by Liam Reese
An Aes Sídhe, Croenin thought to himself, panic rising as he took in the too-large silver eyes sitting atop sharp cheekbones. The face was too long, features too thin and far apart. Its pale mouth was like a slit, and it opened, hissing.
“You summon me too often, woman.” The voice rasped. “I cannot be away too long. Someone will notice.”
Croenin watched as Aesma came back into herself, staring levelly at the thing before her. She didn’t seem bothered by the monstrous appearance in the slightest, and smiled at the Aes Sidhe’s displeased expression.
“I’ve gone along with this for too long with little information. Tell me how close he is to finding her.”
Croenin realized she was talking about him.
“I am ensuring that he finds her soon. He shall leave tonight for where she stays.”
“Tonight? You aren’t just saying that to appease me, are you?”
“No, woman, it is the truth.”
“And once he reaches her?”
“It is as I said before, he—” The Aes Sidhe stopped, looking above Aesma’s head, eyes narrowing as they focused on where Croenin’s consciousness sat watching. “That is all I can say. You have a visitor.”
Aesma’s head whipped around, and her eye scanned the room frantically. “I see nothing.”
“You won’t. But I shall take care of it.”
The ghastly pale being stepped past Croenin’s mother, eyes focused on him. Croenin panicked, willing himself to leave this place, and as the Aes Sidhe approached, he felt himself be pulled away. The malevolent being snarled as he made his escape, and the last thing he saw before he was pulled from the cottage was his mother’s pale, round face.
He sat up, hacking like usual, and trying to force himself to take deep breaths. The image of the Aes Sidhe was burned in his mind, its limbs of white skin stretched over bone reaching for him playing over and over in his head. Croenin shuddered, pushing the wide-set features of its face from his mind. His first glimpse of the Aes Sidhe horrified him. The stories did not do them justice. Croenin found it odd that creatures so obsessed with beauty and pleasure should look so horrifying and skeletal. He ran a hand over his face, feeling his own regular features and thanking whatever forces were listening that his Aes Sidhe blood didn’t make him look like that.
Breathing more regularly, he thought about his mother. She summoned that thing, he thought to himself. Has she been talking to the Aes Sidhe all along? He remembered what the girl in the woods had told him about his parentage, and he wondered if the horrifying creature that emerged from the fire was his true father. The thought made him shudder. If he and Ayne were the products of that, shared blood with that ghastly being, then he could understand why humans would be so distrustful of those with Aes Sidhe blood. They might not look monstrous on the outside, but could they be on the inside? He thought of Ayne, so set on ending the Age of Oryn and bringing the Aes Sidhe back into this realm to rule. Did she know what she would be unleashing, what monsters would come and destroy the settlements and villages just starting to thrive after so long under their thumb? He feared that she knew and didn’t care, or worse welcomed the chaos. What had happened to her to make her so uncaring for humankind? She was always a mischievous child, at least when they were very young, before Old Haega hid her away and made them all forget her. Why does she want this? Croenin asked himself again and again. He had no answer, and he would have none unless he asked her himself. He stared into the fire, eyes clouded as he lost himself in thought. Just then, a rapping at his door.
He stood, frowning, and crept to the door, opening it slowly. There stood the young recruit with the wide-set eyes. He looked around furtively, before whispering to Croenin.
“It is time.”
Croenin’s frown deepened. “Captio said when the moon is high in the sky.”
“That time is now.” The young man looked nervous. “Captio is already in the saddle. He waits for you.”
Croenin was distrustful, but he didn’t know how long he had been lying on his bed, seeing beyond himself. There was no way to tell how long these journeys took, and he decided to follow the young boy down the darkened hallway and to the back of the keep where the stables lay. He kept his hand on his flail, expecting an ambush from Clythair’s men, but none came. The boy had been telling the truth. Once inside the stable, here was Captio, astride his own Aes Sidhe horse and waiting beside Mordyre, whose saddlebags were already filled with provisions. Captio nodded when Croenin entered, and he awkwardly pulled himself up into the saddle, swinging his leg over and securing his feet in the stirrups.
Captio raised a hand in farewell to the two young recruits who helped them with their escape, and off they went, galloping into the night. Speed was their ally, as their departure was scarcely quiet. The sound of hooves on cobblestones and reins snapping in the night may have alerted the other brothers to their escape, and they could take no chances at being caught. Croenin hoped the two young brothers that helped them would not be found out or punished. No doubt Clythair would make an example of them if it was found they had helped the two escape. Croenin looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the Faero Ursi’s headquarters often, expecting to see riders chasing after them. Yet, none came, and he began to relax.
“Where are we headed?” He shouted to Captio as they galloped through moorland and fields.
“To find a friend!” Captio yelled back, flicking the reins and urging his horse on.
Croenin knew that was the only answer he would get and followed the former master, kicking Mordyre to speed him up. They rode alongside each other for what felt like hours, and Croenin grew worried as his horse’s mouth began to froth. Their horses would need rest soon, but Captio did not seem intent on stopping now. Croenin didn’t know how long Beltor horses could last, being an Aes Sidhe breed, and he didn’t ask. He assumed Captio would know their limits. Just as Croenin’s own horse was beginning to wheeze, Captio yanked the reins on his own, stopping abruptly. Croenin followed suit, his own horse stopping a few yards in front of Captio’s.
“Why did we stop?” He asked, dismounting as the slender man did the same.
“Because we’ll be entering that forest,” he pointed to the thicket of trees a little ways off in the distance, “and there is no path. We’ll have to go on foot, leading the horses until we find the friend I mentioned earlier.”
Croenin nodded, and began to follow Captio once more, leading his horse by the reins. He was thankful for the bit in the horse’s mouth as he glanced back at Mordyre over his shoulder, wary of the long, sharp incisors that were visible in the dim moonlight. Croenin did not ask how Captio knew where they were going and merely followed. Though the former master had placed little trust in him before, Croenin trusted the slim man. Captio valued his men’s lives, even Croenin’s, too highly to risk putting him in danger. He followed the man, weaving through the trees, stepping over logs, and avoiding snake holes.
“Captio,” Croenin started.
“Yes?”
“How did you join the Faero Ursi?”
Captio was silent for a moment, before responding. “Forces beyond my control placed me there, much like you I assume.”
At that vague answer, Croenin was silent. They walked until the moon was low in the sky once more, and the first rays of dawn were visible through the treetops. As the sun was rising, they came to a small clearing, in the center of which lay a small cottage unlike any Croenin had ever seen.
It wasn’t squat, square, and built with stone like those of his village. Rather, it was built with mud, no doubt from the banks of the creek behind it, and shaped like a drum, a flat board of wood serving as its door with two little circular windows to each side of it. A short tube of a chimney rose from its cone-shaped thatch roof, with puffs of blue smoke rising from it. As Croenin approached, he could see green, fuzzy moss growing over much of the mud walls, making the cottage look like part of the forest. Captio tied his horse to one of the trees at the edge o
f the clearing, and Croenin hurriedly did the same before following the former master as he strolled up to the house and rapped three times on the thin, wooden door.
There was a shuffling noise from inside, and the door swung open. In front of them stood Bruta, the young woman that had approached Croenin in the forest on the way to Gallys’ castle.
“Come in,” she said. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Croenin stood in the doorway, mouth agape, as Captio entered, embracing the girl before sitting at a small wooden table near the fire at the center of the room.
“Come in, Croenin. Why are you just standing there?” Captio asked, frowning.
“He is surprised to see me, is all.” Bruta said, taking a silver kettle from over the
fire and pouring hot tea into three mugs. “Come in and we’ll explain all to you.”
Croenin did so, sitting silently beside Captio, who watched him, amused.
“I’ve played my part too well,” Captio said, taking a sip and savoring the warmth
of the tea. “He thinks I’m ignorant of all that is happening behind the scenes.”
Croenin frowned. “You know about the Maelstris Nequitum?”
“Know about them?” Bruta responded. “He has been with us since he was a child.”
“But…how?” Croenin didn’t know how to reconcile this new information with the Captio he had come to know. “You’ve also been with the Faero Ursi since—”
“Since I was a few years younger than you, Croenin. But before that I was raised by members of the Maelstris Nequitum. I was ‘abandoned’ by the roadside for the Faero Ursi to find, and made sure to prove myself to the master at the time, Jovius, so that he would take me under his wing. My efforts paid off. I was given more and more responsibility, could help those with Aes Sidhe blood infiltrate the brotherhood and use them to find sícharae.”
“So Saed and the others you left at Fausta’s inn...”
“They’ll find false clues I and others have left for them. Essentially, they’ll be on a wild goose chase until I need them once more.”
Croenin was silent for a moment. “And me? Did you know what I was when you found me?”
“Yes, we all knew you were setting out. You aren’t the only one who can see beyond yourself, Croenin.”
The young man turned to Bruta. “And telling me to find the sícharae.”
“That we couldn’t have done without your sight. While we have members who can see what will happen, only you can see what is happening currently.” She pushed his cup of tea toward him. “Drink. You and Captio need to regain your strength.”
Croenin did so grudgingly. “This all seems so convoluted,” he mumbled.
“It had to be,” Captio chuckled. “We had to throw your sister off our trail. She has her ways, but we have ours, and we’ve been able to go undetected by her thus far.”
A thought popped into Croenin’s head. “And my injury. When the Faero Ursi found me, I’d been stabbed. Did you heal me?” He asked Captio.
“A little too well,” Captio grimaced. “I hadn’t used my powers in such a long time. I’d meant to make your quick healing somewhat believable, but obviously that was not the case.”
Croenin nodded. “So, what now?” He glanced at the pouch Captio still had around his waist. “You have the sícharae. Do we go and find Ayne now?”
“Yes,” Bruta said, “but there is time for that, yet. Rest here for tonight, and we will talk in the morning. We have been watching your sister, Croenin, and we have much to tell you.”
Croenin nodded and finished his tea. He walked to one of the straw beds in the far side of the round room and dropped down onto it, exhaustion overcoming him as he fell into a dreamless sleep.
7
The next morning, Croenin awoke feeling surprisingly refreshed. He plucked the bits of straw stuck to his face and sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He was alone in the small cottage and could hear nothing from outside. Frowning, Croenin stood, stretching before noticing a small meal of porridge and eggs laid out on the table. Hunger overtook him, and he sat. Just as he did, Captio and Bruta entered. Captio had changed out of his Faero Ursi uniform into plain green tunic and brown trousers, while Bruta wore the same cloak as before. Behind them was a young woman Croenin hadn’t seen before.
She looked to be the same age as Croenin and Bruta, long curling red hair falling to her waist and contrasting with her tan skin. She grinned widely at Croenin as she entered.
“This is him?” She asked excitedly, and Bruta nodded. The girl plopped down across from Croenin and extended a hand. “Rozaelle, from the Grimillion Settlement of Rassement. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”
Croenin, taken aback by such a formal greeting and unable to speak due to a mouthful of porridge shook her hand and nodded, eyes wide.
“He doesn’t say much, does he?” Rozaelle asked, grinning. She turned back to Croenin. “I’ll be escorting you into Eudys’ castle.”
Croenin frowned, turning to Captio. “You’re not coming with me?”
“I will be, but we won’t have contact until we are inside. You three will be leaving today for the castle. I’ll follow behind at a later time.”
“But won’t Ayne confront me as soon as we’re in the castle?”
“Doubtful. From what we’ve seen of her, she likes games too much. That or she’s bluffing. She’ll evade you and evade you until the perfect moment. She likes toying with you too much to ambush you as soon as you’re in the castle”
Croenin nodded slowly, still somewhat untrusting.
“And besides,” Rozaelle added, smiling. “On the off chance she does try anything as soon as we enter, you’ll have Bruta and I right beside you.”
That didn’t make Croenin feel any more confident, and Rozaelle looked to Bruta. The raven-haired girl raised an eyebrow, nodding sharply. Croenin looked back and forth between the two, trying to determine the hidden meaning in their expressions, but before he could do so, Rozaelle stood.
“There’s more to me than meets the eye,” she said, taking a deep breath and holding out her arms. “Bruta and I have found that we have very similar abilities.”
As she did so, tendrils of blue light curled around her arms, slithering down to form orbs that she held within the palm of her hand. Bruta stood beside her and did the same, her own green light gliding into her waiting palms. Rozaelle raised an orb, and Bruta followed. Croenin watched as the orbs grew, encircling both girls.
“That’s very pretty and all,” Croenin said, despite his shock. “But I don’t see how that will help.”
Bruta rolled her eyes. “Try to punch me.”
“What?” Croenin asked, glancing at Captio who waved a hand, urging him to do what the young girl said.
Croenin stood and approached Bruta, sizing up the translucent green shield she had fashioned around herself.
“Go on,” Rozaelle urged him. “Try to punch her.”
Croenin drew back a fist and punched forward, feeling his knuckles scrape something hard and hot as he did so. As he pulled his hand back, grimacing in pain, he realized that it was the green light around her that blocked his punch.
“Ah,” he hissed. “What is that?”
“It’s the light you saw in the forest, Croenin.” She drew the green shield back into an orb, holding it with both hands now. “Energy made solid when needed and incorporeal when not.” The light was pulled into her and disappeared. “It can serve as both protection—”
“And a weapon,” Rozaelle finished for her, her own orb elongating into a staff. “Want to spar?”
Croenin, still nursing his hand and his pride, pulled a face and shook his head.
“Can I do that?” He asked, frowning.
“I don’t know, can you?” Bruta asked. “Rozaelle and I are different from the others in that we share an ability. Everyone else has different abilities, from being able to charm anyone with just a few words, to reading minds, to being able to control some forces of nat
ure. You and your sister are special cases, your father being Aes Sidhe and your mother being of Aes Sidhe blood.”
“How did you figure out you could do that?” Croenin asked.
Rozaelle shrugged. “It just sort of came, like an instinct. Though in Captio’s case, I think he received direction from one of the older members of our group.”
Croenin turned to Captio, who nodded slowly. “She’s right. Naero, who first started bringing those with Aes-Sidhe blood together told me what my gift was. He could see the future, wrote down all that was to come in a book he always carried around.” He paused, crossing his arms. “He holds the most Aes Sidhe blood out of all of us, being half…except perhaps you, Croenin.”
“Will I get to meet him?”
“No, he said that it would be a bad omen for the two of you to meet, by which I assume he means that things are going badly should you two need to come together.” He examined Croenin, who was looking down at his injured hand. “It’s a shame, though, you won’t ever get to meet your great-grandfather.”
At that Croenin’s head whipped up. “My great-grandfather?”
Croenin thought back to the afternoon he’d spent in his grandmother’s cottage, when he was told of his family’s history, of his great-great-grandmother taken by the Aes Sidhe and returned to her village with child. He thought back to what his grandmother had told him of his great-grandfather, the old man who made the prophecy that foretold the deaths of he and his sister. He remembered how his great-grandfather had prophesied to his village elders as a child and as a young man took up an oryn sword that burned him to beat back the Aes Sidhe into the Unknown. Croenin looked down at his own fingertips, peeling from being burned by the oryn box that had contained Gallys’ sícharae, and at the scar on his palm from touching an oryn toy as a child. Croenin had assumed the old man was dead. After all, his mother had never mentioned him, and Old Haega only did to tell him the history of his family. He balled his hands into fists.