by Ariel Dodson
“For what?” Arlen asked, bitterly. “An endless prison?”
“A prison of their own choosing. Their desires.” He smiled, and it was like a shark grinning. “These things don’t come for free, you know. Look, child.”
And the jewel winked and glittered before her, and she felt herself flying on outspread wings, away, away from Southmore forever, to a place where she had no history and no destiny, a place where she was just – herself.
“You are tempted, child.” She felt the words slither softly within her. “Even you are tempted. And why shouldn’t you be? You, who have been imprisoned here for so long, the remnant of a decaying family, living in a dilapidated castle. Their time has long gone, and they have left you mouldering in a open grave. Even your sister has been to places you can never see from here. Why you, Arlen? Why always you?”
Arlen was shaking now. Before her Penvynne seemed to swell, his granite frame contending with the flowing, sliding tentacles that grew from him like a huge underwater spider, an octopus, beast of the deep, hard grey eyes unblinking as the ruby winked and beckoned.
“Just imagine, Arlen, if we had the pearls. Penmorven was right to try and separate them, albeit for the wrong reason. Stupid man, didn’t he know that the goodness weakened it. Separating them only allowed the darkness to feel its strength. Strength is what you need in this world, Arlen. Without it you are – left behind.”
Arlen was having difficulty breathing, as if she had suddenly realised how small the enclosed space was, with the sea pounding mercilessly overhead, and the tentacles coiling around her brain with their soft suggestions.
Left behind. She was always left behind. First her parents, and then Aunt Maud, and even Alice hadn’t offered to come with her, she thought, forgetting Alice’s promise. Just like Isobel. Just like Isobel, all those years before, thinking more of herself and her work than her own twin. The mirror before her cracked, and her image splintered into a million fragments. She could feel the hard smoothness of the black pearl in her pocket, resting against her hip.
“Yes – yes, child,” the voice moved within her again. “You have chosen the stone of importance. It will give you all you want. Let me have it, and I will help you. You’ll never be alone again. You’ll be mine.”
Arlen’s hand was in her pocket. She could feel the power of the stone course through her like electricity, humming and vibrating in her hand. She could not release herself to it. He was there, inside her mind – he would find it.
“That’s right. That’s right, child,” came the voice. “Abandon yourself to it.”
Abandon, abandon, abandon.
The word echoed and reeled around her head like a pinball game. Abandon yourself. The sound seemed to caress her, sliding around her like arms, the one thing she could depend on. The ruby winked before her and held her gaze, blood red and hungry, and she looked deeply into it and saw the tired, careworn face of Penmorven, searching for his lost daughter, searching for the goodness he could not find, the goodness he wanted to give. She saw the white face of Imogen, so like her own, twisted in passion and anguish, and, next to it, the intense, seeking gaze of Isobel – Isobel, who had never ceased searching, but had not gone after her. She could see the ageing, lonely, jealous countenance of Aunt Maud, growing quickly from a hopeful young girl to a faded, resentful, lost old woman, searching desperately for a life that she knew was not destined to her. And the face of her mother, the care, the pressure of a baby, the need for escape, the fear of never achieving what she wanted. And herself. She could see her own reflection winking back at herself in the bloodlight, and another beside her, Alice, so like and yet so different, and she was still alone. And she let her mind drift along the path of abandon, through the scales, the sudden freedom ringing through her like a released spring. And Penvynne smiled and nodded, and he slipped the ring from his finger and onto Arlen’s left hand.
“Now give me the pearl,” he said, and the slithering voice was greedy and expectant. Arlen felt for the pearl, warm and throbbing between her fingers, and her hand was heavy with the stolen life of the red jewel. She had opened her mind to it, and all she could see was the darkness, the gaping mouths and empty eyes and pitiful cries of the poor, abandoned, lost souls duped by it. Abandon yourself. He had chosen the wrong words. For while she may have been abandoned by everyone else, she would not abandon herself. He wanted blood, Penmorven blood, and he would have it. And she lifted her hand out of her pocket, slow and heavy with the ruby, and brought it in a furious smash against the whirling glass wall of the cavern. The stone shattered, and her face and hands were covered with blood as the sea rushed in through the broken wall, choking, smothering her. She could see Penvynne’s face turn to a mask of fury, and the strange hybrid form rose and swelled, until there before her was the monster who had claimed her ancestors before her.
“Yours!” she cried, fighting to climb above the waves. “I’ll never be yours!” And she sank below the water.
“What’s happening?” Robbie, who was still holding onto Arlen’s lifeless body, could see the waves churning in fury, hissing in anger, as the black tentacles thrashed the surface like thunderbolts.
“I have to go to her,” Alice said, and prepared to walk into the water.
“Are you crazy?” Robbie pulled her back. “You’ll be killed. It’s bad enough that one of you – ” he stopped, his voice breaking.
“Don’t you see?” Alice said gently, and held out the white pearl, which lit the scene before them like a gentle candle. “This is my part now. Arlen was here from the beginning, she had to start it. But I have to help finish it. Stay with her,” she told him, as if Arlen had somehow split into two people. She held the pearl before her in her open hand, and the sea drew back and parted until she could walk right through the mist and the damp. The jewel glowed luminously in her palm and lit the way, and the waves roared and spat around her but did not touch her.
The path was straight and smooth, but it seemed endless, and she began to tire after what seemed like hours of walking. The walls of water threatened to move in closer and closer still, and the icy breath hissed around her ears and cheeks, and even with the gentle warmth of the pearl resting in her palm, she could feel herself grow cold all over. She mustn’t falter, she must – focus. But it grew harder and harder, and the path seemed to lead to nowhere and she could find no trace of Arlen or their foe. Her courage was not gone, but she was beginning to doubt her way, and as if in answer she could feel a puddle streaming and foaming around her feet in a lacy, icy froth. It was then that she stopped, for she had come to a dead end. A shining green glass of water blocked her way, and beyond it she could see her twin struggling, drowning, her lifeless left hand ringed by whirls of crimson blood.
“No!” Alice pounded the wall desperately, hammering with the pearl when she found that her hands were no use. The waters surged and swelled around her; she could feel them creeping in an icy flow up to her knees, and she shook with cold and fear but still she pounded on the wall and still she couldn’t break through.
“Let her go, you bastard!” she screamed, and screamed again as the wall of water suddenly splintered, shot through by a fleshy black tentacle which seized her around the waist and lifted her high before its gaping mouth and fiery eyes. “Let – her – go,” her voice was fading now, and she could barely breathe.
“I had such high hopes for you two,” came the voice, ringing through her head until it felt as though it would explode. “Why do you fight against destiny? But as you will not come of your own free will, I must take other measures.” And Alice froze as she gazed into the awful mouth, a red tunnel of gaping flesh, teeth like pincers.
“No,” she moaned desperately, her struggles now slow and futile.
“Stupid children,” said the voice, “to think you could stop me. Your ancestors have failed all these years. Why should you be able to fight what is your own future?” And a long white human arm rose from the black, scaly body of the creature, and
the pale bony hand opened to reveal the black pearl.
Alice’s face paled. Then Arlen was –
“Yes, child,” the voice murmured softly. “Your sister tried to fight and she could not escape. Like Imogen, so long ago. Her sister did not follow, and yet the outcome is still the same. And now, like all those before you, you will come with me,” and Alice felt herself raised into the air and the drop below was nothing but the terrifying mouth. She closed her eyes faintly, and felt all go black. She could see Arlen before her, sinking, dropping like a stone, and yet she could hear her voice clearly, the conversations coming back into her mind as if listening to a recording, “– part of each other – cannot exist without the other – ” and it seemed suddenly that it was not Arlen speaking at all but another girl, very like her, in a deep wine coloured dress. The words circled around and around her head like a charm until she knew what she must do, and she opened her palm wide to reveal the white pearl, pale and brilliant, and threw it directly into the creature’s face. It spun through the air in an arc, leaving a sparkling trail of white behind it, and the black pearl rose from the centre of Penvynne’s hand at its call, rising up to meet it. For a moment the two orbs hovered before each other in midair, like the moment before an eclipse, and then suddenly they merged in one blinding flash which cut through the sea and the sky like a sword, slitting the thick grey clouds like a fish’s belly and admitting the brilliant glare of the sun, which struck through the gaping rents in bright paths, illuminating the whole landscape.
Penvynne faltered and cringed as a sun ray ran through his open mouth like a bullet, and the dark flesh of the creature began to shrivel and burn until it disappeared in an enormous whirlpool, dropping Alice into the water, which felt warm and gentle and carried her slowly to an outpost of rock where she clung, shaking.
Around her, the village opened into the sunlight like a flower. But where was Arlen? She stood on the rock and called and called for her, and dived into the water time and time again, but Arlen did not appear, and Alice could not prevent her heart from sinking as she knew her sister’s life must be under those waves.
A glimmer of sunshine bobbing on the seafoam caught her attention, and she reached down, only to fish out Arlen’s charm. “Oh no,” she whispered, and her heart fell and her skin seemed to crawl with fear. She gazed out towards the coast, towards the faint figure of Robbie still bent over her sister’s body. She had not come back.
Alice sat still, holding the two charms between her fingers. She could not believe that Arlen was gone. She could feel her; she was there, just lost, that’s all. But how could she find her in the depths of the ocean? And how could she find her in time?
“Please help me. Please,” she whispered, her fingers running softly over the swirling curves of the charms. “Mac said all the Penmorvens have the gift of magic to a certain extent. Even if I never have it again, please help me this time.” But the wind still whistled around her ears and the waves still lapped, even as the sun shone warmly down on her shoulders, and she stared hopelessly at the charms until it seemed that the curled patterns twined into each other, and she could see the figure of the dragon stalking restlessly behind them. It was then that she saw the gateway. Her heart a pressed spring of excitement, she held the charms together, fitting like the pieces of a puzzle until the gold moved and merged before her into a flowing gate, and the doors sprang apart to let the Penmorven dragon free.
It circled in the air for a few moments, as if flexing its wings and testing its strength, a radiant creature of fire and gold, and with a sudden glance at Alice dived clear into the waves and appeared a few moments later with Arlen, a dripping, lifeless Arlen, but still Arlen, and all around them rose shafts of rainbow light, singing from the waves on the wind, the centuries of victims suddenly free. And Alice found herself clasped suddenly, gently, in an enormous claw, and flown smoothly back to shore, where Robbie’s grief-stricken face lit in wonder, and Arlen, cold and drawn on the sand, her left hand crushed and bloody and still wearing the traces of the ruby ring, began to cough and choke, and opened her eyes, which were a strange, beautiful violet colour in the new dawn.
They stared as the golden serpent rose aloft in the sky, glimmering amidst the glowing shafts of light, and faded, as if into the sun, before them.
Slowly, they made their way back through the crowds of cheering villagers to Mac’s rickety cottage at the end of the pier. It had been a long day.
The old wooden planks were as soft and creaky as ever, and the painted gate, which had come loose again in the wind, was swinging noisily as they stumbled to the door. The small lamp was still burning, but Mac did not appear.
“Grandad! Grandad?” Robbie called, bursting through the door. “Grandad, we’re back!”
“Where is he?” Alice whispered, looking around.
“I don’t know,” Robbie answered sharply, turning the other way. He disappeared upstairs for a few moments, and when he reappeared he was shaking his head.
Meanwhile Arlen, still trembling and breathing quickly, had entered the balcony. The others found her there, sitting silently by Mac, his body cold and frozen on the deck chair by the telescope, one eye still pressed to its round brass rim.
“Grandad,” Robbie said softly, and buried his face in the old man’s hair.
“He got what he wanted, though,” Arlen said, dully. “He saw the end of it.”
It was several hours later, or at least it seemed so, when Mrs Trevallen found them holding their quiet vigil around the old man’s body, the newborn rays of sun shining pink and golden on their skin. Everything seemed to be a blur after that, and much less real than all that had gone on before. The villagers, as if reborn suddenly in the new sunlight, could not seem to do enough for the twins, and clustered around, praising them and petting them, much to Alice’s discomfort. Arlen didn’t even seem to be aware of them.
Dr Trevallen pronounced Mac’s death to be the result of a sudden heart attack, and removed the body to the small parlour that Mac had rarely used, ready to be driven to the morgue at the hospital at St Ives the following day.
He gently set Arlen’s broken hand in a cast and sling, assuring her that it would be right as rain in a couple of months. He also suggested that the twins and Robbie would be very welcome to spend the night at his house, and Mrs Trevallen agreed that this was the best idea, attempting to bundle them up in warm clothing “as if we were three year olds,” Alice muttered to Robbie in disgust.
Arlen had not seemed very aware of what was happening until that moment, but as Mrs Trevallen attempted to lead her to the car, she stopped short. “I can’t,” she stammered, her own voice sounding strangely unfamiliar to her ears. “I have to go home, I – what about Aunt Maud?”
Dr and Mrs Trevallen were silent for a few moments, and Alice stared at her sister with a puzzled expression, for all she could think of in relation to Aunt Maud was the vindictive glare of hatred and glowing eyes of the woman who had dragged them to the water’s edge to serve her own purposes. But Arlen seemed quite distressed, and broke the silence with a cry. “I must see her! Where is she? I have to go to her.”
“I wouldn’t worry about your aunt, dear,” Mrs Trevallen leaned over and patted her arm gently. “She’s in another place now.” And Arlen did not ask after her again.
It was a few days later when a tall, blonde woman, smartly dressed in a red suit and black heels, pulled up outside the Trevallens’ house and climbed the steps to ring the doorbell.
“Well, Margaret Penmorven!” the twins could hear Mrs Trevallen exclaim.
“Hello, Elsie. I got your message. Where are they?”
“I’ll call them in a minute. No need to shock them. They don’t know yet. It’s so lovely to see you. And you’re so smart! Was it a long drive?”
“Too long,” the woman answered, and shuddered slightly as she glanced around. “You know, I’ve never been able to bring myself back here. But I – well – circumstances are different now.”
“It’s so beautiful here,” Margaret commented. “I can’t ever remember all this sun.”
“No – it’s quite recent,” said Mrs Trevallen. “I’ll call them through.”
“Wait – Elsie,” and Margaret caught hold of her elbow. “My aunt – what was she – ?”
“We like to think it was quick,” Mrs Trevallen said shortly. “She was in the tower room when it crumbled.”
“The silly old woman,” Margaret shook her head. “You know, for years I tried to get her to come and live with me and bring the child – I couldn’t bear to think of them in that dreary old castle. We knew years ago that it was going to end up in the sea before long. But she was so stubborn – she wanted to be near home, she said. Some home. I never could stand it here. But I – don’t like to think of what happened to her. Or of – Arlen – being exposed to it. And now they’re together? Alice too?”
“Yes, Alice too,” Mrs Trevallen smiled and went to the door. “Girls, would you like to come in here?”
The twins looked at each other, and Alice held back slightly. “It feels so strange.”
“Come on,” Arlen replied, grimly. “It’s not over yet.” And she clasped Alice’s hand tightly as they marched into the front room.
“Well, girls,” Mrs Trevallen beamed at them. “Do you remember your mother?”
“No,” Arlen said shortly. “Why should we remember our mother?”
The woman started and blushed then, as if taken off her guard. “Hello, girls,” she said, clearing her throat slightly. “Arlen. Alice.”
“I’m Arlen,” Arlen corrected her, her face white and drawn. “This is Alice.”
“Oh, of course,” said their mother, growing more embarrassed by the second.
“I’ll bring in some tea,” said Mrs Trevallen, and departed gracefully. Margaret Penmorven looked rather as if she’d like to follow her.