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    Aspirant
    Aspirant
    Aspirant
    Ebook135 pages1 hour

    Aspirant

    By Anna L. Walls

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Derrick's introduction into the life of a druid isn't easy. Not only does he wrestle with a missing past he's not sure he wants back, but he has highly unsatisfactory answers for the people who have questions. These questions bring unsettling bubbles of memories he knows cannot possibly be real, and yet they have to be. At home, he meets a few of his neighbors, and they most certainly aren't your normal friends down the block.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAnna L. Walls
    Release dateJan 13, 2020
    ISBN9780463802298
    Aspirant
    Author

    Anna L. Walls

    I grew up a rancher's daughter hoping to inherit the ranch and run a riding school for city kids. However, my brother bought the ranch from our parents in order to avoid an inheritance tax and I ended up joining the army, marrying my fisherman husband and moving to the wilderness of Alaska where I raised two wonderful boys. One of them gave me an old laptop computer and now I'm a published author. Go figure.

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      Book preview

      Aspirant - Anna L. Walls

      Aspirant

      Book 2 of Druid Derrick

      By Anna L. Walls

      © 2020 Anna L. Walls

      Smashwords Edition

      Aspirant

      Derrick startled awake at the touch of a cold damp cloth being laid across his eyes. Before he could reach it with his own hand, Abelard lifted it away.

      Finally. I was beginning to worry. You fainted, and that was three days ago, said Abelard, trying to inject some humor into his words, but there was no hiding the concern in his eyes. Maybe you shouldn’t fast.

      Vivid memory flooded back and Derrick sniffed and then took a shaky breath. She fills you s-so full when she’s here. You are left so…so empty when she leaves. He pushed the covers back and Abelard made way for him to sit up.

      Are you sure you’re strong enough to be up? asked Abelard.

      Derrick gently shrugged away from his attentions. He didn’t want to hurt Abelard’s feelings, but he couldn’t stay in bed any longer. Thanks. I’m fine. I just want to be alone for a little while. He methodically pulled his socks on and then laced up his boots, then he put his coat on and went outside.

      Derrick walked under the star-spangled sky following a rough southerly direction – one he’d never taken before. It wasn’t long before he was walking through unbroken snow that was well above his knees, but he was in no hurry. His head was splitting and shoving his hair back again, for the umpteenth time, didn’t help, but the chill air that followed his fingers through his hair felt good.

      After about half an hour of slowly plowing his way into the forest that bordered his yard, he came upon a small clearing. Out in the middle of it was what might be a pond in the summer; right now, it was merely the lowest and smoothest place in the pristine frozen landscape. A handful of yards away from where Derrick stood was a big block of stone. Wind had scoured off one flat corner. The rest of the rock might have been flat too, but it was difficult to tell for sure since a fallen tree lay across part of it. Pulling his hand inside his cuff, he cleared more snow from the one corner and sat. His headache was nearly gone now, and this place was peaceful, and as such, revitalizing.

      As he soaked up the quiet and relished in being alone, an inexplicable wounding or inconsolable sorrow seeped into his awareness. It took a while before he was able to separate it from his own feelings, but as his own depression waned, the sorrow and wounding remained.

      Just as he was becoming aware of the difference, he heard a voice. What are you doing here, human? The voice was so like the Lady’s that he looked up, startled. He jumped to his feet, expecting to see her; afraid that he had broken some taboo he should have known about and had missed in his misery. Instead, he saw a different woman. She was much smaller, nearly a child in size, but very much female, obvious as her only clothing was frost. Her skin, and even her hair, was as white as new-fallen snow; the only color about her was her dark eyes, the true color of which was indistinguishable by starlight.

      As soon as he saw her, he was able to pick out two others standing further back, visible in the dark only because of their glowing whiteness; one of them was a male. Derrick was certain there were more, but he was unwilling to shift his gaze to find out. I’m only sitting, said Derrick. He tried to use the secret language Abelard had been teaching him, but his grasp was shaky and he feared the sentence might have been botched by some mispronunciation.

      The woman’s eyes widened with surprise.

      Afraid he’d managed to insult her, Derrick tried again. My name is Derrick. This time he used words he’d learned from Tintagel. He didn’t know very much of her language, but she had taught him that phrase, among a few other simple sentences he could turn into questions. If this one actually chose to converse in it, he’d be screwed.

      The woman tipped her head to the side a fraction and studied him for another moment. Sunlight might have revealed more expression in her face or eyes, but in only starlight, the most visible part about her was her eyes. Using his English, she said, Explain yourself, human.

      Derrick sighed with relief. What do you want me to say? I live at the cabin back there. He pointed back along his very obvious trail through the snow. I’ve been living there for nearly a month. Abelard says it belongs to me now.

      Abelard? How do you know Abelard? She took a step forward, her eyes narrowing to black slits.

      Derrick wished he could back up, but the rock behind him prevented any such move. Abelard has been teaching me…

      The woman stepped forward again; the others did too, and two more stepped into Derrick’s range of view; one of those was a male too. Do you know what is here? She waved a hand to encompass the clearing behind him.

      Sorrow is here, said Derrick looking away. By chance his glance fell on the fallen tree that lay across the stone where he’d been sitting; it was covered in a thick blanket of snow. Suddenly several odd puzzle pieces fell together making an as yet incomplete picture. Who was she? What happened here?

      Her words suddenly tender, the woman said, Her name was Winterwind, for she loved winter most of all, strangely enough. One day, sixteen winters ago, Gifford went away and did not come back, not to the cabin, and not here. Soon after, she began to die. She finally fell this last fall, shortly after the first freeze.

      Derrick looked back at the woman of snow and ice and saw a frozen tear roll off her cheek. Will you help me as Winterwind helped Gifford?

      She met his gaze; tears no longer softened her eyes. I will not love you, human.

      But will you help me? persisted Derrick.

      The other four shifted and murmured, whispering among themselves. The sound was like a winter storm brewing. Some nodded, some tilted their heads and then all looked at the speaker, waiting on her decision.

      Derrick took the opportunity to study them. Both males and the females were small, not unlike half-grown children of maybe six years or so. Both were lithe and muscular. Both had very white skin, very white hair, and very dark eyes; if there was a difference in their eye color, it was impossible to tell. The only difference between them was their sex; where nature had been generous with the females’ curves, it had also been generous with the males, startlingly so.

      After a long pause, she said, I am Moonbrook. I will help you. May sorrow sunder your bones if you lie.

      The others nodded, and a repeat of what Moonbrook had said wended through their breeze. In the whispering, Derrick caught four other names, Diamonddew, Silverfrond, Oakenheel, and Nightbreeze, but he wasn’t sure which name belonged to which icy…creature. Are they dryads? He wasn’t about to ask. I’ll have to ask Abelard.

      Then Moonbrook cast a spell, taking him unawares, not that he could have resisted if he had tried. "Go. Sleep. You have much work to do." She left off the derogatory ‘human’ this time.

      Without a word, Derrick trudged back along his trail.

      The next morning, Derrick woke when Abelard stirred. He rolled over and stretched, favoring his shoulder only in that that hand gripped his neck rather than extending up beside its fellow. There are strange people living in the woods, he commented, his voice still thick with sleep.

      So you met Winterwind; I wondered if she would show herself to you.

      It wasn’t Winterwind, said Derrick. Winterwind has died. I spoke to one named Moonbrook. What are they? Are they dryads?

      Yes, they’re dryads. I must go and pay my respects. I didn’t know Winterwind had died.

      They’re not too happy with humans.

      Abelard chuckled sadly. Dryads have no love for humans, but that trio had become tolerant over the last hundred years.

      Derrick rolled to his feet. He was about to correct Abelard for his use of the word ‘trio’ until he heard the number of years. Was Gifford a hundred years old?

      With a good deal of help, Gifford was over four hundred years old before he died. He had already retired from the council before I was an Ovate. I didn’t get to know him until after I became a Sitter.

      After their customary morning routine, Abelard announced, You’ve got a good enough grasp of your letters; we can cut back on some of those lessons and work more on your speaking. We need to fill up your wood supply before the snow’s all gone, and we need to find something suitable for your staff. He glanced at the bow above the door. I think it’s only right that you claim Gifford’s bow. I can show you how to make a bow of your own, but that’s an elven bow. If you want to learn how to make another one like it, you’ll have to go to them. Same with the arrows.

      What about a dagger? asked Derrick. Is there any obsidian around here?

      "Obsidian? Not around here. The best

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