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 three: chapter twelve

The key

He didn't come back.

It was just a foolish dream, Jane told herself. Why would a total stranger risk himself by coming back to her? Why would he care? She was rich and privileged, married to an important man. How he must have laughed, afterwards, that she had begged to be saved.

One day passed, and another. She was alone all day with servants who never spoke. In the evenings, her husband came home, with flowers and gifts. He had been in a particularly good mood since the last sorcerer had been destroyed, and he had been bright and gentle, and everything a woman could want in a husband.

I imagined it all, she told herself, alone once more in the morning. The sorcerers are all dead. I was lonely. I was still half asleep. She felt trapped, so her mind was conjuring up a saviour who could not exist.

He was never coming. There would be no ending.

She drifted onto the balcony, and stood there full in the sun, but not even the sun could drive away the shadows. She took a sip of iced water, and wiped her brow against the heat.

"Please don't turn around," a voice said. "Pretend you are still alone."

It was him. She knew his voice instantly, though she had only ever heard him speak a few words. "Can you read my mind?" she murmured.

"No."

"But you came back." She felt less joy than she would have expected. The shadows still clung, despite the sun. "You're going to…"

"I cannot save you," he said, "but I can tell you this: your brothers are now safe."

She gasped, and whirled round. There was no-one there. Of course there was no-one there. She was talking to a ghost, to a voice in her mind, to her own madness. "Please," she whispered. "Please…"

A hand brushed hers, warm and real. "People watch in the daylight," he said. "I'm taking a risk, but you needed to know. They're out of prison, and safe."

"I don't…" she stammered. "I can't…"

"I can't offer you proof," he said sadly. "I wish I could. Simon and Barney, your brothers. Barney liked painting, and dreamed of King Arthur. Simon played Prospero in a school play. I knew them. You won't remember, but I would never lie to you about this."

Safe, she thought. She brought fluttering hands up to her face. The world beyond her balcony sheeted into blue and sunlight, until there was only her at the centre of the world, and this soft voice beside her.

"How…?" she breathed. "What now?"

"I cannot stay." Another touch, this time on her cheek. "I cannot say what I need to say, in case…"

"I won't tell anyone!" she burst out. "I won't breathe a word."

"You live on the fringes of the Dark here," he said, "and some secrets cannot be said in this place, while you still wear that ring. But if you want to walk away from that, come after me."

"How?" she asked, because it was the simplest thing to say. All her other thoughts were impossible to express.

"You will know." She heard his voice smiling. "You are one of the six, and the Light will guide you."

"But I…" She turned round desperately, looking from side to side. She wished she could see him. How could you judge a stranger just from his voice?

"If you come," he said, "perhaps we can start to change this world for the better. But it has to be your choice. If you come, though, come soon. I cannot hide from them for long, not like this. The pieces have already been set in motion. Simon and Barney…"

"They're with you?" she gasped.

"I have said more than I should." She heard him move as if to go. She could have grasped at where his hand had been, to keep him there, but she did not. "One thing, though. Your brothers are safe. They have been freed from prison. The only way to do that was to pretend we were taking them to something worse. If you are told that, do not believe it. But do not say that you already know. Then they will ask how you know, and then they will find me."

He went. She knew when he had gone, by the emptiness in her heart. She stood, world reeling around her. Minutes had passed before she realised that she could have begged him to take her with him now, but she had not.

Save me, she had begged him, but all he had done was given her the key, so she could save herself. She could take her mother, go away, and…

She stood. She barely noticed the sun climbing high in the sky, and clouds passing it, bringing patches of cold. A servant asked her what she wanted for lunch. She murmured something; ate it without tasting it.

Afternoon came. She could leave at any time, she thought. All she had to do was believe this stranger, this sorcerer. Perhaps he had lied. But why had he come back? To trap her? But why? She was nobody. And the government hated the sorcerers. The sorcerers were leaders of the Resistance, and Barney and Simon had been members of the Resistance. Why would a sorcerer try to get her brothers killed?

He was telling the truth. Reason told her that. Her heart told the same tale, even more strongly. There had been truth in his voice. There had been goodness in his eyes, the time she had seen him. Light, she thought. That was the word he had used. He was Light, and those he was opposing were of the Dark. The concept resonated deep within her, as if she had heard them before, but she could not remember where.

She was free. If her brothers were safe, then nothing was binding her to her husband. She could walk away. He had given her the key, and…

Evening came, though the light remained. It was almost midsummer, the longest day of the year. Her husband came home, and stepped out on the balcony to kiss her on the back of the neck.

Too late, she thought. Too late to leave without him knowing. Too late to run away without a word.

She realised that she had made a decision after all. She could not simply vanish; that was what her father had done. Did she want to leave him at all? She did not know. It should have felt like a liberation, to know that her brothers were safe. Instead, it felt like… what?

"Is something wrong?" he asked her, settling down on the chair beside her. "You look sad."

"I was… thinking about my brothers," she told him.

He did not like her to speak of them. Their marriage had started with blackmail, but he wanted to pretend that it had started with love. When she spoke about her brothers, the illusion shattered.

Today, though, he stiffened, and let out a breath. The authorities thought that Simon and Barney had gone to somewhere far worse, she remembered. Did he know? No, he was sure to know. Would he tell her? No, she decided. Of course he wouldn't. He had bound her to him by threatening her brothers' safety, and he could not so willingly give her the key to her chains.

"I…" He passed his hand across his brow. "I had news today. Your brothers… It wasn't any of my doing, but…" A sigh. She had never seen him like this. "Pendragon took them, Jane. I'll do what I can, but…"

A great and extraordinary peace stole over her. It's true, then! That was the first thought. But after that, and even louder, was, He truly loves me. He had told her this, though surely he had to know that she would…

Leave him. She finished the thought almost aloud. Would he beg now? Would he threaten?

"I'm so sorry, Jane."

She faced the railing, trailed her hand over the edge. He truly loved her. It was a warped idea of love, of course, because he had won her and kept her by threatening the lives of her brothers, but he had never raised his voice to her. He gave her everything she wanted, except for freedom.

Or maybe, she wondered… Maybe he did give her freedom, but she had never taken it. Except for that day she had agreed to marry him, he had never made any threats against her brothers. Perhaps he had changed. Perhaps he truly regretted the way their marriage had begun. Perhaps he thought it a love match, and she only thought it a prison because she had never tested the bars.

Would she leave him?

She really did not know.

"I… don't know what to think," she confessed. "I need… time."

"Time?" He looked lost. An imposing man, fond of his own way, he looked small and vulnerable, felled by just her words.

She really did not know. She could not decide, not so quickly. The world was not as she had thought it was. The was a possibility – a tiny, incredible possibility – that she might be in love after all.

"Just to think. Please…" She realised that her face was pale, that her hands were trembling, that tears were pouring down her cheeks and falling onto the railing. "A few days… I'll stay with a friend from… from when I was young." Because she had no friends now, and had not had friends for many years. "If… If Pendragon's men have my brothers, then they're dead. I need to mourn them."

"But with me," he begged her. "Please."

She needed to be cold. She had to be cold. She had to remind him that he had won her by threatening their safety, so he had no right to help her grieve. She had to… She needed to…

"No." She shook her head, and even managed a laugh. "Maybe it's hormones, with the baby. I just want time. I haven't been away, out of this apartment, for ever. I just need time."

"But you'll come back?" His face was naked, like she had never seen it. "You'll come back to me?"

She could not answer. She did not know the answer. The sorcerer had given her a key; she still did not know how she would use it.

End of part three: chapter twelve