The Faeries' Harp

33: Visions

“Good morning, Saoirse. Meet me in the garden,” Bergljot’s thought-speech interrupts Saoirse’s dreams, waking her completely. Saoirse stifles a groan; she had, after all, asked Bergljot to wake her up before Magister Diarmaid stirred this morning, but she is still tired and in no way prepared for the day of training ahead. Her sleep has been fitful, her dreams shot through with memories of her vision of the Terror of Blackened Name, and before the day has had a chance to begin, she feels herself exhausted. Nevertheless, she shakes herself off, dresses, and makes her way as noiselessly as possible out of her sleeping cupboard, through the main room of Magister Diarmaid’s suite, and into the courtyard garden just outside a crystalline door.

As expected, Bergljot is already there, waiting patiently. Magister Diarmaid has arranged for her to live in this particular courtyard garden, so that she and Saoirse may remain near each other.

“You are not well rested,” Bergljot observes.

“Lots of bad dreams,” Saoirse mutters. Bergljot touches her horn to Saoirse’s forehead, and a wave of energy pulses through her, leaving her feeling completely rested and restored.

“Better?”

“Completely. Thank you. You didn’t have to—”

“You will need to be at your best for training.”

“And what about you? Will you not need to be at your best—”

“I have always known my true nature and my abilities, and my power is greater than yours. I will be fine.”

“Well. That’s encouraging.” Saoirse strokes Bergljot’s mane pensively. “Do you have any idea what this is going to be like?”

“You can guess as well as I can. You know the Flower Guard who will be working with you.”

“As acquaintances, nothing more.”

“I worked with them yesterday, to repair the portal we broke.”

“And what insights do you have?”

“Beware the orange one. The rest are harmless, and the purple one is your best asset, but I trust not the orange one.”

Kyrie bites back a giggle. “Alastair?”

“Names are not important.”

“I think the fae in question might take issue with you on that.”

“The orange one is argumentative anyway. Like as not he will take issue with me on something, whether or not I remember his name.”

“He and Aeowyn both seemed rather reluctant to accept Rhys and me as faeries.”

“The pink one is cautious by nature, and her heart is much troubled. But the orange one is bitter.”

“That bodes not well.” Saoirse remembers the darkness emanating from the horrific creature in her vision at court the day before, and how Rhys’s magic had felt to her when she touched his hand afterward. Darkness preys first upon its own. “He must learn to guard his mind, then, too.”

“Yes, if he means to be a proper ally and not a liability.”

Saoirse shrugs. Alastair was less than helpful the entire day when Rhys was in danger of dying, and she doesn’t personally care whether he works with them or not.

“It matters, Saoirse. Your adversary is dangerous. If you are to prevail, the entire group must work together as one,” Bergljot insists ominously.

“You know about the Terror of Blackened Name. Tell me everything.”

Instead of speaking, Bergljot gently presses the tip of her horn to Saoirse’s forehead again. A flood of images sweeps through her mind, all featuring the horrifying beast she saw in her vision the day before. She sees fae creatures falling before the beast’s stench, fae bodies impaled on pitch black thorns and spikes. She also sees beams of light piercing through the creature, severing limbs, leaving wounds. Magister Diarmaid was right. Light magic will harm it most. But most of all, she notices how the fae creatures are working together in all the images: defending each other, combining their skills, helping one another.

“Victory will not come with less than this, and your victory must be more complete,” Bergljot concludes as she pulls her horn away.

“I see what you mean,” Saoirse agrees quietly. Just then, Magister Diarmaid opens the crystalline door and catches sight of them.

“Ah, good, you are already awake,” he remarks. “Have you had any breakfast? Our Flower Guard friends are here, and it will not do to keep them waiting.”

“No, I haven’t eaten. Please forgive me.”

“Well, come in and eat, then. We still wait for Rhys, at any rate, and we won’t be training in that courtyard. Bergljot, you can come in, too, if you don’t disturb my things.”

“Of course,” Bergljot replies, obligingly shrinking herself to about the size of a house cat and floating near Saoirse’s hip.

Magister Diarmaid speaks incessantly while Saoirse is swallowing her morsels of breakfast and her Flower Guard acquaintances do their best to pay attention, despite the fact that all of them appear to still be in the process of waking up. The High Mage feels it absolutely necessary that all of them be completely of one accord in their training endeavors this day. He intends that they should start with weapons, since both Rhys and Saiorse did a lot of work with magic the day before, and they will choose their path from there.

“But, My Lord, weapons work best when we have magically attuned to them,” Kyrie objects with some confusion.

“It is too early for these two novices to attune to weapons. Today we determine aptitude,” Magister Diarmaid insists. “And Saoirse, I almost forgot. Here is the ocarina I promised you. If we have time today, you will begin to learn the basics with that.”

Saoirse takes the proffered instrument carefully. It appears to have been crafted from a pearl, like much of the palace, and the workmanship is so delicate in appearance that she fears she might break it.

“Don’t fret about it,” Bergljot assures her. “It’s a magic thing and will not easily break, even with your power.”

A knock at the door mercifully cuts off Magister Diarmaid’s ongoing lecture about the importance of proper preparation. Elowen opens the door to reveal Rhys, who looks a bit flustered and embarrassed.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I got lost,” he excuses himself.

“Not a problem. Have you eaten?” Magister Diarmaid asks solicitously.

“Yes. Duchess Muirgel wouldn’t let me leave without breakfast.”

“Of course. Well then, that should about cover it. Let us proceed to the training area. Our work must begin as soon as possible.”