by Liam Reese
Lothaire continued. “For the time being, you’ll be halting your duty as my scribe. I’ll need you taking on more concerning the household. Jehayne will be reporting to you.”
Croenin started to feel overwhelmed as Lothaire took him through the castle’s organizational structure, not realizing how many tiers there were to the servants’ stations. He was supposed to make sure that everything, from the servants’ schedules, to the ladies and lords’, terms Croenin to make sure to remember, mealtimes. Lothaire was instituting strict usage of titles in the castle, no doubt to set up a more authoritative figurehead for the king once he managed to weasel his way from Regent into that role. Croenin worried that his plan of ensuring Eudys’ children were safe under the watch of guards was him imprisoning the children until he could decide what to do with them. Croenin glanced at Lothaire, noticing a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before. He thought back to Gallys, who had the same, slightly unhinged glint, and wondered if those who found sícharae were naturally inclined to go mad for power or if the sícharae themselves drove one mad. It wouldn’t surprise him if the latter were true. Aes Sidhe magic, as he had learned from stories, tended to corrupt all around it.
He remembered a story his mother had told him, frowning as he suddenly remembered that Ayne had been present as well. Though he had gotten his earlier childhood memories back, he found them still somewhat hazy. Yet, he remembered his mother’s voice clearly.
“You can always tell where the Aes Sidhe used to gather for their revels,” she had told them. “The spots to this day are dead, grass browned, trees withered and gnarled, the air around oddly stale…wherever their magic was used strongest, even the animals avoid those places.”
Croenin glanced back at Lothaire and the circlet and then down to the pendant the man kept on him at all times. If the Aes Sidhe’s magic could corrupt nature, he saw no reason why it couldn’t corrupt humans. Could it corrupt you? The voice at the back of his head interrupted his train of thoughts. He hadn’t thought of that. If he had Aes Sidhe blood and therefore magic coursing through his veins, could he be corrupt or doomed to become corrupted as well? Would his soul blacken the longer he stayed alive? Is that why I’m supposed to die? He asked himself. He had no answer.
He thought of his vision, when his mother had summoned that horrifying Aes Sidhe. He couldn’t know if they were all as terrible looking as that one, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the pale, skeletal being’s appearance had been degraded over time due to its magic. Perhaps the longer the Aes Sidhe lived and used their powers, they were eaten from the inside out, like an apple rotted by a worm. Croenin shuddered, wondering if Ayne, who seemed to be much more in tune with her abilities was experiencing the same. Perhaps that’s why she had become what she was now.
“I have something else to show you,” Lothaire said softly, interrupting his thoughts. The large man turned and took a thick book from the shelves behind him. The leather cover looked worn, and on the front was stamped a spiral. Lothaire traced the spiral reverently with his finger before opening it. It looked just like the book Old Haega had read from the last time he saw her alive.
“What is it?” Croenin asked, trying to hide his shock and failing, though, Lothaire took it for awe.
“It is perhaps one of my greatest finds.”
“From here in the castle?”
“Oh no, from a castle years ago in Toque Staetym. Eudys and I were traveling, then, hunting all the abandoned Aes Sidhe structures and ruins after we first found the human books here. Though luckily, I have others to travel and search for me now,” he added as an afterthought, causing Croenin to frown. “This book wasn’t written by human hands, dear boy. This is an Aes Sidhe tome.”
Lothaire beamed proudly, and Croenin did not try to hide his amazement and confusion.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because you are bright. You can make connections, and I’m sure you can see where I could take our region, our race. We could build up human society, even better than our ancestors who wrote the book I showed you earlier. We could be a society that produces poetry, and art, and music once more, rather than just transcribing that which is already written. I’ve seen books of technology you would not believe! We can be that again. We can flourish rather than just survive, and when the Aes Sidhe return, we will be ready for them.”
“When the Aes Sidhe return?” Croenin choked. That had caught him off guard.
“Oh, don’t be so surprised. We know that a few still cross back and forth between the Unknown and here. You get stories from travelers, you know. Anyone with sense knows that it is possible that they all find a way back and try to reclaim the realm once they regain their strength. It isn’t a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. Though, as weakened as they were when we banished them all those years ago, it is doubtful that time would come soon.”
“And your army…it won’t be just for conquering. It’ll be to protect against the Aes Sidhe, too.” Croenin wished he could find Captio and tell him all of this.
“Don’t say conquering,” Lothaire chided him. “It is reclaiming what once was held by one man. And yes, though those that join won’t know that. I would likely have a rebellion on my hands if word spread the soldiers may be battling Aes Sidhe.”
Croenin remembered Captio saying something similar and nodded.
“But it is for the greater good that they are equipped to do so,” the large man continued. “If humans with little to no training and weak direction from self-appointed leaders could drive the Aes Sidhe from the realm, imagine what an army with real, trained generals, like the Aes Sidhe had, could do.”
Croenin knew that Lothaire was right. If humans could organize themselves with each fighter having real weapons, like those of the Faero Ursi, rather than most fighting with farm tools or whatever blunt object forged of oryn they could find, they would be much better equipped to fight off an Aes Sidhe invasion. What’s more, with training, they would stand a much better chance.
“You’re right,” he said softly.
“I knew you would see it that way,” Lothaire said, smiling softly. “You are a clever one, I could see that from your first day here, and I’d rather put your sharp mind to good use.”
Croenin knew that meant working toward whatever aim Lothaire wanted him too. The man saw himself as a savior of mankind, a bringer of light to the human race. What’s more, he saw Croenin as a tool to accomplish what he saw as his destiny.
“You said you have others searching for books,” Croenin said, trying to broach the subject casually.
Luckily, Lothaire was still basking in his own vision, too occupied to notice how fumbling and awkward the change in conversation was.
“Yes! Illiterate men I pay per book found. I showed them the type of thing to look for and set them loose. They found the Aes Sidhe book you see before you.”
“Where did they find it?” Croenin’s throat was dry, and he swallowed thickly, hoping that this wasn’t the same book.
His hopes were dashed when Lothaire responded. “In a little village in the south of Toque Staetym. The men were passing through and looking for a place to stay for the night. They ended up breaking into an abandoned cottage at the edge of the village once night fell and no one would see them. It was by chance that the place held a shelf of Aes Sidhe books.”
Croenin’s heart sank. This was no doubt his grandmother’s book, and the thieves had taken this and others with no respect for the cottage’s former occupant. Trying not to sound too sullen, he spoke.
“What is so important about this book?”
Lothaire grinned. “It predicts the return of the Aes Sidhe.”
Croenin gasped, though not for the reason Lothaire thought. The lionlike man opened the book to the middle, and Croenin frowned as he saw a flowing script totally unlike the sharp, blocky decryti.
“Ah, yes. This is the Aes Sidhe’s own writing system, the name of which I have not yet discovered. But, after years of tryi
ng, I was able to decipher it. Do you want to know what this page says?”
Croenin nodded, though, unknown to Lothaire, he could already read it. He stared at the page with wide eyes as understanding filled his mind, and he wondered if those with Aes Sidhe blood could automatically understand the spidery, elegant letters.
Lothaire read:
“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.”
This part, Croenin knew, but Lothaire explained.
“The followers of the sun are those that live by day, the humans, while the followers of the moon are the Aes Sidhe, as they were always primarily active in their mischief and revels at night.”
Croenin frowned. He hadn’t thought of it like that, and he wondered if twisting the prophecy’s words, by making the Sun and the Moon apply generally to the humans and Aes Sidhe, he and his sister might circumvent the prophecy. I might get to live after all, he thought.
“But ‘Sun will set’?” he asked, as that part seemed too focused on his death.
“In the war against the Aes Sidhe, the majority of the human population was killed. That is why we are so spread out among our respective regions now,” Lothaire explained. “When the Aes Sidhe return, I fear that this predicts that most humans will be wiped out once more, a final step backward before we flourish once more for all eternity.”
Croenin nodded slowly, but the voice in the back of his head chastised him. Even if you can twist the words of the prophecy, you would sacrifice an untold number of people so that you get to live? He hesitated. If his own life could save that of many, the voice was right. It would be selfish for him to try to preserve himself at such a high cost.
“But that is not the most interesting part of all this,” Lothaire said. “This book talks about a man, the offspring of the Aes Sidhe king and a human woman. He was the one who made this prophecy.”
Croenin did not try to hide his shock as Lothaire turned pages, trying to find something. His grandmother had only read him that prophecy. He wondered what more there could be.
“Ah!” Lothaire exclaimed. “I’ve found it. Listen here.” He read once more:
“Ah,” the old man exclaimed to him. “In my foolhardy youth, I supposed I had the power to tell what was to come. That was a mere delusion, I know now, and I am grateful I was deluded for so long. Who knows what I might have done as a child or a youth. Who knows how I might have shaped this world. I shudder to think of what the consequences may have been.
When I spoke my fears as a child, I spoke them in absolutes. ‘Elder Servus will die,’ ‘Ivia’s baby will be stillborn,’ ‘All our cows will die.” This was no foretelling, as I and the rest of my village thought. This was me speaking these things into existence. My prophecy of the Age of Oryn and its saving, that too will come to pass, merely because I spoke it. The world will shape itself to my words, and that is my gift to the human race.”
Croenin had gone pale. Had Old Haega known this, that the prophecy was no prophecy at all? He scanned the page with his own eyes, taking in the words. There was no doubt that what Lothaire had read was true. The world shapes itself to his words, he thought. The Age of Oryn wouldn’t end, even if he didn’t kill Ayne, even if he didn’t die. Ayne had been right after all. Why had their grandmother been so adamant, then, that he should kill her? He had to tell Rozaelle and Bruta. He had to find his sister and tell her that they didn’t have to play the roles Haega had prescribed for them. He turned to Lothaire.
“So, no matter what happens, humans will come out on top?” Croenin asked.
“It seems so, though I do not like to take a chance believing what may be Aes Sidhe lies,” Lothaire responded. “I will still prepare my army. That may be what keeps the Aes Sidhe from completely wiping us out in the end,” he mused, no doubt adding ‘savior of mankind,’ to his list of future roles for himself.
Croenin nodded slowly. “If I’m just to take care of the household, why are you telling me all this? You said because I’m bright, but there has to be more of a reason than that.”
Lothaire grinned slyly. “Ah, dear Croenin, you are correct. I have great things envisioned for you. I am giving you smaller responsibilities now, but have patience. I am grooming you for greater things. I hope that by the time you are my age, you’ll be able to serve directly under the king.”
Croenin wondered if Lothaire expected to live that long, or if he was planning to put his own son on the throne. It was doubtful to Croenin, having come to know Lothaire’s ego, he’d imagine his brother’s poor children in a position of power. He wondered where Aemis was. It seemed odd that Lothaire would abandon his own son’s learning with his cousins’, though that could have been to throw off any gossip about the children. Croenin decided to try to ask about this tactfully.
“So, I won’t start tutoring the children again at a later date?”
“Perhaps,” Lothaire said, eyes glazing over as he thought, formulating a plan.
“I may send them to you occasionally, but for now, for their safety, they will only be under the care of their nurse and, for Theudic and Osaene, their stepmother as well.”
“Theudic’s mother?” Croenin blurted before he could stop himself.
“Died in childbirth,” Lothaire said offhandedly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly.
Lothaire gave him a tight smile. “I do not dwell on it too much.”
Croenin merely nodded, feeling discomfited. Lothaire seemed not to notice, or at least ignored Croenin’s discomfort to try to save him from embarrassment.
“No matter, your new duties shall begin at once. You will continue to report to me each morning, however, so that I can make sure things are running smoothly under your care.”
The rest of Croenin’s day was spent shadowing Lothaire, and he quickly felt overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things he had to remember about the castle household. He collapsed in his bed at the end of it all, once the servants had their dinner and everyone was slowly filing back to their rooms. Just as he laid down, he heard a soft knock at his door. He groaned softly, before rising to open the door a crack and see who it was. As he did, Rozaelle burst into the room, dragging a much healthier looking Bruta behind her.
“We have so much to tell you! Where have you been?” Rozaelle whispered furtively.
“I was at dinner, unlike you.” Croenin said in a low voice.
Rozaelle rolled her eyes and plopped down on the bed, with Bruta dropping down beside her. “We found Captio!” she exclaimed.
“You did? Is he alright?”
“Yes! When we were delivering fresh linens to the guards, we saw him. Did you notice that the guards aren’t acting strangely anymore? Have you seen any today?”
Croenin shook his head, realizing for the first time that he, oddly, hadn’t seen any guards at all.
“Weird,” Rozaelle said. “But anyway, he said he remembers the night Eudys died, and when he tried talking to the other guards about it, they seemed to remember everything differently. He didn’t say much to them, because he feared they’d tell Lothaire if he seemed to be implicating him in his brother’s murder, but he told us what he remembered.”
“What did he say?”
“He said the night Eudys was killed, he could feel his body moving without his control, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He and a small group of other guards came upon Eudys while he was sleeping, and then he heard Lothaire threaten his brother, telling him this was his last chance to do the right thing. He was at the back of the crowd of guards, so he couldn’t see very well, but he heard Eudys tell his brother no, and then he saw Lothaire step back and leave the room.”
“What happened then?” Croenin breathed.
“They surrounded his bed and stabbed him to death, Captio was horrified.”
They were silent for
a moment, before Croenin spoke.
“And what do the others remember?”
Bruta spoke for the first time. “That Eudys tried to attack them, some even claiming that he was trying to control their minds, so they’d turn on their fellow guards.”
“That seems pretty unlikely from the king who spent most of his time eating and sleeping,” Croenin responded.
“Of course, it is!” Rozaelle exclaimed. “Everything he was accused of seemed unlikely, but Lothaire gave such a persuasive speech. Even down in the laundry the other girls and some of the women, even, are talking about how Lothaire made such a big sacrifice to save us.” She made a face. “He’s really gotten away with it.”
“What did you have to tell us, Croenin?” Bruta asked.
“Before I tell you, I have to say, you look a lot better,” Croenin said. “No offense.”
Bruta chuckled. “None taken. I think the king’s death was what made the feeling as strong as it was. I knew something big was coming.”
“So, it’s gone now, the feeling?” Croenin asked, concerned.
“Not entirely, but much weaker than before. Bearable now.”
Croenin nodded, smiling. “I’m glad, even if there is more to come.”
Rozaelle stood, impatient. “So, what did you have to tell us?”
Croenin sat at his little table and told them of Lothaire’s plan to raise an army to conquer the region and protect against the Aes Sidhe. He told them how the man aimed to bring the human race back to where it was before the Aes Sidhe’s arrival, telling them of the book and the drawing of the king from centuries before. He finished with the reiteration of the prophecy from the book with the spiral stamp, the confession of his great-grandfather, and his theories on how to get out of the prophecy, leaving out, not with some guilt, his questioning whether his death would save lives.
“So, this prophecy isn’t an actual prophecy.” Bruta said quietly.
“It’s not. It was just Naero trying to impress people with something that sounded like a prophecy. He knew whatever he said had to happen.”
“Then why make it so cryptic? And why didn’t Haega say anything about that when she told you about the prophecy?” Rozaelle asked, frowning.
