The Journey From Oidhche Shamhna

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

The Journey From Oidhche Shamhna

Chapter 18

Rowena II

Rowena sat at the small table Kista, Temin's wife, had moved to her room thinking to make things easier. Sitting on the tabletop, and leaning against the wall, sat a sheet of silver, pounded thin and finely polished, held in a willow frame set with sconces that held small candles to reflect brightly on the surface. Rowena leaned forward to see her face in the mirror brought up from the Moors of Spain. She had never seen such a wonder. Her mirrors were of pounded bronze, useless in a room's candlelight and not meant to see a face. Rowena put her finger to the smooth surface and traced the side of her face, wondering at the refection and the line of her jaw.

She turned away from the obscenity, only to shyly look back to see herself with her questioning look, and glancing over her shoulder to make sure Helena still slept, she then pulled off her cloth and cap to see herself fully. Here was a mirror unlike the mirrors that she would cast her luck to in hopes of gaining knowledge. This was a mirror that showed the truth of the moment. She had kept it covered with an extra cloak to make sure Helena did not grow up to worship vanity. Now, she looked at her own face in wonder that she should look so much older than the time she had last looked into the pond to see her face.

Again, she put her hand out and traced her eyebrow, remembering the cool water and the quiet pond. She closed her eyes and thought of Erwin, refusing to toss a prayer to a god that no longer listened and no longer cared.

The night Hengest had brought home her husband and set her feet to a new path she had felt the death of a father, and knew she would be without him always. When the gods refused her gentle request and tearful plea, she felt the death of a clan and knew without them she could never lie with her mother in the sacred mound in the south and never be welcomed to Morgan's fire as a daughter.

She held her finger to the lips of the girl in the mirror and felt coldness harder than the stones that held the towers high in the air. She wanted a low-slung roof and herbs to toss in the fire. She wanted to raise Helena with the joy of the gods' song and not in this cold place with no gods and no family. She lowered her hand and stared at the sad grey eyes that looked back at her and wondered when she had started to look so old.

Turning from the mirror, and covering it with the cloak, she took up Helena to put to her breast. She looked down and smiled as she now traced a face in flesh with the same finger she had held to the mirror and could see her eyes in the ones that looked back. She thought she could see the arched eyebrow of her mother and smiled at the miracle she held. She closed her eyes and whispered to Erwin, hoping that even if the gods would not carry her words he could feel her love on the wind.

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Rowena had much to do. She needed to complete the stairs, enlarging them, and adding more rails. She still heard chuckles behind her as she worked in the tower, making sure the steps would work in a logical sequence. She smiled as she changed the sequence to join with the tides and the moon, knowing the plot and plan could only change with the knowledge of the original plan, and the plan would only rest in her head.

Temin and his wife had shown her the wands they made, and the meager stocks of dragon heart, unicorn hair and proper wood. They had pleaded to save the herds of the creatures hunted by man for the future of wand making. Some creatures were so scarce they no longer ran in herds, they said. They showed her their crafted wands, and how the wand would fit the hand and the spirit of the holder. Rowena frowned when she learned they made the wand first and then matched to the owner. She knew that to fit ten hands they would have need to make a hundred wands.

They explained the different meanings of the woods to Rowena, and the twelve signs in the sky that would match the time the wand was made and demand which wood was used. They could make wands, but not the way, not with the strength of a goblin-made wand without the proper supplies.

Rowena walked the slopes and sought a place devoid of stone. A gentle slope at the end of the valley provided what she looked for and marked the point where they could plant they warded off a great expanse of ground to plant the woods they would need. Rowena wondered where the seed would come from, but Temin told her that each family from a different part of their land would bring seed until all were here.

"I can make a list of the woods, but it will be years before we harvest." Kista frowned and shook her head. "How do we make wands now?"

"I can go to the south and find wood if it is needed." Temin placed his arm around her shoulder, knowing how she would react.

"No." Rowena turned to the marked area. "We will find a way to first plant, and then we will need to speed the growth. Erwin knows the spells. In the while I have a chest of ebony, and a chair of oak."

"I think the cart Milt is building is of ash," Kista offered, beginning to get excited. "It is the spirit of the wood, not the newness that we need."

"And willow," Rowena said, blushing and looking at Kista.

"The cores will be lacking. We need to find creatures that will give us what we need." Temin frowned. "The finest wood will not channel all the magic without the core to tease it and gather it together."

"Then we will need to find them." Rowena laughed. "What is one more thing to do amongst all this?"

She sat down on the ground and looked back at the school. "Sometimes I think it is too much. Other times I know it is. What are we to do, Temin?"

He joined her sitting on the ground and put his hand up to bring Kista to join them.

"You are not alone here, Rowena." Temin looked at Kista and saw her nod.

"Go on." She nudged him with her elbow, encouraging him to speak what they had spoken of before.

"Kista and I would like our own place. Not that we do not appreciate all you have given, but a small dwelling, a place of home, a fire for our gods." He looked directly to Rowena's eyes as he told her of his plan.

"We will find the woods and do the planting. In a few years, a great forest can take over this entire slope down to the lake's shore. We can make a place for the creatures, and hide them from the non-magical men."

"Muggles," Rowena said.

"What?"

"Emila, she calls them Muggles."

Temin put his head back and laughed. "Helga said something about boiling Muggles in oil. I was worried about dinner."

Rowena smiled and shook her head as she stood and looked around.

"There is water here, good, sweet water for a well." She looked up at the mountains. "This place lays as if in the bottom of a bowl, protected by the mountains on all sides, the rain filtered by the rock. Build your dwelling like the towers, round to keep the wind from taking it full."

"I will need the numbers." Temin looked at Kista. "Neither of us has use for runes nor numbers in our wand-making."

"Rowena?" Kista timidly raised her eyes. "Only one floor. I do not think I want moving stairs. Just a small dwelling like what we had."

"Fine." Rowena scowled. "I will give you the plans for a dwelling suitable for a keeper of the grounds and the game."

"That is all we ask." Temin smiled and pulled Kista to his side. "A little privacy, a small place."

Rowena walked back to the school slowly, already planning the short, squat structure they would need. She smiled, remembering the way Kista had pulled her cloak to cover her growing stomach, not wanting to share her secret with others.

Rowena thought of the children that were to come, of Helena and of Kista's surprise. She thought of Erwin and hoped that the valley would be enough of a home to hold him now that it would be a true village.

She finished the plans for the hut, and called the elves to help in its execution. She had told Kista quietly that the well was to have high walls and a wooden lid that would hold a ward against small hands. Kista had blushed and thanked her quickly, leaving to find Temin, again pulling her cloak closed. She would not say anything until she knew the babe would not lose its hold and slip away. To do so, to speak of it would only hurry a miscarriage.

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Rowena sat watching the elves put food on the table then disappear only to return moments later with another tray laden with food. She bit the inside of her lip and looked sideways at Helena, who sat playing in a basket next to her.

"Ebby." She called one of the elves. "Are elves taught to move like that, from place to place, or is it like walking learned by a babe?"

"We teach the young." He leaned into her, his eyes large in fear. "It is a terrible thing when a child travels before he is taught."

"Could you teach me?"

"You, Miss Rowena?" He stepped back as if stung.

"I don't mean really teach me, but to show me how you teach the young? How you use your magic?"

"I cannot. It is not done." He put up his chin in defiance.

"Long ago, it was said, there were two tribes of elves. It was also said there were two tribes of men that lived in the same land. At one time the elves and the magical men must have been closer than we are now," Rowena said.

"The elves are older than men." Ebby looked at her, wondering what she wanted.

"Ebby, some elves are attached to families. Your clan is attached to a place."

Ebby lowered his ears and looked to the ground, kicking his foot.

"Why?"

"Long ago, Miss Rowena, one tribe took the magic of the other away. It was an evil and dark time. "

"So those elves stayed in one place? They are the ones that attach now to a place rather than a family?"

Ebby nodded his head and twisted his hands.

"Thank you, Ebby," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Ebby, one more thing. When you got your magic back, how long had it been taken? I mean, the way you travel, was it taught then?"

Ebby pondered what she asked. "Three generations it was before we got back our magic." He wrinkled his brow. "I don't know about the teaching."

"Thank you, Ebby." She sat back and began to think about travel, wondering why they could go with an elf, but not an elf with them.

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Rowena spoke to Emila later that day to check on the books that were still coming from the south. Milt was sitting at a table made from a great slab of stone surrounded by elves. He looked up at her as she came in trying to hide her amusement, and seeing the smirk on her face only turned back to work with the elves, cursing under his breath.

"Whatever is he doing?" Rowena looked back at Milt as she hoisted Helena higher on her hip.

"He is attempting to show the elves how to copy the texts we will need." Emila glanced back over her shoulder at the table as another pot of ink spilled and ran down to the floor.

"It does not look like it is working."

"Shhhh, he assured me that he could do this."

"Emila, look at the mess." She giggled as the sound of parchment ripping reached her ears.

"None of the families we have found have elves to send, or say they can not part with what they have. Milt thinks if we train our own it will work as well."

Rowena handed Helena to Emila and walked over to sit next to Milt, looking at the scrolls the elves had produced. She studied the copied runes and tried not to smile.

"I know, don't say it," Milt growled.

"Milt, I think that putting a foot in the cauldron instead of forbs may be a problem." She bit her lip and swallowed, looking at his face turn purple.

"I, Madam, am attempting to solve the problem created when four so-called teachers decided to open a school without supplies and the correct materials."

"So-called?" Rowena stood and stepped back from the table at once, angered.

Milt stood quickly, pushing his chair back and narrowing his eyes as he glared at Rowena. He waved his hand, sending out magic that cleaned the spilled ink and restored the parchment without uttering a sound.

"I, Madam, am here due to circumstances beyond us. I do not wish to be part of this. Nor do I wish to fall in line with children bent on a dream."

"You are welcome to leave." Rowena stepped back from him, feeling his anger in waves. "We have no wish to keep you and never asked you to come."

"The prophesy sent me. Do you think we would be here if it had not?"

"I-I don't know," she said, glancing back to Emila. "I don't know about your seeing."

"Enough for today," Emila said. "Let us leave the work for now. Perhaps a rest is what they need."

Six elves laid down their quills and nodded their agreement.

"Salazar left this morning. He did not tell me he was leaving. With both him and Gryffin away..." she said, her voice dropping off.

"You need to make a decision. This is not working. Even with elves sent by the clans it will not work. The quills do not fit their... their hands, and the runes look too similar to them." Milt picked up another parchment and shoved it at her.

"I will speak to Helga..."

"I already have. She only knows of things buried and charmed objects of her old teacher that can be found." Milt turned to the table and waved the elves away. "We need more. We need the texts that our teachers used, and the teachers before them."

"We need to find Mave," Emila mused. "It is said she still keeps the books."

Milt spit on the floor for luck and turned to Emila, locking his eyes on hers. "You heard the same thing as I on the road to here."

"I will not believe it until I hear from more than someone paid to carry a sword," Emila said, looking at him in disgust.

"Elbragh, my teacher from the clan, said her father took a bride's price for her." Rowena took Helena back from Emila and sat at the table.

"Yes, perhaps he did. However I can not believe he would have sent her to a Muggle king." Emila shook her head and joined Rowena at the table. "A Muggle? Mave? I can not put it together in my head."

"She lives now in the land of the Druids, it is why she no longer teaches. Perhaps her king still follows their ways." Rowena looked to Milt.

"Perhaps she just wants the fame and has fallen to her own ways. She no longer fights with us, and has been known to fight against us."

"She would not do that!" Rowena turned away from Milt, and lowered her head to rest on Helena. She thought fighting the non-magical bad enough, but to put it clan against clan would be unimaginable.

"Then talk to your Godric when he returns. Talk to him of fields turning red with blood and whole villages gone. Talk to the one that strikes terror in battle and is known for the sword he carries and arrows thrown with no bow."

"Gryffin?" Rowena hissed.

"To us his emblem is a lion, a winged lion of pride. To Queen Mave it is one of a hound, and carries only death." He again turned and spat on the floor.

"Emila?" Rowena turned to the older witch, her eyes large and fearful, clutching Helena to her tightly.

"I can not believe that one who has taught our teachers, and gathered children to her would do this. I cannot believe it," Emila said.

"I would not suggest visiting her any time soon." Milt said crossing his arms and looking down at the witches. "If she is still teaching children she is teaching the dark arts and no longer the gods and prayers. There are other rumours, rumours of half-breeds and creatures turned to the night. Unliving creatures that do her bidding."

Rowena looked up at him, wrinkling her brow. Never had she heard him say more than a few words at the table. He was quiet and sullen, subject to disappearing as he walked the valley and looked to the North Sea. Now he stood and argued with her, and told her what to do.

"You also want to fight with Gryffin." She looked up at him, suddenly understanding his anger and wish of solitude. "Is that why you are so bitter, because this is a place of women?

Milt pushed up the sleeve on his right arm and shoved it in front of her angrily. She sucked in her breath at the purple scar that ran from the middle of his forearm up to his armpit. His elbow was misshapen and wrong. The skin appeared to have healed poorly, with no magic and no true care.

"I was left on the field. He stood me up and told me to walk to the north. He said ... he said I would meet my future." Milt looked down and tugged his sleeve down. "He had only enough magic left to stop the bleeding, and too many Muggle eyes to use the stones."

"He left you? He left you like that?" Rowena looked up to his face.

"Aye, but was an act of kindness that he did." His face softened as he looked at her innocence. "He used his magic to send me here, instead of his sword to send me to the gods. I could not have stopped the blood, and he would not leave one on the ground in pain, or for the enemy to take for questions. To save one and risk the many is wrong."

"Milt, I did not know." Rowena looked away, not knowing how to make this better.

"Yes, I want to be out of here. I want to be south of that pass and in the world, but until Godric returns I will stay and offer my protection." He tugged at his sleeve as if trying to readjust it to the way the arm should be, and looked up at her sadly.

"Forgive me, Rowena Ravenclaw. I have no right to bring this to you."

"We will send a messenger. We will contact her. We will ask this Queen Mave, as she is now called, to send us..."

"NO!" Milt thundered at her, stepping forward until she stumbled back into the chair. "Did you not hear, witch? Did you not hear what she now is?"

"I will write her a missive." Emila smiled gently. "After all, she was my mother's teacher as she was mine. Who better to write to her?"

"Your teacher?" Rowena raised an eyebrow. "And your mother's? Yet a bride's price has just been paid?"

"If the bride's price was paid, then it is true she practices the dark arts and has found strong potions to renew herself." Emila chuckled. "That sounds like something Mave would do. She always was a little vain. Of course, we can blame it on the mirrors. It is said her mother traced her face on a mirror when she was young and used it to cast her luck."

Rowena thought of the mirror covered with a cloak in her bedchamber and hugged Helena to her. She remembered running her finger over her reflection and tracing the same finger on her daughter's face. She looked down and realized in horror what she had done. Jumping up and shoving Helena at Emila, she began to run.

She had looked in the pond and seen her face, and had smiled at her reflection, dipped her finger and traced her brow the day her father had brought him home. Now her feet pounded on the cold stone as she ran faster to her chambers, choking on tears and crying out to all the gods she had learned the names of. She ran up the stairs and crossed through the halls, praying that the gods would hear and forgive what she had done.

When she reached her chambers, she opened the window and dragged the mirror over to the sill, chanting prayers and closing her eyes. Twice she tried to lift it only to have it fall back, then Helga's hand joined hers and together they sent it crashing seven floors below onto the hard stone.

"Helga! What have I done?" She sunk to the knees on the floor. "I gave the magic of the mirror to her. I put it to her face."

"No, no, Rowena." Helga lowered to her knees and hugged Rowena to her. "The mirror is not evil. It is how you use it."

"The day, the... Helga I know, I know what happens." She hid her face in her hands and cried. "The first time I looked in the pond the gods punished me. I touched the pond and traced my face, just as I traced hers. I know it now. I didn't think of it."

"Rowena? She is not yet a year old. Surely she did not look in it?" Helga's eyes grew large as she looked at Rowena. "I will offer prayers to my gods. At the naming Erwin called to the new god. Pray to him also - perhaps he has accepted her as well."

"Oh my gods, Helena, my Helena. What have I done?"