T: What?
K: The people in this place never die. They live forever.
T: How can they? Everybody dies.
K: Not here. Everybody lives forever, and they can do fantastic things. Nobody wants to die, do they, El? I don’t. I am going to go to this place myself, so I never do.
T: Yrvidian died. It was horrid what happened to him. It made me really sad.
K: Yes, it is sad, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be lovely if that never happened to anybody again?
T: I suppose so.
K: Well—
[Process terminated by external intervention.]
/ nzil
i went in, i went in behind, grabbin her and ran bak home. she was there with it, sittin in place where she always goes to play, and it was standin before her. i would have beaten it, slashed it, if i could i would have taken it to pieces, scattered it about like fukkin Dog, i would have called out like some wild wight as i ripped its throte. this foul thing, this thing with no skin, no face, this daemon from dim lands with me girl, and she speaks to it like it was real, like it was some human.
i ran with her bak through holt, with her over me shoulder, and she is cryin and callin, dada, dada, but i do not stop. i wanted to throw her down to ground and scream, how could you! dumb girl! she knows, she has been told many times, she has been warned. she should have run, called for us, but she stayed and spoke and i want to scream at her, shout until she shrinks to a size that can never be hurt, never be in danger again. what was she doin? she goes still some times and i can not see what she thinks but she is clever. why would she not run?
if i lose her, it is end of all things.
/ mother
nzil took her bak and i went to it, walked in to it, struk it with me staff on its head so it fell bak and even in its pig eyes, even on its broke face, i could see shok. it staggered and i stood before it and stood me ground. i hit it again and it went down on to ground. now it crouches before me, its cloke draggin on ground of holt. it glares up at me, i stand over it with me staff raised. if it stands, i will kill it. it will do no good, but i will kill it.
so strange they are, so ugly, yet some how this one was also small before me now. it was not ready for me.
you are filth! i said to it. filth, to come to young girl this way. too small to come to me, you would come to her instead and fillin her with your lies, this is what you are!
i have never seen them angry. they are so still, like there is no soul in them. so calm, managed, like machines. but this one, now, me blow had raised its blood at last, like it was human. in its eyes, fear and rage. this is new.
/ k
At this point I was subjected to a physical attack from the mother of the order. It was brief and perfunctory. Nevertheless, it instigated a regrettable embodied reaction, which influenced my choice of words and, for some moments, my physical bearing. I report the response in full, despite my personal embarrassment.
*
K: Shame on you! Shame on you, old woman. You talk to me of lies! You keep this young thing here, this beautiful young girl, and for what? So she can grow old in this mud and die like the others?
M: Look at you, you lost thing. You talk of her beauty, her youth? You would come here and suck life from her? Where is your heart, creature? Does Wayland even give you one?
K: Heart! What horrors your blessed human hearts have given this world. Do you know what I offer her instead? A world with no war, no hatred, no starvation, no superstition. And you would have her return to a world in which your daughters are married to senile kings and the women die in childbirth and you know nothing of how the universe is.
M: Words! It is all you have. Nothing real, only words. They come roaring out like some tempest and they break on me, creature.
K: A few more words might wake your primitive brain, woman! What do you have to counter them? Men dressed up as birds? Fear and superstition are all you can offer. Fear of change! A bunch of old fictions and some ludicrous romanticisation of the body. The body! A network of needs, made electric by base desire. The mouth, the arse, the cunt, the cock: yanked between these four poles for seven decades, it’s no wonder you all go mad.
M: You are foul thing. You—
K: Biology is a crime! Biology means ignorance, stasis, division, injustice. Embodiment is a stain on your potential. It is ludicrous, childish, reactionary for you to still live like animals in this place, grubbing about in the dirt, gestating young in your bellies, going hungry, growing old. It is a refusal to develop, to move forward to what you could become. It is weakness and stubbornness. You will come into the light! You will come!
/ mother
it is hard even to hear what they say, so much there is of it, so curled and twisted is their speakin. it neels before me, its words bleedin out like sikness. i see veins under its skin, mustles movin as it speaks. it is work not to step bak. it is work to stand ground.
it is angry. i have never seen them angry. they are like roks. but this one is more – human? some how. but i am not afeart. i have seen too many of them. i will take this place bak.
i slam me staff in to ground now, hard. it stops talkin then. i am mother of this place, i will not be pushed bak. this is me ground. mine!
there is no light in you, creature, i say. you are darkness, and will be swallowed!
and it is swallowed then, it is gone and now some thing else stands in Trees before me. tall man, clothed all in leafs like they are hairs growin from him, on his head great antlers. his face hidden under green fronds and shoots. strong arms, strong legs, great chest, he moves to me and i can not move or speak. it is close enough now for me to hear it breathe, feel its heat and me own heat now also climbin in me as it once did. it is wight and man and some thing beyond all these and it speaks low, it is so close i can hear, can feel its words movin inside me, feel its breath in me guts, he hart, me loyns.
it says: i know what you want.
and then i had to move, to raise staff again and slam it down in to ground, to call to me self to wake from this old dream. it is long bak. it is gone. i am mother.
i shout: go! and it is gone. and light comin down in to holt now, in to stillness of Trees, like nothin was here at all.
/ sfia
nzil has her on his lap, she has tears runnin on her face. i wish i was better mam to her. i go to her, strokin her cheek. she smiles at me now.
who was that, mam? she says. i do not know what to say.
what were you doin there? i asked. nzil strokin her hair.
no matter, he says.
but we said, mother has said, tell us if you see strange things, any person who is not of us. we have said, do not speak to any thing in holt, el. we told you.
stop, says nzil, leave her.
mother comin in to Hall now. she carries her staff, walkin like she means to trek to some new shore. she breathes heavy, sits on bench. for long time she looks at el, sayin nothing.
how are you, girl? she asks after some time. el sniffles.
i liked Catt, she said. mother smilin also, gentle.
it is not safe here, says nzil to mother. both his arms around our girl like he is keepin her from some wild beast, speakin strong now like i have not heard him speak to mother.
it is not safe, he says. this thing is comin for our children. what do we do, mother?
kill it, i say, we should kill it. i do not know where these words come from.
kill it, says mother, and Wayland will send an other, and an other. it has been tried. he does not stop.
where is father? i say. you tell us he has gone west. why has he gone when we need him here?
we should know all things now, mother, says nzil. we are so few, we should all know.
mother lookin around at us then, staff on her nee. for time no one speakin.
i am mother of this Order, she says. what i say and do, it is for best. all that i do not say, that is also for best. all we do here is for us. for our people, our work. we have heard from
no others for more than one year. we do not know if there are others now in our Order. on this Erth, we do not know who remains. we will never know this. our work is not to know this, it is only to guard flame.
what flame, mother? i say. are we flame, we few here?
oh yes, said mother, as if speakin of any small thing. yes, child, we are flame, small flame, guttrin in draught between worlds. small flames may start great fyrs. you ask of father. he has taken green martyrdom. i have sent him west, as i told you. he was summoned by Birds. i would have him seek Truth and return it to us.
what Truth? asked nzil.
yrvidian saw Swans, says mother. Swans mean Alexandria will fall. you know old story. in torr on western hill, father will learn what it means, what we must do, what will come. Birds will speak to him there. Truth is always found on that holy hill. all peoples have come to holy hill for ever to hear Truth.
and what of us? i say.
we stand, she says. stand our ground. there is nothin else.
/ nzil
air is still now. el in me lap. sfia sittin by, strokes her hair. mother watches. we are small flames. no one speakin. i rok me girl gentle, arms around her.
once, i say, was man who loved Bird.
what Bird? says el. she is tired now.
i will tell you. this man, he lived in small hut in holt all alone. this hut was cold, he shared it with no one and he was lonely. every even in summer he would stand in door way of hut and listen to single Bird singin in tall Tree. it was Night Gail, she would sit on top branch of tallest Oke in holt and singin, and song was of such beauty he could not move his body until it ends. each night he listens, he would listen for each note, and soon he knew each note of her song, how she would sing it, how it would change with Wind and heat and cold.
it was not long before this man could think of nothin but Night Gail. no one else in his life to sing to him, no one to see him. as he listened, he grew to feel she sang only for him. he grew to feel she had come for him, speakin only to him. what if she was callin? what if she wanted him, if there was some magik in this? what should he do? each day she comes bak, and now he was sure she watches him, waitin for him.
so one day, this man, he decides to be with her, goin to her, answrin her call. before even comes, he climbed to top of great Oke and waitin for her. but when she came, seein him in Tree, she sits instead on an other, Elm, and singin there. he could see across to her, see her closer now, see her small brown body and this great song that seems to come from an other plane emerge from her. but he could not reach.
next night he climbed Elm, but seein him she lands on branch of Yoo. he sat in Elm as Sun goes down and again watchin her sing. every night for ten days this happens. he climbs Tree to be near her, she goes to other Tree, all he can touch is her song.
it is sad, says el, driftin. poor man.
then it is eleventh day, and man has climbed ten great tall Trees to be with her, and never been with her. now he climbs last Tree, great Ash, and there he waited again. here she comes then, flyin with Sun behind her and seein him in Ash Tree, but she does not settle now in any others. instead she sits on roof beam of his hut. but she does not sing now, only seemin to be lookin at him. and now in moment she is down and has flown through window in to his hut and does not return. man is not sure what he has seen, but she does not come out, and so he climbs down Tree, fast as he can, and runnin to his door.
when he opens door and steps in to his house he does not see Night Gail, but instead young woman with long brown hair all down her bak. and she comes to him and smiles and she says, you saw me, you heard me, now i am here. may i stay?
i look down at el in me lap now. she sleeps like all is right on Erth.
/ mother
only goin on. goin on as if we were not circled by Wulf on all sides. this night i took to me bed but could not sleep. i wished for father to be here, wishin for all to have come bak, for things to be as they were. but things will never be as they were. we are few now, and i am mother of this place and must be strong.
goin on is what we will do. though all may be against us, this is our place and we will keep it. i will send them out to pik plastik from Clay, dig Yams, fish, sew. we will fetch Water from spring, sayin correct prayers. what ever comes, She will know we did our work. i am mother of this place. we will guard it.
i did not know i slept until some thing woke me. as dawn come, i could feel air shiftin and i was woken by some thing never seen or heard here. it was like sound, but not sound. like great bell rang through every thing there is, so clere and high it could burn in to all things, could ring through all life.
but it was bell with no sound. no ear could hear it but it was plain as any Bird call, deep and fearful as any thunder. sudden it comes, and it was like all parts of me body were callin to all other parts and to all things that live to come together, to be one again, or to break, to break in to a million parts and be washed in to Sea.
what was this?
/ nzil
light this day risin was colour of blood and Sea, painted in great streaks across Sky. i rose early and seein it runnin over Edg like Lady Her self has spoken to us in colours, not words. Trees laid blak upon it, Sky shiftin like Sea, Birds just wakin to call and seein, Erth rollin slowly in to new day.
i did not sleep well. for many days now i have not slept well. seven days it is since el was with that thing. we have not seen it since, but i have sensed it in wood, it is here, watchin. it waits. if it comes again, if i see it again, i will kill it. do not care what mother says, i will kill it and glory in me rage. it may be rage stops me sleepin, i do not know. only that all things seem unsettled.
i rose with light, went and sat by me Swan Pole, risin blak in to painted dawn. it is good. it is best Pole i have made. i think now it will be last. well, it is right that if any Pole is last it should be Swan.
we have seen no Swans since yrvidians Dream. no Swan has come, only red thing. so what is this Dream? is it any thing? is it nothin? what if all we do here is nothin, if there are no Swans, if father has gone to find nothin?
colours washin down from Sky, most blu now and Sun creepin over Tree tops when sfia comes to me. sayin nothin, she sits down with me only. we do not touch, but it is right with us now, mostly. she does not know her self. i do not have anger to spare for her. we are all weak. it is love only can cross gaps between us.
did you sleep? she asks me.
not well.
you worry for el.
it may be. there is no one thing i circle around. only all is strange now.
i do not know what will happen, nzil. we fore, here, that creature in holt.
it is not gone.
i know, i feel it. it will return. what else? do we wait for father to come bak?
all our work is to keep our girl safe.
and how do we do that here?
i do not know.
i would not go against mother, but. she stopped after that. i have no reply for her. Rook called some where.
Sparrer singin near. day begins.
then it comes. from ground it came, some movement, like Sir Pent has stirred around roots of World Tree, but it was not any thing i could name. some great tremor shook us then and all ground around us. it was heard but not heard, felt but not felt, it moved in all things, like body it self was dragged to side and some thing else shown for moment. if it was sound, it was not like any i have heard. me ears did not know it, but it roared some where deep and high and then was gone.
/ sfia
nzil and i, we went to mother, who was just risin in Hall, and she had felt it too, this high line piercin all things, this low gratin at the base of all that is. she did not know what it was. now it was gone and all things were again as they had been. it was so fast that if we had not all felt it i could believe it was nothin, some trik of ear or body. but it was not that. some great thing had shifted, it seemed. it was so deep in all things it could never be put away.
it was el first se
en what came then. some hours later she comes bak from mere where she has been playin and her shift is wet up to her nees. i said, el, why are you wet? you are not to wade in your shift.
i did not wade, mam, she says. Water is higher than yester day. it is comin in.
what do you mean? i said.
Water is higher, she says. i know where edge of it is, i play all day, it is higher now, it is movin i think, mam, like tide. come see.
she does not lie, me girl. she does not tell all, but she does not lie. i walk with her down to edge of Water, nzil comin also, and it is true. Water is higher. it may be one hand higher than it has always been. it is not tide, for tide movin littel here, and never this high. once there was storm that threw Water higher even than this, but there is no storm now, it is still and clere.
i walk along shore with nzil and el for some way and all along, Water is higher than it has been. it laps at roots of Trees like it is movin of its own will. never in me life have i seen this here.
what is this? says nzil. what has happened?
now behind us is mother, she has seen too, perhaps before any of us. she stood with her staff, looks down at Water.
it is him, she says. it is Wayland.
/ el
i thought it was fun but no one else did. adults are boring. every day Water comin higher. each day when i woke i would run down to edge of mere to see where it was. i took stones and puttin them at Waters edge at night and in morn they would be in mere. then i would wade in to get them and put them at edge again. i took all stones and makin littel castel of them. one day i spent long time makin big wall round castel to see if it would keep Water out, but next day it was under Water again.
Alexandria: A Novel Page 12
