Knight's Call Part 4

            The next morning, Michael ate a quick breakfast before catching a cab to the train station.  The cabbie had looked at him a little oddly at seeing the unusual staff in his hand, but made no comment as Michael tried to arrange himself around the unwieldy object. Michael figured an American hauling a rather unusual walking staff wasn’t the oddest thing the taxi driver had ever seen.   Fortunately, he had his tickets pre-purchased, so all Michael had to do once he arrived at the station was find the appropriate train.  As he made his way through the crowded station, desperately trying not to smack anyone with the staff, he found himself wishing there was a way to make it less conspicuous.  All of a sudden, he went from holding a six-foot tall staff, to holding what appeared to be a finely crafted gentleman’s cane.  More than a little unsettled by the obvious demonstration of what could only be termed magic, Michael was more than glad to make it to his seat.

            No sooner had he settled in, however, than his cell phone rang.  Seeing Hunter’s name on the display, Michael debated whether to send it to his voicemail.  Knowing his oldest brother, however, Michael little doubted his ability to make life miserable for his youngest brother for doing such a thing, so he braced himself and answered, immediately going on the offensive rather than letting Hunter set the opening tone of the conversation.

            “Good morning big brother.  A little early in the morning for you to be calling isn’t it?”

            “More like up too late,” Hunter growled back.  “To start, I had a meeting at the downtown office go two hours over, so of course I was expecting, at best, to have to reheat dinner.  Imagine my surprise, then, when I arrived home to a hot, fresh meal waiting for me.  Next, I discover my little brother, who should have been waiting impatiently for me, was nowhere in sight.  What’s more, no one on the staff could tell me anything about your whereabouts beyond telling me you had left two days ago and had yet to return.  I then spent the next several hours chasing down anyone who might possibly be able to pinpoint your location.”

            Before Michael could protest his brother’s incursion into his private life, Hunter had barreled on.

            “I contacted everyone I could think of, but no one was any use.  All I got from your secretary was that you had a business meeting, and that the ‘appropriate parties’ had been informed.  The odd thing was, I thought I was one of the ‘appropriate parties.’  Once I went through all the local contacts, I began branching out, including Gavin and Gabriel.  True to form, both of them covered for you, so they were either unwilling, or unable, to tell me where you were.  Once I was finally able to reach them, that is.  In the end, Maeghen coughed up the number for your European cell.  So, little brother, now that I have you, I’d appreciate know where the hell you are!”

            In the face of his brother’s obvious frustration and outrage, a small part of Michael wanted to just divulge everything his brother wanted to know, and except for that “little brother” he might have.  The greater part of him rebelled at that diminishing reference, however, so he refused to give in to his brother demands.

            “While I apologize for the inconvenience I’ve caused you,” Michael informed Hunter, “last I checked I was an adult, running my own company with the all the accompanying responsibilities.  Furthermore, I don’t recall signing any contracts or other legal documents that make me accountable to you.  You’re not my legal guardian anymore, Hunter, and I have the right to live my own life without you looking over my shoulder.  So, no, I’m not going to tell you where I am or what I’m doing, mostly because it’s not any of your business.”

            “It is while you’re living under my roof,” Hunter shot back.  Immediately he wanted to take the words back, as he practically heard his father’s voice spewing from his mouth.  Michael must have thought so too.

            “You’re not my father,” Michael responded quietly, hurt and anger both evident in his voice.  “You’ve never been like our father; you I knew I could trust.  But if you’re going to start channeling him, if you’re going to start to become him, then I’m not staying.  I’ll have Gavin and Gabe help me find someplace else, because I’m not living through that hell again.”

            Both men went silent as memories assailed them.  Archer Drake had been a brilliant business man, but when it came to his family he had been too proud and inflexible to make living with him a comfortable or enjoyable experience.  Michael, in particular, had a rough time with his father’s expectations.  For most of his youth, Hunter had placed himself between his younger brother and their father.  Michael had spent years nearly idolizing his oldest brother, which made his threat all the more significant.  Ultimately, Hunter was the first to break the silence.

            “Might I at least know when I might expect you home?”

            Recognizing the apology and the plea for reassurance for what it was, Michael said, “Most likely tomorrow; the next day at the latest.  I still have a little bit of business to take care of, and depending on how things work out, I might even be catching a ride home with Gabe and Gavin. That’s assuming they’ve checked their email by then, of course.”

            Michael knew his brother had received the message, assurance that he was coming home when Hunter simply replied, “Travel safely, and I will see you when you get home,” before hanging up.

            For a long while, Michael sat in silence.  Things between Hunter and his younger brothers had been tense for a long time, practically since the death of their father.  Hunter had been young enough that taking responsibility for his father’s company, as well as guardianship of his youngest brother, had been very stressful.  All the brothers had tried their best to help, but all decisions ultimately fell to Hunter to decide.  Of course, it didn’t help that Hunter was enough his father’s son that pride sometimes proved to be one of his worst faults.

            Pushing thoughts of his oldest brother away, and trying desperately to ignore that staff-turned-cane resting on the seat next to him, Michael pulled his laptop from his bag and set to work on the security layout for McGregor’s store.  This was part of the job he loved; taking his technology and blending it seamlessly into its environment.  Although he was no longer solely responsible for all location designs and layouts, he always made the final approval; and then there were locations like McGregor’s where something in Michael insisted he be the one to create the layout.  Very quickly, Michael was so deeply engrossed in his work he paid no attention to the passage of time.

            When Michael reached Newcastle, he was almost done with the security plans, but beyond that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next.  The tug at the back of his mind hadn’t let up any, but he was having a hard time deciphering just where it was he was supposed to go.  And then he saw a sign for the bus to Carlisle.  Without a thought Michael purchased a ticket for the next bus which, as fortune would have it, was departing only fifteen minutes later.  Michael quickly found his seat and got settled in.

            The further the bus traveled, the more intense the pull became, until Michael thought his head was going to split from the pressure.  Wherever he was supposed to go was getting closer and closer, but Michael wasn’t sure, now that he was on the bus, just how he was supposed to get off.  Searching for some kind of release he wrapped his hand around the transformed walking stick and gripped it as tight as he could.  All of a sudden, the pressure in his head seemed to “pop,” followed by a sudden jerking sensation as the bus unexpectedly tilted to one side, only to come to a screeching halt.  Michael was grateful it happened so quickly no one had the chance to start screaming.

            In very short order that had everyone off the bus, which is when Michael discovered that not one, but two tires on the bus had blown.  Since there was no way they were going to be able to continue on with the bus in that condition a couple of volunteered to  pull all the baggage out while the bus driver worked on obtaining alternate transportation and assistance with the downed bus.  No sooner had Michael grabbed his luggage, then the silent pull was back, this time drawing him away from the crowd around the bus and further into the countryside.

            As Michael walked, he had the strangest sense of déjà vu, though he knew for certain he’d never been to this part of Great Britain before.  When he saw the wall, he knew exactly why everything was strangely familiar.  On academic level he’d realized this bus route paralleled Hadrian’s Wall, but he hadn’t given it much thought.  Now that the ancient fortification was in front of him, though, his dream came rushing back to him.  All at once, Michael knew exactly where he had to go.  Resettling his bag on his back, he gripped the cane in his right hand.  In the space of a heartbeat it went from being a cane back to its original shape as a staff, and had Michael not been intent on his destination, he might have taken note of the now glowing crystal atop the staff.

            Without any way to measure distance, Michael wasn’t certain how far he walked, only that any signs of civilization were far out of sight.  That’s when he saw the tree; the oddly crooked and bent-over tree shading a small portion of the wall.  It was the image right out of his dream.  Walking to the section of wall shaded by that tree was oddly familiar.  It was rather like returning to your old high school years after graduation.  Everything is at once familiar and different, with that sense that although you once belonged here, you don’t anymore.  Coming up on the wall itself was like approaching his old locker.  Everything about it, from the shape of the stones to the feel of the low-hanging tree branches brushing his shoulders was so, so familiar, except he didn’t know the combination anymore.  Shifting the staff to his left hand, Michael placed his right hand on the wall.  All at once, the crystal on the staff blazed with light, and gruff voice seemed to fill the small space between the tree and the wall.

            “Welcome, seeker.  In coming here you have taken the first steps on a path paved many, many years ago.  If you can hear my voice, then Ngoleuni'r Cyfarwyddyd has come into your hands, and you are one step closer to sending out the Knight’s Call.  But as with any true knight, you must prove yourself worthy.  This is but the first trial you must face if you are to obtain your destiny.  You must find the part of yourself buried in the mists of time and awaken it from its ages of sleep.  Trust your heart, and all will be well.  I wish you luck.”

                As abruptly as is had come, the voice and light were gone, leaving Michael staring at the wall in puzzled bemusement.  “What the hell am I doing here,” he whispered to himself.  “Either this is the biggest practical joke Gavin has pulled on me yet, or someone slipped something into my drink.  Or maybe I’ve finally lost it.  The stress has finally gotten to me, and I’m having some sort of mental breakdown.  That would explain the crazy dreams and the fact that I’m hearing voices.”  But even as he said it, he couldn’t stop himself from tracing a finger absentmindedly over random bricks in the wall.  Shaking his head trying to clear it, Michael pushed himself away from the wall and took a step backward.  “This is crazy,” he continued aloud.  “I should just get back to the bus and…”  His voice trailed off as the apparently random bricks he’d been tracing began to glow, and a steady pressure began to build around him.  In no time, it was enough to force him to his knees.  Instinct told him if he didn’t find a way to put a stop to whatever was happening, it could very easily kill him.  Not knowing what else to do, Michael looked at the glowing bricks on the wall.  To his amazement, he could see what looked like words written in the same strange language as the book in his dream crawling over the wall.

                ‘That’s not right,’ Michael thought to himself as he took in the swarming words.  ‘They’re not in the right order.’  With a hand the weighed far more than it should, he reached up and began to rearrange the words.  Not being able to read the words, Michael could only rely on his instincts to help him get the in the correct order.  His head was pounding hard enough it felt like it was going to explode by the time he put the last word into place.  The words flared a bright gold, and then changed.  The phrase “galw y marchogion, yr alwad yn mynd allan” appeared in their place and the pressure vanished.  At that same moment two things happened: it was like a giant, silent bell sounded, and the rocks on the wall faded away to reveal a cloth wrapped bundle.  Even as he pulled it out, Michael knew what he held.  It was the book; the book from his dream.

                Before Michael could unwrap the tome, however, his attention was grabbed by the sounds of a gun being cocked.  Looking up he found himself face-to-face with two men holding guns on him with the same casual confidence Gavin and Gabriel had.  Michael knew what that indicated.  These men knew their way around their weapons, and weren’t afraid to use them.