Hi guys! New chapter!
I just went back and realised that one of the chapters were missing, so there's a whole other chapter that was missing for quite a while. No worries, I've fixed that, so that makes things MUCH less confusing. It was from chapter five onward, so if you want to go see that and clear things up again, I'd recommend reading that. Just a recommendation.
Thank you so much, and SO sorry for the confusion.
Enjoy!
Merlin's mind was amongst the few clouds above as he walked down the narrow dust road of Gillan. He pondered not only the mystery on hand or the odd Tyler family, but also his friends, his history, himself. He did this whenever he was left alone, which was horridly unfair to himself, as Essie had told him time and time again. He had moved on, he liked to think, but his heart refused to jilt.
Arthur's return bothered him. It made him feel guilty to feel so, as he had long awaited his friend to come back. It was what he existed for, he knew. But now that Arthur was back, he felt the itching sensation of something creeping up from behind him, the foreboding shadow of many troubles to come. There was a reason his King had come back, and he knew it- what was left of 'Camelot' was in serious trouble.
He guessed it might be the veil between the living and dead ripping as he had come back – but why would the reason for Arthur coming back be because of his coming back? It was more like a cause and effect then the reason why.
Merlin tried to focus on the task at hand.
He couldn't think of a single reason why a siren would be haunting Gillan Pond. Arthur had suggested it being weak, but he knew of the sirens' power, and they weren't as powerful as the Elder Mother was – and they had no affiliation with the Old Religion, as he guessed was what was driving the return of these powerful and deadly beasts. Sirens kept to their own means and ends, and did not, as far as he knew, affiliate themselves in anyway with druids or the affairs of any other land dwellers. They never concerned themselves with humans and the like unless they were to be their dinner.
He contemplated this vacantly as he sauntered, leaving his long legs in full control of where he was going. He was therefore surprised when he finally raised his eyes and found himself somewhere familiar.
When he lived in Winchester before leaving in the last century, he had frequently come here to escape the hustle and bustle of newly formed cities and the busy minds of people who had somehow evolved to only have busy schedules and no time. Different from what he remembered, this small glen he now found himself in, and had often occupied before, was now a dead end in between the nook of the short mountains upon which Gillan was nestled. Tall trees canopied the dead end of the dry road, shielding small shops scattered around the landscape. In the middle of this roundabout was a small mound in memory of fallen soldiers of World War II, since Gillan had been devastated by the staggering loss of nearly all their men who had never returned from war. It was a small town after all.
Something in particular caught his attention. A small book stand overshadowed by a cigarette shop stood under a large oak tree. It was spotted by a couple of paperbacks and tourism pamphlets, like what one would find in a train station, Merlin thought to himself. A young man with a navy cap was guarding the stand dutifully, staring at a small Nokia touchscreen and rubbing his stubbled chin.
Merlin stalked toward him, pretending to examine the books. They were battered and beat, but still obviously valuable. Some of the books were gilded and dated at least half a century. A particular book caught his attention – it had familiar blue edges and a yellow haired, bright eyed boy with a sword etched on the cover.
"Can I help you, sir?" asked the man suddenly. His eyes were still glued to his screen.
"Er, yes, actually," sighed Merlin, tearing his eyes away from a copy of Essie's infamous book, "Do you know the Tylers?"
The vendor looked up suddenly, dark eyes meeting steely grey-blue. He quirked an eyebrow.
"On what business, sir?" he asked in a thick Northern accent.
"I heard about their son. I have been looking to meet them."
He looked Merlin up and down, his eyebrows climbing his forehead until they nearly disappeared behind a mess of dark curls.
"Who're you?"
"My name is Merlin."
"Merlin?"
The man's tone was incredulous. Merlin grinned nervously, wondering at his somewhat disconcerted reaction.
"Merlin," the bookseller breathed, "not a very common name."
"No, I daresay it isn't," Merlin replied airily. The bookseller did seem about as familiar as the glen they both now occupied...
The young man stroked his chin again, looking Merlin up and down another time. He stared at his overcoat despite the warm weather, and his worn out galoshes.
"M' grandfather knew a Merlin," he said softly.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. A Dr. Merlin. He told us th'stories."
"Us?"
"M' family," he responded, "parents, m' siblings."
"What sort of stories?"
"Stories of the war," he replied easily, setting his phone down and chewing his lip, "the Second Great War. Is Merlin your last name?"
"Yes," Merlin lied easily, "my own granddad was also in the war."
The man got up and pulled off his cap, "my name is Darren Furrow."
"Furrow," Merlin recalled. The name of a soldier. Merlin had miraculously saved him when he appeared on the shores of Avalon, barely dead and out of his mind. His name was all he could say, but after Merlin helped him he had managed to settle down in Gillan and start his life over. Young man Furrow, he remembered.
"My- my grandfather mentioned your granddad. Nice to meet you," Merlin held out a hand, but Darren didn't take it.
"What do you want with the Tylers?" he asked again.
"I heard about their son and I want to offer them my condolences in person," Merlin repeated. Darren scoffed.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he chuckled darkly, "the Tylers are a weird bunch, and their grief ain't helpin' the case."
"How so?"
"Well there's their father for one thing," Darren told him, "always been a shifty bloke, y'know? Never came down here from his little shed unless he came to get a little package from the drug store by McKayla's. Always sent his sons down to do his work."
"And his sons, were they- odd?"
"Nah, they were just boys," Darren grinned, "bright young'uns, they are. Always ready to help out folks in the street. Talked to everyone."
"How many are they?"
"Five- well, four now," Darren shifted his feet, "poor kid. Y'never would have thought it. The kid was a happy one. Very talkative."
"The youngest, Austin?"
"Yeah. Talked to everyone, more so than his brothers. Funny little guy."
Merlin sighed, as they both respected the silence which followed.
"Can't think what Diana must be going through," Darren added, "poor woman. Losing your kid, and to drowning? Couldn't imagine it."
"How is she coping?"
"She isn't," Darren replied simply, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. Everyone seemed to smoke in this town, Merlin thought, as Darren pulled out an old lighter.
"Out of her mind a little," he muttered though clenched teeth, as he struggled to light the cigarette hanging from between his lips, "always shoutin' and making a big fuss. Yesterday she went to get groceries and ended up nearly getting kicked out of the place 'cause she was screeching at the cashier. Everyone knows what's going on with her though, so they just escorted her back home. Poor woman."
Merlin digested this information, hesitating whether it was wise to go over to visit at all. It was necessary, but then again... he wondered whether bringing Essie was a good idea. She could be insensitive sometimes, he thought, as he recalled their visit to Cashlin Vine's after the death of her boyfriend.
Arthur was better at the interrogation, and his presence would probably be reassuring. He usually was for victims of tragedy, which is why he was such a popular king.
"About their father –"
"Fred?"
"Yes, Fred – what does he do for a living?"
"Carpenter... made this stand in fact. He does good work," he answered, as smoke raised out of his nostrils like a dragon's.
"Alright... well," Merlin glanced up at the darkening sky, already stripped with purple and wispy deep blue. The North Star winked at him as it dwelled over the now setting sun.
"I'll just get going, then."
"Sure," Darren peered at Merlin, "Say, is your granddad still around?"
"He- he is," Merlin confirmed.
"Tell him thanks, if he's still in any state to hear it," Darren told him slowly, letting out another puff of smoke.
"Alright," Merlin said, "thank you."
"Later."
Merlin glanced once more at the blue book on the stand before turning to leave. He walked a couple strides before Darren called out, "they live next to Gillan pond- you just have to follow the brook up the mountain and you'll find'em."
Merlin turned on his heel and waved thanks, before continuing on his way. Follow the brook – sounded easy enough.
"That pond is a sad, sad pond," Essie remarked shrilly, setting down the numerous weathered newspapers on the bed. Hands on her hips, she paced the length of the small room as Merlin smirked bemusedly, setting the hotel key on the cabinet next to him and sitting next to the newspapers lying on the thin mattress. He had just returned from some more exploration of the town and a couple more talks with the inhabitants.
He shuffled through the newspapers as Essie continued to speak.
"So many people have drowned in that lake, you would think they would do something about it, but not a single person cares – and no one does maintenance so it's not like anyone's watching over to make sure people don't fool around."
"Where's Arthur?"
"Still in the bar," answered Essie shortly, still pacing, "there was this one woman, Cindy Wallows. She went for a swim two months ago and disappeared! Her body wasn't found."
"What's he still doing in the bar?"
"He's talking to the bartender!" replied Essie with impatience, swiveling around to sit on the window sill, her favorite spot in the room, "they thought it was odd though, that an experienced swimmer like her would perish in a pond. Several people in town thought it was a hoax that she would just drown, and guess who they accused?"
"Who?" returned Merlin vacantly, still shuffling through the papers.
"Fred! Austin Tyler's dad! Apparently he's a real shifty bloke," muttered Essie as she grabbed her pocket notebook and opened it to her notes which were scribbled inside.
"How come?"
"Oh, I don't know, he doesn't really come down to town and he barely ever talks," Essie retorted, "he doesn't talk so people don't like him – I call it Small Town Syndrome."
"Yeah... did Arthur tell you when he would be back?"
"Oh, for crying out loud, Granddad, he's a grown man! He can take care of himself," she sighed in exasperation, "I'm sure he can handle himself without you being on his back all the time."
Merlin pursed his lips at Essie's outburst, before saying, "Apparently Fred only ever came into town to get a package from the drugstore. I went down there to see what he got, and they said he got medication for something."
"Medication, huh?" Essie's eyes slid out of focus, did they say whether it was for something physical or psychological or what?"
"No, they wouldn't tell me," Merlin answered promptly, examining a particular news article, "something about customer confidence."
"Huh."
Essie peered at the concentrated Merlin, an unsettling feeling creeping into her gut. Something she had never felt in his presence before. Something like... unsurety.
Essie contemplated whether she should tell Merlin what she knew about Arthur. She wanted to tell him about the valiant prince's nightmares she knew he had, the fits he was having in his sleep. She wanted to tell Merlin about Arthur's slight distrust in him, about how perturbed he was of how much his former servant had changed. Everything she somehow knew.
She shook her head. She was being childish, she chided to herself. Was she really going to plant bombs in their friendship when she knew that it was all that sustained the both of them?
"I think Arthur should be back up any time now," she said slowly, her eyes still unfocused, "he left about a half an hour ago."
She was a secondary character, she had known that from the beginning. Never had she ever been the protagonist in her life, not even before she came to Avalon and became the Lake's sole maintenance. She had always known she was the supporting character in life, and this she had accepted a long time ago. She couldn't get bitter about it now, not when it was important for her not to.
"Alright," Merlin muttered, before saying, "Essie, did you read this article?"
"Which one?"
She got up and hopped over to lean over the bed, glancing at the article Merlin was indicating.
"Yeah, it's Cindy Wallow's obituary, right?"
"Yes, but look at this," Merlin urged, "it read, 'Cindy was a caring woman of only 52, who was famous for her voice within the English opera community in the 60s. Leaving behind three children and five grandchildren, Cindy will be greatly missed.'"
"Yeah, so?"
"She was a singer."
"Yeah?"
"Austin was a violinist."
"Yes, and he could swim," Essie recited, "So?"
"She voluntarily went for a swim, right?"
"Every Thursday."
"They were musical swimmers," muttered Merlin, "so whatever this thing is, it prefers weak musical swimmers."
"Thing? So it isn't a siren?"
"I really doubt it. Sirens prey on sailors, but this was just a kid, and an old woman assuming it's this thing which pulled her under. Plus, sirens hunt in packs, or at least in two or three, they're never alone."
Essie frowned, and reasoned, "Who's to say this isn't more than one thing?"
"Because someone would have noticed a bunch of maidens singing in a pond. The Tyler family have been living there for about how long?"
"Xhu said three years."
"So they would have immediately noticed if some sirens suddenly appeared in a pond. Gillan Pond is not a sea, not even a lake, it's just the end of a mountain brook."
"Then what can this thing be?"
The conversation came to a full stop as they both stared and thought hard.
There was a sharp snap of a door, causing both of them to jump. Arthur had finally re-entered.
"Well?" demanded Essie, "Anything?"
"Something," he grumbled, sitting on the bed next to Merlin, "I talked to the bartender. Not a very sociable man, but he warmed up to me eventually."
"What did he say?"
"Well, first he complained about the dry weather," reported Arthur, "and then he talked politics."
"What about it?" pushed Merlin.
"Gillan is very disorganized– Winchester's local government is technically in charge but they hardly pay attention, so people just do whatever they want."
"Like what?"
"Crime," sighed Arthur, raising his hand and running it through his croppy hair. He had had his fair share of power struggles, and of crime being its result, "there's a very high amount of robbery here, things are always missing and presumed stolen."
"Well, from what I gather from the newspapers, the 'youth' here are quite a handful," Essie said softly.
There was a short pause.
"Cindy Wallows and Austin Tyler are two people in the past two weeks alone who have drowned in that pond," inserted Merlin, "the Elder Mother said powerful beings were returning from the dead because Arthur had returned, correct?"
"Apparently."
"Okay, so that leaves another month before these two weeks for this thing to kill," Arthur assumed, "Any other suspicious drownings?"
He looked to Essie, still unused to called her by her odd name.
"Er, yeah, about two other people who are not Austin or Cindy."
"About?"
"Well, two other people have disappeared in the past month," explained Essie, "I say about because there was another woman who almost died; wait –"
She rummaged through the newspapers between them and pulled out a small article from Gillan's Gazette.
"'Lily Fisher, 19, was taking a stroll by Gillan's Pond when she was attacked, GG reports. A snake, alien to our island, attacked and bit her ankle, tearing away a bit of flesh,'" Essie gagged a bit, "There's a picture... anyway – 'Fisher was hurried to Dr. Stephen, local family doctor, and was successfully treated. This is lucky, as Fisher was also six months pregnant at the time.'"
"Okay, so this woman is attacked by a snake."
"Yeah, but since when do snakes live in Avalon? There hasn't been a record of it before," Essie said.
Merlin and Arthur exchanged glances.
"What?" pressed Essie.
"Snakes were common trouble in Camelot," explained Arthur with his fingertips pressed together, "and they were considered a symbol of evil."
"And by evil you mean, let me guess, the Old Religion?"
"Yes."
"Well," Essie exhaled sharply, "you guys sure did get up to more than you let on, eh?"
Merlin half smiled, then Arthur added, "The bartender mentioned this incident with Fisher, actually. I had asked him about the pond."
"What did he say?"
"Well, for one thing, no one likes it up there, like that reporter had told us," Arthur started.
"Oh, I had gotten that from quite a lot of people too. No one likes going up there alone, especially after the sun had set," raised Merlin.
"How come?"
"They say something haunts that pond; a spirit of some kind – A sad ghost who longs for his lost soul."
Arthur and Essie both raised their eyebrows. Essie turned to the window sill again and snatched up her notebook, riffling through her notes. Merlin continued to press for more.
"What did the bartender mention about the snake incident?"
"He said that it had bothered a lot of people, not just because it was a snake, but because of the injury it inflicted."
"How come?" raised Essie from her sill.
"The injury left a very odd scar. 'Not at all like what you think a snake bite would look like' he told me."
"What did it look like then?" asked Essie, as she sat back down between them.
"Did it look like a kind of scar human teeth would leave behind?" guessed Merlin as he leaned back.
Arthur nodded, and said, "He implied it."
"How'd you know?" inquired Essie.
Merlin swallowed, before saying, "well, a bite mark not being true to a creature's actual teeth? Usually a shape-shifter."
There was a long silence.
"A shape-shifter? That complicates things," Essie remarked, interrupting the pause and sighing.
"Indeed. We have a lot of work to do."
"It seems so," sighed Arthur, rubbing his eyes, before glancing at the analog clock on the wall, "It's getting late."
"We can set out to visit the Tylers tomorrow before noon," Merlin told Arthur, "and Essie, you need to do some research on the pond and local lore, anything useful."
Essie looked to Merlin indignantly.
"What? Why can't I come with you guys?"
"Well," Merlin tried awkwardly, trying to set the matter delicately, "It'll be less distressing for the Tylers, they are grieving after all, and it won't be too much help if we gang up on them as a trio – they hardly reacted well with Mary Xhu and her 'team'. Plus, you're way better at researching than we are; you can actually use computers."
Essie narrowed eyes, knowing full well this wasn't the true reason she was being barred from coming. She held back the lump in her throat as she whispered, "But I don't have a computer."
"I'm sure you can ask for one," injected Arthur. He didn't sympathize with her very much, as he was quite glad it would be just him and Merlin. Essie's presence was tiresome to him.
Essie got up from the bed, crossing her arms again as she looked out the window. She jutted out her chin out of habit, then turned back around and said, "Fine. I'll stay."
"Okay, then we'd better get some rest," concluded Arthur before getting up, "I'll just settle into bed."
"One moment," interjected Essie, raising a finger, "we agreed that whoever got more information would get the bed!"
"Yeah, and I clearly won," returned Arthur ruefully. Essie snorted.
"No you didn't, you just brought back reports on robbery and dry weather –!"
"– And the pond! That's more than you, you just brought a bunch of newspapers."
"Nu-uh, I said plenty before you came – Merlin decides," settled Essie. They both turned to him.
Merlin smirked as he pretended to think long and hard about it. He then very slyly concluded, "I think the person who rightfully deserves the bed... is myself."
"What?"
Arthur and Essie both gaped at him.
"You didn't say you were also competing!" trilled Essie, as Arthur looked on increasingly offended.
"I didn't say I wasn't. I clearly win," he tutted, grinning up at both of them.
They continued to gape at him as Merlin got up and turned to the large queen-sized paradise, and shook out the sheets Essie had personally cleaned. Essie narrowed her eyes at Merlin and shook her finger at him.
"You were planning this from the start!"
"Of course!" Merlin smiled goofily, but refused to budge. He was given the power of decision, after all.
"I –," Arthur seemed at a loss for words, before he finally exclaimed, "you are still so – so..."
"Cheeky?"
"Annoying," Arthur shook his head, concealing a grin. Perhaps Merlin hadn't changed every part of him as Arthur had thought.
Do review! Thank you!
