Serventa, Shadow of the Light

By Hedley Griffin

Serventa, Shadow of the Light is a fantasy novel for children and young adults. Written by much-loved author Hedley Griffin, the story offers knowledge and wisdom from a unique spiritual source in an entertaining story based on old mythology. This is an ideal read for older children looking for a story with a deeper spiritual meaning that can help them cope with today's modern world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ancient Publishing
• Release date: Feb 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781919648743

Book preview

Serventa, Shadow of the Light

Chapter 1: Beira, Queen of the Winter

The Light is eternal. Darkness is replaced by light.

The Erasmus Foundation

The Highland coast of Scotland can be a cold and harsh place and this beach was no exception. It was cold, lonely and hard. The stones were blackened by the seawater lashings that washed the shore. The dark, heavy sky overshadowed the cliffs and hung across to the horizon where a soft yellow glow offered the little light that was left over the Minch, the sea that stretched between the Isle of Lewis and the Highland coast.

Serventa, a beautiful young girl, small and refined, knelt on the cold, wet pebbles, a little away from the surf, and stared out to sea. Her eyes were beautiful, different, with a narrow pupil that spoke of ancient times and civilisations that have passed and been forgotten. Under her golden cloak she wore a white tunic of fine linen hemmed in delicate gold thread trimming in double lines, patterned in the style of ancient Celtic design. Tied around her waist there was a red and gold belt also designed with fine Celtic motifs. Around the neck of her tunic the same gold trimmings echoed the hem of her skirt. Her long dark hair was tied with elegant, intricate filigree of gold hidden under the hood of her cloak. The air was cold but she did not feel it so much, absorbing the warmth from the earth’s energy beneath her knees.

Why she was there was unclear, but because there is a purpose in all things, one could wonder. She was alone, or so she thought. She had not come from far away and there was a purpose to her being here, but why, at this time, in this weather, in this place? In all things she moved with an objective and meaning. There was nothing pointless about Serventa. Everything about her was reason. She was extremely old although her appearance would deny this, for she had the Gift of Eternal Youth and a wisdom that had evolved from the beginning of time, when time had no beginning. She had been waiting for something but perhaps others would not have the patience for this, but she was patient. It is often said that patience is a virtue but is that really true when all things can only happen when they are meant to and not before? Impatience had no meaning for her, only that it denied all reason and purpose, for all things happen only in their due season. She waited.

Something moving on the sea caught her eye. There was a small fishing boat some way off, silhouetted against the sky. All was silent and still except the waves of the sea refusing to be ignored, but something was not quite right. She pulled her cloak tighter around her as the chill of the evening drew near. Suddenly, a voice behind her called.

You should not be here, girl. It is not safe. There are the Blue Men of the Minch here. What do you seek?

Behind her stood an old figure dressed in a grubby skirt that hung to the ground covering bare feet. This old woman had white, grey untidy hair that hung to her waist like hoar frost upon a crag and she had an unhappy, withered look. Her face was lined many times with a dull blue in colour and her teeth were red as rust. Her one good eye stared cleanly, sharp as ice. The smell that emitted from her was appalling as she pointed a long, silver fingernail from an outstretched arm in a threatening gesture. Who are you? What are you doing here?

I am the Shadow of the Light. As always, I seek the truth, said Serventa.

The old woman withdrew her arm and, for some reason, her fingers were clenched tight and her face became distorted with a malignant scowl. She knew who Serventa was. She was not comfortable with meeting her.

How would you know it if you saw it? asked the old woman, scornfully. When she spoke, it sounded as sad as the dark labyrinth of the underworld.

I would look into the crystal of truth and see its beautiful colours, colours that have always been, clean and untainted in the illumined light of purity.

But then, how would you know truth if you heard it?

I would know it because I would hear the clear ring of truth, sounding like a crystal bell.

Yes, you would, because you are true and honest. I would give you that. Yes, you would see it in my eyes and hear it in my voice. But who are you? asked Serventa.

The old woman drew nearer.

I was, a very long time ago, Beira, beautiful, young, with blond hair, but brutal Queen of the Winter. Now I am the hag, my eyebrows wooden and hard. I am old and grey and a little tired. I used to enjoy the arms of handsome, youthful men around me, but I miss all that now. I am sad and lonely, and all I have are the memories of my younger days. I am old and grey. Each Summer at Beltane I conceded to Brighid, the Queen of the Summer, who enjoys power until Samhain when I would rejoice in the return to my realm of the Winter. I have lived for more than seven times. I am done enough. I am tired and miserable. I shall return to my throne of Ben Nevis and seek repose, but fear retribution for the evil I have done.

There is no retribution in the Light, only the mercy and concern of The Great Mind.

I am the Storm Hag. I am old and grey, made ugly by the light that is dimmed within me by the evil I employed. I am tired, she repeated. Why? What have you done?

"I saw the arrival of Saint Caithighearn, who preached Christianity in Kilcatherine and the surrounding districts in Ireland. I was known there as the Veiled One, Cailleach the Witch, and I was famous. She was a threat to my powers and I would see her off, but she was insistent on staying. Then one day when I was gathering some food, I found her asleep there. I approached her quietly, grabbed her prayer book, and ran off with it. I was watched by a young child who lived locally and he shouted to awaken Saint Caithighearn who saw me running off with the prayer book, but I returned it to her later. I had no need of it and I just enjoyed showing her my power.

You have your wolves, black cats, wild cattle and goats, as well as your Rachaman Hounds. Why do you need to bother this poor saint?

Just to show I was more powerful than she. I had lived far longer, even before the shadow of Man was placed on this Earth and the seven flaws were introduced. Do you not believe me?

Yes, I believe you, but then tell me, asked Serventa, are you that old?

I am old, perhaps not as old as you, but I would cease to count the years. In my time I would raise storms, preventing the life of Spring returning, create snow and torrents by swelling the rivers to flood. I have made lochs and mountains, drawing energy form Man’s anger and hate. I have fed on his evil thoughts, and with his thoughts, the strongest force of the Universe, I have caused great destruction. I have unleashed my Rachaman Hounds to ravage the innocents, and with their snarling breath of decay they have smite their prey.

Go on. What else?

I would wash my clothes, my shawl, in the sea between Jura and Scarba, in my washing pot whirlpool they call the Corry, and lay them to dry over the mountains. By this I created the snow of winter to reveal to all that my reign of winter had begun. I would then drink from the Well of Eternal Youth at each Samhain to regain my youth and beauty each season. My hair would be golden yellow as the buds of gorse and my complexion as fresh as the heather of the moors, but one season, my maid, Nessa, forgot to replace the lid of the well as I had instructed her and all the water evaporated, leaving it dry and useless. This is why I am old and grey now. I have banished her, imprisoned her for the harm she did me. This is why I am so miserable and angry. I was betrayed by her useless negligence.

I am the Shadow of the Light. Take my hand and accept the Light. Eternity will be yours and you will leave all this behind you. Go forward into the Light. Take it!

Beira shook her head and retreated a little. No, no. The Light would destroy me.

Not so! I am the fisherwoman of men’s souls. When they drown in the darkness of the deep, I offer them my light to make them whole again.

No!

And she backed away even further. No! she repeated. Suddenly, Beira stood proud, enlarging her being, growing taller in the challenge. Her white hair flared back as if a wind had taken it in its misty draught. A stench of rotten evil arose around her like the energy waves from a fire. She raised the winds and torrents of rain lashed down across the shore. She summoned the wind, called the Whistle, which blew high and shrill, and brought down rapid showers of cold hailstones, like the night whistle, an instrument used to see by those hiding in the dark. Beira bragged about her powers.

"The last time I summoned the Whistle there was much sorrow and bitterness throughout the length and breadth of Scotland. Sheep and lambs were sacrificed on the moors, and horses and cows perished as well for three whole days. Do you think you can challenge me, Beira, Queen of the Winter?"

In truth, I shall destroy you. The Light will always win, said Serventa.

Serventa was being thrown about in the wind and beaten against the cold, wet rock and pebbles. The clouds grew even darker and rolled angrily in their lust for destruction. Thunder and lightning crashed against the sky. All hell’s vengeance was being let loose around the beach.

I control the winds that will batter you lifeless, she bragged. Know that I am Beira, Queen of the Winter. I may be old, grey and tired but I still have my power. I will destroy you.

The black Horseman of Misfortune rides the back of those who are too certain, warned Serventa.

Beira then produced a large hammer and banged the ground loudly, so loud that all the ground shook and became rock, hard and cold as iced granite. She had two sons who were throwing great boulders across the surrounding mountains to add to the fierce storm, but they were of no real help to her as, pathetically, they were too involved in trying to destroy each other through jealousy. The enraged tempest had awakened their ridiculous performance, but she did not really need their help. She was powerful.

Serventathenheard theRachaman Hounds snarling and growling in the distance. Loyal to their mistress they would soon materialise, charging across the hills, and that could be a danger. Suddenly the five evil hounds appeared, snarling and dripping decay from their mouths, their teeth moist with hunger. A red glow shone from their eyes. They were born of hell and held no light. Therefore, they could not be rescued and would have to be destroyed. As they slowly crept around Serventa one of them leapt forward. It was immediately dispatched by her mind and disappeared. The other four then leapt towards her and these were appropriately destroyed, instantly. The storm continued to rage and Serventa was hoisted a little in the air by the wind in her cloak and thrown to the pebbled beach.

Huh, you shall pay for that. They were my hounds. How dare you defy my power!

Beira suddenly raised the eddy wind called The Sweeper. Its power whirled through the trees and brought them to the ground. While the wind erupted around the hills throwing Serventa onto the beach Beira kept beating the ground with her large hammer. Nothing would ever grow where she had been, but her efforts were in vain. Serventa was bruised but still in control. Beira threw away her hammer.

No use to me now, she swore as she crouched on her heals and focused her hex upon Serventa. It sailed through the air and landed underneath a holly tree.

No grass will ever grow under a holly, now. I have cursed it.

It was then that a black lump started to rise from the ground fed by the tormented howling winds and power from Beira’s mind. The lump grew like a homunculus monster, a thought form that glowed with shimmering eyes of crimson red. The monster towered over Serventa, threatening to devour her. It raised Serventa in the air with its long shadow arms and threw her to the ground but she quickly recovered and dissipated it in an instant.

Meanwhile, blue inquisitive eyes surfaced above the waves out to sea and stared with excitement, entertained by the spectacle.

Then, unexpectedly, the winds suddenly stopped, the rain ceased, the waves lapped gently on the shore and all was quiet again. Using thought Serventa had drawn up her own living light from within for protection and enclosed Beira in a brilliant light as well. Serventa started to reduce her with the pressure of her mind. Beira was fearless and so powerful, but she was being crushed under this force and she knew she could be destroyed. She fought back bravely but Serventa’s mind was stronger even though she was small in stature. Serventa held her under the pressure. This was the point of no return unless she submitted herself to the Light.

Take it, or be destroyed. Take it!

Beira knew she had no choice as the pressure on her was slowly crushing the very life from her. She swiftly rushed forward and grabbed Serventa’s hand. There was a sudden great, brilliant glow of light and Beira disappeared. Serventa bowed in graciousness to offer this one’s soul to the Light, having been burnt and bruised a little in the process.

Please accept this ancient one, my Lord. She has done her work well and she returns. Serventa was exhausted by the confrontation, but she would be given more energy from the Light if it were necessary.

Suddenly, Serventa heard a shouting out to sea

where the fishermen had been seen. The Storm Kelpies were there, tormenting the boat with their long, grey faces under their blue hats and seaweed hair. They were the Blue Men of the Minch, who lived in caves under this part of the sea and took on the colour of the blue water of the Minch with their narrow eyes and red noses. As shape shifters they could take on any form they desired to confuse the eye of the onlooker.

Serventa frantically called to the fishermen. Here, come this way. Quick before you are all drowned. But they did not react.

She called again but there was no response. She knew the currents in the sea here would cause dangerous tides through these caves known as