Avilion

by Robert Holdstock

  His special dreams, new strife, new fears,

  But a sister will love him from afar, and there will be loving memory in her tears.

  Jack groaned but couldn’t help but laugh. ‘The final verse? I sincerely hope so! It’s not even my birthday.’

  ‘The final verse,’ Yssobel agreed, with a kiss. ‘I’m finished with songs. And in a way: yes, this is your birthday.’

  ‘Good. Then there will be dancing until moonset! Will there?’

  ‘Hold me in the dance,’ sister said to brother. ‘What is it you said to me, long, long ago? What we remember is all the home we need.’

  ‘Here to there. There to here,’ Jack added.

  The Time Machine

  Steven: I am finished with this place. I hadn’t realised it until Yssobel talked to me. She’s quite right. There is a small future for me at the edge of the wood. I will emerge as a ghost. I will write in the scrawled fingerprints of my father. Perhaps something will occur to me that will illuminate my life. I shall kiss Yssi goodbye, and after that, she has her own path to follow.

  And so I will travel with the Iaelven, and my half-son. And with the boy with no name, and with the ancient girl who glows by moonlight.

  Rianna will stay. She has been strength and certainty in my life. She is the timeless mother, the caring friend, who always, like the Beloved One, is by your side; in passion, yes, or singing you to sleep. She is the archetype of love. I shall miss her too. She is the counter-side to Yssi; yet they form a whole. Young and old, they are the Villa; they are the home. At the head of the valley, they are the end of the walk from beginning to end. The valley exists because of them. It is not the place of resurrection. It is the place of return. And it is the place of death. It is the place of forming, shaping. It is the crossing place. They will define their world in ways that ordinary blood and flesh cannot conceive.

  I am so proud of her, my Yssobel. Pride in my daughter will be strength to this ageing ‘Change’, this old man called Steven. And yes, I will write about her when I return to a place I once knew well.

  All done now. The path is open. The crossing place is left behind. I will go with the ghost of my son. I will follow the shadow trail to the echo of my home.

  One of the Iaelven was standing over him. He had noticed the stink, but was so familiar with the strong smells and scents of the world around the Villa that he had not noticed the quiet and careful arrival.

  The Amurngoth, old and gaunt below its layers of skins and feathers, seemed strangely nervous.

  Behind him, the shining face of Silver peered quickly to signal her presence. She was otherwise in darkness, wrapped tightly in a bearskin. Her eyes shimmered. She tugged back her hood. ‘Steven,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We are ready to go. Where is Jack?’

  ‘Sleeping, I think.’

  ‘We must find him. Steven . . .’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The Iaelven will keep their promise. The boy will be returned safely. The Change that they left behind will come back and be nurtured. The Iaelven wish me to tell you something so that you will not be afraid.’

  Where was Jack?

  Steven hauled himself upright, facing the stern creature that waited to address him in this room, this private place in the Villa.

  The only light came from the girl’s smile. She seemed glad of something. There was a sense of desire and hope in her face, as if she were waiting for a change in her own life.

  Steven called for his son. Soon the shaking but increasingly more robust figure of his son, naked but for a loincloth, appeared in the room.

  ‘This is a representative of the Iaelven. He wants to speak to us.’

  Amurngoth and young man exchanged a quick glance. Steven said, ‘Won’t Tell will go home safely. All they want in exchange is the life they left for him. Do you remember the life they left for him?’

  ‘I remember it very well.’

  ‘Will there be a problem?’

  Jack caught the quick look that his father gave him and shook his head, not to indicate ‘no’ but to indicate ‘yes’.

  Steven said, ‘Take silver. Hurthig fashioned a great deal of it before he disappeared. These creatures will die from silver, we know that.’ He looked at the shining girl. ‘Are you going to repeat what is being said?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m here only to tell you what the Iaelven want you to know. What you resolve at the edge of the wood is up to you. I am nothing more than an old woman, stolen and changed.’

  The Amurngoth was suddenly restless and irritated. It turned on Silver and made a sign for her to be silent. Looking back at Steven, and at Jack, it began to click-whistle.

  Silver spoke its words for it.

  ‘The Iaelven and your own kind never existed together. The Iaelven were always present. It is from their own magic that humankind came into existence. They were unprepared for the power of their nightmare. The beings they call by a name that means “violent children” consumed the world. The Iaelven were submerged beneath the flood of the life they had dreamed into existence. It is their desire to remain separate from that nightmare, but to understand and dream of their creation they must sometimes leave one of their own and take one of yours.’

  The Amurngoth was almost agitated in its strange speaking, its mouth moving so fast that Silver was struggling to keep up with her interpretation.

  ‘They had never meant harm. They have always acknowledged that loss is necessary for understanding. They have always hoped that the changeling left would be welcomed by the human community. It often comes as a shock to them to find the way their offering has been treated.

  ‘They are, after all, the originators of all of life. That is what he says.’

  Steven said to Jack, ‘Their offering is dead?’

  ‘Cut in half.’

  ‘There will be difficulty.’

  ‘I’ll be armed with silver. Keep this thing happy. We need to get to the edge first.’

  ‘I agree. Does this thing truly believe that his ancestors imagined the human race into existence?’

  ‘Don’t argue with it. Anything is possible in Ryhope Wood. There is no such thing as truth here. Whatever this monster believes is true, is its own truth, insofar as it’s true to itself. Right now, agree and smile.’

  ‘Just as soon as I’ve worked out what you just said.’

  Steven for a moment was taken aback. His son’s humour was back. The human quality was surfacing at last. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘I know. Yssobel isn’t.’

  ‘I know.’

  The Amurngoth had continued to speak, but now withdrew like a shadow from the dark, dank room that was Steven’s private place. Silver remained for a moment. ‘The Iaelven are not without intuition. This one is old and has detected that there is a problem. We must be on our guard. While you were talking he was explaining that he and his kind would like an acquaintance with their nightmare creation that might be more comfortable. They have kept themselves out of sight for many generations. Your species is not the only type of creature that they have brought into existence through their dreaming, but you are the most hostile to the Origin.’

  Steven and Jack listened without comprehension. Both were thinking of the task at the end of the journey.

  But Silver smiled. ‘Once at the edge, they are beyond their true territory. And I have a friend there. Don’t look so concerned. We leave shortly. Just enough time.’ She glanced at Jack appreciatively. ‘Enough time for you to find some clothes for the journey.’

  She laughed, and with a final few words had vanished, scampering up the hill as the moon began to set.

  ‘Don’t forget the boy. I will find out his name! And he will find out mine.’

  No goodbyes, daddy. No goodbyes. I will love you for ever. I will find wonder in the valley. Who knows, I may even find a way of sending you a message from the unknown! Just go. Take care of Jack. Compose birthday songs for him and take no notice
of his moaning. And if you see either of my grandfathers, remind them to talk to me again. Ancestors are such delights.

  —Stay safe, Yssi.

  Oh, yes. I intend to. Go on. Moon-set is past and the Iaelven are waiting for you on the hill. They are impatient for your company. Go away. Go home!

  —If she ever comes back . . .

  Daddy, she WILL come back. Everything turns. Everything returns. That is the pure beauty of the crossing place. We meet, we part; at the crossing place we test the heart. We go away. One day we’ll find ourselves back where we began. And that’s where you’re going. Go on! Go on, now. Those ugly elves won’t wait for ever.

  —Find a way.

  If I can, I will. Daddy, I’m of the wood. I belong here. Jack is you. He belongs with you. This is how it has always been. Just because we lose each other does not mean we lose love. What have you done here? Nothing except raise two children. What can you do at the edge? Wonderful things. Now go. Please go.

  —I’ll listen for you. I’ll look in legend.

  Go! I’m sorry to cry but, daddy, the crossing place does not exist for ever. And I need to be in my new life.

  —Bye, Yssi.

  Bye.

  ‘When the Time Traveller sent himself millions of years into the future, he found a world that was not just different from his own but reflected the divide in the nature of men. The animal and the intellect. But he fell in love with a woman who gave him a flower.’

  ‘And he went back,’ Jack said. They were in the Under Realm, and the Iaelven were stalking through the dank caverns, ahead of them. Behind Jack and his father, Won’t Tell and Silver were following and laughing. They were arm in arm. There was the sweet scent of passion in the grim stink of the cave.

  ‘The Time Traveller went back because he thought he could rescue a brief beauty from the world in which she was nothing, in one sense, but a flower. In the story - you said you’d read it?’

  ‘I read it.’

  ‘He brings the flower back, an unknown species. But the flower is a dying thing, and he has no hope. He follows the flower back to the future in the hope of finding a love that can’t exist. How can it? There is nothing human in the future world he travels to. That is why I love this book. It implies that there is hope. In fact, it creates a fiction of ultimate destruction; an ending of all that we had hoped for. The Iaelven believe they created us. We believe we created the Iaelven.’

  ‘Losing me. You’re losing me,’ Jack said quickly. ‘I just want to get to somewhere to put my feet up and smell fresh grass, not this Iaelven stink.’

  Steven put his arm around his son. ‘You’re right. Enough thinking. I’m so glad you’re back. Although you know I only ever related to the “red” side of you. The Haunter bit was denied me. Jack, you have a wonderful life ahead of you. And it will be boring and difficult, and somehow we will have to make money. Money! We’ve traded in livestock, crops and Egwearda’s brain-blinding ale. At the edge, everything will be different. Hard times ahead.’

  ‘But anew vision.’

  ‘Yes. Oh yes. I can’t deny that to you.’

  ‘How did the Time Traveller survive in his long-distant future?’

  ‘I have no idea. All I know is that when the Time Traveller went into a strange world he found an absence of life. He brought back a flower and a dream. All my life, since Guiwenneth was taken from me, and since she returned as a shade of herself still shadowed by the cruelty of my brother, I have held on to the dream; and the flower. The flower was remembered love. The dream? Simply that something might come true. Real life in an unreal world. It didn’t happen.’

  ‘Returning to Oak Lodge isn’t a dream come true? It must be. I don’t understand.’

  Steven was silent for a long while. When he spoke it was with a dark and sad tone to his voice. ‘A dream without Gwin? Do you have any idea how much I loved her? Are you not aware that she came into being not by birth by a mother, but by me? She emerged from my mind!’

  ‘I know. I do know. I’ve lived with that knowledge since you first told me,’ Jack said.

  ‘She was my child, my wife, my life,’ his father raged, suddenly and unexpectedly angry, though the fury was no more than frustrated memory. ‘Oak Lodge will be brick and garden! For me, Jack, there will be only shallow life. It’s for you that I hope the home will come alive. It will never come alive for me again.’

  ‘You’ve just said it will,’ Jack said gently, putting his arm around Steven’s shoulder as they walked. His father was breathing and perspiring heavily.

  The Iaelven were disturbed by this sudden burst of emotion. Jack calmed his father. Won’t Tell came up and assisted. Steven was not in a good state of mind, and it occurred to Jack that the claustrophobic conditions of this long walk home were part of the problem.

  The youth, Won’t Tell, was wonderful. ‘I’m going home to my family in Shadoxhurst. I’d like you to come with me. I’ll find it difficult to get back with them. I hope you’ll help me.’

  Steven shook his head. ‘Don’t count on me. If I can, I will. But don’t count on me.’

  In the long years that Steven had waited at the head of the valley, for the return of Guiwenneth, the earth had entered him. Just as Jack had found it difficult to move too far from the edge of the wood, when Haunter had been tied to the ancient realm, so now Steven found himself struggling against the journey outwards.

  When Jack realised this, he asked the Iaelven to slow their pace. The Iaelven troop was twelve strong, all young and heavily armed. They were not happy with the delay, but because they had been told to be tolerant they allowed a brief pause in the journey.

  ‘It isn’t easy,’ Won’t Tell said to Steven, his hand on the older man’s shoulder. ‘I don’t suppose that anything will come easy from now on. But you can make it. Just hold on to me.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Won’t Tell took Steven under his arm and walked with him through the Iaelven underworld, and stayed with him until there was the glimmer of daylight ahead of them, and the scent of new forest, new land. And Silver had walked behind Won’t Tell.

  Jack had noticed how their hands touched, how they whispered. There was love in the air, even if that love was a little uncertain; love separated by centuries; love combined across an age of difference. But passion in the look. The glance, the quick kiss that youth always assumes cannot be seen.

  Won’t Tell was a man now, and he carried Steven with a man’s strength, and walked towards the light of the outer world with a confidence that had not been demonstrated by the small boy, angry and protective when Jack had first met him, by the sticklebrook, so long ago.

  When they came into the light, Won’t Tell eased Steven to the ground, scooped water from the brook and moistened his mouth and face.

  ‘Welcome home.’

  The Amurngoth hugged the tree line. Silver stayed with them.

  Silver

  Yes, this was the land in which she had been born. She walked quickly into the green. This was the air she knew, the hill she knew, the old oak, standing proud on the skyline, the tree that had been called Strong Against the Storm. This was the land of her childhood.

  The Iaelven were restless behind her. She turned and click-whistled reassurance, even though the language she spoke was a language of lies. She had no intention of returning with them.

  Where was the man who had protected her?

  Caylen! Caylen! Caylen Reeve.

  She sang the old song, standing away from the wood, away from the Iaelven.

  Soon, summoned by the song, Caylen came towards her. He was dressed in his long black cloak and his wide-brimmed hunter’s hat. He recognised her at once, but also saw the danger. He was circumspect in his approach. He hid the silver weaponry he carried. Recognising Jack, he made a sign for Jack to do the same thing.

  At the edge of the wood a man was reunited with the girl that he had lost.

  Silver stepped into his embrace.

  ‘Little Bethany. Little B
eth. How beautiful you are.’

  ‘You’ve spoken my name. What happens to me now?’

  Caylen Reeve looked around at the armed band of Iaelven. The stink in the air was overpowering. Won’t Tell was searching the skyline, listening for the sounds of the town from which he had been abducted. He was suddenly as a child again, rosy-cheeked and with wild unkempt ginger hair. Caylen Reeve, watching him, suddenly recognised him.

  ‘The Hawkings’ boy.’

  But Won’t Tell held up two hands in a defensive posture. ‘Stay away from me. Stay away. I know who you are. I know what you are. Let go of the girl.’

  Silver turned to him. The day was bright, her face darkened by the sunshine. ‘My name is Bethany Reeve. This man is my foster father. I was taken by the Amurngoth. I am not like you, Won’t Tell, not completely. But neither am I half and half, blood and green. My mother and true father have been dead for many years. My other father is . . .’ She smiled at Caylen. ‘Old Oak.’

  Jack said, ‘There is a small touch of the Green in you.’

  Silver glanced at him. ‘A small part only. An inheritance of nature. The Iaelven took me without understanding me. They took this handsome man here, this nameless boy, without understanding him.’ She gave the Hawkings’ boy a knowing look. ‘The Iaelven are past their time. It’s only the Iaelven who don’t know this.’

  Caylen Reeve said quietly but very deliberately, ‘The Iaelven will kill us all. Look at the flush on their skin. That flush means they are now in killing and taking mood.’

  ‘They want the Change,’ Jack said.

  Caylen could not restrain his bitter laugh. ‘The pigs were fattened long ago on that piece of sour meat.’

  One of the Amurngoth, a young and supple creature, half again as tall as Jack himself, strode forward and picked up Silver by the waist. A second Amurngoth darted at Caylen Reeve and took him by the neck, twisting him back over its knee, whistling in a triumphant and terrifying way. The priest abandoned himself to death.