Dragon Rider

by Kay Berrisford

  "Lyle, I've seen you get tipsy on your own magic Prosecco, which you claimed was alcohol free. You can't kid me on that one." Ben sniggered with affection. "But I get why you want to go. It's fine with me, as long as you keep your promise not to follow her off any cliffs. We can meet up again Thursday, the whole family together. By that time, I… er, might have found the right moment to explain to my lot about your whole merman thing too. The timings couldn't be better, really."

  "Ben, you're a marvel!" Lyle threw himself at Ben, pinning Ben flat on the duvet before arching over him like a Halloween cat. "And I'm sure I owe you several more thankyous for being so forgiving about the cliff thing earlier."

  Lyle plied Ben's lips with a lazy kiss, enjoying Ben's delicious sighs, which set a spiral of heat coiling in his gut. When he began to nibble down Ben's throat, poised to travel lower, Ben pressed a hand to his shoulder, pushing him off.

  "Not now, love," said Ben. "It's a bit weird, with your sister right there."

  Lyle respected Ben's wishes. Reluctantly, he withdrew the fins that had snuck beneath Ben's clothing, and cuddled up chastely instead. Ben's breaths rose fast and fractious, suggesting a mind caught up elsewhere.

  "This whole 'Clewell's heir' thing worries me a bit," admitted Ben. "What if they ask you to become their leader or something, now Emmet is gone? You won't… I mean, you don't want that, do you? To return to your people?"

  "Never," murmured Lyle, suddenly sleepy and far too comfy, here with Ben in their happy home. His eyes fluttered closed. Maybe the trip could wait until tomorrow…

  "If you're going to go tonight, you better go," said Ben, patting Lyle's arse and jolting him back to wakefulness. "Come on, you. Offski! Leave me with a cold patch on the bed like the dirty stop-out you are."

  Several minutes still ticked past before Lyle extracted himself reluctantly from Ben's safe arms. When he slipped back into the living room, however, Cully jumped up, raring to go, and he reeled with a renewed sense of anticipation.

  A year ago, he'd given up hope of ever seeing the ocean again, and now he was going to swim the high seas with his sister. To know such freedom again… how amazing was that?

  "Ready to hit the coast?" she asked, catching the baggy t-shirt he pitched her only to carelessly toss it aside.

  Even as he kissed Ben goodbye and vowed he'd be home in good time, Lyle conceded that he'd rarely felt readier.

  *~*~*

  "How far exactly have the family travelled?" called Lyle, thrashing hard and gracelessly through the waters. Cully hadn't slackened her pace all night and made a beeline for the west and into a stiffening headwind. The first hints of a sallow dawn painted the eastern sky to their rear.

  Lyle, breathless from exertion, was beginning to wonder why he'd thought this would be fun. The down side of having only once swum any length of the coast in recent years was that he'd forgotten how far the distances stretched.

  To be getting light on this November morning, it had to be nearly eight o'clock. They hadn't even reached the island the humans called Wight, on the southern coast of which he and Cully had grown up. If the family had fled too much farther west, Lyle and Cully wouldn't make it till well into the afternoon. Then he'd have to swim back the next day, Wednesday, and find the energy to keep his fins concealed at the hotel restaurant on Thursday—and possibly from Ben's family on Friday too, if the legendary "right moment" to tell them Lyle was a merman still hadn't occurred.

  The very notion sapped his strength, though far more worryingly, the water had developed talons of ice that slashed to his bones. He'd never felt the chill out at sea like this before. Then again, he'd not swum so long in winter waters for centuries, if ever…

  "It's not too far now," said Cully, stalling while Lyle caught up. "This is great, isn't it?"

  "Not really," said Lyle, too knackered to be anything but honest. "I thought… well, I didn't think the journey would be quite so… long. Now I think about it, it took me a whole day and night to reach Ben from the Isle of Wight before. I thought I swam fast, but it was n-nothing c-compared to this, and it was s-summer then." Paddling frantically with his fins to keep his head above the swell, he wrapped his arms tight around himself. "I w-wish you'd told me exactly how l-long this was going to t-take."

  Cully stared at him, her odd expression mingling surprise and compassion, though Lyle felt disgusted with himself. He was actually shivering now, and his teeth chattered too. How embarrassing!

  She snagged his elbow, and tugged him close. "I'm sure your lovely Ben will forgive you if we take a teeny bit longer than expected. Besides, I can't have Clewell's great heir shivering on my watch, let alone my baby brother. Come on."

  "I-I'm n-not…" As she pulled him toward the shore, Lyle quit protesting. Neither her calling him "baby brother" nor the piss taking about the Clewell thing irritated him as much as it ought. From Cully's lips, it was just about tolerable. Besides, his teeth clattered so hard his brains rattled. He'd started to lose feeling in his tailfins before she dragged him, limp as a late squid, onto a bleak stretch of sand.

  "You're okay now," she said, plucking a fluffy white towel from the thin air and tucking it around him. He scarcely registered how difficult repeatedly performing such magic was—or indeed that she'd shifted her tail into her long legs—until he'd lain there for an interminable time, regathering his senses.

  Cully sat beside him, her chin on her hitched-up knees. Noting her obvious concern as she glanced sidelong at him, he felt silly. He propped himself up on one elbow and tucked a strand of wet hair behind his ear. "Um, sorry about that. I've never swum that fast for so long before."

  "I didn't realize you were struggling," said Cully. "I heard the rumours about the show you put on for Welwyn and Emmet—the tidal wave and all? I figured you were…" She trailed off, doubtless grasping for words that wouldn't offend.

  "You figured I was strong," he said flatly. "So did I. At least, I was starting to believe it. I'm not, though, am I? I'm stronger than I was when we first broke the curse, but I'm not like you. I don't expect Welwyn could have competed with you, even at the peak of his powers. I wouldn't even begin to know how." He flopped back onto the soggy sand, misery sweeping through him. He'd wanted to race through the oceans like a porpoise at her side, but he couldn't even make it through the night. "I shivered in the sea like a human. I'm pathetic."

  "Don't say that!" said Cully, fired by the weight of her sincerity. "You're amazing, surviving what you did. Welwyn held a lot back from us about magic, especially after father died, so we could never challenge him. There's still plenty I don't know—about incantations and words, curses, magic objects, stuff that Welwyn and the Wise Mas used. Everything I do, I do on instinct."

  Lyle grunted, though this made sense. His magic, too, was generally performed on willpower and instinct, once he'd drawn the power from the sea or moon. Still, he knew magic could be enhanced through other practices, like the mantra one of the Wise Ma's taught him to free Ben from the dragon in his head.

  "But you," continued Cully. "You were clever enough to teach yourself how to draw and use magic, even as a child. You stood up to Welwyn, when all I did was hide. It took me decades to learn what I was capable of, and in all my long years, I've never needed to be as brave as you were back then." She laughed sweetly, and it proved the most affection sound Lyle could recall hearing from anyone other than Ben. "I guess you were my hero."

  "Ye Gods, please don't say that." Lyle smothered his face with his hands. "If the rest of the family are expecting a hero in me, they're going to be bitterly disappointed."

  She reached out the tip of a fin and entwined it with one of his. The contact sizzled, sending a rush of warmth through his veins, shadowed by an onslaught of emotion, which choked him.

  "They won't be disappointed," said Cully. "Believe me, I'm not. It's great to have my brother back."

  Lyle smothered any hint of tears then wondered why he bothered. Cully wasn't Welwyn. Why did it really matter if she
saw him cry? He peeped between two fingers only to see her sniff then swat a drop of moisture from her cheekbone. Spying him watching, she knotted the fins that linked them a little tighter. He uncovered his face and matched the curve of her sad smile with his own.

  It was horrible, all the years they'd lost. They could've been there for each other, providing pointless challenges to distract from their woes, and fluffy towels when the going got really tough…

  Far out in the channel, a bulky container ship blasted its foghorn. The sonorous boom roused some sleepy seagulls, setting them wheeling and squawking, and shattered the delicate moment. Simultaneously, a bright pink thermos flask tumbled out of nothingness and into Cully's clasp.

  "Don't worry, it's not Newkie Brown," she said. "Even I couldn't face it at this hour. Fancy a hot chocolate?"

  Chapter Six

  Cully and Lyle continued their journey at a more moderate pace, chatting and pausing to appreciate the vistas. The headwind dropped, and a milky sunlight filtered across a china-blue sky. By midmorning, they'd passed the Isle of Wight and the needle-like stacks of rocks at its far western tip had faded into the wintry haze far behind.

  Lyle needed to rest at around the hour he was accustomed to Ben requiring—at risk of extreme grumpiness—a break for coffee. He clambered up onto a small islet, recently exposed by the tide and carpeted with long strands of seaweed that felt soft, soothing and wonderfully still after the long hours battling against the elements.

  Lying flat with his tail stretched and arms and fins splayed, Lyle raised his head to admire how the formerly low-lying southern coast had risen up into golden-capped cliffs. Just as diverting was the sight of Cully, racing off to perform a gravity defying loop-the-loop over a natural rock archway. Then she barrelled back toward him and leaped from the sea to the islet like a performing seal, transforming her tail to legs as she did so. She landed on her two feet, holding a plate of fresh-from-the-oven cookies with a poise of a maître d'hôtel.

  Lyle pushed himself into a seated position, and she bowed to spin the plate beneath his nose.

  "Want one?" she asked.

  "Thanks." Lyle took one because the sugary smell and the melting gooey chocolate chips proved too enticing to resist. "Heaven help me, Cully, you're almost as obsessed with food as Ben is, and you're not even human. You and I don't need food, you know?"

  "Of course I know," mumbled Cully, her face stuffed with cookie. "Food is fun, though, and this is supposed to be a fun trip. Besides, I kind of like having somebody to…" She paused, as if considering her words, then swallowed. "It's nice to have somebody to look after, frankly. This is nice, isn't it?"

  Lyle grunted. His mouth was too full to answer anyway. He was having something approaching fun now, and he and Cully were long overdue some bonding time. Nevertheless, he was starting to feel like he'd been kidnapped for that sneaky, if well-meaning, purpose.

  And then there was her stamina, not to mention her magic. As she clicked her fingers and the empty plate vanished, jealously tinged Lyle's bewilderment. "Don't you ever suffer any aftereffects?"

  "No, never." Cully winced slightly. "But you're very talented too, Lyle—seriously, when you meet the rest of the family, it'll remind you how remarkable your magical ability is, even among our tribe."

  Lyle wasn't so sure. The only times he'd felt even a fraction as powerful as Cully was… shit, yes, those terrible moments again, when he'd nearly killed Kristoff and slaughtered Welwyn. When he'd lost his temper, lost control, and all but lost his mind. In contrast, Cully's magic was light and airy and free. Damn her! Why did she have to be so bloody good at everything?

  The crumbs of cookie dried out Lyle's mouth, the saccharine taste turning bitter. He wished he hadn't come on this stupid trip. He wanted to be safe at home, back with Ben to keep him on the level. Oh Gods, Ben! This was supposed to be their week off, preparing for the wedding and meeting Ben's lovely family. They'd been looking forward to it for ages, and Lyle had ruined everything.

  "You want to call Ben?" asked Cully, noting Lyle's frown. "You can tell him we'll still be back on time, no probs."

  "How on earth am I supposed to…" Lyle blinked his eyes open and snapped his mouth shut. He shouldn't have been surprised that his bloomin' overachieving sister, the most awesome mage in the whole frickin' universe, had conjured up a mobile phone. "Oh, I see. You've magicked it onto a network too, I suppose."

  "Nup, I'm with Virgin pay-as-you-go. It's a water-resistant smartphone, latest model." She patted a black pouch at her hip, attached to the still-in-tact waistband of the leggings she'd shredded last night. "I like to keep in touch with my girlfriends. I don't only love 'em and leave 'em. Anyway, believe it or not, I've got a signal out here, so it's all yours."

  She tossed it to Lyle, who caught it with a deliberately lightning-quick snatch of a fin and a curt nod of thanks.

  The phone rang only once before Ben answered, which pleasantly surprised Lyle. Ben was usually reticent to pick up when he didn't know the number, so he must've been keen for news. Ben's uncertain "Hello?" was followed with a cry of delight when he heard Lyle's voice.

  "I'm fine, and we're doing fine," assured Lyle. "I really, really miss you, though." Lyle plied the extra emphasis for Cully's benefit. He didn't want her thinking she could show him a better life than he'd already got with Ben.

  "We're nearly there, and I'll be back for Thursday, I promise," said Lyle.

  To Lyle's mild chagrin, Ben then asked if Cully would like to join them all at the hotel restaurant on Thursday lunchtime. He needed to know numbers so he could book.

  "That would be delightful," said Cully, when Lyle passed on the message. "You can assure him I'll stay completely human-looking and keep my fins to myself. Unless his sister is too cute to resist, that is."

  Lyle punished her with a pursed-lipped expression of disgust he'd learned from Ben.

  Fortunately, eels-under-her-scales Cully was unable to stay put for the whole of Lyle and Ben's conversation. She shifted back into a mermaid and swam to shore, only to reconstitute her long legs and disappear off across the beach beneath the cliffs. Ben received Lyle's final blown kisses down the phone warmly, although Ben seemed a bit too anxious to clear the line for Lyle's liking. It turned out Ben was waiting for the wedding venue to call to discuss some details.

  "So that was why he picked up so fast," muttered Lyle, incidentally noting that Cully had twelve unread messages, seven unanswered calls, and fifteen voicemails. Nearly half were from someone called Sally, and the rest from a variety of female names.

  So much for keeping in touch with her girlfriends! He wondered if she'd lose interest in him too, when the novelty of having her pathetic brother to fuss over wore off.

  Yet when Cully reappeared suddenly, bursting up between two waves, her bright smile far eclipsed the tepid glow from the winter sun. Lyle mentally slapped himself for his old habit of wallowing in self-pity.

  They forged on together, and Cully told him about what she'd observed during her romp to the shore.

  "A merman used to live around these parts," she said. "He was a hermit, but only because he was the last of his tribe. He was a nice fellow, and his magic was amazing, but now there's no sign of him. Maybe he left because there were too many humans about. Or I wonder if that gang who killed Emmet have driven him out... or worse." She shrugged, as if it didn't bother her unduly. "Oh, and another thing—we've been spotted."

  "What? By this vicious gang?"

  "Don't fret, Lyle. It was an albatross, one of our family's. She swooped so close my reflection flashed in her beady eye, and she saw you too. They will be expecting us."

  Bracing himself for the last leg of the journey, a sense of foreboding sucked even more energy from Lyle's charge. Despite the flattery of his family's invitation, it struck him that maybe he'd not signed up for this trip to actually get there. He'd yearned to swim the open seas with Cully, and despite being a tad envious of her abilities, he didn't regret it… even though
she was extremely annoying.

  But meeting the rest of the extended family? Who'd stood by and done little for him even earlier this year when he'd been imprisoned by Emmet no less than twice? Now it came to the crunch, he wasn't so sure about that.

  "Nearly there" by Cully's chirpy judgement turned out to be yet another three hours of battling crosscurrents and a fresh brace of what felt like Atlantic rollers. By the time Cully pointed toward a rugged headland and shouted that the family were "just over the far side," Lyle's limbs garnered the structural integrity of a jellyfish and trembling overcame him again. But he'd be damned if he'd let her coddle her "baby brother," let alone be seen struggling by the rest of the tribe.

  He yelled at her to go on ahead, and took shelter in a small inlet on the eastern side of the peninsula. Concentrating hard, he tuned into the subtle ebb of the tide and even dragged on the scant rays of the Goddess Moon, who'd appeared as a translucent phantom in the daytime heavens.

  Boosted by all the magic he could harness, he launched, powering around the peninsula like a whole cavalry of white horses. Bravado and headache-inducing effort ensured he'd betray no sign of weakness to anybody who saw him approach.

  Still, as he took in the scene in the sheltered bay ahead of him, his mouth fell so wide he swallowed saltwater. A small crowd of merfolk awaited him, some of them wearing scarfs and hats and long multi-coloured robes. Numbering not much more than a dozen, they held aloft signs and banners, which fluttered in the breeze. From a distance, he couldn't read all the slanting text, but he could make out the message on the largest, which proclaimed. "Welcome Home, Lyle!"

  Well, that was… unexpected. Cheers and childish squeals filled his ears as he beat into the shallows, grinding his teeth to maintain an air of effortlessness as he shifted from tail to legs. An instant later, he had a tiny merchild clinging to his knee, gawping up at him. "Er, hello there," he said. "What's your name?"