Freya and the Forgotten Light

By G Fraser

"Freya knew her whole outlook on life was about to change once more. This moment, this very moment, would never happen again. She was on the verge of entering a new world, one that did not exist in her universe. She took a step into the new realm."

The wizard, Rowan, has searched many worlds to find he

• Language: English
• Publisher: G. Fraser
• Release date: Jul 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781802273717

Book preview

1

The devastation was beyond comprehension. The wizard stood among the debris, unable to move. The rubble and dust began to settle around him. He knew this was bigger than even he could fix…

In the village of Meadowbrook, on a world far away from this one, a teenage girl called Freya Liddle strolled through the woods, looking closely at the flowers, bending to smell their scent. She looked perfectly content. She stopped by a stream and sat at the edge, placing her small feet in the cool, clear water. Her head was tilted back to take in the sunshine pouring down from a perfect, blue sky. A smile crept along her mouth and she giggled. She looked around her and picked a dandelion. The head was fluffy with seeds. She breathed softly over the white dome and the seeds floated into the air.

The seeds, however, did not drift away but changed direction and formed a circle in front of her. She gazed at them with deep concentration. They began to dance, as if to a tune, swaying and twirling. The air seemed to shimmer and glow, the colours faintly gleaming. She smiled and laughed, bending and moving her head as if she, too, could hear an invisible symphony. A noise from the bushes behind her caused the seeds to drop onto the grass, and the girl jumped up. She looked around quickly as if scared she had been spotted. A young deer cautiously walked out from the trees, gazed at the girl for brief seconds, then whipped around, jumping back into the safety of the woods.

* * *

Sunshine glinted on the scales of the sleeping dragon, enhancing their colours of blue, purple and green. A trail of smoke drifted lazily into the evening air. The smoke came from large nostrils. Long eyelashes curled upwards from heavily lidded eyes. Tarron was relaxed and drifting into sleep.

His home was up in the mountains, far away from people. He spent all his time on his own. His life was incredibly lonely. He had spent endless hours watching the world from a distance, hoping to see a change. A change in humans’ hearts and minds, their attitude towards the world. He missed the company of people – their love of life and their wonderful spirit. But their sense of wonder at the world had diminished. His kind had disappeared into the realms of fables and tales whispered around a fireside. The stories told to children were to frighten them and warn them of the dangers of magic.

This had given an entirely wrong impression of our friend Tarron and his fellow dragons. The truth was dragons were once man’s best friend. They were the protectors of ancient wisdom and assisted special humans with spells and mastery over their environment. These partnerships were life-long and greatly revered. All lived in peace and respected nature. It was a wonderful, joyful time. Now it was a cold and lonely existence. The magical vibration that weaved its way through all of life had almost vanished. He could not hear its song. Only silence.

* * *

Freya was sitting in her favourite spot near a waterfall, watching a small bird chase insects over the water. She loved to sit and watch the small rainbows shine and fade in the sunshine. Freya visited the falls as much as she could. She took in a big breath of the lovely, clear air. When she closed her eyes, she imagined fairies and magical lights flying around her, filling the air with laughter and joy. Freya loved to use her imagination and escape her dull life. She had always lived in other worlds. Many of her teachers had become exasperated with her when they caught her staring out of the window when she should have been listening to them. Freya didn’t care. She loved to spend time wishing she lived somewhere magical and thrilling. She knew this helped her to stay positive and get through a boring day. As she sat there, enjoying the warmth of the sun, she heard her mother’s voice in her head. What utter nonsense! Fairies, indeed. Get those silly thoughts out of your head. You are needed in the shop. You need to live in the real world, not fairyland!

She shook the thought from her head, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders. A frown appeared on her pretty face and her large brown eyes clouded over with sadness. A thought formed in her mind: I know I am meant to be doing something special with my life, but what?

Freya’s family owned a bakery. They would get up very early in the morning to make bread and sweet cakes for the village. Freya loved the smell from the warm ovens. Her favourites were the spiced rolls. The smell always made her mouth water. She had worked there since she was a little girl. She used to sit on the counter and watch her mother pack the rolls and bread into paper bags while chatting to the customers. She was so used to this task, she didn’t even look at what she was doing. It was as natural as breathing to her. Her hair was a lovely soft brown, with hints of red that glinted in the sun. Her brown eyes were the same as Freya’s.

Her father would be in the back, working the ovens and bringing out new batches of fresh bread that cast a smell throughout the shop and out into the street. His apron would be dusted with flour, his large hands covered in dough. He always had a smile for everyone. He stood tall and broad, large curls of black hair falling into his kind blue eyes. Freya always felt safe and loved.

There was a part of Freya that thought it would be fine to continue working in the bakery, but there was also a part of her that wished for something else, something exciting and magical.

* * *

It was a busy Saturday morning and the bakery was full of customers. Freya was chatting to her neighbour, Mrs Caldwell.

Six rolls, dear. My son and grandsons are visiting today, so I need to stock up. Oh, and give me one of those chocolate cakes, too. She smiled, looking excited for her day ahead.

Okay, Mrs Caldwell. There you are. Anything else today? How about one of those meat pies? It would save you cooking. One thing Freya was good at was persuading customers to buy just that little something extra. Her parents were delighted that she had this amazing skill of gently suggesting something that would benefit the customer. As if she knew what they wanted before they did.

You are a marvellous saleswoman. It is in your blood, Freya, her father was always saying. My dad had it and you have it. This bakery will always be successful with you here. Freya gave Mrs Caldwell her change and wished her a good day.

Now don’t you be spending all your time down at that waterfall, Freya. Go spend time with your friends. It is almost summer, and young ladies like you should be thinking about finding a husband. Are you courting yet? Mrs Caldwell smiled, her eyes dancing with eagerness to find some news.

Oh no. Freya felt as if the whole shop had just stopped and looked at her. No, not yet. She hid her face by turning her back to find more bread from the shelves.

Why do I have to look for a husband? she thought. I am only seventeen. Good grief, I have years before I want to think about that stuff. She carried on with the morning, selling and chatting to all the customers. She knew them all. The village had been a good place to grow up, with friendly people who looked out for one another. It was also a breeding ground for gossip. That was part of living in a small rural area. If there wasn’t an interesting story being whispered around the village, that was a very dull day indeed.

The bakery closed at twelve-thirty on a Saturday. She had half a day to herself. Wonderful. Sunday mornings were for church. The most boring thing in the world, according to Freya. Why be stuck in a stuffy church when you could be outside? Freya grabbed a roll for her lunch and a bottle of milk and shoved them in her bag.

Are you meeting Amber? her mother shouted as Freya was halfway out the door.

Yes. I’m meeting her at the market in a few minutes – gotta go. Freya dashed out the door.

Have a good... The door slammed shut. Freya’s mother stood shaking her head.

The market was a weekly occurrence in the village. Freya enjoyed sifting through the stalls of books and second-hand clothes. There were also lots of food and local produce. Freya would sometimes discover a lovely dress or blouse that she could mend. Her mother had a sewing basket full of old buttons and ribbons that Freya felt was a treasure chest of sparkle and colour. They would spend the winter nights trimming and sewing to transform a dull item into something special. Freya loved colour and was always in something bright. I want to look as colourful as the flowers. Why can’t we find fabric that is bright and cheerful, instead of dull, dull, dull? Her mother would laugh at her exasperation.

Yes, my little flower. Fabric is expensive to produce, especially the colours you want. We just have to use our imagination and make our own. So they did. Freya was always easy to spot in a crowd. Her hair would be decorated with flowers or a ribbon. Her clothing always had a dash of pink or purple or bright yellow added. There were usually ribbons around her collar or the edge of her skirt hem.

Freya’s other love was books. Books were her escape from her own world. Books on plants, adventures, magical places and people. The magical ones were her favourite, although she did not tell anyone she loved them. Growing up in the village, she was aware of the distrust regarding anything connected to the magical arts. The church council forbade gypsy families from staying in the village. Talk of tarot readers, fortune-telling and selling potions for broken hearts would not be tolerated in the village. At all!

So Freya was careful to hide these special books under a loose floorboard in her room, only reading them when she knew she would not be disturbed. Where did she get these books? The market, of course. If she looked hard enough, she could pick up one or two that had been missed by the market leader. His eyes were a good deal older than Freya’s, and she was an expert at spotting them and slipping them into her bag. To Freya, the books seemed to have a radiance that only she could see. There was a soft blue-white glow around them that was beautiful to her.

Freya walked towards the noise of the market. She heard the shouts of the stall owners selling their wares and the clip-clop of horses’ hooves on the cobbles. Herbs hung in bunches, tied with string, and the smell of fresh vegetables and flowers drifted through the air. She stopped and took a deep breath. She loved to freeze an image in time, to experience every smell and sound in a perfect moment.

I am lucky to live in such a place as this, she thought. As she looked up, she saw Amber waving at her through the crowd.

Come on, hurry up, Dreamy. She liked to call Freya that. Amber was so different to Freya in every way. Shorter and rounder, she had a cascade of blonde curls tied up with a hundred pins. She always complained how much they hurt but would not leave her hair down.

It makes me look older. Sophisticated, she would say to Freya. Amber had dark blue eyes that could flirt outrageously with any male she thought was good husband material.

The friends spent an hour browsing through the market, laughing and speaking to the many people who knew them. As they stopped to speak to another neighbour, Freya saw, out of the corner of her eye, the bookstall. She saw the elderly man looking at her. He waved and beckoned her over, so she excused herself from the conversation. They were discussing the summer dance, something Freya had no interest in whatsoever!

How are you today, my dear? He looked happy to see her.

I am well, thank you. Freya realised she had never asked him his name. He was relatively new to the market, having been there just over a year. She was about to open her mouth when he bent towards her and spoke quietly. I have lots of new books. Travelled quite far to collect some of them, you know. He grinned, excited for her to look at them.

Freya nodded and began to sift through the enormous pile of old books. They even smelled old. She soon saw that familiar glow from some of them. That one looks interesting… She slid her hand to the bottom of a pile and drew out a heavy, dark-coloured book. She had no idea what it contained as there was no title. She decided to have it anyway. Freya saw two more glowing books to her left. She picked them up and had a quick read of the titles, appreciating once again her amazing ability to see colour and light from objects. It was something she never told anyone.

The two friends stopped at the local tea shop before heading home. They sat at a small table with a pristine white table cloth and a tiny vase with one yellow flower drooping sadly.

Two teas and two fruit scones, please, Amber asked the waitress. She turned back to Freya with a huge grin on her face.

What? Freya knew she was about to be told something exciting. She recognised the look immediately. Amber had the most expressive face that could not keep still when there was gossip to discuss.

I just heard Bobby James is going to ask me to the dance! Her voice squeaked with delight. She clapped her hands and giggled loudly. Freya saw other customers frown and look over at their table.

Wow, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you. Amber had been hoping for this for a long time. Her crush on Bobby James was well known throughout the village. The one person who knew this better than anyone was… Bobby. Amber had made her intentions perfectly clear. It was the last school dance for both the girls as they were leaving school that summer. Freya knew she would begin working full time in the bakery, while Amber would help her mother run their guest house.

Amber would sit behind Bobby in class or in the library and stare at the back of his head. Freya was embarrassed for her at times. The poor boy didn’t stand a chance. He was very popular with most of the girls in the village. His soft brown hair and blue eyes set in a handsome face caused many a flutter of giggles and whispers. Freya secretly thought he was quite full of himself and never saw the attraction.

Amber was a very kind girl, and Freya knew she was lucky to have her as a true friend. The only thing that annoyed Freya was Amber’s desperate attempts to find a husband. Freya understood the reason behind this. Amber had lost her father and brother in a tragic accident many years ago. Freya and Amber had been very young, but Freya could never forget the terrible sobs from Amber and her mother that day.

Freya remembered Amber had sat on her mother’s lap trying to comfort her, while Freya held tightly to her own mother’s hand, trying to understand what was happening to her friend.

The days and weeks that followed were wound tightly round her heart. She remembered a room full of dark shadows and whispers of comfort for the widow and her little daughter. Freya was devastated she couldn’t see Amber and spent nights crying herself to sleep, wondering what she had done wrong. Her mother did her best to explain she had to give Amber time to grieve. The young Freya only wanted to help her friend and became angry at everyone for not letting her go to see her.

Sitting in the cafe, Freya asked her friend, What dress will you wear? Have you chosen one yet? Freya already knew the answer to this as Amber had told her countless times every little detail of the dress she had seen and how she was going to wear her hair. She was happy for her friend and hoped it would be the night of her dreams, although something in the back of her mind was not convinced. They chatted while eating their scones and jam, young girls with their lives ahead of them, full of hopes for the future. They paid their bill and stood at the front door of the tea room, making plans for their next day off together.

Freya said goodbye to Amber and made her way down to the stream to discover what new secrets there were amongst the books she had bought. She unpacked her bag containing her roll and milk then unfolded a blanket and placed it on the grass. Her father joked it was a magic bag because of the amount Freya could cram into it. She sat down and pulled out the three books she had chosen. The large one was dark blue, almost black, with a large gold symbol on the front that had broken off. She looked closely at it. It seemed to have some kind of wing and perhaps a claw? Some animal maybe, she thought. There also appeared to be part of a circle of fire surrounding this, but it was hard to see. How annoying. The other two books were about using herbs in healing and crystals and charms. Wow, this was a good day. She was delighted with her discoveries. She placed them on the blanket and began to eat. Despite having just been at the tea shop, she was still hungry. Freya was always hungry.

After she’d drained the milk, she picked up the large blue book. The edges of the pages were in gold and glinted beautifully in the light. She frowned as she noted a clasp holding the book closed. It was also in gold and looked quite delicate. That should be easy to open. A small lip of metal protruded from the clasp. Freya gently pushed it and hoped to hear a click. Nothing. She tried again. Nothing. The book defiantly stayed shut. Freya tried for several minutes, using her small penknife, her nails, even a small, sharp stone. Nothing.

"Aaahhh! Come on, open, will you?" She threw the book down with a heavy thud. It remained closed. Freya usually had a lot of patience, but things like this really tested it. Put it out of your mind, she told herself. Have a look through the other books. She sat back down on the warm blanket and began to read.

2

The week passed in the usual routine of books and school. Freya spent the longer days down by the waterfall, looking up new herbs in the book and testing herself. She had a good memory so learned quickly. She hunted through the woods and by the stream for them, smelling and examining them carefully. She picked certain herbs for the bakery. It had taken a long time to persuade her parents to add them to breads and pastries. They were a great success and sold very well. Freya was not forthcoming about the benefits of these new ingredients. She preferred to say it was the flavour that helped to sell them. This was, of course, true, but she knew they also had great healing properties. She had even begun a small herb garden at home. She had received cuttings and seeds from John, a local man who loved to garden. He had an amazing knowledge of plants.

Freya’s routine went on as normal: school, then helping with the bakery in the afternoons, preparing and washing the tins, and ensuring the store had enough flour and other ingredients. She also practised making bread and pastries with her herbs. She asked her parents’ opinions. They were usually impressed. She had quite a collection of herbs growing in jars, in the kitchen or garden – coriander, mint, chamomile, basil, rosemary… Some were from her friend John’s greenhouse. She was proud of how her herb garden was beginning to flourish. She had also discovered she could dry some of them for the winter.

* * *

School was boring, but Freya tolerated it for the most part. She did enjoy the reading time, of course. This also depended on the books provided by their teacher, Miss Cuthbert. She always hoped the choice would be some marvellous adventure, with dashing pirates or a lost tribe being discovered in the jungle. It normally was not the case. Mathematics was even worse. Her teacher spoke to Freya one afternoon after the class had left.

Freya, you are very clever and pick up things quickly. I believe that is why you are bored most of the time. She peered over her glasses at her student. Her light blonde hair was pulled tightly back from her round, pretty face. She had hazel eyes that were kind and patient. I do think you would do well at college. Have you thought about teaching?

Freya was shocked by this. She shook her head, lost for words. A teacher? She would never have dreamed of being anything other than a baker.

Think about it. Discuss it with your parents. She placed a gentle hand on Freya’s shoulder.

Freya just nodded. She had no intention of discussing it. She knew she should stay at the bakery and help run the business.

* * *

Saturday came round once again. It was hot, the blue sky free of any cloud. The birds were singing their songs, making Freya feel light in her heart. Summer was on the way. Amber had decided to go into the next town to shop for her new dress for the dance. Freya did not have the slightest inclination to do the same. The weather was too nice to spend time in a hot shop, she thought. It was time to visit the market and, more importantly, the bookstall.

She waved to the old man as she walked towards him. She was determined to ask him his name this time. She had almost asked last week, but something had made her stop.

Probably too distracted by the books, she scolded herself. This time I will ask him. Freya was too polite to let it go on any longer.

My dear, my dear. So glad to see you. He shook her hand. He was wearing a long, dark blue robe, something she had not seen him wear before. He was usually in drab old trousers and waistcoats. His shirts were usually worn, with buttons missing. Being a seamstress, Freya always noticed people’s clothing.

It is a wonderful day. How did you get on with your books? He winked at her. Freya almost giggled at this gesture. He was not usually this friendly. His hair was pure white, sitting just below his collar.

His lined face was warm, and his deep brown eyes were penetrating, giving him a much younger persona than his appearance suggested. As she was about to speak, she stopped herself. What on earth was that? The old man’s face had begun to shimmer and fade. A long beard appeared that had not been there before. Freya’s face could not hide her shock. As soon as it had begun, the image disappeared, leaving him with his usual kind, clean-shaven face. Then she saw his clothing had changed too. It was now back to the dull apparel he usually wore. If the old man was aware of Freya’s new emotional state, he did not react. He continued to arrange his books and chatted as if nothing had happened.

Yes, fine. I am enjoying the books very much, she stuttered." I must be too hot, she thought. The heat is doing something to my mind. She wanted to speak to him about the large book.

I am having trouble with one of them. She spoke quietly, leaning in so no one could overhear. It will not unlock, no matter what I do. I may need to give it back.

He held up his hands in front of him, a look of concern on his face. No, no, no, please keep it for now. It must be a special one if it has a lock on it; must contain great secrets, yes? As he spoke, the neck of his shirt opened, revealing a thick gold chain and some kind of oval pendant, which was partially hidden from view. It flashed brightly in the sunlight. She was blinded for a moment, then it was gone.

Are you feeling well? Perhaps a cold drink. I have lemon iced tea here. Please sit for a moment. He indicated to her to use the small wooden seat behind the stall. She nodded and sat, accepting the glass of tea. It tasted wonderful, cool and refreshing. A hint of sweetness and also... what was that flavour? Mint! She closed her eyes to savour the taste. With the sun on her face and a cool breeze, she felt extremely content. The noise of the market faded away, and all she knew was the warmth of the sun and a peaceful, quiet energy around her. Whatever was in this tea worked wonders.

What is this? Can you give me the recipe? I would love to make it. She opened her eyes and realised she was talking to herself. He and the stall had vanished.

Freya made her way slowly home. She felt she was in a dream. What had happened? Had she fallen asleep? She doubted it; she had only closed her eyes for a second. Then there were the clothes and beard. I could be ill and have a temperature, she thought. She stopped and concentrated; she felt okay. No pain, no temperature. I wonder if I ate something that has disagreed with me? It could be a bad herb that I mistook for a safe one. A noise from the hedge behind her made her turn quickly.

Who is there? she asked sharply. No one replied. She marched over and peered in through the branches. No one was there. Animal, perhaps, she muttered. As she turned back towards the path, standing right in front of her was the old man. He smiled and bowed.

The waterfall is a special place, full of magical energy, he said sombrely.

I go there all the time. It’s my favourite place, Freya said, startled to see him again. What was happening? He had changed his appearance again and was now back to a robe and a long beard. He also carried a staff that was beautifully carved with images of plants and strange symbols.

Where did you go... in the market...? You just disappeared!

You are drawn to it because you are special. Listen and watch closely and you may see or hear the fairies or water nymphs. He ignored her question.

What!

He laughed and clapped his hands. It was a spell. The tea I made for you. You had a shock from seeing the real me, and I needed time to think. You know, you are a very special person. I have been watching you for a while. I have been searching for someone like you for a long time. I am so happy to finally find you. Magic pours out of you, my dear. It is wonderful to see that again.

She stood open-mouthed. How do you know about magic? I thought most people didn’t believe in it.

He bent down to whisper in her ear. I was once a great wizard. I used to use spells to heal the land, helping people with healing spells and spreading wisdom to those who would listen.

Wow, really? Freya thought. This man is crazy!

The man bowed slightly and introduced himself. My name is Rowan. It is nice to meet you.

As he bowed, Freya spotted the pendant on the large chain again. A strange feeling washed over her.

That is lovely. Where did you get it? She pointed to the chain around his neck.

He lifted it up so she could see it better. The golden dragon was standing tall and breathing fire into the air. The eyes were of a blue stone. It was the same symbol she had seen on the book, but whole, not damaged.

I have that symbol... on my book. It’s damaged, but I’m sure... She bent forward to look more closely.

I earned this after I had completed my apprenticeship. All magical people must be able to work with dragons.

Why? Freya was shocked. She thought dragons were just a legend.

Dragons have full knowledge of all the magic in the universe. They are very wise, and when you gain their trust, they are completely loyal. They will teach you the secrets. He smiled.

Did you have a dragon? Freya felt she had landed in a strange new world.

Yes. A long time ago. Many centuries before you were born. He nodded sadly.

How can you be that old? People don’t live that long!

Wizards are different. We live much longer than humans. We ahhhh… come from a different world... another realm.

He held out his hand, opening it to reveal a tiny dancing ball of blue light in his palm. I’m dreaming, Freya thought. The ball began to rise from his palm, then shot into Freya’s heart! Frozen with shock, she stood open-mouthed. Then she became aware of a delightful warmth flowing from her heart. It travelled up and down her spine, her legs, her arms and finally the rest of her body before popping out of the top of her head and spinning around. The old man clicked his fingers, and it exploded like a tiny firework. Freya felt giddy and giggly. How exciting was that!

You really are a wizard? Really? All this time I have wanted to believe there were others like me, Freya gushed.

My dear girl, you have no idea what this means to me. His face saddened and his body slumped slightly.

What do you mean by that? Her mind felt scattered. This was not how she had expected her day to unfold. Wizards! Dragons!

Meet me when the moon rises. I will wait at the waterfall. It is important that you begin to learn the old ways. I can teach you, he whispered.

Tonight? she squeaked. Am I ready? Are you sure? Freya babbled. Her mind felt as if it were coming adrift. What was happening? Did she really want this? Was it real? A quiet voice inside her whispered... yes.