*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1911811-Not-yet-named
Rated: E · Other · Fantasy · #1911811
First few pages of a fantasy story I have been playing around with
Elian smiled wryly at her sister, Brotheman as she hurriedly took her seat beside the other sisters.  “Problems?” Elian asked quietly.

   

“No problems,” Brotheman answered breathlessly.  “Last minute arrangements for the ceremony, Mathilde’s hair tie came undone just before she walked into the carriage.”

   

Elian allowed herself a sigh of relief, with the Broncan’s refusal to attend the ceremony she had enough to worry about, at least a small hair crisis wasn’t out of the normal.  The novates were nervous, as they should be; the Robing Ceremony was the highlight of any young girl’s life.

   

Today was the culmination of nearly fifteen years of study for the girls who were chosen at two years of age to follow in the footsteps of the motherhood.  Their quest was a lifetime commitment, to the brethren and the motherhood.  The promise of the girls to help, heal and protect the city of Mathop had never been taken so seriously as now, when the city was under threat.

     

The Robing Cememony signified the end of the years of study and the beginning of the life chosen out for them by the Great Mother herself.  Today the girls would finally receive their Manajes, the robe the Mother created from the sinew of her own body, the colour of which was indiscernible until the girls put it on, revealing the colour of their destinies.

   

No one had been more surprised than Elian when she had finally been sheathed in her own Manajes so many years ago to find that it had shone the same colour as the ripest plums on the trees.  The depth revealing Elian’s true calling as a teacher.

   

“What will become of these girls without the Broncan?” Elian spoke inwardly to the Great Mother. Without the Broncan there would be no younger to continue on the tradition of the Novates and the Robing Ceremony, and if their leader Mostium continued on with his stubbornness there would be no younger to continue on at all.



“Any news from Mostium?” Brotheman asked in a hushed whisper as the first girl knelt before the podium to receive her Manajes.



“Completely silent, he has made his demand and now he waits.”  Elian answered.  Mostium had refused to attend the Robing Ceremony and more importantly, the choosing of the robes.

   

The tradition of the choosing of the Robes had been in place before history began, the Manajes would shine on each of the novates and its matching colour would shine on one of the Mostium.  The Great Mother blessed the union and on this great ceremony the younger were produced.  Without the Mostium at this tradition, times for the Motherhood were very grave indeed.

   

The two sisters made an odd sight, sitting to the left of the podium as befitting their station as chief trainer to the novates. Elian, tall and slim, her sister was short and stout with prematurely graying hair.  Elian’s face was grave and severe; her sharp and piercing blue eyes resembled a hawk, missing nothing as some of the novates could attest to. 

   

Where they might be able to pull the wool over Brotheman’s eyes and sneak away for a swim in the pond close to the Anuskin, where they all lived, they could never get away with it with Elian.  She watched the youngsters closely and was wary of any tricks that they might try to play.

   

After the Ceremony Elian knelt to pray to the Great Mother, removing her robes and lighting the sacred incense that would invoke the Great Mother to an audience, she spoke quietly.  “Mother, I don’t know what to do with the Broncan, Mostium is most stubborn, as well you know.”

   

“As well you know Elian, Mostium was your soul child.”  The great mother joked.  “His demands require great changes within the Brethren, so long have we lived this way, you are afraid of change.”

   

“I know, Great Mother but such a change,” Elian answered, shaking her head.  “Surely this is not possible?”

   

“All things are possible Elian, all things.”

   

“But how can I do this?”  Elian asked to the silence, The Great Mother had said what she needed to say.  Elian now had to work it out for herself.

   

The next morning Elian saddled her favourite mare, Quintim and headed towards the mountain where the Broncan resided.  She had decided now was the time to act





   

   

© Copyright 2013 SharonConnell (sharonconnell at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1911811-Not-yet-named