"Imagine," she said, in a quiet, thoughtful voice, "that you are up a high tree. It is dark and you have a sword in your hand. Somewhere below is the scabbard; it is stuck into the ground with the open end upwards and you have to make the sword fit into the scabbard. What chance would you have?"
"That's silly," he said. "There's nobody could do that even if they could see where to throw the sword."
"That is how it is with the power. It is there, but few are able to understand it, and those who do, are either very lucky, or unfortunate, to unlock the secret."
"Then how do you come by this power?"
"Most people stay up the tree, not even guessing that the power is within their grasp. A small number see through the darkness of superstition and recognise the scabbard of power. But it is a rare person who can think to climb down from the security of the tree and walk to the scabbard and fit in the sword." Her voice had risen in volume and he sensed a strange excitement in it.
"What does one do then?"
"With the sword and the scabbard you have the power. From that point you become the guardian and the defender of the ancient ways." Her eyes stared out into the night sky.
"Have you fitted the sword into the scabbard?" he whispered. He was suddenly afraid of her. She seemed different.
"I have the power," she said thoughtfully.
She had often spoken in a strange way, but he had thought that it was because she was old and, like him, had moved into the area from far away. But now she was changed. In the reddish light from the doorway she looked younger, larger and immensely strong.
"But why have power if you don't use it?" he murmured. His voice trailed away....
"I do use it. You have seen the ones who were ill and are now cured."
He remembered. The people with ugly swellings and red, painful sores, the injured soldiers who had returned from the Crusade, and people who could hardly walk; she had cured them all. Some had received herbal potions and some she had merely held with her strong hands. When she released her grip, they had seemed cured, and claimed they could walk, when before they had been lame. He had seen all these things, but being young he had supposed she was just another wise woman, a natural healer. Most large villages had one. But now he felt there was something more. She was quite unlike any person he had ever met.
"But there must be more to it than that?"
"There is, much more."
"Then why don't you use it to become rich?" he asked.
"What would I want with money?"
John was confused. Everyone wanted money. He knew she was poor. Her cottage had been an open secret to him from the time he had arrived; he had investigated all parts of it. There was the one large room in which they spent the day and two small, curtained sleeping areas. She had all the necessary things, but there was nothing of value, and she only earned enough from selling her herbs to pay for food. Surely she must want money.
"You could buy new clothes and boots," he muttered.
"I have everything I need. What would I want with extra clothes?"
"You could have gold and jewels."
"What for?"
John was amazed at the question. What for? What did she mean? Everyone wanted gold and jewels. "Well," he stuttered, "everyone wants them. You can buy things...."
She fixed him with a fierce stare. "I have real power: the sort that gold and jewels can never buy. When you are older you will understand. Real power concerns life and death, and the eternal battle between good and evil. Riches are drawn from the earth and will go back to the earth. My power is eternal and its value is greater than anything you can imagine." Her eyes were like the sunset; they blazed in a wild, passionate way. Her voice resembled a mighty queen addressing her massed subjects. She was all-powerful; she was terrifying, and John hid his face in his hands.
The Power in the Dark - Prologue + Chapters 1 & 2
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