Canton Vaud.
Annon had been told about it, but he had never expected to visit it before he was twice his current age. It was comprised of Druidechts from every land and every race. They were the wisest of men and women, those who had earned their talismans and other gifts from the spirits, and they roamed the lands seeking to arbitrate troubles.
As Annon and Erasmus approached Canton Vaud, the young Druidecht stared in awe at the large tents, some elaborate in size and fashion. There were large brackets full of smoking incense attached to wooden poles, giving the air a sweet and musty scent. Spirits enjoyed smells and tastes as well as music, and there could be heard across the pavilions the airs of song and instruments. Zigzagging lights streamed through the air, the physical presence of spirits communing with the Druidecht of Canton Vaud. There was an urgent, anxious feeling in the air. The spirits were whispering about dangers in the forests. Of threats and ax blades and the smoking torches that harmed their kind. The snippets of thought and fear surprised Annon.
“This is a sight,” Erasmus muttered, staring at the colorful pavilions, the taut ropes, the scurrying of animals and birds and other enchanted beings like Nizeera. The big cat padded through the throng, never once looking back at them.
“This is the seat of the Druidecht,” Annon explained in a low voice, growing more anxious himself as he heard the thought whispers. “They never stay in one kingdom for long.”
“Who are the leaders?”
Annon rubbed his mouth. “Only the wisest are chosen. There are thirteen. I have never met any.”
A flicker of light suddenly appeared in front of them, buzzing at it approached and hovered in front of Erasmus. Annon could hear its chittering voice as it studied him, commenting on his smell and his queer eye.
Erasmus froze, staring in confusion. “Is this really a huge bumblebee? What does it want?”
“It appears that way to you. It is merely curious. Walk on.”
“How can I walk on when it is likely to sting me?”
“It is a sylph. It will not hurt you. It is just curious.”
Annon continued the walk and Erasmus tried to shoo the spirit away before following. Nizeera finally padded up to a small pavilion and turned, eyes gleaming. Her tail lashed.
Quickly Annon advanced, for he recognized the voice coming from within the pavilion. It was Reeder.
The sound of his friend’s voice brought a rush of emotion to Annon’s heart. He could not contain a fierce smile as he ducked at the entryway of the pavilion. There was Reeder on a small stuffed bench, a large flagon in one hand and his finger pointed at a gray-haired man across from him.
“But what reason do they have? Why the insistence? It is not common for the Boeotians to behave in such a way.”
The older Druidecht had a thick mane of gray hair and was large of frame, with a crooked smile and a deep voice. “There is no way of telling except…” He paused, seeing Annon in the doorway.
“Forgive me,” Annon apologized. “I was looking for my friend.”
Reeder started when he heard Annon’s voice and sloshed some wine on his wrist. “There he stands! Look at you, lad!” His expression was amazed, thunderstruck. Hastily setting down the flagon, he rose and grabbed Annon by the shoulders, his face full of worry and concern. “Yet here you stand. When I heard about the damage in the Paracelsus Tower, I was filled with dread because of you.”
Annon looked at him quizzically. “Why?”
He stepped back, giving him an appraising look. “By the spirits, though you do look older. Much trouble you have had these many weeks. But you are not a boy, you are a man grown. Sunburned too, if only a little. I feared that when you met your uncle, there was anger between the two of you. I should not have worried. Was I right? Did he try and persuade you to enter the Scourgelands?”
Annon was not sure what to say, especially with the shrewd eyes of the gray-haired Druidecht on him.
“I am lapse in my manners,” Reeder said. He turned to the other man. “This is Palmanter, one of the Thirteen.”
Annon stared at him, his voice vanishing.
“You are Annon of Wayland,” the man said with a shrewd smile. “I know of you.” He extended a meaty hand that Annon shook. There was a ring on his finger made of silver or white gold.
The startled feeling and expression on the older Druidecht’s face made Annon feel like blushing. “I am honored you know of me.”
“Reeder says you are full of promise, and I trust his judgment. Have you come to aid us? Who is your friend?”
Annon turned and saw Erasmus hesitating at the threshold. Several spirits hovered around, tormenting him. He tried to flick them away gently. Nizeera purred.
“Erasmus of Havenrook,” Annon replied. “A companion.”
“Havenrook?” Reeder said distastefully.