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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. Her movements are small. Tentative. "That's it Leigh..." "Urgh..." she croakes, "Water?" she pleads. The muted light filtering through her closed eyelids makes her eyeballs ache. This is not another hangover. She has not touched the lavender wine since her grandmother reprimanded her in front of the whole coven, but the headache that is slowly creeping across her head is reminiscent of one. "Here." A small lump lands on her torso with a thud. “What in the name of all that’s holy…?” she murmurs. She reaches for the tanned leather waterskin and drags it to her cracked lips. The water is refreshing, but stale. She sits up and rubs her temples with her fingers, as she gazes around the abandon graveyard. “Where in Hel am I?” She looks down. Her jeans are soaked through and her red blouse is clinging to her body like a second skin. Standing gingerly, she turns to take in her surroundings and raises her hand to block out the bite of the sun. Her socks are waterlogged and chaff against the ruined leather of her boots. Imposing mausoleums and family vaults tower over the small square, packed tightly together. The once white granite is aged by time and neglect; the caress of creeping lichen and moss soften its harsh corners, while the occasional fern brakes through the cracked stonework like limbs of the dead, trying to escape their confines. This is not a place she knows. It is not a place she wants to know, she is sure of that. Leigh shivers. Goosebumps trial her exposed forearms and she rubs her hands against her skin. It does little to warm her body. “Finally!” a gruff voice says, “I thought you’d never wake up.” She startles and spins on her heels to face a boy. His face still has glimpses of youthful plumpness, but the harsh angles and weathered skin of adulthood have started to peek through the smattering of blonde stubble along his soft jaw line. But it is his eyes that hold her attention; an icy storm of grey, wrapped in a predatory gaze that tracks her every movements. “Who are you?” she asks, as she throws the water pouch towards him. “And where are we?" “Me?” He stands and yawns, raising his arms high above his head and stretching his tall frame like a large cat. “My name is Arawn... Though you may know me as Gwyn ap Nudd.” “The White Winter....” Leigh exhales, shaking her head, "You can't be..." An ethereal smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He descends the stone steps. Each footstep slow and controlled, as he eats up the distance between them until he is standing before her. He lifts a strand of her damp hair and twirls it lazily around his fingers, “And you, Cariad, are in the City of the Dead.” Wide eyed and mouth ajar, she staggers back and shakes her head. “What...? I cant be. You are mistaken!" She stills and takes in the faded headstones that adorn the nearby tombs. "Why... how am I here?” she asks. “I thought it would be obvious. You're here because you died! Or... you're dying. It’s currently a work in progress.” He pauses and points around the graveyard, “This is the Between.” “The what…?” “The Between. The place between the Living and the Otherworld. It's meant to be a pitstop on the way to Annwn...” he tilts his head and studies her face, tracing each freckle that delicately peppers her nose and cheeks. “How did I get here?” she questions. “You drowned. At Cauldron Falls. You lost your footing on the edges of the cascades and fell into the rolling waters of the plunge pool. By the looks of things, you knocked your head.” He points a finger to her temple. She touches the side of her head. It's tender and wet, like a bruised peach. A sharp pain spreads along her hairline she traces the edges of a deep cut; her fingers coming away sticky, covered in congealing blood. ”Lucky for you,” Arawn continues, “Your friend is a tenacious little thing! She jumped right in after you and pulled you out… Remarkable considering her size.” “What friend?” Leigh blinks in confusion. “The annoying little whisp of a girl that is currently pushing on your ribs and forcing air into your earthly body.” “Is that what this is?” she asks, rubbing her sternum with her knuckles. “What now? What do you want with me?” He huffs a laugh in response, “With you…? Nothing. I’m just here to guide to the Otherworld. Or I was…” he pauses, then prowls closer. “Are you sure you don’t know her? She seems very invested." “No. I was alone. I’ve no idea who she is.” "Hmmm..." Leigh arches an eyebrow, “So, what are you? A psychopomp?”. “Well done! Colour me impressed. You know your other-worldly creatures I’ll give you that. Yes, I’m a psychopomp. A conductor of souls and a very good one. Or I was until your little human interfered.” “My soul? I'm not giving you my soul!” she replies and shakes her head. “I have to get out of here...” Arawn sighs, "I never tire of hearing that. The fear and desperation... it's so strong I can almost taste it. Every soul trys to cling to the mortal realm. But no one can escapes from here, Leigh. No one can escape me.” “You're lying-" "No. I'm not. It's impossible. You can run, but I will catch you. You can hide, but time will run out and I will find you.” “Everything seems impossible, until it's not. This isn’t any different!” she says defiantly. “Oh, I do like you, Cariad. I like your spirit,” Arawn smiles and steps forward, closing the gap until they are standing flush against each other. “Are you going to make this interesting? It's been eons since I had a real challenge,” he asks eagerly. Leigh slips her hands between them and pushes against his firm chest. “Stay away from me! There has to be a way. There is always a loophole– wait,” Leigh looks around the cemetery and points at sky. A bright, triumphant smile breaks across her face, "The light, it hasn’t changed since i woke up. And this pain in my chest– You can’t take me until I die... Out there… Until the human gives up...” “Hmmm… Bright and beautiful. That is a dangerous and enticing combination,” he chuckles. “I'm right, aren’t I. Which means there has to be a way back. A way out of here. Where is it?” she demands. “Do you honestly think I’m going to tell you?” “Yes. I do.” “And why is that Cariad?” “Because you’re bored. Because you’re like a fat farm cat that doesn’t have to chase rats no more. You miss it.” “A fat cat…? That’s what I remind you of? I must be loosing my touch…” “You’re not denying it though are you… ?” “No. It appears not... Fine, I will indulge you. You can return to your boring mortal life IF you can escape this maze. I'll even give you a head start.” He turns and gestures to the necropolis of rolling tombs. “At the very centre of the maze lies the pool of reflection. It is the only portal back to the land of the living. If you can make it 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... And there are things in my labyrinth far worse than me. They will not let you go easily. Especially now we have your scent." He leans in, his thumb ghosting across her hairline. His touch is lightly and warm, the opposite of death. He brings the bloody digit to his lips and closes his eyes to savours the taste. "If you want to live. You will have to fight for every breath thst your human pumps into your body. And when she gives up on you. When she finally stops… your chance of escape will evaporate like the air in she lungs and I will drag you straight into the Otherworld.” “So, my life is in the hands of a stranger, someone I’ve never met?” “As much as it's in your own, yes." His eyes dart back and forth across her face once more. "Time to get going Cariad. If you want to win your life back, you need to keeping moving. Your life is clinging to the light of day. It's time to run!” Leigh turns and sprints down an avenue of chipped granite and cracked marble in the direction of the waning light. The pathway is narrow, an uneven trail of broken flagstones and upturned tree roots that snag her boots, knocking her off kilter and bounding her into the white-washed walls and wrought iron fences that block her way at every turn. His footsteps are heavy, but slow. A steady pace that is in no hurry to catch up or chase her. It's the opposite of her racing heart and is threatening to stage its own escape attempt. It's a cocky show of confidence that matches his persona. She turns another corner and is confronted with a tall stone wall. A deadend. “Tick, tock, Cariad,” Arawn calls out, “That sun is getting awfully low. I wonder how much longer your little humans will hold out before she gives up.” “Arrogant, fucking arsehole…” she breathes, her scouring for a way forward. "Is it arrogance or confidence?" his reply echoes. She retreats to the mouth of the narrow alleyway. It's still empty, but retracing her steps would be suicide. The morseleam that blocks her way is flanked on both sides by two equal tall monstrosities, trapping her like a stone coffin. She stops her pacing and crouches low to the ground, slowly bouncing on the balls of her feet to warm her cooling muscles. She studies the crumbling brickwork and nods her head. "Please work....' she prays. She runs towards the wall and jumps, pushing off the side wall and stepping up the adjacent one until her hands grip the slate tiles. She hauls her body 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, all hunting her, closing in and tightening the noose. She turns her head towards the sounds and her blood chills. In the pathways surrounding her, five large, white wolves, ears tipped blood red, are converging on her position, their pitch-black eyes trained on her. Leigh gulps and then turns and runs. Leaping across the rooftops, broken tiles tumbling to the ground and shattering in her wake. S Despite the burn in her lungs, she continues on, balancing on the crumbling ruins of boundary walls and the rusting metal of decaying fences. From her vantage point she can see the pool. A large, circular platform that is shrouded in a glistening white material, that encases liquid so dark and thick that it looks like obsidian. 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 creature at Arawn’s feet. He pats the beast’s head and nods. "And you didn’t think to mention that the damn mutts chasing me belonged to you?” Arawn whistles and the howls and snarls of the other approaching beasts quiet, “It’s not wise to insult the Cwn Annwn, Cariad.” The hound's red ears 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 exit.” “That’s true, Cariad," he sighs and satisfied smirk ghosting his face. “Why do you keep calling me that? Cariad…? What does it mean?” Arawn smiles, “It’s a term of endearment amongst my people. It means dear one." Leigh raises an eyebrow. “Dear one? I don’t think we are acquainted enough for pet names.” Arawn clutches his chest in mock pain, “Don’t say that. You wound me!. "If only it was that simple..." "You gave it a good try. It was even mildy entertaining. But, regardless of how fasinating I find you, I can’t let you leave.” “I’m not giving you a choice Arawn.” “Oh no?” he laughs. “No!” Her tone is firm and resolute, “I’m going back.” Leigh dashes to her left and with three quick strides, jumps towards the pool. She lands on the stone rim and steps a foot back into the thick, dark liquid. Even at the water’s die edge the pool is deep and starts to devour her. Arawn throws out his arm and grabs hold of wrist in a vice like grip, spinning her round to face him. She gasps as a searing pain creeps along her arm where their skin meets. "Let. Go. Of. Me!" She demands. She plants her remaining foot against the wall and leans backwards, staring into the grey eyes of her tormentor. “No!” She pushes off the pools edge and lets gravity pull her down into the swirling abyss swirls that is steadily rising around her ribs. Arawn strong grip is the only thing keeping her above the surface. He leans out over the water, bracing a hand against the stone, 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 to the dead if they go 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, tipping his head between them, “You and me… It’s not over!” “It is for now!” Leigh reaches out and drags his arm towards her mouth. She sinks her teeth deep into the fleshy muscle above his thumb, and bites down, breaking the skin. The metallic taste of blood coats her tongue and she grins; her teeth a wash of crimson red. “NO!” he shouts, “We are not done! I will have your soul!” “But not today!” she replies. She sinks beneath the cold waters. The pain in her chest becomes sharper the deeper she goes. “Come on girlie… don’t give up on me yet,” a soft, feminine voice demands, “That’s it beautiful, open those eyes.” Leigh coughs and purges water from her lungs, “Welcome back… I’m Wren!” Lyrics ▼ |
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