Dreaming of the Past
Chapter 1: First Contact
The alarm clock started bleeping the same moment the mobile phone on her bedside table began ringing, one of those tunes everyone knows but nobody can name. Rolling over lazily Miranda slammed the sleep button before flipping open her phone and taking the call.
"I waited as long as I could, it is a decent hour now ay?" came the thick Scottish accent through the phone.
"Mmmmhmmm," Miranda rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and pulled herself into a sitting position. It was exactly seven thirty going by the alarm clock. "What is it you want Alfie?"
"I was wonderin' if ye got the sword and letter I sent ye." Alfred sounded so energetic, too energetic.
"Yea I was looking at it last night. It's in remarkably good condition for being buried fifteen hundred years."
"That it is, that's why I sent it to ye. I've been so busy lately with this new excavation I was wonderin' if ye could do some study on it?"
"Alfie, I specialize in Modern History. You know that, not Dark Age stuff. It's way out of my sphere of knowledge."
"Yea, I know but I've been so busy -"
"Look I can't, I have enough on my own plate at the moment. I know you helped me out last year with getting into RHS and I owe you but I can't. I'm sorry." She didn't mean to snap but Miranda definitely wasn't what you would call a morning person, and a crack of dawn call by an overly energetic Scotsman was not her ideal start to the day.
"Please Miranda. It would really mean the world to me. I know ye have yer own work but if ye do this I could -"
"No Alfie. I'm really sorry but I can't do it. I have to help the Curator of the War Memorial set up an exhibit on the Vietnam War tomorrow and my plane to Canberra leaves at noon. I took some notes down last night and I'll try and find someone who can work on it when I get back."
The aging man on the other end of the line, on the other side of the world, sighed disappointedly. "Fine then lass, if ye could do that for me I guess it would be enough."
"Ok then." Miranda sighed, she didn't like to disappoint the old man. He'd been so good to her in the past, "Look, I'm really sorry Alfie."
"Yea, I know." He muttered and hung up.
Shaking her head Miranda climbed out of bed and stumbled groggily into the ensuite. Pulling off her pajamas she turned on the shower full boar and jumped in. Shivering under the initial cold she began to relax as the warm water kicked in. Tipping the shampoo into her hand she began to lather it up and rub it into her hair mid-length hair.
It was whilst watching the shower screen fogging up Miranda remembered the vision she had seen the previous night. "Highly impossible and extremely unlikely." She muttered to herself and returned to watching the shower screen.
Stepping out of the shower and onto the too cold bathroom tiles Miranda began to dry herself and stare at her reflection. She had a long oval face, accentuated by her lank straight hair which was even worse now it was damp. Her nose was long and turned up slightly at the end, she had often compared it to a ski jump. She had prominent cheek bones and big, doe like eyes surrounded by long, curled lashes. Miranda had always thought her eyes were her best feature, they were a very pale green that always seemed bright and alert, even in the dreariest of lectures and when worn with the right eyeliner could look stunningly haunting. She had a narrow mouth with a large bottom lip but a virtually non existent top one that made her look slightly buck toothed.
Miranda pulled out the tweezers and plucked a few stray hairs from her arched eyebrows that gave her a permanently surprised appearance. She would never call herself pretty but if pressed she would say cute, in a rabbit like way. Many hard hours at the gym had made her proud of one thing though, her body. She was petite with slight curves but had washboard abs and legs to die for. Pulling on her Target brought white blouse and black skirt and stockings she thought about how dodgy she probably looked to the majority of high ranked historians. Here she was, a young woman looking to make a name for herself in a fifty dollar top and skirt combo.
Maybe she was being stereotypical but it seemed most respectable, intelligent women always wore designer suits and had perfect makeup and hair. Miranda didn't have any of those qualifications and it was doing nothing for her self esteem. She made a pact with herself that when her next big paycheck came in she would go out and buy herself some fancy suit from DJ's.
She glanced at her watch, nine thirty, time to start packing. Hauling out an old suitcase from her cupboard she roughly flipped it open and went to her draws, pulling out the essentials. Underwear, skirts, blouses, pajamas… all were thrown hastily into the suitcase. Miranda figured, it had survived ten years of international travel with her parents chances are a trip to Canberra wouldn't even be a smudge on its filthy cover. She checked her watch again, ten o'clock. Shit.
Racing down the stairs to her office Miranda did a hasty check on her artifacts to make sure they were all secure. She paused a moment over the sword Alfie had sent her to study. It's way out of my area. I can't do anything about it, to me Cadbury Castle sounds like something out of a chocolate ad. Wrapping it in its protective cloth she locked it in a chest inside her cupboard. Safe, secure and out of the way, she rehearsed the line her mother, Harriet, had always told her when cleaning the house before going away.
Her mother had been anal to the extreme. Everything must be perfect, everything must me clean and everyone must know how to make it so. Coming up with little rhymes to help you remember things had always seemed like her mother's hobby when Miranda was young. Now she just realized her mother was scared, scared that the small, perfect bubble she had wrapped her daughter in would burst. Unfortunately for Miranda, that part of her childhood wasn't easily left behind and she often found herself quoting the rhymes she had grown up hearing.
Walking out of the room she couldn't resist one last look back at the cupboard. She didn't know why but Miranda felt that it was calling to her, and, as much as she hated to admit it she really did want to study the thing. Once again her vision popped into her mind, she shivered and walked into the hall.
"Highly impossible and extremely unlikely." She repeated to herself as the logical side of her brain clicked in.
Checking all the windows were shut and locked she strolled casually out the front door, closing it softly behind her. Concrete steps greeted her black heeled shoes as they clicked down them and onto the short gravel path to the gate. Miranda tapped the faded red Mazda on the roof before unlocking it and climbing in. She'd had it since she was sixteen and it had yet to fail her. Once, twice, she turned the key in the ignition and waited for it to start. Fear flooded through her, don't let this be the first time in her life the thing fails to start, not on the one day she desperately needs it to work. On the third try the engine finally chugged into life and Miranda breathed a sigh of relief.
Pulling of the handbrake she took of down the street without another look back at the small townhouse in Sydney's centre. She knew if she looked back the sword would pop into her mind again and she would be more than tempted to go back and discover its secrets. No. Miranda continued down the narrow street on her way to the airport.
----------------------
Six hours sleep in a week. Not fun. Miranda had never known the amount of hours required in setting up her own museum display until now. Finally home after a week away she kicked of her shoes and snuggled into the lounge, curling into a ball in preparation for sleep. The effort required in taking the stairs to her bedroom seemed impossible at the moment, hence Miranda's attempts to sleep on the lounge.
An inch from her much desired sleep she was startled awake by an electric shock. At least, at the time it seemed like that but looking back on it she couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was the effect that occurs when the past 'rubs' on the future. Eyes flashing open she saw a transparent face directly in front of hers. Stifling a scream Miranda pushed as far back into the lounge as she could go to get away from the apparition. She didn't know what it was, she didn't care what it was but she wanted to either wake up or pass out. Unfortunately neither request was granted, the humanoid apparition merely straightened and grinned.
"Hello Miranda." The voice was airy and spoke with a strange yet somehow British accent.
"Holy shit!" Miranda murmured and blinked her eyes furiously, the woman, for indeed that is what it was, stayed perfectly clear in front of her.
"Don't worry dear I'm not trying to hurt you but I need your help." She smiled sympathetically, Miranda was shaking uncontrollably.
"Wh-what are you exactly?" her voice shook as uncontrollably as her body.
"I am what I guess you could call a projection, of me, as I cast this spell." She seemed in her mid thirties and was dressed in the unmistakable clothing of a wealthy woman of the dark ages.
"Ah… ok…"
"Yes," The woman briskly turned and walked to the other side of the room. "I need you to assist me in a mission of sorts."
"…ok…" Miranda was so freaked out by this already she thought she may as well go along with it. It was probably just a dream after all and she would wake up feeling like an idiot.
"I need you to go back into the body of a woman, she is dead in the brain, her soul was taken from her body but she is still alive. When you're there you will have full control of her body and mind. From there I need you to watch over some people for me. I need them to survive, or at least a certain one, to be completely happy in life."
Miranda gulped, stunned, it had all been said very seriously and she didn't think this 'projection' was mucking around. "So where do you want me to go exactly? And what do you mean her soul was taken from her body?"
The woman beamed, happy she had gotten through to the girl. "I want you to go back to my time, when I was younger then I am now though."
"You come from the sword don't you?"
"Yes, in a way. The sword was my husbands, I attached a spell to it when he was killed. I have waited for the first woman to discover it before I tried to make contact with anyone. I have waited a long time I believe."
"Well the sword has been buried for fifteen hundred years, so yes you have. What do you want me to do?" Queried Miranda, this was getting too much. Either the world was going insane or she was, she hoped it was neither and this was all just a dream. Hoped being the key word there.
"I need you to watch a group of knights for me. Do everything you can to protect them all from danger. I think you will encounter me, actually I'm sure of it." The woman's voice was getting fainter, as was her outline. She sighed, "I only inherited a little of my father's power it seems. I must go, I will be back soon to finish what I have started."
Her image grew fainter while Miranda simple stood still, watching in fascination. Finally she snapped out of her daze, "What is your name?" she called into the darkness.
But the woman was gone.
----------------------
I hope you guys enjoyed my prologue and first chapter. I'm unsure whether this will become a romance, for the moment I don't have any exact plans so guess it wont bebut yes… I'm not sure. Who is this mysterious apparition Miranda is seeing? Leave a review with your guess.
Please review but don't leave flames, I won't accept them.
Pagan
