TIMELESS – CHAPTER SEVEN

If the virtuous man who has not done any evil act in this birth suffers, this is due to some wrong act that he may have committed in his previous birth. He will have his compensation in his next birth... (Swami Shivananda, Practice of Karma Yoga, Divine Life Society, 1985, p. 102)

THE EARLY YEARS OF MRS. PIERSON

NEW YORK: THREE YARS AGO

Darcy Thompson arrived home after yet another dance practice. While in the city home was in the Upper East Side. She closed the door behind her, dropping her workout bag near the door.

"Hello Miss Darcy,"

Darcy smiled at Rosie, "How are you? I hope your son is better?"

"We are all fine thank you, Miss Darcy. Your father wants to speak with you. He's in the library."

"Thank you Rosie," Darcy left her coat and bag in the woman's capable hands.

The hall leading to the main floor library was interrupted by the spiral staircase leading up to the second and third floors. Darcy went by and continued down the sun-lit hall. The beige marble tiles glowed with warmth. Family portraits lined the right-hand wall. Darcy opened the first door on the left and Roger lifted his head.

"Hi honey," He wave to a leather chair in front of the desk. "I received this today." He nodded to a letter on his desk, "It's from Julliard." Darcy held her breath as he spoke, "Should we open it or wait for your mother?"

"Might as well open it." Darcy muttered and felt her self tense as her father took out the letter.

He exhaled after a moment, "Congratulations."

Darcy caved and slouched with relief, "Mom will be please."

Roger studied his daughter, "You're not?"

Darcy shrugged as she stood, making her way to the door. "You should tell her at dinner."

"Darcy," Roger stood and his daughter paused with the door open. "I got a call from your fencing teacher."

She arched a brow, "Oh?"

"He's worried about you."

She closed the door and leaned on it, "Did he say why?"

"He says you have a tendency to change disciplines. The students are complaining that you are cheating."

Darcy snorted, "Oh come, just become I am better then they are? I would never cheat, you know that."

"Just the same, watch it." Roger sat down again and the door closed softly.

It was five p.m. when the Lincoln Towne Car pulled up in to the School of Drama and Art. Darcy stepped out of the car. She adjusted the fit of her long coat over her fencing uniform. The driver handed her a black leather case.

"Thank you Jones, I'll be ready at nine."

"Very good Miss," The chauffer tipped his hat and closed the door. "I'll be here."

Darcy carried her fencing bag into the exclusive school. The interior was hushed like with most schools. This one had cherry wood floors and walls with brass accents. Crystal chandeliers and ivory touches carried through out the school.

"Good evening, Miss Thompson."

Darcy glanced to the left as one of the instructors entered. "Hello Mr. Champion."
"I was told you put on quite a display on Monday."

Darcy shrugged and headed down the hall, "Not really. I have been learning other disciplines aside from what Mr. Henry is teaching. The match called for some improvising, that's all."

Mr. Champion walked next to her, "We are very impressed with your progress. In the two years you've been with us, you've done extraordinarily well." Mr. Champion laughed softly, "Some say you've done this before."

"I assure you I haven't." Darcy said as they turned to the left and climbed a set of stairs.

"That's what I told the teachers." Mr. Champion paused as they came to the doors, "But if that is true, than how do you know so much about weaponry?"

Darcy met his gaze, "Books are a wonderful thing, Mr. Champion."

He seemed to accept that and nodded farewell.

Darcy entered the room and dropped her equipment on the bench. She shrugged off the long coat and hung it up on the brass pegs. Unzipping her bag; Darcy laid out her helmet, swords and other equipment. She began to stretch out her muscles.

Leaving her helmet on the bench, Darcy stepped onto the raised dais and began a practice pattern.

The class officially began at seven and everyone was here. They kept looking over to Darcy as she slid into her class jacket. Wires were connected at the back which would link her to the computer scoring system.

Darcy ignored them as she chose her class sword and changed gloves.

"Miss Thompson," Mr. Henry, the instructor, called her over. "I want you to meet Darius Walters."

Darcy shook hands with the tall, powerful man.

"Darius is a..." Mr. Henry looked to the man, "What is it again?"

"A Templar." Darius informed him, "We are a group of men who practice the medieval fighting styles."

"I'm happy for you, what does that have to do with me?"

Darius spoke as Mr. Henry went off to speak with class, "Mr. Henry informs you are familiar with two handed sword work."

Darcy shrugged, "I suppose."

"Would you mind showing me?"

"The class..." Darcy caught what Mr. Henry was saying and frowned again, "Damn it."

"I take that as a yes?" Darius asked.

"Fine."

Darcy shed her fencing gear and chose a sword from the collection the wall. She still wore a glove but it was plain leather.

"I hope you enjoy the demonstration this evening," Mr. Henry said and stepped onto the dais. He motioned them to the starting line and waited a moment. "Allez!"

Darcy was prepared for the heavy hit of the board sword. Her body turned with momentum and the parry was successful.

Minutes later Darcy held Darius at sword's point, he nodded his surrender. Darcy stepped back and he stood up slowly. He looked down at his sword arm, there was blood. His gaze went back to Darcy.

"Very well fought Miss Thompson," Darius regarded her, "I haven't seen a style such as yours in a very long time. It was rumored to be used by the Saxon's during the conquest of England."

Darcy shrugged, "If you say so." She looked to Mr. Henry, "The class still has an hour and fifty minutes left. Pardon me if I do not take part." She nodded to him and placed the sword back in its holder.

Grabbing her bag she left the room. She hoped no one saw the fear in her eyes as she fled.

The halls of the school were quiet as Darcy pulled out her cell phone.

"Jones, come and get me."

She ended the call and stepped outside, dropping her bag absently. The evening was chill as New York rolled toward another winter. Leaning up against the stone wall, Darcy rubbed her face.

"This can't be happening," She muttered and sighed, "How can this be real?"

"Do you believe in Reincarnation, Miss Thompson?"
She jumped and looked over to see Darius; he wore a leather coat and jeans with a T-shirt under the jacket. He also carried her coat.

"What did you say?"

Darius watched her with serious eyes, "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"You mean the migration of souls to a different body at death?"

He nodded, "Yes, something like that. There is also a theory that memories go with the soul." He looked up to the sky, "Most of us go through life without realizing it. Some," He looked back to her, "do not."

Darcy sighed, "You think that my fighting style is a memory from a past life?" She couldn't help the sarcastic tone in her voice.

"It's not something to be scared of." Darius said gently, "You can in fact have great power if you accept them."

"Power?" Darcy laughed gently, "Not my thing."

"I don't mean literally," Darius said, "I mean control. Your life will be richer then you can possibly imagine now."

Darcy watched him skeptically, this man really believed what he said. "So what are your memories?"

Darius shrugged, "They vary. Most are from Brittain in the early 600's. Most of them are from Europe."

"Why?"

He shrugged, "I don't know. Some people have gone all over the world. I've met people who can read Ancient Egyptian scrolls. The number of dead languages is astonishing really. It seems that each culture had their own dialect."

Darcy saw her car approaching, "Fascinating Mr....?"

"Walters, Darius Walters."

"Yes well, nice talking to you." She grabbed her bag and stepped up to the car. She had the door open when Jones stepped out. The chauffeur put her bag in the trunk.

She turned to Darius, "By the way, anyone can learn dead languages Mr. Walters, and it's called a Classics degree."

Darius called out to her in just such a language. Darcy stopped cold as she moved to enter the car. She stared at him, her green eyes dark with knowledge.

She got in and slammed the door against the sight of him. "Go." She ordered.

HOME

Darcy pulled on fresh clothes and rubbed her wet hair with a towel. Leaving it on the back of a chair, she went down stairs. The sounds of dinner conversation reached her as she pushed a door.

Her family looked up and, her father nodded to the chair nearest him. Darcy sat down, a servant appeared with her dinner plate.

"You really shouldn't wear jeans to the table, dear." Her mother scolded as Darcy sat down.

"So you keep telling me." Darcy retorted as she drank her water.

"So Darcy," Her mother said once the servant was gone, "Your father says you received good news."

Darcy stared at her father, he gave a slight shrug, "I was accepted to Julliard."

Her mother took a moment to process that and nodded. "Very good." She sipped her tea from a fine china cup. "Did you hear Becky and Lauren's news?" Darcy shook her head, "Mr. Schultz is sending them to London. Apparently, Giovanni has asked for them by name."

Darcy looked up at her mother's excited tone. It came as no surprise to her that her mother would be more interested in the twins then Darcy herself. It had always been expected of Darcy to make it to Julliard and than to Broadway.

But the twins were a novelty.

Darcy put aside her fork and sat back from the table. "Excuse me." She stood up quickly.

"Oh Darcy," Her mother called absently, "Dr. Rutherford called this afternoon. He wants to see you tomorrow at one."

Darcy left the dining room and ran up to her bedroom. Closing the door she crossed to the large sleigh bed and sank into the silk brocade blanket.

BRITTAIN: TIME OF THE SAXON INVASION

Screams and black smoke filled the bright afternoon. Mud was thick and deep in the devastated field. Men lay dying and crying in amongst the corpses of brothers.

The battle was long over but that didn't mean the fight was over.

Ursula moved carefully through the field of bodies. She clutched the sword in her left hand as she searched. All hope was fading as she found dead men. There were plenty of screams to guide her, but little to help.

She kept stopping at the bodies of her kin; they were mostly dead. She kept going, further and further into the horrible scene.

"My lady!" She paused at a distant call from the camp, "Your father wants you."

Ursula waved him off and kept going. She had to find him! The mud was getting worse and more treacherous, the further she went. Urs slid and fell several times, but always got up again.

"Ulrich!" She called his name and nothing came as a response.

"What do we have here?"

She spun at the sound of Englishman. Three soldiers stood a few feet back. They had been stalking her. Ursula brought up her sword. They laughed at her. The first one moved toward her.

The fight was brutal and she kept sliding in the mud. A few of the English blows landed but nothing serious. Ursula was strong and capable with a sword. The last Englishman fell dead and she sank to her knees to recover.

NEW YORK

Darcy woke up with a jolt as the dream faded away. She looked around; she was in her apartment, in New York. The space was dark because of the burgundy velvet curtains. There were no bodies, no smoke and no screaming. Darcy put her feet on the floor and grabbed her alarm clock. It was just after eleven in the morning.

Darcy recalled her mother saying Dr. Rutherford wanted to see her. She picked up her room phone and dialed Jones.

"I need you for the day." She said and he said he would be there in half an hour.

Darcy looked at her jeans and T-shirt. She decided to change the top. Pulling open her closet she found a DKNY shirt and pulled it on. The footwear was by Kenneth Cole and added two inches to her height.

Darcy shut the wooden doors and realized she had left her coat at the school. She remembered someone else too, but it was vague. The sudden ringing of her room phone cut the thought off.

"Yes?"

"Miss Thompson, there's a Mr. Darius Walters here, he has your coat." The house butler James informed her.

"Take him to the sitting room, I'll be down in a minute."

Darcy opened the door to the sitting room and Darius stood up. She remembered him now and indeed he had her coat. He also carried a motorcycle helmet in the same hand.

"Sorry to bother you," He said and never looked away from her, "I thought you might want this back." H held out her coat with his free hand. "Look about last night, I am sorry about what happened."

He stopped as Janice walked in. She eyed him coolly. "Darcy, Jones is here."

"Thanks," Darcy took her coat and left the room. Darius followed her quickly, "Its fine, I'm not really good with people sometimes."

"No I mean about what I said, as you got in the car."

Darcy stopped; her hand was on the front door handle. "You..." She shook of the memory, "I don't' remember anyway." Darcy stepped out and Jones was holding her door open.

"I think you do." Darius followed her down the steps, "Look, I know it's strange and weird, but believe me the dreams don't get better." Darcy stopped again, she stared at him from inches away. "The ones you're having now are just the start. More will come and they'll get worse."

Darcy nodded to Jones as she stepped in, her door closed and they pulled away. Darcy watched Darius Walters fade into the distance.

"Are you alright Miss?" Jones asked from the front, "You look pale."

"I'm fine, thank you Jones."

The traffic slowed them down and Darcy watched New York roll by. This city was modern and real; it was bustling and alive. So why did she feel so lost? So empty? Darcy shook herself but Darius' voice still echoed in her head.

This is only the start and they're going to get worse.

She couldn't handle worse; she couldn't handle them right now. There had to be some explanation for this; something other then reincarnation. There was no way these dreams were past-life memories.

But what about her skills? She stared at her hands; fencing had been a natural calling, so had horseback riding and archery. She had loved the woods and forests of Germany when they used to visit. It had been coming come for her.

"Miss Thompson, it's your father on the phone." Jones held up the car phone.

Darcy reached for the extension and picked up, "Thank you."

Roger's voice flowed across the line, "Hi honey, on your way to see Dr. Rutherford?"

"Yes. What's up?"

"I need you to come by the museum when you're done."

Darcy sighed, "I would love to, but I have Jazz class at two-thirty."

Roger lowered his voice in a playful way, "I won't tell if you don't."

Darcy grinned, "I'll be there as soon as I am done. Where do I find you?"

"The Viking Exhibit."

"Sounds good." Darcy hung up as Jones parked in front of the building. "Wait for me, Jones, I won't be long."

She got out on her own and hurried in.

Dr. Charles Rutherford was a good man and better doctor. So when Darcy got the news she was stunned.

"I am sorry Darcy but it's a fact, you suffered a head trauma. It's a miracle you won't be permanently or seriously hurt."

"You just said I had a head injury, and it's not serious?" Darcy stared at him, "So why am I talking to you?"

Dr. Rutherford smiled gently, "The injury may result in migraines. There might also be slight vision impairment."

"Doc, come on, I fell at dance practice. It can't be that bad."

He folded his hands and sat back, "What do you want me to say, Darcy? At least you're still moving around. Most dancers, who are going to Julliard, would be pleased at the news."

Darcy frowned, he laughed, "My mother."

"She called to make an appointment for the twins. I hear they are going over seas."

Darcy nodded, "So I'm fine than?"

"Yes."
Darcy stood up and left the office. She found Jones still waiting in the same place and slid into the back seat. "The Natural History Museum."

"Right away," Jones put aside his magazine and they left.

Darcy walked into the American Museum of Natural History and paused. She knew this place well but still liked to look around. Things were always changing and she liked taking her time.

She followed the signs to the Viking Exhibit and nodded to the museum security. They allowed her through the yellow tape. Darcy stopped again at the sight of a life-size model Viking ship. The air suddenly smelled of salt and water. She heard the thunder of waves against the wood; the howl of a strong wind. The ship tossed under her like a violent earthquake.

"Miss Thompson?"
She opened her eyes and was staring at one of the guards. He was holding her. "What happened?"

"You were going to pass out. Should I call an ambulance?"

"No." Darcy stood on her own feet and waved him away, "Thanks."

Hurrying away from the ship, Darcy followed the blue arrows on the floor. They guided her deeper into the exhibit. The room she entered was flooded with blue light. Numerous displays portrayed what was left of the Viking culture.

Darcy stopped cold as her eyes fell on a shield behind a class wall. She pressed her palms to the glass and remembered the weight of it. The press of the leather strap against her arms.

"Hello again,"

She turned and frowned at the sight of Darius Walters, "Are you following me?"

"Not so lucky, I'm afraid. I'm working with the museum on the exhibit." He looked at the shield, "A beautiful piece. We found it buried with a Viking Princess. She apparently died defending her village while her father was away."

"I know." Darcy looked at the carvings on the shield. She recalled the man who had hammered them into the steel.

Darius was watching her, "Still don't believe me?"

Darcy looked up at him sharply, "Let's say for a moment that I do. What are we going to about it?"

"I can teach you some meditations. Help you learn to focus the memories." Darius gazed at the entire exhibit. There is so much to know."

Darcy looked around with him; she felt a tug deep within her, an echo for familiarity.

"Ah!"

Darcy jumped as her father walked into the room, "I was looking all over for you, Darius."

"I was talking to your daughter, Mr. Thompson, she's a wonderful girl, pardon me, a wonderful woman."

Roger grinned, "Well I just came to say that we are breaking for lunch. I have to take care of business, but we can finish later."

Darius nodded, "Sounds fine." Roger hugged Darcy briefly before leaving quickly, "Care for lunch?"

"Yes."

Darius took them to a near by place and they sat amongst the noon crowd. The waiter was fast and efficient. Darcy stared at her lunch and sipped her soda. She looked around and shook head. It was all so normal. Darcy stared at the faces and found her self confused.

"Tell me when the dreams started." He asked gently.

She focused on Darius, "Three weeks ago after I hit my head in dance class."

"Since then you've found yourself drawn to certain things. Better at others, like the fencing for example?"

"Yes. Like in the exhibit, I nearly collapsed by the ship."

Darius nodded, "I had a memory as well; it was very faint, I guess yours was not."

"So these dreams and such, these are happening because I'm reincarnated?"

Darius sat back in his chair, "The theory goes: Everyone on the planet has lived other lives. Hence the theory of Soul-Mates. Have you ever walked into a room and recognized someone; although they are a stranger to you now, you feel as though you know them?"

Darcy nodded, "Sure."

Darius tipped his head, "There you go."

"What about the ship and the shield, explain that."

"Some memories are so powerful that we relive them. As the memory rises our entire self recalls the time, the moment. That is also why so many people don't want to remember. Many people have violent memories because those are the most strongly imprinted on us. A few only remember their lovers; but those are very few indeed."

Darcy nibbled at her food, "So the skill with the sword, what is that?"

Darius took an amused expression, "Certain skills, when used repeatedly in different lives, stay with us. The ability to read or write an dead language, for example, shows that you many lives in that time or culture. Or the skill with a sword; it's all the same."

Darcy listened to what he said and thought about it. "What about places? Like cities around the world."

"Those are usually the strongest clues to our past memories." Darius explained. "Not many of have memories of America, because it is so young, comparatively speaking. But places like Asia and Europe, those are powerful."

Darcy nodded, "Any places for you?"

"Scotland, Wales, mostly the United Kingdom area."

Darcy looked up at him, "So what are you doing in New York?"

He laughed, "Occasionally the soul will reject going back. For me, I am drawn to Edinburgh, but I am also scared of it. Something awful happened to me while I lived there. I might take a few more lives before I can go and resolve the issue."

"Resolve it?"

Darius nodded, "The Soul is reincarnated with karma; some good, some bad. This results in us needing to finish things. People say that the skills we remember in this life are to help us resolve the main issue we carry with us."

Darcy set aside her plate and leaned back in the chair. "So my skills with a sword, my desire to go to Paris, it's all about resolving something?"
Darius nodded, "There's a good chance."

Darcy looked at the crowds again, "How many of them do you suppose know this?"

Darius followed her gaze, "It's hard to say."

She looked at him; for some reason, in that instant, she had a flash flood of recognition. Darius turned to face and his expression said he'd felt it too.

"What...." She gaped at him.

"We must have known each other at one point." He smiled at her, "I wonder how."

Darcy felt it rise up in her and suddenly she knew. "We fought together against the Romans. We were Saxon kin."
Darius laughed gently, "Well that explains the feelings I've been having."

"What are those?" She asked seriously.

"Like I used to be your brother," Darius stood and left money on the table, "Come on, let's walk."

Darcy was relaxed as she walked with Darius; they stayed near the museum, but distant enough to not see it.

"Darcy,"

She looked up at him, "Hmm?"

"How far back do you think you go?" He asked.

She shrugged, "I have no idea."

"Well your recall ability is amazing. Perhaps you used to be a psychic of some kind. We've found that people with previous occult knowledge, recall easier then those that don't."

Darcy smiled at him, "Perhaps I was Merlin."

Darius laughed with her. "Oh sure, and I was King Arthur of Camelot."

TWO MONTHS LATER

Darcy grabbed her school bag as the clock chimed seven thirty. Jones was waiting for her with a paper sack in one hand. He gave it to her as she climbed in.

"Thanks for breakfast, Jones." Darcy sat eating MacDonald's on her way to Julliard. "I am going to be working late again tonight."

"Of course, Miss Thompson."

She was dropped off and ran up the stairs to her first class of the day.

Nightfall was deep across the city as ten o'clock chimed in the school. Darcy didn't notice. She was busy working through a routine. Her body was tired but she made herself finish it again.

Darcy sat on the bench in the change rooms. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. In her hands she held a book. Darius had given it to her a few days ago. It was written in ancient Sanskrit. She wasn't having any success. Tossing the book into her bag, Darcy left the room.

She smiled at the sight of Darius on his bike. He took off his helmet as she made her way to him. His hair was thick and curly like brown waves of silk. His worn leather jacket was soft as she climbed onto the bike. Her hands went to his slender waist.

"Any luck with the book?"

"Nope, I've never seen it before." Darcy slid his helmet on and they took off.

Darius parked in front of her place and she slid off. He took her hand as she handed the helmet over. "Darcy," he took her hand gently, "Despite our...past; as siblings, could you ever bring yourself to date me?"

She watched him; his gray eyes were so full of emotion. "Darius," She sighed, "Dating is the last thing on my mind right now. I mean you've changed my life in good ways, but I'm too busy to be any good as a girlfriend."

He nodded, "I had to try."

She touched his check; it was a motion she had done a thousand times before. The words fell from her lips, "Be not afraid of the dark, trust in the strength within."

He stared up at her, suddenly he grabbed her, his mouth crushed against hers.

This was nothing they had shared before and a first for Darcy Thompson. The emotions that lit through her blood were wild and powerful. But underneath she felt an echo of emptiness. Darius stirred emotion in her, but that was it. There was no connection beyond it.

Darcy stepped back and they both knew it was over. She handed the book back and he stared at it.

"Keep the book. You never know." He slid his helmet on and Darcy watched him roar off.

She would never see him again.

Darcy hung up her coat and left her bag by the door.

"Darcy, a moment?" Her father called from the dinning room.

The table was covered in a mountain of paper work. She stared at her father and knew he was going to scold her. He must have seen the kiss.

"Darius is a nice young man." Roger never looked up from the report he was reading. "But he's not for you."

"Look Dad, I-"

Roger looked up than, "I know about the memories."

Darcy fell quiet for a full minute, "What?"

He sighed, removed his glasses and rubbed his face. "I knew you would one day discover the memories. I did at your age and so has your mother. But unlike her, I've accepted mine."

Darcy sank into a chair near her father, "Why didn't she?"

"Because all her memories are of being a poor peasant. She can't stand the idea that she wasn't always rich." Roger shook his head, "I don't understand it my self, but that's okay. The real question I have is, how are you doing?"

Darcy smiled, "Fine. I'm incorporating the memories into my life."

"What is the majority?"

"War, fighting, and death. One theme is constant, I am always a noble."

Roger nodded, "I figured that much." He grinned at her, "What do you think about Becky and Lauren?"

Darcy laughed, "I don't even want to try. I can't imagine them having a past life beyond yesterday."

Roger sighed as he smiled, "Now that we have that cleared up. None of this quiet, brooding, alright?"

She nodded and stood up, "By the way, what are your memories?"

He spread his hands to the papers, "Merchant and banker, always finances."

Darcy kissed the top of his head, "Good night, Dad."

"Hey," He called, "I wonder if I was once your advisor?"

Darcy looked back at him and laughed, "Anything is possible."

END OF CHAPTER SEVEN