Chapter 36

But Paul wouldn't be Paul if he didn't start worrying again as soon as his mind wasn't overruled with pain anymore. Between bites he stated: 'I'm not up to excursions yet today, but you can leave me alone with a book for a few hours.

Would you two be so kind as to visit those rejected children tonight, see if you can find out how much mind they have got left? If we have a meeting tomorrow with George and the council member about the wasteland and talented children, I'd like to know what we're dealing with.'

Lukas, also still munching, answered: 'I've been aching to do something for those children, if you feel confident on your own I'd love to go. Do you agree Melissa, that we should take Frances along with us?'

I said: 'I do, any wild creature would trust her before anyone else I know.' Now Paul insinuated: 'You didn't do so bad yourself with a wild creature, some time ago...' and I retorted: 'You weren't as wild as that, Paul, when I tamed you.'

Lukas clearly enjoyed our bantering very much, as self-assured and as contained as he had gotten he still needed a lot of love. He manoeuvered himself into my arms and said nothing, though he clearly knew Paul had meant him, and the idea of Paul as wild creature was ludicrous to him.

Of course Paul saw this too, and he targetted Lukas: 'You were too busy hitting on pretty girls to see it, but I was like a mad thing on that dance-floor.' Now Lukas couldn't keep quiet anymore, and said: 'Oh I saw you all right, and you were the most beautiful, most controlled dancer of the lot. Can we go again soon?' I added: 'Let's make a group of it, include Ilsa and her siblings if they feel like it.'

Before we left, Lukas suggested to Paul: 'You might want to check out those statues when we are away. They contain a soul all right, but we couldn't find out much more.' He didn't have to say more, Paul's eyes lit up at the challenge, and soon we were on our way to the estate.

I took a bicycle and Lukas went on his own two feet. After my experience of this afternoon, I no longer worried about being molested or mugged, I knew I could defend myself, and I had seen Lukas in action as well. Soon we were moving along the lane, then we were at the manorhouse, ready to look for Frances. The place looked different with ten children about, playing on the lawn, reading in the shade of the large trees.

The children recognised us, and told us Frances was working in her greenhouse. She agreed to come with us and told us the first parents would come to collect their sons and daughters today and tomorrow, the ones living near the city, who had gotten the message today and had sent a reply back with the messenger.

Some of the others might stay for a few weeks, their parents living as far away as the Islands. We spent some time with George, updating him on Paul's condition, reasonably sure he would be up to a meeting, as long as it might take place in his own gothic palace, from a comfortable chair.

George insisted we take a carriage, he didn't want Frances in the wasteland on foot, and maybe he was right, she was not as streetwise as we had become.

So in a carriage we went, leaving it halfway down the road, quite a ways from the houses where the children would be hiding. Frances had thought to bring a bag of the pretty cakes, and a bag of sandwiches, to tempt the children out, and of course to provide them with food, for it they were not going to show up, she'd just leave them there with a big canister of clean water and some cups.

The going was tough between the rubble, and to be honest, it was even filthier than I had feared it would be.

But we'd have to get used to the filth, for to win these rejects' trust and to check their minds, we would have to touch them anyway. There was not a child to be seen, but with sight I placed all of them in one of the houses near the road.

We realised they might become violent in their despair, so we entered very carefully, trying to look harmless. Of course we had our appearance in our favor, for Lukas looked much like a large boy with his unruly mop of curls, Frances like everybody's mom, and I was only a young woman, so not much threat there either. The children seemed to know we came for them, for they were all huddled in one large room at the back of the derelict house, the only one with all the windows still unbroken. One rather large boy, nearly an adult, seemed to feel responsible for the rest, for he stood before them half afraid, half defiantly.

'What are you doing here?' he asked us, in clear English, with an immaculate accent. What was a boy like that doing here in a wasteland?

This is what we had Frances for, and she replied: 'We have come to bring you food, and a healer if you need one.'

With this, she put the water and the cups down, and the bags with the sandwiches. Still a bit suspicious, but clearly very hungry and maybe even glad to see friendly adult faces, the boy handed the bag to another teenager, probably a girl, but it was hard to see from her huddled shape and ragged clothing.

She didn't say anything, but quickly distributed a sandwich to each child, then handed one to the boy, who had not stopped watching us, and took one herself. They didn't devour the food, but ate it slowly, savouring it, and they didn't fight over it either, which gave me instant hope that they might have some mind left, even if they had apparently lost every memory of who or what they were.

Now Lukas sat down in one fluid move, and he looked so harmless and loving, that one of the smaller children scooted over and sat on his lap.

He didn't hold it for fear of making it feel caught, but he did stroke its filthy hair lovingly, and the child sat against him. I followed his example and sat down, and Frances also followed suit. This seemed to quiet the leader down even more, and now Frances spoke again:

'Are you the leader of this little group?' The boy nodded, and said: 'I've been here longest, and I've tried to keep us all together and share the stuff we gathered, food and clothes.

And two or three still wanted to play, so we found them some toys.'

Meanwhile, the girl had discovered that there was clean water in the canister, and she was pouring cups and handing them to the others. They shared the water too. Now the boy, cup in hand, sat down as well, pretty close to us, and went on: 'Two of us are sick, have been since they emerged from the place down there.

They don't speak, they eat little, they just sit there, looking at nothing.' Frances nodded and said: 'This is Lukas, sitting with the little girl. He is our healer, he can check them out. This young lady is Melissa, and I'm Frances, what is your name?'

The question clearly hurt the boy, for he cringed and replied: 'I don't remember. None of us have a name.' Frances spoke calming words: 'Don't worry, Lukas can help you remember too, forgetting your name was done to you in that place, and he will bring it back to you. The place is empty now, it cannot hurt you anymore.'

Through all this talk the girl was still busy distributing water and the rest of the food. The nameless boy got another sandwich and ate it slowly.

Frances now told the boy: 'We are not just here to give you food and help, we want to take you somewhere where you can bathe, sleep, get clean clothes, cut your hair, and then we want to try if we can find your parents so you can return to them. If you agree.'

Now the teenager, who had kept this group together and managed to save them all, started to cry heartbreakingly. I couldn't stand it anymore, and went to him carefully, offering to comfort him. He didn't shy away and allowed me to put my arms around him, still crying in heaving sobs.

The other children were watching him with fear on their grimy faces, clearly totally dependent on him, and aware he was lost to them for a moment.

I held that brave, nameless boy for as long as he needed to spill his immense grief, and by the time his skinny frame stopped heaving so intensely, and his sobs became quieter, he was holding me tightly, finding some comfort in my warm presence.

Finally, he whispered: 'Will you please release me of this unbearable burden? I'm only a child myself, I cannot care for so many others anymore.'

He nearly broke my heart with those words, his voice still rough from crying, and squeeky from his approaching manhood.

I held him even tighter, as Frances replied: 'I will, bravest of boys, but first I want you to have your name back.

Lukas, can you look at him first, whilst I share out some of those beautiful cakes to his charges?'

She held the first beautiful cake out to the child on Lukas' lap, and the child quickly came to her to take it, enabling Lukas to get up and sit next to us.

He touched the boy carefully, then said: 'I'm going to use healing magic to try and release your memory, if it's still somewhere in your mind. You may see some weird flashes, or feel weird things happening, please trust us that we will not hurt you. Can you do that?'

I felt the boy nod, he seemed very weary all of a sudden, hoping his ordeal was over after years of struggling. I reached for the ley-line and contacted Lukas' mind, as he touched the boy again, and his talent took over.

I wanted to follow Lukas to see what could wipe the memory of a person but still enable him to speak perfect English and care for nine other children in a wasteland.

But I missed the connection to his talent this time, so I decided to just feed Lukas power so he could do his thing and help Frances keep an eye on the other kids. For now they were enjoying the cakes, staring at them in wonder, undoubtedly not remembering having ever seen something so colourful and pretty.

Then Frances gestured they could eat it, and they did, amazed by the sweetness. They were actually far too rich for children who had been starved for months, maybe years, but they were rather small, so they would probably not hurt them.

Lukas was still in rapport with the boy, sharing the enormous load that one'd had on his shoulders for such a long time, it seemed like years.

And his grief, for not being able to help those who were merely vegetating. Something in him knew that living like this wasn't right, but when he had tried to remember how it was supposed to be, he struck a barrier, a blockade, each time, until he gave up trying and just went on with his life in this outpost of hell.

Leaving just didn't occur to him, he had no memory of life outside this wasteland, and he couldn't leave the children who had come after him, dumped in the wasteland by a dark shape, a shape he instinctively avoided, for he didn't remember anything specific but he knew that person must not see any of them. Those children had been in a worse shape each time a new one arrived, lifeless, numb, without any idea of who they had been.

The early ones started to wake up after a few days, got a little life back, built up new memories, and new emotional ties, but the latest ones stayed as numb and lifeless as the day they had been dumped.

I could feel Lukas' strain coping with these horrific memories, and I could also feel his intent to break down that barrier to the brave kid's older memories. I knew there would be even worse memories behind that barrier, and I wondered if it was a good idea to face them here, in the wasteland, covered in soot and filth, but he was already grinding away mentally on that barrier. I could see the advantage of this one kid regaining his memory, it would make treating the others much easier, for they trusted him through and through.

And in my mind he had earned immediate relief for all the extra grief he had gone through protecting the others.

When the barrier finally broke, Lukas and I were both buried under an avalanche of memories, some of them gruesome, of being drained of magical power with brute magic by the black mage, of being savagely beaten by the same man, for resisting his mental torture, for being nearly strong enough to attack him with real magic, of the same man finally beating him to within an inch of his life, dumping him in the wasteland to die and rot away amid the trash.

The memory of him waking after all, utterly alone among the filth, wounded inside and out from the savage beating, with no idea who he was and how he got there. His survival instinct drove him to drink from a puddle and find food amidst the trash, until he slowly healed and became reasonably strong again, still utterly alone but with an iron will to survive.

And the arrival of the other children, one by one, not beaten like him but lifeless from being totally drained of magical power.

Not alone anymore, he nursed each of them back to health, and because of his greater mental resilience they looked up to him as their leader, as their father figure, which was too large a task for a boy, no matter how strong.

Lukas took all these profound and often intensely sad memories, and went over them with the boy until they were less strong, less overwhelming. He could not lay them to rest yet, they were too strong, and the boy would need more time and more sessions to truly face them, but this would help him cope a lot better with what he had been through.

And then Lukas took him back further, to the days when he was still a normal boy. Again, memories flooded in, memories that the brave kid would be processing for days ahead, weeks even. He would remember everything over time, and it would take weeks to sort his memories, put them in the right order, relive them and realise it was his own youth he was remembering.

There were some sad memories, but mostly happy ones, and Lukas went in search of the ones that were most important now, the boy's name, and who his parents were and if they still lived. Searching for clues there was a profound memory of the boy sitting with his parents in a room, their own dining room he remembered, with a man he would come to hate but didn't know then. The man said: 'So, Mr and Mrs Woolridge, you agree with me that sending young Jonathan here to my boarding school in the city would be the best and safest for all parties concerned.'

His parents, nodding but not looking convinced, himself, partly anxious to leave home, but eager to start the magical training he was promised.

Suddenly the connection between Lukas and the boy, Jonathan, was broken. Through my intimate connection with Lukas his feeling of triumph, but also an incredible weariness came rushing in.

As Jonathan jumped up from my lap, shouting: 'I remember everything!' hugging his friends, large and small, vivacious and downtrodden, I was just in time to catch Lukas, who was sagging in exhaustion.

I checked his power level and it was fine, so why was he so tired? Catching my unspoken question he whispered: 'Don't worry, just hold me for a bit, and stay in contact with me. That was a lot to cope with, for him, but for me as well. I'll be fine in a few moments.

Can you imagine how strong he must be, to survive that with his sanity intact?' I held him, and together we watched the children in their confusion, seeing their father figure act like the child he still was, deliriously happy with his name, and the partial removal of the burden of his memories. Frances handed him one of the cakes, and he immediately recognised it: 'Cake! Haven't had that for years, and such a pretty one too.'

He bit into it carefully, and his face reflected his wonderment at the sweet taste: 'It is the best one I've ever tasted, thank you so much Frances.'

I didn't wonder, after two years of eating garbage, that that little cake was the best one he ever had. Lukas was watching all this with quiet satisfaction, and I realised that the love that bound these children filled his need for love nearly as well as sharing physical love.

He'd drain himself to death to give them all their memories back, I was sure of that. Fortunately he couldn't do it without me, so I would be there to keep an eye on him.

Seeing that his charges were a little upset by his exhuberance, Jonathan gave them all a little pat, and promised them their turn would come as well, and that they might see their parents again.

He took the time to settle them all, then spent extra time with the girl who had shared the food among the children, soothing her, for she seemed especially upset.

I bet she was afraid he'd leave them, letting the task of caring for the whole lot fall to her. Or maybe she was in love with him, for children in dire circumstances tended to grow up really quickly. This is where Frances spoke again: 'My dear girl, he will not leave you behind, we will not leave you behind.

You can all come with me, clean up, eat again, drink again, sleep in comfort and safety, play on our lawn, sit under our trees, and when Lukas has recovered from healing Jonathan here, he'll help another one of you, and then another, until you've all had your chance.

Hearing this, Jonathan went to Lukas, saw him sitting in my lap, clearly exhausted, and said: 'Thank you so much Lukas for giving me my life back. And for taking those horrible memories from the front of my mind to the back.

It was hard for you, wasn't it? You look dead tired, small wonder with the power I saw being drained from you. I never realised one could take power from those glowing lines, or that guy would never have laid his filthy paws on anyone ever again after touching me.

Here I spoke up: 'Jonathan, don't touch those lines unless you are with someone who can teach magic. It's like handling lightning, it can kill you.'

He nodded, then promised: 'I will not, though I don't know if I'll ever get magic training, it's only the highborn kids who get it.' I asked: 'Aren't you highborn then? You speak like you are.'

He replied: 'I was raised if I was, my father was steward to a gentleman, and his son and I were practically raised together. My lord wanted to sponsor me into a apprenticeship, but no-one would take me because I was of a lower class.'

I told him: 'It is not impossible, for I'm not highborn and still I have a magics-teacher. So please keep heart.'

He brightened a little, then addressed Lukas again: 'Say, you're not like us, are you? You look different somehow.' Startled, Lukas replied: 'I'm not, Jonathan, I'll explain another time, when I'm less tired.

First we'll have to get your friends here to a better place to stay, it's nearly getting dark, and we have a friend who needs us. I'll be over tomorrow to help one or two of you again, maybe with Melissa, maybe with Frances' husband, who teaches me magic.

Frances, can you put these up as well?' Frances, still sitting on the ground, and with the little child on her lap, replied: 'We will, even our second best is way better than what these poor kids are used to.

Jonathan, do you agree to all come with me?'

He nodded and asked: 'Will you care for us?' Frances replied: 'Until we can find your parents, and if they cannot be found for some of you, we will find a suitable place to live for them.'

This was good enough for Jonathan: 'Then we'll come with you. But two of us cannot walk far.' At this, Frances said: 'I have a carriage waiting outside, they can ride in it. But you won't all fit. Take any toys you're attached to, leave the rest. Let's be off.'

Jonathan soon had all of them in motion, even the two catatonic children. Frances carried the little girl, and asked: 'Did she come from the place as well?' The answer was shocking: 'No, she just came here by herself one day, from the other side we think, but no-one came to fetch her, we let her play outside for days to allow her parents to pick her up, but after a few weeks she was still here. So we kept her.'

By now we had reached the carriage, and Jonathan urged the two children in, I thought they were a boy and a girl, but wasn't sure under the filth. The little girl went in as well, and I practically forced Lukas in.

Slowly we walked towards the manor, a soot covered row of skinny children, led by a skinny teenager with the eyes of an old man.

When we arrived at the manor house, Bertha was waiting with the small carriage pulled by the tiny ponies, and everyone could ride, which speeded our journey up considerably. At the house, the staff was also waiting, having been through the same process yesterday with the children saved from the factory.

Jonathan was still everywhere, soothing one child, coaxing another, but I could easily see that the load was from his shoulders, he had given up the tremendous responsibility to Frances, who was much better suited to handle it.

In the warm summer evening they made a game of the bathing, all stripping and soaping on the lawn, then spraying eachother with a water hose connected to an ingenious apparatus that was powered by a lever.

'Paul's work, to water the plants' Frances said, 'you to must be aching to get back to him, I will call for the carriage to give you a lift. We'll manage just fine here. Lukas, will you be going too?' Lukas put an arm around me and asked: 'Will you be all right to go back on your own? I want to see George for an hour or so, talk about what happened tonight, maybe exchange some intimacies.'

I knew this had been a very difficult healing for him, not only the personal suffering he had encountered, but he had also been confronted quite harshly with the shortcomings of our society in caring for its weaker members. I could understand his need to talk to someone with a lot more experience than himself or me, and George being a very attractive and active lover as well would make him irresistable to Lukas right now.

There was still a price to pay to his talent after all. I told him: 'Of course I understand, it's been a difficult day for you, and George is the perfect partner for you right now, as well as your magic's teacher. Will you come home tonight?'

He replied: 'I will. When all is said and done, my place is still with you two. But don't wait up, I'll let myself in.' We hugged and kissed, and then I went towards the carriage.

Frances hugged me as well, and asked: 'Will we see you tomorrow? I want to talk to you about the greenhouse.' I replied: 'It depends a little on how Paul's doing, but I think I'll come.

Have to fetch the bicycle back too.' 'We'll take good care of it,' she said, 'good night!' And I was into the carriage, and back home in a few minutes.