Shadows Dancing for the Sun• By Knight Without A Cause
• • Rating - So far will be pg-13, but rating may increase in later chapters• Disclaimer - There will be angst in this story. I don't own Valdemar, the original idea of Sunsinger and Shadowdancer from the Heralds of Valdemar series, nor do I own characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, most unfortunately. • Feedback- I would love feedback on this.
• Summary- A girl is cursed to see only the day. Another girl shall die if the sunlight ever touched her skin. Will a cure for their curses be found, or will they be forced by fate to be forever apart? This is the tale of Willow and Tara set in the world of Valdemar and in the shoes of Sunsinger and Shadowdancer.
• Notes- This chapter is mainly about Willow; the next chapter will be about Tara and how she obtained her curse. This one is shorter since I wanted to see how people liked this idea and to set up the rest of the story.
There was a time when magic ruled the world
There was a time of sorcery
There was a time when dreams were commonplace
A time of myth and wizardry.
Harken now, lend your ears to me.
A wondrous tale I will tell to thee
-Valdemar by Golden Bough and Mercedes Lackey
Sunlight was harsh and unforgiving even in the mornings, but it was viewed by many as unbearable when it reached its zenith at mid-day. Most people would simply grumble in discontent but still continue about their work, but then again…Sheila Rosenberg was far from most people. The heat brought the tavern worker to make the long, arduous trek up the steep hill in order to get some water from the well perched there. This well seemed usual to most, and so perhaps her ignorance to its special properties could be excused rather than her arrogance being the source of the woes she would traced back to these few moments of rest against the cool stone of the well.
Sheila Rosenberg turned her gaze to the rippling waters of the well and studied her reflection as she drank from her recently filled cup. Her face was one of a highly attractive lady in her prime of life, the deeply tanned tone of her skin making her status as a member of the lower, peasant class distinct. Only those women of the peasant class would actually be out in the sunlight working during the day, after all. Her clothes, those belonging to a bar matron, were a little less worn than the usual fare though that was to be expected after having to purchase new clothing following the first few months of her pregnancy.
Madame Rosenberg was pregnant and partially disgruntled about it since it certainly cut into her night-time activities. She was still young and impetuous, so perhaps her unwillingness to immediately leap into the role of matron was more than understandable. It was this agitation with her current condition as well as hormones and the oppressive heat that drove Sheila to make a simple statement beside this seemingly innocent, normal well.
"The day is for fools. This child will be better off learning to sleep through the daylight and only enjoying the embrace of the night."
Words were a dangerous thing to be uttered carelessly, and those words spoken by that well would come to haunt Sheila for the rest of her existence. As it was, however, she turned to return to the tavern without a single thought about the odd shimmer that danced over the surface of the water in the well.
Within five months the time came for the arrival of the child housed in Sheila's womb. The local midwife for the village came as swiftly as she could upon hearing the cry of Ira Rosenberg, and she didn't arrive a moment too soon. The tavern master was shooed out of the hut of a house he and his wife lived in, then the difficult process of labor began in more ardor. The birth itself was not any more difficult than most that the crone had assisted with, but she couldn't mistake the air of something almost enchanted lacing the humid air.
There was something very strange that sent a shock of fear through the midwife once the baby fully emerged from its mother's womb: the child, a little girl, did not utter a single sound. Not a movement was made by the baby even as the midwife tended to the baby's needs the same as she had tended to hundreds of children before this one. Strangely enough there was a pulse and her chest moved with each breath, but her eyes never opened at all.
"Is the baby well, Matron Elena?" an exhausted Sheila asked the midwife with no attempt to conceal the anxiety in her voice. She had been around babies often enough to know that they were rarely silent, especially so soon after birth. Trepidation clenched her heart in its icy fist for she was afraid that her baby, one she had been annoyed to even be pregnant with a few months prior, was either on its way to death's door or already a member of the afterlife.
"She is breathing, her heart is beating, but she remains silent as…" The word she wished to say was obvious, but she had enough tact to leave it unsaid.
"Is this some illness? Will she awaken?" Sheila asked in distress while taking comfort in the arms of Ira Rosenberg after the stocky young man entered the hovel. Dusk had finally settled on the horizon, and it was unwise for anyone to remain outside of an establishment once the protective rays of the sun had ceased to shine.
Just as the midwife was about to inform the Rosenbergs that she herself didn't know, the child's eyes fluttered open followed by yawn as though she had been awakened from some deep slumber. Instinctively she began to cry before being placed in Sheila's arms.
"She seems to be fine though I have to say this smacks of something…unnatural," the crone advised since she had seen more 'unnatural' things in her lengthy life than she would care to expound upon. "Before I leave you to rest and bond with the baby, what have you decided to christen her?"
"Willow. She is Willow Rosenberg," Sheila informed the elder woman without taking her gaze from the baby that was now mysteriously wide awake as soon as the sun dipped from the sky.
The event following the birth of the child could not be brushed from the mind of Matron Elena. All of those in the position of healers and midwives had experience with magic in the capacity of simple hedge witches. Healing and bringing life safely into the world was an act of magic in and of itself after all. Due to this experience with the supernatural, Elena was sensitive to the flow of magic around those items and people effected by it. The flow of magic had been different, more powerful than anything she used on a day-to-day basis. The signature was darker as well, and this vexed the old woman. So, she spent the entire night reviewing her materials for information as to what could have caused the sudden flux in the magical flow. Nothing she read matched the event at all. Her thoughts were drawn away from the conundrum when dawn arrived. Shortly following dawn was a panicked Ira Rosenberg to her door.
"Matron Elena!" the out of breath tavern keeper cried as soon as she answered the door, "It's Willow!"
No further words were necessary to spring the elder woman into action, and she hastily followed Ira back to the hut housing the Rosenberg family. The sight that greeted her made her heart pause in her chest. A stricken Sheila Rosenberg held her baby to her chest, the child completely still despite the commotion around her. Her eyes were closed, and Elena at once thought that she had arrived too late for the small child. That fear was absolved when she noted the slight rising and falling of her chest and felt for herself that there was a pulse.
"What happened?" she inquired calmly of Sheila seeing as Sheila had the child in her arms. If she remained calm then she was positive that the couple would also calm down enough to tell her what had happened.
It seemed her soothing tone of voice did the trick for Sheila took in a deep breath. "She was awake before dawn broke and quite hungry. She went from being hungry to this without any warning."
As Sheila had been speaking, Elena had turned her attention to the flux in the magical flow that surrounded the child. It seemed that what ever was affecting the child was indeed something of the preternatural world. Nothing that she found in her books led her to a conclusion, but she was beginning to have the suspicion that the child had been cursed. Elena looked between the couple with a serious expression as she inquired of them, "Have either of your family lines ever dealt with a curse?"
Both Sheila and Ira looked quite skeptical as they shook their heads. "Magic is something not found in this village often, Matron Elena. You know this."
"Yes, but I have also seen many cases of magic occur here before either of you were born. I shall send a letter to Valdemar so that they may send a sorcerer here to more thoroughly identify what is ailing this child. Until the sorcerer arrives, keep the baby inside at all times."
Elena left the Rosenberg residence to return to her own home in order to send out the letter bound for Valdemar. It was only in Valdemar that they would find a practitioner of magic well versed enough to find a cause and cure for this curse afflicting Willow Rosenberg. With the letter sent by a young man on a swift horse, all Elena could do was wait and pray for the soul of the poor child.
The mage arrived at the small village within a few weeks time, both he and the messenger appearing quite worse for wear. He was a professional, however, and brushed aside his fatigue in order to immediately plunge into this vexing case of the cursed child. The letter that Elena had sent to him had deeply intrigued the mage for he had never seen this sort of a curse before, especially on a newborn child. Every person that he spoke to in the village seemed to have no ill-will toward the Rosenbergs, especially the young and lovely Sheila, so revenge did not seem to be the likely cause of this curse.
"May I please hold the child?" he requested of the worried parents once he had entered their dwelling and made his introductions. Little time was spared for pleasantries when the well-being of a newborn laid in the balance. Reluctantly Sheila handed Willow over to the much elder man who exuded the calm and authoritative air of one who was completely confident in his ability to find a cure for the cursed child. The child made no sound as she was placed into his arms by the mother. Being well-versed in the arcane arts, he immediately knew that this was indeed no ordinary illness. Words that impossible for the others in the room to understand left his lips, and blue glow surrounded his hand. This hand was then slowly moved over the limp body of the still breathing child.
"What is he doing?" Sheila whispered to Elena who had made her way to the home of the Rosenbergs as soon as the mage and the messenger arrived in the village. The elder woman understood Sheila's fears, so she tried to explain what was going on in an effort to easy them.
"He is using his mage-gift go find the source of the curse as well as the effects. It is like what a healer uses to find the specific ailment, only this is specifically for magical afflictions."
Silence the reigned as the mage continued to scan the child, a frown forming on his lips. "I've never seen anything like this," he stated when the glow about his hand dissipated. "She lives, but only by night. That part of this spell is weakening, so she will eventually be awake at all hours rather than merely at night. What is the strongest part of this spell is an inability to withstand the day." The mage handed the child back to the distraught mother.
"Keep her from sunlight always, Mrs. Rosenberg, or else she will die." An audible gasp filled the room, and both parents began to weep. "But fear not, she will be fine as long as she is kept safe from the sunlight. I know not what magic was placed upon her, and I know no one who has the power to undo it. When I return to Valdemar, I will continue to study and converse with my colleagues regarding this matter. If ever we find something that may cure her, then we will come at once. Until then, there is nothing more I can do."