The New Druid

Una released the bow’s string and the arrow launched out over the sloping meadow and grazing sheep towards the sea hitting the fourth ring on the red and white bullseye two hundred yards downhill. Una grumbled annoyance at her looking at her father Cathal’s bullseye. Una had hit the center mark on three or four occasions but she had seen Cathal miss the center circle as many times.

“You overcompensated for the wind. The flag wasn’t moving.” Cathal said, pointing at the red fabric that hung motionless on its pole. He strung an arrow and let it fly with a scowl and hit the target, in the center ring. It was effortless for the grim veteran.

“I did not, my hands are shaking.” Una protested. Even the slightest twitch would completely change the path of an arrow, and Una was prone to fidgeting.

“Una,” Cathal said pointing to the bin. “Again.”

Una shrugged and grabbed an arrow out of the barrel and notched it on the bowstring. She sighed and looked at her father. “Can’t we do something else? we shoot down the range every day. Why don’t we go hunting for a change?”

“Una.” Cathal stamped his foot so hard the wooden platform of the plank creaked in pain.

Una gulped and averted her eyes, pointing her arrow to the target, trying to steady her anxious breath. She set the arrow loose and frowned, as it sailed over the top of the wooden target. She cursed and tossed her bow to the side, slapping her hand against her face.

Cathal walked over to the bow and picked it up, inspecting it closely. Una felt a shiver run up her spine as her father silently stared at the bow. His ears burned bright red, and he let out a disappointed sigh. After several calming breaths he turned to Una holding the bow forward, his face was stone cold. “If you break another bow I will have you fetch arrows until the day you die.”

Una scowled, “I already fetch the arrows every day, The second the tide drops you have me rolling down that damn hill.” She screamed and pointed a shaky finger out to sea.

“Then for a change of pace I will have you fetch them now,” Cathal said. “And when you get back, I expect thirty more shots, then you can retrieve those.”

“It’ll be dark by then. How do you expect me to find arrows with no light?”

“Bring a torch, it’ll be easy if you don’t miss.”

The bald sheep baa’d at her as she passed down the dirt path to the ocean, kicking stray rocks. The sheep’s black hairless bodies were causing the shepherds to pace nervously. Una reached the final target and pulled out an arrow lodged into the wooden dock the village had built for the mainland traders. Ever since the village accepted their religion the mainlanders had done a flawless job of deterring raids, preventing any foreign raids. Leaving her father, the post guard, a relic of the past. However, the lack of wool for trade made many fear the mainlanders response. There had never been a time when the wool wouldn’t grow and Una shared the collective anxiety. She marched up the hill and along the way overheard some of the shepherds talking.

“When we worshiped the grand elm, the sheep were never like this,” an elder with the white beard said.

“Are you denying the Earth Mother? Surely she is testing our faith. The trying times are the worst to doubt her and her plan,” The fresh faced youth said.

“You suppose we should just freeze or starve this winter? What has the earth mother ever gifted us? How can you young fall for that fancy mainlanders stories, I still thank the grand elm for sharing with us it’s water.” nodding towards the stream that flowed from the base of the giant tree atop the island.

The younger one noticed Una and pulled his elder aside and mumbled “careful, if you get caught saying blasphemy they might send you past the roots.” Color drained from the older man’s face and he started at Una.

Una pretended not to hear them but her ears were keen. She walked up the beaten path, staring up at the giant tree that watched over them. Two massive roots stretched all the way to the ocean as if they held the world afloat. A single stream snaked its way down the pie shaped meadow. Before the mainlanders had expanded the villages world, the Grand Elm was worshiped for providing the beginning of life, while the ocean was feared, for it was the end. Una remembered watching her mother’s casket float down the stream, where the ocean accepted her to the next life. She bit her lip and shook away the painful memory.

She reached the cobblestone tower carved out of the earth where she and her father lived. From its vantage a single archer could defend the village from any raid and in the past her father had. Behind the post was a tall stone wall with only a single ramp leading to the shepherds, tradesmen, and hunters homes. Only the post guards lived in isolation outside the village wall. Una walked up the steps to the post, her father had already gone below to the sleeping quarters. Once low tide came it was impossible for anyone to invade. Cathal left the hatch open, waiting for his daughters return.

“Thirty more. Ten each target, and close the door.” He had an odd ability of knowing everyone’s step, even when Una tried to confuse him by thudding up the steps or tip-toed lightly. She slammed the door shut not wanting to see her father and picked up her bow.

The sun set about a thumb to the right root, the mainlands inspector would be here in a month, and without wool would he even call for goods? Una shook her head and looked down at her feeble attempt at accuracy, she had missed almost every shot. She shoved the bow into its stand, hers was half the size of her father’s intimidating long bow, but the same size as the dusty bow sitting in between them. Una sighed and looked away from her mother’s untouched bow and at the twilight of dusk, it would take her all night to find her arrows, she didn’t even know where half of them landed. The sound of the tavern in the village grew until it caught her ear, she looked up at dancing shadows from the torch lights. An idea coming to her mind Cathal knew she would leave to look for her arrows, but he wouldn’t know if she went the wrong direction.