Darkwell - Douglas Niles [21]
"But did they serve the same master?"
"The wizard was but a pawn, like we are" stated Robyn bluntly. Tristan looked at her in surprise as she continued. "The true nature of the threat we face is a chaotic force of evil far greater than magic, and even greater than the Beast."
"How do you know?" asked the northman.
"I have seen the corruption strike at the very soul of the land. My teacher, and the druids who fought beside her, with all the faith of the balance and the land behind them, were not enough to stop it!" Neither Robyn, nor anyone else, noticed the bright gleam in the eyes of the redheaded woman as she leaned forward to catch every word of the young druid's explanation.
"The power behind this evil is greater than could be wielded by any man, even a sorcerer such as Cyndre. The power is served by a cleric of incalculable evil, but even that cleric is but a pawn. There is only one answer: Our islands are threatened by one of the Dark Gods."
Robyn spoke softly, but all of those at the table looked furtively toward her as she spoke. All except Newt, that is, who took the opportunity to steal another, and then a third sip from Tristan's mug. The red-haired woman licked her lips, while the others stared with expressions of apprehension or disbelief.
Grunnarch frowned. "Why should one of the Dark Gods desire the Moonshaes when there are rich empires – Calimshan, Thay, Waterdeep – all across the Realms? What do we have here?"
Robyn bit her tongue, holding back an angry reply. She realized that he really did not understand. "These islands have a life of their own! Perhaps that is one reason our people make war on each other with such regularity. The Ffolk have always felt that the men of the north do not treat our land with the reverence it deserves."
She suddenly leaned against the table, wincing in discomfort, and Tristan took hold of her arm. Unnoticed by them all, the red-haired woman smiled and stared intently at the druid.
"What is it?" Tristan asked. "Are you all right?"
Quickly she shook off his hand, sat upright, and continued. "The Moonwells are the proof. Genna told me that when her grandmother was a girl, there was a Moonwell in every village of the isles. Druids by the hundreds patrolled the wild places, working the will of the goddess."
"Indeed," agreed Friar Nolan. "These isles have a peculiarly sacred nature, obvious to those of us who worship the new gods, as well as to the druids. Remember, not all of these gods are of the same vein as the master of this evil. Many of these clerics, as you, regard the Moonwells as benign and sanctified places."
"But there are no Moonwells on Norland!" protested the Red King, and then he looked thoughtful.
"Precisely! And as the faith of the people wanes, as more of the lands are taken from the Ffolk, the power of the goddess grows weaker." Suddenly Robyn shook her head violently, and the color drained from her face.
"But the enchantment of the land remains?"
"Yes. And becomes more susceptible to corruption with each passing year, each new blow against… the Ffolk." Robyn was trying hard not to state her points accusingly, but she was only partially succeeding. She had trouble speaking the words clearly, and an acute nausea grew within her. All the while, the strange woman stared at her, piercing the druid's skin with those cold black eyes.
"But the land is here, like all other lands, for the using!" argued Grunnarch.
"The using, yes, but not the abuse or destruction! It is when humans destroy that which supports them that the goddess suffers most keenly."
"You, like your king, are wise beyond your years," mused the northman. "I do not like the thought that my people are responsible for bringing this evil to the land."
"Perhaps you can help us to remove it." Tristan spoke earnestly, staring his guest in the face.
"I owe you my life. Ask what you will. If it is in my power to give, you shall have it."
"For now, I'll be happy to have your friendship," Tristan said warmly.