Gaelstrom looked in the mirror at his fair complexion, freckles and all. He reached his hands up to his face, examining his skin; its yellow shade was now a sun-kissed peach . A welling emotion in his chest expanded as he recalled what the doctor had told him at the clinic: We'll have to run a biopsy to determine which stage its advanced to, but from what your test results are telling me, it's already made its way into your liver. If you like, we can schedule a day for you to come back and-
No, Gaelstrom had told him, think I'll go on home now.
Ah...! Don't you want to know what your treatment options are? Mr. Callaghan?
Without a word, he'd walked out of the doctor's office and buried his deep, dark secret in fear that he would eventually have to tell his mother and father; the feeling in his gut told him it was no use hiding the truth. The moment he accepted his fate, was the moment he knew he had to return to France one final time, still clinging to the hope that Polnareff would return to his family home...wherever he was.
He remembered the hopelessness he'd felt knowing his pain would see him out of this world in the clutches of Death's embrace. His mother would be devastated, no doubt. But his father would only lament the fact that there was no son to usurp his position working for the Speedwagon Foundation. To hell with the family tradition. It wasn't for him. Gaelstrom's heart was set on something else and it wasn't anyone else's business if he chose to go after it.
Polnareff's father confessed one of the darkest truths of the Polnareff family and from that moment on, Gaelstrom swore to himself he'd be there for his children - for his dearest friends. Not even his lung cancer could have forced him to back down. Standing there looking in the mirror and seeing how he'd overcome that demon restored his pride and his confidence.
Evanescence brought him back. It did all that and so much more than he could have ever hoped for. The cancer that had spread throughout his lungs, bones, and liver had miraculously vanished as if having it in the first place was merely the product of his worst nightmares. And the more Gaelstrom came to understand this, his gratitude spilled over. A trembling frown formed on his face as his fingertips slid down his cheeks. He was back. That same childish glow was back.
He leaned down towards the sink, sobbing into it. "Oh, thank you God!" He would never have to break that horrible news to either of his parents or Polnareff; that fear subsided, shedding that burden from his shoulders forever. Leaving the bathroom, he felt like a brand new man with a new purpose standing in the hallway thinking to himself about which path to take next. Out of his periphery he saw the door to Polnareff's room partially open. Not able to ignore his curiosity, he had to go check on him - maybe even talk to him while he slept. As far as he was concerned, Polnareff would still be able to hear him. Maybe.
There were no sounds coming from within the room. Rays of sunlight were peering through the windows, casting a glow on the wooden floor as well as someone's shadow. Gaelstrom brushed one hand up to the paneling, pushing the door open with the other. Lo and behold, Polnareff was sitting on his bed by the window, examining his toes. Not what he expected to see, but relieved to see he was awake and seemingly doing well. The light in the window brightened the outline around him leaving the front of his body - face and all - in shadow.
There they were, both looking at one another. No fatal illnesses, no missing limbs, no ghostly bodies. It were as if a part of their childhood had returned to them, reminding one another that in spite of their falling out - in spite of their own ventures leading to bizarre and tragic circumstances - they never really changed at all. The disoriented state of Polnareff's mind left so many recent memories fuzzy. Most memories save for three. The sword killing their enemy, Gaelstrom's death, and certain things of Gaelstrom's character coming into light before that.
"You okay?" Gaelstrom asked him.
"I guess so. I'm a little dazed, and my body hurts, but-"
In the midst of his response, Gaelstrom slid beside him and hugged him close not paying any mind to his words. He already knew the answer. Polnareff shifted his eyes in another direction, taken aback by his sudden show of affection. In uncertainty, he returned the gesture with a few pats behind his shoulder.
"Um...are you okay?"
Gaelstrom sniffed, nearly on the verge of shedding more tears. "Grand," he said. Leaning away from his shoulder, he wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. "Sorry. It's gonna take some time to adjust to all this. Too damn good to be true, y'know?"
"You're telling me. Guess we can add this to your father's notes, huh?"
Gaelstrom looked at him. "Add what?"
"I don't know, I guess these bizarre side-effects. I feel horrible and yet...something else."
"Something else? Like what? It's not bad, is it?"
"Not exactly. I can't describe it. It's kind of like-"
"Try."
Polnareff looked off with his brows knit and chin between his thumb and index finger. "Well, it's like having a massive headache but it's all over my body, yet I feel rejuvenated at the same time. There's no other way I can think to explain it. Sorry, I know that doesn't help clear up things."
Gaelstrom nodded, accepting that it was the best description he was going to get. "So, you remember what happened?"
Polnareff hunched forward and rested his elbows over his knees. "Yeah. The girl that was with us stabbed him. It was horrifying to watch at first, but I only remember certain parts - the stabbing for instance. Other than that, I faintly remember moving around and having the damnedest time trying to get my bearings. I won't lie, even parts of that elude me."
It wasn't like he could be of any assistance when it came to telling him the bigger details about Evanescence. Breaking things to him after he'd fallen unconscious didn't really feel like it was his place, either. Inhaling through his nose and exhaling with a sigh, Gaelstrom stood up and extended his hand to Polnareff to help him up.
"Come on, the aul man can explain all this better than I can."
"Huh? Explain what?"
"Just trust me," Gaelstrom assured him, "it's gonna sound ridiculous. Hell, I thought he was bat-shit myself when he told me."
Polnareff arched a brow at him. Gaelstrom watched as his expression changed from puzzlement to a look as though something dawned on him in that short amount of time. He turned his head in Gaelstrom's direction, his eyes still facing the other end of the room as if he spaced out.
"Gaelstrom?"
"Yeah?"
"What did Testament's user mean by Paladin de France?"
Gaelstrom looked into his eyes as if he were frozen in time. His extended hand faltered, slowly withdrawing to his side. It wasn't the question he was expecting to hear from him, not this soon. He most certainly didn't want to be the one to answer it.
Breaking his promise to Polnareff's father and revealing to Polnareff what they both didn't want him to find out would surely drop another weight on his shoulders - a weight for as long as Polnareff lived would never be lifted. Not by him. Not by anyone. And that was something he really didn't need. Not after all he'd been through over the years. Not now when he had been granted a chance to start over.
"Hey," he said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction, "why don't we go get somethin' to eat. I know ya gotta be hungry, you barely ate since the other night."
"Other night? How long have I been asleep?"
Gaelstrom scratched the back of his head. "Ehhh, about thirty hours." He held his hand out for Polnareff again. "Come on, I'll walk with you."
"Hold on," Polnareff said, his brows furrowed, "you still haven't answered my other question."
"I..."
His eyes darted to the right as he stood there and wrung his pinky. Oh, for the love of god. He'd never let up. If he didn't know any better, Polnareff's eyes were like fire and he was caught in the blaze. It seemed that the only way to put that fire out would be to come clean. Gaelstrom wanted to be upfront with him about everything, from the slightest details to the biggest. Lying to Polnareff was the last thing he wanted to do, but given the circumstances, it just wasn't an option.
Polnareff waited for a response, leaned forward as before. An explanation slipped up to the tip of Gaelstrom's tongue; his self control contained them and he stammered on his choice of words. Tell him, don't tell him. Keep his promise, break his promise. Oh, look! A lame excuse aiming to drop the weight of shame. Flames fanned by his hesitation prolonged how long he'd be standing there like an idiot, and for all he knew, listening to Polnareff go off on a tirade for not telling him the truth. Better come up with something quick.
Gaelstrom sat back down beside him, sighing. "I...that is...it's hard to explain."
He felt Polnareff's hand on his shoulder as if he were willing to reassure him. Gaelstrom's heart jumped. Any minute he'd be hearing him complain about what a disloyal piece of trash he was. Those words never came from him, he was actually patient with him. That wasn't like him. At least not this adult version of him that he knew.
"Look," Polnareff said, "we can talk about this. There doesn't have to be a fight. Besides, I don't have the energy."
"Yeah, but-"
"Gaelstrom, I'm asking you as an old friend..."
"A friend?"
"...please. Don't keep the truth about my father from me. I know he and I didn't see eye-to-eye, but I can't shake this feeling I have. Like there's something I need to know. That guy called him the Paladin de France; he knew his real name, for god's sake. I have to understand. Whatever you tell me doesn't have to leave this room."
God dammit, why'd he have to say it like that? That just made him want to break his promise to Jean-Luc even more. Still, a promise is a promise. And no way on god's green earth was Gaelstrom going to put Polnareff's life in jeopardy. He bit his lip and reached to his shoulder, gently taking ahold of Polnareff's hand. He knew he'd regret what he needed to say - the only thing there was to say if he wanted to protect him. Well, this was it. Their only friendly moment they had and it would be the only one they'd ever have again. Gaelstrom choked on the words lodged in his throat when he gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
"I'm sorry," he said, taking Polnareff's hand away from his shoulder, "there's nothing to tell." He stood up and sauntered out of the room leaving Polnareff to feel confused and heavily concerned. He suspected he was also angry, but he refused to look back now and feed that dread with a could-be-truth he wasn't willing to face.
He hates me. I just know it. At least he was kind to me this time...better go ahead and savor that memory while it's fresh, 'cause I'll be gettin' an earful later.
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Dammit, Gaelstrom. You said you'd never lie to me. Was that also a lie? I'm Jean-Luc's son, aren't I? Don't I deserve to know why he's so damn important? The way he looked when he walked out was almost...sad. Well, I'm not going to get anywhere sitting around. He said the old man could explain this resurrection thing better, maybe I should focus on that instead to get my mind off of it? My headache's big enough as it is.
Walking. The very thought of it scared him. Who would've thought he could take for granted the feeling of his bare feet touching a smooth, wooden floor. God, it felt amazing. Wait. That sounded normal, didn't it? Oh, who cares. It wasn't everyday a dead man got the chance to walk again. He pressed his soles against the floor as he bent his knees and went to push himself up. The more he tried to stand, a quaking sensation from his hips to his knees bore doubt in his mind. Would this actually work?
Using the bedpost as a support, he stood up and took a step. "Whoa, shit!" His leg caved, bringing him down on one knee. "Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a drag?" Just one more time, he thought. He managed to stand, but quickly sank down to the floor still holding onto the post; no way was he going down hard.
"This is so embarassing. To think if someone were watching me make a fool of myself..."
But someone was watching. Eva stood in the doorway with a worried look on her face. Polnareff's vision trailed over to her, surprising him. I spoke too soon.
"Um, this isn't what it looks like," he said, "I was just exercising. It really works out your whole body." In his honest opinion, he wasn't lying. The whole damn thing made his muscles feel like hell.
Without telling him anything, she stepped to the side of him and wrapped one arm around him, bringing his arm over her shoulder. Next thing he knew, she was straining to get him on his feet.
"I don't think that's going to...hey, don't overdo it. Ha! Look at that, I can stand. Merci, mademoiselle. I am indebted to WHAAA!"
THUD
Polnareff opened his eyes and realized he'd fallen on top of her. What if he hurt her? Oh, god what if he killed her! He quickly lifted himself away from her body. "You poor thing, I am so sorry!" Stupid idiot, if it didn't work the first time what makes you think it would work now?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Purple eyes looked back at him. It was almost entrancing in a way; funny...the pain in his arms were suddenly the least of his worries. The trembling they were doing, not so much. Which brought about a very important fact: he still needed to get off of her. Polnareff's muscles ached as he tried to move away to help her up.
"Sorry, apparently I'm too weak to stand. Go figure."
Eva sat up, brushing her hair behind her ear. She visualized to herself the things she assumed about him. He is very clumsy.
"I'm such a klutz." he ironically said to himself. "I can't believe I fell on top of her like that."
But I know he's sick and needs attention. I don't mind helping.
"Fine, I admit it. I need help."
In the sunlight coming through the window, the two sat there and looked at one another. He smiled at her, thinking it might make their situation a little less awkward. He hoped. To his satisfaction, she smiled back. "Is your name as pretty as your face?" he asked.
No response. Instead, Eva signaled to him. Do you sign?
Wait. Of all the things to forget. There was one detail about Eva that he couldn't believe managed to escape him. Even in all that daze he felt he should've remembered something that important. "You...can't hear me, can you? That's right. Damn, I feel like an idiot. That's twice in one day! Shit, how am I going to talk to her now?"
Eva leaned away, uncertain of the facial expressions and body gestures he was making. Is he getting angry?
Come on, think. There has to be some way to communicate. Oh, I got it! "Do you...? Uhh, hold on." He readjusted himself to face her while sitting, god did that hurt. Ignoring the pain, he took a breath and made a motion with his hand as if he were writing something. "Do you have a pen?"
Eva tilted her head slightly to the left as he made the motion; a look formed on her face as though a lightbulb went off and she nodded. Polnareff watched as she got up and ran out of the room, thinking that what he tried to communicate worked. Seeing her return with a notebook and a pen proved him to be right.
"Okay," he said, "let's try this." Eva poked her head forward as he scribbled letters onto one of the first few pages. Normally, he'd find someone looking over at him to see what he was doing a little awkward, but the way her eyes loomed over wasn't insinuating that she was being nosey. Quite the contrary. He caught a glimpse of her and smiled, thinking to himself how cute she looked. He finished writing and held up the notebook to show her what he wanted to ask her.
IS YOUR NAME AS PRETTY AS YOUR FACE?
A bright red hue tinted her cheeks. He thinks I'm pretty? That's so nice. She extended her hand for him to give her the notebook and pen. What she'd written wasn't exactly what he expected, but it was a valid answer and one he'd surely remember forever.
yes
Polnareff smiled, unable to suppress a laugh. WILL YOU TELL ME WHAT IT IS?
Eva
"Eva...oh, yeah! Your father mentioned your name a few nights ago. Now I remember. Huh. Interesting. It's like my memories are there, but they're trapped inside this fog."
PRETTY!
what is your name?
JEAN PIERRE POLNAREFF
Eva giggled as she wrote a reply. that's three silly.
WHICH DO YOU LIKE BETTER?
all of them. which one do I call you by?
YOU DECIDE :)
I guess the first one
HAVE YOU ALWAYS LIVED IN AUSTRIA?
since I was seven. I used to live in Berlin with my little brother. but he's gone now.
Polnareff could feel the weight of her words burden his heart. He knew the feeling of losing a loved one all too well. I AM SO SORRY.
where are you from?
FRANCE. I USED TO LIVE IN THE COUNTRY WITH MY MOTHER AND SISTER WHEN I WAS SMALL. MY FATHER WAS HARDLY AROUND TO TAKE CARE OF US. WHEN I WAS LITTLE, MY MOTHER DIED. MY FATHER NEVER CAME HOME, SO MY SISTER AND I JUST ASSUMED HE DIED, TOO. OR HE JUST NEVER BOTHERED TO COME BACK.
that's so sad. I never knew my father or my mother. what is your sister like?
He hesitated to write anything. Too worried that his emotions would get the better of him like they always did. But of course they would. Words alone couldn't describe how much he loved her; he could write to Eva about her all day and night and still they wouldn't hold a flame to his true feelings. And yet, he wrote anyway.
Eva frowned, seeing the hurt in his eyes as the tip of the pen coursed over the paper. Every now and then, he'd stop and wipe his eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have asked him that. I feel so guilty now.
The words were there on a new page, taking up nearly the whole thing. Eva held it up and read it entirely from the first sentence to the very last:
She was very special to me. See, usually people grow out of their childhood innocence, and eventually they just forget the wonder and start to see everything as mundane. Boring, I guess that's one way to describe it. We take for granted the small things and worry too much about the bigger things. She appreciated the small things, even when I didn't notice what they were. One thing's for sure, she helped me in ways I can't describe even if I wanted to.
I always imagined that there were more women just like her out there. Just as big-hearted; just as willing to see the good in others. She saw good in everyone even when it wasn't there. At some point I think she rubbed off on me. What I always found precious was that she reminded me so much of our mother and what I remember of her. Never quick to get angry. She was there for us when we had nobody else. When our father left, I was in charge. At least, I liked to think so. I was the only guardian she had that she could look up to.
And I was so damn proud of that. We did almost everything together, from the time she was born to the very last moment I saw her. I don't really want to talk about what happened. Only that there isn't a day that goes by I don't wish things could have been different. I could only ever hope to meet someone like her; someone that sees the wonder in everything like she did. Maybe one day. You know, I just realized something while writing all of this...you're a very easy person to talk to.
All Eva could do after reading that passage was hang her head. Something in the way she smiled at the end made him feel comfortable around her. She took the pen and wrote on the next page.
Sorry, I had a hard time reading some of this. But I think I know what you mean. Tobias was kind of like that. He had this ball we used to play with together. Throwing it back and forth used to take my mind off of being hungry. Back then, I was still trying to navigate the world through sight. What I saw in him everyday was a thoughtful and loving little brother. Seeing him cry broke my heart to pieces. He was my world.
I always made sure he ate even if it meant I went without. After he died, apart of me died with him. His ball is all I have left. There's times I wish he and I could toss it back and forth just like we used to. I know we won't, but it's alright. I just hope one day I can have children like him who are just as close to each other as he and I were. That's all I could ever hope to want. And for what it's worth, I find it easy to talk with you, too.
Not so easy to lift, though. Just kidding!
Watching him laugh at the last sentence made her laugh with him. Her voice was throaty and a bit airy. But he didn't mind at all. In the short time he was getting to know her, he was beginning to see the beauty not just on the outside, but on the inside. And that included her laughter.
I THINK THAT'S NOT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR. THE CHILDREN, THAT IS. WHICH REMINDS ME: WAS IT YOU THAT TOOK CARE OF ME THESE PAST FEW DAYS?
yes.
THANK YOU FOR THAT. I APPRECIATE IT.
it was the least I could do after what you and your friend did for me. I never thought I'd avenge my brother.
I HOPE YOU WERE ABLE TO FIND PEACE.
Thank you. I think now I can.
The ink stopped flowing across the blank pages in a room that had slowly begun to grow darker as the sun set beneath the mountains. Twilight - the hour between night and day. That was the hour, the minute, and the second the unthinkable occurred. While he didn't believe it could ever happen again, fate granted him another chance. He had met a girl he genuinely liked. In that same twilight hour, he hoped it would be the beginning to a beautiful friendship.
The sound of Gaelstrom's shoes coming up the hall halted him from his thoughts, bringing his attention to the doorway. Marlin was with him, walking into the room in a slightly darker suit with gray, pencil thin stripes running down his trousers.
"Well, he really is the spitting image of my last student." he remarked.
Polnareff's nose wrinkled. "Who, me?"
"But of course I mean you. How are you feeling? Though, by the looks of it much better. I see you and Eva have gotten acquainted."
His face turned a bright red. "Y-yeah. We did. Oh, before I forget. There's something I was wanting to ask you, umm...what's your name again?" He snapped his fingers as a way to jog his memory. "Martin, or something?"
"Actually, I'm afraid a new introduction is in order as I haven't been wholly honest with you gentlemen." He removed his hat, revealing he had a badly receding hairline, and gave him a polite bow of the head. "Merlin Emrys." he said.
"What?"
"My name. My real name. I haven't told anyone that in...well...decades, really. The only other existing person besides Eva that knew my real name was one of my students. You resemble him greatly, if I may say. Ah! But listen to me rambling like the old man I'm becoming. May I ask your name?"
"Oh, certainly," he said with confidence, "I am Jean Pierre Polnareff. Former specter, hacker, and investigator."
Merlin's face blanched at the very mention of his surname, nevermind the unusual job descriptions. For a minute, Polnareff thought Gaelstrom's had done the exact same, but for a reason unrelated. His secret - the one he'd fought tooth and nail to keep hidden away - was on the verge of spilling out into the open.
"What's with the faces? Geez, no need to look so mortified." Polnareff crossed his arms.
"Sorry," Merlin said, "but...did you say your last name was Polnareff? Tell me if I heard you correctly."
"Yeah...? Why?"
Merlin looked faint, stumbling lightly as he went to reach for the bedpost to take a seat. One thing he could be thankful for was Gaelstrom helping him over. He was used to serving as a guide for the elderly by now, what with his hard-headed father's never-ending ventures to see just how many falls down a flight of stairs he could commit to.
"Oh, dear. I...truly thought those days were...by god."
Polnareff could tell by his words that something troubled him, though what that was eluded him. "Something wrong?"
"It's not that there's anything wrong with it," Merlin replied, "it's just...that was also the name of my last apprentice."
Gaelstrom covered his brow and turned to face the doorway like he'd just gotten crushing news he'd long been dreading to receive. "Oh, for the love of god...please no."
Polnareff felt as if his heart stopped completely. How could that be possible? Unless... "Who do you mean? I don't have any living relatives left."
There was a pause before he could answer him. "His name...was Jean-Luc Polnareff."
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The four of them sat around the fireplace that night, probably in the most serious conversation of the century. No doubt it truly felt like it. Gaelstrom kept sighing that evening, his stress getting the best of him the more he listened to Merlin explain everything to Polnareff. Any minute the old codger would go off on a tangent about Jean-Luc's legacy of the damned.
Despite Eva making a big dinner for the quartet, all Polnareff really had a craving for was bread and water. These were the baby steps he'd need to take until he was able to adjust to his body, according to Merlin.
"I'd hoped we would never meet," Merlin confessed to Polnareff, "I mean no ill will by it. Please don't take offense."
"Kind of hard to," he said, waving half of a baguette forward when he spoke, "I hardly know you. That and I quit caring several hours ago about what's going on. It's just making the headaches worse."
"That is a fair response. If I may explain in depth of your current situation, it may sound strange, but-"
"Try me."
"Well, let's see. Where to start. Are you familiar with the legend of Excalibur?"
Gaelstrom looked away from the fire, mumbling under his breath. "Please god, don't tell him more than he has to know."
Polnareff chuffed. "Everyone is."
"So, you think. What would you say if I told you that the sword in the stone was a ploy, started by Arthur's knights to cover up a darker truth?"
"That wouldn't make any sense. Besides, if I remember correctly, there were two swords. Excalibur and Caliburn. Caliburn was the sword in the stone, not Excalibur. That's something completely different."
Merlin set his drink down on the table, an amused laugh rumbling in his chest. "You can thank the scholar, Nennius, for all these preconceived notions you read about in Monmouth's stories. While Arthur was indeed a truly real person, what the world knows of him is only based on false information that I, myself, took part in spreading."
Polnareff blinked. "What?"
Merlin sighed. "My boy, the history is much more grim than people over the centuries have been led to believe."
"I don't understand..."
"Take this sword for instance," he pulled the sword up from a shelf under the table and placed it in plain sight, "it's the sole reason you are sitting here having a conversation with me. The very reason you are no longer confined within your tortoise's spirit."
Polnareff's brows knit together. "Hey, how do you know about that? You couldn't even see me!"
Gaelstrom waved up a hand. "Actually, Jean, I might have explained things to Mr. Ambrose."
"Oh."
"The point is," Merlin continued, "there are things apart of this world that are better left to the dark, and indefinitely out of mankind's reach. Evanescence is one such thing. If I knew back then, what I know now, I never would have stolen it in the first place."
Polnareff and Gaelstrom exchanged a look. He said that as if it already belonged to someone else. If that were the case, how could it be out of mankind's reach as he called it?
"I had a great vision," Merlin said, closing his eyes as he called back to a point in time, "one that revealed to me a future event. Arthur was meant to travel to what is now Ireland and discover his fate; and I would be with him. Deep, deep beneath the earth - beneath the mound where the druids once went - is what people refer to as the world of the faefolk known as Tuatha. A land of gods. A land of immortals. We made our descent and found only one."
"Only one fairy?" Gaelstrom joked, poorly concealing a brief exhalation of laughter.
"Quite the contrary," Merlin corrected, "he was a giant. Skin of ivory and hair like the fires of heaven. He called himself Turunen, guardian of Avalon. He tried his damnedest to turn us away. And by god, his voice was that of thunder beating against our hearts."
"Sounds terrifying." Polnareff said.
"It was. When I took Arthur in as a child, I trained him in the art of hamon. He was able to calm Turunen where I was not, as the fear was too crippling. Turunen saw his feat of harnessing the sun and deemed him worthy of entrance into Avalon."
"Wait," Gaelstrom interrupted, "what's hamon?"
"Life energy. The sun radiates with pure life energy, giving life to the planet - to people like you and I. People who master its use can do incredible things. Healing, for example."
Gaelstrom's mouth dropped open. "Hold on a second! That thing you did with my nose...!"
"Yes." Merlin nodded then cleared his throat. "As I was saying. Turunen seemed to have an astounding fascination with sun energy. Arthur and I shared our knowledge and, in doing so, gained his trust. We were given waters of Avalon to drink, making Arthur and I both ageless. It wasn't until later we discovered that he, too, was once a hamon user. As an Avalonian, he hardly had any use for it. His kind were naturally immortal beings in the sense that they could never age."
Once again, Gaelstrom interrupted. "But doesn't immortality also mean that he could never die?"
"No," Merlin answered, "Avalonians can most certainly die, just as you and I can. Because they are born of Avalon, they are neither young nor old. They are born as they are."
"Bordel de merde..." Polnareff said in a quiet voice. "...this is a lot to take in. What does this Turunen guy have to do with the sword?"
"He told me once that there was war between his people. Those who sided with him and those who sided with another. Corrupted beings known as the Fomorians. I don't quite remember the details to be frank, but what I do know is that Turunen forged the sword from the body of Avalon itself to ensure victory for his allies. He never told me anything more. Only that he was the only survivor."
"So, what you're telling me," Polnareff said, "is that you betrayed him by stealing it?"
In his shame, Merlin nodded. "Unforgivable. I know. You don't have to tell me that."
"Question," came Gaelstrom's voice, "how'd Evanescence end up in Slovakia?"
Merlin looked up, the stern expression on his face chasing his evident guilt away from their eyes. "That is going to be the place where Arthur lost his life. I realized my mistake in stealing the sword after bringing back my beloved Nimue. Though, she returned and we were together for a time, her fate was changed for the worst. She suffered a cruel death at the hands of Arthur's nephew, Mordred."
Polnareff's ears perked. "Hey, that's the guy Testament's user mentioned! You know him?"
"Know him?! He's the very reason I've been in hiding for the past 1500 years!" He calmed his voice and continued on with the story.
"No matter what belief I held onto, fate insisted in tearing Nimue away from me. To this day, I'll never understand why..." Merlin's breaths quaked. "...I urged Arthur for us to return the sword to Turunen. Arthur was angry when he realized what I'd done, and I don't fault him one bit. In a way, I blame myself for his death. He and his knights and I were in Eastern Europe at the time. For what, I can't quite recall. Mordred, who I thought to be a kind and inquisitive young man, fooled us all."
"Let me guess," said Gael, "he tried to take the sword?"
"Yes. Arthur sacrificed his life to preserve it and whatever soul he planned to resurrect with it. You will think poorly of me when I tell you this, but I ran away and left him there. Not for the reason you think: you see, Mordred is with-spirit. Normally, as a mere hamon user, I don't stand a chance without one of my own. I've witnessed the powers of many stands in my lifetime, but this one..."
His hesitation invoked a looming dread over Polnareff, who could only anticipate to hear the rest of what he had to say.
"...water burns like fire, brimstone quenches thirst. The ground is a cloud and you fall into the core of the earth. Or...you drown in the sky."
"That doesn't make any sense!" Gaelstrom barked.
"Precisely, Master Callaghan. That's his stand's power."
It was clear. Merlin couldn't be making it all up. The sword Gaelstrom brought into the pizzeria - the sword found by the Speedwagon Foundation - the sword that brought him back to life didn't belong in their possession. Researching it and nothing else still was no excuse to keep it. He said he would help, and who said he couldn't finish researching the sword anyway? The options churning in his mind left him with no other choice. He would have to take matters into his own hands. Polnareff sat up from leaning into one arm of the chair.
"Merlin, what if we returned the sword?"
Merlin set his cup to the table with a loud clink. "Out of the question. Mordred is the head of Ouroboros, with god knows how many serving under him. Do you honestly think I can travel across Europe undetected? No. No, no, and no!"
"I agree with him." Gaelstrom said, crossing his arms.
Polnareff's brows furrowed. "What?!"
"If anyone's taking the sword back, it's gonna be me. You're in no condition to go anywhere, let alone stand on your own two legs."
"I will be!"
"Jean, don't start with me. You're staying in Austria whether you like it or not."
"And I suppose you're going to make me?"
Gaelstrom inched closer to his face, smacking the hand pointing at him away. "Don't push it."
"Or what?"
"Gentlemen, please!"
An uproar of men arguing amongst eachother filled the front room. Between two grown men bickering about what they were and weren't going to do, and an older man urging them to listen to reason, there just wasn't an end in sight. Polnareff felt that he was right in his decision. Anyone that disagreed was absolutely nuts and no way in hell was he going to sit around while Gaelstrom took it upon himself to return Evanescence alone.
His voice descended from nearly shouting to absolute inaudibility. His words just wouldn't come no matter how much he tried to raise his voice or make noises. The room fell completely silent, taking Gaelstrom's voice as well as Merlin's, who was much more calm about the situation than the other two.
Polnareff put a hand over his throat. What the hell happened to my voice!? His finger coursed over something thin and wirey, like a violin string. Attached to his neck, though? How? In the entryway, he caught a glimpse of the color periwinkle hovering next to Eva. Its upside-down crescent eye shapes expressed tragedy, presenting itself to be the most predominant feature it had. There were two other strings leading from its head and into both Merlin and Gaelstrom's throats.
This is her stand's ability?!
She had a worried look in her eyes. Now it made sense, she must've walked in and saw them arguing. He guessed this was her only way to intervene.
Merlin signaled to her with his hands. Give them back.
Eva shook her head with a scowl on her face.
Give us back our vibrations, please.
Their body language is making me uncomfortable. I don't want anyone to get hurt. she signed back.
It will be alright, Marlin assured, nobody's going to get hurt. I promise. Please return our vibrations.
Eva lowered her hands, feeling she had no other choice but to comply. Her stand gently plucked its fingers along the strings, slowly restoring their voices to them. Over the course of a minute, Polnareff could hear himself talk again, his vocal chords rumbling under his hand.
"Incroyable!"
"She has a stand, too?!" Gaelstrom cried.
"Yes," Merlin replied, "she says its name is Nightwish. It allows her to feel vibrations from other sources through her body. The stand can take a sound frequency and either amplify it, change it, or take it away."
"I thought you couldn't see stands..." Polnareff reminded him.
"Oh, I can't. But it's not like I can't be affected by their powers. Take Mordred's stand for instance: Primal Fear. It inflicts total chaos on a number of things by twisting the threads of logic to form an ungodly circumstance. I'd rather fall into the ninth pit of hell than face him again."
An idea sprang into Polnareff's mind. If it was hiding he wanted, he knew just the place for him to be. Getting him to agree to it was another matter. "Merlin, what would you say if I told you I could guarantee your safety?"
"Ha! You're still on about taking Evanescence back to Ireland?"
"Come on, enlighten me."
Merlin sighed. "I'd ask you how."
"Let's just say five years in spiritual preservation is more than meets the eye."
Merlin arched a brow and sat back in his usual spot on the loveseat. Was he going to say anything in response, or what? He took a few sips of his drink and sat it back on the table. A brief gaze into the fire told Polnareff maybe his silence was the answer. Well, so much for that. Now what?
Merlin hummed, a look of thought on his face. "If you can guarantee my safety..." he mused, "...you're just like your father. Very well. I trust you."
Gaelstrom's eyes widened. "What?! No. Not happening."
Polnareff glowered at him. "I don't get why you feel the need to protect me. I'm a grown man for crying out loud."
"I swore an oath!" Gaelstrom threw a hand over his mouth, realizing he said too much.
"An oath?" Polnareff questioned. "To who?"
"That's none of your business."
Whatever. He didn't have time for his secretive nonsense. It was starting to really get under his skin anyway, and he didn't need that. Not after seeing what Eva's stand was capable of. He rather liked the sound of his voice, thank you very much. Now where was Coco Jumbo? Just wait until the old man gets a load of what its stand can do. The very thought of seeing his reaction made Polnareff snicker. This was going to be fun.