The World of Myth Magazine

The year is 514, Vladimir the Young is Sage-King of the human kingdom of Thuraen.

The year is 5,297, Ulan is High Prince, Derek is Low Prince and Sienna Alknown is Mother Druid of the sylvan princedom of Greenwood Vale.

Paechra stood in the world between worlds, hand in hand with Mother Druid Sienna Alknown. The world in which the pair existed upon the deck of the great ship, The Picturesque Picaresque, was real, but so too was the spirit realm where the pair stood together as one, singing away the darkness. With each note harmoniously sounded, a tendril of light flew out from the embracing pair and wrapped around the dark. The world then became lighter. Bit by bit it changed. Bit by bit the dark became grey, the good and the evil becoming balanced once more, neither any more powerful than the other. The world of chaos becoming just a little saner.

Paechra sensed her mother, Sarah Lightheart, and friend Heidi, battling the changing druid Isobella-Ann who had been bitten by Overtain and was sadly becoming a ghoul like he was. In her heart, the younger druid felt for her sister, Isobella-Ann, and wished there was something that druid magic could do to help. Alas, the bite from a ghoul was something beyond even Sienna’s understanding, it seemed that Isobella-Ann’s fate was sealed.

Beside Sarah and Heidi, fought Anton. Brave, foolish, human, Anton, he was, Paechra hoped taking on the monstrosity that was the ship’s captain, not wanting to destroy the ghoul, but equally not wanting him to claim more victims with his bite. For all had come to realize that the Picturesque Picaresque needed a captain, if Overtain was slain in battle then Paechra and her army would be doomed to sail forever.

“Paechra, daughter, heed my words,” said the voice of Sienna.

“I hear you, Mother Druid, I am your daughter of the forest, and I am listening,” replied Paechra.

“The darkness has turned to the grey mist of old,” stated the voice of Sienna. “I feel the ship has heard the song of the wind, it has picked up speed, and soon we will be clear of immediate danger.”

Paechra paused for a moment and found that she too could hear her sister druids chanting, equally she could feel the soul of the great sea juggernaut cruising through the mystical waters.

“What have you need me do, Sienna Alknown?” asked Paechra.

“Leave me, child, return to those who need you most,” suggested Sienna.

“And you? What of you, Mother?” asked the younger of the Lightheart family.

“Fear not for me child, I will be safe within my cocoon,” said Sienna with a smile. “I think you, Paechra Lightheart, for your concern.”

Paechra nodded, and then, with a mere thought, she stepped away from the realm of spirits and souls and again found herself upon the bow of the Picturesque Picaresque, the mummified figure of Mother Druid Sienna seemingly a mystery, a statue, still beside her. Midship the world was not still, however. While the breeze filled the sails causing them to bellow and flap, the druids, twenty in total, sang and chanted, helping the wind to rise, and whip, and play with the grand ship. Further along Paechra found the battle still continued, Anton desperately pressing the monstrous ghoul, Captain Overtain, pushing the giant slug towards the ship’s wheel that simply span freely, like a child twirling, without rhyme nor reason. Each blow landed by Anton, Head Truth Keeper of Andrapaal, seemed to sever free a vorsurk which in turn was slashed and cut down by the capable human. Wolfish limbs, jaws, ears, all littered the deck, a pile of trophies that were a reward to Anton for his efforts. As she came swiftly closer, Paechra could see though that the warrior of old was tiring. Overtain struck with open maw and two claws simultaneously. Anton had no hope to deflect all three of the trio of attacks. The maw was met with sword blade, but the two claws both struck home.

“Thomas I need you!” called a clearly angered Anton.

“Good!” laughed Captain Overtain. “I feed on your aura! Your frustration gives me strength!”

“I am here to aid you!” called Paechra.

“Have you no other fight but mine? grumbled the Head Truth Keeper, but Paechra could sense that Anton was actually relieved to have someone assist him.

Paechra adopted the form of a great sea serpent, wrapping herself around the chaotic form of Overtain and squeezing tight. The captain’s claws tried to dig into the snake’s skin but time and time again they just slid off.

“I give in! I give in!” cried the ghoul.

He slid free of the mass and landed gracefully upon the deck of the ship. The vorsurk that made up the bulk of the monstrosity also drifted apart as the enchantment came to an end. Paechra quickly calculated that six of the wolf-like creatures remained. Surprisingly two of the six were dressed in robes instead of armor.

“Sorcerers,” hissed the druid.

“Leave the warriors to me, witch,” announced Anton.

Without waiting for Paechra to reply, the human leapt at two of the vorsurk with a tired and clumsy swing of his sword. It was easily knocked aside as too was Anton. He rolled to rest against the door to the Captain’s Cabin and was still.

“Anton!” cried Thomas, the butcher, appearing from the shadows caused by the sun upon the great mast.

Paechra considered for a brief moment that the chant of her sisters must be working successfully if the great ship had pulled so far clear of the mist that the sun was able to be seen.

Thomas took up Anton’s blade in two shaking hands and swung it wildly. One of the vorsurk was cut across the face and the other three stepped backward to create some distance between them and the human.

“You keep away from my friend!” Thomas cried, giving each of the wolfish warriors a wide-eyed glare.

As if drawn to the scene from commotion or will alone, a swarm of sylvan arrived, grappling and grasping the warriors. Paechra took her eye off the sorcerers for only a second, but that was all of the time that the pair needed to disappear.

“We are not finished with you yet, druid…” one whispered harshly in Paechra’s ear, a faint, but clear warning.

“Well, I am not finished with you, either” Paechra replied, but she knew that the threat had already gone.

“What do we do now?” Thomas asked, sword still held out awkwardly, looking for a target.

“If you can, heave that vorsurk over the side, and then tend to Anton,” Paechra ordered.

Thomas nodded and then gently put down the blade.

“Mistress Paechra,” asked the sylvan. “What is it that shall be done with the remaining vorsurk?”

Paechra paused for a moment, pondering before she chose to reply.

“We certainly cannot bring them with us?” said the druid. “It would be far too risky to transport them the remainder of the way to Andrapaal, only to have them then escape and join the others of their kind that I suspect will be there.”

“May I make a suggestion?” enquired Captain Overtain.

“Of course, you can, captain,” said Paechra in reply.

Although the young druid thought that she perhaps already knew what it was that the ghoul was going to suggest, she wanted to give Overtain the opportunity to voice his idea out loud.

“Why not leave these creatures in my capable care?” asked the ghoul. “I solemnly do vow that they will remain upon this ship, my ship, the Picturesque Picaresque, never to be released from duty.”

“I did so wonder from where you were planning on recruiting a replacement crew, since we did force you to offload your last cast of monstrosities,” pondered Paechra.

The gathered sylvan did look on in wonder, knowing the difficulty of the decision that faced the younger Lightheart. Paechra’s friend Heidi and her mother Sarah were especially keen to discover how the druid would respond.

“As much as I would not like to wish such a fate even upon our very worst of enemies, alas I believe it is the only option that is available to us,” muttered Paechra. “Already one of our own has been gifted such a wicked life.”

“Do not think yourself so mighty, do not turn so smug a nose up at eternal life,” cried the voice of Isobella-Ann. “My memory will not fade, and my life will go on far, far further than any of you… One day perhaps it will be me who is at the helm of this fine vessel.”

She had since returned to her own form, that of a sylvan whose skin had obviously somewhat decayed. The curse of being a ghoul seemed to be progressing quicker and quicker with each time she used her inner magics.

“I do not wish for you to think me smug,” Paechra replied to Isobella-Ann. “I cannot hide my feelings of pity, nor my personal guilt for submitting you to this voyage.”

“Again, you think yourself to be far more involved in my fate, your greatness is an illusion, Paechra Lightheart,” stated Isobella-Ann in swift reply. “If what you believe were to be true then all of these sisters and brothers from the sylvan lands would be suffering such transformations as I am.”

“And yet, you suffer alone,” stated Sarah.

“Not alone, and yet alone,” contradicted Overtain.

“More can be added to our ranks from yours,” suggested Isobella-Ann. “If this were to be your wish, such could easily be arranged.”

“If such were to be our God-led path, I for one as leader would be first to present,” said Paechra, bravely.

“Such is not the path that we began, and it is not to be our future, at least not our immediate future…” suggested Sarah.

“I am so glad to hear this,” said Heidi, obviously relieved. “I do not know if I contain the bravery required to step forward and… Let go…”

“Hush, Heidi, we have much to do before we are given this same or a similar opportunity,” laughed Paechra, though there was no humor in her tone or in her almond eyes.

“Enough of these games, childhood pastimes played verbally and passively,” grumbled Captain Overtain. “Release to me the captured dogs, I shall do with them as the ship wishes.”

“As you request, so shall it be,” said Paechra with a nod.

“Fear… No… Us…” growled one of the vorsurk warriors.

“Our… Mind… Long… Too…” said another.

“Mind… Long… Like… Fang…” added the first.

“Sharp… Like… Tooth… Hungry…” promised the fourth.

“Take them, captain,” commanded Paechra. “They are yours…”

With a nod of his head the ghoul placed a hand upon the broad shoulder of one of the vorsurk warriors and as a group, led all four back into the captain’s cabin. Isobella-Ann followed, dutifully after.

The door of the cabin closed with a loud and final banging. In the silence that came next, Paechra looked around at all of the faces that were watching her. All faces that is with the exception of the two humans. Thomas was watching Anton, while Anton was not watching much. His eyes were still firmly closed.

“Oh my, Anton,” Paechra suddenly realized.

She hurried over to where the head truth keeper lay frightfully still.

“He is dead, isn’t he,” moaned Thomas. “I’m all alone.”

“Stop being foolish, butcher,” commanded Paechra.

In response to this, Thomas gave a great, loud sniff.

A glowing white light appeared to surround Paechra, and she gently placed her hands upon the still and silent figure of Anton.

“What are you doing to him?” Thomas demanded to know. “Anton would not want any of your witchery to harm him.”

“How would you know what I would want and not want, lad?” growled the voice of Head Truth Keeper Anton, though his voice was a touch weaker than before.

“Anton!” cried Thomas, throwing his arms around the elder human.

“Steady on!” cried Paechra, the glow fading from her. “He is still injured.”

“Far from out of the fight,” Anton declared. “I will have my sword back, boy.”

“Of course,” stated Thomas. “I shall fetch it straight away.”

“And then you shall help me back up onto my feet and point me in the direction of the battle,” Anton said with a determined frown.

“The battle is over, Anton,” stated Paechra.

“Witch, the battle is never over,” growled the head truth keeper.

“We will have a battle soon, and it shall be very short,” announced Sarah Lightheart. “Especially if you keep referring to my daughter as a witch.”

“Don’t mistaken my wording, please,” said Anton in reply to Sarah’s threat.

A great shadow of a ferocious she-bear had formed around a clearly angered Sarah Lightheart.

“Oh?” she queried. “You are not thinking my daughter to be one of your spell-mixing old hags?”

“I think you are all spell-mixing hags,” Anton laughed.

“You need to take that back!” shouted Thomas, shocked to hear such come from the head truth keeper.

“And you don’t think these druids to be strange?” Anton demanded to know. “You understand their every thought and action do you, butcher?”

“No, I do not understand, and yes, I do fear them for their strangeness,” admitted Thomas. “But there is much I do not understand and much that I do fear which I still respect… I do not call it names, especially when I wish not to cause it anger, especially not towards me.”

“Fair enough then, boy,” laughed Anton. “I only ask then that you handle the strange your way and let me handle it mine.”

“Not when I am in range of hearing you,” muttered Sarah Lightheart, that brooding shadow still threatening to lunge.

“Thomas, sword,” demanded Anton.

“Of… Of… Cour… Course…” stammered Thomas, unsure of how to handle the tension. “Here, please, take it.”

With that, Anton cleaned his blade and sheathed it. Turning his back to Sarah the Bear he then walked away.

Sarah then found that her anger deflated from out of her, the angry she-bear protecting her cub disappearing back into the ether.

All the while the great ship the Picturesque Picaresque with bellowing sailings continued to go where the wind chose to blow it.

Later in the day, Captain Overtain did decide to grace the deck again, two of the vorsurk flanking him, the wolf warriors somehow shrunken in stature.

“Cease your singing, sisters of Greenwood Vale,” called the ghoul’s voice, strong and steady. “I am the captain of this ship and I take my rightful place at the ship’s wheel.”

As requested, the chorus of druids stopped chanting and a new song filled the silence.

Overtain sang with an unnerving, throaty warble, a sound that pushed the great ship forward, even though there were no rowers in the belly of the juggernaut, no breeze that previously filled canvas that then flapped limp and slack. It was almost as if Captain Overtain wanted to prove he was the ship and that the ship was part of him. If needed he could sail it alone, but it was his right as a captain, and his nature as a ghoul, to claim a crew.

With the arrival of the captain back on deck, the sylvan dispersed, each going their own separate way. Anton and Thomas remained, however, choosing to hover around the wheel. Anton had an obvious interest in the vorsurk, an embedded distrust of ghouls, wolves, and enemies in general. Thomas was worried about those things too, but he seemed far more concerned about the old head truth keeper. Thinking that he had lost his only connection with home worried Thomas deeply. Paechra could see such thoughts clearly displayed in the changing, swirling colors of their auras. The druid had other things on her mind though, so she left the midship, the wheel and the scene of the battle, choosing instead to once more engage with Mother Druid Sienna.

Together the pair continued to keep the darkness at bay. Paechra passing the time asking the elder druid which ever questions that decided to drift into her mind, Sienna in turn was only happy to answer all of the questions to the best of her ability. That was until the great ship eventually, finally, came into port.

“Leave me and my ship,” demanded Overtain. “And never ask of me, ever again.”

“So, it shall be as you wish,” replied Sarah Lightheart.

“I am not speaking with you, but instead that of your daughter,” the captain rumbled.

“I understand,” murmured Paechra. “It shall be as you wish.”

“Thank you, Captain Overtain,” stated Sienna as she confidently passed.

The voyage and her time in the cocoon had seemingly reversed a century of years from her elderly frame.

One by one, each member of Paechra’s gathered disembarked down the gangplank. High Prince Ulan was one of the first, with Anton and Thomas being two of the last.

“We are still far from home, lad,” suggested Anton as he looked around the port town. “But we are at least back on home, human soil.”

“Where are we?” Thomas asked in wonder.

“I had forgotten you have not traveled like a truth keeper travels and a sage travels,” Anton said thoughtfully. “We are on the kingdom’s northern tip.”

“And not where I had hoped we would be,” said Paechra with a sigh.

As the door to the sage’s tower opened out came an old man dressed in blue robes, his eyes were saved for Anton and Anton alone.

“What is the meaning of this, head truth keeper?” the old human asked.

“Sage Williamsons, it is wonderful to see you still amongst the living,” called Anton in reply.

“Quit the nonsense, man, what is your story?” demanded the sage. “We have had no word from Andrapaal for six whole months… And who pray tell are all these people?”

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