//------------------------------// // Journal of a Mad Druid // Story: Mystery of the Draconics // by Wanderwing //------------------------------// Mystery of the Draconics Chapter 12 Journal of a Mad Druid Suddenly I awoke with a start. Starting to sit up swiftly revealed itself to be a mistake. I groaned and immediately lay back down. There were aches across most of my body, pain centers throbbing in my side and stomach. My mind was blurred by the pain but my instincts had to find out what was happening. I looked around the room and found that I was in a familiar setting; that at least was something to be thankful for. I had been moved up to my room at the inn while I was unconscious. My wounds had been bandaged, and the healing process was sped up a bit by some sort of magic. This meant I had to have been healed by a doctor; healing magic for cracked bones was advanced stuff. Somepony would need to be medically trained. Nopony in town knew I was a draconic, and I didn’t have my feather-flaps on, my leathery wings were exposed. My pendant was handing on the bedpost so my eyes showed themselves in their naturally draconic shape. Somepony knew my secret and I do not share that sort of information lightly; I need a certain amount of trust. A sense of worry was developing heavily in my mind. Just then, I heard the sound of approaching hoofsteps from beyond my door. The doorway swung open admitting a large figure. Stoic walked into my room and looked me over. “So, you are starting to look a little better. Want to tell me exactly how you wound up in a life or death duel? I don’t think that kind of thing just happens around here.” “Well Stoic,” I said, “You remember the books we got from the catacombs? Specifically the Tome of the Warriors?” He nodded and I continued, “Well the book is part of a set of tomes made by, or for, several clans of draconics. Every one of these books supposedly has a special enchantment on it so you can’t read it unless you pass its test. It just so happens that the test of the Tome of the Warriors is a duel with the previous owner.” “Wait; there is no way you could have found the previous owner. The catacombs had been sealed for decades, how could the pony who left it there still be around, let alone this close to where they had left it?” he asked. “No, she was long dead,” I answered. Stoic seemed flustered, “How could she duel, let alone hurt you if she was dead?” “She was dead, but the book’s enchantment held an imprint of her being, perhaps even her very soul, within the gem set in its cover. I fought that imprint. It took her form, talked as she talked, and fought as she fought,” I explained, “The battle was difficult, and although I did beat her, it was more luck than anything else. If she had struck a moment sooner I doubt I would be here right now.” Stoic nodded his head, deep in thought, “Well that’s good news right? You own the book now, fair and square, but I think you may be overlooking something. Doesn’t that mean that if you die your soul will be trapped in the gem as well? That seems a heavy price to pay.” “Yes it is Stoic. However, I need as much information as I can gather if I am to change the way ponies view my people. For that I am willing to pay any price. I don’t want myself or others to be forced to hide any longer; we will be free,” I said, a fire burning in my eyes. “I don’t doubt that for a moment,” Stoic replied, “With determination like yours I bet you could sway plenty of hearts and minds. But first, you need to heal up… Also, don’t worry about your secret; the doctor has been very well paid for his… discreetness.” “Thanks for that Stoic,” I said, nodding appreciatively. “Don’t thank me,” Stoic let out a chuckle, “Warmhearth is the one you should thank. That’s one hell of a mare you have on your side. I think she is a real firecracker too. Maybe I should ask her out sometime… what do you think lad?” “Fine by me Stoic, but you treat her right, okay? She has been very good to me; I’d hate to see her hurt,” I said laughing a bit, but stopping as the movement shook my injured side. “Talk to you later Stoic, and good luck.” He left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Now then, I thought, perhaps it is time to finally claim my rewards. Reaching into the saddlebag beside my bed, I withdrew the Druid’s journal from it. I had decided to wait before reading the tome of the warrior’s as it would undoubtedly make me wish I could be out training. Opening the journal I found that the entry at the beginning was not signed, in fact there seemed to be no name in any of the first few pages. “Oh well, I suppose I will just need to read without knowing my author,” I said aloud and began to read. Dear journal, I have heard stories of the druids, ever mysterious in their ways. I have found a way to join them. I finally left that claustrophobic city and moved into this incredible underground convent. Somehow underground I feel freer and more at peace than I ever was back in Old Hoovesdale. I have seen such incredible, amazing things, things I can’t even explain. I need to stop writing for now; it’s time for my first class. Oh I just can’t wait! The next journal entry seemed a bit sloppier written, as if the writer was very tired as they penned it. Who would have though they expect us to tame timberwolves? It’s crazy, and yet that stallion managed it. I do not think it was a good start. I didn’t do very well, I panicked and ran away. I will keep trying though. I choose to see it as a reason to work hard, to get as good at it as I can. The entry after that was much cleaner, the author had clearly rested through the night and was able to focus better. This is all so amazing I am beginning to wonder if it’s too good to be true. Living as an earth pony my whole life, watching those around me control magic or fly, I never thought I could go as far as they could. This place though gives me a way to do just that. Not to say there are no unicorns or pegasi among our numbers, but there are definitely fewer. Here the Earth Ponies are the majority. Here we are strong, and we can be equals. I’ve started talking to the two elder members that are stationed here. They told me that when druids join the order they spend a few months, or even years here, learning how to better commune with nature and use the abilities that make us so special. Every year in the month of Hay, the leader comes here and tests the students and decides their assignments, whether to change between this place and another coven, or to stay here and keep learning. So, that explained the library then, the church had been a training ground for Druids long ago. Very interesting, I thought as I read on. Today I saw something I would have thought impossible. We were working on the garden outside the church that is the coven’s entryway. It is tiring work but simple enough. When suddenly I noticed something; somehow as my hooves dug through the soil I began to sense something. It was like I had developed a connection into the very ground itself. I could feel the life in and around it. I could feel the worms digging beneath it, and the grass growing atop it. I think I might finally have a clue to my special talent. I can’t wait to see how strong I can make this connection. That cutie mark is as good as mine. What? The pony who was writing this journal was a child? Living without their parents in a Druidic compound? This was very different from what I had expected. I thought ponies, full grown adults, would need to choose to join the druids. This meant that either this child had willingly been passed over by their parents or they had been coerced into joining. The entries continued, becoming less frequent as time went on, but describing great leaps in the abilities the author presented, I read a few more, and after a few months of entries there was a very excited passage. I finally did it! I’ve got my cutie mark! I can hardly believe it. We were working with the timberwolves again today, and I have finally gotten over the fear of them I had when I first came here. It was time for some of the pods that had been carried from the Everfree forest to hatch, giving birth to a brand new batch of timberwolf cubs. Each student got to pick one pod to hatch, and we would be in charge of taking care of the cub. The braver students picked the largest pods, wanting to show the teachers how great they are. I was going to pick one of the smaller ones when I felt a tug. The same strange tugging feeling I got when we were gardening that day. But it was also a different sensation, a kind of call, like something wanted me to find it. I searched through the pile of timberwolf pods, each one filled with the same greenish fluid. At the very bottom of the pile there was one that was different. Still rather small at about the size of a hoofball, there was one filled with a light purple instead of green. I had no idea what this meant but when I asked one of the teachers they seemed shocked. “It’s a future den mother’s pod. They are very rare and fragile; it’s incredible it even survived the trip here,” she had said. A few hours later they all started hatching and a small pup crawled from each. Their vines were green with new growth. Mine hatched as well and out came the future den mother. She didn’t look much different, but when she growled all the other pups froze. I patted her on the head gently with one of my hooves and she calmed and made the slight purring sound a timberwolf makes when it is happy. Then one of the other students, a unicorn named Greenhorn, pointed at my flank from across the room. I looked back to see what was the matter and saw the purple pod had appeared as my cutie mark. The teachers say this means I am meant for great things as a Druid, I could be really important! Oh I am just so excited. I woke up this morning and found that my timberwolf, who I’ve decided to name Gaea after an earth spirit I read about in the library, has grown much faster than the others. She is already as tall as me, almost half as tall as the teachers. She still obeys me perfectly though; it is almost as if she sees me as her mother. I have done so much research on the topic but I can not find a single case in which a den mother has imprinted on a filly like me, they usually need to be caged and controlled. I am beginning to think it won’t always need to be that way. There is just a moth before the leader comes. I have learned that he is the stallion who founded the order; he has lived to an incredible age, and his power and connection to the heart of the forest have only grown with his wisdom. Some say he can grow an entire forest if he wills it. I do not know how such a thing is possible, but then again I can communicate with timberwolves, so who am I to say what is or isn’t possible? Who was this founder? What was the name of this ancient stallion of incredible power? Who could he be? Why has he escaped any sort of public history or knowledge? I was given far more questions than answers by this journal. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps I could be just a little out of my league. I would worry about that later; there were more entries to read now. This is wonderful! The teachers all say I am progressing at a great pace. I am leaving all the other students behind, and our headmistress is going to begin giving me private classes. She says I have great potential, that I could surpass even her one day, maybe even someday soon. I began my advanced classes today. They had decided it was time to let me know a secret. The druid order had long ago discovered something very powerful, a kind of magic, an ancient kind of long forgotten magic, which all races of pony were capable of learning to control. They then told me that I would be able to use this magic, that I was some sort of prodigy. Channeled through the hooves instead of a horn, this magic allowed direct contact with the natural force that resides within all things. Using this magic you could restore life to dying crops, stop droughts, and even cause plants to grow in places they should not be able to. This seems impossible but I know it is true. I can use it after all. I started with a dead rosebush and finished with it in full bloom, thorns and all. These are the greatest classes yet. That’s impossible. I’ve heard stories of the connection druids could develop with nature but to call it a school of magic was insane, almost heretical. And yet, did it not explain the strange green glow of the ceiling in the underground grove? The strange variety of plants there, the timberwolves flourishing in a place that could likely provide very little to no food at all, all of it could be explained through this magic. I would need to ask for help on this research, perhaps call in a magic specialist. I read on hoping for more answers. Great news; I’ve progressed so far that when Mr. Brambleheart, our leader, came to check on how our studies were progressing he decided that I should travel with him for a while. He says he want to retire someday. Nopony lives forever after all; I think he wants me to become his replacement when the time comes. I won’t be around here for a few months; this will be my last entry for a while. I know Gaea will miss me but she will wait until I get back. She’s a good girl, and will obey the teachers here. There were a few blank pages here, but none were damaged. After that entries began again, seemingly the same hoofwriting but different somehow, more developed perhaps. Oh my, after these three long years my journal is still right where I left it. Hello my old friend, it is good to write in these pages again. I have returned after studying abroad with Brambleheart to be the new headmistress at this old training center. I am still set to take his place should his age finally overcome him, but I doubt this will happen any time soon. Just as my younger self predicted, Gaea waited well for me, and oh how she has grown. She is nearly at the right age for her to begin the den mothering process for which she was born, but certain requirements must be met first. A den mother requires a den after all. Construction began today, unlike the construction of our ancient church however we will not need to bribe diamond dogs or get any other outside help to build the den. I will use my influence over Gaea to control the other timberwolves into digging out the old dead end tunnel and carving out a sky-bowl type structure. This will take some time but is not the hard part of this project. I will need all the skill Brambleheart taught me, as well as to borrow from the energy of the best students here, after I teach them of course, to use the false sky spell. This will supply a limitless amount of light just as nourishing as that of the sun for the brood to feed from. Timberwolves need sunlight to reproduce, they can survive without it if fed through other means but that process requires it, and we cannot simply have a brood of timberwolves sauntering around so near to the village outside. I also have had a collar crafted by one of the craftsponies from the main base back in Everfree for Gaea. It will have her name on it in our runes, and also it will be enchanted to grow as she does. I hope she likes it. The construction of the den’s structure is complete. However, the cave is still barren and I have underestimated the supply of magic I will need to cast the false sky spell. I have found an easy…if unsavory method to use to fertilize the soil within it, though. I’ve always found graveyards to be a waste of room; why waste the resources when you could help the land grow by simply burying the bodies where they are needed? I’m sure no pony will miss a few. I think a few of the other ponies stationed here are beginning to doubt me. They say I’m mad, and stealing the dead is wrong even if you use it to improve the land. That’s just fine then, I don’t need them, I’ll move my bed into the middle of the den with Gaea, I won’t need to worry about what they think then. Ha, HA, I knew I would find a way to do it; I’ve managed the false sky spell. I just had to borrow a little life force for the magic, normal plants would usually be enough but this is one of the greatest spells in the Druidic school of magic. I can create some energy myself without having any negative effects from it but sometimes we need to use a bit of something, or somepony else’s energy for the strongest ones. Brambleheart doesn’t know yet but I think I’ve worked out his little secret. I took all the timberwolves except for Gaea into the chamber, and all of the students, even the other teachers. I began casting the spell, draining their energy as well as my own, and the ceiling began to glow and give off that healthy nourishing light. I used some of my own energy to grow different plants and trees including a dome for myself and Gaea to sleep in shaped from trees over my bed at the center. I stopped, satisfied with the spell work. The other ponies were drained, not dead but very tired. The timberwolves were not so lucky; the spell had drained all of their energy. The spell has worked, I slept with Gaea curled around me last night and awoke to the sound of her scratching at the ground. She birthed several of the pods and lovingly piled dirt around them. My mission had been a success and soon I would even be able to replace the small loss I caused. The others are mad at me for what I’ve done… A druid’s best companion is their timberwolf, after all. What can they do to me though? My Gaea will protect me. They are all simply jealous of the power I wield and will settle in time. And if not, there is always dear Brambleheart’s greatest spell I could use. Speaking of, I have heard he is coming by again soon, I can’t wait to see what he thinks of what I’ve accomplished. I hope I’ve done you proud master. He says he loves what I’ve done, but knows the others are not ready for this kind of magic. He is moving the training post, and making this simply a research station for my magic, and a vault of powerful items. He is forcing me to leave with them; I am the best teacher he has and still I am his next in line. I refused him though, saying I could not abandon Gaea. He threatened me then, for the first time not simply making me feel special, but making me feel like I should rule. I refused him, denied his request and said I wished only to be alone with my work. They left me here with Gaea, all alone just the two of us, but not for long, her brood will hatch soon, and I’ll have a whole pack to serve me. Only one entry was left after that one. It was short, and spattered with dirt. He said I could lead…but couldn’t just leave me alone. He must have told the villagers I took their dead. They are coming for me. I’m not sure the spell door will hold them back long, I need to try and stop them, and they can’t be allowed to harm my children! I would sooner die. That was the end of the journal of the mad druid. The sun had moved through the sky and night had nearly arrived. Shortly after I finished the journal Warmhearth brought me in some soup for dinner. “Don’t think this is free, it’s all still going on your tab. Just because you are a nice colt doesn’t mean I don’t have a business to run,” she said, still innocently joking. “Now if you will excuse me I need to be going, I’ve got somewhere to be.” “Thanks Warmhearth,” I said, a grin forming on my face, “Stoic finally got around to asking you out then?” “Maybe, but that’s none of your business is it?” she replied with a bit of a huff. She left the room and I curled up to sleep. My last thought was that I hoped I would be well enough tomorrow to get back to training.