Gates of Eden: Starter Library

by Theophilus Monroe

  Finally, I found my voice. “Mr. Nesbitt?” I asked, hoping to confirm the identity I had assumed was his.

  “Indeed,” he replied with a subtle bow of the head. “Such is the name you would know me by.”

  “You have other names?”

  “I do, which I will tell you once we’ve had some time to be more formally acquainted.” He gestured to the table in front of us. “Perhaps you would like to take a seat?”

  For a moment, his question was nonsensical. No chairs surrounded the table. We were not confused for long, though. Nesbitt grabbed his staff from the Segway as a familiar rrrrrrip confirmed my suspicions. Yep, Velcro. He tapped his staff twice to the floor as a green glow filled his eyes. The four of us were taken by surprise as oaken stools quickly shot up from the floor, abruptly greeting our unsuspecting behinds. We instinctively laughed at both the surprise and wonder of it. Nesbitt, seemingly oblivious to our shock, proceeded to distribute paper plates and opened two pizza boxes at the table’s center.

  “Merle Nesbitt…” Joni said inquisitively, luring Nesbitt’s attention her way. “Merle N… Merlin…”

  Nesbitt smiled. “Bravo, Miss Campbell. Such is my true name. The ancients called me Myrrdn. Vowels were unfashionable in those days. You may call me Merle, or Merlin, or Nesbitt. Any will suffice.”

  “Wait… so you are Merlin, like the Merlin, from all the legends about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?” I asked.

  “I suspect so, though I cannot attest to the accuracy of those tales. From my perspective, they haven’t happened yet.”

  “Haven’t happened yet… I knew it!” Tyler declared. “You can time travel!”

  Merlin nodded, though before he could speak, Joni interrupted, “Doctor Merlin, then, I presume?”

  “One and the same, Miss Campbell. As Mr. Harley keenly discerned, the luxury of time travel is one of the perks of my job. It has afforded me the opportunity to pursue a number of specialties and degrees. Though I suspect your inquiry had little to do with my days in medical school.” Nesbitt’s expression turned suddenly serious.

  “My mother….” Joni began, but he cut her off before she could form a second thought.

  “Your mother, Miss Campbell, may make a full recovery.” The ageless wizard extended her a comforting grin. “What I have done for her is sustain her mind. Be patient, young Druidess. Your presence here was no accident. I have taken a personal interest in your mother’s recovery.”

  “Wait,” I interrupted. “So I’m apparently a Druid, and Joni is also?”

  “Of course. The Spirit of Annwn—or Eden, if you prefer—is open to her. How else would you explain her affinity for magic?”

  Joni raised a single eyebrow. “Ever since I learned that Druidry was a part of my heritage, I’ve considered myself a Druidess of sorts. Since meeting Elijah, though, I’ve questioned that. The things he can do… I don’t do those things. What I do seems to be more anti-magic. I can ward. I can protect. I can siphon and magnify someone else’s magic, but I’m not Elijah. I can’t just call it forth out of thin air.”

  “Not all of our kin manifest these gifts alike, Miss Campbell. Thank the trees your gift is as it is. Your abilities pose you no threat. What coheres in your blood is not the same as Mr. Wadsworth’s. The blood of Annwn split like a river from generation to generation. A thousand streams divided into thousands more. But sometimes these streams join again to make a river. Your parents, Miss Campbell, were as fate would have it, two such streams. Any worker of magic, good or evil, could sense something unique about you. It is, sadly, why some have sought you out.”

  “Wait,” Joni said. “Messalina… that’s why she came after my family.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Nesbitt concurred.

  “Wait. If someone… someone with dark magic… were to come after me…” I added, thinking of the girl in black.

  Nesbitt’s countenance turned grim. “Have you been targeted, Mr. Wadsworth? I did not anticipate… Not so soon…”

  “Yeah,” I added, “a girl… in black. She could do things like I can do. Her eyes, they glowed red. She wanted me to follow her.”

  “Did you say red?” Joni interjected. “The Bokors, the folks who misuse the Voodoo tradition like Messalina—their eyes turn red, too.”

  Nesbitt sighed. “This is unexpected. Red energies, these reflect a connection to the Wayward Tree. What the Bokors do is not unlike the Dark Druids. It is all connected to the same source, the same wayward energies produced by the cursed tree.”

  “So you know who it is? You know what she wants?” I asked.

  “I do not know, Mr. Wadsworth. This girl in black you speak of has been coming to and from the eternal realms and here for some time. She has always managed to evade my detection. I can tell you that what she proposes is dangerous. It is alluring. She bears the traits of someone else, someone I’ve encountered before. You must resist her, at whatever cost.”

  “Bear…” Emilie added, “why didn’t you…”

  “I’m sorry, Ems. I was afraid if you knew, she might look for you, too… I couldn’t… I wouldn’t…”

  “You were right, Mr. Wadsworth, to proceed cautiously. Such powers are dangerous. Her intentions cannot be noble.”

  “But you said you’d encountered someone else like her before?”

  “The Morrigan. She has always sought to upset the balance of Annwn. She hopes to spread the blight of the Wayward Tree… to consume life itself. Her goal in this world is as it has always been: to consolidate the power emanating from each soul she gathers into the Wayward Tree. By so doing, she imagines she will be strong enough to spread her blight over all of Annwn and rule over it.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She languishes as a dormant nymph, confined to the blighted heart of the Wayward Tree, just across the border into Samhuinn.”

  “Samhuinn?”

  “The blighted wilderness of Annwn. It is a place consumed by the Wayward Tree.”

  “So, it’s basically hell,” Tyler added.

  “That would be an accurate description, Mr. Harley.”

  “No, it’s worse than hell, “Joni interrupted, a cringe falling upon her face.

  I raised my eyebrows, but before I could speak, Merlin interrupted.

  “Indeed, Druidess. From what I’ve been told, your venture there had quite an effect.”

  Joni nodded.

  “And this girl in black,” I added. “You think she’s connected to this Morrigan?”

  “In some sense she must be, young Druid. To what extent she is under the Morrigan’s influence, however, I cannot tell. It seems, however, quite likely that this girl is acting as an acolyte of sorts, doing the Morrigan’s bidding. Her manner of appearance reflects that of the Morrigan herself. I have never seen her true face; she always shrouds herself in black.”

  “Do you think she was the Morrigan?” I asked.

  “Impossible. She remains confined to the Wayward Tree, though for how long, I cannot say. Someday she will undoubtedly reemerge. Though as the sole inhabitant of the Wayward Tree, she would undoubtedly share a psychic connection with anyone who communes with the tree’s power. This girl in black included. Creatures native to Annwn can only pass between gates adjoining our worlds but one day a year. The Morrigan is not native to your world, and some suggest not even native to Samhuinn. Her history predates my own, and the Dryad will not speak of her. The only way she could influence Earth during this season, especially as May Day approached, would be through a human. It would have to be someone with a connection to Annwn, not unlike Miss Campbell.” Nesbitt directed a pointed stare in Joni’s direction.

  “Wait, you aren’t accusing me of being…” Joni added.

  “Not at all,” Nesbitt continued. “I have followed you too closely through the years. I would have recognized any inclinations toward the Wayward Tree within you. It is not you. There must be someone else…”

  “You must have an idea who it could be,” I
said.

  “Speculations are dangerous, young Druid. What must happen, shall. All I can say is that she undoubtedly poses a powerful threat to you, and even life itself. We will have to expedite our plans.”

  “Our plans?”

  “To train you and Miss Campbell. To prepare you for what lies ahead.”

  “What lies ahead?” I asked.

  “I cannot say. The presence of this girl in black… It is startling that I could not anticipate her presence. We cannot afford to let down our guard. While I cannot know her plans, her purpose is clear. In some way, her plan aligns with the Morrigan’s efforts to spread the blight of the Wayward Tree beyond its confines in Samhuinn. She wields a power I cannot touch—I will not touch.”

  “So, my parents each have traces of Annwn in their blood?” Joni asked. “That makes me a child of Annwn? Elijah and I together, we can defeat this girl in black, right?”

  “Two faint streams running together create a powerful river. What you possess is unique. Your abilities as a siphon come from your father’s side. But you’ve inherited a much rarer power from your mother. You cannot access the Tree of Life and wield its powers, not like Elijah. But you are connected to Annwn’s mystic springs. You’ve drawn upon this power before, but again, only as a siphon. Methinks there is much potential yet to be realized in your nature, young Druidess.

  “You speak of defeating this girl in black, Miss Campbell. This is not the way of Annwn. Her magic, the magic of the unholy and Wayward Tree, spreads and consumes what it touches. Miss Campbell, you have an impression within you, one filled by the magic you claim. You may wield her magic, but you must not let it settle into your heart. If you cannot ward yourself properly, the magic of the Wayward Tree can consume you. It can claim you. You’ll become… like her. Until you learn to tap into the other side of your mystic lineage, the power emanating from Annwn’s springs, you must take care in what you siphon lest it become like a Trojan horse, and consume you from within.”

  Joni nodded. “I’ve touched red magic before. It’s unsettling.”

  “You are quite fortunate,” Merlin said, “that the seeds of the Wayward Tree have yet to sprout in your soul.”

  “But for me,” I asked, “what if the girl in black… exposed me to her magic?”

  “Like me, you have more than an impression within you, young Druid. Your father, like Joni, possessed a deep impression which opened him to the spirit of Annwn. Your mother, however, was first born in Annwn, a wood nymph, a Dryad charged to care for the Tree of Life. Her blood, which now courses in your veins, fills more than the impression you’ve inherited from your father. It is a part of you. Annwn’s very spirit is aligned with yours in both truth and will. Yet what you received from your father, that part of you, has no allegiance of its own. You may allow that impression to be filled with the spirit of either tree—the Spirit of Life, or maleficium. Unlike the Dryad born in Annwn, your human soul means you will always have a choice.”

  “So, the girl in black… she can’t defeat me, either?”

  “It would not likely be in her interest. Presuming, of course, she is indeed aligned with the Morrigan. The Morrigan has reason to keep you alive, young Druid. She must appeal to your will. She must seduce you into accepting her magic. I sense, Mr. Wadsworth, something within you already…”

  “She touched me…”

  “Then she has given you a taste of the Wayward Tree. Its magic is a part of you. You must not access it. Your connection to Annwn will serve you well. But once you use that magic, it will spread like a blight in your soul and anything your soul touches.”

  “What can we do? How can we help?” Emilie asked.

  “Miss Royce, Mr. Harley…” Nesbitt continued, shifting his gaze toward my friends, habitually twirling the end of his long, white beard around his left index finger. “You two were nurtured alongside Mr. Wadsworth all your lives. Your presence as Bard and Ovate, respectively, was no accident.”

  “Bard?” Emilie asked, bewildered by the proposition.

  “And Ovate?” Tyler questioned likewise.

  “The three pillars!” Nesbitt exclaimed. “Druid, Bard, and Ovate! Surely you recall from the dance how Diarmid, Taliesin, and Ceridwen operated in concert.”

  Tyler and Emilie nodded, but Nesbitt continued before allowing them the opportunity to respond.

  “Your gifts are evident. Miss Royce, your affinity for music and poetry. Mr. Harley, your intellect and ability to perceive patterns. I can say little more. Your role in this tapestry will soon become plain.”

  “And who are you, exactly?” I asked forcefully. “Yes, I know, you’re the great wizard of Arthurian lore. I get that. But how did my father know you? How are you connected to all this—to us?”

  A wide smile crossed Nesbitt’s face. “So many questions, young Druid! For now, content yourself with this: I am the gatekeeper of Annwn. Now, who’s hungry for pizza and cake?”

  14. Fionn

  DINNER WAS AS good as pizza and cake can be. Which, for Tyler, meant it was amazing. He practically ate an entire pizza by himself, leaving the rest of us feasting on one… and cake. I should start calling him Wilbur.

  “So, you’re the gatekeeper of Annwn?” Emilie asked. “What does that entail?”

  “I am not the guardian of Annwn alone, but of space and time. There are only a few gates I can permit here on Earth. This place represents one of them. Though when and where one enters a gate in Annwn will connect the traveler to a different time and place here on Earth. Wherever a gate has been opened, when the veil has been thinned as it is every May Day, travel between Annwn and this world is possible.”

  “So, if you’re the gatekeeper,” Tyler asked, “where is the keymaster?”

  I choked.

  “Who you gonna call?” Nesbitt retorted, clearly picking up on the Ghostbusters reference. “I was recruited to this role when I was barely grown, not much older than all of you. I must confess, it has afforded me the opportunity to play a role in many adventures across history.”

  “So, my theory about time travel and Annwn,” Tyler interjected, forcing his words through a mouth full of half-chewed pizza. “You overheard it when we were at Kaldi’s the other day.”

  “I did. And as I noted, it was fascinating.”

  “So, I’m right,” Tyler said matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, I didn’t say that,” Nesbitt said, evoking curious looks all around.

  “But you said ‘fascinating.’”

  “Indeed. In truth, I don’t know how it works,” Nesbitt admitted.

  “What do you mean? How can’t you know?” Tyler asked with a hint of annoyance.

  “Need a child learn how the cardiopulmonary system works before his heart beats or he takes a breath? Need someone know how an engine works, or even know that there is one at all, before learning to drive?”

  “I suppose not. If that were the case,” Tyler added, a devious grin on his face, “no women would drive.”

  Emilie’s fist abruptly struck Tyler’s shoulder. I suppressed a laugh as Joni’s daggered stare shut me down as quickly as Emilie’s jab silenced Tyler.

  “Some mysteries are to be adored rather than investigated, Mr. Harley,” Nesbitt said.

  “I’ve heard that before,” I interjected. “Several times. My dad…”

  “A bit of Druidic wisdom, young Wadsworth.” Nesbitt returned his attention to Tyler. “While theories may be fascinating, even helpful, beware of committing too unwaveringly to yours. Mr. Harley, your theory is fascinating. You will likely find it useful. But do not allow your theory, or any theory, to become a dogma that blinds you to whatever emerging facts don’t fit. Scientists test their theories, Mr. Harley, they do not defend them. Theories are like news stories. From all the possible facts we choose those we deem worthy, or interesting, or those that fit what we already believe, then build our own story around it. Soon, the facts themselves are forgotten and all we remember is… the narrative. The story. The theory.”


  “The causal fallacy,” I added.

  “Precisely, Mr. Wadsworth. Your interest in logic and philosophy runs in the family.”

  “My dad?”

  “Well, not him… Forget I said it. It will be easier to explain once we allow Diarmid’s memory to speak.”

  “Before we do that,” Joni added after swallowing a bite of pizza, “I have a theory I’d like to test.”

  “Yes, Miss Campbell. I’m sure you have several.”

  “Somehow… that day on the highway, when I saw what Elijah could do. You were behind that.”

  Nesbitt simply raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure, Miss Campbell?”

  “Too much coincidence… I was on the highway at the perfect moment… The guy’s flat tire just happened to send his car toward theirs…”

  “Too many variables for even a wizard such as myself to predict, Miss Campbell.”

  “But you did predict it. Somehow…”

  “I predicted nothing. Your journey and Mr. Wadsworth’s were on a collision course since the time you were each born.”

  “What?” Emilie was almost laughing. “You mean that they’re meant to be together?”

  “Miss Royce, I know better than to trifle in matters of romance. But these two... their gifts are unique. Fate could not keep them apart indefinitely. Mr. Wadsworth is the heir of Diarmid and Grainne. Miss Campbell was born a rarity as well, one in billions. I had to do nothing to bring these two together. Their spirits called out to each other in ways beyond anything I could control.”

  “Grainne?” I asked.

  “Your mother’s Annwnian name.”

  “Ahh.”

  “Not only can you call nature to your aid, Mr. Wadsworth—nature will go out of its way to aid you.”

  “And me?” Joni asked. “One in billions?”

  “Trillions, perhaps. I only know of a handful of others in the course of time who were born with the connection to Annwn you possess. The Druid Born are rare. There was Diarmid, of course. Many more in his time, but still then, they were rare. It has been a thousand years or more… until you.”