The Prophecy (Children of the River Book 1)

by Ren Curylo

  Anoba nodded. “The human population here is sparse, to be sure, but that may be a good thing. I think this spot is meant for the Fae.”

  “The Fae?” Moriko looked at the area wonderingly. “I think the Fae will find this spot appealing, to be sure. It has all the things so many of them love. There are flowers blooming here almost yearround.”

  “Are you familiar with that?” Anoba asked, pointing to the edge of the clearing at the farthest point from where they sat at their picnic.

  Moriko looked and shook her head. She rose and walked over to the area and turned back to Anoba with a wide grin. “It’s a Toadstool Portal,” she said.

  Anoba nodded. “It’s one of a few on Lerien that I’ve found that have not been secreted away or disguised as something else.”

  “What is it you’d like to do here, Anoba?”

  “Exactly what my dreams have told me,” she replied. “I want to make this place forever spring.”

  “Just this small grove, right?”

  Anoba nodded. “Yes, and I would also like to ward it.”

  “Ward it?”

  “According to my dream,” she said, “this place needs to be protected from human encroachment.”

  Moriko smiled. “The easiest way to do that is to make it scary or uncomfortable for them to come here.”

  “That was my thoughts, too. This place, according to the dream, needs to make them uncomfortable, more than frightened. Although, there is another place where they need to be frightened.”

  “This sounds like a fun project,” Moriko said. “Count me in. I’ll help you with them all.”

  “I was hoping you’d feel that way. You know,” she said with an air of afterthought, “I get the feeling that these dreams are some kind of a prophecy.”

  “A prophecy? You mean like a portent of the future?”

  Anoba nodded. “I have this underlying feeling that there is more to come.”

  “Sounds like we’ll be busy for a while,” Moriko said. “Let’s pack up our lunch and get started making this place forever spring for the Fae and forever off limits for the humans.”

  213 years later Phaedrus 22, 275 Woodmist, Mirus Corath, Lerien

  Anoba & Moriko “I’m concerned the people in this area are spreading out too close to the Lilitu and other Fae,” Moriko said, as she and Anoba walked northward toward the edge of the forest toward the burgeoning settlement of humans.

  “I am, too,” Anoba said. “It’s been one of my recurring dreams for at least six—maybe ten years. The dreams I’ve had about it have gotten more intense. I think it’s time to do something.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I wanted to get input from you on this matter. You’re far more familiar with this forest than I, though there are a lot of rivers in this province.”

  “There are a lot of predators in this area,” Moriko said. “Those rivers make for good eating for both the predators and their prey.”

  “Perhaps we can use them to our advantage.”

  Moriko grinned. “I think we can.”

  “Do you have some ideas?”

  “I think we should take advantage of all those assets, Anoba. Use your rivers to create dense fog at night. It won’t negatively impact the predators, but the humans moving in will have a healthy respect for it, especially after a few of them don’t return from the mist.”

  “Are you suggesting that we lure them to their deaths? That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” Anoba said with a slight scolding tone.

  Moriko frowned. “Not at all, Anoba. I am suggesting that we use the natural resources here to solve our problems. Use your rivers to make mist. If the animals get dinner because of it, so be it. It’s all part of the food chain.”

  Anoba looked around the forest, stopping alongside the barely discernible trail to look around her. “It’s kind of creepy here even without adding any mist,” she said, suppressing a shudder.

  Moriko looked around to see what was creeping her companion out but saw nothing out of the ordinary. “I think you don’t spend enough time in the woods if you think this place is creepy,” she said. “It’s a perfectly normal forest with perfectly normal animals in it.”

  Anoba peered around her into the shadows of the trees. “What sort of animals?”

  “Anoba,” Moriko said calmly, “you have the power to defeat any animal on this planet. You can’t be seriously nervous about anything that lives out here.”

  “We don’t get many hairy things in the river,” she said almost sheepishly.

  Moriko laughed. “There are plenty of hairy things here. Take that bear, for example,” she said indicating a spot behind Anoba.

  Anoba spun around quickly. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. “What do we do?”

  “Well,” Moriko said quietly. “I think she smells our lunch. Where is the leftover chicken?”

  “I put it in my basket,” she whispered as she watched the large brown bear lumber into the clearing. It raised its snout and sniffed, homing in on the chicken.

  “In that case, I suggest we stand here and let her go get it out of the basket. We’ll have to be more careful when we picnic from now on, though. I don’t like feeding wild animals.”

  “That was not my intention, I assure you. I wasn’t sure you’d want to put it back in your bag since it was mostly just bones.”

  They watched the bear move toward the basket several feet away from them in the clearing.

  “Will it eat us?” Anoba asked nervously. “Like I said, land animals aren’t my thing.”

  “It most likely won’t mess with us at all. I’m sure our odor is human enough that we smell dangerous to the bear.”

  “What do you if it charges at us?”

  “I can’t harm an animal,” Moriko said. “It’s part of my code as Chief Forestry Officer. If it attacks, we’ll have to travel away and come back later.”

  “Aren’t bears nocturnal?”

  “Some are, some aren’t.”

  “Oh, mo dhia,” Anoba said, grabbing Moriko’s arm and wiggling it nervously. “It’s standing up and looking at us.”

  “It’s trying to see what we are.”

  “It’s going to attack us.”

  “We don’t know that yet.”

  “Don’t bears stand up when they’re about to attack?”

  “No, they don’t. They’re trying to get a better look around them.”

  “Should we run or climb a tree or something?”

  “No, just stand here. I have some bear spray in my bag.” Moriko moved her hand slowly to her waist, carefully reached into her bag, and removed a large can.

  “Can you spray it from here?”

  “There’s no need,” Moriko said. “I’m not going to do anything to this animal unless we have to. We have choices. This is its home and territory. We are the interlopers here.”

  “Look, she’s back down on all fours again,” Anoba said. “Is that a good sign?”

  “Yes, it is, if she turns away rather than moving toward us.”

  They watched the bear as it sniffed the air again. It shook its wooly head and concentrated on finding the food. It moved toward the basket and tore its way inside. It dragged out the chicken carcass and began eating. Once the bear dispensed with it, it moved on to the fruits and cheese. It finished off the crackers last before moving on into the forest, in the direction it was heading when it stepped into the clearing.

  Anoba breathed an audible sigh of relief when the bear disappeared. “What the Ifreann other things are out here?”

  “Wolves, pumas, bobcats, things like that. Just the usual.”

  “The usual? Mo dhia,” Anoba said. “I hate dry land.”

  “Well, apparently you keep dreaming about it, so we have to keep meeting on it.”

  “Okay, I like your mist idea,” Anoba said. “Can we pull that off today?”

  “I think having the mist come up as dusk falls, and last until sun-up is a good amount of time. Hum
ans can’t see too well in the dark, so that will make it worse.”

  “What about bears?” Anoba asked. “Can they see well in the dark?”

  “They see in color,” Moriko said, “much like humans do in the day, but they see much better at night than humans.”

  “I don’t want to make it any more dangerous for people than it already is; I want to keep them away.”

  “Well, if they venture in here and get eaten by something, that’s just how life goes,” Moriko said. “There is nothing I can do to stop that sort of stuff.”

  Anoba looked at her. “I guess you didn’t take the preserving life oath that I did,” she said.

  Moriko made a snorting noise. “Well, there’s more to be said for standing back and letting nature take its course after life has been established, Anoba. A bear eating someone is no different than someone falling into the river and drowning. That oath wasn’t meant to bind us for eternity. It was only until things get going and then we let it be.”

  Anoba shook her head but remained silent.

  “Besides,” Moriko said with a small shrug, “there are plenty of things that could and would eat them in broad daylight. And they’re all in more danger from other humans than they’ve ever been from wildlife.”

  “That’s true. I had hoped we had left the blood thirst out of them when we came here, but thanks to Hermolaos’ group teaming up with Ochón’s, we end up where we are.”

  “Frankly, I think making the mist will be enough. Plenty of the humans will test it and venture in here, day and night. A good number of them won’t return and the human’s natural superstition will take over to keep them out in bigger numbers.”

  “I’m sure you’re right about that,” Anoba said. “Shall we get started on the misting of the woods?”

  “I think we should make sure the village is called Woodmist, too.”

  “That’s perfect. I’ll seed that idea in a few human heads before I leave.”

  The two women set about misting the woods between the tiny, budding village and the well-established Lilitu Grove and had no more encounters with bears. It was well after dark when they left the forest.

  42 years later

  Aventine 1, 316 Na Réaltaí

  Anoba Anoba awoke with a keen sense of dread. The dreams that had been plaguing her for centuries had grown more persistent, in both their frequency and their intensity. Her fingers shook as she wiped the sweat from her brow.

  She frowned in consternation as she tried to recall the details of the dream. This one, like so many others, had felt prophetic—like something she was supposed to do something about. But what? As the dreams continue, she grew more frustrated with each one. I need guidance. Where are they coming from? They weren’t ordinary dreams, she was certain. She admitted that she was acting mostly on hunches each time she had acted on one of her dreams.

  She had enjoyed the things she had done so far and Anoba knew she was right about the changes she had made in the world. It pleased her that she had found creative ways to help the Fae be a bit safer in the world. Many centuries of experience, both in this world and the old world, had taught her that humans could be horrid creatures with which to share a planet. Have they learned anything? I don’t know.

  She sat up in her bed and stared around her room without bothering to turn on the lamp on her bedside table. She could see well enough in the dark. Besides, she was completely alone in her private, protected chamber on Na Réaltaí. Still, that feeling of trepidation and danger clung on to her like a film of sweat on her skin.

  She sighed and lay back on her pillow, forcing herself to concentrate on what this dream was about and what she needed to do to make certain things went the way they should. One thing the dreams had given her was a deep sense of what the path should be and that there could and would be terrible consequences if things should derail.

  Anoba closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. A wellestablished small town popped into her mind as clear as if she were watching a video on her gan-sreang. She kept still and watched it unfold, hoping to pull that hidden dreamland knowledge into her conscious mind.

  Trying to relax made her more tense than she had been and she, at last, gave up. She checked the time—only two hours until she had to be up anyway. At least the entire night hadn’t been destroyed.

  As she showered and dressed in her grey and black uniform, another feeling crept up on her, displacing the feeling of dread with a new urgency. A compulsion to go see her cousin Rizvan swept through her. She seldom thought of him—they weren’t close. Rizvan was her kin on her father’s side. They hadn’t grown up together; in fact, they had only seen one another as children maybe three or four times before the Alteration. After that change, they had seen each other more frequently, but there was never the closeness she had with Oseyan and Gealach, who were her mother’s sister’s children.

  After she dressed, she made her way to their family dining room. She knew if Rizvan were on Na Réaltaí, she would find him there this time of morning. He didn’t like eating in the Droichead. He shunned crowds, preferred solitude, and small groups.

  Anoba wasn’t disappointed. He was sitting alone in the small family dining room. He had taken his looks after her father’s side whereas Ársa and Oseyan had taken theirs from her mother’s people. Rizvan was slender though muscular. He was neither as tall nor broad as Ársa. He was a brown-eyed blonde with fair skin. His appearance, she noted, had remained relatively unchanged after The Alteration. He was one of the few who could make such a claim.

  “Good morning, cousin,” Anoba said, sliding into the chair across from him.

  “Good morning, Anoba,” he said with an easy smile. “What is it you desire today?”

  Rizvan had a relaxed way about him that always surprised her given he was such a private person.

  “I think I need your help,” she said.

  “Name it, Anoba,” he said with a smile. “I’m all yours.”

  She gave him a brief explanation of the dreams she had been having, hoping to impress on him the import she felt they deserved.

  “And you think all these things are prophetic in some way?” he asked.

  Anoba nodded. “I do,” she said. “Well, at least many of them are. I’m sure some are just chaff, but I usually can feel the difference.”

  “And what’s this one in particular?”

  “It feels extremely important.”

  “Give me details.”

  “There’s a village—a small town really,” she said. “The buildings are all wooden but they are exquisitely beautiful. They are works of art, designed and built by master craftsmen, certainly. They are situated close to one another and there’s a forest nearby. I don’t know who lives there. The buildings are pastel colors, painted in lovely tones and shades of pinks, greens, yellows, and blues. A large building there is painted the most pleasant shade of lavender. I get the feeling it’s for their ruler but I have no way of knowing.”

  “Hmmm,” Rizvan said, his brow furrowing in thought. “It sounds like the Elfin town, Lasahala Run.”

  “Are there flowers there?”

  “Yes,” Rizvan said, sipping a cup of steaming coffee. “There are flowers from the old world, a profusion of blooms in a central garden with a path around it. The Elves take great pride in their garden and have a promenade around it in the evenings when they all come out to enjoy one another’s company.”

  “And there are trees, as well?” Anoba asked, hopeful of finding this place for the first time since awakening.

  “Yes,” he said. “Anoba, I am surprised you aren’t familiar with this place, given the abundance of rivers in Silverwilde, Cardosa. Lasahala Run is situated quite near the banks of one.”

  Anoba frowned. “I don’t see how I could have missed it, but for my life, I cannot seem to remember it.”

  “Odd,” he said. “What about it, though?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, but my dream leaves me with the desire to hide th
at place.”

  “From whom?” Rizvan asked.

  Anoba looked puzzled. “I am not sure of that.”

  “Anoba,” Rizvan said, looking at her with deep concern. “Are you all right?”

  She laughed. “I know you must think I’ve gone daft, but I feel I must find this place.”

  He shook his head. “Desire is a funny thing. Who knows why we desire the things we do? How about you and I go to Lasahala Run and take a look around. Maybe it will help you figure out what you need to do.”

  “I would like that. Are you free right now?”

  “I am,” he said. “Do you have any idea why you came to me with this?”

  “No. When I started out of my room, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. It’s like I was being led to you.”

  “Well, perhaps it’s meant to be. I am destined to help you with your Prophecy.”

  “Even if I don’t know what we’re supposed to do or why?” she said with an apologetic laugh.

  “Even so,” he said. “I like an adventure. If you say there’s a reason for it, I’m sure there is, and perhaps one day we’ll know what it is. Until then, I’m content to take your word. Is this the first time you’ve done something like this?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Moriko has helped me on two occasions. We’ve made alterations to a couple of places on Lerien.”

  “I see,” Rizvan said. He stood up and offered his cousin his hand. “Come on, Anoba. I’ll take you to Lasahala Run.”

  She rose, took his hand, and allowed herself to Travel with him to Cardosa. They came solid at the edge of the woods surrounding the Elfin town. She peered through the trees and instantly recognized her dream. She knew, now, why she felt drawn to seek her cousin out.

  “This is it,” she whispered in awe. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s remarkable. Look,” he pointed, “you can see the garden from here, just over to the right.”

  “I see it. It is spectacular. No wonder the Elves are so proud of it.”