Keepers of the Moon

And I was running far away Would I run off the world someday?      - Aurora, Runaway Saoirse Waves were crashing on the cobbled shore, where large rounded boulders rolled over the ocean floor. All sounds were drowned in the cold winter water. A small crab was making its way across the banded stones looking for dinner, a small shrimp was burying itself in the sand underneath while bracing for the incoming waves. Seaweed that had been uprooted swirled around the watery light reflected through the surface. Seals were moving in the distance, dancing in the deep blue waters of the White Sea. Life. Life in its purest form. A calm, enduring serenity washed over me, all thoughts banished from the twirling mess inside. All that remained was my soul floating in the fleeting passage of time. This was as close to home I could ever get, so far away from the place where my heart longed for. I remembered the bright turquoise waters, the colourful reefs and the white sandy beaches. Shells the size of coconuts and the old shimmering turtle greeting me on my morning swim. But I was forgetting the feeling of the warm breeze on my skin, the cold welcoming rain in the afternoon and the roaring thunder across the sky. I was forgetting the feeling of setting sail towards the horizon, off to another world. With another past. ‘Where does your mind go?’ A place that I couldn’t see, that I couldn’t get to. So far away from the world that had been my home for all these years. ‘Come home, mo stoírin.’ But home was not here and I couldn’t come home. Not for a long time, not until the world was safe again. I breathed in the cold, salt water and felt my heart beat in the rhythm of the ocean. A voice on the high wall of the black castle carried away a song of the sea. The song that my mother sang to me, a song of which I was forgetting the words except for one string of sounds. Tá mé idir grá. I am between love. My thoughts drifted back into the world beyond the water. Where one war after the other ravaged the world, where people always squabbled about nonsense. It was as much my world, as the world beyond the waves. I am between love. After nearly hundred years of peace, after all the rebuilding that needed to be done after the Fearful Nine, the world was again at a threshold. A destabilising climate, political unrest and a King on his knees. My land was at the brink of war. Caledonia had fallen into ruin after the death of the Queen and the disappearance of the Princess. For the first time in over 1100 years a King ruled, yet a broken King. Unfit to lead our proud people, unable to see that Nordlys was stirring and their King was out for more. I let the waves carry me back to the ever unwavering shore and got back on my feet. However unwilling to turn my back on the ocean just yet, I remained there. The cold swirling around my knees, still connected to the rest of the world. The upcoming war had to be stopped, this world couldn’t take another. The last one took more than 13 million lives and I knew it was coming then, as I knew it now. But then I was powerless to watch as our country was dragged along in the chaos. Powerless to stand against so much hatred. But this time we would be at the centre of it all. Nordlys was a beautiful country, with sturdy and resilient people. Proud people and a proud King. Einar was once a powerful and just ally, until nearly 20 years ago when he became hungry for power. He searched for it across the entire world, following folklore and legend, all for weapons and knowledge that would make him the most powerful person on this big blue planet. I stumbled across him during one of his travels. There was nothing left of the strong, kind man with his questioning blue eyes. All I could see was an animal, with a mind as sharp as a knife. I was working at the library in Alexandria, when he devoured book after manuscript. He might be the only one outside of the Ghaelach who knows I exist. He doesn’t know who I am or where I am from. But he knows about the legend that was created around me, he knows what I am. And he has been searching for me ever since. After a couple of years he returned home a different man without being anything wiser about me. He started looking deeper into other myths and prophecies about powerful beings walking among the mortal. But I could tell him that I was the only one on this world like me. I was utterly alone, destined to lose everyone around me. Even Mana. ‘Mum? Are you alright?’ Ben’s voice shattered my melancholic thoughts into the cold winter morning and I slowly turned around while finally turning my back towards the ocean. He stood there on the shore, his head buried in a heavy knitted scarf and his hands tucked away under his upper arms. His nose was red and his hair tousled by the icy wind blowing in from the sea. Big green eyes questioned my choice of clothing as well as my whereabouts. ‘Yeah, I’m fine lad. Just thinking of home.’ He chuckled. ‘You are home.’ We both started walking towards the comforting warmth of the castle, he in full winter attire, me barefoot in nothing but shorts and a simple tee. The wind was pulling at my hair and dark clouds threatened the grounds with rain and snow. The tops of Cuillin were shrouded in the thick, solid mist. The world was utterly quiet, with only the wind and the crashing waves in the distance as company on our walk. ‘No, I’m not.’ Ben’s eyes shot a glance towards my face, trying to determine whether I was joking. But he knew, deep down, that I was not. ‘You needed me for something?’ My question lingered in the air as Ben was reforming his thoughts. I loved him to death, but he never really understood me. Never really saw me for what I was. To him, I was just his mother, not some undying godlike being with a never-ending purpose to create balance. To him I was just a human being. Someone who taught him how to ride a bicycle, who was there when he finished his school, who was there when he picked up his master’s degree in chemistry. I didn’t need to be anything more for him. Yet he was pushing me to take action during these times of unrest. Telling me that I needed to step up and retake my rights to the throne. He truly believed that this would solve all of our problems and somehow magically fixed this world. Ben threw me a towel, while he hanged his black, felt winter coat and warmed his hands against the ugly white radiator. A small group of drowned tourists poured out into the hallway with a disgruntled looking tour guide. His moustache was plastered on his cheeks and his hat was askew, his kilt was on backwards and he was shivering in the cold. A few teenagers were moaning about the cold and the fact that this building lacked heated floors and electrical lighting. ‘It’s a 1000 year old castle, what did you expect? TV’s, a cinema and some futuristic robot welcoming you?’ Eamon – the tour guide – rearranged his clothes and shot an annoying glance at the chattering group in front of him. ‘But we do have a cinema,’ said Ben under his breath. I chuckled. ‘And a welcoming robot.’ ‘We do?’ Ben gave me a confused look, which made his bright green eyes stand out. ‘Yes we do. His name is Eamon.’ This resulted in a loud laugh from Ben, which drew the attention of the tour group. I ignored the confused looks they gave me and nodded to Eamon whose face lit up at the notion that he was no longer alone. ‘Mo Bhean, Benjamin, good morning.’ He made a small curtsy and nodded to Ben. ‘I thought Sir Macintosh was looking for you. He’s been bothering me with it all mornin’.’ I looked over to the young lad next to me, who awkwardly looked away. So that’s why he needed me. ‘I am sure he is, Eamon. I will go see him right now.’ I could barely hide the disdain in my voice. Eamon looked from me toward Ben and gave him a pitiful look. Ben had been bothered also. ‘Benjamin I could use your help here today! There’s no-one alive here that knows more about this castle than you.’ This barely seemed to cheer Ben up, but he walked towards the small crowd anyway. Anything better than to deal with either me or Macintosh. I knew he didn’t really have a choice in finding me for him, yet I felt somewhat let down by his dishonesty. I had made myself very clear about my stance on these matters, though somehow no-one seemed to understand this. So I walked toward the conference rooms in an even bigger mood than I had already been in this morning. ‘How many times do I have to repeat myself? It won’t matter. If anything it could make things worse, by letting the people know that they cannot trust their King and that our country is weakened. A shift in power in this stirring environment will only lead to more destabilisation.’ My voice echoed against the dark stone walls and my hands were clenched into fists. Being away from home for such a long time made me lose my composure. It didn’t strengthen my position. As if I was an angry child throwing a fit. ‘Oh do enlighten us with your wisdom, as of why this wouldn’t work. The King doesn’t even belong on this throne! It should be you, until he produces an heir.’ Sir Macintosh slammed his fist on the table, his grey moustache dancing up and down when he spit the words. He was a stocky man, with broad shoulders, arms the size of a bodybuilder and crazy, bushy hair unwilling to stay in place. He had an impressive classic moustache which was much greyer than his pepper and salt coloured hair. Right now was rocking a bright yellow sweater and simple jeans, which was laid out for him by his husband undoubtedly. Though his unkempt appearance didn’t fool me, nor anyone else around this table. Sir Macintosh was a force to be reckoned with. He was a profoundly decorated soldier, sergeant and army general both for his bravery and his wit. This man was a strategical mastermind and a lifelong friend of mine. We did, however, barely see eye to eye on things and usually bickered about two or three things before breakfast even started. ‘Is that what this is about? About Domhnall not belonging on the throne? About the fact that he lost his wife and only daughter, thereby losing his only chance of producing another heir?’ My voice was stronger this time, my emotions no longer at the steering wheel. Macintosh however still remained standing, his face red with swallowed anger. ‘He is not a King, not anymore. There are laws, he has to abide by them, just as much as we do. This land cannot be ruled without a Queen. You know this.’   I looked around the table, three women and two men looked at me with apprehension. From their eyes I could tell that they agreed with the esteemed gentleman opposite of me. They all had run into trouble when trying to convince the King of needed actions and repercussions for the things King Einar had done. Lady Macintosh was sitting right next to her brother and while her methods were usually softer, she too was a force to be reckoned with. She had served overseas and saved countless lives with her bravery by protecting a bridge to get much needed supplies to a refugee’s camp. Meav and Fergus were sitting next to me. This brother and sister had been there to protect and maintain this castle for many generations. They had the same blonde sleek hair and light hazel eyes. Meav was long and slender, but handy with tools and could fix about anything. Fergus was a bit shorter and twice the size but he could make a tasty meal from pretty much everything he touched. Meav was about as old as Ben and she not so secretly fancied him. Ben however was completely oblivious to this and saw her more as his sister. Her brother kept teasing her about this, but supported her in any way he could. On the other side of the table next to Lady Macintosh, were Lady and Lord McCulloch who were both trusted advisors to the King and heavyweights in both political and economic matters. ‘We cannot blame the King for what happened to his wife and daughter. Yes he is technically not allowed to rule Keltia…’ ‘Caledonia.’ ‘Caledonia, I beg your pardon, but he is kind and trusted by his people. I officially don’t exist. He and the people don’t know I am still here.’ ‘Maybe it is time to change that.’ Lady Macintosh watched me, calculated my response and then looked away when she didn’t get one. They all knew that I didn’t like the idea of coming out. I had plenty of reasons for that, one being that I didn’t want to become a target. Throughout the ages people have always sought for immortality and power. People and organisations knowing about the existence of me have been trying to find me, to find my power. If I were to come out I could draw a bullseye on my back and be on the lookout for the rest of my already too long life. ‘You are by law allowed to take back the throne whenever you feel like it. Your brothers created this law so that you could rule your land however you seemed fit. To turn your back now, would be your brothers’ worst nightmare.’ Sir Macintosh was really pushing it this time. They really believed that me taking back the throne would somehow magically fix all our problems. I stood up, calmly and stately, while my eyes were fixated on Sir Macintosh. The spectators looked on breathlessly. ‘My dear brothers made me High-queen so that I would always have a home to return to, not to grab power whenever I felt it necessary. I will not have you question their decision, nor disrespect my family for the sake of your agenda. I made it very clear that I do not want to take over from Domhnall. While I disagree with his quiescence, he is kind and loved by his people. He will not be fit to wage a war, but he doesn’t need to be. He has all of you and me in the background to do this for him. He is not going to stop this war and neither can I. We are not the country that attacks, Nordlys is. Our decisions do not alter theirs.’ ‘A strong leader can scare of an attacker. Nordlys will attack now because they know we cannot hold them off.’ ‘No it won’t. They will perceive it as provocation, as a sign that we are ready for war. The only way to stop this war from happening is by either strengthening the ties with our allies or by convincing King Einar that war will not give him the power he seeks.’ ‘And if this doesn’t work. If our allies do not want to fight and Einar does not change his mind?’ ‘Then war is upon us, whether I take the throne or not.’ Indigo The salt spray in my hair was a welcoming refreshment after spending the night in the crowded rooms aboard this ship. My feet were steady on the rolling deck, yet the horizon twisted and twirled in the distance. The captain had already warned us about the rough wind and high seas, though feeling the ship being beaten by the waves was different from what I imagined. It somehow felt as the heartbeat of the ocean, as if it was something very much alive. It made me feel utterly lonely and small. Far away little specks of light suggested that we came close to our destination and a tight knot was forming in my stomach. In just a little over an hour I would step foot on the land I was born. The land I was never supposed to see. If Ilse would see me now, she would lose her mind. And knowing I betrayed our only sacred law was something I’d never thought I would do. But life had changed, things were no longer logical. I needed to know, I needed to see it for myself. When I made that vow, I didn’t know what I knew now. I was lost. More than I ever was. There was so much that I didn’t understand, so much the world didn’t know. There was only one thing I did know. I wasn’t going to start a war, my - our - secret should remain a secret forever. If it were to come out, it would destroy our world. That was the one vow I wasn’t willing to break. Not even if it could save my life.  Two little hands grasped my whipping coat, while unsteady feet were fighting to stay upright. The little girl with raven black here looked with great awe towards the roaring ocean. ‘Abi, what are you doing up? It’s still very early.’ She tore her eyes away from the see and looked at me with glee. ‘I wanna see!’ I picked her up and put her on my shoulders, she cheered and threw her arms into the wind. She was not bothered by the cold, nor by the notion that I really shouldn’t have come here. For Abi it was nothing more than a chance to leave the city and the streets for that matter. We stood there until the sun rose behind the small town in front of us. The green, mossy mountains had steep sides yet rounded tops. They looked like sleeping giants ready to destroy this lovely little town when woken by some unfortunate soul. Of to the south was an ancient castle with walls as black as the darkest night and a single square tower, which now functioned as a lighthouse. The other tower had long been left abandoned and only the four cornerstones still stood upright. In a little inlet close to the fallen tower lay an odd-looking sailboat. Which seemed to be made entirely of wood and had two long floating beams, between which a platform was nestled. The sail had been removed, but it seemed ready for any rough sea it might encounter. Then dark clouds covered the sky and shrouded the black castle and the rounded mountains from view. We turned towards the large harbour on our left and were greeted by a vast majority of people waiting for their loved ones to return. We had arrived in Caledonia.