The following is an account of the great Derugarian Flood, from the perspective of Janus of Beldrem. Tob has gone off to serve in the High Kings Justifiers, in the Northlands, and Janus has just been released, by his Master Goentryx to tend the island as a Druid, in his own right.

Janus stood on the low Hill top overlooking the banks of the Eld, soaked to the bone. Grey clouds,hanging low in the sky, pregnant with rain, had been hammering the whole of the island for almost a week. His boots were sunken into the drenched ground, the soil saturated with water. Even here, on the high ground, covered in the stout grass with strong roots, the land had reached its breaking point. He knew things were going to get bad.
The animals that normally used the banks of the Eld for their homes, had made for higher ground. Deer and elk, muskrat and dusk cats, even the domesticated cattle were doing their best to find safety. His blue eyes watched as the normally langorous river coursed and surged beneath him. His blonde hair laid in drenched curls on his head as he scanned upriver. His eyes found the confluence of the Eld and MillersCreek, normally a sharp point of land between the two flows, now it was underwater, the trees standing solid still, in the current. He gazed up the meandering banks of Millers creek, and his thoughts turned to what lay upstream.
Three miles as the crow flies from where Janus stood,inside a forested copse in a hollow, Millers Creek ponded in the bottom ground. Contained here by a family of beaver, and their lifes work, a dam of trees, and mud, and branches. Fat raindrops dented the surface of the pond, rippling out and turning the normally placid surface of the pond into a dancing mirror. The pond had risen, and the water was flowing around the edges of the dam, digging at and carrying away the earth that served to anchor the structure to the banks of the creek.
Janus began to run, up the banks of Miller's Creek. There was one farm between him and that beaver dam, Lawrence Wallace's place. Farmer Wallace was a good man, with a sound mind and good sense. His house was settled on patch of high ground on the banks of the creek, a gorgeous setting, in normal times, and in recorded history, it had never flooded... but Janus knew, this stormfront was unprecedented. He forced his booted feet to move, pulling them out of the soft earth with each stride, if Wallace was still in his house, riding out the rain, he (and his twin daughters) had to be warned.
Janus ran till his legs ached, his clothes, soaked and heavy with the rainfall, weighed and pulled him down, he had never exactly been a physical specimen, and he was regretting his decision to leave Tahoe behind in the Master's Grove, safe and dry. It had made sense at the time, but now his breath came labored and his chest burned. When he topped a small rise, near the Wallace stead, relief surged through him, then a moments panic.
Upstream, the pond had begun to roll over the top of the dam, bits of wood, branches and logs began to tear loose, tumbling in the flow, carried downstream. The dam itself began to creak, and groan, as the pressure built, and the beavers emerged from the water on the banks of the pond, sensing the impending collapse.
Janus paused a moment, his palms on his knees, gasping for breath, his back humping as he gulped for
air. His blue eyes had always been keen, but he wished for once, he could disbelieve what they saw. Lawrence
Wallace was near the barn, trying to herd some sheep into the dry security of the roof, Mellie and the family dog helping. Lucia was nowhere to be seen. He broke into a run, yelling to the farmer and his daughter, his voice lost in the wind, and the crackling sound of the heavy rain.
Upstream, the dam heaved, buckled, and with the sound of rushing water and cracking timber, failed. The waters of the pond, long held back by generations of beavers upkeep and maintenance, sprinted downhill, surging with an irresistable power. Trees uprooted before it, rocks tumbled along caught in the white foam, and it roared, with the ferocity of of a thunderclap.
Farmer Wallace caught sight of Janus, before he heard him, smiling and waving to the young priest of the wilds. "Janus of Beldrem!! What are you doing running around in this gods forsaken weather?" He yelled, gesturing for him to enter the barn, where it was dry.
Janus ran the last few paces to the barn, looking up at Mellie, who was smiling at him from the door. At any other time, he would have been happy to see that smile, and the thoughts she could never quite hide behind those green eyes, but not this day. "Master Wallace," he gasped "You must go to high ground... there has been too much rain, and its not letting up, the creek will flood."
Wallace looked confused, then doubtful, as he heard Janus' words, he wasnt used to taking orders from any man, let alone a man two decades his junior. But he knew that Janus could listen to the voice of the wild, had seen firsthand that the young druid knew of what he spoke, or he didnt speak. Realization dawned on him, and his eyes went to the house. "Lucia....."
Janus nodded, and grabbed the father and daughter by the elbows, pushing them out the door into the cold rain. "Ill get her, Master Wallace, head for the high pasture, and the shepards shack, we will meet you there!"
He didnt watch them start uphill, but sprinted for the house, reaching the porch, he flung open the door, and stepped into the entryway. Lucia was standing at the arch that led into the Wallace's kitchen, in an apron, a dumbfounded look on her face, trying to puzzle out why the handsome, polite young man had just barged into her family's home. That was when they heard the roaring...
Lucia's eyes went wide, as that sound matched nothing in her memory, she started to ask "A Dragon?" but Janus was already on her, no time to explain, he seized her upper arm, and drug her out the front door yelling "RUN!!"
That was when the rushing wall of water struck the house broadside. Long standing timbers shuddered and snapped like twigs as the house broke apart behind them. The cold water hammering him and the terrified Lucia, He gripped her upper arm hard, as they tumbled along in the rush. There was no resisting the strength of the water, and Janus gasped in surprise as his head broke above the surface, gasping for air, he hoisted Lucia up, seeing the panicked look on her face.
Chunks of the house rolled past, he saw a sheep struggling to swim, and get pulled under. He had no idea where the shore was, or which way to swim. Swept along like a leaf, he spun in the water, searching for dry land and safety. As his eyes swept downstream, he had just enough time to yell "HOLD ON!" as he was hurled chest first into an ancient oak trees trunk.
The impact forced the air from his lungs, and he heard the unmistakable sound of his ribs cracking. His fingers clamped hard into Lucia's arm, he spread his legs, against the bough of the tree as his waist was forced into a crook between the trunk and a branch. Stupid luck. Lucia, however, was another story. She had missed the tree, and her feet were swept down stream. She gripped onto Janus' shoulder, her fingers digging at the muscles and clawing in behind his collarbone. The coursing water cold and numbing, rolled over his back, and hit Lucia in the face, splashing up and covering her face.
He knew she couldn't breathe, he knew every breath he took was like a spearthrust in his chest.He tried to lift her, to hoist her face out of the water, but the best he could do was lift her eyes clear. His blue eyes locked into her emerald greens, not for the first time, but instead of the passion he knew so well from their youthful explorations together, he saw fear, and desperation, slipping into hopelessness as the grip of her hand weakened on his shoulder.
He tried to yell at her, implore her to hold on to him, but all he could manage was a grunt as she lost her grip, and her hand slid down his arm. He caught her fingers in his, and for a brief moment, that seemed to stretch into an hour, they looked into each others eyes. Her grip was weak, their hands were slicked with the cold water, he shook his head, his voice gone from his throat as the river swept her from his hand, and claimed her as its own.