Aoghani Chronicles - Prologue

He paced back and forth for hours. They would not let him in nor tell him anything. His son watched curiously, worry beginning to crease his smooth, 4-year-old brow. If Father was anxious, then something must be wrong. He slowly emerged from the shadows, sleep still weighing on his eyelids, and gently reached for his father’s hand. Aidan was startled and pulled his hand back quickly. He quickly smiled and tousled his son’s hair.

“I’m sorry, my son, I did not hear you coming. What are you doing here at this hour? Where is your governess?” Little Riordan just stared sleepily up at him and reached, once again, for Aidan’s hand. “Nevermind, my darling, I will take you to bed myself.”

As he tenderly scooped his son into his arms, his attention was taken by the familiar creak of the heavy, carved doors. A red faced maid frantically stuck her head out of the door. “Your Majesty, it’s time. You should come.” In the same breath, she was back in the room, leaving the door open behind her.

Aidan quickly set his son back on the floor and took him by the hand. He could not leave him alone in the empty hallway. This sleepy young lad was the future of their village. As they entered the room, he motioned emphatically for a maid to come and stand with his son, and in two steps he was by his beloved bride’s bedside. He stroked her hair and took her hand in his. “Oh, Glenna, we are almost there. Just a minute more and we can see our son.”

His queen could do no more than nod once in the hope that this would be true. She had been in pain for hours and her confidence in the arrival of their assumed son was quickly fading. With one more grimace, a deep breath, and an iron grip on the hand of her beloved, she pushed one last time, She had done it. Tears made their way in rivers down her cheeks. The doctor worked to ensure the health of the baby and excitedly exclaimed, “Congratulations, your Majesties, on the birth of a beautiful princess.”

Most parents would be elated simply at the fact that their child was born healthy. It should not matter that this child was born a princess. They had a son, an heir. Yet dread began to fill their hearts. Without a word between them, their eyes spoke the same simple question. What if she was destined to fulfill the prophecy?

Confusion began to make its way across the elderly doctor’s face. His hands still held the delicately small princess. He stepped forward and held the baby out, offering her to Queen Glenna. The resilient queen took the young one in her arms and stared at her with intensity. Her heart was so burdened for this precious child. She hoped with everything in her that this little girl would be spared the fate of the prophecy. With a gentle kiss on the baby’s forehead, she held her up to be cradled by King Aidan.

As Aidan took her gently in his arms, he kissed Glenna on her soft, nutmeg hair. “She will have dark hair like you. She will be beautiful and strong. Let us name her Keriam.” Glenna smiled. “I do like that name. Oh, Keriam, sweet Keriam. May you live a long and normal life.” A tear began to make its way down her cheek once more. She wiped it quickly away.

The doctor began to usher people out of the room as he settled Queen Glenna into bed for a long rest.

The maid who had been tasked with watching over Riordan had been replaced by the now awakened governess, Morna. With many apologies to the king and queen she quickly took the little prince back to his room and scolded him harshly about wandering the castle unattended. At four years old he could not possibly understand his future, and yet he was constantly reminded of it.

As Queen Glenna began to rest after her very long day, and Riordan was put safely to sleep once again by Morna, King Aidan found himself wandering slowly through the castle, dreaming of the future with this new little princess. The white dresses she would wear, the tea parties Glenna would have with her. The lessons she would enjoy in all the subjects pertinent to her station. The horses she would learn to ride, the hunts that they would go on together. Visions of grandeur danced persistently throughout his mind, but his joy at these dreams was tainted ever so lightly by the fear of what could also be in her future.

He found himself standing in front of the elegantly, delicately carved door of The Garden. He rarely came here. To come here was to remember how desperately he needed his daughter to fulfill the prophecy, and how, even still, he would do anything to keep her from such a fate. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand was on the door and pushing it open. It was a heavy door that took much might to move. It had been so long since he last opened this door.

In the center of the room stood the Elm. King Aidan was always fascinated by its elegantly simple beauty. Next to the Elm sat an old, white haired man. He looked too old to be alive, and yet he rocked his chair at a steady, sturdy pace. In his right hand he held a twisted branch, formed from the roots of the Elm. He was the keeper of The Garden. He was a timeless man known only as The Gardener. He had held this position for over two centuries. He had seen monarch after monarch as they spent their life on the throne. He was the trusted advisor of many and the keeper of all.

King Aidan approached him thoughtfully. He knelt before The Gardener as one would before the king. He knew not how to ask the many questions that fought to find his tongue. He stayed on his knees as he looked deeply into the silver speckled eyes of this wise old man. The Gardener smiled softly at him. Aidan did not need to say a word.

As leaves fell slowly around them, he remarked, “She is beautiful, is she not?”. The king nodded fervently. “You were expecting a son, however, and she disappoints you.” Aidan opened his mouth to object, but was silenced by an upheld hand. “You are disappointed at the heartbreak you may face. You are disappointed that she may not be yours to keep. You are disappointed that she may never have the childhood she should.”

“How will we know?”

“You will know. If she is marked, it will appear on her first birthday. You must be careful. Do not grow too fond of her until then. Your judgment will be clouded and tragedy may happen. I am warning you, Aidan. If she is marked, she is more powerful than anyone you have ever known.” The old man stood up, leaning heavily on the gnarly, old staff. “I have seen such tragedy in my time and I will not see it again.”

King Aidan looked up above them and watched as a new leaf began to bud on the Elm. He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. He could feel his heart breaking within. Glenna had tried so hard to give him a son. He would not hold this against her, but he knew she would carry the blame upon herself.

He thought, too, of little Riordan, his pride and joy. Rory was too young to understand. How would they explain to him the sudden disappearance of his sister? He had spent so many days babbling eagerly to Glenna’s rounded stomach, his tiny hands searching for any sign of movement from his little sister, Keriam. Oh, the laughs Glenna had as Riordan so eagerly tried to learn how to be a big brother to the baby that was to come.

Perhaps he would forget quickly. He would soon have another child with Glenna, and Riordan would hardly be old enough to understand that Keriam might have to be taken away. Rory was a strong little boy. He would pull through. Aidan would be strong for their sake. There was no reason to worry until they knew her fate.

As he stood contemplatively before the Elm, he began to build his resolve. He would love her with all of his heart and hope that she was not the one. With no more than the bowing of his head, he left The Garden and went quickly to his room to catch what little sleep he could before the sun began to rise.

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