Aengus detached himself from Theresa’s grip and she bounced off to greet another of her friends; she did seem to have a lot of them tonight. Liam focused his attention away from her small form and turned as Aengus came up to him and Rhiannon. Rhiannon squealed as he lecherously nibbled her neck when he hugged her. That was just Aengus’ style, he meant nothing by it … at least when he did it to Rhiannon. Liam had his doubts about his intentions where other females were concerned.
“Knock it off, ye sheep pimp!” Liam joked with his friend. They had a long standing battle of insults regarding their lineage, Liam being Irish and Aengus being Scottish. Aengus took it in stride and took Liam’s arm in a firm grip. Liam reciprocated.
“And what of it? Ye say those words as if they’re supposed t’ be an insult!” Aengus laughed back. Aengus had the distinct advantage of being one of only three people in the group who knew Liam from what he referred to as “the before times”. He rarely acknowledged this, much less used to his advantage. If Liam wanted it kept dark, he would not be the one to bring it to the light. He moved on to his usual seat behind the checkout counter. Aengus and Rhiannon shared privileges as employees of the shop, one being access to the entire store, the stock room, the library, and behind the counters. Liam, being a good friend of both Verbena and her sister, though not an employee, was allowed much the same.
With Aengus in his usual position, Emma took it as an indication to begin the class. Emma was a wonderful woman. Easily in her sixties, if not a day, she had close cropped white hair, a warm and wonderful smile that always reached her blue eyes, and the personality that put everyone at ease. Emma was also the third person in the group who had known Liam for years before he began coming to these classes. Liam felt their past relationship allowed for greater trust in her teachings and thus never missed one of her classes. Liam and Rhiannon took up places on the floor, leaning up against one of the cabinets. Aengus dimmed the lights, the crowd quieted, and Emma began.
“As I can see most of you are regulars to my classes, I’ll skip the introduction and just begin with the relaxation methods.” Liam listened as she directed them through the processes he was now very familiar with, letting go of tension and worries one body part at a time until he was able to truly relax, the tension draining away from his whole body. Next she began talking them through the steps of opening their subconscious. Her words began to blur in Liam’s mind. He felt as if they were nothing more than a soft drone in the background. He felt as if he were falling asleep, something that did not surprise him with all the tension he had been feeling. He almost felt as if he were a separate part of himself, waiting for the inevitable shock as his body caught his head falling forward .…
Part II: The Past
He who controls the past, controls the future. -- George Orwell
Liam slowly returned to awareness. Something was different -- well, several somethings. First of all, his neck hurt. Rhiannon must have let him sleep in this position through the entire class. Second, his clothes felt different; scratchier was the word. Third, he seemed to have lost feeling below his waist, as if his legs had fallen asleep.
Slowly he opened his eyes, not really sure what to expect. With friends like his, who needed practical jokers? His clothes had been changed. They rather reminiscent of what he wore to the Renaissance Festivals, with a few minor changes. The loose shirt was of a thicker, coarser material. The pants were more like trues than he was used to wearing, particularly in the tightness of the crotch. And the soft hide boots .…
... that dangled .…
... two feet off the floor!
Liam’s head shot up, thoughts of payback running through his mind. It was one thing to change his clothes as he slept -- hopefully not in front of everyone in the class -- it was another to totally embarrass him by hanging him from the door. That was when he became aware of his surroundings. He sure as heck wasn’t in Kansas anymore, Toto. Nor California for that matter.
Quickly, he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was hanging from the door of a thatched-roof cottage. The tools and utensils on the table and hanging from various parts of the walls and rafters, however, fit in with those found in the shop he had fallen asleep in. This was one bizarre dream.
“So, Liam, finally awake, are we?”
The voice had the familiarity of ancient memory, but could not be placed, almost as if it had only been heard in dreams. His or someone else’s. In trying to place it, he almost missed the strangest aspect of it. Although he had heard it in understandable English, she had spoken in an entirely foreign dialect. The lilt of the voice and the singsong cadence of the words almost reminded him of the Gaelic he had been trying to learn, but at the same time wasn’t. Almost as if she spoke a more ancient tongue that was the predecessor of that which he was learning. The next thing that struck him was that the name she had called him was not Liam. He fought through the barriers of translation to grasp the word that had been truly spoken. At last he caught hold of it.
The name was Justin.
***
Justin Delarouche was born and lost in the mists of time. Lost, as many of the lesser players often are, to the pages of history, he still led a very colorful life. The child of rape, his mother was of the priest class of Druids of Erin, his father a Viking raider. Justin was shipped off to live with his aunt Dominique in England, still a newborn.
One of the ancient women of power, learned in the arts of what many of the times would call witchcraft, Dominique had little time to devote to raising the boy. Thus, Justin grew up with a strong independent streak and a tendency to pull pranks to draw attention to himself. His favorites involved bits of the ancient magicks he picked up from his aunt’s books. One time he had set flames to the dress of a lady who had berated him for entering a hallway too soon and stepping on the train of her dress. Didn’t she know, after all, that the soap the washerwomen used to clean the clothes of the gentry was high in flammable content? It was just waiting for an ideal time to spontaneously combust. Just because he was in the area mumbling to himself didn’t mean he had anything to do with it.
But he did not always get away with his pranks. One time he had used a very powerful charm to animate a suit of armor to “attack” his aunt. She had just about passed out from exhaustion after expending every ounce of energy and every spell and talent she knew to stop her attacker, only to find out the armor was an empty shell. He had hung from the door of the cottage for two weeks for that one .…
***
Understanding dawned, though it defied logic. Some days Liam believed in the past lives they had been studying in class. Other times, he just believed them to be stories he made up to explain certain aspects of his own personality. He had come to accept Justin Delarouche as the manifestation of his own bizarre, dry sense of humour. Now it seemed he was not watching the stories of this ancient spirit, but living them.
Dominique, Justin’s aunt, was not a small woman. Rather, she was easily over six feet tall and very statuesque. Justin, however, was not a small, or, more importantly, light person himself. Liam watched with amazement as Dominique approached him, whispering to herself, and lifted him off the door as if he weighed no more than a feather. She had to help him to the table and a seat. Liam was relieved that the problem was not in his control of this strange body, but because he had not been using his leg muscles for two weeks now.
Liam, apparently, also had full access to Justin’s memories. He could recall fully the events that had resulted in Justin being hung from the door. What stood out more that the feelings of power at conjuring and casting the spells necessary, was the look of grudging respect on Dominique’s face as she hung him on the door in punishment. That look would stay with him much longer than the humiliation she had put him through.
“Liam?”
Though spoken calmly, the name had the effect of slapping him across the face. He broke from the reverie of memory and looked up at the woman he could only call Aunt Dominique. Recognition
had taken residence in her eyes. The shocking word had been his own name, not Justin’s. She knew who he really was.
“I thought you were a bit too quiet to be my troublesome nephew in spirit. Is it come to that time, then?”
Liam had no idea what she was talking about; his mind was still reeling from the fact that she knew who he really was. But then again, didn’t these dreams have strange things like that happen all the time? But was this truly a dream?
Fear not, my Auntie was always one to figure things out quickly.
Liam looked around, startled. Where had this new voice come from?
Inside, laddie, inside. I could not let ye fumble yer way through being me. I have a reputation to uphold, after all. I’ll be watchin’ over ye, give ye a gentle nudge where I can help. Like now .… Ye best be payin’ attention.
Justin was right. Dominique had been talking at him for a few moments now.
“I’m just pleased that this happened when you were in my care. Who knows what would have become of you if you had been under Justin's mother’s wing.”
Liam listened very intently, hoping to find some way through the confusion of what had happened. Apparently Dominique not only understood what was going on, but knew the whys and wherefores as well. She did not, however, seem in any hurry to alleviate any confusion on Liam’s part. Always observant, though, it was not long before she seemed to catch Liam’s distress.
“Relax and I will try to explain things as simply as I can. You have begun an Awakening. According to the Ancients, there will be a time when the magicks of the world shall be suppressed as the sciences expand and take over. However, after many generations, and many centuries have passed, the time of High Magick will return. Some will begin their Awakenings before the rest of the world. Those of the lines of power, not hereditary, but through the line of the soul that links all your lives, past and future, will Awaken early to act as guides for others. You have been chosen for this role.
“I have no idea how long or where this journey will take you. I know only that there is a lesson to be learned at each stop on your way. And this will not be the only jaunt you take. There will be others as more of who you truly are wakes from its long slumber.
“Now, if you truly be wanting my help, I need to do a bit of research. Let us say I need to see if I can find the lesson of this –- vignette. Be off with the both of you, if you find that you can walk again, that is. And stay out of trouble.”
***
Liam stared into the morning mists that still shrouded the waters in the distance. If he tried really hard, he thought he could make out the shores of Ireland. At this rate, he thought to himself, this is the closest I’m ever going to get to setting foot on her shores. Even without a glimpse of the island, real or imaginary, the scenery was breathtaking. The promontory stood well out from the rest of the land, jutting out like a finger pointing into the sea. The cliff face dropped hundreds of feet below to the crashing waves, the gray water swirling at its base. The grass in the fields around him had that shade of green that just couldn’t be seen in his own time period. Smog and other pollutants had made sure of that. And the sky! The sky was a cloudless shade of deep azure. But even with all these distractions, his eyes were drawn back across the water, hoping to get even a glimpse of what he felt was his true heart’s home.
Justin sighed bitterly. That’s where dear old mum lives. Ye canna understand the feeling of being abandoned by yer own blood. Liam could sense that Justin wanted to turn away, but this was the closest he had ever been to a place he had always felt deep down inside was home. He was not ready to give up even the most fleeting glimpse. Inwardly, he recounted the decades that had grown between him and the last time he had seen his father. He knew full well the pain Justin spoke of; however, he could also sense the differences of feelings. After all, Liam's father had only left them. Justin’s mother outright hated the memories attached to him and wanted nothing to do with him.
“Are you sure the two of you are related?” With no one around Liam took to speaking aloud when talking to Justin. He turned away from the sea and examined himself in a small shaving mirror Justin kept over a rain barrel. Liam felt Justin’s smirk. The mirror reflected back a lean face with blue eyes and long, dishwater blonde hair. There was, however, a thick lock of jet black hair that started just above the left temple and had an annoying habit of falling into his eyes. Odd hair colorings seemed to run in the family.
That’s a family trait, the only feature in common all three of us have, Justin answered. I get the blonde hair from the man who raped my mother. The face in the mirror betrayed Liam’s shock. He knew of Justin’s origins, but to speak of it so casually .... Yes, you can see why me mum was so eager to leave me with Auntie Dominique even before I were old enough. But back to the subject at hand. Dominique and Mum both share the black hair, but, as you’ve seen, on Dominique the lock is pale white, on Mum it’s fire red. Auntie Dominique says its one of the signs of power; everyone in the family has had both. The lock of hair and the power, that is.
“Power? You mean true magick?” The “k” was almost audible. Liam had long used the differentiation to separate the tricks magicians did on TV and the shaping of energies to change reality. Liam felt Justin’s nod of agreement. “Damn, where I’m from, if the magick is still there, it’s so hidden very few can find it. Almost as if it barely exists. It takes elaborate ritual to effect the smallest change. And then that’s so coincidental that you don’t really know if it just happened or it happened because you willed it to. Science and logic are the laws of the day.”
I wouldn’t say it wasn’t there. After all, you were able to come to me, which takes a bit of power in and of itself. The Fae say that as long as the dreaming is open to the world, as long as the people keep their hearts open to their dreams, there will be at least a trace of magick in the world. Now Auntie Dominique taught me that magick is like the tides, it flows and ebbs. The last crest peaked just before the fall of Atlantis. Now magick is pulling away, building strength for its next wave. According to what Dominique just said in there, it looks like you’re about to be hit with quite a tidal wave.
“A virtual tsunami, considering how long it’s been gathering.”
Liam took a knife and began gingerly shaving away the weeks of growth that had formed on Justin’s cheeks while he hung helpless, leaving just the chin and mustache untouched. He carefully resheathed the knife at his waist and examined the effect in the mirror.
Rather sinister looking, Justin commented with glee. You think the townsfolk were wary of Justin the Trickster before? He left the thought, obvious to both of them, unfinished.
“Well then, let’s see what effect it has,” Liam said as he set his feet upon the path that Justin indicated. It would be quite a walk, a few miles at least, but as Justin was in far better shape than Liam, they would make good time. As Justin still retained some control over his own body, Liam metaphorically sat back to enjoy the trip. The scenery was unequaled in anything Liam could remember. It wasn’t too long before the skeleton of a building under construction came in to view: a church, judging from the bell tower rising above the rest of the building. They had reached the outskirts of the village.
***
Liam laughed to himself as he strolled through the village. When asked what he found so humourous, he resigned himself to a lengthy explanation of what, precisely, a Disney character was, and why, exactly, he expected to see one coming around the corner at any moment.
The architectural style spoke volumes to Liam. Pre-Renaissance fisherman’s village. He was unable, however, to place the precise date. It could have been any year between AD1000 and AD1500. He gloried in the fact that all around him the history he had studied for so many years was literally brought to life. After awhile, though, the charm and wonder began to wear into familiarity. That was when the darker aspects began to let themselves be known. Just about every side alley was littered with refuse and detritus. He could almost envision some L
ovecraftian horror lurking just out of sight, around a corner. Liam had just begun an explanation of that thought when he caught sight of something that chilled him to the bone.
Lying on its side at the mouth of the next alley was a dead rat.
“Justin,” Liam whispered as if afraid that if he spoke out loud the very words would cause his horrors and fears to come true, “what year is this?”
Justin chuckled at first, but Liam’s urgency cut through. I really couldn’t tell you. Dominique uses a lunar calendar, and the church has a new calendar, it seems, every year. Hellfire, sometimes the only way I know what day it is is by figuring out how many days it’s been since Father Santiago last rang the bells to call everyone to Mass. Justin continued on in an attempt to reassure Liam, It’s just a dead rat, there are lots of them, alive and dead, throughout the countryside.
But Liam was beyond hearing. He had become lost in trying to remember something from history class. Dates and Names and Places and Events danced in his mind in a jumble. Finally giving up for the time being -- after all, it was when you least expected it that the mind provided the facts you needed -- he continued wending his way through the village marketplace to a tavern Justin had indicated.
He guessed from the sign that the tavern was called the Helm’s Wheel. It wasn’t that the sign said “the Ship’s Wheel”; the sign was a ship’s wheel. Appropriate, considering the fact that most of the peasantry in this time couldn’t read. The style, as with the rest of the village, seemed to be of the Medieval Vernacular type. Windows were framed with dark painted wooden boards. More of the same boards were used on the walls as decoration, their dark wood contrasting with the light plaster of the walls. The interior was warm and gloomy compared to the midday sun outside. He stood inside the doorway and waited as his eyes adjusted to the comfortable darkness. That was when he realized Justin didn’t wear glasses, yet he still could see well enough as if he had been wearing them all along, which he assumed he had. Liam rarely wore his own, admittedly. He only wore them when he needed to do something important … like see. Yes, there were advantages to this regression thing.
The Shining Cities: An Anthology of Pagan Science Fiction Page 25