The Dawnvel Druids, - [most inspirational books of all time TXT] 📗

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“It is actually,” said Dreg. “There’s a number of places in Britain with a higher number of ghosts and magical creatures.”

“Wait, you’re saying all the forests, like in the world, have magical creatures in them?”

“Of course,” said Dreg dreamily, straying from their path and disappearing from view. Moments later he returned, but this time with a pixie on either shoulder.

Bobby gaped at the two flesh-coloured miniature men with giant bat-like ears who laughed and pointed at him. They spoke to each other in fast, chirping noises. Simone had no idea what they were saying, but Dreg had taken it upon himself to learn pixie language, as well as gnomish.

She could use the beast-tongue spell of course, so she didn’t understand why Dreg had gone to all the effort, yet she didn’t understand most things Dreg did.

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“Pixies live inside trees,” Dreg told Bobby as one of the pixies took to swinging on Dreg’s dreadlocks like a rope. “And they’re always happy to receive guests. Ballachinn and Borogoninn here say you look very amusing.

They can tell you’ve never seen their kind before.”

“This is so mad,” Bobby murmured as Dreg returned the pixies to their home.

Simone noticed Lana looping her arm around Warren’s, pretending to be scared. When their eyes met Lana smiled at her, as if she didn’t know what she was doing.

Warren barely seemed to notice. She could tell he was in one of his dark moods, holding in a fountain of rage. It added to her unease about tonight’s ceremony. Warren was barely recognisable as the funny, adventurous guy who’d been her boyfriend. And Zander’s death had made him worse.

They continued to traipse through the undergrowth, wending their way between the army of thick-trunked trees. Most of them walked in silence, but Dreg hummed an old Celtic ballad under his breath, whilst Mo and Lana chatted quietly.

“How’s it going with that Wizard from London, he still ignoring your texts?”

“No,” Mo said, a little too defensively. “I’m just keeping my options open, you know.”

“Wait, wizards are real too?” Bobby asked.

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“Duh,” Lana mocked him. “As are witches, warlocks, shamans et cetera.

They all protect the gateways to Otherworld like us. Just in their own countries.

We druids protect Great Britain and Western Europe.”

“Don’t forget those pesky wicca too.” Mo grinned. “Who we know all too well, some of us more intimately than others.”

“Do wizards use wands like you… I mean, us?” Bobby turned to Simone.

“Not all,” she said. “Shamans use these really cool staffs. I used to really want one myself, until I realised how much easier wands are, considering you can hide them under a shirt or jacket.”

“How are we different to the others.”

“Oh my god.” Lana rolled her eyes. “How are wolves different to dogs?

There’s loads of ways. But it’s mainly our ability to travel back in time sets us apart.

“You’re yanking my chain?” he exclaimed.

“Trust me, I would never yank your chain,” she sneered.

“It’s really rare. And the druid guild has to authorise a journey through time,”

Mo explained. “You need special stones to do it, and can only travel a certain few days of the year. It all has to match up. Nearest one for us is stonehenge.”

“None of us have done it,” said Simone. “Except Dreg went once with his great gramps, but that’s only because of who he is.”

“Wait, who?”

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“Merlin. I told you Dreg was a part of a really, really ancient family, didn’t I?”

“No freaking way. His grandpa Merle is Merlin. The Merlin?” Bobby looked over at Dreg, who continued to hum dreamily.

“Yeah,” said Mo, “and Dreg the lucky sod got to go with Merle to Camelot last year. He met King Arthur and everything. Dreg didn’t say it, but I’m betting Arthur was gorgeous. I’d join his round table any day. Unless Lancelot’s hotter.”

“Someone’s jealous of Guinevere.” Simone giggled.

She couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear at the look of wonder on Bobby’s face. He reminded her of a puppy, sometimes overexcited and other times scared, but trying to act brave. He looked like he was bursting with more questions, but as he opened his mouth Warren cut in.

“Enough. You don’t have to worry about time travel, and I’m not saying that to be an ass. Very few druids are ever permitted too.”

“Oh,” Bobby said glumly, before jumping back with a yell as an object hurtled toward them.

Simone stepped back instinctively as well, although she knew there was no point.

The Victorian husband and wife greeted them joyously as their horse and carriage crashed through the trees and past them. The carriage’s wooden wheels

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should’ve caused a racket across the undergrowth, but the vehicle was utterly silent as the carriage barrelled past and disappeared through another thicket.

“More ghosts?” Bobby gasped, clutching his chest as if worried he’d have a heart attack.

“Yep.” She nudged him affectionately. “Relax, these aren’t the types of ghost that can hurt people.”

“Dreg wasn’t exactly right about this forest being normal,” Niamh told Bobby as they moved deeper into the woods. “Many forests do contain an ancient grove like Dawnvel’s, but not many are as large or powerful as ours.

Plus, the gateway being so near makes this forest a little more active for dark creatures.”

“Dark creatures?” he squeaked. “So you’re saying there could be some crazed beast roaming nearby?”

“Only Warren,” Mo piped up, ignoring Warren’s glower.

“Probably not,” Simone said. “We almost always contain those who arrive here, before they do much damage.”

“Almost doesn’t really alleviate my fears.”

“Stop being such a baby then,” Warren snapped. “If anything here is stupid enough to attack a full clan of druids, I’d rip em apart before they got to you.

Mind you, I shouldn’t say full clan. We need a seventh.”

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“And we will have our seventh, after tonight,” she said. “You should be wanting Bobby to join us. The sooner our clan is complete again, the sooner we can focus on Zander’s killer.”

Warren tensed at that. “I still don’t trust him. It’s not a coincidence Zander died just after this guy arrived.”

“If you really believed that you’d have tortured Bobby to get the truth out of him,” Mo said. “You know he doesn’t show any of the symptoms of dark magic. Plus, Simone would’ve sensed it in him when she healed him.”

Warren grimaced. “Maybe he’s not the dark druid himself, just in league with him. Sent here as a spy.”

“I didn’t have you down as the paranoid type,” Simone said frostily.

“Well excuse me for giving a damn after my best friend has died.”

“Are you saying I don’t? That none of us do apart from you?”

Warren wrenched his arm away from Lana, who’d been holding on to him like a raft at sea. “No, just that you and Mo seem all too happy to replace Zander with the first random guy you find. We don’t know anything about him.

He says he doesn’t even know anything about himself. No druid family name, no parents-”

“The guild is looking into it,” Dreg muttered absent-mindedly, his attention focused on an owl roosting above them.

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“That’s not good enough,” Warren shouted. “You might not be fawning all over the new boy like Sim and Mo, but you haven’t shown you care in the least that Zander’s gone.”

“I quite liked Zander Murphy,” Dreg replied, acting like he was talking to himself. “I’ve questioned the animals, but they saw nothing of his death.

There’re still some creatures left to to ask though. Maybe one of them saw something.”

Simone knew Dreg had started investigating the morning Zander was found.

Due to his advanced druidery, Dreg was far better at communicating with animals. He could also check the plants for the signs of damage they’d have if a Baynir passed near them.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Warren growled.

“Hmm,” Dreg turned around, as if he’d already forgotten the conversation.

“Oh yes, Zander’s demise was tragic, but the threads of fate stop for no one.

Which is why they guided Bobby to us as Zander’s flame was extinguished.

Fate moves in mysterious, inexplicable ways like that. Oh, and as for what you mentioned earlier, I sensed the lingering effects of dark spells before Bobby came here.”

Warren lunged at him suddenly, lifting Dreg high into the air.

“You knew! You knew and you didn’t warn us. Zander might still be alive if it wasn’t for you.”

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“Warren no!” She leaped to grab hold of him, but he was an immovable wall of muscle.

“Put him down,” Mo cried, echoed by Lana.

“All of you stop it,” Niamh shouted suddenly.

Slowly, Warren dropped Dreg, whose calm expression never wavered.

“Explain yourself,” Niamh continued, gazing at Dreg in horror.

The small boy shrugged. “It’s as I said. I believe I sensed traces of dark spells a few days before Bobby came here. I couldn’t be sure, so I didn’t tell you. I wrote to Grandpa Merle though.”

“Screw Merle,” Warren roared. “You should’ve told us. We’re a clan. No secrets.”

“We all have secrets we keep.” Dreg shrugged.

“What did Merlin write back?” Simone asked.

“He hasn’t yet,” said Dreg. “Must be busy. I’ve kept an eye on all the new students and teachers from our first week of term though. One of them, Frederick I think his name was, left after the first week, or at least pretended too, he piqued my interest.”

“You should’ve told us,” said Mo. “We could all have investigated the new people on campus, see if any showed signs of being a dark druid.”

Dreg nodded. “Perhaps you’re right Maurice. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

“God, you’re weird,” Lana mumbled under her breath, turning away.

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“Okay, there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’ll talk when we get back to the house,” said Simone. “C’mon, we can’t be late for the Joining.”

“We should postpone it until after we’ve found and destroyed Zander’s killer,” Warren snapped.

“Bobby’s unlocked power might’ve killed him by then,” she said.

“So?” Warren looked at Bobby blankly, who still looked shocked at the argument he’d just witnessed.

“You don’t mean that,” she glared at Warren. “You might be a moody jackass, but you wouldn’t let an innocent die.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I just don’t think he’s innocent.” Warren replied, although he joined the rest of them as they continued through the forest.

“Don’t worry Bobby,” she moved beside him. “We’re nearly there.”

The trees around them now appeared to be bleeding, as if the trunks had been stabbed as pools of sap dribbled down. They walked the rest of the way in tense silence after Warren’s outburst. Simone knew he’d been keeping a lot bottled up, but she didn’t realise it had been so much.

Minutes later they reached the grove. It was a small patch of naked soil, free of even a single blade of grass. The trees around the barren area were clustered together tight, like a rugby team’s huddle.

“Who wants the honours?” asked Mo.

“Who cares,” Warren grunted.

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“I’ll do it,” Niamh sighed, stepping into the centre of the