The Reunion
The woman convulsed on her bed. She knew what had happened to her. She knew when she'd eaten what would happen to her. But Fate was Fate, and the girl must come. The Pendragon was necessary, and it was her duty to give her life to the cause if need be. She'd endured worst pain than dying; all of her kind did.
Her eyes flew opened, fluttered. She had to hurry. They were gathered around, watching her die and helpless to do anything. If she had told them to help, perhaps they could have, but it was too late now. And she had one last thing to do. She couldn't die until she told them.
She took a deep shuddering breath. For a moment, she was afraid of how she could hear her breath echo loudly in her ears, but she pushed it aside. She must do this. In a shaky voice, she said:
The Seer will come
You must move-
She took a deep breath, shaking. She was hot, cold, clammy, so many things that she almost wished she weren't right now. But it was her duty. It had to be done. Her job came responsibilities. Responsibilities that must be fulfilled if worse things were to be avoided.
Someone wiped the sweat off her brow. "Hie," she said softly. "You must bring the Pendragon."
The warning now. She was the only person left who knew of the Lost Prophecies. She must- Before she could control what was happening, breath was sucked into her lungs, nearly choking her. She coughed and gasped, but it was useless. And, as her eyelids fluttered crazily, she realized that she had never been meant to tell the rest. She would be the last to know the Lost Prophecies, know where the books were hidden. She heard the Voice. His Voice, calling to her softly, full of warmth and kindness, power and wisdom, sadness and happiness, all at once. She followed the Voice.
The people arranged in a circle around the woman's bed breathed again as she fell back on the pillows. A young man came forward, set apart by his still-brown hair, and the youth that hadn't yet passed. He looked seventeen or eighteen. He checked for the woman's breath, found none, and covered her with the sheets.
"Dead," he said. He looked away. The woman had been one of the best seers throughout Time, and she had been poisoned. And now, right before her death, she had predicted that yet another Seer would come. And the Pendragon. Bran.
He looked up to a man with a gray beard and gray hair, wrinkles of wisdom etched into his face. Already, he looked more youthful than he had since Will had come.
Merriman said softly, "We must move, hie."
The bearded man nodded. "Yes, My Lion. Will, you know Bran the best; take the sword to him. We must find the Seer."
Bran Davies was alone in the room, cleaning the chalkboard. He had just finished the student tutoring session. After his father had gotten a job as a preacher in the United States, they had moved here, and Bran had astonished his teachers by being so far ahead of the other students, even the foreign exchange students, who were required to be practically geniuses. Usually, he thought it was kind of funny that he could write English better than the Americans, but it lost its humor when he had to clean up afterwards.
Someone knocked on the door frame; the last kid who'd left had left the door open. Bran turned, half expecting a teacher demanding to know what he was doing in a classroom by himself, without any adult supervision. He'd already had to explain it to quite a few, but Mr. Petroff, the English teacher, had explained to him that there would probably always be more.
"Will!" he said, genuinely surprised. He hadn't seen Will since before he'd left for the US.
Will grinned at him and looked at the chalkboard. "Missed a spot," he said.
Bran turned. After a few seconds, he said, "I don't see a spot." When he turned back around, Will was holding something out to him. It was wrapped in a cloth sac.
Will shrugged. "I brought something for you. Thought you might need it." He handed it to Bran.
Bran let the sac cloth fall slowly away. The first thing he saw was the hilt of the sword. He touched it with his finger, and suddenly, slowly, he remembered. Before he had remembered too, but you couldn't learn what you already knew. Now he remembered it all again. "Eirias," he said softly. Eirias was his again, and he was once again the Pendragon. He looked at Will. "Well? Let's go home."
Will grinned. "Let's."
Clara was walking down the hallway when she felt it. The slight tickling on the back of her neck. So far, she'd only felt it once, but if she made this decision, it would either be her last time or the first of many. She stopped, causing her friend Jennifer, who had been walking too closely behind, to walk into her.
"What is it?" Jennifer asked.
"Oh, nothing. I just forgot a book in my locker. I'll be right back." Clara started walking the other way.
Jennifer shrugged. "Later." She started walking to the library.
The hallway was empty. It was after tutorials, and even a bunch of the teachers had left already. The only reason, well, logical reason, that Clara and Jennifer were there was that they were waiting for their friend Lauren to get out of Biology tutorials, which always ran late.
Hurry.
Clara glanced around to make sure she was the only one and then ran down the hall. She dived into a classroom. Was this one the right one? Yes, it had to be. He wouldn't let her go into the wrong one. Not when it mattered so much to Him. She looked around. This was an English room for the upperclassmen. She'd seen it in her dream. This was the right one.
There was only one last thing to do, and then she would be acting on instincts, not her dream. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.
Hurry.
She reached out, hesitated, and then let some force grab her wrist and pull it in the right direction. Something brushed against her fingers, stinging her wherever it touched. And then the stinging spread up her arm, covered her face. She was lucky she didn't scream. She hated screaming. But He said it would be okay, and trust was the only thing keeping her from what she felt sure would be losing her mind. And then, it stopped as if it had never happened.
It took her a few moments to recognize the shapes around her as faces. Her head hurt, pulsing. It felt like something repeatedly pounding against it. The world seemed to be spinning and she wasn't entirely sure she wasn't spinning with it. She felt the air rushing past her and something hard hit her back. Nothing else hit her, so she lay there panting.
She heard Bran ask, "Who are you?"
"Clara. Sophomore." She sat up slowly but was pushed back down. She dared to open her eyes again to see someone dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth. She tried to push the person away, but they knocked her hands away effortlessly. Finally, Clara let him dab away. She felt too tired to really do much of anything else.
"How did you get here?" another man asked. Clara looked at him. He had brown hair, a slightly boyish face, brown eyes. She wouldn't have been able to spot him in a crowd. He looked a few years older than her, probably Bran's age.
She closed her eyes. What was going on?
Tell them.
I can't. They wouldn't understand. I can't handle it. I'm not brave enough.
There was no answer.
She murmured something unintelligible. Will and Bran looked at each other.
Merriman came in, leading a girl. Will saw the girl, Clara, peek a bit, still trying to appear asleep or close to it. She studied Merriman, quickly looked to Bran, then looked quickly at whom Bran was looking at.
Clara slowly took in the girl's looks. Raven-black hair, pale skin, perfect posture. She knew without a doubt that this was the most beautiful woman she ever had or ever would see. Then she saw the girl's eyes, and words flooded her mind. Liar... Fall... Dill... Liar... Valse... Teal... Liar...
She lay back, closing her eyes. Her mind screamed in pain as words and bright flashes of light and pictures passed through, too quickly for her to grasp.
"Bran, Will, I'd like you to meet Isabella de Francis, a seer. Isabella, these are Will and Bran." Merriman looked at the girl on the floor. "But who's this?" he asked Will.
"Her name is Clara," Will said, meeting Merriman's eyes.
"She followed us through the barrier," Bran added.
"How?" Merriman asked.
"She won't say."
Isabella walked over gracefully to Clara, dismissing the Old One's apprentice with a wave of her hand as she studied the girl. Clara was keeping her eyes closed tightly and clenching her fists so tightly that her nails were digging into her palms.
"What's next?" Bran asked.
Merriman looked to Isabella. "We were hoping the Seer could tell us."
Bran nodded. Isabella didn't seem to be paying attention; she was still kneeling next to Clara. "How did you know to bring us here. The Dark was destroyed, I thought."
Merriman shook his head. "We're all immortal. We can never be completely destroyed. We cast the Dark out of Time. People can find their way back out of Time, but it takes Time and luck. We think the Dark fixed something so they could come back as a whole after resting at a certain point in Time. The Time, it appears, is now. Another seer, before she died, said, 'The Dark will rise. The Seer will come. You must move, hie. Bring forth the Pendragon.' So we knew to bring you, and Isabella arrived here a few minutes ago saying she'd felt we might need her help."
"So when do we go?" Bran asked. "Mount Everest is the highest."
"'High'" Will said, "as in 'height.' Now 'hie' as in 'hurry.'"
A clear voice interrupted them. "Complete the Circle. With the Six we climb the mountain-" They look at Isabella, who was kneeling, holding Clara's hand gently, staring at seemingly nothing.
Suddenly, Clara sat up, her eyes slightly fogged. "NO!" she yelled.
Isabella shrieked and jumped back, her words forgotten.
Clara's eyes quickly came back into focus. When she saw Isabella, she jumped back, kicking and screaming. Isabella jumped up, taking refuge behind Bran. Will quickly grabbed Clara, pinning her down until she stopped struggling. Being the youngest of seven children had its perks. Clara finally stopped struggling, asleep.
Will picked her up. "I'll take her to the infirmary," he said.
Merriman followed him out.
Once they'd left, Isabella flashed a beaming smile at Bran. "Thank you," she said. "Could we talk? I need to get home, but could we talk while you show me out?"
"Want me to walk you home?"
"No, thank you." She started leading the way to the front door. Bran, not familiar with the layout, followed.
Isabella turned to him as they walked down a hallway with numerous tapestries. "Do you like it here, Pendragon?" she asked with a grin.
"So far."
"I'm glad you came. "Your father will be glad to see you."
"I'll be glad to see him," Bran said as they arrived at the front door. He opened it.
She walked past him, smiling. "Soon, Pendragon."
"Soon," Bran agreed. He closed the door once she was out of sight.
"Bran!" a voice called.
Bran looked and grinned. It had been years, but he still remembered the voice. It was one of the few things he had never forgotten. "Da!" Bran hugged him. "It's good to see you."
"Likewise. Come. I'll show you to your room." As Bran walked down the hall with his father, he marveled at how he could feel so at home in a place he'd never been to before.
Clara knew he was watching her before she opened her eyes. Everyone knew when people were staring at them, especially when the person was doing it with such force.
"Who is she?" Clara asked.
"Who?"
Clara opened her eyes and looked up at Merriman, who was standing beside the bed. Too tall, she thought. "Isabella."
Merriman sat down in the chair next to her bed. "Isabella de Francis is seventeen. Five years ago, her village was raided; she lived in another country back then, where raids were common. Her parents died in the battle, and Isabella was left hiding by the river. She tried to swim away when she realized they'd lost the battle, but somehow something got wrapped around her ankle. She almost drowned. She says she heard a voice, and ever since, she'd been growing in popularity and strength. She's one of the greatest seers around."
"It was His voice," Clara said softly.
"What?"
"It was His voice," Clara said more loudly so he could hear.
"How do you know?" Merriman asked.
"He said she was a liar. He said it over and over." She closed her eyes, trying to remember exactly what He'd said. Her brow wrinkled in concentration. "He said, 'Liar, Fall, Dill, Liar, Valse, Teal, Liar."
Another voice said, almost immediately, "Liar, False, Deal."
Clara turned to see Bran's friend standing next to the wall. He smiled at her. "Hello, Clara. I'm Will, and that's Merriman."
She continued looking at him. So they were suddenly nice? No sooner had she thought this than she realized that they knew she was a seer as well. She quickly changed the subject. "Dow did you know what He said?" she asked. "I thought He was talking about blue-tinted pickles that talked."
Will grinned. "You'll learn. He had them in a pattern. All you had to do was figure it out."
"Oh." She digested what he'd said. "Wait a minute. What do you mean, 'You learn'?"
"I know someone who may be able to help you learn."
"Speaking of whom," Merriman cut in, "you'd better go pick them up.
Will nodded. "Soon," he said to Clara. He walked out of the room.
Isabella de Francis was at that moment busy pacing in her library, walking quickly back and forth on a thick carpet, oblivious to the numerous books on the shelves. The candlelight was dim, complimenting the dark red chairs and dark-colored polished wood. "I came to you, asking for your help," she said. "I agreed to help you in exchange, help you by getting on the inside, finding out what they're planning. And now you tell me you can no longer keep your end of the bargain." She stopped at the end of the imaginary line, her skirt making a soft rustling sound. "You have failed me," she said simply.
"We have not failed you, Lady. We are looking for the prophecies both day and night." The man sat in one of the dark red chairs comfortably, wearing a black cloak and watching the girl pace and patronize him. Pity the Dark still needed her. When she was no longer required, the man would be the first to kill her.
"I don't see you searching for them," she said with a sniff.
"I came to check on the recent developments, Lady." He'd have to run awfully fast in order to reach her to kill her first, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be too hard.
"Recent developments?" Isabella scowled. "I'll tell you about 'recent developments!' A girl came with the Pendragon; she wasn't supposed to. She is also a seer, quite possibly the Seer. She'd ruin everything." She suddenly looked thoughtful. "I want her dead."
"Consider it done." The man left. He stood on the front porch. Even if the girl was a nuisance, they still needed her. He resigned himself to the fact and sighed. He began making plans as he pulled his hood over his head.
Jane knew this was going to be one of her more trying lunches with her brothers. Every Saturday the three had lunch on their own, without their parents, to just act like brothers and sister together, now that they all went to different schools and all. Simon pulled up to the curb in what perhaps laughingly could have been called a car. Jane wrinkled her nose when she remembered he'd just come from football practice. She hoped he'd clean up and change before lunch. Last time, she'd sat downwind of him. She was never going to do that again.
Jane climbed into the back seat next to Barney's canvas and art box and looked at his latest painting. He hadn't drawn or painted everything, but Jane could still see, almost as if it was real, a land with dark green grass bathing in sunshine. She looked to the passenger seat, where Barney was looking at her expectantly. "It's nice," she said.
Barney sighed and turned back around. "You always say that."
"Don't worry about it," Simon told him distractedly as he pulled away from the curb. "Jane doesn't understand art."
Jane sighed and looked out the window. It was going to be one of those days. "Practice went that well, did it?"
"Worse than that well," Simon admitted with a lopsided grin. "Want to see my most recent battle wounds?"
She made a face as he parked easily on a nearly deserted street. "No, thank you," she said. "Not before eating."
"After lunch then," Simon said. He grinned at Barney and climbed out of the car before Jane could object.
Jane saw him as soon as she got out of the car. She smiled and waved. "Will! What are you doing here?"
Will smiled and walked over to them. By this time, Simon and Barney were standing on the sidewalk, and Jane had joined them. When Will reached them, he said, "Hoping to see you, actually. Merriman sent me to fetch you."
Jane's face fell. "That isn't funny, Will."
Will looked at her calmly and patiently and made to move to take his comment back.
"You know Gumerry died a long time ago," Simon said as gently and as firmly as he could.
Barney was the only one who seemed completely receptive of the news. "When?" he asked.
"Barney!" Jane exclaimed, shocked.
Barney and Will looked at each other, and both decided not to say anything. Chances were that Jane would just get more upset
"Preferably now," Will said. He looked at Simon, his brown eyes pleading. "Simon..." If Simon said no, it was quite possible he'd lose all of them.
Simon sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. They came away damp; he was still sweaty from practice. If Gumerry was... No. He couldn't think that. But Will had never lied... And they'd never found Gumerry's body. And he'd always felt... He sighed again. "All right."
Jane glared at him as if he'd betrayed her.
"Hold on," Will said.
Jane closed her eyes, dreading what was going to happen. Poor Will. He'd never acted like this before...
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer on the sidewalk. She was facing a stone wall with a rich tapestry of silver unicorns in moonlight drinking from a lake. She stared at it in shock. How had it gotten there?
Will smiled at her and gently turned her around by her shoulders. "You're facing the wrong way, Jane."
And then Jane saw him. He was the same as he'd always been, with the nose jutting out of his face like a hawk's beak and the white silver hair and he was tall as he had ever been.
"Gumerry!" she shouted. Simon and Barney had also shouted, but Jane was the first to hug him. She held him tight until Merriman had to pull her away, laughing.
"I do need air, you know," he joked. He grew serious and bent over to look them in the eyes. "Are you three ready for business?"
"What business?" Simon asked, excited but serious.
Merriman looked to Will. "You didn't tell them?" he asked.
Will shook his head. "I figured you ought to be the one to do that."
Merriman nodded. "Very well." He waved his hand in front of the three with a dismissive air. They blinked.
"The Dark is back?" Simon demanded, angry. "I thought we-"
"Come," Merriman said. "We've got a lot of catching up to do. And Barney, I think you may have a pupil."
Barney nodded. "The girl. I saw her just a while ago. Her?"
Merriman nodded and smiled at him proudly. "You're better."
Barney grinned. "I've been practicing," he admitted.
Jane gaped at him. "You never told me."
Barney shrugged.
Merriman looked at them all, and after a moment of silence said, "Simon, you look like a ragamuffin, but never mind. Right now, we have other matters to discuss."
Copyright 2001. Hope you liked it! More's coming up soon!
Love ya,
Dleet
