The waterfall lasted for many paces, a relentless deluge that bruised flesh against bone. Ben was no more than a nebulous shape a step ahead of Lyle, urging Lyle on. If Ben hadn't been there, Lyle might've given in to his impulse to crumple beneath the torrent and be washed to oblivion by the flow.
He forged onward, stumbling and scared and then befuddled. Faces began to form in the white wall of water that surrounded him. It took him a while to identify the first two, their images ghostlike, although finally he placed them. That frothy beard had belonged to his father, the stern features to his mother. His father had died, but he wondered if his mother was still alive somewhere? For reasons he didn't recall right now, she'd deserted the family long ago. They faded fast, like a dream forgotten on awakening. Then more shadows of his past emerged, waxing then waning—Lyle's siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins and other kin, and next, several dozen men and women, many of them scarcely recognizable.
The lovers he'd taken when he'd been landlocked alone in Shanty Wood. The recollection of each coasted through him, leaving scant emotional residue in its wake.
Finally, the waters shaped into Adam, the only man that'd really meant anything to Lyle before Ben. Heavens, Adam had been young, no more than a teenager, though as Adam's image spotted Lyle, his boyish features twisted into a liquid effigy of loathing. For the first time, a hand formed in the waters, and then an arm. Adam raised a revolver. He jammed the barrel to his temple and pulled the trigger, shattering himself into a thousand teardrops.
Lyle stopped moving forward, stopped following Ben. He'd been responsible for destroying Adam's life—he'd understood that since Ben had explained to him what'd happened to Adam. After spending weeks in the woods with Lyle, Adam had returned to society only to be certified mad for telling the world he'd been with a fairy prince. At least, that was what they'd said about him in the newspapers. He'd been locked away like a criminal.
No, Lyle couldn't be held responsible for Adam's later death in World War Two, but he'd little doubt Adam had blamed him for the rest; this memory was clearly shaped to remind him so. Yet Lyle, blindly incomprehensive of the world beyond Shanty Wood prior to Ben's arrival, had spent seventy years loathing Adam for deserting him.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, knowing words were desperately inadequate. Finally giving way to the pressure of the rain, he slumped to his knees. The downpour blinded him. What was the point of going on? Even if he didn't lose Ben, he'd destroy him. His long life consisted of nothing more than a trail of meaningless unions. The few hearts he got close to, he'd broken.
A hand—it had to be Ben's—reached back and yanked him up. The torrent faded to a drizzle and then a thin miasmic mist. Lyle found himself beside Ben and next to a familiar pool. They were back in the cave where he'd recently spent three months with Welwyn, and Welwyn was there. Welwyn stood between the stalagmites and Emmet faced him, in a motionless tableau. The stage was set, just as it'd been before Welwyn's death, apart from…
Lyle scanned the scene and frowned. No, the cave wasn't exactly as it had been the night Welwyn died. At one end of the pool, where there'd been a flush rock façade, gaped the mouth of another cavern. The opening was shaped like a lopsided pear.
"Show me what happened," said Ben, drawing Lyle back to the matter in hand. Ben let Lyle's arm drop and edged into the shadows.
Lyle stepped into his former place at Welwyn's side. For a fleeting instant, he wondered if he could do things differently this time and somehow save Welwyn. But of course he couldn't—he trod through a memory. Yet even as he acknowledged the fact that he was no more than an onlooker, Emmet nailed him with a lascivious gaze and his anger flared as hotly as the first time.
"My, my!" said Emmet. "You're even more ravishing than you used to be, Lilly."
"My name is not Lilly. It's Lyle."
"A moot point, dear," said Emmet. "Either way, you would make me a decorous consort."
Lyle stretched to take Welwyn's hand, and Welwyn shoved him backward. He tumbled between two stalagmites, landing in the pool with a splash, even as Welwyn argued with Emmet over whose consort Lyle should become. Emmet raised his staff, and Welwyn raised his fists and poised his fins to strike.
Lyle's anger pushed him to a realm of all-encompassing hatred. He sucked power from the nearby sea and moon, blended it with his loathing, and rose to his feet. He screamed, loud and deep and hoarse. A blinding flash filled the cave, followed by an ear-splitting roll of thunder. The whole cavern quaked.
It felt akin to when he'd started the storm in Shanty Wood, then lost control of it. Except this time, the rage was both more personal, yet somehow separate to him. The magic consumed him, stamping away his conscious mind, save the scarlet rush of his fury.
From within his own body, Lyle now managed to watch himself. He didn't lash out. He stood planted, fists raised, and summoned up the elements, lightning streaking and dancing all around. He'd show those two fools who'd the greatest power this day.
Welwyn appeared suitably scared as lightning streaked past his nose, rebounded off the cave wall, and zinged back to scorch the fringe of one fin. He shouted something, although Lyle couldn't discern what, and then Welwyn ducked behind a stalagmite. The lightning ceased, and a rumbling filled the air, like the stampede of a thousand horses—or an approaching tidal wave, conjured from the ocean by a wayward enchantment.
Emmet, who'd been cowering in a corner, raised his staff and twisted to face Lyle. Arms still held high, Lyle's chest was unprotected, and he'd not the faculties to move to save himself. The magic consumed every iota of his strength. He was helpless… and, for split second, dead scared.
Emmet speared his staff forward. Welwyn jumped up from behind the stalagmite and dived to push Lyle from the pointed weapon's path. Then one side of the cave imploded and the tidal wave conjured by Lyle's anger lashed into the cave. The wave swept everything in the cave with it as it smashed into the now-exposed cliff face of the far wall, then receded just as fast. Lyle grabbed onto a stalactite to stop himself being dragged out to sea. At the same moment, the water tossed Welwyn's flailing form onto one of the sharpest stalagmites, impaling him through his heart.
The light in Welwyn's eyes died instantly. Lyle felt a pang, then chills, as energy and heat seeped from him, then nothing. He unwrapped himself from the stalactite and blinked at his brother's skewered body, dripping wet and with blood streaming. Welwyn's fins trailed lifelessly, and Lyle felt sick. Emmet retrieved his staff and waved it, screaming accusations. Lyle's mind danced far too wildly to care about Emmet.
From behind, somebody touched his shoulder. Lyle spun around to see Ben. Ben's eyes appeared cloudier, even more like the Wise Ma's than earlier, his expression pained.
Surely I've lost his love now.
Ben spoke, but all Lyle made out was a garbled mess, as if two people spoke at once.
"Beg your pardon?" said Lyle, still shaken, and pricking his ears to hear above Emmet's ravings. Behind Ben, the shadows shifted. A dark silhouette slipped away towards the opening shaped like a lopsided pear, which had survived the ravages of the tidal wave. Lyle wrung out his sopping hair, all but drowning in a melting pot of dread and confusion. When Ben threaded his fingers through Lyle's, Lyle nearly collapsed with gratitude.
"We've seen enough," said Ben, in the voice of the Wise Ma. "We need to go now. Elhendrou!"
*~*~*
A bony hand sent a series of frenetic squeezes to his, and Lyle woke up. Back in the real world, he found himself crouching in the triangle, gaping at the placid face of the Wise Ma, and then at…
Ben, apparently still senseless, crumpled forward, his hand slipping from Lyle's loose grip. Lyle lunged to catch him, even as Emmet's foul chuckle echoed around the cave.
"I'm suspecting lover boy didn't much care for watching you kill in cold blood," said Emmet, still leaning and leering. Lyle didn't deign to reply. He carefully laid Ben down flat, looking pleadingly at the Wise Ma at his side.
"He didn't come out of your mind with me," sil said. "We were separated, but I was expecting him to catch up when we left. Something pulled him back. You pulled him back, Lyle."
"What? Me?" Lyle stripped off his shirt and laid it under Ben's head. "A lot of strangeness happened in there, but I didn't feel like I had much control over it."
"What a surprise," said Emmet. "He's a danger to all. It's blatantly obv—"
"No more!" The Wise Ma sliced sils fins up through the air. "I have seen the truth now, and no party involved in that sorry affair was innocent. Lyle didn't murder Welwyn, and certainly did not intend to harm so grievously. However, his anger was at least partially to blame for Welwyn's death, and the scope of his untutored magic is a worry. But you, Emmet, your culpability is greater. You are the only one who lashed out with the intent to kill."
"Me!" Emmet jabbed a fin to his chest in feigned innocence. "I acted in self-defence. Lyle could've destroyed the whole cliff face and slaughtered us all. The ch… that monster was out of control."
"This must wait for now," said the Wise Ma. "We have a more pressing issue."
"Agreed." Lyle patted Ben's cheek, but Ben remained senseless, his breathing shallow. "How do we wake him up?"
"We can't," sil said. "You must go back in and find him. It is much easier for me to send you into the recesses of your own mind alone than to journey there myself. To draw Ben from your mind, you must repeat what I said when I pulled myself from your body. Do you recall the word?"
Lyle shook his head. "There was rather a lot going on."
"The word is Elhendrou."
"Elhendrou. Elhendrou." Lyle rolled the syllables, imprinting them indelibly on his tongue.
"It's an entreaty from an ancient language of the ocean peoples. It will be prudent to forget it as soon as you have used it. But this mantra alone will not be enough. First, you must release Ben. If you cannot persuade yourself—or whatever locks him in your mind—to let him go, he will die, and soon. His frail human body cannot survive long in this unpiloted state."
Lyle inhaled sharply and forbade himself to crumple. The mere notion of Ben's death ought to have destroyed him. Instead, he forced himself to harden inside, armouring his already battered heart.
"It shan't happen." The hissing forcefulness of Lyle's words set even the Wise Ma backing away. In the corner of his eye, he noted Emmet jolt fearfully, although this was no time to relish his cousin's fright. He'd learned how to give in when he'd only himself to protect. With Ben in peril, the whole game changed.
Elhendrou. He'd never forget that word.
"Send me back right now," he commanded. "I'm going to fetch Ben, whatever it takes."
*~*~*
This time, when the Wise Ma sent him inside himself and the world fell away, Lyle tightened his fists into mace-like weapons. He landed in a crouch, ready to leap up and fight. A small part of him questioned why he was so angry and keen for combat; the cave in which he had landed was in his own mind, after all. Nevertheless, if he had to raise hell and scourge all that lay before him, he determined to do so. Indeed, a worrying part of him savoured the prospect.
He straightened slowly, absorbing a chamber of glittering crystal that he'd no recollection of visiting before. Streams of bright light rebounded off its sparkling walls, and it'd no dark patches, save one—an opening shaped like a lopsided pear, which led to a farther cavern. Leaned beside this portal was a shining golden sword with a slender blade and an elaborate looping handguard at the hilt.
Lyle understood instantly this was the place he'd seen Ben's shadow slip into. He ran toward it, grasped the blade, and stepped inside.
In a dingy corner of the cave, illuminated by a hazy stream of crystal light, he spotted Ben. Ben still sported streaks of green weed, though he looked bluer, more miserable and somehow much soggier than when they'd been walking beneath the waterfall. A dragon filled much of the rest of the cavern, with one be-clawed forearm stretched between Ben and Lyle.
Lyle halted on the spot. His throat felt so dry and constricted he couldn't even splutter out Ben's name. The dragon was a magnificent beast, its body long and curling with a neatly forked tail and a slender snout. Its fangs were shiny as the gemstone walls of the chamber Lyle had slipped in from, and its metallic scales glittered in the full spectrum of the rainbow.
The dragon, whose head Lyle viewed in profile, fixed an indigo eye on him. Lyle gawked back, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. He couldn't discern a single emotion in the dragon's opaque stare.
"How on earth did you get inside my head?" breathed Lyle.
"I wondered the same thing," said Ben, in a small, scared voice. "He, er, called to me. Even though you were standing right there in front of me, the compulsion to go to him was irresistible. He sounded like you… but he isn't you. I can't get through to him, and he won't let me go."
"Uh, I don't suppose you've asked him really nicely?" asked Lyle.
"I tried," said Ben. "If I move at all, he pads me back here like a cat toying with a mouse. I'm just bloody lucky he's not caught me with any of those claws yet."
As if to emphasize Ben's point, the dragon clacked the three curling talons of its outstretched paw against the rock floor.
"And one time, he licked me. Ugh." Ben wrapped his arms tight around himself and shuddered. So that was how Ben had got so bedraggled. "He shot out this long, rough tongue and lathed me up and down. It was kind of revolting."
"I do apologize." Lyle kept acutely conscious of the dragon's intense scrutiny of him. He'd not got a great plan, but he did have a sword. This was his mind, and certainly not an unalterable memory. Even if the dragon was some kind of intruder and not an intrinsic part of himself—a matter he didn't have time to figure out now—he had to be able to seize some kind of control. Surely that was what he'd armed himself for?
On the other hand, he found he didn't want to attack this gracious creature unless forced. After all, it could've tried to pounce on him or Ben and eviscerated them, but it hadn't. At least, not yet. And besides, Lyle had never wielded a sword before.
Slowly, with a shuffling footfall, he edged forward. With a pendulum-like swing, the dragon tilted its head toward him and lowered two gauzy green eyelids till a slit of the irises remained. Throwing much of his concentration into keeping his arm steady, Lyle raised the sword's point to within inches of the dragon's flaring nostrils. Hot breath scorched him, blasting his hair back from his face. He stood firm.
"Let… him… go."
The dragon cocked its snout to one side, as if considering the matter. Lyle heated his glare, his fins speared and his teeth gritted. Then, to Lyle's surprise, the dragon offered an almost imperceptible nod.
Lyle didn't waver. He called out to Ben. "You can come now."
With tentative movements, Ben pushed himself to his feet. "Are you sure?"
No, Lyle wasn't. But if the dragon tried anything, Lyle wouldn't hesitate to use his sword, whatever the cost. He managed to nod. "Yes, come now."
After Ben had taken two steps, sidling around the wall of the cave toward the exit, the dragon's head drooped, as if it'd lost interest in the whole situation. Grasping at the scant thread of respite, Lyle dipped his sword too, stretching out toward Ben. That was when the dragon raised its long forearm and swiped it at Ben.
The dragon was quick; Lyle discovered he was quicker. He raised his sword, causing the dragon to hesitate, and then sliced the blade across the scaly limb above the beast's armpit. Scales shattered like glass, revealing raw grey flesh beneath. The dragon pulled in its arm and roared. Lyle yelled in agony also and flung the sword aside; then he fought a nigh-crippling pain in his head as he dashed to where Ben had huddled himself up protectively. A heartbeat later, without looking back at the groaning dragon, they sprinted from the cave together.
"Elhendrou!" screamed Lyle. "Elhendrou! Elhendrou!"