Chapter Text
Jane Drew turned the blue-green stone over in her hand, letting her memories flow through her mind. Memories of a holiday in Wales with her brothers and their friend, Will. There had been another boy too. With his pale skin, silver-white hair and tawny eyes Jane knew people had thought him odd but Jane thought him one of the handsomest boys she had ever seen. “Bran Davies,” she murmured, softly, “I wonder what you are doing now? You gave me this stone,” Jane remembered she and Bran going off together, stolen kisses when they thought nobody was looking, shyly holding hands as they climbed the mountains near Cader Idris. They had written a few times after the holiday had ended but the letters had dried up by that Christmas and Jane had almost forgotten Bran, except perhaps in dreams.
She gave herself a firm shake and polished the stone vigorously with a scrap of chamois leather. “Get a grip, Jane,” she scolded herself, “He’s probably married with four kids by now!” She folded the stone carefully into a pouch and tucked it into her workbox. Glancing at the clock she thought she had better go and get ready before Will came. The Drews had kept in touch with Will for longer, but they had drifted apart until Barney had met up with him one evening at a gallery opening that he was exhibiting in with one of Will’s older brothers, Max. Their bond was further strengthened when Jane took up the offer of an apprenticeship, which just happened to be with Roger Stanton, Will and Max’s father, at his workshop in Eton.
They were going to another of Barney’s gallery openings that very evening and Will had called Jane the night before, “I’m at a conference at the Bodleian,” he had said, “What do you say to my stopping by your place on my way home tomorrow and we can travel in together?”
“Isn’t it a bit out of your way?”
“Well, yes, but I have particular reason for wanting to speak to you before I speak to Barney and Simon,”
Jane was almost ready when Will arrived, “I won’t be a minute,” she called, after she had let him into her flat above Stanton’s Jewellers and ran back to her bedroom to finish drying her hair. They chatted of general things as they walked to the station to get the train; Jane’s apprenticeship, which was nearing its end, Barney’s exhibition, Simon’s ongoing training at St. Thomas’ Hospital, Will’s work at the British Library which took him all over the world. It was only as the train was pulling out of the station that Jane asked the question that had been uppermost in her mind, “Will, did you ever keep in touch with Bran Davies? Do you remember him, the boy from Wales?”
“It’s funny that you should ask that,” he replied, fidgeting with his ticket, “Bran was asking after you the other day,”
“Really?” Jane tried to sound casual and hoped that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.
Will nodded, “We’ve always kept in touch, Bran and I, he’s like another brother to me. I’m surprised I’ve never mentioned him to you,”
Jane shrugged; she was sure that she would have remembered if he had. “Actually, that’s the thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Will pretended not to notice Jane’s flushed face, “You know how your memories have been coming back? Yours and Simon’s and Barney’s? I think Bran’s memories are coming back as well. He’s been having dreams,”
“Oh,”
“And his dreams seem to be mostly about Arthur and the Lady…and you,”
“Oh,” said Jane, again. She put her hands on her cheeks to cool them down, “Why me?”
“Why any of us? Look, Jane, I wanted to tell you first partly because of Bran’s dreams but partly because you are going to be the key to this. I think everybody’s memories are returning because the Dark is trying to break through again. The Six are needed, Jane, all of us. Merry agrees but he said he will remain in the background unless absolutely necessary. I don’t want to scare you, but he told me to keep an extra eye on you,”
Jane was too startled to feel scared, “Me? What’s so special about me?”
“You are very special, Jane,” said Will, quietly, “You are beloved of the Lady, and of the Greenwitch. That caught the Dark rather on the hop last time, but I think they will not be so unaware this time. You are older, Jane, not a child anymore. Your power will not be as weak,”
Jane opened her mouth to reply but could think of nothing to say. The train announcer saved her by informing everybody that they would shortly be arriving at Paddington. In the general flurry of gathering belongings ready to disembark, Jane hoped Will would forget her lack of response.
But, as she knew deep down, Will never forgot anything.”
When Jane and Will arrived at the gallery the exhibition was in full swing. “I thought you were never coming,” Barney gave his sister a hug and shook Will’s hand, heartily. “Max is around somewhere, Will, and I think Robin and Paul are still here. Simon had to cry off, he’s on call tonight so is at the hospital as they’ve had a bad few nights. He said winter pressures are starting early this year,”
Will and Jane went round looking at the artworks, admiring the contrast between Barney’s work and Max’s. Will had stopped to talk to Robin and Jane was looking at a painting which she knew was Barney’s.
It was painted in the Pre-Raphaelite style and depicted a knight slaying a dragon. What had stopped Jane in her tracks wasn’t the subject matter; Barney had always been crazy about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. It was the figure of the knight. He was bare headed; his hair was a gleaming silver-white and his eyes were tawny gold set in a pale smooth face with sculpted cheekbones and a determined chin. The sword was made of crystal and gold, set with mother of pearl and it shone with a cold blue fire as it sliced the dragon’s head off. Jane just stood and stared at it, her heart thumping almost painfully in her chest.
“He has made me look a proper hero, hasn’t he, Jane fach,” said a rich Welsh voice beside Jane, with a deep chuckle. For a split second Jane thought she was going to faint as she spun round to face the speaker. “Bran!” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She looked up at the man in front of her. Bran had grown and was broad shouldered and muscular, but tall, and still as straight as he had been as a boy. His white hair flopped over one eye, as yellow as those of an owl with gold and amber flecks and his preference for dark colours hadn’t changed, his black shirt and trousers fitting well over his frame. At present he was looking rather anxious. “Jane, are you okay?” he gently took hold of Jane’s elbow and looked about him, “Do you need to sit down? It is rather warm in here,”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Jane pulled herself together, “I just wasn’t expecting to see you here. Will or Barney never said….”
“When he chooses Will can make my Da seem talkative,” said Bran, with a grin, “And I believe Barney’s words were ‘I’m dying to see Jane’s face when she sees you’”
“Well he’s missed the boat there then, hasn’t he?” Jane looked across the room to where Barney was engrossed in conversation with three people whom she didn’t know. Bran followed her gaze, his hand still on her elbow. Turning back he said, “Are you sure you’re okay? Can I get you a drink or anything,” with a sudden, wry smile he added, “At least, can I offer you some warm, flat champagne?”
Jane returned the smile and shook her head, “I’ll give it a miss for today, thanks,” There was a brief pause then Jane spoke again, “So, er….”
“That’s a super portrait of you, Bran,” said an enthusiastic voice behind them. They both turned to find Paul Stanton smiling at them, “Do you get many dragons in Wales, you look as if you went about slaying them on a daily basis!”
“You can’t turn a corner without falling over one!” replied Bran, cheerfully, ‘Though they’re usually on flags these days”. Jane felt her elbow go cold as Bran dropped his hand back to by his side. Paul chuckled. Turning to Jane he said, “You can see Barney’s work improving with each exhibition that he holds. Max speaks very highly of him,”
“Don’t tell him, but Simon and I are very proud of him,” replied Jane. Paul mimed pulling a zip across his lips before asking “Where is Simon?”
“He couldn’t come, he’s on call,” explained Jane, then turned to Bran, “He’s at Tommy’s. Urology, I think. When you see him again I’m sure he will tell you all about the finer workings of the bladder!”
“There’s something to look forward to,” replied Bran, in a voice that said exactly the opposite.
Paul and Jane grinned, then Paul spoke again, “Listen, the gallery refreshments are particularly poor here, and Max tells us there’s a good pub at the end of the street. We were going to decamp there and wait for Barney and Max to join us when they’ve finished being polite. You two are coming, aren’t you?”
“It’s funny how everybody seems to be linked together. I didn’t realise you knew Paul,” Jane remarked as they followed Will, Paul and Robin down the street. “I’ve known the Stantons since I was a boy,” replied Bran, “Will decided that I needed my only child corners knocking off and I spent a lot of the school holidays with them. If I wasn’t with them, Will came home with me. Then I met Paul again through mutual friends and now we’re rehearsing a new piece together, us and three others,
“Rehearsing? Oh, are you a musician like Paul? What do you play?”
“What do you think?” replied Bran, teasingly, “The harp, what else would a Welsh boy play!”
“Of course you do!” Jane laughed, “How silly of me!”
“Actually, I’m only part time really,” Bran gazed down at Jane, his eyes softening as he thought Jane wasn’t looking at him. Peeking through the curtain of her hair Jane caught the look and looked away, her heart thumping and her stomach spinning like a cyclone. “What else do you do?” she managed to force out.
“I’m still a shepherd boy from Clywd when I’m not up in London prancing around dive bars with my harp,”
“It’s nice you can be both,” Jane was saying when Will’s voice called “Hurry up you two, what are you doing back there?”
“Catching up,” replied Jane, with dignity.
“Well, catching up is better with a pint in your hand,” retorted Will, “Come on,”