The Master Druid Reflects

The Master Druid Reflects

   The Master Druid left the Druid Council, his face weary and his shoulders slumped in resignation. The three Druids had been at it all night tossing idea after idea onto the table for consideration. The Elven lands were aflame with Hellfire and day by day, the flames crept closer to Calenhad. What next? Cheshire or the Citadel.
  He drew in a heavy breath as he slowly downed the stone stairwell from the Elven City. And as he reached the bottom, he looked out upon the lush green forest even as his nostrils filled with smoke and sulphur from the nearby burn.
   He leaned against one of the huge stone statues at the entrance to the great Elven city. He closed his eyes for a moment to try to recall what had brought them to this place. "When did our peaceful lands change?" he asked himself. "How have I failed my lands and my people?" And with that, he swallowed a dry throat thinking backward.
   This Demon had interjected himself into the lives of the people over and again. First, there was Kathena who along with himself was caught up in an intrigue with yet another Demon. That had passed but he remembered somehow that this Ryn had played a part in helping Kathena break loose from the first. He had befriended her, had he not? Only to prove himself a most vile and manipulative sort with his own particular agenda when he kidnapped her and held her in the dark caverns.
   "Even then," he thought to himself, "I failed my people." Indeed, he recalled how he and Druid Fitheach had breached the Demon's lair, fought the Demon and rescued Kathena. "Why hadn't they just killed him then?" he pondered. "Why hadn't they just...." and his words faltered as he took a deep breath knowing it was too late for 'why nots."
   Then, the Demon had moved on to the Siren Xella. They had struck up a bond, but she knew him only as the Drow in the beginning and only later learned he was, in fact, both the Drow and the Demon. Xella had kept her secrets, his SECRET well. For a long time, she told no one. Even when her best friend, Aldina, was murdered by the Demon, she kept his SECRET. "What was she thinking?" the Master Druid growled and slammed his fist into hard stone of the statue, wincing as the pain shot through his arm. Then he seemed to weaken, "WHAT was SHE thinking?"
   And over time, there were more murders, more atrocities wreaked on his lands. And eventually, Xella told it all, well all she knew. And then, there was no doubt that the Drow and the Demon were one in the same. There was no doubt that until the Druids acted - unless they acted, the lands and all its people would be lost to the darkness.
   That is when he sought out the smith and commissioned a series of swords be made bearing a holy Druid rune on the blade. That is when he began searching for a Mage of some renown to assist them. And bit by bit it all fell into place. The smith created the swords to the Master Druid's specifications. A Mage arrived from a far distant land to join in the fight against the Demon. "A Mage," the Druid sighed. "This one is ill prepared for what lies ahead or so the Master Druid thought of the young student at first."
   Then the plan was thrown askew when the Mage came upon the Demon and there was confrontation. The Mage was sorely wounded and the Master Druid doubted he would survive his grievous wounds. The Master Druid thought his plan would surely fail without the swords being enchanted and so his grief and his feelings of failure were doubly compounded.
   Then suddenly, there was light again. Audrey, the Mage's sweetheart, followed through with the Mage's promise to help. True, the swords were not enchanted; yet, she offered a viable option. She had the crystals her father, the ArchMagus of their lands, had thought to send to Gabriel. She had the ritual the young Mage had written before he was injured. And she gave these things to the Master Druid and he felt hope, not failure, begin to beat in his chest.
   And so, he had summoned the Arch Druids of the lands, Fiesty and Fitheach. They had spent the night bantering this idea and that and, finally, there was a solution. There was hope and possibility. Together, the Druids of the River Lands would put wrong to right and conquer the day and the Demon.
    It was all laid out, prepared. On a hidden altar, lay one of the swords, bearing the holy Druid rune. The Mage's ritual and the Crystal of Banishment took their place alongside the sword. And the Druids added a few more things particular to their elements.
   And as night waned into early morning, the Master Druid had watched his young Hobbit friend, his Arch Druid, sleep restfully on the rugs. Fitheach had fallen into reverie. They were all exhausted and needed rest. They KNEW the time was theirs and that victory lay at their feet.
   "Soon," the Master Druid whispered. "Soon, this will be over." And a smile curled onto his lips as he moved toward the small path that led to the home he shared with his mate, Amethyst.