The Prophecy

by Karen MacLeod-Wilkie

  Thank goodness for Treena! Treena had moved to Muirstead when Brigid was seventeen. Treena was tall and lean, with honey-blonde hair. She wielded a sword better than any of the young men their age. She, too, was considered an outsider by many of the youth. Brigid and Treena became instant friends. The fighter and the healer were an unlikely pair, but both felt excluded, so they shared a common bond.

  Treena spoke before she thought, while Brigid pondered long before she talked. Treena was often injured. Brigid faithfully patched her up. Treena was quick to laugh with a bray that captured attention. Brigid was slow to smile but, when she did, it illuminated her whole face and warmed the heart of anyone watching. Their friendship allowed space for them to be themselves; they stopped worrying about fitting in.

  By eighteen, they felt the weight of their callings. Brigid had apprenticed with her family’s healing practice for two years. At ten, her brother Asa revealed a magical healing gift for growing herbs and sensing their healing capacities. Her parents wanted to reduce their workload to focus on his skill development. They suggested that it was time Brigid branched out on her own. They helped her build a small cottage for her home and office. Word of her healing abilities spread. Soon, her days were full of appointments.

  Treena’s skill with the sword placed her on the Protector’s Force. Although most fairies were peaceable creatures, there were some who preferred to live off the hard work of others. Travel in the Fairy Realm was mainly by horseback; thus, Treena was sent out on regular patrols and was sometimes gone for weeks. She was sent to guard caravans of travelers or to protect the vulnerable from troublesome brigands.

  Thanks to her herbology studies, Brigid was able to help with Asa’s training. She treasured those hours with her younger brother and the opportunity to get to know him better. He was headstrong, yet kind—a determined learner with a tendency to hyper-focus and to be oblivious to what was happening around him. He had a wry sense of humor with the ability to make her laugh at the end of a long day. Brigid was thankful he wasn’t sent away to study, as she had been. This training gave time for their sibling bond to grow strong, despite the years between them.

  Sunday was family day. Sometimes, she would go to her parents’ home; other times, she hosted. She learned to cook, but Asa had a flair for adding just the right flavoring, so she often bargained with him to do the cooking. In exchange, she offered her place as a refuge when Asa needed a break from their parents.

  Brigid tried to visit her grandmother regularly for some quality time with just the two of them. Gilda’s home was a haven for Brigid. It was a place where expectations were set aside, and she could simply relax. They loved to debate books and ideas, or to just sit quietly together and absorb the sunset.

  As the years passed, Brigid and Treena’s friendship deepened. When time allowed, they would walk together or share a meal, catching up on each other’s lives. They shared the weight and challenges of their work but rarely the details out of respect for the confidentiality of Brigid’s clients and the classified nature of Treena’s work.

  They had both tried dating with little success. Brigid could always sense too much of what her dates were feeling, so she found it difficult to relax and be herself. Her last date with Jackson had ended badly when he had moved in to kiss her. The kiss had been pleasant enough, but he wanted more. She pointed out that they had only been on one date and she would like more time before they progressed their intimacy. He boldly told her she should be grateful he wanted to bed her considering she was practically an old maid! Brigid had slammed the door in his face.

  Treena hadn’t fared much better. Her relationships tended to end up strained by her constant absences on the Force. Two months earlier, she had broken up with Cassandra; she had returned home early from a patrol to find Cassandra in bed with another woman. Treena tried to brush it off, but Brigid could tell it hurt. Brigid offered to do a soothing technique, but Treena insisted she would rather keep her bruises so she wouldn’t jump into another relationship too quickly.

  Brigid hadn’t had a vacation in seven years—since she was twenty-one. She and Treena had convinced their parents to let them take a trip; they were gone for three glorious weeks. They toured small towns and villages on their way to the largest fairy city, Dunrovin, on the coast. It was her first exposure to the ocean, and it had been heavenly. The smell of the salt air and the whip of the wind tangling her hair gave her a feeling of freedom she had never experienced before or since. They ate juicy fruit, fresh from the groves outside of the city. They danced all night long and slept during the day. Now, it felt like a distant dream.

  Brigid placed her broom in the corner closet and sat at her table with a cup of honeyed hot lemon water. She rubbed her eyes as she looked at her list of appointments for the next day. Twenty-four years had passed since her healing gift had emerged. Scampie was gone and, at twenty-eight, Brigid felt lost and surly. Was this it? Was this all that life was going to offer her?

  For seven and a half years, Brigid had given herself to healing. She hadn’t left Muirstead once. Treena, in that time, had roamed the countryside and seen so much. Yet, neither of them felt satisfied. Decades more of the same thing loomed ahead of them. Something was missing. As Brigid raised her cup for another sip, a brisk knock sounded on her door. She sighed and placed her cup back on the table.

  “Coming!”

  Treena stepped through the door with a serious look on her face.

  “What’s up?” said Brigid as she offered a hug in greeting.

  Treena clasped her firmly, then released her to pass Brigid an envelope inscribed with elegant script. Brigid looked at her inquiringly as she walked over to her desk to grab a penknife. Treena simply waited. Brigid opened the envelope and drew out the single sheet inside. Shock passed over her face as she read aloud.

  “Brigid, of Galena and Iason, you are hereby summoned to a meeting of the Muirstead Council at 6 p.m., this twenty-third day of March in the year two thousand and thirty, the fiftieth year of the reign of Queen Amethyst.”

  She set the sheet on the table.

  “That’s all it says; no reason given. It’s simply signed by the Council Scribe. What’s this all about Treena? Am I in trouble?”

  Treena paced the floor. “I don’t know. I got back from my last mission and my first officer sent me over to the Council Chair, Merridan. She instructed me to deliver this and to stay with you. We’re to go to the Council together tonight. I wasn’t told anything else. There was an elder fairy sitting in her office, with silvery hair and a beard, who I didn’t recognize. Maybe he has something to do with it?”

  Treena plopped into a chair.

  “Weird,” Brigid said. “I’ve never heard of the Council summoning anyone. They hear lots of cases and deliberate lots of community issues, but this seems outside of the norm.”

  She glanced at the clock on her shelf. They had half an hour before the meeting.

  “Do you want something to eat? Even though my stomach’s churning with nerves, I need to eat after offering healing work all day. I have squash soup warming on the stove and biscuits with cheese. Want some?”

  Treena nodded as her fingers tapped restlessly against the tabletop. She pushed herself up to get a glass of water and cutlery for their meal. They quickly consumed the food and tidied up. It was time to go.

  ***

  The Prophecy

  Side by side, they strode down the road toward the Council building. Brigid clasped the summons anxiously in her hand. The town clock tolled the hour as they arrived. The Council door swung open, controlled by the porter who ushered them into the vestibule. He nodded in acknowledgement of the summons in Brigid’s hands but didn’t take it.

  “This way, please,” he said as he urged them down the hallway to the Council chambers. Every member of Council was in attendance as they walked into the room. There were only two empty chairs at the center of the table. At Merridan’s right hand sat the silver-haired elder Treena had described.
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  Merridan stood up as they approached.

  “Welcome Treena, Brigid,” she said as she extended a handclasp of greeting to each of them. “Thank you for coming tonight in response to the Council’s summons. Please be seated.”

  She gestured to the empty chairs.

  “Scribe Jared, please seal the door and windows against listening ears.”

  Treena and Brigid looked at each other as they settled into their seats. This was serious business. Usually Council meetings were open to the public.

  Once Jared had utilized his magical gift of securing sound from escaping at all openings, he took his place and opened the scribe’s journal. He picked up his pen and nodded to Merridan that he was ready to begin. No mention was made of the stranger in their midst.

  Merridan formally opened the meeting.

  “On this twenty-third day of March, in the year two thousand and thirty, in the fiftieth year of the reign of Queen Amethyst”—she glanced at the wall clock—“at six-ten p.m., I, Merridan, Chair of Muirstead Council, call this confidential meeting to order. The purpose of this meeting is to hear Azran’s prophecy and to respond to the request of Azran’s priest, Evander.”

  Brigid felt Treena stiffen beside her at the mention of the prophecy. Brigid searched her brain, trying to recall anything from her studies that referred to Azran’s prophecy. She knew from history that Azran was an important fairy who protected thousands by transporting them to the Realm. Once, fairies and humans had lived peaceably on a planet called Earth, but over time that relationship changed. The fairy King, Cian, convinced his people to travel to a new world where they could settle and develop their lives without fear of persecution. Azran’s magical gift of opening portals between worlds enabled the beginning of the Realm. Villages, townships, and cities formed over time. Mostly, fairies dwelt peaceably together. Rogue fairies were kept under control by the Protector’s Force. Azran’s priests guarded the portal using their training from the Academy. Hard as she tried, Brigid couldn’t pull out any other memories that involved a prophecy. She reined her thoughts in as Merridan turned to Evander.

  “Evander, the floor is yours. I invite you to share with the Council what you shared with me.”

  With vivid blue eyes, Evander looked around the table at each Council member, and at Treena and Brigid, piercing each one with his intense gaze. His silver hair flowed to his wide shoulders, brushing the green robes he was wearing as a priest of the Realm.

  “What I’m about to tell you is information only the Queen, Azran’s priests, and the Elite Guard of the Protector’s Force have been privy to since the beginning of our Realm. It’s not to be discussed with anyone outside this circle. No aspect of this matter may be hinted at, even to your closest friends or family members, and that includes intimate partners or spouses. I presume that as officers of this Council you were chosen for your trustworthiness and reliability. However, to be sure, you will each take an oath before we proceed. Should you attempt to break this oath you will be struck mute. Do you understand?”

  Brigid could feel the tension in the room. She saw concern on the faces of some of the Council members. Not all were known for their quiet tongues. Brigid wasn’t sure why she was included here but, as she felt Treena’s hand on her arm, she placed her hand over Treena’s in reassurance. The oath was okay with her. She was used to keeping matters confidential.

  One by one, Evander had the Council members rise to take their oaths. Brigid noted a few shaky hands. Finally, it was Treena’s and then Brigid’s turn. She stood as Evander gazed deeply into her eyes; it felt almost as if he saw into her heart. She determinedly scrutinized him in return. One corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smile and his face brightened as she repeated the words of her oath. It was done.

  Evander returned to his seat and nodded at Jared, who had witnessed and recorded the oaths, including his own. Jared’s magical gift included not only the ability to seal a room for confidential meetings, but also to make binding anything he inscribed on the Council’s ledgers. Brigid could feel the tingle of his power roll over her as her oath was recorded. Evander folded his surprisingly youthful-looking hands together and resumed speaking.

  “In the time of Azran, when the Fairy Realm was first formed, a prophecy was delivered to the first ruler of the Realm, King Cian. No one knows where or from whom the prophecy came, although Azran’s name has since been given to it. A guard found it pinned to the wall of the King’s chamber. The guard passed it to the King, and a vibrational power emanated from the document. Azran was consulted; he too sensed its power. The three decided the prophecy wasn’t meant for the general public. Thus, from that time, Azran’s priests, the Elite Guard of the Protector’s Force, and the Monarch of the Realm passed the prophecy from one generation to the next.

  “Azran’s priests were chosen for their ability to guard and protect the dimensional portal that led from the Fairy Realm to the Earth, as well as regular priestly duties such as worship and counsel. Every decade, a priest was selected to cross the portal to the Earth to connect with fairies who hadn’t crossed over when our Realm was formed. From those visits, the priests brought information back to the Fairy Realm to be shared with the Monarch, High Priest, and the Elite Guard.

  “Three months ago, our chosen priest for this decade crossed over. He did not return. This has not occurred before. Two months ago, a second priest was sent through with a member of the Elite Guard. Neither she nor the guard came back. No communication has been received through the portal. An assembly of priests and the Elite Guard was called last week by Queen Amethyst. She suggested that this could be the time of the prophecy’s fulfillment. Signs appear to be coalescing in a convincing manner. Thus, I’m with you tonight.”

  Brigid listened in fascination to Evander’s tale. She felt concern over the missing fairies, but what did this have to do with her? There were no injured parties for her to heal. As part of the Protector’s Force, she could understand why Treena’s presence might be required, but she wasn’t part of the Elite Guard. Why had they been called to the meeting?

  Evander reached into a thick cloth bag on the floor by his feet. He hauled out an exquisitely crafted wooden box which he carefully unlatched. Within the box was a scroll of paper enclosed in a clear casing. Using protective gloves to prevent damage to the scroll from the naturally occurring oils on his fingertips, Evander gently opened it and began to read:

  “When the Healer rises and the Priest falls,

  the time of prophecy arrives.

  When the Sword gleams to protect the Scroll-Bearer

  the prophecy will strengthen.

  When the Rock trips the Dancer,

  the prophecy moves forward.

  When the Player seeks the Mind,

  the prophecy will be empowered.

  Together strong. Apart broken.

  Cross and mend. Begin again.”

  When the last word was spoken, a white glow shot upward. Evander carefully returned the scroll to its box.

  His eyes found Brigid’s as he said, “The Healer has risen, and two of our priests have fallen. The time of prophecy has arrived.”

  Brigid’s mouth dropped open. “Why do you look at me? I’m simply the healer for Muirstead. There are healers in many of the villages and towns of the Realm. In the cities, at the castle, there are loads of learned healers, older and wiser than me. What do I have to do with this?”

  Evander smiled calmly. “Indeed, we have a multitude of healers throughout the Realm. Some are talented in mind-soothing, like your mother. Others are stronger in the diagnostic arts, like your father, or herbology, like your brother. Some are gifted in treatment techniques and a few like your grandmother can emit a healing light that knits cells together. However, there is no one else, nor has there ever been anyone, in whom all these magical healing gifts are bound together.”

  “Why didn’t I ever know this?”

  “Through the ages, all teaching elders of the Realm were instructed to con
tact Azran’s priests at the Academy should a healer ever arise in whom more than one healing gift appeared,” Evander continued. “The elders, with whom you trained, contacted the Academy when they noted the extent of your healing powers. It was decided to keep your abilities quiet to give you time to develop and train. You’ve served your community well, but your purpose is broader than what you’ve been doing in Muirstead. When our priests didn’t return, matters became urgent. We needed to act; I was elected to seek you out.”

  Evander leaned forward and Brigid was captured by his intent gaze.

  “The Muirstead Council has within its powers the capacity to free you from your local responsibilities so that you may serve the Realm. What do you say? Will you go with me?”

  Treena shifted impatiently in her seat. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Before Brigid replies, I need to know why I’ve been summoned. I sense there’s more to this story.”

  Merridan opened her mouth as if to reprimand Treena for her interruption, but Evander waved a hand for silence.

  “As a member of the Protector’s Force, you’re familiar with the prophecy?” he asked.

  “I knew of its existence but not the content. We were instructed to keep it well guarded. Only the Elite Force knew the actual words you read to us tonight.”

  “Do you remember three nights ago, when the moon was bright? You were riding the hills watching over the countryside,” said Evander.

  “Of course I remember. Some nitwit had built a campfire in the open, transmitting his location to fairies with avaricious tendencies. I intervened and sent a group of thieves on their way. I stayed nearby and patrolled the area the rest of the night. Not that I was thanked for it. The fellow just stood silently in his robe, a deep green color, a bit like yours….” Treena’s voice trailed off as it dawned on her. “It was you.”

  “Yes,” said Evander. “I was the nitwit. My horse sprained her fetlock and I couldn’t make my appointed lodging for the night. I was warming water to make a poultice for her when misfortune arrived in the form of a band of thieves.”