The Garden of Badb

The Druid standing on the walls of the fort watched as the crows circled. Corpses littered the frozen ground around the walls, and the armies of the Morrigan drifted wraithlike through the snow dusted woods, watched constantly by the forces of Clan Raven.

“The portents are not good, my King.”

Culhain, Captain of the guard, gave the druid a look of disgust and spat over the walls at the fallen. “And what on earth gives you that idea Gwern? Is it the mountain of corpses, the attacks by dark creatures, the circling Badb, or just that you stubbed your toe on your cot this morning? Why don’t you tell us something we don’t know?”

Brechan spoke softly into the frosty silence between the two men. “Captain, why don’t you change the guard? I’m sure the lads could do with a turn in by the braziers, it’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”

Culhain saluted his King, cast another disparaging glare at the cowled figure of the druid and stalked from the battlements.

“I want that man flogged,” stated the druid coldly.

“You presume to discipline my men now Gwern?” Brechan turned to face the druid, one eyebrow raised above a hard look. “You may be steeped in lore old friend, but you do not read men well at all sometimes. Culhain is the heart and soul of the defence of this fort. You are the belief, the keeper of lore and the history of Clan Raven. I need you both. You do not have to like each other, but you do have to work together. If you cannot do that then we will fail, particularly in light of what we face at the moment.”

His tone softened and he placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “We have little chance Gwern, I know this, but we cannot let the clan see how much trouble we are in. We must give them some hope.

“Have you and the other druids divined the cause of The Morrigan’s ire, can we seek to appease her?”

Gwern sighed and turned to lean on the stones of the fort crenelations, his breath steaming forth in a plume of discontent. “Morrigan is angry with Fagus. The God of Beech and Bough has offended her somehow, and as his followers she is taking out her anger on us. The only hope we have is to journey to the stones at The Circle of Badb and try and commune directly with Fagus.”

“The stones. Do you think a small party could make it?”

“I think so, but we would need a doughty group of men to traverse the wilds at this time of year, particularly with the Morrigan’s creatures and followers stalking the shadows.”

“Are you willing to go Gwern?”

“Yes, my King.”

“Good man. Captain Culhain will accompany you, as will Dresta. I will assign a small party of rangers to you.” Brechan paused, his eyes watching a slim figure as it traversed the compound. “I think Steren should also join you.”

“A woman? The men will not stand for it.” Gwern folded his arms and faced his king.

Brechan looked back at the druid and drew himself up to his full height. “That woman is my daughter and is probably the best scout we have. The men will do what they’re told, including you.”

Gwern straightened too and stepped closer to his king, his voice low. “It is my duty to speak my mind, my King. I am a druid, not some pretty lapdog to bark at your command.”

Brechan smiled, breaking the tension. “I’m not sure anyone has ever described you as pretty Gwern, but my point still stands. This party is our only hope, we have to send our best. That includes you, Culhain, Dresta and Steren. Her heritage alone gives her the right, the people have to see how important this is to us.”

Gwern sighed again and relaxed. “By your command, my King. I shall discuss it with Culhain and we shall form a small party.” He proffered a hand which Brechan took as his daughter arrived on the battlements. “We will succeed, Brechan.” The druid nodded at Steren as he walked away, and she smiled at her father.

“What is Gwern succeeding in father? He looked even more stern than normal.”

“I have volunteered you to be part of a small group who will seek to appease the Morrigan.”

“And Gwern is to be a part of that group?”

“He is.”

“And which other woman haters have you included?”

“It will not be easy Steren, but you are the best scout we have. Culhain will travel with you as will Dresta and a few others.”

“Ah, so all I have to do is try and avoid the dark creatures the Morrigan has sent, try not to upset Gwern by simply existing, and keep Dresta’s hands from repeatedly trying to grab my backside then?”

“Dresta did what?” Brechan’s hand had dropped to his sword and his jaw clenched.

“The man’s a beast father, you know it as well as I, but he’s still the best fighter we have. I can handle myself old man, never fear.”

“Old man?” protested Brechan.

Steren tugged affectionately at his beard. “This makes you look like the rear end of a badger father, there’s a lot of white in it now.”

“I blame it on the perils of being a parent. Perhaps I should go on the quest myself then daughter, I would blend in with the snow.”

Steren stepped in and hugged him. “We will be fine father. When do you wish us to go?”

“At first light tomorrow would be best I think.” He leant down and planted a kiss on her forehead. “May Fagus and the lesser gods protect you, and the spirit of your mother watch over your travels.”

“I will ready my equipment. I suspect we’ll need all the gods watching us that we can get…”

~

Culhain’s horse shied as she stepped out from the woods, an arrow nocked to the string of her bow. Dressed only in light foresters garb she seemed immune to the cold and smiled brightly at the captain as his breath plumed from his mouth.

“My lady,” he said bowing from the saddle. “You appear armed for trouble.”

“I was hoping to bag a couple of coney Captain, but some great oaf on a horse scared them off.”

He grinned at her. “A couple of rabbit would’ve been welcomed, but I fear that lighting a cooking fire would draw creatures that would be more interested in having us for dinner than joining us in a feast.”

“Aye, true.” She looked behind him at the rest of the small party. The hulking figure of Dresta brought up the rear of the party of six warriors, the druid Gwern riding at the front. The druids had decided on nine as the optimum number, at Gwern’s insistence that the number had some mythic significance and would counter the bad luck brought by having a woman in the party. She shook her head. “How are you and Gwern getting on?”

“We tolerate each other. We have no choice but to get on, my lady.”

“Just Steren out here please Culhain, I am a tracker not a lady.”

“As my lady requests,” he said with another grin.

As the rest of the party joined them and came within earshot he addressed her again, more formally. “Report please scout, any sign of Morrigan’s creatures?”

“No Captain, none recent. I’ve found a good spot for a campsite a few miles further on. I’ve left tracker sign on the trail for you to follow. I’ll see if I can bag a couple of pheasant and meet you there.

“Thank you, scout. We will see you at the campsite shortly. Onwards men, Clun take point please.”

“Yes Captain!”

Continued in Part 2...