Becoming P.T. Lyfantod - 65
A serial fantasy novel
What follows is Part 64 of Becoming P.T. Lyfantod
If you missed Part 1, start there:
Chapter Twenty-Two:
Untimeliness
“I’m dead,” Merry moaned. “Dead! This is it. My dad is going to… Why did I think this wouldn’t happen…?”
“I’ll be all right,” Iain said. “We’ll fig—”
“No. It won’t!” Merry swung a hand at his head.
“Don’t worry Mer,” said Tom. “I’ve missed curfew. Sure, they promise to beat you bloody. But pretty soon they’re just glad to have you home, and forget about all the threats.”
Merry tore at her hair. “You don’t understand. None of you do! You’re boys. Urgh—! I never should’ve…” She kicked at the snow, pacing. “There’s different rules for girls. As long as you don’t burn anything down or… kill anyone, they’ll get over it. But I promise you. After this, I won’t see daylight for a year. I’ll be lucky if they don’t send me to a convent…”
“Don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion?” said Tom. “Just a bit?”
The rest of us winced. She rounded on him, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists. Tom backed away, his inexhaustible confidence evaporating like water sloshed into a smoking pan. “Tell me I’m overreacting again.”
Tom gave the slightest shake of his head, and we relaxed a fraction. Merry stared at him a moment longer, then sighed wearily and turned away. “There’s no point in making it worse.” She stalked off toward the road.
“The stone is back…” Stuart observed quietly, bending to retrieve the frosty bag containing his watch.
“We’d better go after her,” said Iain. Tom just stood there, looking shell-shocked. To his credit, Iain only seemed to take a little pleasure in his suffering. He clapped Tom on the shoulder. “Come on mate,” he grinned. “If she hasn’t killed you by now, I doubt she ever will.”
We ran to catch up. Merry’s eyes were fixed straight ahead, her thumbs tucked into the straps of her rucksack. She ignored our arrival, and none of us dared break the silence.
“Stuart,” said Merry eventually. “How long?”
“How long? I don’t—”
Merry growled. “Stuart.”
Stuart swallowed. “Oh, the time. It’s uh… a little after two.”
Merry said nothing, but she walked faster.
I sighed inwardly. This should’ve been a happy occasion. Even if Lightfoot had been a little frightening there at the end. We were off, on an adventure… We’d got familiars! Probably. We’d learned a new spellsong, which I couldn’t wait to practice. I didn’t know how it would prove superior to a torch and a couple of AA batteries, but I was sure there’d be something. At least I’d never have to worry about getting lost in the dark again. But Merry was so intent on getting home—back to the boring, everyday world of school, and parents, and… responsibilities; a world I’d trade for Lightfoot’s in an instant—that there was no room left for enjoyment. Her worry was infectious.
And then I had a thought. One that could only make things worse, so I ignored it. Sooner or later, it would occur to someone else.
Sooner or later.
Sooner.
Or later.
“Has—err…”
“What?” Iain asked.
“No, nothing. Never mind.”
“Spit it out,” Merry growled.
I swallowed. “I was just thinking… The last bus leaves around eight. Even if we get back to the park… I don’t know how we’re going to get home.”
I fancied I could hear Merry’s teeth grinding. “We’ll figure it out.” It sounded like she planned to will us home, if it came to that.
“I'm sure it'll be fine,” I murmured. Even I didn’t believe me.
In the half hour it took us to reach the entrance to Margam Park, we encountered only a single passing lorry, wheezing along, briefly blinding. The gate was open, but the road into the park might as well have led into the Mirkwood. The streetlights along the main road didn’t continue inside.
Stuart eyed the shadowy, tree-lined path.“Wouldn’t it be best just to… go back to the bus stop and wait?”
“Till morning?” Merry snapped. “There might be someone inside. Or a phone.”
Stuart didn’t dare argue. “Maybe we could sing then…? For light?”
“We can stop if we see anyone coming,” Iain said.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“You go ahead,” Tom agreed.
We walked through the park gates as though we’d every right to be there. “I feel a bit weird,” Stuart said, “singing on my own…”
“On three then.” I could just make out Iain’s silhouette, holding up three fingers. He counted down. On one, he, Stuart and I began—quietly—to sing. A golden glow suffused the air around us. We exchanged smiles, grateful for that, at least. But we’d gone no more than a few steps when Tom suddenly stopped. We turned to look at him. He stood there frowning.
What now?
And then he started singing too. After a few bars, the glow swelled around him. He nodded to himself and strutted past us. I shook my head, and Iain scowled at his back, but the truth was, it was hard to stay cross. The music made me feel… buoyant. It was safety and warmth, and joy, all bubbling up from inside, drawing my lips into an irresistible smile.
I could see it in the others as well. Merry was unaffected. She threw Tom a scathing look. “You’re wasting time."
“Merry. Sing,” Iain urged, the light dimming for lack of his voice. “It’ll make you feel better.”
Merry shook her head, striding ever more purposefully down the path.
He walked alongside her.“So I took what I could and departed my home,” he sang, more slowly, more loudly than the rest of us, “for the first and the very last time.”
She stopped. “What’re you doing—?”
“And at night when I slept,” I stepped up beside him,“beside river or creek—”
“I made sure I had plenty to burn,” sang Stuart.
“For out in the darkness I knew who was waiting,” Tom bellowed. “To give me a chance at my turn!”
Merry rolled her eyes. “Keep it lit, keep it lit. Keep it burning through the night…”
All four of us answered. “Or I won’t be here come Sun’s first light!”
Let there be light! I thought, grinning. And so there was.
“You guys are corny as hell.” Merry started off again, but she was smiling in spite of herself. It seemed to me the light was brighter than it had been, down in Lightfoot’s cave. And I could tell by the looks on the others’ faces that they were feeling what I was—not just the joy the magic wrought, but the comfort that only comes from being in the company of true friends, who will stand beside you no matter how long or dark the night.
