by Liam Reese
“H-How could you possibly—”
“I can see things others can’t. I could be your eyes, see your enemies before they come, watch over the village to make sure no one is planning anything against you.”
Gallys’ face quickly moved from anger to euphoria as the advantages of having Croenin’s power to himself ran through his mind. He stared off into the distance, a smile stretching his face in a way that looked painful to the young man watching him. Croenin knew that he had him and relaxed, sitting back on his haunches. Ayne had been right after all. Then, Gallys whipped back into the present moment, dark eyes focused on Croenin.
“Praetys!” He called, and the guard that had escorted Croenin into the throne room stepped forward. “Place our guest in a room on the third floor and make sure that he is secure. The rest of his friends shall stay in the rooms below the castle until I decide what I want to do with them.”
With that, he stood, approaching Croenin and taking his face in his rough hands.
“What a treasure to add to my collection.” Gallys grinned, patting his face once before turning on his heel and leaving, two guards trailing him.
Croenin was roughly dragged up a spiral set of stone steps and tossed into a small room. It felt like a cell, though the plush bed taking up nearly half the room and the desk shoved into the corner said otherwise. He stretched, grimacing as he felt his shoulders protest from being wrenched by the guards. He tried the door to his room, half-heartedly. Locked, he thought, of course. I’m just another síchararys to him, to use when needed and locked away when not. He flopped down on the bed, turning his head to look out of the small slit window that was his only source of light. He could see the village down below and the movements of guards marching together in time around the perimeter of the castle and through the paths of the village.
Croenin sighed. There was no escape from this place, not unless he could figure out a way to unlock his door. He bit his lip, mulling over his options, and realized that he had no choice. He lay down on the bed, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself before whispering.
“Show me the sícharae.”
He felt the familiar pull, and was soon below the castle, where Gallys was carrying the oryn box to another room. As Croenin followed behind the scrawny would-be king, he realized that they were walking through a labyrinth with rooms attached to the maze in a random jumble of confusion. How Gallys knew where he was going, Croenin didn’t know, and he tried to memorize the path the man followed. It was no easy task, and he was grateful when Gally finally stopped in front of a room with a bird carved on the door. Gallys banged the door open, hurriedly placing the box on a small wooden table inside, before closing the door quickly behind him. The man looked around, wild-eyed and for a moment Croenin feared that Gallys felt him watching, but his fears subsided when the man merely rushed back out of the Labyrinth. Croenin’s consciousness remained with the sícharae for a moment before racing back to his own room above.
He sat up immediately, still not used to the feeling of slamming into his body. Coughing, he stood and began to pace, then, an idea. He searched the small desk, gasping with relief when he found what he was looking for. He took out the piece of parchment and a small engraver, tracing the path that Gallys took in the labyrinth in black chalk before he forgot. He rolled up the piece of paper and stuck it in his boot, next to the moonstone dagger. That taken care of, he now had to figure out how to get out of his room and break Gallys’ hold on Captio and the others.
He put his ear to the thin wooden door and heard heavy breathing coming from beside it. A guard, he thought, perfect. He smiled to himself. He wasn’t much of an actor, but his meager skills would have to do. He staggered away from the door, letting himself drop to the cold floor with a cry. On cue, the guard burst in to check on him, leaning over his prostrate form. Croenin pretended to be unconscious, and waited until the guard was close to strike. Then, just as the guard knelt over his body, his arm jabbed upward, stabbing the man in the stomach with the moonstone dagger. No one had thought to search him for another weapon once they took his flail. With this guard incapacitated, Croenin knew he didn’t have much time.
He rushed from the small room, down the spiral staircase, continuing to make his way down below the castle. He pulled out the small sheet of parchment, squinting in the dim light of the torch on the wall as he came to the entrance of the labyrinth. Croenin grabbed the torch, entering the maze and hoping his drawing was correct. He heard footsteps in the distance and realized that Gallys or his men were coming for him. He began to jog, following the path he had etched into the parchment. He, in his panic as the footsteps grew closer, nearly passed up the door. He doubled back, fiddling with the knob before bursting into the small cell. There, as his visions told him, was the small oryn box.
Croenin rushed to the box and placed his hands on the lid before recoiling, hands burning. He cursed quietly before folding his sleeves over his hands and trying once more. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad, though he knew he couldn’t fiddle with the clasp too long before he would be forced to stop once more. He fumbled with the clasp before pushing the lid open, and sighed with relief as he saw the sícharae that lay inside. He debated with himself for a moment before putting on both the silver ring and brooch, tracing a finger over the leaf pattern of the ring before remembering that he didn’t have much time. He closed the box and left the room, closing the door silently behind him. The footsteps were closer, and he walked deeper into the labyrinth, realizing that he had no further plan besides finding the other Faero Ursi.
His only goal at the moment was getting farther from the footsteps. He knew that once Gallys found him he was as good as dead. He didn’t know where he was going or how long he ran down the winding paths of the labyrinth, but after a while, he heard no more footsteps behind him. He ducked into a small cell, hanging his torch on a notch on the wall. If Gallys’ men were still after him, he did not have much time, and he quickly laid down. Show me Captio and the others, he mouthed. Instead of the familiar pull, he felt his feet going numb. He opened his eyes and looked down, seeing himself fade out of existence. He had no time to voice his surprise before he winked back into existence in a different cell, where Captio, Carus, Aulys, and Saed were huddled. Saed shouted in surprise as Croenin appeared, and Aulys and Carus merely stared, mouths agape. Captio, while surprised, took note of the ring and brooch Croenin now wore and understood.
“This was a very foolish move, Croenin,” Captio said, face stern.
“Foolish?” Saed hissed. “We’re now evenly matched with the lunatic upstairs! Can you poof us out of here or whatever you did to get in here?”
“And once we’re out, then what? Gallys will have his men hunting us down wherever we go.” Captio crossed his arms. “As much as I hate to leave those things in his hands, we may have to, until we have more backup that is.”
“Then how should we get out of here?” Carus asked, rolling his eyes. “Face it, Captio, we can’t afford to be cautious now. Who knows when Gallys might decide to kill us out of boredom or paranoia.”
Captio sighed, looking down as he weighed the options. “Alright. You’re right. We don’t have a better option. I just know this will come back to haunt us, though.” He turned to Croenin, sighing wearily. “Can you get us out of here with those?” He cocked his head. “Soon preferably, because I hear footsteps approaching. No doubt Gallys has realized his ‘treasures’ are gone.”
“I can try,” Croenin responded. “Try holding onto me,” he told the brothers, waiting for them to comply. Once they did he closed his eyes and focused. “Take us back to the forest…with our weapons!” he added as an afterthought.
He opened his eyes, watching with relief as they all began to fade, smiling to himself as he saw his brothers’ shocked faces at their quickly disappearing forms. Just as he winked out of existence, Gallys’ men burst into the cell, with Gallys himself at the forefront of the group. The last thing Croenin saw was the gaunt man’s
face, even paler than usual with anger, before he faded back into existence in the small clearing they had made their camp in. The men let go of Croenin, letting themselves breathe for a moment with relief. Croenin laughed to himself, thinking it was a miracle that his half-formed plan had worked. He smiled and turned to face Captio, who raised his sword to Croenin’s neck. The others stood in shock, holding their breaths.
“How did you know where the sícharae were?”
“W-what?” Croenin thought Captio would be grateful for his use of the objects.
“They were in the labyrinth we were locked in. How could you have possibly found them?”
“I…I guess I got lucky.” Croenin didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected this turn of events.
“There is no getting lucky. Gallys wouldn’t have hidden them in a place where they could be easily found.” He placed the very point of his sword against the soft skin of Croenin’s neck. “These are what we are here for, aren’t they?”
“Of course not! We came for—”
“For your sister, yet when we escaped you didn’t mention her. You already knew she wasn’t there. You came only for the sícharae. No wonder you looked so shocked when Fausta mentioned them,”
Croenin silently cursed himself. He thought Captio hadn’t noticed his reaction, but of course he had. The man noticed everything. He had no choice, he thought, but to try to convince the slender man of his innocence.
“You’re right.”
The others gasped. He glanced at Saed who stared back, obviously hurt his pupil betrayed him.
“But only partly,” Croenin added.
Captio frowned. “Explain.”
“I saw Gallys’ daughter and her maid peek out of their room as I was being dragged to my own cell. So, I knew my sister wasn’t in this castle.”
“Even if that’s true that doesn’t explain how you found the sícharae,” Captio said slowly, menacingly.
He’s right, Croenin thought to himself, part of him hoping that Ayne would intervene once more. When nothing happened, he decided to tell the truth, hoping that if the brothers decided to kill him it would at least mean that Ayne stepped in once more.
“You can take the sícharae off me, I won’t try to flee, and we can sit and I’ll tell the truth. All of it.” He paused, now wanting the ground to swallow him. He had spent months with Captio and Saed, weeks with Carus and Aulys. He knew the betrayal stung. “And then you can decide what to do with me.”
Captio nodded to Saed, who roughly removed the ring and brooch, obviously angry at Croenin for having broken his trust. He also took Croenin’s weapon, which had reappeared with him in the clearing. Once they were removed, Captio kept the sword at the young man’s neck, waiting until he was seated on the ground to remove it. They all sat, and Croenin realized that they all kept their hands on their weapons, ready to strike him down should he make any sudden movements. He looked down, throat burning as fear bubbled up.
“Speak. Tell your truth,” Captio commanded.
Croenin took a deep breath. “I knew where the sícharae were because I have certain…abilities.”
He looked Captio in the eye as he told them of power to see, his grandmother Haega, and his Aes Sidhe bloodline. He told them of his destiny and quoted the Prophecy of the old Aes Sidhe-blooded, his ancestor, made at the beginning of the Age of Oryn, reciting from memory:
“‘Age of Oryn would be short-lived, ending with the collision of the Sun and Moon. Sun will set for the final time, bringing the Moon down with it, and a New Age will begin, with the followers of the Sun ruling over the followers of the Moon.’ My sister is the moon, and I am the sun. I stole the sícharae to help me fight her.” That last part was mostly true, Croenin told himself.
“So, you wish to find her to kill her, to save us all.” Captio stated.
“I know, it’s hard to believe, but that’s why I left my village. I was on my way to find her, until I got stabbed.” Croenin looked down once more. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to lie for so long, but the longer I stayed with you all, the more I felt like telling you would make you all hate me.”
“You know that we cannot trust you from here on out,” Captio said, standing. “We return to the keep for now, and your freedoms will be severely restricted.”
“Wait,” Croenin said as Captio began to turn away. He paused as the slender man stared at him once more, urging him to continue. “There’s one more thing I have to say. When we were at the inn, you told Fausta about Jovius’ death.”
Captio crossed his arms. “Yes, what about it?”
“You said his limbs turned black, right?”
“They did…do you know something?”
Croenin swallowed and nodded. “I saw the same thing happen in my village to a child. Her legs turned black below the knees, and—”
“You know what caused it?” Captio’s eyes widened.
“I do. It’s a plant that grows near my village, a bush with little red berries called hyssia. They look very similar to cranberries, but you can tell from the black spot on the bottom of them that they aren’t. If you eat a little, they aren’t poisonous, but a lot and you’re as good as dead.”
“Oh, I’m an idiot.” Captio put a hand to his forehead. “Jovius must have eaten hyssia berries.”
“It seems likely.” Croenin stood slowly. “I thought maybe they only grow in the south of Toque Staetym, where my village is, since you and the others didn’t think about them.”
“Which would point to someone from the south poisoning Jovius.” Captio finished for him. “I’ll need to research this when we return.” He took a few steps toward Croenin. “Why are you telling me this?”
“To show you I don’t mean any harm.” Croenin’s voice broke on the last word.
He had been starting to grow fond of the Faero Ursi, and he was feeling the beginnings of brotherhood just before his mission. After a childhood of being shunned by his own parents and much of his village, they were starting to feel like the only ones who had cared for him, besides Old Haega. Captio saw the emotion in the young man’s face, and his own hard expression softened a bit. He nodded slowly, accepting Croenin’s answer, before turning away and mounting his horse.
“I thank you. You will still be under watch, of course. We cannot, unfortunately, trust you as it stands. As brothers, we value honesty, and you have broken that bond between us. In time, you may come to mend it, but for now you must be treated as a possible threat to the integrity of the brotherhood.”
Croenin nodded, understanding, but feeling somewhat better. He may not have the brothers’ trust, but he could prove himself once more. What’s more, he had their support in finding his sister. While Captio didn’t trust his abilities, he would be willing to gather as much information as he could on the Aes Sidhe for Croenin, as well as any information on those with the blood of the malevolent beings. Croenin felt somewhat guilty, omitting the incident with the cloaked girl in the woods, but something told him that the Maelstris Nequitum wouldn’t take kindly to having their name revealed to the Faero Ursi, even if Fausta had already alerted the men to their presence in the realm. He didn’t dwell on this too long, however, as he followed the others, mounting his horse and trying to put as much distance between them and Gallys’ castle as possible before daybreak.
They galloped through the forest, the light of the waning moon illuminating the snaking path through the trees. At this rate, Croenin thought, we’ll get to the inn by midday. His eyes darted to the pouch at Captio’s waist, where the sícharae were hidden. With a pang of panic, he remembered that he was supposed to deliver them to the Maelstris Nequitum. He looked around him wildly, wondering if they were watching and knew that he had given the items to the Faero Ursi. He cursed himself for being so reckless in his escape plan. If he’d hidden them on his person, he realized, rather than wearing them openly, he could have avoided this problem. He couldn’t steal them now. Captio and the others would immediately suspect him should they
go missing, and there would be no convincing them to hand the sícharae over to the group of the Aes Sidhe-blooded. Even he didn’t know if they could be trusted, after all. Maybe they’re safer where they are now, he thought, remembering what Captio had said during Fausta’s story. Who’s to say they won’t use them to try to take over the realm after I kill my sister?
The brothers rode until the sun was high in the sky, arriving back at the inn sore and exhausted. Fausta seemed surprised to see them so soon, but said nothing, bustling about to make sure they were fed and could rest. They were led up to their rooms, Saed and Carus nearly asleep on their feet, when Croenin saw Captio whisper something to the stout woman. She glanced at Croenin and nodded, rushing back downstairs and returning with a cot.
“Captio says you’ll be staying with him,” she said softly, and Croenin nodded, understanding that his punishment would start tonight.
He took the cot from Fausta, thanking her, and setting it up in the far corner of Captio’s room. On his horse, he had felt freer, though not included in the conversations of the others. Now, under Captio’s stern gaze, he felt like a child who couldn’t be trusted to take care of himself. He laid down on the cot, facing the wall and trying to hide his face, which was burning red with frustration. He closed his eyes tightly, at first trying to sleep, but then starting to form a plan. He wondered what would happen if he tried to escape the room once Captio slept, but soon brushed that plan from his mind. No doubt the master, trained by years of missions, would be a light sleeper and would wake as soon as Croenin tried to leave the room. He thought of stealing the sícharae, using their power to surprise Ayne and fulfill his destiny once and for all, but that idea too was dashed when he realized that Captio would never take the items off his person. He flopped over onto his back, staring at the wooden slats of the ceiling.
“Trying to think of an escape?” Captio’s voice startled him.
“N-no. I just can’t sleep.” Croenin lied, causing the slender man to chuckle.
