The Relic Hunter
by Tanya Reed
Disclaimer: If I owned Relic Hunter, Syd and Nige would still be enjoying the hunt.
-----------------------------------
Nigel woke slowly, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Though he'd slept for nine hours, his body felt as though he'd just closed his eyes. Pieces of his dream clung to his foggy brain, and he was tempted to fall back into it. Sometimes the Sydney in his dreams was more real than anything that was happening in his life.
Wearily, he rose and headed towards the bathroom. As he passed the phone, he noticed a red blinking light. He had no idea who could have called—unless it was one of Jaidyn's friends, not knowing she was gone for a couple of weeks.
Curiosity won over need and Nigel pressed the play button on the phone.
The face that greeted him was such a surprise that he completely forgot he had to go to the bathroom.
"Hey, Nige. It's me. I've got something I need to talk to you about. I'll be there at about ten."
Derek Lloyd. When was the last time Nigel had seen him? It must have been at least three years. When he had helped Nigel find the Star of Atlantis and told the relic hunter he was finally accepting a desk job.
The years had been good to Derek. Despite the fact that he must have been around sixty, his face was only slightly lined and his blue eyes were as sharp and piercing as ever. Though his hair was grey, he could otherwise have been in his forties.
Nigel looked at his watch and saw that it was almost nine. If he wanted to get dressed and have breakfast before his friend arrived, he'd have to hurry.
Thoughts of dreams and fatigue were driven from his head, and he rushed to get ready. He was just finishing the last of his oatmeal when there was a knock at his door. Nigel gulped down his last two bites and went to open it.
"Derek!"
"Hi, Nigel." A smile creased Derek's face, softening its natural sterness. "Fall out of any trees lately?"
Nigel smiled back. "No. I don't think my old bones could take it. Shoot anyone lately?"
"Unfortunately no, but there's always tomorrow."
This had been their greeting for over twenty years. It was their way of acknowledging a shared friendship that endured the test of time. Besides Karen and Claudia, Derek was the only friend Nigel kept in touch with that had known Sydney.
Nigel shook his head and waved Derek in. "I got your message."
"Good." Then, he studied Nigel's face a moment. "You look tired. Have you been taking care of yourself?"
"Look who's talking."
Derek raised a hand. "Hey, I took a desk job. Remember?"
"Yes, when you were older than I am. I'm fifty, Derek, not eighty-five."
"All right," the agent acquiesced. "It's just, I know how hard you push yourself when Jaidyn's not here to take care of you."
"Being the best relic hunter in the world is quite demanding," Nigel answered loftily, causing another smile to flit over Derek's face. "But enough about me. There was something you wanted to talk about?"
The agent immediately turned serious. "Oh, yes, that. I found something you might be interested in."
Nigel led his friend into the living room and offered him some refreshments. Derek declined and settled on the couch with a sigh. Then, he leaned back, crossing his legs and bringing his feet up to rest on the coffee table. Nigel winced but made no comment as he settled beside him.
Nigel waited for almost a minute before asking curiously, "Well?"
Derek looked at him, studying Nigel's face before asking, "Have you ever heard of The Dragon's Teeth?"
Nigel's eyes widened. "The set of daggers said to have belonged to Duke Llewellyn? Lost in the fifteenth century?"
Derek nodded. "What if I told you that I came across documents pinpointing the location of the duke's hiding place?"
"The peasant's killed him!"
"Actually, I have information saying he took his daughters and fled. Interested?"
"I can't ...where did you find this information?"
"An up and coming young whipper snapper in the research department recently discovered it. She's a whiz...Cute too." Derek sighed. "Oh, to be thirty years younger."
"Or even twenty." Nigel winked before getting back to the meat of what Derek was saying. "So, what exactly did the girl discover?"
"A letter."
Nigel frowned. "What kind of letter?"
"A letter in Duke Llewellyn's own hand, dated after his supposed death."
"What?"
"Actually, it was signed Caerwyn Gwynn."
Nigel chewed his lip thoughtfully. "One of the Duke's known aliases."
Derek nodded. "Mary had the parchment carbon dated. It's authentic—in age, at least."
Then the agent reached for his briefcase, which was leaning against the side of the coffee table. He snapped it open and rummaged around inside. His hand came out with a piece of paper, protected by a plastic bag.
"Is that the original?" Nigel leaned forward excitedly.
"Yes. And I have a copy here with some of Mary's notes. She wasn't able to pinpoint the location of the daggers, but I'm certain you can."
Nigel gently took the paper from Derek's hand and scanned it.
"Do you think there's something here?"
As Nigel studied the document in his hand, he felt excitement building. His gut told him this was a good, solid lead, and, after all these years, his gut was rarely wrong.
He then studied the copy and Mary's notes, which Derek also gave him.
"And this woman is an agent?" he asked after a few moments. "Her talents are being wasted."
Derek grinned at that. "I'll pass the message along."
Nigel just waved a hand absently at his friend, his mind already focusing on the puzzle in front of him. "This is amazing."
"Why do you think I brought it to you?"
Derek had been bringing Nigel stuff for years. Sometimes, he needed Nigel's help, and others he just wanted to give a lead to a friend. In all that time, Nigel had never learned more than a few tidbits in passing about Richard Watson, the man Derek had been before one woman's actions had changed his life. Nigel hadn't bothered to pry because Derek was the man he knew, and Derek was the man who had become his friend.
Nigel smiled. "Thank you."
"Any time."
Derek didn't stay long after that. Even with a desk job, he was always hurrying to get somewhere. His life was even more hectic than Nigel's.
Once Derek was gone, Nigel let his mind submerge completely into the puzzle before him. The letter was simple enough. It was from "Gwynn" to his best friend, telling him how "Gwynn" had escaped death, putting himself and his small daughters into hiding. Though his location wasn't given, Nigel knew in his gut that somewhere inside the letter the Duke had left the clues. Nigel just had to be smart and shrewd enough to find them.
Nigel read the letter several times before putting it aside to do other things. He knew that sometimes the best tool was approaching thing with fresh eyes, so, for the rest of the afternoon, he puttered around doing household chores, doing research, and calling his niece.
It was as he was eating his evening meal that something about the letter struck him. He didn't even bother to finish eating. Instead, he put down his fork and carefully washed his hands before picking up the priceless document.
What had seemed to be a peculiarity in Llewellyn's penmanship suddenly seemed to have a pattern. Certain letters were slanted slightly, but not always the same letters.
Nigel got out a piece of looseleaf and jotted down the letters, hoping his hunch was right. Once all the letters were down, Nigel stared at them...but they were just nonsense.
He sighed and slumped back in disappointment for just a second. Then, his eyes swept over his scribbles once more, and a slow smile spread over his face. Read correctly, the letters meant nothing, but read backwards...Nigel took to work writing feverishly once more.
"A place named River's Cross," he mumbled, delight making him want to shout the words. "And directions on how to find their hideout from there. Thank you, Duke Llewellyn!"
----------------------------------------------
It was a beautiful day when Nigel arrived in the little town of River's cross a couple of days later. The weather was sunny and, though warm, there was a cool breeze. It played with Nigel's grey streaked hair as he got out of his car in front of the town's only inn. It was well kept and large, probably the former home of some well-to-do minor noble. Nigel liked the looks of it.
A woman of about Nigel's age met him at the door, and a boy who had to be her son took his bags and disappeared up an elaborately carved wooden staircase.
"Welcome to River's Cross, Mr. Bailey. What brings you to town?"
Nigel thought a moment before saying, "Site seeing."
The woman laughed. "There's not a lot to see in River's cross."
"I'm a student of nature...I'm also hoping to see some ruins. Do you know of any nearby?"
She frowned. "Ruins? Not that I know of. What kind of ruins were you thinking of?"
"Ruins of buildings abandoned centuries ago. I'm also a student of ancient history."
"Well, there are records in the town hall that go back centuries. They might interest you."
"Thank you."
It always helped to have a Plan B just in case the surroundings had changed too much since Llewellyn's time.
Nigel followed the teenager up the stairs and to the first door on his right.
"Here you are, sir," the boy said. "Let us know if you need anything."
"Thank you," Nigel said again, "I will."
He had barely entered his room when his phone rang. Quickly, he dropped his bag and dug through his pockets.
"Hello?" he said at the seventh ring, hoping the caller hadn't hung up.
"Uncle Nigel!"
Nigel couldn't help the smile that spread over his face. "Jaidyn, sweetie, what are you doing calling at this hour? You swore to sleep until noon for your whole vacation."
"Very funny."
"I thought so." He walked over to the bed and sat, relaxing in case Jaidyn was feeling chatty.
"Are you taking care of yourself?" That was always one of her first questions when she was away from him for any length of time.
"I'm fine, Jay. How are you?"
"He's driving me crazy!" she burst out, startling Nigel so that he almost dropped the phone.
"Who?"
"Who do you think? Daddy. He's trying to marry me off—in this day and age. I'm only twenty!"
"Do you want me to speak to him?"
"No. He never listens to you anyway. Can I join you in River's Cross?"
Nigel winced at the thought of getting between Jaidyn and Preston when they were having one of their rows. Even so, Jaidyn meant more to him than anything else in the world.
"Sure. I don't know how long I'll be here."
"That's fine. Maybe I'll even help you find the relic."
"I'd like that."
"Great. See you soon."
Nigel was about to say good-bye, but his niece had already hung up.
"Kids," he grunted before stowing his phone back in his jacket. Then, he picked up his satchel and threw it over his shoulder. It contained everything he thought he might need, including a torch, notes made from the letter, and his crossbow. One thing he had learned over the years was to always be prepared.
Outside, wind once more blew his hair into his eyes. Nigel raked it back, squinting into the light. The instructions in the letter told him to go towards the morning sun until he reached the river. Then, he was to follow it until he found the rock of death. It's smile would, if all went well, lead Nigel to the place Llewellyn had hid with his daughters. Nigel still couldn't believe that the man had survived.
He enjoyed the walk, though he was winded before long. River's cross gave way to countryside, and the rolling hills soon swallowed the town. To Nigel, it was peaceful, and he felt as if he were the only person in existence. Early morning had become a friend to him over the years. Its quiet and stillness made it the best time for the hunt.
It took almost two hours to reach the river. In that amount of time, the only sound was the sighing of the wind and the singing of birds. As Nigel walked, he often looked at the letter as well as the directions he had jotted down. He wondered how he would find the daggers after he found Llewellyn's hiding place, and whether they were even there at all. What if the noble had left them behind when he fled? They weren't even mentioned in the letter. Even so, Llewellyn's dwelling place itself would be a miraculous find.
Once he got to the river, Nigel frowned. He knew he was supposed to follow it, but in which direction? The letter didn't say. He stood undecided for several minutes before sighing and admitting to himself that he'd have to choose one way or the other. He made up his mind on right and turned that way.
"I wouldn't go that way if I were you."
The voice was so unexpected that Nigel jumped and the letter slipped from his hand. He whirled, fearing a rival relic hunter and wishing he had his crossbow in his hand.
His jaw dropped and the skin on his arms and along the back of his neck prickled as he took in the woman in front of him. She was slightly taller than he and slender, with a smile that lit her face. Long, dark hair curled around her shoulders and down her back, and she was dressed in a simple black vest and matching pants.
"Sydney?" he whispered.
She came closer, her eyes studying his face. "You've aged, Nigel."
"You haven't," he blurted, and it was true. She looked as she had on their last hunt, and as she had in his delusion soon afterward. It was that appearance, just as he was about to give in, that made him forge on and become a relic hunter in his own right. He had always believed his mind had conjured her just when he needed her most but, at this moment, he wasn't so sure.
She laughed lightly at his words, commenting, "Death's a great anti-aging drug."
Nigel winced. Even after all these years, Sydney's death was still a sore spot. He still missed her terribly.
She reached out to touch his shoulder. "Sorry, Nige."
He flinched away, afraid of what her touch would be like. Would it be real as it had been the last time?
She dropped her hand, sadness flashing over her face for a moment. Nigel wanted to kick himself. Real or not, a dream or not, Sydney was here before him as he'd wanted for so long. He should be reaching out and taking her in his arms, feeling for himself if she were solid and real, holding her and never letting go.
"Syd..."
"Where's the letter, Nigel?"
"The letter?" His mind raced, and he suddenly remembered what he was doing there...and the letter fluttering from his fingers.
"Oh, Nigel," she said softly, and he was suddenly the young, naïve assistant once more.
"It's got to be around here somewhere."
He started looking on the ground, and so did she. He kept interrupting his search to look at her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she were going to disappear.
After a few moments, she called, "Here."
She was pointing down the river bank. Nigel looked and saw the letter being lapped by the waves at the very edge.
"Oh, no!" he exclaimed. "I hope I haven't ruined it."
Quickly, Nigel retrieved it, frowning and its soggy and dripping state.
"Look," he continued, "The writing is smudged. We can't give it..."
"But, what's this?"
Sydney had come up behind him and studied the letter over his shoulder. Nigel's thoughts left the letter as he realized he could actually feel breath on his cheek and warmth from her body.
"Nigel?"
"What's what?"
She reached over to touch the letter, her arm brushing his. Her skin felt as real and alive as that of any woman he had ever touched.
Her finger pointed to something that had begun to appear on the part of the letter that had been in the most water.
"Something's on there!"
"Yes," she agreed. "Wet the rest of the letter."
Without argument, Nigel knelt and began to carefully wet the back of the letter. Excitement grew in him as more words began to form. He glanced at Sydney and saw the same excitement sparkling from her dark eyes.
"I miss this," she said.
"Relic hunting?"
She nodded. "Relic hunting...with you."
"I miss it too, Syd." Then, he turned back to the letter. "It's more directions."
The two of them studied it, Sydney's face so close to his that her hair brushed his cheek.
"If you are reading this," Nigel translated, "Then I was dead, probably murdered, when you arrived at my hidden cottage. Here is how to find my greatest treasure, one handed down through my family for generations. Find the Dragon's Teeth, Dewydd, and make sure they are safe and secure once more."
"So, we've still got to find the cottage. He starts from there." Sydney commented.
"But which way do we follow the river?"
"Left."
"Left? How do you know?"
"I just do."
That was good enough for Nigel. The two of them started out, following the small, meandering river.
After several minutes of silence, Nigel asked, "Sydney?"
"Yes, Nigel?"
"Why have you come?"
She stopped and looked at him. She took so long to answer, Nigel wondered if she would. "Because I wanted to."
"But why now? There were so many times I could have used your help. Where were you then?"
Sydney shook her head. "You didn't need me. Not really. If you did, you wouldn't be here now. You needed to find your own way, Nigel. A way without me."
"And I've finally done so?" he asked angrily. "So, now you've come to remind me what it was like?" His anger surprised him, but didn't seem to surprise her. "How could you leave me like that, Syd? When I needed you so much?"
She took him by the shoulders, her hands firm. "It wasn't my choice. Do you think I wanted to die? Do you think I wanted my death to be so...so..."
"Normal?" he whispered.
Her eyes dropped from his and her hands dropped from his shoulders. "Meaningless."
She turned from him and suddenly his anger slipped away.
"I could have died the way I lived," she was saying lowly. "In excitement, doing something important, saving something that was priceless. Instead, my body decided it was done living. I died for nothing."
"Your death could never be meaningless, Sydney, no matter how you died." He gently put his hand on her arm. "How could it, when your life had so much meaning, not only to the world, but to the people who loved you?"
She looked at him, her eyes grabbing his. "Did you love me, Nigel?"
"Very much so," he answered simply and honestly.
Then, she smiled, chasing away shadows that had settled on her face. Her hand found his and squeezed gratefully. "Yeah, I know."
As they moved on, Nigel found that he had completely accepted Sydney's presence, whether she was real or not, and he promised himself to enjoy the experience for as long as she was there.
It wasn't long after that that they came across a huge boulder. Nigel squinted at it.
"Does that look like a skull to you?"
Sydney approached it and looked at it from all angles. "Maybe a little," she said eventually.
Nigel knelt. "And this would be the teeth?"
"Yes."
"It's smile is supposed to lead us to the hideaway."
Sydney knelt beside him, leaning forward to study the rock's 'mouth'.
"There's an arrow here. Carved into the stone." Nigel saw it just a second before Sydney pointed it out.
It indicated a grove of trees about fifty feet away.
Sydney grinned and clapped her hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Nige. The faster we find out where the hideaway is, the faster we find the teeth."
As she stood and withdrew her hand, Nigel grabbed it. She stopped and looked at him questioningly.
"How long?" he asked.
"How long what?"
"You know." He was certain she did. It was an obvious question.
"As long as you need me." She changed the grip on his hand and used it to pull him to his feet.
"And what if I need you forever?"
She avoided his question, instead saying, "The day isn't getting any younger, and we don't know how far into the trees we need to go."
"Sydney..."
"Come on, Nigel."
She started towards the wood, and he had no choice but to follow.
There was still a faint path through the trees, overgrown but visible to someone who patiently looked for it. The path wasn't all that long and it opened out into a clearing that was just as overgrown.
Despite growing fatigue and the shock of having Sydney by his side, Nigel had enough excitement left in him to exclaim, "This is it! Can you feel it?"
Sydney nodded, smiling at his enthusiasm. "Now, we just have to find the foundation, so we can find the hole he hid the teeth in."
"Yes, but first," Nigel said, dropping to the ground, "a rest and some lunch. You might not need them, but these old bones do."
"Fifty's not so old, Nigel," she replied, plunking down to the ground beside him.
"I feel more like a hundred." He dug through his pack, looking for the nutritious bar-like snack he kept there. It was the first thing he had thought to eat that day, and he ravenously wolfed it down. He was going to offer Sydney some, but changed his mind. He doubted that ghosts—or figments of your imagination—ate, no matter how real they felt.
The two of them sat in silence while he munched. Nigel soaked it in—soaked in the feeling of being with her—not knowing how long it would last. The last time she appeared to him, she had stayed until he stumbled out of the cave and into the sunshine. Without even saying good-bye, she disappeared, and Nigel found himself alone. Would she be with him until he found the daggers? Would she disappear when he found the foundation? Maybe she would slip away while he was eating. Suddenly, Nigel didn't feel so hungry.
"Don't worry. I'm not leaving anytime soon," she said, reading his mind as she always could.
He blushed and shoved the rest of his bar in his mouth. Then, he got to his feet. He was surprised when Sydney reached up her hand so he could pull her to hers. Afterwards, Nigel didn't want to let go.
The foundation was not so hard to find if you knew what to look for. All that was left were crumbled stone and rough brown grass. Digging through some of the rubble, Nigel found a bowl and part of a child's doll.
"This has got to be it," he said unnecessarily.
"Unless you think there were two noblemen hiding out here," Sydney agreed with a smirk.
"No," he deadpanned. "I don't think so."
He saw her eyes widen at his joke and turned so that she couldn't see the smile that crossed his face.
"Now, the instructions say," he continued, "to start at the door and take fifty strides...keeping in mind that a stride would have been smaller then. The only question is, where was the door? It couldn't have been towards the path or we'd be going back in the same direction."
"Well," Sydney commented after a moment of thought, "this tangle here looks like it might have once been a garden."
Nigel peeked at it. "Do you think so?"
"A small garden someone might have planted in front of their home."
"Not in the back?"
"No." She shook her head.
"All right. So, fifty strides from here."
"Small strides," she reminded him.
Fifty strides brought them to another rock—large, but not so large that the both of them couldn't move it together.
"You can't just...move it yourself?" Nigel asked delicately.
"Nigel, I'm dead, not Superman."
He nodded sheepishly and put his back into helping. There was a lot of grunting and groaning, at least on Nigel's part and by the time the rock was displaced to reveal an opening, his legs were trembly and his head was spinning.
"Are you all right?" Sydney asked with concern.
"Just a little winded." he didn't want her to see exactly how winded, so he took the lead and began climbing down the ladder Llewellyn had left leading into the darkness. It was rotten and unsafe from centuries of neglect, and Nigel wished he had thought to anchor himself before the climb.
"Don't come down, Syd. Any more weight and the ladder will collapse."
"All right. I'll just hold the light."
A torch was turned on above Nigel, and suddenly he could see into the depths of the hole. It occurred to him that Sydney, already deceased, might have been the better choice to navigate the dangerous ladder. Then again, figments of the imagination couldn't actually retrieve a real relic when the imaginer was waiting somewhere else.
"Be careful, Nigel."
"No fears of my not being, I assure you."
It seemed to take forever to reach the bottom of the hole and a dark passage leading from it.
"I'm going to need that light," he said, peering into the inky blackness.
"Somehow, I thought you might."
The voice behind him forced a startled squeak from his throat, which caused a bubble of laugher from Sydney. Nigel turned slowly to see her standing behind him grinning with the light in her hand.
"Why didn't you tell me you could do that?"
"There are advantages to being dead."
Nigel winced. "Don't say that, please. I want to believe that you are alive...that you're real."
The smile dropped from her face. "You don't believe that I'm real?"
"In all fairness, Syd, would you, if you were me?"
She thought about this for a minute before shaking her head. "I don't know."
"And neither do I." He studied her quietly before admitting, "But it doesn't matter. Reality is overrated, especially at my age."
Without answering, she shone the torch down the tunnel in front of them. Nigel took the hint and started after the light first.
The tunnel wasn't very long, and it ended quite suddenly with a small niche carved into the dirt wall. The niche contained a box.
"Beware, the teeth are protected by claws," Sydney quoted.
Nigel looked thoughtfully at the niche. "I remember. What do you suppose it means?"
"Nothing good."
"True."
He swept the area with his eyes, noting a certain irregularity in the floor and small holes in the wall. "Arrows."
"Yes," she agreed. "Anything else?"
Nigel studied the room with his intuition as well as his senses, searching for anything that could prove fatal. After a moment, he said, "I don't think so, no."
He carefully went to the box and opened it. Inside, five daggers glittered in the light from the torch. They sat on a bed of red velvet, their handles carved with visions of beasts from the wilds of Wales.
"They're amazing."
"Yes," Sydney agreed, carefully coming up beside him to run a finger down one of the hilts.
Nigel glanced at her and saw the expression he cherished most on her face. How man times over the years had he closed his eyes to see the joy lighting Sydney's when she discovered a relic? To him, it was always when she looked the most beautiful.
As if feeling his gaze, she looked at him. "What?"
"Are you going to leave me now, Sydney?" It slipped out before he could stop it.
Sydney reached out and gently closed the box. "No, I'm not leaving you."
Something about the tone of her voice made Nigel put a hand on her arm. "What do you mean by that?"
She lifted the box and held it out to him. "Just what I said. Now, come on, Nigel. We've got things to do."
"We?" he asked, taking the box.
"The Dragon's Teeth are a wonderful find for a last hunt, don't you think?"
----------------------------------------------------------
Jaidyn Bailey walked through the afternoon sunshine, enjoying the cool breeze that played with her hair and caressed her cheeks. It felt good to get out of London and away from her father for a little while. She loved him fiercely, but he just didn't get her—not like her Uncle Nigel did.
The thought of him brought a smile to Jaidyn's face. Her uncle had always been a big part of her life, taking the time to visit every time a hunt or research brought him close to London when she was growing up. He had been full of wonderful stories about his adventures around the world, and sometimes, when he was in a particularly good mood, he'd tell her stories about the beginning of his hunts, stories about Sydney. Jaidyn had always been especially fascinated with those because they went completely against her father's views on propriety for women.
It was Nigel that had made her want to study in America, and it was Nigel who—though he didn't know it yet—was slowly winning her over to the excitement of becoming a relic hunter.
It would be good to see him. She missed him so much now when she went away. That's why she had been disappointed when she arrived at the inn to find he had already left. At least the landlady had been helpful in telling her that Uncle Nigel had mentioned going to the river. Jaidyn had grabbed a pack, shoving in some food in case her uncle had forgotten.
The walk to the river took longer than she expected. She was getting tired and hungry herself when she first heard the stream bubbling as if in joyful laughter. The happy sound went nicely with Jaidyn's lightening mood, and she began to hum.
The sound cut off suddenly as both the stream and a form lying by its bank came into view. She recognized it immediately and fear gripped her. She stubbornly clamped it down, telling herself that he might just be sleeping or resting.
"Uncle Nigel," she called, hurrying forward. When he didn't answer, she repeated, "Uncle Nigel?"
As she approached, she noticed he was lying there peacefully, his face bathed in sunlight. His eyes were closed and a slight smile graced his features. His hands rested on his stomach, looking pale against the blueness of his shirt. Beside him sat an ancient but well preserved and beautiful wooden box with a piece of parchment on its lid.
Jaidyn barely noticed it as she dropped to her uncle's other side. Nigel was unnaturally still, and a faint touch of blue tinged his lips.
Jaidyn gasped painfully as she realized that her uncle wasn't just sleeping. Her lower lip trembled as a thousand childhood memories raced through her mind.
"You can't leave me yet," she whispered. "I didn't get to tell you that I've decided to be a relic hunter. I wanted you to be proud of me."
Her voice cracked on her last words, and tears overflowed, spilling down her cheeks. As she reached up to dash them away, a strange feeling made her turn around.
Her breath caught and her senses reeled as she saw two people standing just twenty feet away. One was a woman with long dark hair and a slightly stern but kind face. A face that looked like it would smile as easily as frown.
The other was unmistakably her Uncle Nigel. But he looked as he had when she was a child. His hair was completely brown and cut in a boyish style; his face had the vibrancy and joy of youth. And he was smiling. A grin stretched from ear to ear, and his eyes sparkled. Jaidyn could never remember him looking so happy.
"It's all right, Jay." His voice was faint, and she barely caught his words. "You'll be okay. I was always proud of you."
"Thank you," she whispered, watching him raise a hand. Jaidyn raised her hand back.
Nigel then nodded and offered the hand to the woman by his side. As the woman took it, Jaidyn realized who she must be. Her uncle's Sydney. The reason he had never married. The reason he had become a relic hunter.
Sydney took Nigel's hand, and together they turned from Jaidyn and walked towards the falling sun. Jaidyn shaded her eyes with a hand, her heart filling with both grief and joy. She watched the two figures until they disappeared, comforted by the fact that her sad, solitary uncle was happy again at last.
The End