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 ten
To see you in dreamsHe saw them standing over his empty grave, placing flowers on the stone tablet that marked the limits of his life.
He saw his false father weeping for him, a man who never wept.
He saw John Rowlands play the harp at the graveside, and pray for him, to all the gods that were and never were, that might have been, or one day would be.
He heard a laughing man say, "You're dead. They gave up searching months ago."
He saw a man with death-cold eyes, who smiled, and said, "You made this choice."
He saw a boy who had claimed to like him. He saw a dog who had died for him, because of the Light, but no, it was because of the Dark, because of a man with a twisted heart, who had given himself to them, all that he was.
He saw a harp and a horn and a sword.
He heard a voice, a woman's voice, crying from the darkness. "It wasn't me. It never was me. I never wanted this."
Turning from her, crying from her... No, turning towards her, seeking her... He surfaced briefly, face burning with tears, sheets tangled around his icy limbs. Darkness pressed into his face. Sighing, moaning, he slept again.
This time he flew as a raven above the world. Far below, he saw two boys on a hillside, and a silver-eyed dog between them.
"An Old One?" he heard the brown-haired boy say, the words brought to him by the wind. "What's an Old One?"
"You," said the boy who had been Bran. "That's the only reason you came for me. Because you're of the Light, and your masters want to use me."
"Are all Welshmen as mad as you?" The English boy swatted Bran's arm. "Old Ones? Light? I'm just me, an ordinary boy. I like you, Bran. I want to be your friend. Shall we write after I go back? Can I came to stay with you in the spring half term?"
Ordinary boys, who played and chased and climbed together. Boys who sat at a father's table and ate slices of cake, and laughingly helped gather the sheep for shearing. Boys who played with a dog who never died. Boys who were inseparable every holiday, until their parents engineered for them to be at school together, too, where they kept their heads down, and nobody bothered them, and nobody asked them to be anyone in particular apart from themselves.
"No." The raven circled, screaming. The sky turned dark. The hillside tumbled down to the ocean, and the waves surged.
"I'm glad you're here with me," Bran said. His voice rose clear above the roaring of the ocean.
"Glad I'm dying here, rather than far away, safe?" The other boy laughed. "That doesn't sound very friendly."
"I don't mean it like that," Bran protested.
"I know you didn't." Will smiled. "I'm glad, too, Bran. I'd hate to think of you being here alone."
Water closed above them. Water was everywhere, grey and black and terrible...
"But gentle," said the raven. "Bright and cool and sweet and beautiful, because the other side of the waves lies peace."
Bran tossed his head to one side, and surfaced through the waves to almost-wakefulness. Someone was knocking at his door. He hauled himself through the waters, and blinked into the darkness. "What is it?" His voice sounded hoarse, and it was a man's voice. For a moment, he had expected to hear the unbroken voice of a boy.
"It's midnight," Tandy hissed through the door. "You said I was to wake you up, so we could go and teach Norris a lesson he won't forget."
"Yes." Bran raked his hands through his damp hair. Only a dream, he told himself. They tell lies in dreams, too.
"Who's Will?" Tandy asked, when Bran threw open the door.
Bran stood very still, and breathed in, and out. In, and out.
"You were calling his name, when I came to the door."
Bran grabbed Tandy by the throat. "He's nobody." He slammed Tandy's head against the wall. "Don't you ever say that name again, to me or to anyone. You understand?"
Tandy nodded, tears shining in his eyes. Unable to bear it any longer, Bran cast him away. Tandy landed with a thump and a whimper. "We'll deal with Norris tomorrow," Bran told him. "Get out of my sight. I'm going back to bed."
He shut the door, and stood with his back to it for a very long time, as his knees gradually gave way and slid him to the floor.
He did not sleep again that night.
End of chapter ten