Merely the heat from the air escaping between the bars was reviving Gil. He groaned, took the bars of the portcullis in his right hand, drove the point of his shield into the marble with his left, and rose to his shaky legs. The two elfin men-at-arms stood stiffly, their faceplates toward him, watching him from unseen eyes, not laughing aloud, making no move to help or to hinder.
Through the bars, Gil saw a great colonnade driven straight into the living rock of the mountain. The lanterns nearby were dark, and the corridor close at hand could not be seen, but those in the distance were bright. At the far end of the great gallery was an arch whose great doors were twin slabs of pale crystal thirty feet tall, hewn from some unearthly solid diamond. The doors were translucent, and moving lights and shadows could be seen behind as if through a cloud.
Gil turned toward the figure in gold and green. “Soldier of Alberec, admit me, I pray you. The day is deadly cold outside, and the generous hospitality of this court is known to all.”
The man-at-arms in green said, “This portcullis cannot lift at my word, sir, but tell me your name, your father’s name, and tell by whom you were invited to this festive solemnity, and I will send for the seneschal with all due haste, to learn his will, for he is the governor of the feast.”
Gil said, “Is it the custom that the highborn introduce themselves to underlings who do not first give their names?”
The one in green and gold inclined his head. “I am Corylus the fatherless, son of Carya the Hazel Nymph, in service to Alberec.”
The one in black and silver spoke. His voice was dispassionate and distant, like one who speaks in a dream. “I am Lemur the fatherless, son of the Queen of the Lilim, whose name it is unchancy to say, and I am the servant of Erlkoenig. We watch the door, a thankless task, while others feast because our fathers are unknown and our mothers dishonored. And you?”
“You have my sympathy and goodwill,” Gil said, “I understand your plight; believe me. But I may not say my name.”
Said Corylus, “How then? What would become of me if I allowed some unknown whose worth is not proven to enter?”
Gil said, “Send for your master if it is his decision, and not yours.”
“How? He sits in splendor with his kings and peers and ministers of highest rank, amid rare entertainments and burning incense brought from beyond Arcturus, meats of long-extinct animals of succulent savor restored by mystic arts to life for the slaughter, and prepared by the late Queen’s own chefs and cooks. Music heard only in dreams hangs in ecstasy on the breathless air, and every sight is pleasant to the eye within the feast hall, wonder upon wonder heaped! Should I call him into this drafty space to speak with one whose rank remains an unanswered question? He could turn my head into a boar’s.”
Gil turned to the other figure, called Lemur. “Soldier of the Winterking, when last I spoke with His Imperial Majesty, Erlkoenig, he told me my heraldry would be inscribed on the rolls of your heralds.” Gil held up his shield and tapped it. “He said no one would question my blood. Yet this follower of Alberec here has done just that. Which better serves your master’s honor? To agree with Alberec’s loyal vassal or to carry out the will of Erlkoenig?”
But before Lemur could answer, there was a billow of white mist from the golden hallway beyond the bars, in the dark part of the hall nearest them. Suddenly, they saw a person tall and thin, garbed in shining white who was walking toward them, and a cloud of fireflies coming with him to light the way. Perhaps he had walked all the way from the diamond doors at the far end and only now became visible, or perhaps he had been fetched by some sudden magic from a distant place.
3. Phadrig Og
His jaw was narrow, and his hair was blue, and in his hand was a wand of ivory. A belt of silver links shaped like lotus flowers bound his waist, and a silver fillet bound his forehead, and there was a blue stone that burned with inner fire hanging between his delicately arched brows. His blue eyes were held in a perpetual squint, as if he were fighting with a headache.
Gil said softly, “Is this your master?”
Lemur said, “No. Erlkoenig’s first minister is Gwyn ap Nudd of the Slaugh, dread master of his airy hounds, whose breath is the arctic wind.”
Corylus said, “Alberec’s minister is the sly and wicked Robin Goodfellow, called Puck. This man approaching is the seneschal of Brian Brollachan, Lord of the Autumn Lands. King Brian is a lesser king. The jealousy of Alberec and Erlkoenig will not permit one to have precedence over the other, so the master of this feast is Phadrig Og, King Brian’s seneschal, and to him, for this night only, the keys of the door are given. It is he who seats the guests or turns them away.”
But by then the pale-faced figure was near, and the two men-at-arms fell silent.
His voice was high and nasal, waspish and condescending. “The cold air disturbs Ethne, Balor’s royal daughter, and I am sent from the revels to seek the cause. Doorwardens! Who opened the ramp? What nonsense is this?”
Corylus said, “Seneschal, here is one who seeks admittance.”
But the seneschal snapped his finger impatiently. “I can see that. But who is he? The full roster of all the invited guests is complete. We expect no others. Why did you speak the word of the door?”
Corylus said, “Neither Lemur nor I called the words to open the ramp. The indwelling spirit of the doors did this thing.”
“No matter! Who is not called cannot come in! Ask him his father’s name. If he be royalty, send him away with gifts and stirrup cup to warm him. If he is of noble blood, send him on his way empty handed. If he is a tradesman, mariner, or crofter, beat him and send him off with a curse, whatever your malice can devise. If he is a churl or serf, kill him for daring to touch our doors.” And, with this word, the seneschal turned smartly on his heel, as if anxious to return to the festivities.
But Lemur spoke. His voice was colorless and bloodless, but it cut through other sounds like the winter wind through an ill-made wall. “Phadrig Og! Look well upon this knight and see the shield he bears.”
Phadrig Og, the seneschal, turned in surprise and then stared at Gil, his eyes narrowing.
Lemur said, “He slew the brothers of Guynglaff the Wild-Man-o’-Wood with a sword not made by mortal hands, and the Cobwebs are hunting for him high and low and have not found him.”
Phadrig Og snapped back, “What is that to me? I am of the Night World. The Cobwebs are half-breeds and half-humans of the Twilight World. What are the half-creatures but troubles and trash, by-blows and cuckoos’ eggs?”
Lemur said, “If we send him from these doors, which are watched by the half-born closely, and the Cobwebs fall upon him and slay him, it might be whispered that your master Brian was complicit in his death. And then some will wonder why Phadrig Og was not more curious about the nameless knight whom the headless huntsmen could not find. Some power is aiding him. If it is not my master, it is yours, or there is another player in the game: Alberec of the Summer Lands or Ethne the May Queen.”
Phadrig Og turned toward Gil, “Well, sir? State your name and lineage, and tell by what right you intrude where you are not invited and none has welcomed you?”
Gil said, “An oath prevents me from giving my name. And as for by what right–” Gil hesitated. Perhaps he had no right to be here. But then he remembered the kidnapped child and the insane truckdriver. “–I am in service to Arthur Pendragon and am on a great and dangerous quest which brings me here.”
Phadrig Og’s face changed. His narrow, squinting eyes grew momentarily wide. “Your words ring true in my ear, young man. I dare not doubt them. But can it be that the Pendragon is still alive?”
Gil said, “It is by the unalterable will of Heaven!”
Phadrig Og looked taken aback. “Wh-What?”
Gil lifted his head and said in his most serious tone, “Hear me now! King Arthur’s sword was thrown into a lake in Wales and will not be seen again except in his hand. But don’t ask for that hour to come too quickly! Woe when it comes! That
hour will be dark indeed!”
All three there gasped. Gil wondered if the childhood stories on which his mother raised him were somehow unknown to the elf world. Perhaps the promised return of Arthur was a surprise to them. But if they were spying on the human world, how could they not know that story? It was in books and movies.
Beneath his helm, Gil scowled. If it had been a secret kept from the elfs, might it not have been kept from them for a good reason?
Just then, Gil started shivering again. The cold wind was coming from behind, blowing down the ramp, and the snow was falling down into the little triangle formed by the surface, the upper lip of the ramp, and the lower lip where it met the closed portcullis threshold. Open sky was still overhead. The warmth, the delicious scents and haunting music coming through the bars, and the golden light, seemed unbearably precious to Gil at that moment. He was sure that if he were turned away, even if the Cobwebs did not kill him, the cold would.
Phadrig Og said sharply, “If you are a knight in Arthur’s service, where is your horse? Where are your spurs?”
But Lemur said in his icy voice, “The Winter King has enrolled his coat of arms. All the Sons of Winter affirm that this one is of worthy blood, and a true knight.”
The music from beyond the diamond doors suddenly crashed into a fanfare, and there was a sound of laughter and applause. Phadrig Og glanced over his shoulder, his yearning to return to the festivities clearly showing in his face.
“Come along! It is time to dine!” He snapped his fingers once more. The bars swiftly and silently lifted up.
4. The Hall of Pillars
Gil stepped forward into the warmth. Gil turned and said, “Lemur, you spoke up for me when there was no one else to speak for me. I will not forget your kindness.”
The armored figure in black and silver drifted backward without moving his feet, as if gravity no longer effected him. His voice was as cold as the north wind, “Kindness is not my nature. I obey Erlkoenig with precision, out of fear, and my low birth keeps me far from him. Hence I will not see the fate he will inflict on you as you thrust yourself unwelcome and unasked into his imperial presence. If your head is not on a platter with the other rarities offered up at the feast this night before an hour is past, then the unseen power whose pawn you are plays a deep game indeed.”
Phadrig Og walked at a breathless pace down the long colonnade. At first it was dark, but the number of lanterns grew as they proceeded. Gil’s sight of the place grew clearer the farther he walked.
The dark part of the hall was full of breathing, and Gil smelled the scent of hay and horses and heard the growling of dogs. The noise came from above him. Near the gate were stables and kennels, but even Gil’s sharp eyes could not penetrate the shadows here.
Beyond this, there was more light, and he could see the colonnade was straight with no arch, no door, and no opening to the left or right, at least, not at floor level. The floorstones were of white, black, and green marble, each one carved with the image of a fish or mermaid. The arched roof above was painted over with songbirds and seabird and birds of prey, bearded stars and crescent moons.
Every column was carved like a tree with spreading branches, each with its own distinctive pattern of leaf or fruit: great and stately oak, ash, thorn, alder, yew, willow; and between them were more slender columns, shaped like black poplar, holm, hazelnut and chestnut, mulberry, elm, beech, and fig; and between these were roof designs carved and adorned to resemble wild grape, wrack, bryony and black bryony. A spiral design wrapped each tree trunk, but Gil could not at first see what it meant.
The lamps grew brighter as the two approached the diamond panels of the great door. Now Gil saw a line of narrow windows set in the upper part of the walls high overhead, with lanterns and loopholes between. These arches were barred with silver bars shaped into swirling spirals and flowery designs. Gil saw that any foe forcing these doors could be showered with arrows or drenched with molten lead poured from these upper places.
The spiral designs on the trees, Gil now saw, were serpents, snakes, and dragons, each of a different breed, cobra or asp, adder or python. He also saw carved into the roots of these trees was marble shaped like skulls or piled bones. The stones underfoot had fewer images of wholesome fish but now showed sharks and sea serpents or transparent monsters like living skeletons with eyes like lamps. The stones overhead were adorned with owls.
At the end of the corridor, the doorposts were guarded by two statues, one of black and one of white marble. These were carved and polished idols of two great wolves, one in his summer coat and one in his winter coat. A great rack of swords and spears, with a line of shields below and helms above, filled the walls behind each of the huge wolf statues.
Phadrig Og said, “Take off your helmet and put your sword and shield there and there. Quickly now!”
Gil slipped his knapsack off his shoulder and dropped it on the floor. But he made no move to unbuckle his sword belt.
“I mean no disrespect, but I took an oath not to put this sword from me.”
Anger snapped in the eyes of Phadrig Og like blue flame. “I have no time for this folly! I act this night for Erlkoenig and Alberec both: Do you defy the Emperor of Night and the Summer King? I should have you thrown to the corpse-eater!”
Gil said, “I will not break my word. Not even for kings.”
Phadrig Og raised his wand. The tall black statue of the wolf now stirred and came to life, and it turned its great, shaggy head of stone and regarded Gil with eyes that were featureless black marbles, seemingly blind.
Gil stepped back, looking at the stone monster pensively. He could see no weakness, no way to attack it. It was not even alive. Gil said aloud, “Seneschal! This is a breech of honor! You invited me in! You said to come along! To come to dine!”
Phadrig Og laughed sarcastically. “Perhaps I meant you should come along to the pit of the corpse-eater! It is time for him to dine, not you! Should he not have his Christmas feast?”
The giant statue of the wolf moved its paw and opened up a marble slab before its feet like a trap door. A vile stench came up from the darkness beneath. No bottom was visible.
Phadrig Og said, “The corpse-eater will swallow even your bones so that Lemur will not fret about what rumors might say if the Cobwebs killed you. An elegant solution, satisfactory to all concerned!”
Gil said, “I am not satisfied!”
“Quite so. I should have said the solution will be satisfactory to all survivors. Alberec will never even know a nameless vagabond attempted to…”
5. The White Wolf
They were interrupted. The statue of the white wolf stirred and lifted its shaggy, stone head, staring down at Gil with smooth stone eyes. “In whose name, child, ask you entrance here, to these dark halls of celebration?”
Gil backed up, hand on sword hilt, eyes carefully moving back and forth between the two wolves. He opened his mouth to admit that he had no invitation here, and then snapped it shut again. Because that was not what he had been asked.
He said, “Titania. It was her name that opened the gate for me.”
The white wolf leaned forward on its pedestal, reached out a great paw, and trapped the hem of the cloak of Phadrig Og beneath. The seneschal cried out, tugging at his throat where the fabric choked him.
The white wolf said, “Elfs who dwell in the night cannot see what dwells in the Outer Darkness; nor can the Moths and Cobwebs of the Twilight see the Elfs who dwell in the night; and mortal men are blind before the dawn to come. What dwells in the light? Admit the boy.”
Phadrig Og sputtered and scowled. “By what name command you me? I hold the keys of the door!”
The white wolf said, “And I hold the honor of the dead, who cannot speak. I can say the name that commands me, but it would destroy you to hear it.”
Phadrig Og, scowling and tugging at his collar, now sneered and sighed, and nodded curtly to the black wolf. “The corpse eater must go hungry this night. Let him pass.�
��
The black wolf statue shut the marble trapdoor again.
Gil stood a moment, struggling with anger, fear, and puzzlement at how suddenly dangers appeared and vanished in this hell. Then he heard his stomach rumble for hunger’s sake.
He put down his shield where he had been asked, and took off the heavy helm and propped it on a peg above his shield, as the other helmets here were arranged, with cloaks or coats hung to either side, hems pinned back to show their colors. His coif covered his hair and head, leaving only his face free.
Now Phadrig Og tapped his white wand on the floorstones. The tall diamond door opened allowing a sounds of stringed instruments and voices lifted in song to escape, and the scent of spices.
Splendor filled the gaze of Gil.
Chapter Five: The Revels of the Otherworld
1. Elf Light
A seductive, wild music of strings, chimes, brasses and reeds, penetrated through his ears to his bones, and he felt his blood flowing to the rhythm of the song, ignoring the rhythm of his heart. The singers sang no words. They were loons and swans and long-necked unicorns whose eerie calls and baying cries were woven through the melody.
Gil’s eyes were confused. The scene was swaying to the music, as if seen through the disturbed surface of a pool.
Every person and object here had a strange colored shadow around it. Something was painting colored shadows in his eyes, making the gems in the room more precious, the women more lovely, the men more noble, the polished wood more lustrous, and the light more rich. More than sight was influenced: the smell and savor of the wine and meat were more delicious. It changed hearing as well. Gil heard a hum in his ear that formed other sounds than the real ones, but beneath that, if he listened, he could hear what was really being said or sung.
Feast of the Elfs: The Green Knight's Squire Book Two (Moth & Cobweb 2) Page 5
