The Prophetess of Caer

Chapter Three

The boat was small, and wouldn't fit their horses, and it would take too much time to get around it, or at least to a place where it was not so deep and fast-flowing.

"What should we do?" Fírinne broke the silence with the question on everyone's minds, "We don't want to hurt the princess more so..."

Folláine was the one to answer. "This bard thinks we should send two riders up with the Prince to see if the river smooths out. If it does then one rider will leave and inform the others, and the other will stay with the prince and ride up to the nearest hospital."

"But who should the riders be? We need one combat-oriented person, in case they get ambushed; and one medical professional to keep an eye on the Prince," Ási was the one to propose that question, his expression dark and guarded.

Folláine spoke again, "I-This bard thinks our adventuring team should send the amazing Prince Ási, and Fírinne as they are the best at their jobs. This bard reasons that this bard's friend and Prince Ási are also the most stealthy and quiet,"

Croí responded to this with, "My medical abilities are just as strong, if not more strong than Fírinne's, why shouldn't I go?"

"Because, this bard reasons that if both you and Prince Ási go, it will be chaos" Folláine answered.

"We're losing time as we speak. We have to go" Ási sat Aisling on his horse and jumped on, waiting for Fírinne to get on hers. They departed, leaving Croí and Folláine to their own devices. They both sat, staring at the water. They stayed that way for a while, eventually breaking away to do their own things, Croí reading, and Folláine strumming a gentle tune on her lyre.

"The winds of time flow to and fro-

But always return to the show" Folláine spoke, her rhyme being one that all children of Caer knew. Unfortunately, Croí was not of Caer, and so he said "What is that rhyme? It sounds like something from a child's book story about The Leannán Sídhe, of the Aos Sí"

Folláine laughed, still strumming her lyre "And you would be correct, this humble bard will tell you to look up a book, as the bard's coven has no poems of the Leannán Sídhe that are open to the public, but I do have other stories, would you like to hear one?"

Croí responded, "Yes, I always welcome poetry"

Folláine's eyes almost seemed to glow as she spoke.

"This poem is from years long past. It is called Been There Before, and is by the renowned poet, Banjo Paterson, or by his less known name, Andrew Barton.

It is a story of a man, who goes to a town and makes many a bad decision.

It goes like so.

There came a stranger to Walgett town,
To Walgett town when the sun was low,
And he carried a thirst that was worth a crown,
Yet how to quench it he did not know;
But he thought he might take those yokels down,
The guileless yokels of Walgett town.

They made him a bet in a private bar,
In a private bar when the talk was high,
And they bet him some pounds no matter how far
He could pelt a stone, yet he could not shy
A stone right over the river so brown,
The Darling river at Walgett town.

He knew that the river from bank to bank
Was fifty yards, and he smiled a smile
As he trundled down, but his hopes they sank
For there wasn't a stone within fifty mile;
For the saltbush plain and the open down
Produce no quarries in Walgett town.

The yokels laughed at his hopes o'erthrown,
And he stood awhile like a man in a dream;
Then out of his pocket he fetched a stone,
And pelted it over the silent stream,
He had been there before: he had wandered down"

Croí never got to hear the end though, as they were suddenly attacked.

"There they are! There is the fae boy! There is that witch child" dark voices shouted, seeming to belong to bounty hunters

Folláine's head snapped toward the direction and stood up, playing a simple tune on her lyre. "Who are you, and why have you come to attack me, and this fae prince?"

The bounty hunters jumped out of the bushes, wearing blackened trousers and tunics. Arrows shot out of the bushes, whistling in the air, the scent of iron from dried blood on the arrows floating in the air.

Croí pulled out his sword, it glinting blue from the color of its handle and deflected all but one. The last one flew towards Folláine, but she plucked a string, and the arrow exploded with no sound, making splinters fly everywhere. The two jumped on their horses, one mottled and light, the other dark and splotched. Folláine's light hair flowed behind her, its color appearing blue when she went under trees.

They rode past valleys and mountains, only stopping when it became dark. Croí looked up at the sky, gasping at the beautiful sight. The stars framed by a dark forest, the stars shining like silver. He let out a gentle breath "Wow..." he whispered, in as deep of a rapture as a monk in the depths of prayer.

He looked at his pocket watch, checking the time. "We can continue on," he said, his voice quiet as to not alert any creatures "We shall ride into the forest, and find a place to stay"

Folláine's eyes sparkled in the starlight. "Of course. Maybe our traveling party will encounter wolves, or something exciting that we can fight!"

So the two continued on, looking into the forest that they should not have entered.

The forest loomed, its shadowy branches looking like faces in the moonlight. The riders rode slowly, their horses at a walk, the click-clack of their hooves on stone echoing through the cloudless night. The two teens, cloaked in shadows, entered the forest, their lanterns glowing like stars on this gloomy night. Then, a bright flash, and the two figures vanished.

The lanterns were the only thing left, flickering, and then blazing into a forest fire. The smoke reached towards the sky, trying to get free of this place it was imprisoned in.

Somebody once said

"I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night"

But I say that maybe love is what is blinding us from the fright.