitement
of the chase, the kill, the taste of blood, food…

Men screaming.
Writhing in the agonies of battle as, all around, fear, panic, pain, the agony
of loss, and then... death.

Trapped… the
mists surround everything, no way out, white; all is white, no place to turn,
panic, feelings of terror and fear... a primal scream…

‘Cal!’

Cal
’s eyes flashed open and he
drew a breath into his lungs, gasping as the remnants of the dream faded.
‘Clarise?’ Tears were running down Clarise’s face and he pulled her into a hug.
‘It’s all right, Clarise.’ Looking over, he saw Usher standing alone, gazing
across the well, his face set in a stubborn frown.

‘Come.’ Meryn strode past them towards the path.
Picking themselves up, the others followed, retracing their earlier steps to
emerge into a day fast fading into evening.
   

The druid was waiting for them, squatting at the top
of the well, swaying from side to side and grinning happily.

‘The sisters came. The weird sisters revealed thy
dreams, remember them well. Ye must go now. Do not tarry, there is much for thee
to do. Abandon thy journey west and turn to the south. Thy destiny is to greet and
support a man thee will meet on the southern road, two days journey away in the
tribal lands of
Ceint
. Thee will know each other, fear
not for that. Now go… go, go… go!’ He waved them on, flapping his arms and,
still muddled somewhat by their dreams, they moved on without a word.

As they rejoined the road, Usher glanced back. The
druid had returned to his rune stones, crouched down with his back to them,
chattering quietly to himself as if they had never been there to disturb his
madness.

****

Usher
Vance stopped speaking and fumbled for his pipe. The circle of villagers
remained silent and expectant, waiting for the story to continue.

Fearing the old storyteller was about to have
another turn, one of the serving girls placed a hand upon his arm and softly
asked if she could fetch him anything. He shook his head, but then changing his
mind, reached out towards her. ‘Some ale… please. I just need a little ale, and
perhaps a moment to collect my thoughts.’ Wiping his brow on his sleeve, he
glanced across at Calvador Craen, who had taken the opportunity to stand and
stretch.

Realising there was now an unmistakable halt in the
tale, several listeners excused themselves and hurried away to the privy, while
others called to the serving-maids for ale and mead.

‘I’m beginning to think you know more details of
this tale than I do,’ said Usher, as the murmur of voices allowed him a quiet
moment with his old friend. He blew out a stream of blue smoke and offered the
tobacco pouch to Calvador Craen who had turned to regard him. ‘I remembered
meeting the druid right enough, but what happened in the well was lost to me
until I started to speak of it.’

Calvador Craen accepted the tobacco pouch, sniffed
at it suspiciously, tasted a little, and then nodded his head. ‘It has indeed
been many years, old friend. Look at us.’ He held out a wrinkled hand that
trembled in front of him, and shook his head. ‘We changed our direction after
meeting the druid and the sisters in the well. It was then that things really
started to get strange... do you remember?’

Seeing that most of the villagers had returned,
Usher nodded, took a drink of water and another thoughtful pull on his pipe,
then continued. His face once again creased in concentration as he fought to
summon his memories.

‘We had no real idea who we were meant to be meeting.
Our dreams in the well had given us no clues, as to who he was or where we
should find him. Only that we should be heading south… ’

Chapter Seven – The southern road

‘I’m
cold,’ murmured Clarise. She snuggled closer to Cal, and he wrapped his arm tighter about
her. Usher glanced at them and tried not to think of how cold, wet and
miserable he was also feeling.

‘
Shhhh
, go to sleep,’ he
heard Cal
mutter. ‘You’ll soon forget about the cold.’ They pulled the wet fur higher
around themselves and Cal
glanced up as Usher threw more sticks onto the fire. It crackled and spat as
the flames took a reluctant hold on the wet wood.

Above them, wind gusted, moaning and whistling
through branches that creaked unseen in the inky blackness of the night. They
huddled down, waiting for the rush of cold air to reach them beside the fallen
oak that was their only shelter, and resigned themselves to a night of
discomfort and torment.

After leaving the druid’s grove they had walked in
silence, each still caught-up in the strangeness of their experience. When they
arrived at a crossroads they hesitated, unable to make a decision on which
direction to take. It was almost as if some part of each of them remained at
the well. A spark of their life held within the dream and unable to wake
properly into the world they could see around them. The road south, the way the
druid had urged them to take, led directly into the immense dark forest of the
Weald. With the daylight fading, it appeared murky and foreboding. Eventually,
Meryn summoned enough clarity to make a decision and they headed towards the
trees, searching for somewhere to make camp.

At first, all had gone well. They walked a short way
into the forest, found shelter by the fallen oak and lit a fire. Dry,
sweet-smelling bracken was plentiful so they pulled together rough piles as
sleeping pallets and slumped down while the evening light faded around them.
However, soon after darkness claimed the forest, the weather began to turn. A
cold wind picked up, bringing with it a wet and thoroughly miserable night that
only seemed to be getting worse. Meryn was the only one apparently unaffected by
the rain falling on his face, having fallen into a deep untroubled sleep soon
after arriving.

‘I don’t know how he does it,’ remarked Usher,
staring over at Meryn’s sleeping form. ‘He’s getting as wet as we are, but he
hasn’t woken since he first put his head down. Surely he can't be comfortable?’

‘He’s not asleep; he’s unconscious. He’s making up
for too little sleep and too much ale last night,’ observed Cal. Lightning
flashed and they tensed, each counting softly until an ear-splitting crack of
thunder rent the darkness. ‘It’s getting closer,’ he mumbled. The rain
intensified, and he hugged Clarise. She let out a small sob of misery and
shivered against him.

With no dry wood and the rain falling even heavier,
the fire soon died, and as it did, the sounds and fears that only complete
darkness can bring crowded in to surround them. It was an awful feeling, to be
robbed of sight. Not even a small spark of light to cling on to as the forest
and storm did their best to unnerve them. Usher closed his eyes tight and
willed himself to endure it. When exhaustion did eventually force sleep upon
him, it was fleeting, uncomfortable, and filled with images drawn from the
memories of the druid’s well.

Sometime in the early hours, the rain stopped and as
the first glow of dawn filtered through the trees, it revealed a forest
wreathed in a white cloak of mist, drifting like ghostly wraiths amongst the
shadows. Usher helped the others, listening to Cal’s mumbled complaints of aches and pains,
and of how wet and cold he was. Usher tried to respond but he was too tired and
cold to summon the words. Clarise was also silent.

They rolled their wet sleeping furs and made ready
to depart, their movements leaden and stiff reflecting how tired and unhappy
they were. Meryn, as he woke, appeared refreshed from his night and was in a
far better mood than the day before. He hefted himself up and smiled around at
the others. Upon seeing their lifeless faces and how wet they were, the smile
quickly dropped as he scanned the forest and saw the remains of the rain
dripping from the branches all around them.

‘Oh, so it rained a bit, did it?
 
Well all right... last night we didn’t have
the time, but if we’re still in the forest tonight, we’ll be sure to construct
a proper shelter, give you youngsters a better chance of getting some rest.’
Usher stared at him then shook his head, silently wishing he were back at home,
waking in his parents hut with the normal sounds of morning rather than here in
this wet forest with... Clarise began to cry and he watched as Cal hugged her
and hid his face in her hair. Usher shook his head and took a deep breath, then
turned away without saying a word.