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 Musicology Anthology Entry |
| Notes ▼ “Get up, sleepy head!” a deep voice rumbles. The vibrations ricocheting around her skull. The ground is hard and uncomfortable, not the usual softness of her bed. The cold leaching from the flagstone slabs burrows deep into her bones, making her muscles heavy and slow to respond. Her movements small. Tentative. "That's it Leigh..." "Urgh..." Her mouth and throat are dry and parched. "Water?" She pleads through closed eyes. The muted light currently filtering through her eyelids is bright enough to make her eyeballs ache. This was not another hangover. She had not touched the lavender wine since her Grandmother had reprimanded her in front of the whole coven, but the headache slowly creeping across her head reminds her of one. "Here." A small lump lands on her torso with a thud. “What in the name of all that’s holy…?” she murmurs as reaches for the tanned leather waterskin and drags it to her crackled lips. The water is refreshing but tastes off. Stale. She pushes herself to a seated position, rubbing her temples with her fingers, and gazes around the abandon graveyard. A look of confusion etched on her face. “Where in Hel am I?” She looks down. Her jeans are soaked through, and her red blouse clings to her body like a second skin. She gingerly stands to take in her surroundings and raises her hand to the sky to block out the bite of the sun. The sounds of her waterlogged socks and boots squelch as she takes a step forward and turns around. Imposing mausoleums and family vaults surround the small square, packed tightly together in a warren of narrow pathways. The once white granite is aged by time and neglect and hugged by creeping lichen and moss; the occasional fern growing from the cracks in the stonework. This is not a place she knows. It is not a place she wants to know. Leigh is sure of that. She shivers and rubs her hands against the length of arms, but it does little to warm her body. “Finally!” A gruff voice breaks the silence, “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever wake up.” Startled, she turns to face her companion. A boy, with a smattering of blonde stubble against his soft jaw. His face still has glimpses of youthful plumpness, but the harsh angles and weathered skin of adulthood have started to peek through. If not for his eyes, he would look no older than her – twenty at a push. But those predatory eyes, an icy grey storm, tracked her every ministration and belied his age. “Who are you?” she asks and throws the water pouch back. Her focus solely on the figure perched on the raised stone steps in front of her. “And where am I? “Me?” He stands and yawns, raising his arms above his head; stretching and contorting his tall frame like a large cat. “My name is Arwan... Though you may know me as Gwyn ap Nudd.” “The White Winter....” Leigh exhales and watches frozen in place as he takes a purposeful step forward and slowly descends the stairs until he is standing a few paces in front of her. He lifts a strand of her wet hair and twirls it in his fingers, “And you, Cariad, are in the City of the Dead.” She steps back, “What...? What are you talking about...? The Dead…? Why am I here? ” “You are here because you died! Or, you are dying.” He pauses and points around the graveyard, “It’s a bit of a grey area at the moment. This is the Between.” “The what…?” “The Between. The place between the Living and the Otherworld.” he tilts his head and studies her face intently. “How did I get here?” Leigh asks. “You drowned at Cauldron Falls. You lost your footing on the edges of the cascades and fell into plunge pool. Must have knocked you head at some point if the blood in your hair is anything to go by.” Leigh instinctively touches the side of her head and winces. Her fingers come away wet and sticky, covered in congealed blood. ”Lucky for you,” Arwan continues, “Your friend is a tenacious little thing! She jumped right in after you and hauled you out…” “What friend?” she interrupts. “The annoying little whisp of a girl that is currently pushing on your ribs and forcing air into your earthy body.” “Is that what this ache is?” Leigh asks, rubbing her sternum with her knuckles. “What now? What do you want with me?” Arwan huffs out a laugh, “With you…? Nothing. I’m just here to guide your soul on to the Otherworld. Or I was…” he pauses, “Are you sure you don’t know her? She seems invested…” “No. I was alone. And I don’ t have friends. I’ve no idea who she is.” “No friends? Wow...” Leigh raises her brow, and crosses her arms, “So what are you? A psychopomp?” she says. “Well done! You know your other worldly creatures I’ll give you that. Technically, yes, I’m a psychopomp. A conductor of souls! A very good one. Or I was until your little human interfered.” “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she replies and shakes her head, “There has to be a way out of this place.” “They all say that. Thousands of desperate souls clinging and clawing at the threads of the mortal realm. But none of them escape from here. From me.” “No one?" "There is no escaping me, Leigh.” “Everything seems impossible, until its possible. This isn’t any different!” She says defiantly. “Oh, I do like you.” Arwan smiles and steps forward closing the gap until they are stood flush against each other. “It's been eons since I met anyone with your fire. You are going to make this interesting, aren’t you?” he asks eagerly. “There has to be a loophole. There is always a loophole– wait, there must be a reason you haven’t taken me already…?” Leigh looks around the cemetery. “The light, it hasn’t changed. And this pain in my chest– I’m not dead right. You can’t take me until I die out there… until the human gives up.” “Hmm… Bright and beautiful. That is a dangerous yet enticing combination.” He chuckles. “I’m right, which means there has to be a way back. A way out of here. Where is it?” “Do you honestly think I’m going to tell you?” “Yes. I do.” “And why is that Cariad?” “Because you’re bored. You’re like a fat farm cat that doesn’t have to chase rats no more.” “A fat cat…? That’s what I remind you of? Charming…” “You’re not denying it though are you… ?” “Fine, let us strike a deal. I will let you return to you boring mortal life if you can escape this maze.” He turns, arms outstretched and gestures to the tombs. “At the centre of this maze is the pool of reflection, if you make to its waters, I will let you go.” “That’s it? I find the pool and I get to go home?” He chuckles darkly, “No Leigh, nothing is ever that simple. The maze changes… the tombs move... frequently. And there are things in this maze far worse than me. They will not let you go easily. Especially as they now have your scent." He swipes his thumb across the wound in her hairline and brings the bloody digit to his lips, closing his eyes as he savours the taste. "You will have to fight for every breath the human pumps into your body. And if she gives up on you. If she stops… your only chance of escape disappears, and I will drag you to the Otherworld.” “So my life is in the hands of a stranger, someone I’ve never met?” “As much it is in your own, yes." His eyes dart back and forth across her face once more. "If you want to win your life back, you need to move Leigh. And keep moving. You can’t move mountains if you stay paralysed. Your life clinging to the light of day. So, go…. Run!” Leigh turns and bolts down an avenue of chipped granite and marble in the direction of the sun, which is starting to dip towards the horizon. The path way is an uneven trail of broken flagstones and unturned tree roots that snag her boots, knocking her off kilter and bounding her into the wrought Iron fences that block her path through the necropolis of above-ground tombs. His footsteps are heavy, but slow. A steady pace that is in no hurry to catch up. To chase her. A cocky confidence that matches his persona. She turns a corner and is confronted with a tall stone wall. “Tick, tock, Leigh.” Arwan calls out, “That sun is getting awfully low. Your little human must be getting tired. I wonder how much longer she will continue before she gives up on you.” “Arrogant Twat…” she breathes. She retreats a few steps at looks back down the way she came. She cannot afford to retrace her steps. She looks back at the wall in front of her. It is cornered by the backs of two other mausoleums. Decision made, she runs at the crumbing brickwork and jumps, pushing of the side wall and stepping up and off the adjacent one until her hands grip the slate tiles. She hauls her weight up and stands on the roof looking over the sprawling graveyard. A series of howls pierce the air. One after another, from different directions. Multiple creatures who were hunting her. Closing in and tightening the noose. She turns her head towards the sounds and her blood chills; in the pathways beneath her, five large, white wolves, ears tipped blood red, converge on her position, their pitch black eyes trained on her. Leigh turns and runs. Leaping from roof top to top. Balancing on the crumbling ruins of walls and rusting metal fences. As she nears the centre she sees the pool. A large circular raised platform filled with liquid so dark and thick that it appears like stone. She leaps from the roof and tucks into a roll, coming to a stop in a crouch before a tall familiar figure that is blocking her way. “They’re yours then?” she points at the beast at Arwan’s feet. He pats the beast’s head’s and nods, “And you didn’t think to mention that the damn mutts chasing me belonged to you?” Arwan whistles and the howls and snarls of the other approaching beasts quiet, “It’s not wise to insult the Cwn Annwn, Cariad.” The red ears of the hound twitch at its title. “They have stood down, but they are still the dogs of death... Besides, you still made it to the centre of my labyrinth.” “For all the good it did me… You’re still between me and the pool.” “That’s true, Cariad," he sighs. “Why do you keep calling me that? Cariad…? What does it mean?” Arwan smiles, “It’s a term of endearment in my native tongue. It means dear one." Leigh raises and eyebrow. “Dear one, I don’t think we are acquainted enough for pet names.” Arwan clutches his chest in mock pain, “Don’t say that Cariad. You wound me!” a smile splits his perfect features and for the first time he looks every inch a soul stealer, “But regardless of how fascinating I find you, I can’t just let you leave.” “I’m not giving you a choice Arwan.” “Oh No?” he laughs out. “No!” Her tone is firm and resolute, “I’m going back.” Leigh leaps to her left, passed Arwan, towards to edge of the pool. Both boots hit the water with a splash. Even at the water’s edge, the pool is deep, and she quickly starts to sink beneath the thick, black liquid. Arwan whips out his arm and grabs hold of her wrist, wrapping his hand around it tightly in a concrete grip. She winces as a searing pain creeps along her forearm where their skin meets. She plants her feet against the stone lip and leans backwards, staring into the grey eyes of her tormentor. “Let go of me.” “No!” She pushes off the lip with both feet, the jumps towards center of the pool. The abyss swirls around her ribs, inching higher and weighing her down, pulling her towards its depths. The arm that is tethered to Arwan is the only thing keeping her above the surface. He leans out over the water, bracing a hand against the small, narrow stone rim, barely a whisper between his crisp white t-shirt and the water. “You have to let me go. If you don’t’ I’ll pull you through with me!” she taunts, “Tell me, what happens when the dead goes through the veil?” His hand and forearm breach the water and pain laces his face. “That’s where you are mistaken, Cariad… I’m not dead, And this…” he replies, as he tips his head between them, “You and me… It’s not over!” “It is for now!” Leigh reaches out and drags his arm to her mouth. She sinks her teeth deep into the fleshy muscles above his thumb, and bites down, breaking the skin. The metallic taste of blood coats her tongue. She grins back at Arwan as he clutches his hand. Her teeth a bloody mess. “NO!” he shouts, “We are not done! I will have your soul!” “But not today!” she replies before sinking beneath the cold waters. The pain in her chest becomes sharper the deeper she goes, more insistent. “Come on girlie… don’t give up on my yet.” A soft, feminine voice demands, “That’s it beautiful, open those eyes.” Leigh coughs and wretches water from her lungs, “Welcome back… I’m Wren!” Lyrics ▼ |
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