by Millie Burns
If he could find her, Zelera could as well. He cast a gentle strand of thought into her mind. ‘Ravyn, it is Connor, your father’s adviser. I have traced you by the little magics you are employing. You must stop what you are doing, or Zelera will trace you as well. Even now, she could be watching.’
Ravyn’s eyes looked as troubled as a stormy sea. ‘Connor, is that really you, sir? I haven’t talked to you for so long, but your voice sounds stronger, more powerful. I remember you sounding, well, old. How do I know it’s you?’
‘I would have thought that the little girl who hid in my wardrobe, the one looking for secret passages to the dragon’s gold, would remember me,’ he chuckled.
“Oh, Connor, it is you,” she exclaimed aloud.
Rowan looked up from the wood he was measuring. He watched her spin in circles, sand flying from her feet. “Who is Connor?” he asked.
Ravyn stopped dancing and smiled at Rowan, “The old man who was my father’s adviser has tracked me by the magic I was doing. He said I must stop practicing, or I will attract Zelera’s attention. I’ll tell you everything in a moment, but first I must finish my conversation with him.”
Instinctively, she wrapped her thoughts around the tendril that sat waiting, ‘Connor, what happened to my parents? Are they dead? Where is Blade? What became of him? How shall I get off the island? Can you use the Light to bring me there?” her words tumbled out in an excited rush.
‘No, that would attract Zelera’s attention to us both and that takes more energy than I have to expend. A transportation spell that immense would leave me completely spent for days, and extremely vulnerable. And you have not yet learned enough to protect yourself. As much as I would love to see you, I’m afraid we must take a mundane approach for your return to Aigerach. We must also keep you hidden.’
‘Oh, well it’s never easy is it? Even with magic. My parents,’ she paused, afraid to finish the sentence.
‘Your parents are not dead but are being held in a state of suspension. Zelera didn’t have enough power or knowledge to send them to eternal Darkness. For nine years she has created strife throughout the kingdom, with all the misery and suffering feeding her powers. Nine years she has delved into the Dark Arts, growing stronger every day. She’s waiting for you, to tie up loose ends.’
Ravyn felt heady, excitement flowing through her veins like lightning. Her parents weren’t dead. Her family could be whole once more. ‘And Blade?’
‘Blade is out there searching for you. He should have been here by now, but I expect he’ll show up soon.’ He paused. ‘To leave the island, you need a boat, or a raft. You will sail to the Southeast. That will return you to the land of Aigerach. You are currently on an uncharted island.’
Ravyn smiled at the thought of Blade crossing the countryside, sword in hand, checking all the castles, caves, and forests. Her hero. ‘Connor, I have a friend here, an elf. His name is Rowan; he is the caretaker of this island. He downed a balsa tree to make a raft. Somehow he knew a quest was in my future. I need help with magic though; I need to know what I can do, how to do it, how to contact you, and so many other things. I brought a book of my mother’s from the castle to help me, but it’s old and brittle, and doesn’t tell me anything that seems to help.’
Connor smiled, ‘Obviously, you’ve figured out a few things on your own, creating quite a ruckus in the aural field. There are ways to cloak what you are doing, but I’m afraid I cannot teach that to you from afar. Right now, I want you to keep the magic to a minimum. I sensed your aunt searching the aural field earlier. If she finds you, she could send a lot of trouble your way. However, I do need to show you how to contact me. Do you sense the colors and scents that make up my thread?’
Ravyn concentrated on the aura surrounding her and located two separate threads of magic. One was blues and purples, while the other was green and gold. The blue thread smelled a lot like sweet peas, while the green and gold thread smelled of a pine forest. She knew in a heartbeat she was indigo and he was golden-green. Intuitively, she followed the trail of his aura out away from herself and saw the ocean drift past her. She concentrated on the trail, flying over the desert, across the mountains, and deep into the forests. The golden-green line descended into the woods, to a little hut by a stream, and she gazed into the face of Connor. She knew him in an instant. He looked younger and stronger, but his eyes were kind and his face friendly and warm.
'Wonderful, you have natural skill. Now you know my aura, but look at the bowl I am using. It is for scrying. Scrying is a very useful tool to a practitioner of the Light. Take a bowl and inscribe it with the markings you see here.’ He pointed to the runes etched into the edge of the bowl. ‘Write these down, and be sure they are exact. This will help you locate me, and you will be able to scry what lies before you, so you can beware of pitfalls.’
Ravyn picked up some parchment, writing down the strange symbols. ‘I will not attempt any more magic, unless it’s a life or death situation. Can you tell me a little of what I should expect though, what I can and cannot do, what I shouldn’t try? Mothers book seems to talk only about what lies behind the magic, how the motivation of the practitioner decides whether the art is Light or Dark. Are there limits to what I can do?’
Connor smiled. ‘There are always limits. For instance, you cannot raise the dead without serious cost to your soul. Of course, that lies down the path of the Dark Arts.’
‘Oh, that’s horrible.’
Connor cleared his throat, ‘Generally, a practitioner is limited by what he or she thinks is possible. Magic is physically exhausting, and you will require extra meals if you are practicing heavily, along with plenty of rest. If you aren’t careful and work the Light for too long, you will collapse into a deep suspended sleep, while your body repairs the damage of overuse.’
‘How much is too much? How will I know?’
‘It’s different for everyone. It also depends on what you are doing. Some magic takes a heavy toll, and you can do the spell once; some magic could be done all day long for weeks before it would wear you out. I will teach you all about this later. Suffice it to say, you shouldn’t do anything right now for other more serious reasons.’
‘Aunt Zelera tracking me.’
Connor coughed, ‘Every person has an aural thread which is unique to them, but some are much stronger than others. You must be very careful when scrying of not crossing other auras. Once auras cross, your scent and colors become a beacon.’
‘So I’ll just call for you and I’ll find you?’
‘Well, you’ll have to search the aural plane for me, but you’ll find me easy enough. Helps when you have a general idea of where to start looking, but a systematic search will yield results eventually. On another topic, you cannot just conjure up something from nothing. You must be able to visualize what you want and know where you are bringing it from. Do you understand?’
Trembling, Ravyn felt sweat bead upon her brow, ‘Connor, I am tiring. I ate less than an hour ago, but I’m famished. I can contact you again. Will you do me a favor though? When you see Blade, tell him I think of him every day, and I miss him.’
Connor guided Ravyn back to the island, easing his aura free, after sending gentle reassurances in her direction. What luck she had landed on an island an elf was tending. The elf would construct a sturdy raft. Elves were excellent survivalists, botanical experts, and readily able to communicate with wild creatures. Ravyn had a wonderful teacher. Luck had nothing to do with it; her mother had sent her to a wonderful sanctuary.
Ravyn reached for the bread Rowan extended in her direction. “Thank you, I’m starving. Practicing the Light Arts takes a lot out of you.”
Rowan poured her a glass of cool water. “Did you learn anything useful?”
“Yes, I did. Most importantly, I learned that my parents are still alive. They are captive in some sort of void, suspended in time and space.”
“Well that’s wonderful news. That must make you feel much better.”
She smiled. “It is fantastic news. But, Aunt Zelera rules Aigerach with a wicked hand. Connor said I must return to the mainland so I can fight my aunt.” Her smile faltered. “He also said I have to stop using magic because that was how he found me. If he can find me, so can Aunt Zelera.”
“Sounds like good advice. You don’t need a sorceress hot on your trail. Is this Connor planning on contacting you again?”
"He taught me how to inscribe a bowl so that I can scry, and he showed me how to locate him.” She sighed, “He didn’t give me any tangible instruction in magic either but did clear up a few things for me. It doesn’t really matter since I’m not supposed to be using it.” She folded her hands in her lap. She looked up, a smile waking in her eyes, “Blade’s been looking for me. Now that Connor knows where I am, he can send Blade to meet me. Then we’ll travel to Connor where I can finally learn how to master the Light Arts.” She let out a big breath, blowing stray hair away from her eyes.
“Can you trust him, Rayvn? Is he leading you into a trap? Maybe he works for your aunt; maybe he doesn’t want you practicing magic so you won’t learn something that can save you.”
Ravyn’s eyes glazed over as she searched for some clue as to Connor’s intentions. She visualized the day on the ship, the Darkness descending on her. She calmed herself, scrutinizing the events. Two separate threads of Light enveloped her. She recalled the smell of the forest and golden- green threads wrapping around her protectively. Her eyes flew open wide, “He’s ok. He helped my mother back on the ship. He tried to save us. I may not be sure of many things, but I am sure he would never hurt me.”
Rowan sagged a little, a faint smile tracing his lips. “I’m glad you have someone who can help you. Once you leave this island, I can’t do a thing for you. I wish I could leave and help you on your quest. But, I think this is something you must do on your own.”
“Well, I won’t really be alone. I will have all the things you taught me right here,” she tapped her forehead. “And you’ll always have a place here,” she pointed to her heart.
Rowan turned away, pointing at the pile of logs. “These are ready to lash together, and I’ve started on a sail. Get some supplies together; you’ll need several water gourds, fruit, jerky, some of the flat bread that keeps for a while, your new clothes, cloak, and,” he swallowed hard, eyes misting.
Ravyn wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
As the moon set, Zelera thrashed about her bed, silken sheets strangling her floundering limbs. Ravyn stood before her, dark hair streaming in the wind, pulsing with radiant power. She was creating a void in the darkness that sucked Zelera into its core. She felt the force pulling her downward, ever spiraling into the depths of the hell she created. She screamed and woke, forehead beading up with sweat. She glared at the mirror across from her bed. The image of her sister and her husband floated out of the fog into view. She let out a stale breath, relief washing over her. It was only a nightmare, the same damn one that haunted her every night.
She rose, wrapping a gauzy black robe around her, though it did little to protect her from the chill of the cold stone. Glancing at the smoky hearth, she fired a jet of Darkness into the embers. They blazed like the depths of hell. The warmth of the fire did not ease the chill in her heart.
She peered into the mirror. Lareina floated about in a grey fog, unable to see or hear. Trapped in time. Bryant slipped in and out of view. “By the Darkness, I hate you, both of you. You took everything from me. But, I’ve taken it back,” she gloated, running a blood red nail along her sister’s angelic face. “And, I’m prepared to take more, like your darling little brat. Today is the anniversary of her birth. I’m going to find her, I’m going to kill her, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” She chuckled deep in her throat.
She strode to her workroom, her sanctuary of the Dark Arts. The dream continued nagging her, and she clutched her skull in desperation. In the dead center of the chamber, she traced out a spell in black sand. She cast her head back pleading to the Darkness, “Show me how to find the girl. Her blood is to be your sacrifice. Help me. I beseech you.” Emptying a vial of blood into her scrying bowl, she searched the breadth of Aigerach for traces of magic out of the ordinary. She shrieked coming up empty handed. She slammed her arm against the bowl, sending it off the table. It shattered on the hard stone floor. She stared at the dark red pool, cocking her head as the blood oozed into a pattern resembling a map.
She raced to the library, bare feet slapping against the cold stones. Throwing the doors wide, she sprinted across the threadbare carpet. As she cast about the shelves, she noticed a vacant spot. Lareina’s book was missing. Bony arms reached to the sky as she let out a triumphant laugh. Her eyes lit with the fires of malice.
She pulled a dusty map tube from the shelves, pulling out a map of the known world. She spread it before her, chanting an incantation that grated across her tongue. Slowly an inky black line flowed from Veris out across Aigerach. It spread northwest across the sea, stopping in the ocean. She closed her eyes, focusing on the black trail. In her mind’s eye, she followed the ebony thread across the countryside, over the ocean, to a little island. At the beach, she discovered a well-worn trail leading up to a cozy little tree house. Peering through the window, she saw the young woman from her cursed dreams. She spat onto the map, thin lips curling in a feral grin.
Chapter 4
Rowan finished working the balsa wood into uniform logs, while Ravyn sat cross-legged in the sand weaving vines into rope. Rowan secured a log to the center of the raft as a mast. He then rummaged around in his storage shed, finally bringing out some sturdy cloth to make a sail. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he then sat in the shade with some shears, a needle, and heavy thread.
Ravyn coiled the woven ropes, setting them beside the raft that was taking shape. She picked up several hollowed out gourds, heading to the spring to fill them with sparkling cool water. With that task completed, she climbed up the rope ladder to the tree house.
The air soon filled with the aroma of biscuits baking, and she inhaled the warm scent with a smile. She raided her larder, filling bags with dried meat and fish. She packed more bags with nuts and roots and fruit.
Before the sun set on the third day after her birthday, she was ready to set sail. The raft was loaded with supplies, and the shushing of the sea beckoned her to go. Ravyn turned away from the sea and put a trembling hand on Rowan’s shoulder.
“Will you share one last meal with me before I go? Now that the time has come, I’m afraid to go. I know nothing about the world beyond this shore. Are there things I should avoid? Will I be strong enough to confront my aunt? Will I find my way?”
Rowan leaned back, brows furrowing, “I cannot believe my ears. Have I not been teaching you all these years how to care for yourself? Aye, there will be things new to your eyes, but most of the plants growing on Aigerach are here on this island, and you know them all. The critters, well, use your common sense with that. You’ve learned to track and trap.” He folded his arms across his chest, “I just can’t believe you’re worried. Your aunt is the one who should be worried. I wish I could go with you. This’ll be an adventure the bards will sing of for years to come, the return of the crown.”
Ravyn smiled, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, “Thank you, Rowan; you know just what to say to a silly girl.”
“Well, now that you’ve come to your senses, let’s get a bite to eat. I’m half-starved. Just look at me wasting away,” he patted his belly.
Rowan clambered up the ladder to the tree house. Ravyn followed, eyes wide open as she tried to soak in every detail, absorbing the view from the window. She studied Rowan’s wizened face, imprinting his smile deep in her mind. She handed Rowan a bowl of stew that had been simmering over the fire all afternoon. The comforting scent of vegetables and meat wrapped around her, soothing her nerves. She passed Rowan a buttery scone.
They
ate in silence, staring out the door to the sea. The waves rolled in and out, taking time with them. Ravyn swallowed her last sip of water, hesitating to put the cup down.
Rowan stood, shaking scone crumbs off his trousers. He looked down at Ravyn, then out to the sea. “The tide is going out.”
Ravyn rose to her feet, setting her empty cup on the windowsill. She walked to the door, never looking back. She descended the ladder, the worn rungs smooth against her palms. As they headed down the sandy path, she inhaled the sultry jungle scents mixed with salty sea air. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. “Princesses do not cry,” she whispered to the wind. The roar of the waves snarled at her, and the waiting raft looked like a floating prison cell. Shaky legs drew her onward.
Awkward silence hung in the humid tropical air. Rowan kicked at the sand with his feet, then cleared his throat, “I’ll shove your raft into the water. You pole out past the reef, and then set the sail. Head southeast. Remember all I’ve taught you, and you’ll be just fine.”
“Thank you, Rowan, thank you for everything. When all this is over, I’ll return to see you. I promise.” She leaned down giving him a fierce hug, kissing him on the cheek. It felt inadequate for all the years of love and care he’d given her.
Rowan returned the embrace, squeezing her tight. “You’ve got everything? You’ve got enough water, food, clothes? Ah, course you do.” He pulled back, looking fiercely into her eyes, “You take back your future, Ravyn; take back the crown.”
She couldn’t speak. Her mouth felt dry, and all the fluid in her body seemed to be slipping unheeded from her blue eyes. She squeezed his hand and then turning away from him, she climbed aboard the sturdy raft. The raft seemed small compared to the vast ocean before her, but at once she felt secure. The love Rowan had put into the little craft emanated all about her. It no longer felt like a jail; it was as if Rowan rocked her in his arms, keeping the nightmares at bay as he had when she was little.