The New Druid

The town was dark save the lamps lighting doors on the rows of small cobble shacks that kissed the edge of thin dirt roads. The massive leaves of the grand elm made up the roofs, and rocks had been fetched from the desert outside the roots. One building was different from all the others, at the end of the street was a large wooden building with the earth mother’s gold circle hung above it’s double doors. Una and Cathal we’re the only ones permitted to be absent from the mainlanders church, though raids were a thing of the past, it was better to be safe than sorry. She walked down the first street leading to the towns only tavern. Three older homes stitched together with an effort that would make the ancestors blush. Una took a deep breath, Cathal had forbidden her to enter. He was very adamant about his belief on spirits and beer. The shambled wooden door creaked open and she was blown back by the odor of piss and sweat. There were folk songs scattered about none of the singers in a shape to care how they sounded. Tradesman and shepherds stuck to their own circles and none looked inviting to newcomers. She sat at the bar in front of the big breasted wench who raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you Cathal’s daughter?” The middle-aged woman said leaning in close, trying not to draw attention. The words flowed from ear to ear and a silence swept across the occupants and they all turned to stare at her.

Una rolled her eyes and stood on her stool, facing the patrons. “Yes I’m the post guards daughter and like many of you, I’ve had a long day, and if you keep gawking I’ll take my frustration out on your sheep.” Una had never hit livestock on purpose, but accidents had happened and the shepherd took her threat to heart and returned to their drinks with irritated groans. “Can I have a drink,” she asked the wench.

“Coming right up,” she winked and turned towards a single large wooden keg with a spout. The drink selection was simple, Either you could have bark beer, or you could have bark beer. The woman slid a mug to Una who bowed appreciative and placed a coin on the table. She scanned the room for the white-bearded shepherd and spotted him in the far corner. He was alone in the dark mumbling secrets to his drink with sunken shoulders. Una stood up from her stool and made her way to his table.

The corner had a draft and was colder than the rest of the hall, giant leaves made up the floor, but they didn’t extend this far and the dirt floor laid exposed. The table shined in splotches where drinks had been spilled days ago illuminated by the sparse torchlight. The man cursed as he knocked over his drink adding to the already disgusting mess. He leaned over with sunken eyes and watched his days labor splash into the mud below.

“Looks like you could use a new drink,” Una said placing her mug on the table as she took one of the many vacant seats beside the old man. The man sat up and saw the mug and smiled, but when he focused in on who gave him this gift his smile vanished.

“You-you’re the one from... this morning,” he said between a hiccup.

“Yes, I heard you earlier--”

“Listen... I-I didn’t mean all... all that tree talk...” he slurred. “I’m a... devoted to the earth mother. Swear it.”

“I’m not here about that. I need to know more about what you said. You think the grand elm is cursing us?” She slid the mug in circles on the table, taunting the old shepherd who looked at it with a thirsty lick of his lips.

“You’re... You’re not trying to trick me, are you? I wouldn’t... I’d die in a day outside the roots. You can--”

“I don’t want to turn you in. I want to know what you meant. What could cause this curse?” Una asked patiently. Conversations were the same as shooting Cathal had always said, ‘patience, too eager and you’ll startle your target, or worse, give them an opening. Be simple and direct, think too hard and you’ll waste valuable time.’

The old man swallowed a lump in his throat looking at the mug, he eyed Una and sighed. “When I was a younger man... We didn’t have mainlanders. Or their stink-- their earth mother. We knew who protected us... it was the grand elm.”

“So it cursed us? How do you suppose that?” Una asked.

The man scratched his beard and furrowed his brow, “I’d wager, that it, has to do... to do with the druid.”

Una blinked, “Druid? I’ve never heard of a druid before.” Many people would reflect on the times the village worshiped the tree and Una picked things up here and there, but this was something new.

“Aye, before, before the mainlanders, whenever something was wrong we’d send, well the village would send, a champion to the druid.”

“Why? who is the druid?” Una asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t think anyone knows. Not anymore at least.”

“You have to give me more than that,” Una said pulling the mug away from the man.

He looked sadly at it and raised a limp wrist. “I don’t know any-- no the druid always lifted the curse. But there was a catch, the champion never returned.”

Una felt a sweat in her palms and swallowed. “So the druid can make the wool grow again? He could save the village?”

“Aye, or I suppose, I hope. That’s how the story goes. The last champion was’fore my time, I can’t say for sure.” A shadow crossed his face as he remembered the winter, the tavern had busier as of late, many were trying to forget. Una scratched her nose and slid the mug to the man. “Thank you--” before she could finish, he clumsily reached forward for the drink knocking it over spilling the entirety on Una’s green Tunic. She looked down at her soaked attire in fear, there would be no hiding this from Cathal’s nose. She stood from the table and raced out the door, what was she going to say to her father.