by Jason Malone
“Nothing is certain,” Aoife said “They could have been bandits. Your vengeance is misguided.”
“Even if that were true, I cannot stay here with you. I have duties. The Gods have a purpose for me,” I said.
Aoife sat up and frowned. “What do you know of the Gods? What do you know of Fate?” I blinked at her, and she shrugged and lay back down. “You are very naïve, Edward. You know little of matters that occur outside of your plane. Tell me — if your fate is already decided, why do you need to fulfil it?”
I thought about her question for a moment, and she spoke again before I could. “If a man dies and returns as a revenant, is that his fate?” she asked. “For a man to come back from the dead, he must fulfil certain conditions in life, but if that is so, does that not mean his fate is decided by his own actions? If his return from the dead was already decided at birth, then he could live how he wanted and still become a revenant, but the fact all revenants share certain characteristics is no mere coincidence.”
I stared up at the forest canopy. “Our choices and our actions are fated. A person is already fated to act in such a way that he would become a revenant.”
Aoife giggled. “No, Edward, no. If that is the case, then you have no free will. But I know for a fact that you are choosing to leave me. Just as you chose to come here.”
“So there is no such thing as Fate? The future is based entirely on mere chance?”
“Fate exists. But you also have free will. You determine your own fate, based on your actions, yet at the same time your fate is unavoidable.” Aoife moved her head to look up at me and smiled, while I lay there in confusion.
“That is a contradiction,” I said.
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked. “You mortals are simple beings. You think that because one thing is so, the opposite cannot be so. But is it not true that you can also be dead, but alive? Can you not love a person but feel anger towards them? Can your happiness not be combined with sadness? Can you not lie in the snow but still be warm?”
I did not respond.
“What your senses perceive is based entirely on how you view the world,” she continued. “The Gods originally created our worlds as one, but after the Split, the Mirror World became the Mirror Worlds: the World and the Otherworld. Mundane and arcane. Body and soul. Yet because of their shared origin our worlds, although distinct, are not wholly separate. We are proof of that.”
“You have given me a lot to think about, and none of the advice I wanted,” I said.
She smiled. “Go now, Edward. Your fate awaits you. But know that this is a fate you have chosen.”
At that, Aoife moved up to kiss me, and the moment our lips locked, she disappeared. I found myself alone, lying in the cold snow.
The fountain stopped spouting water, but the basin was still full. I washed myself, filled my flask, and then started a fire. I cooked a rabbit for breakfast, and after eating I headed back through the trees with Lilly, then made my way back to the stone wall.
A fresh, thick layer of snow had covered the fields while I was in the forest, so Lilly had to trudge through it again. She managed, and after following the wall, we found the road again. I turned west towards Oldford.
I rode Lilly alone along the road westwards for some time. I checked the hills for that man who had been following us, but he appeared to have given up. Or perhaps he was stalking the others and had no interest in me. Whatever the case may have been, I did not encounter him again.
I did encounter someone, though. Two people, in fact. As I rode along the road, I spotted two others heading eastwards on foot. They were wrapped in thick cloaks and appeared to be hermits, but one can never be too careful. Especially in those days. I drew my sword.
“Hold,” I called as I neared them. The pair stopped, and I noticed it was a man and a child. I pointed my sword in their direction.
“Hello, warrior,” the man said. He held out his hands, so I lowered my blade.
“Who are you?” I asked. The man bowed his head. He had dark, curly hair and an olive complexion. These people were foreign to this land.
“Humble travellers, lord. We seek the man called Edward. He has fame in these parts,” the man said. He spoke with a thick southern accent, confirming my suspicions. These two were from the kingdoms in the land beyond the River Cris, where the sun is always warm and everyone meets the day with a smile on their face. But these two looked cold and miserable.
“You have come far, and to dangerous lands. There is talk of growing tensions between the lords of Ardonn. What is your business with Edward?”
“I wish for my son here to be apprenticed by him.”
“Why?”
“He has…strange senses.”
I nodded, sheathed my sword, then dismounted. “What are your names?”
“My name is Livi,” said the man. “This is my son, Philip.” His son nodded, and I held up a hand in greeting. Philip had the same curly hair as his father, except it was longer, and he lacked the beard.
“A strong name. A king’s name,” I said to him and then turned back to his father. “You both have good luck, but also ill luck. You have found Edward — for I am him — but unfortunately, I cannot apprentice your son.”
“Why not?”
“Half a day’s ride east along this road is my home, but I assume you already knew that. However, my home is now a smouldering ruin, and most of my tenants are dead. I have barely enough money to feed myself and the survivors, and I do not know how long it will be till we have a place to live. An additional mouth to feed is the least of my concerns.” I bowed my head and then turned back to Lilly.
“Wait,” Livi said. He grabbed my arm, and I turned back to him. “I have nine children, and another is on its way. My family is poor, and we are struggling to get by. I hoped I could put my son into your care and that you could help him to be like you so that perhaps he may become more than a poor farmer.” I turned to look down at Philip, and he looked at his feet.
“What have you seen?” I asked the child. Philip did not answer.
“He tells me he can talk to things that we cannot see. Last winter he went missing, and when he returned the next day, he told me… Philip, tell him what you told me,” said Livi. He patted his son on the shoulder, and Philip glanced up at me nervously.
“I visited the home of the silvans,” said Philip.
I stared at him for a second and blinked. “How long did you stay with them?”
“I stayed for supper,” he said.
I put a hand to my mouth, curious. Silvans were what the southerners called elves, and if the average person had supper in their world, he should have been gone for years. I turned back to Livi.
“Why did you not seek out the Gifted in your lands?” I asked.
“We did, but all turned us away. Is my son unwell?”
“No. How old is he?”
“Eleven. My sixth son.”
“I was once the son of a farmer,” I said, turning to Philip. “When I was a few years younger than you, I left that farm to become the apprentice of a Godspeaker from these lands. Would you like to leave your farm, and your family, to live the life of the Gifted?”
“Yes, lord,” Philip said.
“It is a hard and often lonely life. Is that well with you?”
“Yes.”
I smiled a little and then looked back to his father. “Very well, Livi. I will apprentice your son. But I warn you, you are putting him on a tough road. Should you part with him now, he will face many trials in the future.”
“Will he at least have food in his belly?” Livi asked.
“Yes. So long as he is under my tutelage, I will ensure he is always fed. And I shall do all in my power to defend him. You have my oath on that. I swear it.”
At that Livi grinned, and then he hugged me. “Oh thank you, thank the Gods. You are a kind man.”
“I will take your son in and train him. But if he proves useless, I will send him back home,” I
said.
He smiled even wider and then shook my hands. “He is a strong boy. He will not let you down. Philip has been very excited about becoming like you. He shall be happy.”
“These are harsh times. You should make haste and return to your farm before the winter grows harsher.”
Livi nodded, and tears began to form in his eyes. I do not know why I changed my mind and decided to take Philip in. Something inside me gave me the feeling that I should accept. There were few Godspeakers left in our world, and the fact that Philip was able to have supper with elves and remain unharmed was curious. For most, hundreds of years would have passed, but clearly not for him.
I sensed he had a lot of potential, and a lot of power, and in that moment I thought this must have been how my master felt when he took me in.
I walked a few paces along the road and waited for Livi and Philip to say their farewells. It would be a long time before they saw each other again, if at all. Livi thanked me once more, and I gave him some coins for the journey home. He was happy that he had found a future for his son but sorrowful at the same time.
I bid Livi safe travels, and we parted ways. Then I turned to Philip, who watched his father leave with tears in his eyes.
“Wipe your eyes,” I said.
He looked up at me for a few moments and then wiped his face with his sleeve and sniffed. “Sorry, lord.”
“Call me Edward.” I held a gloved hand out to him, and he shook it.
“Edward. Where will you take me, if you have no home?”
“Oldford. It is a town not far from here. Come, hop on my horse. We will ride together and meet up with the rest of my people.”
I helped Philip up onto my horse and mounted as well, then kicked Lilly into a trot. We rode for a few more hours, over hills and paddocks, until at last we had reached the edge of Oldford’s swamp.
Philip spoke little that day, as I had when I first left my family to enter a strange world. I pointed northwards across the marsh to where the roofs of Oldford rose up in the distance and explained to Philip where we were in relation to the southern kingdoms. He told me he came from a kingdom called Luria, which was ruled by an old king called Miron. I asked him if Miron was a good king, and he said he was.
It was not long before Dughlas found us, having kept lookout over the road to Oldford. I introduced him to Philip, and then Dughlas took us to the camp he and the others had made. It was on a low ridge that hugged the edge of the swamp, and the camp sat amongst a bunch of dead willows and beeches. Matilda greeted both me and Philip enthusiastically, probably glad that she was no longer the only newcomer among strange men, but the others were less happy to see me.
Especially Osmund. “Late again,” he said when I arrived at the camp.
I ignored him.
There was still light in the day, and after thinking about it for a few moments, I decided we should pack up the camp and try to cross the marsh with the hope of reaching Oldford before nightfall.
I thought we could make it, but I was wrong. The servants were even slower through the marsh, and as the sun set behind the hills, we were still far from Oldford’s gate.
“We will have to spend the night in the swamp,” I said to Dughlas. We both travelled on foot so the slower walkers could ride. “The town locks its gates at night to keep out the undesirables.”
“We could find one of the old peat settlements,” he suggested.
I agreed that would probably be a good idea, and so we all turned away from the road and followed a forgotten track that I thought would lead to one of the clusters of huts the peasants would sometimes use to gather peat from the marsh. It was growing darker by the second. I thought we would become lost in the night, but to my relief I was right, and we found a settlement.
It was a shabby place and looked to have been unused for at least a decade. The dozen wooden huts that surrounded what looked to be a communal sitting area were rotten and full of holes. We could hear the sounds of scratching and squeaking when we arrived at that poor excuse for a village. As I predicted, it was completely empty, aside from insects and its animal inhabitants.
And something else — something neither human nor animal. I should have trusted my instincts and moved on, but we were tired, hungry, wet, and cold. We had been wading through mud and water for up to an hour, and in some places, it went up to our knees. The huts were concealed by tall reeds, so we had stumbled upon the place almost by accident.
I felt uneasy, but the others were relieved to have found somewhere they could lie down and eat. The air was still and damp, but there was something else about it that put me off.
We tied our horses to a post in the centre of the village and dismounted. The food we had managed to forage would be enough to last us the night, but I would have to restock once we were in Oldford, should Adalbert deny us rest.
“There’s enough room for everyone. Go and pick a shack for the night,” I said. I approached the pit in the middle of the little communal area and started to light a fire. There was already enough dead wood in the pit to get one going.
“What about you?” Dughlas asked, coming over to squat beside me. Philip lingered not far from me, unsure of what to do or where to go, and Matilda stood by the horses, hugging herself with her cloak.
“I’ll stay out here,” I said to Dughlas, then leant in close to whisper. “I feel something.”
Dughlas stared at me for a second and then looked into the fire I had just started. “I’ll trust you. Let me know if you need anything.” He patted me on the shoulder and went to inspect one of the empty huts.
They were sorry things. Most were single-roomed shacks, while one had a small second room attached to the main one, which I assumed was a kitchen. That one was also taller than the others and had a loft. I noticed Philip make his way towards it.
“Philip, not that one,” I shouted. “Be a gentleman and let Matilda have the big one. You have that one over there.” I pointed to one of the smaller huts with a large hole in its roof and side. He nodded, but before he could go into his hut, I beckoned him over.
“What is it, lord?”
I warmed my hands on the fire, which was blazing full now. “How do you feel?”
“I feel like we are not alone,” he said.
“I feel it too. Something does not want us here.”
“What will we do?”
“Nothing,” I responded. “You go have some food and get some sleep. I’ll try to contact whatever it is later on.” I turned my head to look over my shoulder and saw Matilda standing by the horses, staring at her hands. “Go on, go have a look at your new home,” I said to Philip. He got up and went inside his hut while I sat gazing into the flames, trying to feel what lived here.
We were definitely being watched now.
Dughlas came back out from his hut and took some food from the horses. He chatted to Matilda while she showed him some kind of insect she had found. I did not pay attention to what they were saying, but there was something odd about the way they talked to each other. Dughlas was being his usual charismatic self, and Matilda was smiling as they talked, but then I realised what was wrong.
They were only a dozen or so feet away from me, but I could barely hear them.
The air was still, so there was no wind to carry the sound away, but their voices were so muffled, I could not make out what they were saying. I could tell Matilda was laughing, but it sounded as though she was miles away.
“Matilda! Dughlas!” I shouted.
They ignored me, so I yelled again, and this time they turned to me. Their eyes widened, and they froze, suddenly realising that something was wrong. They must have heard my voice was muffled too. I pointed to the huts and shouted for them to go inside, but they did nothing.
“Go. Inside,” I yelled.
They heard me that time, and both quickly rushed to the nearest hut. As they ran, a huge gust blasted through the settlement, causing the reeds to hiss. A deathly howl accompanied the gale, and I w
as almost certain it was not just the wind that screamed.
Dughlas did not hesitate to get inside the hut, but Matilda stopped at the door and turned. There was fear in her eyes. No, not fear. Terror. Horror. She felt death kiss her cheek.
“Edward,” she mouthed.
“Inside!” I said. She backed into the hut — the bigger one with the kitchen and loft — and slammed the door behind her. I could not hear it shut.
I slowly approached Lilly. The horses were growing restless, stamping and snorting. I calmed them and then pulled my sword from Lilly’s saddle.
“Who are you?” I yelled into the air. No response. The reeds had stopped hissing. The water was still again. The marsh went to sleep.
I sighed, hooked my sword to my belt, and went to sit by the fire. I stared into it, watching the flames jump and the wood crack. Behind me, I could hear the horses breathing. Sound had returned back to normal, it seemed, but we still had company. The reeds that surrounded us were filled with many creatures, but I felt that one — just one — was watching me intently.
“What was that?”
I turned and saw Osmund standing over me. He had a hard look on his face. A look of anger. Even so, I could see the fear in his eyes. Egil and Cubert stood behind him.
“No idea,” I said. I turned back to the fire, but Osmund grabbed me by the arm and hauled me up to face him. I stared at him, dumbfounded.
“No idea? That sort of thing is supposed to be your speciality,” said Osmund.
“I will need to investigate first. There is no point in making assumptions.”
“Y’know what I think?” Osmund said. I raised my eyebrows, inviting him to speak. “I think you’re cursed, Edward. Ever since Brendan died, ill luck has found us. All of us. Our crops have yielded less and less every year, and sickness seems to come over us more often. Now, our homes have been burned and our families slaughtered, and we are being stalked by some…thing.”
