The Prophecy (Children of the River Book 1)

by Ren Curylo

  “I hate that we had to start them off only a few centuries ahead of how they started out last time.”

  “Light years ahead, even if they are still backward,” Moriko reasoned. “At least this time they didn’t start out in caves.”

  “True,” Anoba said. “Still, if we had been allowed to start them off in a better spot, this whole world would likely last longer and be a lot more peaceful. I think we should have set them up to govern and live as we know they should.”

  “I agree, but we were outvoted. I still don’t understand how that group managed to sway a majority of votes.”

  “I think there were a handful of proponents of this backward thinking among our fellow officers, and they managed to rally enough of the lower Envoy into siding with them. They won by only a handful of votes.”

  “That would make sense.”

  “I want you on my side in this endeavor. The most important thing, to me, is building this land for the hybrids as technologically advanced as we can make it. I want to start them off where Lerien should have started—where it would have started had it not been for the opposition.”

  “I agree, and I’ll stand with you, absolutely. You can count on me. And this one won’t be up for a vote, either, so I don’t see why we can’t do it however we please.”

  “That’s the best part about this thing; we can leave out all the troublemakers from our Envoy. I’d like you to keep an eye out, in your travels around Lerien, for these Narcene and how they’re treated as they develop and show their abilities.”

  “Narcene? Is that what they’re to be called?”

  “It’s what my mother called them.”

  “All right, I’ll let you know when I hear things.”

  “When we build a separate place for them, Mother said it will be called MeánAosta,” Anoba said.

  “What are we waiting for?”

  “We need to see how things go with the mortals, but I agree that we should go ahead and get started planning it, rather than waiting. We need to keep it a secret and not involve a lot of the others. If we knew which faction of them rallied the Envoy against us before, it would help us determine who to avoid.”

  “I think the smaller the group of us working on this project, the better. I won’t pretend I don’t know which faction of them is to blame, Anoba. It isn’t helping us to give them a free pass like that.”

  “You’re right, I have a difficult time giving up on diplomacy. It will take longer if we work with a smaller group, but I agree, Moriko,” Anoba said. “Who do you suggest?”

  “Oseyan, Grannus, Gealach, and her daughter Ída, and most of the nature Envoy,” she replied. “And many of the Ethereals, but none of the Sins and Sorrows.”

  “The Sins and Sorrows?” Anoba asked with a laugh. “Who are those?”

  Moriko smiled, saying, “Hermolaos, Éadomhain, they are the Sins. He’s definitely lechery and she’s vanity for sure. His sister and brother in law, Éad, and Vibol, they are definitely deceit and jealousy. The Sorrows would be Éadóchas, Ochón, and his brother Bhrón. They are definitely despair, woe, and sorrow, in that order.”

  Anoba laughed. “I have never heard a more accurate assessment of them. Did you know Éadomhain recently had a little boy? They named him Evaris.”

  “Oh, great, that’s all we need, more of them.”

  “Éadomhain announced last night, very proudly, I might add, that she’s pregnant for the third time.”

  “They seem to be making up for others’ lack of breeding.”

  “Unfortunately,” Anoba agreed. “It’s the worst group of them to be doing it, too. In addition, Éad and Vibol also had a baby. He’s a fat, nasty little thing they named Craos. He’s always quivering and drooling.” Anoba shuddered.

  Moriko shuddered. “I’m not sure I want to hear any more about what’s happening in Na Réaltaí,” she said.

  “Then let’s return to our topic of how we build Meán-Aosta, and who is going to help,” Anoba said.

  Moriko happily complied with that suggestion by asking, “Will the Weather Envoy be involved? Or will they be on standby since the weather is already established?”

  “I thought having them on standby was a good idea in case anything goes wrong.”

  Moriko nodded. “I agree,” she said. “But will The Creator?”

  Anoba lifted her chin to acknowledge that she had noted the change in Moriko’s tone when she mentioned Ársa. “I think Ársa will agree with us,” she said quietly.

  “You can count on me,” Moriko said. “I’ll watch for changes and when you’re ready to get started with the new creation, let me know.”

  “Even if that means working closely with Ársa?”

  “I’m working on coming to terms with my feelings about Ársa,” she said. “Right now, I’m at the bitterness stage.”

  Anoba laughed, but she knew Moriko was serious, all the same. “Say, do you feel that change in the air?”

  “Uh-oh,” Moriko said. “The last time I felt the air shaking thing like that, Chéile showed up a few minutes later. However she’s Traveling, it seems to disturb the air around where she lands.”

  “Let’s hope that doesn’t change, it serves as an early warning system.”

  Moriko laughed. “That it does. Unfortunately, I am not in the mood to mess with her. How about we go check out a village near here? I hear the innkeeper cooks a great stew and I think there may be a hybrid or two living there. I recall hearing some stories a decade or so ago. We should check it out.”

  Still in hiding, Muirgan’s palms became sweaty at Moriko’s announcement of Chéile’s imminent arrival. She hoped she’d get her chance at the newly made goddess.

  “Sure, let’s go. It would be funny, though, to see the look on her face when she gets here and finds you gone.”

  Moriko held out her hand. “Come on, I’ll take you there.”

  Anoba took Moriko’s hand and they instantly vanished, leaving nothing but a few scuff marks in the middle of the sandy path where they had stood.

  Muirgan’s dark eyes watched around her carefully as she moved closer to the spot where they had been. The air felt heavy suddenly as she waited.

  Instantly, as she moved into the pathway, a woman appeared before her. Muirgan stopped and stood frozen in mid-step as she waited for Chéile to turn and see her. Her mind raced as she went over her plans again, hoping her choices would be the right ones to appease this woman. She didn’t want to die in the middle of a dirty lane at the hands of a psychotic goddess.

  Chéile turned, looking around her and Muirgan knew she was looking for Moriko. When the woman turned, at last, in her direction and her pale blue eyes locked on the Selkie in human form, Muirgan dropped to her knees and hung her head.

  “Goddess Lady Chéile,” she said. She hoped her tone conveyed the proper inflection of whatever emotion would satisfy Chéile.

  “Who are you?” the woman asked sharply.

  Muirgan stole a glance up at the tall woman but didn’t move to stand back up. “My name is Muirgan, my lady,” she said.

  “Where is Moriko? What are you doing here?”

  “Moriko was here a few moments ago, but she left with Anoba.”

  Chéile spat on the ground. “Anoba? What a waste. Where did they go?”

  Muirgan shook her head. “I do not know, my lady,” she said.

  “Stand up,” Chéile said.

  Muirgan did as commanded and she stole another glance at Chéile from the corner of her eye. “The only thing they said was that they were going to find the Fae woman Ársa is seeing,” she said, hoping this would rivet Chéile’s attention.

  She was not disappointed when the Elfin woman’s head snapped to her with renewed interest. “What?” she said in a voice that rose to a higher pitch.

  Muirgan nodded. “Anoba came to see her and told her about a woman, a Fae woman, Ársa has been seeing.”

  “How do you know all this?” Chéile asked suspiciously.

  Muirgan
blushed a bit as she answered. “I overheard them. I was in the woods, there,” she said, pointing back to the place where she had stood listening. “I was trying to find a briar patch my grandmother used to tell me stories about, and they came walking along while I was hidden there. I didn’t mean to listen, I couldn’t help it.”

  Chéile laughed. “All the better for me, then,” she said. “What did they say about this woman? Who is she?”

  “Her name is Erish, ma’am,” Muirgan said. “His lover is Queen Erish of the Lilitu Fae.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Muirgan said sincerely. “That’s what they said.”

  “I never heard of Erish before,” she said. “Unless there are more I am not aware of, I have now identified two of the women of his cheating heart, Moriko and Erish.”

  “Moriko was pretty angry that he was cheating on her with Erish.”

  “Is she going to find this Erish?” Chéile asked.

  “I think so,” Muirgan said. “She said she was going to warn Erish about him then she would be done with Ársa. She made a comment about him being married to a nasty whore or something.” Muirgan felt a twinge of guilt at lying about Moriko, but she wanted to snare Chéile more.

  Chéile laughed. “That little girl is hardly more than a gnat on a dog,” she said. “But, please, tell me more about Erish. She seems to be two of the things I hate most in this world.”

  “What’s that, my lady?” Muirgan asked.

  “Why, she’s my rival and she’s a Fae.”

  “I see,” Muirgan said.

  “Do you know where I can find this Erish?” Chéile asked.

  “No ma’am,” she said, “but if you’d like to meet again later, I can try to find out for you. I know an old woman who claims to have a direct link to the Fae.”

  “I can do that,” Chéile said. “What’s your name again?”

  “Muirgan,” the Selkie in human form said. It annoyed her that Chéile didn’t bother to remember her name for even a few minutes. She masked her irritation and bobbed a curtsy. It was brief, hastily done, and completely uncoordinated, which lent itself to her act far better than if she had pulled it off with grace.

  “Muirgan,” Chéile said. “Very well, where would you like us to meet and when?”

  “It’ll take a while to get to the old woman, ma’am, so how about we meet in Blackpool in a week?”

  “Blackpool? Is that on Corath?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Muirgan said with sweet politeness. “It’s on the coast of Catormad Province.” Muirgan chose that spot because she was familiar with it and it was only a few provinces away from where Erish’s Lilitu lived. She didn’t want to send Chéile on her way yet; she wanted time to string her along a bit before she gave her the information.

  “All right,” Chéile said. “I’ll meet you on the beach at Blackpool, Catormad in one week at this same time.”

  “I’ll be there,” Muirgan said. She had also chosen it because it would give her an opportunity to even the score with Yann. She had plans of her own in that quarter.

  “Give me your button,” Chéile said, pointing at one of the tiny buttons that fastened the blouse she had stolen from a clothesline when she first started following Moriko.

  “My button?” Muirgan asked in confusion.

  “Yes,” Chéile said impatiently. “I cannot Travel as well as some of the others can yet, so I will need a personal item of yours in order to come straight to you.”

  “I see,” Muirgan said. “Do you have a knife? I hate to tear a button off if I can cut it. You see, this is my only good blouse and I don’t want to ruin it.”

  Chéile sighed in exasperation. She reached out and touched the button on Muirgan’s blouse. It popped off as she held it with her thumb and forefinger.

  “I’ll see you in one week,” Chéile said before she disappeared.

  Muirgan exhaled loudly in relief when she stood alone in the middle of the path. She was glad Chéile hadn’t asked her how she was going to get to Blackpool from here.

  Springmeadow was thousands of miles from Blackpool and it would take her the better part of the week to swim there even if the currents were in her favor. Knowing she had a grueling trip ahead of her, Muirgan hurriedly made her way back to the waters. She opened the pouch hanging from her belt and pulled out her pelt. She slipped it on and submerged herself in the waters of the Jeredian Sea. She set a northwesterly course toward the Afrona Sea.

  16 days later Imber 13, 763

  Chinquapin Brake Mirus, Corath

  Ársa Ársa had hunted for Moriko for months. She was deliberately hiding from him but he never stopped looking for her. While he hadn’t stopped, he had lessened his searches. He no longer actively tried to locate her and Travel to catch her. She was blocking him from locating her. He still searched for her on a daily basis, though now, it was half-hearted. He approached each attempt with a defeated attitude and no longer expected anything of her. He still, from time to time, sent her messages via their gan-sreangs. He never got a response unless he sent it as an official order, in which case, he got a terse one-word reply refusing to cooperate.

  He knew she was alive and well, for he continued to ask his sister about Moriko. Anoba saw her frequently and they were as close as they had ever been, if not closer. She told Anoba about Chéile’s attacks and confrontations that were happening with alarming regularity. When Ársa confronted Chéile about them, the woman merely shrugged and replied that she didn’t have to suffer a philandering husband as part of their marriage vows. She ignored his protests that he had never had an affair with Moriko. Chéile was convinced otherwise.

  He expected nothing different today when he searched for Moriko. He was surprised when he actually managed to lock in on her without her instantly disappearing. Ársa kept her as his target long enough get a location on her. Not believing his good fortune, he immediately Traveled to her.

  Ársa came solid in a swampy-forested area. He stood and looked around to get his bearings. He was in Mirus, Corath, but he hadn’t been here in the flesh before. He looked down to find himself mid-calf deep in swampy, murky water. The trees were old growth here, mostly untouched by human life. They were tall, with a wider girth than his arms could span. There were long tendrils of thick, grey moss hanging from the feathery-leaved branches of cypress trees. Cypress knees popped out of the water everywhere. On the few patches of solid ground that he could see, some of them were old enough and big enough to form benches.

  Making his way to the nearest one, Ársa climbed up to stand on the widest knee protruding from the muddy water. Algae and tiny little water plants covered most of the surface as far as he could see. Many of the trees were thin in the deeper, more congested part of the swamp, growing too close together for a person to comfortably get between. Looking around, he could see, as the forest moved on in the other direction, where the trees grew sparser and larger and the water was more open. The water had enormous water lily pads growing on the surface. Many of them were large enough to support the weight of small land animals.

  This place, while not traditionally so, was still a forest and one of exquisite, quiet beauty. It was peaceful and serene here and he felt instantly at home. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smells of the swamp. It was both musty and clean, he was surprised to note. He could hear birds calling high up in the trees as well as other animals among the branches. He looked around at the water surrounding him and decided the best way to navigate was hovering until he came to higher, firmer ground.

  He closed his eyes again, this time to focus on his prey. He needed to home in on Moriko and make his way to her. He strongly felt her presence and knew exactly where to go. He waved a hand over his boots to clear them of mud before he moved in her direction. Another quick pass dried them and restored them to their original state. He took care to stay inches above the water’s surface.

  After a few minutes, he felt her presence grow stronger and he knew he was nearing
her location. He could see open water, perhaps a river, through the trees up ahead. There was a structure here, he noted. He thought it odd that someone had actually built something in this remote place.

  As he neared the area, he could see an open channel, a waterway running between two thickly forested groups of trees. Whether it was a river or a stream, he didn’t know, but he instantly realized that this was something his sister and Moriko had collaborated to create. He smiled at the simple charm of the place.

  At the edge of the channel, he saw, cloaked in trees draped heavily in moss, a rundown white building built on pilings so that its floor was several feet above the ground near the water’s edge. It had a porch that wrapped around all four sides, a set of steps leading down to a long pier and dock on the water. The paint on the building was faded and peeling in places, but the windows were all intact even if they hung at oddly skewed angles. The door was ajar but the interior of the place was dim.

  From his vantage point, no boat was visible at the end of the dock. He moved closer, out of curiosity, and as he neared so he could see the end of the dock, he saw her sitting with her back toward the swamp. She was fishing as she sat cross-legged on the end of the pier. She was wearing a battered straw hat but he recognized the unruly ropes of matted dark brown hair as Moriko’s. Ársa hovered at the edge of the tree line, where the boggy ground gave way to the muddy soup of the swamp, gazing at her back and smiling, careful not to breathe too loudly and disturb the moment.

  Without turning around, Moriko said, “Well, Ársa, what are you waiting for? Either join me or leave, now that you’ve intruded.”

  Ársa chuckled. She had known he was here all along. He realized she had allowed him to find her. That’s progress, right? He moved forward and stood on the rough-hewn boardwalk for a moment, savoring the sight of her.

  “Good afternoon, Moriko,” he said, walking with a light tread down the dock to sit beside her.

  “Good afternoon, Ársa,” she said, flashing a smile at him and peeking at him from the corner of her eye. “You treacherous bastard.”