the stone path past the high rise homesteads, Carrick read the softly illuminated family markers; Fhanafall, Alhavyen, Parthalon, each inscribed on a post in front of the homestead in thickly decorated plaques. Then his own. Slaine. Staring at it in the darkness, he found he quite preferred it to Smith. Smith had always sounded off in his own ears. Slaine of the Elderwood. It was an odd custom to have both a surname and a housename, but it was easy enough to get used to.
Carrick reached out and gently touched the cool metal plaque. He found himself wondering if his mother had known his father’s last name. Had she known of this place? Of the people who were here? If she had, how could she have wanted to take him so far from it? It was a paradise. A secret world. His secret world. Nothing here had been aggressive nor harmful, the people were kind while remaining flighty, his uncle had been odd but caring. Yet, despite all that, walking up the living stair to his home Carrick could not shake the feeling that he was being watched.
9
A month passed in the blink of an eye. The days and nights bleeding together into a repetitive rendition of wonder and pain. Despite multiple people living in Dre’ien, Carrick spent his time solely with his uncle, having been promptly removed from the children's group for not being able to keep up. His waking hours devoted to learning the ways of the druid, his time of rest that of healing. No longer a lanky child, his bones were coated with a thick sheet of new muscle. His body constantly bent and pulled, twisted and broken throughout the physical trials of the day, rapid healing had eased his exhaustion and helped him to ‘bulk up’ in a way he never thought would be possible. In fleeting moments early in the morning, he’d cross by the gilded mirror in his room and marvel at what he had become. He looked a lot like an extra in a Spartan movie, the kind of guy he would glare at across the lunchroom. The type of guy that would make a passing lady put her phone down and stare. A model, a movie star, an athlete...in the end none of those words crossed his mind. When he met his blue stair in the glass there was one singular thought in his mind.
I am a druid, I am one with the earth.
A fact that made him smile more than any of the frivolity he left behind, loud gregarious advertisements and imperfect false realities modeled on camera lost behind the serenity of the wilds.
When Carrick had not been training his form in physical trials, his mind had been put through the scholarly ringer. There were so many topics; histories, fables, family lines, mathematics, botany, biology and what he could only declare to be a bit of magic. There were artistic endeavors to memorize such as paintings and craftworks. Lastly the topic that always made him smile, the so-called perversions of man. What a funny thing that was.
Technology. The word itself is misleading, even uncommon in the English language until the eighteenth century. Technology was at its origin; Art. Skill and cunning hands some thousands of years prior. It is in that ancient term that Carrick found the druidic life embraced technology. Leatherworking, weaving and Pottery were prevalent in Dre’ien, craftsmen did their finest on hand looms and refined leather. All skills governed by a simple underlying principle of do no harm to our shared earth. Anything that could be taken from the land and returned was accepted. Which made it easy to see why the Industrial revolution became the fork in the road.
Mining and mass chemical production are a far cry from anything that could be considered returnable. Hollowing out the earth for its bounty and leaching hybrid elemental compositions that did not occur in nature into the water supply were one of the highest forms of sacrilege. As Erik had given him story after story of the foolishness of
Carrick reached out and gently touched the cool metal plaque. He found himself wondering if his mother had known his father’s last name. Had she known of this place? Of the people who were here? If she had, how could she have wanted to take him so far from it? It was a paradise. A secret world. His secret world. Nothing here had been aggressive nor harmful, the people were kind while remaining flighty, his uncle had been odd but caring. Yet, despite all that, walking up the living stair to his home Carrick could not shake the feeling that he was being watched.
9
A month passed in the blink of an eye. The days and nights bleeding together into a repetitive rendition of wonder and pain. Despite multiple people living in Dre’ien, Carrick spent his time solely with his uncle, having been promptly removed from the children's group for not being able to keep up. His waking hours devoted to learning the ways of the druid, his time of rest that of healing. No longer a lanky child, his bones were coated with a thick sheet of new muscle. His body constantly bent and pulled, twisted and broken throughout the physical trials of the day, rapid healing had eased his exhaustion and helped him to ‘bulk up’ in a way he never thought would be possible. In fleeting moments early in the morning, he’d cross by the gilded mirror in his room and marvel at what he had become. He looked a lot like an extra in a Spartan movie, the kind of guy he would glare at across the lunchroom. The type of guy that would make a passing lady put her phone down and stare. A model, a movie star, an athlete...in the end none of those words crossed his mind. When he met his blue stair in the glass there was one singular thought in his mind.
I am a druid, I am one with the earth.
A fact that made him smile more than any of the frivolity he left behind, loud gregarious advertisements and imperfect false realities modeled on camera lost behind the serenity of the wilds.
When Carrick had not been training his form in physical trials, his mind had been put through the scholarly ringer. There were so many topics; histories, fables, family lines, mathematics, botany, biology and what he could only declare to be a bit of magic. There were artistic endeavors to memorize such as paintings and craftworks. Lastly the topic that always made him smile, the so-called perversions of man. What a funny thing that was.
Technology. The word itself is misleading, even uncommon in the English language until the eighteenth century. Technology was at its origin; Art. Skill and cunning hands some thousands of years prior. It is in that ancient term that Carrick found the druidic life embraced technology. Leatherworking, weaving and Pottery were prevalent in Dre’ien, craftsmen did their finest on hand looms and refined leather. All skills governed by a simple underlying principle of do no harm to our shared earth. Anything that could be taken from the land and returned was accepted. Which made it easy to see why the Industrial revolution became the fork in the road.
Mining and mass chemical production are a far cry from anything that could be considered returnable. Hollowing out the earth for its bounty and leaching hybrid elemental compositions that did not occur in nature into the water supply were one of the highest forms of sacrilege. As Erik had given him story after story of the foolishness of
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