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- Herausgeber: Knights Of
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Serie: Vivi Conway
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
The gang have been hunting for Isabella for weeks, but there's no sign of her in the Unlands. They can't even find the portal through to Annwn. And Vivi hasn't told the rest of the gang about what happened with the villainous Arawn appearing in her dream. She definitely hasn't mentioned how scared she is to fall asleep, in case he reappears. Even Nimue has been quiet. As much as Vivi wants to hope that it's all over, part of her knows it isn't... On Dara's birthday, an invitation comes from their cousin Meredith; come stay on Bardsey Island for a week, stay at their cottage, and celebrate Halloween. And bring all your friends! Vivi can't refuse an opportunity to go back to Wales, and her friends are immediately excited for star-spotting, foraging, hiking, and just general adventuring. Little do they know, they are about to be thrown into a huge high-stakes treasure hunt, with the fate of the world resting on them (again). And Vivi's feeling that Arawn is just waiting to reappear is only growing stronger... Praise for Vivi Conway and the Sword of Legend 'An edge-of-your-seat adventure underpinned by rich mythology and a brave heroine that will capture your heart. Hux has spun a classic tale for the ages.' Laura Noakes, author of Cosima Unfortunate Steals A Star 'A remarkable, heart-pounding, reinvigorated story of the myths you think you know – with characters you can't forget and prose you will read again and again. Fun, fast, and Welsh legends have never looked this beautiful in print.' Elle McNicoll 'A heart-warming and spellbinding book, with wonderful disability and LGBTQ+ representation. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.' Natasha Hastings, author of The Miraculous Sweetmakers: The Frost Fair
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For my sister, Julie - my lighthouse, my inspiration, my home. I’m so glad to have you.
vi
Contents
Chapter One
I’ve been keeping secrets.
And man, is it hard.
I think this is the first time in my whole life that I’ve been keeping quite so many secrets, which has been a challenge. After all, I hate lying, I’m not good at it, and apparently what I think and feel about any situation shows up right on my face.
But I’ve had no other choice.
I’ve had to keep secrets, even if I hate it.
In the last two months, things got really weird, really fast. I don’t mean there were a few coincidences in a row kind of weird. It’s more you have magic, ghosts are real, there’s whole other worlds alongside ours type of weird, and that’s just the headlines.
Dara, my best friend, says that these secrets aren’t really 2the same as lies, but the way this has all spiralled out, filling every inch of my life, means I have to come up with lies to cover our tracks. Like, no, I’m obviously not going to tell my Mums that I’m tired because we were up all night roaming the Unlands, so I have to pretend we were having too fun a sleepover to fall asleep. That’s a lie.
Holding all of it in makes my insides itch, but there’s nothing I can do about that. My old therapist Dr May would say I should learn to sit with the bad feeling so I can work my way through it, but then again, I’m not sure her advice is applicable in magical situations.
Half the problem is that there are so many secrets, and lies that go along with them, that it’s all getting out of hand.
Obviously I can talk to my closest friends – Dara, Chia and Stevie – about how I’m a calon, tasked with stopping King Arawn from destroying our world (somehow), and that I can control water. It’s hard keeping all that from my Mums, even though I have to. They trust me so much and are so happy I made friends in London, that it hurts my heart a little when we go out on missions, because they just think we’re hanging out as friends. I mean, we are friends, but friends who fight monsters. It’s different.3
And then they just think Gelert is an enormous stray I brought home from the park one day, not a thousand-year-old ghost dog who helps me sneak out the house with his not-quite-teleportation powers. Who else’s parents would be like ‘wow thanks for bringing home a giant creature to live with us’? Perhaps there’s a kind of magic at work there – Gelert says magical things act differently to how we expect, so maybe that goes for ghost dogs too.
It’s not even just my parents. It’s everyone else’s family too, and even our Science Club teacher, Mr. Reynolds.
So that’s a lot, before we even get to the fact that Chia was kidnapped for a whole week by monstrous coraniaids who stole her and a load of other kids to the Unlands. And how all the adults forgot it happened at all.
Or that Isabella, the girl we left behind, is still missing.
And then there’s my secret. One I haven’t told Chia, Dara or Stevie yet. That Arawn turned up in my dream with Nimuë. That he grabbed me and pushed her into the water. That I don’t even know if she’s alright because I haven’t been back.
I want to live in denial and tell myself it was just a nightmare. Even though, in my heart, I know it was real. The moment he arrived, everything got colder, 4more closed in – like the whole space had changed. And the skin on my face where he grabbed me tingles horribly whenever I think about it. Chia asked me about it once because I kept rubbing at my face, and I lied, said it was eczema.
I can’t help but think of his final words to me – you will learn where your true place is.
If I tell them what happened, it makes it undeniably real, and something we have to deal with. And it only happened once. Maybe that’ll be it, and soon Nimuë and I will speak again, and everything will be fine.
We’ve got enough on our plate right now with looking for Isabella, and finding a way to stop Arawn from taking more children or even taking over our world. We still have three more calonnau to find. That’s more important right now.
Typically, holding all these secrets inside has given me the worst stomachache. Which wouldn’t be a huge problem most of the time, except right now; I’m at Dara’s house for an early-birthday pizza party.
“Dara McLeod, if you’re going to use that red shell on me I am going to deck you,” snaps Stevie, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“I wouldn’t,” they protest.5
“You would,” chorus Chia and I.
We’ve only been playing Mario Kart for a few hours, and while in the real-world Dara might be kind and thoughtful, in-game they’re pretty ruthless. I’m last out of everyone because, as always, I got distracted trying to find secret routes on the map rather than actually race because I’m terrible at driving. Plus, Stevie and Dara are competitive enough for the four of us.
“If this steering wheel wasn’t screwed onto the table, and expensive, I’d throw it at your head,” Stevie huffs menacingly at Dara. Dara’s brother Lachie is so obsessed with Mario Kart that his parents got him this fancy table-mounted wheel with actual pedals, but it turns out it’s much easier for Stevie to use than the little controllers anyway. It gives her a major road rage vibe. Terrifying, really.
Dara’s dad, Bruce, walks into the room. A tea towel is slung over his shoulder. “Sounds like things are getting nicely violent in here,” he says with a laugh. “How about we throw a bit more sugar into the mix?”
“Is it time for cake?” Dara squeaks.
When Bruce nods, we all pile through into the kitchen. Dara’s mum, Fionnuala, sits at a big table in the middle of the room. I only met her for the first time today 6because she’s studying to be an architect, so is always really busy working. Lured by the promise of cake are Rabbie, who is on his phone as usual, and Lachie too. Callie the dog sits expectantly at Bruce’s feet, just in case there’s something she can eat.
I might not have wanted to face cheesy pizza, but I think I can overcome the ache for Bruce’s baking. He always makes something amazing when we come over, and today is no different. He sets down the most enormous chocolate cake, topped with strawberries and piped gleaming chocolatey icing. In the centre is one big lit candle, like Dara is turning one instead of thirteen. Bruce lights it with a weird lighter that looks like a USB.
We all sing Happy Birthday, and it’s only halfway through that I realise I’m singing the Welsh version instead – penblwydd hapus i chi. I don’t have time to feel embarrassed about it, because Fionnuala bursts into a round of co-là breith sona dhut, which is appears to be the Scottish Gaelic version. Bruce joins in, belting it out, and even Rabbie sings alone. Callie barks enthusiastically, and Lachie groans but does join in, if a little reluctantly.
“It’s important to remember your heritage Lachie,” Bruce says, patting his shoulder.
“Do we have to remember it so loudly?” he grumbles.7
It’s not Dara’s birthday until the 22nd which is five days away, but that’ll be in the middle of the school week, so they get a double birthday this year.
“Make a wish, Dara,” Chia says.
Dara wriggles up on their seat to kneeling, so that they loom over the cake.
There’re so many things I’d wish for. For us to find Isabella, and the other calonnau soon. That Nimuë is okay. For Arawn to be gone, and for this to be over.
“Take a deep breath, down into your stomach,” instructs Chia.
“Oh perfect. A spray of cheater slobber on top,” teases Stevie.
Bruce gives her a wink. “It adds flavour.”
When they try to blow out the candle, it doesn’t go out at all. Their second try makes the flame wiggle a bit, but it’s still there. Maybe I’m imagining it, but it looks bigger.
Beside me, I spy Chia ready a tiny gust of wind under the table, just in case.
“Are you getting sick honey? Maybe you shouldn’t be blowing all over the cake …” murmurs Fionnuala.
“I was just trying not to spit!” They laugh awkwardly, and when they try again, the flame goes out.
Exactly as they click their fingers behind their back.8
Strange.
No one else seems to notice or hear the click, too excited about the cake being carved up by Bruce. I decide to ask them about it later, seeing as I actually feel hungry for once.
“Not for you girl,” Bruce says to Callie, whining at his feet, as he passes me a plate.
The cake is as delicious as I’d hoped.
We needed today. Not just to celebrate Dara; I feel like we’ve all managed to relax a little. It’s been a month since we fought the coraniaids in the Unlands and rescued the other stolen children. A month since we left Isabella behind.
We’ve felt that loss hard, all of us. Like we didn’t do the one thing we’re supposed to do – save people from Arawn. It’s especially hard for Chia, because she and Isabella knew each other in the Unlands, and we all know that nothing bonds you like constant imminent danger. Plus, she was stuck there for so long. I know that weighs on her. She’s been trying so hard to be her usual sunny self, even though it’s been so tough for her. I almost wish she’d let herself crumble so we could look after her.
I think, of all of us, Dara feels the weight of the plan going wrong the heaviest but they also refuse to talk about it. I guess we’re similar.9
Thankfully, Stevie channelled all her fury into a search and rescue plan. The portals made by the coraniaids are somehow all still open. Over the last month, we’ve been back to the Unlands every other night. I quietly knew we weren’t going to find Isabella. The bird-shaped burn scar on the inside of my wrist is a reminder that she was already in Annwn. The burning portal we saw her through is gone. When we found our way back there, there was no window into a golden world. It was just a blank wall.
I’m not sure how we’d even get to Annwn to get her back, if that’s what we need to do.
Instead, Chia and Eirlys (her and Rhiannon’s horse) have mapped pretty much all of the Unlands using her symbol marking method. I think Eirlys is good for Chia, and she seems to have really leaned into the horse-girl life. Sometimes, when we’re there, I swear I see a look in her eyes that tells me she’d just keep riding on if we let her. I don’t quite understand it yet.
We made lots of miniature maps as we went, and Dara drew it up into one big map on some of their mum’s giant paper.
I’m pretty sure we have almost all the Unlands parallel to South London mapped out, which feels 10important even if we’re not sure it’ll be useful yet. It gave us something to do. But it feels dead there, totally empty apart from the coloured crystals lighting the way.
Luckily, no one seems to have accidentally walked into any of the portals and gone missing, or we’d have heard about it on Strange Britain. I’ve only had the occasional check in from the Ghost Queen since we last spoke. She’s another thing I don’t quite understand yet. Is she really an ally, or is she like Emrys, someone we have to be careful of? I don’t really know.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts by Bruce tapping a cakey fork against his mug of tea to get our attention. “Now, if I might have the stage for a moment,” he begins. He wipes his hands on his apron to make sure they’re cake-free. From the windowsill he takes a silver padded envelope the size of a book, and sets it down in front of Dara.
“For me?” they ask, taking it gently.
“What is it?” sniffs Rabbie, looking up from his phone briefly.
“In part, the reason we’re having this little do for Dara early,” Fionnuala says with a knowing smile.
“For Dara,” they read aloud, before tearing into the envelope so violently I worry they are going to rip up what’s inside. They tip it upside down, and out falls a 11large bronze key with a clatter that makes us all jump. Followed by it is a folded slip of paper that slides out.
They turn the key back and forth in their hands. It looks old. “What is this for?”
“I’m going to guess the answer is in the letter,” says Stevie, peering over their shoulder.
“Oi, don’t read other people’s letters.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you were quick about it.”
“It’s my birthday. I can take my time.”
“It’s not really your birthday though is it.”
Dara gasps in mock shock, and for a moment I think they’re going to wrestle for it, but Stevie pulls a stink face at them and sits back down.
The one thing I can rely on is Stevie and Dara’s bickering.
With a loud clearing of their throat, Dara begins to read.
Dear Dara,
We cordially invite you to spend your October half term with us on Ynys Enlli for a week of beach combing, hiking and as much apple pie as you can possibly eat. Your friends, should they wish to join us, are also invited. Your Dad has all the details.
You’ll find out what the key opens when you get here.
Your cousin,
Meredith 12
“Woah, sick,” they gasp. “Is this real?”
“Aye,” says Bruce with a nod.
“And we’re really going?”
“If you want to. It’s your invitation after all.”
Dara jumps up with a shriek of glee, dancing around the table. “I’m so happy! I’ve always wanted to go and we’ve never had time, and I never get to see Meredith or Uncle Russ and Uncle Ianto. How are we getting there? Who is going? Can I really bring all my pals? When do we leave?”
And through their joyful shouting, I realise what they’re talking about. I know that island. The letter writer called it Ynys Enlli, but most people would know it as Bardsey Island. It’s off the Northwest coast of Wales, quite a lot further along from where I grew up. Mumma and I always wanted to go, but we’d never had luck with the weather. It’s another place of many stories. Some people think it is Avalon, the final resting place of Arthur.
Dara is going for definite, but what else did that letter say?
Your friends … Could I go too?
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so happy to get a letter,” murmurs Stevie.
“Where’s this island you’re going to then?” asks Chia.
“Wales,’ I say, my voice croaky. ‘It’s in Wales.”
Chapter Two
I think all my homesickness must have spilled out into my voice, because Stevie and Chia look at me, even though Dara is still dancing around us. We only left Wales in August, two months ago, but it feels like a lifetime. I miss home desperately, even if this is home too. And Enlli isn’t where I lived, but it is Wales.
I really, really want to go, but deep down, I’m afraid that if I want it too much, it might not happen. It all depends on Dara inviting me, after all, even if the letter said it was okay.
“That it is Vivi,” confirms Bruce. “Dara’s uncle Ross moved there when he was a young one, and married a Welsh chap called Ianto, who is Meredith’s dad. They got the job as the wardens of the island a couple of years ago, and Dara’s been begging to go ever since.”14
“I am not going to Wales,” huffs Rabbie. “I bet there’s not even any WiFi there.”
“Who even said you were invited?” says Dara, who stops dancing to look at their parents. “Is it really okay for us to go?”
“Well, it won’t be all of us. Your Dad will go. I still have a few months of hard work to go, so I’m going to stay home with Rabbie–”
At this Rabbie exclaims “sick” and gets up from the table and goes upstairs without another word.
“What about me?” asks Lachie, folding his arms. “Why don’t I get to come?”
“Do you want to come?” asks Dara.
He thinks for a moment. “Is it for the whole half term?”
Bruce nods. “The boat only runs a couple of times a week as we’re going out of tourist season. It’ll be a full days’ drive either side.”
Lachie ponders this. “Is Callie going?”
“No, I’m afraid no visiting dogs are allowed, even though she’s family. Plus, I think it’ll be a bit cold for her.”
“In that case, I’ll stay with Callie,” he says, looking down. His cheeks turn McLeod pink. I guess it’s embarrassing for him to admit he wants to be with his dog more. I can’t relate – curling up with Gelert has 15quickly become one of the only good things. Even if he does snore and take up the whole bed.
“Okay, so me and Dad, and the three of you,” Dara says to Chia, Stevie and I.
“You really want us to come?” I ask.
“Obviously. And look, it even says in the letter you’re invited anyway so you don’t have to feel weird about it.”
Optimistic of Dara to think that I can choose to not feel weird about basically everything, but I’m so happy. I hope Mumma doesn’t mind me going without her. I think I need this.
I notice that Stevie and Chia don’t say anything.
“Before you all get ahead of yourselves, I’ll need talk to your parents first. It’s up to them, especially as it’s so last minute,” says Bruce.
“But what if they say no?” Dara whimpers.
“Then you and I will still have a great time, and we’ll bring them back lots of photos. Right?” Bruce rubs their head affectionately, making their hair pointy with static. Dara bobs their head glumly, as though the shine of it has dulled a bit.
Together, we gather up the cake plates and load the dishwasher. I wipe the crumbs off the table, careful not to spill them on the floor because Callie lies waiting, 16just in case.
“Why don’t we go play some more games?” Chia suggests when we’re all done.
“Please, anything but Mario Kart again. I’ve had enough of letting Dara win,” teases Stevie, which makes Dara snap their head up. The spat sparks up again as the four of us file into the living room, and I’m relieved that something has broken the weird tension in the air.
When the bickering dulls and as Stevie and Chia flick through the game options on screen, I whisper to Dara, “So, what was that with the candle?”
“What was what?” they whisper back.
I click my fingers, though no sound comes out. I’ve only ever properly clicked them once in my life, and that was a total fluke.
“Oh,” they say, a little too casually. “Turns out I can sometimes do fire too.”
“You can do fire?!” gasps Chia excitedly.
“What do you mean do fire?” hisses Stevie.
“Fire and super-hearing,” I say. “Seems like everyone’s powers are growing.”
“Ha ha,” deadpans Stevie.
“I mean, I can manipulate how I hear stuff a little bit,” admits Chia. “But I didn’t have to because Dara 17is terrible at whispering.”
Stevie sighs. “Come on then. Tell us why and how you’re a walking fire hazard now.”
“I can’t do it all the time,” Dara says, twiddling their fingers. “Like, I can’t just make a fire out of nothing. And it’s only happened a couple of times, when Pops uses that lighter.”
“It’s an electric one,” says Stevie. We all turn to her in a little surprise. “I know some science stuff! You charge it with a USB, so I guess it taps right into your power.”
“Wow,” I whisper. “Do you think our powers will keep growing and changing?”
“Or maybe we’re just discovering everything we can do,” adds Chia.
Stevie shrugs. “You’ve gotten better at using them, so they’ve changed that way already.”
I think back to the shower I took the first morning I got my powers, when I stopped all the water in the air, like it was frozen in time. Things were changing already.
“I would like to raise a formal objection that Dara has multiple powers and I just have a baseball bat.” Stevie mimes swinging her bat, as if to illustrate the point.
“Hey, you’re very good with the bat. Don’t knock the bat,” says Chia.18
“True, I am. Plus I’m the brains of this operation. Now, let’s pick something that Dara has a chance of beating me at.”
They settle on a game that looks like a Mario-themed board game.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Bardsey,” I say to Dara. “Thank you for inviting me.”
They beam a big smile at me. “I’m excited too. Have you ever been away from Helen and Abigail before?” asks Dara, using the Mums’ first names like they are old friends.
“Yes, on a school trip,” I begin. “It … it didn’t go well.”
In Year Five, our class had all gone to this outdoor adventure place on the shore of Llyn Tegid in Bala. It was right when Danielle and Paul had started to act weirdly with me, but Kelly was still, well, kind of neutral about it all. We had to build this raft together out of barrels and sticks, and I knew how to do it because one day, when I was off sick, I’d seen someone do the exact same thing on one of those survival TV shows. If I’m honest with myself, I probably did sound a little bit know-it-all explaining how we should do it, but that doesn’t excuse all the little comments they made, which took me a while to realise weren’t just like gentle jokes 19between friends. They were being mean about me, about the way I spoke, or how I pulled at my coat when I was thinking. We built the thing, and it sailed well, just as I’d hoped. But I fell in. Or was I pushed? I will never know, but the three of them found it really, really funny. I smelled like that lake for days and the “drying room” did little more than keep things permanently damp, so that meant more little jokes. It was the first time Kelly had ever really laughed with someone else at me. To my face at least. She could have been doing it behind my back long before then. It didn’t help that we were in a dormitory of twenty bunkbeds, so I was barely sleeping, and the food was just gross. When I got home, I just shut down for days.
It’s not that the Mums have ever said I can’t go on other trips. I just hadn’t wanted to after that. Sleepovers have been fine, because there’s always the option of me just going home as everyone lives so close. This would be different, maybe harder for me.
But I want to try.
“See, I’m sure they’ll let you. Abigail loves all that Welsh stuff. It’s educational.”
I give them a wobbly smile, breathing through the racing of my heart at the memories. It all feels so real still. 20It wasn’t even that long ago – that trip was only a year and a half ago. All the stuff with my bullies went on for so long.
I trust Dara, Stevie and Chia so much, but every single day I have to remind myself they’re safe people who don’t want to hurt me. Logically, I know they’re different people, and really my friends. The part of me that’s always terrified can’t always remember that.
“What about you guys?” Dara asks Chia and Stevie. “Do you want to come?”
Chia wrinkles her nose. “Your dad said there were only a few boats a week, so we’d just be trapped on this island?”
“Well, not technically.”
“That sounds quite trapped Dara,” says Stevie. “With you, on an island.”
“We wouldn’t be trapped.”
“Hmm, still too much of a risk. No offence.”
“Offence taken! On my birthday of all days!”
“Your birthday is next week!”
“I can have two birthdays.”
Stevie rolls her eyes playfully.
“So, are you coming or is it just me trapped on an island with Dara?” I ask.
Chia shrugs. “I’ll ask Mummy but I highly doubt she’ll let me. Sorry.”21
“Look,” begins Stevie, her voice soft. “My parents are pretty strict about trips and stuff. I have training and stuff booked in that I might not be allowed to miss.”
“That’s okay,” Dara says and even though I can tell they’re a little disappointed, they’re being brave about it. “Honestly I get that it’s a big ask, so don’t worry. If you can come, great. If you can’t–”
“I know, I know. We get a Powerpoint presentation about it.”
“Exactly.”
*
I leave Dara’s before the sun starts to set. Winter is crawling in, and it feels like we’re already being taken over by the darkness.
I’ve barely got my key in the door when Mumma flings it open.
“You’re going to Bardsey!” she cries, pulling me both inside the house and into her arms.
“I am?!” I cry, my voice muffled inside her hug.
She releases me and scuttles into the kitchen. Mam sits at the table chopping veggies. Gelert lies under the table, his tail softly wagging as she feeds him the carrot tops. It turns out, for a ghost, he really likes a little snack. I can’t 22open a bag of crisps without him appearing.
It’s funny how quickly he settled in, like my Mums had secretly always wanted a giant dog. At first, it took a bit of adjusting on his side to not always speak his mind, as I don’t think either of them are ready to learn that he speaks (never mind the ‘he’s dead’ part). We had a few close calls, but somehow managed to convince the Mums that the radio randomly tunes to Welsh radio stations. Like it’s possessed with hiraeth as much as the rest of us.
“Abby, did you even ask Vivi if she wants to go?” Mam says in her you’re in for a telling off voice.
“Do you want to go?” Mumma asks, whirling to face me. I swear she is more excited than I am. I was worried she would be sad that I was going without her.
“Yes,” I bleat, pushing back against the fears. “Please.”
“See! I knew she would. Oh I’m so excited for you. It’s going to be such an adventure!”
“Okay, can we all calm down for a second?” Mam points for us both to join her at the table. “First off, we’re clearly very excited that you’ve been invited by the McLeods to go away with Dara, and you’re allowed to go of course.”
She reaches across the table and takes my hand, which means she’s going to say something tricky. I’m 23not sure if it’s meant to comfort me or her more, but I like it. Her hands are so soft and warm.
“I want to talk through some things with Bruce first, especially because the trip is next week, and I want to make sure he has a plan in place in case you have a meltdown or a shutdown. Is that okay?” she says. I like that they always ask my permission, even if I know that really it’s part of the deal of me going. Not everyone knows what autism is or what it means to be autistic, beyond a few rubbish stereotypes that are usually about how our behaviour bothers other people. Almost everyone thinks they know way more about autism than they actually do.
“Okay Mam,” I say.
She gives me a wink.
“You don’t mind that I’m going without you?” I ask Mumma. “We always said we’d go together.”
“I don’t mind at all peanut,” she says, pulling me into a big squeeze. “You’re going to have a lovely adventure with your friends. And when we go, you’ll just have to show me round like a tour guide.”
Gelert nuzzles his nose against my leg to say we’ll talk about it later.
I help the Mums make lamb cawl for dinner. Mumma 24takes over the cooking as usual, instructing Mam to chop this, or grab that, while I sit at the kitchen table and roll up rosemary dumplings to go on top. It smells so much like home. I think that the smell, on top of Bruce’s cake being the first thing I enjoyed eating in weeks, is why I finally feel more hungry than nauseous for once.
I’m safe in our kitchen, with my Mums, Gelert and a bowl of comfort stew.
After a long day with my friends, I’m worn out and so slink off to my room, carefully stepping past Gelert who has fallen asleep in the too-small dog bed Mam bought for him.
The warm feeling carries me to my own bed, and I feel sleep drawing in like an incoming tide.
And next week, if all goes well, I’ll be back in Wales with my best friends. Maybe the universe is giving us a moment to breathe.
Chapter Three
One thing that people always get wrong about autism is that we don’t get sayings. Like on TV or in books someone autistic will hear the phrase ‘it’s raining cats and dogs’ and will go to look out the window. It’s something that always annoys me. Which is why, when I think that I could kick myself for thinking I’m about to get a break, I’m doubly annoyed.
I’m back at Nimuë’s lake.
My heart races. What if he’s here again? I run my fingers in the cool grass to ground myself while I listen.
The mist is thicker tonight. I can barely see the lake, even though I know I must be near the water’s edge because I can sense it.
“Nimuë?” I whisper, but there’s no answer.
It feels wrong here still, like Arawn left his mark. 26Normally, there’s a fresh field of tiny flowers, that seem to regenerate every time I’m here, no matter how many daisy chains we make. But they’re squashed, like someone trampled on them.
“Nimuë?” I call a little louder this time.
The only reason I am here is that both of us want to speak, right? That’s the rules, or so I thought. I don’t think I can just show up here without her. So she has to be here.
But just in case, I pull a bubble of lake water to my hand.
I follow the pull to the silvery water’s edge. You’d think I’d have stopped letting water drag me places, but it’s a bad habit I can’t quit.
I reach down and place my other hand on the surface of the water. “Nimuë?”
To my relief I hear her call my name. She appears through the mist, stopping just short of me where she hops slightly on the spot. She’s afraid.
“Vivi, why are you here?”
She looks off, like she’s got a stomach bug. Paler than usual, and clammy.
“I don’t know why. But,are you okay?”
“Yes, I am fine,” she says, not looking remotely fine at all.27
“You … he didn’t hurt you?”
She shakes her head, but I’m not entirely sure I believe her. “And you?”
“I’m okay.” The skin on my face prickles at the small lie, like goosebumps rising.
She pulls at a strand of hair that hangs limply across her cheek. “I was trying not to think about you so that the connection would not bring you here. But I do not think I succeeded. You are always on my mind. Perhaps this is my fault?”
To be honest, it’s kind of freaking me out how scared she is. She’s one of the people I come to to try and understand what’s happening to me. But I need to be strong for her today.
“I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault. I think all this dream stuff is bigger than just what we want,” I say, hoping I’m reassuring her. “Plus I wanted to know you were okay too.”
She gives me a wobbly smile and we sit together in the trampled grass. Routine takes over, and I try to thread the broken flowers into a chain.
“Has … has he been back?” I ask.
“Not yet. But I can feel him.”
At this, she shivers as those just speaking his name 28changes everything. The air feels tense, like the moment before someone starts playing a drum.
“That is new?” Nimuë points at the winged scar inside my wrist.
“You can see it?” I ask and she nods. “It was a burn I got in the Unlands. Last time, it was much worse. This is all that’s left.”
Why can she see it now?
Her eyebrows knit together. “His rot gets everywhere.”
In her snarl, I get a flash of the furious woman who defied Arawn, even when he tried to take her children. I didn’t get a chance to ask her about it before he showed up. There is so much I don’t know about her. And I’m worried that, given how much is changing, I might not get many chances to find out.
“Nimuë, will you tell me about your children?”
To my surprise and relief, she beams like the sun. “My boys. My boys were so beautiful,” she says. “I fell in love with a human man who would graze his cattle in the fields near my lake. The grass was very sweet and rich, thanks to the magic in the soil, so he would make the journey with them many times a week. And I would watch from the water.” She laughs a little cheekily. “He was terribly handsome.”29
“Did he see you in the water?”
“No, no. I was very brave and decided to meet him, and there was this instant pull between us. It was love but furious passion too. Like fire. But fire can also burn, if you’re not careful with it.”
I think of Dara’s new power. Just another change in a long list of them, like the floral mush in my lap.
“So what happened?”
“I left him,” she says. “He was a good father, but, well, we were very different. And it was hard for him to see me unchanging. I aged much slower than he did.”
“What about your sons?”
“I would visit them regularly – the difficulty between their father and I did not negate the love I had for my sons. I was very proud of them. They all became healers, in their own ways. A doctor, an herbalist, a midwife.”
“Do you get to see them in like, the afterlife?”
She shakes her head. “The magic that keeps me here does not resurrect the real me, Vivi. The me you speak with is an etching of the person I was when we cast the spell. I am a fragment filled with memories. The truth of what comes after death remains a mystery for me too.”
So the real Nimuë is dead, even if this Nimuë, the memory of her, feels very real to me. Wow, magic is complicated.30
“I hope that version of you is with them.”
“And I too.” She leans a little closer to me, like you might look at an animal through the glass. “Are you sleeping?”
I guess she really can see everything now. “There’s just been a lot happening.”
Her eyes soften. As she reaches forward to brush hair out of my face, I think about her doing that to her sons, long ago. “I do not want to keep you here and away from true sleep. I will miss you, but let us be quick. Tell me everything.”
I tell her about our exploration of the Unlands. The map. That I’m worried we won’t find the next three calonnau, or Isabella.
“That is a lot on your mind,” she says.
I want to ask her about what she said, that Arawn tried to take her sons. That that’s why she and Rhiannon started this whole thing. That he’s her father.
But I feel so tired from talking, from taking all this in, that my tongue is heavy in my mouth. All I manage to get out is “Nimuë” before I feel the sensation that means I’m leaving.
Perhaps she’s letting me go.
I want to hold on, but I slip away as usual, a feeling 31like I’m being wheeled away through the mist. I hear her voice, so soft like a lullaby, say, “You are a good girl. Sleep well.”
All feels normal.
Until it doesn’t.
There’s what I can only describe as a glitch. As though some of the pixels of the world fell out suddenly and reappeared without warning.
I shudder to a halt, and it happens again.
And again.
It’s not just me being tired. The world looks like it’s breaking.
My stomach rises like I’m going down a rollercoaster, and now I’m wide awake. What is happening?
“Nimuë?!” I shout, and my voice is strangely muffled, like I’m underwater. There’s no echo like there usually is at Nimuë’s lake, which means I’m not there anymore.
I don’t know where I am.
It’s all white and brightly lit, but every now and then a chunk of the world will flicker like television static. Black and white, then lurid colours then nothing. Over and over.
The rising feeling in my stomach keeps going, like I’m falling but my feet are firmly planted on the ground. I feel sick, really sick. And terrified.32
The world, or wherever I am, flashes in broken fragments around me.
What if I can’t leave? What if I’m stuck here forever.
There’s an audible crack as the world glitches again, and suddenly I’m falling for real this time. The floor gives way and I scrabble in the air, desperate for something to grab onto.
Oh god, what if this is how I die? Falling down some magical hole until I splatter on the bottom.
Cutting through my screams is a laugh so cruel that I know exactly who it belongs to, and my voice stoppers in my throat.
“Goodnight Vivi. Sleep well,” King Arawn sneers.
I am in serious trouble.
*
I wish waking up covered in sweat was also less of a regular occurrence.
Gelert, who has apparently joined me in bed, startles awake.
“Blinking heck, mun,” he mutters. “What’s with you?”
“Arawn,” I gasp, feeling like I can’t catch my breath.
He leaps to his feet checking the windows and the door. In the moonlight filtering through the curtains, 33the hair running down his back is raised and angry. He angrily sniffs at the air.
“Not here,” I say, rubbing at my eyes. The glitching left an ache in my head and colourful splatters in my vision. I feel so all over the place. “In my head again.”
Wrong thing to say.
“What do you mean again, girl?”
Curses.
I knew that not telling everyone what had happened would bite me in the butt sooner rather than later, and Gelert looks so angry he might literally do that.
“A … bad dream?” It comes out as a whiny question, but there’s no recovering here.
He growls so loudly I feel it in my bones. “Nice try. Talk, or I’ll pick one of these fellas for a snack,” he adds, nodding his great head at my collection of soft toys up by my pillow.
“You wouldn’t hurt Angela,” I gasp, clutching a purple stegosaurus to my chest.
“I’d start with her.”
He’s serious then. I’ve caught him curled up with her before. He likes Angela as much as me.
I groan and let it all spill out.
In truth, of all people (or dogs?) I should have told 34him what had happened. I didn’t want to worry the others. But not telling Gelert was silly of me. Even if his memory is a bit wobbly, he still knows way more than the rest of us about all this magic stuff.
“And it’s definitely him?”
“Definitely. Nimuë recognised him. It was him. And it wasn’t like a hologram of him. Do you know what a–”
“I know what a hologram is,” he snaps. Truly astonishing what he’s picked up in the last thousand years. “How can you be sure?”
“Well, he touched me.”
This yields another, deeper growl from Gelert, one that makes me feel very safe and cared for, even if he’d never tell me outright.
“So that’s the mark on your face, then?”
“Yeah.”
He licks my chin. Normally I’d hate the smell of someone else’s spit on my skin. But it starts to feel better, soothing even though we’re talking about him. The prickle is gone. The rest of my body is a jangle of nerves but at least my face finally feels a bit more normal.
“It was so weird, Gelert,” I say, collecting my thoughts. “It was just like a video call going wrong, like the signals were getting crossed and other peoples calls 35were bleeding in? But also like the world was crumbling. I hope Nimuë is okay.”
I reach under my mattress for Excalibur and hold it against my chest, as tightly as you can safely do with a sword. To my relief, it hums slightly. A hum that feels like Nimuë.
“Gelert, what are we going to do?”
“Go to sleep,” he commands. “We’ll talk when the sun is up, right?”
“I’ll try,” I say, lying back down with Angela the dinosaur still in my arms.
After a moment, I add. “We can’t tell the others about this. Not until we what it means.”
“You mean you haven’t already told them either.”
“No.”
He growls to register his disapproval but says no more.
Despite his giant body curled around me, I’m too scared to fall asleep. If I was worried about a monster in our world, I’d sleep fine, because there’s nothing like an enormous Irish Wolfhound to make you feel safe.
But he can’t protect me when the danger is inside me.
