The Wind of Southmore

by Ariel Dodson

  Alice was shaking by this time, her stomach turning somersaults. It seemed suddenly that she was still there, locked in the swirling fog, the icy hands and mournful voices surrounding her, and Robbie quietly raised himself and fetched her some water. Arlen, meanwhile, sat straight and tightlipped, her eyes black and unfalteringly focused on some particularly interesting part of the wall.

  Mac waited until Alice had drunk her water, and then he resumed his story.

  “At last it became clear to Penmorven what he must do, and one night he prepared a small ship and sailed out into the ocean in an attempt to save Imogen himself, and regain the freedom of his daughters and the villagers. He was never seen again.”

  The cosy scene was silent for a few moments. The fire flickered in the grate, and cast strange, hollow shadows on the faces of those present, while the wind moaned mournfully through the stuffed window. Arlen’s face was close and tight.

  “And what about Isobel?”

  Mac’s face was sorrowful, and his voice was low. “Isobel was left alone, but she refused to mourn for her father or sister. Well-skilled in magic herself – it is said that all the Penmorvens have a touch of the gift, to varying degrees – she tried all she could do to locate the whereabouts of her family, but to no avail. The fog would rise over her vision until she felt that she was being choked, and her dreams held traces of blood and the whispers of those voices, trapped and yearning, their souls and hearts held within the wind and below the waves.

  “The villagers would see her sometimes, searching silently on the cliffside, gazing over the waters, her eyes and heart never still, and indeed, I have heard the stories that she is still seen there, waiting, searching, devising.

  “Finally she turned to her father’s old science of alchemy, and her light burned low into the long hours of the night, shining from the window of the small tower room she had once shared with her sister and, some say, in the mysterious cave known only to the Penmorvens. This was how she eventually met the man who was to become her husband, also a traveller in the realms of the mysterious. Together they searched, but they did not succeed, and one day he made the fateful trip, against his wife’s wishes, to search in the ocean itself. She never saw him again, but she lived to carry on her work and her search, and to raise their child, and to nurse the broken dragon that lay in her care.

  “And so the Penmorven family lived, hated and feared amongst the villagefolk, solitary, mysterious, and always searching, for the delivery of Southmore lies only in their hands. So far, none have succeeded.”

  “And where do you come into all of this?” Arlen asked then, and her voice was hard.

  Mac looked at the floor. The others could not see his face, but his shoulders heaved, and it seemed that he was struggling with a painful emotion. It was a few moments before he seemed able to turn again and face the small party.

  “I was a sailor,” he said then, softly, and his eyes suddenly seemed alive with a blue brightness such as they must have held in his youth. “I was born in Edinburgh, and spent my childhood surrounded by the tales of my forefathers and their deeds. But I was restless, and longed to be away, and when I was fifteen I joined the crew of a small cargo ship headed for the Americas. I have never been back home since, but I have sailed all over the world, and have seen most things and most people – and yet – the one I have seen that I most wanted, I was unable to have.

  “It was the late thirties, I remember, just before the Second War, and I was on a ship delivering gold from America. We landed in Penzance, and I had a few days’ leave and decided to explore the country. It was strange, the way I arrived in Southmore. I, myself a navigator, lost my way reading the map, and here I landed. It was a cold day, and the sky and sea were the way they always look here, cold and murky and grey. I was walking along the cliffside, and it was then that I saw her – your grandmother, I mean. She was standing on the edge of the cliff, gazing out at the waters, and her image was so beautiful, so – melancholy – I could not help but be drawn to her.

  “She was lovely and gracious, and yet – she had her heart set on another, someone she had met in London, and I – I was – so jealous and heartbroken, I did something – I have been ashamed of ever since.”

  The three listeners were waiting with bated breath, their faces, Robbie’s particularly, taking on apprehensive expressions.

  “I had signed myself off the ship returning to the States – I had to be where she was, you understand – and I waited, but she did not want me. I had picked up hints about the history of the place, and I resolved – I was mad in my feelings for her – I wasn’t thinking – I resolved – to seek out Penvynne and to – to strike a bargain with him.”

  The room was silent for a moment. Arlen closed her eyes and found herself standing, suddenly, on the edge of the cliff, bitterly cold, watching the scene play before her again. Mac, very much like Robbie, was standing on the cliff edge with Penvynne, whose cloak billowed in the anguished song of the wind, his finger red as blood with the seductive wink of the ruby ring. Mac’s voice seemed to continue very faintly in the background.

  “It was still the pearls he was after – their power – and I had guessed that their care had been passed to her. I – I promised him – that if I should have her – I would bring him the pearls – I wasn’t thinking straight – I loved her so much – I wanted her – and I didn’t care about anything else. The pact was sealed with blood, and I went to search for her. But my heart was heavy when I found her with her intended, and it suddenly became clear to me what I had done. I knew that the broken pact would mean my life, and I grew frightened. I took a large pearl that I had found on one of my journeys and threw it into the sea, foolishly thinking that he would be tricked. As the gem hit the waters I heard a huge roar and the seas rose up against me, and I was lucky to escape with my life. I walked the ten miles to St Ives, and from there caught a train towards Southampton and left for Australia with the next ship. My journeys around the world resumed, and many years later I met my wife in New York, where your father was born, Robbie, and we lived there for some time, as you know. I never thought I should return to Southmore, although it preyed endlessly upon my mind. My son grew to manhood, and eventually his job took him to London, where he met your mother and you were born, Robbie. My wife died shortly after that – cancer – and I – I didn’t know what to do with myself. My travelling days over, my nights haunted by the memories of my past, I resolved to return to Southmore and pay the price of my selfishness, to see the end of the tragedy.

  “And here I have waited. I have been lucky to escape Penvynne this long – a sailor myself, I know a few tricks of the waters. I saw your mother grow up and run off to London, girls – I saw her deliver you, Arlen, into her aunt’s care, and I have watched for your return, Alice. My time is almost up now – I know it – I cannot run much longer. It has been too long and I am too tired. I would have liked to have seen the end of it. The only advice I can give you is to use your instincts – listen to yourselves. You have inherited a long and painful history, and I hope it will finish with you.” He stopped, his face haggard, his voice cracking. The three listeners were silent, Robbie looking a bit stunned, Alice thoughtful, and Arlen – Arlen white and frozen and still. She was still on the cliff edge, the wind coaxing around her, and the ruby beckoning. Penvynne turned suddenly, looking over Mac’s shoulder so that she could see into his face, and it seemed that his grey eyes mirrored her own and bored through her, and in that instant she felt the sharp stab inside her as the ruby made its mark upon her soul. She could not look away, and when she met his gaze, pale and triumphant, he turned and seemed to smile a little, and it was then that she realised that Alice and Robbie were bending worriedly over her, and Mac was mumbling instructions for tea in a broken voice. She sat up slowly, and smiled, and for a second Alice didn’t feel that she recognised her at all. But she was prevented from saying anything by a furious knocking at the door.

  “Open up, old man. I know they�
�re in there.”

  Alice looked at Arlen, startled. “It’s Aunt Maud.”

  The small company was silent for a few moments as the frenzied pounding continued, and Mac finally dragged himself up, falteringly.

  “I’ll deal with her,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Robbie, go with the girls to the cave. That’s the safest place right now.”

  “There is no cave,” Arlen turned to face him, and her voice was broken. “Not any more.”

  Mac looked searchingly at her, his eyes once again keen and blue. “Then you will know best which path to follow,” he said softly. “For I cannot help you now.” They stared at each other for a moment, as if some silent conversation were taking place between them, and then Arlen marched deliberately to the door and opened it wide.

  The thunder cracked outside in a terrifying roar, and Aunt Maud was illuminated in the silver glow of lightning, her face wild and triumphant, her greying hair loose and streaming behind her in the wind. But it was her eyes that frightened Alice most, eyes which seemed to stare straight through them and beyond them to some other purpose, eyes tinted with an unearthly reddish glow.

  “Arlen? Arlen, what are you doing?” Alice ran to her quickly and tried to pull her back.

  “I’m seeing it through!” Arlen cried with a strange laugh, and her voice was high and unnatural. “Fulfilling our destiny – isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing? Isn’t that what we’re here for?” and she stared defiantly at Aunt Maud, her eyes glistening with challenge. Her aunt seemed confused suddenly, and now the lightning had ceased she once again appeared to fade back into the drab grey woman they had known before. Still, when she reached a hand out for each of them her grip was like cold iron, and, without a word to Mac, she marched them along the pier and through the village and back onto the Beach Road.

  “All this trouble,” she muttered to herself. “What a mess they’ve made. And we could have done it at the beginning. Do you hear me, you two? Putting up with you both running wild for this long, and especially you,” and she twisted Arlen round towards her, her face so close that Arlen could smell her sour breath, and then she raised her hand to deliver such a terrific slap that Alice could feel the vibration on her own skin. Fury overtook her and she lunged at Aunt Maud, only to receive the same harsh belt as her sister. “That’s right. There are two of you now. All those years – all those years wasted – keeping house for my precious sister and her family, a dumping ground, that’s all. I should have taken you out when the pair of you were first together – I knew it – I told him so. But he wanted to wait – he wanted to test you. I told him there’d be nothing to worry about, and I kept you safe and out of the way of the wailers, as he asked. But you wouldn’t listen. You never listen,” and she shook Arlen like a rag doll with one hand, keeping Alice firmly at bay in the other with a strength that seemed not her own.

  “Well, now my precious nieces, we will find out what you’re really made of. The prize capture – what he wanted all along. Tonight will be the real test and I – ” her voice dropped suddenly and her face took on a wandering expression. “I will have peace.”

  By this time they had turned off the Beach Road and onto the sand, picking their way through the rubble of the previous night towards the circle. Aunt Maud dragged them ruthlessly across the sand to the water’s edge, and the wind seemed to rise on a crescendo and the waves hurl and crash to the shore as she held their hands high and called to the dark water. “Penvynne! I have brought them. The pair. The gems. Penvynne! Do as you will!” and Alice suddenly found her hand released, red and throbbing, as Aunt Maud cried and fell suddenly, and Robbie appeared behind her, fierce and shaking and armed with an old sword from his grandfather’s collection.

  “That’s it – come on!” Robbie cried, extending his hands as the waves roared in fury and Alice turned. But Arlen stood still, staring at the water.

  “Arlen – come on,” Alice tugged at her frantically. “What’s wrong?”

  “It will never be finished,” Arlen replied dully, after a few moments. “We have to finish it. I can’t do it on my own. Promise me you’ll come for me. Don’t leave me this time.” And it seemed once again that Imogen stood before her, as if in a mirror, and beckoned her forward.

  “What do you mean?” Alice’s eyes grew black, and she seized her twin by the shoulders, terrified by the blank expression that appeared in her eyes.

  “One went forward, one stayed back,” Arlen said softly. “We have to face him. Just promise me you’ll come.”

  “I promise, but I – ” and she stopped, for Arlen, Arlen as she knew her, was gone. Her shell crumbled into the sand, and Robbie picked her up gently, her eyes wide and staring, and was preparing to carry her back when Alice stopped him.

  “No – no, leave her! She has to do this,” and her voice was raw and ragged as she held her charm firmly between her fingers, and waited.

  The way was dark and smooth. The waters had seemed to part for her, and she was making her way up the cool sand within green glass walls, towards the pinpoint of red light that flickered before her. All was calm and silent. Even the wind had ceased, and the miserable cries of his victims were hushed. The anguish that had torn through her – that Isobel had left her, that Isobel had chosen, and she had not been the choice – had dulled, and she felt cold and passionless. She seemed to have seen this before; he had called to her several times already, as if showing her the way, and she was not surprised when she found herself in the round, dark room, littered with ancient writings and archaic scientific instruments, like a replica of the room in which he had worked with her ancestor centuries ago. In an old tarnished mirror standing opposite she could see herself, and her image was decked in the flowing hair and jewels and old fashioned dress of Imogen, who had gone before.

  “You have come.”

  The voice seemed to issue from her own head rather than from a real voice outside it, and it was soft and blurred, the words bleeding and merging into each other like a snake’s hiss. His back was towards her.

  “I have,” she answered steadily, stealing glances around the small space, not trusting him. She had felt that she would know what to do when the time came, that the moment and action would hit her like a ray of light from above, but she wasn’t so sure now. She had only herself to rely on.

  “I have waited for you,” the voice came sidling through her mind once again. “For many years I have waited, patiently, and I have watched carefully, from the moment that your mother abandoned you. You must have known from that, that you were destined for something else.”

  He’s just trying to disarm me, Arlen thought to herself, momentarily taken off guard by the mention of her mother. She knew he had said it on purpose, and yet she couldn’t check the rising, helpless feeling of anger that rose in her whenever she was reminded of the woman who had left her. Her mother. Isobel. What was wrong with her?

  “That’s right,” the voice explored the corners of her brain in a soft, unctuous murmur, and she furiously sought to stamp it out. “That’s right. Why fight it? You are right to feel as you do. So many people think only of themselves. So many take advantage. And what are you left with? An anger you cannot control. Feelings of disillusionment, helplessness, abandonment. I found this out many years ago, long before your time. I had hoped that Imogen would help me to realise my dream, as her father did, before he stupidly lost courage. But Imogen was not as strong as you, Arlen,” and the words slid, thick and slimy, like a snake belly, filling her brain. “You are stronger. You can help me. It’s what Penmorven wanted to do, all those years ago, centuries ago, before he lost the way. Give people their dreams, indulge their fantasies, find the truth. They cling to me, even now, for fulfilment.”

  “You’ve stolen their dreams,” Arlen answered, shaking at the sound of her own voice which rang clearly in the swirling black walls around her, throbbing inside her own head like an amplifier. “You’ve taken their souls. Conned them. You’re a thief.”

&n
bsp; “I am a guide. Oh Arlen, can you not see the future? The power in people’s minds, the yearning in their souls? And yet they don’t really know what they want. To give them the way – ”

  “The way to death,” Arlen replied, scornfully.

  “And it’s so much better out there?” the voice continued, smooth and seductive. “A world of twisted paths and blind hopes and sure disappointment at the end. It’s better there? At least, here, they know. They do not have the misery of endless hoping, constant pursuing, a lifetime of broken dreams, for nothing at the end. They come to me.”

  “And you betray them.”

  “I give them what they want. Their dreams. Do you not know, child, that to live in dreams is nothing but a slow death?” He turned then, and his face was sharp and grey, his hard eyes holding her gaze like magnets, drilling into her soul. He held his hand towards her, long and bony, his fingernails pointed and sharp. “Look at the ruby. See how it winks and shines. Magical. Can you blame them for choosing its brightness?”