Under the Shadow of the Eagle

Part Five

Fourteenth century anno Domini.

A year passed since the warrior received the knife from his mistress, becoming also a druid.

—Wake up —she told him suddenly, before dawn, moving him violently—, and take your shield.

—My shield? —disoriented as he was, that sentence made him suddenly come to his senses immediately—. What's happening?

—The eagle has returned.

—... The eagle... —he remembered it from legends told to him by the elders of his tribe, when he was a child. He wasn't even sure if it was real or just stories.

—It's real, and it seems now it's more than ever—it was as if the woman saw in his face what he was thinking—, so hurry up.

His weapons were there, and also one he hadn't seen before.

—... Just the shield or...?

—Whatever you need. If necessary, I will wield my scythe for the first time.

In addition to his shield, the warrior took the sword and dagger.

Upon leaving the hut, moments before the sun rose, he noticed that the druid's long hair was done into a single braid, just as he had begun to use it a few months earlier. It was the first time he had seen her with her hair tied up.

It was also the first time he had seen her carrying a real weapon, or at least something very similar. It was a battle scythe, with its blade bent to make it almost a spear. He would have thought of offering her one of his, but he already knew what the druid would say. They walked in silence.

—You will meet the tribe —she suddenly spoke, without taking her eyes off the road, when the sun's path in the sky was almost over and the moon was beginning to shine brighter.

—Another tribe? —the warrior did not know what to think. He knew his own tribe, the same as the druid's, and meeting a new one seemed difficult.

—You may think you've lived in a tribe all your life, but you haven't. The eagle made it so. We are just flocks of crows looking for carrion.

—...

—We try to be tribes, but we will never be like the ones that came before.

A few feet further on, they arrived at a clearing in the forest. The druid's hut was at its entrance, surrounded by the first trees. As they entered the vegetation, while the visibility and the light diminished, it seemed almost impossible to find a place as illuminated as the one they reached.

The light of the stars shone as if it were dawn. The moon almost looked like a second sun. No bonfire or torch existed there, but the presence of four strangers lit up more than any fire.

An imposing woman, with long hair and well-armed, covered another woman, small and with short hair. A third one turned to look at the newcomers, her hands stretched out to the fruits and leaves of the grove. Lastly, in a corner, almost completely hidden under the shadows and covered with a hood, a man stood up.

—Vengeance, lost one, apprentice, slave. This is our warrior —the druid said, and the four responded with barely a nod of their heads, as if that were greeting enough, returning as quickly as possible to what they were doing.

He said nothing either. His black eyes fixed on the simple activities. A sword was being sharpened, a look was fixated on that blade, a pair of hands were looking for berries and worms alike among the branches, and a lost face was trying to find something on the ground.

Before he knew it, the druid had disappeared from his side. It took him several minutes to spot her among the leaves, a few feet up, holding on to the branches of different trees as she counted the stars. Not knowing what to do, the man decided to sit down on the ground, right where he was standing, and also to sharpen his sword.