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Invading Will

Chapter 18

By: D. C. Henry ("Ahndeleck")

Matthew considered himself very lucky. He couldn't remember any time that Nowan had told him about a druid getting to stay inside of a church. The head priestess, sister Josephine, had graciously allowed him to say inside. Matthew twisted himself out of bed and stretched, today he'd check on the dragon again. Three days had gone by since they arrived, and Raogothcar was healing very well.

He opened his pack on the single chair in his tiny room and stared down at his other set of clothes. Neither was truly clean, but he changed anyway. He left the small druid mantle in his bag, the church wouldn't appreciate it much if he wandered about with it on.

Matthew left the small wooden room, and walked towards the kitchen down the hall. Breakfast would be the first thing for the day, since his last meal was breakfast the day before. He could smell toasting bread coming down the hall. It smelt wonderful and lifted his spirits and made his mouth water.

The large kitchen apparently served many functions other than cooking food. It held a long wooden table for meals, and at one end papers that someone had laid out in some order. Matthew guessed that someone had been studying the night before when they arrived. Megan sat at the center of the table, the little orphan girl the church had adopted. She always brought a smile to his face.

"Good morning Matthew," She waved at him, "Brother Vrough said he needed my help in the gardens today."

"In the rain?" Matthew sat down across from her, "That doesn't sound like much fun. Do you think I could help?"

"I don't know. Do you need help with the big dragon? I promise I'll sit on the stairs this time."

"Maybe, but we'll have to ask Sister Josephine if she'll let you. You know that Raogothcar hasn't felt very well for a while now."

"Maybe he'll feel better if I bring him something from the garden."

"He might. Seems he's always hungry anymore."

"Druid," Sister Ethel called from inside the kitchen, "What do you want today?"

"Whatever you're making Sister. You always make it good."

"Flatterer."

Megan started back on her toast again, and Matthew looked down the hall through the window as he waited for his breakfast. Raogothcar woke up for a short time yesterday, which was good. What Deanna said about him didn't sound very good. He hoped he could talk with Raogothcar in earnest today, he hadn't had much of a chance to meet him.

Megan finished her meal and waved as she skipped down the hall. Matthew smiled, he enjoyed seeing young children happy. They seemed to give life to everything around them, wherever they went. He wished it was the case with everyone, but so many grew dry, gray, and callous.

Once breakfast was finished, and his plate returned to sister Ethel, Matthew went down to the basement. The church had been built in such a way that the entire basement could be hidden. Matthew lifted the portion of he floor that lead down, and closed it after him. The priests there must have needed to hide a great deal from Torland, and he was thankful that Torland normally left the druids alone.

Raogothcar lay on his side with his back to the staircase. The black bruises on his back were nearly healed, which he was glad for. His spines were all the same color, the first sign of blood poison would be his spines. Raogothcar was one tough dragon to get through what he had, and Matthew was very impressed.

As Matthew stepped walked down the stairs, Raogothcar turned his head and looked up at him. With a sigh Raogothcar shifted himself slowly, like he lost too much sleep, until he lay facing Matthew.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Matthew, Deanna said she mentioned me to you yesterday."

"She did. What do you want?"

"I want to make sure you're still alright and that-"

"I'm fine."

"I could tell you're doing much better from the stairs actually, but I'd still like to see the cut on your side there. Its large enough that it may still fester."

"It won't. I don't need any more help."

"Alright," Matthew sat on a small box near the stairs, "well, you know, Thomas and Deanna have been very worried about you while you've been down here. They've both checked on you nearly every hour I think. Deanna especially."

Raogothcar stared back at him. For a second a look of contempt passed over his face, and then it was gone.

"Look Raogothcar, I'm sorry. I can't imagine what you've been through, but I saw enough. No creature should ever have to experience what you did. It pains me that I hear of it so much here in Torland."

"Its no better in Freeraven. This is what humans do, they are monsters. I was attacked in the Southlands several times. There was a mob just as big as this one that shouted just as loud. I don't want to hear what you're saying because it's that way no matter where you go. You're all the same, every last one of you."

His spines were standing on edge, but at least he hadn't started shouting. Matthew shook his head. He knew Raogothcar was somewhat right. He silently wished he could show Raogothcar the good living inside people, but wasn't sure he could with the anger in his eyes.

"We are and we aren't Raogothcar. Deanna and Thomas got you out of there. They fought hard to make sure you wouldn't be killed there."

Matthew remembered the fighting in the streets. He had started it, it was his idea. Because of him, he had ended more lives than he knew. The dam of disappointment that had been welled within him began to crack. So many people shouldn't have had to die, especially because of him.

"I might as well be dead. My journal is gone."

"Do you know how many dragons here aren't allowed to keep a journal?"

Raogothcar's eyes seemed to soften somewhat then. He knew that a dragon's journal represented them. Matthew had never seen one, but Nowan had told him about them, and how a dragon viewed them as religious, their key to a dragon heaven.

"There are hundreds here Raogothcar, and each one lives as best they can despite their lack. You still have breath, just as they do. And just as they keep working, hoping for a day when they can record their lives, you can keep going and start to record your life anew."

"It won't be the same, human. It can't be-"

"Better to live than to die-"

"I don't want to hear it. Get out." Raogothcar bared his teeth, and his spines stood again, "I don't want to see you again."

Matthew stood, the dragon needed time. While his body had healed, his mind still had healing to do. He pulled a small pouch off of his belt and laid it on the box.

"I'll leave you alone. This is some herbs for the pain if you want them. I'll send you some water down, and then have them put the herbs in the water."

Raogothcar turned his head away from him and lay down. Their conversation was apparently over now.

Matthew stood and climbed the stairs. He ached to help Raogothcar understand, to see a better side of human kind, and he felt disappointed that he didn't want to listen. Tomorrow would be another day, and he would try again. Hopefully Raogothcar would be in a better mood than today.

When he climbed to the central hall of the church, he thought about what he could do next. After the anger from the dragon, he felt heavy and dark. The woods usually held the remedy to such feelings. The three priests generally wanted him to stay as far from them as he could anyway.

The church had been built at the edge of a clearing. The priests from previous years had tilled the clearing and turned it into a rather large garden. It was rare to see such a large garden in Torland, most of the time these would belong to a baron's favorite, or just to the baron himself. Since the church was outside cities, the baron allowed the church to have so much.

The woods surrounding the clearing though were healthy and wild for the most part. He walked slowly through the branches looking for a rock to sit or lay on while he communed with it all. Then not far, he heard the dull thud of a blade striking wood. He had seen brother Vrough bring in fire wood the day before, but didn't think he would be working at it this early.

A few trees ahead, Deanna walked up to a large dead tree and pulled her old sword from a thick branch. She turned and walked back a fair distance, turned, and threw the sword into the tree. Matthew approached where she had thrown from, rustling the leaves so she would know he was there.

"It's a little early to be practicing isn't it?"

It's never too early to practice," Deanna pried her sword out and walked back, "especially when your job is to fight whenever you're called to."

"And who is it that you are fighting now?"

"Torland." She threw the blade again.

"It looks more like a tree to me, and I think you're winning."

She stopped as she grasped the blade, then she shook her head and returned.

"You certainly throw better than anyone I've ever met before." Matthew threw a small rock towards the tree, and it landed in a bush nearby. "See, I can't even get close. It looks like you've hit your mark several times already."

"I'm good at what I do," she threw the sword again, and it landed in the center of the tree.

"I can tell. I'm really glad that's no one I know."

Deanna stopped and turned back to him wide eyed with surprise. Matthew laughed.

"Sorry, but that face is timeless. Don't worry, trees don't have names or anything. Not like that anyway, plus that one's dead anyway. Some of the old ones have names, but you won't find those here."

"I thought druids were supposed to love and revere trees."

"We do, but its much more than that Deanna, its life in general really. Some of the more devoted old frogs go around naming trees and such, but I'm not very good with names.

"That's an oak. I call it 'tree'. That's also an oak, and I call it 'oak' too. You see, its pretty simple."

Deanna watched him for a while like a wild animal deciding if he was a threat or not. He supposed that she didn't let her guard down enough to notice people having a good time. Thankfully the look passed, and she retrieved her sword again.

"So what is it that druids do then?"

"We name trees."

Matthew laughed again. Deanna stared back with an exasperated expression. After a moment, he settled down and smiled at her.

"I'm sorry, I had to." Matthew stretched, "To answer your question though, I suppose we watch the land. There's magic all through the world and we watch the magic that's held inside of every living thing.

"Mages know how to use the magic within themselves, and they can see that magic clearly. We see the magic in everything as best we can. What we look for is tangles in life, places where the magic doesn't flow quite right, and we try to straighten it out."

"What difference would that make?" Deanna threw her sword again, striking deep into the wood.

"Well, magic and life are tied in many ways. More ways than the mages and the church say they are. The subtleties can be very important to all life, but we don't always see it quite clearly. Usually we're all too focused on ourselves to see what our presence does sometimes. A tree who's magic is blocked, or interfered, can't grow nearly as well. Its growth is slow and the magic inside of it doesn't flow through the world as well either. We clear that out."

"So you heal trees then?" Deanna threw her sword, sideways this time.

"No we do that with all life. Though we take great care with animals, dragons, humans and all other sentient life. Then we use our own magic to help reinforce what's already there. Sometimes though, we ask life to change and help us for a greater good. The tree back in Fort Blister for instance."

"You did all of that?"

"No, I only helped it some. I'm not sure where all that power came from honestly. I know there was some magic that came from the ground, and a little from the club and building itself. Not enough though, and I still don't know for sure where that came from. I may never know. Sometimes life and nature take special interest in things, but it never says why."

"Amazing. Why is it then that most druids are in the north?"

The more he explained the more she sounded interested. It was nice to finally meet someone that wanted to learn how it all actually worked rather than just make assumptions on the stories that pass around.

"It's the churches. There are more churches in the south than there are in the north. The church of Yathma doesn't look kindly to us. They believe we're giving our souls away, throwing it all to nature and forsaking our very being."

"Is that true?"

"Oh of course not. Do I seem like some raving monster to you? Some soulless husk of a man?"

She stopped in mid throw and glanced at him.

"Oh come on now. You don't really believe it?"

"I might."

"You think I'm just some animal?"

"You do dress a little strange. And you do some strange things to plants."

"Well I do like plants."

"So Yathma just thinks you're animals then?"

"Well, it might also be that we both use the same magic honestly, just in different ways. It might be like two people learning how to sword fight from the same teacher. Then over time they both add their own style and in the end hate each other because both think they are right. Druidism they say actually came from Yathma. The only ones that could say for sure are the elves, and they don't say much anymore."

"It's a miracle then that the church and druids can get along together at all then."

"It surely is. I'm surprised sister Josephine has let me stay as long as I have. Maybe she feels some compassion for the dragon and that I've been able to help him so far. I don't know."

"Did you see him?"

"I did yes," Matthew sighed, then shook his head slowly, "I don't know though Deanna. He's healing up just fine, but there's a lot of anger in his eyes. He feels like everyone's betrayed him I think."

"Is there anything you can do for him?"

"Well, not much more than what I've already done. What he needs I think is his friends. You might want to go talk to him. Help him see that we're not all as bad as we might seem. It sounds like he's seen a lot of bad from people."

"He has. That's how people are though." Deanna threw her sword much harder then, and buried it nearly to the hilt in the tree.

"Right through the whole tree," Matthew said breathlessly, "How can you throw so hard?"

"I don't. I push it with magic. I noticed in Fort Blister that when I threw this sword once, I could feel it. Jason Tillson always said Longblades's always need to break in a sword, prepare it, and prepare ourselves to use the sword.

"I haven't done that with this one. I shouldn't have been able to do what I just did. I've been trying to figure out why I can feel this sword."

"Any clues?"

"None."

Deanna stretched out her hand and closed her eyes. Matthew could vaguely feel her mind moving, but couldn't feel where it was going or what it was doing. A moment later he heard a loud splintering. He jumped and turned in surprise, then saw the blade flying directly toward them. With a yell he twisted off the rock, and fell to the ground. There was a slap, and then silence.

As he opened his eyes, he heard a soft laughter. There wasn't any screams, and he felt no pain either, so he stood. Deanna held the sword in one hand, her other hand to her mouth laughing at him.

"You didn't see that coming did you?"

"By all the gods, no." Matthew brushed leaves from his clothes, "What just happened?"

"Two things I wasn't expecting. I returned the blade, and knocked you over."

"Well," he nodded slowly, "good I think."

She still smiled. It was the first time he had seen her smile in the few days they had worked together. No blooming flower he could think of looked as sweet as her smile then. He knew then that she wasn't used to smiling, but he hoped to see it again, and smiled back.