The Prophecy (Children of the River Book 1)

by Ren Curylo

  The waves rose ever higher as the ocean responded to the storm they created, and when Oseyan was satisfied that the hurricane was viable to live on its own, he dove beneath the surface and left without a farewell to the others.

  Having released her clouds to go with Lorccan’s wind, Sabina moved forward toward Anoba. Coming up behind her, she kissed the woman on her dark, bare shoulder. “My room or yours?” she whispered playfully.

  “Yours,” Anoba said. “I have far too many family members in my area.”

  Sabina giggled. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes. I’ll go get us something to eat. I’m starving.”

  “I’ll be along, soon.”

  Sabina vanished from the water behind Anoba.

  Aled moved forward with Taranis and Torrentia, following Lorccan closer to the shore.

  “I think it’s good to go on its own, guys,” Anoba said, moving toward the remaining crew.

  “I’m going to follow it in,” Taranis said.

  “Take care that they don’t see you,” Anoba cautioned.

  “I will,” he answered. Turning to Torrentia, he said, “Would you care to join me?”

  Torrentia grinned and took his hand. “I would,” she said enthusiastically. “I don’t do much on Lerien and I would love to get better acquainted with the goings on here.”

  “As would I,” Lorccan said. “I’ll go with you two if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Taranis said. He was still holding Torrentia’s hand.

  “Count me out,” Aled said. “I don’t care much for Lerien. I can see all I care to see from here and from the monitoring stations on Na Réaltaí.”

  Taranis nodded as Aled Traveled away. “Anoba?” he asked. “Care to come with us?”

  “I would love to, but,” she said, her voice trailing off.

  “Ah,” Taranis said with a knowing wink. “Sabina is waiting.”

  Anoba smiled and dipped her head to hide a faint blush that colored her cheeks beneath their dark greenblack tone. “I’ll check in with you later, though, Taranis. Thank you all for your help.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Torrentia said. “I had a great time. Call me anytime you want to stir things up.”

  Anoba watched Taranis, Torrentia and Lorccan move toward the land quickly and soon they were out of sight behind the high waves and the driving rain. She hurried to her own chamber on Na Réaltaí before joining Sabina.

  Hours Later Nonae 15, 666

  Lasahala Run

  Silverwilde, Cardosa

  Taranis Taranis moved to the edge of the forest where he had a clear view of Lasahala Run. Torrentia stood at his side as the rain pelted down all around them. He raised his hands and swept them over their heads, forming an unseen umbrella to reroute the rain past them to trees, undergrowth, and ground around them.

  Torrentia snapped her fingers and dried them instantly now that they were sheltered from the storm. “Too bad Lorccan went off on his own,” she said musingly. “But we can always tell where he is from the wind.”

  “I’d say,” Taranis said. “Currently, he’s all over the place. The wind is twisting around a bit.”

  “Maybe he’s whipping up a tornado.”

  “That could be devastating to the Elves.”

  “It could. They don’t seem to be aware of the storm

  threatening them yet,” Torrentia said.

  “It’s odd that no one is about in the village this time of day,”

  Taranis said. “I think perhaps that indicates they are aware of it. I

  think they just don’t know how severe it is.”

  “Hmmm,” Torrentia said. She waved her arm, increasing the

  rainfall. Squeezing her fist tighter, the drops became razor-sharp

  shards, falling hard and fast. The wind picked up and the rain came

  down at a slant. A brilliant flash of lightning hit the ground

  somewhere nearby, closely enough they could feel the crackle in the

  air around them.

  Taranis gave a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head

  and a deafening clap of thunder shook through the trees, shaking

  the rain from the leaves. “Look,” he said, pointing ahead toward the

  village. “Someone is coming out.”

  “Wow,” Torrentia whistled. “That guy is old, even for an Elf.

  I know they age slower than any other mortal race, but mo dhia, he

  must be a million years old.”

  “That’s Enric,” Taranis said. “He’s the oldest Elf I’ve ever

  seen. I met him a long time before we left the old world. He was

  ancient even then.”

  The old man stepped out into the rain and took a quick,

  assessing look around. He immediately went from door to door,

  sounding an alarm as a wooden rocking chair from someone’s porch

  blew past him in the quickening wind.

  People ran from their homes, shouting to others as they

  passed their neighbors, making their way to the largest structure in

  the small Elfish town.

  “Where are they going?” Torrentia said waving her hand to

  usher in another barrage of rain on a strong gust of wind. Needletipped drops of rain, blown by the punishing storm, hammered

  painfully into their skin. The rain flew like shards, piercing and

  shredding the leaves on the foliage in her path.

  “Looks like they’re headed for the castle,” Taranis said as he

  started to bring down another ear-shattering clap of thunder at the

  exact moment that a lightning bolt hit a tree on the leeward side of

  Lasahala Run. The tree split in two at the top, its bough cracking

  loudly as it tore away from the main trunk. It fell, severing limbs as

  it went and crashed through the roof of a house at the south side of

  the village. The wall fell away, revealing the crushed and pinned

  body of an Elfin woman with blood trickling from the corners of her

  mouth. The rain quickly washed it away as it soaked into the carpet

  beneath her head.

  Elves nearby screamed in panic as they ran after the everexpanding group heading in the opposite direction. The increasing

  howl and whine of the wind as it blew more fiercely drowned out

  their screams. The roof blew off one of the smaller homes and

  ripped into a neighboring structure.

  Another tree splintered and fell into the Elves vegetable

  garden, crushing all the plants within and destroying much of the

  fence surrounding it. In their panic, a herd of cows began braying

  loudly as they ran about the enclosure seeking a place to hide. Taranis watched them in pity and raised his finger in an

  upward motion as if lifting a bolt. The latch on the corral gate

  opened and the gate swung open in the wind, rebounding hard to

  bounce against the wooden rail of the fence. The alarmed cows ran

  into the woods, following one another, pounding their way from the

  village as quickly as they could.

  Taranis unlatched the horse's pen in the same manner,

  allowing the horses to run off into the woods in search of safety. They hoped the trees would shelter them enough to keep them from

  harm.

  Turning his attention back to the Elves, he and Torrentia

  watched the villagers, running and shouting in fear as the winds

  quickened once again. More roofs flew from less sturdy structures.

  The ferocity of the storm completely uprooted a few trees, tossing

  them about like matchsticks.

  Torrentia moved forward slightly and lifted her chin, closed

  her eyes in a rolling motion and began to mutter something in a

  language Taranis didn’t understand.

  “What did
you do?” he asked when she stopped speaking. She looked at him and smiled, her grey eyes soft and steady.

  “I was protecting that chicken coop over there,” she said, pointing at

  a small wooden house surrounded by a finely meshed fence. “Didn’t

  you hear them squawking and clucking?”

  “No, I guess not,” he said. He smiled at her. “Good work,

  Torrentia.”

  She shrugged. “Normally I don’t get involved in storms on

  Lerien, but since you saved the cows and horses, we couldn’t let the

  chickens die, now, could we?”

  “I guess not,” he said. “What did you do?”

  “I put a wind block on the hen house,” she said. “Let’s open

  the pig pen and get out of here. Lorccan’s wind is about to knock me

  off my feet, even with your protective umbrella.”

  Taranis opened the pigpen in the same manner as he had the

  horses and cows. “Is our work here done?” he asked.

  “I’d say so; my pants are getting soaked from the rain

  blowing in sideways. Besides, this storm is going to rage for an hour

  or two more. We’ve protected everything and I’m growing bored.” “We can’t have that.”

  “Let’s go to Na Réaltaí for fresh clothes.” Torrentia raised an

  eyebrow and grinned. “I’ll help you out of your uniform.” Taranis laughed and took her hand. “That’s an offer I can’t

  refuse,” he said, as he Traveled them home.

  1 week later

  Nonae 25, 666 Lasahala Run

  King Silvus “It matters not that you think it’s foolish, Enric, the people have made their wishes quite clear. They want to relocate to a more central location within Silverwilde Province. We shall begin construction on the new city at once,” King Silvus said.

  “We’ve been friends all our lives, Silvus,” Enric said. “You are only a dozen years younger than me. We are the two oldest Elves in our group. You’ve been our king since coming to Lerien, and I’ve never once disputed your word or questioned your judgment.”

  “You shouldn’t start now, Enric,” Silvus said hotly. His brown eyes flashed in anger. His golden hair was dark enough that some would consider it brown. Silvus was quite dark for an Elf— certainly far darker than most of the Elfish inhabitants of Lerien. Most of Silvus’ direct kin had been aboard other ships.

  “I must,” Enric said. He was the other end of the scale, complementing Silvus’ darkness with his pale, fair, pinkish-white skin. His eyes were light blue and his hair long and white with a dry brittle appearance. It hung in thin wisps at the tops of his slightly slumped shoulders. “You’re being rash, dear friend. It will lead our people into danger.”

  Silvus shook his head with an obstinate expression on his thin face. Silvus appeared far more delicate and feminine than many of the male Elves in their group; they were, by and large, as a race, far more frail looking than humans. “The people have voted, and they have decided we should move inland, farther from the coast so we may never have to weather such a storm again.”

  “ Silvus,” Enric said bullishly, “it was barely over half of them of who voted to move inland. The margin was no more than ten or fifteen more for that option than for staying here.”

  “That is still the majority. We are moving, and that’s the end of it,” Silvus snapped. “I don’t believe that’s the end of the matter,” Enric said with equal bullishness.

  “I have just married,” Silvus said. “My bride is expecting and we want the child to be safe. She will give birth in the winter and I would prefer that we have moved and are established by that time.”

  Enric shook his head. “You cannot let your new queen rule in your stead, Silvus.”

  Silvus turned angry flashing eyes to his lifelong friend. “I am not,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to keep the heir to the throne safe.”

  “You’re an old man,” Enric said. “You’ve never had a woman before, and we both know where your interests lie, Silvus. Don’t let this marriage color your decisions.”

  “It is not the marriage that colors my decisions, Enric,” he said, turning and sinking wearily into his throne. “It is my desire for an heir. You don’t know how distasteful this whole affair has been for me, but I’m an old man, and I need an heir if my lineage is to continue ruling the Elves of Lerien.”

  Enric shook his head. “This is fool's work, Silvus. It’s dangerous work as well. How can you justify taking your pregnant wife and unborn heir off into the wilderness of Silverwilde and still say it’s for the good?”

  “The cost of that storm was dear, Enric,” Silvus said. “We cannot bear another. Why, half our village is in ruins.”

  “That may be, Silvus, but we’ve lost nothing save a few buildings. No lives were lost, not even our livestock. Our gardens weren’t a total loss; we can make it through the winter if we send out hunters.”

  Silvus shook his head and opened his mouth to continue the argument but he fell silent as the door to his throne room opened and a squire stepped inside. “Begging your pardon, your highness, but Severo is here to see you.”

  An argument on the other side of the doorway grew heated as the squire spoke.

  “Ever the quarrelsome fellow,” Silvus said with a weary sigh. “Bring him in, lad.”

  “Shall I leave?” Enric asked.

  “No need, old friend,” Silvus said as Severo strode confidently into the room. He was of a similar age to two men already assembled.

  “Your Highness,” Severo said with a stiff, quick, almost hostile bow. He wore is pale yellow hair braided into a long queue down his back, tied off with a strip of soft, supple leather, dyed green. His blue eyes were cold and calculating as he looked at his king. His lips and the tips of his fingers were slightly tinged blue and always looked and felt cold. While still thin, he was of much sturdier stock than the king.

  “What brings you here, Severo?”

  “I wish to discuss the election results with you, your highness.”

  Silvus sighed almost forlornly. “My mind is quite made up in the matter,” he said. “There is nothing to discuss.”

  “I beg to differ,” Severo said loudly. “I have just come from a commission of citizens. I was chosen to come here to inform you that we won’t leave Lasahala Run.”

  “You cannot defy a direct order by the king,” Silvus said.

  “We can, and we will. The people are already working to rebuild our houses and crops. Surely you must see that it is more sensible to rebuild here than to start over in another place.”

  Silvus shook his head. “No, I do not. As King of the Elves, I must look to the future and our future is doomed if we continue to live in the path of such storms.”

  “Such storms can and do make their way inward,” Enric said calmly.

  Silvus’ brown eyes flashed again as he looked at Enric. “Are you telling me, my oldest friend, that you are siding against me?”

  “I think it’s reasonable,” Enric said, but he didn’t meet King Silvus’ eyes.

  Severo glared at the king. “We aren’t leaving, sir,” he said.

  “We are leaving,” Silvus said. He called to one of his men and when the fellow answered, he said, “Please go out into the village and tell everyone to pack their belongings. We will leave in three days for the interior of Silverwilde where we will establish the city of D’win’teasin.”

  “Yes, your highness,” the man said quickly before scurrying out of the palace.

  “It will do you no good, my lord,” Severo said. “Half the village will not go. They’ve spoken to me at length on this matter, and you’ll leave with only half of us.”

  Silvus glared at the man. “I could lock you up for treason,” he snapped.

  Severo laughed. “The jail was destroyed, your highness, which you would know if you had done more than cower here in your palace. That’s partly why half of us don�
��t want to follow you. They need a strong leader who will walk among them and help them rebuild, not hide away like a doddering old man.”

  “Here now, Severo,” Enric said. “Mind your manners. No matter the difference of opinion, King Silvus is still your king. Show some respect.”

  Severo shook his head. “He’s only the king until he loads up his entourage and drives away. Then we shall have a new king in Lasahala Run.”

  “And who might that be?” Silvus said, looking at the man knowingly.

  “The people who voted to stay want me to take the throne should you be foolish enough to leave here,” Severo said.

  “Ah so there you have it, Enric,” Silvus said. “There’s the real reason he has convinced people to stay against their own best interests.”

  “I have an heir already,” Severo said. “My son, Caolán is fit to succeed me. He’s an adult who has served our people well for decades.”

  Silvus shook his head. “I have an heir, too,” he said.

  Severo laughed. “You have a young woman who says she’s pregnant with your child. However fertile her ground may be, sir, I remind you that your seed is old and dried up. You’re almost ready for the funeral pyre.”

  “If you’re implying that the heir my wife carries in her womb is not mine, I can have you hanged for the insult, Severo. Have a care at the aspersions you cast.”

  “There is no need to be insulting,” Enric said. “We must think of the good of our people, rather than who sits on the throne.”

  “I believe who sits on the throne, as well as the heir to the throne are the same thing as what’s good for the people,” Silvus said.

  Severo laughed. “Farewell, King Silvus,” he said mockingly. “Go forth then, with your half of the villagers and establish your foolish inland village of D’win’teasin. The rest of us are staying here and I’ll be a stronger king than you’ve ever been. You’ve always been more of a queen, anyway.”

  “Guards,” Silvus barked. “Get him out of here.” He flung his hand in Severo’s direction.

  The guards quickly surrounded the man and escorted him outside. There they released him, having had no orders from the king to hold him.

  Silvus turned to Enric. “What do you intend to do, my friend?”

  “I’m staying in Lasahala Run, your highness, though I do wish you well. I hope your wife and your heir are all you want them to be. I am not a young man anymore, sire, and I don’t feel that I have it in me to relocate and start over at this stage of my life.”