Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #13 April 2015 | Page 95

to his father. And today his father had called for him.
He had his best tunic on and had taken a bath. His
father had never called for him before. He’d often
turned up unannounced, taken Padraig for walks and
talked at him. But had never asked for Padraig to go to
him. Padraig wasn’t sure what it meant. But it surely
meant something important.
He hurried across Malvin’s Holding. A collection of
stone built houses huddled inside the great wall for
protection, a community of over two hundred souls,
the largest centre for civilisation in all the Four and
One and a place Padraig had never been more than a
few miles from.
When he knocked on his father’s door, he could feel
his heart beating faster than normal. His father frightened him. Not least because he was one of the four
Great Druids, but also because he was tall and intimidating. When asked to enter, he slipped through the
wooden door and bowed.
“Father,” he greeted.
“Well, come in, don’t just stand there looking foolish,”
his father replied.
Padraig walked to the table his father sat behind, a
collection of thin wooden sticks in front of him etched
with the Ogham, a language Padraig, as bard, had
learned to read. None of his friends could read, or
write, or do much arithmetic even. Padraig was proud
that his father had seen to it that he was educated.
“We are going on a journey. You must tell your mother
that it will be at least four months before she sees you
next, and you must be here at dawn tomorrow with
e fW'