The Ddraig-Cyfrinachau - 5. Chapter 5

Alexander Munroe was up in his room, sitting on his bed. He had just spent the last hour and a half revising for his upcoming exams, which were due to start in about six weeks time. However, while he was revising, his mind had been elsewhere.

Instead of absorbing the details of the events of the Second Defenestration of Prague and the lead up to the Thirty Years War, he had spent the entire ninety minutes wondering what was happening with Thomas; wondering where he was and what he was doing, and wondering why Thomas was unable or unwilling to tell him what was going on. He re-read what he had written the night before.

April 11^th

Dear diary, me again.

Thomas has only been away for two days now and I all ready miss him like crazy. Why, oh why, have I never been able to tell him how I feel about him? He must know how I feel; God knows I’ve dropped enough hints over the past three years – about the only thing I haven’t done is lick his tonsils (and I have oh so often thought about doing just that so many times before, but just never quite plucked up enough courage). But why can’t I just come out and tell him? We’ve been through so much and shared so much over the years. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. It sounds so corny, but he is the last thing I think about before I go to sleep and he is the first thing I think about when I wake up, he is the sun in my day and the moon in my night. Where are you, Thomas? Where are you, my heart? What are you doing? Why do you keep this thing from me, as I have kept this from you? Have I been so wrong to not simply come out and tell you how I really feel? My heart hurts with you not here. Jesus H Christ I must have it really bad! I’m starting to sound like a bloody Dame Barbara Cartland novel! I want to see him, to feel him, to cover him in kisses and to wrap him in my arms. My Thomas, wherever you are, I love you, and will always love you.

How am I am supposed to concentrate on revising for my exams when Thomas is running around God Alone Knows Where, doing God Alone Knows What. I can remember nothing at all of the four hours I spent reading my notes on A Midsummer Night’s Dream earlier today. I know I read through them because I’ve scrawled some additional notes in the margins, but I have no recollection of it. All I can remember from those four hours is thinking about Thomas and replaying memories of some of things we did together when we were younger. Like that time Thomas had to get his stomach pumped after eating horse chestnuts thinking they were ordinary chestnuts and he got alkaloid poisoning. There was the time when I got stung on my butt by a hornet that I’d somehow sat on and Thomas was laughing and talking about how he was going to have to suck the poison out. One of my favourites though was the time we went trick or treating with Nancy and Katie when we twelve, and the four of us went as Abba (with Nancy and Katie as Benny and Bjorn, and Thomas and me as Agneta and Anni-Frid). I can’t remember how I managed to get Thomas to don that long blonde wig and put on all that glittery make-up, but I remember it took him a week to finally get it all off. Looking back, I think that was when I started falling in love with him.

Reading back over his diary entry, Alex came to the realisation of just how deeply his love for Thomas ran. He knew that it wasn’t just a silly crush or an infatuation. Although, like Thomas, he was only fifteen, Alex knew he was head over heels in love. It was that take your breath away, sitting on top of the world, tingling from head to toe, heart pounding, blood pounding in your ears, nothing bad will ever happen, kind of feeling. He only had to look at the photo of him and Thomas taken at Windsor Castle last year that he kept on his bedside table to get that feeling and his heart would ache. He picked up a pen and began writing.

April 12^th

Dear diary, twice in as many days! I must be suffering.

I had a dream about Thomas last night. It sounds odd but I don’t really dream about him very often – the last time was about four months ago. It was so vivid and felt so real, it was my first wet dream in four years. I just can’t imagine telling mum that I’d had a wet dream at my age so I threw the evidence out in the trash. I’ll die of embarrassment if she ever finds out. I don’t know why, but I feel so guilty over this dream; it’s like I’ve taken advantage of my best friend or something. I know I’m not responsible for my dreams, or for what my dream self does (which is a really good job, otherwise I’d be in oh so much trouble), but I can’t help feeling the way I do. There was nothing in my dream that I’ve never thought about doing to Thomas or doing with Thomas, but just having that fantasy played out so vividly – I don’t think I’m old enough to be watching material like that, let alone dreaming about it. I could smell his apple-scented shampoo, I could feel his skin on mine, I could feel his breath when we kissed, I could taste his . . . . I have never, never, never had a dream like that before! But if the dream was that good, then being with him and having a real relationship with Thomas must be a hundred, no a thousand, times better! I’ve finally decided to tell Thomas how I feel, I have to tell him. I am so in love with him. I can’t keep doing this to myself. If he rejects me, I’ll be heartbroken, but at least I’ll know. At least I’ll know, and I can finally stop driving myself crazy. But I just hope he says he’ll be with me. Heavenly Father, I know I’m not exactly the most devout Christian going, and I know I don’t go to church and stuff as much as I should, but please let Thomas love me. Please let him feel for me just a fraction of what I feel for him.

Alex always writes in his diary whenever he has something on his mind, and this mystery with Thomas was really playing on his mind. Alex had allowed Thomas to go off to wherever he is unchallenged, partly because he didn’t want to cause scene after the funeral but even more so because he trusted Thomas so much that he knew Thomas had to have a very good reason for keeping this duty secret. That didn’t mean though that Alex wouldn’t worry about Thomas, and worry he did. He had all kinds of dark visions, imagining Thomas in all kinds of danger, facing all manner of ills. Alex never once, not even his wildest imaginings, did he even come close to what was happening to Thomas.

“Alex honey. You’re going to be late for that study group thing if you don’t hurry up.”

“OK mum. I’ll be there in a sec, I’m just getting my stuff together.” Alex put his diary away, packed his revision books in his bag and went downstairs.

“Alex! What about lunch?” his mum yelled.

Alex was just about out the front door so he yelled back over his shoulder, “I’ll grab something at Nancy’s. Love you mum.”

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Thomas re-read the telegram, which served as the first page of the folder he had opened, and could not believe what he was reading. He knew that things had happened in the past, acts that had been committed in the Council’s name. He had been told of dark deeds that had been perpetrated in order to protect the Council and the dragons. But this! This wasn’t in the past, and it wasn’t done to protect any living dragons. He knew that what had happened would have been deemed necessary according to the Council, but this was too damned close to home for his liking. This was too shocking for him to wrap his brain around.

To: Council Leader Elizabeth Mary Tollin

From: Ceidwadwy Bryn Jones

Date: The twenty first day, of the month of March, in the Year of Our Lord 1922

As ordered by the Council, I have followed the party of eight archaeologists now for three days and they have just found the second marker to her final resting place. I have now followed them up in to the Chilterns about twenty miles to the west of London. It’s hard to believe that even though the hills are covered in snow, I know exactly where I am; it is as though through the grace of Yddraigfawr that I can see the land beneath the snow.

Professor Gillian Childs has already begun decryption attempts and her intelligence is of such a high level that I fear she will understand the marker within a matter of days. The first marker was in an obscure variant of one of the extinct languages and she decoded that marker in only three days.

These archaeologists are too close to discovering the tomb for my liking. By the time you read this telegram I will all ready have carried out the final edict as our laws demand of me; as they have demanded of Ceidwadwy before me and as they may well demand of Ceidwadwy yet to come. The bodies of these eight will never be found, and I will ensure that there is no evidence that they were ever even here.

For my actions this day, I beg for the forgiveness of Yddraigfawr.

Thomas’ head was still reeling after reading the telegram composed his great-grandfather. He never imagined that he would ever be able to say that he knew someone personally who had committed murder, let alone being able to say that about one of his own family. Thomas began wondering about what his father may have done in the name of the Council. Had he ever killed someone? Had he killed several someones? Had he made people disappear? Was his father really the sweet, honest, carefree man he remembered? Or was his father some kind of cold-hearted assassin, who used to fake nicey-nicey with him?

Thomas then began thinking about the personal implications in his great-grandfather’s telegram ‘as they may well demand of Ceidwadwy yet to come’. Would he ever be asked to carry out ‘the final edict’? Thomas knew he could never and would never commit murder. No sir. Not in any way, shape or form. But, then he figured his great-grandfather had probably taken the exact same standpoint in the beginning. He wondered what event could have possibly caused his great-grandfather to become cold enough to be able to commit murder, and if he himself would ever become that cold. In that moment, he wished with all his heart that Alex was there with him. He needed Alex more now than he had even needed him at the funeral, and Thomas felt Alex’s absence.

In spite of his shock, Thomas continued to read the documents stored in the folder . He thought that the telegram had been deplorable, but that was nothing compared to rest of what was in that folder.