The Thirteenth Scroll

by Rebecca Neason

  “It was then the men of the Up-world came unto the Realm of the Cryf. We welcomed them, for we did hope to show them our ways that they would know the Cryf were not monsters. Our Elders did hope for friendship betwixt our kinds. We were wrong. The men of Up-world saw the beauty of our Realm and greed did join the enmity in their hearts. They killed the Cryf who had welcomed them and did begin to tear our Realm apart.

  “But the Cryf know many places, places deep within the heart of our Mother the Earth, that no Up-worlder may find—then or now. Our Guide did wait until the Mind of the Divine opened unto him to show him what the Cryf must do. Soon the visions came unto our Guide and to the Elders of the twelve. The Divine, who loveth the Cryf, showed unto us how to hide the shining stones—for Upworlders can not see as we do. Many fell into the deep pits that they themselves had dug and perished there. We mourned them not, though they, too, be the children of the Divine, as are all living things.

  “Others ascended back Up-world so they might bring their brightness back with them. But again the Divine did guide us. It was then the Cryf sealed all but two doors betwixt thy world and the Realm of the Cryf. Those that remained open we did hide behind stone. By the Wisdom of the Divine was this done, and only the Guide of the Cryf knoweth where those last doors remain.

  “The Mind of the Divine then revealed unto us how we may grow what we need and never again be forced to enter unto the Up-world. There be many such places as this in the Realm of the Cryf,” he said, waving his hand to include the whole cave. “This one be for our Healers. Others grow the food we eat or the plants to make our clothing. We go not Up-world—and our law be that no Up-worlder may come unto the realm of the Cryf.”

  “Where are your Healers now?” Lysandra asked. “Didn’t they hear the cave-in?”

  “They heard,” the elder replied calmly. “They shall be ready if thou canst not help the Cryf, as thou hast said. But I send word that thou alone shalt act as Healer in this. Then shall we know if the Hand of the Divine be truly upon thee.”

  Lysandra drew a deep breath. She was being asked to undertake—alone—the healing of those whose survival might completely depend on what she did in the next few hours. She turned back to the stone shelves and the medicines stored there, trying to hide her uncertainties from the far-too-observant gaze of the Elder.

  “Gather what thou needst,” the old one said. “We must return and ready ourselves. The ones who now dig may well have reached the trapped ones. Thy healer’s touch will be needed.”

  Once more drawing a deep breath, Lysandra began quickly sorting through the vials and pots before her. Her fingers trembled, and she could taste the bitterness of fear.

  Oh, please, she prayed—to her Sight or to the Source from whence it came—please don’t fail. If not for my sake, then for the sake of the injured. Stay with me so I can help them.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Even though the Festival did not officially start until the next day, the streets of Yembo were a riot of happy noise and color. Banners, woven or stitched with bright springtime flowers, hung from balconies and upper-story windows. Window boxes were filled with artificial bouquets, flowers of impossible hues fashioned of silks and satins. Building doors, window boxes, and shutters had all been freshly painted in brilliant jewel tones, shining in the sunlight.

  The Enfawr River ran through the center of the town, the main and most famous street, with buildings built up on either side. Down these streets, vendors had set their stalls, all covered with bright canopies. Many had tied long streamers to the tent poles that fluttered with every breath of breeze.

  The streets were already crowded. Like the buildings and stalls, the people were dressed up in bright colors so that they looked like flowers moving in the wind. Once the Spring-Fest began, these streets would be closed to all but foot traffic.

  For now, Aurya and Giraldus were still on horseback. As they picked their way through the crowd, Aurya looked around, seeking some clue that might lead her to the Three Sisters. Were they people or landmarks, something native to Yembo or something brought here for the Festival? If the latter, would she find it on the first day or the last?

  Nothing caught her eye, but Yembo was a big place, and they were still far from the site where the children’s choir would sing. Aurya was not discouraged; she would not allow herself to be. Under her breath, she repeated the words of the scroll, making sure they remained ever-present in her thoughts.

  Finally, they entered the part of town given over to inns and public houses. The crowds were thinner here. Stable hands scurried through inn yards, dashing on errands to care for their charges. Giraldus called to several of them, trying to learn which inns were already filled. They were finally directed to the seventh inn on the long row, The Dancing Dolphin.

  The wooden placard that hung over the door showed a great sea creature, a kind Aurya had never seen, balancing on its tail and surrounded by ocean waves. It was a comical creature with a long-nosed snout and a mouth that looked open in a grin. If such a creature truly existed, she thought, it was not in the waters around Aghamore.

  Aurya found herself grinning back at the charmingly carved face. She took it to be a good omen that they should be housed in a place where the known and the unknown were blended. She was suddenly certain that tomorrow, when at dawn the children sang before the city’s Water-Gates, she would find the Three Sisters.

  Satisfied with the comfort, the good food, and good cheer that filled the Inn of the Dancing Dolphin—that, in fact, filled all the town of Yembo—Aurya slept well and deeply. She did not awaken until the hour before dawn, when the innkeeper came around to knock on the doors of all the guest rooms. Almost everyone planned to attend the opening of the Festival, when the children gathered to sing to the brightening day.

  Aurya awoke at the first knock, and she, in turn, awakened Giraldus. He opened his eyes as readily as she had. He seemed just as eager to reach the Water-Gates and find a place in the surrounding parks where the crowd did not impede their view of the event.

  “There’s a breakfast waiting downstairs,” Giraldus told her as he added some wood to the fire he had just built to chase the predawn chill from the room. “And I’ve a good appetite this morning.”

  Aurya smiled. She was hungry, too—but not for food. Her appetite was for knowledge and for the power awaiting her discovery at the park. Seeing her smile, Giraldus rose from his knees and came to her. He slipped his arms around her waist.

  “You’re in a good mood,” he said, nuzzling her neck softly.

  “I’m eager for the day,” she replied. “We’ll find what we’re looking for… I’m sure of it.”

  “Humph—we’d better,” Giraldus said, a bit more gruffly. “We’ve wasted enough time with this scroll nonsense. I still say we’d do better with a dozen armed men at our backs.”

  They had already had this argument—several times—and Aurya did not want to have it again this morning. She still had not convinced Giraldus, but he was here, and that was enough for now. When he sat on the throne of Aghamore and saw that it was her powers that had put him there… then he would believe.

  With that belief could come her destiny. She would then see that Aghamore became the kingdom it had once been, a great kingdom where the old gods and the old ways were still mighty. Then Aurya would no longer be an outcast among society… she would be First among all the rest.

  Then she remembered Elon’s words about her need to publicly embrace the Church and marry Giraldus in accordance with its precepts. She shook her head. After I have the child, she thought, and know what powers it conveys and controls, then I’ll consider Elon’s advice. If what I hope is true, I won’t have to worry about the Church or marriage. I’ll he a Priestess-Queen, Servant of the Great Goddess, as Queens once were and are meant to be.

  Yes, that was a worthy goal, one toward which she could willingly work. It would not be easy to banish the Church from Aghamore. For the last several centuries it had been slowly buil
ding its influence and power until now its insidious tendrils had wormed their way into every aspect of Aghamore’s society. The hearts of the people would need to be changed and redirected in their devotion.

  But the old gods and their ways had been part of this land since before time was measured and counted. Those gods and their powers would rule in Aghamore again—even if it took Aurya her lifetime to see it made so.

  After dressing and eating quickly, they left the inn to join the others heading down to the Water-Gates and the opening of the festivities. Torches wavered in the predawn air, giving a dancing glow to the crowd following the same path walked every year at this time. Aurya strolled along with them, her hand on Giraldus’s arm and filled with a sense of inner ease. It all felt so right to her this morning; no shadow of doubt was present to darken her thoughts.

  The Water-Gates were awash with lights. Huge torches had been lit at each end and in the middle of the high, arched bridge, and lanterns were hung across the face so that the wonderful carvings could be seen.

  Here were carved flowers and trees, and the wildlife that had lived along the banks of the river. It was Yembo of the past, honored and celebrated by the Yembo of the present. At the very center, three swans were carved in flight, their long graceful necks extended and their wings caught forever in mid-beat.

  The Three Sisters, Aurya thought with a sudden burst of excitement that raced through her body as if lightning had struck from within. Wait, she told herself. Their beaks are pointing north, the direction you already know you must go—and the prophecy said the Three Sisters would be looking west… but they are on the west face of the bridge… Her thoughts were beginning to chase themselves in unprofitable circles. Wait, she finally told herself, wait and see what the dawn reveals.

  Long ago she had trained herself to outward calm despite whatever she might be feeling. She called upon that training now. The ways of magic are sometimes subtle, she reminded herself; she must not miss them because she had no more self-control than the lowest initiate.

  Far in the east there was the merest change of light. At that same instant, from either side of the bridge, rose the pure, soft sound of children’s voices. Walking four abreast, they came. Their song became louder, clearer, as with each footstep the two groups neared each other.

  Their voices rang like tapped crystal, trilled like a summer brook flowing over stones. Off in the east, the light grew in shades of violet and roseate gold. The crowd, so full of festive noise just a scant moment before, was now stilled in hushed appreciation.

  Aurya, too, was silent, waiting for the revelation she was certain would come. Off in the distance, the sky continued to grow brighter by the second. The violet gave way to the soft blue of a clear springtime day, and the rose-washed gold turned tawny, then bright as the sun at last lifted above the horizon.

  With her eyes fixed upon the swans, Aurya stared, strained, to see even the smallest nuance of change. She saw…

  … nothing.

  The children concluded their first song, an ancient hymn of haunting melody sung in praise of Creation, to the appreciative applause of their audience. They began a second tune, this one sprightly and full of musical movement. It was a familiar folk tune about blackbirds and thrushes, sheep and fishes, all looking for their mates in the beauty of spring. Soon, everyone but Aurya was clapping in time. Many in the crowd began singing along—including Giraldus. He was having a wonderful day.

  Aurya wanted to scream at everyone to be quiet and let her think. That, of course, she could not do. Instead, she felt a sudden and undeniable urge to get away. She turned from Giraldus’s side without a word and headed north—away from the people, from the noise and distractions, and in the direction the swans were pointing.

  Pushing through the crowd proved difficult. She felt like a fish swimming upstream, the current dragging her the wrong way. Gone were the elation and certainty she had known upon awakening. All she had left was her determination.

  It had carried her this far in her life—it would carry her the rest of the way she intended to go. She would never fail or disappoint herself.

  The children had begun a third song by the time Aurya reached the edge of the crowd. She began to search the north end of the meadow, looking for anything that might fit the clues given in the scroll.

  Still she found nothing. Everything here was clipped and pristine, well cared for; nothing was hidden or forgotten. She pushed aside bushes and peered into shadowed places, as the children continued singing their festal greeting to the sun.

  Aurya was so intent on her search that she did not notice when the children ceased to sing. She ignored the thinning crowds as she began her second search of the park’s perimeter.

  “What are you doing?” Giraldus asked, suddenly at her side. His good humor had turned to impatience when he discovered she was gone, and now his voice was hard.

  “It has to be here, somewhere,” she answered him. “The swans’ necks were pointing to this direction.”

  “And on the other side they no doubt pointed the other way.”

  “The other side—the sun’s side. But that’s east, not west,” Aurya said, speaking to herself and ignoring his question. “We have to go to the other side. Come on.”

  She started to hurry away, but Giraldus grabbed her arm. “What are you babbling about, woman?” he said. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re doing.”

  Aurya swung around to face him, her impatience now matching his own. “Didn’t you see the three swans carved on the bridge?” she asked him.

  “Of course I saw them,” Giraldus replied. “Nice bit of work.”

  “Don’t you understand, Giraldus? There were three of them. Three. The Three Sisters, just like the scroll said. They’re what we came here to find, remember? They’re supposed to reveal the next steps we’re to follow.”

  “You know, Aurya, I’ve had enough of this scroll nonsense. Even though you say you know we need to end up in the north, in Rathreagh, we’re here—in Yembo, in Lininch. East not north. I’ve done everything you have asked of me, everything you and your scroll said to do. But this is enough. We’ll cross the bridge and we’ll search the other side. But if we find nothing, that’s it. After that, we start doing things my way.”

  Giraldus kept a hold of her arm as he began to march across the field toward the bridge. Aurya could tell that he was angry… and she was fast becoming angry, too. She knew what he meant by doing things his way. He meant to summon his army and storm the capital, to take the throne and the crown by force.

  And she knew it would not work… but could she trust her sense of certainty anymore?

  Then Aurya remembered her vision on the night she had performed the Summoning of Tambryn’s spirit, the vision of herself and Giraldus riding into Ballinrigh with an army at their back. If that had been a warning, she would heed it now; she was not going to give up on this journey and the reward it promised.

  It was then she made a decision that had been whispering in the back of her thoughts for a long time. She would make Giraldus the King in spite of himself.

  A Spell of Obedience will change your mind, she thought as she and Giraldus neared the bridge. Tonight, when you’re sleeping—I’ll set it then. The moon is still full and the power of night at its greatest strength. By tomorrow when you awaken, you’ll have no choice but to obey me.

  That decision made, Aurya stopped walking. Her action made Giraldus swing around to face her. She put on her most pleasant smile as she gently disengaged his fingers from her arm. There were other people on the bridge, and she was not about to be dragged across like a recalcitrant child.

  Instead, still smiling, she stepped closer to Giraldus and slipped her arm through his. Her sudden change brought such a look of confusion to his face that it made her want to laugh aloud. He still, after all these years together, did not understand her—would never understand her.

  And that was how she wanted it to stay.

&nbs
p; They found no more from searching the southern side of the river. As Giraldus had threatened, he now proclaimed this journey at an end. Tomorrow he would send a message to his men, then they would turn back and meet his army en route to Ballinrigh.

  Aurya smiled and agreed, knowing that nothing he was saying would ever happen. She let Giraldus see her disappointment; she acted agreeable and submissive, as if her failure to find the next signs of the scroll had taken all the will from her.

  While she played through this latest round in the eternal male/female contest, letting Giraldus think he had won, she was busy reviewing the spell she would cast once the moon was high.

  She did not waste her strength on a Sleeping Spell. Instead, she slipped a powder into his wine and kept him drinking. Once it finally took effect, she had to help him to the bed, where he fell into a stupor before she even had the chance to remove his boots. Now she was certain he would not awaken while she performed the ritual that would bind his will to hers.

  Aurya removed Giraldus’s clothing, then changed her own into a simple shift of palest silver, the color of the moonlight. Once that was done, from out of her bags she brought a blue-crystal wand, about twelve inches long. It had a groove hollowed into one of its facets, which she would make use of tonight.

  This, and a candle, she put on the table. Then she found Giraldus’s dagger and brought it with her as she sat before the fire to prepare herself.

  Many times during their years together Aurya had been tempted to use this spell. Until now, she had always resisted. A Spell of Obedience, like spells for love, always seemed to her of a self-defeating nature. To force someone’s compliance, like forcing their affection through magic, rendered the emotion meaningless.

  But too much was at stake here. After it’s over, she promised Giraldus’s sleeping form, after you are High King, I’ll remove the spell. If I’m careful, you’ll never know it was there. Or if you do, you’ll have reason to thank me for it.

  The moon was finally high enough to shine through the window, beaming silvered light into the room. Aurya moved the table into the center of that light, then extinguished the lamps and lit the candle. She was ready to begin.