Elfland

by Freda Warrington

  “Oh, god,” she whispered. “How long’s he been there?”

  “Since he came. A hundred years. Or however long he’s been missing on Vaeth.” The girl’s face was sad. “I have promised him stories if he comes down, but he still won’t.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “Deciding whether or not to fall.”

  Rosie ran towards the tree, stumbling on roots and rock. Sam was after her, calling, “Hold on—”

  “Tree-climbing I can do,” she said. She touched the trunk. It was not lichen that crusted the ridges of bark, but frost. As she reached out for a handhold, she heard the doe girl shout a warning, “Claws, beware the Claws!”—and something came rushing at her out of the wild garden.

  A scarecrow creature, all twigs and spines, flung itself at Rosie and embraced her. Thorns snagged her clothes and pierced her flesh. She cried out and struggled to free herself, but the harder she fought the tighter it bound her, scratching and stabbing until she couldn’t breathe, had to hold still to stop the spines going deeper.

  “Sam?” she gasped at the end of her breath.

  He was there, smashing the clawed creature with a branch. It clung stubbornly. He struck again and again until it began to disintegrate. Finally it let go, leaving her bleeding from a dozen punctures. She saw more Claws coming, tearing themselves out of the bushes to form semihuman shapes.

  “Go!” snarled Sam. “I’ll deal with them.”

  Rosie climbed, finding swellings in the bark to start her off, swinging her way up to the thick lower branches and then upwards into the crown. Her hands were so raw, cold and bloody she could hardly feel anything with them but pain. Below, Sam fought to protect her. She could hear the savage fight, the crunch of green wood.

  As she climbed above the Abyss, she saw down into it. The chasm wall was thick with ice. A glacier issued from somewhere inside it and rolled ponderously down the rock face, falling towards infinity. A column of ice mist rose. Now she could see that the chasm had a far side. Lava flowed down the rock wall opposite, painting it scarlet. That was the source of the bloody glow. Between the two vast canyon walls lay the absolute blackness of the Abyss.

  By the time she reached the limb on which Lucas sat she was sobbing for breath. He had his back to her. She braced herself against the trunk and looked at him, poised there with the branch bending under his slight weight. His clothes looked strange, vague and greyish, but he appeared real enough, substantial enough to fall. His dark hair blew about his shoulders. He was real, alive.

  “Lucas,” she called softly.

  He looked over his shoulder and saw her. “Rosie?”

  As soon as she saw his face, she knew this was a ghost after all. His face was shiny grey. It looked wrong, white where it should have been shadowed. It was his face in silver halide, a negative.

  Sitting astride the branch, she shuffled along it towards him. “I’ve come to find you,” she said. “Do you know where you are?”

  “The Abyss,” he answered, looking away from her again. “The Cauldron. The beginning, the end.”

  “Why, Luc?”

  “It’s peaceful here. All I can remember is fear and shattering glass.”

  “That was only the accident. It’s over.”

  He didn’t reply. He went on staring down into the void. She was as close as she dared go now without the limb bending dangerously beneath them. “Come with me,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

  “After you’ve looked into infinity, home is meaningless. There’s no such place anymore.”

  Ice thickened in her stomach. “Please. You’re still alive. You can’t give up, you’re the Gatekeeper now.”

  “I know,” he said softly. “That’s why I can’t go back. I can’t do it. Look what it did to Lawrence. It’s too much.”

  “But you won’t be alone. At least come back and talk it over.”

  He was quiet, then he said, “Once you look down, you can’t look away. I came here in my visions. I can’t stop wondering, how would it feel to let go and fall forever?”

  “I don’t know,” Rosie said grimly, “but not as good as dancing on grass with bare feet. Not as bad as seeing the look on Mum and Dad’s faces when I tell them I couldn’t bring you back.”

  Lucas made a sound, perhaps a sob. Rosie was desperate. If she tried physically to seize him, they would both know how it felt to fall forever. “Don’t make me angry,” she said more assertively. “I have walked bloody miles to find you and I’m not going back empty-handed. You stop here, I stop here. That’s going to be pretty annoying for both of us, don’t you think?”

  “If the Gates stay closed, the realms will fade. If they’re opened, we’ll be destroyed. How can I make that choice? It’s too great a responsibility, Ro. I can’t do it.”

  “So you’d rather die?”

  “I’ve seen the shadow Lawrence fears.” His soft tone chilled her. “There’s nothing you can do in the face of it.”

  “That’s his shadow, not yours.”

  “He and I are the same.”

  “No, you’re not. What, never taste chocolate again, or see Mum and Dad, or Jon? Never lose your virginity?” He looked round, scowling with indignation. She smiled. “I swear, Luc, I’m not moving until you do.”

  “Where am I?” he asked, looking uncertain.

  “In hospital. Haven’t you any idea how much everyone loves you?”

  He turned his head again to look down, sitting motionless. She gulped shallow breaths, her mouth as dry as Naamon, thinking, What more can I say, what will make him listen? Then Lucas said, “Look. Down there. Can you see it?”

  Where the ice mist thinned, she saw a mass on the chasm wall opposite, several hundred feet below them. It was a gigantic black statue, poised there as if hewn from the basalt of the rock face itself. The shape was humanoid, heavy, hinting at both animal and demon; ice crusted its great limbs and vapor rolled slowly over its vast bulk as if down the sides of a mountain. Its head was indistinct and sinister. Frost sketched highlights on heavy, scaled features and the eyes were two empty, utterly black voids.

  It was magnificent and hideous. The sight of the statue, poised there as if it had been there from the beginning of time, filled her with awe. She could easily imagine that when it woke, it would bring the end of the world. “What is it?” she murmured.

  “Brawth,” said Lucas.

  As he spoke, the statue turned its great stone head and looked up at him. A hollow voice said, “Lucas, come back to us.” Rosie almost screamed, but no sound came. It was solid, frozen rock again—but it had moved, and seen Lucas, and fastened its empty stare upon him.

  “Oh my god,” he breathed. The growing fear in his voice told her, at last, that he wasn’t ready to die after all. “Christ, it’s seen me. Rosie, we have to go.”

  “Come on, then,” she said urgently. “Don’t rush. Be careful!”

  Her heart was in her mouth as he turned, swinging his legs over the branch until he was fully round and facing her. She almost fell in relief as he started edging towards her. “Wait for me,” he said.

  “That’s it, steady.” She wanted to give him a hand, but instinct told her not to touch his Aetheric form. As she turned, already planning their descent, she stopped short. The doe lady was in front of her, sitting in the hollow where the branch joined the trunk. Below, Sam was still fighting the thorn creatures. The girl was like a china princess with her fur coat pooled around her. “Please, may we pass?”

  “I will miss him.”

  Rosie was beyond politeness. “Have you seen what’s down there?”

  “It has always been there.” The girl appeared unconcerned. Her doll-like innocence and refusal to acknowledge their urgency struck Rosie as sinister. “It can’t pursue or harm you.”

  “Whatever, if Luc’s fear of it will make him come home, I’m not arguing! Tell whoever’s responsible to call off the Claws and let us go!”

  “I can’t. Something in your own mind is shaping them
.”

  Looking down, Rosie saw Sam battling the Claws. As soon as one fell apart, another came. He had a technique now of thrusting the branch in to tear each one apart with a single wrench. “What are you saying—that they’re my fear?”

  “Something deeper than that.” The doe girl sighed. “I know Lucas must leave. He’s not mine. Still, you should leave something precious in exchange for him. Those are the rules of balance.”

  Rosie felt the lifeblood draining out of her heart. There was only Sam and herself. Leave him in Luc’s place? Unthinkable. The girl, however, aimed her ivory finger at Rosie’s breastbone. “You want me to stay in Luc’s place?” Her heartbeat rushed in her ears.

  “Would you?”

  “Yes.” Her throat and eyes hurt. She swallowed. “Yes, if you promise he’ll return safely to life, I’ll stay here gladly.”

  “No, Rosie,” Lucas said behind her.

  “Such self-sacrifice makes the best stories.” The girl smiled. “That’s a noble offer, but I only meant your crystal. One jewel for another.”

  Rosie exhaled, her hand flying to the crystal heart at her throat. She fumbled to unfasten the chain. “Yes.” As she placed it into the doe lady’s hand, she did so with a firm intent that the Claws would cease to exist, that she wouldn’t be afraid anymore. Albin’s desires had no power. She visualized the thorn beings dismembered and heaped on a bonfire. “Take it, gladly. Now may we pass?”

  “Go, take him home,” said the girl. She fastened the chain around her own neck, her eyes turning silver with tears. “Don’t forget the rules. As soon as you set foot on the Causeway, you must go ahead and Lucas must follow. Don’t stop, don’t speak to him, don’t look back until you are safely through the Gates. Otherwise you may break the invisible thread that draws him after you.” The doe lady left the branch, flashing into the shape of a white owl and flying suddenly straight at Rosie, passing so close that she almost lost her balance and fell. For a moment, her world was full of whirring white feathers, wing tips and claws brushing across her from hip to shoulder. Then the owl soared free. “Farewell, brother of light,” she called as she flew into darkness.

  By the time Rosie had descended the tree, with Lucas close behind, the last of the Claws had fallen and Sam was leaning on the trunk, blood-spattered, getting his breath back. “Sam, will you go first? Once we start, we mustn’t look back.”

  “Yes, I heard,” he said matter-of-factly. “Come on.”

  They began to retrace their steps, Sam in the lead, Rosie fixing her gaze on his shoulders, Lucas silent-footed behind her. Back through the temple and garden; across the Frost Bridge to the Causeway. At first it was dark, with clouds covering the stars and a fine grey drizzle falling all the way through Melusiel.

  Rosie hurt all over. Thorn scratches, bruises, skinned palms, blistered feet. Her throat was sore and her head ached. She ignored it and kept walking. Miles to go and they must not stop or speak or look back. She hardly dared to breathe.

  “Don’t you know who she was, the doe girl?” Lucas said behind her. Rosie opened her lips, quickly closed them again, resisting the natural urge to reply. “She’s Estel, Lady of Stars. Her lover was Kern, who takes the form of a forest god, covered in green leaves. Perseid of Sibeyla was jealous and he tricked Kern and tore him to pieces, scattering him all across the Spiral as an autumn gale tears a tree apart. Ever since, Estel has been trying to gather the pieces of him back together. She’s lonely. That’s why she didn’t want me to leave . . . but I’m not him. She knew that. She told me stories while I was in the Tree. All about the Spiral.”

  As they passed through Naamon, night remained and the desert was cold. Rosie watched nervously for the sunburned ghost corpse, but nothing stirred.

  Sibeyla was narrow, precipitous and chilly. Sam never faltered. He marched as doggedly as a soldier, drawing her on. All the way, Lucas was talking softly behind her, repeating the stories that the doe lady had told him. It was agony, being unable to respond. Silently she willed him to keep speaking so she knew he was still there.

  By the time they reached Elysion, a faint colorless dawn was beginning. She was cold to the bone, but her spirits rose. As they reached the cliff top, she could have danced for joy to feel grass under her feet again. Around the spiral they trod until it wound outwards again, over the fells, up and down into the woods and past the fold where Ginny’s cottage lay hidden . . . She didn’t remember it being so far. They came through the sighing forest and at last up the gentle slope towards the trees embracing above the portal. It was only as they entered the aperture that she realized Lucas had fallen silent.

  Passing through Lychgate was the worst thing. So dark and narrow, a burial chamber. Her hands were like dead things as she felt along the sides to guide herself. She could sense Lucas close behind her. The temptation to reassure him was overwhelming, but she resisted. “I don’t know,” she heard him say, very faintly. “That smell . . . twisted metal and petrol. The light’s blinding.”

  It’s all right, we’re nearly there, she thought, willing him on. At last she saw a wash of light, and her heart swelled with anticipation.

  Sam stepped out of the crack in Freya’s Crown, and she went stumbling out after him. It was dawn in the surface world. A wintry breeze ruffled the trees and blew her hair about wildly. For a moment she could see nothing through the strands. They stopped in the dip and turned as one to look back at the Gates. Sam’s hands came up to catch Rosie as she collapsed against him.

  There was no one there. Only blind rock and the wind blowing through the grass.

  19

  Snowfall

  Rosie was barely aware of returning to Oakholme. Sam had to help her down the path. There was an iron shaft through her heart and it was all she could do to walk.

  The kitchen door was unlocked, as they had left it. She looked blankly around at the Aga cooker, plates on the draining board, the sturdy farmhouse table. It looked as if nothing had been touched, except for Sam’s note, which had disappeared.

  “How long have we been away?” Her voice was a dry leaf. “What day is it?”

  “I don’t know, but look, everything’s the same. Hang on . . .” Sam went into the hall, came back with a newspaper in his hand. “Apparently it’s Tuesday. We were gone two days. It’s okay. Time ran the same here.”

  Rosie nodded. One less thing to worry about, but she was too numb to feel actual relief. She sat down at the kitchen table. Sam, grey-faced and silent, occupied himself making tea, but she couldn’t drink it. He sat quietly beside her, watching her. It was plain in his face that he felt completely helpless. There was nothing to be said. Her hands were pushed into the chaos of her hair and the mug of tea sat congealing in front of her.

  Eventually she spoke. “Where did I go wrong? I did what they told us. I didn’t speak, didn’t look round. He was right behind me inside the Gate. What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing,” said Sam. “You did everything possible.”

  “And it still wasn’t enough.” Her breath shuddered out of her. “Of all precious things in this world, the one person I would have wanted to save was Luc. I put nothing above him, nothing.”

  “I know, pet.”

  “I wonder where Matthew is?” The memory of his feral state was a vague anxiety behind veils of fog. It was difficult to feel anything beyond the leaden weight of grief on her shoulders.

  “He’ll turn up. Don’t worry about him.”

  “That’s one more thing for my parents to deal with. How can I tell them? I can’t face any more.”

  “I’ll speak to them,” Sam said gently. “Love, we’re both exhausted. Why don’t you have a sleep? I’ll stay down here in case Matthew—”

  The phone rang, making them jump. Sam rose to answer it, spoke softly for a few seconds, hung up. The weight on Rosie’s heart grew suddenly heavier, crushing her to nothing.

  “That was your father,” he said. “They need us at the hospital.”

  Rosie and Sam walked
the long corridors of the infirmary like a pair of airraid survivors. Everything looked bleached and dreamlike. People turned to stare as they passed along the ward. Through glass doors they saw Jessica, Auberon and Phyllida grouped in a corner, anxiously watching the doctors and nurses gathered around Lucas’s bed.

  The ward sister, Kate, stepped into their path and stopped them, her face full of grave compassion. “I don’t know if Mr. Fox explained,” she said.

  Sam shook his head. “He just said, get here now.”

  “It’s the last test we do for brain-stem function,” Kate said gently. “We lift sedation and take him off the ventilator to see if he can breathe for himself.”

  “The last test?” said Sam. “He failed the others?”

  “The neurosurgeons are with him. They test for various reflexes, but I’m afraid he’s shown no response so far. The apnea test can take at least fifteen minutes . . . I’m sorry, I know this is hard for you.”

  Rosie felt herself sliding into darkness. The world disintegrated; her head whirled with murmuring voices. She came round sitting on a plastic chair with Sam’s arm around her, Kate offering a glass of water. Pushing free of them like a swimmer escaping a dark flood, she rose to her feet, forced herself to go on walking unsteadily towards the room. The glass doors hissed open. The scene was crystal-clear; surreal. Chrome and plastic, monitors winking. Her mother and father turned to acknowledge her and she saw Lucas lying pale on the bed beside them . . .

  Looking at her.

  She hardly registered the medical staff around him. The sight of him cut between everyone like a beam of white light. He was propped up on pillows and the breathing tube was gone. He blinked and tried to smile. In a hoarse whisper he said, “There you are, Ro.”

  Her parents were holding on to each other, the desolate exhaustion of their faces sheened with amazement. Their eyes were red. Auberon held out a hand to usher Rosie forward and Sam came after her with a chair. She felt her father’s hands on her shoulders as she sat down. The doctors were examining Lucas, asking questions which he answered slowly but lucidly.