City Under the Waves - 7. Chapter 7

Both her grandmother and grandfather were appalled when, on opening their door to the respectful knock they found a huge bearlike stranger carrying their grandson unconscious and soaked through in his arms.

As soon as the lake was mentioned the lectures began. “Haven’t I always told you how dangerous it is there? Why did you think you were forbidden from going there? Now see what you have done…” and these were the milder reprisals.

Respectfully Gwyon bore the tirade. First he carried Marc to the bedroom under the eves he shared with his sister and laid him with tenderness on the bed and then he withdrew to take time to patiently provide explanations and reassurances, such as he was able, in the lounge. It was a testament to his loquacity and persuasiveness that they did not insist on calling out the doctor there and then.

Instead, Meri was dragged off with a backward glance full of thanks and regret to help her grandmother strip her brother of his wet clothes and rub life back into his cold, leaden limbs then tuck him up in his own bed. In all that time he did not stir and Meri’s sense of foreboding grew.

After her grandmother had left her and gone back down the stairs Mererid sat in silence, listening to the rumble of voiced downstairs. The door opened and there was a sharp burst of sound under the window as Gwyon said his goodbyes. When he was gone she felt strangely alone.

It hurt her to look at Marc. There was something in her mind and in the pit of her stomach which was screaming at her, but she couldn’t quite grasp it and so; although she was, on the surface, concerned that he was hurt, the cause or reason for it eluded her and she made no connections with anything that had happened that day. This, of course was deeply strange and entirely unnatural. That she felt the fear and concern at all was a sign of their deep connection and her overriding love for him.

With a sigh she rose and slipped quietly from the room. Joining the bustle and colour of normal life she forgot him. It was not until they had eaten supper and were sitting in front of the fire; when her grandfather began to ask careful questions, that she gave him another thought. When she did, it was with an odd jerk, almost as though she was surprised, shocked even by events she had not experienced first hand. Over and above anything she was shocked that, after what had happened; the fear she had felt for him only hours before; she could have forgotten him.

She was able to say, quite truthfully, that she did not know what had happened, and because she was truthful they believed her, superficially at least. As far as they were concerned the two had become separated and somehow Marc had slipped and fallen into the marsh. However, her grandfather in particular continued to watch her with a thoughtful expression on his face.

It was uncomfortable under that steady gaze. It was not accusing her of anything and yet it made her feel deeply guilty. Somehow, something about what had happened was her fault. It did not help that her memory was being very selective about the last twenty four hours. Parts of it, like her trip to the underwater city and her time in the cave, were crystal clear but parts of it, and if she had been thinking more clearly she would have realised that they were the parts in which Marc figured, were obscured and slipped from her mind when she tried to think of them.

She retired early; tired of the watchfulness and the cat and mouse game she was playing with her own thoughts. As she prepared for bed her thoughts turned to Celyn and she smiled.

For a long time, before she got into bed, she sat and stared at Marc. He was restless, murmuring in his sleep, nothing she could understand. The moonlight was bright and illuminated the room with a soft light. Everything seemed unreal, as though they had both slipped through to another place. She was lost in dreams, none of which made sense and all of which were sinister in their incomprehensibility.

She was startled out of reverie when the door opened and her grandfather came and sat beside her. He too watched Marc in silence. Mererid was instantly on edge, uncomfortable with the intrusion and with the strange feelings he woke in her again. When he spoke, it was softly, unusually reflective for the man of action and practicality that he was.

“The marshes are… strange. I have heard people say that they lead to many different places; not all of them in this world. You know me; I don’t hold no truck with that kind of thing but even I... I have walked the marshes and I have seen things that… well I understand if there are things you feel you can’t tell me.

“But I am not a fool girl. I know when someone is asleep and when they are unconscious. There is something wrong here; badly wrong and unless, by the morning Marc is able to tell me himself what happened and convince me that he is alright, then no matter what your eloquent friend might say, I am going to call in help.”

He patted her knee and rose but, as he opened the door he paused and turned back. “Just remember that, whatever is going on out there, he is your brother and he has always looked out for you. If it is your time to look out for him then make sure you do it well.” He turned away and then, as an afterthought, almost as though it was not really him saying it he said, very softly. “He is part of you. If he is lost then so are you.”

There was nothing in what he had said that was particularly shocking or upsetting but as soon as the door closed tears began to flow and she sobbed. When she next looked up at Marc it was as though she had just woken from sleep and was looking at him with new eyes.

For the first time she noticed the deathly pallor and the dark smudges under his eyes; accentuated by the moonlight. A look of pain passed across his face and the realisation hammered into her brain: this was Marc, her brother, her twin…. and something really, really bad had happened to him…was happening to him. Her heart twisted as she remembered her grandfather’s words. ‘He has always looked out for you’, and he had. So many times; so many situations; he had been the strong one; supporting her; covering for her; dragging her out of danger; watching her back.

There was a feeling like glass breaking in her head and it all came flooding back; from the first moment she found him lying in the grass on the banks of the lake and thought he was dead. It all flowed from there. It all made sense.

“Oh my God. I am so sorry. I made you do it. I made you go back there, I made you follow me and all the time... I didn’t think… I would never have believed… I couldn’t have imagined anything that would make me… I - forgot you. I left you behind. I let you… I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I don’t know what happened but I won’t let it happen again. I love you Marc. You are my brother; my soul mate. I won’t let anything hurt you again.”

She reached out and took his hand. It was cold. “I won’t leave you Marc; I swear it. I know that I have but I won’t ever again. I will be right here, right with you and I will hold your hand every step of the way. I don’t know what is happening to you but I will help you fight it. I will bring you through; I swear it.”

As she had often done when they were children and she was afraid, she climbed into bed next to him; only this time it was she who took him into her arms. He was freezing cold, even under the blankets, and it made her shiver just being close to him. Laying her head on the pillow next to his she stared into his face. It was so familiar; as familiar as her own which it so much resembled. Tonight it was not so familiar; there was something in it that was alien, almost frightening.

She touched his cheek and he stirred, muttered something, his face twisting as pain lanced through him. Alarmed she kept her voice steady as she stroked his hair and soothed him. “It’s alright, everything will be alright. I am here now, I have you and I won’t let go.”

He moaned and turned his head away but she turned it back and stroked his face. He drew in his breath in a sharp gasp and his eyes flickered and opened. Her relief was short lived. They were very dark in the moonlight; heavy and dreaming. There was little awareness there.

“Marc?”

He blinked slowly and struggled to focus. A look of sadness and fear passed over his face and he whispered. “Please… don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me any more.”

“Sssh, it’s alright. I would never hurt you.”

“I… don’t know what’s real.”

“I’m real. We are real. I am the same as I always have been: your annoying sister. Remember? The one you always looked after; the one you always saved.”

His eyes were puzzled, drifting, closing. Before he fell his lips twitched into the ghost of a smile.

“Aerfen.” The word was so soft, little more than a breath and she was not sure she had even heard it, but for some reason it chilled her to the bone.

Mererid lay awake for a long time watching her brother sleep. Very gradually, as she held him close, his body warmed and relaxed and eventually it seemed to her that he passed into a deeper, more natural sleep. His restlessness stilled and his breathing became deep and even. At last she fell asleep, her heart at peace.

She woke suddenly in complete darkness. She was entirely disoriented and very cold. It took a moment for her to realise that she was lying on the floor between the two beds. She must have turned over and fallen out of bed. As she was about to get to her feet she froze as a voice spoke from the other side of the bed. It was a voice that was, at the same time, familiar but not, alien and cold: the voice of a woman, and of a demon.

“You are still fighting me, pretty one. Did I not tell you that it was hopeless; futile? See where it has brought you.” Marc grunted with pain, his breath hissing through clenched teeth. The voice laughed softly. “It pains me to see you suffer so much; it really does. There is no need for this.” The bed creaked as someone sat down on it. “This body is so pretty. I have never paid much attention to men… they are too weak; so easily controlled. But you are different. You are strong, almost as strong as I am. We could have a good time together, you and I.”

Marc moaned again, this time not with pain but… something else. Horrified Mererid could no longer lie quiet and listen. As quickly as she could she got to her feet and spun to face the figure who sat, bathed in moonlight, beautiful and cold, her hands on her brother.

“Leave him alone.”

Aerfen smiled, unshaken, and looked up at her askance through the heavy dark curtain of her hair in a gesture that was achingly familiar. Her hands continued to stroke Marc’s bare shoulders and chest and he writhed under them. Whether with desire or pain Mererid could not tell.

“I said; leave him alone.”

“I heard.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Do you have to ask? Yes… I see that you do.” She laughed. “You are so far from understanding that it is laughable. All of you; walking blind into something you do not; cannot understand. There is only one of you who is even close to the truth… and he is mine.”

“Marc will never be yours. He is too strong.”

“Oh yes… he is. But that is the very thing that guarantees my success. A weak person would have succumbed long ago and would be safe now. It is the fight that gives me the power. I do not cause him pain… he does it to himself.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course not. If you did I would not speak of it to you. We are too close to the end now. You are caught in the story, Mererid. It must progress as it is meant to; as it was always meant to. There is nothing you can do to change it. No matter how much our beloved mother tries to interfere with its course, there is no diverting it.

“You are imprisoned; all of you; you always have been. I am the one with the key in my hands and I will never, ever give it to you. Your quest WILL fail. You AND your brothers will be mine… forever.”

“But why? Why are you doing this?”

“But surely you should understand that, at least, sister dear.” She laughed a soft, cold laugh. “Because I can.”

“Alright. I accept that you have to be true to your nature. We will try to free the children; you will try to stop us. That I understand. But there is no need for this. Oppose us if you will… and I know that you will, but leave my brother alone… please, don’t hurt him any more.”

“Oh, you really do understand so little. If you did you would know. I cannot release him, whether I want to or not, which I don’t.” She looked down at him, her hair falling forward to obscure her face entirely. Running her hands over his chest, which was slick with perspiration, and down over his belly she nudged the blankets lower.

“No! Stop it! He is my brother! Stop!”

Aerfen looked up again, her eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“You do not wish me to give him pleasure? Are you sure? Then all that is left for me to give is pain. Are you sure that it is your place to make that choice for him?”

“No… I don’t want you to give him anything. I want you to leave him alone.”

Suddenly Aerfen was on her feet, leaning towards her over the bed, her face pale and her eyes flashing. Intimidated, Mererid tried to take a step backwards and sat down heavily on the bed.

“I have told you; that is not possible. You understand nothing. You disappoint me, sister: you are not a worthy opponent. When I touched him and I felt his strength; his power I was excited. I believed that you would be the same; that you would provide me with a challenge; that you would mount a worthy opposition and that I would have to fight you. But you are nothing beside him. You have no spirit; there is no challenge in you.”

“I am out of my depth, I know that. You are stronger that me, yes; I accept it. But if you think there is no challenge in me then you are wrong. I don’t know what you are doing to my brother or how you are doing it but I know that it is hurting him and I won’t let that happen. I will fight you to my last breath for him. Stop whatever you are doing; leave him alone.”

Even though she was trembling; more afraid than she had ever been; Mererid squared her shoulders and forced her eyes and voice steady, imbuing them with every iota of power she could call up into them. Aerfen smiled.

“At last; some sprit. You do have power: I see it in you now. How unfortunate. As I have said we are close to the end and I cannot have you bringing that power to bear or it is just possible that you might prevail. I have to ensure that you have… other things to occupy your mind; to distract you if you will.

“I cannot touch you, I never could. But I can touch him.” She looked down again and touched Marc’s face, almost with affection. “You said that you would fight me to your last breath, yes, I can see that you would … but would you fight to his?”

Moving swiftly and with sudden purpose Aerfen placed her hands flat on Marc’s chest and then raised them, at the same time turning them to cup the flame that suddenly appeared between them. She rose to her full height, the strange golden fire lighting her face from below. It was smiling and the smile turned Mererid’s heart cold.

“Say goodbye, sister.” With incredible speed she moved her hands apart and together again. In the same instant the flame flared and died and Aerfen vanished.

There was something in the little charade that chilled her to the bone and horrified her beyond explanation. When she turned to Marc he looked like a corpse. His face was bleached of all colour; not only by the pale lighting from the moon. In abject horror Mererid threw herself to her knees beside the bed and leaned close to him.

He was so cold, his skin and hair damp and clammy as though he had just come from the water. His lips were parted and his breath was irregular, trembling and hesitant.

“Marc?”

His eyes flickered open and he reached out to touch her face. “I… I am so… so… sorry.” She took his hand and pressed the cold fingers to her lips, shaking her head.

“No… no don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for. I failed you. I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t fight her.”

“I do… I do... have. It’s me… me… I… I failed.” Now his breath came in sharp bursts, gasps punctuated by grunts of pain. “Not… not yet, not yet but…. But I will… I will let…you…down. I will…”

Mererid was more frightened than she had ever been. Her head echoed with Aerfen’s words. “… you would fight me to your last breath... but would you fight to his?” Watching him now, struggling, fighting for every shallow lungful she was terrified that each one would be the last.

“Sssh, don’t speak. Don’t try to… Grandma! Grandad!” She cried out her anguish into summoning her rocks; her saviours; her security.

Marc gripped her hand tighter. “P… p… please. P… promise… you must… must promise. Don’t… don’t… trust… me… I will... will… betray you. I will…”

“No… no Marc, no. You will never let me down, never betray me. I will not believe that. I will always believe in you.”

“NO!” his face was anguished and bleak. The door was flung open and warm light from the landing spilled in, achieving nothing but to accentuate his pallor. “No… no… I will… I can’t… can’t stop. I don’t... I am sorry…so…so… I am so… so…”

Mererid stared up with tears streaming down her face as her grandfather practically vaulted her bed and, standing across from her on the other side of Marc’s stared at her with open accusation in his eyes. Her grandmother remained frozen in the doorway, her hand to her mouth.

“Grandad. I don’t know what’s happening. Please do something. Please…”

His face softened and he smiled reassuringly at her before, after only a brief glance at Marc turned and called to his wife over his shoulder.

“Gwen, phone for an ambulance. Do it now and be quick.”

“But John… What do I say?”

“Say whatever you want but do it now, do it quick.”

She disappeared and he sat down heavily on the bed and took Marc’s face between his hands. “Are you in pain boy? Is it your head that hurts? Your chest from the water?”

Marc turned his head towards his grandfather, reaching out with pleading eyes. His lips moved but there was not enough force left in the panting breath to form words. He closed his eyes as pain stabbed at him and punctuated the harsh breathing with breathless grunts.

Mererid and her grandfather exchanged looks which spoke of helplessness and horror.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I mean I was asleep and when I woke up he… Grandad what’s happening? What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know sweetheart. I should never have listened to that friend of yours. We should have called for the doctor at the start. The hospital is the best place for him. I am sure they will…”

He was interrupted by his wife returning. She knelt beside Mererid and put her arm around her.

“It will be alright sweetheart. I am sure it will be alright.”

“No you’re not. How can you be? Grandma… What if… what if… I couldn’t bear it…”

“Mererid, hush. Don’t speak of such things, don’t even think it. Everything is going to be alright.”

“But you don’t know… you can’t say.” Suddenly, it all came crashing home: the sheer hellish reality of the situation; the truth behind the mystery and adventure and excitement. The simple everyday facts cut through the illusion and she shed the story like a discarded coat. This was real. This was not a story. This was not an adventure. This was her brother; it was Marc, the other half of her soul.

No matter what they said, she knew… it was clear to her in every laboured breath he took, in the unfocussed glitter of his half closed eyes, in the erratic fluttering of his pulse beneath her fingers. The flame that Aerfen had held in her hand and had so shockingly extinguished was his life and he was living; if living it could be called, on borrowed time. Sustained by his strength alone and, great as it was, it was not inexhaustible.

In short, she knew that he was dying. She knew it in her heart and in her mind. The cold empty part of her soul that until now he had inhabited, knew it as did her eyes which rested on his colourless lips and beautiful face. It was the first time she had ever realised that he was beautiful. It was not something she had thought to notice. He was too close…too familiar.

She looked up at her grandfather with tears streaming down her face.

“I don’t want him to die Grandad. Please help him…don’t let him die. I couldn’t bear it.”

It was her grandmother who responded with a firm hand on her arm.

“Hush, child. I have told you. Don’t say things like that. He will hear you.”

“Grandma, he isn’t hearing anything.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Stop it, stop it. Stop denying it. Look at him, Grandma I can’t bear it. He’s going to die, I know it and I couldn’t live, I just couldn’t live without him.”

“Mererid, calm down. Take a hold of yourself girl. This is not helping anyone.”

Sternly her grandmother shook her slightly by the shoulders. The feeling of loss and panic as Marc’s hand slipped from hers ranked amongst the worst moments of her life but she was drawn away by surprisingly strong arms and she was too tired and too weak to resist. She knew she was getting hysterical, she knew that she was behaving like an idiot but she was helpless in a tide of panic that raged inside her and would not release her from its grip.