In one of the many glenns of the northland the five young Druids finally met warriors sent by the General of the High King to hunt them down. It was two weeks after the autumnal equinox, when the Druids told the people that Alban Elfed was upon them. A holiday held because nighttime was the same length as daytime. They told the people of Erie that the long nights were upon them and winter would be upon the land soon. As if the people could not tell for themselves through the cold nights and colder mornings. But they enjoyed the holiday just the same.

The boys were traveling through the woodlands of a narrow valley which had walls on both sides too steep to climb. There was no cover to make a stand nor were there any decent places to hide. Not that it would do them any good as it had stopped raining days ago and their tracks were plain to see. No matter how careful they were they had no doubt been seen by villagers or farmers that led the warriors of Meath to them.

Arthfael had thought he felt them through the Black Magick two days ago while sitting around the campfire with his four acolytes. The nine warriors they had compelled had no thoughts of their own. Yet the thoughts of men were coming through loud and clear and he could tell they meant him harm. It was his decision to travel this narrow glenn hoping to escape the men he felt on their trail. But obviously that had failed as Judoc rode up fast giving hushed words of warning.

The small group rode around a turn in the valley and stopped in a grove of oak trees along one side of the narrow road. Even with the stream running noisily on the other side they could hear the men approach on their big coursers and what sounded like a chariot. Around the bend came Thirteen warriors and they were some of the finest of the Tara Stronghold. Arthfael grew concerned because his nine warriors were no match for these men.

A week after their escape Arthfael became concerned of the condition of the warriors they had enthralled. He noticed they were much thinner than he remembered plus they smelled terrible. They had shat and pissed themselves and went on like nothing happened. He realized the problem immediately. The spell the boys had put them under made them like walking dead men. Their bodies only did the basics to keep them alive. They breathed, they drank rainwater and their heart beat. They did everything the boys ordered like walking, lifting and standing guard all night long. But the boys had neglected to order the men to take care of their basic needs like eating and going to the toilet. After his observation only half the men stood guard each night while the others were ordered to eat, warm themselves around the campfire and sleep. The men had started to regain their health but it was slow going.

One of the men had even cut himself on the blade of his hunting knife. It was a deep gash on his forearm caused by his knife sheath wearing out along the edge. The man walked along as if nothing had happened trailing a stream of blood. Fortunately Drest saw the injury and wrapped it up to keep the warrior from bleeding to death. After that the boys inspected the men each night to make sure they were well. Arthfael wished at times they had more men so they did not have to worry about losing a few but he was unsure of how many they could control. They were about to find out.

The young Druids stayed on their horses and put themselves in a circle around the cart while Sergeant Cadeyrn and his men fanned out in a half circle in front of them. They were on foot and faced the riders coming towards them. The boys had been schooled in warcraft and in sword, spear and shield but they had never fought in a battle before. They were Druids and war had not been their way. Fortunately the warriors standing in front of them were experienced and they could use that as they directed them. Arthfael's only worry was the men were weakened and may not hold up against healthy warriors.

The chariot came around the bend first followed by many riders. It was worse than the young Druids feared for it was Captain Bradan, one of the finest leaders of the house guard and twelve of his finest warriors. The young Druids would not be winning this fight if it came to that.

"What is this Cadeyrn?" Captain Bradan said. "Thou looketh unwell! Art thou with this murderous crew?"

The Sergeant just stood there with his spear on his shoulder pointed at the Captain. No words came out of his mouth.

"I speaketh for this band," Arthfael said riding up behind the Sergeant. "What be thy business here Captain Bradan? Thee and thine men be'est far from home."

"Really Cadeyrn? Hath thou lost thine mind? Letting this boy speaketh for thou?" the Captain stepped down from the chariot and walked up to the Sergeant seeing the blankness in his eyes. "What evil be this? Under what evil spell do you hold'eth this man, boy?"

"I am no boy Captain Bradan. I be'eth a man grown, even thou were't at mine name day, hath thee forgot?" Arthfael said. "Again I ask. Why art thou here?"

"You be a Druid boy Arthfael, nothing more," the Captain said. "Now drop'eth thine weapons or feel my wroth! Many thinks thee hath done much evil Arthfael, you and thine little band of friends. That is not for mine to say. I am to bring'eth thee home. The General did'st not say'eth how."

Arthfael sent a message from his mind to his acolytes behind him. The four young Druids rode forward. All of them together sent a powerful wave of the compulsion spell at the warriors standing before them. In seconds all of the men's eyes glazed over as the spell hit them. For a moment all five boys were immensely pleased. They were able to control the warriors they had while controlling the warriors before them, their little band had just doubled in size.

But then the Captain shook his head and said, "What enchantment is this? What evil hath thou beguiled upon us?" He looked around at his men and saw the same empty eyes as that of the Sergeant and his men.

"Mayhap's thine death awaits thee Captain," Arthfael said looking darkly out from the hood of his robes. The Captain had the same type of mind as that of the High King and his father. Structured and organized and it would take much effort to compel him. Arthfael had others plans. He sent a message to his acolytes as he turned to ride under the trees.

The Captain was grasped from behind and held by his own warriors. Arthfael had decided to try a sacrifice in the open air. It would be the first they had done since leaving the barrow. He did not know if they would gain the same life force but he had no problem trying. He had known the Captain all of his life and never really liked him.

The warriors set the table up inside a small grove of old oaks where clumps of mistletoe hung from the trees, all sacred to the Druids. Fires were lit all around the table to provide light within the grove. The light of the Hunters Moon could not shine through the the thick branches above them. The Captain was tied to the table and the young Druids all stood around in their usual spots. Everything was ready. This would be the first sacrifice Arthfael would perform without the evil shade of Lugubelenus guiding his hand. He was nervous it would not work.

With the Captain screaming at them because he was not under the spell Arthfael brought the stone knife up and then down sinking it deep into the Captain's chest. The life spirit of the Captain hit them like a bolt and fed the evil blackness inside them every bit as well as in the barrow. The boys were pleased as the heart went around the table.

When they were done Arthfael said, "Our men looketh to be hungry. T'would be a shame to waste so much meat. Have them dine on the good Captain's body and make sure'eth they cook it. Should be'est a tasty treat for them."

Arthfael walked away towards the stream to wash the blood from him. He was pleased by the evening's events. Their warriors had grown in number. They learned they could compel much more men than they had thought. The Captains life force had strengthened the dark magic that resided inside them. And floating around in the darkness of his mind he learned how to keep the men fed.

The High King and the High Druid Priest stayed in Tara the required number of days to honor the dead they had found in the barrow. They stayed to see the spirits of the dead off to the Otherworld. One hundred and fifty-four souls had been pulled from the black tumulus. Most of the number were a Druid or a Druidess from the villages around the stronghold. But there were Elders of the counsels, Captains and other officers, men and women farmers and shopkeeps also. Too many dead the leaders thought plus the horror of the deaths of their own children. All of these souls deserved their respect and their apology. An apology that they did not hunt down this evil sooner, these Druids-Bane as the men were calling them.

Matha stayed at the barrow until all of the bodies were brought up. He almost wanted to believe his son's body would be among the dead. The High King had told him what he saw in the dreadful tumulus. When none of the bodies recovered were that of Arthfael or his friends the High Druid went deep inside his robes and followed the cart taking his daughter's body back to the Druid's Circle. He had sensed the dark forces pulling on his son but he had not wanted to acknowledge it. This night would lay heavy on him and feed the fires trying to right this wrong for many turns to come. He would never be the same as he had before.

After the cremations had been performed the ashes of the dead were put in separate urns and placed together in a cairn that had been erected in the Hills of Tara for them. Except for the ashes of Genovefa and Cynwrig. Those ashes were placed together in their own cairn with Druids carving the stone walls with their story. It was sad that their stories were so short.

The High King and the High Druid had a fighting force of five hundred mounted warriors ready to set out on the hunt with many more to follow and many that had already left. Men were searching all over the northlands for any sign of the five young Druids and the warriors with them. They were to hold the boys for the High King and High Druid but again the General was not so sure. So the warriors that had already left were still under his orders, kill if you have to. He sensed a murdering spirit in their prey.

The army left at dawn on the day of the Hunters Moon for the northlands of Eire. They were uplifted from the news of a rider that rode in the day before. Captain Bradan and his fine band of warriors were on their trail and probably had them captured as they spoke. The army rode grimly out from the Stronghold of Tara with Elder Druid Priests in their ranks to help track down and stamp out this evil.

High King Criofan and High Druid Priest Matha rode out with vengeance in their hearts for their children. One man wanted to destroy the boys if they were responsible for this evil. The other wanted to destroy the evil that was inside them. Both men would do whatever it would take to acquire justice. The boys were in for a long chase.

Arthfael looked out over the sea from the cliffs of the northland across to Alba, their destination. They just needed to acquire a skiff to cross the narrow sea. Morcant and Haerviu had already left with a handful of warriors to search one out. It would no doubt take them a little while as the skiff needed to be stout enough to carry the altar table and all of the warriors. Arthfael was dead set to keep these men around him. Every day they became easier to control and they were fine fighters once you took care of them. That was a stern conversation he had with his acolytes.

They were camped in a small uninhabited village that looked out over the cliffs. They either left because of the raiders that came over from Alba before the seas became more dangerous during the winter months. Or most probably because they were fishermen and they moved to follow the warmer weather south. Arthfael thought the later because of all the nets and hooks left around but he did not really care. He just hoped some of them would return to feed the darkness growing in him.

Drest proved to be a cunning hunter of people. He would disappear for days with a small band of warriors and then return with his warriors herding a small line of people. All of them subdued through his subtle use of the Black Magick. He brought them from far and away and all of the boys hoped no one in the lands would miss them so much as to look for them.

So far Arthfael had not sensed any presence of men when he scanned the land late at night. Through some of the prisoners that Drest captured they heard rumor of a large mounted army of warriors searching the land. Arthfael listened in the deepest dark of night for that army. When men were asleep and at heir loudest in his mind. He listened for their dreams and their night terrors. For their shrieks, screams and fears yelled out into the aether where he could hear it. He knew he would sense them as he could hear the dreams of his captives. But so far they were safe.

He knew that it would be his father and the High King that led this army. Arthfael also knew he and his acolytes were not near strong enough to stand up to that army. He hoped Morcant and Haerviu would hurry with their quest for the skiff and return.

Only one thing bothered Arthfael slightly when he would sit and ponder late at night. The name he heard whispered by the prisoners that had met this army searching for them, 'Druids-Bane.' He could tell it instilled fear in the prisoners and deep down inside a little bit in him. What good that was left in him had given up fighting the darkness a long time ago. But what little there was left came alive at the name and that was where the fear came from. It did not come alive because it wanted to change Arthfael and continue the fight but because the name tormented it. It was as if the good could see the future and knew that the name would be proven even more true than it already was.