"Are you awake?" asked Marie, staring at Gemma intently.
"It's all a matter of degrees, I'm more awake than some and less than others. But now, I think we should get the cottage warm and we'll talk more in a while. My old bones need warming up and I'm very hungry. Is that okay?" asked Gemma.
They hadn't moved since coming inside and now the darkness encouraged them to get organised, as the cottage was really cold. Within half an hour, they had a roaring fire in the hearth and a pot of pasta sauce bubbling away on the tiny stove, which filled the air with the smell of garlic.
They sat by the fire eating their meal from two little wooden bowls and Marie felt genuinely excited. Watching Gemma slurp on the strands of pasta like a ten-year-old, it seemed incomprehensible to Marie to imagine how much this humble mystic had seen in her long life. After they finished their simple dinner, Gemma crouched in front of the fire and threw on a large log. As the sparks screamed upwards and the fire crackled with new life, Gemma spun around and knelt, with the fire silhouetting her.
"It's time I told you my story. It'll have to be a heavily summarised version, or we'll be here all night. Is that all right by you?" asked Gemma, her eyes gleaming with intent. Marie just nodded her approval.
"I was born in 1595 and my parents were killed in 1598, when I was nearly five and my brother Shamir was seven. A couple, who were great friends of our parents, adopted us. Their names were Heidi and Joshua and, like my parents, they were part of an ancient order of mystics who were renowned healers at that time. I have no real recollection of my true parents, other than a couple of vague memories. However, it was a time of great change, when the forces of the warrior energy were mounting and the powerful countries were those that were prepared to dominate by force. You'd know all about such events from your history lessons, I'm sure."
"Yes, yes of course," said Marie enthusiastically.
"Slavery was the driving influence of the developing nations, who scrabbled to control the new lands. The monarchs of Europe dominated most of the world through war and the most successful one of the period was this small country, Great Britain. The church and the monarchs conspired together to create absolute power, which meant destroying any influences that would destabilise their position. The healing arts were their greatest threat."
"But why? What would make them think that?" interrupted Marie.
"Because, my dear Marie, it is impossible to influence or dominate any person who believes in the humility of connectedness. You need to create a God who demands absolute loyalty to his representatives on the Earth if you want true control."
"Oh," said Marie, squinting slightly as she tried to concentrate.
"It is enough to say that they were called the dark ages for good reason. My adopted parents were part of an ancient order that sourced its power through a humble connection with the Earth. They still understood the language of nature and were able to speak to plants and animals in a way that would be ridiculed now and was presented as the work of the devil back then."
"They used to burn anyone like that, didn't they?" asked Marie.
"Yes, and they'd often mutilate them first if they really wanted to make an example of them. Over a period of about a hundred years or so, pretty much all such practitioners and their communities were weeded out and destroyed. Word filtered through to my parents that the new pope had decreed a purging of their kind. He had a particularly twisted vehemence to his nature and his hatred of natural magic knew no bounds. With the support of the English monarch, he was mustering a force to systematically sweep through England on 'a mission of cleansing', as he called it."
"Whoa," sighed Marie.
"Yes, so my family fled with a small group of their clan to the coast of Cornwall. They hoped to pick up a boat to France from there and then make for the relative safety of Provence. In this area of Southern Europe, there were healers who had remained hidden in the labyrinth of rugged mountains that makes up that region. They kept practising their arts and maintaining a communication with the elfin world. The purges would reach them eventually, but for many years they were the only true haven for such magic in the Western world. They didn't just believe in elves, they were able to see and communicate with them. But, like so many of the ancient arts, their wisdom, like the elves themselves, have all but disappeared from the Earth."
"You mean to tell me that elves are real?" said Marie, interrupting because she just couldn't stop herself.
"Yes, I do."
"You mean like in Lord of the Rings?"
"Yes, young Mr Tolkien was a lot more accurate than he realised and a good friend. You see, the elves are the guardians of nature's magic and the reason this planet is as beautiful as she is. But we'll talk about that whole area tomorrow when we walk around the property, otherwise I will never finish my story."
"Okay, I'll try to stay quiet, but it isn't easy," said Marie.
"Fourteen of us left our village and only six of us made it to Cornwall, including my Shamir and Joshua. We then managed to buy a small sailing boat from a farmer who had met my."
"Wait a second, what happened to Heidi, your stepmother? Didn't she make it to the coast as well?" asked Marie, interrupting almost immediately. Gemma glared at Marie with a sense of menace in her eyes. Marie reeled back instinctively, then felt ashamed to have asked such a personal question.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," she said gently.
"It's okay, it's just a dark, old memory that I haven't allowed to surface in many years. You see, we were ambushed one night as we lay sleeping in a small piece of woodland outside a small town in Dorset. Before we knew it, four of our group were dead. One of the thieves strangled Heidi while she slept by a tree. The rest of us only survived because my father came charging out of the darkness, screaming for vengeance and wielding his axe like a giant, thirsty for blood. He decapitated the chief villain with one blow, then he ran after the other murderers with the brute's head in one hand and his axe whirling around in the other."
"My God, how horrible," gasped Marie.
"Yes, it was. They all took flight when confronted in such a desperate way, but it was too late for Heidi. We buried her and three other members of our group at the foot of the tree where she had been murdered. It was all so gruesome, I thought I'd never recover."
"But how did you?" asked Marie.
"Ah, well the village we travelled to in Southern France was, to say the least, a magical place to grow up. The people there nurtured me in the most beautiful way. They taught me the principles of connectedness and, most important of all, they introduced me to the reality of the elfin world. In those days, there were still small tribes of elves hidden in the dense woodlands in England and all over Europe. Most people, other than children, couldn't see them, but I was lucky enough to live in a community that treated them with great respect. My brother Shamir and I were allowed to roam with them in the forest where we lived and our friendship with them was nurtured, rather than stamped out. However, by the time I was twelve, the pressure on the natural arts was overwhelming. Religious fanaticism had seized the world and no one had the power to withstand its force."
"So, were there many elves on Earth originally?" asked Marie, quietly.
"Oh yes, there were hundreds of communities dotted around the world, but you are leading me off track again. So, where was I? Ah yes, the plan. The elders knew the human world could no longer support them in any great numbers and that the future of any who stayed was by no means guaranteed. They needed a haven beyond the touch of human warriors."
"Oh," said Marie, grappling with the intensity of the information.
"The elves spent many years researching possible sites for the hideaway and it was eventually decided that the Southern island of New Zealand had all the necessary elements."
"New Zealand?"
"Yes, it was free of any major human settlement and had a strong devic history. Of course, in those days, it was an enormous undertaking to travel such a distance
, particularly if the journey was to be undetected by our enemies. A small group of twenty-one individuals were chosen to make the first expedition. The leader was a wise old man called Kasmir, who had lived his whole life with the elves and was well trusted by them. There was my brother Shamir and myself and the rest were elves of various ages and skills, led by a powerful chief elf called Kanook."
"But what about Joshua, your adoptive father? Didn't he go?"
"No, he was too old by then, he died just before we left. It took us nearly two years to reach New Zealand and there were only seven of us left out of the original group. We planted all the saplings that had survived the trip and established a seed nursery to propagate the vast array of seeds we had with us. By the time a larger contingent of elves arrived some years later, we had planted over a million trees in this valley. It still took over a hundred years to create the magic needed to hide our new home. By the time the eighteenth-century dawned, the valley was totally protected by a shield of highly developed natural magic. It had become invisible to human eyes and the door in New Zealand was closed, making it an island."
"But why haven't explorers found it? I mean, the Earth has been mapped out to the minutest detail, hasn't it?"
"Humans haven't found the valley, because they do not know how to look."
"What?" asked Marie.
"It took one man to get in a boat and sail around the world to destroy hundreds of years of scientific theorising. He revealed a flaw in society's view of reality. Columbus didn't make the Earth change shape, he shattered a misperception. Elves exist and so does the valley, humans have just lost the awareness of them. As a race, we have become blinded by fear, we cannot see them because such talents have disappeared in us. We have followed the path of the warrior and this is dominated by the instinct to survive and this blinds any perceptions other than the basic physical ones."
"Why have the elves bothered to do it? It's fine to say they're like patient parents and that they love Mother Earth and all that, but really, after everything man has done, how can they possibly want to help?"
"Pretty much every race on every planet has been at war with itself. The elves have been wild warriors at one time here on Earth and they aren't stupid or arrogant enough not to wish to help us if we choose to grow up. It's a natural part of their service to the life force that creates everything."
"Have you visited the valley since you came back into the outside world?"
"I can see that your brain is up to full speed on all of this. I will answer this last question, but I have lived a long time and I feel every one of those years right now, so I need to rest after this, okay?" sighed Gemma.
"We can stop now, if you like," said Marie gently.
"No, no, that's fine, I know how you must feel. I would be burning with questions as well, if I were in your position. I have only ever visited the valley once since leaving and that was a little over a hundred years ago. The process of return is a dangerous one and could expose the valley at an inappropriate time. There is a small doorway in Provence, but that is used primarily to let elves leave the valley to come and serve in the outside world. It is very hard to use this door in the other direction and, with the main door in New Zealand closed, I have only been able to make the trip once."
"Oh," said Marie, shaking her head.
"Anyway, I chose to serve in the outside world and I have had an extraordinary life here, filled with incredible friendships and experiences. I feel blessed to have been part of the valley's creation. Who knows, with you and Charlie on the scene, I might go there again. But enough now, I cannot talk any more tonight, I need some sleep," said Gemma, yawning loudly.
"Of course. I'm sorry, I'm just so excited," said Marie, helping Gemma out of the chair.
The two of them unrolled a large futon mattress and threw a huge, white doona over it, along with two very comfy pillows that they'd brought with them in a canvas bag. As they lay down, side by side, Marie turned towards Gemma to say good night, but she could hear by her breathing that she was already asleep.
"Good night," she whispered, "thank you for making me feel alive again."
Chapter 7
It was a perfect morning in the valley, and as Charlie stood on the steps of Shamir's cottage, he took a deep breath of the scent-filled air. His legs were still rather wobbly beneath him, but it felt great to be out of bed. With each step, he could feel his confidence and stability returning and his mind was becoming calmer by the minute.
The trees were alive with bird song and the air was abuzz with insects that hurtled around on urgent springtime business. The great purple buddleia that covered the archway at the edge of the wizard's garden created a distinct boundary with the elfin woodland beyond. As the gate creaked open and he emerged on the other side, a squadron of huge black and white butterflies swarmed up in front of him.
The towering karri trees of the valley stood before him, their silver skins shining like bright armour. Their leaves sparkled as they twisted in the breeze and the birds danced in their uppermost branches, showering each other with the droplets of dew that were being shaken free. Shamir joined Charlie at the gate and they had only gone two steps when Gulliver came charging around the corner to greet them. The great, golden dog leapt up at them in a fit of enthusiasm, bowling them both over into a heap on the ground.
"Are you all right, Charlie? I'm afraid your presence has made him far too excited," said Shamir, grabbing the dog in a playful embrace.
"I'm fine, I think I'm a bit over stimulated myself. This whole experience is just too wild for me to get my head around. This place is so beautiful, I just keep thinking I'm suddenly going to wake up in my bed," answered Charlie.
"Would you prefer to stay at the cottage a little longer?" asked Shamir, brushing himself off.
"No, I'm finding the movement good and if I get tired, we can always go back," replied Charlie.
"Okay then, lead on, I am in your hands," said Shamir, with a smile.
"Then we're both in trouble," said Charlie, laughing.
They followed the path through the trees for quite some time, but then, as Charlie watched a particularly beautiful aerial display by a rainbow parrot, he saw something else moving in the top of one of the other trees. It looked like a human figure darting across from one branch to another.
"What's that?" he asked, turning to Shamir.
"It's an elf," said Shamir, seeing no sense in lying.
"A what?" said Charlie, slightly bemused.
"An elf, like in a fantasy story."
"You mean they're real?"
"Uh huh, I do," replied Shamir.
"WHOA," said Charlie, craning his neck to get a better look. Shamir laughed, relieved at Charlie's relaxed manner, but this soon turned to concern, as he saw the young man stagger slightly as he took a step forward.
"Are you okay?" asked Shamir, moving towards him.
"I'm not sure, I'm suddenly feeling strange in my head," and that was all he said before crumpling in a heap in the middle of the path. The young elf who had been spotted in the tree, jumped down in front of Shamir and knelt gently by Charlie.
"I'm so sorry, I've ruined everything," he said, with tears filling his eyes.
"Don't worry, Jacques, it's not your fault," said Shamir, touching the young elf on the shoulder.
"He's just fainted, it's nothing to be alarmed about, he was bound to see one of you eventually. Don't blame yourself, there's no need. We'll get him back to the cottage and he'll be fine," he reassured the young elf.
A group of four elves carried Charlie gently back along the path. Although Shamir had been confident with Jacques, he felt sick to the stomach at the repetition of events. He just hoped
the link with the valley was strong enough in Charlie's heart.
Shamir left two young elves to look after Charlie, so he could visit Kanook. He was sure his guest would now be asleep for quite a while, but he left strict instructions to be contacted if he showed any signs of waking u
p. Shamir strode off down the path and quickly made his way towards the village of Eliantash.
There were five elfin tribes living in the valley and, after so many years of being there, they had all become linked through marriage. Each tribe had its own village, but Eliantash was the centre of the valley community. It was the original settlement, established by the first group of elves at the beginning of the valley's history and it housed the high council chambers. Kanook, the elder of the first tribe, lived there in a house built in the largest of all of the beech trees. His family was the oldest and most powerful of the elfin families, both in the valley and in the outside world. The finely-sculptured buildings of Eliantash stretched between the forest floor, where the communal kitchens and schools were housed, to the upper most branches where the sleeping chambers were situated. Every family had its own dwelling, but each one was linked to its neighbour through an intricate series of bridges and gangways that connected the whole village like a giant cobweb.
"Good evening, my friend," said Kanook, greeting Shamir at his front door. "Is our guest okay?"
"He's sleeping soundly," replied Shamir.
Kanook's study in the upper branches of the giant beech looked out over the valley and it was here that they talked until first light. As Shamir left the study, he looked through the huge picture window that faced East to see how many elves were gathering in the treetops for the dawn chorus. He was not surprised to see that the whole village had turned up and they were all sitting, silently awaiting the sun's first caress. The dawn gathering was their chance to give thanks for Charlie's presence among them and to pray for his safe-keeping.
By the time Shamir reached the cottage, it was pouring with rain and there was little point in venturing too far until it eased. Charlie woke up soon after his return and he didn't seem to have any ill-effects from passing out. He was starving, so they feasted on elfin nut cakes with fresh berry yoghurt, washed down with Dandelion tea, which Shamir served with almond wafers that were so light, they disappeared as they touched Charlie's tongue. The old wizard could not have planned the day better, the poor weather gave him a chance to talk to Charlie about his experience in a way he had never had the opportunity to do before. The shock of the transfer between worlds had always made communication impossible on all but one previous occasion. Eventually, Charlie started to talk about Marie and his time at the nursery. His eyes lit up as he talked openly about his feelings for her and how he had been so lucky to have worked at Gemma's nursery all of that summer.
Charlie's Dream Page 5
