Disclaimer: All characters and plot elements from The Dark is Rising Sequence belong to Susan Cooper. The legend of Merlin probably belongs to everyone and the rest is mine.
A/N Hope any Arthurian purists will forgive my twist on the bit of legend I use. Call it artistic licence – Susan Cooper certainly wasn't above using quite a lot of it!
14. Prince of the High Magic
Bran left Will and Jane and hurried back towards the Hall. On his way he glanced through a door and saw his mother in a room on the other side of the passageway. She was standing alone, staring out of the window at the cloudless sky.
"My lady, are you alright," said Bran going in.
She turned and smiled. "Yes, the Hall was a little crowded for me. But come now Bran, there's no need to be so formal, I am your mother after all."
He smiled back at her. "Of course, I'm sorry. It's all a bit strange. It was just me and Da for so long."
"Bran…You know I never meant to hurt Owen Davies. He was very kind to me and I will always be grateful for what he did. I wish I could thank him for that."
Bran hesitated then said, "He wanted you to know that he always loved you and has never forgotten you."
A look of regret crossed her face and she closed her eyes for a moment.
There was silence; then his mother smiled saying, "Let's not dwell too long on the past, we have so much to look forward to, you, your father and I. Now we'd better go back to the Hall or we'll miss the rest of the celebrations."
"Actually…can I ask you something first?" He paused, trying to find the right words. "If I'm Prince of the High Magic, can I stop Merriman from making Will and Jane forget about things that have happened here when they go back?"
"Bran, it's not wise to interfere in the affairs of the Old Ones."
"But Will and Jane only just realised they love each other and it's taken them so long to get this far. When they go home it will all be taken away. You and my father were separated for all that time and now you're back together again. You wouldn't want that for Will and Jane, would you?"
His mother regarded him seriously for a minute, as if weighing something up. "I shouldn't really tell you this, but there is a way to help your friends. It could be dangerous for them though and it will only work if they were truly meant to be together. You see, Bran, love has a power all its own. Real love will always be stronger than the Old Magic, the High Magic or the Wild Magic. If it's true and enduring it can break through the greatest of enchantments. Otherwise you could never have released me today."
Her words gave him new hope. "So what can I do?"
"Well, you need something that will protect their memories through the gateway of the High Magic."
"I've got the Lightning Stones, will they work?" He showed her the pendant and ring.
"They will help, but you'll need something else as well to make a remembrance charm." She unpinned the sprig of rosemary Bran had given her which had been fastened to her dress by a little gold brooch. "Here, take this. I think there is still enough magic left in it to work. You can thank Merlion for that."
Bran pulled a face, then grinned at her and took the rosemary.
"Take them to Gwion, he was going to his music room. He can help you make the charm," she said.
"Thanks," said Bran and put the things in his pocket.
She smiled at him. "You're a good friend, Bran. I'm glad to have you as my son."
A sound from the door made them both start and turn round.
"Excuse me, my lady, the king was wondering where you were." It was Merriman. He looked at them curiously.
"I will be there in a moment, Merlion," said Guinevere.
"Any idea where Will and Jane are?" Bran asked, desperately hoping Merriman hadn't seen anything.
"They are walking by the beach. I think you'd best leave them alone for now." Merriman's eyes showed no sign of emotion. "They will be leaving before long."
"Oh right, OK," said Bran, very glad Merriman couldn't keep tabs on him like he obviously could on Will.
The Old One turned and walked out. Bran sighed. "I hope this will work."
* * *
Gwion looked up from his desk and smiled in welcome as Bran entered the music room.
"It's a pleasure to see you, Bran Pendragon. Have you come for harp lessons already?"
Bran laughed. "Not yet, but maybe soon." He marvelled as he saw a magnificent full-sized harp in the middle of the airy room. Many other instruments on stands were spread out all around, some familiar, others that Bran had never seen before. "I need your help with something actually."
He explained about Will and Jane, and about his mother's suggestion to make a remembrance charm. He took the Lightning Stones and rosemary from his pocket.
"I have the things I need, but I don't know what to do with them."
"I see," said Gwion. He looked more serious. "I can indeed help you, but there are two important things that you must consider before you do this. Firstly, this type of remembrance charm is a very powerful spell. If anything goes wrong, it can have terrible consequences for the person affected. Be sure you are doing the right thing. If you have any doubts about the strength of their love, I must warn you not to go ahead."
Bran thought for a while. He remembered seeing the despair on his friends' faces when he'd told them what Merriman had said. "I've got to do it, it's their only hope," he said determinedly.
"Very well. But secondly, do you know why Merriman doesn't want them to be together?"
'Because he's a controlling spoilsport who hates seeing other people happy' was what Bran thought. However, he just shrugged at Gwion and said, "I don't really know."
"Sit down then and let me tell you one of the tales from former times," said Gwion mysteriously.
With a look of curiosity, Bran got a stool from near the wall, put it by Gwion's desk and sat waiting, feeling like a child at storytime.
Gwion stood up and walked about the room, as if inspecting all the musical instruments. Bran felt impatient and was just about to say something when the little grey-bearded man stopped in the middle of the room, bowed to Bran and began his story.
"A long way back in time, when there was peace and prosperity, before the Dark ever came to the land of Britain, a young dewin, a wizard, called Myrddin met a beautiful mortal girl and they fell in love. Their love was so great, it became celebrated throughout the land as a model of what true love should be."
"What was her name?" interrupted Bran.
"Her name? Like Myrddin himself, she has been given many different names over the years. I think only Myrddin ever knew her true name, but let us call her Niniane. Well, they shared everything and Myrddin began to teach her about his magic. She became his pupil and learned everything that the wizard could show her. But, as we all know, having a little power leads to a desire for more and Niniane began to crave the higher power that she knew Myrddin possessed.
"In time, Niniane's desire became an obsession and overtook her love for him. So she thought of a way to trick her teacher into giving her the power she so desperately wanted. Niniane suggested, as the ultimate test of all she had learned, that she should try to freeze Myrddin in time. He was so besotted with her that it didn't take much persuasion before he agreed. However, magic being so ingrained in the wizard, so much a part of who he was, the feat could not ordinarily be accomplished. He had to transfer, temporarily of course, all his vast, hidden powers to Niniane and make himself weak and defenceless. Inevitably, once he was held in time, unable to do anything to stop her, she left him there and used what she had stolen for her own means."
Gwion seemed to stop there. Bran looked at him in dismay, spellbound by the story.
"But what happened? How did Myrddin escape?" he asked.
Taliesin the storyteller smiled, loving as always to keep his listeners wanting more. He turned away and ran his hand over the strings of the large harp next to him.
"Gwion! Tell me what happened!" demanded Bran, itching to know more.
The resonant sound of the harp strings faded away and Gwion looked back at Bran, his face still creased into laughter lines. He resumed his story.
"Well, it seemed that Myrddin had vanished from the world and no-one knew where he had gone. Only one person was able to find him."
"My father?" guessed Bran.
"No, this was long before your father's time. No, the only one with power to rival that of the oldest Old One was The Lady. Eventually she found what had happened to him, but was unable to break the spell by herself."
"Couldn't she make Niniane free him?"
"Sadly, by then Niniane had become so engulfed by the power she now possessed that all goodness in her had been extinguished. She would no more have freed Myrddin than sleep in a bed full of poisonous spiders."
Bran spluttered, half laughing, half gasping. Gwion paused a second, waiting for his audience to recover.
"At this time, there were few other Old Ones on earth. The only thing The Lady could do was wait; wait until enough Old Ones had been born and come into their power, so together they could break the enchantment holding Myrddin."
"But that must have taken...years" said Bran, wide-eyed.
"Centuries," said Gwion, slowly and dramatically. "During which time the Dark was able to gain a firm grip throughout the world of men."
He moved back to the desk and sat down. Bran wasn't sure if he was going to continue.
"So how did Merriman get his power back?"
"Ah…yes," sighed Gwion. "I'm afraid this story does not have a happy ending. The only way our Master Merriman could recover his powers was to confront Niniane and destroy her."
Bran's jaw dropped. "What, Merriman…killed her?"
"No-one but Myrddin knows exactly what he did – he has never spoken of it. The Light urgently needed him to help drive back the Dark that had become so strong in his absence. So, for the Light, he destroyed the woman he loved."
Bran just stared, speechless, trying to comprehend the story and also becoming aware of its implications for Will and Jane.
"So you see," said Gwion, "that is why Merriman is so concerned to keep Will out of danger."
For a long while there was silence as Bran sat thinking, and Gwion didn't interrupt him. The cautionary tale of Merriman's disastrous love affair at first made him sure he shouldn't try to intervene in the Old One's plans. But as the story sunk further into his conscious and subconscious mind, a different feeling came to him. He recognised it as the instinct of the High Magic, bringing to him reassurance and a new certainty that Will and Jane's destiny lay together.
He looked up at Gwion who had been regarding him steadily.
"Thank you for telling me," he said, straightening his back. "It explains a lot. Do you think Will knows all this?"
"Hmm. I'd imagine not. Lord Myrddin doesn't talk about it much, though perhaps he should."
"Gwion, I still think that letting them remember is the right thing to do. Will you give me your help?"
"I will, if you're entirely sure."
Bran nodded.
"Let's see then," said Gwion. He took a pen and paper from his desk and wrote some lines on it. "Here is the spell you must use." He handed the paper to Bran. "Can you sing?"
"Sing! Do I have to?" Bran said with a grimace.
"Well, it would help," said Gwion smiling at his dismayed expression.
Bran groaned. "OK, I'll do it for Will and Jane."
"Thread the rosemary through the ring and the pendant then twist the ends together. I'll play something to help you, but it's up to you to do the magic, young prince. Just look inside yourself, the power is there."
From a case on a nearby shelf, Gwion took down a small silver flute. He first tested his fingers on the keys, then put the instrument to his pursed lips and began to play a simple tune. Bran assembled the leaves and stones as he'd been told and looked at the verse that Gwion had written. He felt self-conscious and apprehensive. The music caught his attention, soaring high and plaintive, and suddenly it seemed to wash over him like a waterfall and he closed his eyes for a second. A picture came into his mind of Will and Jane as he'd seen them a little while ago – grinning stupidly but so happily in love. He smiled to himself and, as he began to relax, felt the power of the High Magic spreading through him once more.
Gwion began to elaborate and fill out the melody and, with a strange new sense of joy welling inside him, Bran opened his mouth and started to sing. The sound that came out was nothing like he'd expected; his voice was strong, clear and resonant. He half wondered if it was really him singing.
"Across the bounds of space and time,
From one world to another,
If love is true within your hearts
These memories you'll recover."
The words seemed to echo and blend with the music, reverberating around the room until they formed one harmonious sound. The music ceased and Bran stood motionless, caught up in the intensity of the moment.
"Well, you really are Prince of the High Magic, Bran Pendragon," said Gwion with a smile and slight bow.
"Wow," said Bran, letting out a long breath. He felt so peaceful and yet at the same time absolutely buzzing with energy.
"And now, I think you'd better get back to your friends," said Gwion. "The time to go is very near."
There was a knock at the door and, as they looked round, Telyn came in. As she saw Bran her eyes widened and she blushed.
"Oh, please excuse me, my lords, I didn't realise…" she said with some embarrassment, retreating to the doorway.
"It's fine," said Gwion. "Come in, Bran was just leaving."
Bran smiled at Telyn and held the door for her. "I'll see you later," he called to Gwion. "We can talk about those harp lessons!"