Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [23]
“And I have seen the armies gathering!” announced Isolde of Winterglen, stepping to Quinn’s side. Her domain covered the vast tract of forest over northern Gwynneth. This forest separated the fortresses of northmen clans that had long ago conquered the northern reaches of Gwynneth.
“The northmen march together, armed heavily, singing songs of war.” Isolde’s voice did not conceal the scorn with which she regarded the northmen. “They gathered at their ports, a great and warlike throng. Then, several days ago, they boarded their ships and sailed. Their destination I do not know; but the number of their ships was greater than I have yet seen.”
“Thank you,” acknowledged the Great Druid. The soothing tones of her voice calmed the rising tide of fear that Isolde’s words had triggered.
“My brothers, my sisters,” Genna continued, still calming and soothing with her voice. “Our vigilance must be constant. Our enemies are strong, but so are our friends. Oh yes,” she added in afterthought, “As in times past when the Balance has been severely strained, a hero will arise from among the Ffolk – a hero who is already a prince.”
“This current prince,” grunted Quinn, “is young and impetuous – he could make disastrous mistakes.”
“Of course he could,” agreed Genna cheerfully. “In fact, having met the lad, I’ll say that I’m certain he will make mistakes, probably disastrously. But he is greatly steadied by the girl. And, indeed, do we have any other choice?”
“Yes, the girl,” answered Quinn. “Quite remarkable, indeed. She carries great potential within her, as you had guessed.”
Genna smiled discreetly, but made no comment. Her throat tightened, and moisture crept unbidden to her eyes as she thought of the black-haired maiden. Clearing her throat gruffly, she regarded every one of the gathered druids with her bright, sparkling gaze, Her look seemed to spread peace throughout the group.
“May the goddess protect you!”
Genna turned and vanished, although not entirely. Those who watched very closely saw a small, feathered shape dart across the surface of the Moonwell. The swallow flew into the night and quickly disappeared.
The druids turned and moved away from the council ring as silently as they had arrived. Soon, all but one had vanished into the surrounding darkness. That one stood still, staring at the Moonwell, lost in deep thought.
Trahern of Oakvale looked much as he had a few days earlier. Only his eyes were different. They did not glow with vitality, but instead, seemed to glimmer with a hot, angry light. The folds of his brown hood kept his face in shadow, but one who looked within the shadow might think he looked into the embers of a low fire, for such were the eyes of Kazgoroth.
Now, after listening to Genna, and through her the goddess, Trahern understood the pattern that unfolded before him. With his help, the Balance would unravel, leaving Gwynneth in chaos and despair.
Now Trahern the druid, newly the spawn of Kazgoroth, understood the role he would play in the plan.
*****
The rays of the full moon illuminated the sleeping village of Corwell, which was gathered around its protecting castle on the shores of Corwell Firth. A few guards strolled listlessly about the battlements of Caer Corwell or slept at their posts. The village was quiet, as the taverns had closed for the night, and all decent Ffolk were sound asleep.
Erian the guard paced restlessly back and forth in his tiny hut near the castle. Since the night of the spring festival, he had been restless and edgy – often, he grew physically sick. A horse clopped along the street outside, and he turned to the door, an audible snarl curling his lip. He had been unhappy and fearful for the entire month, but never had he felt as restless as now. White moonbeams spilled through the window, and