The Druid

Chapter 10

The door swung open and consciousness returned to Alan.

The sun was its most perfect because it was shining brightly without the burden of humidity. There wasn't even a breeze. Commotion and activity waited for the group on the outside. Conversations were happening but those yelling one-liners, such as "Don't be fickle, buy a pickle." and "Companion accessories as low as a silver." carried the loudest. Everyone but Maggie exchanged glances.

"Come," she said. "Keep your heads low and ignore the stares you receive. For some of them, it has been centuries since they have seen a human."

Alan's breath caught when he stepped outside. This world was not his own. Immediately, his eyes went to the processions of people--no, Druids--lining the cobblestone streets. They donned tunics and cloaks of various colors, mostly green and white. The majority carried a staff.

"Be cautious near the water," Maggie warned. She was referring to the placid river separating the cobblestone pathways. As far as Alan could see, intermittent bridges conjoined the two sides. "The river is a gateway to the Shannon. If you are not careful, you may find yourself somewhere in Ireland."

Alan desperately needed more eyes, so that he could soak in the tall and slim silver towers that spiraled into the sky, while marveling at the shops as they passed. Every shop was either an absurdly large tree or a tall mound. There was a long, impatient line out of Lochwood's Staff and Staves. As they passed, Alan overheard a family arguing. "We need to be prepared," the man said. He had a thick, red beard. "Nobody is safe if they're back, not even us." The woman, presumably his wife, pulled her son close and said, "I blame the Council, bunch o' lethargic old men. Never doin' notin'."

The Council, Alan thought to himself. Apparently, Maggie wasn't the only Druid who was in need of their services.

"We cross here," Maggie said. They took a left onto the bridge and as they crossed, Alan heard someone yelling beneath. He peeked his head over and found a furry beast of a man standing on a platform above the river, shaking his fists.

"Yeah ye'," he yelled at Alan. "I be talkin' te ya. Ye' walkin' ova me bridge and I cannot be takin' te disrespect any longer. Get off me bloody bridge before I becomin' up there to gobble ye whole." He shook his fists some more. "Ye listenin' to me?" Then, he crossed his arms and sat down to pout. "Foul Druids."

Alan felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Maggie. She said, "A troll. Generally harmless creatures, unless provoked. Their strength increases the angrier they get. That's why they like to position themselves as victims. Come."

Instead of windows, Alan noticed, the spiraling towers simply had openings. The more he saw, the more he understood that the yellow sun was the only thing normal about this world. Not even the sky, for it was tinted an unobtrusive green.

Callum put a firm hand on Alan's shoulder and pulled him back. When the rest of the group didn't notice and kept walking until they were out of earshot, Callum said nervously, "Alan, this is real. This Druid thing is real."

Alan nodded. "Yeah, I'm surprised, too."

Callum looked around. Was he disgusted? "And you're one of them?" Callum asked. "Well, do you feel like, you know, any different? Do you feel like your home?"

"No," Alan said, surprised by the question. It never crossed his mind. This wasn't technically home, right? he thought. He had never actually been to the Druidry world before. "This is as strange for me as it is for you."

"I seriously doubt that," Callum muttered.

"Let's catch back up," Alan said. "We don't want to get lost here."