'What the hell happened Feathered One?'

Bursting into the tavern, the Druid walked in with a bleeding Gawain over his shoulder. Shuffling forward as fast as he could, he turned to the tavernkeeper with fear etched into his face. 'Is there anyplace I can lay him down?'

'My room in the back,' replied the tavernkeeper, rushing over and helping the Druid. 'But what happened?'

'They killed the Adlat Bjorn, but something went wrong enough that the Geats left him. Where are they?' Looking around the tavern, all traces of the hunters had vanished.

'Left for Kursk a few hours ago, in a hurry I might add. Here put him down.'

Laying the unconscious Gawain on the cot, the tavernkeeper went back to the bar in search of strong alcohol and a cloth. Meanwhile, Gringolet had jumped onto the cot and was licking his master's wounds.

'Loss of his eye...scars across his face...and fractured legs and an arm...this is not good.' Taking the alcohol drenched cloth, the Druid gently wiped off the blood and grime off the knights face revealing the deep gashes from the Bjorn's claws. 'Are there any healers around?'

'None this side of Freysguard. There might be more towards the city center, but it will take too long.'

'There is no choice then,' sighed the Druid reaching for his staff. 'Before he dies of blood loss or infection sets in, I will have to try and heal him as much as I can.'

'Do you need anything Feathered One?' asked the tavernkeeper, his heart breaking at how dismal Gringolet looked at him. He had never though a drake could show such emotion, yet here it was in front of him.

'Yes. Get me some a sprig of the herb Hyssop, a single stick of charcoal and single white feather from one your chickens or geese.'

'Will a duck do?'

'It will do. Now hurry,' urged the Druid before also telling the tavernkeeper, 'also stop calling me Feathered One. The names Dohate.'

'And mines Aslaug!' cried the tavernkeeper as he disappeared.

'I do not deserve to be called a Feathered One,' mumbled the old man as he cleaned Gawain's wounds. Looking to the Drake, he reached out slowly and patted it on the head. 'I will do everything I can to help him.'

'Rawr,' whined Gringolet. The squawking of a duck briefly filled the air, before Aslaug returned with the requested items. He had a red welt on the side of his head, clearly from where the duck had attacked him. Handing the items to Dohate, he was about to stand back when the druid turned to him with fearful eyes.

'Thank you Alsaug. Now quickly, hurry to the garrison of Freysguard and tell them to prepare for battle. Tell them to shut the gates, arm the ballista and send Wyvern Riders to every single city in Odinsvollur and beyond. Go now!'

Without hesitation the large Northman took the order from the old Aagario and dashed out of the door, running for nearest station to warn them of something. As he reached the threshold of his tavern, he realized he had no idea what he was supposed to warn them about and was just about to stop and turn back; then he saw it.

'Odin help us,' he prayed, casting his gaze to the Red Moon high above, glowing with malevolent energy. The surroundings were tinted red, as if he was looking through colored glass. Many other citizens had come out of their houses, their gazes transfixed onto bright scarlet orb in the sky.

'Gods be dammed!' yelled a townsperson as he ran past Aslaug. Tripping and pulling himself up, chucking dirt as he scrambled to his feet. Looking in the direction the man had come from, Aslaug's eyes widened as he saw what had scared the man so.

'RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!' came the screeches of the beasts that flew overhead. Their leathery wings beating as they soared across the walls of the town and over the rooftops. Blood red eyes set within scaled sockets, all gleaming as they dove down to the street level, only to pull up with people in their clutches.

Aslaug felt something fall onto his head. Reaching to his hair, it felt wet and sticky. Bringing his hand down, he saw that his palm had been coated in red. Leaping forward, he turned and stared at the roof of his tavern before drawing his hand axe which he always kept on him. Crunching onto the head of the unfortunate soul, the red-eyed wyvern paid no attention to Aslaug as it slurped down the man's spine and crushed them with its teeth. Blood splattered over its ivory teeth, with drops of it falling onto the snow covered ground.

'Guess no need to warn the garrison...'

◊◊◊◊

'Clyw fi o aderyn iechyd ac iachâd. Clywch wŷs y gwas natur hwn. Rwy'n cynnig yr anrhegion hyn i chi. Sbrigyn o Hyssop, darn o siarcol wedi'i losgi a phluen sengl aderyn gwyn. Dewch allan a bwrw'ch syllu ar yr enaid hwn a'i wella'n wirioneddol.'

As he chanted these words the Druid, who had affixed a piece of chalk to the bottom of his staff, drew a sigil onto the wooden floor. The white substance was shaped and crafted into an elaborate design. The older druids called it the Dara Knot. It had been nearly a decade since he had to use this sort of Druidic magic...a decade since he had chased after his brother. Placing the three objects into the center of the sigil, he stood back as he focused on controlling the Yennibwyd.

Druidic and shamanic magic was vastly different from the magic that mages and wizards used. One could spend their whole life training and still never become a master. 'I hope this works,' prayed Dohate as he began focus the magic into his staff, coalescing the life energy into the tip.

The flame of the candles flickered as he repeated his chant once again, this time waiting for the briefest of moments. In the split second that the flame flickered and shadows danced, he slammed his staff into the center of the sigil. The flames of the candles that lit the room burst open like blooming flowers, producing a single orb of pure light. The five candles within the room produced five orbs, all of which flew to the sigil and began to circle and hover over the offerings. This continued until the orbs began to pick up speed until Dohate was unable to pick out each individual orb and it had become visible as a single ring.

'Come forth! Caladrius!' The sigil lit up in bright orange, the offerings dissolving into light before being sucked into the ring, wrapping the fiery ring in a rope of gold. The ring continued to spin, the gold slowly merging until the ring itself turned to gold. 'O great bird of healing Caladrius, come forth and heal this knight. Come forth and heal this knight beloved by nature, heal him in your great mercy!'

Now was where the skill came truly into play. He had to maintain this summoning ring until the a bird decided to come forth. Caladrius was no singular being, but the name of the type of bird. Dohate was creating a miniature portal between the tavern and where the nearest bird was, with the offerings in exchange for its help. If the bird declined, the ring would turn to black and turn to ash. The problem was that the spell would always target the nearest bird, so even if it was attempted again the result would be the same. Simply maintaining the portal was a giant task, that no one untrained could ever hope to achieve.

Dohate was trained. He had trained for most of his life.

The ring began to glow blindingly, causing Dohate to cover his eyes as he tried to focus on supplying the magic. Suddenly the light died down and standing on the ground before him was a Caldrius. The pure white bird looked like a mix between a parrot, a hawk and an sparrow. Its bright gold eyes stared at Dohate with superiority and haughtiness. Squawking indignantly, it flapped onto the cot and stared at Gawain with interest.

'Another lowly Druid to summon me, when will you humans learn to heal?'

Veins popping at the attitude of the bird, Dohate gripped his staff as he controlled his anger. He had to let this bird do its job, otherwise it would leave.

The bird looked at Dohate and had a look that seemed to say, 'Really? This one? What beat him up so bad?', chirping its thoughts.

'Yes that one. An Adlat Bjorn, now are you going to help him?'

'Keep calm Druid,' replied the bird, flapping its wings as it prepared to help Gawain. The action was as close to cracking its knuckles that a bird could get. 'Do not get your feathers all ruffled.'

'I spent twelve years learning how to speak to animals...for this?' sighed the Druid, sitting in a nearby chair as he watched the bird work. He noticed that Gringolet had backed away from the bird and was staying near Gawain's legs.

The Caladrius hopped onto Gawain's chest and hopped up towards his head. Landing on the knights mouth, the bird looked at the wounds and moved its head back. In one swift motion it pecked out Gawain's damaged eye and spat it onto the ground with a wet squelch.

Gringolet growled at this action, baring its fangs at the Caladrius.

'Drakes...wingless geckos,' screeched the Caladrius as he spread its wings and snapped its beak at Gringolet, intimidating the Drake.

Gringolet backed down, curling at Gawain's feet but still growling at the bird.

'Stay down if you want your master to survive.' Flapping its wings, the Caladrius took flight and hovered over Gawain. Giving a singular powerful beat, a few white feathers came loose and floated down onto Gawain. As they touched his body, the feather's immediately turned black as night before slowly turning to ash. As each one disappeared, cracking sounds echoed throughout Gawain's body as he bones snapped back together and healed. The gashes on his face slowly vanished, the wound stitching itself together and leaving no scars. His empty eye socket slowly filled with light and a healed eye stared blankly at the ceiling.

'I have done what you asked Druid,' replied the bird before it stopped moving and stared in a easterly direction. 'What in the name of the Morrigan's is going on?'

'A Red Moon,' replied the Druid as he slowly got up and walked towards the bird. Picking it up carefully, it placed it on the chalk sigil and looked at it, 'be careful. Tonight is a fearsome night.'

'If that is the case Druid, then I shall remain here to witness it.'

'I insist that you leave.'

'And I insist that I stay here Druid!' huffed the bird, flapping its wings in anger. Flying up into the air, it moved quickly and plopped itself onto the Dohate's head. 'And I refuse to move.'

'If that is what you wish insolent bird. It is not my fault if you get eaten by the beasts outside that door,' warned Dohate as he looked at Gawain who was mumbling in his sleep, twisting as if something plagued him.

'DOHATE!'

Bursting in through the door, drenched in blood and guts was Alsaug running to the battle-axe he hung over his fireplace. Grabbing the weapon, ran into the room and looked at the Druid with both fear and adrenalin running through his veins.

'The city is under siege,' huffed the Northman, as he walked to a large chest at the side of the room. Opening it, he pulled out pieces of armor and began putting them on. 'Animals and monsters have us at all sides. Wyverns fly across the sky and pick us off one by one, the skeletons of of dire-wolves prowl the outer walls, the watch says they spotted a manticore at the southern gate. The northern gate swears there are women amongst the beasts, all red eyed and screaming for blood. It is hell out there!'

'Huldras. Why are they part of this? Why are the guardians of the northern forests taking part in this madness!' exclaimed Dohate as he clutched his head. He had to think. He had to figure out what was happening.

'Aslaug!' yelled a man who burst into the tavern.

'What Ragnar?'

'Vidar Thorson is calling for everyone to the northern wall, the women are summoning vines and malevolent plants to destroy the wall! We need more men to help with the oil!'

'I will be there!' swore Aslaug as he turned to Dohate.

'Dohate, is there anything you can tell us to help us?'

'Only that the forests are angered. I will bet that this is happening all across Avalon. You said the bones of dire-wolves? That blood on you is not yours is it? You killed something.'

'A wyvern had perched on top. So I killed it, but something was not right about it.'

'I can smell it,' coughed the Druid as he swiped some blood off the mans face. Rubbing it between his two fingers, he took a sniff of it and flinched. 'The blood is rotten, about a week or so.'

'Aye. So the lot of them are dead. But what about the Huldras? You said guardians of the northern forests, why have they turned on us?'

'Some one is manipulating them,' muttered the old man, pacing around the room with the bird still on his head. 'But how is he doing it?'

'How do you know it is a he?' asked Aslaug looking at the Druid. 'is there something you are not telling me Dohate?'

'ASLAUG!'

'We are not done here Feathered One,' promised the Northman, before he ran out of the room, then the tavern and into the blood filled streets of Freysguard. 'Ragnar!'

'Ah...'groaned Gawain as his eyes opened and he sat up. Swinging his legs off the cot, he held his head in his hands as he rubbed his forehead. 'What...what happened to me? The Adlat Bjorn...the bones...fire...Osgar...'

'Kid can you understand me?'

'Druid...where am I?' his head felt like it was being pressed down on by a horse. He felt a nudge on his left leg, turning to see a relieved Gringolet. 'Hey boy...'

'I have never failed once,' puffed the Caladrius, looking down on Dohate. The cry of the bird made Gawain look up questioningly at it before shaking his head. 'I am not going to even ask why there is a bird on your head.'

'And you should not. We have more pressing matters ahead of us.'

'Which is? If it is not important I would like some time to...some time to grieve the loss of my friend...' he could not remember everything, only flashes of the battle. He recalled being angry, so angry that all he saw was red. Looking at his hand, he clenched it still feeling the ghostly heat of Osgar's own. In a single moment, he had lost a friend and a dream had been extinguished...all because of him.

'We do not have time for that Gawain,' urged Dohate as he grabbed the knight by the shoulder. 'The entirety of Avalon is being under attack from the dead of the forests.'

Looking at the druid puzzlingly, Gawain just shook his head, 'explain.'

'It is a long story. All you need to know is that the dead bones and corpses of animals and beasts have come alive to purge the living. Such is the warning of a Red Moon, for that is when nature turns on itself.'

'So it is a natural occurrence?'

'NO!' yelled Dohate, his fear turning into impatience before regaining his composure. 'It has never happened, only having been in theory. But yet it is now upon us due to... never mind that. You must help me.'

'Why Druid? How is this happening?' The piercing cry of a woman burst into their ears, along with the familiar scent of oil and fire.

'This is my fault,' paled Dohate as he grabbed Gawain by the arm and pulled him along. 'We must find a way out of the city, we must find a way to stop him!'

'Who is him Druid! Who is doing this to Avalon? How is this your fault! I just woke up, I am in so much grief and pain and I am thrust into this situation with no idea in hell what is going on! Explain to me slowly, what in the name of Arawn is happening!' yelled Gawain, pulling his hand from Dohate's grip.

Taking a step, the old man sighed and turned to Gawain. 'Can this wait till later?'

'No.'

'I expected this.' Walking into the main tavern area, he pulled a chair and sat on it. Looking at Gawain he looked so serious and sad that it made Gawain's skin crawl.

'I am not an official druid...not anymore at least. I left them when I decided to hunt my brother down...whose body you found.'

'I am so sorry...' said Gawain, realizing that he had been unsympathetic.

'Do not be,' replied Dohate, 'the bastard finally did what he had been planning on doing for years. He was known as the Mad Shaman for years, preaching that nature was losing its patience with mankind and will seek revenge.'

'So this Red Moon is the revenge of nature?'

'It is the culmination of his years of preparations. I chased after him, I ran after him for years always three steps behind. I do not know how he is doing this, I do not know how he is resurrecting all these animals and using them but he is doing it. For years he has stockpiled the bones of animals in obscure places, all not that far from cities and populated areas. I fear he has become a Skadegamutc ... in your terms, a lich.'

'A lich is only a theory!' argued Gawain, 'there is no way an undead can use magic!'

'He can if he was a Druid or a Shaman. We do not use magic like the mages of the Caravan city of Scientia. We use a catalyst for our magic instead of channeling it directly into ourselves. Also your knowledge of the dead is limited if you think they cannot use magic...they use magic by tapping into the Land Beyond the Shadows. For us to assume that a lich cannot exist is foolish...but that is an argument for another day kid,' shuffling in his seat, 'I should have stopped him all those years ago at the Contract Binding Cermony...'

'The what Ceremony?'

'When they come of age, all druids and shamans take part in this ceremony where a guardian spirit chooses to protect them. This can be from a faerie to a animal, which is why Tapco is my companion. But my brother...my brother was not chosen by anything normal. In that moment something bound itself to him, bound itself and he began to change...he began to fear nature even running from it. He feared its wrath and as days went by he began to rave. A few years passed and he cracked...he murdered one of the elders in the name of whatever monster which had possessed him and ran into the night.'

'And you decided to track him down...'

'Yes.' Standing up, the druid began to walk towards the door before turning to Gawain, 'and now I am too late to stop his madness...but I am in the right place to stop him. We have to stop him before the bones of monsters long past rise up and destroy us all!'

'Why me?' asked Gawain looking down at the ground, his feet refusing to move. His mind swam with images of the battle with the Adlat Bjorn, it swam with the emotions that had come with Osgar's death...his understanding that not everything was fun and games anymore. His years of searching for something to satisfy him of his boredom of searching for something to pose a challenge to him...he had forgotten that even if he died he might rope someone else into his foolishness.

'Why are you asking me to help Druid? Is it because you have no one else to ask? There are much braver men than me, much braver. Ones who understand the value of life...I am not that man. I am just a glorified idiot...'

'Kid...'

'You will need someone else to help you...just not...just not me,' replied Gawain. Turning away from the druid, Gawain walked towards the bar and reached behind the counter. Grabbing a bottle of Fire Rum, he popped the cork and took a swig of the hard liquor. 'Amazing how grief makes alcohol taste better...'

'Gawain, listen to me,' pleaded Dohate, shaking the knight on the shoulder. 'I need your help! If you do not help me, who will? I am a Aagario, a nomadic druid and I know not one soul in this city that can help me!'

'I SAID ASK SOMEONE ELSE,' roared Gawain slamming the bottle onto the table, shattering it. The dark liquid flowed onto the floor, staining the wooden floor like flowing blood.

'This is for you Osgar,' he said before grabbing another bottle. Draining the liquor, he looked at the druid and said, 'my luck...my luck is gone druid. I have seen death before...I have seen it but why does this one death...a man I barely knew for a day...why does it hurt so?'

'I did not know that boy,' replied the druid, jumping as the smell of burning got stronger along with the cries of men and women. A single wooden wall is what stood between him and the battle. One could consider this whole ordeal a war; man vs nature gone mad. A war against the whole of Avalon and Dohate could only speculate what was happening in Alfheim where nature was at its strongest.

'I am so sorry Osgar...' cried Gawain, tears slowly forming at the corner's of his eyes as he hiccupped. Downing another swig of the dwarven liquor, he looked at the half empty bottle and laughed. 'I wish we could have had more time...time to talk...'

'WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!'

Looking to the door, Dohate gave a glance to Gawain before cussing beneath his breath. He had to stop this before it got worse, even if he had to do it alone. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself before walking out the door and into the red night.

'What was the point of me healing him?' asked the Caladrius.

'I had hoped he would help.'

'Well your entire backstory was useless in the end to convince him...we wasted much time.' Looking up at the night, watching flying shadows overhead the Caladrius gave a brief squawk of disbelief. It looked to where houses were on fire, the immolated corpses of those scorched in the fires. Cadavers hung limp off roofs and in the dirt, their heads and entrails eaten by the wyverns...scraps left for the beasts beyond the stone walls. 'Oh this is bad.'

'What did I say idiot bird,' huffed Dohate as he shuffled for the eastern gate. Whistling, he heard a gate crash nearby and the familiar neigh of his friend reached his ear. 'We must move fast before all of Avalon falls to tooth and flame.'

◊◊◊◊

Head on the table, Gawain did not have the strength to move. His body felt fine, it was his heart that was in pain. He had not felt this bad...well not since Alis...oh how he missed her and her cooking. He missed his little brothers, he missed his mother and his friends. His father...well that was debatable.

'Is this how people feel all he time? Fearful of death? Angry that they were the cause of someone else's death?' said Gawain to himself. Looking down, he saw a worried Gringolet who was just staring at him. 'Tell me Gringolet? Was Osgar's death truly my fault...was the only person I knew who was like me...was his death my fault?'

A death of a person is no small thing. One could argue Gawain should not have been this distressed since he had barely known Osgar. However can you truly say you would not be gravely stricken if you had finally met someone like yourself, who did not judge you and was truly a blessing to be around? What if if his or her death was your fault? Even then you would be unable to understand Gawain who all his life had been lucky, all his life had things go his way, save for one instance, brought to his knees with the revelation that death is very possible. Could you blame him then?

'What is this sorry state you are in?'

Opening his eyes, Gawain looked up and saw someone sitting in the chair next to him. Blinking away his tears, he rubbed his eyes and saw Sir Bertilak taking a shot next to him. The middle-aged knight looked older than his years, with short grey hair with only a few strands of his original gold remaining. Slamming the shot glass onto the table, he reached up and scratched his prickly beard as he viewed his friend. 'Never had I though you of all people will end up like this.'

'Master?'

'So someone you knew died and you say it was your fault. So what?'

'What?' looking at the bottle of Fire Rum in his hand, Gawain stared at it and said aloud, 'how bloody strong is this?'

Reaching out, Bertilak grabbed the bottle and placed it on the table. 'I think that is enough for you. The entirety of Avalon is in chaos Gawain, monsters from ages past have crawled out of the ground and heading for cities. I had to deal with a dead Umibozu off the coast of Horai, a skeletal dragon at Nearon and a chimera near the Gate of Tartarus, I am exhausted.'

'How?' stumbled Gawain, the words not coming to his tongue. 'How are you here, there, everywhere?'

'It does not matter. What matters is that you get up and fight Gawain. What happened to the boy who took unnecessary risks to make his life a bit exciting?'

'That boy died...he started dying when that Earthen Giant slapped him across the mountainside...I still do not know how I survived....only that that fear of death is now engraved into my heart.'

'Everyone is scared of death Gawain,' replied Bertilak, patting Gawain's back. 'I am so scared of death...but not for myself.'

'Huh?' lifting his head up, Gawain teetered on the stool before regaining his balance. 'What does...hic...what does that mean?'

'It means I have someone worth living for.' Grinning, Bertilak rapped Gawain hard on the head, 'and you do too. I have my wife, and a beautiful daughter with another on the way and not a day goes by that I am afraid of death. But still I fight, I fight because I know what I do is for their sake.'

' "Give up on your dreams and die", that is what you said,' spluttered Gawain shaking his head, convinced that the one before him was an apparition. 'What did you mean by that?'

'At the time I meant what I said,' replied Bertilak sadly, 'I was angry, I was vengeful. Now I see that my words had no meaning and I was angry at myself for not believing in what I was doing. Now my words mean, dear Gawain, life never goes the way you want. There will always be ups and downs but as long as you persevere, you will make it.'

'Osgar;s dream died...'

'His dream and yours are the same. Carry on his dream, document every single creature that walks this green earth! You have to protect that dream because if you die, who will be able to continue yours? You had wanted to share your dream with Alis, and you still can. She still stays in New Camelot and is waiting for you.'

'Alis...hic...is waiting for me?'

'Yes. But if you do not stand up now and go help the druid, that dream will die this night. That dream will be buried beneath a red moon.'

'I need to... fight?'

'Yes.'

'I need to protect...Osgar's dream,' mumbled Gawain getting to his feet, tripping forward. 'I need to protect...Alis...must...fight...'

Gawain felt someone catch him and help him to his feet. Tipsy, he wobbled and when he looked up again, Bertilak was gone. Eyes wide, he looked at Gringolet to the empty stool to the empty shot glass...was it a dream?

Shuffling forward, Gawain leaned against the open doorway and stared into the blood tinted world. He could hear the cries of the people, but there was one cry that he was focused on.

'ROOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!'

'You...you just could not stay....hic...could not stay down could you you bastard,' roared Gawain, kicking down the door. Swaying as he walked, he did not realize when he stepped through the ribcages dead men and beasts. He did not realize when his boots became drenched in bloody mud, or when screaming people bumped into him.

Suddenly he felt something full of liquid pressed against his lips, which he reflexively drank. It travelled down his throat and as soon as it hit his stomach, his head exploded with pain akin to a thunder strike. Coughing, the haze around his head vanished as he felt the effects of the alcohol disappear immediately.

'What was that?' he spat

'Raw eel liver with some ground bitter almonds. Now get on you feet boy,' roared Eonan, 'hauling Gawain to his feet and thrusting a greatsword into his hands, 'We have monsters to kill..'