The Prophecy (Children of the River Book 1)

by Ren Curylo

  Silvus nodded. “I understand but I am disappointed. I will not force anyone to follow me—even if I could. I will take those willing to go and leave. I wish you and those who stay here all the luck, Enric, but I fear this will be last we know of one another. I am not convinced that your group will fare well under Severo’s not so subtle hand.”

  Enric nodded. “You could always exert your power and rule us as one kingdom, sire.”

  “I feel as strongly that I must go as you do that you must stay. I will cherish our past friendship, Enric, but perhaps its best that we never again cross paths, for I have no choice but to view you as an enemy.”

  “I am not your enemy,” Enric protested.

  “The moment you sided with Severo you committed treason to me,” he said harshly. “You may leave. My loyal people and I have much work to do.” Turning to the nearest group of guards, he said, “Show these men out and do not allow them access to the castle again.”

  The guards stepped forward and escorted them from the castle as the old king, back bent with his loss, left the room.

  94 years later

  Ianualis 22, 760

  Mirus Province, Corath

  Adamen Adamen flew through the night, the pitch black, balmy night, reveling in her freedom. The weather was warmer than usual for this mid-winter evening.

  She was Lilitu, a Fae creature in this bright unspoiled world the great god Ársa had created. She knew he was a jovial, wonderful soul, for he created a riot of color in this world. It was nothing like the last world where Adamen had lived. That world, while it had started out beautiful had grown grey and dreary and the sun no longer shone upon the land. Ársa had selected a variety of creatures to populate this beautiful new place he had designed. He had brought members of every Fae race there was, even the bad ones. She hadn’t seen any of those here, though, and she wondered what had become of them. There were numerous other immortal races that had come along, too, but they were scattered the world over, as the Fae were.

  This world was still in its infancy and it was full of wonder and delight. It held more promise than she had ever imagined. Adamen wanted to see Ársa again, to thank him for this miraculous world she was privileged to call home. She remembered meeting him twice in the old world when he had come to her colony to meet with her mother and to make plans to include the Lilitu in coming to this new place.

  Thinking back on that time, Adamen realized she was special, for her Lilitu village had been abuzz with gossip before they journeyed here. The rumors said Ársa had handpicked her specifically to accompany the Lilitu group that traveled with him. When he learned that her mother had assigned her elsewhere, Ársa rebelled and insisted that Adamen come along with them. She was the fairest of the fairest, he declared. He told Erish she couldn’t possibly dream of perpetuating the race on Lerien without bringing along the best of their stock. Erish at first refused, stating that the Lilitu in other groups needed strong leaders in their new worlds, too.

  The guard who had stood outside the queen’s door during this exchange said she heard Ársa declare that he would personally bring Adamen aboard his vessel with or without Erish’s consent before he’d see her delegated to another group. Her mother had never mentioned any of those rumors and acted as though she was completely unaware of them, though Adamen didn’t see how she could not know what gossip thrived among her people. She never spoke of any of it to her daughter.

  Adamen wondered why Erish had wanted to place her in another group, why her mother would banish her, and she didn’t completely buy the strong leader defense, either. She and Erish had always been at odds with one another about everything, and Adamen thought Erish was jealous of her even though she considered her daughter naughty, flighty, and far too full of fun. Erish took herself and her job as queen far too seriously and as a result, most of their conversations ended in fights. She’s sick of dealing with me.

  It was the custom of many Fae races to wait until their children’s personalities developed, before giving them a final name. Their querulous relationship had prompted Erish to name her daughter ‘Adamen’. The word actually meant argument or fight. Erish was quite the opposite of her combative daughter. Adamen found Erish an anomaly, especially for a member of a race of Fae who were devoted to upheaval and overturning the status quo among other species, particularly the mortals.

  Adamen was glad, in the end, Ársa had won and she had been brought along on the journey. Though she remembered not a single waking moment from the trip itself, she had a real feeling of adventure, being here in this unexplored world. She wasn’t exactly sure how many years they had remained unaware before The Envoy awakened them and gave them a colony here on Lerien. To her, it seemed as if she merely slept a long night’s sleep.

  She recalled her last waking day in the old world. It was as clear a memory as any she had. Upon their arrival at Ársa’s base, before their departure from the old world, each member had been taken inside and instructed to lie down, each in its own box that was exactly formed to their individual bodies.

  Before entering her box, Adamen had cast one last look back at the dust-covered world she was leaving behind. She wasn’t sorry to be leaving the only home she’d ever known. She was embarking on the grandest adventure imaginable and the old world was dying. If she stayed, she would die with it. It had occurred to her when she began this trip to the ultimate unknown, that they could have easily been left behind to die, for their interactions with the Recoms had been minimal. ‘Recom’ was the name the Fae used for Ársa and all those like him, but she never spoke it outside of her own head, at least not to any of them. It was an old term, carried over from the old world. It had begun among the humans there and they used it derisively. It had evolved from the word Recombinant, which Adamen knew nothing about. Most of the Fae called Ársa’s people Recoms, even though they called themselves The Envoy.

  She briefly wondered at the fate of the group Erish had originally put her on. Are they still alive? Is their new world as beautiful and wondrous as this one Ársa made? Did they survive the trip? Would their commander be as dedicated to their survival as Ársa had been? Is that why mother put me on that list in the first place? Did she think my chances would be worse there? Does Erish hate me that much? It made her all the more grateful to Ársa.

  Adamen pushed these thoughts from her mind. This place was far too unexplored, far too beautiful, and far too full of possibilities for her to dwell on the past or her mother’s reasons for anything she had ever done. Erish was still queen but so far, since her awakening on Lerien, Adamen had mostly managed to avoid her. It had been difficult since they still shared a home and she still had palace duties as she had before in the old world.

  Now, tonight, in the balmy darkness, she flew through the night looking for entertainment. It felt more like early summer than the middle of winter, and the breeze felt good on her skin, drying the sweat that accumulated from the exertion and the speed of her flight. Her clothing was Fae-made and in the traditional Lilitu fashion. She wore a thin, gauzy white gown that form-fitted her curvy body. It flowed around her legs and flapped in the wind behind her as she flew. The delicately hazy cloth did little to obscure her bare skin beneath it.

  Adamen’s long wavy hair drifted on the wind, stretching out nearly the length of her body behind her. It glittered in the fleeting light of the moon when it peeked from behind the black clouds in the night sky. Her hair was a deep burgundy red with highlights of the purest gold. Her upwardly slanted eyes were a lovely pale green, dancing with bright glints of mischief. Her skin was a dark, creamy brown and almost burnished in its healthy glow. Her body was curvy yet not heavily muscled. She was tall compared to many Fae races—she stood barely over five feet tall.

  She paused in her flight and looked around her. She thought about the last time she had visited this area, six months before. The farm nearby belonged to a mean-spirited fellow who abused his poor, much younger wife. She had taken it upon herself, at that time, to inter
vene and had encouraged the woman to leave him. Adamen had blown into their home one evening to find the man browbeating the young woman. He was old enough to be her father, certainly old enough to know how to behave better. It made her teeth feel sharp to see these mortal women being abused. Maintaining her invisibility, she had whispered in the woman’s ear, suggesting that she grab the cast iron skillet and bash the bloke in the head with it. Ifreann, Adamen would have done it herself if she could have gone near that iron skillet.

  The Lilitu weren’t as allergic to iron as most Fae. The bigger the Fae the less iron seemed to bother them. The skillet had been on the far side of the cabin and this allowed Adamen to enter the room and stand near the woman. She stood invisible at the woman’s elbow, listening to the man rant, rave, and carry on. Noticing he was well into his cups, she scoffed at mortal man’s lack of ability to hold their liquor. Adamen had begun to talk quietly to the woman, in her ear so that the man wouldn’t hear her. She encouraged her not to take his shit anymore.

  In response to Adamen’s insistent goading in her ear, the wife began to mouth off at the man, telling him what she thought of him and his rough ways with her. His drunken face clouded in anger and he clenched a meaty fist. Adamen shouted for the woman to get the skillet even as she herself moved forward and gave the rug where the man stood a good swift tug, knocking him off balance.

  She knew the woman would attribute her good fortune in the moment to his inebriation, and that was all right with Adamen. The woman careened forward, grabbed the skillet, and smacked the man in the head with it as he was climbing to his wobbly feet. He went down like a sack of rocks tossed over the side of a ship and the woman stood gaping open-mouthed at the result of her handiwork, looking confused.

  Adamen encouraged her to make her break while she could and the woman wasted little time complying. She quickly ran into their bedroom and snatched her clothing, still packed in the sack, as Adamen had suggested she do on her last visit. The woman slipped on her shoes and cloak and was out the door before the man began to moan. Adamen grinned at him and moved to stand over him. The iron skillet was lying on the floor next to him, making her itch and burn as she stood near it. She would have dearly loved picking it up and dropping it on his face but she was afraid to touch it. Instead, she spat, letting it trail down slowly to land in a gob right between his eyes, on the bridge of his big lumpy nose, right beneath his single eyebrow.

  She remembered that visit with fondness as she happily approached the cabin. Time for a follow-up visit. She giggled as she flew up to look in his window. The sound was like tiny bells in the wind, chiming a soft, sweet song. Adamen looked inside and found the man passed out drunk, half-lying on his kitchen table. His arm was stretched out, his fingers curling around the wine bottle standing empty before him. The farmer snored with his mouth open. A puddle of drool collected in his beard and on the table beneath him.

  She turned and looked around her. He has managed a wash day, Adamen mused. He had hung his laundry on the line and had failed to bring it inside before he passed out. Adamen wiggled her finger in the air and twisted the sheets and other items round and round until they turned into thick ropes. Next, she lifted all her fingers in a swift twisting motion and wrapped the cloth ropes around the clothesline. The items that would reach the one next to it, she tied together in her very best Pixie knots. The Pixies were among her favorite Fae and she spent many a night traveling with a troop of them, enjoying their new lives on Lerien.

  Before she was finished, she went into the barn and milked the cows, pouring the fresh warm milk into dishes for the barn cats to drink. She poured the remainder into the pigs’ trough. In the instant before turning away, she clabbered it in honor of her Pixie friends. She thought about opening the chicken yard and letting them all run free, but she decided against it. Foxes and other predators lived in the woods around here. While she wanted to annoy and irritate the farmer, the chickens didn’t deserve the fate that would await them if they ventured out or if a fox ventured in. Instead, she slipped inside the hen house to see if the farmer had neglected to gather the eggs that day. She smiled, a radiantly beautiful smile, as her slender hand curled around a warm egg. Adamen looked around the hens’ house for a basket. Not finding one, she lifted her skirt and began gently placing the eggs, one by one, into the soft hollow formed in the cloth. The cooler night air felt nice on her shapely, bare legs as she walked back out of the stifling heat of the hen house.

  Adamen turned toward the woods and began, one at a time, tossing the eggs against the trees. She knew the smell of the warm eggs smashing on the trees would bring hungry animals out to her and not a drop of the yolks, whites or even the shells would go to waste. The last half dozen or so, she rolled on the ground in different directions for the snakes to eat whole.

  When all her eggs were gone, she dropped her skirt and brushed away any bits of dust, shells, and chicken shit that clung to it. She sighed, smiled, and looked around at her handiwork. The only thing that would have made this adventure more fun would be having a Pixie or two along with her.

  She knew that no Fae lived in this area. These woods were strangely devoid of Tree Faeries, and no flowers grew here, which meant there were no Flower Faeries. She viewed it as proof of how exceedingly awful a person this farmer-man was. She was glad she had taken his bride from him.

  She turned to walk out of the woods, smugly satisfied with her accomplishments. The instant she stepped out into the clearing, she realized she wasn’t alone. She tried to sidestep to avoid crashing into the man’s broad chest as her heart beat fast enough to burst. She held her breath and tried to blink out of sight but found his arms around her, holding her fast against his chest. Adamen tried to shrink herself down small and pop out of his arms, but could not.

  She struggled and tried to blink from his embrace but her Fae powers seemed to be blocked. How is this possible? She redoubled her efforts to break free, thrashing against him and pushing with her fists.

  “Hold on there, beauty,” the man’s voice rumbled in her ear. Confusion gripped her. This isn’t the farm-man. Who is this? What does he want? Why can’t I pop out of here?

  His laughter vibrated through his chest. “Don’t you know me, girl?” he said.

  Adamen grew still, thinking, listening, feeling. She tried to identify him by smell. It was familiar. It was color, it was light, this man wasn’t evil, she realized.

  When she grew still, he released her and stood in front of her. His face was concealed in shadow and she couldn’t see him clearly enough to tell who he was, but she was no longer afraid of him. He wasn’t her enemy. She peered into his shadowy face and tried to put a name to him.

  He held his hand out to her and once again, his deep voice rumbled into the night. “Take my hand, Adamen,” he said, barely above a whisper, but it reverberated through her bones. “I’ll take you somewhere so we can talk.”

  “Talk?” she whispered, confused.

  “Aye,” he said. He smiled and his teeth shone in the dark of the night against the darkness of his skin in the shadows. “I would love to do other things, but that suggestion will keep and we can work our way up if you’re interested.”

  Adamen narrowed her eyes and turned her face slightly away. A suspicion began to creep over her. “You’re not a human,” she said, as she placed her hand in his.

  “Will you come with me?” he asked.

  Adamen nodded, although she questioned the sanity of her decision since she was clearly at a loss with him for her Fae powers didn’t work.

  He laughed as his warm hand clasped around hers, dwarfing her slender palm and fingers. “I will release your powers, my beauty,” he said. “You have no need to fear me.”

  Adamen leaned forward and sniffed the air again, trying to identify him or at least figure out what kind of creature he was. He smelled like sunshine, and wind and the sea.

  “You’ve been here on Lerien nearly a hundred years,” he said, “and you’ve no idea how lon
g I’ve waited for this moment. Shall we go?”

  Adamen nodded her head.

  “That is, if you’re all done with your fun here,” he said with a grin.

  Again, she nodded. The fun was gone from here now, she thought. She squeezed his much larger hand in her tiny one to let him know she was willing.

  He nodded his head and they vanished. Instantly, they were standing in a room that Adamen didn’t recognize.

  The moonlight shone clear and bright here, for no clouds obscured it. A breeze blew in from open windows. Human-style furnishings populated the room. Nothing of the Fae was in this room, save for her. It was still too dark to see clearly, even though her night vision was so much better than other species. It was as if a spell obscured the room from her sight.

  The man with her snapped his fingers with one hand while still holding her hand fast in his other. Suddenly, the room was illuminated and the light hurt her eyes. She flinched away and covered her eyes with her free hand. After her eyes adjusted, at last, she looked up into the face of a much taller, much wider man. He was so handsome she felt sure she was looking at him with a stupid expression on her face. His hair was dark and wild and his face was strong and kind. His smile was genuine and disarming. He had bright blue eyes that danced with a pure joy and reminded her of Pixie laughter. I know this man, she thought. But who is he? It suddenly dawned on her. Her eyes widened in surprise and her soft mouth formed an ‘oh’ before she spoke.

  “Ársa?” she questioned.

  “Aye, Adamen,” he said, pulling her against him in a fierce hug.

  2 weeks later Agmen 16, 760

  Lasahala Run

  Silverwilde Province Cardosa

  Ársa Checking on the Elves had been at the top of Ársa’s ‘to do’ list for the last few hundred years. It never seemed to happen. Something always came up to stop him from actually going to their colony to see how things progressed for them. Today is the day, he thought, as he left his bed on Na Réaltaí. He preferred sleeping in his bed on Lerien, with Adamen beside him, but she had manes to tangle and milk to clabber and other important Fae duties to attend.