My attention returned to the embroidered motifs above the bed. Its interlaced patterns formed triangles. Then I went over to the windows, to better see the lush forest, a sea of gigantic trees pierced only by the lake in front of the castle. It was strange how I felt I already knew this place, like a déjà vu...
A sweet languor came over me; it must have been fatigue. I lay on the bed and fell asleep, sinking into a deep slumber practically before my head touched the pillow.
Pounding hooves and the neighing of horses in full gallop filled the forest. By the lake, a handsome man with graying hair was taking a bundle handed to him by my grandmother. She looked slightly younger and she wore a long robe from some other era. Its deep blue velvet contrasted with the color of her hair, which fell to her waist. She looked anxious.
“Be careful, I beg of you!” she implored. “Come back to me! The three of us need you!”
“Don’t worry, my sweet Viviane,” the man replied. “I’ll be back soon, but I have to protect him. I’ve sworn it to the king.”
A whimper escaped from the bundle he now held in his arms. The horsemen were getting dangerously close.
“Go! I'll stop them from following you,” Grandmother cried.
The man kissed her, then turned away. With remarkable speed, his beard began to thicken and his hair to grow. His skin withered and his face took on the appearance of an old man. He held out his right hand, murmuring words in a strange language I could not understand. Then the largest and most extraordinary stag I’d ever seen materialized in front of him. He jumped onto its back in one easy motion, grabbing its huge antlers with one firm hand and protecting his precious bundle with the other. The stag bounded away just before the arrival of the horsemen.
My grandmother wheeled to face the attackers. She raised her arms and palms up, and cast what must have been a spell, because the waters of the lake rose high above her and formed a gigantic wave hovering in the air. When she dropped her arms, the wave swept over the pursuers with a force that left them no escape. They screamed in terror and then in agony when their bodies were thrown against trees whose branches impaled them from all sides. They also were acting in obedience to the young woman’s command. The sight of so much blood was unbearable to me, but the most shocking sight was the calm, impassive look on my grandmother’s face.
I woke up with a jolt, dripping with sweat, my heart pounding and my head throbbing. I left the soaked sheets to refresh myself in the bathroom.
After splashing my face with cold water, I raised my head and my feverish eyes fell on my reflection in the mirror. I froze in amazement.
Where is my scar?
I touched my cheek. The skin was smooth.
What’s happening? An ugly scar like that can’t just disappear!
I suddenly felt a great longing to talk to my mother, to ask her to clarify what I couldn’t understand. She would have had an explanation, like every other time that something strange had happened to me. I felt so alone right then.
The next morning, I joined my grandmother in the dining room for breakfast. She was reading the paper and drinking her coffee, giving the impression that she hadn’t heard me come in. I sat down next to her and looked greedily at the basket of fresh croissants on the clean white tablecloth.
“Good morning,” I said loudly. When she looked up at me, she froze, and the words that she seemed about to utter died on her lips. She stared at my cheek, puckering her brow, but then turned back to her reading and casually asked, “Did you sleep well?”
“I had a nightmare, but otherwise I’m fine.”
She frowned and rested her eyes on me again. “A nightmare?” she inquired, with a voice that betrayed a hint of anxiety.
“Yes, I saw you in the forest, but you were different...”
With her hair up in a smooth bun, dressed in her conservative suit, she certainly did look different from the woman I’d seen in my vision.
Her fingers clenched and she abruptly folded her newspaper. “That was only a bad dream. Eat, and get your strength back. This morning you’re going to have your first riding lesson with Galahad.”
“Why should I learn to ride a horse?”
“Because I think it will please you, and because you’re Count Gabriel Dymas, heir to the castle of Comper. You require an education that will equip you to adapt to all kinds of encounters and situations.”
I didn’t understand the meaning of all that, but I liked the idea of riding a horse.
Maybe I could wander in the forest...
The “required” lessons enchanted me and I got up docilely to meet my instructor at the stables.
So that’s the giant’s name, I thought.
Galahad, my instructor, was none other than the man who seemed to be responsible for the castle’s security. He was so tall! I could make out the bulging muscles under his riding pants, and his tight black sweater emphasized his broad shoulders. I felt puny, insignificant compared to him.
Would I be that big and strong one day? I fervently hoped so.
“Hello, Gabriel,” he said in his deep voice. “Ready for your first lesson?”
I nodded my head, surprised to hear him call me by my first name. It immediately put me at ease. Since arriving here, he was the first, besides my grandmother, who had permitted himself to do that.
“I'll show you your horse.”
We passed several stalls before pausing in front of a noble black stallion, who was striking the ground with his hooves as though he wanted to attract my attention. The young stallion looked at me, neighing and tossing his head up and down. I was enthralled, my eyes riveted to his. A strange invisible connection formed between us, as if...
“Oh no, my boy! This one is too powerful for you,” Galahad exclaimed with a burst of laughter. “You wouldn’t last two minutes on his back. No one has mounted him yet, not even me! Better come over here.”
I heard the stallion snort with displeasure when he saw me move away, so I turned and gave him an apologetic look.
“When can I ride Lightning?”
“How did you know his name was Lightning?” Galahad asked, frowning.
I shrugged, feeling uneasy. “I don’t know. I think they told me in the castle.”
Galahad looked at me perplexed. I lowered my eyes to the ground, hoping he wouldn’t notice my embarrassment. I coulnd’t explain to him that the instant I’d seen the horse, his name had popped into my head. It seems impossible, but when I was very young I realized I could communicate mentally with animals. It had started with my dog. An inner voice gave me the meaning of each bark, howl or grunt – I just had to concentrate on the animal. I could also talk to him without uttering a syllable. For some reason still unknown to me, the dog understood and obeyed me. My mother had made me swear not to tell anyone about it, and above all, never to show it.
We approached another stall, which held a smaller horse, stocky, with a spotted white coat that made him seem gentle and friendly. He was already saddled and ready for my first lesson.
“Hello!” I called, to give myself courage.
The horse turned his head, looked at me, and answered with a snort. Unlike the stallion, he appeared very calm.
The giant lifted me up in the air, like a feather, then set me on the horse’s back and helped me position my feet in the stirrups.
“Take the reins like this,” he instructed me. “To direct him, slightly spread your arm to the side where you want to go. To make him advance, press your heels on his flanks.” He chuckled as he added, “Don’t give too heavy a kick though, or you'll be off at a gallop.”
Then with one easy swing, he straddled a great thoroughbred with a coat the color of fire.
Let's see, I thought. I’ve got to follow him.
Immediately my horse maneuvered and calmly placed himself behind Galahad’s horse.
Well, we're not doing too badly, are we? I said mentally to my horse, with satisfaction.
He answered me with a little mocking nei
gh, which surprised me.
Does my horse understand me too?
A second answer on his part made my heart beat faster than normal. I wasn’t afraid; it was just that there had been too many strange things happening since I arrived. It’s true that the forest of Broceliande and its fairy-like undergrowth lent itself to the imagination.
The horses tramped along trails covered with thick carpets of dead leaves, which stifled the noise of their hoofs. Ferns, wild garlic and brilliant violet hyacinths spread out at the feet of majestic oaks and gigantic beeches wrapped in lichen.
The singing of birds broke the silence, and I caught the sound of flowing water close by. We reached a stream, where the horses quenched their thirst. Clusters of mauve clandestina spotted its banks, defying the moss that covered most of the area. They whispered that the forest was enchanted. Immersed in the beauty of the place and the strange ambiance that reigned there, I wanted to believe it. Strong emotions swept over me, but I remained calm, serene and unafraid. It seemed as if it would be perfectly normal to come across a unicorn, to startle some fairies, or to join in some leprechaun games. Of course, nothing like that happened. Though I did get the unpleasant feeling I was being observed, but that must have been my imagination.
By the time we got back home, an hour later, I felt perfectly at ease on my horse. Galahad had shown me how to master the sitting trot, and I’d found it relatively easy. My horse followed my movements in perfect sync, and I didn’t even have to use my heels or my arms to direct him. I simply spoke to him inwardly, and he understood. I found it amusing, but I took care not to let my instructor notice.
I looked up at the imposing castle. A soft breeze was blowing on my face, gently sweeping my hair. I could smell the plant life and hear the whispering of trees stirring their branches as if they were talking. I listened to the chirping of birds and the cry of animals from deeper in the forest. My passage had triggered some agitation. Actually, I feel good here, I thought, with a small smile on my face.
From where I was, I couldn’t see my grandmother watching me intently from one of the castle windows. I didn't see the Countess Viviane Dymas turning on her heels and leaving the room with a solemn look on her face. Nor did I see her raise her right hand and sketch a gesture with her fingers before slamming shut the door behind her.
The horseman in chain mail rode his steed at full gallop, splitting the air with his sword and striking all the men in his path. Cries echoed in the forest and they collapsed, one after another, forming a line of bloody corpses behind him. He finally reached the water’s edge, where he joined my grandmother surrounded by her victims. He leaped down from his horse, planted his shield – white with cross gules* – in the ground, and removed his helmet, tucking it under his elbow. It was Galahad. He greeted her with a nod and waited for her instructions.
“Mordred must not find him. Go to Myrddin and help him in his task,” she ordered.
“It will be done according to your wishes,” the knight replied, already mounting his horse.
He leaned over and grabbed his shield as he turned his horse around, then he took off at a gallop.
She turned and walked over to the lake. It seemed like she was about to plunge in fully dressed, but then she started walking across the water. After taking a few steps, a magnificent crystal palace emerged from the lake, right in the reflection of the castle on its hill. She disappeared behind its huge door.
I stared at the ceiling of my room, my eyes wide open. That castle with its numberless turrets must be a fairytale castle, because I had never seen anything like it. All the same, it was odd. Why was she in my dreams? I’d been with my grandmother Viviane for a month now, and every night my dreams were more and more improbable. I was also having lots of nightmares about my parents’ accident, but these always ended at that fateful moment when an explosion had caused my father to lose control of the vehicle.
I always forgot to mention these dreams to my grandmother, being too busy attending all the lessons she’d decided I would take: riding, music, history, sciences, chemistry... My teachers had nothing in common with those of my school in Strasbourg. I don’t know how to explain it – they weren’t old, but they acted old. They also seemed very anxious to please Viviane Dymas, as if they idolized her. I’d never studied some of these subjects, but I didn’t mind – I found them interesting and they seemed easy. I learned quickly, perhaps too quickly, if I read correctly the meaningful glances between my teachers and my grandmother.
Nine months passed, and I would soon be twelve years old. On the eve of my birthday, a night like many others, I woke up drenched and panic-struck. It was the first time I’d seen images from the time after I’d lost consciousness during my parents’ accident. What I saw froze my blood.
After the explosion, the car zigzagged several times across the road before skidding and rolling. I heard metal smashing and my mother screaming, desperately calling my name. Then it was just a black hole. I regained consciousness when her pleading voice penetrated the buzzing of my ears. I painfully opened my eyes, and saw with dismay my mother’s bloody face and her horrified eyes looking at something I couldn't see. Then I sunk back into unconsciousness. These images disturbed me, of course.
What had I missed?
I got up and walked around my room feverishly, trying to understand and to remember, but nothing came to me. I groaned in frustration. My head ached, and I couldn’t calm down. My mental state was making me hallucinate – I could hear thousands of whispers. I collapsed to my knees on the carpet, and to silence the voices, I clamped my hands to my ears, feeling like I was going mad.
Then I heard a horse neighing outside. I got up and peered through the window into the darkness. I saw nothing, until some movement caught my attention. It was Lightning, looking at me with his shining eyes. On an impulse, I grabbed my jacket and silently crept downstairs to go see him.
When I came out, he approached me and pushed his wet, warm nostrils against my forehead, as if he wanted to calm me. He neighed, making me understand that I should climb up on him. He was not saddled though, and his height made it impossible to mount him, so he lowered his two front knees to the ground, allowing me to reach his neck. Without hesitation, I clambered onto his powerful back and firmly gripped his mane. He got up and took off toward the forest, galloping hard. The cool night wind whipped my face and eased my suffering.
Lightning glided over the ground with long strides that made the ride comfortable and gave me the feeling I was one with him.
When we reached the edge of the woods, he slowed to a trot and then to a walk. His coat was hot and wet, and I was no longer cold. He headed to a stream in the undergrowth, a place I knew well, as I often came here with Galahad to water the horses. I had never seen what I was admiring at that moment, though. I was numb with amazement at that fairy-tale spectacle.
Thousands of fireflies were perched on the branches and hovering over the water. One of them landed on Lightning's head. I blinked hard, trying to clear away the hallucination in front of me: a tiny firefly had a pretty woman's body and huge eyes with long eyelashes. As she beat her fragile-looking wings, a cloud of phosphorescent powder spread out and illuminated her whole being.
She stared at me with a shy smile, swiveling her small pointy ears. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head to chase away the vision, but when I opened my eyes again, she was still there, looking at me with a glimmer of anxiety now. I heard whispers all around me once more. I suddenly realized that they were coming from them, the fireflies, so I was not crazy. Another firefly, a male, landed next to the first.
“Why is he making that face?”
One surprise after another – he could speak, and I could hear him! I stood there, my mouth hanging open.
“I don’t know... Maybe he can’t see us. Yet Lucila said he was the heir, and that we would soon be visible to him,” she said regretfully.
“Well, he can’t see us,” the boy said, shrugging his shoulders. “And he
better shut his mouth or he’ll end up swallowing one of us.”
I spoke up then, saying, “I’m sorry.”
My voice startled them, and now it was their turn to be wide-eyed. The girl nudged her neighbor, who responded with an "Ouch!" and a frown, rubbing his ribs. She looked at me with amazement, then turned to the boy.
“Did you hear that? He spoke to us!”
She was all excited, and she shook the poor boy, repeating "He spoke to us! He spoke to us!" which provoked a resentful growl from him.
“I’m Gabriel,” I said with a friendly smile.
“Me, I’m Eirian and him, he’s Deryn,” she said, pointing to her slightly sullen neighbor. “Never mind, he often seems grumpy, but in reality he’s all heart.”
I gazed at all the fireflies that had gathered around us, and they stared at me with curiosity.
“Don’t take this wrong, but, what are you?" I asked. “I've never seen fireflies like you.”
“It's because fireflies are what humans see," she said with a giggle. “In fact, we’re elves – we’ve always been elves!”
“What humans see...? I don’t understand, I’m a human and I can see you!" I exclaimed.
She chuckled before retorting, “That's what you think! You’re not...”
Deryn interrupted her, looking frightened. “Eirian, shut up! You're going to make Lucila angry."
“Pffff, what a kill-joy you are!" she said, rolling her eyes. “Someone has to tell him.”
“Deryn is right, Eirian. It's not up to you to give him that information.”
I turned to the childish voice that had uttered these words. Eirian had lowered her ears apprehensively, a sign that I was before the famous Lucila. This little girl didn’t appear so very terrible though.
She looked like an angelic doll, with her old- fashioned blond curls and porcelain skin, and her white veiled dress adorned with flowers and ivy. She studied me for a moment and then skipped lightly from the edge of the river over to me, causing the other fireflies to stir and fly up. I watched them for a while, captivated by the soft buzzing of their wings. When I turned to look at the child again, she had disappeared.
Heirs of Avalon: The passage Page 2
