The World to Come
by Eildon Rhymer
What if the Dark had won at the end of Silver on the Tree? The world is sliding into darkness, and only tattered remnants of the Light remain. Will, Bran and the Drews grow to adulthood, and each to their own destiny in this World to Come.
Part one: chapter nine
To see the King"Maybe you'll get on better," his mother said, "at a different school."
"Lots of people change schools for the sixth form," Barney offered helpfully.
Simon dragged his younger brother to one side. "Did you tell her?" he hissed, clutching Barney's arm as tightly as he could. "Have you been blabbing?"
Barney shook his head. "No, I haven't, but you should tell her. You should have told her years ago."
Simon pushed Barney away. "I wish we'd never gone to grandma's." They had shared a room, him and Barney, and there had been bad dreams, and then Barney softly asking him questions, and Simon, half in tears, had said things… "If we hadn't, then none of this would have happened."
"I didn't tell!" Barney protested. "I know Mum doesn't notice much nowadays, but she's not completely blind. It's obvious you've hated that school ever since you started at it. She wants you to go somewhere else because she hopes you'll like it more. I don't know why you're getting so cross about it."
Because they know, Simon thought. He was the oldest of them, and he had led them throughout childhood. He was not supposed to be the one being bullied at school. He was not supposed to be the one who woke crying in the night, sobbing at dreams of darkness and loss. He was supposed to be the one with all the answers. School was terrible, but it would not be quite so terrible if he could still be Big Brother Simon at home.
"You should be grateful," Barney said, snatching his arm from Simon's grip. "It's one of the best schools in the country, and ever so expensive. I wish grandpa would pay for me to go there, too."
Jane came slowly down the stairs. She frowned when she saw them huddled near the door. "You two arguing again? I wish you'd both go back to school. It's so much quieter without you."
Simon was about to speak, but Barney got there first. "It's nothing. Sorry, Jane. Shall we play Monopoly?"
Jane was still frowning angrily, but she nodded, and the two of them went off to set up the board. Simon stayed behind, staring after them. It was hard work, a conscious effort, to think about what had just happened. At school, his own misery was such an all-encompassing thing, that he often forgot what it was like to think about what others were feeling. He tried to think how Jane would feel, to hear him complaining about his new school, when she had been forced to leave hers. He tried to work out what she was really feeling, when she complained about them being around.
He trailed them belatedly into the dining room. "Can I play, too?"
Barney smiled. "It's not much fun with two. You can play the boot, though. I'll be the dog."
Simon did what his brother told him.
"Mum?" Jane called. "Do you want to play?"
Their mother shook her head. She was sitting on the couch, glimpsed through a half-open door. A book was open on her lap, but she was not reading it. The radio was on, playing the mellow, trite music that was all that was now allowed. "I'm too old for games," she said.
Simon found that he no longer wanted to play, but he played on, and he lost.
He was trembling as he unpacked his cases. Now he was in the sixth-form, the House Master had explained to him, he would have a bedroom of his own, and a study shared with one other boy. He had almost sagged with relief at the news. At least no-one would hear him crying in the night. No-one would know about the dreams.
His bags unpacked, he headed into the shared study, but it was empty. The other boy had not arrived yet. The door into the second bedroom was open, showing a featureless room. There were no clues as to who the boy would be. Simon hoped fervently that it was another new boy, transferred all alone from another school.
Simon walked to the window, where he looked down on the mass of red-faced boys, and weeping mothers, and sisters who stared round curiously, but giggled when anyone looked back. Simon had come by himself on the train. His mother seldom left the house now, and this was a fresh start that only he could make for himself.
I can be anyone I want to be, he told himself. He still had no idea what had gone so catastrophically wrong at his last school, but he was sixteen now, and things were different. No-one here needed to know what had happened at his old school. No-one here had grown up knowing that he, Simon Drew, was the chosen victim in his year. Here, Simon could be a leader again, if only he kept his head high and guarded his every word.
No-one came. One by one, the parents left, and there was nothing to be seen from the window but empty space. Taking a deep breath, Simon decided to venture down to the common room. Perhaps friendships were already being forged. Perhaps, by hiding in his room for the crucial first hour, he had already lost beyond all hope of ever returning.
He descended the stairs, and made for the room the House Master had told him was the sixth form common room. He could hear the sound of voices inside, but he could not make out any words. He paused, his hand on the door handle, and tried to listen. If only he knew in advance, he could prepare. If only he had warning.
"Hey, it's a new boy," someone proclaimed behind him. "Look at him there. Scared to go in, are you, new boy?"
It was as if all the blood in his veins turned to ice. No, he thought. Oh no... He swallowed, swallowed again. "I wasn't..." he stammered. "I'm not..."
Someone saved him then. It was a fat boy, of the type that in Simon's old school would have been cowering on the floor, his books kicked in the mud, and his shirt ripped. This boy looked secure and confident, his head high, and a bag slung nonchalantly across his shoulder. "Up to your old tricks again, Norris?" he said brightly. "Don't even think of it. He'll find out, and you know what he said would happen to you if you tried to bully anyone again."
The boy called Norris turned red. "It was only a bit of fun. If anyone's a bully, it's him. You know that, Tandy, as well as I do."
The fat boy's amiable face turned nasty. "Shall I tell him, then? Do you want that?"
"No." Norris backed off, like a puppy with his tail between his legs. "It was only a bit of fun. I'm sorry." He slapped Simon on the back, hearty with false friendship. "No hard feelings, mate."
Simon mumbled something incomprehensible in reply. The fat boy slung his arm across Simon's shoulder, and dragged him into the common room. "New boy!" he proclaimed.
Simon's heart started to beat very fast. This is worse! he found himself thinking. Far worse than Norris. Around twenty boys were inside, some of them chatting, others looking together at a magazine. Some were by themselves, and some in pairs, or threes. But all of them, Simon thought, were arranged around the boy who stood by the window. The whole room, even the furniture, was arranged around him, even if it did not know it.
His mouth dried up, and he could not have spoken, even if someone had held him at gun point. He knew the type. This boy was King of the School, and all the other boys in school were either his followers, or his enemies. There was no other way. There was nowhere to hide. You had to be someone to him, or life would be worse than unbearable.
The boy was not tall, and he was slender. As he stood in the window, the light was behind him, a corona of brilliance around him. Simon could not clearly see his face, but he could see that he was pale. His hair was fair, bleeding into the light that surrounded him. Of all the boys in the room, he was the only one not wearing school uniform.
"A new boy, is it?" When he spoke, his accent was very Welsh. "And what sort of a new boy is it?"
"Someone was trying to give him some trouble," the fat boy explained. His manner was very different, now he was talking to his leader. "It's all sorted now. No need for you to get involved."
"Trouble, eh?" The pale boy walked slowly from the window, the light falling away from him like a cloak. He was not just pale, Simon realised, but white, an albino totally devoid of colour. It's not fair! he thought. Someone who looks like that should be the one being picked on.
"This is Pendragon," the fat boy hissed in Simon's ear. "He'll make sure no-one bothers you again."
Pendragon heard him. "Unless you're the one causing bother." His voice was soft and sing-song, but it made Simon want to shiver. "There have been many of those. They have all been dealt with."
"I..." Simon swallowed. "I'm..."
"Simon Drew," Pendragon said wonderingly. "Fancy seeing you again, after all these years."
"I... I don't know you." Simon moistened his lips. "I've never met you before."
"So they took that, did they?" Pendragon started to walk around him, as if assessing him. "You were on their side. That should make you my enemy. But I expect you were a victim of their lies, too. That should make you my ally."
He was standing behind Simon now. Simon could hardly breathe. He fought the urge to turn, to keep Pendragon where he could see him. He knew from experience that bad things happened when people stood behind him.
"But what about you personally, Simon Drew?" Pendragon continued his slow walk. Shivers were running up and down Simon's spine. He wanted to run away, to lock himself in his room, to never come back. "You were arrogant when we met," Pendragon said quietly. "You looked down on me. I didn't like that."
"I don't know you," Simon whispered. "You're confusing me with someone else."
"But you never liked him, either. Should that be enough?" Pendragon stopped in front of him, and took off his dark glasses. His eyes were tawny underneath, a colour Simon had never seen before in anyone. "Yes, it's enough," Pendragon said. "Come on, Drew. You're in. Tandy will tell you who everyone is."
He turned away from Simon, and walked to the window. Throughout the introductions, he stood there, staring at the outside, his back straight, and his shoulders tense.
End of chapter nine