The Art of Druidism
Days had passed since the last Arrazanal had heard from Kaitajinal. She prayed that it was a good sign that he was busy in his struggles against the Noszarel, but her fears told her he had fallen. Larizinal placed her in the hearth’s kitchens since she spent most of her time in the thick forests picking various herbs instead of lying about all day. Arrazanal was not pleased with that arrangement. At home they ate the roots of plants and fruits growing around their garden and she hardly ever had to cook anything for herself or her family. Now, on the island full of hungry refugees, cooking was going to be a monumental task. Larizinal told her cooking was not too dissimilar to alchemy, which comforted Arrazanal.
Many among her kin shared gossip while in the kitchens, often about why the Noszarel forces had decided to launch their attack again and if there was someone among their tribe who had somehow aided them. Once that rumour had surfaced, Arrazanal was forced to hear endless gossip on who might be the traitor and if it was someone on Emasaran. She almost flew into a rage when she heard one of the wenches mention Larizinal. With a heavy metal pan in her hand, she was more than willing to hurl it across the foolish female’s head. However, it would have been a grave error in judgement.
She rushed out of the inn. Despite all the exploring she had done since her arrival, her knowledge of the dangers on the island was still shallow. The grove she travelled to daily for her herbs was always filled with trainees sitting and meditating beside the giant trees. But the company of more Ezoni wasn’t something she desired now. Her feet took her along the cobbled path that stretched on deeper and deeper into the mysterious land. A shiver came over her shoulders as a group of Nalashi her age walked along the same road. She recognised the boy from the pier. He laughed as he shared stories with his friends about how he managed to strangle one of the Noszarel soldiers before leaving for the village’s docks.
“That’s one less they have to dispose of,” he said, as his friends chuckled and patted his arms. He turned his focus on Arrazanal; she couldn’t help but feeling a disgust when she sensed their eyes drift to her as she walked past the group.
“Isanel, are you Arrazanal? The one that lives by the meadow?” the boy called out.
Arrazanal begrudgingly turned to face them, trying to mask her face with apathy. “Isanel to you too. Yes, why?”
“Wow, were you the one that caught those fiends and killed them?” He said with a twinkle in his eye.
Looking directly at the boy, Arrazanal recognised his rectangular face and excitable purple eyes from the spring pools nearby her family’s home. He was often at the pools flirting with other young girls, and Arrazanal wasn’t spared from his advances either in her earlier years. Fortunately, the boy broke her awkward silence.
“Apologies, my name is Roshahnal, I believe my father served alongside yours,”
“Ah,” was all Arr could muster, desperate to end the conversation, “well, I did see the Noszarel first, but the hidden warriors take that honour in killing them.”
The gang huddled around her; their eyes lit with eagerness to hear her tale of how the Noszarel trio was slain.
“I heard two of them were shot with a dozen arrows and the other’s face was slashed by a whip, and she ended up going mad at the Temple!” the female said looking to her comrades.
“It was just one arrow each that took those men down, and the female was brought to the Temple-,” Arr said.
“They said that she was so crazed that she opened her wrists! Can you believe it? I would’ve loved to have seen that.” she said, throwing her head back in laughter.
“Nai, you wouldn’t have,” Arr shouted as she glared at the girl, “that’s someone’s sister you’re talking about, someone’s daughter. Have you no compassion?”
The gang exchanged confused looks to each other. “Hm, I heard that you nearly died trying to fight them, but a tree root almost did better work. How pathetic!” the girl’s lips curled into a venomous smile.
Laughter broke out among them and Arrazanal’s heart sank. Her skin broke into a cold sweat as she shoved her way through the group, eager to continue her trek down the path to nowhere. “Benor’e, the lot of you.” She muttered to herself. Their laughter dimmed as she skittered away. Tears were stinging her eyes, almost blurring the road before her.
Her ears perked up as a low growl came from beneath the wide leafy foliage beside the road. Her heart almost skipped a beat as her head shot to two orange orbs blinking from the darkness. Sheek’zeer prowled out from the bushes. Her body was slinking low to the ground and her ears perked back. Her long sandy tongue licked Arrazanal’s elbow, attempting to comfort her Ezoni companion. Arrazanal gave a welcoming smile to the tiger. The laughter and chuckles from the gang were still in ear shot though they were beyond sight. They wouldn’t have known Arrazanal was friendly with a sabre tiger. She looked to the tiger’s eyes and imagined Sheek’zeer bolting along the path to hunt after the gang of delinquents. The tiger straightened up, and with the push of her powerful hind legs, she was off.
Arrazanal stayed long enough to hear their screams as they echoed around the forest. Her lips curved into delight as Sheek’zeer roared and they cried. A slapping of feet came bounding down the path. Arrazanal had caught sight of Rosh grunting and crying as the tiger chased after him. He looked to her; his eyes wild in fear turned into confusion as he noticed she had remained stationary when the tiger had passed her.
“You?” Rosh shouted; his arms flung out directly aiming at her throat. The tiger, who had clearly had enough entertainment, screeched as she leapt at the boy and pinned his shoulders to the ground. Her white claws dug into the boy’s skin, and her mouth was open and snarling inches from his face. He was too afraid to move and too terrified to scream. His emotions flooded Arrazanal’s mind. Rosh was calling to her to help him – a boy that had bragged about the murder was now facing death; a boy who almost attacked her was now begging her to help him.
Arrazanal patted the tiger’s rump, grabbing her attention. “Sheek’zeer, come on. Please, get off him!”
The tiger instantly obeyed and kicked off running down the road with Arrazanal following closely behind. She could hear the shouts and calls from the boy she had left on the cobbled path – desperate to get away from the scene. Sheek’zeer leapt over the tall hedge of bushes, disappearing into the forest, while she continued sprinting down the unfamiliar road. In the distance, she spotted white smoke billowing from a white chimney in the clearing amongst the trees. Fearing that the gang might be after her, she bound off the path and onto a dirt road leading up to a comparatively small building among the others on the island.
On the patio of the building’s entrance, a tall double-sided door was cracked open, just large enough for her thin frame to slip between. Panting from exhaustion, Arrazanal wiped the sweat from her face as she regained her grounding. Her eyes drifted across the room to see several blue-robed students looking up at her with concerned expressions. Across the room, a large smoking black cauldron sat in a wide fireplace. She glanced around the room to find there were a dozen tables with expansive alchemy sets sitting on them and tall wooden shelves covered every surface of the inner walls with potions of every size and colour.
Her eyes widened with excitement, but it was snatched away with a sharp, irritating voice. “What are you doing here?”
It was the older Noszarel druid from the podium; his deep eyes were narrow with quiet anger and his thin lips curved in displeasure. Arrazanal smiled awkwardly, hoping to hide the fact that she had just set a tiger on a boy.
“I thought this building was on fire from all the smoke and I-,” she stuttered. The room broke out in quiet giggles, all except him.
His robes were so long that she didn’t see his feet, appearing as if he was gliding on air as he strolled to her.
“Get out!” he said, pushing his tall frame into her.
“It’s fine, sir, she’s with me,” said a girl approaching them. It was the girl from the shore, this time she was wearing the same uniform as the others, but hers was considerably cleaner. Her white eyes stared blankly between Arrazanal and the druid.
“Refugees are forbidden to enter these halls when class is in session,” he growled.
“I neglected to mention that to her, but she’s my assistant. I told her that she could sit in here and write notes for me,” the girl smiled.
The druid rolled his eyes as he sighed. “If she spills anything in this room, then your ‘assistant’ will not enter this room again, Yas.” he said before storming off to the wide fireplace.
“Thank me later, come on,” Yas said nodding her head back to her table.
“I’m not staying, just went out to explore-,” Arr whispered to her.
“Of course, you’re not trying to hide in here and not anxious to return outside,” she said feeling around the table and locating a quill and a green notebook with a large silver Noszarel rune studded in the centre and sliding it to Arrazanal.
She reluctantly held up the quill. “What’s this for?”
“To take notes of what the professors say during class, of course. So far, I had to rely just on memory, but now I have you to recite a few things I might forget. You can be my scribe. Consider it payment for saving your life,” she said.
“I don’t know how to write in Noszarel runes,” Arr said awkwardly staring at the items.
“It doesn’t matter, I won’t be judging your writing,” Yas said, her lips twisting in a smirk. A giggle rose in Arrazanal, but she suppressed it as she was unsure whether Yas was serious.
“Something feels very familiar about all this,” Arr said, dipping the ink into an open black vial, “I never did thank you for what you did at the beach, the storm came out of nowhere…”
“Don’t worry about it. Can I have a name for my new scribe?” she said, feeling a flask with stinking clear liquid sloshing around inside and delicately placing it over a metal grill above a hot burner.
“Arrazanal. I take it your name’s Yas?” Arr said watching the blind girl carefully navigate around the full table.
“Yasenanos is my full name, but that’s a tongue-twister. My father was never really good at naming things,” she said.
“I don’t hear relevant subject matter being spoken about there!” the druid snapped.
Arrazanal ducked her head low as she glanced at Yas. “He seems pleasant,” she whispered.
“The only thing Master Naz loves is alchemy, little else,” Yas quietly replied.
“He thinks Nalashi are savages,” Arr said flatly.
“Probably, but I don’t see the difference between us,” she said, pouring a blue liquid in the heated flask. The liquid sizzled as small bubbles rose to the surface, “gods damn this thing!”
“What in the spirit’s name are you trying to make?” Arr asked.
“Trying to make a potion to enhance the senses, but it seems to me that whoever drinks this will have their senses stripped!” she said.
“You can’t add that after the flask has been heated, you’ll need to start the whole thing again and this time with a wider flask with a flat bottom,” Arr said, searching around the table for the perfect bottle.
“I didn’t take you for an alchemist,” Yas said wearing a large grin. Her smile was so contagious that Arrazanal couldn’t help but return it.
“It’s one of the few things I enjoy doing. Actually, I made something like this by accident,” she said, surprised she was comfortable sharing so much with a stranger, especially with a Noszarel.
“What did you intend to make?” Yas asked wearing a grin.
Arrazanal turned away, remembering Nalashi warriors getting affected by the sickening concoctions the Noszarel had been using on them. “It was an amnesia potion. I’ve seen your people use it before on us.”
“That’s awful. One day you should make something that will get their memories back,” she said.
“Maybe,” Arr said pulling the ideal beaker from the table closer to her.
“And maybe on that day, I could be your scribe,” Yas said, blowing out the burner and carefully removing the old beaker as Arrazanal added a new one in its place. She watched in awe, as Yas seemed to know her surroundings flawlessly.
“How do you know where everything is, if you’re blind?” Arr said, almost recoiling at her inappropriate question.
Yas breathed a chuckle. “You don’t need eyes to see what or who is around you. When I lost my sight, the gods blessed me with an inner eye to sense their world. I even learnt how to throw my inner sight to see remote locations around the world; I know about places that you wouldn’t believe exist. That’s why I was brought here to hone my power, among other things. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Is that why you were staring at me at the docks? Because you think I’ve got something like you?” Arr said, looking at the right vials before passing it to Yas.
“Well, your aura is very noticeable. There is much to notice,” she said, popping open the lid and sniffing its contents.
Arrazanal wasn’t certain whether it was an insult or a compliment. She kept her mouth shut until Master Naz rang the silver bell on his desk, ending the class.
~
The island was far more beautiful and mysterious than when she first laid her eyes on it. High up in the canopies of the monolithic trees, birds nested in communities in the bark and on thick branches. Arrazanal watched and listened to their singing. She could recognise several species native to her homeland, yet there were others that she had never seen before. An Ezoni-sized emerald bellied reptile with two large scaly wings swooped in from the neighbouring trees. Its jaw opened and snapped at the birds hoping to get a meal. Its long head buried in the nests, searching for bird young. The adults squawked and beat their feathered bodies against the reptile as they tried to protect their young.
Arrazanal’s heart ached as she watched the reptile helplessly destroy the nests. She wanted to climb up and snatch its long neck and blast it with her power. In a blink of an eye, she saw two enormous feathery wings appear from the tallest branches followed by an ear-splitting shriek. A monstrous violet bird appeared from the leaves, snapping its razor-like beak at the reptile. The scaly creature pushed its body from the nests; it hissed as it assessed the threat in a heartbeat and turned to take to the air, but the bird’s beak pinched the tip of the reptile’s long tail and swung it across the branch.
Its limp body fell from the great height, landing with a thud on the soil. Arrazanal skipped over to it, hoping that it was dead, but the giant bird swooped to the land, beating her to it. It turned to face her with the reptile hanging from its beak; it beat its powerful wings at her, forcing her back. She watched the elk-sized bird leap to the sky and disappear into the tall branches, ready to feast on its fresh kill.
She remembered stories told by the druids of the first tribe who had flown across Emasaran and Perishi on the backs of huge birds. The art to tame these creatures was lost over the centuries and many who attempted to take their young for training would immediately be fed to them if the parents were close enough.
Her stomach growled, but her heart desired to explore more of the island. She knew that the kitchen wenches would probably be wondering where she had disappeared to. She wondered if they thought of Arrazanal as a traitor, but she didn’t care.
As she made her return to the Nalashi hearth, she heard several raised voices coming from the staircase on the edge of the cliff. She opened her senses to feel who was speaking without poking her head into the argument to investigate. She sensed Larizinal’s emotions fly in frustration as another woman’s emotions reeked with fury. Arrazanal heard them end the argument. She popped her head into view and immediately saw one of the kitchen wenches storm up the stairs. She dived behind one of the white pillars to see Rosh, who had tried to attack her hours earlier, follow the older female. Her eyes travelled to where Sheek’zeer sunk her claws into him, the wounds had been stuffed with herbs and appeared to be almost healed.
She was relieved to see he was still alive, but her insides ached at the thought of him telling Larizinal what had transpired. She could still sense Larizinal’s frustration, this was the first time she had ever sensed it from the old female, and it was a situation Arrazanal didn’t want to experience. She slid across the pillar, tiptoeing her way to the entrance watching the back of the druid’s head look across the cliff to the Noszarel inn.
“Arrazanal!” she called out, sending a cold shock through Arr’s body.
She looked to see Larizinal’s face twisted in anger. Begrudgingly, she made her way to the staircase, trying to search for words to explain what had happened.
“Isanel and spirits send their sun, Larizinal,” she said.
“Oh, I wish they would. Then this whole mess could’ve been avoided,” Lari said slapping her wrinkled forehead.
Arrazanal furrowed her brow and waited for the druid to continue which didn’t come. “What was all that about?”
“Things are delicate as they are, we don’t need more fighting, especially in this place!” she snapped, her furious eyes softened as she stared at Arrazanal, “I’m sorry, child, but this is wearing my old bones thin.”
“Is this about that boy?” Arr asked, keeping her voice calm to not further agitate the druid.
“It is. That was his mother telling me that her son and his friends were attacked by a gang of Noszarel youths when they were wandering through Emasaran. The others had managed to get away, but the boy was beaten and cut with knives,” she said, glancing to the sleeping tiger on the branch above her head.
Arrazanal bit her lip. “Is that what he said happened?”
“Indeed. Now, the whole lot of them are complaining to the keepers to get every Noszarel off the island. And if that doesn’t happen, spirits know how far they’ll go to get them out of here,” Lari said.
“I don’t think that will happen…” Arr said, her mind flittered to Yasenanos.
“In decades past, many believed that all tribes could live harmoniously, see how that turned out,” she said kicking a stone from her step. She glanced to Arrazanal, and a sad smile crawled across her lip, “Sheek’zeer told me everything.”
Arrazanal glanced up as her cheeks become hot. “Really? I’m sorry, but he was-,”
“I understand what happened, I may not agree with it, but I get it. Tigers are honest, unlike others, I can think of,” she said smiling at Sheek’zeer.
“I’ll go back and tell her what really happened,” Arr said; ready to face the angry wench and her pack of gossips.
“Don’t bother, I tried telling the mother that her son wasn’t attacked by them, but she wouldn’t have it. Hate is a powerful drug, if someone tries to take it away, then they will lash out. I don’t want that for you, Arrazanal,” she said.
“I’d rather not have to face them,” Arr said, nervously biting her lip.
“You won’t have to. A bird told me that you’ve attended an alchemy lesson; you must really desire to be a druid to learn from Master Naz, he’s difficult at the best of times. Now, I must see to the keeper’s leader,” Lari said, making her way to her, “may the spirits be with you!” she slapped Arrazanal’s shoulder before turning down the path and disappearing into the forest.
“Bellemin I’aer, Larizinal,” Arr said under her breath. She looked to the horizon. The sunlight glittered off the sea, and the waves crashed against the shores and tied ships. Loud screeching emanated from the horizon. A dozen scarlet hawks appeared from the low clouds. The birds divided their flights to different sections of the island. Arrazanal’s heart skipped when a couple of the hawks swooped through the windows of the Nalashi inn. Her feet skipped up the stairs until a shout caught her attention.
On the opposite end of the cliff close to the Noszarel inn, several island keepers spoke to the guards around the building. Arrazanal could sense they had a heated argument. She was surprised how quickly the keepers had received news on the Noszarel ‘attack’. She wanted to feel satisfaction that her tribe’s enemies were closely watched by everyone, but a spot of guilt prevented any satisfying feelings from arising.
The guards pulled up several young Noszarel outside the inn. Her eyes narrowed to observe the keepers padding their clothing and spilling the contents of their satchels to the stone floor. To her shock, she saw one of the guards carefully guide a maroon-robed Yasenanos from the building. Her aura had dimmed as they tipped her bag of potions to the floor. Rage bubbled in Arrazanal, again she felt helpless as the keepers continued their search of the rounded up Noszarel. They couldn’t possibly be daft enough to believe that a small blind girl could attack a group of Nalashi teenagers, she thought.
A keeper with an orange robe snatched a bag from a fair-haired Noszarel boy who held the bag close to his chest until a guard wrestled it from his grasp and tipped the contents to the soil. The keeper bent over and picked up a pointed silvery object from the ground. Even at a distance Arrazanal identified it to be a dagger. One of the boys called out demanding the return of his dagger, but the keepers tossed it in a sack and handed it to the guards. The boy protested as he was herded away from the group by two large guards followed by a handful of keepers. The crowd was calling out to him, begging the keepers and guards to release him, but their cries were ignored. Arrazanal watched them drag him to the edge of the pier. The guards pushed him on to one of the empty supply ships before it departed from Emasaran. He was innocent, yet they didn’t care.
Too sick to continue watching the scene unfold, Arrazanal took one last glance at the crowd of Noszarel to see the arguments broke out between them and the keepers. The guards forced themselves between the crowds, creating a loose barrier to prevent a physical altercation. Her eye caught Yasenanos struggling between the walls of bodies. Her head sprung up in Arrazanal’s direction. She felt her mind flood with sorrow along with a heart-wrenching message.
Are you happy, now? No, no, Arrazanal wasn’t happy. She violently shook her head, trying to project her thoughts back into Yas, but her sad face disappeared into the crowd.
She swung around, too disgusted to continue watching. To her shock, a small crowd had gathered at the inn’s doorway. Among them, Rosh stood beside his kitchen-wench mother. His thin lips curved into a smirk as he stepped into Arrazanal’s path, knocking her to the side with his broad shoulders.
“Careful where you tread, Arrazanal,” he said before turning to let her pass as his mother glared at her.
“Don’t walk into him, orphan!” she hissed.
Arrazanal opened her mouth; she wanted to scream into her face and her useless son’s, but someone from inside the hearth beat her to it. The crowd squabbled their way inside, enticed by more drama. Two hawks sat patiently by the edge of the largest table. Their legs were bare from scrolls and they cleaned their feathers. A woman held one of the scrolls and her mouth hung open in horror.
“My daughter is missing! More of our kin have been kidnapped!” she cried.
“Who else?” a man shouted from the crowd. He dived towards her and snatched the scroll from her hands, almost splitting it.
“The remaining Conclave lists the following Nalashi are missing since the invasion. They’re believed to have been taken on route to the ‘haven’,” he read out to the deathly silent room. Arrazanal’s stomach twisted inside her core at the hearths tension. She wanted to run, but her feet felt like they had melded to the floor.
“Pilrasanal, Kortinnal, Tarsonal, Apasonal…” he continued reading several other names Arrazanal hadn’t recognised. The hall filled with cries, their pain and desperation waved and crashed over her mind. He flipped the parchment to continue the list, but out of all the other unknown names, Arrazanal’s heart almost stopped when she had recognised only one: “Zjelazanal.”
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