A Path of Oak and Ash (11 page)

Can’t change the past Carrick.

With a deep breath, he realized Aodhan had stopped his story about Tadhg’s mother.

Sympathetic blue eyes probed his face while his lips pressed in a tight thin line.

“Look Carrick, about your mum...”

“It’s alright Aodhan, if she’s not there it means she’s still out there somewhere.  She’s alive.”  He smiled at his new friend.  “That gives me hope.”

Aodhan simply nodded in response.  With a brief wave Conall bid him goodbye.  The pair of contrasting druids walking lazily north from the commons as the first weavers were setting up their looms for the day.  In that quiet morning Carrick found surprising solace in his brief gaze into the beyond.

Somewhere out there, among the high rises and rolling farms of the human world his mother was alive.

12

Erik was waiting for him when he got back to the Elderwood.  Sitting on the bench at the foot of one of the tall supporting trees in a way he reminded Carrick of a father whose daughter had just gone over curfew by a good hour.

Then burned down a building and tipped fourteen cows.

Swallowing hard, Carrick did a mental purge of where he had actually been over that last hours.  Feeling horrible that he had allowed himself to be talked into such a dicey situation.  At the same time, he prepared himself for the inevitable conversation that was about to transpire. Rather than wait for his uncle to dominate the conversation, he mentally prepared a lighthearted explanation.  He had just been out for a walk with friends far too late, nothing major at all had occurred.

Nothing. Zip. Zilch.

“Evening or morning I suppose,” He waved awkwardly at his uncle, “I didn’t expect you to be up.  I made a few friends at the party; Tadhg, Aodhan-”

“Quin came to speak with me.”

“Ah, yeah I don’t think he likes me much.”  Carrick held his breath, confused as to what that had to do with his transgression.  He was certain it was just conversational, his uncle was definitely about to ream him for their trespassing onto hallowed ground.

“He spoke of the forest nymphs, a female in particular.”

Carrick exhaled sharply.  “Ah yes.  I met one.”

“And you have feelings for this nymph?”

The blood rushed to his face as he mumbled. “I wouldn’t say I had feelings, I just saw her for a few seconds.  She seemed cool, kind of weird though.”

Erik cracked his knuckles, then his neck.  With a deep sigh he looked up at his nephew, eyes grim.  "This is my fault."

“What is?"

"Nymph's are mischievous creatures whose motives are often shrouded and deeply sinister.  While they tolerate our kind, they have no love for humans.  To be blunt, they are known to enjoy killing through trickery when they are able."

"She seemed nice.  Almost scared of me."  His brow furrowed, remembering Aodhan's comments about druids studying years to meet a nymph.  He figured Erik would be proud the girl was into him.

"You will not care for nor interact with this creature further. I forbid it."

Carrick felt his blood begin to boil.  She was just a quiet girl in the woods.  Didn't have weapons, muscles or anything. Skittish as a deer, pretty as a flower.  If his uncle was against this because of some druidic racial beef-or jealousy-he wasn't having it. 

"Hey now wait just a-"     

“Love, like all emotions, must be in moderation.  For love can be just as dangerous as hate.”

“How can love be dangerous?”  Carrick frowned, this went against everything his mother taught him.

“Walk with me.”  Erik stood, walking west towards the forest at a comfortable pace.  A confused and exhausted Carrick fell in stride.  "There was a Druid born of the elder line, who was very promising in his day.  Quick and eager to learn the ways.  One of his first trials was that of exploration and observation.”

The pair made their way into the wood moving northwest among the deep forest brush until they came to clearing.  “A journey that led him to a river that ran north of here, between the mountains that was home to many a nymph.  One, who was considered to be the most beautiful of all the water lilies was Narine.  This Druid fell deeply in love with Narine, to the point where he diverted from his attuned path taking a serpentine as his familiar to increase the amount of time he had with her.  Nature would not be slighted, for Awen had other plans.” 

Erik paused for a moment, looking around in the darkness as though he was getting his bearings in the faint morning light.

Then with a smile he began in a western direction again.

“The river began to run dry, its flow diverted to a new lakebed by stone falls in the mountains.  Slowly the water lilies of the river began to fade.  The Druid panicked, watching his beloved slip away he felt he must do something.  He beseeched the seat of Awen to act, to clear the blockage and return the river.  He spoke of man-made utilities that could be brought in to aid us in that endeavor."

"Did they agree?"  Carrick asked.  Shocked that a druid would dare mention such a thing.

From the slow shake of his uncle’s head it confirmed he knew the answer before he even asked.

"No.  Nature will do what it wills.  Where there is death, there is also new life.  The lake forming due to the blockage was home to young lilies, to save her would be to ensure their death.  The druid was rebuked for his short sightedness and the blasphemy of intervention."

The tree line began to thin out, most of the wood in this area where they had ventured seemed younger; Smaller branches, thinner trunks.

"The riverbed dried up.  The water lilies of the river died out.  With them the Druid's beloved Narine returned to the earth. He blamed us all for her death, if it is death that nymphs truly face."

Erik paused, his eyes distant. Sad.  "He began to hate.  First he hated us, then everything we protected.  In the end, he hated life itself."

Abruptly the forest ended.  It opened not to a beautiful grassy meadow akin to where he had been conducting his training, but to grounds that were void of all life.  The ground was black as coal, dry singed and cracked like the earth outside a volcano.  A few small brittle twigs poked out of the ruined earth, bits of animal bone piled by them.  It was as though the creatures of this forest had attempted to seek shelter before their world was torn asunder.

The young druid swallowed hard.  The black earth stretched into the horizon.  Miles of land where nothing grew, nothing lived.  There was no aura here, no energy.  It was only blank, never ending emptiness that carved a hole in his chest.

"What happened here?”  Carrick asked.

Erik walked south a dozen paces.  Crouching down he swept at a raised piece of the ground with his hand, brushing off something that glittered in the sun.

“This is where that druid fell.”

On unsteady legs, Carrick approached the object his uncle was staring at.

A gold plaque had been set in the ground, a series of runes inscribed upon it.  The boy leaned down, putting his hand to the precious metal his index finger drifted over the cold first straight line of the phrase. It took him a moment to mentally translate, the language only being introduced to him within the last month.

“Here...down...no.F...all....fall...eth...Lor...can...but...no...that's a...by...the..I don't know that word...of the...Eld...er...tree.”  His eyes flipped up, seeking confirmation of his translation.

“Here falleth Lorcan by the hand of the Elderwood.”  Erik corrected, his deep voice a velvet mixture of solemn and humble.

There was only one man he had heard called that name.

“My father?” Carrick asked, eyes wide. 

Erik nodded. “Brannon Slaine ended his destructive path that day.  For a time there was peace.”

“Only a time?”

“Only a time.”  Erik did not elaborate further.

“So he was evil?  This Lorcan.”

“We do not believe in evil in your simple sense.  An action may be negative or positive, but no being is simply ‘evil’.  We are all seeking our inner balance.  Those at either extreme are indeed a negative influence on the world.”

Carrick ran his hand over the plaque one more time, feeling a sorrowful pride for the father he had yet to meet.  “Is this why my mother fled?” 

“My dear boy, I do not know what you mean.”  Although Carrick was quite certain he did.

His uncle’s heavy palm rested on his shoulder for a brief moment. 

"Do you understand now?  Your heart can be a deadly weapon if tooled by those whose motives are unclear."

"Yeah."  Although he didn't agree.

“Go home and get some rest.  We will resume your training tomorrow.”

Carrick nodded, though his feet did not move.  Long after his uncles footfalls dissipated into the forest he still stood there, staring at that gold memorial. There were so many conflicting thoughts and feelings in his mind, from both his own emotions and sensations from the lush forest behind him and the barren land stretching before him. Forcing his eyes shut he drowned it all out, the sounds of the trees, the pain in his mind, the ache of the scorched earth. Pushing it further from him until there was nothing but the beat of his heart and breath in his lungs.

It was a moment that brought him peace, rather than anguish.  Perhaps he was learning to throttle his emotions.  As much as he wanted to pity himself or curse his reality.  It was his reality, the cards he had been dealt.  He was going to not only deal with it, but use it to improve himself.

With a sigh, he headed back into the forest.  Determined to research all he could about this Lorcan and his father.  In the vast librarium there had to be some sort of texts on the matter if it was worthy of a shrine. Druids didn’t seem the type to dedicate every bench and tree to someone.  Whatever had caused all that destruction was big and book worthy.

Weaving through the trees Carrick was so focused on his goal that he did not see the hooded figure who had stepped in front of him until he about knocked her over.

“Whoa!” Carrick shouted, stepping back with a stumble.  “Where did you come from?”

Raising her thin arms the girl removed her hood, thick dark green locks tumbled down over her shoulders.  The same nymph he had met in the dark.

She looked just as pretty in the sunlight.  Almost human aside from her green tresses.

“You’ve been to the edge left by the dark one.”

“How did you-”

She wrinkled her nose.  “I can smell the blight upon you.  Its decay torments my essence.”

With a deep breath, Carrick tried to answer her in a calm soft tone akin to her own.  “I want to apologize to you about last time I saw you.  I didn’t know...what you were.” 

She giggled, a soft chime of bells.

In the blink of an eye she stood beside him to his left, inches from him.  “Do you know what
you
are?”

“Yeah.  I mean I think I do. Sure.”  He turned to his side but she was gone.  Funny, although he did not see her he had a feeling she was still around. 

He took a step forward and spoke clearly.  “Last time I saw you, you asked if I was going to wilt...what did you mean?”

“A simple inquiry to bring an answer that is not revealed until the end of your days.  Do you seek your end so suddenly?”  Her voice replied from behind him.

“No of course not.” He whirled around, she was inches from him again.  Close enough for Carrick to make out the light freckles on her nose.

Awkward silence stretched between them.  In that quiet moment, it appeared as though the leaves on the trees, even the blades of grass, leaned into the nymph.  Slender green blades reaching out toward her.

Carrick cleared his throat, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants as he took a step back.  “Do you...want to walk with me?  The day is young.”

She tilted her head to the side, confusion flashing in her amethyst eyes.  Then she smiled.  “I suppose the departing of the moon does give birth to the warmth under the sun until it wanes.  I have never thought of it akin the phoenix before.  You are strange Carrick Slaine Elderwood.”

He shrugged.  “It’s just a common expression where I’m from.”

The nymph laughed again, then hopped between trees as she spoke.  “The land of steam and iron. Where my kin are ripped down and covered with jewels for human pleasure.”

“What?”

She peeked out from behind a thick ash tree, some twenty five feet away.  “I overheard the druids speak of it once.  The fake fire on their branches and gold on their heads.”

“Christmas trees?”  He chuckled. “It’s not...they’re not meaning you any harm.  It’s a holiday.  Best holiday of the year actually.  With presents and...”

Wide eyed, she stood at his side to the left.  “Barbaric!”

Carrick took a step back, finding her bouncing about severely off-putting. “It’s...yeah I guess in a way.  Yeah. You’re right.  Human’s just...they don’t know about you.  If they did I bet they wouldn’t do that.”

“Long ago we all lived together, they knew of us.”

“Time passes.  People forget what’s really important.  See over there people get so caught up in the moment.  Instant dinners, television shows, funny pictures on the internet, all kinds of things that detract from the big picture.”

“Richard....Richard!”

“Mom...come on.  Just another ten minutes here, they’re going to announce the winner then I’ll come take the trash out.”

“It’s not just that honey,” She sat on the bed next to him, her long skirt flowing to the ground.  “I was hoping you’d play a board game with me?”

He groaned. “Mooooom.....its marathon night...I really want to watch this...”

Her slender hand patted his knee.  “Okay, maybe tomorrow.”

“Are you alright?”  The soft voice of the nymph cut through his memories.