by Millie Burns
“Oh, I could never leave. I dream about the day my parents died every night, and I see my aunt searching for me in my dreams. She’s behind their deaths, and she wants me dead too. But she doesn’t know where I am; I’m safe here.” She leaned against the doorframe, rubbing her arms to chase away the goose bumps that popped up along her arms despite the warmth from the cloak.
“You have been, till now. Today is your Birthing Day, and a special one at that. You’re sixteen. From what I’ve surmised, your mum was strong in the Light Arts. Your aunt, though she turned to the Darkness, is strong too. The power that allows you to manipulate the Light manifests when you reach this ripe old age. I have no doubt that you’ll be equal to your mum in power. You’ll start making things happen, whether you want to or not. You cannot change your destiny.”
“Deep down I know you’re right. I know things cannot stay the same. I’m frightened though. Frightened of the unknown. Nothing here is evil; no one here will hurt me. The only magic I have seen these past nine years is yours, which you employ for the good of your plants and trees. What do I do with the power when it comes? How will I recognize it, control it? I wasn’t old enough to study the Light Arts when I lived in Veris. I remember watching my mother when she was controlling the Light, but nothing she said or did enlightens me to what I must do. Where in the world am I, and where do I need to go? I feel so small, so inexperienced, and so alone.” She slumped further into the doorway.
“Tsk, now, let’s not ask for trouble where there is none. You’re the bravest lass I ever met, and I did meet a few human folk before I came to this island. You’ve learned much about survival, taking on the toughest tasks without batting an eye. You are gentle and caring. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been untrue or unkind. And, you are very clever. You’ve discovered ways of doing things that I didn’t teach you. Most times those ways are an improvement over how I get things done. When the magic arrives, you’ll learn to control it and use it wisely. Fret not, love. Now, let’s get us summat for our bellies; I’m famished.” His stomach rumbled in agreement.
Ravyn straightened, heading to the kitchen. Rowan would never say things just to make her feel better. He never said something unless he believed it, and she found over the years that he was generally correct. If he said she could learn to control the power on her own, then she could.
She assembled the ingredients for a hearty mush: grains, berries, and nuts. Tossing them into a pot, she turned to tend the fire. A few coals still smoldered from the previous night. Her rumbling stomach growled, impatient for a cheery fire. As she reached for the poker to rouse the embers, she envisioned the pot simmering on the fire. She imagined the sweet smell rising out over the rim; she could almost taste the mush warm against her tongue. A hearty fragrant smell drifted up to greet her.
Sitting on the fire bubbling happily was the little clay pot. The mush cooked to perfection. She looked sideways at Rowan’s wizened face, and he gave a knowing nod.
“Did you put that there while I was daydreaming? Did you stoke the fire while I was lost in thought? I swear that when we came in, the fire was naught but ashes. By the Light, how did that…,” she stopped short.
A grin split Rowan’s leathered face. “By the Light indeed,” he crowed. He picked up the ladle, scooping the mush into two bowls. He placed the bowl in her bewildered hands. “Could you conjure us up some tea too? I could do with a spot.”
“But I didn’t,” she spluttered, “Or did I?” She contemplated what she had been thinking about and how it seemed to happen. So, she concentrated on her kettle full of water fresh from the spring. She pictured it sitting on the fire, boiling merrily. She envisioned the tea leaves simmering about happily. The kettle began whistling, drawing her attention to the spit where it now sat, steam issuing from its spout. She wrapped her apron around the handle, pouring two cups of tea.
Rowan clutched his sides, guffawing helplessly. “Maybe next time you’ll magic in the strainer too. I like to drink tea, not eat it.” All of the little flakes of tea and spice bits swirled around the cup before sinking to the bottom.
They settled down on soft cushions, and laid their mush and tea on the low table they used for meals. Silence reigned as they satisfied their ravenous hunger. Ravyn mused about what had just occurred. It seemed that if she visualized something, she could bring it to her. She thought longingly of the things she could bring to the island. She thought of her dolls, toys, and books left in the castle, but realized that she’d outgrown those things long ago.
She pined for books. She loved reading adventure stories, and the castle library overflowed with all kinds of exciting tales. It had books concerning the history of the known world and all the strange creatures that inhabited it. It had nail-biting tales of adventure. There were books about the use of magic, though she hadn’t read them, being too young at the time. She wished she had them now. Rowan brought a few books with him to the island, and she had read them all several times over.
“A copper for your thoughts,” Rowan nudged her out of her reverie.
“Oh I was just wishing for some of the books in the library back at the castle. Especially the ones mother used to read, the ones concerning the Light Arts. I think now I could understand them.”
“Well now, maybe you should be bringing one here.”
“I guess I could try. It couldn’t hurt.” She pictured the library back home, its walls filled with books on every topic. She smelled the tangy sea air coming in through the window and focused on the shelves of books that contained information on Light Magic. She remembered her mother’s favorite. Bound in rich buttery leather and embossed in gold, the book had Compendium of the Light Arts written along the spine. She could almost smell her mother’s flowery perfume on its pages. A sweet scent swirled in the air about her, and in her lap sat a dusty book that time had forgotten. She blew the dust off in a big puff and saw it was her mother’s book, though it had been cruelly neglected. She opened it gingerly, finding the letters faded and the parchment dry and unyielding. Pieces of it flaked apart in her hands.
“Oh, my! This will fall to pieces before I have time to read it,” she cried. More paper crumbled from the edges. Turning to the inside cover, she saw an inscription penned in emerald ink. ‘To my loving daughter Lareina, on your 16th Birthing Day. May this book instruct you in the ways of truth and the Light. Use it well. Father.’ She cradled the book to her chest. “I’d better start reading this; I fear I won’t get all the information it contains before it’s destroyed. Anything I learn will be better than nothing, I suppose.”
Rowan smiled down at the top of her head, already buried in the old tome. He slid down the rope, heading through the forest to a fine Balsa tree, one at its peak to fell. It was not something he did lightly, for the trees well-being was his reason for living. He brought each seed and sapling to this little land and nurtured them through the years. But change was in the wind. Ravyn would be leaving soon.
He stopped in front of a Balsa tree. The tree rose nearly eighty feet, the diameter of its trunk nearly three feet across. He murmured softly, relating that it would make a noble raft for the princess. He plucked some pods that held its seeds, pledging to release the seeds to the wind so that it might propagate. Hefting his axe, he set to work to bring the magnificent tree to ground.
Gently Ravyn turned the pages of the book, trying to absorb every word. She pulled out paper and a bottle of ink. She copied the book onto the new paper, preserving the content before it was lost. Some words were barely visible, time fading the ink on the yellowed pages. She sighed, rubbing her aching neck.
The preamble preached about the heart of the practitioner of the arts needing to remain virtuous. It talked of putting others needs in front of one’s own and maintaining humility in the face of one’s accomplishments. It seemed like sound advice and principles by which she already tried to live, but when would she find out how to manipulate the Light? What rules governed it? She had been furiously
copying the book for several hours; her hands were cramping, her back was stiff, and she was starving. Her stomach grumbled to emphasize its complaint.
Ravyn sighed and stretched out her legs. She had certainly done something to the fire this morning, and she had definitely retrieved the book. Strange electricity tingled in the air; things were changing rapidly. Life was spiraling out of control. She would leave this island sanctuary, on her own. It would be her and her newfound talent. Tears welled in her blue eyes, threatening to fall.
She shook her head trying to clear her mind. Blade would choke if he could see her now, crying like a whiny little girl. It was a long time ago that they played their adventure games back at the castle. This was a real adventure now; she could find the courage in her heart to find her way back to the ones she loved.
She thought of Blade, missing him dearly. She pictured what he would look like. He would be tall, with strong shoulders, hair bleached by the sun, sparkling emerald eyes, and a smile that would light up the darkest room.
And, her parents had always been secretly proud of her feisty spirit. What would they think if they could see her now, shuddering in her skin at the thought of the unknown? From somewhere deep inside she felt strength infuse her hollow limbs and heart.
Her stomach grumbled again; it was hollow too. Hours had passed since the morning meal. The sun’s rays beat down from directly overhead. She sketched a picture of a birthday cake on a corner of her paper. Visualizing it in her mind, she concentrated on the sweetness that would wash over her tongue and wished for it with all her might. She held her breath. Nothing happened. She blew out an exasperated puff of air, lips rattling against each other.
She gazed out the window at a banana tree, spying a ripe bunch near the top. She licked her lips, savoring the scrumptious flavor. A tendril of sweetness washed over her, tickling her senses, and the bananas filled her hands. Her brows knitted in frustration. Bananas but not cake?
Rowan pulled himself up on the porch. “Well, that’s a neat trick; I guess we won’t be clambering to the tops of the trees for bananas anymore, hey?”
“Well, that worked, but I was trying to bring a cake first. I didn’t draw a picture of the bananas like I did the cake; I just focused on them. The things this morning were things that I saw directly in front of me as well. Maybe I can’t get something unless I can see it.”
“Ah, but what about the book this morning? You certainly couldn’t see that. It was miles and miles away. Therefore, it is possible for you to get things from elsewhere. They don’t necessarily have to be in your line of sight.”
Ravyn’s eyes lit as inspiration dawned. “I need to visualize what I want and know where it’s coming from. It cannot just appear from nowhere, can it? I mean, it must come from somewhere. I saw the remains of last night’s fire in front of me, and the tea was there on its shelf in the cupboard. I remember the book being in the library and could even remember the shelf it sat on. I think I’ll try again. I have a theory to test.”
Ravyn closed her eyes, picturing her favorite bakery in Veris. She could smell the sugary scents wafting from the shop and saw a chocolate cake sitting in the display case. The baker always put the tastiest chocolate cakes in the front window; he had a special place in his heart for chocolate. If he were still there and in business, he would not forgo tradition. She focused intently on the cake, relishing the rich chocolate frosting melting in her mouth. In fact, she smelled something delicious.
“Ahhhhh,” Rowan sighed appreciatively.
In her lap sat a large chocolate cake, exactly like the ones from her childhood. What would the baker think to see his cake just disappear from the window? “When I get back, I’ll need to pay for that,” she said sheepishly. Feeling guilty and giddy at the same time, she grinned at Rowan, “Would you care for a slice of chocolate cake?”
Ravyn took a fingerful of chocolate frosting. Slipping it into her mouth she mumbled, “Rowan, how will I get from this island to Aigerach?”
Rowan brushed a crumb of cake from his silvering beard, “I’m starting on a raft, and we’ll need to get you provisioned. It will take a few days sailing to reach Aigerach, but at this time of year the seas are friendly.”
“What will I do when I get there? Do I sail right into Veris? How can I confront Aunt Zelera? I doubt she’ll allow me to just walk into the castle.” The cake lost its flavor as she thought of the daunting tasks that lay ahead.
“I wish I had the answers for you, Ravyn. I only know that help will come when you need it. You are blessed with the Light; it will give aid. Don’t fret, somehow or another, it will all work out.” He patted her hand.
Ravyn spent the rest of the afternoon copying the legible pages from the book. It never gave direct advice on how to proceed in the practice of the Light Arts. It lectured about the necessity of constant vigilance against pride, anger, jealousy, and other dark emotions.
The pages continued to disintegrate. She put the book away to try small experiments. She could do a number of things without any difficulty. She could light the fire, pluck fruits from the trees with a thought, and move small objects about without touching them. Her appetite increased as she practiced with the Light Arts, and she was exhausted after trying some things. Her body must take some kind of strain from manipulating the Light. Little did she realize all the spells created disturbances in the aura that surrounds all life on Aigerach. Someone had noticed.
Chapter 3
Connor crouched over the rough table, looking through the water in the bowl before him. He scanned the aural fields, crossing over the lands of Aigerach and beyond seeking a sign that would point him to Ravyn. He followed skeins of light in every direction, searching for something that wasn’t there before. He felt the presence of Zelera searching, and he pulled back quickly. He rubbed his neck and closed his weary eyes, taking a break.
Veris, hence Zelera, was close by, only two to three days ride by horse. Using Zelera’s own technique, he’d hidden right beneath her nose. She sent runners to the far corners of Aigerach, posting his image in every town and village. Scores of men combed the far reaches of Aigerach for him, owing to the large price on his head. In all these years, no one thought to look so close to the capital.
He didn’t look like the reward posters either. He shaved off the weathered old beard and mustache. With a simple reweaving of the Light, his hair became dusty blonde. Back into storage went the spectacles he’d worn for years, nothing but a prop. He stood tall and erect, walking with grace and vigor. He replaced his knobby cane with a tall wizard’s staff of holly.
He sighed. For countless years he’d been advising the Kings of Veris. He knew how to slow the aging process, an advantage of being a Master of the Light. He helped shape the world, ridding it of the Dark Arts and guiding public policies to benefit all people. He’d nearly forgotten he was playing the part of the gnarled old ancient; he’d done it for so long. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the waters of the basin; he cut a fine form, not at all doddering. Not bad for surviving a few centuries.
He popped his knuckles and then stretched out his neck, cracking his spine in the process. He placed his hands on the table refocusing on the bowl, searching for traces of magic that would lead to Ravyn. She would be changing the aural field with her manipulations of the Light, whether she worked the arts knowingly or not.
As he followed the aural field of the cottage up into the blue sky, thoughts of Blade intruded on his search. Blade should be here for Ravyn’s sixteenth birthingday celebration; he was late. Connor extended his senses through the aura to fly out over the forest scanning for the boy, finding no traces of him.
Blade stayed with Connor for a short time but quickly became restless. Captain Joff found them in the hills and took Blade under his wing. Joff had quit the service of Zelera, the Empress of Aigerach. She raised taxes, closed the schools of Light Arts, and allowed thievery and evils of all kinds to go unchecked. Joff and his men worked for the wealthier families t
o protect their holdings and their kin. Joff would teach Blade swordsmanship that he might protect himself and fight for his princess when the time was right.
Blade dropped by the hut often, telling Connor the news of the country and the tales of his travels. Connor watched Blade grow from a gangly boy into a strong man of knightly qualities and virtues. He couldn’t be more proud of him than if he were his own son.
No sign of Ravyn turned up in all of Aigerach. Connor frowned; she couldn’t be dead. He’d have known, wouldn’t he? He pushed out toward the west, toward the sea. The aura rippled in the distance, pulling him out over the sea. He opened his senses further, tasting a sweetness of magic reminiscent of Lareina. Ravyn.
He zeroed in on an indigo thread that sparked and pulsed, following its flowery scent. He zipped along the thread, opening his vision to see a dark-haired young woman sitting under a banana tree. She was playing with the Light, creating a kaleidoscope of color in the aura surrounding her. Her blue eyes closed as she concentrated on the wet sand at her feet, and a little replica of the castle in Veris materialized, only to wash away with the next wave. Her laughter skipped across the glassy sea.