Have you heard anything about druids lately? (ch10)
Synopsis: After cleaning up a river spring, Madga and Ress decide to travel to Wrysal for the Last Harvest of the year celebrations. Madga is nervous, not only because many years ago Wrysal was one of the tribes who blamed Gwae for the death of the sun, but also because Suuroo and Wrysal are now at odds with each other. And the colour of their hair will surely give them away as the enemy.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
With ease Madga and Ress followed a footpath away from the sanctuary. At times they walked side by side when the path allowed, and when it didn’t one or the other would lead.
Most knew to keep to the paths when stepping away from home; regular travellers had memorized and distinguished which paths they needed to get to their destination; further still were warriors and druids who were as comfortable with the paths and rivers as they were breathing.
Moonlight dappled the undergrowth. Their feet softly padded on the dirt as they walked in silence. Madga glanced over her shoulder, the first in a while. Despite the Suuroo warrior’s words Madga often kept an eye on her, and each time Ress greeted her with a smile or nod. As time went on Madga found herself turning around less and less.
She led for a ways until something on the left caught her eye. Just ahead two trees stood next to the path, the roots of one snaking underneath and threatening to trip travellers. She slowed, placing a hand on its sturdy trunk. Her gaze travelled over the dark foliage, picking out familiar signs of disturbances. Ress paused and Madga only spared her a glance before stepping into the thicker wood.
After a brief moment of stunned silence, Ress followed.
Their steps barely made a sound. Madga took care not to step on small plants, while keeping an eye out for deceptively-solid ground covered in moss. She held the length of her spear against her chest until eventually the quiet sound of trickling water met her ears.
The low laying plants opened and the surrounding trees acted like the roof of a house. Madga felt the security of the space more than she could see it. But she frowned. She carefully toed the ground ahead to find muck and pebbles that gave a little under her prodding. She looked back and forth, noticing as predicted that the plants and trees continued to open bit by bit in one direction. She took another step, her foot sinking a little into the damp ground but thankfully didn’t soak through the leather shoe. She prodded farther into the dark with her next step and was greeted with a small splash of water. The leaves above shifted, and sure enough moonlight glittered across the stream.
Behind her Ress leaned forward, silently watching as she turned upstream and followed it. She in turn followed her.
Bit by bit the stream lessened, though it had already begun to make a new groove down the middle of the former riverbed.
Eventually Madga arrived at its beginnings. There water flowed up from a spring in the ground. She put her spear aside and crouched. The water was biting cold to her fingers as she pulled away a clump of last year’s fallen leaves, old sticks, and some mushrooms that had taken root at the opening. She tossed them into the forest where they fell to the ground with a soft wet splat. She stepped aside, wiping her shaking hands on her pants and admiring the river that once again flowed strong.
She breathed on her fingers to warm them. She jumped when Ress spoke.
“You travel quite a lot, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Madga returned to breathing on her fingers and rubbing them together.
Ress nodded. She adjusted her bag. “You found the animal path and this river fairly quickly. That’s impressive.”
Madga hesitated, unsure what to say. “…thank you.”
Ress smiled reassuringly, then reached around and grabbed her water skin handing from her bag. She crouched and refilled it with the cold water. Madga suddenly remembered her own diminishing supply and rushed to do the same.
Afterwards she twisted, returning her water to its proper place. Then she retrieved her spear from where she had placed it on the ground. She straightened and returned to breathing on her hands.
Ress had stepped back. “With that done, where to next?”
Madga peeked over the tips of her fingers. She squeaked.
Ress’ lips twitched. She gently prodded, “Where were you going before the spirit attacked?”
Madga breathed out and lowered her fingers. “O-oh. I hadn’t decided that.”
Ress placed a hand on her hip. “Well, how do you feel about Wrysal?”
Madga blinked and jerked back in shock. “But- Wrysal doesn’t like Suuroo.”
Ress’ smile turned lopsided, almost shamed. “Oh, I know. Which means, you’ll have to watch out for me sooner than we thought.”
Madga’s eyes widened and she raised her hand. “I can’t! I- Wrysal doesn’t like Gwae either!”
Ress’ brow furrowed but her smiled didn’t fall. She turned and began back along the animal path. “Where did you hear that?”
Madga fidgeted with the spear before quickly following. “It’s been that way for-um, a long time.”
Ress sent a funny look over her shoulder and Madga glanced away. “True, Wrysal and Gwae argue over how well they can fish and the kinds of fish they catch, but it’s nothing we need to worry about. You’ll be fine.”
“Oh….” Madga looked up and licked her lips. “Really?”
Ress hummed pleasantly. “Come on. I’ll lead us there.”
Madga’s steps slowed in thought. Curiosity won out and she jogged to catch up.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
By the time they reached Wrysal leaves and needles had begun falling. They softly crunched under each step. During the journey Madga hadn’t spoken much, and Ress hadn’t pushed her.
The trees thinned, slowly opening to an expanse of rocks and browning grasses. Gusts of wind blew off the ocean and across the lands the Wrysal called home. Groups of trees stood defiant against the winds, their curved spines arching away from the ocean.
“There!” Ress said. She pointed toward the sea. The moon had set not long ago, leaving only stars to light the way. A dark spot blotted out a collection of them on the horizon and a warm, orange light flickered from within the darkness. “There is Wrysal.”
Another gust rushed toward them, and just as it arrived it spun into a small whirlwind. It tossed their long hair and nearly pulled Madga’s spear from where it was attached to her pack. Ress grabbed hold and adjusted the weapon. Madga thanked her but instead removed it and held on with both hands, just in case. The wind soon calmed.
Ress smiled fondly to herself. “Sometimes I wonder how I could ever forget the strength of the wind.”
She stopped, placing her pack the ground. The content’s softly thunked and clattered. Madga watched as she dug through it for her comb. Then she pulled out her purple ribbon and began the process of braiding, taping, and tying up her hair.
Madga’s followed the swish of the soft purple. It was a colour few could use in their clothes as the plant that made it grew in the plains, the lands of the Suuroo.
“What about the purple ribbon?” she asked.
Ress’ warm brown eyes were focused on nothing, looking toward their feet as she worked. They flashed up and a corner of her mouth twitched. “I think the colour of the ribbon will be the least of their worries if they see my hair.”
Madga winced at her mistake. “Oh, right.”
A thought suddenly came to her and she put her own pack and spear on the ground. The spear rolled over the ground and toward the tribe, but stopped at a small pile of rocks that marked the path. Madga pulled on her pointed wool hat, tucking her wavy black hair inside until it was completely hidden. She reached for her pack and watched as Ress continued braiding and taping her hair into a crown around her head.
Soon enough Ress finished and took out her long fur and wool cloak. She fastened it with a simple bone broach. However, still partially visible on the left side of her neck was the black stain of a spear going through a skull. Madga worried at her lip.
Ress raised a brow, but it quickly fell again. With a reassuring smile she reached into her pack and pulled out a plain woollen scarf. She wrapped around her neck, hiding the stain and aiding to secure her hood in place.
She placed her hands on her hips. “Better?”
Madga nodded, breathing a little easier.
Once Ress threw on her pack they continued. Gusts occasionally blew but nothing so wild as the whirlwind. Still a good distance before the tribe grounds Ress removed her round shield and tucked it under the edge of a boulder. She threw dead grass on top and with that they headed for Wrysal.
Madga’s spear strangely felt warm and right in her hands as they neared. Greeting them were skulls and heads on stakes shoved into the ground and spaced apart. The skulls were clean and draped in aging flowers, braided grasses, and seashells. The heads were farther away, their withering strands of hair fluttering in the wind. As in other tribes, the skulls were likely loved ones, warriors, ancestors and the like to help guard the people, while the rotting heads were enemies caught. They provided a warning to others, and stories to tell for the ones who killed them.
As they walked by Madga hugged the spear to her chest, searching for black hair among the heads. Her feet stuttered when she caught sight of dark hair, but the wind picked it up and nearby torches revealed it to be auburn. She breathed out and her heart relaxed. Then her gaze caught on a flash of pale, dying blond hair the colour of straw. She looked around and realized most of the heads had yellow hair.
Ress didn’t so much as glance as she led the way into Wrysal.
Around them fat roundhouses sat scattered along the cliff, close enough to see the ocean but far enough to avoid falling to the shore below if the edge gave way. Like most roundhouses their thatched rooftops pointed to the sky and, as though heavy, the edges drooped over the houses. The ocean wind easily weaved its way between each one, causing the standing torches to dance and sputter.
People walked between the houses, dressed somewhere between their summer and winter clothes. Linen and wool, leggings, tunics, and thickly layered shirts. Few wore shoes, most instead opting for boots and more wool. A few sheep invaded Madga’s space and she had to wait for them to pass before she could catch up with Ress.
She found her standing next to a house several buildings away from the central fire, hugging a man and smiling at each other like old friends.
Madga slowly joined them. Ress spotted her and introduced her. “Raearrt, this is my friend, Madga.”
Madga inhaled and her eyes flashed to Raearrt, but the man didn’t react to her Gwae name.
Ress continued, “Madga, this is Raearrt. We met when I saved him from drowning in the river-”
“Ah-!!” Raearrt flailed his hands and grasped her shoulder. She chuckled at his antics.
He weakly laughed. In a hushed voice he said, “Ress-ess, yell it why don’t you?”
Madga glanced at Ress. The name Ress-ess sounded more like an Osaeh-oh name than a Suuroo. But only just.
“I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” Ress fondly said with humour, gently clapping him on the shoulder. Raearrt’s thin shoulders sagged in relief.
His brown eyes fully came upon Madga. He kept his long auburn hair tied in a bun and wore a green scarf around his neck. He smiled from under a close clipped moustache. “Sooo… how did you two meet?”
Ress gave them a brief version of their first meeting, thankfully leaving out the disagreement with the EreTaam man over Madga’s being Gwae. As Ress spoke Madga glanced at the other man still sitting on the ground next to the house. He was broader in the shoulders but shorter than Raearrt. A wool hood of crisscrossing green and blue colours covered his long hair, and his long moustache drooped down from his lip to brush the small table sitting on the ground. A cushion had been placed on either side to sit on, and on top lay an unfinished game of Chief’s Table. The man stared up at her, hunched over with his elbows on the table.
She quickly looked away.
Ress finished and Raearrt sighed. “Hun, stop staring at the poor girl.”
The man huffed, returning his gaze to the shell and stone pieces. He appeared to be losing.
With a dry smile, Ress said, “Of course it’s lovely to see you too, Argorth.”
He grunted without looking away from the board. His eyes lit up and he quickly moved one of his pieces. Smiling, Raearrt leaned down and nudged one of his own. Argorth’s eyes widened and then collapsed. He leaned back, dragging his hands over his face with a groan.
Madga’s mouth twitched and covered it with her free hand. Raearrt and Ress giggled.
“So what brings you here?” Raearrt straightened in excitement. “Are you here for Last Harvest? Of course you are, you have to be!”
“We are. But I was just thinking, I’d like to have a chat with your husband before we pick our beds.”
Raearrt shook his head and grabbed her hand. “You must stay with us.”
Argorth sat hunched again, with his elbow bent and one hand firmly on his thigh. The other rested across his legs. He nodded in agreement.
Ress looked at Madga. “Are you alright with that, Madga?” Her eyes firmly caught her gaze and refused to let go. She watched her with great concern.
Madga glanced away, nodding. She inhaled with a start when Ress shifted into view to grab her attention again.
“Are you sure?” she asked quietly with meaning.
Madga look up at her in surprise. “Yes.”
Ress seemed to relax as she straightened. “Okay. Then we’ll stay.”
Raearrt glanced at them but didn’t push. “Right, this way then.”
They hadn’t any extra cots and Argorth ran to grab two from neighbours. Raearrt put aside their fishing tools, and then Argorth and Ress set the cots along the stone wall. Madga stepped carefully through the dim lighting until Raearrt nudged the fire back to full life. In the better lighting she looked down and quickly shifted to avoid knocking into a woven basket. The hearth sat in the centre among a circle of stones. The flames threw heat, making shadows dance along the walls and the ribbed, thatch roof above. Smoke streamed through it while keeping the cold in.
Madga walked around the fire to one of the beds and leaned her spear against the wall.
“Beautiful,” said a rough voice, as though the owner had swallowed a burning stick.
Her shoulders tensed and she spun.
Argorth stood next to her. He raised a hand to the spear and looked at her in question. She quickly nodded. He gently ran his fingers over the lightning-like webbing design that hugged the wooden staff. He lowered his hand and hummed in approval.
“He loves weapons,” Raearrt explained, looking at Argorth with fondness as he joined them. “Have you named it?” he asked her.
“No, I haven’t,” she said, then removed her pack to place it next to the cot.
Raearrt opened his mouth but Ress interrupted him. “It’s nameless for now.”
“Oh, I see.”
Madga silently agreed with Ress. She dug around in her bag until she found a much smaller bag. She presented them to the men.
A smile wiped away Raearrt’s confusion. He accepted the bag and opened it as he said, “Oh! You didn’t have toooo-what are these?”
Madga shrunk a little. “Marshberries….”
His face cleared. “Oh, I’ve heard of these!” He showed Argorth them as he asked, “Can we eat them like this?”
“Yes.”
Raearrt popped one of the red, dried berries into his mouth. He immediately grimaced. Argorth’s chest rumbled with silent laughter and Raearrt narrowed his eyes at him.
Raearrt hummed. “I’m not sure it’s for me.”
Argorth plucked one from the bag. He thoughtfully chewed, then grabbed another. Raearrt handed him the entire bag and he walked away with it to sit by the fire.
Ress’ smile widened. “You’re settled, now how about me… do you need help with anything around here?”
Raearrt brought a finger to his lips. “Not as of yet. But I’m sure we’ll think of something. Come, sit. You had questions for us?” He grabbed a pitcher of water and stone cups from a shelf
“For Argorth, more specifically.” Ress left her pack, spear, and boots by her cot to join them at the table by the fire. It was wider than the one outside, allowing for a few others to sit around it.
Madga removed her boots but kept her hat on despite the heat of the room. Ress had also left on her hood and scarf, but rolled up her sleeves. As she spoke Madga joined them at the table, curious about the topic of conversation.
Ress’ smile gave way to a more serious expression. “Have you heard anything about druids lately?”
Argorth’s moustache shifted as he ate. He shook his head.
“What would he have heard?” Raearrt asked with a frown.
Madga sipped at her cup of water, suddenly remembering what Ress had told her.
Ress glanced back at the closed door. “I’m not sure. A while ago I came across three druids.”
Argorth grunted and took a drink of water.
“They were dead.”
He choked on the water and Madga and Raearrt quickly came to his rescue. They thumped on his back as Raearrt said, “Dead?!”
Ress nodded. “It was clear they’d been killed.”
“Who?” Argorth wheezed. Madga shifted back to her seat as he recovered. She exchanged a glance with Ress.
“Who would kill a druid?” Raearrt asked in horror. He remained sitting next to his husband, a hand on his back.
“This is the strange part. It seemed as though they had been trampled to death.”
Raearrt mouthed the last part in shock.
Argorth’s expression turned stormy. “Who.”
Ress shook her head. “Not long later I ran into Madga; she was running from an angered horse spirit.”
Madga tensed. “Ress,” she whispered. Ress glanced at her. She dipped her chin but didn’t speak.
Raearrt sputtered.
“Are-” Argorth coughed. He touched his throat as he cleared it and Madga noticed scaring along the trunk. “Are you suggesting… that a spirit… killed them?” he said, each word a struggle.
“It was angry,” Ress said calmly. “And the size of the hooves matched the damage I had seen. What I’m asking for is, have you heard about anything like this? Or have you heard of any druids gone missing?”
Argorth shook his head. His fingers curled around his cup. “No.” He shook his head vehemently. “In Ruia I… learned a bit of magic. Forced the spirit out… of the fire.” He glared at the tabletop. “I was young. Small. So afraid… of these older…boys.”
“What happened?” Madga asked.
Argorth’s eyes flashed to her and she shrunk in on herself.
Raearrt gently explained, “He was in training to be a druid-peacekeeper. While he was there these boys from rival tribes started fighting.”
Argorth nodded. “I needed help. Like a fool, I forced-” he coughed. “Made the spirit come out.” His gaze became like the surface of a calm, dark pool as he recalled the past. “It was angry. Hurt the boys. Hurt me.” He trailed his fingers along his neck again.
Madga watched in silent awe at his retelling. Her fingers trembled at the memory of Wrysal’s horse god Ricah’s anger, and the memory of other angered spirits she had encountered in the past.
“Was that why you stopped?” she asked. “Did they make you stop being a druid?”
Argorth made a noise, like a dry chuckle. “No. Too much to memorize,” he said, tapping the side of his head through the hood.
Ress laughed. Raearrt weakly giggled.
Ress reached across and placed a hand on Argorth’s. “Thank you for telling us your story.”
Argorth nodded. As she pulled back, he said, “Spirits… are not tools. Nor act without reason. If a spirit… killed them, then it was their own… own fault.” He cleared his throat again.
Ress nodded in understanding. “Which brings up the question: why or how did they make it angry?”
The house turned silent except for the crackling of the fire. No one could offer an answer.
Raearrt sighed. “Right,” he said softly. “Enough of that. We’ve no answers here, and until we do, let’s get something to eat.”
Ress said, “Apologies. Let me help.”
Raearrt nodded and stood along with her to begin preparing food. Madga toyed with her cup, glancing up at Argorth who was staring into nothing. He looked at her and she glanced away.
There was a deep sigh and she turned to see him rise to his feet. He walked to a wash bowl and cleaned his hands with soap and water before assisting with the food. After a long moment, Madga drained her cup and joined them.