City Under the Waves - 2. Chapter 2

Marc woke to darkness and the sound of his own heart pounding loud in his ears. With blind eyes he stared into the blackness, searching for a hint of motion; there was none. As the frantic beating of his heart quieted he became aware of the sound of Mererid breathing deeply nearby, fast asleep. So, whatever had woken him had not been loud enough to wake her.

The air was hot and still; stifling. He found it hard to breathe and, slipping out of bed as silently as he could, he went over to the window and threw it open. The night air was sweet and he filled his lungs gratefully. As he did so movement below caught his attention. It was a mere flicker, a suggestion of a pale face, a long gown, and then it was gone. Frowning he searched the empty street but saw nothing more.

As he turned away from the window pain blossomed in his head and he bit down hard on his lip to stifle the cry that formed there. Tasting blood he gripped the edge of the bedside table, steadying himself until the spasm passed. It left him light headed and curiously detached. Without realising what he was doing he found his feet taking him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He was in the street before he became aware that he had moved at all, the cool night breeze rousing him from his dream state.

He looked around confused, wondering how he had got there. Again a flicker of movement caught his eyes and this time when he looked up at her the woman did not vanish but glided towards him across the empty street in air suddenly still and expectant.

Marc was terrified. He remembered this woman from the cave he had seen at the lake and he could feel the darkness emanate from her, calling to the pain which suddenly stabbed into his chest so that he gasped and hugged himself. The woman smiled, stopping inches from him.

“So; you are the one.” Her voice was very soft. It had a hint of spring meadows, a hint of song and a hint of steel. Overall was a pervading sense of menace. Marc’s eyes were wide when they stared into hers; he could turn them nowhere else. The eyes were dark, slightly slanted and almond shaped, glowing amber in the moonlight, a mirror of his own.

“I have waited such a long time for you and I must say you do not disappoint. I feel great strength in you. That will not help you, of course, but it makes it fun for me. And, of course you are beautiful, how could you not be? It is such an interesting twist that you are male; it will be so much fun. How it will confuse that old fool bard. If we are lucky he will not realise the truth until it is far too late. He may not even realise that you are twins. Do not mention it to him. You do, after all, seem so much younger than that fool sister of yours.”

“P…please...”

“Release you? No, never. You don’t understand; not yet, but you will. You are mine: you have always been mine, because you are me. In a sense we are twins too; a soul torn apart, bridging worlds, spanning time. You can’t fight yourself, little one”

“No…”

“Oh, how sweet; you ARE fighting me. I wouldn’t advise it. You are so strong and that strength will be the death of you if you are not careful. Now, listen carefully, I have plans for you. You will be my eyes and my hands; you will manipulate those fools to do as I wish. Come to the lake today and I will tell you what to do,”

“No. I won’t… help… I don’t know who you are or what you want with me but… but I won’t... I won’t...”

“But you will. Of course you will.”

Reaching out she laid her hand on his chest, over his heart and this time he could not silence the cry which was torn from him by the pain which stabbed through him and sent him to his knees gasping.

“I have your heart in my hand. When I squeeze; you fall. If I squeeze too hard; you die. Now do you understand?”

Unable to speak he nodded, his eyes enormous in a face bleached of all colour. She smiled, a gentle smile and leaned down until her face was very close to his. “I believe that, if you stop fighting me, we could be such good friends.” He shook his head and she laughed. This time her smile was not gentle but hungry. “This strange twist of fate, that brings you to me as a man, opens so many new possibilities. You make my head spin… “ her eyes devoured every inch of his face and he shivered with the cold of a horror beyond words or expression. “I like it.”

Her arm went around him, drawing him to his feet. He struggled to break free but she was like steel and he was weak. When she lowered her head and kissed him he could do nothing but respond. The kiss sucked the breath from his lungs and left him cold and trembling. He struggled inwardly even as his body responded and it only made her laugh the more.

“You are a wonder. No one has ever fought me so hard. Of course; it should not be a surprise. If you could only look into your heart you would see that you and I are the same. We have the same eyes, the same hair...” she twisted a lock of his long dark hair between her fingers, “ the same strength. But of course, you cannot look into your heart…your heart is sealed against you… It is mine.”

His eyes and mind were full of her smile; his heart empty of all but pain, as she spun away from him and was gone; swallowed by the night. Her voice whispered from a distance. “Come to the lake. Come to me and I will possess you; all of you.”

For a very long time he stared after her, seeing nothing. The beat of his heart was loud in his head, each contraction a stab of pain in his chest, each breath a sob. The sky was lightening before he became aware that he was cold more cold than he had ever been. In surprise he looked around, wondering why he was standing in the street in his pyjamas. With dragging steps he climbed the stairs and fell into bed. He was asleep; or at least unconscious, before he was even able to pull the blankets over him.

Early the next morning, as the twins were preparing to go out their grandmother stopped them.

“I wonder if you two would mind doing me a favour today”

“Sure, of course we will.”

“You know Joe Davies don’t you Marc? He’s always sitting outside The Swan telling stories to anyone who listens.”

“Yes, I know him.”

She paused for a moment, caught off guard by the unaccustomed surliness in his voice, almost a guarded enmity. Shaking her head to dismiss the idea she pressed on.

“Well, he has a grandson. They boy has been living with him for about four years; since his father was killed in an accident. His mother died when he was a baby, bless him. Anyway, he’s at university in Aberystwyth but he is home for the summer and those superstitious idiots in the village are making his life a misery again. They have it in their silly heads that he is somehow supernatural. An elf would you believe? Or a changeling from the haunted mountain.”

“Haunted mountain?”

“Yes, another of their superstitions. They say there is a mountain on the other side of the wood that only appears to let someone out, like the changelings, or to steal someone away. They are all terrified of it.”

“Very interesting, but what has this got to do with us?”

Again she checked at the coldness in his voice. He had his back to her, staring out of the window, and there was something... something not quite right. A quick glance told her that Mererid had noticed nothing unusual and so she gave herself a mental shake, berating herself for being a foolish old woman, and put it out of her mind.

“I saw him in the village yesterday and the way people were treating him… well it’s no wonder the poor boy is hardly ever home. It made me see red, I can tell you. I would have given them all a piece of my tongue but it would only have made things worse. Anyway, I told him that you were here and I said you would go round today and play with him. He seemed very eager.”

Marc whirled from the window, his eyes burning with an expression that made his grandmother take a step back, almost afraid of him. For one awful moment she could have believed that he was about to strike her but he did no more than stare as though he hated her, then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the house.

Mererid was annoyed with her too but her annoyance was far gentler.

“Grandma…we are not children. We don’t ‘play’. Honestly Grandma, we’re adults now.”

“You are still children to me, my sweet. You will go, won’t you?”

Mererid laughed and dropped a kiss on the old lady’s cheek. “You know we will. And don’t mind Marc. He isn’t really a yob he just acts like one sometimes.”

“Get on with you child. Celyn will be waiting for you on the bridge.”

“Celyn?” The word slid from her tongue as if it had a place there. A shiver went through her that was almost but not quite déjà vu.

“That’s his name. Now hurry, that hot headed brother of yours might be half way home by now.”

“He won’t be.”

He wasn’t. He was leaning over the front gate looking as if he were about to be sick in the road. Mererid didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. As soon as he felt her eyes on him Marc flushed and thrust his hands into his pockets. He slouched as they walked side by side down the street. Still Mererid said nothing and the silence between them stretched tighter with ever step they took. At last Marc could stand it no longer and he stopped.

“Alright; alright, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to her like that and I shouldn’t have walked out… but Gods what does she think we are? Two kids to spend our holidays playing Doctors and Nurses with some stray.”

“Marc! What’s got into you? This isn’t like you. Are you feeling alright?”

“I told you; I’m alright. For Gods sake leave me alone. If we have to do this let’s just get it over with.”

Mererid stared after his fast retreating back, stunned. In itself this was nothing new. Her brother was known for having ‘an attitude’ but it had never before been turned on her. Between themselves there had always been an unspoken agreement; a special relationship. They were always themselves. And now, apparently they weren’t. Marc, at least, wasn’t himself at all.

Somewhere in the back of her mind a connection was made between what had happened at the lake and the way Marc was acting. Unfortunately the thought went unrecognised and was never developed. By the time she caught up with him she had forgiven him and ceased to look for reasons.

The bridge was in the middle of the village, in the opposite direction to the wood. It was not in a particularly elevated position but, as they approached, it stood out like a single blazing star in a dark sky. It was not so much the bridge itself which gave this impression, being a simple arch over a river that was, at this time of the year, jumpable. Rather it was the figure who stood on the bridge, leaning on the rail and staring into the water. From a distance it appeared that the long hair draping his shoulders was made of silver, catching and reflecting every ray of bright sun so it was almost painful to look at him.

Marc hesitated for a moment then shrugged and strolled on. Mererid was more reluctant and hung back, crushed breathless in the grip of strong emotions. There was something about the boy, something in the tall, slender frame, the regal bearing and the mercurial aura; something that was achingly familiar but beyond her memory. She knew him, yet she did not; she had seen him before, yet she had not. The strangeness made her shiver. And she understood why the villagers were afraid of him. Whatever he might or might not be; a normal, simple human being he was not.

Celyn was watching the water, half hypnotised by the flashed from its broken surface. There were fish here now, for the first time in years. The water was clean again now that the pits were all closed. They were idle thoughts, slipping across his mind like the light across the surface of the water. More idle thoughts – the twins, would they come and, if they did would they stay? They were from the city; people were different in the city. Maybe they would be different.

A sudden awareness crashed in on his thoughts; someone was coming. So what? People came; they went; they never stayed long in his presence. Their lives never touched his. So why the anticipation? He looked up.

The boy’s eyes were terrible. His face smiled, an unfamiliar reaction…a welcome, but his eyes... his eyes were fearsome. Amber like a hunting bird; or a great cat. Hunting eyes. And behind them was… was…. For a moment he panicked, almost turned and ran but there was something about the boy that attracted him as much as it repelled him. He stared into the tawny eyes and felt a thrill of something that could have been fear or.... And then there was someone else, someone who was almost the same but at the same time completely different. The same face; the same eyes, but so much…lighter and so…so…familiar. For some reason, relief washed through him that he would not have to face the boy alone; that there was someone else who knew; who was...

“Are you alright? You look at bit…surprised. You were expecting us weren’t you? Grandma said…”

“Yes, yes I was. I’m sorry, I was daydreaming. You took me by surprise. Marc and Mererid, yes?”

As the grey/green eyes smiled into hers Mererid experienced a sudden flash of inner vision – crystal spires, a small boy and his sister. “She is here.” Mererid blinked and shook her head. When she looked back Celyn was frowning; his eyes puzzled, almost dazed. Had he seen too? Was she the one? Was he?

“Great. So you know who we are. We know who you are. Now what? Do we stand here staring at each other all day?”

“Marc!” Mererid was surprised and annoyed by her brother’s hostile attitude but had no intention of allowing it to sour their relationship with their new friend. Turning to Celyn she smiled and took his arm. “Don’t mind him: he’s in a mood. He got out of bed the wrong side this morning. He’ll lighten up,;you just have to work on him a bit.”

So saying she waltzed the stunned Celyn back towards the house, and the marsh, and the wood. He followed readily, casting frequent glances over his shoulder at their silent, surly companion who never once looked at him. Mererid kept up a steady stream of friendly conversation which held Celyn’s attention until he realised where they were going and then he began to drag his feet. Mererid hesitated.

“Don’t you want to go to the wood? We were there yesterday and….well, I just thought...”

Celyn was torn. He wanted to please his new friends… he didn’t make friends, not easily, not ever. There was something about him that frightened people off before they even had a chance to get to know him. He was desperate for companionship and he could see straight away that these two were different; very different. They would not fear him. Here, at last was someone he could get close to, maybe... But…

His eyes flicked to Marc and he was unsurprised that the strange amber eyes were on him; a feral smile twisting his lips. He shivered. Did he want to get close to that? The smile widened showing perfect white teeth, and he shivered at a sudden image of the lips red with blood, the teeth tearing flesh. He was beautiful, there was no denying that, but he was also cold and distant and deadly. The perfect hunter and Celyn felt like prey.

“Are you afraid, faery boy?” The voice was soft but the challenge was not. Shaking off the pervading sense of being overshadowed by this stranger Celyn squared his shoulders and met the challenge with one of his own.

“Are you so sure it is I who should be afraid?” Marc smiled and turned away but not before Celyn saw his eyes flinch. Not so sure then; not so certain. Why did that send a thrill through him? Why did he feel so... strange when he looked at the inscrutable back turned against him?

Smiling more gently Celyn turned his eyes on Mererid and the sense of foreboding lifted.

“To the wood then. To the lake. Maybe you can fathom its secrets.”

‘Maybe I have’, she thought, but said nothing. Now that the matter was decided Celyn took charge. He strode ahead, his head high and his hair flying about him like a silver cape about his shoulders. Mererid fell into step behind, almost dragging her brother who was suddenly hesitant and uncertain.

“Are you alright? You have been acting weird all day.”

She expected an outburst, a curt denial but what she got was a long look, sideways, through his hair so she could not really see his eyes, or his face behind the dark curtain. There was a very strange expression on what she could see. She repeated her question.

“I don’t know.” Abruptly he stopped and ducked his head, as though avoiding a blow. “Something inside…I… I am…afraid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” He turned to her and his eyes were dark in a face so pale her heart flipped with concern. “I don’t want to go to the wood Meri. I don’t want to see the lake again.”

“You don’t have to. You can stay here. I won’t mind.”

“You will go anyway?”

They glanced after Celyn who had also stopped and was waiting, somewhat awkwardly, just out of earshot.

“Yes, I’ll go anyway.”

“It’s dangerous Meri. It is really, really dangerous. Something bad is going to happen, something… “ He closed his eyes briefly and shivered, his lips trembling. When he opened them again his eyes were shadowed with pain. “I don’t want the darkness to touch you.”

“Marc, stop it. You are frightening me. No, not the lake…you. Why are you being like this? It was your idea, remember? You’re the one who’s spent his life chasing a dream. So now you’ve found it are you going to run away?”

“This is not a dream. This is a nightmare.”

“This isn’t like you Marc. You don’t run away from things. You don’t let fear rule you. What’s wrong with you? Are you ill?”

“No, I… I don’t know. Listen, yesterday at the lake; something did happen. I saw… I felt…and… There is something there. It is dark and dangerous and I am afraid. Please Meri; please don’t let me go back.”

“Let you? Marc you are not making sense.”

“No… nothing about this makes sense. I…“ He broke off shaking his head helplessly. “It wants me… it wants me to come back and I can’t fight it.”

“You don’t need to fight anything. There is nothing there; not really. Sure we saw things but they are just pictures in the water, something happened but it was long ago. There is nothing there now. You are safe there now. You are just spooked that’s all, just freaked by the strangeness. It will be alright, I am with you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Well don’t be. I can take care of myself, and I can take care of you.”

“No you can’t Meri not this time.” But as he spoke something behind his eyes broke and he nodded sadly, just once and then turned and strode after Celyn leaving her wondering if she had done the right thing in pressing him on. Maybe they should have turned and ran while they still could. But it was already too late. Far, far too late.

When they caught up with him Celyn did not ask any questions merely looked relieved that they were still with him. Even so the atmosphere was cool. Marc glared at him as though everything he was going through was his fault and Mererid was too preoccupied this time to even try to lift the mood. Now, more than ever she should have realised, she should have looked back and seen that, whilst what had happened to her had been uplifting and exciting, what had happened to Marc was very different. But it was as if the events at the lake after she had returned from the palace had never happened; had been completely wiped from her mind and she could only puzzle her brother’s behaviour and ponder its cause.