Part 5 (1/2)

With night you sink on the perilous sea But arise from the waves' bower Leaping from harm and darkness free As a young queen in flower.”

And in a moment of dizzy triumph I thought, I have followed the sun, the young queen. I have recalled my step from Avernus. And then, close behind the triumph came the pain. My mother was trying to kill me. As vividly as if I relived it I saw her fury when I threw the knife at Connall-poor Connall!-and saw the Darkness leaping from the shadows behind her.

I shuddered. I could not return to Dun Fionn. I pressed my hands together until it hurt, trying not to realize what that meant. I would never ride into those light walls again, nor listen to old Orlamh's drily courteous explanations of metre and genealogies, or Diuran's coa.r.s.e jokes. In one blow I had separated myself from my kinsmen and home for ever. Even if somehow, in some later time, I returned, I would never regain what I had just lost. I had lost the world of warriors before, and now had lost the other world I had desired, and if I were free, it was with the freedom of the outcast; clanless, nameless, placeless. I could not return to Don Fionn-and for that matter, why ever was I safe at Llyn Gwalch?

Perhaps, I thought, distracted from the pain by surprise, perhaps there is some force here that thwarts the Queen.

I remembered Arthur.

Certainly my mother would have destroyed him long before, if she had been able to. She hated him enough. But she was unable to, because of his new G.o.ds and his counter-spell that she didn't understand.

I reminded myself sternly that Arthur had defeated my father, and that he kept my brother as his hostage. He ought to be my sworn enemy. And I reminded myself of the constant wars which racked Britain, and the invasions. But the sternness was no use. I began to think of all the places which I had heard of: Camlann with its triple banks, new heart of Britain; Caer Ebrauc, a great city, ma.s.sively walled, Sorviodunum, Caer Gwent, Caer Legion, splendid fortresses. Monasteries filled with books and learning, great roads from one end of the island to the other, triumphal arches tall as trees, mosaics in the courtyards of rich villas, fountains and statues, theaters and arenas, things I had read of but never seen. Britain, the last remnant of the Empire of the Romans-except for the east; but Constantinople was further away than the Otherworld and more unreachable. Britain, surrounded by men who desired her, unconquered in the midst of defeat. There, in that fabulous land, the High King Arthur Augustus had raised the dragon standard, and he was protected by a magic Morgawse could not overcome. And I remembered that, although by his acts I might be counted his enemy, by blood he was my uncle, and that might win me a place. I was no warrior to join his warband, but there might be something I could do if I joined him.

Yes. I would try to journey to Camlann, or to the High King Arthur where he was, and I would offer him my service.

This decided, I stared out to sea again and wondered how to go about it.

For some reason, Llyn Gwalch was safe, if only for a little while. But Morgawse had raised the Darkness against me, and I knew that if I climbed back up the cliff I would be destroyed long before I could reach the port in the east of the island. And even if I did reach the port, what would I do for a boat? If I stole a small boat, how could I, a fairly inexperienced sailor, hope to travel the treacherous northern waters to Pictland with the winter coming on? And I had nothing to pay for pa.s.sage on a larger vessel.

For a moment I thought of going to my father with the story, but dismissed the idea at once. Morgawse would not possibly allow me to tell my father that she had accomplished the death of one of his warriors. I wondered what she would tell him as it was. That I had killed Connall? Probably not. That would require too much explaining. No, she would pretend to know nothing of either Connall's disappearance or mine, and find some way to dispose of Connall's body. My horse would return to the stable riderless, or perhaps be found wandering about the cliff, and my clan would conclude that I had gone mad, and ridden along the cliffs on Samhain. And Medraut-he might weep. I felt sick again. Poor Medraut. If only I could have...or have understood. But it was too late. Perhaps it had been too late for a long time. It was best that he thought me dead. If he knew that I was alive, he would hate me.

I stared at the sea and pondered all these things, twisting them about in my mind and running off on tangents. But the answer-or rather, the absence of an answer-remained the same. I was trapped at Llyn Gwalch.

By noon I felt quite hungry, though stronger than I had been when I woke. I looked hopefully in the pool for fish and found none. There were some oysters clinging to the rocks along the cliff-foot, though, and plenty of sea-birds nesting in the face of the cliff, if it came to that. I stripped and swam out, then along the foot of the cliff, collecting oysters in my tunic. I had a good amount when I felt a sudden chill, colder than the water. I looked up. The sun shone on the cliff-face, hazed by a light mist. Half-way down the cliff lay a patch of shadow. I looked upwards, then looked at the shadow again, and realized that there was nothing on the cliff to cast it. Hurriedly, I turned and swam back to the beach, and the cold became merely the usual cold of the north sea in November. So. The creature Morgawse had summoned was waiting for me.

I laid my tunic in the sun, wrapped myself in my cloak, s.h.i.+vering, and ate the oysters. They tasted very good, but I knew that they would not support me for ever. I could not stay at Llyn Gwalch: I could not leave it.

Well, sooner or later I must leave, but I would rest first. I looked up at the sun. It was already dropping towards the horizon, and the mist was thickening imperceptibly. Winter was coming on, and the days were shortening. I dropped my eyes to the beach, the clear stream running out into the ocean over the wave-smoothed stones, the seaweed and driftwood. I smiled, and decided to make a toy boat.

I had not forgotten how. The curragh I made from driftwood and seaweed floated perfectly on the pond. It was a pity I couldn't build one large enough to hold me, but the thing was beautiful enough as it was. I watched it float down the stream, anxious whether it would overturn in the surf. It jerked when it reached the waves, rolled, then caught by the current, began to glide out to sea. I watched it drift away and thought again of the Isles of the Blessed. Suddenly I wondered what they were. The forces of Darkness were real and powerful enough. What about those of Light? Arthur's magic was strong enough to baffle Morgawse: if he could claim the Light's protection, perhaps I could as well.

I had been in a great darkness, near to drowning in it, and the thought of a Light opposed to it was sweet. So, as I watched the curragh bobbing on the waves, I spoke silently within my heart: ”Light, whatever your name is...I have broken with the Darkness and it seeks my life. But I would follow you, as a warrior does his lord. I swear the oath of my people, I will serve you before any other for as long as I live. Protect me, as a lord does his warrior, and bring me to Britain. Or let my kinsman, Lugh of the Long Hand, if he exists and is indeed my kinsman, help me from the Islands to which my boat travels. I beg you, help.”

The curragh slipped on over the waves as though it bore a message. I watched it until it vanished from sight.

The sun sank slowly down the west, bursting free of the mist at its setting, and splas.h.i.+ng red-gold on the face of the sea. There were heavy clouds beneath it, looking like an island. There was one of the great winter fogs coming. It would arrive before morning, and would be cold. I watched until the sun was quite gone, and, after that, watched the twilight deepening its shade from the first soft green into blue, while the sea became first silver, then grey, then silver and black as the moon rose over the cliff, cloaked with pale gold in the mist. I sat drenched with its light and half drunk with it and the earth's beauty. I sang songs to it, and the rise and fall of the sea seemed to answer me. When I lay down at the cliff's base, the driest part of the beach, I had scarcely wrapped my cloak about me when I fell asleep.

I woke around midnight, opened my eyes to stare, rigid with terror, into the blank darkness. Some dream which had swept black wings through my brain departed, leaving a foul memory. There had been a sound. The demon! It had broken into my refuge and must be creeping upon me; best to whimper and dig into the earth.

I sat up and flung back my cloak. I reached for my dagger, remembered that I had left it in Connall's throat. You must go out as a warrior, I told myself.

But there was no shadow on the beach, nor any hint of the Darkness. The moonlight was dim with mist, but I could see clearly enough that I was alone on Llyn Gwalch. There was only a boat, resting, prow first, on the beach.

It was a strange boat, a lovely one. It had a high prow and stern, unlike a curragh, though otherwise it resembled one. But it had neither oars nor mast nor rudder, and the color was like no wood or hide I had ever seen, but grey-white in the luminous mist. It was no derelict either, I saw. Cus.h.i.+ons and coverings were heaped in it. And yet no one sat in it. The prow lay on the stones, and the waves, grown very quiet, lapped and sighed out into the mist. There was no other sound.

I stood slowly, staring. No boat should have landed so at Llyn Gwalch. The current of the stream, combined with an undertow which was often fierce, pushed any floating things on to the rocks at the side. I took a few steps towards the boat. It rested there, half on land, half on water, like a pale flower. I noticed now that it was not a trick of the moonlight in the mist, that the boat really was s.h.i.+mmering softly in the dark. I sensed the magic woven into its fabric, an awareness of it stirring my hair like a faint breeze, and I stopped and watched it.

And yet...

It did not feel like a dark magic. It was light and swift and clean, like a seagull swooping over the waves. And though things could be other than they seemed, I had spoken words that afternoon as I watched my curragh sail off, and the silence in my heart had listened.

And even if this were a trick, a trap made by the demon lurking along the cliff, what would it mean except that I would die now instead of later? I decided, and walked forward to place my hand on the boat's prow. It was soft, warm, like a living thing, a trained hawk which rustles its feathers in the eagerness to fly. I took my shoes off, threw them into the boat, and pushed it off the stones, clambering in when it was a few feet from the beach.

While the boat hung there, bobbing in the calm sea, and I searched for an oar, I sensed a stirring above and looked up. The shadow lay on the cliff-top again, like the shadow of a cloud now. My fists clenched, and again I longed for my dagger. Then I started, for the boat began to stir of itself, very slowly, turning from Llyn Gwalch till its prow faced westwards. It began to move forward over the waves which s.h.i.+vered with the moonlight.

The shadow on the cliff grew smaller, darker. It raced down the cliff side, swinging about Llyn Gwalch. A cold darkness seemed to brush past me, like an unseen bird, and the sick, suffocating feeling of the night before touched me again. But the boat was picking up speed, gliding over the waves, and I suddenly remembered what is said of evil and open water, how some spirits may not cross the wide sea. I laughed. The black tendrils fell away from me, overextended and worn out.

I watched over the stern as Llyn Gwalch shrank behind me, becoming a pale place in the cliff wall, then a soft spot in the frothing of the light surf in the moonlight, with the waterfall of the stream a chain of silver hung down the cliff-then the mist grew thicker as the boat ran into it, and Llyn Gwalch and the island I had lived on all my life faded from my sight. I could not think to give it any farewell, and looked westward over the boat's prow. We were still increasing in speed. I laughed again, feeling the same exultant triumph and liberty I had felt that morning, and sang a song of triumph in war. The boat leapt forward like a willing horse and glided on, swift as a gull or a falcon, through the fog into the moonlight again, and the foam glittered at its prow as it ran along the path of light cast by the sinking moon.

I yawned, realized that I was still very tired. The cus.h.i.+ons I had noticed were soft, the coverlets of silk and ermins much warmer than my worn cloak. It was cold in that rush of speed across the open sea. I lay down and drew the coverings over me, whispering thanks to the boat and to whatever force had sent it.

I do not remember falling asleep, but the next thing I saw was the light of the sunrise pouring on to me, brighter than any dawn I could remember. I lay on my back in the bottom of the boat and stared up at the streamers of color which covered the sky from the east to the zenith. Such radiance promised a destination of equal loveliness.

I sat up. The boat was still moving, but a little more slowly now. Its prow and sides glowed with reflected fire on the water. Even the sea was like no water I had ever seen before. It was clear, but tinted with emerald and azure, colors brighter than any on Earth, jewel-toned in their brilliance, and they glittered in the dawn light. The sun cast my shadow before the prow of the boat, and we ran down it as down a road. As I watched, birds flew out of the west, white and gold wings flas.h.i.+ng. I looked eagerly onward, hoping to see the land they came from.

Soon we approached it. It rose green-gold from the ocean. The sun struck some bright surface, and a pure clear light flashed up like a shout of joy. Truly, this had to be the Plain of Joy which so many songs spoke of. The Light had heard me. I lifted my arms to the morning and sang one of the songs about the islands I was fast approaching: ”...there one sees the Silver Land Where dragonstones and diamonds rain, And the sea breaks upon the sand The crystal tresses from its mane.

Throughout Earth's ages still it sings To its own hosts its melody; Its hundred-chorused music rings Undecaying, deathless, free...”

I hardly had time to finish before the boat swept up to a white dock which jutted from the land into the sea, and there stopped itself, its journey over.

I stood and stepped out on to the dock. I glanced back into the boat, a little afraid to leave it. But then I looked at the land, the green gra.s.s, the gold-sanded path leading up from the dock, the tall trees-trees! Things rarely seen in the Orcades-swaying like dancers; and I began to walk up the path, slowly and wondering. I did not feel the stunned disbelief one would expect. Though wonderful, all seemed perfectly natural, as things do in a bright dream. Later, I realized, the astonishment must come. But now it was impossible. This Isle of the Blessed felt more real than the Orcades. It was what I had just left that seemed a dream.

I went up the path, savoring the beauty around me. Everywhere there were flowers, no two alike. Their smell blended with the song of the birds, the music of the breeze in the trees. I walked faster, then ran for the sheer joy of motion, until I rounded a bend and stopped, for I had found the Hall that was the center of the place.

It was much like its descriptions. The walls were of white bronze and gold filaments woven together, polished and brilliant. The roof was of the wing-feathers of every sort of bird that had ever lived, of every color, and none clashed. It glowed almost as brightly as the sun.

I walked slowly towards it, half afraid, although I knew that I would not be there if it was not intended for me to come. I approached the great silver doors and tapped on them softly. They opened of themselves, revealing their inner hall, which is beyond description. Yet it was enough like any earthly feast hall that I knew where to raise my eyes to the man who sat at the high table, above the others who crowded the place. They were all beautiful enough to bring tears into my eyes, and I felt my humanity and filthy clothing as though they weighed the whole world on me. But the man who sat at the high seat, the lord of the Hall, smiled at me-a bright, fierce smile-and gestured me nearer.

I walked the length of that hall in silence, with the eyes of the company upon me; and I cannot describe or explain what I saw there. Slowly I climbed on to the dais and stopped, facing the lord across the high table, not knowing what to do or say.

He rose and smiled again, and it flashed across my mind that Lot and Agravain really did look much as he would if the blazing radiance of him were dimmed.

”Welcome, kinsman,” said Lugh the sun-lord. ”Be seated. You have travelled far and must be hungry.”

So I sat at the high table in the Hall of the Sidhe, and ate with them and drank the sweet, bright wine that is like an essence of light, and I talked with Lugh of the Long Hand.

He asked me of Lot and I told him of Arthur. He listened to me, then nodded. ”It is fated. One day rises when another is fallen.”

”Does Arthur of Britain, then, serve the Light?” I asked.

”He serves it.” Lugh shrugged. ”This is a greater matter and much is woven into it, and the end is not clear to me. My day, too, is over.”

I stared at him in astonishment. ”You, my lord? But you are ruler here!”

”Yet on Earth, where once I had power, I have little strength. Once all the West turned to me. Now they turn elsewhere. In time what little I have left will cease, and I will become only a memory, and my Hall and my people but a story told to children. In time, not even that.” He spoke calmly, as of certainties, and without regret.

”Is this light to be quenched, then?” I asked, looking about that radiant hall.

Lugh shook his head, smiling at my question. ”This light? Not so. We shall feast here till the Earth's end and beyond. Time does not touch this place, nor death, nor any sorrow. It is better than the Earth where we once dwelt.”