Bryn Myrddin

"You liked it that much?" even the sound of her gentle teasing felt like sunshine after a summer storm, "It's okay Tay, really. You don't have to choke me,"
"Sorry,"
But he didn't let go.
Rhiannon Lougher could only smile, maybe a little indulgently – she knew how well she was remembered. Comfortable, her arms wrapped her best-friend into a hug. It'd been a long time.
"God's blood, I don't know where they get these musicians from Rhee, they're pitiful! Why I let you talk me into –" the heavily-accented Irish voice cut itself off. Taylor hardly noticed, his face buried as it was in his best-friend's long hair, remembering, "What's all this then?"
"This is Taylor. Tay," gently, she eased him away, "This is Turlough O'Carolan," the name meant nothing to him, but something in Rhee's dark eyes told him it should have, "The harpist?" nope, didn't ring a bell.
"Uh . . . hi,"
"Hello lad," whoever this harpist was, he looked like he'd just stepped off an 18th century farm; grey homespun trousers, an off-white homespun shirt, old boots and a heavy-looking salt-and-pepper coat. There were only two things that really stood out on this otherwise unremarkable man; his slightly tangled mass of bright chestnut hair, and a slightly . . . mischievous look in his wine-coloured eyes. Eyes that looked him up and down, then slid over to his best-friend,
"He doesn't have a clue Rhee. God in Heaven knows where you found him," the words were stinging, but the smile Taylor saw was charming. He didn't know whether to take it as an insult or a backward compliment.
"As it happens I didn't find him, he found me," she turned her back on the harpist, who didn't seem to mind at all, "Turlough's was Ireland's last bard. He spent most of his life wandering 'round the place with a harp on his back, playing for his food and a place to sleep,"
"And the fact that I happened to be the best harpist in Ireland had nothing to do with it I suppose?"
"Nothing at all, quit interrupting. Poor Tay's confused enough as it is," just like always, she knew what was running through his mind – which right now was something along the lines of 'if I just walk away quietly they'll never know I can find someplace quiet ON MY OWN and try to get a handle on –'
"Tay?"
"Wha–? Sorry?" she just grinned.
"You wanna get outta here?"
"Please?" he tried to make it sound polite, for this Turlough's sake, but his blue eyes were pleading.
"Fancy a drink O'Carolan?"
"What kind of question's that, lass?"
"Go shout Paul one, you guys can finish off without me,"
"Take as long as you like!" the grin had turned as michievous as the eyes. Somebody had a weakness for whiskey, and that someone had long, oval fingernails, cut just perfect for plucking brass harp strings.

~ * ~

Rhee hadn't changed a bit. Of course she'd grown older, but for some reason he'd expected that anyway. (Did the dead grow old just like everyone else?) Her ebony dark hair fell around the small of her back, her eyes, darker still, shimmered with the same strange light he'd seen on the Road.
"Are you an angel?"
"Do you want me to be?"

Years he'd had to think about it, and he was still no closer to making up his mind.
Grasping a pen loosely in one hand, and a clipboard firmly in the other, she'd strolled casually up the pale crystal stairs and through the membraneous elevator door without a hint of anxiety. God, how long had she been here to manage that?! There'd only been one look really, and that had been one of almost pity thrown in Jordan's general direction. Taylor had to wonder if his poor reflection was completely stable, first contempt, then unwarranted hilarity and now his mirror image sat spralled across the polished stone, gazing all around with childish wonder. Anyone'd think he'd never even seen the place before.
"Was he much of a substitute?" he asked her as she pressed her thumb to the metallic plate, and the pale green crystal panel slid quietly into place.
"Who?"
"Jordan," she just managed to hold back a scoffed chuckle.
"I'm not even going to answer that. You spent ten minutes with him, in a good mood, you should be able to answer that one yourself,"
It was strange, seeing her again after all this time. He had so much to say to her, so much had happened, and he didn't have the faintest idea where to start. If it was any consolation, Rhee looked just that little bit awkward as well. Her fingers toyed with the pen, tied clumsily to the end of the clipboard, as if she wasn't all that sure what to do with them.
"Rhee?"
"Tay?" did all best-friends ask questions at the same time? Or was it just them?
"You first,"
"How come I always have to go first?"
"Because you know you want to Tay, and I have more patience," the innocently guilty smile she sent at him warmed his heart. How could he possibly feel awkward? This was his best-friend, the girl who knew him so well, who he missed sometimes more than he cared to admit.
"Do you wanna try and explain this whole thing to me?" the elevator panel opening distracted them both, but something told him Rhee's hastily suppressed smirk was not a good sign.
"Unfortunately, it's not quite that easy –"
The gwydraus recognised their newly-crowned idol, despite his pathetic attempt to try and hide behind his best-friend. She was tall, but then so was he. The lack of screams was a relief in itself, but the giggles and whispering were another thing entirely. God knew there were enough crazed human fans that lusted after him, he didn't need animate walls as well. If Zac had been here, he probably would have been doubled-over with laughter right about now; he always got a kick out of his older brothers' embarrassments. Rhee was having trouble keeping her own amusement under wraps, but at least she was sympathetic. A little.
"I'd recommend keeping to the middle of the corridor, they can't reach that far," letting loose a few giggles of her own, Rhee led the way back towards the mirror and the heart of Bryn Myrddin.
Explanations would have to wait.

~ * ~

Passing through the mirror twice in such a short time, fighting through the waterfall sensations, should have drained him, mentally just as much as physically. Would have too, if Rhee wasn't with him this time round. Still as she pulled him out into the blindingly yellow corridor, he had trouble fighting off a bout of dizziness. Bryn Myrddin was nothing if not a constant assault on the senses.
"You right?" a concerned hand rested on his shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,"
"Sure?"
"I'm sure," sure as he was, Rhee didn't want to let him go. This was only the beginning, she couldn't let him fall just yet. "Rhee, would you mind filling me in on what's going on?"
'I don't know how much more of this I can take'
"How much has Taliesin told you?"
"The only thing I know about this place is that clocks are useless and the sun's been made redundant,"
"So it should be considering we're underground," she evidently didn't see his widening eyes, "Have you met anyone else besides Jordan and Turlough?"
"I ran into Van Gogh behind one of these doors, and some weird voice,"
"Weird voice? Not Taliesin?" her expression was perfectly controlled, but he knew his best-friend. The mention of a 'weird voice' had sparked something in her coal-dark eyes, maybe surprise, maybe the slightest hint of fear. Maybe not.
"No, Taliesin talks inside my head. This one sounds like it's coming from all round, speaking through the walls and the floor and . . . just. . . ."
"Everywhere," her expression was halfway between anxiety and elation.
"Yeah," for a few seconds, she was silent, thinking. It was only when she took him by the arm, urged him to follow as she turned down the corridor, that he saw her rigid determination. He'd been wrong, she had changed. She'd lost that air of distance, the untouchability that had slowly taken hold of her after Polanski – may the bastard rest in torment – had destroyed her with electroshock 'therapy'. Even the angel (did he really want her to be an angel, wearing a halo beyond that pulsing circle of light, forever out of reach?) he'd sat with on the Road had been slightly beyond him. But the Rhee walking beside him, this was the girl Liz had first introduced him to. A little older, probably a lot wiser, but still the same girl he'd played checkers and Scrabble and Monopoly with all winter in front of her fireplace when they'd both been only twelve years old.
For the first time in two days, a genuine smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His Rhee was back.

~ * ~

"I don't have the faintest idea how I got here, I just remember falling and something stopped me before I went splat," hearing Rhee chuckle in warm earnest was reassuring.
"You can thank Taliesin for that. He loves melodramatics,"
"Melodramatics? It scared the hell out of me!"
"Did you see your life flash before your eyes?"
"If it did, I wasn't looking," it felt good, joking around with her again, "Anyway, how did you get here?"
"It's hardly as interesting as your brush with psychokinesis,"
"So?" a playful pout graced her lips.
"I came in through the Back Door,"
"Which is?"
"Right here,"
"Any mirrors?"
"Thankfully no. I don't like them any more than you do,"
This door was blue. Taylor couldn't help wondering if there was a point behind the colour code doors, or if the High Merlin in his days as a novice had just gotten bored and painted them for the fun of it. Of course, ninety-six hours weren't even half up yet, so there was no point in asking the man himself. If he even was a man. Rhee had mentioned something about plants and dirt and water being capable of conscious thought, just as capable, if not more so, than animals and humans. God forbid the High Merlin turn out to be a rock!
"We going in?"
"Just a second," what was she doing? "Rotten thing," it sounded like tinkering with the doorknob.
"Need a hand,"
"No. . . ." now she was concentrating on the clipboard in her hand, flicking through pages.
"We're in sector 27, floor 5 . . . door B019, aka 'Back Door' . . . sticking doorknob. . . ." the pen dropped from her fingers, jerking a few times on its length of cotton string. A few more seconds of fiddling was enough to get the stubborn doorknob to cooperate.
Just pushing open the door was enough to let loose the wave of heat that washed over both of them. Taylor nearly choked on it, Rhee didn't seem affected at all.
"Don't worry, it's not that far,"
Why did it come as no real surprise that this Back Door was inside an Egyptian pyramid? The sand was burning hot, he could feet it even through his shoes, but Rhee, bare feet and all, just walked over to the enormous triangular structure, no sign of any discomfort on her face.
Did he have any choice in following? If anything, inside that pyramid would have to be cooler than what it was outside.
The darkness meant he could barely make out the bas reliefs carved into the smooth limestone walls. Darkness? This was Bryn Myrddin.
"Can I get some light in here please?" obediant wooden torches burst into flame, held in metal braces at various intervals along the wall. Rhee didn't say anything, simply smiled and beckoned him over to where she was standing, in front of a lifesize carving on the furthest wall. A warrior stood over what looked like a foreign prisoner kneeling before him, holding the captive's hair, poised to brain him with a mace.
"Ramses? Can a girl get some help down here?"
Before Taylor's only half-disbelieving eyes, the carving began to move. . . .

* * * *

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