Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt

Summary: After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p

A/N: hey. This is my second attempt at a fic, the first try didn't go so well. I kinda just gave up on it. Hopefully it won't the same for this one. Anyways, I've had this idea for a bit, and I thought I'd try my hand at writing it out. Meh. More babbling at the end of the chapter. O and if anyone happens to read it, a little help at creating/improving my title might be nice.

When Will awoke, the sun had not risen yet. There was no friendly ray of light peaking from the space where his two curtains met. Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones, did not give thought to his early rising. There were other things on his mind. Yesterday's happenings most of all. He could still feel the fear and excitement of race against time of the day before. He saw Merriman, Jane, Simon, Barney, Bran and him standing each holding up one of the six Signs of the Light, a circle quartered by a cross. He felt the icy malice as the Dark pounded down on them with all of their evil strength. But above all, he remembered, the joy, the triumph, and the relief when Bran cut the silver blossom from the Midsummer Tree. But within this whirl of thoughts, one part of him was still thinking rationally, and was not a bubbling stew of emotion. But what of the prophecy? It reminded him. Merriman, nor any of the others did not leave. Who will be the one to go alone? A strange feeling of slight uneasiness washed over Will as he remembered this. He also thought he heard a whisper of a soft, mysterious melody. At this, he jerked his head up abruptly, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. The music and drawn out all thoughts Will had of yesterday. It was time to focus on today.

It was time to get up, Will decided. No bustle of noise could be heard downstairs. Will's aunt and uncle must not be awake yet, thought Will. Quickly, Will dressed, he put on a worn pair of trousers and pulled a t- shirt over his head. Will walked towards his bedroom door, and as an after thought, walked back over to his dresser and pulled out a sweater. It could do no harm, the small voice in his head rationed, After all, these Welsh hills can get chilly.

Careful, as to not make any loud noises, which might disturb his aunt and uncle, Will tiptoed out of his room and onto the stair landing. He gingerly put his sneakered foot down onto the first step. It creaked. Will cursed silently, and then wondered why he should feel such a need for stealth and quiet? He couldn't answer the question, but instinct told him that he was acting correctly. He reached the bottom of the stairwell without another creak, and Will made a mental note to avoid the top step, if he were ever to sneak out of this pleasant Welsh farmhouse again.

Once outside, Will's instinct of an Old One once again told him to move quietly. This time, he also found that it directed him where to go as well. He walked purposely out of his aunt and uncle's farmyard and into the fields. He could hear the soft, delicate melody again. He strained to catch more of it. It came from the west. Hmm. Said the Old One of Will's mind, West is where the Old Way lies.

But Will followed the music. Its rippling notes, calling to him, beckoning to come closer, closer to the Old Way. It was the song of the Light, surely it could not lead him to harm.

It was a grey morning. The clouds hung thick and heavy among the Welsh countryside. A damp cool mist had begun to creep in, and Will was glad that he had brought his sweater. The long grass, which blanked the hills, wet the bottom of Will's jeans with dew. As Will walked on, he noticed that the fog had grown thicker. At first he gave no thought to this, but then, as he neared the Old Way, Will looked around him and saw that we has no longer in South Wales. He was in a world of grey mist whirling around in large eddies. He looked back the way he had come, but he could not see his uncle's farm.

He was one step away from the Old Way. The sweet music was louder now, not as faint. Will sensed that it traveled along the Old Way, like water in a river, gushing downstream. Five will return, and one go alone. Will heard Merriman's voice in his head, reciting the last bit of the prophecy, which had not come true.

With a shock, Will realized that he must be the one to go alone. The music from the Old Way beckoned more sweetly and softly than ever. And then, Will knew that this was his way, not just his way as an Old One, but his way to continue his journey alone. With a deep breath to steady himself, Will stepped onto the Old Way.

Will instantly felt the familiar giddiness that came with travel through time. He felt himself plucked from his feet by a sudden, strong gust of wind. The music of the Light was all that he could hear now, that same lilting melody, with its rippling chords. The sound of the music grew more intense as the wind picked up strength. Will shut his eyes against his dizziness.

Will was riding the wind faster than he had ever done before, faster than he though possible. The wind buffeted all around him, pushing him roughly forward. Will was caught up the in the fierce current of the Light in the Old Way.

And then, it stopped. Just when the music of the Light had become deafening, and the wind had blown itself into a gale, Will found himself falling to the ground. He landed with a soft thump and a gasp as his breath was knocked out of him.

Will opened his eyes. And nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Not his senses of an Old One, not the teachings of Merriman or the Lady, not even his gift of Gramarye could have helped him. With a sharp stab of fear, Will wondered how foolish he was to have stepped onto the Old Way.

A/N: Yay! Hopefully you have been patient enough to at least make it to the end of the chapter before you decided this fic was crap. Anyways, like I said before, I'd really appreciate some help in the naming of this fic, as I've spent my imagination for one day. PLEASEPLASEPLASE R&R! :P:D I'd love it if you did. And if you leave a review, I'll be sure to reply to you in the next chapter or by email, if you leave your address,

Cheers, -Norah