Part Seven 3500 BC 'To Alba'
A fortnight had passed before Morcant and Haerviu returned with the boat that would take them across the Narrow Channel Sea. They were unable to find a skiff of sufficient size to transport the altar table and all of their warriors, so they found something better.
A raiding party from the land of Alba had beached their longship about a six day ride to the south of where they were camped. The cliffs along the shore had disappeared and were replaced by a rocky beach and heavily wooded hills to the west. The hills were dotted with small villages of fishermen and hunters who were easy pickings for the Alban raiders before the full of winter set in. When the warriors from the ship left to go raid inland the two young Druids made their move on the men that were left to guard the boat. The two boys attacked with their handful of warriors while weaving a powerful spell of compulsion and quickly subdued the men on the beach. Twenty Alban raiders became entranced to the will of the boys and they now had a crew for their new longship. They sailed away well before the raiding party returned leaving those men to wonder how everything they had left on the shore had disappeared.
Arthfael was more than pleased to see the ship sail up with his friends in command. The weather had turned cold and for the past few days snow had started to fall on and off. He was eager to get to Alba and begin the journey south to warmer weather before the heavy snows came. With this longship his acolytes had captured they would be able to sail down to the warmer climes and take their horses with them. Plus they now had more warriors to surround themselves with.
The darkness that lived and grew in the young Druids wanted to feed, it demanded it from them. Now that all five were together again the sacrifices could be performed. The altar table and the stone knife would only give up the life force of the sacrifice if one of them were at each point of the pentagram. There was no way they could conduct them on a sailing ship as it pitched and rolled on the sea so Arthfael decided they would do them before they left. Many of the people Drest had captured over the last two weeks were still alive and ripe for the taking. They had their warriors set the oak table up in a large open sea cave at the bottom of the cliffs on the beach. The sacrifices were performed at dusk with large bonfires burning around them over a period of several nights. The darkness in the boys took over as they feasted on the souls of their victims and they stayed far longer on the beach than they should have.
The young Druids did not notice the boats that sailed or rowed by on the open sea. The boats carried fishermen with excellent eyesight that wondered at what strange rituals the Druids and Alban raiders could be conducting on the beach. They where surprised and alarmed for they had never seen a dragon ship beached along this rocky stretch of the coast where the cliffs were difficult to climb. The fishermen worried for their famalies as they gave the longship a wide berth and quickly turned their boats for home. Most hailed from the village of Inbhear nOllarbha that was located about a days ride to the north along the coast. They sensed a blackness coming from the men that had landed on their shores and made haste to return to their village and give warning.
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The army of the High King rode into the village of Inbhear nOllarbha when the full of the Snow Moon was almost upon them. They had been away from home for almost a month now and had lost all trace of their quarry no matter the best effort of their trackers. Frustrations were growing high as Tribal and Clan Chiefs came to the High King's tent each night wishing to take their men in different directions and follow their own trackers to search other parts of the northlands. The High King and the High Druid Priest were firmly against this. The tribes of the northlands had no love for the men of Meath and the only reason they had not been attacked was due to the size of their army. They did not want their men picked off by the northern tribes that were keeping watch on them. The High King and his advisors thought that may have been the fate of Captain Bradan and his men. They feared they had been killed or enslaved especially after finding the grisly remains of bones that had been cut up and chewed on in the glen where the Captain had last been reported searching. The men up in these lands were no better than animals but the High King did not want to anger these northerners and end up having them band together. The last thing they needed was a war with the north.
The High King sent out small scouting parties that were ordered to stay close to the village. They were looking for any trace of the band of boys they sought or if anyone had seen them but so far nothing had been found. The cliffs along the shore to the south had been ignored by the searchers because there would be nowhere for the boys to run to and there were no ports to sail from. That was until the fishermen returned with tales of the strange Alban dragon ship beached at the bottom of the cliffs. Most of the Captains of Meath that had been told of the strange Druids and the raiders did not take any heed so several days passed before the High King and the High Druid Priest heard the news. Once they were finally told about it they assembled a large force from the army to ride out and investigate. Something about this was strange to the High Druid as he had never heard of Alban raiders accompanied by Druids. It was also strange for rituals to happen on the beach away from the power of the oaks in the forest. Matha was sure they had found his son and his friends. That night of the full Snow Moon the High King and the High Druid rode out with over half of their army behind them.
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The five boys felt the approaching army in their minds at the same time. They were groggy and inebriated from the many sacrifices that they had preformed over the last two days when the thoughts of hundreds of men came to them like a whisper. A tingle of fear went down their spines as they realized the men were riding in search of them. The boys laid about the cavern in a stupor as their senses were assaulted while their warriors stood guard outside. The early morning fog was heavy along the shore and everything was shrouded in mist just as their minds were.
Arthfael was furious with himself. If he had waited and performed the sacrifices on the other side of the Narrow Channel they would not have been found. If not for the distractions of the sacrifices he would have known these riders were coming much sooner and they would have had time to leave but now the army was almost upon them. Arthfael could tell the men searching for them did not yet know where they were but it would only be a matter of time before they were discovered. The army of the High King and the High Druid Priest of Meath had finally found them. The thin tendril of fear that ran up his spine threatened to overwhelm him the more he realized they were far from having the strength in arms to fight and defeat this army. If they did not leave soon he would be standing against his father and Arthfael feared that most of all.
The four acolytes could feel Arthfael's fear as their own fear grew inside of them. For all of their powers in the Black Magick and the strength they received from the darkness they were still boys. They had yet to face an enemy that could destroy them and now they felt their doom riding towards them.
"What plan, Arthfael?" Morcant said. "How'st shall we escape tither now?"
"Let me think!" Arthfael said. His thoughts were a jumble as he tried to focus on the coming threat.
After a few minutes a plan suddenly formed in his mind. He could not say where it came from or how he thought of it so quickly but there it was. He could only think that the darkness that lived in him had much to do with it for it was a sly and cunning thing. He put the plan in motion quickly for they had very little time to act.
"Morcant, Haerviu, compel thine Alban raiders to load yon ship with our sacred things. Judoc and Drest come hither," he said as he whipped his robes around and headed out of the sea cave.
Judoc and Arthfael gathered all of the spellbound warriors from Meath together and had them start walking the path to the top of the cliffs. Drest went and cut the binds on the remaining villagers he had abducted while laying a stronger spell of compulsion upon them. There were twenty-one warriors from Meath and nineteen northern villagers all together.
"We must use our spell of compulsion to the fullest on these people to attack the army coming forth. Make'eth sure all be armed with sword or spear. Pray to thy Black Powers it be enough for our escape," Arthfael said.
Once all the villagers were armed the Young Druids had them hide in the woodlands to the south of the uninhabited village. The warriors were on horseback a little farther back in the woods to the southwest. The boys planned to have the villagers attack from the woods first with the more experienced warriors following up. The army was coming from the north and hopefully would be taken by surprise.
It wasn't long before several scouts of the army came riding into the village. They rode around the grass huts poking them with their spears and peering into the woods around the clearing. When they saw no one except the fresh footprints that they had expected they rode back to bring rest of the army forward. The boys were hidden a ways back in the woods but close enough to see the village grounds. They had compelled their slave warriors to lay on the ground and hold their breath while the village was being scouted. Once the scouts left they allowed their warriors to breath and move closer. Arthfael wanted their slaves to attack the largest group possible causing as much death and confusion as possible. Judoc and Drest compelled the warrior slaves to remain still as possible while the army moved into the village but it was becoming increasingly more difficult with every passing moment. The enchanted men and women actually seemed eager to go into battle against these men.
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The High King and the High Druid Priest rode into the village at the head of their army and saw the same things as their scouts had which was nothing. They checked the fresh footprints themselves and could see they led towards the cliffs. As far as they could tell the footprints went to approximately where the fishermen had reported seeing the strangers on the beach. The High King and the High Druid talked amongst themselves on how to proceed while warriors on horses filled in the grounds of the village behind them. While the they talked the High Druid became concerned at the silence in the forest all around them. It was so eerily quiet as if all of the birds and animals that lived in the woods ceased to exist. The High King was not concerned saying that he would be quiet too if his home had just been invaded. The animals of the forest had probably never seen so many men together at one time before.
In that moment while the men talked the woods to the front of them came alive with men and women charging. They wielded sword and spear as they came running from behind the trees and although they appeared to have screams on their faces no sound came from their mouths. Those of the King's warriors that noticed were frozen in place as they watched this small band of people run silently towards them.
The attacking villagers clashed with the first line of mounted warriors and ran right through them. A few of the attackers went down, some took horrible wounds and some ran on to attack the second line untouched. The ones that received the wounds kept right on fighting as if nothing had happened to them, if anything they seemed to fight harder. The High Druid watched as in no time the first three lines of their warriors were in disarray as horses screamed and bucked trying to get away from the people underfoot that were stabbing up at them. Most of the mounted warriors were too close together to draw their weapons or too busy just trying to stay in the saddle to be able to fight back. When men did fall from their horses chances were good they were either trampled to death or hacked to pieces. It was not long before the horses behind the lines under attack started to panic as they fed off the screams of terror and the smell of death coming from the battle in front of them. The village grounds erupted into a mad frenzy of chaos as men lost control.
"What evil be this Druid!" the High King said as he watched the attack holding his own fidgety mount. In front of them a woman staggered by fighting as hard as she could after just having her arm lopped off. Another man was swinging his sword cutting the legs out from under one horse after another as blood gushed from deep cuts on his head and shoulders. "That man's head be claved and yet behold, he fights on!"
The High Druid had no answer for the King as he too watched the attackers receive blow after blow and yet still fought on. These warriors should have died several times over from such wounds. Then from the south and west of the village Matha could hear another commotion from the woods. Men on horseback charged out of the forest and straight into their flanks, silent and deadly. These men were not like the first attackers. They rode their horses well and knew how to handle a weapon. He thanked the Gods and Goddesses there were not more of them. The men looked like wraiths riding on horses. They wore filthy, tattered clothing and their armor and weapons were unkempt. Most of them were skeletal, all were deathly pale and their faces were locked in horrible grimaces of fury. What made them truly terrifying was the silence in which they attacked with as they slammed into the King's warriors with grim determination. But even in the terrible state they were in the High Druid recognized some of the men and knew he had found his son.
The enemy warriors fought extremely well for being entranced and it took dismembering or beheading them to put them down. The High Druid threw back his robes, brandished his staff and charged the spellbound warriors with the High King at his side. Matha wanted to see if he could glean any knowledge of the black evil that compelled these men as he fought and killed them.
The Elder Druid was in the middle of the madness, surrounded by four Druids of his order. He guided his nervous horse through the lines of men and horses closer to the battle raging at the front of the army. He too wanted a closer look at the black evil inside these enemy warriors. His smile was hidden in the darkness made by the hood of his robes as he slowly rode forward. Young Arthfael and his friends have learned quite a bit he thought to himself. He desired more than ever to get his hands on the ancient sheepskin scrolls the boys possessed and learn the Black Magick they contained thinking of the power he could wield.
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The three boys watched the battle from the woods and were amazed at how well their villagers and warriors fought. None of them expected to see these people take such horrific wounds and keep on fighting before they died. Judoc and Drest were almost sad to lose their warriors after watching them fight so well. Arthfael was pleased as he watched their entranced warriors fight-on even after they had let loose the reins of compulsion. The three boys became so enthralled with watching the battle they almost forgot about escaping. Arthfael soon realized they needed to walk away and let the fight continue without them or the loss of their warriors would have been for nought. Their warriors fought well but there were just not enough of them to ever defeat this army.
Arthfael scanned the scene one more time before they left and could feel his father in the throng of men and horses. He could not see him amidst the battle but he could feel his thoughts of sorrow towards him and it made him angry. One day he would show his father how powerful he had become and then he would strike him down for ever feeling sorry for him.
The boys made their way down the cliff to the longship that awaited them. They did not give anymore thought to the warriors that fought and died for them. These warriors they had spent day and night with for almost two months.
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The battle at the little unknown village went on far longer than it should have. The High King and the High Druid watched as the last slave warrior died in front of them. It was Sergeant Cadeyrn or what used to be him. They watched as he lay thrashing on the ground wildly swinging his sword at anyone that came near. The man had lost his left arm at the shoulder and his left leg at the knee and his attempts to strike someone became more and more feeble as the he bled out while lying on the ground. The two men were horrified and saddened by what they observed.
Once the battle was over they followed the footprints to the cliffs overlooking the sea. They found the path that was cut into the cliffs and led down to the beach but they saw no sign of the boys they were looking for. That was when they spied the longship unfurling its main sail just past the waves breaking on shore. The High King and the High Druid Priest watched as the ship sailed away knowing the boys were on it.
The High King was furious and in a rage at their escape. It would take days, maybe even weeks, to secure a crossing over the Narrow Channel and no one knew where the boys would land. Alba was a big place and Albion even bigger. The men made a pact that night to continue on no matter the cost. The news of the pact went around the camp like a summer fire and in the morning over three hundred men stood their ground around the two men and made the same pact to their leaders. That night the rest of the army followed. The evil came from their lands at great loss to their leaders, their families and their people and it could not continue to be let loose on the world. Besides they were still just boys and they were making them angry.
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Arthfael walked up the ramp and onto the ship. He would have to reward Morcant and Haerviu. They had really thought far beyond his expectations in commandeering the longship and the crew. It was a shame that they could not save the warriors and horses to give them even more of a fighting force. There first order of business would be to replace the warriors they had lost once they reached the far land.
He had seen many of these ships from afar as a boy when his father would take him along to the docks but never one this close. He marveled at the craftsmanship of the boat as he walked up the plank past the stempost. The great, weathered dragon head that looked down upon him with its huge fangs and trailing flames made him feel right at home. He was a dragon among men and he would bring fear to them just as this dragon head did when men saw it come their way.
So engaged was he with the construction of the boat he did not notice the body laying on the deck. There amidst a pile of ropes and tackle lay Haerviu, bloodied with his head caved in. He had been killed when a strong wave came ashore causing one of the mooring lines to snap sending the heavy tackle into him. Morcant kneeled at the boys side holding his hand, he had watched him die.
The ship started to move off the beach as the men from Alba got it underway. Arthfael turned to look back at the cliffs while holding the rail next to the stempost. They had lost one of the five points of the pentagram and he had no idea how they would continue the sacrifices. He was not sad nor would he mourn the boy that was once his friend, the darkness inside him did not care. Its concern, its only concern was the taking of a life force. He would have to study the scrolls in depth and hope the answer would be in them.
As the ship made its way through the rough waves beating on the shore into the calmer waters of the North Channel Arthfael scanned the cliff tops for any sign of pursuit. He watched as two men rode up on swift coursers to stop at the edge and look out upon the sea. One man wore dark brown flowing robes with his hood thrown back revealing long gray hair and a long flowing beard. The other wore a crown of silver, bronze armor and boiled leather that gleamed brightly in the midday sun. Even from here he knew he was looking at the High King and his father. He could feel the power of these two men along with their anger and rage. He could tell this would not be the last time he would see them. He was glad, he looked forward to meeting them again and taking their lives.
As Arthfael turned to see to his acolytes he heard the beginnings of a mournful wail growing in force with every passing second. Everyone looked up to the sky at the mast and yardarm, even the compelled Alban warriors. Arthfael's only thought was a banshee had come to call and he had no idea what to do. Everyone scrambled in fear as the wail grew to an unbearable howl.
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I hope you enjoyed Part Seven of Druids-Bane. Please leave a comment or vote on Wattpad, any kind of critique will help. I could really use the input. Thanks for reading!