The Girl and the Guardian

by Peter Harris

Chapter Twenty-eight

  The Eel of Ill Omen

  The next morning, Korman awoke at first light. He sat bolt upright at first, listening intently. His headache had grown. ‘I should not have had that beer after the cider,’ he thought. There was no sound of trouble, only the murmur of the early stall-holders in the square below the inn, and the lapping of the lake waters coming up from the depths of the canyon. He sighed with relief. His dark misgivings of the night before were receding with the coming of sunlight on the high canyon walls.

  After a brief meditation to the pure tone of the singing bowl he also felt the tightness in his head lift. He called the children, and tempted by the smell of cooking they roused themselves and ran downstairs, with Worriette in tow. They had breakfast together in the big dining room, which was at this hour nearly empty. They were served by Ted the barman, who was burning apple fritters and fish in the kitchen and grumbling at having to stand in for the cook, who had vanished in the night and could not be found. Ted’s cooking was not the best, and Rilke fed Worriette the burnt bits of apple as she chattered her appreciation. Korman thought, ‘All is well, it seems, after all. We should be safely out of the Canyon before nightfall.’ He smiled at Worriette as she clambered onto Rilke’s head and put her little hands over his eyes until he fed her some of his fritter with cream on it as well.

  But Shelley was subdued. When she told Korman her two dreams, his smile faded and he became grave. ‘Still, you are privileged to have seen a vision of the Makers, as they are now, they say, points of light like firefly stars in the vastness of heaven,’ he said. ‘Even more, to have heard their music, which they say echoes the music of the spheres!’

  ‘I… I didn’t hear all of it. I asked them to stop. It was too much… But Korman, what about the dark army I saw, and the ropes and things?’

  ‘That is odd. The Aghmaath did not formerly build siege devices, or make open war. That is a human trait.’ He sighed. ‘But if the Lady sent the Ürxura to rescue you from the Dreamcaster, she was surely also the one who sent us this warning of an imminent attack from the other side. We must try to alert the people of the Canyon.’

  ‘But, talk about “Seekers of Truth” – they’re hopelessly divided! And heedless of the outside world,’ said Shelley.

  Korman fell silent, pondering or praying – Shelley could not tell.

  Then he announced, ‘We must go back to the Debating Chambers. You will speak to them, and tell them to prepare for battle.’

  ‘What? Me?’

  ‘Of course. It was your vision – or do you not believe it?’ Korman looked at her searchingly.

  ‘Oh, all right. I’ll try,’ she sighed, trying to be casual, but her stomach flipped at the thought of getting up and talking to all those critical people.

  ‘Good,’ said Korman. ‘Do not worry; I will address the people also. Now let us go immediately. Back to the Debating Chambers.’

  Rilke, who had not been listening, and was now playing with Worriette under the table, poked his head from under the tablecloth. ‘What, did you say go back? That’s boring! I want to go on and explore, and have lots of adventures!’

  ‘You may have all the adventures you want and more, soon enough,’ replied Korman ominously, and Rilke fell silent for a while.

  Then he asked, ‘Can I go fishing then?’

  ‘Let him, Korman!’ said Shelley. ‘At least then we’ll be able to get on with it in peace.’

  So they left Rilke with an old fisherwoman who sat patiently dangling several lines over the edge near the marketplace, and selling bait and fishing rods to passers-by.

  ‘Five enrath for the rod and line, one for the bait,’ she said, and Korman turned out his pockets for the silver coins. Crystals he still had, but few coins. He preferred the old way of honest barter.

  ‘This crystal, perhaps?’ he asked, but she shook her head.

  ‘Only Oikor. Trader-money. Times are tough.’

  ‘I’ve got some money!’ Rilke said, and pulled out a handful of the tiny corit coins.

  ‘Where did you get those?’ asked Shelley.

  ‘Traded a crystal with a boy.’

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t have. It was probably worth twice what he paid. At least; maybe even a pharit. How could you, after last night, and that horrible wolfy-faced amber-digger trying to buy Korman’s sword for a few gold coins?’

  The fisherwoman accepted Rilke’s coins with a sniff, and showed him how to bait the hook and throw the line out towards the middle. The strong silk unspooled from the wooden reel, and Rilke was delighted, peering down where the stone sinker had plummeted into the dark green of the Bottomless Lake. He even didn’t look up as the others went on their way. They heard him yell, ‘I think I got a bite!’ as Korman stopped at the Pagrathim’s stall for some willowbark powder for his headache. Then they went through the carved archway and out of the Market Chambers.

  At the Debating Chambers, Shelley stood up as soon as the daily assembly began, her heart in her mouth. She spoke of her ominous dream, and begged them to unite, reminding them of the oneness of the Truth, pointing to the Crystal of the One Truth that their forefathers had put over the doorway. Some of the listeners booed and jeered. But then, as the golden morning sun lit up the cliffs, a ray of light struck the crystal, and its divided colours stained the white walls of the speaker’s shell with brilliant rainbows, all at different angles to one another, reminding Shelley of a photograph of the galaxies in deep space. She was blinded for a second by the beams from the crystal, ruby and violet and emerald flashing into her eyes. She looked away, and after-images danced in the darkness. Then she heard Korman’s voice, full of indignation at the way they were treating her. He had apparently decided to throw caution to the wind.

  ‘Descendants of the first Seekers of Truth who came here united! I am Korman, last Tidak of Aeden. Look! The light is one Light, though you see it through many prisms. Return to that unity, and know that you are all one. Then act together, to defend yourselves against those who would force you to deny not only the Light but Life itself! For they are surely coming. Yet help has also come. For those of you with eyes to see, the Kortana is here, standing before you! Now, therefore, is the time for battle, to stand together with her against the forces of endarkenment!’

  It was Korman, but not as she had known him. He towered over her, an Old Testament prophet warning the people of imminent judgement. He held up his staff, and the rainbows of the crystal were swallowed up for a moment in a blaze of white light.

  Shelley knew that the light came from the Tree of Life itself and the lightning which now charged it since she had arrived on Aeden. She felt sure that all the people would respond to Korman’s call, so powerful it felt to her. But only a few cheered and rallied to their side; the rest shrank away, murmuring amongst themselves, each in his or her own group.

  ‘Who is this presumptuous girl, and who are you to preach these worn-out lies, Korman the Tidak, or should I say, Korman the Outcast?’ called a strident voice. It was the preacher from the day before, wild-eyed and exultant. ‘Behold, I too had a dream: in my dream I saw the liberators from illusory life coming as the locusts to destroy the stubborn clingers to illusory pleasures and vain disputations about the Truth! They come, they come! Let us welcome them, the true prophets, lest we be justly condemned! You are not worthy to untie their sandals! I spit upon you!’

  But Korman was already holding urgent council with those who had heeded the warning. Swift runners carrying alarm-bells were sent up and down the Canyon to speak to all those who might be persuaded to forget their differences and fight the Aghmaath. They were still making hasty battle-plans in the Debating Chambers when Shelley remembered: Rilke was still fishing in the Market-place. They made their way back through the jostling crowds who were now thronging the Neutral Pathway, like hornets in a nest which had been stirred with a stick. The runners had rung their bells and yelled ‘Foes are at the gates! Rally to the Girl and the Guardian in the Debatin
g Chambers!’ as they went, and now many were hurrying there, if only to see what was going on, and to cheer or jeer as they saw fit.

  As they walked, Korman praised Shelley. ‘You did very well in the Debating Chamber! We have made a difference today. The pebble we threw may cause an avalanche yet.’

  When the people got to the Debating Cambers and there was no Girl or Guardian to be seen, they grumbled and spoke ill of the runners. ‘It was a false alarm!’ they told everyone they saw, and the people stopped running and went about their various businesses again. But in the Debating Chambers, the preacher continued to rave, and many were moved to listen to him. There was a new feeling in the air, of impending doom, and their hearts told them the end was indeed near…

  When Korman and Shelley got back to Rilke, he didn’t want to budge, as he claimed he had almost caught a fish, a huge one, but it had got off just as he hauled it up the last few feet. But Korman said, ‘Time for other adventures. Let the fish be, and let it grow even bigger for next time. We could sell the good lady the rod back, perhaps.’ She held up a gnarled finger. ‘One enrath.’ Shelley was outraged at the old fisherwoman, and Rilke refused to part with the fishing rod at any price. But he slowly reeled it in (hoping for a last-minute bite) while Korman waited as patiently as he could. Shelley finally grabbed the rod and was about to hastily wind the rest of the line in, when the whole rod jerked downwards and the reel began unwinding in Shelley’s hands, the ratchet noisily clicking as a strong, steady pull strained the line to breaking-point. ‘Give me the rod!’ cried Rilke, beside himself with excitement. Shelley nobly let him have it. By now the reel was screaming as the line sped out. Suddenly it came to the end, and Rilke was dragged against the handrail at the very edge of the canyon. The old fisherwoman sprang up and cut the line with a swift slash of her knife. Rilke watched in dismay as it snaked down into the lake. The others looked down too. Far below they saw spreading ripples where something big had broken the surface, then dived back into the green depths.

  ‘It was huge! And you… you… cut the line! Why? Why?’ Rilke stammered in shock and anger at the old woman.

  ‘It was the Great Zaghlizagonamara. We do not catch those; and this one is so big he would have pulled you right in and eaten you up,’ she snapped. Rilke burst into tears, and she added, more gently, ‘He broke my line too, once. And that was long ago, when he was smaller.’

  To Korman she added in a low voice, ‘And no good came of it. Mark my words: it is an omen. They do not usually take the bait.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right,’ said Korman, and he told her of Shelley’s dream. ‘Therefore I counsel you: flee the Canyon, unless you wish to be ruled by the Aghmaath.’

  ‘I would cast myself into the Bottomless Lake sooner!’ she replied, looking at Shelley oddly, but with respect. She stood undecided for a moment. ‘She who dreamt the dream, hooked the Zaghlizagonamara…’ she muttered. ‘It is an omen. I will heed your warning, though I dare say I’ll perish in the wilderness.’ She began packing up her things. Shelley tucked Worriette into her tunic and held Rilke’s hand to comfort him. He was still shaking from the excitement, and still clutched the rod, now empty of line. ‘Here is your money back, for luck, and a skein of new silk,’ said the old fisherwoman. ‘May you catch a big shiny meralav next time!’

  Rilke brightened up, and thanked her.

  ‘Now, south to the gates and the next stage of the journey!’ said Korman. ‘We have done what we can for these people. The Kortana must not be here when the noose is tightened.’ Looking over at the stalls, he noticed that the wolfish amber-digger’s stall was gone. ‘The rat leaves the sinking ship,’ he thought grimly, and turned to lead them swiftly out of the Canyon.

  Then Shelley remembered Goldheart. ‘Wait! We’ve got to go and try one more time to find Azure’s wife, to warn her. And we’ve got to give her the present.’

  ‘Yes, you are right! I had forgotten,’ said Korman. ‘But we must be swift. The trap is about to be sprung; I can feel it.’ They left the Market Chambers and hurried to find Goldheart. On the way Shelley asked Korman, ‘What is a Zaghlizagonamara, anyway?’

  ‘It is a giant… ah…’ he hesitated to finish the sentence. ‘Suffice to say, it is as long as its name suggests.’

  ‘You mean it’s an… eel?’ Shelley jumped to the worst conclusion.

  ‘Of a kind…’

  ‘Why did you tell me?’

  ‘You asked. A Guardian tells the truth.’

  Do they really eat children?’ asked Rilke.

  ‘No, they eat other fish, and the scraps the people throw down to them.’ Shelley shuddered, and hoped fervently that she would never have to put a toe in those dark waters where the Zaghlizagonamara swam.

  At the house which the barman had said was Goldheart’s, a tall young woman with flowing golden hair answered the urgent knock of Korman’s staff. Shelley thought she was strikingly beautiful, very calm but very sad. She burst out, ‘Are you Goldheart the Fair? We’ve got something for you. From your husband.’ The woman’s large blue eyes lit up.

  ‘Only my husband called me “The Fair”! So you have seen him! Where is he? Is he well? I was so angry that he left me to follow that crazy dreamer Metaphor, but now, I am just sad…’

  ‘He seemed well, but he told me to say he still loves you and misses you badly, and hopes you’ll consider coming to him at the valley of the Artists. He’s made a beautiful cave for you and decorated it with lovely paintings.’ Shelley handed Goldheart the present Azure had made for her. She opened it, and as she looked at the beautifully painted icon, tears filled her eyes. ‘His painting has got better – this is really good,’ she murmured. Then she looked at Shelley. ‘This icon is a likeness of you, is it not? Portrayed as the Kortana!’ Shelley shrugged and looked down.

  ‘Some people say I’ve been… sent, to help find the lost… you know…’

  ‘And I could believe them, if my husband did! He was always such a seer… Not very practical, but such a seer…’ She looked again at the icon, burst into tears, holding Shelley to her as if she was a long-lost daughter. ‘Now, I beg you, tell me more about the home my husband made, and any other news of him!’

  But Korman gently interrupted: ‘Lady, we must be swift. You now have a different path to follow. The Canyon is about to be attacked. Azure your husband…’

  ‘Azure?’

  ‘That is what he renamed himself, in honour, he said, of the pure azure sky of Unlimited Imagination.’

  ‘Oh, how like him! He was always inventing new names for things…’

  ‘I nearly forgot, he said there’s a poem, too,’ said Shelley. Goldheart looked in the wrapping again, and a little piece of paper fell out. Korman picked it up and handed it to her, glancing up and down the street, aware of the danger but also of the fateful decision Goldheart now had to make. She unfolded the rough hand-made sheet and read it aloud.

  From Azure, to the Diamond-cutter’s daughter.

  Diamond Dreams

  You warned:

  My little Dream

  Will cost me dear,

  Ten times or more

  Than what I thought:

  “Dreams no less than diamonds

  In grinding heat are wrought;

  Then, mined in pain

  Are cut, and dearly bought.”'

  “I quit,” I said.

  But you returned:

  “You really want

  To rust and not to burn?”

  Goldheart the Fair, it was you who told me to follow my dream. Will you not come and join me, and burn brightly with me again?

  Yours forever,

  Azure

  Goldheart caught her breath and tears gleamed on her cheeks. ‘It is true… I did not want him to give up his dreams, even at this cost… But I stayed.’ She drew herself up, tall and beautiful, and the diamond at her breast shone in the morning sun. ‘Now I will be true to myself, too: I will join him, and take whatever suffering may come.’

  Korm
an was moved. He knew what this moment meant for her, and for Azure. But he knew she could not go to him.

  ‘Lady, I am glad that you choose life. But now, if you love him you must flee this place. It is doomed. The Kortana is here. She has foreseen an invasion from the other side. The endarkened ones are coming, and I must take her far from here.’

  ‘But if there is to be a battle, I should go to the North Gate, and escape to the hills where my husband… where Azure is. That is my place, I know that now!’

  ‘No, Lady! The Trackers are coming to the North Gate, if they are not there already. The Canyon will soon be under siege. You should come with us. We can only hope that the South Gate is still open.’

  ‘Even supposing it is, where would we go?’ Her eyes, a moment before shining with joy, were full of anguish as she looked into Korman’s and read the omens of suffering to come.

  ‘To the fortress of Baldrock. There is hope that my brother, the Guardian Hillgard, will be there and that it can be held against the Aghmaath. We will take you there if…’

  ‘You are the brother of Hillgard?’ the lady exclaimed, forgetting her grief for a moment. ‘Hillgard the Lionhearted? I have heard that name! My parents spoke highly of him. He was one of my childhood heroes. They took him in, before I was born, let me see, seventy-two or seventy-three years ago, soon after the light of the Tor Enyása went out. He was a great knight, broad of shoulder, red of beard, but grievously wounded, and they nursed him back to health. After that he would not stay. He was heading south to the sacred mountain of Baldrock, but would not tell them what he hoped to do there.’

  ‘I am very glad to hear news of my brother! I am called Korman the Outcast. Did he speak of me?

  ‘My parents said that he would not speak of the battle on the Tor Enyása, or of his comrades, only of the days before… before the Arcra-Nama was taken.’

  ‘He was always stubborn! So he survived, and perhaps lives still at Baldrock… But now, there is another terrible battle coming. If you will come with us, it must be now! Take nothing but what you can easily carry.’

  They waited at her door while Goldheart went inside, gathered a few possessions and put them in a bag. When she had been gone less than a minute, Rilke fretted, ‘What’s she doing in there? Let’s go! They could be coming right now! And anyway, I could have been fishing all this time!’

  Worriette was agitated, too, shivering and looking up and down the street, then up at the horizon, far above where the Canyon cliffs met the cold morning sky. Suddenly she squealed and covered her eyes. Shelley looked up and saw crows, like black specks in the blue, circling and landing on the crags of the Canyon. Their harsh cries echoed along the cliffs of the Canyon, fading into the distance, and answering cries came back. ‘The crows know something is about to happen,’ she thought. ‘Hurry up, Goldheart!’

  Korman was drumming his fingers on his swordhilt. Just then Goldheart came hurrying out, carrying a bulging bag. Rilke shook his head and muttered, ‘Women!’ Shelley frowned fiercely at him. Goldheart shut the door and said, ‘Lead on, Korman the Outcast! If you are indeed the brother of Hillgard the Lionhearted, and a Guardian, we will be in good hands!’

  ‘If she knew how I failed all Aeden…’ thought Korman as he bowed to her. Then he led the way, striding off down the Neutral Pathway so fast that Rilke soon lagged behind and Shelley had to carry Worriette for him. Korman cried out as they went, ‘Man the defences, or else flee to the South Gate! The Aghmaath are coming!’ but few took any notice. There were little knots of people of different dress hurrying to and fro, some looking behind them. But most seemed intent on going about their normal business, disputing and trading and lecturing and proselytising.

  ‘It seems the runners… haven’t… managed to stir up much of a response,’ said Shelley when he slowed down enough for the others to catch up.

  ‘An avalanche may sometimes take a little time,’ said Korman grimly. ‘When the first sign of an attack comes, then the people will take notice.’

  ‘But then it’ll be too late.’

  ‘Perhaps. But my first duty is to get you out safely. You are our only real hope.’