The Girl and the Guardian

by Peter Harris

  She blinked her stinging eyes open, gasping and gulping in the life-giving air. Korman, dripping and bedraggled but smiling, was reaching his hand down to her and pulling her up onto a warm grassy bank. They had reached the island! Her legs felt like rubber under her, but she was elated.

  ‘Made it!’ she grinned, and stretched out full length on the grass, smiling, feeling as if she had just reached heaven. Korman praised her idea and her swimming, (though not her knot-tying) as he wound up the string and scanned the far shore. He saw the tiny black head of the anklebiter approaching, and grabbed Bootnip before he could bite. ‘Sorry, old man! No more swimming for a while. Now, we must get under the cover of the trees. The Dagraath will have lost our scent, but they must not see us.’

  ‘There’s something in the lake, too!’ said Shelley. ‘It swam past me, quite close. And it wasn’t Bootnip. It was huge!’

  ‘There are many things in the lake: fish, otters, eels… or there certainly used to be,’ said Korman. Do not worry about them.’

  ‘It was bigger than any of them, I’m sure.’

  ‘Maybe it was a very big eel,’ said Korman.

  ‘Ugh, don’t!’ shuddered Shelley as they crept into the deep shade of the trees, which were still growing and green, fighting the choking thorns which rambled and snaked up into some of their branches and the tendrils that wound their way over their leaves, one by one squeezing the life out of them. Korman bent down and looked at the base of one of the larger trees, a stately silver fir. ‘Look! Something – or someone – has cut the thorn stems at ground level. They are not having it all their own way here at least, it seems.’

  ‘Who could have done it?’ asked Shelley. The thought of someone actually striking a blow against the thorns in the Traveller’s heartland filled her with hope.

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Korman. ‘Unless… the cut-marks are very fine, as if a very small knife or axe was used. I wonder…’

  ‘What, what?’

  ‘There used to be Fairies in this valley. But no, they sailed away or died out, or at least retreated to the northern forests of Avalon many years ago.’

  ‘Fairies! How wonderful! You have still got that little tiny book that belongs to them, haven’t you?’

  ‘In a wax-sealed envelope, in a deep pocket near my heart.’ He touched his chest and his hand rested on the flat box in which the Vapáglim lay. He sighed, and stood up. ‘Well, we must decide what to do next. This island has a much more wholesome feel than the rest of the valley. It is cooler, too. Let us hope the Fairies really are here, and that in this place we will see the way forward clearly.’ They laid out their wet things on branches, sat with their backs against the cleared fir trunk, and ate a little food.

  ‘This island’s quite big, isn’t it? We could hide out here for ages and they wouldn’t even know we were here,’ said Shelley dreamily. She was so relieved to have got to a place of relative safety that she didn’t want to think about moving on.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Korman. He rubbed his leg and drew in his breath sharply. ‘The thorn point from the hedge when we first went in – it is still in there, working its way deeper. Shelley, can you get the…’

  ‘No way, not the pincers!’

  ‘That is what they are for. You just find the place it went in, look through the eyepiece of the spyglass Dawnrose gave me, and use whatever instrument works best to pull it out. I will look the other way.’

  ‘You want me to try and get it out?’

  ‘If you would. It is near the back of my leg, where it is hard to see.’

  Shelley knew it was useless to argue. She took the pincers timidly in one hand and the eyepiece of the spyglass in the other, and gritted her teeth as she peered and probed the wound while Korman restrained the growling Bootnip. She could see the end of the thorn, much bigger than a thistle or blackberry prickle; more like a rose thorn. When she had the end of it firmly, she pulled, but it would not come out. Korman, lying on the ground, winced.

  ‘The separators, use the separators. That pulls the flesh away from the barbs. It must be a barbed thorn.’ Shelley wanted to shut her eyes as she inserted the evil-looking tongs. ‘Now pull with the pincers,’ said Korman. She pulled again, and this time the thorn came out easily. She was shaky but proud as she showed him the bloodied, barbed point.

  ‘I did it!’ she exclaimed. Then, remembering Korman, she said, ‘You were very brave. I nearly fainted, myself.’

  ‘Guardians are trained to bear with any pain and not fuss about it,’ he said, but she could tell he was relieved it was over.

  ‘Will it heal all right?’ she asked, looking at the angry colour around the wound.

  ‘Yes, the danger was not from infection – Aeden, as you know, is almost completely free of that – but from the barbs, working inwards to cripple the limb, and from the subtle poison which some thorns release.’

  They sat quietly for a while, neither wishing to be the one to bring up the question of the Lady. Shelley knew that Korman would still want to go to her, in case there was any hope of rescuing her, and she was terrified at the thought of going. But even more than the fear of capture was a sort of embarrassment at going to the scene of such shameful humiliation. ‘I’d just be standing there staring at her,’ she thought. ‘And I’d probably start crying, too. No, I’d much rather let Korman go alone, and I’ll just lie low here and wait for him to come back.’ Then she thought, ‘What if he gets caught? What would I do?’ But the idea was so horrible she pushed it out of her mind. ‘Of course Korman won’t get caught. He’s very careful and clever.’

  Korman, meanwhile, was thinking of ways to get to the Lady without getting caught, and without risking using the Vapáglim, and then he began thinking of all the reasons why he should not go to the Lady, but should try to escape with Shelley immediately and bring her to Ürak Tara; and then he found himself thinking again about ways to get to the Lady.

  ‘I am divided in my mind, as no Guardian should be,’ he thought, bitterly. But he could not seem to help himself.

  He had just made up his mind to go on with Shelley and not risk seeing the Lady, when Shelley spoke, choosing her words carefully.

  ‘Korman, I think I know what you’re agonizing about. You want to go to see the Lady, but you think you should just get me out of here. Well, it’s simple: if you don’t go to her, then I’ll have to. Someone must try. And it ought to be you. You love her, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, sometimes we’ve just got to follow our heart, right? So, I’ll try and be brave and patient, and wait here while you go. Just don’t get caught, will you?’

  ‘Shelley, my heart wants to listen to you, while my mind says, “Take the safest way; do not risk the Chosen One and all of Aeden for your own selfish love.” ’

  ‘But what is Aeden if we can’t follow our hearts? What is Faery if we just do what is safest all the time instead of what is beautiful and noble and passionate? I wouldn’t feel like saving that kind of Aeden anyway.’

  ‘My heart tells me you speak with the voice of the Lady. I see her in you as you speak! I will go, and trust in our destinies. Thank you Shelley, the Chosen One.’

  ‘Don’t mention it Korman, the Romantic One.’

  So they agreed that Shelley would stay hidden on the island while Korman crossed over to the Avenue of Despair under cover of night. Then they went further into the quiet forest looking for a good place for her to hide. Shelley could feel the quivering tension and anticipation in Korman as they tiptoed through the undergrowth, mainly filmy ferns and moss and hanging lichens. It was a peaceful, solemn place, as Shelley began to feel when the forest had closed in on all sides. The world outside was now veiled from their sight and soothed from their thoughts by the cool green shade.

  They came to a narrow, mossy place overhung with dark branches but with no trees growing on it. ‘Here are the remains of a paved way!’ said Korman. ‘It may lead to the temple of the Lady. Let us follow it!’ They took off
their muddy boots, as the moss was soft and thick, and it seemed right to approach such an ancient holy place barefooted. The noise of the wind in the reeds and thorns of the lake edge, and the creaking of grasshoppers, had given way gradually to silence, which they now noticed, their breathing and the soft swish of their clothes being the only sound.

  Shelley went first, her excitement growing. The path went almost straight towards the centre of the island, as far as they could tell, sloping slightly uphill.

  Bending down to avoid the overhanging branches, Korman noticed a strange and beautiful thing happening: where Shelley’s bare feet had trod, fragrant white flowers were opening out in the moss.

  ‘Shelley! Look! It is the hopeflowers, opening under your feet!’ he called. Shelley turned and looked, and it seemed natural to her that it should be so.

  ‘That’s because we’re getting near to the temple of the Lady!’ she replied, her eyes shining. Now there were apple trees all around, covered in lichen but still hearty, and many bore fragrant fruit, some golden yellow and some glossy red.

  The path ended at a flight of shallow stairs covered in deep velvety green moss. At the top of the stairs they found themselves in a circular courtyard, overgrown with ivy and ferns, sunlit but walled in by the tall trees of the forest.

  There were lines of overgrown rubble within the courtyard which could have once been walls, and other shapes that looked like stone seats, now overgrown with moss and rambling roses, with some small red blooms on them. ‘Look, roses!’ said Shelley, and went forward to smell them. But Korman stood still, lost in thought. It was for him a place of dreams and old memories, almost forgotten until now. Shelley felt it too, and looked over at Korman. She went to him and gave him a rose. He took it from her with a bow, and closed his eyes, smelling its perfume.

  In the centre of the courtyard they found steps leading down to a wide well, ruined and overgrown with vines but still full of water. They pulled away some of the vines around the steps. The well was deep: although the water was clear, they could not see the bottom. Korman bent down and scooped up some of the cool liquid in his hand. He tasted it, then drank.

  ‘This water is still pure and good to drink,’ he said. ‘If you camp here while I am gone, you will have no lack of water. This was a sacred well, fed by a spring, where the women of the lake would drink and bathe. Now, we must find a place in the woods nearby for you to sleep.’

  ‘What about over there?’ said Shelley. On the far side of the courtyard, just peeking out of the forest, was a little pillared cupola among the green branches and vines. ‘It looks beautiful!’ she exclaimed, and ran across the courtyard and down the steps on the other side, pushing her way through waist-high ferns. Vines hung with bunches of dark grapes festooned the cupola. There were marble pillars around the front third of it, mostly covered in moss and coloured lichens, with ruined windows in arches between some of the pillars, and walls of polished marble around the back two-thirds. ‘Look, there’s even a bed!’ she exclaimed. A wide marble bench ran around the inside of the wall, littered with fallen grape leaves from past autumns, but quite dry. There were some bunches of dark grapes hanging enticingly from the arches at the entrance. She put her pack down and waited for Korman to join her. Then she said, ‘This is where I’ll wait for you. I’ll be fine here. Look, there are heaps of grapes to eat – as well as all the apples!’

  Korman smiled. He reached up and picked a bunch and offered it to her. They ate the sweet grapes together, sitting on the curved bench. Above, the sun blazed almost directly overhead, as the hot morning slowly turned into a long sultry afternoon.

  ‘It is almost midsummer, as it was when I first saw the Lady here, many years ago,’ said Korman. ‘Tonight I will cross the lake and see if I can rescue her, as I could not do then. Shelley, I have felt all along on our journey together that I was not complete, that I could not train you or help you as I should. I feel that only with the Lady at my side can we bring you safely to your sacred destiny.’

  ‘Korman, don’t be silly! You’ve been wonderful. I’ve loved every minute of it – almost. What amazing adventures you’ve led me through! Now you’re really going out on a limb, though, aren’t you? Going off to rescue damsels in distress while supposedly escorting Chosen Ones to lost castles you don’t even know the way to?’ Her voice was stern, but her eyes sparkled with fun.

  ‘You mock an old Guardian!’ he replied, knowing her well enough now to know she was joking. ‘But this will all turn out for the best, I sense it. The air is fragrant with the magic of the Lady, and the power of the Zagonamara stirs beneath our feet.’

  After their meal of grapes they organized Shelley’s camp, and Korman entrusted his pack to her, saying, ‘There is nothing in here I will need until my return with the Lady; or if I do not return, I will not need it at all.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that, Korman!’ said Shelley as she sorted through the still-wet things and laid them on the ledge where the windows had once been. Now only parts of the leadlighting, with jewels of red and blue and turquoise, clung to the stone tracery in the tops of the arches between the pillars.

  Later in the day, her sense of the impending parting – and the riskiness of Korman’s mission – increased. Every moment he was still there felt precious to her, and she talked as much as she could with him, and he was kindly to her, though she knew he was distracted. ‘After all,’ she thought, ‘he has waited years and years for the day he could finally come to the Lady.’

  All too soon the time came when they sat for a last meal together. They sat in the courtyard at a small round marble table which Shelley had uncovered, in what might have been a round room off the central courtyard. She had gasped when she brushed away the leafmould and moss on top. It was intricately carved, and inlaid in silver and gold, with an image of a man and a woman, or god and goddess, so real they seemed to be stepping out of the carved frame of the table. They were coming up from a stormy beach, hand in hand, and a twin spiral of silver and gold ribbons swirled behind them. These, Korman later told her, were the intertwining symbols of their twin destinies through lifetimes. And around the edge were letters, which Korman read to her, after some thought. ‘It has been a long time since I saw the ancient hieroglyphs of the sacred language of Avalon,’ he said. ‘They are much more subtle and poetic than the hieroglyphs of the Padmaddim. But this is what the inscription says, as well as I can render it in the common tongue of Aeden:

  When the Fire and the Rose are one

  In Faery we shall run.

  ‘But that is a crude translation; the hieroglyphs have many subtle and beautiful connotations. Each one of them is like a poem in its own right. Together they are like a symphony.’

  Shelley saw that there were tears in his eyes as he looked into the distance, as if seeing scenes from the olden days when the table and the whole ruined temple, where they now sat in the golden afternoon light, were newly made. She wondered if they had both lived in some past life in such a place. ‘It feels like I’m almost remembering,’ she mused, ‘but when I try to get it clear in my mind, it vanishes.’

  Korman looked at her, as if sharing her thoughts. ‘Now, Shelley, we must come back to Now, for this is a sacred time also, though all the Golden Age seems to lie in ruins. All times are golden, from the viewpoint of Faery, which is timeless. Or, as the Waveriders would say, Hishma. May we be brave and wise, and open to the power of the Zagonamara which is in us all, and to the love of the Lady, and to the truth of the Concept which underlies all things. Now we must speak of what you must do if I do not return.’ He raised his voice slightly to over-ride her protests.

  ‘If I do not return in three days and three nights, you must trust in the power of the Lady, through whom the Zagonamara flows, and know your own power, which is strong, even as the Lady’s, because of the Zagonamara within you, and your destiny ahead of you. So, if I do not return after that time you must cross this lake. Fear not! Formerly it was called the Lake of the Rainbow, and was
sacred to the Lady, so you may find that as you swim you will be in Faery. When you reach the northern shore you must turn to the right (not left towards the accursed place where the Lady is impaled in the thorns), and then walk in Faery for a while east, towards the Tor Enyása. And remember! Do not touch the Mother Thorn’s tendrils or leaves! They will whip around you quicker than eye can see, and paralyse you before you can even cry out.’

  ‘I know, you’ve told me many times! I’ll be careful,’ she replied, smiling. It didn’t seem real to her, this hypothetical journey alone, without Korman. He looked at her, concerned at her relaxed manner.

  ‘Good. Then, when the ground begins to rise into the foothills of the Tor Enyása, head towards the Mountains of the Travellers. They will not be far away; perhaps three hours’ walk to their base. And when you have climbed these, you will be looking down into another valley, deserted but for birds and wild deer, partly forested and partly grasslands (except to the north where the great Fairy Forest begins).

  ‘And looking to the east across that valley you will see the Mountains sacred to the Silver World, which you call Earth. Somewhere in those mountains lies Ürak Tara, your destination. I believe it is now, like the isle of Avalon, largely in the Faery realm, and so hidden, unless your eyes are opened and you yourself walk in Faery. Do not forget this: you will find nothing and get nowhere without holding to the Faery path. But if you do hold to it, you will find everything and get everywhere – everywhere you are meant to get, that is.

  ‘For I do not believe that you will fail, with me or without me, as long as you choose to go on and follow your calling.’ His eyes looked into hers, keen and stern, but now softening with loving concern. ‘Shelley, are you still willing to take this risk, make this sacrifice for me?’

  ‘Are you still willing to accept it, more to the point!’ smiled Shelley. She was sure this was the right thing to do, and she even felt excited by it, somehow. She thought, ‘Korman’s going on a mission for love. I wish I had someone I could do that for. But it’s still exciting, being part of his romantic adventure. He really is a knight, just without the shining armour.’

  ‘If the Kortana makes such a gift, I will accept it as from the Lady,’ replied Korman.

  ‘Well, that’s settled. And I suppose you’ll want me to babysit your charming anklebiter too?’

  ‘If you will, I would account it a great favour.’

  ‘OK, I’ll try. He’d better be a good boy for me and not bite me because you’ve left him here!’

  ‘Remind him of the times he would run off after some little female, taking my best crystals with him to woo her with! Now it is my turn.’

  ‘Right, I’ll try and get that through to him. Now, remind me, what are you going to try and do when you get to the Lady?’ Korman’s eyes lit up.

  ‘First I will try to speak with her. It may be that I can rouse her from her thorn-trance with this drug, given to me by Dawnrose the healer. Then I will beg her to allow me to use Arcratíne – I pray that I am now ready, as the Salamander told me I must be, to keep the Sword in union and balance between its fire and its crystal. Then I will lay it to the roots of the Mother Thorn on the Hill of the Skull, where the thorn that holds her fast is rooted, and slay any Aghmaath who stands in my way.’

  ‘Or enslaved human?’ Shelley asked.

  Korman looked troubled, but he replied, ‘Or any endarkened human who will not heed my warning – yes.’

  Shelley had never seen him this grim, and yet light, as if he was a clear crystal from the Fire World, charged with the energy of lightning about to strike. And his sword Arcratíne was indeed such a crystal, and it was glowing inside its scabbard, and the amber jewel was like a miniature sun of Aeden on the hilt. Sitting there at the mystical table in the ruined courtyard of the Goddess, she saw him as a knight out of a legend, glorious and noble.

  And to him, Shelley was as an image of the Goddess he served, and her shining eyes were her eyes, and he rejoiced in hope unfettered, and in love unbounded by space or time.

  But the evening was fast approaching, and the magic of that last meal was already becoming a bright memory, the kind that may rekindle, even years later, belief in the magic of life when all else seems emptied of meaning. They ate more of the dark, sweet grapes, and finally Korman took a great golden apple and cut it core-wise, and they said the grace:

  O Vapastra Pagy’avalastra

  Pagya’vala elrápaön!

  O Vapastra, vapaäm éim

  En Gha v’Ürpama!

  O Star-key in the applestar

  In the apple shining!

  O Star-key, open us

  To Life, and Love’s entwining!

  ‘It means a lot more to me now than it did that first time in Barachthad’s cave,’ Shelley murmured. ‘She is thinking of Quickblade,’ Korman thought. He was thinking of the Lady, and her words to him through Shelley’s phone

  Korman, my moonbird

  We are one

  Break out from this world

  To be with me where I am

 

  They ate the apple pieces in silence, and drank sparkling clear water from the well out of the two golden cups which Shelley had found in the leafmould of the cupola and washed until they shone. Now they were reflecting the bright clouds like liquid gold in the ring of sunset sky above them.

  Korman said, ‘Speaking of Barachthad, one final thing: if I do not return, give this book (it is encased in waterproof wax, which will come off) to the Fairies of the Northern Woods, as he asked us to. And this key from Hillgard. It unlocks an ancient chamber in the fortress of Baldrock. Also, take the spyglass from Dawnrose – it may be useful.’ She took the book and the key, but hesitated to take the spyglass.

  He said, ‘I will not be needing it. And you must use it to see for sure, if I am captured.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Korman,’ she said, and the lump in her throat grew, and the tears ran down her cheeks. ‘I think… I think the Aghmaath want to enthorn you next to her. They are waiting for you, maybe hiding where she is enthorned. When they caught me and threw me in the Deathwagon, the driver read that text on my phone. He would have found out she loves you. That’s why he said “and others, blinded by love – whom she will lead to their destruction, to share her fate. She will be punished by seeing you –and those others – hung next to her, soon, very soon.” ’

  ‘They want to enthorn us both, Shelley. It cannot be helped. We must go on with the Unfolding in faith. But I will be very careful, for all our sakes.

  ‘Now, just one more thing! If you are ever near my cave, and old Moonwit shows you where it is – or Quickblade for that matter – don’t blush! It could happen, for I did show him in once, and gave him the password, which is elavathi…’

  ‘Very trusting of you!’

  ‘He is a good lad… I have a feeling about him and you… Don’t blush! Now, there is a precious thing there: the Mindstone which the Lady gave me to teach the Kortana when she arrived… Ah well, limquilia Rathvalya - it all worked out in the end! The Mindstone may have a use beyond our foreseeing. It is hidden by a mindweb under Bootnip’s blanket in the alcove off the bedroom. The password is Glimpit Orpadratíne, Bootnip the Mindstone-Guardian.’

  Shelley laughed, in spite of the gravity of the moment, and Korman laughed too, and she heard his love for her in the unaccustomed sound, as well as his eagerness to find the Lady.

  ‘Thanks. No one will ever guess that one!’

  ‘I hope not! Now I really must be going,’ he said softly.

  The last glowing colours were fading from the clouds as they left some crystals and grapes out beside Korman’s pack as a decoy to keep Bootnip from following, then walked sadly down the mossy path which ran straight from the far side of the courtyard down to the water’s edge on the northern shore of the island. Korman stood in the failing light, knee-deep in the water. ‘Take care until my return, dear Shelley! And if I do not return, remember, do not touch the Mother Thorns, and make
directly for Ürak Tara! The Lady is with you!’

  Taking in one hand the reed he had used in the crossing to the island, he raised his other hand in farewell and blessing. Shelley noticed his carved ring with its golden orb of amber gleaming faintly. Then he sank slowly backwards into the lake.

  ‘So now I’m alone, except for Bootnip of course, and maybe the Fairies,’ whispered Shelley to herself after the tiny reed Korman was breathing through had vanished into the darkness. She wiped the tears from her face and sighed a shaky sigh. She felt light and free, alone but not lonely.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t have been able to do this a few weeks ago,’ she thought.

  ‘You have passed the first test,’ came a voice in her mind, clear as a silver bell.

  ‘Are you the Lady?’ she whispered to the voice, ‘or just me?’ With the question came the answer:

  ‘At this moment, there is no difference.’

  Awed, tingling all over, she walked quietly back up the path through the forest, unafraid of the dark, and went to her bed in the cupola. The lichen and moss mattress, made for her by Korman, rustled under her as she settled in contentedly to watch the twinkling stars between the pillars, until the clouds hid them.

  ‘I am the Chosen One, if such a thing exists,’ she said dreamily to the darkness. ‘Everything is happening just as it’s meant to.’ She imagined Korman cutting down the Mother Thorn and sweeping the Lady up into his arms. She imagined their passionate kiss with blissful satisfaction. She saw them returning joyously, hand in hand, to join her on the island. All the hardships and fears of that day seemed to have no hold on her heart, though they replayed themselves in front of her eyes. She thought a little more of Korman and the Lady, and allowed herself to think of her own hopes. ‘After Ürak Tara, Quickblade,’ she smiled to the dark. For once Bootnip allowed himself to be held, seeming almost glad of her company, and she fell asleep with him curled up in her arms.

  Chapter Forty-four

  The Avenue of Despair