Baf 66 merlins ring, p.12
BAF 66 - Merlin's Ring, page 12
part #66 of Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series
She sat there unseeing and looked out forlorn
At her neighbor’s scarecrow who stalked through the corn.
She took off her dress and made ready for bed
And a pixy tweaked out three hairs from her head
To weave for himself, while everyone slept,
A charm ‘gainst the werewolf that nightly had crept
For a month ’neath her window—fearing no lead—
Since only by silver might his foul life be sped!
A bat flew by, but she never knew
Twas really a witch a-gathering rue!
Nor that an elf was squashed when she dropped her shoe!
‘Ou-whei!’ wailed O’Keefe’s banshee,
But she thought it the wind in the apple tree.
While under her feet, working night and day,
The termites were lugging the house away.
“Things don’t happen to me!” muttered Louella-May.
It was after this song that the really heavy drinking began. There was other entertainment to watch, for it seemed that each one of the banqueters had some specialty. Girls in gorgeous colors imitated butterflies, and it seemed to Gwalchmai’s blurred vision that as their arms waved their fluttering robes, they rose into the air and flew. There was a juggler who had no respect for the laws of gravity. A contortionist imitated a green lizard and slithered about the floor, and if he was not boneless, surely his bones were not like those of men. Two elves fought a duel, but it was a contest of skill only and no one was scratched.
All the while Sir Huon and Sir Periton were matching tankard for tankard across the table, satisfied with their complete comradeship, paying little attention to the ladies they had escorted.
Nadara, the fay, pouted prettily and rose to leave the table, for her elf was already snoring beneath it, having consoled himself copiously with heather ale because of her neglect of him.
Gwalchmai could hardly stand, but he chose to make his own excuses at this time, for many others, both knights and ladies, were pushing back their chairs.
He bowed in the direction of the Queen, who returned the courtesy, and turned to go. The fumes of the ale and wine struck him forcefully and he would have fallen had not the nixie, who appeared to consider herself his confidante for the evening, supported him on the one side and Nadara on the other.
Between the two, he was guided to his chambers. He tumbled into his down-soft bed, hardly knowing where he was. He felt little hands loosening his belt and- ax, removing them, taking off his boots and outer robe. The mist that-lighted the room went dim and, still fading, went dark. He heard a whispered quarrel. There was the sound of a slap.
Only one of the girls went out, crying, he was sure, for he knew when the coverlets were drawn tenderly over him. When the mist shone again, indicating that morning had come, he had a dim memory that he had not been alone during the night, but whether this was so, or who it had been, or what if anything had happened, he could not remember.
He had only a feeling that there were few bounds to Elveron’s hospitality.
There was no difference in the appearance of the sky when he looked out of the window. Thinking that the color of it might indicate either sunrise or sunset, he found that what he supposed to be a crystal pane was instead a thin slice of rose quartz, set in gold instead of lead. He swung the window wide and the perfumed breeze of Elfland swept in upon him. It was as exhilarating as mountain air.
He had no feeling of hunger and his head was clear. He was well rested and had, apparently, slept a long time. It must be late afternoon, he thought.
He was not aware at that time that in Elveron it was always summer and always late afternoon. But night was coming for the fay and this he was soon to learn.
He had not been awake very long, although he had bathed and dressed, when Huon came to summon him to an audience with the Queen.
Gwalchmai studied him narrowly. His guide seemed no worse for the heavy imbibing. Elves had harder heads than men—that was certain!
He found Queen Crede in the throne room, alone except for Prince Auberon, who arose and greeted him. As unfamiliar as Gwalchmai was with protocol or European royal custom, it was easy for him to bow and wish the young prince good morrow, as from one equal to another.
The Queen did hot rise, but sat studying him, her hands clasped in her lap. She smiled with a gracious sweetness that put Gwalchmai instantly at ease.
He forgot his doubts and fortunate lapse of memory concerning the events of the artificial night. This was another day in a far different world from that he was accustomed to. The sooner he accomplished Merlin’s errand and returned to his own world, the better.
It seemed the Queen was of the same mind. She beckoned him forward to a seat a little lower than her own. Sir Huon and the Prince remained standing.
“May I inspect your ring, Sir Hawk?” she asked. Her tone was musical and golden, and reminiscent of another’s. With a pang Gwalchmai suddenly recalled that Corenice was still waiting with Flann at the entrance to the barrow they could not enter.
He had already spent too much time in Elveron.
He placed his hand upon the arm of the throne and Queen Crede closely examined the ring. She sighed.
“Ah, yes. It is my dear friend’s ring. He told me once that if ever I saw it upon another man’s finger, it would be because he was no more. Did he really find the Land of the Dead, which so obsessed him?”
“Every human finds that land eventually, Your Highness, but whether it was what he sought or where he expected it to be, I cannot say. I only know that I think I have seen him not so long ago, and I fancy that he told me of things I must do. Some of these I have already done and I believe you know what those are as well as I. Is it not so?”
“It is so. And I know also what you have else to do and we will aid you as best we can, but there are certain difficulties in your way and of these you shall now be appraised. Pray attend me, my Lords of Elveron, and do you likewise come, Sir Hawk, for I would show you a thing.”
There were no stairs in the castle. Ladies in fine gowns of costly worth cannot glide in stately manner when ascending or descending steps, however wide the treads or low the risers, even though such be made of fine marble or polished wood.
So to properly form the setting for his lady love, the dead King of Elfland had commissioned his architect to design a castle in which she and her ladies-in-waiting would be the principal jewels. Thus it was that all the many floors were joined by ramps along which, to the admiration of those who watched, these darlings grandly swept—fully conscious of the eyes upon them.
Up these ramps the four went, to the very end of all, and so came out Upon the windy walk that led roundabout the crenelated parapets. Here always a watch was kept, looking out across broad Elfland’s marches, the walls manned with elfin archers.
Gwalchmai had not seen such a brave array of alert bowmen since leaving his father’s capital city of Miapan so long ago.
He admired their well-kept gear. They snapped to attention as their beloved Queen passed in review. The little party moved slowly on.
A fabulous land stretched out beyond-the walls, beneath the dome of glowing mist. Now that Gwalchmai understood his own dimensions, he recognized from this eminence that the forest was composed of grass and flowers instead of trees. But such flowers—and such a bewilderment of fantastic life!
As broad as lakes, the pools from a recent rain shone sapphire in the clear air, reflecting iridescent wings that swooped above them. Dragons, or dragonflies? They could have been either. Gwalchmai saw them as both at once. Which to his eyes was truth? Which was illusion?
Strange animals grazed, feeding upon herbage that was grass to them, microscopically minute to us. Small deer, indeed! Cornutely horned and cusped, they swung their heads and browsed. Like impala, they leaped enormous distance as they ran and played. To Gwalchmai, looking upon them, it seemed a happy world.
But there were dreads there, as everywhere. Octopoid creatures—scaled, hairy, fanged—stalked the herbivores. Gwalchmai saw these also feed. Spiders—or mantichores? They were lion-bodied, human-headed. One of them might have been eight-legged Sleipnir—Odin’s Death Horse—pasturing here in these green fields.
Yonder slid a glossy, furtive thing. Was it basilisk or cockatrice? Perhaps it was only an inchworm, measuring its distance with rhythmic humps? Then why did the herd go thundering away in fear if this was so?
Huon exclaimed and pointed. A beautiful creature stood near the water, snuffing the air with flared nostrils. It arched its graceful neck, dipped low and drank without fear. Gwalchmai had seen unicorns in pictures, but white ones only—never one so satin black.
“We will hunt him later,” said the Queen. “Look farther, Sir Hawk, at your destined journey.”
Immeasurably far away, the land took on a look of somber desolation. Here, miles to the north, the green of healthy growth had vanished. Gwalchmai thought he could see the continuing forest, but it was gray and not a healthy hue. It was the color of blight and decay. Near it he could detect no sign of life, neither within the edge of this desert, which swept away in a long curve, nor within the circle it enclosed.
“The Blasted Heath!” said the Queen. “In its center lies Arthur’s sword, which you have come to take away. Right glad we are that you are here, for yonder you see the mischief it has done to Elveron and the price we have paid for our friendship to Merlin. This is what cold iron does when it touches the Land of Faery!”
8
‘The Hunt for the Unicorn
“When- Sir Bedwyir Imperator Arthur’s most trusted knight, threw only Excalibur’s scabbard into the mere, Merlin meant to lay the sword, which was thus preserved, with his King in the hidden place you have been told how to find. However, knowing that it would not be wielded for many long centuries, until it be time for the Hoped-For-One to rise and unite all peoples of British blood and so end the final war, the Enchanter changed his mind.
“Sir Bedwyr had begged him for the sword to keep, as a symbol he could show to the Cymry. He knew that they would fight to the death behind a leader who wielded it against the Saxons. Merlin granted his wish, upon condition that when Sir Bedwyr knew himself hard on death, he should bring it hither lest other men, less worthy, should carry it and it be lost before the time of need.
“All his life Sir Bedwyr fought the Saxons and those stoutly defended Cambrian hills were never conquered. But all men die, and when Sir Bedwyr felt that his time was upon him, he brought Excalibur to us, and for love of our friend we made a waste of half our land.
“Raise your eyes higher to the north, Sir Hawk. Do you see where beyond the Heath a sable blot smudges our sky? Beneath it lies the evil boundary of the dwergar folk. Here they need not tunnel, for all is darkness, which they love as does their Lord Oduarpa, who plots to extend his dominions against us. Although they too fear the Heath, they count it as part of their spreading empire.
“From it they raid by tunneling and we cannot reach them, because the light with which we line our tunnel walls will not last to carry us into that great distance and bring us back unharmed. Therefore, they are nearer to us than we can be to them and though we ride to hunt and till our fields and visit our pleasances and capture what joy we can— as you see, we are embattled.”
Gwalchmai said, “Have you not thought of seeking another home? A place where the dwergar do not dwell? A country where the Lord of the Dark Face has no power?”
Queen Crede looked pensive. “Such a thought lies heavy upon us. We love our home. In our way, we love mankind. They crowd us and endanger us with their carelessness, but they are such a bumbling, clumsy, unseeing people. Such an awkward, amusing folk!
“We do not know how we can live away from them. Yet, in the end, they will drive us away or kill us, for -they leave us no room. I fear when we are gone they will know too late what they have lost forever.
“We have selected another planet where it will be safe for us. We could leave at any time, yet we linger, for men need us more than they realize and we shall miss them sore. Huon, sing that song you wrote. Perhaps it will explain how we feel.”
Huon was nothing loath. He unslung his cithern and began:
In this savage world of ours
There soon will be no elves in flowers.
Pixies, nixies, dryads, gnomes,
All must leave for other homes
On a cleaner planet—a brighter star.
There is no iron on Astophar.
Sylphs find no mirror in limpid springs,
Just cast-off trash and duty things.
Smoke fouls the air for gauzy pinions
In every one of Man’s dominions.
Aeolus chokes in fumes so strong
And war disturbs the siren’s song.
Where Aphrodite rose from foam,
Man’s refuse fouls the mermaid’s home.
Naiad and Undine pine and sigh
For pollution slew the Lorelei.
No plain for centaurs, no copse for Pan!
We must seek a better plan!
Men—leave us a little room, I pray,
You will need us so much more some day!
Gwalchmai echoed softly, “We will need you more some day. Yes, my Queen, for I shall be honored if I may call you so—and you will remain as Queen, in my heart, when my eyes are blinded to you again—we need you now. We will always need you. All men, however harsh and mad and cruelly unthinking, need something precious and lovely to prize and hold secret. Something to nurture the soul lest it die. You fay are our last sweet delicate thing on earth. If you go forever, you leave us to a world of drabness^and horror.
“Can you not stay with us, somewhere? Just a little longer, so that more of us will have a memory that they might never know except in dream? Some, even now, think that all dreamers are a little mad.”
Queen Crede laid her hand on Gwalchmai’s arm. Her eyes were misted.
“Almost you make me reconsider. Sir Hawk, where can we go? There is no safe place for us. This is the last redoubt for a people so frail as we. Our principalities have fallen to the enemy or lie drowned under the sea. I will not deceive you. I have no suzerainty elsewhere. When this dome of light fails us we must flit or perish.”
“Why do you not go to your cousins in Alata? There is no iron used there.”
“No iron? Tell us of Alata! Where is that land? We have heard of no such cousins!”
Thus the chorus of voices-so high, so hopeful that for a moment the grim bowmen forgot their duty and glanced around at the group whose rejoicing Gwalchmai had inspired.
Loudly enough, then, so that the nearest of the sentinels could hear and spread the joyful news down the line, he told them of Alata. He spoke of the little red men, no larger than they, who dwell in the canebrakes of the Catawba and hunt gnats with bow and arrow; of the puk-wud-jees of the will not last to carry us into that great distance and bring us back unharmed. Therefore, they are nearer to us than we can be to them and though we ride to hunt and till our fields and visit our pleasances and capture what joy we can— as you see, we are embattled.“
Gwalchmai said, “Have you not thought of seeking another home? A place where the dwergar do not dwell? A country where the Lord of the Dark Face has no power?”
Queen Crede looked pensive. “Such a thought lies heavy upon us. We love our home. In our way, we love mankind. They crowd us and endanger us with their carelessness, but they are such a bumbling, clumsy, unseeing people. Such an awkward, amusing folk!
“We do not know how we can live away from them. Yet, in the end, they will drive us away or kill us, for .they leave us no room. I fear when we are gone they will know too late what they have lost forever.
“We have selected another planet where it will be safe for us. We could leave at any time, yet we linger, for men need us more than they realize and we shall miss them sore. Huon, sing that song you wrote. Perhaps it will explain how we feel.”
Huon was nothing loath. He unslung his cithern and began:
In this savage world of ours
There soon will be no elves in flowers.
Pixies, nixies, dryads, gnomes,
All must leave for other homes
On a cleaner planet—a brighter star.
There is no iron on Astophar.
Sylphs find no mirror in limpid springs, Just cast-off trash and dirty things. Smoke fouls the air for gauzy pinions In every one of Man’s dominions. Aeolus chokes in fumes so strong And war disturbs the siren’s song.
Where Aphrodite rose from foam, Man’s refuse fouls the mermaid’s home. Naiad and Undine pine and sigh
For pollution slew the Lorelei
No plain for centaurs, no copse for Pan!
We must seek a better plan!
Men—leave us a little room, I pray, You will need us so much more some day!
Gwalchmai echoed softly, “We will need you more some day. Yes, my Queen, for I shall be honored if I may call you so—and you will remain as Queen, in my heart, when my eyes are blinded to you again—we need you now. We will always need you. All men, however harsh and mad and cruelly unthinking, need something precious and lovely to prize and hold secret. Something to nurture the soul lest it die. You fay are our last sweet delicate thing on earth. If you go forever, you leave us to a world of drabness^md horror.
“Can you not stay with us, somewhere? Just a while longer, so that more of us will have a memory that they might never know except in dream? Some, even now, think that all dreamers are a little mad.”
Queen Crede laid her hand on Gwalchmai’s arm. Her eyes were misted.
“Almost you make me reconsider. Sir Hawk, where can we go? There is no safe place for us. This is the last redoubt for a people so frail as we. Our principalities have fallen to the enemy or lie drowned under the sea. I will not deceive you. I have no suzerainty elsewhere. When this dome of light fails us we must flit or perish.”
