Lyle's Story

by Kay Berrisford

  “This must wait for now,” said the Wise Ma. “We have a more pressing issue.”

  “Agreed.” Lyle patted Ben’s cheek, but Ben remained senseless, his breathing shallow. “How do we wake him up?”

  “We can’t,” sil said. “You must go back in and find him. It is much easier for me to send you into the recesses of your own mind alone than to journey there myself. To draw Ben from your mind, you must repeat what I said when I pulled myself from your body. Do you recall the word?”

  Lyle shook his head. “There was rather a lot going on.”

  “The word is Elhendrou.”

  “Elhendrou. Elhendrou.” Lyle rolled the syllables, imprinting them indelibly on his tongue.

  “It’s an entreaty from an ancient language of the ocean peoples. It will be prudent to forget it as soon as you have used it. But this mantra alone will not be enough. First, you must release Ben. If you cannot persuade yourself—or whatever locks him in your mind—to let him go, he will die, and soon. His frail human body cannot survive long in this unpiloted state.”

  Lyle inhaled sharply and forbade himself to crumple. The mere notion of Ben’s death ought to have destroyed him. Instead, he forced himself to harden inside, armouring his already battered heart.

  “It shan’t happen.” The hissing forcefulness of Lyle’s words set even the Wise Ma backing away. In the corner of his eye, he noted Emmet jolt fearfully, although this was no time to relish his cousin’s fright. He’d learned how to give in when he’d only himself to protect. With Ben in peril, the whole game changed.

  Elhendrou. He’d never forget that word.

  “Send me back right now,” he commanded. “I’m going to fetch Ben, whatever it takes.”

  ~~*

  This time, when the Wise Ma sent him inside himself and the world fell away, Lyle tightened his fists into mace-like weapons. He landed in a crouch, ready to leap up and fight. A small part of him questioned why he was so angry and keen for combat; the cave in which he had landed was in his own mind, after all. Nevertheless, if he had to raise hell and scourge all that lay before him, he determined to do so. Indeed, a worrying part of him savoured the prospect.

  He straightened slowly, absorbing a chamber of glittering crystal that he’d no recollection of visiting before. Streams of bright light rebounded off its sparkling walls, and it’d no dark patches, save one—an opening shaped like a lopsided pear, which led to a farther cavern. Leaned beside this portal was a shining golden sword with a slender blade and an elaborate looping handguard at the hilt.

  Lyle understood instantly this was the place he’d seen Ben’s shadow slip into. He ran toward it, grasped the blade, and stepped inside.

  In a dingy corner of the cave, illuminated by a hazy stream of crystal light, he spotted Ben. Ben still sported streaks of green weed, though he looked bluer, more miserable and somehow much soggier than when they’d been walking beneath the waterfall. A dragon filled much of the rest of the cavern, with one be-clawed forearm stretched between Ben and Lyle.

  Lyle halted on the spot. His throat felt so dry and constricted he couldn’t even splutter out Ben’s name. The dragon was a magnificent beast, its body long and curling with a neatly forked tail and a slender snout. Its fangs were shiny as the gemstone walls of the chamber Lyle had slipped in from, and its metallic scales glittered in the full spectrum of the rainbow.

  The dragon, whose head Lyle viewed in profile, fixed an indigo eye on him. Lyle gawked back, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. He couldn’t discern a single emotion in the dragon’s opaque stare.

  “How on earth did you get inside my head?” breathed Lyle.

  “I wondered the same thing,” said Ben, in a small, scared voice. “He, er, called to me. Even though you were standing right there in front of me, the compulsion to go to him was irresistible. He sounded like you… but he isn’t you. I can’t get through to him, and he won’t let me go.”

  “Uh, I don’t suppose you’ve asked him really nicely?” asked Lyle.

  “I tried,” said Ben. “If I move at all, he pads me back here like a cat toying with a mouse. I’m just bloody lucky he’s not caught me with any of those claws yet.”

  As if to emphasize Ben’s point, the dragon clacked the three curling talons of its outstretched paw against the rock floor.

  “And one time, he licked me. Ugh.” Ben wrapped his arms tight around himself and shuddered. So that was how Ben had got so bedraggled. “He shot out this long, rough tongue and lathed me up and down. It was kind of revolting.”

  “I do apologize.” Lyle kept acutely conscious of the dragon’s intense scrutiny of him. He’d not got a great plan, but he did have a sword. This was his mind, and certainly not an unalterable memory. Even if the dragon was some kind of intruder and not an intrinsic part of himself—a matter he didn’t have time to figure out now—he had to be able to seize some kind of control. Surely that was what he’d armed himself for?

  On the other hand, he found he didn’t want to attack this gracious creature unless forced. After all, it could’ve tried to pounce on him or Ben and eviscerated them, but it hadn’t. At least, not yet. And besides, Lyle had never wielded a sword before.

  Slowly, with a shuffling footfall, he edged forward. With a pendulum-like swing, the dragon tilted its head toward him and lowered two gauzy green eyelids till a slit of the irises remained. Throwing much of his concentration into keeping his arm steady, Lyle raised the sword’s point to within inches of the dragon’s flaring nostrils. Hot breath scorched him, blasting his hair back from his face. He stood firm.

  “Let… him… go.”

  The dragon cocked its snout to one side, as if considering the matter. Lyle heated his glare, his fins speared and his teeth gritted. Then, to Lyle’s surprise, the dragon offered an almost imperceptible nod.

  Lyle didn’t waver. He called out to Ben. “You can come now.”

  With tentative movements, Ben pushed himself to his feet. “Are you sure?”

  No, Lyle wasn’t. But if the dragon tried anything, Lyle wouldn’t hesitate to use his sword, whatever the cost. He managed to nod. “Yes, come now.”

  After Ben had taken two steps, sidling around the wall of the cave toward the exit, the dragon’s head drooped, as if it’d lost interest in the whole situation. Grasping at the scant thread of respite, Lyle dipped his sword too, stretching out toward Ben. That was when the dragon raised its long forearm and swiped it at Ben.

  The dragon was quick; Lyle discovered he was quicker. He raised his sword, causing the dragon to hesitate, and then sliced the blade across the scaly limb above the beast’s armpit. Scales shattered like glass, revealing raw grey flesh beneath. The dragon pulled in its arm and roared. Lyle yelled in agony also and flung the sword aside; then he fought a nigh-crippling pain in his head as he dashed to where Ben had huddled himself up protectively. A heartbeat later, without looking back at the groaning dragon, they sprinted from the cave together.

  “Elhendrou!” screamed Lyle. “Elhendrou! Elhendrou!”

  Chapter Ten

  This time, when the Wise Ma’s urgent wringing revived him, Lyle discerned somebody take a firm grip on his hand on his other side.

  Ben sat up, mumbling something about feeling “groggier than the groggiest New Year’s Day hangover.” Lyle, despite a headache that felt like it would crack his skull open, allowed relief to flutter.

  “You let him go, Lyle,” said the Wise Ma. “Well done.”

  Lyle and Ben had fallen into each other arms. “I’m afraid my apologies are way beyond inadequate,” said Lyle, hardly daring to take comfort in Ben’s embrace. “This gets worse and worse. I’ve no idea how that creature got in there.”

  “I take it Lyle tried to kill his lover and now is claiming he didn’t mean that either?” asked Emmet, plainly enjoying the whole affair.

  “Benjamin, please tell me what happened,” said the Wise Ma. Lyle, released by Ben, gladly let Ben do so. Lyle gingerly pulled his ripped t-shirt
back on, then sat cross-legged and hid behind the curtain of his lank hair. He found he’d not the resources to do or think much beyond urging the piercing pain within his scalp to wane.

  At the end of Ben’s account, which seemed accurate from Lyle’s perspective, everyone went very quiet. Lyle raised his weary head to face the Wise Ma, who seized both his palms and scrutinized them.

  “Is it…?” he stammered. “Am I…?”

  Lyle couldn’t articulate the question on the tip of his tongue. Sil peered up at him. “This dragon was not among your memories, was it?”

  “Not that I know of,” admitted Lyle. At least his headache seemed to be ebbing and he felt slightly brighter. “I’ve never seen one, but I’ve always liked dragons. Although I’m not entirely sure I do anymore.”

  “Do not be hasty to pass judgement,” said the Wise Ma. “A dragon is the sign and symbol of an undine of great destiny, and it must be inside you for good reason. You have a bold nature and were born for great things, Lyle.”

  “Oh, in the name of all the Gods and Goddesses,” cried Emmet. “Haven’t we seen and heard enough evidence that this creature—my so-called cousin—needs to be dealt with for good. He’s invented the dragon to blame his devilish deeds upon something other than his own wicked self. But it is his wicked self. He’s a devil.”

  Lyle cringed. He preferred when Emmet called him “child,” at least in front of Ben. Lyle wished the Wise Ma would release him so he could swipe his hair from his eyes and examine Ben properly. What was Ben thinking? Was Ben’s faith finally shaken?

  Slowly, and torturously to Lyle, the Wise Me recounted everything sil had learned from the trip into Lyle’s memories and Ben’s later experiences. “My decision is made,” concluded the Wise Ma. “Lyle is free to go. None of this situation was of his making, although he must learn to use his powers with greater caution, for they are truly great. Greater, indeed, than we may yet know. Welwyn, on the other hand, died a hero—yet he was not a hero for much of his long life. It was his wrong-doing which brought you all here. Even at the end, he didn’t comprehend how erroneous his actions had been. And he always underestimated you, Lyle.”

  “Yeah,” said Lyle, dolefully, as the Wild Ma finally let him go. “He didn’t know what a monster I was.”

  “Don’t say that, love.”

  Lyle puffed his hair from his nose, not daring to believe in the twinkling smile Ben now offered him. Ben winked, and Lyle gasped. He’d never seen Ben wink. Since when had Ben been the whimsical one?

  “I told you so,” said Ben. “I knew you didn’t kill Welwyn. I’ve seen you in action before, remember? I know things can go badly, but I trust you more than you trust yourself. And hey, you just rescued me from a dragon. You don’t get any more heroic or romantic than that.” Before Lyle could argue, Ben turned to the Wise Ma. “Please can we go home now?”

  “Don’t be foolish. Lyle can’t go anywhere. I certainly understand why Welwyn locked him away and…” Emmet kept complaining, although his words subsided into the cave’s peripheries, unheard. Ben and the Wise Ma locked themselves in a staring contest just as intense as the one Lyle had entered into with the dragon, and neither seemed keen to back down.

  “We need to go home now,” said Ben, resolute. “It’s very important. I have a job interview tomorrow. Heck, it could be today for all I know—I’ve lost track of the time that’s passed. And you know what I know, don’t you? Lyle isn’t a monster. He doesn’t attack folk.”

  At least, not deliberately. But I’m not so sure about that dragon.

  Lyle discovered he was trapped between ice and fire. The Wise Ma’s eyes swirled like an artic snow storm on one side, while Ben’s clamped an increasingly hot and sweaty hand to his knee on the other. “I love Lyle, damn it,” continued Ben. “If anybody tries to keep him here, I’ll bulldozer down that cave wall and rescue him myself. I swear it on all that’s sacred.”

  “Might be tricky,” countered Lyle. “You don’t know exactly where I am. We’re probably halfway up a sea-cliff, and…” He trailed off, and then did a double take. Not only had the Wise Ma looked away first, but sil rocked with silent laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Emmet. “This is absurd. Surely Lyle should at least justify his terrible deed to the rest of the family?”

  “I believe you’re the one with explaining to do, Emmet,” said the Wise Ma. “The head of a clan who admits he’s none who love him? Rebellion comes slowly among our kind, but it always catches up with bad leaders in the end. I’d focus on your own troubles, Emmet, and leave Lyle be.”

  “Good,” said Ben, patting Lyle encouragingly. “Now do we have to fly Albatross Air back up the English Channel, or is there a better way? I’m not sure the waistband of my trousers will take much more strain, and being held up by your pants like that don’t half dig in around the crotch.”

  Finally, Lyle joined Ben and the Wise Ma in their gentle mirth, though he couldn’t help protesting. “Maybe I shouldn’t be let go? I nearly killed Kristof; I accidentally killed Welwyn. Plus, there’s a ruddy great dragon in my head and I don’t know how it got there!”

  “Yeah, I get all of that now,” said Ben. “I still trust you to do the right thing. Sil trusts you too.” Ben plied Lyle’s lips with a brief kiss. “We’ll find a way to work things out, I promise.”

  “You always say that, but—”

  The cave disintegrated once more. Lyle grabbed for Ben, and they fell swift and fast, clasped in each other’s arms. They landed in a heap on their sofa back in their messy little flat, which swirled around Lyle for a few moments before coming to rest.

  He flopped back, panting, against the arm of the couch. The room was lit from the road outside, where a streetlight shone through their open blind.

  They were back, and a glance at the digital clock in the kitchenette revealed it was only ten thirty in the evening. It seemed too good to be true. “That Wise Ma’s magic pisses all over mine,” muttered Lyle.

  Ben lifted his head from where it’d landed in Lyle’s lap. “I think I’ve had enough magic for now, thank you very much. And I can’t believe you’ve gone and ruined another perfectly decent set of clothes. Poor Lyle.”

  Lyle pulled a face but didn’t feel the need to tell Ben he was sorry yet again. For better or worse, Ben understood. No secrets wormed betwixt them, not anymore, although they’d one matter they urgently had to talk about.

  Ben had extracted himself and staggered to the kitchen to put the kettle on before Lyle assembled the right words.

  “Uh, Ben,” he said, still draped on the sofa. “About that dragon. I, um, really don’t know why it’s there, but…”

  Ben piled three spoons of sugar into his mug. “But what, love?”

  “It could be just a figment of my imagination, I suppose. I mean, I always liked dragons. Maybe I just made it up, and it represents that part of me that loves you so much he, uh, never wants you out of his sight. That said, I didn’t exactly recognise the dragon, so he’s not a fantasy I’ve ever had before. So… it could be the sign of a bold nature, like the Wise Ma said. Not that I’m feeling particularly bold right now. Or, um… look, before I tell you my final theory, I want to reassure you that I won’t stop you if you really, really want to leave me after this.”

  “Oh dear.” The sofa sagged as Ben sank down next to him. “Let’s stop doing this to each other? One of my greatest fears is you’ll realize how dull and ordinary I am and leave me for somebody more interesting and special. And you… you seem to believe I’ll do the same because you’re so extraordinary. Let’s just call a truce on it, okay?”

  “Very well.”

  Ben slurped his tea and spread an arm along the back of the seat behind Lyle, who remained stiff as a board. “What is it, love? You can tell me.”

  Lyle forced the words out. “When I stabbed the dragon with the sword, it gave me the mother of all headaches, worse than when the albatrosses knocked me out. What if, Ben… What if I am the dragon? What
then?”

  ~~*

  After a disarmingly long and dreamless sleep, Lyle awoke to bright sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. Ben sat up in the bed beside him. A book titled A Numbskull’s Guide to Interview Questions was propped on Ben’s knees.

  “Glad you’re awake,” said Ben. “You’ll be happy to know Mr Bertrand forgave me my unannounced absence yesterday when I pleaded I all but passed-out with a sudden and debilitating migraine. He seemed to be in a better mood this morning than before, thank goodness. I do feel bad, though. Oh, and please will you press my suit and fix my tie? You’re way better at these things than me.”

  Lyle snuggled the duvet up to his chin, slid a fin over to stroke Ben’s thigh, and mumbled a prayer of gratitude to all the Gods and Goddesses. Everything had returned more or less to normal. At least, life had reverted to the new normal of the past few blissful months of living with Ben.

  Yes, Ben had added a shot of whiskey to his cup of tea last night while Lyle explained his theory about being a dragon-shifter, something he hoped was a remote possibility. He’d recalled a legend about an ancient prince, the founder of their family, who harnessed the magic of the elements with an ease unknown before or since. So the story went, the prince, who was called Clewell, sometimes took the form of a dragon. Fortified by the scotch, Ben had calmly processed the information. He’d pointed out that Lyle had passed nearly two-hundred years without any dragon-shifting action, so it didn’t seem likely he’d turn into a fire-breathing beastie anytime soon.

  “I’m going to have to tweak my risk assessment on you, though,” Ben had jested. “I wonder what precautions I ought to take to prevent being ravaged by a dragon.”

  Once Lyle had stopped sulking about the joke, they’d been tempted to have sex anyway. But seeing as they both had lingering headaches, they’d opted for an early-ish night instead. Lyle hoped Ben’s quiet acceptance would last, though he still wasn’t sure he deserved such forgiveness. The uncharted range of his own magic was starting to scare him, and…