by Sharon Gibbs
The room was large, big enough to hold more than thirty students. Books lined every wall and were scattered through the room. Desks had been placed around the area and each held its own inkbottle and quill. Small steps were scattered about the room to allow access to the books on the highest shelves and on a desk near the door paper had been stacked for the students to write their ideas and thoughts upon as they learnt to decipher the prophecies that’d already come to pass. When a prophecy had been fulfilled it was written in detail in a corresponding book instead of being mixed and muddled.
Brother Astern entered the room and looked around. It was tidy and all desks had been cleared of books. He was just about to leave when he noticed something on the floor to the far left by the last row of shelves. He walked over and saw that it was a book. It lay open on the floor and the spine of the book faced up. As he bent over to pick it up, he noticed the title. Prophecy from Gallad. He remembered he’d read this book when he was a novice and back then he’d found nothing that caught his attention, apart from the fact all Prophecy Books were interesting and difficult to understand.
Brother Astern had two gifts of magic. He had the gift to read and translate ancient spells and it came easily to him as if it was his native language. His second gift was the Prophet’s Calling. If the prophecies he read were soon to be fulfilled his Wizard’s magic would tingle. He’d learnt from an early age to decipher this signal and his studies had jumped ahead by leaps and bounds. So much so, that in his twelfth year at the Keep he’d been allowed full access to the Prophecy rooms, even when the senior Wizards were not in attendance. Now he held the key.
He turned the book over and balanced it in his left hand. His right he used to dust the pages clean. As soon as his fingers touched the page, his magic began to tingle. Brother Astern began to feel nauseated. He could feel the bile in his stomach rise. He swallowed hard, closed his eyes and drew in a few breaths to settle his stomach. His fingers still rested upon the page and he began to read the Prophecy that lay beneath them. As he read, the sensation he’d first felt became stronger and he needed to sit before his legs gave way. He pulled out a chair from one of the desks and sat down.
He’d read this passage many years before, but back then it had never affected him like this. He read the prophecy again. It worried him that this prophecy was to come true. He didn’t know how or when, but he was convinced it was to unfold in the near future. He left the book open on the desk and retrieved a piece of paper. He sat and began to jot down the words of the prophecy. When he’d finished, he read his copy to make sure he’d written it word for word.
He swallowed as he felt the burning sensation rise in his throat again and his magic continued to tingle as he wrote down the title of the book. Brother Astern closed the book and he carried it to the far end of the room and slid it into its place on the shelf. As he left the room he rolled the piece of paper up and tucked it into the sleeve of his cloak. The sensation he’d felt eased and he no longer felt ill. He locked the door behind him and made his way on to his morning classes.
After the morning lessons, Brother Astern went into the great hall for lunch. He sat with the other Wizards and listened as they talked about their morning. He didn’t make mention of the prophecy he’d discovered and it still weighed heavily on his mind. He excused himself from the table and stopped to speak to the Hierarch. He wanted to meet with him after he’d finished his lunch.
When the Wizards of the Keep spoke to each other they used the word ‘Brother’ before their name to signify their status, but when they spoke directly to the Hierarch they made certain they used his title before his name.
The Hierarch agreed to meet with him.
Not long after, Brother Astern knocked on the Hierarch’s door.
‘Come in.’
Brother Astern felt comfortable as he entered the room where books studded the walls and the windows overlooked the garden below. Because the Hierarch’s study was located high in one of the turrets it provided a view of the rooftops of the common below.
‘Yes, Brother Astern, you wished to see me?’
‘Yes, Hierarch Jacob. This morning while I checked the Prophecy rooms, I found a book open upon the floor. When I picked it up to brush away the dust from the pages, my powers of prophesy ignited. They were so strong, they made me feel ill.’ Brother Astern reached into his sleeve and withdrew the prophecy he’d copied and handed it to the Hierarch.
The Hierarch unrolled the page and read the prophecy
Upon the land the snake will glide,
As it moves along it will slither and slide.
It will gobble up whatever it decides,
Wether it be skin, tooth or hides.
Then it will spit forth whatever it may like
On and on it will repeatedly strike.
It will come with vengeance and a false set of lies,
Offering much but holding with ties.
That of the Arts will lead its path
These two will both lead with splits in their hearts
Darkness will overtake the land, it will churn
So balance must be restored, or all upon the land, will burn.
But before they shall come
A child will be born
And seeing him so
You will know this be true
Whose passion for justice and peace will reside
Deep down in the depth of his eyes
You will know him this thing you should seek to hide
The shimmer, which lies there down deep inside
As he lays on the floor of the circle with fear
He may scream, he may wail but will not shed a tear
His will, will decide the fate of his race
And all of the four must be put into place
To banish this menace the head he must take
To bring balance back that’s what is at stake
The Hierarch was in his fifty-eighth year. He’d been brought to the Keep as a young boy himself and had risen within the ranks quite quickly. For the last ten years he’d governed as Hierarch. His long brown hair was streaked with wisps of grey and on his face he grew a beard which he stroked as he read the prophecy. The Hierarch read the prophecy several times before he looked up at Brother Astern.
‘This doesn’t tell us much, Brother Astern. What are your thoughts on this?’
‘Hierarch, I fear that this prophecy, too, will come to pass. Just as many others have that evoked my magic. I don’t know when or where, but in time, I believe the events are sure to unfold.’
‘This isn’t much to go by, Brother Astern. We’ve known no enemies and the land we live in has been at peace for as long as I can remember. I’m afraid we can do nothing,’ the Hierarch said as he read the prophecy again. ‘We shall not tell the others of the circle. This will stay between us. I want you to keep in mind that if anything else arises that you feel is related to this prophecy, then we shall meet about it again.’
‘But Hierarch—’
‘That will be all, Brother Astern.’ The Hierarch handed the prophecy back to him. He took the prophecy and knew their conversation was over. He thanked the Hierarch for his time and left the room.
Hierarch Jacob sat at his desk and he thought about the prophecy he’d just read. The reminder of it had sent shivers up his spine but there was nothing he could do for now. He'd just have to keep his eyes open for any sign that would lead him to believe the prophecy had begun to unfold.
Brother Astern returned to his own room, the prophecy weighing heavily on his mind. He placed the prophecy in his safety box. It was a long metal box that he kept on top of his desk. It held all the things that were dear to him. As he put it away, he decided not to obsess over it, but if the time came he’d be able to confer with the Hierarch again.
Tomorrow a new student would arrive at the Keep. Brother Astern set his mind to prepare for the boy’s arrival. He went about the rest of the day and attended to his classes. After his evening meal he
retired early to his room and tried not to think about the events of that morning. Finally, as he began to tire, he changed for bed and blew out the candles.
In the morning Brother Astern went about his routine. He rose from his bed, washed, dressed for the day and attended breakfast in the great hall. After breakfast he saw to the Prophecy room. Everything was just as it should be and he looked towards the shelf where he’d returned the book yesterday. Nothing was out of order and when he left the room he locked the door and continued on to his lessons.
Just after lunch Brother Astern heard the news that a carriage approached the Keep. He made his way to the main hall’s entrance to greet the new student. As he approached the front portal he saw Hierarch Jacob on the steps as the carriage pulled to a halt. Brother Astern watched the man and his son step out of the carriage. The Hierarch greeted them and Brother Astern noticed Gustov bowed and hurried to retrieve the bags from the roof of the carriage. Hierarch Jacob then spread his arms wide and in a voice loud enough for Brother Astern to hear said, ‘Gerard Antrobus. Welcome to the Keep!’
A shiver rolled down Brother Astern’s spine. His magic began to tingle and he was unable to go forward to greet the new student. With effort he turned and walked away. His heart felt heavy and he was unsure why he felt so disturbed. Wearily he trod back to his quarters.
Chapter Six
Henry walked his horse around to the front of the little hut which had been his home for nearly twenty years. He fastened the saddlebags onto his horse and tied the canvas behind the cantle. He’d rolled the blankets up tightly with the box inside and made sure it was safely hidden before he wrapped the blankets in the canvas to keep out any rain. Henry made sure all was securely in place and he took a last look around. How lonely he’d been without his beloved Eleanor and his children. He now faced the journey to be reunited with his grandson Christopher. Would his grandson be ready? He wondered if Christopher would accept his part in all this. He’d had to flee from his home at such a tender young age, and thank goodness for Albert and Rose, at least Christopher was loved and with his aunt and uncle.
Henry mounted his horse and turned her head towards Corn Fallow. He’d travel through the village, turn left and head on to Thomas and Mary’s house. He had to see them before he left otherwise they’d worry and search for him. He’d tell them the truth about what had happened. How he’d been forced to flee the Keep and about his wife Eleanor, his family and finally about his journey to be reunited with Christopher. He was sad to leave them, but felt sure they’d see each other again and hopefully it would be under happier circumstances.
Henry passed through the village. Oppression hung heavily in the air. Soldiers patrolled the village of Corn Fallow and made sure their presence was seen and felt by the people. Henry scowled as a troop on patrol passed him by. People hurried about their business so as not to draw attention to themselves. An old man sat under a tree by what used to be a thriving trade house. Now it was used as an armoury to store the weapons of battle the invaders had brought with them. As the village was under Lord Arnak’s rule there was no need for the soldiers to carry the heavy weapons of war anymore and a soldier now only needed his sword, knife and cudgel to instil fear into the citizens who remained in the village. The patrol stopped and began to harass the old man.
‘Why do you loiter here, old man?’
‘It’s hot today and I sought rest under the shade of this tree,’ he said.
‘Well on your way now,’ the soldier said as he stepped forward and reached out towards him. The old man had begun to rise when the soldier’s hands grabbed at his cloak and dragged him roughly to his feet. Henry feared what could happen. The soldiers were known to become heavy handed when they dealt with people who didn’t jump at their demands.
Henry rode his horse closer to the soldiers as they surrounded the man. ‘There you are, Joseph! Sorry I’m late. Old Betsy here had a stone in her hoof. Took me quite a while to sort her out it did,’ Henry said. He didn’t know this man and his name certainly wasn’t Joseph. The man looked at Henry and knew his game. He’d become worried himself when the soldier had grabbed him. ‘Well come on, Joseph, I haven’t got all day to dilly-dally around while you converse with your friends here. We’ve things to do you know.’
The soldiers pushed the old man forward. He was glad to be away from them and he walked towards Henry. Henry ranted on again, and as he steered his horse and the man away the soldiers lost interest and continued on their way.
Henry and the old man moved on down the road away from the Trading House, before Henry stopped and dismounted.
‘Thank you, Sir. You saved my skin,’ the old man said and he reached out to shake Henry’s hand. ‘I’m Frank Lounder.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Frank. I’m Henry. You need to take care while you rest in the shade.’
‘Well I sometimes forget about it all when I come down to the Trading House. I used to own and run the place. Still do I suppose, except there’s no trade anymore. Not since they came and took it all,’ he said. ‘Yes, she used to be a hive of activity she did. People would come for miles around and trade their wool and grain within her walls. Our home was built at the back of her, but now they have it all. My wife and I have to live with my sister now,’ Frank said. His sadness showed as he spoke about what he’d lost.
Henry felt this man’s sorrow. Many people had lost their homes and businesses—unless it benefited the army or you were lucky and they didn’t think there was any value in your trade.
‘Well what do they use it for now?’
‘Storage, Henry. Storage for their weapons.’
‘Really, that’s interesting,’ Henry said absentmindedly. He tucked the piece of information away in case it may be of use someday. ‘Well one day, things will be different,’ Henry said as he tried to reassure Frank.
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I hope so, Frank, I really do. I must be on my way now,’ Henry said.
‘If you ever need anything, Henry,’ Frank said as he pointed to the lane way by the bakery. ‘We live down there, the house with the red door. Anytime at all you just drop by. You’ll always be welcome.’
Henry thanked Frank and told him he’d be sure to call if he ever passed that way again. He mounted his horse and called out to Frank to take care before he rode off.
When he reached the edge of the village, Henry turned and headed towards Thomas and Mary’s home. As he travelled down the road he thought about what he’d say to them, unsure how they’d react when he told them of his previous life. For the last twenty years Henry had live in seclusion and really hadn’t shared knowledge of his past with anyone. He knew he could trust them but he’d been worried any information he shared with his friends would put them in danger.
Before he knew it their house came into view. Thomas and Henry had built the little house many years ago. They’d cut down trees and collected mud to make the shingles and had fashioned the whole lot into a small log house to keep the Bartholemews dry and warm through the winter months. Henry rode up the path. Thomas was over by the wood hut splitting and stacked wood for the coming winter.
‘Morning,’ Thomas said as he watched Henry ride towards the house.
‘Morning, Thomas. Fine weather we’re having today.’ Henry dismounted his horse and tied her to a small tree near the little home.
Mary had heard Henry’s voice and she stood in the doorway and called out to welcome him. ‘Morning, Henry. I’ll make some tea,’ she said then disappeared from sight.
Thomas sauntered over. ‘Why is your horse packed?’ he asked as he pointed to Henry’s mare.
‘Well that’s why I’ve come to see you and Mary.’
Thomas frowned. He knew he wasn’t going to like what Henry was about to tell him. ‘Well out with it,’ he said.
Henry’s gaze faltered. ‘I think I might like that cup of tea first, Thomas.’
Mary appeared with a pot of hot tea, cups and a plate of thinly sliced
cake. She placed them on the table under the tree and beckoned them to join her. As Mary poured them each a cup of the hot brew, she noticed Henry’s horse over by the house.
‘Henry, why’s your horse packed? Are you going somewhere?’
Henry sat down at the table and helped himself to a cup of tea. ‘Well, I’ve come to say goodbye. I leave for The Dale, to be reunited with my grandson,’ he said.
Both Thomas and Mary’s eyes widened. Henry had never mentioned any family before. ‘We’d not realised you had any family, Henry,’ Mary said.
Henry sat quietly and thought of the best way to tell them his story. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t shared my history before now. It’s something I’ve deliberately kept from you. Not from a lack of trust, only fear that the information would put you both in danger.’
‘We understand,’ Thomas said. They both knew there was more to Henry than he ever shared, but they’d felt he would confide in them in his own time.
‘Well the time has come for me to reclaim my life. I’ll tell you my story, so that you’ll understand all that I’ve done and all that I now have to do.
‘Many years ago, when I was but a young boy, my father took me to the Keep in Canistar. My lineage is Wizardry and my father had seen the magic within me. As I grew, I spent most of my young life in study. My gift lay in the art of healing and I learnt how to make tinctures and potions. My studies taught me where to find the ingredients needed and how they should be prepared. I learnt to read spells and incantations and how to use them to service the people. At the Keep we celebrated life and all things that nature provided. With my gift I treated the people of the village and helped mothers when they gave birth to their children.
‘As I visited the village often, I met a young girl named Eleanor. We became smitten with each other and eventually married. We lived at the Keep and ventured down to the village where we treated the people. In time we’d been blessed with three children. A fine son, Eric, and two daughters, Gabriella and Cynthia.
