Disappear: Into Shadow

- CHAPTER THIRTY -

Caelwyn and Hywergard ran amongst the other warriors scattering up the slopes. In disarray, they were retreating to the Druid strongholds, a honeycombed labyrinth of caves under the sacred mountain. Just over their heads Roman arrows snapped through the air.

Caelwyn's right side was the bloody mess left by a sword's scrape. It had slid across his ribs and opened his stomach some. Grimacing, the druid pressed his hand tight against the wound, staunching the blood flow.

Struggling up the hill, he leant heavy on the unscathed Hywergard. The broad shouldered warrior gave up urging Caelwyn on. Instead he half carried him from the slaughter. Not far behind, the Romans advanced quickly, killing all who stood and fought them. With their tribal Kings and many of the Druids slain by arrows and well aimed boulders, the remaining Celts were in a panic. What had been a fearsome warband had now deteriorated into every-man-for-himself. There was now no way to fight, let alone beat the discipline and organization of the Romans. Yns Mon was lost. It was merely a matter of time and mopping up the last stragglers.

The pax romana was spreading. Vae victus.

Caelwyn's skin broke into goose pimples as a premonition of death coursed through him. A sudden shadow on the ground grew around them into a great darkness. Hywergard bellowed a short curse and with a great shove, hurled Caelwyn out of the way.

After hitting the ground, the druid looked up. Clumps of turf and dirt pattered down into the grass around where a massive boulder now lay. It had slammed into the ground where Hywergard had been dragging him. He called his friend's name again and again. Without an answer, Caelwyn stared in shock at the boulder. As his vision widened into the place between spirit and the world he had expected to see his friend standing next to the boulder. Instead, there was a wisp. A shade with crimson eyes, the wraith glowed with a light similar to the imperial purple sails of Rome's galleons.

Around Caelwyn, the passage of time slowed to a crawl. Arrows hung still in the air and charging Romans were frozen in mid stride, spears and swords raised, ready to continue killing.

The bright crimson eyes of the shade flashed at Caelwyn. Having communed with so many spirits, gods and ghosts in his days, the druid had never been afraid before today. He had never seen the likes of this shade. The dark menacing eyes radiated power. "What manner of spirit are you?" Caelwyn spluttered. His wound was angry and it was becoming harder to breathe.

"I am the one who granted your gift of sight into the spirit."

"No, that was my Lord Camael."

"The sight was my gift. I am your lord and master, not Camael."

"I don't believe you."

"Did he give you the vengeance he promised for the death of your sister? No. He called you back from punishing the Romans, did he not? He promised protection, but has he protected you and your people?" The spirit hissed. "If he protects you, why are you running wounded from the field? The Legions slaughter your warriors. Thanks be to Camael for that." The iced voice of the spirit mocked.

"He said this was the ending."

"It certainly is. It didn't have to be. He chose it to be an ending."

"I don't want to hear your lies, spirit. You cannot change an ending."

"Then I must show you the truth. Open your pouch and show me the ring."