The Iron Gate, page 19
part #2 of The Iron Soul Series
There was a sudden soft cry from the bed that made Alex stop in her tracks and turn towards the bed slowly. Part of her just wanted to jump for the door and run for it, but she stepped closer to Jenny when the soft crying sound came again. Alex leaned over her roommate’s comforter wrapped form carefully to see Jenny clutching her plush teddy beat Zoe tightly to her chest. Small shimmering tear tracks were visible down her face, and Jenny was sniffing quietly in her sleep between soft sobs.
“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered as she studied Jenny’s profile. Her roommate looked so miserable, vulnerable and small. The questions over how much control Jenny even had over her actions returned to Alex. “This whole situation sucks but for you most of all.”
“Arto,” Jenny breathed softly, Alex barely hearing the name. Startled, Alex leaned closer and strained her ears. “Arto, I’m sorry.” More tears slipped from Jenny’s eyes.
Stumbling backward, Alex moved quickly to the doorway and didn’t let herself think about the name Jenny had called until she was in the stairwell. There was a sense of panic churning in her stomach as she rushed down the three flights of stairs. She couldn’t help but wonder if Jenny remembered her previous life, but that just seemed crazy. Maybe she’d misheard her, and she was calling to Arthur. Maybe it was a nickname that she didn’t know about. But as she stepped outside into the bright sunlight, Alex sighed, and her shoulder’s slumped, defeated by the certainty that she was grasping at straws. She didn’t know what it meant, but in her sleep at least Jenny seemed to be remembering.
Alex’s feet scuffed the ground as she headed for Michael’s Cafeteria, trying not to think too hard about what this new development could mean. Her stomach gurgled, a mix of her tension and hunger. The cafeteria was nearly empty with only the basic breakfast bar set up and two staff people, one swiping cards at the door and the other tidying up tables. Alex handed over her card and said the obligatory hello before heading to the breakfast bar.
Nothing appealed to Alex despite her hunger, but she finally picked a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries. She sat down alone at a small table and began to pick at her food. After forcing down a few bites, Alex began moving her spoon through the oatmeal, making random shapes in it. Suddenly another tray was set down across from her, loaded up with toast, cereal, juice, fruit and two cinnamon rolls. Alex looked up sharply to see Nicki watching her with a pensive expression. Forcing herself to smile, Alex straightened up and greeted Nicki. Her red-haired friend raised an eyebrow at her, looked pointedly at the flower drawn in the oatmeal and then sat down while shaking her head. Sighing in return, Alex slumped back in her chair and toyed with the spoon of her oatmeal.
“Don’t judge me,” she grumbled, not looking up at Nicki.
“So…” Nicki said slowly, “I’m guessing that the return to your dorm room hasn’t been pleasant.”
“Oh it’s been fine,” Alex replied before shaking her head and setting down the spoon. “On the surface at least. Jenny and I have been eating every meal with the boys; that’s why I haven’t seen you guys since fencing club.”
“Wow.” Nicki took one of the glasses of orange juice and sett it in front of Alex. “Any chance it’s because she missed you?”
“I don’t think so,” Alex sighed, slumping down further. “She’s worried I’ll crack and tell Arthur.” Pausing, Alex looked at the glass of orange juice. “Plus side I’ve at least known where she is, and today she’s got spirit squad practice while we’re at magic lessons.”
“I don’t understand why they call it spirit squad and not cheerleading,” Nicki said, changing the subject. She moved one of the cinnamon rolls over to Alex’s tray. “Just seems a bit silly to me.”
“According to my darling roommate it is because they do more than just cheer at games, they are ambassadors to the community and help with school events,” Alex replied as she poked at the cinnamon roll.
“Ah so, in theory, they build school spirit,” Nicki confirmed with a nod. “Well that’s nice I suppose.”
“I guess. I was happy for her, I really was. She had something to get involved in that didn’t require her spending time with Arthur or Lance and finally seemed to be acting more normal. Then I go and lose my cool and blow everything.” Alex muttered with a shrug, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table.
“Okay Alex honey, sit up and eat something or I will tie you down and shove food down your throat,” Nicki told her in a sweet voice that had a hard edge to it.
Alex looked over at Nicki only to be met with a very stern expression and firm blue eyes. She straightened up in her chair and ripped a piece off the cinnamon roll, looking away from the satisfied smile. They were silent as Alex forced herself to eat half of the cinnamon roll and drained the glass of orange juice.
“So do you think Morgana and Merlin noticed me staying with you?” Alex finally asked as Nicki pushed a piece of toast onto the small plate with what remained of the cinnamon roll. “It was for three days.”
“Probably,” Nicki said. Shrugging, she spread grape jelly generously over a piece of toast. “But I told the boys that we were working on our papers for the Epic and you just needed a break from Jenny watching.”
“Well, part of that was true.” Alex sighed before looking back at Nicki. “Thanks for covering, I don’t like lying to the boys-”
“I get it,” Nicki interrupted gently. “Now do you want to say what is bothering you?”
“You know what is bothering me.” Alex looked away from Nicki towards the main doors where a few more people were trickling in.
“Alex, honey, I am very capable of recognizing when you go from constant depression to having some new hellish thing lumped on you,” Nicki replied, glancing her way with a soft smile. “Something else happened didn’t it?”
“Promise you won’t tell?” Alex asked softly, still not looking over at Nicki.
“I promise,” Nicki told her solemnly. “But bottling this shit up isn’t healthy. None of it’s healthy, but I don’t want you having a heart attack or an aneurysm.”
“Well…” Alex faltered, wondering not for the first time if she was putting too much of her current crisis on Nicki. It was her job to watch over Arthur, Jenny, and Lance as their friend and as a mage, but the ache in her chest practically demanded that she answer the question. “Jenny was talking in her sleep this morning,” Alex slowly answered, tapping her fingers nervously on the door armrest. “She said Arto and apologized to him.”
“Arto,” Nicki repeated thoughtfully. “Wasn’t that the name-”
“Of the first Iron Soul?” Alex sighed and nodded, “Yes it was.” Nibbling at her lip, Alex shook her hands nervously in front of her, twisting her fingers together. “What if she remembers, Nicki?”
“Calm down,” Nicki ordered, setting down her glass and holding up her hand. “Dreams are subconscious, and most people can’t even remember them. There is a big difference between that and remembering. It may just be some part of her that feels guilty connecting to the ancient part of her that felt guilty.”
“You’re just making this up as you go along aren’t you.” Alex sank back into the seat and ran a hand through her hair. “Course I am too. Damn it why does this have to be so messy.”
“It’s the price we pay for being able to use magic,” Nicki answered with a slight shrug. “Anything else?” Alex thought about the nightmare but shook her head no. “Alright then,” Nicki sighed, giving Alex a small nod. “On a more cheerful note so that you aren’t upset when we get to Merlin’s, I moved a peanut last night,” Nicki announced with a widening smile.
“You did?” Alex asked, looking at her with wide eyes. “With magic? How far?”
“Yes with magic,” Nicki assured her with a little laugh. “Don’t tell the boys. I want to show them when I can manage more than just pushing it two inches across my desk.”
“Good for you,” Alex told her softly, a small smile on her face. She paused and hesitated, pushing a strand of loose hair back behind her ear. “Look, Nicki, thank you for helping me through this. I know I’m kind of… up and down a lot lately.”
“Alex, you’re facing a terrible situation,” Nicki sighed. “You don’t have to thank me for trying to be a good friend during that.” Nicki shrugged and grimaced. “In my worst moments, I’m grateful that I’m not the one dealing with it.”
A snort escaped Alex’s throat, and she shook her head. “No offense taken,” Alex replied as she pushed her tray away, happy that Nicki didn’t push it back. “I’m not thrilled with the role I was cast as in this retelling of the Arthurian myth.”
“Hey, Alex! Nicki,” a voice called across the room, making them both turn to see Aiden standing near the breakfast bar with Bran. Both boys waved to them, Aiden with more energy than the still sleepy looking Bran.
Raising her hand, Alex gave them a little wave while Nicki chuckled and gulped down the last of her juice. When Alex turned her attention back to Nicki, the redhead smiled. “So which archetype are you in this particular story?”
“Regular person probably,” Alex replied with a soft laugh. “Driven to connect with others and help the hero of the story.”
“And which one am I?” Nicki asked as she settled back in her chair.
“You’d probably be either the caregiver if this morning is anything to go by,” Alex remarked gesturing to the tray that Nicki had been stacking food on for her. “But I suppose that you could also be the creator depending on which archetype list you’re going off of, artistic and driven to make a vision a reality.”
“Really?” Nicki asked with a widening smile. “I think I like the sound of that one. Can a person be multiple archetypes?”
“Sometimes,” Alex replied with a thoughtful nod. “Archetypes are more… trends and traditions that are seen in literature, there aren’t really rules about it.”
A new tray was set down next to Alex on the right followed by one of the left. As Aiden dropped into his seat, he glanced between the two of them with a warm smile. “Morning girls, what are we talking about?”
“Our roles in the strange story we live in,” Nicki said. She turned to Bran as he sat down, giving him a welcoming smile.
“Our roles?” Aiden repeated. “Do you mean like stock characters?”
“Exactly.” Alex leaned forward on her hand as she looked at him. “For instance, Bran is the seer.”
“Obviously,” Bran answered even as he kept his eyes focused on his breakfast and worked on his cup of coffee.
“Merlin is well…. Merlin the wise old man or sage,” Alex continued with a chuckle. “Morgana could fit that archetype as well, but I’d be inclined to put her down as the explorer or maybe the ruler.”
Aiden huffed and looked across the table at Bran. “This mean anything to you?”
“Nope,” Bran remarked with a shrug before taking another bite of his toast.
“Hurry up boys.” Nicki pulled out her phone and checked the time. “Merlin and Morgana wanted us there early remember.”
“So what about me?” Aiden asked, ignoring Nicki’s comment to look at Alex. “Which one would I be?”
Alex paused and considered him for a moment before smiling. “I’m torn; you’d either be the hero.” Aiden grinned. “Or the fool.”
Nicki laughed and knocked on the table to get everyone’s attention. “And on that note, come on everyone it’s time to go.”
“But I’m not done eating,” Aiden protested with a huff.
“Too bad, time to go,” Nicki told him as she stood up. Alex paused and waited for Bran to stand up, helping him collect the trays to take to the front with them. Nicki rolled her eyes at Aiden as she slung her bag over her shoulders and grabbed her tray. “Aiden, get your butt moving.”
“Bossy,” Aiden grumbled as he grabbed his last piece of toast and dumped strawberry jelly on it before jumping up and heading after them.
18
The Return
808 B.C.E. Northern Cornwall
Breathing in the salty air that carried the scent of the sea, Arto licked his lips and looked towards the village of his birth from his vantage point on a nearby hill. Smoke curled up from the village’s roundhouses, and the soft sounds of animals could be heard. Arto could make out the sound of dogs barking, and it made him wonder not for the first time what had become of his childhood pet. A vague memory of the animal disliking Morgana sprang to mind and Arto barely held back a sigh at his naivety. Even now the idea that his sister had been watching him for the wicked Queen of the Sídhe still felt foolish. He turned back and glanced at the sloping hill behind him and wondered if this was where a Sídhe attack had led Merlin to conclude he had to be taken away from his home.
“Arto,” his mentor’s voice called gently just before a hand was placed on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“I just…” Arto struggled for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “I am conflicted about being back here,” he admitted in a softer voice, looking at the ground.
“I understand,” Merlin told him in a soothing voice, his hand just brushing the soft hair at the back of Arto’s neck. “I do wish that removing you from your parents had not been necessary-”
“I know,” Arto interrupted, uncomfortable with hearing Merlin’s explanation again. “Once the Sídhe knew where this new ‘weapon’ was they would never have left the village in peace. Constantly moving protected me.” He swallowed thickly as he watched people move into the village through the gate in the distance. “I’m not angry at you, or Morgana,” he added quickly.
“But the questions linger,” Merlin said. “What might your life have been like? That is natural. In quiet moments I ask the same thing about my mother’s death and my time serving as your guardian. Just be mindful that questions about what the past might have been, do not ruin your ability to shape your future.” The hand on his shoulder tightened as Merlin fell silent and for a moment Arto was content to know that the old mage was standing with him.
The wind swirled around them, and Arto inhaled the scents of spring, grateful that the winter had finally receded and made travel easier once more. The sinking sun was reminding him that he really should be making his way towards the village, but Arto did not move. He glanced at Merlin when the sounds of metal shifting told him that the man was moving, but his mentor was simply adjusting the long sack slung over his shoulder. From his position next to Merlin, Arto could just see the hilts of the swords carried within.
“Do you remember your mother and father?” Merlin asked in a calm, conversational tone, breaking the silence around them.
“Not really,” Arto confessed softly. He looked down at his feet and studied how his leather shoes crushed the wild grasses. “Just some impressions, little feelings. There are a few images that I’m not sure if they are memories or just dreams.”
“You were only seven,” Merlin comforted him. “I hope that you’ll be able to make some memories now.”
“Except I’m here as the Iron Soul and wielder of Cathanáil now,” Arto reminded Merlin, straightening up and raising his chin. “It has taken a year to organize this meeting, to have so many leaders and powerful traders in one place. I have to be the Iron Soul.”
“Before the assembled men yes,” Merlin agreed with a nod. “But please, Arto, be willing to take at least a few moments to be the son of Uthyrn and Eigyr. For their sake and Morgana’s.”
Arto flinched at the reminder of the role his sister had played in his removal from their parents. Eigyr had been unaware that the Sídhe had stolen the infant Morgana and left a Changeling in her place. Years later the Queen of the Sídhe fused her servant Morgana and the Changeling to serve as her spy. Arto rarely saw his sister show any signs of guilt, but he knew her well enough to know that guilt shimmered beneath the calm she showed the world.
“I will,” Arto promised quickly, licking his lips nervously.
“We’ve given Morgana long enough to speak with your parents, don’t you think,” Merlin suggested calmly a few moments later as he gestured towards the village.
Arto’s voice deserted him, his mouth suddenly dry and he only managed a quick nod of agreement. Merlin seemed to understand and carefully pushed him forward to get him moving. The grass and plants seemed thicker than usual as Arto nearly tripped twice as they followed the worn trail to the gate of the village.
An older man with gray in his beard straightened up as they approached, his eyes locking onto Cathanáil’s hilt. The instinct to shrink away from the stare rose up quickly in him, but Arto shoved it down forcefully. Doing his best to look confident, he strode towards the gate and nodded to the guard who jumped to attention. As they passed through the gate, Arto heard Merlin chuckle behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Arto raised an eyebrow at his guardian who shrugged slightly.
