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Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. Acknowledgements ♦ Diolchiadau
  50. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

He finished shaving, dabbed the cut with a little aftershave. Felt it sting. He looked better now. His head clearing. He thought once more about the girl, and her cottage, the dark fireplace and the books and the compass on a chain, lying on the small table. And then he stopped, froze. Every muscle in his body tense. Without pulling on a shirt, he ran in his vest towards the barracks offices, swearing under his breath as he went. He barged into the building but was stopped by a guard. He tried to push past him and when he was pushed back, he looked at him in confusion. He wasn’t an acting officer now. He had no access. The Lieutenant Colonel started shouting at him, and more soldiers arrived. It was only when the Captain appeared that he started shouting about the compass, about how he knew that Prisoner B was alive and that he was at the cottage by the cove. The Captain looked at the two men holding the Lieutenant Colonel back, and nodded at them to take him to the guardroom so that he could calm down. The Lieutenant Colonel started swearing. Fighting. They didn’t know what they were talking about. The Captain watched him being dragged away. His arms flailing, blood on his face, the smell of whiskey on his breath.

38

Axis ♦ Mihwar ♦ Echel

THE PERIGEAN TIDE CAME only three or four times a year. The moon would leave its apogee and bow to take a closer look at Earth. When this coincided with a spring tide, the cove would be at its fullest. On these windless nights, the water was black, deep, still. The perigean tide was glass-like, its surface reflective so that you could see its constellations on the water.

Hamza had waited for Nefyn to come home, and when she had, he had held her and cried. She had wiped his tears, waited for them to subside, his sorrow seeping into her. Then, she had led him, her clothes still soaking, to the cove, the walk down much shorter than usual as the waterline rose to the door of the boatshed. The boatshed door was now gaping, empty, the vessel waiting on the smooth water in the bay.

She had taken off her cardigan, yanked it from her shoulders, pulled at his jumper, and led him to the water. It felt strange. Not cold. Not warm. It was the temperature of blood, almost impalpable. Like light. It was like swimming in air. He froze as the water threatened to engulf him and she could sense his hesitancy. He had not been in the sea since that night. The Doctor’s face disappearing into the darkness. The sound of metal bending, glass shattering. He could almost feel the violence of that night in the water, but Nefyn kissed his hand softly and pulled him into the darkness.