Prophecy Of The Sun

by Liam Reese

  “You’re too useful to him,” Captio replied calmly. “And killing me, the man who has been tasked with examining the bodies of those killed, would be useless. He’s killing those closest to the king.”

  Croenin frowned. “The footman—”

  “Was often used by the king in daily tasks. He was close to the king’s inner circle, often bringing them whatever they needed.”

  Croenin nodded slowly, and Captio tried to ease his worry.

  “I also fear that our king is not much longer for this world, which means this reign of terror will soon be at its end.”

  “He wouldn’t.” Croenin’s eyes widened. “I know he said, but that was just a threat—”

  “It was more than a threat. A man hungry for power will not stop at killing those closest to the very person who has the position he wants. Eudys will die, if not tomorrow, then soon, and Lothaire will rule with both sícharae. In the change, we must make our move. Your sister may be hiding from you, but I may yet find her. When I do, you will know, and we will all corner her together. Go now, before you are caught for being so late getting back to your quarters.”

  With that, Croenin left Captio, arriving back at the servants’ quarters just as the dinner bell rang. He waited by the doorway until Rozaelle and Bruta entered, and he made sure to sit with them. Bruta looked terrible. Dark circles lined her eyes, and her skin looked ashen. Croenin looked at Rozaelle, who shook her head, warning him not to mention her haggard appearance. Instead, he waited until the dining hall was full and conversations were in full swing to speak, to ensure he wasn’t overheard.

  “Captio and I overheard Lothaire and Eudys,” he said in a low voice, taking care to keep his face neutral.

  “And?” Rozaelle asked softly.

  “Lothaire is behind the deaths, and Eudys will probably die soon, unless he gives up being king.”

  Bruta frowned. “Do you think he’ll give up his crown?”

  Croenin shook his head, and the three grew silent. Tomorrow’s death would likely spell the most chaos for the castle, if Lothaire’s threat was serious. If the king dies, I wonder if all servants will be forced to be at his burial, Croenin thought. This could be just the thing he needed to draw Ayne out of hiding. Or what if she’s orchestrating this whole thing? Came the voice from the back of his head. He hadn’t thought of that. She did orchestrate his stabbing. She could “make things happen.” Whatever that means, he thought to himself. But again, he had to ask what purpose this all would serve. It seemed too messy a scenario to be useful, unless it was just a show of power, after all. That didn’t seem likely. Ayne didn’t seem like the type to do things with little purpose. Even Old Haega’s death was useful to her in a way, as Croenin was most likely deprived of knowledge that most likely would have helped him find her much sooner, or at least know more about himself and his abilities.

  Still, he hated to think that he and the others were sitting by and letting a man die. After what Croenin had seen in Gallys’ castle, this didn’t seem too bad. There had been no real fear until the deaths started. There had been some complaints from the servants about overwork or a particularly spoiled lady, but no one seemed to fear for their lives. Croenin sighed. Until the deaths started, he had even started to feel somewhat at home here and looked forward to his lessons, which had been suspended since the second death. Then, Bruta groaned, and Croenin and Rozaelle looked up sharply.

  “What is it?” Croenin asked.

  “It’s too much,” Bruta gasped, and Rozaelle shushed her, standing.

  “She’s been like this all day. She didn’t sleep a wink last night, stayed up pacing instead.” She helped her friend to stand. “It’s the premonition. It’s fraying her nerves. I’m going to take her back to the room, tell Jehayne she wasn’t feeling well.”

  Croenin nodded and watched them leave. He looked around the small dining hall, thinking back to the Faero Ursi’s hall. He wondered how the brotherhood was doing under Clythair’s brutal rule and shuddered, hoping no one was punished for his and Captio’s escape. He thought about Saed, Carus, and Aulys, hoping that they weren’t recalled to the keep. He was sure Clythair would be hard on them, as they’d been closest to Captio. Is he searching for us now? He thought. Surely, the branded man hadn’t given up on finding them. They were fugitives. Likely he had labeled them deserters, which meant they were to be killed on sight if found. Would he think to look in Rassement? Captio had said it was unlikely, but Clythair was much smarter than he looked.

  He sat, staring into the bowl of soup that had been passed down the table to him. If Eudys were to die tomorrow, what would that mean for Croenin? Would he serve as the king’s right-hand man, or would he still just be a lowly scribe and tutor? He had been with Lothaire for a little over two weeks, now. He doubted that was enough time to gain the large man’s trust. He hoped he could continue his sessions with Mylesant, however awkward they were. While Captio had offered to find Ayne, Croenin thought that if he varied the time of his visit, he could catch Ayne off guard. He finished his soup and stood to return to his room when a guard entered the dining hall, standing front and center for all to see. The room grew quiet.

  “Everyone is to remain where they are, orders from the King.” He said in a monotone voice, and Croenin knew by his glassy eyes that he was not in control of himself, just like Gallys’ soldiers.

  Croenin frowned and sat back down.

  “What is going on?” Jehayne asked. “Why can’t we leave the room?”

  “The king has ordered everyone to stay where they are,” the soldier repeated in his listless voice.

  Murmuring erupted, and the soldier seemed completely unaware as the servants talked to each other in hushed tones.

  “This is unlike Eudys,” a groom seated across from Croenin whispered.

  “I wonder if someone else died,” a young maid whispered.

  “No way!” the groom replied. “That would be two in one day. Besides, they never sent a guard here for the others.”

  Croenin listened to snatches of conversation around him. They all were asking the same questions. He frowned to himself. Something wasn’t right about all this. He glanced back at the guard who stood still as a mannequin at the front of the room. From the back of his head came the voice, once more. He said, ‘the king.’ He didn’t call Eudys by name. Croenin’s eyes widened. Had Lothaire moved that fast? It seemed unlikely, yet the presence of the guard said otherwise.

  The servants were forced to remain in the hall for the entire night, and Croenin wondered if Rozaelle and Bruta knew what was happening. He worried about Captio, hoped he wasn’t under Lothaire’s spell. He put his head down on the table at one point, staring warily at the guard, dropping into a quick and restless sleep at some points despite himself. The night passed like that, servants too afraid to question further, until the first lights of dawn began to shine through the window. Just as Jehayne was about to speak, the guard, who had stood at attention the entire night, made an announcement.

  “All are to report to the main hall,” he said, before turning on his heel and marching out of the room.

  The servants hesitated, before Jehayne stood firmly and walked to the front of the room where the soldier had stood.

  “We have made it through this night,” she said. “We shall make it through what is to come. Follow me.”

  With that, she walked out of the room, head back and shoulders held high. The others reluctantly stood and followed her down the long, narrow corridor to the stone walkway between the wings. Croenin hung back in the hallway, waiting until the last of the servants had left before knocking on the door to Bruta and Rozaelle’s room. He heard shuffling from behind the door, before Rozaelle opened it a crack, yanking him into the small space once she saw that it was him.

  “What’s happening? Why didn’t the bells sound for breakfast?” She whispered.

  “We have to go,” Croenin said. I think it’s happened. Everyone is supposed to report to the main hall.”

/>   “Is Eudys dead?” Bruta croaked from her bed.

  “Probably,” Croenin responded. “Get up. We can’t stay here long, or they’ll come looking for us.”

  Rozaelle quickly helped Bruta to stand, and together, she and Croenin supported the pale, raven-haired girl down the corridors. It was slow-going, and Croenin feared they would be in trouble once they arrived at the hall, but no one noticed their arrival. They stood at the back of the crowd of servants, Croenin craning to see over the heads of some of the taller footmen.

  “What is happening?” Rozaelle whispered, looking up at him as she supported Bruta.

  “I can’t see, I’m not sure,” he whispered back.

  As he was talking, they heard heavy footfalls as someone entered the room. Croenin stood on his toes, and he caught a glimpse of Lothaire walking slowly into the hall and sitting heavily on the throne. He gasped as he noticed that the man was wearing Eudys’ circlet. The plain silver circlet perched on his head, the beads of moonstone dotting its circumference almost lost among his long, grey hair. He wore his pendant, the teardrop of moonstone, proudly now, rather than tucking it into his velvet tunic. Croenin dropped back down, leaning to whisper in Rozaelle’s ears.

  “He did it. He killed his brother.”

  They were silent, waiting for Lothaire to speak. As Croenin tiptoed again, he watched as Lothaire put his head in his hands, pretending to grieve for his brother. He is a pretty good actor, Croenin thought to himself. He watched as the large man raised his head slowly, eyes red.

  “The king is dead,” he rasped. “It is with a heavy heart that I say this.” He paused then, sitting up to survey the crowd, gauging their reactions.

  A few ladies wept, some of the king’s friends and male relatives stood in resolute silence. The servants made no sound, fear keeping order among them.

  “It is also with a heavy heart that I tell you that it was he who was behind the deaths.”

  Gasps, then, as the news spread among the crowd. Croenin frowned. No one could possibly believe that.

  “As many of you know, Eudys was tormented by boredom. Many of the ladies know this, as he often held impromptu concerts in which they sang. I know many of the servants know this also, forced to bring him goblet after goblet of wine and plate after plate of tarts, pies, and other delicacies. He often ate and drank himself into oblivion trying to stave off his boredom.” He paused here, letting the implication sink in, letting his audience try to draw their own conclusions before giving them his own. “But in the end, these delights too grew wearisome, and he turned to a more morbid manner in which to entertain himself.”

  Croenin heard a few servants around him gasp. They’re actually believing him, he thought, eyes widening. He looked to Rozaelle and Bruta, who shared his surprise.

  “They must see he’s lying,” Bruta whispered, eyes large with fear and horror. “They saw Eudys. He could be temperamental, yes, but not a murderer.”

  “We haven’t been here long,” Rozaelle responded. “They may have seen a darker side to him than we have.”

  “Or Lothaire is just good at convincing them that they did,” Croenin mumbled.

  Lothaire continued. “We,” he extended his arm, gesturing to the glassy-eyed guards clustered at the front of the hall next to the throne. “did our best to subdue him, but in the end, we were forced to kill him.” He paused, allowing his voice to waver a bit with emotion. “And, as his brother, I step forth as regent, until Eudys’ own son, Theudic, comes of age.” He stood to his full height, waiting for a response.

  The one he received was not what he’d hoped for, Croenin could see that by the flash of anger he quickly hid as the hall quickly broke out in cries of “Bless the little king!” and “Long Live Theudic!” Croenin was surprised by the clamoring, as well. These people have only had a king for a short while, he thought. Why are they so invested in serving one? He wondered if it was a remnant of Eudys’ magic from his own use of the sícharae.

  “What happens now?” Rozaelle whispered, poking him in the ribs.

  “I don’t know,” Croenin responded. “There has to be a burial. Lothaire didn’t mention one, but I’m sure they’ll have one. After that…we’ll see what kind of king Lothaire will be. Either way, we focus on the mission and try to get you two out of here as soon as possible.”

  “What about Captio?” Bruta whispered.

  Croenin couldn’t give her a definitive answer. He couldn’t see his former master among the guards standing beside Lothaire, but he also couldn’t see very well over the crowd. He watched as Lothaire remained standing so that Eudys’ widow, Mylesant, could join him at the front of the room. Croenin gasped as, standing behind her as she stepped away from the group of ladies near the front of the room, was Ayne.

  “What? What is it?” Rozaelle demanded.

  “Ayne,” he whispered back. “She’s with the ladies, just across the hall.”

  Croenin stared, watching as his sister dutifully comforted the tearful woman to her right. She’s an even better actor than Lothaire, he thought. He hoped the servants wouldn’t be sent directly to their jobs after Lothaire finished, that he would get a chance to confront her, even just for a few moments. It would be difficult to separate her from the crowd of women around her, he realized. No doubt she had planned it that way.

  “Mylesant will maintain her station, queen mother to the young prince, as Eudys’ wife and Theudic’s stepmother.” Croenin heard Lothaire announce. “And much will continue as it had before. Fear will not rule here any longer, I will make sure of that. Under my guidance, may we all prosper!”

  With that, he dismissed them to their tasks, calling out to Croenin as the servants began to file out of the hall.

  “Come, we have much to do!” Lothaire boomed.

  Croenin glanced back over his shoulder at Rozaelle, who was still supporting the ever-weakening Bruta.

  “Go,” she said, “I can take care of her.”

  Croenin nodded and walked to Lothaire, looking around for his sister as he did. He caught sight of her walking next to Mylesant, and as they left, she turned and looked at him over her shoulder, smirking. His eyes narrowed, and he hated the fact that he could do nothing to her, not out here in the open. He was startled when Lothaire suddenly clasped him on the shoulders.

  “Keep a steady head, young Croenin. These next few days will be hard,” he said quietly. “From what I’ve read, a transition in power is never easy. There are always those who are looking to usurp the new king, even if that king is rightful.” He began walking toward the spiral staircase, talking to Croenin, who trotted by his side, trying to keep up with his long strides. “The children are being kept under guard, and I have already explained to Mylesant that she must also be, as well. There is no telling if danger still lurks in this castle.”

  Croenin frowned. Lothaire was trying to convince him of his innocence in all this, showing he did not trust the young man. He simply nodded, pretending that he believed all that Lothaire was telling him.

  “I was telling the truth that things will be run much as they had before. It was I who organized this castle, gave everyone their stations after Eudys declared himself a king. The Aes Sidhe had a marvelous system, a hierarchy that I’ve followed here, and as for selecting and assigning positions to the servants, one of the old human books served as my guide.” He stopped, looking intently at Croenin. “A palace run on past wisdom. I’ve created a well-oiled machine based on what I’ve learned, and I will need your help to implement a new phase. A castle cannot be a self-contained system, at least not for humans. Entire regions were ruled by one man in the past, and it is high time that humans returned to that time. You’ve seen what I’ve done here. Imagine the progress Rassement could make under my guidance!”

  He really believes that he can become an actual king, Croenin thought with a sinking feeling. Lothaire wanted to advance the entire region to the level the Aes Sidhe had been. And that humans were before their arrival, he reminded himself.
He began to wonder if he could find Lothaire’s secret books, those with true human history, before he stopped himself. Ayne is your focus, the voice at the back of his head, told him. Yes, he argued back, but until I can actually confront her, I do need something to distract me from all this. Besides, he told himself, I could get a hint at what might come if I do find them.

  He followed Lothaire into his office and sat at the small table in the corner where he had been transcribing books of poems and myths for the now-king.

  “No, Croenin. Come here.” Lothaire called him over to the desk at the center of the room. “I want you to see something.”

  Croenin walked over and looked at the book sitting on the desk. It was open to an illustration of a man. The man took up most of the page, his fur cloak billowing behind him as he stared resolutely at the viewer. In his right hand he held a long, golden staff with a blue orb atop. In his left was a golden scale, like the kind he had seen the elders of his village use during harvest time, when they allotted certain crops to those families whose crops failed or weren’t as plentiful as others’. On his head, the man wore a crown of gold, inlaid with green and red stones Croenin had never seen before. He frowned.

  “Who is this?”

  Lothaire smiled proudly. “This is one of the human kings of old, Vyspan of Toque Staetym. He conquered the region, according to what I’ve read, and Rassement, as well. He raised an army, which is what I shall be doing soon. 40,000 men, he had, but I’ll have to content myself with much smaller numbers. I’ll be starting recruitment from the village this week, enforced recruitment, and I think my guards will be able to persuade them to join. I’ll be training them much like I’ve trained my guards, so I’ll need you here, handling some of my other responsibilities. I didn’t plan on moving so fast, but the time is too ripe.”

  Croenin frowned. He wondered if Lothaire meant that he hadn’t wanted to kill Eudys so soon. If so, why now? What about now made it the perfect time to start with this plan?

  Lothaire continued. “For the time being, you’ll be halting your duty as my scribe. I’ll need you taking on more concerning the household. Jehayne will be reporting to you.”