by Talis Jones
Eisen hardly breathed as he struggled to take in Titus’ words. “I still do not understand,” he whispered.
Titus ignored him. “I tried to separate the twins by both distance and time. I rather succeeded too. And then things went quite wrong.
“Cassandra was my apprentice before you but when she discovered the prophecy it changed her. Always filled with more passion than reason she left the Whispers. Even in the Outer World she dreamed of greatness and here on Oneiroi she would have it. Her only threat was you. Her quest to organize Oneiroi under her control blossomed and her path continues even as we speak.”
“But if she is a Whisper then she should still be sixteen. The woman who calls herself Crown Morrigan is certainly older,” questioned Eisen.
“Yes indeed. As I’ve said, Oneiroi pulses with a timeline separate from the Outer World’s. While Oneiroi has gifted Whispers with eternal youth, the Outer World offers no such luxury and the moment you step foot past the boundaries of this land your body will continue aging as it once used to. You hold no power there.
“The Whispers were once a great force in Oneiroi and when Cassandra turned on them they banished her from the island. Soon after, Abel chose his gift of loyalty and required all Whispers to be marked with it. Unfortunately they underestimated Cassandra’s tenacity and she miraculously wormed her way back. Although I’m sure it was quite an unpleasant surprise to find that the magic she had once possessed did not fully return to her when she trespassed upon Oneiroi once more. I ripped it from her to await a new apprentice, and that apprentice turned out to be you.”
Eisen’s mind spun with Titus’ claims. “I still don’t—”
“Of course you do!” barked Titus in frustration. “Neither twin can survive so long as the other is with them. You were separated for a reason but now that your paths have collided only one can remain. Cassandra is your sister, Geoffrey. And you must defeat her.”
At this Eisen leapt up onto his feet and strode toward Titus shoving an angry finger in his face. His blood boiled and his voice came out in a lethal low growl. “Cassandra may be my blood, but she is not my sister. Adrianna is my sister and for Adrianna I will destroy this monster parading around with a bloody crown.” Turning angrily from the man he huffed, “I don’t know what game you are playing Titus but I will not be your pawn. I just want to save my sister. If our goals line up then that is fortuitous but I will not bend my will to serve yours.”
“Careful, boy. You walk a fine line between hero and villain. Remember, villains never win,” warned Titus gravely.
“And I never lose,” Eisen barked roughly.
“Cassandra is the Feuer, you are the Eisen, and Adrianna is the Leitfaden. Listen to the wind, Geoffrey. It will tell you all you need to know.” Titus stood from the rock he rested on and began walking back through the trees until only his eyes glowed in the darkness. “Agere sequitur credere. We act according to what we believe ourselves to be.”
With Titus gone Eisen stood alone in the inky night as the wind suddenly picked up whipping through the trees furiously stinging his ears with their cold bite. He bowed against the force in an attempt to shield his body but the vicious air ripped at his clothes, grasped his hair from the roots, and into his head it sang:
Oneiroi, a womb of magic, a sanctuary of rebirth,
A land of peace for lives too short, a place of endless mirth.
Twins separated at birth hold our fate,
Keep them balanced before it’s too late.
One of darkness, one of light,
Apart they shall thrive but together they shall fight.
When a Twin arrives keep them pure,
If they slip then darkness will cure.
The sun shall rise red as fresh blood and that morn a ship shall deliver a blight,
Rulers shall rise and Jourdies shall fall with their fists raised high seeking that poisoned might.
Generations shall come and generations shall go,
And a plan shall the wise Whispers sew.
On the dawn of rebellion to fell the third Crown,
The missing Twin shall at once bite down.
This is to be the sign of the change,
Their aid must the Whispers swiftly arrange.
Keep this half from darkness lest all of Oneiroi is consumed,
And only one, a companion traveler, contains the power to reverse such doom.
A drop of Crowned blood on the Twin’s own hands,
Shall at once seal the borders to Oneiroi’s sacred lands.
Mercy bestowed along with goodness of heart,
And sanctuary shall Oneiroi continue to impart.
Darkness in one, Light in the other,
Balance now returned to their warring mother.
The blight long gone and now the sickness undone,
Oneiroi shall rise from the song unsung.
With a great gasp of air Eisen sat bolt upright in his bed. Shaking and covered in cold sweat he held his pounding head. As his breathing calmed from the nightmare he released his head then froze. At the foot of his cot stood Titus wrapped in the shadows of the late hour.
“Remember,” he whispered before dissolving into shadow.
Eisen’s heart beat like a raging horse as his wide eyes searched the darkness lit with panic. Remember? How could he possibly forget?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Wood creaked as the sleeping figure turned in his sleep. Dawn light leaked through the cracks prodding him into consciousness despite his stubborn refutes. Flashes of the past weeks ran through his creaking mind as it succumbed to the morning, churning faster and faster until he sat up with a sigh utterly awake. His first days were but hazy memories. Brought to camp delirious from hunger, cold, and mourning he had drifted in and out of consciousness as his mind swam endlessly towards the surface, almost touching but never breaking through. Only rather recently had he gasped that first full breath of air.
Two children, both with matching black hair and warm eyes, spent endless hours by his side. The girl, Xià, explained that he’d been found by a wandering Weepy and brought to the Whispers for healing. At the time he’d thought he was still stuck in a dream or hallucination but their powers soon quelled his doubt. Using herbs and her own two hands she had managed to heal his damaged skin, steady his heart, and even mend an old war wound that had never healed properly.
Each morning the little girl would bid him Bon Bihana and then set right to work while humming a soft tune. As she did so her brother, Ping, remained quiet. He simply sat on his other side and gently pressed his fingertips to either side of his head and he would succumb once again to sleep. He did notice that each time he awoke after their treatments he felt noticeably lighter, stronger. Originally he’d attributed it to the physical healing of his body, but while it took time and effort Xià had finished it within days. Now his curiosity had pinned his lighter mind to the boy.
Xià no longer visited daily but Ping came faithfully. He would enter quiet as a mouse, reach out his hands and place them upon his head and after a few moments would converse. Never in his life would he have thought he’d share so many secrets with a young child he hardly knew and yet he proved so easy to talk to, so understanding, so slow to judge him. And as his small fingers probed his temples his mind grew clearer, quicker, and slowly but surely a little less buried in mourning and whatever darkness had claimed it for so many years. He wasn’t entirely certain of what the boy’s powers entailed but he was grateful for them nonetheless.
“You awake there Dismas?” inquired a not unfriendly gruff voice.
The man jolted out of his reverie. “Tom. I’d like to be called Tom,” he requested with quiet adamancy.
Titus bowed his head in acceptance. “As you wish, Tom.”
Folding his hands and crossing his ankles beneath the blankets he asked, “Why are you here?”
“I came to check on an old acquaintance,” shrugged Titus.
Tom barked out a short laugh. “Oh I truly
doubt that. Come on, tell me.”
“Do you know what’s been going on in Oneiroi since you were banished?” he asked seriously.
“Not entirely,” Tom admitted reluctantly. Truthfully he hadn’t spared it much thought and wasn’t sure he was particularly keen to find out. Outside of his conversations with Ping he had circled around any mention of the Crown as it only dredged up painful memories.
The sailor tilted his head curiously. If he knew what Tom was thinking he didn’t comment on it. “Well then, I’m here to announce you fit for duty and that requires a little update in the current news.”
Tom’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean ‘fit for duty’?”
“I mean Oneiroi needs your help. If you’re willing.” Then with a smile he added, “Either way the Whispers will not be serving you food in bed anymore. It’s time to get up and get out, I’m afraid.”
An unexpected trickle of trepidation shivered down his spine. He had left behind a nightmare not so long ago and a part of him resisted stepping back into it, but a deeper, brighter place inside his heart refused to sit idly by. Oneiroi was in trouble, and while he had failed his people once before he would not do so again. Raising his chin and giving Titus a steady determined eye he nodded. “Tell me what I must do.”
“Aye,” nodded Titus pleased. “Since you’ve been gone Crown Morrigan has been parading around as a pretty ruler but as the Whispers here will tell ye, Sarai Morrigan is dead. The woman whom you faced is the infamous Cassandra Böcklin.”
“What? But how—?” began Tom but Titus cut him off with a raised hand.
“Cassandra was one of the Whispers until she turned against them. She is full of anger and a growing lust for power. She has already killed a Whisper named Medusa and she will not stop razing all of those in her path until she has brought all of Oneiroi to its knees. Beginning with the Three Kingdoms, moving into Ailill, and finally taking Silvanus.”
“Silvanus is unplottable. Guarded by magic, few can navigate its paths,” insisted Tom hesitantly.
“Aye, but it doesn’t matter for she will be stopped before she can even secure the Three Kingdoms. Aztlan crumbles, Quidel is hers, but Llyr is flourishing and ready to fight.”
“She must be stopped,” breathed Tom.
“Indeed she must be.”
“How can I help exactly?”
“Help lead the Whispers,” Titus offered simply.
Tom snorted. “If even half the legends are true then they hardly need me to help them win.”
“Maybe so,” agreed Titus, “but you are an exceptional leader and military strategist. Work alongside them. Teach each other and organize this dormant army into an unstoppable force.”
Shy eagerness danced through Tom’s veins as his mind already reeled with maps and old intel of Mordréda. “Will it be enough?” he asked suddenly. “An army of Whispers? I’ve left this hut but briefly before but I’ve only seen a handful at a time while I’m outside. Surely they cannot be so large in number?”
“Hardly more than thirty strong,” confirmed Titus. “But do not forget Llyr is against the Crown. They will fight.”
“It may be enough. But I’m sure this woman will be ready. I saw the ice in her eyes, Titus. She has not been sitting around basking in her glory. I know she’ll have been strengthening her army, I’m sure of it.”
“You be right again, Tom. Llyr provides a substantial army filled with exceptional soldiers, and the Whispers are nothing to overlook even without their particular gifts. The key to winning lies within a man calling himself Eisen. I believe you met his sister, Adrianna, the girl whom tried to kill you by Cassandra’s side?”
The sluggish memory filled his mind as he struggled to recall that day and at last a face filled his mind’s eye. “Yes, I remember,” he whispered.
“Eisen is prophesied to destroy Cassandra, or she him. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell ye how important it is that Cassandra not win.”
“And this man, is he also a Whisper?”
“Indeed, the most powerful at present.”
Tom’s mind reeled with thoughts and questions. “Where is he now?”
“Training an army of his own near the Ailill-Quidel border. You will need to contact him when the time is right and confirm an alliance. Llyr will soon pledge themselves to Eisen and the Whispers must do so as well, despite their hesitance. Make sure they align.” Titus leaned in fixing Tom with a very heavy stare full of secrets, fire, and fear. “The others will tell you more about your opponents and allies. But now I ask you, are you ready to rise against the Crown once again?”
Tom hardly dared to blink, staked to his very spot by Titus’ request. He had failed utterly in his last attempt, but this time he would not take the Crown for himself. This time there was a greater plan at play and he knew it. This time he had all of Oneiroi, even the Reaper himself, on his side. This time, he would not falter and he would not be afraid. “I am,” he nodded.
Titus reached out a hand and they clasped forearms. Tom was pulled to his feet and Titus released him walking to the door. “Meet your army,” he glowed as he pushed open the wooden door and Tom stepped past him into the blinding light of morning.
As the bright sun faded from his eyes and his blinking subsided to restored sight Tom grinned the smile of a warrior surrounded by comrades and an air of shared pride. Before him stood the entirety of the Whisper camp. Some stood with arms folded, others tilted their heads sizing him up, a few even bore open grins. In front of them all stood a young boy with dark bronzed skin and a very serious face, far too serious for a boy of his age. The boy, Abel, stepped forwards and Tom sunk to one knee in a respectful kneel before him. Raising his right hand Abel pressed his small palm against the flesh over Tom’s heart and the two made a silent promise. The Crown’s reign must end.
A sudden rustling began at the back of the crowd and rippled to the front as heads turned and bodies shifted to make room. Gliding through the wake of curious excitement walked a woman with dark espresso skin and a crown of long thin braids clinking with golden beads. Her eyes flit furiously from face to blade to bridge to face to tree, her mouth gaped in wonder as she drank in her surroundings. Childhood stories come to life.
Sasha and Nox guided her forwards. Abel moved between the two Jourdies and extended a hand towards each motioning for them to meet. “Tom Myrddin, meet your second in command, Pekka Gabor.”
Tom and Pekka exchanged looks – Tom’s of vague recognition and Pekka’s of outright shock. Abel tensed as Pekka’s hand moved toward her saber. “Careful,” warned Abel quietly. “Leave the past in the past. Understanding will come but now is a time for new paths.” The Jourdies slowly clasped forearms in greeting and sized each other up with calculating gazes when a celebratory war cry broke out from amongst the Whispers. Soon the whole camp became a delirious dance full of pounding feet, ghostly hollers, beating chests, all sending up prayers of strength, guidance, grace, and courage for battle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Flame flickered from the sconces along the pale stone walls illuminating the wide room and its silent occupants. The hour was late, the shadows were still, and the air stirred empty of breath. Suddenly the shadows jolted as the torchbearer returned, pushing the door open and shut with the barest creak. A heavy effigy designed for training gave off a dull scraping cry as it was dragged from its corner and into the light. Dual whispers sighed into the hollow room as two daggers were unsheathed and held high. One breath. Four heartbeats. She struck.
Adrianna’s training may have no guide since Jack left Mordréda but that by no means meant she had abandoned it completely. Despite Sarai’s ever-watchful eye she found ways to sneak past the guards and into one of the smaller, less used training rooms in the military quarters. Months of sessions with Jack had improved her skills greatly but she knew in her heart of hearts that she didn’t measure up to half of Sarai’s soldiers and that she probably never would. But perhaps she had simply lacked the c
orrect motivation before. Now she stood alone. There remained no one there to protect her, no one except herself.
Her mind raced with these thoughts as she moved her body through a string of attacks. With a determined grunt her mind slowly cleared as it narrowed further and further allowing only focus on the present and leaving behind all else. Adrianna’s feet stepped with heightened grace as her movements battled faster and the daggers flashed in the flame’s light. All that existed was Adrianna and her target, and she battled it without mercy.
Seconds, minutes, an hour raced by leaving Adrianna’s limbs exhausted and her body shuddering drenched in sweat but still she did not stop. She fought back against the physical exhaustion of her body but it had found her weak spot and pilfered through her mind. Thoughts began leaking as the limits of her body pried open her narrowed focus beseeching her to rest. One jab. Two kicks. Four shuddering breaths. She’s down.
Adrianna sunk heavily to her knees, falling before the silent looming opponent. Tears tugging at her eyes as confusion and loss swirled in her chest but even stronger burned the anger in her veins. “Figo!” she growled quietly.
“I see you’ve picked up some of our words,” smiled a voice. “And not just the polite ones.”
Adrianna’s head whipped around at the intruder’s presence, daggers raised, and her eyes latched upon none other than Prince Addar leaning against a wall in the shadows with a smile on his face. “What are you doing here?” she demanded a bit more harshly than she’d intended.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged. “I thought taking a walk would help and noticed the light under the door.”
“I’ll leave you,” she murmured. Standing quickly she sheathed her weapons and moved towards the door but he stopped her.
Fixing her with his warm gaze he reached out and held her arm, keeping her from pushing past him. “Please stay,” he asked softly. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”