The Prophecy (Kingdom of Uisneach Book 1)

by Heidi Hanley

  “Is there some purpose to this medallion?” she asked, turning it over again. No answer, though she sensed there was. “It’s frightening to think I’ll go out on some journey through a country I don’t know all by myself,” she murmured.

  Crow hopped from the arm of the bench onto her lap and looked up at her.

  She smiled. “Well, perhaps not so alone after all.”

  She looped the medallion’s silken cord over her neck and allowed the disc to fall neatly at the soft hollow in her throat. Pleasant warmth spread from her throat to the rest of her body. Power flowed through her, and whatever doubts and fears she had vanished. “I am braver than I believe,” she reminded herself. Crow made a soothing little sound Briana wouldn’t have associated with a crow, and flew up to a nearby limb.

  They sat together in companionable silence a little longer and then, as suddenly as he arrived, he left. Centered once more, she returned along the path into the village and back to her cottage, ready to accept whatever would come next.

  Chapter Four

  Across the Void

  From head to toe, Briana was a mass of aching muscles. She appreciated the magic that reduced years of training to two days, but her body didn’t. It had been a brutal boot camp. Why, she thought, don’t they have some magical cure for sore muscles?

  Jack was determined to make her as ready for this journey as possible. “We don’t have much time, milady, but we’ll do what we can, and trust that help will show up quickly. Mostly, you need to know how to feed, shelter and protect yourself until the king’s men arrive to escort you to Ard Darach. And they will, that’s the truth. If the crow has done his part, then they are on their way even as we speak.”

  Some of her skills were already sharp and hadn’t required much magically-enhanced instruction, such as her ability to start a campfire. She was a whiz at assessing the dryness of wood. Briana always kept some birch bark tucked into her backpack because it was such a fine fire-starter. They used flint here, not matches, a technique she picked up quickly enough. Jack Wells, her campfire mentor, beamed as she built her teepee of twigs, adding larger branches once the fire took.

  Back home, her knowledge of herbal remedies was considered advanced; here, she was told she would “get by” until Cailleach could teach her more. Of course, she had to learn how to identify the local mushrooms, nuts and berries – and to remind herself to not pick something that looked just like a safe item from her world.

  One skill she rather surprisingly wouldn’t have to use was her ability to make a lean-to out of pine boughs. The gnomes provided her with the most remarkable sleeping gadget, part pup tent, part invisibility cloak. Its lightweight fabric provided great insulation and camouflage for any surroundings. She could pop it out in the middle of a clearing, climb inside, and no one would see her.

  “This is fabulous,” she exclaimed to Jack, jumping in and out of visibility with delight.

  “You’ll still need to be careful where you pitch it. You’ll not remain hidden if someone tumbles into you.”

  Some skills proved much more difficult and more of a strain on her body, such as weaponry and rock climbing. She was taught to use a variety of blades, from a dirk to a broadsword to a Scottish-style claymore. Due to their size and weight, it took a fair amount of time to learn how to use the weapons effectively, but once mastered, she was surprised at how the practice seemed to increase her flexibility and coordination and overall grace. They practiced until her arm could wield no more.

  “I think you’ll do,” Jack judged as she slid the smaller dirk, the one she would carry with her, back into its scabbard at her belt.

  “Don’t warriors usually name their weapons? Should I choose a boy’s name or a girl’s name?” she mused.

  “Don’t bother. This is not your forever knife, lass. There’s another that will be yours to name as you wish. This one’s temporary.”

  She waited, anticipating more information. The gnome led her away from the village and down a narrow path without another word.

  The next and most challenging drill involved climbing the steep face of a rock cliff. She stood before the massive stone face then turned, grimacing. “No can do, Jack. I’m terrified of heights.”

  “Well, milady, you’d best shake it off in a hurry. You’ll have to excel at these skills if you are to rescue our king. You might even need them to save yourself, sometimes. Let’s get on with it. Up you go.”

  Briana’s first attempt was nothing short of pathetic. She managed about ten feet and froze.

  “Well, you can’t bloody well stay where you are!” Jack hollered.

  “I… can’t… do… this,” she choked, out of breath and paralyzed with fear.

  “Come on, milady. I’m only four feet tall and I can do it! You’ve got the strength and the reach. If a gnome can do it, surely a full-size woman can.”

  She reached up to the next handhold. “Anything for my king,” she sputtered, anger trumping fear.

  She made it up fifteen feet when the screech and flutter of a small hawk distracted her. She missed the next protrusion and her foot slipped. “No!” she yelled, dropping into a free fall. Halfway down, something slowed her, and she landed neatly in a spongy patch of moss.

  Looking up into the face of a grinning Jack, she gasped, “What… was… that?”

  He winked. “Perhaps you have a wee bit of magic in you, after all.”

  “Not possible,” she said, though her mind began to work out the possibility that she did. “Even if I do, is this really necessary?”

  “Yes, milady. ’Tis a matter of life and death – yours and King Brath’s. Can you give it another go?”

  Gingerly pushing herself back to a standing position, she faced the stone wall, took a deep breath, and grabbed for the first handhold.

  “That a girl,” he said, his voice soft, but proud. “Now, focus, lass. Focus.”

  Taking deep, intentional breaths she inched her way to the top of the fifty-foot cliff, grinning as she dragged her body over the edge. She sat quietly, catching her breath and basking in a sense of accomplishment. When her legs stopped trembling and her breathing returned to normal, she peered impishly over the edge to see Jack grinning below.

  “Now,” she shouted, “just how do I get down from here?”

  *

  The next day, Briana stretched the six hundred and forty aching muscles of her body – a new and rather miserable part of her morning ritual. She dressed and went downstairs, which was pleasantly quiet for the first time since her arrival. No one else was up, not even the sun, and after reviving the fire in the hearth, she sat alone with her thoughts.

  I should pray or something, she thought, but to who? Is God still here in this world? The gnomes referred to the Maker, which she assumed was their version of God.

  She closed her eyes, allowing the warmth and earthiness of the peat fire to find its way deep within her heart. Hello? She paused a moment. Whoever you are, whatever you are, if you can help me, I invoke you now. Nothing happened. Maker, she tried again, and found resonance.

  Maker, are they right that I’m destined to rescue this king? I’m scared, but the gnomes believe in this prophecy and you, and I’m willing to try. Will you help me? Is there a sign or something I should be looking for? The second she asked the question, her mind’s eye saw the medallioned crow. The bird had something to do with all of this, she was certain.

  Sensing a presence, she turned as Genevieve sat in the chair beside her, pulling a woven shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  “Genevieve, what is this for?” she asked, stroking the polished black surface of the medallion.

  The woman shook her head. “No one knows exactly. I understand that several people have one, but last I knew, even Cailleach didn’t know what they were for. It’s believed to be a key of some sort that will help remove the curse, but how is a mystery.”

  Briana sighed. Layers upon layers of mystery.

  Genevieve smiled comfortingly at he
r and let the peace of the crackling fire wrap around them. They sat together until the house woke up and the gnomes filled the table once more with a breakfast fit for a queen. Briana tucked in with gusto, wondering when her next meal might be and what it might look like.

  There was nothing left to do but go. She had the clothes on her back, a cloak, the tent, a knife, a leather water flask and a knapsack with dried meat and bread to last a few days. Thanks to the their training, she’d also be able to find some food on her own.

  “And there will be people to help you along the way,” Jack assured her.

  A battalion of Wellses escorted her down the path through the village, out the gates, past the bench where the crow brought her the medallion, over a sturdy stone bridge that crossed the river and through a narrower trail into the woods. She remembered Hansel and Gretel and wondered a couple of times if she ought to use a little of the bread to leave a trail, in case she changed her mind and wanted to come back.

  The trees thinned out as they came to an opening. The lead gnomes stopped. Briana joined them and suddenly realized they were standing on the edge of a canyon that was perhaps forty feet across. Its walls of ancient gray stones plunged down into a torrential river several hundred feet below. Briana jumped back with a choked sound that never quite made it out of her throat. She looked back to see them all staring expectantly at her.

  “What? You can’t possibly… I can’t possibly!”

  Jack and Genevieve stepped forward on either side of her. “Yes you can, Briana,” Genevieve said, patiently. “We’ve not steered you wrong yet, have we?”

  “But it’s impossible! If I walk off that edge, I’m a goner.”

  “Can you not just walk across the rainbow?” Jack asked, sounding truly perplexed.

  “What rainbow?” Puzzled, she turned again to face the abyss and nearly fainted in surprise. Indeed, a bridge of ethereal, shimmering color spanned the gorge. “How on earth…” she started, and then shut her mouth and stared. Although the rainbow was now plainly there, it still didn’t seem solid and she couldn’t imagine it would hold her weight in order to cross.

  She shook her head. Jack nodded back, with a “come on already” look.

  “You first.”

  “We can’t,” Jack responded. “We don’t have the magic, but you do. You must trust me, Briana. You can walk across that bridge as easily as you walked the path to get here. Oh, one other thing. Do you see those two birch trees?” He pointed across the canyon to a white-barked tree that split into two trunks at about mid-height. She nodded. “In the notch of those trees you’ll find a box that holds a map. ’Tis a special map, so don’t be surprised when you open it.”

  She extended her head skyward and closed her eyes. “Sure thing, Jack. I’ll just whip across this transparent bridge, get the magic map and be on my way.”

  “That’s my girl!”

  “I was only kidding. This is ridiculous. I cannot walk across that chasm – it will kill me. There has to be another way.”

  “Please, milady,” a small girl pleaded. Briana looked down to find her with tears in her eyes, looking up imploringly at her. “If ye don’t go, King Brath won’t be saved and the faerie trees will die and we’ll all die. Ye must go, ye just must.”

  Briana looked at her masses of wild black curls and big eyes, then back at the expectant and encouraging faces surrounding her, then back again at the abyss. They were depending on her. Could she do it? She heard Judy Garland’s voice singing in her head about birds flying over the rainbow.

  Come on, Briana, she thought, you can do this. Take the first step. You are who they believe you are. The step you take will lead you into a new world, a new life. What if the rainbow is the beginning of a road that will take you home?

  She lifted a foot and put it onto the bridge. She did not lose her balance, nor did she fall helplessly to her death. Closing her eyes just in case, she moved the other foot beside the first and stopped, invoking the words of the song in her head. Opening her eyes, she saw underneath her only the wide band of color, not the abyss or raging river. Is this magic? She took another step, and then another, and a few more. And then she was on the other side and the bridge was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief. “I did it Jack, I really did it!”

  “Well done, milady!” Jack yelled across to her. All the gnomes were jumping and flipping and dancing in joy.

  Her heart swelled with tenderness for the gnomes of Wellsland, who had welcomed her, trained her and made her a part of their family. I will not let them down, she thought, before turning her attention to the birches.

  The box sat in the notch where the two trunks met, perfectly camouflaged by its birch bark covering. A grapevine and amethyst clasp secured it. She worked it open. Inside she found a soft and leathery white cloth, rolled up and tied with a strip of leather. “Wonders never cease,” she muttered, as a beautiful map of Uisneach came magically alive before her. The compass and legend in the lower corner glowed red. Tiny boats bobbed in the harbor at Cedarmara. Light snow fell on Mt. Aron, while the dark woods were lit in a pre-dawn glow. Long River, which dissected the land, surged across the map. She found her current location and sure enough, there was a rainbow where she’d crossed the river.

  “Have you found it?” Jack yelled.

  “Got it!” she called back. “It’s beautiful. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged, grinning. “Didn’t know, milady. Gnomes can’t see the map.” Another confirmation of her prophesied role. “Go on now, Mouse – you’ve got a king to save!”

  Looking once more at the parchment, she determined that there really was only one way to go at this point: forward. A sob, held in check until now, found its way out, but she smiled bravely. She rolled the map and tucked it safely into a long pocket in the side of her leggings and took her first decisive step forward.

  Chapter Five

  Farmer in the Dell

  The forest proved a much different sort of companion than the gnomes had been. Their frenetic, jolly energy and the constant training, teaching, eating and storytelling was replaced by silence, occasionally broken by bird trills or the rattling of leaves and branches. She felt a little lonely. Maybe a little nervous. Her usual strategy of reciting lines from stories that fit her circumstance failed miserably. Her current situation only reminded her of “Red Riding Hood”… and the wolf. Or “Hansel and Gretel”… and the witch’s oven. “The Old Woman in the Wood”… and the robbers. Silence seemed preferable. Briana concentrated on the wildwood, identifying the plants and animals she saw. Many of the trees were familiar: maples unfurled their green spring leaves and catkins dripped from aspen and birch. Oaks rose up majestically on old, thick trunks. No faerie trees, unfortunately. She still couldn’t fathom the vicious destruction of the faerie trees, nor could she believe she would somehow be able to protect them, and yet, a strong desire to do so rose up in her. What an amazing thing it would be to save a faerie and its tree. “When I am the queen, I will protect you, I promise.” A shiver ran through her at the prophetic sound of her words.

  The sun blazed nearly straight-up noon when she came to the first crossroads. Well-worn paths were wider here, crossing in completely opposite directions. Missing was any sort of sign or marker to indicate where the trails led. It took her a second to remember the map. She unrolled it. To her astonishment, everything she’d seen the first time was gone. Now the map showed only the road behind her and the juncture she stood at. Everything else was blank; even the compass was gone. How odd. Where did everything go? She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths and tried again. Nothing there. Anxiety snaked through her as she wondered what to do. Without the map, I am well and truly lost. She considered turning back, but instead, took a step forward and scanned as far as she could down each of the roads. They looked about the same. It would be up to destiny to lead her right. She allowed herself to be still for a minute and then, without faltering, walked straight ahead. After a few feet she opened the map a
nd burst out laughing. Snow fell again on Mt. Aron, the river thundered across the land and the sun shone brightly through the trees at Tynan Ibor. Gone now was everything behind her – those routes were no longer an option. Instead, new paths and new directions appeared. So, at each crossroads, her decision would dictate the course of her journey. Was it possible to make a mistake? Would she arrive at Ard Darach, no matter what choice she made? Or could she wander in circles and end up back in Baigsith?

  “The gnomes were pretty clear that I would find my way. They also said someone would show up to help me. I guess for now, I need to keep going and hope I don’t run into Lord Shamwa before that help arrives.” She rolled up the map, tucked it into her knapsack and went on, following the path in front of her.

  Later, with sweat trickling down the back of her neck and her armpits growing damp, Briana did a little happy dance when she spied a clearing where a stream twisted down from the upper slope of a forested hill into a small, clear pond. After cooling her skin with a wet bandana, she filled her water bag. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she’d had nothing to eat since early morning. About to reach into the pack for a bit of lunch, she caught sight of an apple tree heavily laden with fruit that didn’t look wormy. She pulled a couple of those instead, deciding it was wiser to save her food. She found a downed trunk next to the water and sat down to enjoy the apple, but stopped a split second before taking a bite. Apples in springtime? Rotating the fruit, she considered its potential threat.

  “It won’t hurt youz,” said a boy, his voice straight out of Oliver Twist. He startled her so badly she threw the apple up with enough force that it landed in the middle of the pond with an emphatic plop. She jumped to her feet and felt around for her dirk. He giggled. Finally jerking her weapon out of the scabbard, she pointed it in the general direction of his voice. She saw nothing. Another giggle spun her around to a large boulder half out of the water at the pond’s edge. Midway down the stone, the boy peered from beneath a ragged mop of black hair. Freckles bridged his nose, connecting both cheeks. Her stared at her in pure merriment, with the roundest, brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Smudges of dirt streaked his face.