by Cathi Shaw
“He is a strong boy,” Suiadan said with approval. “He will make a great Crown Prince one day.”
Brijit smiled and settled Aranel’s child onto some blankets near his mother’s feet before she left the chamber. She was happy that at least one of the child’s parents saw him as a blessing, and Aranel seemed to be honored to serve in the position of royal wet nurse.
Brijit realized that she would have to speak to the woman alone. She doubted the Crown Prince would discover the mark on the child’s shoulder, but she was sure Aranel would see it soon enough. The moment the nurse bathed the young prince she would see the triquetra. Brijit had to ensure that that mark on the royal heir’s shoulder remained a secret…at least for now.
Chapter Sixteen
Brijit found the royal nurse in her new chambers. The Crown Prince had Aranel and her son moved to rooms adjoining his own so he could see Meldiron whenever time allowed. The woman welcomed Brijit into her room with a smile.
“Would you like to hold him, Coimirceoirí?” she asked shyly as she finished feeding the young prince.
Brijit smiled and nodded, holding her arms out to take the small baby. He looked up at her with those incredibly green eyes again and then, milk drunk, he slowly closed them and fell asleep.
“He is a very good baby,” Aranel told her. “And I’m not just saying that because he’s the future Crown Prince. He’s much better than Samred.” The words were not unkind, and Aranel had a smile in her voice as she cradled her own son in her arms. “This one is a little monkey,” she confided.
Brijit looked at Aranel. The Elder woman looked at ease and happy.
“Is caring for two babies too much?” she asked.
Aranel shook her head. “No. I’m happy to help. And Samred will enjoy the company as he gets older.”
It was true. Meldiron and Aranel’s son would likely become good friends as they entered boyhood. Unless Princess Neirdre changed her feelings toward her son, Brijit didn’t think that Meldiron would have a mother figure other than Aranel. She looked down at the sleeping boy. It was such a shame. He was a sweet baby and she had no doubt that he would grow into a sweet boy.
Brijit returned her attention to Aranel and saw how at ease she was with her own son as well.
“Samred is not your first son?” Brijit asked.
Aranel looked up in surprise and then laughed. “Oh, no, my lady. Samred is my last baby. I have three others, all half-grown back in Séreméla.”
Brijit wondered how Aranel had come to be at Tèarmann when she had a family back in Séreméla.
As if reading her mind, the woman answered, “You realize that it wasn’t wholly unexpected that the princess would reject her child. Even if she had birthed a girl, many doubted that she would nurse her own child. I was brought along under the pretense of being a kitchen maid, but I had a suspicion all along that the Crown Prince might call on me to take the honor of feeding his child.”
Brijit nodded. So Suiadan understood his wife better than she had given him credit for.
“Royal marriage aren’t like others,” Aranel told her when she saw the expression on Brijit’s face. “Try not to judge Neirdre too harshly. She was chosen as princess not out of love but because her family had the right connections and she was young and beautiful. Prince Suiadan wanted to have a mate who would give him strong and healthy children.” Aranel wrinkled her nose, “Not the most ideal conditions for starting a marriage, but it is tradition.”
“You mean not all Elder marriages are like that?”
Aranel laughed at those words. “No, Brijit. Most Elders marry for love. It is only the royals who are stuck marrying out of duty.”
Brijit shook her head. It appeared the Elder traditions affected not just Coimirceoirí but others in the realm as well. She looked down at Prince Meldiron again. She couldn’t deny that the marriage had produced a beautiful son. She thought of the mark on his shoulder and became serious.
“Aranel,” she said as casually as she could, “have you bathed the baby yet?”
The wet nurse looked Brijit in eye, “I have, Coimirceoirí.”
A look of understanding passed between them. “Has anyone else seen it?”
“No.”
“I think it would be best if it stayed that way,” Brijit said softly.
“I think you are right, Coimirceoirí.”
#
“The young prince is doing well despite my niece’s rejection of him?”
Brijit was in Nestariel’s chambers with the small baby in her arms. Neirdre continued to refuse to the see her son, and Brijit wanted Aranel to have some time with her own child. She had taken to collecting Prince Meldiron each afternoon and giving the nurse a few hours to herself in her chambers.
This was the first time she had brought Meldiron to his great-aunt’s chambers, and she had seen the way both Nestariel and Eöl Ar-Feiniel looked at the little prince. With twin expressions of pure enchantment. She hid a smile.
“Would you like to hold him?” she asked Nestariel.
The Elder raised her eyebrows. “Well, if you need a rest, I suppose I could.”
Brijit played along. She hadn’t missed the eagerness in Nestariel’s eyes.
“It suits you, A’maelamin,” Eöl Ar-Feiniel said quietly as he watched the Elder woman cradling the small babe.
Brijit hid her surprise at his easy use of the Elder term of endearment. Nestariel ignored him, her attention completely captured by the child in her arms. Brijit couldn’t help wondering why Eöl Ar-Feiniel and Nestariel had never married and had children of their own. She had spent enough time with them to see how strongly they cared about one another. But she felt it was probably a story for another time. She turned her attention to another question that had been bothering her since the prince’s birth.
“Nestariel,” she began softly, not wanting to intrude on Nestariel’s time with her new great-nephew but also knowing that it was the perfect situation to ask her questions. The Elder would not be able to deflect her and run away.
“Hmmm,” she looked up from the babe in her arms.
“I want to ask you something, and I hope you will be honest with me.”
Nestariel’s dark-green eyes narrowed slightly. “Say your piece, Coimirceoirí.”
Brijit bit her lip. Obviously Nestariel suspected that what she had to ask was not going to be pleasant.
“Princess Neirdre has called you a few things that have me wondering…”
“What did my niece call me?”
“Well a sorceress…and a witch.” Nestariel raised her eyebrows. Brijit hurried on, “I was just wondering if…”
The Elder’s eyes softened. “You were wondering if I’m Kurunii as your grandmother was.”
Brijit nodded.
Sympathy filled her lined face. “No, my child, I am not.”
Disappointment washed over Brijit. She had hoped that with her grandmother now gone there would be at least one other person she could trust and ask question about the Kurunii.
“But you took the scrolls and books.”
Nestariel nodded. “Yes, to help with the translation, my dear,” she nodded to where Eöl Ar-Feiniel’s desk was covered with papers.
The old man nodded. “Yes, the witch lore does help with the translation a bit,” he acknowledged.
“Elders have never been Kurunii, Brijit. The witch sisters are wholly human. I’m sorry, child.”
There it was again. First, Weylon had hinted that the Elders were not human, and now Nestariel was suggesting the same thing. What could it mean?
But Brijit wasn’t getting any answers today. Nestariel had turned back to the child in her arms. The conversation was over.
#
A week later, Brijit wandered into Nestariel’s room again, hoping to get some answers about the Kurunii from the Elder woman. While Nestariel was not Kurunii herself, she surely knew about the history of witches in Five Corners. Because Brijit had missed that part of her studies at the Ac
ademy, her knowledge was rudimentary at best.
And as she came to accept the truth of what Grandmamma had been, of what she was a part of, the more she longed to know about her heritage. More important, she wanted to figure out if being Kurunii born would affect her as a Coimirceoirí. She was sure Nestariel would have some answers for her.
It was only when she was halfway across the main room in Nestariel’s chambers that she realized the Elder woman was not there. Eöl Ar-Feiniel looked up from his work and smiled at her.
“Hello, Brijit! Always good to see you, my dear.”
Brijit nodded absently. “Nice to you as well, Eöl Ar-Feiniel,” she came over to the desk where he was working. “Are you making any progress?”
He nodded with a gleam in his old eyes. “Always making progress, my dear. Always making progress. It might be slow but it is something.”
Brijit sighed and looked at the papers on the desk.
“Is Nestariel not here?”
He shook his head. “She’s been called to some meeting by the Crown Prince. I’m not sure how long she will be.”
Disappointment filled Brijit but she nodded in understanding and turned to the door.
“You are welcome to wait here,” Eöl Ar-Feiniel told her as he shuffled more of his papers around.
“Are you sure I’m not disturbing you?”
He shook his head. “Oh, no! I was just about to take a break. I’ve been meaning to visit with you, Brijit. I think that I could answer some questions you might have.”
Brijit looked at him sharply. “Questions?”
“About the Kurunii. Surely, you must have questions.” His old eyes were suddenly shrewd. “You do realize that as the chief archivist in Séreméla I have access to more information than almost anyone else in Five Corners.”
Brijit stared at him.
“The Kurunii are an interesting group. They have existed for a very long time. Come and sit with me and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Brijit followed Eöl Ar-Feiniel to the small sitting area. He lowered himself into a chair and closed his eyes. “This place is tiring,” he murmured. “I wish Nestariel would leave it and come back to Séreméla. She is hastening her own demise living this close to The Rift.” He opened his eyes then and saw Brijit watching him. She wondered if he’d forgotten she was there.
“So the Kurunii. Yes, they have been in Five Corners since the beginning. You are part of an ancient order of women who have done much good in their time.”
Brijit was surprised. “But then why do so many people fear and hate them.”
Eöl Ar-Feiniel sighed. “Well, people tend to fear what is different and what they don’t understand. And I’m afraid my people have helped to stoke the fear regarding both the Kurunii and the Draíodóir.”
Brijit stiffened at the mention of the order of druids.
“Ah, Kurunii are fine but you don’t like the Draíodóir, Brijit?” Eöl Ar-Feiniel gave dry chuckle. “Be careful you don’t fall into hypocrisy, my dear.”
At Brijit’s confused look, he softened.
“Forgive me. I forget that you are not privy to the knowledge I have. Let me start with the Kurunii. Tracing their origins is almost impossible because they have always been in Five Corners. At least as far back as recorded history goes. They were an order of women who wielded magik to heal and care for others.”
“But if they always did good, then why is there such prejudice against them,” Brijit asked.
A deep sadness washed over Eöl Ar-Feiniel’s face. “That is partly the doing of the Elders.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Too many innocent women were killed because of that prejudice, all started because of jealousy.”
Brijit was surprised. What could the Elders be jealous of?
Eöl Ar-Feiniel read her thoughts. “Their ability to wield magik, my dear.”
“But Elders have always been able to wield magik.”
Eöl Ar-Feiniel nodded. “That is true, but not in the way you imagine.” His brow furrowed and he seemed to be searching for words. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Surprised, Brijit stood and followed him out to the hall. Without talking, he led her outside to a part of the fortress she had never been in before. “Come,” he called back to her over his shoulder, his words carried away by a dry, hot wind.
He stopped on the ramparts facing westward and looked into the distance, worry and distaste on his face. “You see that?” he pointed.
Brijit followed his line of sight and saw a mass of never-ending darkness on the horizon. She swallowed back her fear and stared, wholly mesmerized.
“That, my dear, is The Rift. And it exists entirely because we have made it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Brijit turned to Eöl Ar-Feiniel in horror. “We made it?” she looked at the way the brown sands ebbed into black as they got closer to The Rift. She remembered how the desert she had traveled over with the Elder knights had been completely barren of any living or growing thing. It was like everything was dead on it.
In the distance, the darkness swirled. Brijit instinctively stepped back from the edge of the rampart, her eyes filling with tears. How could they have made that much evil?
She turned back to Eöl Ar-Feiniel. “How?” she whispered.
The old man touched her arm gently. “Do you understand that even using a bit of magik is a great responsibility that has repercussions?” he asked softly.
Brijit paused. She hadn’t thought of that. Her grandmother had not guided her in the use of magik, and it wasn’t taught at the Academy. And yet deep down she knew that it wasn’t something one wasted. You only used magik if all other means of remedy had failed. Her grandmother had taught her that, even if Brijit hadn’t realized it at the time.
She nodded.
“Good, then you instinctively know what too many over the years have ignored and some are still ignoring.”
He looked at the swirling evil in the distance once more and said, “Let’s talk more inside.”
Brijit was happy to leave that darkness behind. It seemed to her that it embodied the voices she had heard in Weylon’s mind when she had entered it in Jirgen Forest. Dread filled her again, and she pulled her attention back to Eöl Ar-Feiniel who was striding ahead of her back to Nestariel’s chambers.
Once there he put the kettle over the fire and turned back to her.
“Sit, Brijit. I will make some tea.”
Brijit sat blindly, trying to make sense of what she had seen on the ramparts. The Rift was far more deadly and evil than anything she could have imagined. And Eöl Ar-Feiniel said they were responsible for it.
When she had a warm cup of mint tea in her hands, Eöl Ar-Feiniel sat across from her.
“I’m sorry to have upset you so much, Brijit, but it’s important that you understand this. You, in particular, with the power that you possess.”
She looked at him sharply.
“You are a Kurunii and a Coimirceoirí, Brijit. That particular blend has never been made before. And I would know if it had. The Elder Council had a very specific purpose in choosing you to be the Coimirceoirí of the royal family. I don’t know what that purpose is, but I am sure your appointment was no accident.”
“How did we make that…that evil, Eöl Ar-Feiniel?” Brijit burst out, unable to hold it in anymore.
The old Elder sat back in his chair and took a sip of his own tea. “Ah, that is an excellent question.” He paused and studied her. “You do understand that when magik is used even for good, there is a discharge of negative energy.”
Brijit furrowed her brow. She had never heard of such a thing.
Eöl Ar-Feiniel went on, “Think of it as payment for the use of magik. Each use costs a little – the price is a bit of darkness coming into the world.”
Brijit didn’t like where this conversation was leading.
“Now, that wasn’t a big deal when there were few people wielding magik and it was used for valid re
asons. A Kurunii might draw on the power to help with a particularly difficult healing or a Draíodóir might use it to shift the weather when a particularly harsh drought hit the land. And those uses were manageable. Some darkness was let in but it would disperse before more magik was used.”
Brijit nodded. That made perfect sense.
“But it changed many generations ago. I’m ashamed to say that my people, in particular, learned how to use magik for their purposes. They learned that a little bit of magik would make the flowers bloom brighter or make their faces age slower. And so more and more Elders started using magik. But they did so without any thought as to the dark side of using magik. They thought that since they were using it for such small things, they didn’t have to be careful.” His green eyes filled with sorrow. “They were wrong.”
“By the time Queen Aibhilín came to power, the damage had been done. The Rift was growing at a tremendous rate and the Western Sea was almost entirely dead. But magikal use wasn’t checked. In fact, in Séreméla it was being used more and more. And as the use grew the more The Rift grew. It wasn’t until The Rift was on the very borders of Séreméla that it got the notice of Queen Aibhilín and the Elder Council. At first the queen didn’t believe that the Elders needed to change their lifestyle. Aibhilín herself was an excessive user of magik. Her lifestyle would have to change dramatically to even consider cutting out its use. And so instead of changing the lives of the people in Séreméla, she demanded that the people of Five Corners stop using magik.”
Brijit gasped. “The Kurunii and the Draíodóir.”
Eöl Ar-Feiniel nodded. “Yes, the very people who were using magik responsibly and for the good of all of Five Corners were the ones who were punished.”
“But that wasn’t fair.”
Eöl Ar-Feiniel shook his snowy head. “No, but at that stage in her reign Aibhilín was more interested in keeping the Elders happy than considering what was good for all of Five Corners. As you can imagine, the Kurunii and the Draíodóir were not pleased with this ultimatum from Séreméla. At first they ignored it completely, but then both Kurunii and Draíodóir began to turn up dead. Aibhilín had ordered any who disobeyed her to be put to death.”
