Hi all! I've been reveluating some of my writing and work since I asked a while ago for feedback on the first part of a story I had written. As always the scope seems to be growing and I am
trying to get the majority ready for an aniversary bonanza. =^_^= I really enjoyed writing this piece so I'm just going to post it as a semi-teaser.
Feel free to give feedback. It's not terribly long.
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Prologue
Southern England; 45 AD.
Marcus leaned against the crumbled pillars of the shattered grove breathing a sigh of relief. For the first time in years he felt like the weight of the world had been plucked from his shoulders. It was a momentary reprieve only he knew. The responsibilities he carried were not gone just muted for the moment. Much work still awaited him. Evils had been unknowingly loosed upon the world that only he could trap.
But for the moment he could relax and rest. As far as they ran he would catch them in the end. He had the patience of a river and the resolve of a mountain.
Marcus, Its Ceorwyn, shes been hurt.
Deep and rough like the echo of landslide the voice pierced the moment of relief. Like the voice itself, the man who spoke had an earthy look to him. Tarmicus was a broad shouldered northern who had been taken from his people and placed into the deadly arenas that provided entertainment to the people of Rome. Marcus had bought the man for half a pouch of denarii, silver coins of the Republic. Many years had passed since Marcus had purchased the wild barbarian gladiator. White now streaked his once rich earthy hair that hung down his back in a plait. Black hair covered his bare chest and arms and he wore only a legionnaires leather skirt and sandals. In the fight Tarmicus had lost his gladius and gained dozen of deep gashes across his bare flesh. The ex-gladiator paid them no heed as he repeated his summons to his friend.
Come now Marcus, lest Ceorwyn not see the next moon.
Ceorwyn, of all his companions and friends she was the most faithful and precious. Marcus had suspected that not all of the seven who entered the grove would leave it on their own feet, but he had dared to let himself believe that if no else survived Ceorwyn would. Snatching up his staff and golden sickle Marcus stood on trembling legs.
Lead the way Tarmicus, Marcus said signalling that he would need some help to reach Ceorwyns side.
The large ex-gladiator didnt hesitate. In a single motion he picked the smaller Marcus up and slung him over his shoulder as if were a sack of grain. Days past would have seen Marcus bitter objections to be treated in such a manner. Long travels with Termicus had made Marcus accept the larger mans methods. Arguing would have proven fruitless.
Snow mixed with bare patches of blackened stone throughout the grove. Marcus winced a little. He had been relatively protected through the encounter, much like he had been in the eye of a monstrous storm. At the start of the day the grove had been a beautiful sheltered place surrounded by tall trees and a single large pond. The pond was now dry, all the water burned away and the trees were blacked misshapen wretches. Marcus felt a deep pang of loss seeing the devastation that had befallen the grove.
High Druid, called an urgent voice that stumbled from the twisted dead trees.
Over here, Marcus said waving from Termicus shoulder in the direction of the voice.
Stumbling around fallen cairn stones the voice winded its way to Marcus and Termicus. A barely contained huff of disapproval or disappointed came from the ex-gladiator as a small man in the robes of a junior druid rounded a corner in front of him.
Oh, by the blessed earth, you survived, the man exclaimed tears welling up in his eyes. I thought I saw the beast blast you with that terrible fire. You dont know how troubled I have been. Such calamity and death. The precious sanctuary despoiled.
Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose to hold back a fleeting moment of irritation. Magnus, control yourself. Have faith, weve won after all.
Magnus tugged at his short beard falling in behind the long strides of Termicus. Every other step he would look over his shoulder peering at the edge of the forest like he expected the dead to crawl from the shadows.
Have faith you say. That is easy for you safe on the shoulder of that big lummox.
Termicus snorted like a bull giving the novice druid a growl over his unencumbered shoulder. Magnus gave a start and fell back another half step as if he expected Termicus to cuff him at any moment. The ex-gladiator had a habit of cuffing Magnus whenever the novice acted cowardly. There were many things Termicus could put up with but cowardice was not one of them. Many times had he smacked Magnus on the back of the head mere moments before the novice druid would have bolted for a safe hiding place. That Magnus was still traveling with them was nothing short of a small miracle. Many times Marcus had offered Magnus the opportunity to return to his village. Each time the novice had looked almost like he had been insulted.
She is here, High Druid, called a womans voice sneering Marcuss title. Marcus recognized the harsh croak of Ravis the Hag.
He was not surprised that the Hag had weathered the confrontation. She was a gifted and uncommon hand with the powers of magic. The oldest of seven sisters all born under a blood moon she had a natural gift at spirit shaping that even Marcus was weary to challenge despite his own abilities as a high druid. She had centuries to hone her abilities where he had only a few decades himself. Raviss hair hung in braids with bits of animal bone and other totems weaved into the thick grey strands. Mud and blood were painted on her leathery face and when she smiled her mouth was filled with teethe filed to points creating a visage that terrified the villages and people she encountered.
Ravis crouched beside the final member of their small troupe her skeletal hands holding a wet rag to the other womans brow. The two women were in the bottom of a small pit surrounded by mud. Thin rivulets had washed the racked earth into a shallow pool that Ceorwyn half laid in. Termicus set Marcus down beside Ceorwyn his sandals squelching in the mud then stepped back to silently watch. His skills were in the causing of death not holding it at bay. Marcus signalled for Magnus to come to his side as he crouched down to inspect Ceorwyns wounds.
They were many, deep and at ounce Marcus knew they were fatal. Claws had left raged lines across her face, bare arms, and legs. Worse then the numerous claw wounds was a single great wound deep in her side as if caused by a spear. Marcus could heal the claw wounds, but he knew in his weakened state he would be unable to staunch the flow of blood from the wound in her side. Ceorwyns already pale face had lost what little colour it normally had leaving it a shade normally seen only in fresh milk. Fluttering open she looked up at Marcus with soft eyes a shade of ice blue. In those intelligent eyes Marcus saw that she had already come to the same conclusion he had just moments before.
I n-not going t-t-to m-make it this t-time, she stated a slight relieved note in her weary voice.
Marcus didnt know how to respond. Ceorwyn was his longest companion and friend. He didnt know how he could loose her now when they had finally achieved a measure of victory. So much still remained for them to accomplish. All the evils accidentally unleashed on an unsuspecting world still needed to be contained. Tears welled up in his eyes and he reached into the pouch on his side that contained a few of the trinkets awarded those of his office. Ceorwyn grabbed his hand and shook her head the actions causing a great stab of pain that was echoed in her eyes and the sharp intake of breath.
D-dont waste it-t on m-me, she begged.
Youre not going to die, Marcus said grinding his teethe together. I refuse to accept that.
Ceorwyn smiled a distant laugh surfacing in her eyes.
M-Marcus, how often d-do you need t-to b-be told. You n-need not a-accept it f-for it t-to be true.
Marcus didnt know what to say or how to express the surging emotions that suddenly drowned out thought. All he could do was watch the light fade from Ceorwyns eyes. The last moment was almost upon them and still he did not know what to do or say and so did and said nothing.
With her good hand Ceorwyn reached into the torn satchel she wore and withdrew from it a small oak box. Marcus recognized it, his eyes flaring at the sight of the cursed thing. Magnus gave out a weak sob and tried to scoot away but only managed to slip into the mud. Ravis looked on the box with hungry eyes but otherwise did not move.
Marcus, I s-should have passed this to you l-long ago.
I will see you in the g-goddesss forest, Ceorwyn whispered and then she was gone.
Ravis stood mud dripping from her tattered skirt while Magnus loudly sobbed into the cuff of his robe. Marcus felt Termicuss large hand on his shoulder and drew strength from the presence of his friends. Death was no stranger to Marcus. He had buried hundreds over the years, friends and the nameless alike. Yet, there was a sense of finality this time like a black cloud had wrapped itself around his insides.
Come, let us give her the proper respects she deserves, Termicus said.
Standing slowly on his bad leg Marcus gave a silent nod.
Much there is still to do, Ravis said tucking the bloody clothe she had been using on Ceorwyn away. The fiend escaped and the attention of the gods themselves will have been drawn but what we have done here this day. Powerful enemies, very powerful enemies indeed. Many lifetimes have one such as I seen, and yet you are truly unique among them Marcus Terenicus.
Powerful enemies you say, Hag. Marcus said tucking the box away into his own satchel. I wonder if they are not more worried of us then we are of them.
A great thing has happened this day, but do not let that get to your head, Ravis said showing her long pointed teeth. We are all still but mortal things after all.
Marcus remained silent as he watched Termicus pick up Ceorwyns body. Inside he felt like a large part of him had died with the woman.
I think I do not need to be reminded of that, was all he said as he followed Termicus from the shallow pit.
How is a girl supposed to keep pace when you keep doing such wonderful artses! 