Druid: Shadow Hunter

By Robert S. O'Dell

Dreams often warn of an approaching storm. Every day was the same for Rege Pison— that is, until a nightmare became a reality. Rege finds himself engulfed in the harsh training and culture of Arx Academy—a hard-knock school of spiritual refinement, combat, and supernatural powers. Balancing the life of an average teenager, the normal trials of high school, and struggling to find one’s place in the pecking order of young adulthood are problematic enough. Now, add the huge burden of being tasked with protecting the world from the wrath of the darkest forces. Rege had always found himself to be a little different. Joining the world of the Druids has unearthed just how truly different he is. The Druids have nothing but contempt for the humans they protect. Rege Pison has entered a violent and divided world where good and evil is a point of view, and power is wielded with deadly purpose.

Druid: Shadow Hunter is the first enthralling installment in the Druid series

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662429552

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Druid

Shadow Hunter

Robert S. O'Dell

Copyright © 2020 Robert S. O’Dell

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2020

ISBN 978-1-6624-2954-5 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-7624-2 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-6624-2955-2 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

The Scuffle

Alternate Commensurate Disciplinary Action

Sleepless Dream

The Auction

A Sudden Departure

Fine Dining

Move the Ball

The Raising

Squeaky Clean

Soul Mates

Dammed

Fashion’s Fool

A Rocky Start

Boys Will Be Boys

A New Celebrity

The Arena

The Archway

First Mission

Three Rivers in Ruin

The Shadow Hunt

Epilogue

Preface

Boom! Boom! Boom! Three loud knocks rang out on the front door of the Three Rivers Child placement home. Awe it better not be that gas meter man again, Jane.

That dirty rat has been stealing overtime. He is such a—

Oh, go downstairs, James, and see who it is!

You spend so much time bellyaching.

You shut up, woman, snapped James with a sarcastic grin. Mr. James Hurtley, juvenile licensed clinical social worker, was the owner operator of the Three Rivers Child Center. Many of the parentless children of Elgin received an excellent head start and went on to become well-adapted and successful adults. James Hurtley was a short man in stature with thinning brown hair and a rugged red beard that never seemed to be kempt even after a fresh shave.

Yes, indeed James Hurtley may have had a small comical look but was large in his heart. It was never clear where exactly the problem resided, but James and his loving wife, Jane, were never able to conceive children of their own. It seemed only fitting that they transformed their previous business of the Three Rivers Daycare to a home for orphaned children. Love was never in short supply in their household, and the two had recently adopted a set of twin baby boys with blond hair and blue eyes, identical as can be.

Mr. Hurtley sat up on the bed and wrapped his night coat around him and started toward the door. Lightning flashed. A deafening crack of thunder rang out, shaking the house. The lights flickered and faded to darkness. Blasted damn power company. Who could be showing up at this hour? muttered Mr. Hurtley, hurriedly unlocking the front door. Strong winds gusted forth, bursting the door open and sending Mr. Hurtley stumbling backward into the staircase banister. Mr. Hurtley slipped, knocking a vase off a nearby table and shattering it into hundreds of pieces. The wind blew in a sheet of rainy mist, blinding Mr. Hurtley. All he could see was the silhouette of a tall man in dark clothing.

The dark man strode silently into the foyer of the house and reached for the door, closing it to repel the barrage of rain and wind.

Master Hurtley, I presume? asked the dark figure.

Yes, I am James Hurtley, replied Mr. Hurtley, sputtering and wiping the rain from his eyes.

Splendid! Do forgive the lateness of my intrusion, but it is of the utmost importance, sir. This is the Three Rivers Child Center, is it not? The one that has had numerous testimonies in the media for superior service to the community and excellent child treatment and placement? The dark figure passed a dry handkerchief to Mr. Hurtley.

Wiping his face, Mr. Hurtley answered, It is, but who are you exactly? Mr. Hurtley collected himself, still trying to make out the visitor’s face.

Ah, how right you are, sir. Introductions should come before business. My name is Mr. Rook, and it is a tremendous honor to meet you, James Hurtley. Your exploits of love, charity, and mercy are renowned far and wide. Mr. Rook paced through the hall, looking at pictures of many of the children who had come through the halls of the Three Rivers Child Center. That being said, I have a proposition for you and your charitable abilities. Mr. Rook untoggled his feathered coat. This young one is in need of your services.

Mr. Rook’s coat revealed a jet-black suit with a red vest and an infant sleeping and cooing softly in a sling. I am part of an organization whose duties do not allow for proper child rearing. This being the case, I found that the best place for this child to grow and be nurtured is the famous Three Rivers Child Center. I will return on a specific date to retrieve the boy, but for now, I must place him in a home where he can be raised to my specifications.

To your specifications? inquired Mr. Hurtley with a deep look of confusion across his face.

Indeed, replied Mr. Rook. I will be needing to have this child with a certain set of skills and a number of additional attributes that will assist in him to, how shall we say, be all that he is meant to and is capable of being.

What are you trying to get me to breed, some type of soldier for you or something? snapped Mr. Hurtley.

Oh, of course not, but I will be returning for the child, and I would definitely prefer that he was prepared to integrate in the life waiting for him, and all instructions can be found herein. Mr. Rook passed a sealed envelope to Mr. Hurtley and gently handed the child to him. I will be compensating you considerably, and all I ask is that you adhere strictly to the instructions and forget that this transaction ever took place.

Heading for the door, Mr. Rook turned to look one last time at the child. He then laid a stern gaze upon Mr. Hurtley. Exactly as instructed. Pulling the door open, a bolt of lightning flashed, and an earthshaking crack of thunder shook the walls, causing the pictures hanging on the walls to rattle. Another sheet of rain coated Mr. Hurtley, blurring his vision.

When will you be back? Mr. Hurtley coughed, trying to clear the rain from his throat. There was no answer, just the caw of a crow in the night, a single black feather left on the welcome mat of the porch.

The power suddenly returned to the Three Rivers Child Center, and Mr. Hurtley was left with nothing but a new child and a large envelope of instructions from a mysterious stranger gone into the night.

Who was it, James? called Mrs. Hurtley from upstairs.

Mr. Hurtley looked down at the sleeping child as the young one gave a big stretch and a long exhausted yawn. Mr. Hurtley began to climb the stairs, trying to decide the most believable way to explain to Mrs. Hurtley that they would be having a new resident in their home.

Prologue

Thunder cracked, and the heavy door swung open to the foyer of the great stone building known as ARX Academy. A tall lean man crossed the threshold and shook the water from his drenched black feathered overcoat.

Quite the storm this eve, spoke the man.

Hurriedly, the ARX Academy attendant rushed to the door. Good evening, Master Tedos. May I take your outerwear? asked Mrs. Hopper.

Oh, no thank you, Georgia. I’ll dry it momentarily.

Are you sure? I’m afraid you’ll catch your death staying wet like that, replied Mrs. Hopper.

Well, we both know that isn’t true, replied Tedos with a smirk. Anyway, I have to be off. Dr. Miller is waiting on me.

As you wish, my dear. Have a good night, replied Mrs. Hopper.

To you as well, madam, spoke Tedos slyly as he headed up the staircase toward the office of the principal of Arx Academy.

Tedos knocked on the door and dipped his hands into a small dish of water on the wall next to the door. Ripples rolled across the dish, and a blue light radiated from the water. The door swung open, and Tedos entered the room. Good evening, sir.

Ah, good evening, Tedos. How was the scrap this evening? asked Dr. Miller.

Well, sir, it was wet, if that’s what you’re asking, replied Tedos, holding out his arms still dripping with rainwater.

Yeah, you should probably have dried up a little bit first before coming in here like that. There was a gentle hint of annoyance in Dr. Miller’s voice.

Oh, yes, how inconsiderate of me, sir. One second. Tedos took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A faint blue aura surrounded Tedos, and suddenly flames erupted from every portion of his body. The flames swirled and danced around him as though a pile of leaves caught in the wind. Suddenly, the flames subsided, leaving nothing charred nor damaged, and Tedos’s soaked clothing was dry and comfortable. Ah, that’s better, said Tedos. I was even able to get the water on the floor and the rug.

I do wish you would do that outside, Teddy, spat Dr. Miller. There are a lot of old things in here that can catch easily.

I agree, sir. That is why I kept a firm distance from you, replied Tedos as he executed a patronizing curtsy.

Ahem, if you are quite ready. He cleared his throat. Please join me, said Dr. Miller, gesturing for Tedos to sit. The two shook hands and made their way across the elegant study. Books from every age, religion, creed, and nation lined the expansive walls. The three-storied office maintained the records of all of human existence. Every victory, defeat, trial, and tribulation could be found within this office. Every display of generosity and nobility, as well as humanity’s unimaginable cruelty, could be found within the pages of Dr. Miller’s office.

So tell me, old friend, did you encounter much resistance this evening? asked Dr. Miller, leaning forward in anticipation. It has been so long since I have been out on a harvest. And, well, although the spirit is unendingly willing, unfortunately time has made the flesh weak.

Tedos took a moment to determine how to respond in just the right manner. Tedos’s personality would never turn away from an opportunity to crack a joke about Dr. Miller’s age. Tedos did, however, understand full well that the hardest thing for legendary warriors like Dr. Miller to accept is that their abilities eventually dissolve into legend.

No, sir, it was absolutely quite pitiful, replied Tedos. Imps, mostly. And for some reason, a poltergeist was outside one of the houses. Nothing important, though. We didn’t even ignite, or at least I didn’t. Tedos nonchalantly slumped in his chair, waving steam from the inside of his coat.

Yes, there was a good crop this harvest.

They will be a good class in time. Tedos smiled. I need to get something to drink, sir. Would you mind?

Oh, no, by all means, replied Dr. Miller.

Tedos took a drink from a cup of tea that materialized in his hand, and another was sitting on the desk in a saucer in front of Dr. Miller. A cry from outside the door rang out.

Tedos, did you just take—

Yes, Georgia! shouted Tedos with a mischievous smile stretching ear to ear. Tedos placed the cup back on his saucer and adjusted himself in his seat. Sir, the house that had the poltergeist outside of it…

Yes, what of it? asked Dr. Miller. We generally don’t concern ourselves with behavioral manifestations of the deficient population, continued Dr. Miller with very little concern in his voice.

Well, sir…I had to do an inhabitation on the occupants of the home. Inside of this house was a family, and the boy that the interlopers, shall we say, took such an interest in, well, he is a void.

A void? inquired Dr. Miller with great interest, scooting his chair toward his desk and leaning forward as though to keep an already private conversation even more secret.

Yes, sir, and I removed him, replied Tedos.

What did you do with him? Where did you take him? asked Dr. Miller sternly, his eyes bearing down on Tedos.

I know of a place.

Dr. Miller’s eyebrow raised, and his green eyes pierced through the dim light. Come. Come now, Ted.

Tedos flapped his coat again, attempting to air-dry the last reminiscence of dampness. I took the boy to a temporary group home, said Tedos.

You took him to one of those stated funded child jails? Tedos, why would you take him there? snapped Dr. Miller.

There is a man whom I have known of for a number of years. He is a great man, reportedly, and was willing to accept the boy.

Dr. Miller interjected, Tedos, the boy will require—

Yes, interrupted Tedos. A special set of traits and personality characteristics, and that is why I provided a complex set of instructions and more than fair compensation to the man.

It has been many years since a void has been trained, said Dr. Miller.

The world has changed.

What of the nosey third drafts? inquired Dr. Miller derisively.

Tedos scoffed. I’ll keep an eye out for all of that and take care of it, replied Tedos.

I expected nothing less than that answer, young man, replied Dr. Miller proudly. Both men stood and shook hands.

If there is nothing more, sir, I will take my leave, said Tedos with a genuine slight bow this time.

No, my boy. Great work. Good night, Tedos.

Good night, sir, replied Tedos, crossing the office as the door swung open. Tedos looked back at Dr. Miller. Oh, and, sir.

Yes? replied Dr. Miller.

The compensation for the family’s trouble at the group home came out of academy funds. The door closed, and Tedos was gone.

Dr. Miller slumped in his chair and muttered to himself with a sigh, I expected nothing less than that answer, young man.

Chapter 1

The Scuffle

Fourteen years had passed since the child was left to the care of James Hurtley, the owner of the Three Rivers Child Center. The strange man who left the child and his mysterious instructions in the care of Mr. Hurtley was never seen or heard from since. Although most of the children coming through the child center had a loving, nurturing home, for the small boy swaddled and handed over to Mr. Hurtley, the treatment was never the same. Due to the arrival of Reginald Pison, now a teenager coming into his own, all the awkwardness of adolescence took its toll. His shoulder-length blond hair covering his eyes made him an extremely noticeable youth in Elgin High School. Many of the students had deemed him Regina or the Sheepdog. Rege, known to most, kept to himself primarily at school. In fact, Rege kept to himself mostly at home as well. Life had drastically changed in the Three Rivers Child Center. The warmhearted, loving man that Mr. Hurtley had been known for remained the same for everyone except for the poor child abandoned by Mr. Rook.

Get in here, boy! came a shout from downstairs. Rege, where are you? yelled Mr. Hurtley again.

Rege snapped around, straining to hear and pulling one of the earphones from his head, untangling the cord from his blond locks.

Rege!

I’m coming! answered Rege, throwing his history textbook aside and heading for the door. What’s up, um, that is, did you call me, sir?

Yes, what were you doing up there? snapped Mr. Hurtley.

Well, I was doing my history homework. We are studying the Civil War, the Battle of Gettys—

Yeah, yeah, yeah, interrupted Mr. Hurtley. Did you buy those blasted seeds from the store like I told you?

Sure did, sir, replied Rege.

Interrupting again, he said, Are they planted in the garden?

Well, no, sir. I thought you might want to plant them with me, so I waited for you.

Speechless, Mr. Hurtley gazed at Rege momentarily with a look of tenderness. Well, that’s a great idea. But suddenly, Mr. Hurtley’s softness melted away, and the bitterness that Rege had so become used to showed its ugly presence. Why would I want to do work with you in the yard? spat Mr. Hurtley.

Well, I know that the garden is important to you, and you always want Augusta and Earn to help, so I thought I could help you, Rege timidly answered.

Yeah, I would like to spend time with my sons, but not some client that just can’t get adopted. Now get those things in the ground!

Taken aback, Rege turned and nodded. Yes, sir. Right away. Tears made their way toward the forefront of Rege’s face but never pushed through to the surface anymore. He had actually learned to deal with the fact that he was more of a tenant than any of the other children that passed through the halls of the Three Rivers Child Center. He seemed to be the punching bag through which all aggression was released. The young man didn’t mind though. Rege was a solitary person and had actually begun to get a kick out of making awkward situations between himself and Mr. Hurtley. It was always entertaining for Rege to kill Mr. Hurtley with kindness and then watch him trip over his own words.

Rege hurried to the cupboard on the porch and grabbed the corn seeds. Having a difficult time opening the package along the line, he struggled to tear the envelope. Tear along dotted line, huh? Easy open? Yeah, right! Biting down on the package, Rege ripped it open with ease, but only all too easy. The contents of the packet went flying into the air, and the kernels landed in complete disarray in the rows of the garden. Damn it, I should have figured that was going to happen. As Rege got to his knees, he had nearly collected all the seeds and made a neat little pile on the ground when he heard the flapping of many wings and raspy screams. The black feathered thieves made their way into the garden. Get out of here, you winged rats! hollered Rege, swinging his arms and shooing the crows away from their would-be banquet. The large birds, bold as they were for a quick meal, were cowards at heart and erupted into the air, cawing angrily at Rege as they departed into the sky. Rege taunted as the crows flew away into a neighboring field. As Rege gathered the seeds into his palm and prepared to plant them, he was startled by a deafening cry. Caaawww!

A single black crow remained. It was three times the size of any of its counterparts that were fleeing into the nearby vegetable fields. This one seemed different. Black eyes with red slits and a scarlet diamond on the bird’s chest made the crow’s fearless demeanor even more intriguing. Rege approached the strange bird. Are you hungry? He offered his hand and the seeds there within.

The visitor tilted his head, examining Rege. Caaawww!

All right, all right, sorry. The bird lowered its legs and perched on the ground like a mother bird covering a nest. Making itself comfortable, the bird dug into the ground and then looked Rege up and down from head to toe. Hi, I’m Rege, he said with a timid smile. The bird lowered its head with a nod, again studying Rege. You’re a really big fella. The strange bird appeared to roll its eyes and then erupted with its feathers pointing behind Rege. Caw! Caw! Caw! Confused as to whether the bird had actually responded to his questioning, Rege chuckled and then got back onto the task of planting the seeds. Rege whipped around to see Mr. Hurtley coming from the house toward the garden. Rege looked back for the crow, but no sign of the strange garden visitor was present save for a single black feather. Rege picked up the feather. I’m talking to birds now? I must be crazy or getting there fast. Rege laughed to himself.

What are you doing, boy? spat Mr. Hurtley.

Planting seeds and talking to birds, answered Rege honestly with a smirk.

Well, if you are not too busy communing with animals, as soon as the seeds are in the ground, dinner will be ready. Are those damn birds swarming again? We’ll have to get a scarecrow. Mr. Hurtley trailed off as he tromped back to the house.

Rege, thinking about the size of the huge bird he had just seen, wondered if anything could scare that gigantic bird besides an artillery cannon. Yeah, I’ll figure something out, Rege replied. Rege began to plant the seeds into the holes dug earlier by his foster brothers, Augusta and Earn. Rege came across another single feather. Rege picked up the black plume, examining it closely. Pocketing it, Rege finished the planting and hurriedly covered the holes with dirt and jogged back to the house. Off in the distance, Rege could still hear the field of birds cawing and arguing over the vegetables they were scavenging. I’m going to need something a little better than a static scarecrow this year, he muttered to himself and then entered the house to look for materials to build the scarecrow. A crack of thunder rang out in the distance, foretelling of a coming storm.

The next morning, Rege was awakened by his alarm as usual. Dressing and preparing for school, he could hear the murmur of the younger children stirring in the hallway. Sneaking into the bathroom for a momentary lapse of occupants, Rege began his morning routine of brushing his teeth then washing his face. Rege spat his mouthful of water out and looked up into the mirror to inspect himself. The mirror was completely fogged up with steam, and Rege reached for his washcloth to wipe the mirror clean. He looked at the faucet. Where is the steam coming from? Only the cold water is on. He wiped away the fog from the mirror with his cloth. Rege was sure that a lecture on the finer points of using Windex in a manner consistent with a