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“Anyway,” Simone turned to Bobby as Mo and Lana continued to bicker.
“The trap spell tethers whoever steps on it to Otherworld. Once we’ve got a spectre in a trap, it’s simple to banish it back there.”
“Yep, seems totally simple,” Bobby replied.
“Don’t worry, eejit.” Warren called over as Niamh performed a healing spell on his arm. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of all our druidic ways in a month or two. Of course, you’ll be long dead by then, but let’s try to be optimistic, eh?”
“Shut up Warren,” Simone snapped. “You’re not helping. C’mon, we’re nearly there.” She started off back down the passage.
“Hey, maybe it was a wraith who stole the books from us,” Mo mused.
“Don’t be stupid.” Lana tossed her blonde hair back irritably.
“What happened?” Bobby asked.
“A while back this sketchy dude moved into town,” Simone explained. “We busted him trying to summon an incubus and in his house we found a chest of
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books about dark magic and how to use it. We were gonna give them to the guild, but someone broke in and stole the books before we could.”
“And you have no idea who it was?” Bobby asked.
“Nope.” Mo shrugged. “Well, aside from it had to be another druid to enter our grove. Well, two druids as you need two wands, unless the guy stole another druid’s wand actually. But it’s been so long now, it’s useless to worry about it.”
“I wouldn’t say that at all,” Niamh replied, “there’s just nothing we can do right now.”
They entered a second, smaller cave, bare of any furnishings, except the far wall wasn’t the same as the weathered grey stone around them. It was hewn out of rock black as oil and speckled with small spheres of light, like glowing orbs trapped inside. The lights were every colour imaginable, green and purple to white and gold. There seemed to be at least three of each, but curiously only one red sphere.
“It’s time to connect with your wand,” Dreg intoned.
Wands? Bobby supposed he needed one now he thought about it, everyone else had one. He’d just assumed they kept bag full of them at the house or something. He squinted and saw that amidst each glowing light in the wall was the very tip of a wand poking out.
“It’s like pulling out Excalibur,” he mumbled.
“Not quite,” Dreg whispered back, smiling faintly.
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Simone moved to Bobby’s side, pushing him forward gently. “Hold out your hand and pass it over the wall, the wand meant for you will present itself.”
He felt a tingle where her hand grazed the middle of his back. “Really, how?”
“Boudica’s sake, just do it,” Lana sighed, pulling out soap to wash her hands yet again.
Bobby started to walk the length of the wall, keeping his hand raised. He felt ice-cold air emanating from the first wand entrenched in the rock and knew better than to touch it. It was the same for the next four wands he passed, until an inviting heat replaced the cold. The source came from a wand near the wall’s centre. This time, the wand trembled as his hand came close, urging him to take it.
Bobby wondered why Mo gasped and Warren swore. They must’ve seen this before, they’d got their own wands this way, why were they acting surprised?
The wand wriggled frantically inside the rock, trying to worm its way out and into Bobby’s outstretched hand. He grabbed the end and pulled the magical weapon the rest of the way. As he did so, the red light inside the wall went out, but materialised in the ruby stone at the wand’s base. He clutched it in wonder, feeling it vibrate across his skin.
“Seven hells this is bad,” Lana cried.
Bobby finally turned back to the others. Mo’s mouth still hung open and even Dreg had paled. They all looked at him like he’d done something terribly wrong.
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“What?” he said simply, the lone word echoing around the cavern.
“You…” Niamh hesitated. “You pulled forth a rubiate wand.”
“Eh?”
“It’s the wand most associated with dark magic.” Niamh shared nervous glances with Lana and Mo. “It’s also the rarest, there was only one left in our grove’s wall.”
“No one has used a rubiate wand since Lucian Dawnscar.” Mo blinked stupidly. “One of the most powerful and destructive Baynir for generations.”
Bobby almost asked if they were joking. He looked back at the wand in his hand, which had seemed so remarkable moments before. He felt like dropping it instantly, as if it was a venomous snake, but found he didn’t want to let it go either. It was his and his alone. They’re just jelous. They want to steal it from me. But it’s mine. Mine!
He shook his head hard. Where had those thoughts come from?
Can I put this wand back and pull out another one? No! This wand was made for you. Who cares what they think?
“We’ve made a terrible mistake,” Lana whispered. “We never should’ve performed the Joining. We’ve practically unleashed another dark druid onto the world.”
Her words made his mouth run dry as nausea bubbled in his belly.
Bobby had thought all his dreams had come true but now he had a wand used almost exclusively by dark druids.
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He may have been coming around to the idea of being a druid, but what if his destiny was to be a Baynir? A murderous, evil dark druid.
END
The Dawnvel Druids
Episode Two
Available to pre-order now
https://www.amazon.com/Dawnvel-Druids-Two-William-Collins-ebook/dp/B07TN81MY9
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You should never have let her die.
Evan Umbra tried to ignore his thoughts as he walked back from school.
Water bled from a bruised sky, soaking the streets as gusts of wind shoved him with cold hands. Cars groaned along the roads and a church bell pealed, but the heavy rainfall smothered most of the city sounds. It beat down mercilessly, turning his brown hair black as the strands stuck to his face like leeches.
Evan looked behind him on instinct. Paranoia had been a constant ghost at his shoulder since the first attack. He didn’t see them, but they could be near. Evan tensed, ready to run at the first sign.
You should never have let her die.
Stop it! You couldn't have done anything. It was always going to happen one day, but why so soon?
Last night had been bad. He’d distracted himself all day with school, but now the nightmare wouldn't stop replaying in his head. Maggots had taken up residence in one of her eye sockets. The other eye stared at Evan in accusation.
In the dream he was back in the front room, staring at Gran in her beloved armchair. The cloying stench of death made him gag.
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“Why,” his grandmother had croaked. “Why did you let me die, Evander?”
“Gran,” he'd cried. “Gran, I'm so sorry.”
The carcass cackled, its black tongue lolling. “You were never good enough, boy. I'm glad I'm free of you now. You're pathetic, worthless. Even your own parents didn’t want you.”
“Please Gran, I…”
She’d risen to her feet, stretching out one rotting hand.
Evan had screamed as talons clawed out chunks of his chest, and he woke up trembling.
He wished he could seize the recurring nightmares and rip them into pieces.
If he'd just been there, he could've called an ambulance. He could've…
She’d died five months ago and he still missed Gran terribly. She was the only person he'd ever loved and the only person who'd ever loved him.
Evan took a deep breath and composed himself as he crossed the road, leaving one grey street and entering another. He missed the countryside, but being dumped in some obscure part of London was the least of his problems.
His nightmares had gotten worse since the murder. Death follows me like a hunter, he mused, picking off everyone around me until I’m the only one left.
The children’s home was still reeling from Pete’s murder one week ago. No body had been found, but there’d been a huge amount of blood in Pete’s bedroom. Pete’s room was also right next to Evan’s.
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The orphanage staff refused to tell the kids anything. They’d surmised that Pete was killed and his body deposited somewhere. Police were still looking for a missing person, but everyone said there’d been too much blood for someone to survive. No one was allowed in the room, of course. But two days ago, Evan glimpsed through a gap in the door what looked like claw marks on the wall.
He hadn’t known Pete well, he didn’t really know any of the kids he shared the orphanage with, but it was still horrific. It didn’t feel real that someone could be murdered. Evan was terrified; he’d hardly slept since, fearing he’d be killed in his bed too. He didn’t know who or why anyone would murder Pete, and paranoia made him think he’d be next.
Was one of the other kids the killer? One of the staff? Evan couldn’t stop the horrible thoughts boiling in his head.
Stranger still was his dream that night. But he dismissed it for the hundredth time. You’re way too old to be dreaming of monsters, Evan.
Cruel laughter cut through the air.
He recognised it straight away. His body went cold. He rounded the corner and saw them. Ollie and his mates had a small boy cornered. As Ollie shoved his victim against the wall, Evan saw it was Tommy.
Evan barely knew him, but Tommy was much smaller than him, and right now he was crying in fear.
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Ollie and his gang had beaten Evan up weekly since he’d moved here. He didn’t know they had a more vulnerable target too. He couldn’t stand here and watch them do it.
Ollie hadn’t seen him yet. He could turn back round and run. Part of him wanted to. But Evan knew his conscience would never forgive him. He had to help, or at least try. Anger surged through him, burning out the fear. “Oi!”
Ollie and his two mates turned as Evan shouted. He needed to lure them away from Tommy, even if that meant getting his own ass kicked. “C'mon then Ollie, you fat pig, I'm right here.”
No one had ever spoken to the bully like that before, but Ollie’s surprise quickly turned to rage. “Get ‘im,” he roared.
As soon as he saw Tommy escape, Evan sprinted the other way, hounded by the laughter of his pursuers. He veered into the nearest alley, hoping to lose them. He soon realised his mistake.
Alone. Cornered. Trapped.
At the alley’s end loomed a metal fence, blocking his escape. Evan knew his chance was slim, but he threw himself at the gate anyway. He scrambled up like a monkey. He was almost there. He was going to make i—
Hands seized him.
One moment Evan clung to the cold metal, the next he
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