The Dust of Time
Summary: Will struggles with his conscience, while struggling with the Darkest threat he's come up against so far - his own family's memories. Will/Bran Slash.
Disclaimer: "The Dark is Rising Sequence" does not belong to me, it belongs to Susan Cooper, the amazing Goddess that she is. This is written by a fan, for the fans, and no money has exchanged hands what-so-ever.
Note: This is just a short little chapter, sort of a comic interlude if you will before the Dark-butt-kicking thing begins. :)
Part Six: Magic in the Daylight
They emerged into the daylight with a burst of energy that surprised Bran. The whole world seemed somehow so much bigger, and clearer, and sharper, and yet it was all focussed on the cool length of sword that sat comfortably in his hand, and the boy-that-was-a-man stood next to him.
Bran was vaguely aware of the rest of the family and the Drews skidding out of the darkness to amass in a stunned heap on the hillside. Will turned without having to look back to check to see if everyone was out of the dark hall that stretched into the middle of the earth, with his hands outstretched. The large doors slid quietly shut, and then disappeared, leaving them on the grassy hillside, snow-darkening clouds swelling above them, the song of the universe still ringing in their ears.
It was probably that melody that had kept the others quiet since the retrieval of all their lost memories. Even Bran's instinct to rant and rail and scream at Will for the hidden memories was tempered by the song, and Bran suspected it wasn't even magic. It was just music. The best music in the whole world. Music held more power than magic, Bran firmly believed it to be true.
"Right," Will said vaguely, and then turned to Bran with a joyous look on his face.
"Maggie," they said at the same time, laughing giddily rather than deal with the odd feelings bubbling up in both of them, and ignoring the fear of what the others were really feeling.
"You saved us," a thin, reedy female voice said suddenly, and Bran watched an expression flicker on Will's face that made his blue-green eyes churn into a storm. "Before. When those figures of black came. And when the man on the horse..." Mary faltered, her fingers flexing awkwardly.
Will just looked at her, still with that strange tallness in his bearing, but he spoke no response. He turned to Bran, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'll go look for her, shall I?" Will said, with an impish quirk of an eyebrow, and Bran was just working up some sort of response when Will stepped back, and then leapt into the air.
But Will didn't come back to ground. He kept going higher, and then there was a blur, and then a delighted caw! Bran shielded his eyes from the brightness of the sun on the clouds, but found himself laughing in amazement, in joy, in sheer giddiness of life.
"A bird!" Barney Drew sang, skipping up to stand next to Bran, amazement on his face. "He's flying!"
Bran looked at Barney, the joy on his face. Barney had remembered just from being in the room. He was... he was... Bran fought the jumble of memories for the right word, and used it. "You know, for a Seer, your sight is pretty, um, amazing," he said, sarcastically.
Barney narrowed his eyes. "You know, any claim you have to the throne of Britain expired hundreds of years ago," he said.
"So?" Bran said, his arms folded as he watched the-bird-that-was-Will fly.
Barney kicked him in the calf, grinning. "I can't be beheaded for kicking an heir to the throne, is so."
"No, but I can tickle you to the ground, Seer or no," Bran said, moving one hand through the air as if to tickle Barney. Barney giggled without being tickled, and hopped out of the way.
"My brother is no Seer!" Simon appeared at Barney's elbow, and he bodily wrenched Barney backwards. Barney pulled his arm out of Simon's grasp with an angry look, and clenched his fists in Simon's direction, only for Jane to break in between them.
She was crying.
"Yes, Simon," she said, looking into Simon's face, her eyes searching, "yes, he is."
She looked at Bran quickly, and then gathered Barney to her.
Simon looked as if he was going to say something, or start something, until a bird alighted in the space between them, and promptly turned back into Will.
"Show-off," Bran said, a little more fondly than he meant to.
Will blinked hawkishly at him, and then dusted off his knees. "She's nearing the house. We'd better run."
"What about them," Bran said, without looking at the family, all blinking as if still unable to see, but he recognised the blinking from Barney's face earlier – they were about to start getting cogent again. And it probably wouldn't be good, especially if there was going to be a hurry necessary.
"Right," Will said, his voice cracking on the syllable, before he turned to the family, upset but resolved. "Do any of you think you're going to be able to handle this?"
Barney stepped forwards quickly, and Jane with him. Simon looked torn, and stepped back with a downcast look and an inability to look at anyone. Stephen stepped forward immediately, and then, to Will's obvious surprise, Robin and Paul stepped forward with a grim determination.
Bran watched as Will swallowed hard, obviously not expecting it, and Will was actually stunned for a second.
"Right," he said, again, as if it solved everything. He held up his hand, and then was stopped by Stephen.
"Don't," Stephen said.
Will turned in confusion to his oldest brother.
"It'll hurt you too much," Stephen added. "So many people that you-"
Will's face stilled in his confusion, before breaking into a surprised smile. "I wasn't going to make them forget," he said softly, "but thank you for your concern. I promise this won't hurt them."
He turned back to his family. Bran noticed Will's parents almost twitching, as if willing themselves to step forward, but unable to. Alice was crying, holding onto Mary and Barbara, and Roger was holding her. Will held out his hands, and locked gazes with his parents, horribly regretful and sad.
Will spoke a liquid sentence in that beautiful but eerie Latin/Welsh language, and the family froze in position, a glazed expression on their faces. "This is on one of the Old paths. The Dark cannot harm them here. Would that the Old Ones had tramped over every square inch of the world..." His face held longing as he looked at their frozen bodies, and then he turned away, decisively, obviously deciding that was his last look at his parents and other siblings.
Eyes, look their last.
Bran looked at them hard, swallowed, and turned with Will.
"Maggie came to our house before, the last two times, and delivered a box. We need it," Will said, and Bran realised it was for the others benefits.
"What's in it?" Paul asked, despite himself, adjusting to this new world with surprising adeptness.
"You'll see when we get it," Will said. "Let's go."
They ran with urgency, a pelting, joyful kind of laugh that sang in their step. They had the rhythm of the entire universe behind them, fading in their ears, but still there. Bran noticed Will clenching his hands, obviously to stop himself from turning around, and on impulse he reached down and grabbed one of Will's hands as they ran.
Bran knew Will had turned his head to look at him, but he kept running straight ahead, Eirias lying easily against his hip, as if it always had. And then he knew – it always had. It was supposed to have been taken with the Signs, into the beyond with all the other Old Ones, but it hadn't gone. The sword's essence had remained at Bran's side, waiting for the physical aspect of the sword to be returned to it. But how? Why hadn't the essence died away? Or gone with the rest of the Old Ones?
Unless... Fear gripped Bran's heart, and he instinctively sped up, forcing Will to speed up with him. As soon as they were a good couple of metres ahead of the others, Bran brought up his theory in horror. "Will, why do I have Eirias again?" he asked between breaths, wishing he'd exercised more at uni. "It should have gone beyond with the other Old Ones."
"That's what I'm worried about," Will said, his voice low, and then the others had caught up, and they couldn't speak again for a while. They slowed in front of the house, and Bran noticed Will hadn't let go of his hand, but didn't remove it himself until they saw Maggie approach them, a box in her hand.
She seemed surprised to see the seven of them waiting at the doorstep, but carried on walking towards them, as Bran suddenly realised the fact that there were seven of them. Will, plus a circle of six. He was just contemplating the possible impact of that when Maggie caught up with them.
Maggie smiled and bobbed a curtsey at Will, all ready to begin the same spiel as the first time, until she noticed the sword hanging on Bran's hip, and her mouth snapped closed. "I see," she said, eventually. "How many times have you used the dust?"
"Twice," Will said, taking the box from her.
"I see," she said, again. "And my request?"
"Still denied," Will said. Maggie looked upset, until Will added, "Would it do any good?"
Maggie looked confused.
"I'd return you to the past, and then possibly loop again, and you'd demand to be sent back, and then I would, and there'd be lots of you, roaming time. You of all people know I am not allowed to do that," Will said.
Maggie sniffed. "The Dust of Time is your help, Watcher. The glove is your hint. I am not allowed to say else. You know the rules of foresight better than I."
"Patchy, at best," Will said, with a small, tight grin.
"Come find me once you've broken this loop," Maggie said. "I'll be waiting."
"I may not," Will said, his head level, his eyes almost matte, lifeless. A silent communication passed between the two, and she looked around at the group, guaging the numbers.
"I see," Maggie said, a third time, in her polite stiff voice, until her face changed, and her voice was soft and like warm honey as she said, "Take care, Guardian of the Pendragon, Watchman of the Light," and more warmth as she said, "Sign-seeker" with a smile.
It sounded too final to Bran, and he drew himself up as high as he could. Maggie looked at him, and she looked quite sad but amused. "Lord Pendragon," she said, ironically, with another anxious look at Eirias and a curtsey, and she turned and walked away.
"Sign-seeker?" Stephen questioned. Bran looked up at the oldest Stanton, the question plain on his face that he was curious to why Will and Maggie sounded like they were saying goodbye forever, but a knowing expression on his face too.
"Mm, I had to collect the six signs," Will said, "wood, bronze, iron: water, fire, stone," he elaborated, with the air of someone quoting. "Starting on my eleventh birthday."
Stephen winced. "You mean the year I sent you that hideous mask..." Stephen faltered. "Oh, god, I did. I sent you a horrible mask. I'm so sorry!"
"It's all right," Will said, amicably.
"Oh, that's how they used me to send a message," Stephen said, and Bran suddenly recalled their earlier conversation about forgetting. "I see. I'm sorry I couldn't handle it before."
"I could have handled it," Paul said, suddenly, an almost stubborn look on his face. "I really could have."
Will winced openly. "Sorry," he said. "I was just scared of what people would say when I came out. And then Stephen went and confirmed my fear."
"Oy," Stephen said, and then with a shrewish look said, "You were planning on coming out to us, eh?"
Will gaped at him for a moment, then regained his composure, except for the blush on his cheeks. "Coming out as a wizard, you dolt," he said, cheeks flaming quite brightly.
"So you weren't planning to come out come out," Stephen said.
"As in come out, come out wherever you are?" Will said, completely lost.
"Come out as gay, dolt," Stephen mimicked Will's earlier putdown.
Will's mouth worked silently.
"Okay, I was thinking earlier that if Will got dumbstruck, then it'd be reassuring," Robin broke in, his dark eyes alight with some sort of repressed humour. Bran thought he knew the expression as one he'd caught on Will, when Will was planning something. Poor Will, in for a lifetime of teasing. Then, If he lets them keep their memories, that is. "But I don't know if I want the only teenager in the world capable of stopping all evil speechless. It's a bit worrying."
"I'm fine," Will said.
"So you're not denying it, I notice," Paul said, his eyes twinkling in the same way as his twin's. Ha, Bran thought, Will deserves all the teasing they can dish out, really.
Will made as if to say something, and then flung his arms about, annoyed. "No."
"No as a denial, or...?" Paul said, working hard not to let the giggles come out.
"No as in not a denial," Will ground out.
"Phew," Stephen said, flicking a look at Bran that Bran couldn't decipher before looking back at Will. "I thought you were going to do the repressed homosexual thing forever."
Then Bran realised. It was an opening, for him to say something. So he took hold of the bravery that had thrilled within him on regaining Eirias with both hands, and took the opening.
"I don't know," Bran said amicably, "I've always found the repressed homosexual thing quite fun." He grinned at Stephen. "Anyway, I'm starved. Memory serves that there might be some food in here." Bran smiled at a stunned Will, then in a move of courage – or perhaps one of those more garden-variety brands of stupid – smacked his friend on the bottom, and sauntered into the house.
Laughing, Robin and Paul followed him in, followed by a grinning Barney and Jane, who winked at Will and stepped into the kitchen.
Will stared at their retreating backs, lost, and then up at Stephen, his mouth still moving like a flailing fish. "Did he just-" Will started, and then stopped, still staring at the house.
"Come on," Stephen said. "You can't save the world on an empty stomach."
To be continued.
