Today’s story prompt features the Council Island at Finlaggan on Islay. Finlaggan is a small island in loch Finlaggan (unsurprisingly). The site was once a seat of power of the Lord of the Isles, though it’s now in ruins. Before that there’s archaeological evidence of an iron age broch (a kind of fortress). You can learn a whole bunch more at www.finlaggan.org, if you like. The Council Island itself is a separate and even smaller island that was once connected by a causeway to the main settlement.
I’m rather a fan of archaeological sites, so I spent a good while wandering the island. Something about old stone speaks to me. Mostly it whispers untold tales that are dying for a new ending. On that note…
Wynna tripped as she cleared the end of the causeway. Her knees squelched into the thick mud and she sprawled forward onto her face. No matter. She scrambled to her feet heedless of her torn skirt. It was ruined anyway. The plaid pattern had been obliterated by the muck of days of rough travel.
Dashing the mud from her eyes she hurried forward, past the knot of buildings of the Druids Conclave. At this hour, when the gloaming had just begun, they wouldn’t be at home anyway. They’d all be at the Great Broch.
Her feet followed the well trodden paths that led to the second causeway. The one to the Council Isle and the Great Broch itself. She knew the way without looking. After all, she’d trodden these paths since the day she’d learned to walk. Before that even, her parents had carried her when they followed these ways.
For generations uncounted Wynna Seer’s family had served the Circle of Druids who lived here on the loch. They weren’t seers in the sense of fortune tellers. Well, not in the way of predicting the future. No, it was their job to see the fortunes of the world and pass on what they learn to the Circle. A sacred task that maintained the workings of the world.
Well the world wasn’t working now. And Wynna wished that she hadn’t seen. Those horrors would stay with her for her whole life, she was sure. She hadn’t signed up for this. When she’d taken on the mantle of her family’s task, it had been to watch over the doings of the men and women that walked these lands. She hadn’t agreed to monsters.
And yet the monsters had come. Demons that pulled themselves out of the ground. That slashed with fang and claw and drew the life out of whomever they caught.
When they’d first appeared, Wynna’s first instinct was to flee. But that was not worthy of her. Not worthy of her family name. Her next thought had, of course, been to help. Yet what could she do against such fiends? Her only course of action, then. The only thing to do. Bring it to the Circle. The monsters might be beyond her, but surely not the Druids.
When she reached the second causeway something in the wind made her stop. Made her look up from the path and out from her roiling thoughts. Look straight through the ruins of the Great Broch of the Circle of Druids.
It had not been ruined long. The timbers of the shattered doorway still smouldered among the rubble. Wynna’s lip quivered. Something held her breath. Just as well or it would have trembled at the panic rising in her chest. Surely mere demons couldn’t have defeated the Circle.
“Wynna,” said a voice from across the causeway.
She recognised the speaker, of course. “Orison. Thank goodness.” Orison was the greatest of the Circle. The greatest druid in a hundred generations, so it was said. If anyone could help her it was him. Wynna started forward. “I came to tell of the demons. As quickly as I could. Oh Orison, what can we do?”
Some instinct made her stop.
“Do, child? We will do nothing.” Orison’s voice sounded shrill. Cold. “My children are not demons. They are the cleaners who will bring an end to mankind’s wasteful ruin. The workmen who will undo the blight of humanity on this world.”
Wynna listened to instinct again. It told her to run.
Brandon Lim 