The Prophecy (Kingdom of Uisneach Book 1)

by Heidi Hanley

  “Yer a funny one,” the ragamuffin declared, bringing the rest of his slight body out from behind the rock. “Afraid of an apple?”

  He was not a gnome nor anything apparently magical, only a little boy fishing this water hole, if the pole and bait box told the story.

  “Of course not,” she said, sheathing her weapon. “I was just wondering how apples could be ripe this time of year.”

  He regarded her quizzically. “Apples grow year-round, now that the seasons don’t change. Youz can eat it if you like.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Rippa, short for Ripparivendar. Who are youz?”

  She had to think. Mouse? Briana? Something else? What was the safest?

  Rippa’s huge eyes narrowed, regarding her suspiciously. “Youz ain’t one of Lord Shamwa’s tricks, are ye?”

  A quick shake of her head. If this little urchin was asking that question, she could, in all likelihood, trust him. “My name is Briana. I am certainly not connected to Shamwa.”

  He looked sideways at her. “How do I know youz tellin’ the truth?”

  “Do I look like one of Shamwa’s minions?” she replied, with a raised eyebrow.

  He watched her struggle to get the dirk back into its sheath and giggled. “Prob’ly not.”

  “What do you mean about apples growing year-round now?”

  “Since the curse, there’s no winter, so things grow all the time.”

  Of course, she thought. The gnomes mentioned the seasons had stopped changing when the curse was put on Ard Darach. They had no idea why, but believed that once the curse was lifted, seasonal cycles would resume.

  “Do you live around here?” she asked, eager to learn a little more about the child and any other people in the vicinity.

  “Course I do. Just over that hill is our farm. Ye want to come and meet my folks? It’s been ages since we had a visitor. Ye’d be welcome and Ma would give youz a proper dinner, not some old apple.”

  Briana quickly considered her options. Genevieve’s remark about her needing to get to know the people surfaced and made the choice clear. “I’d love to meet your family, Rippa. Is it far?”

  “Naw. I’m not allowed to go too far from home on ’count of maybe the Gray Military be around.” He disappeared briefly behind the boulder, but popped out again holding his pole, fishing creel and two respectably sized fish, which he held up proudly. “Hope youz likes wee fishies!”

  She nodded, smiling. They headed up the hillside, following the stream. She made a point of mentally mapping their route in case she had to find her way back alone. Rippa chattered nonstop about his pa and ma, Rodnner and Gertrude Tollemy, and baby sister, Penelope, describing a simple, wonderful way of life on their farm. There was no village nearby. If they needed anything they couldn’t provide for themselves, they took a horse and wagon on a two-day journey north to Cedarmara, but that was rare. He kept a brisk pace for such a small boy, and it wasn’ t long before they crested the hill and were heading down into a sunny valley, the farm spread out neatly before them.

  The main house was a thatched-roof cottage with a chimney at each end. A large byre, fenced paddocks and another outbuilding completed the compound. Crops ripened in squared sections around the farm. Rippa’s father stood in one of them, furrowing with horse and plow. In front of the cottage, a plump woman with a baby swaddled on her back worked in a smaller garden, a basket overflowing with freshly harvested vegetables beside her. A few feet away, chickens pecked at the ground near their coop. A cock and hen warred in an age-old fight; when they got too close to the woman, she shooed them away with a sweep of her foot. At Rippa’s excited hail, she looked up, and shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand, waved at Rippa with the other. Seeing that he was not alone, she quickly pulled the baby around in front of her protectively and began walking toward Rippa and Briana.

  Briana was bothered by the woman’s anxiety at the sight of a visitor. She did her best to assuage the woman’s worry by putting a warm smile on her face and giving an airy wave of her hand as they came together.

  “Hello, Mrs. Tollemy,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Briana Brennan. Sorry to come unannounced, but I met Rippa down by the pond and he thought you might not mind if I came home with him to meet you.”

  Suspicion lingered in Mrs. Tollemy’s stance and in her eyes, but she smiled cautiously and responded to Briana’s handshake. “You’re welcome here, miss. What brings ye out this way, after all?”

  “Well, that’s a long story, Mrs. Tollemy, and one that you might also want Mr. Tollemy to hear. Will he be coming in soon?”

  Mrs. Tollemy glanced at the sun and then out to the field where her husband continued to plow, oblivious to their visitor. “Rippa, go fetch yer pa and tell him that it’s near time for dinner and we have a guest.”

  Rippa dropped the pole and creel at his mother’s feet and raced off. Sighing, Gertrude picked up the fishing tools. She glanced inside the basket and grinned, then beckoned Briana to follow her into the house.

  Once inside Mrs. Tollemy stood the gear in a corner and then unwrapped the baby, who had begun to fret, and laid her in a nearby cradle. The cottage was efficiently furnished with the necessities of rural living, nothing more. The large space they were in served as kitchen, dining and living area. A primitive, well-made table graced the room. Sideboard and hutch stood catty-corner against one wall while a huge fireplace for heating and cooking took up the opposite wall, a small fire in its hearth. Built into the fireplace was a crane with several hooks on it. A black iron kettle swung empty on the outside, while another hung closer to the fire with something aromatic simmering within. Other pans and kettles were stored on well-built shelves. One wooden box beside the hearth held wood, another, peat. Shelves along the kitchen walls supported a menagerie of pottery dishes and serving bowls. Baskets of yarn, sewing and herbs were placed strategically around the room. The smell and feel of this homey place wrapped around her. I could get used to this, she thought, wistfully. Her future would likely be much different.

  Gertrude bustled around, laying the table and filling bowls with food. Briana opened her mouth to offer help just as the door opened and was filled with Rodnner Tollemy, a hulking bear of a man in worn overalls and a slouchy, wide-brimmed hat. His weathered face wore an expression of suspicion, much as his wife’s had at the start, but after a glance between husband and wife, the frown reversed and his cautious, narrow scrutiny turned more congenial as he extended his hand toward Briana.

  “Our welcome to ye, milady. I know what Rippa here thinks yer doing around here all by yerself, but I would hear it from ye, I would.”

  “Rodnner,” his wife said, setting a bowl of steaming potatoes on the table, “we’ll hear the whole story as soon as we’ve all had something to eat.”

  Before Briana could respond, the whole family sat as one at the table. Rodnner immediately said, “To Maker we give thanks for this food and for the arrival of our new friend. May all be with us as you will it, and may we ever be grateful.”

  “And Maker,” Rippa added, with the seriousness that only an innocent can impart, “please save our forests and our king.” He sneaked a peek at his mother to see if he’d done wrong. She squeezed his hand and smiled reassuringly. His father just sighed and shook his head.

  Out of the mouths of babes, Briana thought. How will they react when I tell them I intend to do just that?

  The food tasted every bit as good as it smelled and Briana must have praised the cook at least five times while she ate. After the dishes were cleared away, the family moved nearer the hearth. Baby Penelope settled in tight to Mama for her meal. Rodnner brought up a seat for Briana next to the fire and poured her a cup of something homebrewed and mellow. The noise of pleasure she made as the foamy liquid slid down her throat was more than enough compliment for its brewer.

  “Best in the county,” he bragged, as he raised his cup to her. Gertrude slapped him lightly on t
he shoulder with a wink. “But now that we’ve filled our bellies with the wife’s good cooking, would ye tell us your story, milady? What brings ye out to the country?”

  Briana took a deep breath, wondering just how one does tell such a tale. “This may all be very hard for you to believe, but hear me out, please, before you kick me out as some kind of crackpot.”

  “Crackpot?” Rippa said. They all looked at her queerly, obviously not understanding the term.

  She smiled, then went on and told her story from beginning to end. Their faces changed as the story unfolded, from amazement that she came through a tree, to wonder that she was the Mouse of Prophecy, to anger at Shamwa, and ultimately to hope that she could save Uisneach and its king.

  For a moment after the telling, everyone was quiet, and then Rippa, screwing up his face, asked again, “But what I still want to know is, What’s a ‘crackpot’?” The collective laugh that followed broke the serious mood. Briana made a twirling motion with her finger at her temple, making her meaning plain enough.

  “Milady, ’tis not enough for me to say that we thank ye for what you’re doing,” Rodnner said. “I don’t know what we can do to help, but our home will always be open to ye for any reason. Whatever we can do to help, ye just let us know. For sure ye’ll stay the night with us; there’s no reason to return to your journey until the morning.”

  “Thank you. I’m grateful for your hospitality and your support. To be honest, I have no real plan and don’t know what I might need, but I would definitely call on you if I need to.”

  He nodded, and then grabbing his hat and giving his wife a quick kiss on the cheek, headed back out to the fields, throwing Rippa’s hat to him on the way with a nod of his head that said the boy was to come along and help.

  Briana spent the rest of the afternoon helping Gertrude with household chores. She was given some bed linens and shown to a little loft area where she would spend the night. As she puttered around the house and garden, she took the time to really think about her plan. She’d pull the map out tonight and plot a course. If the map was going to change at every junction, she’d at least need a general direction. Perhaps Rodnner would have some useful thoughts about this, as well. Unlike Alice’s journey through Wonderland, Briana did care where she was going and it did matter which way she went.

  The afternoon passed pleasantly. Supper, a smaller but equally satisfying meal, came and went. Rodnner provided information about Uisneach and some helpful advice about things to find and things to avoid. Briana learned more about the Tollemy family as they shared more of the homemade brew. Originally from Cedarmara, they’d moved to the country under King Barclay’s subsidized farming program.

  “The city was growing so fast at that time. It was no place to raise a family, so we took advantage of the program to start a new life out here.”

  “Did you build this entire farm yourselves?”

  “Sure we did, over time. The missus was young and strong back then. Between us, we put up the cottage, the barns and plowed and planted the fields.”

  Gertrude swatted at him playfully. “Are ye saying I’m not young and strong now, old man? And what about ye? Yer no spring chicken then, are ye?”

  Raising his mug to his wife, he continued. “Overall, ’tis been a good life, at least until Shamwa started his shenanigans. Since then we’ve spent more time looking over our shoulder for the Gray Military and less time making the trip to Cedarmara to sell our produce. Not easy makin’ a livin’ that way, ye know?”

  She could only imagine. “Where is the army now?”

  “Hard to say. They don’t stay all together, but are sent off in small divisions to search the land and collect taxes.” He sighed. “We’ve worked so hard and things was so good under the king’s reign. Both kings was good men and cared for the people of Uisneach. Shamwa is just plain evil. We’d hoped to build something here that could sustain us and the children as they grew up. Thought maybe other families would move out and farm here. It’s so rich and fertile. But no one’s movin’ anywhere right now. I don’t think anyone holds much hope that we’ll survive this invasion of Shamwa’s. At least I didn’t, until now.”

  Briana offered an encouraging smile. “You’ll make those trips to Cedarmara again, Rodnner.” She prayed it was true. “Have you ever met either of the kings personally?”

  Gertrude answered. “We did once when we was given the title to the land from King Barclay. He was a real gentleman, King Barclay was. The weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, and ye’d have thought he had nothing better to do than to offer us high tea. He said he meant to come out someday and pay us a visit when we had things going, but he died before that happened. His son, King Brath, did come here once, unexpectedly. Can ye believe that? I’ll never forget the day, seeing this man ride up on his big horse. He had another man with him. I couldn’t imagine who they might be, and was a little nervous. I was home alone with Rippa, who was just takin’ his first steps. The bigger man got down off his stallion and introduced himself as King Brath. Handsome man he was – the spittin’ image of his pa. You couldn’t mistake that dark red hair. He introduced his man as Sigel, his lord marshall. That man, Sigel, was more solemn, real serious about his duty. I remember he had a long scar down the side of his face that was all red and puckered-like, which was too bad, seein’s how he was a fine-looking man otherwise. He had hair as black as night, longish, but tied in a knot on his head. Don’t know why that particular thing sticks in my memory. The king said he knew of his father’s intention to come see us and since his father’s death, he was riding around the country to meet the people of Uisneach. Of course I offered my sympathy on his father’s passin’ and he smiled kindly and thanked me saying, ‘I hope I can be half the man and king he was.’ Gracious to the core, that one is. His father raised him up right, that he did. Anyway, Rodnner had come home by then and they stayed for tea. I never been so nervy fixin’ tea as I was that day. Servin’ to the king – oh my goodness, was I ever nervy. One thing I’ll not forget is that while I was preparing things, the king was playing with wee Rippa. He had a shiny black coin that he kept flippin’ in the air, makin’ Rippa laugh out loud. His man, Sigel, was a little less, uh, playful I guess, but he smiled some and was kindly enough. I wonder what ever did happen to him when King Brath was cursed.”

  The cottage was quiet, everyone thinking about the king and all that had happened. The fireplace lent a protective glow to ward off the shadows, and Rodnner hoisted his fiddle to lighten things up. Rippa joined him, playing a small guitar-like instrument and singing. His angelic voice surprised Briana, his ability to tell a story through song, even more remarkable. A little bard in the making, she thought. Some of the songs told the story of this island. Briana grew pensive. Everything was so perfect and peaceful here; she’d never forget this evening with the Tollemys. This was how life should be – and would be – if she had anything to do about it.

  “Now you rest, milady. Me and the missus will take turns standing watch,” said Rodnner.

  Gertrude smoored the fire for the night, covering the embers with ash to subdue the flames without putting them out. Brianna said her good nights and went up to bed.

  Night settled around the home as Briana buried herself deep into the quilts, content and relaxed for a time. Until she thought she heard the wind picking up in the trees. Maybe it was an animal foraging for food in the straw thatch of the roof that caught her attention, but the hair on the back of her neck suddenly rose and she was wide awake. She listened closely to the household sounds. It was eerily quiet, except for a small scuffling somewhere near her. Try to relax, she told herself, and began to quote from fairy tales. Her litany began with Rapunzel, moved to Cinderella and then to a few nursery rhymes. When she recalled the queen wanting to lop heads, she stopped herself. Oh, this is ridiculous, she thought, you’re scaring yourself silly, you ninny. She sat up, grabbing the blade resting under her pillow.

  Wrong move. Out of the darkness a cloth-covered
hand came across her face, smothering the scream that was just forming. Another pair of hands grabbed and held her feet. Futilely, she tried to kick the intruder. They dragged her violently out of her bed. She began to feel woozy. Through the window, she noticed the waning crescent moon. Chloroform? she wondered. It was her last clear thought.

  Chapter Six

  Dungeons and Demons

  Returning to a semi-conscious state reminded Briana of the time she woke from anesthesia following the extraction of her wisdom teeth. She heard things before she saw them, and knew things before she knew she knew them. And the first thing she knew was that she was alone in a dark place. The second thing was that her abductors were nearby, because she could hear them.

  “Watcha think His Lordship will do with her?” a whiny man asked.

  “I know what I’d do with her,” a man with a cruelly suggestive voice answered. There was a pause, some disturbing noises and then laughter.

  They spoke of inconsequential matters for a while. She started thinking of the whiny goon as Winkle, the other as Wonk.

  “Ya think anyone followed us?” asked Winkle. “He won’t be happy if sumpin’ goes wrong here.”

  “Nah, the old man’s in pretty rough shape. He won’t bother us.”

  Briana winced. If they’d done anything to hurt the Tollemys, she’d make them pay. She was coming out of her stupor enough to realize she needed to come out quicker. Briana began feeling around her. The floor was cold and hard, as were the walls. Stone? I’m in a dungeon, she concluded, and felt relieved when she realized she was not bound by manacles or any other device. Thank God, uh, Maker, for small favors. Coming more fully awake, she noticed a small window high up in the chamber that let in a glimmer of light as a crescent moon inched into the frame. So probably not a dungeon; it wouldn’t have a window. She was freezing, dressed only in an undershirt and leggings. The knife she kept tucked in the leggings was also gone, leaving her weaponless.