City Under the Waves - 6. Chapter 6

Celyn and Gwyon had watched in wonder as Mererid disappeared beneath the water. Even Marc had looked up and scrambled to his knees, fighting the impulse to pull her back. There was no resistance from the darkness within and he realised that this was because to stop her would be to stop the quest before it had begun. From Aerfen’s point of view this was the best thing he could have done. In the instant he made the decision that he would do nothing a blinding flash of pain signalled her displeasure and, with a groan he sank back onto his heels and closed his eyes. When he opened them Gwyon was sitting cross legged besides him watching with a thoughtful look in the deep dark eyes.

“I though you would have better things to look at. Isn’t this the high point of your life? Getting your precious harp back?”

Gwyon’s gaze remained steady, neither condoning nor condemning. Marc began to feel uncomfortable. The sun, sinking towards the West, hurt his eyes and he massaged his temple against the headache that began to gnaw there.

“Was there something you wanted?”

“”What did you see Marc?”

“What? That’s got nothing to do with you. It is none of your business.”

Gwyon smiled, a kindly twinkle in his eyes. The twinkle was a star that pinned him like a butterfly on a pin. He could not turn away. There was no escape and he began to feel afraid, trapped. What did Gwyon know? What was he going to do?

“When you looked into the crystal I got the feeling that you weren’t, if you know what I mean”

“No, I don’t know what you mean”

“You weren’t looking into the crystal, Marc, not like the others. You were looking at something in the cave beyond the crystal and I don’t care what the Lady said whatever it was; it hurt you. It hurt you deeply and it is still hurting you now. I can see it in your eyes. However hard you try to hide it behind that attitude, I know truth when I see it, and when I don’t.

“You don’t have to do this on your own. You are not alone. We are here to help each other. Will you not tell me what is wrong? Will you not let me help you?”

For the second time Marc hovered on the verge of confiding in someone. Gwyon, at least, was strong enough to deal with the darkness. He opened his mouth to speak but a cold hand gripped him and snatched the words away. Gasping with pain he sagged forwards hugging himself. Concerned Gwyon put a steadying hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it away impatiently. Biting his lip Marc looked up and met the bard’s eyes with his first steady and honest gaze.

“Thank you for wanting to help me. I do appreciate it… but you can’t. You can’t help me; Celyn can’t help me; no one can.”

“Could you not let me try? Would it hurt you to trust me?”

“I do trust you but… “ His eyes fell and he dropped his head, bringing the curtain of his hair forward; a physical barrier between them. “You can’t help me; please, just accept it. You can’t help me. I don’t want you to. Please… leave me alone.”

“It is not always good to be alone. I know. I have been alone for a very long time. Problems don’t seem so bad when they are shared.”

“I don’t want to share my problems Gwyon. Won’t you accept that? I don’t want to. I… I can’t. It’s not simple. It… it hurts… please… Gwyon, please don’t…”

Puzzled and concerned by his obvious discomfort Gwyon tried to reach out to him but he recoiled, raising pleading eyes to his. Gravely Gwyon nodded. “It is alright. I will not force you, but if you need me I will be here. You are strong Marc, as strong as anyone I have met. I see it in you. You are in great pain but you can bear it. You will come through.”

“I don’t know.” Gripping his arm Marc looked directly into his face, his eyes burning. “Don’t rely on my Gwyon. Please don’t put your trust in me. I will let you down.”

Gwyon smiled a knowing smile and covered his hand with her own. “I do not believe that you would let any of us down; not in the end.”

“If you believe that after all you have seen then you are a fool.”

Gwyon laughed aloud and Marc winced. Celyn joined them curious about the cause of the merriment. Gwyon simply shook his head and clapped Marc on the back so hard it winded him; then he turned and seated himself on the edge of the water scanning the depths with longing.

Left effectively alone with Celyn, Marc again withdrew inside himself. As Gwyon had done, Celyn watched him but with a very different expression in his cool green eyes.

“Why do you hate me?”

Marc was startled, both by the question and the fact that it had been asked. For some reason he had not expected Celyn to speak. He looked up and quickly looked away again.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Your mouth says you don’t but your eyes say you do. You look at everyone as though you hate them. You remind me… I think I once knew someone else who looked like that. I can’t remember… you disturb me.”

“Then don’t look at me.”

“I can’t help it. You fascinate me.”

“I... do?”

Celyn smiled. “You always have; from the first moment I saw you. If I’m honest you scared me; you still do.”

“I scare you? Why?”

“Lots of reason. At first I felt... it was like you were a hunter... a lion or a hunting hawk or something... and I was the prey.”

“And now?”

Celyn smiled again at the look in his eyes. It was so different now; different than he had ever seen there before. “Now I still feel like prey but I’m not scared of it any more.”

“I don’t understand.”

The smile disappeared from Celyn’s face. “I think you do,” he said softly. For a long, hot moment their eyes locked and Marc was caught out of time. For that one moment the fear, the pain, the pressure lifted and he felt perfectly at peace. Then he shook his head and turned away. He couldn’t; he couldn’t expose anyone else to the danger, to the darkness.

“I think you should leave. You think you know me? You think you can help me?” Marc laughed shortly. “You think you can seduce me? You know nothing. I don’t want you to keep rushing in and trying to help me. You can’t help me; you can’t have me; face it.”

For a while Celyn was silent and then he said, casually. “I thought you ought to know: when I looked in the crystal I saw things; things that have happened and things that might happen. Not all of it, but some things. I saw everyone so clearly - me, Gwyon, Mererid; even Alarch and Aerfen: but not you. Oh you were there; you were always there but you were… indistinct… misty; as though you walked in a fog that I couldn’t see through.

“I saw… endless possibilities. Everything we did and everything we have to do, I saw us succeed and I saw us fail. I saw Mererid walk into the water and I saw her walk out but I also saw us mourn for her not coming. And every time success or failure hung in the balance I looked at you and I was afraid. What I saw was possibilities and all the possibilities turned on you but I couldn’t fathom you; not at all and I couldn’t work out if you were making things better or worse. I feel that this whole thing depends on you and that frightens me more than anything else because I don’t think I can trust you.”

Marc looked up and smiled a veiled smile; almost feral, half hidden in his hair which fell, as always, to curtain off half of his face.

“That is the first sensible thing you’ve said all day.”

The look and the words chilled Celyn to the bone. The combination seemed almost to be a threat… or a warning. The darkness he had sensed the first time he looking into the glowing amber eyes now seemed to hover between them, an almost physical barrier.

Superficially Marc did not appear to be threatening at all. He had the face and eyes of an angel and, having stretched out on the grass his posture was relaxed, almost lazy; but it was the laziness of a cat before it pounces, the relaxation of muscles before the spring. Again he saw the look of the hunter in him and felt himself to be the hunted.

In that instant the knowledge imparted itself clearly and unequivocally in his head – the success or failure of this quest lay here, and all the euphoria and confidence which had filled him since the cave evaporated as fear gripped him.

“What are you going to do?”

“Do? I am not going to do anything. I think you’re all nuts. You are chasing a dream…less than a dream; shadows in the clouds. But I’ll trot along. It may be good for a laugh.”

Something in his voice changed everything for Celyn. The fear that had edged itself into his heart lifted and Marc wasn’t a threat after all. Marc was the key, he knew that. He knew that the success or failure of the quest lay with him but he also knew that it was an intolerable weight that pressed down on Marc all the time. He was holding it all inside. He knew what lay behind the fear he was generating, projecting but he couldn’t share it and he was locked away with it; so incredibly alone. He knew what that felt like and he knew that it didn’t matter what he said, there were no words that could make it better for Marc.

As there were no words he did the only thing he could think of. He was sitting, facing Marc as he lay in the grass, squinting up at him. Slowly he reached out and gently took Marc’s hand in his. He didn’t look at his face, just laced their fingers together and sat quietly, watching as Marc’s hand twitched and pulled back, but without conviction; not enough to break the bond. After a moment Celyn felt his hand relax and he risked looking up into his face. Marc looked stunned and the look in his eyes was no longer that of the hunter; but of the hunted and the haunted. He looked as if he was going to say something but they were interrupted by Gwyon’s call and both hurried to the edge of the water. He was peering into the depths with a look of real concern on his face.

“I thought I saw her but it has suddenly all gone cloudy.”

Peering anxiously into the water Marc thought he saw something, a hand reaching... for what? For the surface; for the sun…for him? Images flooded his mind… drowned faces and hands reaching; grabbing, drawing downwards through the silt and the slurry….

downwards through the darkness… gone… gone forever.

“Meri!” Ignoring the pain which exploded in him as soon as he started to move; he shot past Gwyon and Celyn and dove beneath the surface. There was no possibility that he would not have. She was his sister. She was everything that was important to him. And yet…and yet… the pain was unbearable… was she really worth it? He could not succeed; he would drown and both of them would be lost. Was she worth giving up his life for?

“No,” he moaned and mentally shook himself, recognising the insidious, crawling doubts for what they were. Of course she was worth it; of course she was. Thrusting them aside, he kicked powerfully outwards and downwards into the heart of the swirling cloud of silt. He was rewarded with a flowering of pain so intense that if he had been above water he would have screamed. As it was he twisted in the water, fighting the urge to take a breath and to curl into a ball.

Fortunately, at that moment he saw Meri. She was struggling, her face wild; eyes open and hair streaming around her like pond weed. He could see that she was anchored and he kicked strongly, angling his body downwards until he could see the hands which gripped her ankles.

Still in the grip of Aerfen’s burning anger he focussed the pain into a burst of energy which was just enough to enable him to tear the fingers free and kick at the gaping faces below. Meri hardly seemed to realise she was free and was still struggling. There was no way he could identify himself to her and so he simply twisted so that he was behind her and threw his arms around her, at the same time kicking out strongly for the shore.

At first she struggled and fought him but then she seemed to realise that he was rescuing and not endangering her and she became quiet in his arms. For an instant he panicked thinking she might be drowning but then other hands grabbed her and pulled her from his grip. The harp she was carrying under her arm jerked around and struck him hard on the side of the head. Stars burst behind his eyes and spun him into darkness. His last thought as he lost consciousness was that at least this way he could not cause any more harm.

Before there was vision there was sound; music, soft music rising and falling; distant at first but growing closer. Soaring, rippling, sighing, singing; the harp rejoiced and called him back. Next there was pain… not the searing, burning pain of Aerfen’s displeasure but a purer, simpler throb in his temple from the blow and a burning in his lungs from the water he had inhaled.

Coughing he opened his eyes, squinting against the sun, and twisted to the side retching as lake water gushed from his mouth and nose. Ignoring the fact that he was soaked through and she, miraculously was not, Mererid threw her arms around him, sobbing.

“Oh Marc, Marc…thank God. I thought you were dead. I thought I had killed you. I am so sorry; so sorry.”

Weakly he pushed her off and struggled to sit up, wiping his mouth. He was shivering, as much with reaction from the shock as from the cold breeze which had risen as the sun began to set. Touching his head he felt stickiness and when he looked at his fingers they were red.

“Thanks for that.”

“It was my fault Marc. I wasn’t thinking about the harp, I just wanted to get her out of there. I had no idea that it would twist like that.”

He shook his head but stopped because it made him dizzy. “Forget it. Hey, why aren’t you wet?”

“I have no idea. There must have been magic involved in the whole thing because I could breathe under the water.”

“Shame I couldn’t”

“Can you stand?”

“Can you fuck off? What’s the hurry?”

Celyn flinched. Again the senseless hostility: again the feeling of menace. He though that they had got past that. Even though he realised that Marc was not himself and that Aerfen’s poison, whatever it was, was still strong in him Celyn was a fiery soul and, despite his best intentions, he couldn’t help but retort

“Excuse me for caring but I thought that, with the sun going down and you having breathed in half the lake it might be an idea to go home and get warm and dry before you catch pneumonia - your choice of course. Just don’t slow us down.”

For a long moment their eyes locked and Marc flinched, looking uncertain, afraid. At last Marc smiled a tight, mocking smile.

“It’s not me who isn’t keeping up faery boy. Trust me… I’m way ahead of you.”

Anger flared in Celyn, swiftly following the sting of embarrassment. He almost said something; almost voiced the thoughts that were going through his head. ‘Why? Even though he knew he was hurt and angry and scared, why, after the intensely personal moments they had shared; why was Marc so angry with him; so hurtful?’

Fortunately, given the circumstances, he decided not to say anything. Shaking his head he turned and began walking, fast, back towards home.

“Marc, why do you have to treat him like that? What has he ever done to you?”

For a moment he turned his burning eyes on her and she almost shrank back, seeing for a fleeting instant something dark and powerful. Then he sighed and shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I don’t know why. I will try to be good tomorrow.”

Gwyon was frowning darkly,]; despite the fact that having his harp returned to him had changed him dramatically and somehow increased his stature and energy and presence.

Reaching out a large calloused hand he wordlessly hauled Marc to his feet and steadied him as he swayed. Gently, the strong fingers probed the cut on his head and he pulled back almost falling to be steadied again.

“The wound is superficial. You will have a headache in the morning but no harm done.”

“I could have told you that.”

“”There is a lot you could be telling me.”

Suddenly exhausted Marc shook his head. “I have nothing to tell you Gwyon; nothing to say to you at all. I need to be home now.”

“Yes. I will help you to the edge of the village.”

“Don’t bother, I can manage.” But he couldn’t. Before he had taken half a dozen steps the dizziness, that had little to do with the blow to his head, overcame him and he fell to his knees. Again Gwyon helped him to his feet and was rewarded with an angry glare. “I don’t need you. Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Because you do need me. You don’t know you do but you do nevertheless.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense Marc, none of it. But it will. We are living inside a story and eventually all the strands will draw together and then it will make sense. Until then all you can do is accept and believe that all is as it should be and will be as it was always meant to be.”

“I am too cold, and too tired to even begin to think about that. I’m angry with everything and everyone and I don’t know why and… I just want to sleep.”

“I think it would be an excellent idea for us all to get some sleep. It is too late tonight to go any further in any event. Meet here first thing in the morning and we will get this finished. I suspect that the sooner this is over the sooner you can get back to being yourself again.”

“I… I don’t feel… myself. You’re right. I haven’t felt like myself since the beginning. I… I don’t know… I’m not… something is… um…” As he spoke they both watched him fade and stepped forwards at the same moment but it was Gwyon who caught him as he fell.

“Marc!”

“Don’t worry, little lady. Today has been hard on him and there has been more in it than we know. I feel that it is not going to get better for him for a time and so it is good that he should sleep when he can. I can bear him to your home.”

“Will he… will he be alright?”

“Of course. He is cold and wet and exhausted. He has known more pain and fear in this one day than in the whole of his life and he is lost in it. But he will find himself before the end, never fear.”

“I do fear. There is something… I feel… Oh, I don’t know Gwyon; it is as though there is something I should know, or remember, or …something; but as soon as I get close to remembering it slips away again.”

“Do not force it. When the time is right for you to remember, you will. Put your trust in the story, little lady; and then you cannot fail.”

“I hope so Gwyon, because I have a feeling that there is a lot more at stake here than we realise.”

“Oh, indeed it is so. It is everything.”

Without any apparent effort Gwyon carried Marc to the door of the cottage. On the way they overtook Celyn who was horrified.

“Mererid, I had no idea. I would never have…”

“It’s alright Celyn, truly it is. He is… not himself. I have never heard him say such horrible and hurtful things. I am sure that when he has slept and is feeling better he will be so sorry.”

“Are you? Are you sure?”

They exchanged a look that said something along the lines of “No, but please don’t make me face it” and “I really wish you were right but I don’t and it scares me.”

They walked together in silence, struggling to keep pace with Gwyon. At the edge of the village they paused.

“Will you meet me here tomorrow?”

“Of course. This is not finished yet, and I cannot walk away until it is.”

“Yes… the sooner we get this finished the sooner we can…”

“Part?” Smiling she shook her head. “We are bound together now; no matter what Marc might think or say. You are part of us and we are part of you. Together forever.”

In the gathering dark his eyes gleamed as silver as his hair, brimming with unshed tears.

“I feel…I feel…”

“I know.” She reached out and tucked an errant elf lock behind his ear. “You are home now.”

With a shy smile he captured her hand and turned his head to formally kiss the fingers and then was gone, leaving nothing more than a whisper in the darkness. For a moment she stood, staring after him feeling…strange, and then she turned back towards her grandmother’s house and an uncomfortable dose of reality.