The Prologue

It was evening. The sun sank behind the trees of Braedoch Forest, throwing the leafy depths into shadow. It was early spring and the forest was still newborn; winter's chill could yet be felt in the air at night.

On the eastern edge of the forest, the eight children of Isaak Romany were gathering together.
Their home was a small house of stone, composed of three circular chambers. In the central chamber a fire burned slowly, varying light dancing on the face of a tall man in a dark cloak. He waited for the eight to gather. His face seemed set in granite, as always; no hint of emotion, no whisper of affection for the children he had raised. He, Maeron Duard, was their guardian, nothing more. They did not care for him either. Though they had grown up in the house, they often chose to stay apart from it: they wandered the forest, worked in the woodshop, and climbed the small mountains that overlooked their home in the north. They were not like others. Their life had been one of isolation. They knew weaponry and woodcraft, but little of humanity. They cared for each other and yet spent much of their time in solitude.

Their guardian was afraid of them. Once the clan of Romany had been strong and numerous. Duard's ancestors, druids and powerful, vengeful men, had cursed the clan nearly a century ago. In the succeeding generations, hardship, famine, and war had plagued them--helped along by the druids. At last only Isaak Romany and his wife were left. They took their children to Braedoch and tried to live with them there. But Isaak was a powerful man of great personal force, and the few remaining druids feared that he would father a new beginning for the clan. They sent Duard to kill him. And he did. He killed Isaak and his wife, but could see nothing to fear in the children... behind his face of stone there was perhaps a heart, for he kept them alive, and raised them.

But he feared them now. Alone, he thought, they could be no threat. But as long as they stayed together, the clan Romany might again arise.

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Wren

I slipped into the central room. Most of my siblings were already there, darkening the shadows with their presence, all trying to stay as far as possible from Duard’s gaze and the flickering glow of the firelight. Duard’s attention usually meant reprimand and with the added pressure of a summons, the punishment would be grave indeed.

Choosing my usual perch on the heavy wooden trunk at the back of the room, I melted into the dimness to watch what was about to transpire.

Silence hung over us like a heavy blanket, a sharp contrast to our number.

Aquila was at my side in a moment, moving quietly through the others. The smallest and my closest sister, she seemed to find comfort in my company. Aiden, the oldest, stood near the edge of the light next to Taerith, the next oldest. Though they were as opposite as two men could be, they always stood together between the rest of us and our guardian. Daelia and Ilara favored the far wall to the left of Duard. And Arnan haunted the corner to my left. I kept glancing in his direction, wondering what was going on behind his mask, but he didn’t look my way. Sam, the youngest, shuffled his feet slightly as he waited. He had not learned the art of silence yet. His twin, Zoe, was still missing, but the rest of us stood about waiting. Finally, Zoe slipped in and took her place beside her twin.

“You wonder why I have sent for you,” Duard said, pulling his dark cloak around himself. “I will not keep you waiting. The time has come for you to go. Braedoch is no longer home to you, nor are you any longer a family. You will each depart alone. You will have nothing more to do with each other from this day forward. You are not to communicate, and absolutely not to see each other. If you do, terrible consequences will follow--I am warning you now."
For a moment I couldn’t breath. Leave here, our home, forever? I looked down at Aquila and tried to grasp the fact that I was never going to see her again.

“Make whatever preparations are necessary. You leave in three days.”

I looked over at Arnan, but he still wasn’t looking my way. Only three days to say goodbye.
Taerith spoke slowly, weighing the words on his tongue. “You are banishingus?”
Duard turned and met Taerith’s gaze with a look that made my heart falter. It was the look that came before a rebuke. “Do you question me?”
I reflexively shook my head. I wasn’t questioning him. It was too dangerous to question.

Taerith's voice, low and calming, spoke through the silence. “No.”

Without word, Duard scanned the room, piercing the dim shadows with a fiery gaze, challenging us to defy him. I slipped the mask of indifference over my features while my heart cried out to God. Why?

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Wren Romany - © 2006 Rachel Rossano