Alexandria: A Novel

by Paul Kingsnorth

  but it is not old people laid these new flowers on top of stones. it is not old people who have lit fyr in centre of circle, not old people drapin stones with vines which are hard now and yelloed. it is not old people hangin from Trees here patterns of Star and cross. when i see this i want to get bak in cnoo, leave, but nzil looks close, and he says these are some weeks old it may be, they are not fresh.

  hungry ghasts have been here. they come to Land to worship in places like this. what do they worship, what angry god? what sacrifice? they move on these Waters, i feel it. i fear for us. fearin for el.

  sfia makes fyr in circle where ashes lie, we cook Fish, eat. nzil will sit up this night, keepin watch, listen. we will see them if they come. we will have warnin. i have fought off this creature Wayland has sent, i will fight off any other thing. i will lose no more of me folk.

  / nzil

  strange place it is, but i like it. great fleets of Duk, Drake, Morrun, Gol, movin on Water with us, flowin slow south. Some times Cumrant seen over head. Fish leapin at dawn and try light, and strange things also, like these wights we see last even, like flowers and fyrs in circle of stone. it is like some other world here, same but not same, and we are passin through. i am happy only flotin. i am free.

  mother thinks it may be one more days journey to where father will be. we will see it, she says, we will see from many hours away. green hill risin from Waters, on top of hill is torr, and this is where he will be. any man who is to become father must spend time there, along with Water and Birds. when trouble comes, answers may come from there.

  what if they do not? i said to mother some time bak. what if there are no answers there? what if father has nothin? she says nothin to this. mother is strained here, she is out of place, she is like bow strung taut. i have brought me bow and some arrers for i do not know what we will see or what will see us.

  i would like to keep movin, beyond fathers torr, out to Sea. i would like to take cnoo all round island, round whole coast of Albion, up rivers, in Land. i do not care for any answers father may have. Waters keep risin, all changes and this is good. change must come and will not be stopped. i have made me Poles, done me work. now i would like to take el and sail away.

  / el

  mam nudgin me and sayin, el, listen, Night Gail! it is lovely song. mam lookin bit lonely then. there is lovely strand on this bit of Land stikkin out in to Water like long finger. there is only littel bit left, because Waters are still goin up. we have seen lots of Trees with Water up their trunks, roots in Sea. i wonder if they like it?

  adults are lookin at Land so they do not see what i see when i look bak. there are lights on Water again. they are far out and bobbin but it is like there is line of them like i saw before. they flikker like candels or fyrs, they are afyr in light. i watch them and they spread out, like there is more of them. it is like they are far out to Sea but they are comin closer. i am sure they are comin closer.

  i dont tell mother as she would be cross. i wonder what they are.

  / sfia

  it is hard for me to speak of what happened on that Land, on that finger of green in uncalled Water. of what came. not all is clere in me mind. nothin is clere now in me mind. some fog is on me.

  ah, i do not know what is left now, what is even left of this life.

  / el

  when we stopped, adults got all busy gettin out skins from cnoos and makin fyr. dada took his bow and arrers and went off in to holt to see if he could find any wights, for he had not caught any Fish that day and he knows i do not like any more salt Fish. yuk to salt Fish.

  i asked if i could go too but he said it was not safe. so i sat on strand and watchin dark comin and lights on Water comin closer also. strand was lovely, there was Water on nearly all sides for this is thin bit of Land stikkin out in to Sea. Birds goin still now. lights are bigger, still flikkrin, still bobbin. still comin closer.

  / mother

  it is all me, all of this is me. i did not see them comin until they were close. we were turned in to Land, workin. el was on strand but she did not speak and then i stand and turnin and their lights are all around, on three sides and it is them.

  they have come. rafts of them. hungry ghasts.

  o, i raised me staff, i called. i screamed out at them, i promised them pain if they come to shore. sfia is screamin for nzil to come with bow. if bow was here we could keep them away, but he is gone with it in holt i do not know how far.

  i raise me staff, i raise it but it feels heavy and i feel heavy and i do not see in me mind what came then. i do not see it even though each minute since then i have tried to draw it out from within me.

  i am in fog. i can not see what they did. all i see is what we have lost.

  / sfia

  mother has been speakin of hungry ghasts since we first left Edg but i have not listened much. she tells tales of harm they do, of what they want, we have seen signs of them. we all heard stories as children. they take children, mother would say around fyr. take them, cuttin them up, makin sacrifice. they are beasts, they love nothin but their cnoos, they find human children, givin them to their gods. if you ever see lights on mere, run, tell us. i did not really believe it. we thought it was just tale to scare us.

  now they came, all around us now they were, six rafts comin in on all sides of our spit of Land, lashed trunks, masts in centre. on these rafts small fyrs burnin in bowls and people with long poles pushin rafts in to Land, towards us. they would not come in. it is said they never come to Land but to worship. they live, bearin young, die on these botes.

  night is darknin now but for their lights and our small fyr. they are nekid all, long hair down, long beards, matted, they look so strange, they are silent, gathrin round us like they want to see, to stare, to know what we are. like we are wights they have not seen before. men on rafts leanin on their poles, womyn standin lookin, great breasts hangin down. rafts bobbin on Water all around us and i join mother now, i call, nzil! nzil! for he has bow and arrers, he could drive them away, but he does not come. they stare and stare like they are measurin us.

  but he does not come and we stop callin then. i think we do not feel like speakin. all is slow then, we tire, we want to sleep i think but i can not see in me mind how it happened. it was like some spell, o i can not say, i can not say any thing more about this world, it is not me world, i do not want it any more, i do not want any thing but sleep. o me girl, me girl, me littel girl.

  / el

  they came all around us

  it was very still

  there was one man on this littel raft and one woman

  he was lookin at me for long time

  raft comes in to strand so it almost touched

  then he held out his hand to me

  it was still every thing was still

  mother and mam and shoutin for dada but sound was very

  dim

  like it was under Water or far away in Trees

  no, they were shoutin, leave her, no, el, do not

  nzil, they were shoutin, nzil

  but they did not come to me

  they could have taken me arm and pulled me bak

  but they only stood

  and he is reachin out now to me

  his hand is turned up and now is still

  it is still it does not grab me

  it is like he is offrin or askin

  like he was sayin, come

  and i could hear him, though he said nothin, i can hear him

  come, he was sayin, come with us

  his eyes were kind

  they were both still shoutin at me, but not movin not

  comin

  they did not come to help me

  his eyes were very kind

  it was not like they said it would be

  he did not pull me he did not hurt me

  he was askin gently

  come, he said, he was askin

  kind eyes

  kinder than mams

  i began to walk

  i st
epped on to raft and it wobbled

  takin his hand

  his hand is dry and small

  he closed his hand on mine

  he did not make me go i wanted to

  i wanted to see

  now theyre screamin but still did not move

  why didnt they come if it was so bad?

  lights flikkred about

  shadows on Trees were really big

  we were big shadows

  Bird went over but i did not see

  there was woman like him on raft

  she was smilin it was not like they told me

  now i turned to look at mother and mam as i climbed on

  raft

  theyre just standin

  not screamin but still not comin for me

  i wondered if they loved me

  after all they said

  i climbed on raft and sat next to woman

  she is so thin

  and she was lonely i can feel it

  now she placed Dear skin on me

  she was gentle

  now man takin long pole out of mud and started to push

  no body was rushin it is all slow

  slow like Water at fenn edge

  light and shadow and Bird comin over again

  and we moved away

  out to Sea

  / sfia

  always i will see nzil until i am gone. always i will see him runnin from holt, his screams. it was like his comin broke some spell. mother and i standin on strand, their rafts movin away and littel el, me littel girl is with them and why did i not stop them, what is this, what mother am i?

  then nzil he comes runnin from edge of holt and we turn at his cry. he has seen, he drops his bow and arrers he is screamin, el! el! me girl! me girl! he pushes me out of way, he throws him self in to Water, he swims out, tryin to reach them, but they are far now, they move fast, they are lights and he can not reach.

  o i thought he would go like lorenso but he comes bak. he comes bak to shore drippin and he rises from Water like some beast and grabbin me by shoulders and screamin at me now. you are her mother! he screams, her mother! you stand here! both of you standin. they took me girl! our girl!

  mother looks at him like she will cry.

  i did not see, i say. i did not – i –

  now he drops on to strand and he weeps like he has no hart left, like all that he was dissolves in to night sand, and now i weep too and mother. we weep with sand, with Sea, as last light goin out to west over blak Waters. he says, me girl, me littel girl, me girl over and over and over and each word diggin in to me hart like nail and has not left, will never leave.

  and then he rises and on his face is this fierce light. last thing i see of me man is this fierce light and he looks in to me face and in to mothers. then he is speakin to us low, so low but such anger.

  you let them take her, he says. me girl. our girl, sfia! you let them take her! now he is screamin again: you are her mother, you let them, you let them!

  i could not speak, i am frozen now, i can only say: i –

  but he turned then and saying nothin more, he turns and pacin steady and strong bak in to woods, and he cries, callin, shoutin so loud, he bellows like wight as he goes in to holt and we hear him until he has walked so far that sound is drowned by blak of night and then i hear me man, but i see him no more.

  stalker! he is callin. come for me! take me, red one! take me away!

  SHELL MOON

  / father

  could be twenty days i have been in this place but it seems i have never come or gone. seemin like i was born and will die here. i would like that. seems i am hermit now, seems i have always been, seems me time at Edg was in an other life.

  when i came to holy hill i saw no sign that any had been here for some time. no fyr ash, no beds in torr. torr is seen for miles as me cnoo comes down Afan Sea. risin from dawn mist i first saw it, streaks of red in Sky, mist hangin in bands over Waters, and then i see islands. groups of islands all over, scattered through Sea, and at their hart, like hart of old maze, rises tallest, ridged like great old wight, like Sir Pent curled around old World Tree. torr hill. this old stone torr on summit is older than Atlantis. fathers have come here for eons to listen, fast, strip world away, be given speech by Birds, Her servants. see what must be seen, always alone.

  which father was last here i do not know. could be i am last father of this Order in all of world. but world is bigger than i can dream. Birds have told me this. no small body is big enough to dream world.

  i have littel and this is good. have me mat to sleep on, line to catch Fish, bottel to hold Water, stone to spark fyr. i am alone with old stone torr and Trees that grow up to it on this hill that rises tall from mere like glass. and each day since i was woken by hill shakin, by great, low, silent sound from earth it self, by Sir Pent shiftin down below, each day since then Waters have come higher. trunks of Trees that grew on strand when i come here now are under Sea. still it rises.

  Birds have told me why.

  / k

  Ascension 481 was abandoned. She would not come to me again, and I would not risk violence from the mother of the order, whose mental and emotional fragility appears to be deepening. I resolved to turn my attention therefore to my final remaining target, the partner of 481 and father of 480. It was clear enough what strategy should be employed with him. I had the lure ready.

  In the end, it was not needed. He came to me, as I waited in the woods. He came running, demanding, shrieking like a beaten dog. The trauma he had recently suffered brought him to me clean, but it was necessary to scrub him of the residue. This was not swift work. It took me much time to calm him enough to even begin the necessary preliminaries. I explained to him that ascension was not possible in an emotionally fraught state. The mind must be calm, the motives clear, the decision well informed.

  We spent time on this. I talked much. Over three full days we walked further into the woods on that barren little finger of land, far away from his people. We walked and talked and when I judged that he was ready, we began the process.

  But something went terribly wrong.

  I do not know what to say, or what is happening. Nothing like this has ever occurred to me, or to any retainer I have known. I have not seen it in any of the records. It is, I am convinced, unprecedented.

  It was not my mistake. I am sure of it.

  I performed the preliminaries, but I received no response from Wayland. I did not know why. It was unusual, but I continued. A personal response is not strictly necessary as long as the channels are open, and I believed I was experienced enough to know how to manage all eventualities.

  Here I must be honest: I fear I hurried the process, for my own reasons. I fear that my own desire to leave this cursed ground, to meet my quota and take my own place in the city, led me to behave in a manner less cautious than was seemly.

  I do not know. All I know is this: we began the process. His mind left him, it vaulted the gap, took to the diastolic channels, began the journey. But something happened. Something happened and I cannot say what. I cannot say what happened or what the result was. I cannot say where he went, or if he went anywhere. All I can say is that his body remained with me, empty; dead, if you like. The body remained, the mind left, but it did not follow the usual course. It did not progress along the predetermined route. It did not reach the gateless gate. There was no response, either from Wayland or from the watchers on the threshold.

  It was as if the roads to Alexandria had changed course, or been blocked, or rerouted. Something had shifted. Something huge and fearful had shifted.

  I sent him up, but the city was not there.

  / father

  i did not seek. those who come to torr may not seek, must not ask. ask is not answered. if Lady will speak, Bird will be sent. if not, there will be nothin. i was sent here by speakin wheel, Birds sent me west. i knew they would come. i only waited.

  each day risin with dawn, lookin out over old mere of Avlon, hart of
this holy isle, seein mists comin up over old places. i sit, old legs bent under me, mind empty, thoughts blown by any breeze comin. sittin until ready, then down hill in silence, no speakin, in to cnoo, out to Sea. over old drowned city of Glasbri, Fish is found in plenty. it is best place. some times, not so far down, old torrs, walls, streets are seen, driftin now in time like Waters holdin me. i take only what i need, then sittin in cnoo, some times for hours, listnin, still.

  it was six days, i think. by this time i had shed skin of old father, shed skin of Bird speaker of Edg to far east. now i was only man, small old man with no name, no place, sittin on hill legs crossed, Sun goin up, Sun goin down. nothin to say, no person to be. i was ready.

  at dawn, Hern comes from far west. i see him through mist climbin up from Sea. Hern comin over me, Hern, lord of Places Between, wing beats hissin, legs hangin heavy.

  Hern lights on top of torr, lookin down. all other Birds silent then.

  make circle, says Hern. ancestor circle. tonight. he will come.

  who will come?

  he will come. be ready.

  / k

  Afterwards it was unclear what I should do. Repeated attempts to contact Wayland met with no success. Wayland is not communicating. This is unprecedented.

  What have I done wrong?

  I have so few remaining before I can ascend. I am so close. It is cruel. If I cannot ascend, what do I do? Where do I go? What has it all been for?