Introduction

Halloo. This shall be the place where The Path of Sorcery, The Sorceress's Apprentice shall be birthed.


Any comments, criticisms etc are welcome, but please, be nice and honest. Don't be mean and honest, lol. And no flaming each other or me. Yeah. Flames are bad. They burn.

With all that said, I shall post the first bit here, the "Introduction."


---


A small dark child crouched beneath a lilac bush in full bloom, its heavy heads of blossom exuding an intoxicating perfume. The lilacs formed a hedge; they were ancient bushes that had grown, over the years, to resemble small trees, their trunks gnarled and twisted at the base. It was here, in the private coolness afforded by the leaves above, that she came in nearly all her spare moments; this was her alone-place.

She sat on a gnarled root thrust from the earth like a natural bench, hunched over a small rag doll. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her tongue poked out of her mouth at one corner. In her small grubby fingers was a needle and thread; she was attempting to sew the arm back on the doll. It had been roughly ripped off, however; the tear was jagged and a chunk of stuffing had fallen out and not been replaced.

Abruptly, she gave out a roar of frustration, flinging the doll, needle and arm at the trunk of the lilac. The needle sailed off with a silvery flash, disappearing into the darkness beyond, under farther bushes. The child burst into tears; she would be beaten for losing the needle; they were rare and precious around this household.

“Bronwyn.” The child froze mid-sob, but the voice was gentle, not reproving. She peered around her fingers, trying to identify the source, but no one had entered her cool green cave; at least, no one in her limited range of vision.

“Bron-wyn,” the voice repeated, almost singsong, calling to her. She dropped her hands from her face, peering around curiously now.

“W-who are you?” she dared to ask, whirling around, seeing no one. “How do you know my name?”

She caught movement at the edge of her peripheral vision and whirled again, watching wide-eyed as a petite cat-not a kitten, but almost as small-emerged from the shadows. The animal was a glossy black, with large emerald eyes flecked with gold. It blinked sleepily in its patch of sun, lifting its nose to her, as if scenting her.

“Y-You?” breathed the child. “Are you-?”

“Aye.” The cat dropped its head; it did not speak, but the words seemed to appear in the girl’s mind. “Don’t be afraid-I won’t hurt you.” Bronwyn couldn’t tell if the voice was male or female; it was just very soothing, and familiar, somehow.

“Yes, that is what I am. I am your familiar.”

“My familiar?” whispered Bronwyn, shaking. “Am I a w-witch, then?”

“No!” said the animal vehemently. “That is a lie. Witches do not have familiars.” He spat the word ‘witch’. “But you are magical.”


Bronwyn woke with a start. She blinked once, twice, aware that something had woken her. She just couldn’t remember what.

There was a scratching at her bedchamber door. Ah, that was it. Enru was locked out, and couldn’t get back in. Bronwyn rose, wrapping a robe over her nightclothes, and opened the door a crack. “Come on then,” she chided as a black shadow darted between her ankles. She closed and latched the door, hurrying back to bed to escape the chill of the dawn.

Already warming himself on her pillow, Enru proved difficult to dislodge. Bronwyn had to flip the pillow over to get him off and reclaim it. Watch yourself, girlie, threatened the cat.

“Best watch yer own self, beastie,” muttered Bronwyn in response. She closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of her bed, but sleep did not come again. The dream was foremost in her mind.

“Enru,” she said finally. It took some poking before the cat would respond.

Whaaaat? he said grumpily.

“Do you remember the day you came to me?”

Yes, of course. You were in those lilac bushes. I ate most heartily in that barn. Your mother was right to fear cats.

“My mother?” asked Bronwyn hopefully. The cat was silent, but it was a guilty silence. Bronwyn’s memories of her life before Enru came to her were dim and hazy at best; at worst, they were the sadly disillusioned dreams of a lonesome child. The process of Introduction onto the Path of Sorcery was not an easy one, and it served fairly effectively as a rebirth into the world. Most memories of the Inductee’s previous life were wiped away, and Bronwyn’s Introduction had been especially difficult; she had been very small physically and the shock had nearly killed her.

Besides, knowledge of their previous life, their families, only distracted those who studied the magics. And provided the enemies of the Path of Sorcery with ammunition to use against the practicers.

“Enru?” asked Bronwyn again, prompting him. She poked him to ensure he hadn’t fallen back asleep.

I heard you, replied the animal grumpily. Your mother feared cats, and with good reason. A c at took her only daughter away from her.

“Did I have brothers?”

No. Now go back to sleep. Enru resolutely shut his eyes, leaving Bronwyn to ponder her dream in the early morning twilight.