Return of the Crown (4 page)

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
16
^th
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.

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.