There and back again, a journey to love.

Chapter 1 - Introduction

The woman woke to the sound of birdsong and the faint smell of woodsmoke. She had tended the fire, feeding it even in the long hours of the night, lest wild animals made brave by the darkness should come upon her in the gloom. As she lay there, loth to leave the warmth of her blankets, she could see the smoke from the fire, floating slowly upwards through the high canopy of leaves, and hear the sound of running water close by. 

    This morning, as with every new day, she opened her eyes with the same sense of loss, and grief still held her tightly in its grasp. Her home was now this dark and dank cave in the forest, and all that she valued, family, friends and possessions were gone, either dead at Uther's hands or scattered to the four winds, forced to deny everything that they knew and all that they were. For he hated and feared all magic and would not suffer it in his kingdom. So all had been cast out.

    But she had discovered that there could be a way to reclaim the spirit and life force of the great race of magical beings who had dwelt in this land centuries before, and use it to her own advantage. She had in her possession a parchment, written by those ancient people of the "old ways".

    It spoke of their ability to preserve the legacy of their knowledge and it was said to be contained in an Artefact, sealed by the hands of a child. She could seek it out, but she could not do it alone. For though she had inherited the powers of her mother Morgana, now long dead, she knew those powers were waning, no doubt due to the fact that she was unable to form a coven, for witches need to commune with others of their kind to sustain and grow their powers, and she knew that this would never be possible whilst the hated King, Uther Pendragon, still reigned in Camelot. She was forced to lead a solitary life, afraid even to say her name out loud. But every night before she slept she said to herself, "I am Auriel, Witch of the Dawn," for so her mother had named her.

    The damaged parchment contained part of a spell which spoke of a journey by a virgin witch, a dangerous odyssey through the portal of time, into the future, to find a man with the strength to help her, and return with him to her own time. For only far in the future would she find the man required for her eventual quest. He would need to be physically strong, a man of courage, but mercenary in his outlook, for she believed that only the promise of riches would bind him to her, and there were none she could trust or call upon for aid hereabouts, as most were beholden still to the hated King Uther.

    She looked down at the incomplete parchment in her hand, the writing on it barely legible, even with her magical skills. It had been damaged when the soldiers had come with their flaming torches, laying all before them, and it had only been saved by her quick thinking when the fire had taken hold. The spell required that if she was successful and gained possession of the Artefact, she would have to have a child, conceived with the man who had accompanied her. This innocent child, born of man and the world of magic, would be the key, able to unlock the Artefact and release its precious contents.

    She knew of a prior Quest through time, centuries before. It had been attempted by a man of great strength, devious and with a black heart, in the company of a Dark Witch, who upon invoking the great spell had sought this Artefact. They had been unsuccessful and it had passed into the possession of a witch named Ailneth, who had kept it sealed, not wanting to unleash the power within onto the unsuspecting world of men.

    She had dwelt at that time in the ancient kingdom of Mercia and there it remained after her passing, deep in the ground and hidden from view. At that time there had been talk of a Sentinel Dragon, but nonesuch had ever been seen in the vicinity and the legend had faded into obscurity.

    She had heard of the story and the spell many times at her mother's knee and the small knowledge of it that she had, though now only partial, drove her to seek out other sources. She had so far been unsuccessful, and she would have to go back again to the Great Library of Camelot. To the place where Merlin had once practiced his art in support of the line of Pendragon, but her searching had so far proved fruitless. She knew her mother had often sought the counsel of Merlin, for though sworn enemies, there had been mutual respect between them and they had met there often, amid the many ancient scrolls and books. Could there be a more complete copy of the old spell there in the Library, amongst the dust and spiders?

    If she was successful in her search, she would attempt to invoke the spell, although she feared that it might be greater than she could conjure. She may eventually have the words and although she could doubtlessly bring together what was required for the spell from nature's bounty, she feared the consequences. Taking a man and drawing him back through the centuries had seldom, if ever, been successful and it would require strong magic. Her powers were not as great as they had once been and, if she was to achieve her aims, it would have to be soon. Her chaste solitude, though self-imposed, had taken its toll, but she even now had doubts on its veracity.

    Great magic demands great sacrifice, and she had happily paid the price, by guarding her maidenhead since her mother's death, but to conceive a child and then use it in the pursuit of an object so intangible was surely folly. Yet perhaps it was a necessary evil. She was impatient to hold the Artefact in her hands, for it was said to contain all past knowledge of magic, and the life force of those who had practiced it. Was it waiting for her? Was she the one? Could it be that a child of hers could unlock its secrets and bring back to her all that remained of her forebears? It was almost too much to bear, the anticipation, the fear, along with the desperation to find what she sought, and she was impatient to begin.

    She wondered, not for the first time, that far into the future, should her travels through time be successful, if there would be weaponry far in advance of that of her own time. So during her journey forward through the centuries, any man she chose would need to be a man of great courage, physical strength, and a knowledge of weaponry, to fulfil the task ahead of him, for who knew the battles he may have to fight and against what magic? But she would be there to play her part. Would he agree to help her, after being stolen away from everything that he knew, possibly never to return? She clasped her hands tightly together at the thought of the perilous journey to reclaim the legacy of all those who had gone before her.

    She planned that night to go back to the great library within the walls of the Castle of Camelot, to search again amongst those ancient writings which might contain the knowledge she required. She would have to enter unseen, under cover of darkness, for Uther Pendragon had banished all those who practiced what he called the Black Arts, but she had remained close by, deep in the forest, and he would be the first to feel her wrath when she came into her own.

    She still hoped to discover another, more complete copy of the spell. Could it be hidden within the hallowed halls of Camelot itself? She had spent long nights on the task, and she felt in her heart that her search was almost at an end. What was hidden could be found, and what was unknown, known. She had already discovered Merlin's marble Crucible, the receptacle of time past and time yet to come. She had stolen it away and it was even now hidden in her forest home. In it she would cast her spell, and place her mind in the mists of eternity. The thought of entering Time's Portal was terrifying to her, for who knew where it might take her, but down the centuries she would travel, until she found the mortal man she sought.

Auriel had attempted to complete the spell many times, whilst her copy of the scroll was still intact, but had never succeeded. Her mother Morgana had been healer to King Uther's beautiful wife, Igraine, prior to her banishment from Camelot, and had been in attendance when Uther's firstborn had come into the world, but it had been a difficult birth which had seen the mother pass beyond the veil, despite her ministrations, King Uther then being so full of grief that it blinded him to the needs of his newborn son Arthur. Morgana had procured the services of a wet nurse and the child had thrived, yet she had been cast out still, amidst rumours of dark magic and her possible involvement in the death of his beloved wife. The "cleansing" of his Kingdom, and her untimely death had followed, and Auriel's thoughts now were only of vengeance. If she could harness the power of her magical ancestors she would prevail over all and unite the scattered remnants of her people.

She knew that her virginity was required to initiate the spell and bring that which she desired, a journey through time, and the mortal who would be by her side. Her heart beat faster at the thought of the man she would steal away, back from his time into hers, she would lie with him on their return, for who could refuse her? Her powers may well be failing, but she was still the fairest of the fair and a virgin she might be, but she was well read in the arts of seduction. Her body quivered at the thought and a slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

Yes, she would enter the vortex and ride time's winged chariot.