Devil In Her Heart
Chapter Two, Like Dreamers Do
Years passed, and no one could explain what happened that night. In the minds of the Beatles, he was gone. All hope of getting him back died that cold September night. Memories of their old friend faded as the days turned into months, the months into years. Even Maureen slowly forgot the pain, and everyone moved back to their normal lives. Well, as normal as normal gets when you're a Beatle…
"That's IT! Forget it!!" Without another word, Dan threw down his drumsticks and stormed out. John sighed and packed up his guitar as Paul cursed under his breath. George just stared off into the distance.
"Smooth, Lennon," Paul snorted, taking off his bass. "That's the seventh session drummer you've pissed off this month."
John shrugged, grabbing his coat and scarf. "It's just not the same…without…" John turned away with a shiver, waving a quick goodbye to the boys in the booth. George and Paul looked at each other, then shrugged. They'd made a point not to even mention Ringo anymore, but it couldn't be helped; things just weren't the same. They'd had session drummers in and out, but their jibes and unconscious alienation managed to ditch them one by one. None had remained for longer than three weeks. So it had gone on for two years, but nothing could be done. The Beatles were slowly giving up.
John shut the studio door behind him, stepping out into the crisp London air. A light February snow wafted from the dark night sky, soothing his troubled thoughts. He tossed his guitar in the backseat of his car, then decided to take a walk.
Walking with slow, deliberate strides, John made his way to the center of London, losing himself in the thickening crowd. Florescent lamps shone harshly in the night, but John couldn't care less. His mind wandered, and he gazed upward into the falling snow.
Not watching where he was going, John inevitably bumped into a young lady with incredibly long, blonde hair. He looked down sheepishly, but his apology was cut off by the intense look in her striking blue eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but could not.
Abruptly, a wave of images washed over him. He saw visions, clear as day, flashing before his eyes. With a brilliant white flash, he saw the golden fields of Valeth, the grass waving in the wind, the picture of serenity. The light flashed again, and he saw a castle, not that of the Dark One, but of shining blue stone, set deep in the heart of a city, the azure stones shimmering in the brilliant sunlight. Another flash, and he could see inside the throne room; a long, red carpet led to a high throne, beautiful tapestries of every sort adorning the walls on either side. There, seated high on the throne, was an all too familiar young man. Ringo. Before John could cry out, the happy vision vanished, and John was plunged into the middle of a battlefield, the ground soaked in the blood of dying soldiers, screams of agony and defeat from every direction. There, in the middle on a high, dark horse, sat Ringo, in full battle regalia, expertly swinging a longsword at the advancing cavalry. John cried out to him, but he did not respond. Suddenly, Ringo was thrown from his horse to the blood-stained, bare earth. John rushed to help his fallen friend, but the vision soon vanished, and he could only see darkness. A soft light penetrated the night, and he could see a coffin, the top open but with a sheet of clear glass. John tentatively stepped closer, afraid of who he might find. He peered inside the grave black box, and John saw his old friend, dressed out in Valethian garments and surrounded by flowers. John fell to his knees, sobbing, pounding his fist on the glass of the coffin.
With that, the visions vanished with a surprising pop, and John found himself back on the London streets, kneeling, his face wet with tears. He jumped to his feet, just catching a flash of retreating blonde hair in the nearby alleyway. John flew after her, muttering excuses as he pushed roughly through the stream of people. He stopped cold in the alley, breathing hard, his breath crystallizing in the frosty air.
There, at the end of the alley, stood the young girl. As John watched, staring in astonishment, she pulled back the collar of her leather overcoat, wrapping her fingers over a small leather necklace. John barely heard her utter a few words, and she disappeared, a brilliant white wolf in her place. With a glance in John's direction, the beautiful animal launched over the brick wall, leaving John alone in the alley.
****
"Paul, I'm sick of this." George stated bluntly, shoving his hands deeper into his overcoat. "We can't go on like this. Session drummers aren't going to work if we keep pissing them off!"
Paul shrugged thoughtfully. "There's not much else we can do. We just need to find someone that works with us as well as Ringo…" He trailed off as they entered through the gateways of the city park, looking for somewhere to sit. They made their way through the thickening snow to a bench under a sad-looking willow. George dusted it off absently, sitting down with a sigh. Paul sat down next to him, and the two stared blankly at the iced-over pond in front of them.
"What now?" Paul said, wrapping his scarf tighter. "Wonder where John went…"
George's mind wandered, thinking back to Valeth. How he missed flying; in Valeth, with wings, he felt so much freer…nothing seemed to matter with the wind in his hair.
George jumped, startling Paul. "God, what's your problem?" He asked bluntly, folding up his collar. George turned to him, eyes wide.
"Paul…the charms!"
"Eh? What are you on about?" Paul looked at him like he'd gone mad.
"We buried them under this tree! Maybe…if we dig them up…something might happen!"
Paul pondered this for a moment, George jumping up and pacing in front of him.
"The ground's awfully hard…" Paul mused, clearing a bit of snow away with the tip of his boot. He looked up at George, who watched him expectantly. "We should find John first."
George sighed. "Look, you go find John, I'm going to grab the shovel from my car." George was always prepared for thick London snow. Paul agreed, walking quickly from the park as George returned with his shovel.
Carefully inspecting the tree, George found the root next to which they'd buried the box. They'd made sure to have a landmark to dig by should they ever need the charms again. He was glad they'd taken such precautions. George took off his gloves, rubbing his hands together. He cleared away the small layer of snow, then tapped gingerly at the ground. Finding it hard as rock, he grimaced, then began to chip at the thick dirt that held what they sought.
****
"John, where have you been?" Paul asked, clearly annoyed. John turned, startled, tearing his eyes from the alleyway.
"I…uh…"
"Forget it. George and I have an idea. C'mon…" Paul walked off, John following after one last look over his shoulder into the alley.
A few minutes later, after Paul had filled an enthusiastic John in on the plan, they arrived at the old willow, where George sat on the bench, panting, his coat cast aside despite the bitter cold. Hardly a dent was made in the solid ground. He turned as John and Paul approached.
"Ground's too hard," He gasped, leaning back to rest. "We have to wait until the spring thaw."
"The spring thaw??" Paul cried. "This is our chance to get Ringo back, and you're saying we have to wait till the spring thaw??"
"Calm down, Macca," John said softly, sitting next to George on the bench. "We'll think of something."
John pulled back his glove, inspecting his watch. "Well, it's late. We should get some rest. I've had a long day," He said absently. Paul readily agreed, helping George with his coat. The three said goodnight, going their separate ways for the evening.
****
George inspected his leathery wings, flexing them comfortably in the warm sunlight. The soft grass tickled his bare feet, and he smiled into the light breeze. With a quick leap of his long legs, he was aloft.
The ground fell out beneath him, trees becoming toothpicks on the rapidly retreating earth. George laughed, the wind tossing his hair about his golden-tanned shoulders, playing across his high cheekbones. He felt free, feeling the high wind flowing over his wings, his body light as the air surrounding him.
"George."
George stopped, hovering mid-air, looking down to the field. He could see a tiny figure, a woman, in a flowing white dress. Curious, he began to descend.
"George…"
The soft voice called again, and George finally responded.
"Yes?"
"Come to me, George."
"I'm coming…"
As he circled lower, he could see the woman had flowing blond hair, reaching to her waist. Even from this distance, he could see her striking blue eyes. Realization slowly dawned.
"Liryl?"
"Wake up, George."
"I don't want to go!" He pleaded, landing softly next to Liryl and holding her close, brushing the soft hair from her beautiful eyes.
George awoke with a start, peering into a pair of stunning blue eyes.
"Liryl!" He cried. She quickly pressed a finger to her lips, motioning to Patti, sleeping nearby. George nodded, slipping out of their bed and leading Liryl to the next room, closing the door softly behind them.
When they were alone, George pulled Liryl close, holding her tightly. "What happened? You're alive!" He released her slightly, and could see her eyes filling with tears in the moonlight streaming through the window.
"I missed you," She whispered quietly, smiling with trembling lips. He kissed her softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
When they finally parted, George glanced back at the room he'd just vacated. He turned back to Liryl. "I'm going to get dressed. I'll meet you outside, ok?" She kissed him quickly and slipped out the front door.
George tiptoed back into the bedroom, pulling on a pair of jeans and a collared white shirt. As he headed for the door, he heard a soft moan from the bed.
"George…? Where are you going?" Patti asked sleepily, propping herself up on one elbow.
George knelt on the bed and quickly kissed her on the forehead. "Out with the lads, luv. I'll be back."
"Ok…" Patti responded sleepily, falling back to sleep almost immediately. George sat and watched her sleep for a minute, then stood up with a sigh, grabbing his coat as he closed the door softly behind him.
George met Liryl outside, her shoulders shaking beneath her thin, black leather coat. George casually put an arm around her, glancing around quickly to see if anyone might catch his less-than-commendable husbandry. Seeing no one, the two made their way to the twenty-four hour café and sat in the farthest corner, ordering a hot cuppa each.
George sipped his thoughtfully, unable to take his eyes off Liryl. But he couldn't help think of Patti; they'd been married little more than a year or two, and he felt he loved her…but having Liryl return was too much to bear. George was becoming more and more uncomfortable; inevitably, he would have to decide.
George looked up from his steaming cup to see Liryl staring at him, her blue eyes deep pools of emotion. She looked away quickly, embarrassed. George's heart ached; it was clear Liryl loved him. He sighed, then returned to more important matters.
"How…how did you get here? How are you still alive? Have you seen Ringo? What's happened to Mystique and Valeth?" He asked in one nervous breath. Liryl smiled softly, and George relaxed slightly, then waited for her to speak.
"Let me begin from the beginning," She said simply. She held out her slim hands with a cursory glance around the café. Still seeing no one, mainly because of the ungodly hour, Liryl motioned for George to take her hands. He did so, a confused look on his tired features. Liryl's eyes slid shut, and with a nervous sigh, George followed suit.
"First I must remind you; the temporal rift between Valeth and Earth is great. While back on earth, only a few years have passed for you. On Valeth, it has been fifty years. Each earth year is equal to twenty five Valethian cycles. Simple."
As she was saying this, George could see bright visions of a happy and bright Valeth, sun shining, birds singing. It made him long for Valeth ever the more.
"When you released Ringo so long ago, his spirit vacated the shell and returned to Valeth, where his true body is and will remain until he is returned - in one piece. Once you released his soul, his body was awakened in Valeth. In the years that followed, he escaped from the Dark Lair and appeared in the city."
As Liryl continued to tell, George could see Ringo's body, cast out from the castle to the mountainous region nearby; it lay in a most unnatural position. As George watched, a red mist appeared, entering into his cold, pale body. Ringo's cheeks became pink again, and his eyes opened sleepily. He staggered to his feet, then, with a glance back towards the Lair, cast a spell and disappeared.
"Because of his otherworldly magery skills, he was hired by the King of Valeth to work in the Royal Guard - a highly respected position, held by very few, all Chosen Ones. Your Ringo became the King's most trusted advisor and closet personal friend."
George could now see Ringo, dressed in his tshirt and jeans, kneeling before an old man seated upon a high throne. He looked very out of place, and George might have laughed under any other circumstances. The King knighted Ringo and he rose, taking the golden seat at the King's right hand.
"But our King was old and frail, dependent more and more on his Royal Guard. On his deathbed, and with no heir, not even a Queen, he handed his kingdom over to his most trusted Royal Guard - Ringo. The King knew that Ringo had such an incredible wealth of power with which to rule, and the steady mind to use the power wisely. The King also knew that as a sorcerer, Ringo was all but immortal, and this is why he has lived for so many years of Valeth.
"While king, Ringo remembered all that had happened when you four had arrived. He thought of you three often, and it is said that he has always missed you greatly. Meanwhile, thinking of what had come to pass before he became king, he eventually remembered my body. He returned to my grave, and with an incredible spell, brought me back to life."
Ringo now appeared on the field, dressed in Valethian garments; a tight leather vest over a cream-colored shirt, loose sleeves blowing lightly in the soft wind. His loose brown leather pants were tucked into knee-high boots of thicker leather, a silver-hilt dagger protruding from a sheath strapped to the outside of his thigh. As George watched, Ringo raised his hands over Liryl's burial mound, and the stones rose into the air, then were cast aside with his magic. He didn't even break a sweat. Circling his hands over her grave, Ringo muttered an incantation, and Liryl's body rose, floating on air, her golden hair blowing about her head. With a few more foreign words, her eyes fluttered open, and Ringo gently set her on her bare feet. All color had returned to her cheeks and lips, her gown no longer stained by the dark clay of her grave. With a cry of thanks, Liryl knelt at his feet, and he put one long-fingered hand on her shaking shoulder, bidding her to rise.
"Since then, Ringo has reigned Valeth with a steady hand, the entire city brought into a glorious golden age under his rule. I became his apprentice, a member of the Royal Guard, and he trained me well despite my limitations. But in spite of the wealth he brought to his country, Ringo was not happy; he missed you, his old friends, and sought to find ways to return to earth. This became his obsession, occupying all of his waking moments, slowly forgetting about the city. By this time, seventy years had passed. The Dark Apprentice was lying in wait, anticipating the day she could return to attack the city. As Ringo was bent to his studies of the relationships between the two worlds, his people were becoming restless, on the brink of revolt against their impassive king. The head of this rebellion was Ringo's second in command, Kithan of the Royal Guard. As the rebellion rose, the army of a neighboring country attacked, and Ringo never had the chance to assemble an army before they arrived at the city gates. In the five years that followed, a bloody war was fought over the land, and many lives were lost. Nevertheless, Ringo fought valiantly to save his people, full of remorse over what his weakness had taken from his rationality.
"It was at this time that the Dark Apprentice rose again, and snatched our King from the very midst of battle. His magery skills were still no match for her dark energy, and she captured the good King and holds him in her palace."
A new vision came to George's eyes, one of a dark room. In the middle of this room a single light shone on a dark coffin, the top open, but glass, and a body lying inside. His view shifted, and he was above the coffin, looking down on the person inside. Ringo was surrounded by flowers, still clothed in the Valethian garments. He looked deathly pale, and he didn't appear to be breathing.
"Our king was not dead," Liryl continued, voicing his concerns. "But in her cold grasp. Since then, Valeth has remained war-torn, with Kithan on the throne. He rules with an iron fist, no compassion. The war still rages, no end in sight. Some still believe, hope, that the good King will return, but hopes are slowly fading.
"Soon before his capture, Ringo told me that should anything happen to him, I was to try to find the way to Earth, to find you. Somehow he seemed to know of his capture, resigned to his fate. Now he is gone, and I must ask you three to come back to help rid Valeth of Kithan and save the good King from the Apprentice's grasp."
George's eyes flew open, and he saw that Liryl had released his hands, peering at him with hope and even a small amount of uncertainty. George stared at her for a moment, trying to absorb all this, his hands shaking as he sipped from his now-cold cup. It had been hours since they'd sat down to talk.
George sighed, putting down his cup and looking into Liryl's eyes.
"What do I do?"
On to Chapter Three!
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