The Prophecy (Kingdom of Uisneach Book 1)

by Heidi Hanley

  “Milady? Miss Mouse? Are you to get up at all today? Why, the sun is full up and first breakfast is waiting on you.”

  She groaned. Resistance is futile, she thought, opening her eyes to see the sweet, eager face of a young female gnome staring curiously at her.

  “Ah, so there you are, Miss Mouse. I thought you’d never wake up.”

  As the little helper bustled around the room gathering clothing, Briana took a deep breath. So, she thought, I didn’t dream this. I am in a place called Uisneach with a bunch of gnomes. Under the covers she tapped her feet together three times. Nothing. It had worked for Dorothy but apparently wouldn’t help her return home. The gnome still stood in front of her, stubby arms holding out a pile of clothing, nothing like the jeans and tee shirt she was accustomed to wearing. As she received the outfit into her own hands, she asked the girl her name.

  “Esmerelda… ”

  “…Wells,” Briana finished for her, with a kind smile.

  Esmerelda returned the smile, bobbing her head up and down. “Yes, milady.”

  Would they never stop calling her milady? She took a closer look at the clothes. Simple and well made, they were, unbelievably, exactly the right size. She opened her mouth to ask how they knew, but closed it again, deciding it didn’t really matter. She’d been taught that one should never look a gift horse in the mouth. She dressed quickly, washed her face and pulled a wooden comb through her rumpled hair. Esmerelda’s smile told her she looked fit for company. As she turned to make her way toward the stairs, she caught sight of herself in a full-length mirror with runic carvings all around the cherrywood frame. The beige woven tunic and lace-up vest over brown leather leggings weren’t exactly a staple of her wardrobe, though they worked well with the brown leather boots that were laced up knee-high. She reached down to adjust the boots’ wide cuffs, then stomped to test them out. They seemed good and sturdy. A narrow belt was slung around her waist, with an empty sheath attached. Middle Earth me, she mused.

  “Take a good look, milady. ’Tis important.”

  Briana looked again. This time she saw past the outfit to a self virtually vibrating with passionate possibility. Her eyes widened. Not a gentle woman of the shire, but a woman of the woods – more like one of Robin Hood’s… well, “hood.” Not a shy bookworm, but… a gorgeous and self-assured warrior.

  Where did that idea come from?

  “That is who you truly are,” said Esmerelda. “This is the Mirror of Truth.”

  Strong, beautiful, and fearless? Really? Briana could hardly believe it, though she liked the idea. Unfamiliar energy surged through her, sparking something into life that had lain dormant until this moment. Mouse no more – she was Briana, woman of the deep forest, savior of trees and all things under four feet tall.

  Genevieve joined Esmerelda behind her, holding a long, hooded cloak, beaming with satisfaction.

  “The garments suit you,” Genevieve remarked.

  “You… are… so… beautiful,” Esmerelda said, shyly.

  “Beauty is as beauty does,” Genevieve countered, with a slightly raised eyebrow and a tiny smile. “Come along milady, breakfast won’t wait forever.”

  Briana smiled, grateful for the older woman’s dose of humility. It would be easy for her head to outgrow itself if she dwelled too long on the woman in the mirror. Pride and vanity had no place in her current circumstances, but she found herself standing a bit taller, anyway. There was no telling what this day would bring. She resolved to meet it without fear and perhaps even with open curiosity. After all, there was a kingdom to save. On a whim, she thrust her fist into the air and proclaimed, “Carpe Diem!”

  Esmerelda and Genevieve looked mystified. They shrugged and followed her down the stairs. Scrumptious smells wafted up to meet them: bread, bacon, and hints of orange and maple. Scones? Yum. The wooden table once again overflowed with food.

  Breakfast was a busy, loud event. Chatter stopped abruptly when her new friends noticed her arrival, replaced by ooh’s and ahh’s as she took her place at the head of the table.

  “May I have a scone, please?” she asked. Eager to please, they kept passing her plates and asking if she wouldn’t like this or that, all at the same time. She laughingly held up a hand for them to slow down.

  “I can’t possibly eat all of this,” she protested, as things inexplicably appeared on her plate. Yet she grinned as she accepted a warm raspberry-walnut scone, which smelled heavenly and tasted even better. Pure decadence, she thought, as its buttery flakiness melted on her tongue. Hot herbal tea had been poured three times when the clanging of a bell set everyone in motion.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Governor Wells is calling a meeting at the tree. We best go, milady. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  She swallowed the last of her tea and followed her new friends outside to the center of town, where the gnomes were gathering under a gigantic spreading chestnut tree. Governor Ebenezer Wells continued to sound the bell with an air of solemnity as the gnomes congregated. Briana thought she’d never seen anyone take a job quite as seriously as this little man. She squashed a desire to giggle and adopted a similar air of seriousness.

  “To-day,” he drew out the syllables portentously, “we begin a new chapter in the history of Uisneach. Before we send Milady Mouse on her way,” he announced, startling her, “She must be given a clear understanding of the prophecy and exactly what she is undertaking.”

  Maybe he said more, but her brain stopped at “on her way.” They’re sending me off? Why, I’ve barely gotten settled in. Surely they won’t make me go so soon. On the other hand, she certainly couldn’t save a king and kingdom by sitting beside a cozy peat hearth in a gentle village. She muttered, “I would’ve liked a couple of days to get, I don’t know, used to things.”

  Briana refocused in time to hear the beginnings of what sounded like a reading of the prophecy, which began with a poem.

  “When the wheel of the seasons forgets to turn,

  The trees are nearly gone.

  From ancient oak a Mouse appears,

  A queen is met with cheers.

  She’ll journey far to save a king,

  In castle strong under gloomy spell he rests.

  Five keys will lift the curse.

  Help arrives from king’s right hand,

  Rare magic and a map.

  Crow and crone lead and teach the future ordained queen of Uisneach.

  From evil one, gray ghosts race from west to east,

  A war they want to wage.

  True queen and faithful rise up strong

  Message from the ages.

  Power wielding from dryad’s gift,

  Faeries sing and place a ring upon their own,

  Granddaughter of a king.

  But heart is turned toward druid love,

  A choice she’ll have to make.

  Sacrifice is sure reward for children of the mist.

  King and queen pledge fealty, royal banns proclaimed.

  Wedding day breaks the cat,

  When joy and sorrow blend as one.

  Holly crown, faerie tree,

  Throne and council, a queen’s surprise,

  From hill to hill an ancient symbol taken.

  Two worlds collide in time,

  Treasure lost the cat must find.

  Dark and light now must meet,

  River battle ends one part, brown king protects to death.

  Briana frowned. It seemed a rough and unhappy ending.

  Genevieve whispered, “There’s more to the prophecy, but the pages were stolen, so we don’t know how it ends.”

  “Who stole them?” Briana whispered back.

  The gnome shrugged. “A true mystery.”

  For the next quarter of an hour she listened to the story of the five ancient kingdoms that made up the island of Uisneach, kingdoms with Gaelic names that each plucked at a separate heartstring. Appleduir was the southernmost kingdom, what most of the gnomes
referred to as Wellsland. Cedarmara was on the western shore, a land of legendary towering cedar trees that grew from the high mountains of the northeast all the way down to the sandy shoreline, with a beautiful natural harbor that protected the only ocean-faring fleet in Uisneach.

  To the north lay Evalon, the land of ten thousand faerie trees. At the heart of Uisneach was Tynan Ibor, and here, deep in the forest under protective magic, stood the sacred Uisneach Tree. The Dromdara mountain range, with Poet’s Gap in the middle and Art Aron, or Bear Mountain, near the southern coast, separated Tynan Ibor from the Dromdara lands, which contained both Lord Shamwa’s abode near Long River and the king’s castle to the north, along the coast.

  The most important kingdom at the moment, the goal of Briana’s journey, was Dromdara and the king’s castle of Ard Darach, where the king, indeed the whole castle, was imprisoned by Lord Shamwa’s curse.

  No one had heard from King Brath for a decade.

  *

  KING BRATH’S FATHER, the beloved King Barclay III of the Five Kingdoms, reigned for half a century and maintained a unified and prosperous league of nations. The last war had been generations before his reign; the men in his guard spent most of their time improving the land and the lives of the people, more ambassadors than soldiers. He died at a good old age, peaceful in the certainty that all was well in Uisneach. His wife, Queen Eleanor, died a year later, of a broken heart, it is said, forcing their son, Brath, to take up the crown.

  King Brath, young in age but advanced in wisdom, carried on his father’s example. A kind monarch, he was just as well loved. The kingdom flourished under his dynasty, due in part to his modernization of agriculture and building methods.

  All that changed one evening while he sat with Lord Shamwa, his prime minister, at dinner in the great hall, discussing plans to build a canal between two lakes to better transport produce. The druid, Artanin, co-conspirator with Shamwa, slipped a single drop of a poisonous herb into King Brath’s cup of wine. Within a few seconds Brath was confused and weak. Less than a minute later, he was unconscious. Other members of his cabinet attempted to revive him, but Lord Shamwa took control; no one questioned their prime minister’s loyalty. Without so much as a raised sword or blocked doorway, Lord Shamwa had his aides carry King Brath to his room. Minutes later he announced the king’s death, and most everyone believed him. He convinced the knights that the poisoning was the work of the wicked Artanin.

  All but one of the knights rode out into the night, intent on raiding the Druid Grove and taking the perpetrator into custody. While they rode out, Shamwa brought Artanin out of hiding, and the druid cast a spell over the castle so that no one could enter or leave Ard Darach. King Brath did not die, thanks be to Maker, but was now captive in his own castle, frozen in time, as were the few people who remained at his side at the time of the curse.

  Shock paralyzed the kingdom. Lord Shamwa used the opportunity to further train his Gray Military. It seemed their only two directives were to prevent anyone from gaining access to Ard Darach and to destroy all of the faerie trees in Uisneach. All trade and travel was effectively stopped by troops positioned across the island. Markets and whole villages were burned. The good people of the kingdom, having endured every imaginable suffering under Shamwa, became oppressed, entirely incapable of fighting back. Shamwa preyed on the weak and the poor, forcing them to join his army. The few who, for whatever reason, wished evil on the kingdom, were also welcomed.

  It was no ordinary murder of crows that blackened the sky and spread the word to the five kingdoms that King Brath was not dead, but a prisoner in his own castle; rather, it was a clan famous for their ability to change shape from avian to human. Their shapeshifting abilities made it difficult for Shamwa’s troops to find them, never mind stop them. Thus they were able to spread the news of the curse and bring to each kingdom a copy of a prophecy which had until then been unknown to all but the mysterious witch, Cailleach, who lived somewhere deep in Tynan Ibor.

  From that day to this, ten years later, they had done more than guard their lands against invasion; they had watched and prepared for the advent of a Mouse to save them.

  *

  A collective sigh wafted over the gnomes, some of whom glanced surreptitiously at Mouse. The Governor punched his stubby fist to the sky and declared with great drama, “Today, my friends and compatriots, we can take comfort in knowing that the reign of the evildoer is almost over, for the Mouse has emerged, and it is with renewed hope and promise that our king will soon sit upon his throne and our lands, the faerie trees and freedom will be restored.” He scarcely got the last word out before the cheering of the crowd drowned him out.

  “Three cheers for Mouse,” someone called out.

  “Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray!”

  Cheering went on for several minutes, interrupted only when Governor Wells began ringing the bell again. When all was quiet, he continued. “While celebration is certainly in order, we must also remember that there is much to be done to prepare Mouse.” Another pause and clearing of his throat. “And I might add, our future queen, for her mission. We prepare her to cross the abyss and undertake the journey to Ard Darach.”

  The sensation of being sucked down in quicksand overwhelmed her. In a span of hours she had turned from being plain old Mouse to woodland warrior Briana to future Queen Briana. Talk about shapeshifting. She sought out the comforting smile of Genevieve, who immediately sat down on the bench beside her.

  “I’m not queen of anything,” Briana whispered to her. “I can’t be.”

  Taking Briana’s hands in her own, Genevieve smiled and said gently, “You are our queen, Briana. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you.” Her blue eyes began to twinkle. “However, a real queen does more than just sit on a throne, issue orders and lop off heads, you know. She is courageous, patient, and kind. She knows everything about the people she rules. Before you can truly be queen, you must take the journey that will build those qualities and give you opportunities to know your people. And of course, your king needs you.”

  Briana used the certainty and strength in the other woman’s face to fortify her own resolve. But there were a few unanswered questions.

  “So, is Shamwa the king now?”

  Genevieve shrugged. “I suppose so, but king of what? He raised taxes, but having also ended all trade, no one has much of anything to give. And with everyone trying to stay hidden, who exactly is he ruling? He’s the king of nothing, really, but he is keeping the kingdom under a state of terror, so that we’re barely living.”

  “This trip I’m supposed to take, this mission, will Lord Shamwa know about it? Will he be coming after me?”

  “Aye, likely he will, but we’ll do everything we can to help you. There’s some of Brath’s faithful ones who’ll be looking for you, too, to see you safely across. You’ll not have to do this all by yourself.”

  Briana shook her head. “I’m no hero, Genevieve. Much as I’d like to help, I’ve nothing to offer on such a quest.”

  The little woman wrapped her arms around Briana’s hips and smiled widely. “Oh, lass, you have so much more than you know. You have magic.”

  Briana started. “Magic? I don’t know any magic.”

  Genevieve’s head was pumping up and down excitedly. “But you do. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but ’tis certain that the Mouse of Prophecy has powerful magic. Most everyone in Uisneach has some kind of magic, even though it’s been weakened.” A look of disappointment crossed her face. “Sadly, we gnomes don’t have much, but we’ll do what we can to help.”

  The strong part of her thought if they had so much faith in her, she ought to be able to rise to this challenge. On the other hand, the somewhat muddled and unbelieving part of her argued, Maybe it’s just a crazy dream.

  “Genevieve, I think I need some time by myself, to take this all in.”

  “Of course, milady. I’m sure you’re feeling a bit gobsmacked right about now. We’ll go pr
epare the celebration feast and let you be.” She pointed down a cobbled path that led to the edge of the village. “I suggest you follow that road out through the village gates. There’s a lovely meadow beside the river where you can sit quietly for a while.” She squeezed Briana’s arm and left her.

  Under different circumstances, Briana might have appreciated the rough beauty of the earth-hued stones that she walked upon. She might also have smiled at the brightly colored pots of flowers on fence posts, the wee bird houses and tinkling fountains in the yards of many of the village homes. Normally she would’ve taken pleasure in breathing deeply of the clean, crisp air. All of it barely registered, however, as she wandered through the skillfully crafted wrought-iron gate that led her out of the village and into a quiet field.

  A sturdy wooden bench overlooked a serene section of the river. She settled herself, hoping the quiet flow of the water would smooth out her tangled thoughts. Overcome with foreboding at the thought of saving the king, she dropped her face into her hands. Brath and Briana, King and Queen of Uisneach. A bolt of lightning shot up through her spine. Marry a man I don’t even know? Insane. She decided to run as fast as she could back to the oak tree that brought her here. Just then, a loud caw and flapping wings halted her.

  The same crow she’d seen in the oak forest landed with effortless grace on the arm of the bench beside her. She didn’t flinch. In his mouth swung a medallion, a replica of the one that circled his neck. He bobbed his head and pushed the medallion toward her with his beak. She reached out tentatively. The medallion lay in her palm, inky dark and warm, beautifully crafted with the symbol of the tree etched in gold. No jewelry she’d ever seen had been so flawlessly made. The crow bobbed his head insistently, directing her to turn the medallion over. On its back was a shield featuring two thrones made of carved ash trees whose branches reached across to each other, and a symbol of a white weasel and braided crowns. Breathless, Briana looked up at the crow with sudden understanding. They stared at one another for what seemed an eternity, neither making a sound, yet communicating perfectly.