New Beginnings
Chapter 4

The creatures of the Glen were restless. Owls of all sorts anxiously flew overhead in broad daylight. Even the normally bright sky was overcast. It was clearly an omen, though Modron did not notice the signs for hours. When she at last understood, she was furious.

Rowena and Helga looked at each other curiously, unsure why their grandmother ran around the Glen disrupting everything in her path. In the years the two girls had lived there, they had never seen Modron so agitated.

Rhiannon was the first to say something. “What’s wrong, Mother?” she asked.

“We have to go,” said Modron. Then she barked, “You should be aware of that already. You’ve lost your focus.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Rhiannon.

“You’re a Priestess of the Raven,” said Mordon, “Use the Sight!”

Rhiannon closed her eyes. When she opened them her face went pale.

“Get ready, girl. We have to help,” shouted Modron.

Rhiannon ran into the hut, trailed closely by Rowena and Helga.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” demanded Rowena.

Rhiannon searched frantically and found her battle armor and sword. She dressed herself as she spoke.

“Hogwarts Castle is under siege,” she said, “We can’t let it fall.”

“Why not?” asked Helga.

Rhiannon put on her helmet. There was a raven emblem etched onto it. “In all the land, there are only two strongholds left against the evil ­ the Glen and Hogwarts Castle. As long as the Gryffindors rule Hogwarts Dark Wizards will meet resistance. And Hogwarts is near impregnable.”

“Then what’s the problem?” asked Rowena.

“Lord Angus Gryffindor has just died,” said Rhiannon as she deftly girded her sword around her waist, “His son, Ferdiad is the new lord. Right now they’re vulnerable to attack and Dark Wizards have assembled to take over the castle in the confusion. They must have known about Angus’s poor health for a while to have prepared such a siege. The Gryffindors are holding up, but they need help and no one is coming. Ferdiad must live. The next in line, his son Godric, is still a child. Hogwarts cannot fall.”

Helga ran to fetch her spear. She felt someone pull her back. It was Rowena tugging on her tunic. Rowena’s face was very pale, but all she did was shake her head slowly. Rhiannon ran out to meet Modron.

“You’ll be safe here,” Rhiannon called out. The two women disappeared, leaving Helga and Rowena alone in the Glen.

For the rest of the day the two girls tried their best to avoid each other. Rowena spent most of her time in meditation. Helga was far too nervous to concentrate, so she wandered around the Glen making friends with the animals.

That night Helga sat outside watching the stars. To her surprise, Rowena sat down beside her, waved her hand, and magically lit a small fire. The girls did not talk to each other. Helga occasionally glanced over at Rowena, who stared into the flames.

“How do you think they’re doing?” Helga finally asked.

Rowena shrugged, not looking up. Helga was exasperated. She was about to walk away when Rowena, without turning her head, suddenly asked, “What was your father like?”

Helga was startled. Rowena had never once asked about Helga’s life.

“He was a nice man,” Helga said, “He was very set in his beliefs though. I don’t think he would be happy to know where I am.”

Rowena sighed. “I never knew my father,” she said.

Helga was not surprised. She figured out very early that males were not welcome in the Glen unless they were animals.

“Do you know his name?” she asked.

Rowena looked up at her curiously. “Why wouldn’t I? His name was Gwyn Apdon. I think he’s dead now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rowena looked puzzled. “Why? I never knew him.”

“But he was your father.”

“He wasn’t my father,” said Rowena, “He’s my sire.”

“But still…” Helga began. Realizing it was useless, she asked instead, “How did he die?”

Rowena shrugged. “He was old, I guess. Mother said he was eight-one when she met him.”

Helga’s jaw dropped. “That’s so old,” she gasped.

“Not so old,” said Rowena, “Our grandfather, Beli, was one hundred and three when Modron found him. And she was only eighteen.”

Helga felt a bit sick. “I don’t understand. Rhiannon isn’t ugly, and I’m sure Modron wasn’t either. Couldn’t they find younger wizards?”

“We find the most powerful wizards in the land to sire daughters,” said Rowena, “Wizards that powerful are almost always very old and live alone. To be that powerful you have to give up a lot, and it takes a long time.”

“But why someone that old? Why not….” Helga frantically searched for a name, “the Gryffindors?”

Rowena laughed harshly. “Them. The Gryffindors want sons to rule after them. They marry their women and keep them in their castle. Mother and Modron never saw their wizards a second time.”

Suddenly Rowena started to choke on what Helga thought were tears. “And I’m going to have to do that soon. Find some wizard and have his daughter. Modron’s demanded that I do it soon.” She wiped her eyes.

“Am I going to have to do that too?” Helga asked, horrified.

Rowena’s glare was savage. “Modron didn’t say anything to you?”

“No,” said Helga. Rowena turned away.

Helga understood why she found Rowena crying the other night. She put her arm around her cousin’s shoulder. Rowena did not resist.

“Rowena,” Helga said, “Why do you have to do it if you don’t want to?”

“I have to,” Rowena said.

“But you never let Modron tell you what to do.”

“Mother wants me to do it too,” Rowena sobbed

“So?”

Rowena gritted her teeth. “Ever since you came, things haven’t been the same between Mother and me. She prefers to talk to you. You even look more like her.”

“Who do you look like, Rowena?”

Rowena shrugged and looked back into the fire. “I think Modron looked a little like me when she was young. Once, when she was in a good mood, she told me the ancient Priestesses had dark hair and green eyes. So did the All-Mother.”

“How much of our history do you know?” Helga asked, intrigued.

“All of it,” said Rowena, “Mother and Modron told me all the stories when I was a little girl. There are so many, I needed to cast a spell to remember them all. One day I’ll write them in a book.”

“Rhiannon told me that she’d tell me the history of the Priestesses of the Raven, but she never did,” Helga said quietly, “Will you?”

Rowena nodded. “It will take a while,” she said.

“That’s okay,” said Helga, “We don’t have anything else to do.”

Rowena recounted an ancient story, the first one she was taught as a girl, a tale about the All-Mother, the world’s first magic user. Then she told the story of the Founding, how eight Amazon witches banded together to defeat the Evil One and his monsters, and how only one, their ancestress Athena, escaped. Rowena was a terrific storyteller. In her mind, Helga saw the women she spoke of.

For hours, Rowena wove her tales. Of Morgan, the Lost Priestess, and of her daughter Epona, the Lady of the Horses. Of Ka’alli, called “Dragon Dancer”, who rode on the backs of dragons. There was Ana, the Willow Woman who further bonded herself and her daughters to the Glen. And there was Ashterot and her mother Inann, who together cured a plague, brought on by diseased flobberworms. Rowena told of Nimue ­ a young witch who stood side by side with Merlin himself, bore his child, and (alone) buried him in a cave in Cornwall after his death, after everyone else forgot him. Nimue called her daughter Modron. Rowena ended her story with, “Modron had twins, a first for the Priestesses, but one, Kigva, ran away. And we five ­ you, me, our mothers, and Modron ­ are the only ones left who know how to use the ancient magic.”

Helga was silent for a while, taking it all in. Her thoughts turned to Rhiannon and Modron.

“I wish we were helping them,” she said.

“No you don’t,” said Rowena.

“Why did you stop me from getting my spear?” Helga asked.

Rowena was quiet for a long time. “Have you ever met a Dark Wizard?”

Helga shook her head.

“They’re very powerful,” said Rowena, “You and I wouldn’t be able to help. We don’t know enough yet.”

“Have you ever met a Dark Wizard?” Helga asked.

Rowena nodded. “When I was young, Modron and Mother took me to the ruins of a castle in Dathyl. I think it had something to do with our grandfather. Dark Wizards destroyed it years before. Modron thought they all left. When we arrived there was one still there. He was very strong. No match for Modron, but he was very scary. He spoke to snakes.”

“Is that bad?” asked Helga.

“Only descendents of the Evil One speak to snakes,” said Rowena.

Helga felt frightened. “What if we never see them again?” she asked.

“We’ll see them again,” Rowena said, “Priestesses of the Raven always see each other again, even if it’s not in this lifetime.”