Water (16 page)

Taika stalking towards me, pressing my throat closed, whispering in my ear, strange and disturbing images and emotions, her words juddered around me, sometimes excruciatingly loud, sometimes so soft I had to strain to hear them.

The words “great”, “terrible” and “destiny” reverberated around me as the last memory, the one that stood out more than all the rest, came into focus. It was an image of Merrick’s face, contorted in terrible pain, and the blood-chilling moan that escaped his ruined mouth, just before the mist encased the vision.

I gasped, pushing myself away from him, tripping on the root of a tree, and landing hard on my knees.

“Alexandra, what is it?” he asked, his voice anxious.

“Taika,” I whispered, my hand automatically going to the painful bump on my neck.

His eyes widened as the colour drained from his cheeks.

“How did you remember her?” he asked, his voice strained.

“You’re afraid for me,” I mumbled, staring at the stark terror on his face. “You weren’t there,” I remembered, as I’d searched desperately for his hand.

He snatched my hand from where it was resting at my throat and cradled it in both of his. I looked up at him. “You let go of my hand.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Taika is very powerful.”

“What did she do to me?” I asked, feeling bewildered and afraid.

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Alexandra. What do you remember?”

I explained the hazy images that skipped tantalisingly close to full memories, but always seemed just out of reach.

He led me back to the rock I’d been sitting on earlier and sat beside me, tucking me into his side, his arm clamped around my shivering shoulders, as I told him what I could remember. A hiss rolled from him when I told him of her bony fingers closing my throat. I finished with the last memory I had – the pain shooting up my neck.

He shuddered and asked if he could check my neck. I nodded, feeling self-conscious, but allowed him to gently push my hair aside as his fingers lightly brushed over the base of my neck. I flinched, preparing for the heated pain that had rushed into my skull that morning. To my surprise his fingers against my skin, although slightly rough, didn’t hurt at all.

“Can you see anything?” I asked.

“There is the tiniest black dot over here,” he replied, pressing lightly with the tip of his finger.

The pain I’d been expecting exploded down the side of my neck and the corners of my vision blurred.

“Alexandra, look at me, Alexandra!” I heard him calling from a long way off.

My vision cleared to a very worried-looking Merrick as he smoothed my hair out of my eyes and apologised repeatedly.

“What did she do to me, Merrick?” I asked weakly.

“Taika is the only Oceanid I’ve ever met who is able to utilise the gifts of the other Oceanids around her,” he replied. “From what I can work out, she can only gain access to these powers through drinking spinal fluid, although they only last for as long as it’s in her system.”

I shuddered, bile fighting its way up my throat at the thought. “That is disgusting,” I said, gagging a little. He swept his long silky hair away from his neck where he’d tied it away from his face and gingerly showed me a similar tiny mark on his neck.

“She’s done this to you too?” I asked, amazed.

He nodded, “Yes, every night I think…” His expression was confused, as if he were trying to remember.

“Then if you know about it, why were you so surprised that I remembered?” I asked.

“Well, she gathered my power once before Viorel joined us.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, trying to work out what he was talking about.

“Viorel is able to make people forget particular memories.” He smiled apologetically.

“He’ll be working on my mother.” It was a statement not a question.

He nodded, looking pained. “Along with Aerowen, the woman charged with directing Luke’s thoughts, and Indra the woman with Josh- they are the Russalka to fill in the gaps, yes,” he replied quietly. “Since he joined and Taika sampled his power, very few of us remember exactly what happens after dinner.”

“Then why was everyone so excited to see her last night?”

He cocked his head to the side looking bemused. “Didn’t you have a wonderful feeling of excitement and lightness and joy?”

I shook my head vehemently. “The opposite in fact, I was terrified of her.”

He frowned again, nodding. “I guess that makes sense, you of all of us would probably be able to resist her the most.”

“Because I’m so powerful?” I asked him, scepticism jading my tone.

He grinned and nodded. “Think about what Undine told us, she could barely keep a grip of the dreams she tried to use with you before your mind snatched them away, and that was when you were sleeping. I doubt your mind would let Taika access or plant anything in your subconscious when you’re awake.”

He was probably right. I didn’t like other people trying to tell me what to think, even if I did tend to pander to them to keep the peace.

“I suspect that she is gathering memories, motives, and future plans from the Oceanids in the pod.” He shook his head and muttered in a language I couldn’t understand.

“Hang on,” I interrupted him, “what do you mean memories, motives and future plans?”

“Oh, er, Taika has obviously sampled all the powers she needs from various people in the pod.” He stood and began pacing, in a dusty circle in front of the rock we’d been sitting on.

“What did she take from me then?” I asked.

“Well, your ability to conduct talents is pretty amazing… Although I’m not too sure what she would want to do with that because it takes at least three Oceanids to be a part of the transaction.”

“Does the story of the Gurrer say anything about what my talents should be?”

He rattled off a lilting phrase in his language before hesitantly translating it for me.

“‘Two halves in one.’ No, that doesn’t really capture the meaning, it’s more like one half enemy and one half Oceanid, and then it talks of you being a–” he struggled to find the right words “– like a tipping point or a link that makes things happen.” He winced as he tried to figure out what the right word was.

“Catalyst?” I asked, and he nodded, grinning. “Yes, that is exactly the right word. Then it talks about either peace or war.”

“You mean it’s not clear on which one?”

He nodded seriously. “Yes, that is one of the biggest problems, it can be read either way. We favour a peaceful resolution but many of the others believe the prophesy favours war. They believe that you will be the ingredient to give them victory.”

I gulped at the idea of leading a war against my friends and family, shaking my head.

“And then it finishes with ‘One woman to unite them all’.”

“And you really believe that is me?” I asked, still doubtful.

He smiled. “I do, Alexandra, but it doesn’t matter what I believe, you will only be what you believe you are.”

“So Taika.” I changed the topic back to the current problem. “She’s more convinced of the war strategy isn’t she?” He nodded. “And she isn’t one of my fans is she?” I asked glumly.

He shook his head. “No she isn’t, and that is what worries me so much, because she must be trying to replicate what you do for some reason.”

Silence oozed around us as Merrick tried to figure out what Taika was up to.

Trickles of thought spilled into the knowledge I’d been plunged into since joining the pod, was it only yesterday? These people were in desperate trouble, that much was clear. Desperation was not a good breeding ground for logical, well planned action. The flavour of war was already on some of the tongues, but I didn’t see how a weakened race would win a war against so many humans, even with their incredible talents unless…

“Do you think that my ability to connect Oceanid talents runs across more than just two Oceanids?” I voiced the musing that was leading me to some uncomfortable conclusions.

Merrick shrugged, still deep in thought. “It might… why?”

“Well, if there was a group of Oceanids with powerful, aggressive talents, what would happen if they could share with each other?”

Merrick went very still beside me as he processed the idea.

“They would become the ultimate offensive weapon,” he whispered, the blood draining from his face.

“I thought they might.” I replied glumly. It seemed that my ability to be the “magician’s rabbit” might be a whole lot more dangerous than we’d thought at first.

“What do we do now?” I asked him, wondering if my life on the surface of the earth would come to an abrupt end as the Oceanids tried to hide me from their more warlike comrades.

“I think,” he replied, “that your ability to connect us is perhaps a co-incidental talent.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, apart from the piece of the prophesy I just translated for you, there is the idea that you are the convergence of genes from many generations of Oceanids.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I think you might have talents all of your own.”

“Oh.”

He grinned. “Shall we try to find out if I’m right?”

“I guess we’d better.” I smiled back, relieved.

He pulled me to my feet, left the path and started an almost vertical descent towards the valley floor, stopping himself from falling by grabbing onto tree trunks and branches as he half ran, half fell past them.

I was far less elegant in my decent than he was, sitting down and slithering over the soft leaf-covered surface on my bottom.

When we reached the valley floor light filtered greenly through the leaves. The rocks and fallen tree trunks that littered the ground where covered with moss and lichen. Ferns growing in every conceivable nook and cranny made walking quickly almost impossible.

I had my eyes constantly glued to the ground, trying not to twist my ankle. After about fifteen minutes of impossible staggering about, I stopped to catch my breath in time to see Merrick leap onto an ancient fallen tree trunk, his hair flying out behind him and his muscles bunching as he absorbed the impact of his landing on the balls of his feet.

It was moments like these when, in the middle of some uninteresting task, like trying to navigate a rock- and fern-filled valley bed, and he would do something so inhumanly elegant, his beauty would catch me by surprise leaving me a little breathless.

I managed to close my mouth before he looked at me, his eyebrows raised, his expression a little impatient.

“What’s taking you so long?” he asked.

“Well, it’s a little tricky to walk here.”

He crouched down and offered me his hand. Before I could steady myself he’d hauled me up onto the tree trunk by my arms and placed my feet firmly on the half rotten wood, indicating that I should sit, cross-legged, in front of him.

I shuffled along the tree trunk until I had found a spot where the bark had been eaten away revealing the smooth, grained wood beneath. He sighed and moved to sit opposite me, settling himself on the rotting bark, before closing his eyes and beginning a series of deep breaths.

When it became clear that he was going to be doing the deep breathing thing for a while, I gazed around me, fascinated by the colours and exquisite delicacy of the valley. Mushrooms had sprouted fragile, almost transparent umbrellas from the tree trunk we were sitting on, as a myriad of insects bustled beneath the bark, busily collecting the nutrients the dead tree offered.

The forest that grew up the sides of the valley tangled overhead and filtered the summer sunshine to a cool green that denied the growth of any other plants, leaving the ground sandy and barren beneath them. Only the ferns had managed to make much growth progress.

I gradually became aware that something had changed in the sounds that had enveloped my peaceful observations of the valley. I turned to Merrick and gulped at the frustration that danced in his eyes.

“Sorry,” I muttered before he could accuse me.

“For what?” he asked quietly.

“Not concentrating,” I mumbled, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the fingers I’d tangled in my lap.

He was quiet for a long time, so I eventually peeked out at him from beneath my eyelashes.

His eyes were closed, his face completely serene. I studied every facet of his face, from his perfectly arched eyebrows to the dip in the hollow of his throat. The more I studied him, and the longer I spent with him, the more familiar he became, as if I’d known him my whole life, and only just met him now. I really wanted to please him, to help him help me, so I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, straightening my spine.

My eyes snapped open a split second before he collided with me, knocking me off the tree trunk so that I sprawled onto the moss and pebble-covered ground, the air whooshing out of my lungs and leaving me gasping like a fish out of water.

He stood over me, offering his hand to help me up.

“What was that!” I rasped when I could eventually breathe again.

“I was trying to test your reflexes to attack,” he said, looking a little sheepish.

Rubbing the small of my back, I glared at him. “That hurt!”

“Sorry,” he replied, clambering back on the tree trunk and reassuming his cross-legged position.

I gingerly climbed back too, watching him warily.

“Well?” I asked, still infuriated by the attack. “Did you figure anything out by doing that?”

He shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“No, you most definitely do not have an advantage of mind-reading, or protective instincts.”

He reassumed his statue-like state, the only difference being the slight smile that lifted the corners of his mouth.

“You could have just asked me,” I muttered, “I could have told you that. You didn’t have to attack me.”

We sat like that for ages, the silence of the forest punctuated by the occasional bird call and tiny rustling of insects.

My mind flitted from thought to thought, pausing occasionally on the incredible things I’d seen and experiences I’d had over the past two days, settling on a comment Merrick had made earlier.

Was it possible that what I believed about myself was the only thing holding me back from being the almost mythical leader they all expected me to be? Could it be that simple? I turned the idea over and over in my mind trying to find a way to relate to it, and struggling to imagine myself leading a whole nation in either peace or war.

Eventually, as I often did, I simplified the idea back to something I was familiar with, my pastime of running. It had become my refuge when water had become my enemy. It had been the place I’d allowed myself to remember my wonderful half-brother in happier times. I’d run almost every day, desperately trying to hold onto the sound of Brent’s voice, the exact colour of his eyes, what he would have thought about the people I’d met during the day, of the latest news.

Initially the running had been my effective form of therapy only, but as I got fitter and fitter the sports teams at school had taken notice.

My very first inter-house athletics race had been fascinating because I’d thought I didn’t have a chance at beating the other girls. And then I’d simply relaxed into my running rhythm and beaten all of them by half a lap. Once I knew I could do it, beating them had been fun – my own personal revenge for the snide comments that had made my high school career so miserable to start with.

Thinking about it philosophically, Merrick’s principle had been proven with my running. I believed, now, that I could win pretty much any race I set my mind to, and I did, quickly gaining national colours for long-distance running.

The difference, though, was that I’d believed I could do it after I’d done it. Merrick wanted me to believe I could perform superhuman feats before I’d seen evidence of it.

I shoved at the self-doubt nibbling at the spark of hope that flared when I imagined being able to do something truly awesome, choosing to focus instead on the mental image of a single snowflake appearing in my hand. My palm tingled ever so slightly, the skin growing just a little bit colder.

Despite being so focused on what I was hoping was happening in my hand, I felt the faintest glimmer of forewarning before he crashed into me again, rolling as he did so, so that I landed on top of him instead of on the ground.

“Feel anything?” he asked, his arms still wrapped around me tightly as he grinned, a flicker of the fire I’d seen the evening before glinting in his eyes.

“Ummm,” I thought, “maybe a very tiny flicker?”

I disentangled myself from him awkwardly, standing aside and inspecting my palms as he sprang lightly to his feet. There was nothing there and my skin felt normal again.

He grinned. “Good, that’s all we need, just a little flicker. I’ve been thinking, though, maybe we should start with my gifting. I’m more familiar with it and will be able to tell better if you’ve got an affinity for it.”

He climbed back onto the tree trunk. I followed, going to sit opposite him again. He shook his head and motioned for me to go to his end of the log, indicating I should sit with my back to him. Once I was settled, he shuffled in closer to me, dangling his legs over the side of the trunk on each side of me, and leaning forwards slightly so that I was almost touching him.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, his breath blowing strands of hair across my face.

I obeyed, my stomach rippling with a strange excitement.

“Now I want you to focus on just listening.” I nodded a little, blocking out all other senses and concentrating.

At first I could hear the background noises better, the call of the birds, the rustle of the lizards and insects as they moved over stones. It was nothing special though, nothing out of the ordinary.

I opened my eyes and twisted round a bit so that I could see his face.

“I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.”

He shook his head and smiled at me. “You are in such a hurry, be patient with yourself.”

He placed his hands on either side of my head and turned me around again.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, his voice hushed as he spoke in my ear.

I tried again, focusing on sound and sound alone.

“Now breathe in, and as you do so, listen to the sound of the air moving into your lungs.”

I breathed in, concentrating on the sound, finding strangely that it had a silvery feeling to it. As I concentrated on that single sound, all the others faded out around me. With each breath I could hear the air moving towards me, and then moving away from me again.

The sound intensified each time, and I felt as if I was listening to something very far away, like a whispered conversation in another room, where you’re sure you heard something but can’t quite work out what it is.

Merrick rested his hand lightly on my shoulder, and my eyes sprang open in shock, every muscle in my body locking down.

“What is it?” he asked, alarmed, leaping lightly to his feet and crouching over me protectively.

I shook my head. “I don’t know, I just heard…” I struggled to articulate what I’d heard in that split second. It must have been, although I was sure it couldn’t have been, my heart beating. But not just the lub dub noise I’d heard before, this had been the blood moving in a thick liquidy type of noise between each ventricle.

It wasn’t just that either, I’d heard the air moving in and out of his lungs, the beating of his heart, and all of it had been overlaid by a cacophony of sounds – scratching and twittering, and burying and little animal snorts – all of it vying for my attention at once.

I looked at Merrick, bewildered. “There was so much.” I told him about each sound.

“That’s amazing!” he congratulated me, before pulling me into his chest and squeezing me enthusiastically, and then quickly settling opposite me again.

“Let’s try again,” he enthused, watching as I breathed slowly, eagerly this time, anticipating the amazing experience of really hearing for the first time.

Half an hour later, nothing had happened.

“Let’s try sight,” he suggested, a puzzled expression on his face. “Start by focusing on the tree trunk,” he suggested, pointing at a space just in front of me.

I did, working to block out all other senses and just stare at the tree trunk, breathing evenly as I did so.

I began to see different shades in the brown: a warm nutty colour where the wood was exposed to the light, equally balanced with a dark, almost black brown in the furrows that made up the patterns on the rough bark. Again the more I stared the closer it felt I came to seeing just beyond what normal human eye would see.

Another half an hour of staring at the wood, without any development, had me frowning in frustration.

“Anything?” Merrick asked eventually.

I shook my head. “Nothing specifically interesting,” I told him, glaring at the piece of bark, “I feel as though there’s like a veil in front of my eyes, like I know there’s more, but I just can’t see it.”

He smiled and stretched.

“Let’s try another one.”

The same thing happened with touch. While I became more aware of the pressure and texture of things on my skin, it was in no way superhuman.

Scent was no better, with only the faintest waft of apple and mint to note as anything different than normal.

Taste was the only one we made any progress on, but it too was fleeting. Merrick had come to straddle the tree behind me again, and had rested his hands on my shoulders. They were broad enough that his fingers spanned out across my collar bones. I was trying very, very hard to concentrate on the flavour in my mouth as I breathed, but was struggling to disengage the sensation of heat where his hands touched my skin. I closed my eyes and breathed in, and suddenly my mouth was filled with the freshest most delicious flavour I’d ever tasted.

My eyes sprang open as I clamped my mouth shut over the air that held the flavour, twisting toward Merrick and pointing excitedly at my mouth. He leapt off the tree and darted to stand in front of me. But the flavour dissipated almost instantly leaving me with nothing but the sweetest aftertaste, a faint reminder on the back of my tongue of something delicious that had once been there.

I sighed and shook my head, watching as disappointment clouded his features momentarily.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, fed up and frustrated. I hated disappointing him, but more than that I knew that I’d almost experienced something amazing. It was like the excitement of going to the fair, only to find that it was a science fair, with no candy floss, no popcorn and no Ferris wheel.

“Let’s try something different,” he said, leaping off the log and leading me back up the side of the valley.