Grinvill's Tin

17: The Finfolk

Incarna and his gathering stayed where they were, evidently waiting for something to happen, and meanwhile Erica remained trapped. She was unable to do more than move her head from side to side or wriggle her hands or feet. When she tried to raise her whole leg or arm, her muscles simply wouldn't work. It was excruciating.

Her father! She now knew that her father had been taken by the Finfolk. Hope and despair clashed. He was alive! Alive, but a prisoner of the Finfolk.

As well as despair, she felt a great hatred growing inside her for the goblins. They had done nothing but trick her and her brother. They had lured them to the island with a stupid story of how she and Hamish would somehow be Lorna's saviours... Somehow they would stop the curse that Lorna was under. But now she saw that the Stone was not important. The Stone was a trick. It would save no-one.

Not only that, but the 'wonderful' tin which Grinvill had given them had been no help at all. Sure, it had revealed some visions, but what good were those? Worse, it had sucked her into itself and left her trapped, powerless in this forsaken cave in the cliff face. She was all alone and unable to move.

More terrifying still, she knew that when she was found - as she surely would be - she would be forced to marry that abhorrence she had seen earlier: Incarna's grey, emaciated and soulless son. And to think that Hamish - her brother! - would end up with a bride who looked as if she'd spent her life growing up in a rotting seaweed grave.

These thoughts swelled inside Erica's head, each idea sprouting a further bitter one. While she was thus tormented, writhing with frustration and anger, the moon silently appeared. The clouds which had been obscuring it drifted away, and the gloomy darkness evaporated. It was round, just as it had been at home and in her dream, and it hung over the calm sea. Nothing moved.

But after a while, the monstrous whale slowly rose up again, and this time Erica was able to witness everything perfectly. The milky light from the moon pooled on its shining skin and, as she stared, an inky tangle of Finfolk spilled out from its belly.

All were clothed in grey, ragged clothes, and all had long, black hair, dangling down in rats tails, plastered to their necks and backs. Their faces were narrow and drained of any sort of colour; their lips were thin and their teeth small, black and pointed. As they slipped out of the whale, they looked like ribbons of dark oil leaking from the creature's body into the sea.

Just as Erica thought the last of the Finfolk had reached the shore, a final two emerged from the water. They were dragging a limp figure. Yet whether the creature was exhausted or dead, was impossible to tell. Erica stared. It was hard to see from this distance any of its features, but it seemed to be human.

At this point, Incarna rose, and strode down to look at the prostrate figure. His son and daughter didn't move. They stayed just as they were, chillingly still. Just behind Incarna, came Colleen Withy, still in her seaweed wedding gown. She half-walked, half-ran, trying to keep up with Incarna, but Incarna didn't slow his pace down one jot.

* * *

What Erica now saw made her heart drum loud and fast. There, running into the middle of the gathering, was her brother. Where had he come from? She could only guess that the tin had sucked him in, just as it had her. But, unlike her, he was far from trapped: he was running helter-skelter, joyously, into the middle of the Finfolk. His face was elated, his hands were thrown into the air in open greeting. Then he fell down to his knees in awe.

Erica heard Incarna's harsh voice instruct him to get up. Hamish did not hesitate. He rose to his feet and bowed his head respectfully. He then turned to greet the Finfolk. He appeared not to see their awful greyness. Instead he smiled at them, gently, as if they were delicate, sweet creatures, not the ghouls they actually were.

Next, Incarna ordered Hamish to assist the other Finfolk in carrying the wasted figure up to the rocks and to place him in front of the three thrones with their flaming torches. The flickering light danced in a macabre way over the emaciated creature, but Erica now clearly identify it: the spent man was their father. He was naked except for a ragged sheet which was tied around his waist. It clung, wetly, to his stick thin legs. His skin - just like the figure in her dream - was bleached white. Erica shuddered at how she was living through her nightmare: his eyes were closed, but she knew that when he opened them he would be sure to be blind...

Hamish, however, saw none of this horror. Instead, he spoke to his dad in an ecstatic voice, urging him to stand up. Erica's vision blurred: it was obvious that without help her father would not survive much longer.

Incarna had followed her father as he was transported to the rocks and he was now illuminated in the wavering circle of light. Erica saw him peer down at her father. Then she saw him lift his head and turn away from the scene. She saw him gaze out to the cliff face and into the hollow where she stood. And then she saw him smile.