Prologue
Three weeks and two days had passed since Cathbad fled. Traveling mostly at night, he moved slowly through the shadows like a sluggish ghost. The darkness afforded him stealth, and his sorcery deceived the Druid’s Guild. Their disparity and political allegiances blinded the Guild’s effectiveness, and for once he was glad of their incompetence. Still, he took no chances and erected a Driseog wall with his cloak and he trudged beneath its weight.
King Conall of Tishkart would never forgive his treachery but killing a child would not make things right and killing a child of royal blood would only start a viscous war. To flee was the only option and the King would satisfy his thirst for revenge by killing someone else. Someone of importance, the captain of the guards, perhaps, for allowing the escape, or maybe all the guards on duty that night. More than likely the royal thirst for vengeance would not stop there and scores of innocents would perish to satisfy Conall’s temper. In time, the royal annals of the north would erase the name of Cathbad, and with luck, he would be forgotten, but he knew the Keeper would never be afforded such luxury.
Cathbad dug his staff into the icy earth, and he leaned heavily on the familiar oak, pushing himself up the steep embankment. His legs quivered and shoulders shook under the strain and the weight of the cloak, but it was necessary to keep them safe. His torso muscles ached, and he stopped to straighten his back. His heart pounded loudly in his ears, and his old lungs heaved with each stinging breath. The cloak spent his energy and subdued his power, but Cathbad focused on the mission, and drove the pain from his mind.
He continued to climb, and his destination was in sight, when he stumbled. He couldn’t force another step under the weight of the damned cloak. Failure was unthinkable, but he needed to rest. He shrugged off the burden anchoring him so heavily, and lacking purpose, the cloak flopped to the ground. He grimaced at the sudden taste of bile in his mouth, but caught his breath and despite his exhaustion, he smiled. He picked up the cloak and folded it under his arm.
An owl hooted nearby, and his smile faded when he realized his exposure. Without the cloak, he was visible for any man to see or druid to sense. Perhaps he could just fly the last two hundred meters to the summit and take his chances. He sighed and reprimanded himself for such foolish thoughts. The power of the Keeper would be felt as far away as the citadel in Dunbrayn, and prying minds were waiting for him to slip up. The owl hooted again, waking him out of his apprehension. His visible breath dispersed in the winter air and perspiration gathered on his wrinkled brow. He glanced around the dark hillside, alone for now, he slowed his breathing, and continued to pick his way upwards along the stony goat path.
At the plateaued top, a swirling fog snaked over the granite rocks, seeping into the cracks and fissures, covering the rock and sparse grass in a dense grey blanket. Cathbad could no longer see the ground and the grey mist swallowed his sandaled and fur wrapped feet. He flooded his mind to quell the soreness of his limbs and ward against the chill in the air. The fog crept towards the large pond before him, rising higher almost half-way up his shins. The murky vapour clung to the vegetation along the edges of the pond but somehow dared not venture over the surface of the clear water. Instead, it gathered and billowed against an invisible wall, doubling back on itself, as if it sought a weakness, a tiny opening to break through and smother the pond.
Cathbad removed his hood and a light breeze from the east tussled his thinning grey hair and bit at his exposed skin. The snows of winter would not be long in coming to Teernall. His thick, unkempt eyebrows masked weary eyes, and he raised his bearded chin to squint at the sky. A grey dawn pushed the night sky westward and only a few of the brightest stars still lingered. He looked to the east and could see the forests of the Dareg wildlands stretching to the snowcapped Mockcheera volcano and beyond that the great lake of Konak bordering the wildlands of Dunbrayn. He turned his head to the west and scanned the moonlit flat rocky land extending as far as the western shore and castle Dareg. He could see neither sea nor castle, but they were there, as they had been for millennia. He kept his back to the beautiful south, and the kingdom of Awlinnyas, once his home. A sadness rose in his chest, stopping at his throat, and he swallowed his sorrow. There was no welcome haven left in any of the four kingdoms, and he had no time to dwell on any regrets. His decision was made, and it was the right choice, the only choice.
The baby at his chest kicked awake with a whimper. Cathbad opened his robe and went down on one knee. He unbundled the small warm blanket from around the child’s face. The potential of the boy made him ache with joy, and he smiled. He bounced the baby gently in his arms and whispered. ‘Shh, wee boy. You will soon be safe.’
The baby quietened and closed his eyes once more. Cathbad rewrapped him and bound the swaddling clothes around his waist, and tightly against his ribs. He leaned on his staff and stood.
Their cloaked journey was a necessary secret flight from the north to save the boy from the tyrant in Tishkart. Neither the high King’s Guard, the Veena, nor the northern druids could have tracked him. Of this, he was confident, but still, he felt uneasy and could not relax until he was gone.
He looked behind and bade the land of his ancestors a silent farewell for what felt like the last time. He turned to see the pond water shimmer and ripples appeared on the glass surface. He rubbed his grey beard and smirked. For weeks, he had dreamed of this moment during the long journey and hardships endured, and it was finally time. With one hand, he raised his long oak staff over his head and the earth beneath his feet trembled. A rapid blaze of spark fire ran along the inscriptions on the staff, bursting from the gemstone at the tip in a flash of red light. The energy swirled and grew in strength, forming a vortex over the surface of the water, sucking the water up, and parting the large pond. Cathbad used his hand to shield his eyes from the wind and walked onto the mud. His long grey robe flapped against his legs, and he paused to glance around once more. All clear, he pulled his robe tighter around his throat before he disappeared through the air-gate. A small flash of imploding red light and the water calmed before the first wisps of the fog rushed over the surface of the pond.
