The Isle of Eternal Happiness

by Kay Berrisford

  Throughout the hours of searching, Ben followed at her heel like a kicked puppy. She nurtured her loathing, which got easier the longer they searched in vain. She'd got Lyle back after all this time, and because of Ben, he was gone again. Granted, it was only because of Ben she'd ever had Lyle back in her life, and Lyle had loved Ben. Lyle had loved Ben more than her, which had hurt, even if she'd rarely dwelled on why it bothered her. Her petty jealousy made no difference now, and she'd never apologize for it.

  It was Ben's fault Lyle was dead. His fault. His bloody fault.

  Eventually, even the shuffle of Ben's footfalls set her teeth on edge. Maybe hating him wasn't so hard. Stupid, weak human! She was tempted to reduce him to a pile of steaming ashes, here and now.

  "Cully," said Ben, after an indeterminable period of trudging. "I know it's getting less likely every minute, but if we find him—"

  "Shut up." Stupidly fearful of Ben jinxing their tiny chance of success, she forgot she wasn't speaking to him.

  "Please, hear me out," said Ben. "If Lyle's survived somehow, it's his call, naturally, but we should persuade him to go live with you."

  She swung around the torch she'd been sweeping the tunnels with to flash it in Ben's face. He shielded his face with a hand swaddled in a makeshift bandage. "This is a moot point," she said, "but you know Lyle would've come back to you. He always did."

  Ben shook his head, desolate. "Even if I get a chance, I can't ask him to forgive me for what I did, and I can't forgive myself. Clewell killed him, not me. Yet there are things I did and said, before Clewell took me over completely, where I don't know where Clewell began and I ended. I mean, it was my idea to seek Kern-Heliog in order to save the family, before Clewell seized the plan and twisted it. It's all so tangled, though, and the way I treated Lyle..." He hung his head with shame. "I don't deserve another chance."

  "I doubt you're going to get one."

  She trudged on into the gloom. Ben's admission offered scant comfort, yet she experienced a glint of triumph. Doubtless too late, but Ben had seen the light. He'd never been good enough for Lyle, and Lyle would have had a better and longer life with her. She should have fought harder for her brother before everything got out of hand. Then again, it was because of her that the whole situation with the sword had arisen.

  If she'd not showed up, dragging Lyle off to meet the family, he wouldn't have been kidnapped and lost his magic abilities. Ben would never have found the ruddy sword. All of which made Lyle's death as much her fault as Ben's. Though she hadn't wanted this. To lose Lyle was the last thing either of them had ever wanted.

  "This is hopeless," said Ben after another interminable period of silence. "He isn't here. Nobody's here."

  Cully's floodgates finally broke. She lunged forward and pulled Ben into a hug, shocking herself nearly as much as she startled Ben. She buried her face in his hair and yielded to the convulsive sobs that shook her.

  "Oh Cully," Ben whispered into her shoulder. "He's gone. He's gone." Her tears blotted his cotton shirt, all her resentment vanished for now. She'd no idea how long they stood in the tunnel, holding each other, before a scuttling noise set her looking up sharply. She snorted back her tears.

  Ben jumped also. "What was that?"

  "Probably a bat," said Cully, though she'd already started down the tunnel in the direction of the noise, Ben close behind. On spotting the flicker of light up ahead, she stopped. A torturous hope spiked. Somebody was there, but she didn't want to see who. She couldn't endure any more shattered faith, any more heartache, any more loss. She was so weary of all this feeling.

  Ben pushed past her and sprinted toward the light. "Lyle," he cried. "Lyle!"

  For Cully, walking the next few yards was like wading through a thick tangle of seaweed, every laboured step threatening to trip her. She almost wished it would. When she reached the small chamber where Ben had disappeared, she slumped against the side of the low archway.

  Lyle sat leaning against the rock. He looked pale and very tired, with shadows livid as bruises beneath his eyes, but more or less intact. Ben crouched at his side, hugging Lyle's neck. Ben's heavy sobs filled the chamber.

  "Ta-da," said Lyle quietly. He puffed a strand of auburn hair from his nose. Slowly, and with obvious effort, he lifted an arm to embrace Ben then speared a shockingly incisive blue gaze into Cully. "I'd like to see you top that ruse, dear sister."

  *~*~*

  Ben and Cully didn't get a chance to talk again until Lyle had fallen asleep. Explaining how he'd had his powers restored and cheated death, with the aid of their equally death-resistant mother, had drained him until he'd drifted off midsentence. While ecstatic he was alive, Cully remained deeply worried.

  "I'd feel happier if I knew where Clem was," she whispered to Ben. Clem had looked after Lyle since his return to the mine, ensuring his basic needs were met. Cully was convinced Clem had, deliberately or otherwise, alerted them to Lyle's location, but that was the last any of them had seen of her. Not knowing where she was made Cully nervous, although it was difficult to focus on watching her back with Lyle so obviously poorly.

  Ben looked up at her from where he held vigil at Lyle's side. Cully had magicked up cushions and blankets, and only wished there was more she could do. Ben was always the one who held and comforted Lyle, and she felt superfluous. On the other hand, Ben had said he'd give Lyle up to her.

  "It's wonderful that Clem gave him back the abilities she took away," murmured Ben, his relief tangible. "He'll be okay now. He'll never dragon-shift again, but he couldn't when we first met anyway. Despite the odd shapeshifting malfunction, he did amazingly in the ice-cream parlour for the first few months."

  "Yeah, and the rest," said Cully sarcastically. She levered herself away from the wall and gestured that Ben should come closer so they could talk. Ben glanced affectionately at Lyle before obeying with evident reluctance. "Lyle was struggling to live the life you wanted him to live, and you know it," she said. "Trying to conceal his fins in order to hold down a job was damaging him further after the ordeal of being landlocked. It'll be the same for him now, or worse."

  "You never proved any of that." His vehemence shocked her. "We were happy, Cully. Lyle was happy, before you showed up and everything went wrong. I don't deserve his forgiveness, but… Look, I know what I said, but ultimately it's still his choice. When he's better, Lyle can decide if wants to try again with me, or go with you."

  "You said you'd let him go—that we should persuade him to come with me." If Lyle hadn't been sleeping, she'd have yelled it. Instead, she battled an urge to wrap her fins about Ben's throat and throttle him. She might have lost the fight, had not a tiny figure with eight fins and a long purple robe materialized in the chamber. A mass of unruly marigold-yellow hair was piled high on sils head and flowed from sils chin in a long beard.

  Cully had forgotten she'd summoned a healer. The Wise Ma clicked sils tongue at the pair of them, their faces flushed with the heat of argument. Sil turned around to examine Lyle.

  "Let's see who's right, eh?" hissed Cully to Ben, then instantly regretted her words. She didn't want to be correct about how ill Lyle was. The expression of disgust Ben shot her was deserved.

  The Wise Ma hummed and tutted and fussed over Lyle, touching his forehead and stroking his fins, before placing both sils hands over his tummy and closing sils eyes. Cully finally crouched down at Ben's side and touched his knee.

  "Sorry," she whispered. "It's Lyle's choice, as you say. He's always chosen you before, and so—"

  The Wise Ma whirled to face them. Sils deadly gravity sickened Cully even before sil articulated the truth she now dreaded. "The damage wrought by all those decades so far from the sea is indeed irreversible," said the Wise Ma. "He'll never truly recover. He's fading."

  Cully found Ben's cold hand and clasped it tight. Ben answered with a squeeze. She could feel his pulse racing, mingling with hers. "Is there anything we can do?" she breathed. "Anything at all that will help?"

&
nbsp; "He needs to live as quietly as possible," sil said. "He should avoid using too much magic, and reside in his most natural environment. He'll be able to judge what'll help him survive the longest, as will those of you who love him."

  "I see," said Ben flatly.

  Her grip tightened around Ben, even as his weakened.

  "It's time for me to go," said Ben. "It's best I get this over with before Lyle wakes up. If he wants to come with me, I-I mightn't be able to refuse him."

  Cully fixed on Lyle, who slept incredibly peacefully, given the overwrought passions arcing around him. She glanced back at Ben, and the notion that his departure constituted any kind of victory died an instant death.

  She'd anticipated a hangdog look of regret. Ben looked wretched, beyond broken, and his failing attempt at stiff-upper-lip stoicism ripped her inside. He let out a final, shuddering sigh of surrender, then leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to Lyle's cheek.

  "Goodbye, love," he whispered. "I'll miss you so much."

  Cully turned her face to the wall, unable to bear any more. Taking Lyle with her was right and correct, fundamentally what the Wise Ma had proscribed. She still felt more of a heartless bitch than she ever had in her long and careless life.

  *~*~*

  Two weeks later

  Cully leaped from the sea into the mouth of the cave, where Lyle was chalking something across the inner wall. He glanced over his shoulder at her and lifted a brow in greeting. She wandered over to him, scratching her wet hair, which felt unusually slimy after her swim. She pondered why that was, while absorbing the nature of Lyle's latest etching. Then she spluttered with a mingling of amusement and disgust.

  "Lyle, why are you drawing a massive hairy cock on the wall?"

  "Because I'm bored," said Lyle. "Secondly, because I'm desperate to get laid, and last—and not least—because I'm much better at drawing cocks than you are."

  "You're much better at drawing anything than I am." She sat down cross-legged, gaining a great view of the spot Lyle had daubed with animals, fish, and humans, using the contour of the rocks to delineate their bodies. He'd also etched various ice-creams and lollies, some of which looked mildly phallic. Today was the first occasion he'd drawn anything explicitly obscene.

  He scowled down at her. "Yes, I'm better at drawing than you, Cully. That's about all I'm better at these days, though, so can we get back to the issue in hand—I'm bored. I'm going out of my mind sitting in this cave, staring at the same horizon every day, and talking to nobody apart from you. And you're not any fun now I can't even dream of beating you in a race."

  "Sorry," she said, pulling a face. "I could magic you up some better art gear, if you like?" She itched at her head again. Argh, her scalp wasn't normally this irritating after contact with saltwater. What sort of invasive weed or pollutant could've made it so yucky?

  "No need," said Lyle. "I'm exploring the chalk medium. It's currently my sole pleasure." He paused, narrowing his eyes in a fashion that made her squirm. "Cully, I've got to get out of here. I don't care what the Wise Ma said about leading as natural a life as possible. I feel as well as I ever used to. If I remain here much longer, I'm going to expire from the tedium, and so are you."

  Scrubbing the base of her skull with her sharpest fingernail, she conceded he was right. "How about we take a summer holiday, a jaunt down to Spain perhaps? It's a long swim, but we could make plenty of stops, take it slow—"

  "You hate taking it slow." Lyle curled his lip irritably. "Anyway, your idea of slow is my idea of backbreaking."

  "I'll be patient," she promised. "Or I'll dragon-shift and you can ride me there. Seriously, Spain will be awesome. We can check out some clubs, meet some fun people. We'll be able to solve the getting laid issue, no probs. Maybe we should head straight for Ibiza."

  "Ibiza?" He slid down the wall, smearing the chalk, before covering his face with his hands and beginning to shake in an exaggerated fashion that alarmed her.

  "Are you alright?"

  "Of course I am." He peeped at her, pink with laughter. "Seriously, though—Ibiza, with a load of teenage kids? You do recall how old we are? Anyway, Ben took me clubbing once, even though he hated it. He thought I might like it. I enjoyed the dancing, but it wasn't really my scene."

  "With your taste in clothes, I'm surprised," said Cully. "You'd have loved the 1970s."

  "Maybe I would've, maybe I wouldn't." Lyle clonked his head back against the rock, seeming weary of the topic already. "There are many places I'd rather be than Ibiza. How about Wheal Dogger, for starters."

  Cully had popped back to search for Clem, to see if she could help the little dragon on Lyle's behalf. "She wasn't around," said Cully, more defensively than she'd intended. "Or if she was, she didn't want to be found. Anyhow, I don't want you going there. I'm not even convinced you were right to forgive her, but I'll pay that debt somehow, I promise."

  "I doubt I could help her now, anyway." Lyle sighed. "Certainly, you can do more than I. But we could go to Eastbourne or Bournemouth. I need to see Ben, particularly if I've not got long left." The thread of longing in his voice struck an uneasy chord inside her. "If you reckon I'm fit enough for clubbing, I'm definitely ready to find my husband. I can't believe he'd just disappear."

  Cully nearly answered that Ben didn't want to be found any more than Clem did, but held back. She'd been honest with Lyle, at least partially. Ben had chosen to leave when he'd heard the Wise Ma's prognosis for Lyle. Ben had, in fact, departed there and then, before he'd heard all the Wise Ma had to say. And what Ben hadn't heard, Lyle did not yet know either. The Wise Ma had left it all for Cully to explain, and she'd held back on some of the specifics. Lyle was fading, but…

  "What is it?" asked Lyle, frowning slightly. "Has Ben called? Please, I have to know. I want to go home."

  "This is our home now."

  Lyle glared so venomously she felt ridiculous for even suggesting it. The sheer magnitude of her wrongdoing slowly dawned. She'd convinced herself she'd been acting for the best, but Lyle, at least, deserved to know the truth of his condition. She must come clean. Agitated, she scratched her head again.

  "Sorry, but Ben hasn't called." She leaned toward him with renewed concern. "Lyle, you've gone really pale. Are you sure you're feeling okay? Do you need your scarf?"

  She reached to touch his forehead. He dodged out of the way. "I'm fine. But keeping all that lovely neon-pink seagrass perched on your head is quite straining. Oh, and I moved some little sea worms in there, too. I apologize if they're wriggling."

  "You bastard!" Cully leaped to her feet, shaking her mane like a wet dog and removing the sea-life from her hair in an instant.

  "Aw, shame," drawled Lyle. "Pink looked good on you, sis, and made a nice change."

  She folded her arms and glared down at him. His amusement faded fast. "I'm not so delicate I'll shatter," he snapped. "Aren't you even going to pretend to beat me up?"

  "No," she said, sobering up just as quick. She slumped down beside him. "I'm going to admit defeat."

  "What do you mean?"

  She sucked in a lungful of salty air. Mustering the courage to confess was harder than battling a tempest in the Outer Hebrides. "Ben left you, as I said, because he thought it was for the best. I thought so too, at the time. But it's not. I understand that now. You need to be with the man you love, not me."

  "And you need to be with the woman you love, not me," said Lyle.

  She blinked. "What do you mean? I've never fallen in love."

  "It's about time you did then." A wistful smile curved on his lips. "Love hurts, Cully, but it's also rather wonderful. I think you'll like it."

  "But I don't want—"

  Cully's mouth hovered open, the lie yet again unfinished. The mermaid who'd roamed the seas with a heart hardened to affection had never wanted love. But now, thanks to Lyle, and probably to Ben also, she'd changed. Her yearning to care for Lyle told her she was no longer the lone spirit she'd once been. But Lyle, though she l
oved him, wasn't the creature she was supposed to spend her life with.

  "Maybe," she said, and then braced herself for the hardest confession of all. "Lyle, I want to help you find Ben, but there's something I've been keeping from you. That I kept from Ben, too. You might not want me around after you hear what I've got to say."

  Lyle's soft demeanour toughened in an instant. His flash of anger almost pleased her—the old, feisty Lyle was back—but couldn't counteract the guilt and sadness pooling in her gut. She wondered if he'd ever look at her with affection again.

  "What?" he demanded.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ben sat on the edge of the shallow brick wall around the well. A little yellow frog sitting on the opposite side stared at him.

  A blackbird clucked in the tree above him, the frog blinked, and Ben pondered what he should do. The well in his parents' back garden was over three-hundred years old, about five yards deep, and didn't have any water in it. If the frog leaped in, it would still constitute a death sentence. On the other hand, if Ben tried to pick the frog up, he could startle it into making the fatal leap.

  What to do, what to do. Nothing, Ben supposed. He should sit still, wish the songbirds that reminded him of those happy early days with Lyle would shut the hell up, and hope things turned out okay. He hadn't the power to do anything else and was glad of it. Life was simpler this way, certainly simpler than when he'd had an evil mage in his head.

  Clewell. Not a trace of him remained, and Ben's memories of the time Clewell had been totally in control were hazy. Ben wished he could blame the bastard for everything, but he couldn't let himself off the hook so easily. What had happened before Clewell seized total control tormented him—the period when Ben had believed he'd been acting of his own accord. Clewell had confirmed the quest for Kern-Heliog had been Ben's idea, so what other, far more terrible, decisions had been Ben's? The harness he'd purchased for Lyle? The whip? How about that fatal moment of wavering, when he'd envied Lyle's power and not wanted to let the sword go?