by Liam Reese
“And boy was Clythair surprised.” Saed chuckled.
“Why?” Croenin asked.
“He expected to be next in line,” Carus answered. “He’d been close to Jovius.”
“Close enough for Jovius to see his problems with his temper,” Aulys said, taking a sip of ale. “I heard him once hiss at the master that he couldn’t wait for him to die. If any of us did that, we would have been severely punished.”
At that Croenin’s eyebrows rose. Clythair had murdered before. Could he have killed Jovius thinking he would be named master after? It’s not your problem, the voice in the back of his head told him once more. Yet, not saying anything felt wrong. He took a deep breath, but was interrupted by Captio.
“Anyhow, we can’t dawdle here for much longer. Today we leave for Gallys’ castle. I rose while it was still dark to ensure the horses would be ready, and soon we set out. We should arrive in the village by evening, if Fausta was correct, and we’ll set up camp a little ways outside of it. We begin to implement my plan this evening, and if all goes well, Croenin, your sister should be out of the castle tomorrow night.”
“Why not just get her out all in one night?” Carus asked. “Croenin sneaks to her room, leads her out, and we leave.”
“As I told you before, Gallys most likely has his guards patrolling the castle. If an escape is to be possible, especially while smuggling out such a conspicuous girl, then we must know when the guards patrol. For that, we must watch and learn.” He stood. “Are you all finished? We must go. We don’t have much time to waste.”
They all rose, Saed and Carys grabbing sausages for the road. Captio clasped Faustia, who was coming out of the kitchen, on the shoulder and leaned in to talk to her. Croenin couldn’t hear what he said from where he was standing, and instead chose to follow the others out to the horses. He started to offer his own horse a sausage, but Aulys stopped him.
“Don’t be stupid, boy.” He took the sausage from Croenin’s hand and dropped it to the ground, where it was soon eaten by Mordyre. “You’ll lose your hand like that. They eat any type of meat. Remember that.”
Croenin gulped, choosing to maneuver his way into the saddle while his horse was occupied with the sausage. The others mounted their own horses, and Captio soon joined them, kicking his horse and setting off in a gallop through the main street of the town. The brothers followed, and Croenin soon found himself dodging merchant carts and pedestrians as he made his way through the wide center street. He nearly galloped over a child before they came to the far edge of the city, where a smaller set of gates lay. As soon as those were opened they set off, riding into the deep forest that surrounded the northern edge of Conclatum. The path in this forest was overgrown with plants and branches, and Croenin felt his face being scratched by small twigs as the party slowed to a trot. He lifted a hand to his cheek, seeing spots of blood on his fingertips.
“Not worried about that pretty face of yours, are you?” Saed asked, laughing.
Croenin scowled, causing the large man to laugh more. The group rode without speaking until midday, when they stopped for a quick lunch. Croenin stepped further into the woods to relieve himself as the party settled on the side of the path to eat and water the horses. As he stepped behind a tree, he heard a soft noise, like a bell, coming from behind him. He turned, squinting, as he peered deeper into the dark forest. He saw nothing for a few moments until a soft green light appeared some twenty feet from him. He quickly finished up and took a few steps toward the light. It remained steady, and he couldn’t tell what could be making it. He squinted once more. It seemed to be floating close to the ground, and he took a few more steps toward it.
Ding, the bell sound came again from the direction of the light. He continued walking toward it, but as he came within ten feet of it, it began to move away. What is that? He wondered, quickening his pace. He was jogging now, as the high, tinkling sound came more frequently now, and the light seemed to be quickening its pace. Then, it vanished. Croenin gasped. Where could it have gone? Where have you gone, came the voice from the back of his head. He looked around, realizing he could no longer see the path. You fool, he thought to himself, you’ve gone and gotten yourself lost. He turned his head to the left and then right. He was truly lost, and all because he let his curiosity get the better of him. He tried to remember which way he came from, but realized that the light had taken a somewhat winding path, leaving him completely disoriented. He started wondering if that was on purpose. Perhaps this was a trick that robbers played to lure unsuspecting souls out into the woods. He put his hand on his weapon, readying himself for whatever was to come, but instead of an ambush, a lone figure emerged from the trees.
“Don’t be alarmed,” a soft female voice came. As the figure stepped closer, Croenin saw she wore a long, green cloak, hiding her face. “I mean you no harm.”
“Who are you?” Croenin asked, cursing himself as his voice shook.
“My name is Bruta,” she said, throwing off the hood of her cloak to reveal a pale oval face with large green eyes. She nervously fingered her long, black braid. “I was sent to relay a message to you.”
“Are you the light I saw?” Croenin asked, still fingering his flail.
“I am,” she answered. “But that is not important. I deliver to you a message from the Maelstris Nequitum.”
“The what?”
The girl continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “We know of your existence and of who you are. We come as friends, willing to aid the one who shall prolong the Age of Oryn.”
Croenin’s eyes widened. “How do you know this?”
“We shall aid you in your destiny, but first you must aid us. Your sister is not where you currently seek her. But there you must still go.”
“Why? If she’s not there, I—”
“Because there are other matters at hand. Even if you fulfill the prophecy, other dangers shall come from the Aes Sidhe. We must prevent this realm from destroying itself in that case. Should you not fulfill the prophecy, and the human realm is invaded, we shall need as much help as we can get. We are on your side, Croenin. We have watched you since the day you were born through your grandmother, Haega.”
“You knew my grandmother?”
“Yes,” the girl said, finally answering one of his questions. “She was one of us, and she hoped you would be too, until you fulfill the prophecy, that is.”
“I still don’t know what ‘us’ means,” Croenin said with a frown. “Or if I should even trust you.”
“Trust us or no, that is your prerogative. We are merely others like you, with the blood of the Aes Sidhe. We have no quarrel with humans. We want them to succeed in rebuilding their realm as they see fit, as long as there is peace.”
Croenin didn’t trust this girl. Even if there were others like him, why would they care what humans did? Why wouldn’t they want the Aes Sidhe to rule? They’d be able to use their powers freely, if the Age of Oryn were to end, not worry about humans who might want to kill them for using magic and being connected to the Aes Sidhe.
“To the Aes Sidhe, we are abominations, accidents. Unlike you and your sister, we are too weak to be one of them, but too powerful to cower in fear as the humans did for so long.”
“Why are we different? What did Ayne and I do to deserve this?” Croenin felt his chest rise and fall, starting to panic as the full weight of his destiny crashed down upon him. “Why can’t you and the others in the…Nequis…Mael….”
“Maelstris Nequitum.” She finished for him. “We do not have the blood of Ollheist, the Aes Sidhe king and the most powerful of them all. You and your sister are of royal blood. The rest of us have the blood of lesser nobility.”
“I still don’t understand how that makes us special. We aren’t the only ones in our family with Aes Sidhe blood.”
“No, but yours has been fortified. Had your sister not killed her, Haega would have told you more. Your father is not your own, though that shouldn’t come as much of a surprise.
”
Croenin was silent, eyes wide. It was a shock, though she was right. He and Ayne looked nothing like their father, with his dark hair and eyes. He had assumed they took after their mother, but now he knew that wasn’t the case.
“Then who is our father?” he whispered.
“Who exactly, I cannot tell you,” she replied. “He is of the Aes Sidhe, that is certain. Ollheist would have picked one of the nobility, someone powerful but with no ambition to usurp him or his heirs.”
Croenin’s head was spinning. He and his sister were designed for this. They hadn’t been chosen by fate, but created by blood. This was an elaborate game, he realized. It wasn’t a sophisticated game, as his sister was trying to make it out to be, but a gamble, with the Aes Sidhe hedging their bets. He breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself.
“So, what do you want me to do?”
“You know already of the sícharae. The story was planted in the inn by one of our own for you to hear.”
“Yes,” Croenin replied slowly. Maybe this is a sophisticated game, after all, he thought. “Fausta told me and the other Faero Ursi the story.”
“Gallys thinks himself a king, though his power comes from the sícharys he wears on his forehead and not his own abilities. This is not the only Aes Sidhe item he owns. Sícharae lose their power over time, as the energy infused in them dwindles with use. Underneath the castle, in a room used previously to torture those Aes Sidhe who went against the king’s rules and wishes, lies an oryn box. Inside are a ring and a brooch, both silver inlaid with moonstone. Those you must retrieve before leaving the castle. We shall find you and take them to a safe place once you do.”
“How do I know you won’t use them like Gallys is?” Croenin asked, crossing his arms.
“These items will cause untold suffering if they are used by humans. It is hard for you to believe, I know, but there are those who want good for this world. Do this for us, and we will aid you with our own power when the time comes for you to fulfill your destiny.”
Croenin set his jaw, looking down at the ground. He toed a dandelion, mulling over what he was just told. My father is one of the Aes Sidhe, he thought. Why didn’t Old Haega tell me when she told me about the prophecy? Why didn’t she tell me there were others like me and Ayne?
“Think over all I have told you. You do not have much time to decide, but I understand you may need to weigh your options carefully.” She pulled her cloak back over her face, and began to retreat back into the darkness of the forest. “Turn to your left and walk straight. You will find your friends as you left them.”
With that, she was gone. Croenin did as she said and began walking, noticing that the trees did grow a little sparser as he did. He soon was back on the path, and he saw the small traveling party just ahead of him.
“I thought you may have gotten lost,” Captio said dryly as he sat down by Saed.
“I just took a walk to clear my head,” Croenin responded. “This mission is a lot of pressure.”
“That it is. Try to keep a level head.” Captio handed him a water skin that was nearly empty. “Much of this mission depends on you, but don’t let that scare you. As long as you have your wits about you, you will be fine.”
“And if something does go wrong, if you fight like you did on the first day of our journey, you’ll definitely be fine,” Saed told him, grinning.
They finished up their lunch and mounted the horses once more, Croenin narrowly dodging a nip from Mordyre as he approached.
“Easy, easy,” he said, avoiding another attempt to bite off a finger. “Hold still!”
He mounted quickly, grabbing the reins to keep his horse from turning its head and following as Captio and the others set off. As they rode, Croenin’s mind began to wander once more, and he thought about what the girl said. He wondered if his father knew, or if he, like Croenin, had thought the children merely looked like their mother. He wondered if his real father, the mysterious Aes Sidhe noble, ever thought about him and his sister. Are Aes Sidhe capable of love? He asked himself. Most said no, that Aes Sidhe only lived for beauty and pleasure. Not much was known about their inner lives, whether they married like humans did or if they raised children. There were no legends about young Aes Sidhe, and Croenin doubted if they even existed. He supposed most were “born” as adults, ready to stave off the dangerous boredom that caused them to make the trouble they did.
And Ollheist, the king of the Aes Sidhe, also consumed his thoughts. Croenin found it odd there were no legends about him. If he was the most powerful Aes Sidhe of all, how had he not made it into the war stories? The Aes Sidhe had sent their most powerful to fight the humans, he had been told. He had heard the stories of Grimthand, Aes Sidhe general who would curl the earth beneath the feet of human soldiers, causing the earth to ripple and crack, dropping them into the dark abyss below the ground. All children were also told of Yrcéni, the warrior whose spear would leave his hand, curving through battlefields and taking out twenty men at once as it hurtled through them. Not to mention, Óengard, another general who caused an eclipse mid-battle blocking the sun completely and plunging the battlefield into darkness, so his men could slaughter humans at will. Yet, the most powerful Aes Sidhe of all was mentioned nowhere. Had he perished in the war? That wasn’t likely. Had humans killed the King of the Aes Sidhe, the warrior who struck the death blow would have had his praises sung for centuries to come. Croenin was so lost in thought, that he didn’t notice his party had stopped.
“Watch out, lad!” Saed’s voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he yanked the reins just before his own horse was about to overtake Captio’s.
“We’re as close to the village as we can get without them noticing outsiders have arrived,” Captio said, staring fixedly at Croenin. “Now is the time we must be careful and stay alert.”
He dismounted and led the small party off the path and into the trees. After a short walk, they came to a small clearing. Saed began setting up a fire, but Aulys stopped him.
“They’ll see the smoke from the village. We’ll have to make do without it. Either way, we won’t be here long.”
“He’s right,” Captio said as he handed a piece of dried meat to Carus. “We can’t draw attention to ourselves now. We wait for dark. “He looked up to the pale, orange patch of sky visible through the treetops. “Under the cover of night we’ll sneak into the village and castle. Rest for now. Eat if you’re hungry. I’ll wake you when the time comes.”
“I’ll stay awake with you,” Carus offered, but Captio shook his head.
“No, you know me. I need very little sleep. I need you all at your best for this to go well. Please, rest.”
Carus nodded and joined Croenin and his brothers. They had tied the horses, Croenin making sure to tie Mordyre far enough away so that it wouldn’t try to bite anyone while they rested. As he lay down near the others, he had an idea. Taking care to make sure his position was comfortable, he thought to himself, Show me Gallys’ sícharae under the castle. He jolted out of his body, rising above the camp quickly, and rocketing over the treetops. He swiftly passed the village and nosedived as he came to the castle wall, racing through the thick stones and into darkness. He closed his eyes at that point, trying to stave off the dizziness from moving so fast, when he felt himself stop.
Croenin opened his eyes, and before him was a small wooden table, on top of which sat a box unmistakably made of oryn. The characteristic marbling of the metal shone in the dim light that he realized came from a torch. Gasping, he quickly noticed the person standing on the other side of the box. He followed the hand holding the torch up to a gaunt, pale face with deep, hooded black eyes. The face wasn’t old, but it looked wan and stretched, as if it had suffered nothing but hardship. Sitting on top of that face, nestled among scraggly salt-and-pepper hair, was a silver circlet, fashioned into a crown of leaves, with a teardrop of moonstone falling onto the wearer’s forehead. This must be Gallys, Croenin told himself. He watched as Gallys sl
owly opened the box, removing a silver ring, carved into a similar leaf pattern as the circlet and inlaid with tiny blue moonstones all around its circumference. Gallys smiled as he inspected it in front of the torch, and then gingerly placed it back in the box. Next, he removed the silver brooch, this one shaped like a tree with many branches, with a small oval of moonstone at the center. Just as with the ring, he examined it before placing it once more into the oryn box.
“All safe,” Gallys whispered to himself before closing the box.
Croenin watched as the gaunt man left and soon felt himself being drawn backward. He was pulled back out of the castle, over the village and treetops, and down once more, slamming into his body. He sat up abruptly, gasping for breath and startling Saed, who lay not far from him, and the other two brothers.
“By the heavens, lad, what’s wrong?” The burly man exclaimed, making his way over to Croenin.
“Nothing,” he responded. “I think I just started having a nightmare.”
He shook off the brother’s hand and laid back down, and the others merely shrugged and did the same. Croenin realized that if he wanted to use his power, he would have to be much more careful in the future. He sat up slowly once more, realizing that Captio hadn’t reacted to his return to his body. He looked around and didn’t see the slender, dark-haired man. Standing, Croenin crept past the other brothers, who lay once more with their eyes closed, to search for Captio. He stood and listened a moment, and, hearing nothing, decided to walk around the perimeter of the clearing. Just as he was about to enter the treeline, he heard Captio’s voice.
“Where are you going?” The man said as he emerged from the trees.
“I was looking for you. I saw you were gone.”
“Not gone,” came the response. “Patrolling. You seem restless.”
Croenin nodded. “Nerves I guess. I want to find my sister, but I don’t want to mess this up. I know I can fight, but what if I freeze up once we get in there? Or what if I’m too suspicious and they know I’m not a servant?”