Protectors of Loegria: Chapters 2 & 3

Chapter Two

         Darkness pressed against the small house, seen only by the diamond-bright stars above.  The night birds and insects were silent, as if all ears were tuned to what was happening inside the house.  Kerra appeared at one of the windows.  A shifting of feathers in the still night drew her eye.  Peering into the listening dark, Kerra made out the outline of several large ravens.  With a shudder, she drew the curtains closed.

         “Come sit here, Thorne.”  His mother gestured to the hearthside where she had placed a few cushions.  Thorne was confused; usually in the evening his mother sewed, and he mended farm tools or read from the one book they owned, The Book of Færie, a thick handwritten tome that contained the tales, myths, and legends of Loegria.  Thorne sat, giving his mother a quizzical look as she sat beside him.

         For a while they sat in silence, Thorne staring at his mother, Kerra staring at the flames.  Thorne could tell that she wanted to tell him something; she kept opening her mouth and glancing at him.  Patiently, Thorne waited, picking at a lose thread in the cushion he was sitting on.

         “Thorne,” his mother’s voice broke the silence at last, but her eyes were still focused on the flames.  “Have you ever heard the story of the coming of men to the isle of Loegria?”

         Thorne shook his head.  “No.  All of the stories in The Book of Færie take place before men came to Loegria or long after we settled here.”

         “That’s right.  Long ago, it was the Tuatha Dé Danann who ruled our fair isle.  The Tuatha Dé, or the Fair Folk as they are sometimes called, ruled over all the creatures of the land, mortal and immortal.  They are neither wholly good nor wholly evil.  For eons, they held the powers of true evil at bay and cared for the land, as you have read in our book.  But soon, man reached the shores of Loegria, pushed out of their own lands by bloodthirsty invaders from the east.  The Tuatha Dé Danann gathered their armies, all manner of creatures, to push the men back into the sea from whence they came.  The Tuatha Dé had been pushed out of other lands by men before and refused to be pushed further.  The other creatures under their rule did not want to give way before man either.  However, man was also desperate.  They had no land to go back to; to surrender to the armies of the Fair Folk would mean death for their kind.

         “Both sides fought long and desperately, neither willing to give into the other.  But the men were more numerous, coming in waves of hundreds, of thousands to the fair shores of Loegria.  The Tuatha Dé and their allies could not hold back such numbers, and finally, after many months of bloody battles, the Tuatha Dé Danann surrendered, and man took over the land.  He spread to all corners of Loegria, and the different tribes settled in lands that were like those they had come from: the Arvanians in the mountain country they named Arvon, the Fódlans, from whom we descend, in lowland of lake lands and fens, and Brigantians on the plains and in the forest.  It was on the plains of Brigantia that the High King’s court was established, and the land subsided into peace. 

         “The Tuatha Dé Danann were greatly weakened by the war that had been fought, and retreated, with the immortal creatures and beings who had fought beside them, behind the veil of men’s sight, crossing over the boundary of this world and setting up their halls in the Otherworld.  For a generation or two, as time is measured by men, both sides recovered from their loses and stayed in their own worlds.

         “But during the reign of Connor, the third king of men to rule over Loegria, the dark forces of the Fair Folk, those who are part of the Unseelie Court, began to attack man kind.  The Tuatha Dé, who had ruled the beings of the Otherworld for innumerable years, had split long since into the Seelie and Unseelie Courts.”

“The Seelie Court is made up of those friendly to men, right?”  Kerra gave Thorne a hard look for interrupting, but answered his question.

“Yes, since Conner’s reign, the Seelie Court has been a benign force as far as the world of men is concerned.  May I continue now?”  Thorne nodded, knowing not to interrupt again, and his mother continued.  “The Seelie Court, weakened by war and bound by rules of the Otherworld, could not control the Unseelie.  The Unseelie Court, tired of being ruled by others, by the Seelie and men alike, and led by their queen, Mab, began to try and take back control of Loegria.  Those were dark days for mankind, for not a man, woman, or child could leave their houses without the danger of being spirited off or killed by the Otherworld creatures.  The Wild Hunt rode every night from moonrise to moonset, led by their Hounds of Mag Mell; Kelpies lurked in every lake, ready to drag unwary humans to their death.  The howls of the Banshees echoed across the land, and man shivered and hid, wondering if it were he they were calling to Mag Mell. 

         “King Connor called a council of all the wise in the land; he even sent emissaries to the Tuatha Dé of the Seelie Court.  Three days after Beltaine, all the wise, druids and lords of men and leaders of the Seelie Court, gathered at King Connor’s court at Whitehall. 

“For many long days they discussed and argued, unable to find a way to defeat the Unseelie Court.  It was then, when all hope seemed lost, that Conlan, the oldest and wisest druid, who had been one of the first men to come to Loegria, spoke.  His voice was quiet, but all fell silent at the sound of it. 

“’The Unseelie,’ he said, ‘will never be truly defeated.  They are the force of evil in this land, and where there is evil, there is good also.  One cannot exist without the other.  To speak of defeat, of truly conquering evil, is to speak foolishness.  Instead, balance must be sought.  Balance must be maintained.’”

Kerra fell silent, her eyes still on the flickering flames.  Thorne waited for her to continue, but only the sound of snapping logs spoke into the silence.  “Is that the end?”

His mother looked at him, her brown eyes serious.  “For many people of Loegria, that is the end of the story.”

“But what happened?”  Thorne burst before his mother could continue.  “That is not an ending at all!”

His mother smiled.  “I said that for many people that is how the story ends.  But…”

“But?”

“But for you it goes on.”  Her voice fell back into the lilting cadence of a storyteller, and her eyes drifted back to the flames.  “When Conlan had finished, all present saw that he was indeed wise.  ‘What then do you suggest, Conlan?’  King Connor questioned.

“’A band of adepts – individuals with special talents – should be gathered, and it should be their charge to keep the balance between good and evil, between this world and the Otherworld.’

“’Like knights?’ asked one lord.

“’No,’ replied Conlan.  ‘Though these individuals will need to be warriors, they will also need other training, other talents.  And this can not go forward without the aid of the Tuatha Dé Danann of the Seelie Court.’

“’And how many would there be?’  King Connor asked.  ‘And how are we to choose them?’

“’Three there shall be, for three is a number of power,’ Conlan stated.  ‘One shall be chosen from each of the tribes.  The druids and the Tuatha Dé will choose.  This task will not end with the death of the three, but will be passed on to their children and their children’s children.’

“So it was decided.  The next day, the druids and Tuatha Dé Danann set out to choose the three individuals and begin their training.  And from that day to this, the chosen, and their descendents, have kept the balance between good and evil, between this world and the Otherworld.”

“What were they called?”  Thorne breathed.

His mother turned her eyes to him and caught his grey ones with her own.  “The Protectors of Loegria.”     



Chapter Three

         The words hung in the air, as if they had become a living presence.  For the first time, Thorne felt that the silence, both inside the house and out, was a listening one.  He shivered.

         “You said they are still keeping the balance today,” Thorne said, thinking hard.  His mother nodded.  “Then why haven’t I heard of them?  They aren’t in any of the stories.”

         ‘The Protectors decided that their identity, even their existence, should be kept secret, so that those of the Unseelie Court, or others who wished to harm Loegria, would be less likely to discover them and kill them, since they are the only force that is holding good and evil in balance.  That is why the end of the story is not told.”

         “But you told me!  Why would you tell me?”  He paused as a thought occurred to him.  “If no one is told the end of the tale, how did you know it?”

         “Because Thorne,” she said taking his hands, “your father is a Protector, and you will be, too.”

         Thorne stared wide-eyed at his mother.  “But…what…” he stammered.

         “Thorne, I need you to listen, and listen well because I cannot say this more than once.  Other ears may be listening this night, and we cannot risk them finding us.  Finding you.”

         Thorne nodded, face serious, and his mother continued.  “Your father is a Protector, as were the generations of his family before him.  You are next in line to become a Protector.  Your training was to have started, as is tradition, in your tenth year.”

         “That’s when father left!” Thorne interrupted.  His mother placed a hand on his mouth and cast a quick glance around the house.  She lowered her voice and continued.

         “Yes.  It was then that there seemed to be a great shift in the balance.  Rumors came to us that the Unseelie Court was raising an army in the north, that they would come into Loegria through the Fiain Forest.  Your father was going to start your training when he returned.”

         “But that was three years ago!  What happened?”

         His mother shook her head.  “I don’t know.  After he left, no more was heard of this army, and I expected his return any day.  I have even tried to contact him –“

         “Contact him?  How?”

         Kerra rose and moved closer to the hearth.  She pulled the fourth stone from the bottom and, to Thorne’s surprise, it came out.  Behind it was a dark hollow stretching back into the wall.  From the hidden opening, his mother pulled out a small leather bag, a long, wrapped, oddly shaped object, and a book.  She sat down again and opened the leather bag, upending it on Thorne’s lap.  Out tumbled a round stone the size of a grown man’s fist.  It was silky smooth to the touch and colorless. Thorne picked it up and, looking through it, could see a blur of colors on the other side.

         “That is called the Protector’s Crystal or, more commonly among Protectors, the Seer Stone.  This is the means through which Protectors communicate with each other.  Every Protector has two, one that they take with them and one that is left behind, so that they can send messages back.  The High King has one as well.”  She paused, eyes filled with worry and sadness.  “Your father never contacted me after he left, and whenever I tried to contact him, the crystal remained as you see it now.”

         While Thorne turned the Seer Stone over in his hands, examining it from every angle, Kerra began to unwrap the long object.  As the wrappings were removed, it reflected the glinting firelight, and Thorne turned to look.

         “A sword!”

         “A short sword,” his mother amended and added, “and a bow and arrows.  These are the weapons of the Protectors.  The sword is the one your father used when he was young, and the bow is his spare.  These were to be your weapons when you started your training.”

         “And the book?” Thorne asked, remembering the third object that had been hidden in the wall.  She held it up, and in the flickering light from the fire, he read the title, The Book of the Protector.

         “This book holds the secrets that the Protectors of our family have learned over the long years of their struggle to maintain the balance.”

         Reverently, Thorne took the book from his mother’s hands and leafed through its pages.  It was clear that the book spanned generations, and Thorne looked in awe at the writing of his ancestors.  Some of the writing was flowing; other writing was crabbed, as if it had been written in haste, and yet more of it was written in a language that Thorne did not know and could make neither head nor tail of.  Many of the pages also contained drawings of plants, mostly plants used for healing.  Some of them he recognized from when his father used to take him out walking.  At the back of the book, Thorne recognized his father’s handwriting, evenly spaced and neat, unlike Thorne’s own cramped and crowded writing that looked like so many erratic spiders moving across the page.  After his father’s pages followed many blank pages.  My pages, he thought.

         Brow creased, he put down the book and looked at his mother.  “Why are you telling me this now?  You’re not a Protector, too, are you?”

          His mother shook her head with a small sigh.  “No, I am not a Protector, and I would not have told you, I would have waited for your father’s return, if it wasn’t for your dream.”

         “My dream?”

         “Yes.  Remember I said that the first Protectors were picked because they had special talents?  The first Protector from our family had the Sight, the ability to See into the future; he was also a healer of great renown.  Not all of the Protectors from our family have had the Sight, though all have been healers to some degree.  The last known one with the Sight was your grandmother; she could see the future in still ponds and through her dreams.”

         “Grandmother?  But I thought-“

         “That only men could be Protectors?”  Thorne flushed, and his mother smiled.  “No.  The first Protectors were picked not because they were men, but because of the gifts they had, and so the task has been passed on through the generations, no matter if the child who inherits the task is a boy or girl, the oldest or the youngest.  Now,” she continued, “about your dream.  I want you to describe the woman, the one on the throne, the one who knew your name.”

         Thorne closed his eyes, screwing them up, forehead creased in concentration.  Although her eyes were clear in his mind, he wanted to get the rest of her right.  Slowly, the image became clear in his mind, more clear, almost, than when he had dreamed it.  “She had red hair, brighter than flames, and she wore a crown of silver; it was formed of knots, like twisting snakes.  She was tall, or would have been if she was standing, but she was sitting, and smiling.”  Thorne paused and shuddered.  “It wasn’t a nice smile.  And her eyes, they were…cold, hard, and strangely colored, one bright blue and one bright green, like I said this morning.”

         He opened his eyes to see his mother nodding, mouth turned in a frown, and brow furrowed.  “It was as I feared.  You saw Queen Mab, leader of the Unseelie Court.  Your father has described her to me often enough.  And you are sure you saw your father?”  Her voice was sharp with worry.

         “Yes.  He was chained at the foot of the throne.”

         His mother sat in silence, her lips pursed.  Thorne watched her, holding back the questions that were anxious to come tumbling out of his mouth.  After the silence had grown so thick that Thorne thought he could taste it, he voiced the question that was burning the tip of his tongue.

         “Mother?  What will happen now?”

         “I think it is time that I contact the other Protectors’ families.  Something must have happened to your father and the others that they did not come back.”  She took in Thorne’s worried and laid her hand gently on his cheek.  “You go to sleep, dear.  You will need your rest, for if your father and the other Protectors must be rescued, it is only you that can save them.”