The stone daggers were raised and the Magates shuffled towards me, blocking out more and more of the light from outside as they came. The only thing I could do was back up - deeper into the cave, and further away from safety.
I felt exhausted through the effects of my fear and the lack of sleep. I also now realised that it was partly down to the fact that I hadn't been able to maintain my stores of energy. There had been no ley lines to draw on as I flew over Scania and my single blast had drained what little power I had. I was done.
That combination probably led to the stumble and suddenly I was on my back and the Magates were upon me. And then I felt one of the daggers narrowly miss my chest and it struck the floor of the tunnel beside me. The near miss somehow gave me a little boost of energy and I scrambled backwards as fast as I could.
The Magates were deadly but in my favour they were also relatively slow so I managed to get out of range fairly easily. Once I was far enough from them, I got to my feet and began running along the passage. Although it was dark I trusted my senses and did my best to put distance between myself and the stone warriors.
Of course the biggest problem was that I was running away from my only means of escape.
Just then I sensed an opening on my left and I slowed to a stop so that I could investigate. The opening wasn't a deep one but it was perhaps enough for me to hide out in. With any luck the Magates would pass and I could then run the opposite way, towards the cave mouth and the open air.
It took considerable nerve to simply stand there and wait for the slow moving stone warriors to catch up. I could hear them clumping slowly along the passageway and the steady rhythm was like a form of torture.
Instead of passing my hideout, they stopped and I thought that my number was really up this time. At that very moment, by some kind of miracle, I heard a familiar voice.
"Sean? Sean! I know it's late, but Brenda's on the phone."
I sat up bolt upright in my bed, the image of the grim Magates with their stone daggers was still vivid in my mind. I felt frozen and the terror was still very much gripping me.
"Sean? Are you awake? Did you hear? Brenda's on the phone."
My bedside clock said it was 00:25. I had no idea what had possessed my girl to phone at this hour, but at that moment I loved her more than life itself.
Somehow, I managed to get myself out of bed and downstairs, where I picked up the handset.
"Sean? Look, I'm really sorry it's so late, but somehow I just felt I had to call."
"Brenda Thomas, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you!"
"Sean, are you alright?"
"I am, now. Listen, it's too late to talk now. I'll come over first thing before school. Before you go, though, I've got the thing I needed for your Mom."
"Oh, Sean! That's wonderful."
We said goodnight, and I returned to bed. I set my alarm to get me up early, but I didn't think there was a hope in hell that I would sleep. My exhaustion was all too real however, and I was out before my head hit the pillow.
How Brenda had sensed my need for rescue I have no idea, but she had, and that's what mattered. I had told her on the phone that I had found what I needed to try to help her Mother, and that I would be over to her house early.
My alarm woke me at 06:30 so I could get up and make it to Brenda's before school. I lay for a few moments, re-living the recent events that I had barely managed to live through.
The fear I had experienced in the cave was like nothing I'd ever endured before. The Magates had been close to ending everything. I had stared my own death in the face! The image of the stone daggers was hard to shift from my mind.
I also remembered the argument with Charles before I had flown off. No sooner had that thought come to me than I heard the voice inside my head. For the first time the voice wasn't as sure and as certain as it normally was. I sensed there was some fear and concern behind it.
From eavesdropping I now knew that Charles only had limited access to my thoughts and I realised he wouldn't have any idea what had happened to me.
"I'm all right, and I'm back in the 'other-world'. Please accept my apologies for my childish and rude behaviour. On my next visit we really need to have a discussion about your study plan for me. Several times the lack of specific training made my life difficult, in fact, could possibly have caused my death."
That was probably harsh, but I wasn't feeling very charitable to my teacher at that moment. Yes, I had been childish. But there were things about me, and about Gael, which Charles had been keeping from me. I believed it was high time that that should stop!
His views about the value of a human life were also something we needed to get straight between us.
Having let him know I was safe, I broke the connection between us.
It was time to get up, showered and dressed if I was going to do what I planned before heading over to Brenda's. If I could process some of the Naturm Sulph crystal quickly enough, I could make some pills to start treating Mrs Thomas straight away. I thought that would be good.
Mom had bought me all of the stuff I needed to do this. The first job was to grind the crystal down using the mortar and pestle and then I punched out thirty or so little pills using the pill-maker. I placed them in a plastic bag.
The drive to the Thomas' house took only ten minutes and when I arrived, I was worried that it was still too early to be ringing their doorbell.
The appearance of Grandma Barnes at the door, even before I could ring the bell, told me I was worrying needlessly. I could see Brenda hopping from one foot to the other, behind the older woman.
Not for the first time I noticed how cute my girlfriend was!
Grandma Barnes managed to do that adult thing with one eyebrow, as Brenda grabbed my arm and dragged me upstairs to her room. She closed the door behind us and then turned to look at me.
Usually I was impressed by how she could tap into my moods, but this morning was different.
"Okay, Mister. Tell me why I had this sudden need to phone you in the middle of the night?"
I didn't know the answer to that question and in fact wanted to know myself what had made her make that call.
"I really have no idea. Why don't we sit down and try to work that out, together?"
"All right."
"Later, though. I need to talk to you about something else first."
"I should think so, too! The way you were talking last night it sounded as though you had been in real danger."
That was more like the Brenda I knew - she was able to look beyond the words I used sometimes and sense when things weren't right.
My face was red with embarrassment when I began my story. I had to admit to eavesdropping on Grandma and Charles' conversation and then to arguing with my teacher. Telling someone else about my childish behaviour, and about my throwing a tantrum and then flying off, made it seem much worse somehow.
Brenda shivered when I described the rats and then her whole body tensed up when I took her through the appearance of the Magates, and what had nearly happened.
It's nice when your girlfriend throws herself at you and that's what happened next. She was clearly upset by my revelations; upset at how close to death it seems I had come.
"If you hadn't called when you did..."
"Don't, Sean! I don't want to think about it any more."
Having an excuse to just sit and hug her was fine with me, but eventually I knew we had to talk about the reason for my journey into Scania and the pills I had made from the crystals.
Brenda's focus returned when I pulled the small plastic bag from my pocket.
"I don't know how we're going to convince your Mom to take these, but she needs to have one three times a day."
That led to a discussion about possible ways to do that. Brenda already had complete faith in me, and in my abilities. She was positive that my pills would do the trick and her focus was entirely on how to get her Mom to take the pills.
"I think we should have two plans. We can try to sell your credentials first, but if Mom gives us the brush-off, then I'll find someway to have her take the pills without her knowing!"
I was uncomfortable with the idea of somehow tricking Mrs Thomas into doing something she didn't want to, but I hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Our campaign of trying to win her Mom over had to start immediately, of course. Mrs Thomas had a virulent cancer and there was absolutely no time to lose. We decided on a direct approach and went back downstairs to join her family over breakfast.
Not surprisingly there was a solemn mood in the kitchen. Mr and Mrs Thomas were sitting at the breakfast bar and Grandma Barnes was pottering around minding the stove.
"Mom, Dad, we've got something we need to talk to you about," Brenda began.
She looked over at me, expecting me to take the lead I guess. I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous because of how important this discussion was going to be.
"Mrs Thomas, for quite a while now I have been studying herbology and homeopathic medicines. I've had success in helping clear up some serious illnesses. You might think this sounds a little - no, hold on a minute, scratch that. You will find this very hard to believe, but I think I have something that might help with your cancer."
Both Brenda's parents looked at me as if I had just told a particularly bad joke.
"He's serious, Mom. I know he can do what he says, I've seen the proof," said Brenda, trying to lend her support.
The looks were still extremely sceptical. I took the plastic bag from my pocket and held it up.
"I made these pills from a natural crystal of Sodium Sulfate. The chemical naturally targets damaged cells, sucking the water out of them so that they quickly decay and die. I'm pretty sure that it will work with the cancer cells in your body, Mrs Thomas."
Dillon Thomas decided he had heard enough. He was concerned that the discussion was upsetting his wife and he moved to put a stop to it.
"All right. I know you both mean well, but this is a very serious thing that's attacking your Mom, Brenda. We're going to make sure she gets the best medical attention there is and pray that she can pull through."
I somehow knew I had to stop Mr Thomas before he managed to build up a head of steam.
"Mrs Thomas, what have the doctors told you about the chances of an operation or chemotherapy working?"
Mrs Thomas didn't like the question, but once again I could see the courage of this woman as she gathered herself and faced the facts as she knew them.
"My doctor says the cancer is inoperable. She only gives chemo a one in a hundred chance of slowing the spread - there is no hope that it will get rid of the cancer altogether."
This news was clearly worse than what had already been shared, because Brenda and her Dad both gasped. Brenda raised a hand up to her mouth in reaction to the shock.
"When are you scheduled to go in for the first dose of chemo?" I asked.
"I've got more tests this week and then probably chemo next week."
"From what you're saying, your own doctor doesn't hold out any hope of being able to fix this. The best she seems to be offering is a delay to when it might end your life. What have you got to lose by trying my approach?"
Now I could see some hesitation and uncertainty on her face and on her husband's face. I tried to press home my argument.
"Look, take these pills for a few days - just until you go in for your tests this week - and see whether they make any difference."
In the normal course of events the two adults would have dismissed what we were asking them to do, but this situation was far from normal. It's not every day that you're given the horrible news that you have terminal cancer and there is nothing the medical world can do to help you.
It might sound strange that Mr and Mrs Thomas were even remotely considering what I was asking, but they were both desperate and ready to clutch at any straw that was offered to them.
"All right. My appointment is Friday. I'll take your pills for two days, Sean. I hope this is not one of those 'faith' remedies, because I have absolutely no belief or conviction that it is going to do any good whatsoever."
"You don't need to believe in it, just take the pills three times a day. I have to warn you to stay home. When the chemicals start to breakdown the cells - well, let's just say it might not be pretty as to how they will leave your body."
Linda Thomas gave me a long, assessing look and then nodded to show she understood. I handed over the bag of pills and told Brenda I would drop her off at St Ann's on the way to Central.
"It's okay, Sean. I'm staying home with Mom, today," she replied.
My warning about how Linda Thomas would feel over the next two days was fairly accurate. She lost weight rapidly and it said a lot about her character that she was still able to find humor at a time like this.
"You know, Sean. If your cure for cancer doesn't work, at least you've got a pretty effective slimming product here. That's got to be worth quite a bit."
Dillon drove his wife to her appointment on Friday and I rushed over to Brenda's house as soon as school let out. To give the medical profession credit where it's due, they do try to fast-track things when there is a serious condition to be dealt with. Mrs. Thomas' tests were all being turned around without any delay.
Brenda, Grandma Barnes and I were all hanging round the window, waiting for Dillon's car to return. The phone rang and Brenda snatched it up. I watched her face for some clue as to who was calling and what message might be being delivered.
"Really? No! Really? But that's great, where are you?"
Just then, Brenda's Dad's car pulled into the drive and I could see Mrs Thomas with her cell phone up to her ear. It appeared as if mother and daughter were talking to each other and they continued to do so even as Mrs Thomas got out of the car and headed for the house.
Once she was through the door, Linda Thomas dropped her cell phone and rushed across the room to give me a tearful hug. I looked over her shoulder at Mr Thomas, feeling a little awkward. He smiled and nodded his encouragement so I put my arms around Linda and held her tight.
Once things had calmed down a little, Mrs Thomas was able to tell us how things had gone at the hospital. They had taken much longer than planned because the Oncologist had insisted on all of the tests being repeated.
"My doctor wouldn't believe the results. She said it just wasn't possible. To be honest, I think she was more worried that last week's tests had somehow been mixed up. If it wasn't for the fact that the cancer is still there - just not as bad as before - she wouldn't have believed it."
It was a much happier Thomas household than it had been a few days earlier and I was really glad that I had been able to do something for this brave woman. Mr Thomas had a tear in his eye when he shook my hand and thanked me for what I had done for his family.
The whole episode with Linda Thomas is upsetting for me to think about, even now. So I won't dwell on it, any longer. To cut a long story a little shorter, Linda continued to take the pills, and her cancer went into remission.
The doctors warned her it hadn't gone away completely and could return at any time, but the death sentence had been removed for the time being. I hadn't found a cure for cancer, but I had done enough to prolong the life of someone pretty special.
The events that had taken place on my last visit to Gael left me somewhat nervous about going back. I knew I would have to face Charles at some point and try to settle our differences. I would also have to face up to the fears I had felt ... the fear of the rats and the fear in the face of the Magates.
Instead I threw myself into my 'normal' schoolwork, and Brenda and I did some normal teenager stuff. We went to the movies and I took her out for pizza. It was almost as if the shock of nearly losing her mother and her boyfriend had made my girl want to experience lots of normal things at once.
We loaded her four-wheeler into the back of my truck and found a place where we could ride it off-road. No machine has ever had such loving attention paid to it as that thing did. Brenda was constantly tuning, polishing and oiling away to her heart's content.
Another thing I did to try to push Gael into the background a little was take up the art lessons my Mom had paid for. The lessons were once a week on a Monday night. The teacher was a middle-aged woman named Hilary Beneau.
Hilary was almost a cartoon character of what you might expect an art teacher to be. She was the epitome of 'Bohemian': outlandish dress, barefoot in the classroom, and projecting an image of being a truly free spirit.
I'll admit that I found her great fun, and she made the lessons pass quickly. My first attempts at painting were laboured, and painfully frustrating, though.
It seems that Mom's idea had been good in one sense. I was able to see what I wanted to paint very clearly inside my head. The images were extremely vivid. The frustration came from not being able to translate the images to something on the easel.
Hilary gave me great encouragement. Perhaps she was skilled at being able to identify raw talent. Anyway, slowly but surely, I started to learn the necessary technique with the brushes, the technique with blending colours and using a wash ... in a word, I got better.
After three weeks I wasn't as frustrated. I could see the progress I was making, and had confidence that if I kept at it, I would eventually be able to produce something that I was satisfied with.
During those weeks, Brenda also showed me that another carving had appeared on my birthstone. The new image wasn't what I expected it to be. I thought that my near death at the hands of the Magates was certainly significant enough to be recorded, but apparently it wasn't.
No, the new carving was easily identifiable as Linda Thomas' face. I was content with that I decided. Saving Mrs Thomas was much more important that escaping the Magates.
"I hope this doesn't mean that escaping death is going to be an everyday occurrence! I mean, if the stone is supposed to record key events in my life, surely 'near death' experiences should be up there? Please tell me that coming that close to being killed is not going to be commonplace?" I asked Brenda, perhaps only half joking.
Another thing I did to take matters into my own hands was to register Brenda and I for a short, two-day, survival course. The fact that I hadn't been prepared for certain basic things had really gotten to me. I was no longer willing to rely on Charles to decide when those studies would be covered.
I didn't include Brenda because I was worried that she might need these skills in the future, it was more about not wanting to be away from her for two days. When I told her about the course, she made it clear that she would have enrolled herself anyway if I hadn't.
Yep, she was feisty!
I did eventually give in and make another visit to Gael. Charles and I made up. It was strange to see my teacher in a different light and I realised that the near death experience with the Magates, had somehow changed my outlook on life in general.
The experience had made me want to be more in control of my own destiny, but it had also brought a new maturity. I now had a new perspective on the importance of various things. I didn't get upset at little things, anymore. However, I was more willing to argue to get my own way, on the things that really mattered.
Apart from one thing, that next visit was largely uneventful. That one thing was that I tried to take an electronic watch into dreamtime with me. When I landed in Gael, it was no longer in my pocket.
I hadn't forgotten that Charles was aware of my two previous attempts to 'smuggle' technology back with me. This third attempt was made knowing it would fail. My real intention was to try to get Charles to acknowledge the attempt, so he would need to explain to me why it didn't work, and why Grandma was so worried about me trying.
My efforts were partly successful. Charles did tell me that he was aware of all three attempts to bring 'science' as he called it, into Gael. He assured me that it wouldn't work, but he didn't go on to explain why, or to explain what problems 'science' might cause.
There followed two more years of study, of exercise and of weapons training. There was some excitement for me there, because Charles allowed me to progress to practising with a real sword and a real dagger. My expertise was much improved! My run-ins with the rats and the Magates had provided me with a very strong motivation to work hard on my training.
The biggest disappointment was that Charles did not spend any more time covering the history of Gael. This was one of the things about which we had big arguments, on this visit. I was not at all happy that I was still being kept in the dark about things, but he continually refused to talk about it. Grrrr!!!
The other thing that caused friction between us, was that Charles' views on the value of other people's lives differed significantly from mine. He continued to hold my life at a value above all others, but he would give absolutely no explanation for that. I disagreed very strongly and was also extremely annoyed that he would not explain himself.
Charles and others had let little things slip and they had given me some clues. But all they had done was heighten my curiosity. It made it worse when he wouldn't go into detail.
I'd overheard Grandma saying that my father's name was Kenneth. I had no knowledge of him other than that. Mom had point blank refused to discuss the topic (she was almost as bad as Charles!).
Aquilaire, the eagle, had referred to me as his 'Prince' and when I had mentioned this to Charles he had looked annoyed, but wouldn't talk about it.
Charles continually referred to 'our kind' as if we were different somehow and Grandma had said that 'our kind' couldn't crossover with wizards. Charles had also told Grandma that I was perhaps the most skilful of 'our kind' ever to emerge, and that he couldn't explain some of the things I could do.
Then there was the whole concept of dreamtime, and my link to 'the Road', and being able to fly and use 'the power'.
With all of that to think about, I hope I can be forgiven for being a very confused and somewhat angry young man. I pushed Charles constantly to try to find out more, but to no avail.
Several times I almost let it slip that I had overheard his conversation with Grandma. What he had said in that conversation would surely force him to tell me more? In the end I didn't, because my shame at eavesdropping was stronger than my desire to get Charles to talk.
I didn't know it during that visit, but two major events were just coming over the horizon that would finally force Charles to tell me most of what he had been holding back.
For once, the significant events didn't happen in dreamtime back in Gael. No. Both of them took place in the 'other-world' of the Midwest.
My painting had improved beyond all recognition. Hilary couldn't quite understand how somebody could get so much better, so quickly. I didn't tell her that I had taken my painting materials into dreamtime and I had therefore managed to fit two years of practise into one night!
My teacher was even talking about the possibility of trying to have some of my work exhibited. While I found her suggestion flattering, I didn't think a life as an artist was in my future.
It was my improved skill with paintbrush and paint, which caused the first significant event.
Brenda and I had been out at the local Mickey D's. We were hoping to sneak up to my room to spend some quality time together. When we entered my house, there was no sign of Mom downstairs and I wondered where she might be. Then we both heard a scream from upstairs.
Both of us ran up the stairs to find Mom in a heap on my bedroom floor. This was my first chance to use my recent survival training and I quickly checked Mom's pulse and got her into the recovery position.
Brenda rushed off and returned with a damp cloth, which she used to sponge Mom's face. The cool water seemed to do the trick and Mom's eyes fluttered as she regained consciousness.
"Mom? Mom, are you all right? What happened?" I asked.
Mom's eyes glanced upwards, over my shoulder. I was kneeling beside her, and had to swivel to see what she was looking at. There was an easel set up in my room. I had nearly finished a painting I was going to give to Brenda as a present. That's what Mom was looking at.
The painting was a collection of things from my dreamtime in Gael. It showed the stone circle with the eagles flying above it. Mòr Dubh was there too, rearing up on his hind legs. The most dominant feature however, was Charles and Gwendolin standing outside Grandma's cabin.
If I wasn't mistaken, Mom had fainted when she had seen the painting, and even now its presence was disturbing her. To say I was surprised would be an understatement.
"Mom, what's wrong? It's only a painting. I was hoping to give it to Brenda as a surprise."
A glance at my girlfriend told me that my gift was going to be gratefully received. She had a big grin on her cute face.
Mom was shaking her head and trying to get to her feet, clearly she wanted to get away from the painting. The strong reaction told me that this was something important. I decided to call her on it.
"Mom! There is clearly something about this painting that upsets you. I think you need to stop running away."
Mom physically flinched when she heard the words 'running away'. It occurred to me that she might have taken them as an accusation about something much bigger than the painting.
Charles and Grandma had both told me that Mom had taken me when I was a baby and run away from Gael.
For a moment it looked as if Mom was going to come down on me hard, just like she had when I was younger and she didn't like me talking about dreams or flying. Then something happened. Her shoulders slumped, almost as if in defeat.
"The man and the woman in the painting. They look so much like Charles and Gwendolin that I got a bit of a shock."
I fully expected Mom to know Grandma - but Charles had claimed he had lived three hundred years in the past. How would Mom know him?
"It is Grandma and the man is called Charles," I told her.
Mom looked positively desolate now and she looked at me, a deep well of sadness evident in her eyes.
"Yes, of course it's them. Gwendolin isn't your Grandmother, Sean. She is your Great, Great, Great Grandmother. Charles was her husband. Your painting is of Teàrlach and Gwendolynn àn Tàcheart, Charles and Gwendolin Taggart."
That certainly explained how intimate Charles and Gwendolin had been in the cabin the night I had eavesdropped on them. It didn't explain why they hadn't told me that they were husband and wife, or why Gwendolin had continued to let me call her Grandma.
"The only way you could paint them so accurately would be if you had met them. That could only happen in the dreamtime, and only then if they were the ones selected to be your teachers and guardians. Tell me it's not happening, Sean? Tell me they're not trying to take you back! Sean! Tell me you haven't been going into the dreamtime without telling me? Sean, please?"
Before I could answer her, the doorbell sounded downstairs. Mom and I looked at each other and I headed for the door. I wasn't to know it, but the second significant event was just about to happen.
Mom and Brenda followed me downstairs and were behind me when I opened the door. A man stood on the porch. He looked like a down-on-his-luck, travelling salesman. That impression was given by the too tight, too short, cheap, brown suit he was wearing.
The man looked at me and then over my shoulder at Mom and Brenda. He seemed to pull his shoulders back, and straightened himself, so he was standing almost at attention.
Then he spoke ... in Gaelic.
"I am Cormac, envoy of Kenneth the Second of Axon. I come seeking the King's son, Prince Sean."
I heard a thud and turned to see that both Mom and Brenda had fainted, this time.
Edited by TeNderLoin