by Liam Reese
“I don’t know. Haega made it seem like the prophecy was set in stone but—”
“As long as it happens in a way that satisfies your great-grandfather’s words—”
“The prophecy came true, as long as whatever forces control it are concerned,” Croenin finished.
“We have to tell Ayne. Does she know? We could convince her that all of this isn’t necessary!” Rozaelle said firmly.
“I don’t know. She told me once, when I saw her in a vision, that the prophecy could be circumvented. I don’t know if that means she’s read what Lothaire read to me or if she’s just overly confident in herself.” He chuckled darkly.
“Either way, we could try to convince her that neither of you have to die,” Bruta suggested.
“Then why would my grandmother be so adamant about me killing her? She even gave me the dagger with which to do it!”
“We need that book,” Bruta said. “Do you remember where exactly Lothaire pulled it from?”
“Of course, but I can’t just take it. He’d know it was missing as soon as he walked into the office.”
“Then find something that looks like it to replace it until we find what we need in it,” Rozaelle said. “What color is the book?”
“It’s plain leather,” he said.
Rozaelle nodded, dashing from the room and returning with a piece of hard leather.
“Where did you get that?” Bruta and Croenin asked at the same time.
“One of the guards’s leather breastplates cracked, and since it couldn’t be mended, the laundress was keeping it to see what else could be done with it.”
“Won’t you get in trouble for taking it?” Croenin asked.
“Doubt it,” Rozaelle said, shrugging. “She has a huge stash of bits and pieces of the household’s things that broke or tore. I don’t think she actually looks at the pile she has unless she’s adding something else to it. You have a dagger, right?”
Croenin nodded, and she continued.
“Then what if you cut a piece in the shape of the cover, stuff it with the rest of the leather, and then place it in the spot that the book is in now? It’ll look crude, yes, but it should serve to keep him from noticing the spot is bare long enough for us to find out more of what the book says.”
It was a risky plan, but Croenin knew that it was the only plan they had so they could know for sure about the truth of the prophecy. Croenin took the dagger from his boot and began to cut the leather carefully, trying keep his hand steady enough to cut a convincing book cover. It was difficult, as the leather was thick, but after a few tries, he managed to cut out a shape that was roughly the same size as the book he remembered. He did as Rozaelle had suggested, folding it over the scraps so that it looked, from the outside, like a real book.
“How am I going to get this up to his office without looking suspicious?” He asked.
“Give it to me,” Bruta said. “I can put it in my laundry basket in the morning. You’ll be in his office alone at some point, I’m sure. I’ll dawdle on that floor for the first part of the morning, and you can find me quickly so that I can give it to you. Then you can make the switch and put the real book in my basket. I’ll hide it in my room until we can look at it tomorrow night.”
“Alright, let’s try it.”
Croenin handed her the leather “book,” and she and Rozaelle went back to their room. Croenin laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt restless, like he needed to do something, but he didn’t know what. He sat up, staring at the door for a moment, debating, before standing and walking out of the room. He closed the door carefully behind himself, looking quickly around the long hallway to make sure no one was lurking. Once he was sure it was all clear, he made his way to the door at the far end of the corridor and slipped out of the servants’ quarters.
The walkway between the wings was deserted, as were the courtyards surrounding it. As he was nearing the large archway that lead into the great hall, he paused, seeing movement to his right. Croenin froze, before realizing he had been startled by a lizard darting to a rock near one of the ponds and laughed at himself for being so easily frightened. The great hall too was deserted, not surprising due to how late it was. No doubt most of the lords and ladies, not to mention Lothaire, were in their own rooms by now. As Croenin darted to the spiral staircase on the other side, he heard voices and pressed himself in a dark corner, willing himself not to be seen.
Through the hall breezed Mylesant, with Ayne trailing behind her, holding a torch. Croenin held his breath, watching as his sister glided behind the queen.
“I was so tired of being all cooped up,” the young queen was saying. “how did you convince the guards to let me out?”
“Oh, it was not difficult,” Croenin heard Ayne say. “I just—”
“What?” Mylesant whispered.
“Someone is here,” Ayne whispered back. “I heard something.”
Croenin forced himself not to breathe, and he saw Ayne turn around, searching the large, dark room. Her eyes stopped on him, and she grinned.
“Croenin,” she called softly. “Is that you?”
Croenin cursed himself, and wondered if Ayne had been behind the restless feeling he had gotten, that made him leave his room. Did she plan to find him here? He slowly stepped out of the shadows, greeting her bright smile with a sullen look.
“What are you doing out of your room?” She asked, glancing at Mylesant.
“I could ask you the same question,” Croenin responded as he crossed his arms.
“Fair point,” said the queen. “We were tired of being confined to our quarters, and decided to take a walk. Now, you.” She smiled.
“Much the same,” Croenin said. “I haven’t been allowed to go anywhere but the servants’ quarters and Lothaire’s office, except for the few times I tutored the children or shadowed him in some other duty, and I was feeling—”
“Trapped?” Mylesant finished for him.
“Exactly.”
“Well, where were you planning on going?” Ayne asked him, eyes shining in the flickering light.
“I don’t have a destination. I just wanted to walk.” Croenin frowned.
“Oh good, you can join us!” Mylesant exclaimed.
She took Croenin by the hand, and they began walking to a part of the castle Croenin hadn’t been in yet.
“Where are we?” He whispered.
“Oh, Lothaire hasn’t had this part of the castle cleaned yet! It’s still in disarray from when the Aes Sidhe were driven from it. All but him are forbidden to enter”
“It isn’t locked?” Croenin asked, somewhat nervous.
“Oh, it is, but Ayne discovered a way to get in! She’s so clever!”
Croenin fought the urge to roll his eyes as his sister grinned. As she opened the door, the queen grabbed the torch from her and confidently entered the dark, dusty chambers.
“Why now?” Croenin whispered when the young woman was out of earshot.
“Why not?” Ayne responded.
“I want a real answer.”
The silver-haired girl shrugged. “It’s gotten boring waiting for you to figure out a way around the rules of this place to find me.”
“Even if I got around the rules sooner, I couldn’t have gotten around the block you placed on me being able to see you.”
Ayne frowned. “What block? I ended that as soon as you entered the castle.Besides, you could have gotten around that if you tried.”
“You aren’t blocking me? Then why can I no longer see beyond myself when I’m here?”
“I have nothing to do with that. Someone else must be limiting your power.”
“That’s impossible. You are the only one who knows about my ability besides—”
“Besides the friends you brought here? Maybe so. Or maybe someone else has a reason to try to stop you.”
Croenin frowned, and he and Ayne kept a few paces behind Mylesant as she explored, coughing softly every so often from the dust
she stirred up.
“Have you met our great-grandfather?” He whispered, looking sidelong at Ayne to gauge her reaction. She seemed oddly serious at the moment, very unlike her usual teasing ways.
Her eyebrows rose before she made her face neutral once more. She doesn’t know? He thought.
“Yes, I have. It was brief. I managed to catch him unawares before he knew that I knew he was still alive.”
“And?”
“He was angry. I wasn’t supposed to find him—”
“Unless something was terribly wrong.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “That’s exactly what he said.”
“Did you ask him about the prophecy?”
“I tried. He was mostly angry that I found him.”
“When was this?”
She looked at the ceiling. “Quite a while ago. Definitely before you remembered me. ” She sat on an old, rickety-looking stool, glancing to the other corner of the room where Mylesant was picking through pieces of old Aes Sidhe clothing.
“So, he said nothing important?”
“No, no, that’s not what I said. He said something incredibly strange.”
“What?” Croenin hissed. “Stop toying with me.”
“I’m not.” Ayne frowned. “He said he wished he’d been more specific.”
Croenin smiled. “He did?”
“What? What do you know?” She demanded. “Now you’re toying with me.”
“The prophecy Haega read--”
“Yes, yes, the sun sets and the moon gets dragged down…what about it?”
“The prophecy isn’t a prophecy at all. Our great-grandfather couldn’t see the future, but he could make things happen by speaking them into existence.”
“So that whole flowery prophecy…”
“It was him trying to prolong the Age of Oryn. Which means the Age won’t fall, but how that happens is somewhat dubious. As long as things happen how the prophecy says, we don’t matter,” he said, and told her of Lothaire’s interpretation.
Ayne stared into space, thinking on all that had been said, before asking him, “Then why was he so adamant about things playing out this way?”
“I’m not sure. That is what I’m trying to figure out.”
Ayne stood. “Mylesant,” she called. “We should be getting back if we don’t want to get caught.”
She glanced at Croenin as they walked out, and he caught her by the arm before she could leave.
“Why Haega?” He asked.
She shook him off, and before she was out of the doorway said, “Because she ruined me.”
9
Ayne’s words rang through his head as Croenin headed up the spiral staircase the next morning. What could she have meant when she said Old Haega ruined her? He asked himself as he headed into Lothaire’s office. The man wasn’t there at the moment, and he was wondering if he had time to switch out the books when he noticed a note for himself on the desk.
“Croenin,” it read. “I will not be reachable today, so I must entrust that you will manage your new responsibilities with haste and discretion. Should you have any questions or come across any problems, Jehayne shall aid you. Please begin with the accounts under this note.”
Croenin thumbed through the sheets of parchment below before doubling back to the staircase, where Bruta was just ascending the steps. He nodded to her and silently took the makeshift “book” from her, quickly switching it out with his grandmother’s book from Lothaire’s office. He had decided to keep the book on him, for now, instead of putting it in her basket, as they had no need to worry with Lothaire gone. He kept the fake book in its place just in case, as should the Regent return, he could slip it under the stack of drawers on the desk itself, where no one would find it until he could place it back where it went. When they were sure everything was in place, she left him, and he began his day’s work. It was slow-going and tedious, pouring over the numerous items from the outside world the castle needed and paid for, but he was soon given a break when Captio quickly entered, shutting the door softly behind him.
“I heard Lothaire had left, and I came as soon as I could. I need an update.”
Croenin told him all that he had learned and of his impromptu meeting with Ayne last night. Captio seemed annoyed when he finished.
“Why not take her out, then and there?” He demanded.
Croenin was surprised. “You always say to try to learn all sides of a problem before tackling it. I just got new and surprising information that would make me killing her or us both dying seem silly. I—”
“You don’t know that. You yourself said that you haven’t figured out why your grandmother wanted the prophecy to happen in this way. It seems obvious looking at both of you that you fit prophecy, you the sun with your golden hair, her the moon with her silver. You both have the blood of Ollheist, and that is a more powerful magic than anything that currently exists in this realm. Even if your great-grandfather didn’t mean for it to happen in this way, it seems that the forces in this realm have decided that they should, that you two should seal the fates of humans and the Aes Sidhe.”
“That isn’t a good enough reason for this to happen! Just because it seems like it should, doesn’t mean we have to let things fall into place. Besides,” He leaned down, taking the book from under the desk. “I have my grandmother’s book in which the prophecy was originally written down, the same one where my great-grandfather confesses that it’s not a real prophecy at all. If my grandmother read this whole book and still thought the Age of Oryn had to be protected through us, we’ll know why by reading it.”
“Where did you get that?” Captio breathed, eyes immediately drawn to the spiral stamped on the book’s cover. “That spiral…that’s an Aes Sidhe book.”
“It is. Lothaire confessed to me that he has men trolling this region and Toque Staetym for books by humans and Aes Sidhe. They found my grandmother’s cottage by some fluke, and here we are.”
“Yes, but how did your grandmother get it?”
“That I don’t know,” Croenin said. “She had a shelf full of books, but at the time I didn’t know I could read them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look,” Croenin said, and opened a page for Captio to see, watching as understanding dawned on his slender face.
“Can all with Aes Sidhe blood read this?”
“Yes, though Lothaire figured out the script, like it was a sort of code.”
“Or his sícharae helped him along,” Captio muttered. “But where did you find the confession? Start there.”
Croenin began flipping pages, eyes adjusting to the strange, looping script. As he was turning, something caught his eye, and he read.
“The Aes Sidhe caught wind of the prophecy spoken by the old man. They knew his prophecy to be false, his words only having power in that they shaped the space around them, not because they foretold what was to come. They quickly set in place a new motion in the human realm, and a scout was sent to find the old man and his family. The Aes Sidhe would carry out the false prophecy, if it was to be done, through the old man’s line. Each side would receive a champion, and both would die as was fair. Though, with no true champion reigning, the Age of Oryn would be prolonged for a time, until the Aes Sidhe are ready to return. The old man spelled a death-knell for the Age of Oryn when he said it would be short-lived. This new age, in which the ‘followers of the Sun’ would rule the ‘followers of the Moon,’ has no definite end, and will be even shorter than the humans’ Age of Oryn.”
“Was my grandmother working with the Aes Sidhe?” Croenin whispered, staring at the page.
Captio did not answer but took the book from him, flipping through it and stopping in some places to skim. After a while he shook his head and placed the book back before Croenin, laughing in disbelief.
“It is all false. It is all a plan by the Aes Sidhe,” Captio said. “And Haega must have hid this from us.”
“Or it’s a trick by the Aes Sidhe. Maybe Lo
thaire’s men have a different book. Maybe—”
“You said yourself that this is your grandmother’s book.”
“Yeah, but—”
“But…there are no ‘buts.’” Captio paused, thinking. “Lie down.”
“What?” Croenin frowned.
“I said, lie down. You’re going to find your great-grandfather.”
“I can’t! I can’t travel here. You know thi—”
“Something tells me you’ll be able to now. Do it.”
Croenin sighed and did as he was told, lying on the cold, stone floor and scrunching up his eyes as he tried to focus.
“Show me my great-grandfather,” he said, and he smiled as he began to feel the familiar, and much-missed, pull.
He did not travel far, only a short distance through the walls of the castle and to the beach a little ways behind it. You, Croenin thought. Standing there in front of him was a man he’d seen before, though it took him a moment to remember where. You were at the inn when I first arrived with the Faero Ursi! Croenin remembered him sitting in the corner, glowering at them as they walked in, though his blind eyes couldn’t have possibly seen them so clouded with cataracts. His great-grandfather smoothed a tuft of silver hair and straightened his old, worn tunic before responding.
“Yes, I’ve been keeping an eye on your winding journey,” he said in a surprisingly deep voice. “You’ve been doing everything possible to get sidetracked from fulfilling my prophecy.”
Prophecy? You know I don’t believe that anymore.
“I know. I know too well, but that doesn’t mean that you should try to run from this. The Aes Sidhe want my prophecy to happen. Ollheist himself has been engineering this from the moment the words left my lips. You’ve got too much against you to try to weasel your way out of it now.”
You’d kill your own grandchildren just to make the Aes Sidhe happy?
“Not to make them happy, boy. But to avoid something even worse.”
What does that mean?
The old man looked off into the distance. “When I was a young boy, oh maybe seven or eight years old, I got it into my head that my best friend was going to die soon. It was a fear, and I was an anxious child, so I had such fears often. But, by that time I’d taken it to mean that any fear I experienced, any intrusive thought, was going to happen. So, I told him he would die soon. Well, he tried everything to avoid it, stayed inside and refused to play with us other kids. Poor thing didn’t even tell his parents what I’d told him. They just saw him get so withdrawn all of a sudden, though they guessed what had happened after he passed.”