Wizard of Buckler's Hard (eBook)

Volume 1 Chapter 1

It was cold and snowing as the season dictated. Winter in the north had settled in everywhere. There was snow, on the mountain, in the forest, in the valleys and even on the ice that covered the rivers.

In one of the many valleys that bordered the great forests of the north could be seen a bear like shape lumbering into the trees. It is difficult to make out who or what it was because the trees were so thick and the sunset was rapidly drawing nigh. If you looked closer you could see that this fur covered thing was a man. As big as he was, his movements were smooth, efficient and created little if any sound. It was apparent he was very experienced in walking these lands as he moved with a degree of silence. Experience had taught him, fresh snow absorbs sound.

It was difficult to make out the difference between his long black hair and the large bear skin that was wrapped around his body. Even though you could not see beneath the bear skin, there was little doubt that it covered a large and muscular body.

He bent forward and his head was held low as he was walking into a howling wind. That wind was blowing so hard that it was driving the snow and ice against him like small shards of glass.

This man was alone as he moved through the forest. At this time of year, the people who normally lived here were driven south following the herds they preyed upon. To see some one in the forest at this time of year was unusual to say the least. He wasn’t just any man however. He was a man from the north, an Albidos or Pict. The Picts, or painted people, were a Celtic speaking group that lived to the north of the rivers Forth and Clyde. To the best of their knowledge they were the largest kingdom of what is now known as northern Scotland.

Looking at this man you could tell why the Picts were known for their ferocity as warriors. He was very tall for his time and his body was massive. The hand that held his spear was calloused with years of use. His face, that was not covered by his black beard, was weathered from living the majority of his life in the wilderness and his eyes were a piercing blue.

The truth was his people were far more than warriors. They were sophisticated artisans, musicians, and their history was found on stone carvings, metal work, jewelry and in their songs.

Their strength and unity came from a closeness to nature and their ability to connect to the elements of fire, water, air and earth. Their affinity to these building blocks of their world created strong and powerful rituals that guided and shaped their lives.

His village of Aber, was far more than a collection of rudimentary huts. It was, for all intents an purposes, a small town. The houses were round and made of stone. They did not use mortar of any kind and the stones were formed in such a way that they laid together well. Aber was located by a river and paths led into and away from it. Over time, the village became a trading center with a bustling market. There were houses, a temple, shops with purveyors of goods, food, services, blacksmiths, harp makers, and even jewelers. All of these buildings were surrounded by large fortifications. At night the candles and torches used for light were so bright that they could been seen for miles.

In the end, the town’s reputation and success was its undoing. The Vikings learned of the town’s wealth and sent berserkers, their version of shock troops, to loot it, destroy it and take the women and children as slaves.

Once the long boats were seen by the Pict scouts, they ran to the town and told the village’s leaders of the Viking’s coming. The town’s chieftain called the man to the hall, instructed him to gather his things and go to the south.

“What is in the south?” The man asked.

“All that you must know, will be told to you by the sacred flame, now go!” the chieftain declared in his most authoritarian voice.

As shameful as running from a battle was to him, the man’s respect for the village’s leader overcame that shame. Reluctantly he did what he was told so he might fulfill what ever was his destiny.

No matter his chieftain’s instructions, the man stood on a rise outside of Aber and watched in shame and horror as the berserkers attacked. As expected they burned parts his town, killed its men and, and took its women and children as slaves. The sounds of battle, the screams of the dying and the accred smell of burning buildings drifted his way on the wind. Tears filled his eyes and hate filled his heart. He was after all a warrior, a man of the spear. What saddened him more was the fact that he was also a powerful shaman, a seeer, and most importantly a master of the stones. The stones, later called Ludus Latrunculorum, were the source of his power. On each stone were runes that, in his hands called and controlled the four elements of nature. He knew that he could destroy the berserkers with ease, but his leader forbad it. The town’s fate was sealed as was his.

With a look of sadness on his weathered face, he fought back his shame. His massive left fist struck his chest, as a warrior would do just prior to a battle. The sound it produced, seemed to shake the very ground beneath his feet. Reluctantly he turned from the fire and carnage that was once his home and as he was told, lifted his spear and started walking south to his fate. He knew the Vikings would not follow him as they would be too busy fighting over the wealth and women.

Volume 1 Chapter 2

After a long slog through the thick forest’s undergrowth and snow, the Pict heard an almost imperceptible sound off to his right. He dropped to one knee and froze in place with his hand firmly griping his spear. He knew that if it was an enemy, his low profile was in his favor. His eyes panned the area around him. He fixed his gaze on the moving ears of a large hare that were sticking above a mound of snow created by tufts of dead grass. Slowly he lifted his spear to his shoulder and with the force he had mastered over the years, he let it fly. At the moment the spear struck the hare, you could hear a perceptible squeal as the hare died. He walked over to where his spear had pinned the big rabbit to the ground. He reached under the heavy pelt that was tied around his shoulders and pulled out a large knife. He pulled the spear out of the ground that pinned the hare down. He pulled the rabbit off the spear and with the speed and precision only a seasoned hunter had mastered, he cleaned his kill, put a leather noose around its neck, and slung it over his shoulder.

With the hare on his shoulder, he picked up his spear and continued to slowly walk to the South. As the sun was setting, he looked for the right place to spend the night. In this forest he knew that clearings were hard to find. It wasn’t long before he came across just what he was looking for. Standing at the edge of the clearing, he surveyed it as a safety measure. Once satisfied, he gathered wood for a fire. Next he took a branch and cleared an area of snow in a circle about the height of a man.

He sat and gathered his legs underneath him. On the ground in front of him, he created a tent like configuration with some of the wood he had collected to support a flame.

In his very young days, his father had noticed his connection to the world, so at the age of his sixth summer, his father started to teach him the ways of the stones. As good as his father was with the stones, his son was better. By the age of twelve summers, his father had taught him all he knew about the stones, the spear, and hunting.

The village chieftain became aware of this special boy and ordered the village’s great shaman to further his education. Over the next five summers, the boy’s mastery of the stones surpassed even those of his teacher’s. His skill with the spear was as good as any seasoned warrior, as was his ability to track and hunt game.

Like his father had taught him, he quietly murmured an incantation and the fire sprang to life. In his world, fire was a sacred element meant to be revered. Properly used and respected, it provided heat, light, and gave him the ability to cook food and heat water.

Once the fire was going, he skinned the hare, and laid the skin near the fire to dry. He selected just the right length of stick from his pile of wood and attached the hare to it. As his mother taught him, he cooked it perfectly.

Conserving and creating energy were paramount in the winter so he decided to save some of the rabbit for next day’s breakfast.

From the brown leather pouch that hung around his neck, he removed the stones and quietly rolled them between the palms of his hands. At just the right time, he closed his eyes and quietly started another incantation. The expressions that would be uttered were meant to bring about his ability to see his final destination and possibly his fate.

As the words slowly and rhythmically flowed from his mouth, the world around him dissolved, morphing first into a fog, then into the vision of another place. As his vision sharpened, he could tell by the sun, it was many suns to the South. The land he saw was green like the land appearedin the spring around his village but without the mountains. He raised his head and looked further to the South. He saw objects that appeared to radiate great power. He increased the force and speed of his incantations so his vision of these objects of power would improve. What he saw shocked him. The power he felt and now the sound he heard came from a circle of tall capped stones. The sound then transformed into a melody that imitated those sung at his people’s rituals, sweet, soft, yet...