Becoming P.T. Lyfantod - 52
A serial fantasy novel
What follows is Part 52 of Becoming P.T. Lyfantod
If you missed Part 1, start there:
Chapter Seventeen:
Down, into the Dark
“That was bloody brilliant, Stu.” Iain shook his head in disbelief. “Asking! Who’d have thought of it?”
We were back on the main road. On foot, naturally, since we hadn’t any cars lying around. My war trumpet bumped rhythmically against my hip.
“Fine bit of detective work,” Tom agreed. “Maybe next time we can post an ad in the paper. I’m sure Lightfoot wouldn’t mind us outsourcing some of that troublesome mental effort.”
“You make it sound like cheating,” Merry said. “But knowing who to ask is just as valuable as knowing yourself. Besides, it was Stuart’s idea to come to Margam. He must’ve believed someone here would know. Right?”
“Well, I’ve been to lots of museums,” Stuart said. “And one thing I’ve noticed is the people who work there can’t help but know things. I mean, everyone asks them questions all day. If they don’t know the answers, people get angry. And they have time to read all the notes on the displays…”
“Like how the guy at the supermarket always knows where to find the brand of snacks you want,” Iain said.
“Unbelievable luck!” I said. “We take a random bus to a random museum Stu just happened to know about… and the stone is right down the road? It could’ve been anywhere!”
“Don’t forget how Tom found the first one,” said Merry. “That was just as unlikely.”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Tom said. “We were meant to find it. Or, one of us was.”
“What does that mean?” asked Iain.
“I think the universe wants me to find the stones.”
“You? Why you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve been here every time. I barely knew any of you till right before it was time to meet Lightfoot. Then, soon as I show up, boom. If I hadn’t been there, you never would’ve found the first stone. And today—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Stu brought us here! He asked!”
“Who knows? That’s all I’m saying. When you take the LCD, I’m there every time. You can’t say it’s not true.”
“Tom, we were all there every time.”
“Yeah. But so was I.”
“Are you suggesting you’re giving off some kind of… magical success aura?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. What I’m talking about is more like a key.”
“A key.”
“Yeah. Like I’m the key, and there are these invisible locks, and when I show up, it’s like click,” Tom mimed turning a key in a lock. “The frogs show me the stone. We get on the right bus, to the right museum. The old man knows how to find the stone, et cetera.”
“They weren’t showing you,” Merry said. “They were chasing you.”
“Believe what you want. My point is, strange—some might say miraculous—things have been happening since I got involved.”
“But Tom, it isn’t miraculous that David knew about this stone. He works in a stones museum! Yes, it’s lucky that Stuart brought us to this one—but that’s all.”
“Okay. I can see you guys are like, opposed to the idea of me being the chosen one, so what about this? Maybe I completed the group.”
Iain rolled his eyes. “What’s this theory, then?”
“Like there are groups, you know. Of five. It’s such an even number, there’s no way it was accidental. Groups always come in fives. Its like a rule or something.”
“Is it?” Merry frowned.
“I don’t know,” said Stuart. “What about the Three Musketeers?”
“Or the Fellowship,” said Iain. “Nine,” he added, at Tom’s blank stare.
“Or the X-Men,” I said. “There’re dozens of them.”
“Yeah—all right,” Tom waved his hands. “But there are groups of five.”
“…like the Power Rangers?” Merry nudged him in the ribs.
“Ha ha. Just wait. Years from now, we’re going to find out this was all planned from the start. Preordered. You’ll see.”
“Scooby Doo was a group of five,” Iain counted on his fingers.
“Well if this is Scooby Doo,” said Stuart, “I’m not Velma.”
We laughed.
“I’m serious,” Stuart said. “Don’t try it.”
A small town came into view—more of a neighborhood, really—that we guessed must be Eglwys Nunydd. The road narrowed, forcing us to walk single file. Fields stretched to either side, buildings scattered here and there. Just when I was beginning to wonder whether we’d taken a wrong turn, we spied a distant bridge. The train crossing. I craned my neck, scouring the slushy fields with a mix of nerves and excitement. What if something had happened to the stone? What if it was the wrong one, after all? What if we couldn’t get in?
“I don’t see anything,” Merry complained, just as Iain pointed.
“There! Just like he said!” Once we’d spotted it, it seemed a wonder we’d ever missed it. Samson’s stone stuck out of the ground at the far end of the plowed field, wearing a shrinking white cap. Only a scattering of trees separated it from the M4.
“This looks like private property,” said Stuart anxiously.
“Can it really be this easy?” I wondered.
“If you don’t know what you’re looking for,” said Merry, “it’s no different from any of the other thousand scattered about. Come on.” She’d clambered over the waist-high metal gate and sprinted off before anyone could protest. Tom and Iain looked at one another and vaulted over too, leaving Stuart and I to scramble or be left behind.
“I can’t believe it’s just sitting out in the open,” Iain was saying as we caught up to the others, panting
Merry circled the stone. “I don’t see any markings…”
“That’s probably fine. Right?” Iain frowned. “There’s no rule saying there have to be.”
“But how’ll we get in?” I asked. “If there’s no knot…”
“Just because the first stone worked that way, doesn’t mean this one will too. There’s really only one way to know,” Merry looked at me. “P.T., would you do the honors?”
“I—” My mouth was suddenly dry. “No. That is… Stu.”
“Me?”
“You got us here. I… I think you should be the one to do it.”
“He’s right,” Iain said. “Go on, Stu.”
Stuart looked at me wide-eyed. “You’re sure?”
I nodded because I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“Okay…” Stuart faced the stone and gathered himself. He licked his lips, took a deep breath, and sang. “Omwah—!”
It was melodious. It sounded perfect to me. But nothing happened. Stuart’s face fell.
“Hm,” Iain scratched his chin. Merry frowned. But then, somewhere deep underground, something shifted. I felt it beneath my feet. There was an audible grinding, like a fragment of cliff sloughing into the sea. Suddenly, the stone dropped a hand’s length, as if the ground beneath it had fallen away.
“Whoa—” said Iain, as we all stepped backwards.
“Is this supposed to happen?” Stuart asked worriedly.
“What did you do?” Tom demanded.
The stone turned, dropped, turned and dropped again—and vanished entirely into the earth. Dark water welled up in its place, leaving a pool a little over a meter across. We regarded it in uneasy silence.
“He doesn’t expect us to go in there…” Merry murmured.
“I think he does,” said Iain.
“Well Jenkins,” Tom gave Stuart a shove. “It’s your party.”
“Wait—what’s that?” Stuart pointed. “There’s a light.”
Leaning forward, I saw it; a flickering blue-green rising out of the dark, faint and distant, revealing a vast underwater space.
“It must be at least twenty feet deep,” Iain craned his neck to peer inside.
“It’s Lightfoot’s knot,” said Merry.
“It’s the top of the stone!” Stuart exclaimed as it stopped, still six inches below the surface.
“I don’t think it’s coming any further,” I said.
“You did it, Stuart,” Merry smiled.
Iain nodded. “Like my dad says, it’s practice that’ll get you to the Vetch.”
“Well, maybe not you,” Tom chuckled.
“Looks like we’re getting wet,” I noted.
“Let’s try not to take too long in there,” said Merry. “After last time…”
“Don’t be such a worryguts,” said Tom. “We’ve got all day yet.”
“Oh, that reminds me!” Stuart fumbled for his bag, retrieving a small plastic container that held his old watch. Popping the lid, he compared it to the one on his wrist. “Still synchronized.” With a small smile, he placed it in the grass safely away from the pool’s edge. “There.” He stood, dusting his hands.
“Well, hurry up,” said Tom. “Touch it.”
Stuart swallowed. “Uh—maybe P.T. would like to…?” He looked at me pleadingly.
I eyed the underwater knot and tried to project outward calm. “Sure.” It sure was dark, in the ring around the stone. I knelt and stuck my hand in the water. Icy. I forced a smile. “See you on the other side.” I reached. I was in past my elbow when my balance failed. I pitched forward with a yelp. Just before my face hit the water, my fingers brushed blue-green fire, and everything vanished.
I’d swear the darkness lasted longer this time.
