by F M Andrews
“If you are sure? Is there nothing I can get for you? A drink maybe?” the young girl asked, edging towards the steps.
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine in a moment, I promise.” Eva bestowed the girl with a trembling smile.
“Alright then, but if you need anything just call,” the guide shot over her shoulder as she disappeared out the entrance.
“We don’t have much time,” Eva stated, grasping both Myssan’s hands. Myssan sat cross legged before her and closed his eyes. Immediately he felt a well of power. It was much more than in London, but it was ancient, deep seated, long forgotten and well hidden. He forced himself to relax and let his consciousness sink into the still, dark pool far below. With a sharp intake of breath he made the connection. This power was slow and rich, unlike any he had felt before, and it took him a moment to understand how to channel it.
Gingerly, he gathered it and funnelled it towards the cancerous growth that was consuming Eva’s mind. He could quickly see that the work he had previously done had been lost and the ugly growth was once again on the march. He cursed at his ignorance. He had no clear idea of how to cure this thing. Eva had tried to explain to him about something called genes and triggers but none of it really made much sense. To him, the best outcome would be to remove and destroy it. Breathing steadily to slow his heart rate, he gently began to peel the healthy flesh away from the diseased, carefully making sure not to disrupt the blood flow through the mass. Next he isolated a chunk and imagined that it was no longer in Eva but instead, sitting in his hand. The sensation of something small and wet falling into his palm was so wonderful that he lost the connection for a moment and, unable to resist the temptation, he quickly glanced down and there in his hand a lump of dark flesh quivered, announcing a world of possibilities and promise.
They both sat looking at this ugly lump of hope, identical slow smiles on their faces. Without speaking Eva sat back and closed her eyes and Myssan once more called for the power; however, this time the power was much more elusive and when he did finally connect, he found, to his dismay, that it was almost gone. This small miracle had nearly emptied the pool. Desperately tired, his limbs heavy and his eyes bleary he reached further. He had to make the most of this opportunity. He painstakingly isolated another small section and feeling the last vestiges of power slipping from him, transported it into his hand to join the first piece. The well was now dry. Years of accumulated power used in a single day. Myssan was exhausted. Quietly Eva stood and reached down to give him a helping hand up. They had tried. They had proven that it was possible but they had just run out of luck. Leaning heavily on each other they slowly climbed the stairs, waved reassuringly to the young guide and made their way down the road to the pub.
#
Eva had begun to suspect that Myssan was not just a figment of her imagination the evening of her dance performance. It was the little things such as Mike offering him a drink and Sally smiling demurely up at him. Others could see him too. Then there was the kisses that had blown her out of the water. They had such a profound effect on her that she still tingled and blushed just thinking of them. He was a solid, warm, comforting presence, but now she had come to terms with the fact that he might actually be real and that she wasn’t insane, a whole new worry assailed her. What if he was crazy? All this talk of another world, the fight between good and evil and, worst of all, his claim that he could heal her. It sure sounded like the ravings of a lunatic.
She reasoned that no sane person would listen to him let alone go along with his ideas. Surely it was all just too farfetched? The only thing giving him credence was the fact that he could talk to her with his mind and that was not something you come across every day, she said to herself jokingly, yet through their mind talk Eva could tell that his intentions were all good. So far the overwhelming impressions she received was of honour, trustworthiness and, dare she admit it, love. She had shrugged her shoulders and decided to go along for the ride, but the moment that the ugly lump of flesh had appeared in his hand everything changed and she hoped like hell everything he had said and everything he had done was real. Her head certainly felt a little different, a little less painful. She gave a small laugh, thinking of the irony of the situation. Now that she finally believed he could cure her, they had run out of power to do so.
Dejectedly they walked down the street. “I suppose there is no point staying here the night now,” Myssan observed. “Might as well go back to your place.”
Eva felt drained, so weary, all she wanted to do was sleep. “I don’t think I can make it home,” she sighed. “Let’s just go to the pub and hope the beds are comfortable,” she finished with a wan smile.
The weather had taken a turn for the worse while they were in the cave. The ominous grey sky had lowered to roof height and as they walked the few blocks to the Red Bull a light flurry of snowflakes danced and whirled around their heads. The predicted snow storm had arrived. The inn’s windows glowed welcomingly through the gloom and they were both grateful to step into its cosy lounge and close the door on the chill outside. A warm fire was crackling in the fireplace and soft lights reflected off the polished wooden bar and sparkling glassware behind it.
“Welcome! Bit nippy out there today!” A jovial, middle-aged man in an apron, polishing glasses with a cloth, called a greeting to them from behind the bar. “What can I get you two?”
“Two of your best bitters please,” Eva called.
“Right oh. You make yourselves comfortable and I will bring them over.” Making their way to the soft arm chairs near the fire, they took off their coats and sank gratefully into their welcoming embrace with matching sighs. They were virtually alone, apart from one loved up couple in the corner. In no time, the publican appeared with a tray on which were two identical, tall glasses full of ale. “Here we are,” he said, placing the glasses on the small table in front of them. “You must be the two who have booked a room with us tonight?” He beamed down at them, lifting an enquiring eyebrow. Eva nodded over the top of her glass. “You here on business then? Only we don’t get many tourists through here really.” He chuckled at his own joke.
“Actually, we are here as sort of tourists,” Eva replied after taking an appreciative sip of her drink. “We are looking at ley lines.”
“Ah! You’ll be wanting to talk with Roby then,” the landlord exclaimed nodding his head knowingly.
“Roby?” Eva queried.
“Yes, yes. Old Roby. There ain't nothing he doesn't know about ley lines and druids and some such. He will be in later tonight. I will tell him you would like a word, if you like?” he finished still smiling benevolently down at them.
“Thank you, that would be great,” Eva replied returning his smile.
“Ah well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it then,” he announced as he turned and made his way back to the bar.
[CL27]#
Eva was finding it impossible to keep her eyes open. The early morning expedition, the warmth of the fire and her illness all conspired against her and in the end Myssan took charge and quietly helped her up the stairs to their quaint room, took off her shoes and tucked her into bed.
He stood staring out the window at the gathering storm. It’s sombre mood matched his own. His eternal optimism was being sorely tested. What he had seen within Eva’s brain was truly disturbing. She was dying before his eyes and it appeared that there was nothing he could do about it. His only hope now was that Eva would last long enough to cross to Feld but it would be a close-run thing.
He turned and moved across to sit in the chair by her bedside. She was beautiful and tragic all at once. She lay facing him, her face almost translucent amongst the shock of dark hair that haloed her head on the pillow. Her brow was slightly furrowed in pain and her mouth pulled up at the corners every now and then as if dealing with another wave of agony. He felt so helpless and frustrated. What use was it to be a wizard in a world where he could not access power? He stood, suddenly no longer able to sit still, and
began to pace, trying desperately to come up with a solution or even a hint of a solution.
He was still pacing several hours later when Eva’s eyes flickered open. She smiled a sweet sad smile at him that stopped his breathing and seared his heart. She stretched luxuriously and sat up, her hair spiking out at all angles somehow making her even more beautiful, and announced, “I’m hungry.” Then asked, “What time is it?” as she checked her phone.
Together they wandered back down the stairs. There were a lot more people in the pub now and the pleasant hum of conversation created a welcoming atmosphere. They found an empty booth and settled down to look at the menu. Once the decision was made, Eva navigated her way to the bar to place the order and Myssan glanced around at the other customers thinking to himself that he could easily be in any inn back in Feld. These people were not so different in spite of all their technical advancements. They all still enjoyed good food, good beer and good company. Eva returned with two glasses of beer, which she placed in front of them before plopping herself down, elbows on the table, head resting in her palms. She had a twinkle in her eye and a small smile playing on her lips. Reaching for her hand, Myssan asked. “Come on, out with it. What have you found out?” he laughed. She was hopeless at guarding her thoughts.
“Apparently Roby will be in shortly, and apparently Roby just happens to be the world's leading expert on mythical England according to our landlord.” Obviously Eva thought the publican might just be a bit biased but there was a kernel of hope buried somewhere in her thoughts as well. They had nearly finished their hearty meal when Roby arrived. He was tall and slim and well dressed, with a shock of white hair and a neatly trimmed white beard that framed his ruddy cheeks, his eyes were a clear, startling blue.
“Would ye be the young couple interested in our ley lines then?” he asked. To Myssan, his words sounded quite different from any he had heard before but Eva had no trouble understanding him.
“Yes, yes that's us,” she replied. “Here, please join us.” She scooted over making room and quickly introduced herself and Myssan, explaining that he could not speak, and then asked. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“That would be kind of you lass. I’ll have a malt whisky if it’s not too much trouble.” Eva caught the eye of the young bar maid as she passed and made the order. “It is so rare these days to find anyone interested in the past,” Roby exclaimed enthusiastically. “Now what would you[CL28] like to know?”
“Well, we know that there is a ley line that runs through here, but is it the only one?”
“Och na lassy. This is the St Michael's ley line that runs East to West through the bottom of our fair land but there be many other lines.”
Eva sat up straighter. “What would have been considered the most powerful line, you know, back in the days of druids?” she asked getting quickly to the point.
“Och, well now, that would have had to be at Avebury, which sits at the junction of three powerful ley lines. St Michael's, St Joseph's and the pyramid axis.” He counted these off on his fingers as he spoke. “They all come together in the stone circle at Avebury,” he continued enthusiastically. His drink arrived, momentarily distracting him. “Thank you my dear, very kind,” he murmured, raising his glass in salute. After taking an appreciative sip he sat back and sighed. “Ah, a good wee drop.”
Eva had been quickly looking up Avebury on her phone. “That's not too far from here. It should only take about half a day to get there,” she announced as she handed Roby her device to check that she had the right Avebury. Roby squinted at the screen, then, giving up he reached into his pocket to retrieve a pair of glasses and took another look.
“Aye, that’s the place alright,” he confirmed. He began to hand the phone back but paused half way as if something had just occurred to him. “Ye know, this is good timing, exceptional really. On the twenty-first of March, the spring equinox[CL29], the path of the rising sun lies directly down the St Michael’s line. It is one of the most significant and powerful days of the year. What date is it today?” he mumbled to himself tapping his chin with his forefinger as if trying to remember.
“The Nineteenth” Eva exclaimed excitedly. “We could get there easily to be in time for the sunrise.” She beamed at Myssan, who felt an answering flutter of excitement in his own chest.
Roby took another sip and studied his glass appreciatively. “The only problem is that there has to be a ‘Sunrise’. If there are clouds it doesn’t quite have the same effect,” he mused almost to himself, then looking up at their disappointed faces he quickly added. “But it will still be a wonderful experience. I have done it a couple of times now and it always gives me goose bumps.”
Roby was good company, knowledgeable, quick-witted, with a belly laugh that you could not help but join in with and the evening passed in a blur of merriment. The night flew by and in no time they found themselves climbing the stairs unsteadily back up to their room. It had been a crazy, topsy-turvy day going from hope to despair and back to hope again, and both of them were thoroughly exhausted.
The snow had arrived in full force the next morning, forcing them to address the elephant in the room. Their time was running out. There was only a few days left before they had to be back in London at the pickup point. And the burning question was: ‘would it be better to go back home to Eva's place now to ensure that they could make it in time for Errin’s pick up, hoping that Eva would be well enough and that Errin would be in a position to heal her once they crossed over or should they risk going to Avebury so that Myssan could try to heal her, but in doing so, risk being unable to make it back to London in time, due to the snowstorm.’ There was just too many unknowns for them to be able to make a decision. However, for Myssan, sitting around doing nothing seemed so much more heartbreakingly difficult than actually trying to do something, even if he failed, and although it was her life in the balance Eva was happy to go along with Myssan’s decision. For her, there was hope either way. Hope where a few short days ago, there had been none.
Myssan wiped the condensation from the bus window and stared out at the swirling whiteness. It had taken them most of the day to travel to Swindon by train, changing at several stations and the snow storm had become noticeably worse as the day had progressed. They had had to take a bus for the last leg of the journey to Avebury, the driver squinting through the windscreen, trying to see the road through the blizzard conditions in the rapidly dwindling light. They had now slowed to a snail's pace and Myssan hoped that they would not become stranded. He was impressed by how warm it was inside the bus despite the bitter cold just a window-width away. It was cosy and comfortable and Eva had snuggled close to bestow several tender kisses on him, kisses that were taking him to places he was not sure he would ever be allowed to go but, thankfully, she had eventually fallen asleep, her feet curled up on the seat and her head resting on his lap. Absently he stroked her hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear.
He was worried about her. Her breathing was shallow and she felt hot to touch. She had never complained, but he noticed that she was taking much more pain medication now than when he had first met her and she seemed to tire much more quickly. In a strange sort of way the bus ride in the storm mirrored his life at the moment. Disaster was swirling all around him yet he was cocooned in a bubble of denial, making the most of each moment, unable to acknowledge anything coming towards them.
He did not want to be reminded of the reality of their situation. Suddenly everything was hinging on a single day, the twenty-first of March, the spring equinox, which was still two precious days away. So many things were out of his control. Would this storm clear in time to allow the sun to shine? Would there be enough power to heal Eva? And if so, would they have enough time left to get back to London and the rendezvous point? Deep in his gut a voice was calling. Had he made the wrong decision? Had he selfishly forced them to come all this way just because he could not sit by and do nothing? He took a deep breath and pushed all these
doubts away; he would deal with them later. At the moment he needed to focus on the most important thing in his life right now, and that was Eva.
A dark shape loomed out of the whiteness, passing by the window and disappearing again. A standing stone, Myssan assumed. Soon after, the bus slowed and came to a stop, the bus driver announcing, “Avebury, folks.” Shaking Eva gently, Myssan reached for his pack and they stumbled down the aisle, climbing into their coats. Waving their thanks to the driver they clambered down the steps and out into the freezing blast of icy wind, which made them both gasp for breath. They stood trying to get their bearings but the world was white and when the solid presence of the bus pulled away they felt suddenly stranded. Fortunately a particularly savage gust of wind parted the snowflakes long enough to show them a yellow glow off to one side and, gratefully, they stumbled towards it until they finally stood beneath the sign of the Red Lion swinging dangerously in the wind and sighed with relief.
The bus driver had not let them down, kindly dropping them right outside the inn. Eva had made bookings that morning before they left Royston. Opening the door they almost fell across the threshold as a blast of snow-laden air blew the door inwards. Eventually, they managed to close the door once more and made their way into the lounge area, shaking heavy flakes off their shoulders.
“Well, well, well. What have we here then?” A jovial voice cut across the low buzz of conversation. “Didn’t think you would make it tonight, but here you are!” A rotund man in his early fifties was walking towards them, wiping his hands on a tea towel. He had a large thatch of bright red hair and a smile as wide as his face. “Welcome to the Red Lion. Your room is all ready for you. I’ll get Trixie to show you up.” He beamed, then turned and bellowed, “Trixie! You there, girl?”