Yet here she was in this beautiful place, standing in front of a woman who could be no other than the Queen of the Unseelie Court. Was this a dream? Maybe. A Vision? Possibly. Yet, she was here looking into Morgaine’s eyes. The queen’s brilliant silvery-blue eyes seemed to bore into hers. They were a myriad of colors, an ever-changing kaleidoscope of blue, silver and gold, glowing as though lit from behind. Brilliant colors swirled in her eyes, lit by some powerful light from within. Morgaine was so beautiful, it actually hurt to look at her, but Brianna couldn’t force herself to look away. Now she knew what people meant when they spoke of the Unseelie Queen’s great and terrible beauty.
Brianna’s mind raced. What was she doing here? Why had Larin brought her? She wasn’t even worthy to be in this woman’s presence. She was a non-believer. Brianna bowed her head, ashamed that she doubted anything that Amber had taught her all of these years.
Morgaine smiled and inclined her head. You are strong, Brianna. Your magical light shines brightly within you. Your power is great. Your grandfather will be pleased.
Brianna heard Morgaine’s strange but beautiful voice even though her lips never moved. “Huh? What power? Grandfather? What about my grandfather?” Now she knew this had to be a dream. She was still sleeping. That’s why none of this made sense. Everyone in her family was gone, her parents, grandparents, all of them. She was the last of her line. All of her grandparents had passed on before she’d even been born.
Brianna’s eyes widened as the queen’s… What? Throne? Floated closer. It bobbed gently on a cushion of air. Steam or fog swirled around it in little eddies reminiscent of the leaves dancing on the wind in her dream. Was she losing her mind or was this just some fantastic dream? This could not be happening. It couldn’t possibly be real.
An inner fire flashed within Morgaine’s beautiful eyes and a clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. This is real! Stop being so stubborn. Somehow the sound of the other woman’s voice was in her head, filled with impatience.
Brianna’s hand flew to her mouth. Whoops! Don’t want to piss off the Faery Queen.
Morgaine’s face softened a bit, her mouth quirked at the corners in a half smile.
She was never going to get used to these people reading her mind. Brianna blinked slowly and sighed.
We do not read your mind, lovely Brianna. It would be an invasion of your privacy, and therefore, distasteful to us. We can, however, hear your thoughts because you project them so forcefully. You have done your exercises well. A bit too well perhaps. Morgaine leaned forward in her seat. In tuning in to your higher self, your psychic ability has developed much. Quite possibly, even more than you had imagined possible. This is how we have heard your prayers, your wishes, and your dreams, when we have heard no others. Reaching a hand out, Morgaine beckoned one of her people forward.
The thin man stepped forward. He seemed old, ancient, though he didn’t look a day over thirty. None of them did. He held a small piece of jewelry in his hand.
Morgaine took it and attached it to her hair.
Bowing, the man moved away, walking backward as though turning his back on his queen was an insult.
The shiny piece in Morgaine’s hair drew her attention, seemed to keep her off balance—almost hypnotized. “Return?” It would be nice if she could form more than a one or two word sentence. Geeze.
Morgaine smiled softly. She waved her arm and a scene played before her, almost like a movie or T.V. show. What appeared to be an entire town danced in fields filled with flowers. Accompanied by others who were tall and thin with pointy ears, they gathered water from wells and they cooked over open fires in the summer fields. Eons ago The Fae lived, worked, and played among mankind. Our Magick helped those who would ask for it. We entered sacred circles when asked, added our own distinct power to the spell, much as we did with yours, thirty days ago.
Thirty days ago? Did that mean the energy she’d seen leaving her wand had been their power and not her own? The thought was a bit disappointing, but made more sense than thinking she’d been able to do all of that by herself.
Morgaine sat back and one silvery tear slowly slid down her face, leaving a glowing trail like liquid diamonds shimmering on her flawless skin. With the birth of the new religions, came our death in your realm. For even the Fae can fall victim to treachery. We were forced to leave, or watch, as our friends were tortured and killed. The majority of people no longer believed in our kind and they persecuted those who did.
The scene before her changed. The women and children huddled around fires inside huts, crying. The men were outside, fighting amongst themselves. They attacked and tortured each other before turning on the fae who finally disappeared into the mist.
We were forced to leave, choosing to remain in this dimension, to save their lives. Your belief and the belief of others like you have allowed us to return.
“My belief?” Brianna asked bewildered. She held her palms up in a delicate shrug. Could one person make such a difference? Especially when said person was still unable to believe what sat in front of her, before her very eyes?
Yes, one could. Though you, and others like you, are still persecuted for your beliefs. Murder of those like you is no longer sanctioned by the Church and Government. Now we can help. We can return and work beside you once again.
“Don’t take me wrong, but I can hardly believe you exist and you’re sitting right in front of me. Close enough to touch.” Yeah, right. If she had the nerve.
Morgaine smiled again. The action made her beauty even more brilliant, nearly blinding.
Brianna blinked, her eyes growing weary. After standing her and talking to Morgaine for so long, it still hurt to look at her. Never before had she met a woman so beautiful that she found it both difficult to look at her and to look away.
Deep down, you believe, Brianna. In here, she touched the center of Brianna’s chest. This is where you believe. And that is what matters most. If you did not truly believe, you would not have called us forth.
Brianna felt a warm tingly sensation in the center of her chest. The feeling spread throughout her body, like liquid lightning. Suddenly she knew, knew, without a doubt, that this beautiful woman in front of her really was the long lost Morgaine Le Fae, Queen of the Faeries. She knew that however fantastic it may seem, this was not a dream.
Her head filled with thoughts and memories that were not her own. Morgaine with a man, a blond man she called friend and brother. He held a shield embossed with a blue handled sword and a golden dragon.
She felt the queen’s sadness as someone placed the man’s lifeless body on a stone slab, in a state of suspended animation, where he would stay forever. Or until the power to change his fate was returned to the faeries.
An old man stood on a hill with his arms outstretched. Lightning shot from the end of his staff. The wind blew his white hair, swirling it around him like whips of dancing white silk. He turned, and Brianna gasped as she looked into his eyes. Her eyes.
Not your eyes, Brianna.
“Who is he?” Brianna whispered. Her trembling fingers covered her mouth. A river of tears ran down her face. Somehow she knew that face. It wrenched her heart. She should know that man. Brianna reached out as if to touch him, but felt only the emptiness of air.
Morgaine laid a gentle comforting hand on her shoulder. He is your grandfather. He was, and is, a great sorcerer and seer of the future. He predicted your arrival, knew you would come. He is the greatest Sorcerer this world has ever known. Powerful enough to leave that place, as we did.
Brianna’s eyes grew round with amazement. Afraid to believe what she was being told was really true and afraid not to believe. It was an extraordinary predicament. “The stuff legends are made of?” Her mind raced, whirled.
Yes.
“Merlin?” He’s my Grandfather? Boy, this is becoming too much!
Yes.
“But…Merlin really existed? The Arthurian legends are true?”
Do you begin to see now?
“I knew that there had to be some truth to the stories. I always believed that there is at least some small grain of truth to every legend.” She shook her head, her eyes wide with awe.
There was truth. Morgaine’s eyes hardened and became slits. And there were lies, many, many lies.
“What lies? Tell me, perhaps there is a way to set the records straight.”
You shall see. In time, He will show you.
“Larin?” Brianna asked.
Morgaine slowly shook her head. Even that mundane movement appeared polished when she did it. Her white blonde hair flowed gracefully around her, a cloud of silver strands that settled perfectly around her shoulders, never a hair out of place.
You will hear me, Brianna. Morgaine leaned closer and put a hand on either side of Brianna’s face and looked into her eyes. Your thoughts are your own. No longer will they be heard by our people, unless you wish it. Larin is your servant. When you call him, he shall come. Morgaine gave Larin a hard look as if daring him to complain. She turned back to Brianna and smiled softly. He must come when you call. If you have great need, even I shall hear you and come to your aid. The Fae queen released her.
With the great power gone, she felt bereft, alone inside herself, where before there had been Morgaine. Brianna grinned drunkenly. She had just enough time to wonder how Larin felt about Morgaine’s decree before everything went black.
Chapter Seven
Brianna rolled over and slapped her alarm clock with a groan. “I don’t work on Mondays. Why did I set the alarm?” She groaned again and rolled over, pulling a pillow over her head, she tried to block out the light shining through the bedroom window.
The weather forecaster on the clock radio said it was supposed to be a beautiful day. “What’s so stinking beautiful about it?” she groused. “Good grief, I hate getting up this early. A morning person, I am not.” She could hear the children playing at the bus stop and someone’s dog was outside barking nonstop.
She sniffed. “Mmm, coffee.” Brianna also smelled the unmistakable scent of bacon carried on the light breeze that blew lazily through the open window, ruffling the lace curtains. Her stomach growled. “When is it going to cool off?” She sat up and pulled the collar of the nightshirt she wore away from her damp body. She lifted the hair away from her neck in a futile effort to cool herself.
“When are the air conditioning repairmen going to get here anyway?” If the air conditioner had been working, the windows would have been closed, and she could have gone back to sleep, blissfully unaware of the noise outside.
She looked around. Yes, she was in her room. There were no beautiful fields filled with flowers or rivers with pure water. No imaginary people talking in her head or reading her mind.
Brianna shook her head. It was coming back to her. “Whoo boy! What a dream that was, a very realistic, strange, and fantastic dream.” Of course, it couldn’t be anything but a dream. Everyone in it was a figment of her overactive imagination.
Well, poop! “Like I’m really the great, great, something granddaughter of Merlin. Yeah, right, in my dreams!” She snorted, stumbling toward the bathroom, stripped off her nightshirt along the way, and dropped it in the hamper as she shuffled past.
“I’m just not a morning person. That’s all there is to it.” She yawned. “Why don’t I just find myself a nice night job? Then my stupid alarm wouldn’t be set for this gawd-awful time of morning.” And she most likely wouldn’t be talking to herself at this gawdawful time of the morning either.
She padded to the shower. It was the fastest way she could think of to clear her head. Pushing the shower curtain aside, she reached in to turn on the water and waited a moment for the water to get hot before she stepped in. She shrieked. The water was ice cold!
“Well, you wanted to wake up,” she said, teeth chattering. Turning off the water, she stepped out of the stall, shivering, and dried off with a fluffy towel. Donning a robe, she padded out to the garage with Killer at her heels. Brianna inspected the hot water heater, checked that the pilot light was on and that the thermostat was set at medium. Medium was a good temperature yesterday, nice and hot. So what was wrong with it today? She looked around for something to hit it with. Finding nothing more than her gardening shoes and an old push broom, Brianna left the garage, giving the water heater a look of contempt.
Brianna leaned against the kitchen counter with a sigh. “Who do you call to check out a water heater anyway, a plumber or an appliance repairman?” She asked aloud, uncaring that she was alone, and there was no one to talk to. Sighing, she decided not to think about it until after breakfast. Nothing seemed truly important before her first cup of coffee. Looking down, she noticed Killer hopping around her feet. “Do you want outside, boy? You’re such a good boy, for telling me you have to go outside.”
He jumped around frantically and whimpered occasionally for effect.
“You just want to see if you can find more mice in the backyard, don’t you?” She bent and patted him on the head. “You little stinker.” Picking him up, she carried him to the door. Sliding it open, she set him on the ground. As usual, Killer hit the ground barking, his little legs moving as fast as they could, propelling him across the yard like a miniature brown and gold rocket.
Brianna hated for him to be outside barking this early in the morning, but he hadn’t been the first one out there making a racket. She left the door open, hoping for a nice breeze to cool down the house. She checked her watch. At least she had time to have breakfast at a decent hour. Well, decent for breakfast anyway.
“Not decent for me,” she groused. The coffee was brewing, oatmeal was cooking in the microwave, and Killer was out terrorizing the wild life. “It’s Brianna time.” She sat down, put her feet up on the chair across from her, and the phone rang. “It figures.” She put her hand to her head, and, in her best gypsy fortune-teller voice, predicted, “Eet ees a tele-marketeer.” She picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hello.”
“Hey, girlfriend, you’re up early. I half expected to hear the phone hit the floor.” Amber sounded perky, her voice filled with energy as usual.
Brianna pushed the hair out of her face, tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear, and reached up to take her oatmeal from the microwave. She set it on the counter, licked the oatmeal off her thumb, and reached into a drawer for a spoon. “Yeah I know, tell me about it. I accidentally set the alarm and couldn’t go back to sleep because I had this really bizarre dream.”
She sloshed a generous portion of milk into her bowl, then put the milk away in exchange for brown sugar. And the kids were noisy. Some inconsiderate boob let their barking dog out… Oops, I suppose I’m an inconsiderate boob now, too.
“Did it have your new friend in it?” Amber was so excited, that the it came out more of a squeak than a word.
“No, as a matter of fact, it didn’t. You know, Amber, I can almost hear the matchmaking gears in your head spinning. You should oil them. They’re beginning to squeak. Just leave us alone. If there is something there, we’ll find it.”
Amber chuckled. “Girlfriend, I think you’ve already found it. My question is, what are you going to do with it?”
Brianna sighed. “When will I ever learn not to tell you about any of the guys I happen to meet?” She knew Amber was a hopeless romantic. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head as she spooned a generous amount of brown sugar onto her oatmeal.
“Don’t give me that heavy breathing and those long suffering sighs. And stop shaking your head,” Amber said laughing.
Brianna dropped the spoon into her bowl and covered her mouth. How did she do that? “Did you want anything in particular?” She didn’t mean to snap. She felt like road kill, and her lids felt like sandpaper against her tired eyes. Why did she feel like she hadn’t slept at all?
“I just called to talk with my best friend. I didn’t know I needed to have a reason.” Now she sounded hurt.
Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of
bed, damn it. Brianna closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I haven’t been sleeping too well lately and I’ve had some really strange dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“Recurrent dreams mostly. At first, the dreams were of a faceless man. Now…” She shrugged. “Niklas is in them. It’s the same dream as before, but instead of it being an unknown man, it’s Niklas. You remember him. The guy I told you about the other night. You know, the one you were just teasing me about. What’s strange about the whole thing is that I haven’t even talked to him since.”
“Hmmm…”
“What do you mean, hmmm?” Brianna spooned some oatmeal into her mouth and chewed.
“Tell me more while I think about it.”
Brianna rolled her eyes and shrugged, in for a penny in for a pound. She swallowed and set her breakfast aside. She’d microwave it again later. “For the last few months I’ve been dreaming about a man who needs me desperately.”
“You and me both, honey, along with about ninety-nine point nine percent of all the healthy heterosexual females on this rock.” Amber added dryly.
“I’m serious. In the dream, he’s always looking for me, but he can never seem to find me.”
“It would be interesting to know if he has had any similar dreams himself.”
“Why? What would that mean?” Brianna walked around the counter and sat down at the table.
“Because, silly, if you’re both having similar dreams, it could mean a couple of things.” Encouraged by Brianna’s silence, she continued. “One, you both could have been involved in a past life together. Two, he could be your soul mate. Three, one of you has what the other needs to continue your journey to enlightenment.”
“You’re reading a lot into a dream, aren’t you?” Brianna fiddled with the phone cord.
Briannas Prophecy Page 9