City Under the Waves - 1. Chapter 1

The early morning sun danced on calm pools and dew still glistened on the slender stems of grass and reed. The distant forest was little more than a smudge on the horizon and the air was perfumed with the pure scents of nature and a purer sense of freedom.

Standing in the middle of all this, taking in as much as his senses could cope with, Marc was feeling as happy as he could ever remember. The freedom alone was intoxicating enough but the thought of what might lie ahead… His sister, on the other hand had noticed none of the beauty. When she looked around it was with the quick anxious movements of someone who was nervous and eager to be on their way.

“Marc, I don’t think we should go any further. Grandad said these marshes are dangerous.”

“Don’t be daft. The path is clear enough.”

“Please Marc.”

“Mererid, I’m not going back. I want to see the wood. I was talking to Old Joe this morning, you know... the old man who’s always sitting outside The Swan. He knows an awful lot about local history. He was telling me about a lake, a haunted lake, and I want to see it.”

“For goodness sake, Marc, when will you stop being so childish? When will we have a normal holiday? I’m fed up of being dragged around haunted lakes and haunted castles. When have we ever found anything? When?”

“Well, we haven’t actually found anything – yet,” he acknowledged reluctantly. “But this time is different. I can feel it.”

“Yes, you always can. You and your ‘feelings’,” she responded in irritation. “It’s always the same, but this time you’re going to get us into real trouble. Grandad specifically forbade us to come here.”

“Forbade? Meri, we aren’t children any more. Anyway, it’s only the villagers infecting him with their silly superstitions.”

“So you admit it is just superstition.”

“”That it is haunted? Yes, I suppose so, but there is something. There has to be.”

“There never has been before.”

“This time it’s different. This time there really is something there. This is what I’ve been looking for.”

Marc’s eyes grew distant as he gazed out over the trembling waters of the marsh pools. A breeze lifted his heavy dark hair and fanned it out over his shoulders. The same breeze raised the small hairs at the base of Mererid’s neck and she shivered, even as she accepted she’d lost, as she always lost and would follow, as she always followed. Sometimes it seemed it was her destiny to live out her life in the shadow of her twin.

“Alright, alright, if it has to be let’s get it over with. But if I fall into the marsh you can explain to Grandma.”

“I’ll take all the blame. Come on.”

With a , Mererid threw one more nervous glance around her then scurried after Marc, gluing her eyes and, she hoped her feet, to the path.

Concentrating intensely, she failed to notice the wood drawing nearer, and was startled when she found herself suddenly walking on grass. Looking up, she found she was surrounded by trees into which her brother had already disappeared. She panicked.

“Marc?!”

There was a rustling in the trees to her right but, when Marc re appeared a few minutes later, it was from the left.

“What’s the matter now?”

“I… I was frightened. Where did you go?”

“Meri, if you think I’m going to spend the rest of the day running around after you then you’re sadly mistaken. If you can’t keep up go back.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and the trees swallowed him again.

“Marc! Marc please come back. Please don’t leave me. I don’t like this place. I want to go back.”

“Then go.”

His voice sounded a long way away and Mererid flung herself into the trees after him, her mouth dry with fear. After every step the trees closed in behind, cutting off the safety of the marsh and the town. Fear rose to panic as rustling came from every side and footsteps crashed behind. The trees themselves were her enemies and she fought to be free of them. Branches reached for her with a life of their own and she tore herself free, stumbling blindly, no longer following Marc or fearing the marsh into which she was in danger of plunging.

Then the trees were gone. Bright sunshine blinded her through the tears that streamed down her face, and she fell to her knees in the long cool grass, trembling and sobbing out her fear.

“What on earth is the matter with you?”

She didn’t see him until he was kneeling in front of her; until his arms were around her and she was clinging to him as though for her life.

“Oh, Marc.”

“Meri, what’s the matter? What happened?”

“I told you. It’s this place. It’s horrible. It’s evil. I can feel it. There was something…something in the woods. It wants to hurt us. I’m sure of it. Please take me away from here.”

“Meri… look.”

There was something in his voice; something like awe. Slowly, she raised her head and, looked over his shoulder. She clutched him even tighter as she took in the amazing sight of the huge lake. Marc smiled and shook his head. He helped her to her feet and they turned to stare over the mirror waters which stretched away so far that the distant shore was hazy and indistinct. At that moment it seemed to Mererid that no matter how much evil there was in the wood or in the world outside, it could never touch them here. This was a magical place. They could feel it in the vibrations of the air, hear it in the sighing of the breeze and see it in the dancing mists on the water.

For a long time they stood side by side unmoving, smiling into the distance; caught out of time by the air of mystery and calm which lay over the whole clearing like a protective canopy. They were reanimated by a movement on the far bank. Looking up they saw a figure move to the edge of the water and sit. Even though some distance lay between them they could see he was sad; a deep sadness that came to them across the water on the breeze that rose to break the surface into light ripples.

Drawn by the call of his pain, they moved slowly around the lake towards the stranger, who didn’t seem to be aware of them at all. He was an odd looking figure, dressed in bright colours; drawing to their minds from nowhere pictures of the wandering minstrel bards from stories. He was a big man and, with his thick black hair and beard, he could have been an imposing figure if it hadn’t been for the loneliness which wove, with the sadness, a heavy cloak across his shoulders, clasped with a pin of deepest loss at his breast. Across his back lay a wide leather strap which looked as though it should have been holding something.

****

As they drew closer, a sixth sense twitched in Marc and a bright flash of insight touched his lips with a name which was forgotten the moment the breeze snatched it away. Startled, the man looked up and, seeing them for the first time, rose and disappeared into the trees. At first they tried to follow him but it was hopeless. By the time they’d reached the spot they thought he’d been, the mists had swallowed all sign he’d ever been there. At last, they gave up and sat down on the bank, staring into the water.

“What was it you called him?”

Marc frowned, distracted, and his hand, set free from the bonds of consciousness plucked small flowers and sent them spinning away across the waters as though in offering to the sprits of the lake.

“I don’t know. When I said it I knew it; I’d always known it, but now… now it’s as if I’ve never known it; never said it.” He turned to her and his eyes were dark. “Can you feel it, Meri? The whole place is holding its breath. It’s watching us, waiting for us to do something but I don’t know what we are supposed to do. We’ve started something haven’t we? Just by coming here we’ve started something and now…and now…” He shook his head, coming out of a dream. “I don’t understand. Can you feel it: the expectancy? It scares me.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? What you’ve been looking for?”

“No; not this. It’s too… too personal. I wanted adventure, to go somewhere no one else has been, to see something no one else has seen. I wanted to find real magic, to know the world isn’t as grey and ordinary as it seems. I wanted something to touch my soul, but this… this touch is cold, Meri, and I don’t like it. This lake isn’t haunted. It is waiting; waiting for us.”

****

Mererid frowned, worried. Until now she’d been with him— seeing what he saw, feeling as he felt but, although she had sensed the presence of something great and soul stirring, its touch for her hadn’t been cold. It had calmed her and soothed her and made her feel warm inside. Even now, when she looked at her brother and coldness edged the touch, the coldness was for him. Even so, it was enough to make her shiver. Marc put his arm around her and they huddled together, waiting.

At first, they saw nothing unusual but gradually became aware of the waters becoming cloudy. Dim figures moved in the murky depths. As they scrambled to their feet to peer out further, strange sounds began to filter through the oddly still air. Initially it was merely the barely heard chimes of a lone church bell, then the ringing of hooves on cobbles and then, more clearly, children’s voices laughing and singing. While they watched and listened, the voices became clearer and the shadowy figures floated closer becoming more distinct until they could clearly see the streets of a large medieval town in the waters of the lake.

Almost as soon as the picture became clear it was broken by ripples on the surface of the lake. Gradually the ripples became more and more fierce until they could hardly see anything at all. Then, just before it disappeared altogether the laughter turned to screams and shouts of fear as a huge wave swept down the streets carrying with it anything and everything in its path.

Mererid, clung to her brother holding her breath until the ripples settled and everything became silent and very still. The lake waters were clear and empty. The mist began to curl across its surface again. Marc and Mererid looked at each other, shocked, wondering if they’d imagined it all. When their eyes went back to the waters the lake was, once again revealing its secrets to them.

This time they saw a cave, a vast cavern lit by shifting coloured lights with no apparent source. At the far end of the cave was an underground lake. Somewhere water dripped, echoing in the silence. In the middle of the floor was a stand on which stood a massive crystal. As soon as he saw it Marc went cold and his breath caught in his throat; but Mererid was entranced, watching with pleasure as the lights slid across its polished surface.

A woman appeared from the darkness at the side of the cave. Her long hair was silver and she wore a simple white robe. She smiled and reached out her hands to them both. Mererid held out her hand but as Marc reached out too his attention was diverted to another shadow, moving at the other side of the cave. He turned and saw another woman, similar to the first but with dark hair, and eyes that were pools of shadow in the semi darkness. She smiled too, but her smile was cold; cold as death. Both women turned towards the crystal and touched the shimmering surface. Mererid felt the warmth and beauty of the lights filtering through it. Absently she smiled and reached out towards them. Marc felt the crystal shatter. Knife edged shards flew at him, piercing his heart. From that moment he saw no more visions in the water and walked in fear of the dark, brooding presence which had claimed him as her own.

While Marc fell screaming into boiling blackness Mererid slid gently into another world; a world she had known and yet never dreamed of. Strange familiar hills rolled away beneath her. Riders galloped after hounds, their laughing voices shaping the air into bright columns with smiling faces and outstretched arms. Even as they were unaware of her they sent out their welcome.

Delighting in the feeling of joy and welcome Mererid hardly notices the shimmer on the horizon grow brighter, draw distinction from the land and rise up out of its arms like the smile of a child. Glancing up she gasped and spun, her heart bursting with the sight of the soaring glistening towers touched with gold, spires so delicate they must surely shatter with the barest breath of breeze. Her speed slowed and she began to descend, floating downwards to land like a whisper in the crystal courtyard of the magnificent palace.

Almost immediately voices rang out and footsteps approached. A door opened in the apparently seamless glass wall and a stream of silver flowed out into the courtyard. Or so it seemed to her as the children were so bright: a girl and a boy who seemed a little younger; playing together; brother and sister. The glare of the sun, reflected off a thousand crystal faces turned to sliver as it touched their silver hair and pristine robes, turning them into faery creatures: mercurial; the light personified.

Suddenly the children stopped. As if becoming aware of her presence they looked up. When they saw her they smiled and ran towards her calling welcome. Something welled inside her and tears spilled down her cheeks as she ached to hold them; to be part of them and their world.

When they were almost close enough to touch the girl hesitated and stopped. Frowning she pulled her brother to a halt. Her voice rang out as clear and bright as the crystal which surrounded her.

“No brother; not yet. It is not time yet.”

The boy threw a quick, puzzled glance at Mererid then turned his face back to his sister tears brimming in his eyes, which were a strange, pale green, reflecting the colours from around him which were stark and icy. His voice was plaintive.

“But sister; she is here. Is she not the one?”

“She is brother.”

“Then… then it must be time.”

“No; not yet. See, she does not know us. The light shines through her. This is a sign, just a sign. But she will come. One day she will come. She will return to us what was lost and we shall be free again. One day our beloved bard will smile.”

Another laugh rang out as brittle as the crystal which was suddenly only glass. Looking up, startled Mererid saw, in the doorway, another girl. The face was the same; the simple white robe, but her hair, her eyes and her heart were black as coal. Her voice was cold and deadly, stabbing at Mererid as it spat venom into the purity of the moment.

“Fools! The vision is false. She cannot come here. No one can come. You are prisoners eternal. There is only one key and it is beyond your reach. It is in my keeping and I will never release it, never.”

As she spoke she stared directly into Mererid’s eyes and her heart went cold. A terrible foreboding overwhelmed her as, with a tremendous sense of time and space rushing past her, she closed her eyes and opened them again on the calm waters of the lake.

At first she could only stand and stare, gradually becoming aware of her earthly body; drawing herself back to reality and freeing herself from the incredible wonder of the visions she had seen. Laughing in release she turned to Marc and the laughter died on her lips.

He was lying in the long grass, one hand in the water and the other thrown up as if to ward off an attack. His eyes were closed and his face colourless. When she knelt and touched him he was so cold that in a terrible rush of fear she thought that he was dead.

“Marc? What happened to you? What’s wrong?”

Desperately she took his hands in hers and rubbed them, trying to massage life back into the dead fingers. Slowly, gradually the skin warmed under her touch, turning from grey to pink. She barely noticed until he drew a deep, shuddering breath which he let out in a long low moan. Relief knocked her weak and she sagged back on her heels and watched as, first colour tinged his cheeks and then, at last his eyes flickered and opened.

For a long, heart stopping moment, Marc stared upwards, half blind, seeing nothing but greyness. Gradually colour began to seep into his vision until the sky was dazzlingly blue; and then movement as the long grass above him began to sway in the breeze and fluffy clouds skittered overhead.

Slowly he blinked and turned his head. Mererid was staring at him, mute tears falling from her eyes. He smiled and it was hard, oh so hard to remember how…or why. The smile wavered and slipped away but she was too happy to see him awake and aware to even notice.

Stiffly he got to his knees and threw his arms around her. It felt strange, somehow wrong and it was an effort not to recoil from her. Again she didn’t notice; perhaps if she had it would have saved them all from a lot of pain.

“Oh Marc, I thought you were dead. What happened?”

“Hush now, I’m alright. I’m alright. Nothing happened.”

“But Marc…”

She pulled away to look at him and he put a finger to her lips. “Nothing happened,” he repeated firmly and, reflexively she nodded; out of her depths as, for an instant all she could see in his eyes was swirling blackness. Then he blinked and it was just her brother smiling at her, his amber eyes a reflection of her own. She nodded again, more firmly.

“Alright, I’ll accept that. If you don’t want to talk I will accept that nothing happened.”

“Nothing did happen.” But this time his voice was remote and unconvincing.

“I’m going to tell you what happened to me though… it’s amazing. You were right about this place…there is something here.”

He disguised his shudder as a shiver and scrambled hurriedly to his feet.

“Alright, talk as much as you like but do it on the hoof. I’m freezing. I just want to get out of here.”

“Okay, we’ll go; but we’ll be back. You know we’ll be back.”

“Yes, I know.” There was a note of dread in his voice and as they turned to walk into the trees he looked back expecting to see something dark hovering over the waters. He saw noting and both the tone and the look were lost on Mererid who was already lost to her world in its telling.