by F M Andrews
A thin, blond girl in tight dark clothing appeared as if by magic and quipped in a jokingly familiar manner. “All right, Da, I’ve got this, you can relax now.” She turned to Eva and Myssan bestowing them with a smile as identically wide as her father's. “Nice to meet you. Please follow me, your room is this way.”
The inn was old, history oozed out of every corner, every wall, every step.
“You were lucky to get a room over these two days,” Trixie informed them as they followed her down the narrow hall. “Normally we are fully booked for the spring equinox but we've had several cancellations due to the storm.” She stopped outside a door. “Here we are,” she said as she opened the door to their room. “When you are ready, come down for supper,” she called as she walked away.
The room was small with steeply sloping ceilings. Apparently the Red Lion was built in the Tudor style with a thatched roof and, according to its blurb on the internet, it was the only inn situated within a ring of standing stones. The steady fall of thick white flakes outside danced in the light that shone out through their lattice window. It made the room feel as if it were isolated in time, a warm, cosy retreat from the world. Myssan pulled the heavy drapes to keep the heat in and Eva flopped backwards onto the large, comfortable looking bed and stared up at the ceiling.
“Here we are at last,” she sighed. “What do you think we should do now?” The invitation was clearly written in her smile and Myssan would never know if it was the seclusion of the snowstorm isolating them both from the expectations of their respective worlds, or something else entirely, but he was incapable of refusing her any longer. He grinned down wickedly at her before he leapt, causing the bed to creak and Eva to squeal delightedly.
Propping himself up on an elbow he gazed down at her, noticing the long sweep of her dark eyelashes against the delicate blush on her cheeks.
“I think that we seriously need to address the fact that I am having a lot of difficulty trying not to kiss you,” he grinned.
“Why, sir! I am sure I don’t know what you mean,” Eva teased, biting her lower lip and batting those wonderful eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and naive.
“Then I see that it is obvious that I have no choice but to enlighten you,” he murmured, nibbling her earlobe and then slowly working his way down her neck.
Eva arched her back and quietly moaned. “Yes, please.”
Rising once more onto his elbow he let his fingers trace a line down to her exquisite breasts still hidden beneath her usual bulky jersey and stared into her eyes, suddenly serious. He needed desperately to tell her how he felt, to let her know that she was the most amazing person he had ever met. It was important to him that she understood that.
“I am at your mercy, so be gentle with me,” he began. “You have stolen my heart and taken my reason. You are a creature of bewitchment and bewilderment and I am completely under your spell,” he whispered into her mind.
Unexpectedly, glistening tears appeared in her dark eyes. “Why didn’t we find each other sooner?” she lamented. “Why did I have to wait till I was dying to find my prince charming? It’s all so unfair.” She sighed, reaching up to thread her fingers deep in his curls and then, slowly but firmly, she drew him close until their lips met in a soft, perfect kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Several lifetimes later, Myssan sat up, drinking in her glowing face.
There was no need for words. Making love had connected them in a way that neither of them had ever experienced before. There could be no lies, no deceit between them now. Their emotions and true feelings were an open book to each other. Their love, respect and devotion to each other amplified that wonderful warm glow that is love. Both wanted to drink in this moment, make it last forever, enveloped in their cosy bed, hidden deep within the blanketed world of thick, falling snow. Eventually they fell contentedly asleep.
Myssan woke several hours later, still holding Eva in his arms while she slept and decided it was as good a time as any to see exactly how much power he could touch here. Cautiously, he reached for it and immediately he could feel its presence all around him. It was a strong current, fed from three directions that all came together deep within the circle but he could feel that it was limited as if it was a reservoir that could be emptied. He could only hope that the sun would be shining the day after tomorrow. It was literally their last hope on this world.
Hunger pangs finally forced them from their bed. Descending the stairs, they entered a lounge full of people. The smell of wet wool, rich food and beer combined to make it feel very homely and friendly. It turned out that most of the people were here for the same reason as they were, to see the sunrise of the spring equinox, and instantly they were included into the fold. The weather was the main topic of conversation and all seemed to be clinging to the hope that the forecast was for the storm to clear tomorrow. Throughout the evening Myssan kept a close eye on Eva and as soon as he saw her begin to tire he whisked her upstairs to a chorus of cat calls and innuendos. The moment her head touched the pillow her eyes closed and the deep rhythmic breathing of her sleeping was music to his ears. She needed all the rest she could get. The next few days were going to be pivotal to the wellbeing of this world, Feld and the universe as a whole.
Over a delicious breakfast of bacon and eggs the next morning they began to discuss the logistics of the days ahead. “Assuming that the trains and busses are running again we would have to leave here mid-morning if we are to reach London by evening,” Eva pronounced, checking her phone. She paused and looked up at Myssan questioningly. “Exactly where in London do we need to be?” she asked.
Myssan blinked and the colour drained from his face. He had been so worried about Eva and time running out that he had not actually thought of finding out his final destination. “I have a drawing up in the room,” he replied shakily. “Other than that I have no idea.” Without bothering to finish their food, they both raced back upstairs to their room. Eva studied the drawing, making small muttering sounds as Myssan paced impatiently. How could he have been so stupid?
“Well, it could be any high street really; there are no street names.” She sighed. “But I have one more thing to try.” It took Eva most of the morning, a morning Myssan spent staring out the window, watching the snow flurries, wondering if it would be wishful thinking or reality that they were becoming lighter, whilst Eva did her research.
Just as he was beginning to think it could be time for lunch, Eva announced that she may have found location of the elusive spot depicted in his drawing and, with a flourish, she placed her phone next to his picture. The image was identical. Myssan swept her up in his arms and spun her around laughing happily. “You are a wizard of the highest order,” he quipped. Then, placing her gently back on the bed, he bowed to her and added, “Wizard Eva, I am in your debt once again.”
She chortled, delighted at his joy, but held up a finger in caution. “We now have to work out how to get there in the shortest possible time.” Myssan noticed that despite the smile her skin was grey and her fingers were constantly pressing at her temples as if to ease the pain. He had also noticed that she was having to take much more of her pain medication more frequently. To all appearances, the fact that he had extracted a small amount of tumour in Royston did not seem to be making a difference. She was putting a brave face on it all; however, he could see that she was in constant pain now and, once again, he felt the desperation of time slipping through his fingers.
Eva did not improve after lunch. Myssan held her hair back as she vomited repeatedly with the pain. He could sense that she was losing her fight as moment by moment her strength waned and her agony increased. Tears of pure misery coursed down her cheeks and she began to shiver violently in shock. He could not stand to see her like this. He had known all along that she was suffering, he could feel it through their connection, but she had put such a brave face on it that he had not realized just how excruciating the pain and disorientation was. It wasn’t until sh
e finally did not have enough energy left to put up a facade that he could experience and understand the living hell she had been enduring. The reality that she may not last until sunrise terrified him as he knew that, at present, he simply could not access enough power to heal her.
Late in the evening she slipped into unconsciousness, a blessed release from her suffering, but causing him even more concern and worry. The night was interminable, stretching on forever in a haze of uncertainty. He found himself on a knife edge between hope and despair, wound so tight that he wondered if he would be able to contain the kinetic power of the anguish building up within him. The force was so strong that he feared it eventually might explode, taking any semblance of reason with it. He paced, although it did not help. He sat by her bed holding her hand, and that did not help. Finally in the dead of night he broke down and cried. Huge sobs wracked his body as he gave into his grief, letting all the worry and feeling of inadequacy he had been pushing out of his mind overwhelm him as he wallowed in a mire of self-pity. It was cathartic, a purge so to speak, and slowly the sobbing stopped and the tears dried up, until at last, exhausted, he too fell asleep.
He woke bathed in the faint, pre-dawn glow. Leaping from his chair his heart skipped a beat. Had he overslept? Had the sun topped the horizon? Had he missed his one chance? Racing to the window he anxiously peered out, breathing a huge sigh of relief as he discovered that dawn was still a wee way off. Ironically it was going to be a beautiful day. The snow had stopped and there was only the odd cloud in the pale blue sky. He had an uninterrupted view of the circle covered in its soft blanket of snow through which a few hardy souls were already making their way towards the centre.
Eva’s breathing was becoming shallow and irregular, her skin clammy. She was not going to wake and he was faced with the fact that he was going to have to carry her. Carefully he dressed her in her warmest clothes: her coat, gloves, boots, hat and lastly he wrapped her red, knitted scarf tenderly around her neck. Scooping her frail body into his arms he made his way down the stairs and out into the new day. He followed the deep footsteps, the only blemish on a world of pristine white, until he reached the small gathering, huddled in their winter clothing, their white breath streaming into the icy air. Smiling openly at them he hoped that people would think Eva was still asleep. Gently he kissed her forehead, sadly acknowledging that he could not reach her at all. He was going to have to do this without help.
The buzz of excitement from his fellow watchers made him look up just in time to see the very first ray of sun pierce the horizon and streak through the exact centre of the stone circle. It transformed the snow into a jewel encrusted carpet, sparkling so brightly that Myssan had to squint, but it was the glorious surge of power that accompanied the sun that took his breath away and nearly brought him to his knees. It was like bursting to the surface of a dark pool and gulping in a huge breath of sweet, life-giving air after being trapped underwater for too long. The power poured into him in a torrent. Gasping, he tried to channel it, to tame it. This was so different from anything he had experienced before. It was not the steady, ancient power that built up below the ley lines and it was not the solid, all-encompassing power of Feld. This was a lightning bolt that sizzled.
He was never going to be able to quietly tap into it and carefully remove Eva’s tumour, yet maybe he could redirect it to destroy the blot in her brain, use it as a weapon of sorts. Closing his eyes he delved back into the now familiar territory of Eva’s head and concentrated on a tiny piece of the ugly mass residing there. Slowly he directed the power to the spot and released it. He was shaking, the concentration and effort to control the surging bolt was intense, but it had worked. He could hardly believe it. The shot had completely destroyed it. Becoming bolder he targeted a larger area and once again he was rewarded as the section shrivelled and simply disappeared. Aware that this moment of power would be limited he aimed for an even larger slice, being very careful to avoid any healthy tissue, and to his delight it also vanished. This was wonderful, and for the first time he allowed himself to believe that he might just do it. Several shots later he began to sense that the power was slowly decreasing as the sun rose higher and higher. Frantically he selected larger and larger chunks in a race against time and begrudgingly, he was having to sacrifice precision to do so. He was swaying on his feet, totally exhausted when the power finally switched off like a light, but he had done it. She was free of the spectre of death that she had lived with for so long. She would recover and live. He sank into the snow, Eva still in his arms, and wept.
Someone patted him sympathetically on the shoulder as they passed, returning him to the moment. Opening his eyes he drank in Eva’s peaceful face. She was still pale but she was now taking deep, regular breaths. He had hoped she would wake, that she would be well instantly. He could see now that this was wishful thinking. The thought that he might have caused damage in his haste gnawed at his insides. What if she never woke again? What if she was damaged beyond repair, beyond healing? Blindly he stumbled back towards the inn, Eva still in his arms. He had no idea what he was going to do now. His whole world had been thrown into chaos. He did not know how to reach London, let alone the rendezvous. He could not speak to anyone, ask anyone's help, he had lost his guide, his friend and his lover all at once.
Not knowing what else to do, he made his way upstairs back to their room and gently placed Eva on the bed, noticing that a little colour was returning to her cheeks. With extreme care he tiptoed softly back into her brain to check that he had not done any permanent damage. There was a little bruising and some very slight swelling but other than that, she appeared whole. Sitting by her bed, he nervously watched the morning tick by and still Eva did not wake. He became increasingly nervous as the shadows silently crept across the room and in the end he came to the conclusion that he could wait no longer. The sands of time were running out, and it was up to him now. ‘Desperate times called for desperate actions,’ he thought, quoting one of Eva’s favourite sayings. But what action could he do exactly? Glancing around the room his eyes fell on the scrap of paper that Eva had scribbled the address of the pickup point in London on the day before. He tried to make sense of it but it was just a jumble of symbols to him. What he needed was a replacement guide. Although he knew that, even if he did find someone it was going to be very difficult to initiate any communication with them. He collapsed into the chair running his fingers through his hair in frustration.
A quiet tap on the door pulled him out of his funk and threw him into a panic. ‘Ignore it,’ he thought. ‘They’ll go away.’ But the knock came again, this time accompanied with a voice and judging by the inflection they were asking a question. It was Trixie. Cautiously he opened the door a crack and peered out. She was standing in the dim hall, a worried expression creasing her brow. Repeating her query, she stood waiting for an answer. A thought flashed through his mind, maybe this was a message from the universe, maybe Trixie could help. He tried a shy smile and opened the door wider so that Trixie could see Eva asleep then he raised both his hands as if to show her he was no threat and then slowly, hesitantly reached one forward to touch Trixie’s hand hanging by her side.
“Please I need your help,” he asked softly. Trixie jumped backwards, her eyes wide with shock. Myssan backed away but held out one hand as he had done with Eva when they had first met a lifetime ago. Trixie spoke again but Myssan shook his head to show he did not understand and raised his offered hand slightly, his eyes pleading. Gingerly Trixie reached forward and touched him with one finger. “I am so sorry to involve you, but I have no one else to turn to,” he thought. Encouragingly she did not remove her finger. Instead she just stood staring at him. “I cannot speak your language. Eva was my voice but she is gravely ill now. To save her we need to get back to London as soon as possible, to her doctor, and I don’t know how!” He paused, fighting back tears. “Her life depends on it.” Some side part of his brain wondered how it was possible to lie to Trixie. Was it because th
eir connection was not as deep as it was with Eva, the shard’s host?
“How do you do that? Are you a ventriloquist?” Trixie broke into his musings, testing to see if he could hear her thoughts. Myssan was confused. He didn’t know what a ventriloquist was.
“No, I come from another … place and I don't know your language but we have learned to communicate through touch ...” he explained quickly. “We really need help and we need it today.” Trixie’s confusion turned into wonder as she realized that he had read her thoughts. This was not a trick, it was real.
“Wh—where do you come from? This is great. So exciting, I can’t wait to tell my friends. They’ll think it’s so cool.” Trixie’s excitement bubbled and Myssan panicked.
“It is something we keep secret. No one has ever revealed it to anyone outside my country before and if it was found out that I have done so, I would be hunted down and executed. It is only that I am so desperate to save Eva’s life that I have broken the silence. I simply had no other choice. Please don’t ask any more questions as I can’t answer them without jeopardizing our lives further,” he implored.
“But what can I do? I can’t leave here, I have to work. This is one of the busier days of the year for us,” Trixie thought back at him, enunciating every word extra clearly in her mind. The equivalent of shouting.
Myssan winced slightly then sighed, his face falling in disappointment. It had been worth a try yet he knew it had been a long shot. Trixie came closer, a sympathetic look in her eyes and he did not try to conceal his misery. What was the point?