The Cyrun

by Janilise Lloyd

  “Nice to meet you, Archie.” I grabbed his hand between my forefinger and thumb and gave it a gentle tug.

  “You said there are many of you out here?” I asked, looking around under my bench for any more miniature visitors.

  “Oh yes. We’re one of the largest clans in all of Cyrus, my family. In sum, there’s about two thousand of us. So like I said, watch your step, will ya?”

  I felt distinctly uncomfortable at the thought of two thousand invisible sets of eyes out there watching me.

  “Of course I will. Sorry about earlier.”

  “I won’t hold it against you this time,” Archie growled. “Well, best be off. This garden doesn’t tend itself!” And he was gone with a quick dive off the bench. I lost sight of him as soon as he reached the dirt, his brown clothes making a perfect camouflage.

  “He’s a bit eccentric, Archie,” Trent said, making me jump as he appeared out of the growing darkness. “But he’s an excellent gnome. The perfect condition of this garden is, in large part, thanks to him.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I agreed, not sure what else to say.

  “Do I still need to prove myself to you? Or did Archie convince you?” Trent asked, nudging my shoulder playfully.

  “Oh, Archie was rather convincing. Now you just need to convince me I’m actually awake and not dreaming,” I laughed.

  Trent chuckled. “Come on inside, my parents want to meet you.”

  My heartbeat accelerated. I hadn’t anticipated Cyrus still existing, so I hadn’t thought much about what would happen if we actually showed up here. I wasn’t ready to meet a real Cyrun! Let alone two of them.

  “You’re not scared, are you?” Trent teased.

  “Of course I’m not scared,” I lied. “Lead the way.”

  I watched my step carefully as I followed Trent along the winding garden path. We walked through the backdoor into a small, cozy kitchen. The walls were planks of wood, causing the cheerful yellow cabinets to stand out. The room was lit only by lanterns but was still plenty bright. There was a sink, but no stove. Instead, a fireplace occupied the length of the far wall where a large, black pot sat, the top sizzling as the contents boiled.

  “Mom, soups ready!” Trent called, hurrying over to remove the pot from the fire.

  “Go ahead and have a seat, Ava.” Trent nodded toward a small brown table set for four along the opposite wall of the fireplace as he lugged the large pot away from the flames.

  I took a seat as two people rounded the corner from what I assumed was a front sitting room.

  Trent’s parents were as attractive as he was. His mom was curvy with tight, natural, caramel-colored curls that framed her kind face. His dad looked a lot like him with the same angular face and strong eyebrows. His hair was graying, but seemed like it was once the same shade as Trent’s.

  “Ava, this is my mom and dad, Emeritus and Samson Cavanaugh.” Trent motioned to each of them in turn.

  “Hello, Ava. It’s nice to have you with us tonight. You can call me Em,” his mother said, taking my hand in both of hers. Her caramel eyes matched the color of her hair.

  “And you can call me Sam. It’s a pleasure to see you conscious this time,” Trent’s dad winked at me.

  “What do you mean conscious?” I asked.

  Sam looked over at Trent who was busying himself filling bowls of soup from the black pot. “You haven’t told her?”

  “Told me what?” I asked, alarmed now.

  “Nothing you didn’t already know, at least generally speaking,” Trent said, walking over with surprising agility as he juggled four bowls of soup. He set them down and the three of them joined me at the table. Whatever it was didn’t look familiar, but it smelled delicious.

  “Are you going to explain what you mean?” I asked impatiently.

  “That night at the bank, after you were shot, I grabbed you and Traveled here. My father,” Trent indicated Sam, “has healing abilities. That’s why you had no trace of the bullet wound when you woke up in the forest.”

  I looked at Sam with wide eyes, surprised. In the craziness of Trent telling me Cyrus existed, I completely forgot to ask for an explanation of the events that night.

  “Thank you,” I managed to squeak out. “I’ve been meaning to ask Trent how he pulled that off.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” Sam smiled. “So, Trent tells us you left Cyrus with your father when you were just a baby, is that right?” he asked, clearly changing the subject. He was obviously a humble man who didn’t like to be given much credit.

  I looked over at Trent, surprised he’d told them that. I suppose they needed some explanation as to why I didn’t know anything about the world in which they lived.

  “Umm, yes, that’s right.”

  “What is your father’s name?”

  “His full name is Carmichael Ross Tanner, but he mostly goes by Mike or Michael. His last name used to be Longfellow in this realm, though.”

  “That doesn’t sound familiar to me. Does it to you, honey?” Sam asked his wife.

  “No, he must have grown up in a different province,” Em agreed. “What abilities does he have?”

  “He can control animal life and is telekinetic,” I explained, swallowing my bite of soup too soon and scorching my throat in the process. It was very hot. I grabbed my glass of water and gulped some down.

  “Impressive,” Sam nodded, eyebrows raised. “And do you have any abilities, Ava?”

  “Yes,” I answered, gasping slightly after chugging my water. I heard a small chuckle from Trent. I ignored him. “I am telekinetic like my dad, I can run quickly, I have some vague precognition abilities, and I can sometimes move through solid objects.” I looked at Trent who smirked knowingly. If I’d been able to move through objects with any sort of consistency, he wouldn’t have had to save me from that atrocious dumpster.

  “Four abilities is quite a lot! And to have discovered all of them in the human realm is very impressive,” Em said, looking at me strangely.

  “Yes, quite unusual,” Sam concurred, looking thoughtful.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of their strange reaction, but all this talk about Cyrus versus the human realm had me itching to try out my abilities here, where I was meant to be, though I didn’t want to immediately. One, because I figured that would be rude at the dinner table. And two, because I wasn’t sure I was actually good at anything I could do. I’d always felt so limited in my powers, but maybe that had nothing to do with being in the wrong realm. Maybe I was simply weak.

  “Well, I think we’ve bombarded you with enough questions for now, Ava. You’re welcome to stay here for the night if you wish. I can make up the couch with some sheets,” Em offered.

  I thought about it for a moment. I really did want to stay for just a while. Maybe tomorrow Trent could show me around a little more. And tomorrow was Saturday, so nobody would be missing me back home.

  “I would like that, if it’s okay with you both.”

  “Of course,” Em smiled kindly.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the soup. When we’d finished, Em stood from the table. “I’ll let you know when the couch is ready.” She gathered our bowls in a precarious pile.

  Trent stood from the table as well. “Do you mind if we go on a short walk, Mom? We’ll be back in half an hour.”

  “That’s fine, just make sure you don’t stay out any longer than that. You’ll both end up cleaning trash in the city square if you break curfew.”

  Trent looked at me with excitement. “You want to go?” he asked.

  “Definitely,” I answered, thinking that I could try out my powers. Running, at the very least.

  “What did your mom mean about a curfew?” I asked as we stepped out the door.

  “It’s a general curfew for all of Cyrus. Everyone has to be indoors from 10pm to 5am unless on duty for your civil service,” Trent explained.

  “Civil service?”

  “Your job, basically.”

 
“Interesting word for it,” I laughed.

  The night air was cool but not uncomfortable as it had been at home. It felt like a nice late-summer’s evening. We walked along the cobblestone street, occasionally passing small houses similar to Trent’s. There were no sidewalks. It seemed to me that we were in an area remote enough that they wouldn’t be necessary.

  “Ava, I don’t know what your plans are from this point forward, but if you intend to have any kind of association with this realm, there are a few things you need to know,” Trent began, his chin tucked, looking up at me through his eyelashes. It gave him a boyish charm that made me smile.

  “Well, I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to come around. I have quite a few questions for my dad. I’ll have to work things out with him for sure, but I’d like to stay for as much of the next three weeks as you’ll let me.”

  “That would be great. I think it’s really important that you get to know what life is like here and explore your abilities more fully. But Cyrus isn’t exactly a perfect place, Avalon. There are very rigid rules and expectations that you have to follow. If you don’t, you put your own life—as well as the lives of those you care about—in danger.”

  Thinking he was pulling one over on me, I laughed. “I think I can handle myself.”

  Trent grabbed my forearm and pulled, spinning me to face him. If the anger on his face hadn’t been so blatant, I may have thought he was making some romantic gesture. His face was only inches from mine as he spoke through his teeth.

  “If you can’t take this seriously, I’ll take you back to the human realm this very minute and never come for you again. You will be stuck there, never getting any of the answers you want, always wondering what life is like as a Cyrun. I cannot impress the seriousness of the situation on you enough.”

  I studied his furious expression, taking a step back out of fear. I had only known Trent for a few hours, but he seemed like the positive, happy-go-lucky type. This sudden mood swing frightened me.

  “Sorry, I thought you were teasing me. I can be serious, I promise.” I looked him in the eye steadily to try and convey that I meant it.

  Trent sighed, dropping my arm. “Sorry,” he said. “I just know you can be a bit… unpredictable, and I can’t risk my family’s safety for your sake. We lead a quiet, safe life around here. We fly under the radar and we want to keep it that way.”

  His words offended me slightly, but in all fairness, I suppose they were deserved. Besides, what did I expect? He barely knew me. Of course he cared more about his family.

  “I understand. I promise I will never intentionally put your family in any danger. Go ahead and tell me what I need to know,” I instructed.

  “Let’s sit down,” Trent suggested, pulling me down to sit on the small, grassy hill we’d been walking toward.

  “Okay, where to begin,” he mused. “Cyrus is ruled, as you seem to already know, by a king. Our current king is King Tenebris. He took over his brother’s rule about twelve years ago when King Trinnen was killed. A group of rebels attacked the palace, aiming to kill the royal family. They were successful in killing the king, the young prince, and the queen. Prince Kevin was only five years old at the time.”

  “The rebels killed a five year old?” I interrupted, incredulous. “What kind of twisted—”

  “I know, Ava, believe me. The entire kingdom was sick over it. Rebel attacks are not very common, so to have one that was so devastating was difficult. I was only six at the time, yet I remember it clearly.” Trent hung his head at the memory.

  “Right, sorry, go on.” I apologized.

  “King Tenebris was brought out of exile—”

  “Exile? Why had he been exiled?” I blurted.

  Trent gave an annoyed laugh. “Are you going to keep interrupting?”

  “Sorry. Remember that this whole story is new to me. Can you blame me for being curious?”

  “We can come back to that question later. Suffice it to say the two brothers didn’t get along. King Trinnen sent Tenebris away.

  “Anyway, Tenebris was brought out of exile to take over as king. He has been our ruler ever since. Overall, he isn’t the worst king Cyrus has ever had, but he’s close,” Trent said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he checked over his shoulder. “We’re not supposed to speak ill of the royal family, but he has imposed a rigid social structure that is completely ludicrous.

  “Every Cyrun is ranked based on the number of magical abilities they have. If you have no abilities—as is the case for some Cyruns—you are without rank, essentially homeless, left without any meaningful way to provide for yourself. If you have one magical ability, you are a One, if you have two, you’re a Two, so on until Four. Any person who has more than four abilities is an Elite—basically royalty. They are very rare. There are maybe fifty of them in all of Cyrus.

  “That is why my parents were so surprised you have four talents. With that status, you’d be very much upper class. Threes and Fours are highly respected, invited to fancy dinner parties and guaranteed the best civil service positions, if they even want them. Most Fours don’t have to work at all. They live off the service of everyone beneath them and the taxes paid by the rest of us.”

  I raised my hand, patiently waiting to be called on. Trent, humor in his face, asked, “Do you have a question, Ms. Tanner?”

  “A comment, rather. Permission to speak?”

  “Permission granted.” Trent smirked.

  “This system seems arbitrary and unfair. Perhaps a person does have only one magical ability. That does not mean they are useless. Sounds to me like those at the bottom contribute much more to society than those at the top.”

  “That’s definitely true. More true than you know,” Trent agreed.

  “So why don’t you do something about it? If life is so unfair, why don’t the people come together and demand change?”

  “It’s not that simple, Ava. There is a reason one family has ruled Cyrus for a thousand years. Remember when I told you all Cyruns are connected by a shared energy called Cyril?”

  “I remember,” I nodded.

  “Cyril is pivotal to Cyrun life. It covers this realm and each of us is a part of it. Cyril chooses which gifts it gives each person, and our powers work through its energy. That’s why it’s so much harder to use your talents in the human realm. The only part of Cyril that’s there is you.

  “Nearly a thousand years ago, a man named Ganton was gifted the power to control the will of any Cyrun. Whenever he gave a direct order, the person would have to obey—they had no choice. His ability essentially gave him control of Cyril itself, and since Cyruns are just a part of Cyril, he could manipulate anybody. He used those abilities to become the first king Cyrus ever had. Before that, we were a realm of many small countries that were almost constantly at war.

  “There’s lots of debate about whether or not Ganton’s actions were good or bad. Some are grateful he used his powers to end the continual fighting, but most of us are tired of his family abusing his power. You see, the power didn’t die with him. He violated the laws of Cyril and used blood magic to preserve his powers. Blood magic is a form of dark magic, and I don’t really understand how it all works because we’re not supposed to talk about. It’s rarely used because it always comes with a heavy price. The blood magic allowed Ganton to encase his abilities in a ruby necklace, which is known as Praesidium. Whoever wears the necklace has Ganton’s power to force obedience. The blood magic restriction means the power can only be used by a direct, blood relative of Ganton. Whoever Praesidium chooses as its owner is the king or queen of Cyrus.

  “As if forced obedience through direct commands isn’t bad enough, Praesidium also manipulates Cyril so that even when not directly ordered, all of us feel this strange desire to follow our king’s wishes at all times and even when we don’t want to. It’s not impossible to break through that enchantment, but it is difficult. It just feels… wrong to disobey. Like it goes against your core. But it is impossible to
ignore a direct order when given by the king or queen wearing Praesidium,” Trent finished.

  “So what you’re saying is that a lot of people want to revolt, but it’s basically useless to try because Cryus’ ruler can squash any rebellion with a simple command,” I inferred.

  “I think so, but it’s hard to be sure how people really feel. Most of us are too afraid to talk about what we honestly think in any public space. The king has guards everywhere. They’re always listening. To speak badly of the royal family is considered treason. You will definitely be put in prison and can sometimes even be killed, depending on how the king feels that day. It’s barbaric,” Trent said as he threw the chunk of grass in his hand.

  “Sounds awful,” I agreed.

  An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Trent seemed to be brooding over circumstances in Cyrus, not really in a chatty mood. I desperately wanted to try out my abilities, but didn’t feel like this was an appropriate time.

  I was also distracted, thinking about what Trent had said and what it would mean for me. It was hard for me to fully comprehend the level of control Tenebris had over his kingdom. I’d always lived in freedom. I knew essentially nothing of tyranny. Did I really want to be a part of a world controlled by such a heavy hand? Was it better to stay in the human world, with only partial abilities but personal freedom?

  The dilemma was beginning to hurt my head, so as usual, I ignored the problem and focused on something easier.

  “So what are your parents according to the social system?” I asked.

  “They’re Twos. A married couple always takes the social standing of the man of the house. I know, the patriarchy, right?” Trent rolled his eyes. “The kids also take the social status of their parents until they turn eighteen. At that age, they are reevaluated based on their own abilities.

  “My dad has the ability to heal broken bones, flesh wounds, and most internal infections, so he’s a healer, or doctor, as you know them. My mom can shapeshift to a swan and has the ability to control plant life, hence the enormous garden in our backyard.”

  “But families are organized according to the father’s abilities? Didn’t you say your dad has only one power? How are you all Twos?” I asked, confused.