I can still remember standing there, on the first morning of summer.
I had risen before the sun that morning, the moon was still high in the sky and the stars still twinkling at their heights. I clutched my cloak around me as I walked through the shadows and mists to my destination. My breath rose through the cool air, mingling with the patches of fog before traveling onward, up to it's destination in the violet heavens. I looked to the east, away from the mountains from whence I had come. Luna was retreating, relinquishing her nightly domain to her fair brother and his celestial chariot. The night sky was fading to blue, and the few low clouds that hugged the horizon were colored a deep bronze. Years later, I would remember this sunrise as the beginning – the colors of perfect harmony and peace. But that morning I attached no meaning to the sight, only gazed upon it with the pleased eye of a child on a journey. I was a simple pilgrim, eager to reach my destination, still wiping the slumber from my eyes, the dust of a three day journey on my feet. In past years, my mother had bid me rise, but this year I made the journey alone. It was the seventh trip I had taken to the spot, and I knew the path well. Torches bobbed in the distance, and the low murmur of reverent voices told me I would arrive soon.
From the mists of the forest, and the darkness of the thick pines, I stepped out onto the plain. There, in the distance, the monument stood, it's view uninhibited – the great stones arranged in a perfect circle. Even in my youth, many of the stones already lay fallen on the ground. But there, right before the sun broke free of it's bonds of darkness, it was the same as it had always been… since time immemorial. I stood at the edge of the silent crowd, peering through a gap in the wall of bodies. A shot of red streaked over the dark horizon, then another. I narrowed my eyes, and held up a hand to shade the glare, but I dared not look away. The brilliant light of Aurora rose majestically, almost perfectly between two of the titanic columns. The silence was deafening as we gazed on the scene, young and old, all with the same sense of wonder. Then, a voice just as sweet broke the stillness, and a chorus of voices joined in, singing the hymn of summer; an ode to the warmth of the sun. I lifted my voice to the heavens.
* * * *
It was the last time in my childhood I was to make the journey to the circle on Midsummer's day. I returned to my village of Ravenwood, rather weary, but with a flame in my soul that could not be extinguished by the hard winter months that lay ahead. My mother was waiting for me when I arrived, a gentle smile on her face. She asked me no questions. She didn't need to ask to understand – that was the bond between us, the bond of our people. Instead, she simply told me that it was time to feed the chickens. I grabbed the sack and headed for the door.
It was a normal day, the sky blue as I cast the feed out of my apron to our little brown hens. A group of ravens from the nearby forest soared overhead, cackling and cawing. The winged scavengers had given the village it's name, back when my father's people had first crossed the river. But that was many years ago. My father had died when I was only a baby. My mother and I raised our chickens and sold eggs in the market for our living. It was a difficult life, but at the time I did not realize it – I acknowledged the fact that in order live, I must eat, and in order to eat, I must work; so I did my chores with no complaints. But the time I cherished were the evenings, warm summer evenings when I could sit outside with a candle (my mother would not permit flames inside our wooden hut) and read the heavy scrolls my father had left us. He had not been an ordinary man, but one of great wisdom and talents. Mother told me that he could walk on water, and make rocks turn to bread, and cause inanimate objects to fly. While I wasn't sure if I believed her entirely, I had decided early on I was destined to follow in his footsteps. I did this in the way I knew best – by committing to heart all of the information in the scrolls. Mother would not let me stay out for long after dark though – she would hurry me in with an anxious expression on her face. Wolves and bandits still roamed the glen, and fantastic tales of beast the size of houses – great green dragons – prevailed across the countryside. Gypsy travelers spread these stories when they traveled through Ravenwood, singing long epics left over from the ruins of Rome, and performing feats of magic. I had been able to impress them with a few tricks to match theirs, ones I had learned from the parchments. Most were quite simple, and the gypsies would applaud politely, but when I showed them how I was able to control the winds, their smiles would drop from their faces, and were replaced with looks of awe. It was then I realized my little tricks were more than the average magician could accomplish. So when mother approached me that evening, I listened to her carefully.
"Rowena," she called, after supper, as I was getting down the scrolls. "Rowena, you should like to know what has happened while you were away."
I returned the scrolls to their basket, and sat down beside her on the straw mat we used for our bed. She looked quite serious, so I watched her, concerned.
"On the first day of summer, a traveler arrived. His name is Phineas, and he comes from a place called Londinium, far to the east."
I nodded for her to continue.
"He is in charge of a school, and he has come to seek apprentices. I know that you are only a girl, but if you show him your powers… Rowena, it is a school of sorcery. The sciences of the stars, of the metals and plants… you could learn the languages of the old empire, learn to read official documents. And you would learn how to use your magic." Her eyes had that far away look to them. "Your father would have wanted that. He wanted to teach you himself, you know. You should try, Rowena," she continued, turning back to me, "to impress this man so that he will take you to the city, and teach you these things. When you are finished with your schooling, you can make the journey back here, and help Ravenwood to become a place of learning as well. That was your father's dream."
I nodded.
"Yes mother. I will do my best."
* * * *
I woke early in the morning, dressed, and headed for the town's square. A lone raven soared overhead as I turned the dusty corner. About five boys between the ages of six and thirteen were assembled there. They looked as if they very much wanted to be elsewhere. We waited for several minutes, without speaking. Then, out of the local inn, The Crow's Nest, a tall figure appeared. He was dressed all in black, and was beardless, though his grey hair made him appear to be old. He wore a funny black hat with a wide brim, and over one eye was a circle of glass, through which he peered down at us. Leaning on his walking stick, he cleared his throat, and began to speak.
"As you have all been informed, my name is Phineas, and I come from the city of Londinium to seek the best apprentices for my school of Sorcery and Sciences. I would like for you to each show me an example of your work, so I can devise what level you are." He clapped his hands together. "Who would like to begin?"
At first no one spoke. But then one of the older boys pushed a younger one forward. "He wants to go first sir."
The boy, who looked quite frightened, proceeded to repeat, in a quivering voice, the incantation used for the flight of objects. With a thin stick of wood, he guided a fallen raven feather for several feet. I smiled to myself at this little trick – I recognized the wand as one bought from the gypsies.
The other boys performed various spells, all quite elementary, and all with the help of a wand. Just as the last boy finished, Phineas spoke.
"Well, as that is all…"
I stepped forward. "Excuse me sir, but I would like a chance as well."
He peered at me through his monocle. "But, you are a girl," he said after a moment.
I chose not to answer this obvious observation, and instead, pushed back my sleeves.
"Don't you need a wand?" one of the boys asked, in a jesting tone. "You're free to borrow mine." He winked at me.
"That's Rowena," a younger boy whispered. "Don't tease her. She'll turn you into a toad just by glancing your way."
I chose to ignore this comment as well, and, closing my eyes and breathing in and out, started to move my hand.
A breeze whispered through the square, from the south. Then, one wended it's way around the corner from the east. Next came a westerly wind, and finally, a cold breeze blew in from the north. I opened my eyes in time to see them join into a small spiral of air and dust in the center of the square. The other children backed away uncertainly. Phineas, however, moved closer in. He stuck his gnarled hand into the spiral, holding it there for a brief second. When he removed it, a clotted cut on his index finger was bleeding freely. He held his hand up to his face.
"Amazing," he whispered, staring at the wound. He looked at me. "But can you do the basic spells as well?"
With a flick of my wrist, and a simple phrase, I whisked the same feather that the other boys had used high into the air.
Phineas regarded me for a few moments, then offered his hand. "Come with me, child," he said. I followed him into the tavern.
We sat at the great table, and he got himself a drink from one of the large barrels. After taking a few sips, he asked, "What is your name?"
"I am Rowena, daughter of Bram, founder of Ravenwood."
A light of recognition flickered in his eyes. "Your father was a wizard, was he not?"
I nodded in assent.
He took a few more sips of his drink, and peered at me over his glass. "Sorcery is not women's work, you must know that, Rowena."
"But you saw what I can do." I said, speaking low but steadily. "I'm far better than the boys out there, I've already mastered all the tricks… I just want to learn how to use my abilities in a practical way. I want to study. Look at what I've done with a few scrolls… with a library, I could do even more!"
He took down his monocle and rubbed it with the corner of his robe before proceeding. "Perhaps. I know you are capable. I just wonder if your presence would create too much tension… None of my students, even the oldest ones, show as much promise as you. But my school is a firmly formed institution. No one goes outside the rules. And with you there, I only wonder…" He rubbed his chin, looking very tired.
"I must, of course, speak with your mother about this matter. There is a great chance that you may stay in Londinium for the rest of your life, you know."
I only smiled and shook my head at this, but I did not speak. I knew I would return to Ravenwood, but telling this man my plans did not seem prudent. If he knew I planned to return the moment I had gained the necessary skills, he might not let me come at all. Better to wait, watch and listen.
* * * *
Of course, my mother told Phineas that I was free to go, though she would miss me dearly. The following morning, I packed my belongings and my father's scrolls, gave her one last hug, and left on foot, trailing along behind Phineas in the direction of the rising sun. We passed through the great forest where the ravens roosted, and I closed my eyes, listening to their melancholy calls. "Goodbye Rowena," they seemed to say, "return to us soon."
"I promise," I replied aloud, to no one in
particular. Ahead, Phineas did not ask me to whom I was speaking, but continued
in his path. I followed.