The Last Druid

The Last Druid

Colleen Montague

The Last Druid

Copyright © 2014 Colleen Montague

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

The people, places, and events depicted in this work are fiction.  Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, is unintentional.

To Joseph A. Montague.

I did it Grandpa.

I

The Nymph

She was one with the wind, going wherever she wanted without much thought; with her ability to change forms it was effortless, whether she became the wind or took the shape of a bird.  But it wasn’t important what form she took right now, as long as it helped her complete her task as quickly as possible.  If she made even a small mistake, in all likelihood there would not be enough time to fix it.

She had never travelled so far from the Lady before.  She could not understand why she had been asked to do this—she saw herself as too young, too inexperienced.  Her going out on one of these missions without having enough skill to survive was insane; one of her more-experienced fellows would have been better for this.

Yet the Lady had insisted that
she
go.

How much good would sending her do?  She only knew the major details of the ancient prophecy; she wasn’t the best person to explain any of
its finer points.  She felt herself frowning as she flew.  That damned prophecy—she wished a thousand curses on the person who made it.  So what if she found the chosen Forest Child and convinced her of her higher purpose?  Even if she had a way to find the girl she could be anywhere in the world, and chances were she would have no idea of what she was truly capable of.  Besides, the Dark One was far ahead of them; He had already found the Son of Shadows, and they had begun to move against the Lady.

The thought wasn’t comforting.  She quickened her pace, hoping she wouldn’t be too late, that she would not fail when so much depended on her success.

The storm was closing in on them all.

II

Calla

Warm summer days meant little to no activity for the Elves of the city of Kida in the province of Ganeuen, the oppressive heat draining the energy from every living thing.  The city was left silent, the usual buzz of distant activity nowhere to be heard.  The sky was perfectly clear without a single cloud to be seen and the sun shone brightly over every inch of the land, but instead of being able to enjoy such a beautiful day the heat had driven everyone indoors where it was hopefully cooler.

Ca
lla liked to think she had found a happy medium: she spent her time in the branches of a tree on such days, where there was a little more shade.  She found being higher up meant she had a better chance of feeling the passing breezes, almost chill as they blew across her sweaty skin.  Here, she could still sit in the shade and yet still enjoy being outdoors.

Ca
lla rested with her back to the bole of a maple tree, stretching her legs out along the limb she sat on.  She really didn’t mind days like this—they gave her peace and quiet in which to think, to do one of her favorite pastimes, or do nothing at all.  Unfortunately most everyone else had to do something more productive with their time, sweltering temperatures or no.

She sighed and closed her eyes, tryi
ng to ignore the drops of sweat running down her face.  Sure, she was sixteen—the age when the desire for laziness tends to take over—but she was actually wishing she could do some kind of work instead of baking under the midday sun.  She ran her hand over the top of her head, sections of her red-brown hair getting slicked back from the moisture.  This was the one element of summer she hated.  At least the occasional breeze felt somewhat refreshing.

As such a breeze picked up and started b
lowing through the maple leaves she suddenly found it anything but refreshing. 

Come
, said a whispery, childlike voice. 
Come dance with us.

Her eyes popped open and she sat up straighter,
her hands gripping into the bark to steady herself. 
Not again
, she thought, her body tensing.

When she was younger,
at least seven years old, she’d started hearing voices.  At first she did her best to ignore them, thinking perhaps her friends were trying to trick her somehow; yet none of them had been around on any of the occasions when this first happened.  Thinking it to be nothing more than her imagination, she shrugged off each occurrence and went about as though it had never happened.

Yet as she grew older
it grew worse.  Now she could hear those voices most of the time—usually when there was wind, rain, or some other form of weather—some shouting as if from a distance and some in a faint whisper.  Unnerved by the whole thing Calla never told a soul—she didn’t dare to, fearing that anyone who listened would think her mad.  With no other options she forced herself to believe that this was just what happened in the world around her and that the voices were just an illusion, a trick of her ears; she was able to keep herself from going insane with such thoughts and get used to these happenings to a certain degree, even as the frequency increased over the years.

She sat incredibly still, listening as the air passed over her.  Those voices were back again, though this time they weren’t
saying anything.  Their pitch was high and they seemed to be laughing, like a group of young children at play—but she was completely alone out here.

So much for
that
, she thought. 
Could it be that I really am…?

“Hey
dreamer!”

Ca
lla almost fell out of the tree. Regaining her composure she looked down to see someone standing at the base of the tree, partially obscured from view by the leaves around her.  She didn’t need a clear view to know who it was.  “Marrin!” she shouted.  “You good-for-nothing, idiotic, clownish—”

The young Elf, still grinning, just watched her as she climbed down from her perch,
continuing to shout at him for sneaking up on her.  His smile still stretched from ear to ear even when she turned and started snapping at him directly, as though this were a regular occurrence—which it was.

“—ridiculous practical joker!”  She ran her sleeve across her forehead as she gasped for breath after her ranting.  “Honestly,
I could have been killed if I fell out of that tree!  Don’t you understand that it’s really too hot out for this kind of thing?”

“Well, it’s not like we can do much else,” he said. 
His brown hair was plastered to the back of his neck and patches of his shirt were a shade darker where they were soaked with sweat.  “Did you really expect anything less from me?”

“Perhaps.” Ca
lla reached her arm up behind her as best she could to brush bits of bark off her back.  “I keep hoping someday you’ll get at least a little more serious.”

“But I am.”

“Meaning more than you already are.  But to your credit, I will confess that your constantly-positive outlook on everything means we won’t have much in the way of dull moments around here.”

“Ah, now you see the truth!”  Marrin’s voice sounded a little overly-dramatic.  “Behold!  I shall bring you relief from the ever-present threat of boredom, and so shall strive—“

“Sheesh, enough already!”  Calla had placed her hands over her ears to block out at least some of his improvised performance.  Marrin’s one goal in life was to be an actor, and it went to such a point that he made a performance of any moment at random; everyone hoped he would get to have such a career, but only so they could get some form of reprieve from his spurts of theatricality in public.

The two friends
started walking uphill back towards the city.  The streets were deserted, the people having retreated indoors.  It was a tight-knit community, where everyone knew everyone and few feuds broke out.  Marrin and Calla took their time as they strolled along the main road, despite how intensely the sun bore down on them.  Marrin kept chatting excitedly as they walked about an audition he had coming up with the local theater group.  Calla listened as he rambled on about his plans, nodding and laughing when it seemed appropriate to do so, and waiting patiently for her turn to talk.

She didn’t have long to wait for her turn.  Her plans and doings were a sharp contrast to his.  Most of the time
she busied herself with gardening, her most favorite hobby.  Given the summer days were quite warm, she made sure to do that work early in the morning and later in the evening when the air temperature was much cooler.  Unlike her friend, she didn’t feel a life devoted to the arts was really her calling—instead, her plan was to train to become a member of the Royal Guards, an elite military unit whose duty was protecting the royal court.  Perhaps it was rather ambitious of her, but since her father was one of the captains she did have an in.

After she had finished
her rambling she and Marrin walked in silence for several minutes.  They passed a few vendors that had taken up various spots along the street, the salesmen themselves trying to hide from the scorching sunlight by crouching in the shadows of their carts; only a few of them on this street had an actual storefront.  The two friends paid a visit to a small bakery they came to and bought some sweets to snack on while they continued their walk.

While Ca
lla focused on catching the crumbs that fell from her muffin as she ate, Marrin’s face grew serious.  “So,” he began with a bit of uncertainty in his voice, “how are things with…you know,
her
.  Your stepmother.”

Ca
lla didn’t answer right away.  She didn’t really like talking about that subject since she and her stepmother didn’t get along well at all.  When she was seven years old, around the same time those strange voices started, her mother just disappeared without any kind of trace; everyone thought that for some reason she went mad, and after a while assumed she was dead.  The incident left Calla’s father distraught, so much so that he didn’t give another thought to marrying again for several years.  After that he courted Mika, a lovely young woman who lived outside the city and had a reputation for playing hard-to-get with her suitors; in a surprisingly short amount of time she gave in to Morlan’s requests, and they later married and had two daughters.  Calla didn’t really mind her half-sisters, but after they were born the relationship she had with her stepmother abruptly turned foul.  For reasons Calla couldn’t find, Mika couldn’t stand being in the same room as her without giving her a glare or some nasty comment.

“It’s about the same as usual,” she said at last.  “
I don’t understand it—no one does.  It’s like she can’t stand the sight of me.  She’ll leave Mia and Melna to their own devices for the most part, but I hardly get a moment’s peace; she’s always looking for a fault in everything I say and do.”