Chapter 3

Kodroth and the raiders had already started to attack by the time Brynn made it down the palisade with the others. It was early, just before noon. Kodroth hadn’t kept his word, evidently.

Brynn clambered up to the top of the tower. Rhoddri was there surveying the scene of the battle and shouting orders. Villagers were on a rudimentary crosswalk on the palisade, throwing rocks and spears at the approaching raiders. A few guards had bows and were shooting arrows with more precision. The raiders were practiced at their jobs, however, and covered themselves well with their shields. A group of them heaved a large log up the docks towards the palisade. It was a battering ram meant to knock the wall down.

The raiders reached the ditch, jumped in, and began their frantic climb out of it. Several were hit with arrows or spears, but it wasn’t enough. The battering ram was passed over the ditch and within moments they were slamming it against the palisade.

The wall wasn’t going to hold. Rhoddri grunted in frustration and then quickly climbed down the tower to join the imminent melee.

Brynn clutched his spear and watched as villagers jumped off the crosswalk while the palisade shook and splintered. He stood there, paralyzed with indecision. He could go down and join the fray, but how would his meager fighting abilities help?

A wild thought entered his mind. The ritual he was considering was usually cast on a natural feature of the land. One that was occupied by a powerful spirit. It could take days to find such a place, if one even existed in the vicinity. But there was something else nearby that might work just as well.

He threw his spear randomly down at the raiders, not bothering to see where it struck, and half-climbed, half-jumped off the tower. He started running towards the village square.

“Coward!” cried Rhoddri, seeing his fleeing form. “Come back here!” Just then, the palisade shook one final time and tumbled to the ground, replaced by a cloud of dust and savage raiders shouting and stabbing with their spears.

“I have an idea!” responded Brynn, but doubted anyone heard him. He winced as he ran, expecting an arrow to his back at any moment, but none came.

Brynn was in the village square within a few short minutes, although it felt like hours. The square was empty of inhabitants now, with all able-bodied people down at the docks and the rest in hiding. His lungs burned as he halted near the Statue. He didn’t have time to catch his breath. He needed to start the ritual now.

But he needed a way to connect with it first. All magical spirits needed something—a small offering, a shared interest, a song. It could be many things. What would a Statue want?

Brynn looked at the only runes he had any chance to decipher. The Statue’s name. Two runes written in the Old Tongue. He didn’t recognize their meaning, but he could pronounce them out together. Maybe that would work.

Gr. On. Gron?

He knelt down and drew the symbols for Stone and Life on the ground using his finger. Then he reached out to the statue with arms wide.

“Oh, great and legendary Gron, your village is under attack and needs your help!”

Brynn felt the magic stir within the Statue, an ancient spirit, long asleep, now awakening. It shook its head slightly, bringing itself out its long slumber. Then it focused on Brynn.

GRORRRRR

The sound overwhelmed Brynn’s mind, a cross between a growl and guttural roar. The sound a wild animal would make.

GRORRRRR

Gror! Of course. He had mispronounced the second rune. It had been years since he studied the Old Tongue, but, still, he chided himself for making such an elementary mistake—

GRORRRRRRRR

It was starting to sound annoyed. “Oh, great and legendary Gror, your village is under attack and needs your help!” Brynn said quickly.

Gror stepped down from its pedestal. It was a full head taller than Brynn, but on closer inspection he could see the cracks and crumbles of age. It was obviously strong, but also more fragile than it looked.

Brynn turned and was about to lead Gror to the docks, but just then a giant man with wild hair and untamed beard entered the village square.

Brynn and Gror faced Kodroth the Quiet.

---

Kodroth had somehow broken away from the main fight and made it to the village square. He looked surprised to see anyone there, let alone a druid and large living statue, but he quickly recovered and ran toward them with a howl. Gror charged at Kodroth in reply.

Brynn, weaponless, saw a discarded spear on the ground nearby and dove for it. Kodroth, still running, threw his own spear at Brynn and pulled out a heavy hammer. He then swung the hammer hard at Gror. The spear clipped Brynn in the shoulder, while the hammer removed a large chunk from Gror’s side.

Brynn’s shoulder stung as he snatched up the spear. He could tell why it was discarded. The haft was warped and brittle and the spear head looked dull. Why had he tossed away his good one earlier?

Gror, meanwhile, ignored the bits of stone raining down from its wounded side and grabbed Kodroth by the throat. Brynn stabbed at him with his spear. For a large man, Kodroth was remarkably agile. He somehow sidestepped the spear and punched Brynn in the gut, causing Brynn to stumble backward. He then twisted and used Gror’s own arms as leverage to knock the statue to the ground.

One quick swipe with the hammer was enough to smash Gror’s head off. The man’s easy power shocked Brynn. But he was facing away from Brynn just then, so Brynn thrust his spear at the man’s back with all his might.

Kodroth let out a painful cry and stumbled away, swinging his hammer wildly. Brynn lunged at him again, this time piercing his side. Kodroth roared in a fury, dropping his hammer and grabbing the haft of the spear. He snapped it in half like it was a skinny twig.

Kodroth was bleeding heavily, and he looked to be struggling to stay standing. Brynn swung his broken spear haft at Kodroth, but before he could tell if it connected, he felt himself lifted off his feet. The world turned upside down. He landed on the ground with a thump that took his breath away.

As his vision blurred and darkness crept in around the edges, Brynn thought he heard the footsteps of someone running away.

A few moments later, the darkness took over and he was unconscious.

---

Brynn woke up laying on a mat in the long house. He saw Shaman Edda out of the corner of his eye, tending to others who were wounded. Two Shaman Eddas, actually, both making the exact same movements. He began to push himself up, but the pain in his head was so fierce that he nearly emptied the contents of his stomach.

“You need more rest, Druid,” Edda said to him as he slumped back down on the mat. “Don’t worry, you’re safe for now.”

Safe. For now. Those last two words didn’t sound reassuring. He would have to save the questions for later though. He needed to sleep …

… He woke up again feeling better. He was no longer seeing double and the pain in his head was mostly gone. He was able to sit up and look around. Shaman Edda was there, along with several other patients in her care. He was extremely hungry.

“I see you’re up. Good!” said Edda. “You’re looking much better. Let me check that shoulder of yours.”

Brynn grimaced while she attended to the large gash in his right shoulder. Edda caught the confused look on his face.

“You don’t remember how you got it, do you?”

Brynn thought for a moment. The last thing he could remember was standing on the tower while the raiders used their battering ram against the palisade. After that—nothing.

“I … no, I don’t.” He shook his head in reply. His stomach growled.

“You need something to eat, obviously.” Edda smiled. “I’ll get you something, but just make sure to eat slowly.”

“How long was I out?”

“Oh, you’ve been in and out for several days now,” replied Edda. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You took a good blow to the head.”

She walked over to a makeshift kitchen at the end of the hall and returned a few moments later with a bowl of boiled oats filled with chunks of smoked fish. Brynn tried to eat slowly, but couldn’t help himself, devouring the meal in short order. He felt the energy returning to his limbs, along with the aches and pains. Every part of his body hurt. It was as if he had been dropped from a great height.

“The village? The raiders? What happened?” asked Brynn.

“Oh, we survived, Druid,” responded Edda. “Kodroth somehow broke away from the fight at the docks and ran into the village. At first we thought he was trying to rally his gang to push through our defensive line. But when he didn’t return, the raiders lost their will to fight. Most surrendered. Those who didn’t …” She shrugged, leaving their fate to Brynn’s imagination.

Her expression turned serious. “Mayor Rhoddri says that you ran away from the fray.” She paused, letting the words sink into Brynn’s thoughts. “Kodroth must have encountered you, because we found you, injured and unconscious, in the village square. For some reason, he also pulled down the Statue and smashed it. We don’t know why. It appears he’d been injured too, which may be why he ran away in the first place.”

“We don’t know where he went, unfortunately,” she continued. “A child hiding in one of the houses near the edge of town claims he saw Kodroth going into the Far Forest. If that’s the case, I doubt we’ll ever see him again.”

Brynn held the empty bowl is his hands, stunned. He’d run away? A deserter? He tried to recall what happened, but all that did was bring back his headache.

“I’m sorry, Druid,” she said gently. “Sometimes, in the heat of combat, some people just …”

She shrugged again, this time because she was at a loss for words. “Now that you’re feeling better, the Mayor will want to see you.”

---

Brynn’s thoughts were a jumble while he waited for the Mayor. He could stand and walk now, so he tried to help Edda with some small chores, but she waved him off. Her apprentice was all the help she needed.

Mayor Rhoddri entered the long house. He wore the garb of his office, a simple robe trimmed in red. He frowned at Brynn. “I see that Shaman Edda has tended to you well, Druid.”

“Her care has been excellent, Mayor. I thank you and Shaman Edda for your help.”

“Come with me, Druid. And you too, Shaman.”

They followed Rhoddri out into the village square. Brynn noticed two guards flanking him warily, as he were going to attempt to escape at any moment. The group passed by the empty pedestal that once held the Statue.

“What will happen to the Statue?” asked Brynn.

“We are requesting stonemasons from Azureforge to help us to repair it,” replied Rhoddri curtly.

Brynn glanced at the pedestal. Two runes stood out to him, written in the Old Tongue.

“The Statue’s name is Gror,” he said. He didn’t know why that felt important. It was an odd name, even for the Old Tongue.

Edda glanced at Brynn with a quizzical look but said nothing. They walked silently the rest of the way to his office.

Once inside the office, Rhoddri sat as his desk and faced them.

“I’ll make this plain, Druid. You were seen, by me and by others, deserting the battle with the raiders. Shaman Edda says you have no memory of what happened, and I have no reason to doubt her. That doesn’t excuse you from culpability, however. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“I’m sorry, Mayor. The last thing I remember is standing on the tower with you while the raiders attacked the palisade.”

Rhoddri gave a short nod. “Normally, I have deserters exiled to the Far Forest,” he said, “but because of your station I’m sending you back to Galdir to be tried.”

Brynn sighed. Things couldn’t get much worse. But then he remembered something else. Maybe they could.

“I need to go into the Far Forest, Mayor. Send me there instead.” For the first time he was able to stare into Rhoddri’s piercing gaze.

Rhoddri held that gaze for a moment and then laughed. “I know you’re a coward, Druid, but it seems you’re a fool too. If you think that living in those woods is safer than a prison in Galdir, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“There’s something in those woods, Mayor, that is far more dangerous than you or I could begin to fathom. I need to go there and find out if there’s a way we can stop it.”

Rhoddri paused, taken aback by Brynn’s tone. He considered for a moment before turning to Edda. “Will you bear witness for me, Shaman?”

Edda looked unhappily at Brynn. “Are you sure you want to do this, Druid?”

“I am certain, Shaman.”

Edda nodded to Rhoddri, who then spoke, “Let it be known that Druid Brynn, accused of desertion while battling Kodroth the Quiet and his raiders at Brightmyst, waives his right to trial at Galdir. He has chosen exile in the Far Forest and all consequences thereof. Do you agree, Druid?”

“Yes, Mayor.”

“Do you witness Druid Brynn’s choice, Shaman Edda?”

“I do, Mayor.”

“So be it,” said the Mayor. “Out of respect for your title, Druid, I will give you time to prepare. You have until tomorrow morning to leave.”

---

Brynn spent the night in the long house. The guards kept watch over him, although Brynn wasn’t sure why. Brightmyst was surrounded by the Far Forest on all sides, and the idea of him stealing a boat to escape into the Emerald Bay was laughable. Maybe it was to prevent him from invoking some type of druidic mischief? It didn’t matter. Brynn had accepted his fate. He needed to if he was going to find out more about the Darkness.

“The Statue’s name—you said it was Gra?” asked Edda. She was surreptitiously putting some rations of smoked fish in his pack.

“Gror.” Brynn had trouble pronouncing it himself. “There are Old Tongue runes on the pedestal with that name. But it isn’t native to the language. It must be the name of some person from before the Old Ones.” A person, or a creature? Why had that question popped into his head?

“Shaman Edda, I have a favor to ask of you,” Brynn asked, thinking of something else. “Could you please send a message to the College of Galdir telling them of my vision with the crows? And tell them I’m entering the Far Forest to investigate. Perhaps they’ll send help.” Edda nodded sadly, then left to look after the other patients in the long house.

Brynn lay down on his mat and to his surprise slept soundly through the night. He woke feeling oddly refreshed and prepared. Perhaps it was the certainty of what was in store for him.

Brynn, Rhoddri and the guards made their way to the Fence’s gate in the early morning light. A single crow perched on a tree branch, studying Brynn indifferently. It waggled its tail feathers before flying off into the forest.

“Druid Brynn,” said Rhoddri, “you are hereby exiled from Brightmyst and all the Realm. Do you understand?”

Brynn nodded.

“Your symbol, Druid.”

Brynn’s hands shook while he took out his amulet. The one embossed with three snow topped mountain peaks with an oak tree overlaid on top. The symbol for the Druids of Galdir.

“Go now, Brynn, to exile in the Far Forest, never to return. For if you decide to break your exile, you will pay the ultimate price for your transgression.”

Brynn stepped through the open gate and out into the wilderness.