Of the Shadows Own Accord (The Green and Pleasant Land, Volume 3)
Page 5
Chapter 5, Winter
Have you ever tried describing an epiphany to anyone? Ever tried really nailing down that moment of inspiration, extracting it from itself and painting it into a picture that can be fathomed by a mind that is not yours. It's not easy is it? Raj and Lucy found my behaviour strange. And it was. But since the death of my parents I'd been seeking comfort, seeking solace. Within the pages of Atticus Faradays book I found it. Within its pages were the words of a man who had been to places he should never have been. Atticus Faraday had seen behind the curtain, and the secrets of the machinery of the universe which he'd gleaned had, in many ways, made him an enemy of it.
I'm going too fast. I know. But even that seems kind of slow.
Raj, Lucy and I wintered in the cave beneath Hertford. We explored the other passageways and found them to be part of a network which seemed to snake its way under the entire town. I feel bad, for I did not pull my weight. Raj and Lucy would explore frequently. They came back with maps and over the winter months we gradually built up a picture of the whole of the cave network. There were a couple of places where the roof was caved in, and we will never know what lay on the other side.
Raj and Lucy had questions. They wanted to know how I found this place, they wanted to know who made it, and most of all they wanted to know what treasures lay within the pages of the book that made it so valuable that I would not put it down. I could not answer their questions, not in any way that would make sense even in this mad world. All I tried to convey to them was this, strange as things may seem, life down here was far preferable to life up there, a fact with which they could not but agree.
That is not to say that we did not venture above ground. Lucy and Raj would often go off, to forage for supplies or to spend time alone as love seems to want to do when it finds a couple of people who let it in. I valued those times greatly, for then it was only me and Atticus in the cave and I could hear him that bit more clearly.
I tried, once, in midwinter to venture out myself. Raj had found a number of trapdoors atop ladders leading out into the world from various nexus points. The closest one was just off of the cave and opened out to behind some rocks in the castle grounds.
The snow had been falling heavily and Raj convinced me that it had been many days since he'd spotted a cadaver. But, well I must have a penchant for attracting the dead. For I'd bundled myself up in the many layers of clothing which my defenders procured for me, and climbed up out of the cave in order to sit upon a rock, bask in the winter sun and take in some crisp, cold air.
It felt like I had only been up there a few minutes when from the castle garden there came an irregular crunching noise. I knew that something walked upon the ice, something with a random, wounded gait. Across the white field it made its way to me. Blood dripped from its pores, why do they always seem to be bleeding? Even when it has been many days since the last time they drew blood from another, still a sanguine saliva seems able to gather in their maws.
Most of the lower half of its face was in bits, whether through an over enthusiastic feeding frenzy or because it picked on the wrong human I don't know. I wasn't sure how it intended to bite me, but it was an embrace I was keen to avoid regardless. I found myself paralysed as it came closer. But not by fear.
I'd learned so much already from the book I held tightly to me. Profound knowledge, profound thoughts on things such as the time that Atticus Faraday broke the dawn and spent all day putting it back together. In the light of the brilliance of this man who was taking my mind on an incredible journey, the thing in front of me seemed ridiculous. It was less than human, less than an animal, less than anything.
The beauty of form that it once possessed was a memory, its own memories were not even that, they were virus ridden, shredded pieces of grey matter which contained nothing. It's love was gone, its education lost, I do not think they even breathe. They are the detritus of the world. Yet we run from them, we run lest we become like them. It seems obscene to me that mankind must flee such low, base creatures as the cadavers.
Raj screamed as he leapt forward and bashed the beasts head in with a rock. It fell down in the snow and my friend looked at me.
“Why didn't you run?” he asked incredulously.
“I felt I shouldn't have to any more” came my exasperating reply. He shook his head. A line of fellow cadavers was making its way across the ice. They smelt blood. Raj picked me up and almost threw me down the hole back into the cavern network. That was my only sojourn all winter, I was not saddened by this, for it allowed me to spend my time by the fireplace getting more acquainted with Atticus.
There were some tricky conversations. Lucy and Raj wanted to know how the fire in the fireplace kept on burning without any of us adding fuel. Raj almost pulled the cave apart looking for pipes leading to gas cylinders. His search for a rational explanation came up with nothing. Lucy would purse her lips and tap her foot a lot, she would voice wild ideas about optical illusions or a naturally occurring phenomenon.
I could feel the heat, and whether or not the fire was natural or otherwise did not bother me in the slightest. It was keeping us warm through the harsh winter, for me that was enough of an explanation of its existence. To probe further, seemed almost rude, an ingratitude of sorts.
The lanterns were equally baffling but their light was oh so welcome; so, what did it matter? I read by that light for many hours and that was all I needed. On several occasions my compatriots tried to borrow the book from me, I think I frightened them a little with my vehemence. Apologies were issued, and they promised to let the matter lie provided I did not try and bite them again or kick them in the shins.
I was an only child but that did not mean mum and dad didn't frequently share with me the importance of sharing. But this book, this book was my lifeline to the stars, it was all the stepping stones stacked upon each other, and atop them I was able to see everything that I needed to see. I was graced by the light of heaven almost at its source, and it was selfish of me but yes, I was not willing to share it, at least not yet.
I would like to be able to convey to you the entirety of the genius that is Atticus Faraday, but books within books are like dreams within dreams, confusing and shrouded in secrets built on mysteries. Also, despite having spent several months on what is a relatively small volume, I have not reached the end. Each time I come close some new chapter opens out on me, some new saga with unstoppable ink weaving its way through every page.
There is something else I have noticed too, as winter was worn on and waned. There is a familiarity about the tales that Atticus is telling me. Some resonance that I cannot quite place. His journey is an incredible one, to move from the first place where there was only darkness, along the first ray of light and beyond; into all the things it brought with it.
But it is not this part of Atticus' journey which reminds me of something, it is his tales of fallen worlds, of chaos, and the dead who have risen. It is his stories of heroes in black and evil which looked with green eyed envy upon a good it would never be a part of. I would occasionally probe Lucy on some of the wonderment within the book, to see if it had any basis in historical fact. It didn't seem to however, she told me that there were similarities, that The Raven and the Wolf might be hinting at allegory, but what the intent and meaning behind his work might be none of us could say.
Winter ended, as all good winters do. Spring was in the air, its freshness even found a way down to me in the cave. The ice retreated, the snow retired for a time. The world was bright, and sadly still filled with the dead.
Lucy and Raj started to plan, they wanted to find out what had happened to Britain, to the British people and that which they held dear. For Lucy and Raj what had occurred was a storm, they wanted to see if it was over, they wanted to see if the infection had burned itself out, and which parts of the world survived in its wake.
I was reluctant to leave. For me the world ended, I was not keen to look upon what remained, not when at the heart of it I
knew there would be the staring dead eyes of the ones I'd loved. However my opinion was eventually swayed. Not by Lucy and Raj, nor by the dwindling food and water supplies. No, the decision to leave Hertford came about as the result of a dream, and a call for help which I could not ignore.