The Lord of the Lake (6)
A serialized dark romantic fantasy novella
Chapter 6: From fire and water reborn
They left Avem on a cold and sunny autumn morning, with the Birdlings singing their farewell songs.
Crane was among the Birdlings; she came up to Thymia to bid her farewell. The old woman took Thymia’s hand and pressed a silver ring into her palm.
“Where did you…?” Thymia asked, her eyes desperately seeking answers in the sorceress’ eyes, but strangely, Crane turned her sight to the East.
“Look ahead, young Thymiani, not back! Leave the ones who are meant to be dead, behind! This ring I found by what was left of the man you knew. Keep it as a memory of what you’ve endured! And move on!” Crane spoke quietly.
Thymia nodded, clutching Erkos ring in her hand. Tears clouded her eyes. If there was a tiny glimmer of hope inside her, that Erko might somehow be alive - this was the proof of his certain death.
First few days went by peacefully - the Old Autumn was kind to prince Ulrich. On the far West of Autumna there were no villages, travellers camped for the night in tents. The main adversities Ulrich had to face were the cold nights, mosquitos, the frightening howls and shrieks of the wolverines, and the hissing of the lizardons.
“It’s such a pity the Old Autumn is going easy on you!” Thymia teased him, sitting by the fire under the starry sky.
“Thym, you’re asking for it!” Elian warned her.
“Indeed, I would like to see the real face of the Old Autumn, that I’ve heard many horrible stories about,” Ulrich smiled at Thymia, squinting his eyes.
After some hours, the Damned land justified its name; the travellers woke up with cold wind shaking their tents. The freezing rain made every single spot in the campsite wet, they left early without a warm meal.
“Is this how Autumna is usually?!” Prince Ulrich yelled in the wind; he was soaking wet, freezing, and more miserable than ever.
“Very much so, yes!” High Queen Eliani shouted back, “don’t despair! We’ll reach the Snakeling village after a couple of hours!”
Hours?! Ulrich could not bear a minute longer in this terrible weather! But he braced himself; if Thymia and her brothers could withstand this storm, so could he!
Prince’s hands were freezing and numb despite the leather gloves he wore, when they finally saw the wooden tower of the Snakeling castle in the distance.
The village seemed older than the swamp itself - low wooden log houses with roofs made of reeds, the Snakeling people themselves all dressed in long grey or white robes appeared ancient, nothing like Hebenians or Birdlings, or even Autumnians who lived around them.
The Snakeling Lord greeted his guests, leaning on a spear. He walked right up to Thymia and embraced her tightly.
“My dear Thymiani!” The old man looked into her eyes concerned.
“I’m alright, Grandfather!”
“You are the bravest girl I’ve ever seen! After all you’ve gone through…” he frowned at the twins.
After Ulrich was presented to him, the Snakeling Lord noted,
“You’re very much like your grandfather King Adrian, not your father Ulf. A mighty ruler King Adrian was! Ulf is far too hasty.”
“Indeed, he is!” The prince said smiling. The old Snakeling Lord looked at him, squinting his snake eyes, then his sight turned to Thymia, then back to the prince.
“Good! Good!” The old man murmured, obviously pleased with what he saw.
Yet again, luck was on the prince’s side; they decided to stay in the village until the rains had pasted. The Autumnian siblings showed him the village, they spent the time talking and practicing Snakeling sword fighting. Ulrich watched Thymia with deep admiration, as she swayed with the narrow Snakeling blade. Meanwhile, High Queen Eliani and the Snakeling Lord observed both; the High Queen secretly winked at the old man, he nodded turning his eyes back to Ulrich and Thymia.
On the day of their departure, Thymia dragged Ulrich up the wooden watchtower of the castle. All the pools, lakes and puddles of the moorlands reflected the golden sunlight. The prince gasped with awe; Old Autumn was both dangerous and breath-taking.
“The sight from our castle’s High tower is even better!” Thymia stated.
The sunlight shone golden in Ulrich’s hair, his eyes were sky-blue; tall and stately he stood near the girl.
“Oh, prince of Hebeny! One day some girl will be truly lucky to call herself your wife.” Thymia gave him a brotherly tap on the shoulder and went downstairs.
Prince opened his mouth, clearly something had to be said, but, sadly, Thymia had gone away too soon!
After he climbed down, the twins approached him, with sly smiles all over their faces.
“You know, our parents used to meet in this watchtower, when they first fell in love,” said Elian. Ulrich replied with a heartfelt smile. He couldn’t wait to spend the winter in New Autumna, alongside Thymia.
The journey continued without any notable adventures, apart from cold and damp weather.
***
Nearly breathless, Oriole ran into the Council hall without knocking. Luckily the meeting had just ended - Crane, Queen Coratia, Hector, and the Birdling Elders were slowly moving towards the door, quietly discussing the unusually dry weather in Avem.
“Please, Crane! If you could! It’s a matter of life and death!” Oriole cried, still trying to catch her breath.
“Do calm yourself down, child! What is it this time?!” Crane asked, not even slightly surprised by her young apprentice’s sudden arrival.
“Please! Come with me! We must hurry!” Oriole begged her and turned to the door. The old sorceress Crane followed as fast as she could, leaning on her staff.
When they left the castle halls, both of the Birdling women turned into birds - Oriole became a yellow oriole bird, and the old sorceress - a completely white and a very old crane. They flew North for quite a while, landed by a little wooden house on the ground. Usually, Birdling houses were built in trees, there was one just above the shack, but the girl obviously led Crane to the lower one.
“So, it must be something big this time, if you kept it in the lower shack,” Crane pondered. “Tell me, what creature are you trying to steal away from death this time, Oriole?!”
The oriole bird had turned into a tall and slender young girl; her long, red hair had a golden glow to it, a beauty of eighteen summers and a future Healer she was.
“It is a different beast this time. Big and heavy.” Oriole stopped at the door, turned swiftly at her old teacher Crane, and cried,
“Crane, I’ve tried nearly everything I know! He doesn’t have the strength to live, but he refuses to die!”
“Alright! Calm down, child! Let’s see what we have here…” Crane followed Oriole inside the shack and stopped, staring at the one laying in the death bed.
It was a young dark-skinned man, tall and handsome with long black hair and a masculine frame. He laid lifeless, barely breathing. Crane couldn’t believe her old black eyes. It couldn’t be! It shouldn’t be! No, it was not! Far too young! But the likeness was undeniable!
“Do you know who this is?” She asked Oriole.
“An Autumnian, I think,” the girl replied innocently, “found him by the lake some weeks ago, not far from Tridum. I flew to the lakeside meadow to pick wildflowers before autumn sets in. He was lying in the shallow and lost most of his blood. Completely naked, he had nothing but silver rings on his fingers. I brought him here, kept him alive, but I do not know how to help him live.”
“Oh, dear child! Dirty blood runs in his veins!”
“There’s hardly any blood running in his veins! How can we help him, Crane?” Oriole’s black beady eyes teared up.
“Maybe we should let the Foreverold take this soul. His father was a vile man, with a soul cruel and corrupted! And this one looks like his father’s reflection,” Crane shook her white-haired head.
“But Crane, can we judge the son by his father’s deeds? Besides, his spirit is not willing to move on!” Oriole objected.
“Judging from what I’ve heard - this one is not much of a good man! A scoundrel, like most of the Autumnians!” Crane smirked, looking at the handsome face of the dying man.
“Please, Crane! I’ve tried so hard to help him!” Tears rolled down the girl’s face.
“Alright! There is a way,” Crane sighed heavily,” he’ll need Birdling blood. A lot more than in the usual life-binding spells. Who will give him the blood?”
“I will!” The young Healer replied with no hesitation.
“Must I remind you, my apprentices are to remain pure both in soul and flesh?” The old sorceress squinted looking deep into Oriole’s eyes.
“There’s nothing of that sort, Crane! I only wish to save his life, nothing more!”
Crane nodded and prepared to perform the life-binding spell. She stirred up the embers in the hearth, put some wood in it and hung a kettle of water above the flames.
The whole ceiling of the shack was covered in bunches of dried-up flowers and herbs - so much, it resembled a meadow hung upside down. Crane plucked some herbs here and there, threw them into the kettle, singing a melodious enchantment. She was a Birdling Healer, she did not know her own age, but the old sorceress had seen men born and grown old, wars begin and end, seasons change in a blink of an eye, she led the council of the Birdling Elders, and her wisdom was well known far across Avem. She received Prophecies from the Foreverold and usually found their meaning infallibly.
Crane sang the enchantment in a bird’s voice. The potion was ready, Oriole had brought a string of an ivy that her old teacher requested.
“Now, watch and learn, child! This is a tricky life-binder. It may or may not work. Depends on him…” she looked at the dying Autumnian, “and if it does - may the Foreverold take mercy upon us, for I do not know how Birdling blood shall sit with this one!”
Crane gave Oriole the potion; she drank half of it; they poured the other half into the man’s mouth.
“To make your blood align - so that the Birdling blood is not rejected,” the old Healer explained. She made Oriole lay down on the other bed of the shack and pulled out a dagger.
First Crane took the man’s hand, cut into his large blood vessel; no blood oozed out. She inserted the end of the ivy string into it. Crane did the same with Oriole’s hand, bonding the two of them together. The healer began to sing a sonorous incantation, her bird-like chanting was in the ancient Avem tongue, emerged before the first man-spoken word was said. The Birdling magic made the blood travel through the ivy string from Oriole to the dying man; no drop was spilled in vain - the girl’s rosy cheeks grew pale, but the man’s chest began to rise and fall, his breathing became deeper, until he opened his eyes.
“I think he had enough.” Crane stopped singing, she cut the bonding cord between the two and tied the ivy tightly around their arms to prevent bleeding.
Erko stared at the flower-covered ceiling, then turned his head left - he saw a pale, slender girl with golden-red hair, smiling at him warmly.
“Thymia…Thymia…” Erko tried to speak.
“Hush! Save your strength, lad!” Said Crane.
“Raven…”
“…is dead. Thymiani killed him. She’s safe, she’ll be heading home soon,” Crane reassured him.
“Who is he, Crane?” Now that his life wasn’t in danger, Oriole finally asked.
“His face told me. You’re the son of the late High King Damian of Autumna, aren’t you?”
“But he was a terrible man!” Oriole exclaimed.
Erko turned his face away, closing his eyes. A teardrop escaped from the corner of his eye.
Crane once more filled up the kettle with water.
“I’ll make some strengthening tea for both of you.”
After she had put the herbs to boil, the old healer sat looking at the fire and spoke:
“Not only was the man terrible and his deeds - vile. He was also a successor of the Great wizard of Autumna, the Lord of the Lake. Yes, Oriole, the same who made the Autumn lake disappear out of sheer spite and revenge, and cursed the land, the lake revealed. Now, the magic had run short through the ages, but it was still lurking beneath the surface of ignorance. We must watch our Autumnian here - the magic he received with your Birdling blood might make the power of the Autumnian wizard come back to life. And if he uses it to harm… we shall have to take your blood back!”
“Oh no! He cannot be a villain! Can you?” Oriola looked at Erko with tears shining in her black Birdling eyes.
Erko didn’t turn his head to the girl, he never answered.
Crane silently nodded. After she gave the two of them tea, the Healer looked at Erko’s wound.
“You did well, Oriole. But why must you be so keen on keeping secrets?” Crane smiled at her apprentice.
“I learn from my teacher!” She replied happily. The old Crane rolled her eyes and murmured something vaguely resembling a curse.
Her eyes glanced over the shack. Oriole fell asleep, tired of the blood loss. The old sorceress’ sight stopped at the table. Several tarnished silver rings were laying on it. She took a quick look at Erko, then Crane approached the table and quickly left the shack.
Erko felt much stronger in the morning.
“Where’s Thymia?”
“I don’t know. You should ask Crane. She’ll fly here soon,” Oriole replied, while cooking breakfast.
“And who are you?” Erko tried to sit up but fell back overwhelmed by pain.
“Easy there! Or you’ll tear the stitches!” The girl ran up to him. “I’m Oriole, Crane’s apprentice. And you’re rude, sir Autumnian! How about thanking me for saving you?! And carrying all the way here! You’re heavy, you know!”
Erko turned away angrily.
“Thank you!” He muttered.
Oriole shook her head. The girl took care of him all morning, as she had done for weeks now, but all the gratitude she received was silent ignorance.
“Where’s Thymia?” Erko asked without greeting Crane, the very minute she walked in.
“Good morning, Autumnian! Young Thymiani has left for New Autumna along with her family,” Crain explained calmly.
“No! It can’t be! She wouldn’t go away without seeing me! Does she know I’m alive?” Erko attempted to sit up once more, but Oriole yet again pushed him down.
“No, she does not! And we shall keep it that way. You won’t do the girl any good! She has suffered enough! A Snakegrass smuggler you are! Bought her from a slave-trader, but not to save the girl, oh no! No pure intentions were on your mind, don’t even try to deny it!”
“Wasn’t going to!” Erko retorted.
“When you recover - by all means, go after her to New Autumna!” Crane looked at him with contempt.
“I can’t return!”
“I thought so. And do you honestly believe Thymiani’s family will except you? I, for once, do not believe you’re not tempted by the power laid before you. If it wasn’t for the current High Queen, you would’ve been the heir of Autumna. Who will believe you met Thymia in a tavern by mere chance?” Crane shook her head.
“It was a coincidence! I sat in the tavern, heard Pigeye bragging with his new whore, looked over - damn it! She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen! My girl…” Erko went silent, holding back the tears, but two teardrops still ran down his face. Oriole gave Crane a reproachful look.
“Can you truly declare; power does not tempt you?” Crane kept interrogating Erko.
“I don’t want anything connected with my father!”
“But Thymia will always be close to the throne of Autumna, she is the High Queen’s daughter.”
“Thymia doesn’t want the royal life either! We’ll live a simple life. We’ll live for each other!” Erko said in despair.
“One more thing, Autumnian! You’re not destined for each other. I had a Prophecy from the Foreverold, it clearly stated - you’re not her fate!” Crane got up, leaving the shack; she had enough of this fool already!
Although Erko’s spirit was grim, his body recovered quickly. Crane visited the shack every day, and each time she scolded Erko for whatever reason.
“Why must you be so harsh on him? Just because he’s the son of this Damian? Or because he’s Autumnian?” Oriole asked, walking Crane out of the shack after her everyday visit.
“Dear child! Beware of this breed! Autumnians are driven by vile urges. And his father was the worst of them all.”
“I think you’re wrong! Not all Autumnians are the same.”
The old healer shook her head in disbelief.
“I’ll keep an eye on him. And you. I fear, by the time he recovers - he’ll try to pull you into bed!” Crane had to keep the last word.
The apprentice surpassed the teacher in her judgment; Erko had only eyes for Thymia.
“You know what, Oriole? You remind me of my mother!” He shouted at the Healer, when she made him clean his plate - Erko lost his appetite whenever he thought of Thymia.
“Were you rude to her as well?” Oriole yelled back.
“No!” Suddenly his face lit up, “no, I wasn’t! My mother was kind. She took care of me without asking anything in return, just like you do.”
Oriole smiled victoriously - she knew Erko had a good heart! For some reason, he just hid it beneath this brooding arrogance.
Still Crane did not share her beliefs.
Erko got well enough to do some chores around the shack - he felt bored to death, lying in bed all day.
He was lighting the fire in the hearth one day, when Crane came to visit. Oriole went to get some water, Erko smiled at her, just before the girl left.
“Don’t you smile so warmly, you sly fox! I know your Autumnian ways. You lay one finger on her - I’ll cut you worse than Raven did!” Crane threatened.
“I wasn’t even… Oriole is a sister to me!” The shock made him stutter, “but the wise Crane knows best, doesn’t she?” Erko noticed both disbelief and contempt in the old sorcerer’s black eyes.
“I will never be honest enough for you, because of my father’s face, won’t I? If such is your judgment - your wisdom isn’t worth a damn!” Erko yelled in Crane’s face. Suddenly the water in the kettle bubbling above the fire began to rise, - an invisible force carried it upward. Then it fell down into the fire, putting it out in a cloud of smoke.
“What just happened?” Oriole rushed back carrying a bucket of water.
“Nothing much! Our kind Crane here thinks I’ll pull you in bed the second she walks out the door, because I’m a dirty Autumnian!” Erko kept yelling, overtaken by anger.
The water from the bucket did the same - it rose up by some force, with all three staring at it, then it fell down, soaking the shrieking Oriole wet!
“Crane, what was it?!” She shouted.
“I was afraid it might happen. The Birdling blood has woken the magic of the Autumnian wizard. You’re his distant heir.”
“Did I do that?” Erko gasped.
“Tell us - has water ever obeyed your will?” Oriole asked.
“No!” Erko retorted, but then he covered his eyes, and continued, “yes, maybe… I have tried to… end my life, drowning. But every time I nearly did - it seemed the water was pushing me to the surface for a breath.”
“There!” Crane noted.
“Why would you want to end your life?” The young Healer did not understand. She spent many days and nights of her life saving lives of wounded creatures, why would anybody want to kill themselves deliberately?
Erko didn’t answer. They sat in silence, until Crane spoke:
“I might have to do something I do not want.”
“What? You’re going to kill me? Do it! Release me from my father’s curse! I didn’t have the courage, nor did Thymia, Raven almost got it done. Go on!” Erko said, daringly looking into Crane’s eyes.
“No, I’ll have to do something even more frightening. A fool should not be granted with magic, but if I must choose the lesser evil…I’ll make you my apprentice. It’s better you know what you’re doing, rather than you don’t know. If I teach you to use magic, and you use it for malice, at least the blame will be yours, not mine,” the old sorceress ended her proposition with a nod.
Erko stood with his jaw dropped. So did Oriole.
“Thank you!” He finally muttered.
***
Ulrich couldn’t take his dreamy stare from Thymia’s eyes cast downward, while she read yet again the book on the history of Autumna. Who could’ve thought that the prince would find a pair of sorrowful, green eyes more engaging than a book!
Thymia accidentally dropped the hefty volume, Ulrich swiftly fell on his knees to pick it up, their hands touched as he gave the book back, Ulrich’s heart raced; he was ready to say those three words…
Suddenly the twins entered the library.
“Oh, we didn’t mean to interrupt!” They said smiling.
“You didn’t interrupt anything; we were just reading,” Thymia replied.
“Of course, of course!” Thomian could barely contain his laughter.
“Are you ready for the feast? It’ll be grand!” Elian exclaimed.
“I’m still not taking part in it,” Thymia refused the offer.
“Thym, don’t be such an old hag! Ulrich is leaving the day after tomorrow, let’s have a laugh together one last time,” Thomian scolded her, smiling.
The prince had spent all winter in New Autumna. He was amazed by the enormous castle, mostly he laughed and joked away the days with the royal siblings, but most of all he enjoyed Thymia.
Spring came to Hebeny, his father King Ulf had written to his son, expecting the prince to visit him in the valley of Thilia, where the spring blossomed more brightly than anywhere else in the kingdom.
Thymia still dressed in black, acting very much like a widow should. The High Queen and her brothers tried to persuade the girl to take part in the feast - in honour of their dearest guest, Prince of Hebeny. So far, they had not succeeded.
“Indeed, I’m begging on my knees - will you honour my humble existence with your graceful presence at the feast?” Ulrich said, kneeling and smiling.
Thymia murmured “fool!”, but said aloud,
“Alright, I’ll come! Do get up! But I won’t dance!”
“Thank you!” The prince got up and kissed her hand.
Thymia returned to her chambers, the afternoon was late, she had to prepare for the evening - mother sent her an emerald-green dress, it would become her eyes very well. Thymia sighed and got ready.
“I believe the young Prince has fallen in love with our daughter!” The High Queen whispered to her husband, while watching Ulrich and Thymia sitting close and talking. He would rather spend the whole evening speaking with her, than dancing with other High-born maidens.
“The fool!” The High King retorted, “where was he a year ago? Had the prince fallen for her sooner, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten lost!”
“Don’t be so harsh on dear Ulrich! He’s such a sweetheart!”
“But will he marry her? She’s lost her virtue in the wilderness,” the High King frowned, looking at Ulrich making Thymia laugh.
“Our daughter is not a whore! Her marriage with the Autumnian was legitimate. She’s a widow,” the High Queen objected.
“Will that be good enough for the throne of Hebeny? I don’t believe so…”
Meanwhile, the feast went on, with music and dancing, and singing. The twins secretly treated Ulrich with the best booze they could get. Slightly light-headed from the beverage, he stood near Thymia, listening to a choir of maidens singing a song in old Autumnian tongue. They sang melodiously of a lover who shall not return from the sea. Thymia’s hand was so close, Ulrich reached to touch it, when the girl suddenly ran off sobbing. He followed without hesitation.
He found Thymia standing in the shadows of a hallway, but before Ulrich got to console the girl, the twins ran up to the pair, grabbed them by the hands and dragged them along. Both brothers were drunk, the four stumbled their way into the Bathing room with a small, clear indoor pool. The twins danced around, lighting all the candles, while Ulrich stared at Thymia’s teary eyes, searching his mind for some words of comfort. Before he had said anything, Thomian pushed him into the pool!
“Looks like you need to freshen up, Prince of Hebeny!”
“He can’t swim, Thom!” Thymia reached to pull the poor struggling Ulrich out of the water. Instead of replying or helping, Thomian pushed his sister into the pool as well.
“Come down, Ulrich! It’s not that deep, you can reach the bottom!” She held the drowning prince. Both brothers ran back to the feast laughing.
“I can reach it. Forgive me, I’m such a fool!” Ulrich looked into her eyes.
“No, you’re not! It’s my fault, I haven’t taught you how to swim.”
Both stood holding each other close in the warm, dark pool; candle flame reflections danced on the black surface of the stirred waters all around them. Before Ulrich could comprehend what he’s doing, the prince pulled Thymia closer and kissed her. Immediately, he got pushed away; Thymia climbed out of the pool and ran, without looking back.
“Fool! Fool! Fool!” Ulrich banged his head against the side of the pool. He had to find her.
A Noble man would never visit a maiden’s chamber in the middle of the night. Ulrich kept scolding himself all the way, but his feet still dragged him to Thymia’s chambers.
Thymia wasn’t there yet, the guard let Ulrich enter the chambers and wait for the girl. The prince was well known at the castle, in fact, the rumours about Ulrich’s affections toward princess Thymiani had spread amongst the guards and servants.
This was wrong. He shouldn’t be here. Ulrich paced back and forth in Thymia’s study. But he had to explain himself. What was there to explain? He got drunk and forced a kiss upon a princess. A Noble man does not act this way. Not even in Autumna.
The prince was about to leave, when he noticed an amber coloured light flickering under the gap of the next door. It was Thymia’s bed chamber, obviously. Maybe she was in there? Ulrich knocked cautiously and listened. No answer. He shouldn’t open the door to a maiden’s bed chamber, yet he did. The light came from a gap of an unlocked trunk on her bed. Ulrich couldn’t help himself - what kind of a fool would leave a candle burning inside the trunk? The prince saw a silver ring lying next to the trunk, a tiny silver key was still in the lock. Ulrich opened the lid. Bright light blinded his eyes. He saw a fiery glass vessel, filled with an amber-coloured burning liquid. Ulrich had never seen anything like it. Dazzled, the prince held the ball and slowly paced out of the room observing the marvellous glaring of the floating flames.
He was startled by the study door slamming open as Thymia walked in. Frightened, the poor fool threw the ball back into the bedchamber, hoping it would land in the bed, before Thymia had noticed he ever held it.
A wave of hot air from the explosion threw both of them into the hallway. They hit the wall, fell down, lying unconscious, while raging flames spread across the bed chamber, and came closer every second.
Ulrich was awakened by hot air burning his face, he opened his eyes to fire and smoke coming nearer. Quickly he got up, grabbed Thymia and ran away, through the smoke, just in time - the fire overtook the hall in mere seconds. The prince, still dizzy, ran towards the exit, yelling “fire!”, soon enough guards had warned the guests, people frantically ran out of the burning building. Ulrich crossed the drawbridge, tripped and fell down to the ground along with Thymia.
“Let go of me!” She rolled out of his arms. Both watched the amber-coloured flames rise.
“Why did you take it?” Thymia screamed at him.
“What was it?!” The shocked prince asked.
“Thymia! Thymia!” The twins were running their way.
“You don’t tell anyone I had the ball, and I won’t tell you set the castle on fire,” she whispered.
Ulrich nodded.
Brothers helped the two of them get to the High Queen and King, and the other siblings. They were escorted to a fine inn at the New Autumna town. All night the guards and soldiers fought with the deadly flames, but nothing helped. The royal family stood on a balcony watching their castle burn down. The lake around the castle would stop the fire from spreading into the town.
“I never really liked it anyway,” the High Queen said, smiling sadly, while the flames devoured what’s left of the building. A red dawn emerged in the east.
“Prince of Hebeny, tonight you saved my daughter’s life. I’ll be forever grateful to you. What could I possibly grant you in return?” The High King thanked the prince.
Ulrich went on one knee in front of Thymia.
“I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand. If she agrees…”
“Don’t say no,” Ulrich whispered, begging the girl.
The sly fox! How could she say no? After Ulrich had saved her, and he knew about the fiery ball.
“I will not say no. At least for now,” Thymia replied, while Ulrich smiled happily, holding her hand, with the sun rising behind him.
***
Erko laid still on the perfectly calm surface of the lake. Maybe for an hour or more, who knew? Oriole certainly thought it was longer.
“Come out already! Crane sent us both to harvest herbs, but I’m doing all the work,” Oriole’s voice reverberated across the lake, while she picked plants into a heavy basket. They had to gather spring wildflowers - dandelions, cowslips, tiny nettles, and such.
“Just a bit longer,” Erko replied idly.
“You said that an hour ago! Come out or I’ll throw a rock at you!”
“Alright, alright! Don’t make a fuss!”
The lake obeyed Erko’s will - he made the water carry him; smoothly gliding Erko approached the shore, slightly bumping his behind on the sandbank as he stopped.
“Still have to work on stopping,” Erko noted to himself, while Oriole rolled her eyes - he loved showing off.
All through the winter Crane taught him to use his newly gained power of controlling water. Erko mastered it quickly. He began swimming as soon as the first rays of springtime sun touched the land, despite Oriole’s objections; the water was extremely cold! At least she managed to convince Erko to stop swimming naked in her presence. Erko growled but listened and wore a shirt and trousers when Oriole was around.
Erko was a lazy apprentice when it came to learning magic potions. But with Oriole’s help, he succeeded with those as well.
He stepped out of the water, leisurely paced towards Oriole, picking plant stems here and there, and threw them into the basket.
“We are not picking bentgrass, Erko!” The young Healer took the foul plants out, “Crane gave us a lot of chores to do. Get up, you loafer!”
“Where has Crane gone again?” He asked carelessly, laying in the blooming meadow. Oriole shook her head; although Erko mostly helped her, he loved to pleasure himself with lengthy naps.
“She didn’t say, but she flew North,” Oriole replied, still working hard.
“Get up and help me!” The girl startled Erko, by putting the heavy basket on his stomach. He flinched yet got up and carried the load to the shack, following Oriole.
With the help of Birdling magic, Erko’s wound had healed well, but his soul did not. Every day he looked East, yearning for Thymia, and the longer they were apart, the more he missed her. The heartache made Erko anxious, the only time he was truly at ease was when swimming.
After returning to the shack, Oriole placed the plants on pieces of clean cloth near the hearth to dry them out, while Erko began to rummage through the herbs hanging from the ceiling.
“What are you doing?! I just arranged everything yesterday! Stop it!” Oriole exclaimed.
“Do we have any ‘Grass?” He asked, frantically digging through the dry herbs, with stems and crinkled leaves rustling and falling to the ground.
“What grass?”
“Snakegrass, Oriole! Snakegrass!” He nearly shouted at her.
“No! Why?”
“I need a smoke!”
“You want to smoke it? But you’ve just got better! It’s bad for your heart, you know!” Oriole objected.
“Do we have any booze then?” Erko began to search through some glass vessels on the shelves.
“No! You know we don’t! What’s wrong with you?”
“I want Thymia! If I can’t have a woman, I need something to calm me down.” He kept picking the bottles with his hands shaking, until, of course, one fell down, the glass shattered, and the potion spilled all over the floor.
“Stop it!” Oriole grabbed his hands and looked into Erko’s eyes. Immediately she stepped back - the girl saw a terrifying flame burning in his dark eyes.
Erko turned his back on her.
“Oriole, I think you should sleep in the higher shack from now on!”
“I don’t understand!” She exclaimed.
“I am still an Autumnian. You can’t change that.”
“Alright, I’ll sleep in the higher shack,” Oriole agreed, but felt deeply disappointed; after all, she had failed to change Erko’s nature.
Crane, indeed, had gone North, to Thilia valley, to be precise. As soon as she heard the High Queen of Autumna with her children were coming, after their castle of New Autumna had burned down. King Ulf had kindly invited the Autumnian royal family to stay with him and Ulrich in the valley.
The old crane bird turned into a white-haired sorceress near the white walls of Thilia castle. She went into the courtyard, leaning on her staff. King Ulf, his son and the Autumnian twins were just leaving on horsebacks.
“Greetings, Crane! What brings you to Thilia?” King Ulf said without getting off the horse.
“I’ve heard princess Thymiani is visiting the valley. Where could I find her?”
“Probably in the library,” the twins answered.
Crane nodded and went into the castle. She entered the library - Thymia sat by a window, dressed in black like a shadow on this sunny day. A year ago, she would’ve been the one dragging brothers for a ride on a sunny day like this, especially if prince Ulrich would come along. Now she wished to be left alone, staring at the same old picture of High King Damian with Erko’s face. She hadn’t said “no” to Ulrich, but wouldn’t say “yes” either, no matter how much he smiled at her.
“You have to leave your past behind,” said Crane, looking over the girl’s shoulder. Thymia accidently dropped the book. The old sorceress picked it up.
“The man is dead to you!” Crane closed the book, “and no matter how much you loved each other, he didn’t do you any good.”
Before Thymia got to object, Crane continued:
“He’s not your fate. I received a Prophecy about you.”
“About me?”
“Listen: The one conceived in New moon’s light, her spouse with Birdlings she will find, his heart with unnamed mourning torn, the father’s guilt he shall forlorn, from fire and water he’s reborn.””
“Is it really about me?” Thymia asked.
“Are the Snakeling children not conceived by the new moon?”
They were, Thymia knew it, her father was a Snakeling.
“And what does it mean, the Prophecy?”
“It speaks of your fate. Have you not met any decent men at the Birdlings’?”
Of course, she had! Ulrich was the first man she met, entering the Birdling castle.
Ever since their castle burned down, Thymia had been cold toward the prince. Is he supposed to be her husband? What now? Follow the Prophecy or defy it stubbornly? But Crane was old and wise. And besides - the thought of Thymia becoming the Queen of Hebeny one day, felt strangely empowering.
This spring the linden trees of Thilia valley bloomed richly, the air seemed thickened with their honey-sweet smell. After Crane’s visit, Thymia would go walking under the sun-warmed linden trees of Thilia with Ulrich every afternoon. Brothers went far behind them along with the bodyguards, until one day the twins didn’t come at all, making all sorts of silly excuses.
As Thymia and Ulrich approached the bright, blue lake of the valley, Thymia gave the prince a very serious look and said:
“The time has come, prince of Hebeny!”
“What time?”
“I will teach you how to swim.” Thymia took off the black dress and dived into the clear lake wearing her white petticoat dress.
“Do I have to jump like that, headfirst?” Ulrich was confused by Thymia’s look, and her sudden change of heart.
“No, just come here!”
The prince hurriedly took off his boots and vest and went into the lake - he wouldn’t want to miss the chance of the princess warming up to him!
Ulrich stood waist-high in the water near Thymia.
“Now, take a deep breath and try to lay yourself down on the water! See? It’s holding you.” Thymia supported the prince, while he laid, closing his eyes. Her smile suddenly faded; Erko used to lay in the lake just like this. But it wasn’t Erko. Those two couldn’t be more apart. What about Crane’s Prophecy? Surely, the sorceress must be right. And what was there for Thymia to lose? Let it be! She will not resist her fate!
Thymia took off Erko’s golden ring and let it sink to the bottom of the lake. Then she leaned over and gently kissed Ulrich on the cheek. Poor prince did not expect that! Startled, he began struggling in the water, until Thymia held him. Both stood close in the sunlit lake. Ulrich whispered something in her ear, and cheerfully exulted after hearing her reply.
***
“Here, put these on a piece of cloth near the hearth!” Crane ordered, shoving a basket of linden tree flowers into Erko’s hands. He inhaled the delicate, sweet smell.
“Where did you get these?”
“Thilia valley, North from here. The best linden trees grow there, and it’s the best time to gather them,” the old sorceress seemed to be in good spirits, she didn’t even scold Erko, or call him a loafer, or the good-for-nothing Autumnian, like she usually did. Crane had been gone for several days, now she came back extremely pleased.
“What’s “The one conceived in the new moon’s light”?” Erko suddenly asked, while spreading the linden tree flowers on the cloth.
“Where did you hear that?” The shocked Crane exclaimed. She had shared her Prophecy only with Queen Coratia, Hector and Thymia.
“Don’t know! Just remembered a poem, probably I’ve read it somewhere. It says something about Birdlings, so maybe you know it,” Erko said carelessly and shrugged.
“What poem?! Tell me!” Crane yelled at him.
“No need to shout! It goes something like this: “The one conceived in new moon’s light, her spouse with Birdlings she will find, his heart with unnamed mourning torn, the father’s guilt he shall forlorn, from fire and water he’s reborn.””
“Oh, Foreverold! Why must you mock me?! First you let this scoundrel obtain magic, now you give him Prophecies?” Crane cried, running out of the shack. Erko shrugged once more, then put more wood into the fire. Poor old Crane has finally lost her mind. No wonder, at her age!
“How long has that fool been receiving Prophecies?!” Crane asked, after flying up to the higher shack.
“Erko receives Prophecies?” Oriole nearly laughed.
“He received one. The same that I got. Oh, why must the Foreverold make fun of me?” The old sorceress cried.
Oriole calmed her teacher down, Crane told her the Prophecy, and all about her journey to Thilia.
“Maybe your understanding of the Prophecy was wrong?”
“Impossible!”
“But it might just as well be about Erko, not about that other man. Maybe he has to undo his father’s evil deeds?” Oriole wondered.
“Have you ever received a Prophecy, Oriole?! No! Don’t wreck your silly young head - the wisdom of Prophecies is higher than you can comprehend!” Crane yelled.
“But maybe…”
“Who are you to teach me?” Crane scolded her.
“What are you two yelling up there?” Erko shouted, “I’m off to the lake for a swim, if you need me,” he paced away whistling carelessly.
Oriole gave her teacher a stubborn stare, turned into a bird and flew after him.
“Don’t you dare tell him about the Prophecy, you hear me?” Crane shouted.
“Wait!” Oriole landed near Erko, turning into a girl.
“What is it?”
“That Prophecy you received…” she tried to catch her breath.
“Was that a Prophecy?!”
“It might be about you and your Thymia! I don’t agree with Crane - she thinks it’s about another man,” Oriole said.
“Thymia has another man?” As Erko spoke the lake beside him bubbled up.
“She already told Thymia about the prophecy.”
The lake ascended slowly, with Erko clutching his fists.
“Put the lake down!” Oriole shrieked.
Erko marched forward angrily, the lake fell, splashing the girl wet through.
“Where are you going?!”
“To Thilia valley,” he replied.
Nobody dared to stand in the way of the young Autumnian walking through the nearby Birdling village, with a hateful fire burning in his eyes. No one objected when he took a horse tied by a tree, and rode north, followed by a yellow oriole bird, flapping its wings as fast as it could. He reached Thilia valley by nightfall, dark storm clouds gathered above the blooming linden trees. A storm emerged of unseen strength and fury.
Erko stopped by the lake, rain pouring down on him, the lightning flashed on his face, the thunder echoed across the valley. He saw the castle on the other side of the lake; warm light of the windows poured into the black of the night. Sounds of festive music weaved through the thunderstorm.
Erko raised his hands at the lake - the water rose up.
“Stop! Don’t drown those people! You don’t even know what they’re celebrating!” Screamed Oriole, landing near him.
“It’s a wedding, what else could it be?” He retorted.
“Please, wait! I’ll fly and have a look. Maybe it’s something else. Please!” She begged.
“Be quick, Oriole!” He let the lake calm down, while the storm still raged on.
The yellow bird flew as fast as it could and landed on a windowsill. She saw a candle-lit festive hall, many people happily dancing and in the midst of it all - a young man with his hair the colour of the sun dancing with a beautiful, green-eyed Autumnian girl. Both looked at each other smiling and as the song ended, they kissed.
Oriole flew back, Erko had raised the lake once again.
“It’s not a wedding, it’s an engagement feast,” she said, “put the lake down, Erko! Crane was right. Your Thymia is happy with that man. Please, don’t hurt them!”
The lake fell down on Erko, as he screamed and crouched. He stepped out of the water still bending.
“It hurts, Oriole! It hurts!”
“Your injury?! Oh, it must’ve not been all healed!”
“No, here it hurts!” Erko pointed at his heart.
“Oh, Erko!” Oriole embraced the poor soaked man.
He saw something glimmering on the shore. His mother’s golden ring. Erko picked it up.
“Is Thymia really happy?”
“She danced with the handsome man, and they kissed…”
“Enough!” Erko shouted. He returned the horse to the Birdling village and followed Oriole back to their shack. It was nearly dawn.
The morning rose fog-covered with a thunderstorm roaring in the distance.
“It hurts that bad, laddie?” Crane asked sympathetically, watching Erko. He laid on his bed, water dripping from his wet, black hair. Erko didn’t answer.
“There, there! You’ll get over it. Water obeys your will, you’ll learn the potions, and become a Healer. You’ll live in Hebeny, like you always wanted. Maybe even find a decent girl for a wife,” Crane consoled him. Erko slowly shook his head.
The old sorceress poured some tea in his cup.
“Drink! It’ll calm you down.”
Erko drank the tea. He remembered of the golden ring clutched in his fist. He looked at his hand - he still had the ring Thymia put on his finger. Erko swore silently never to take it off.
A very powerful story. Bravo.
Erko lives! Poor Erko....