The Devil in Green (35 page)

'In the Far Lands. A heartbeat away from your own fields, yet as distant
as the farthest star.' She stood before him, still smiling benignly. 'You
were brought to me by some of the market people. They feared for your
safety.'

'When I was blacking out, I thought they were going to rob me. Or
worse.'

'Indeed, some of the traders come from far afield, and they have a
predatory nature. But those who live within the remit of the Court of
Peaceful Days would never harm anyone. That is our law, immutable, a
law of all Existence, though recognised by few.'

There was something about her that reminded him of Sophie, an odd
combination of gentleness and power, perhaps. 'As laws go, that's one of
the best.'

'It is a law of Existence.' Rhiannon looked from the flames to the stars
scattered overhead. 'So simple when compared with the great philosophies, yet it is the only law that matters. We are all brothers and sisters of
spirit, joined on levels Fragile Creatures can never comprehend.'

Mallory looked back at the building. From his new perspective he
could see that it was quite enormous. It stretched far back into the trees,
and in parts, on the fringe of his vision, it appeared that the trees were
growing in it and through it, were part of the very structure. Though the
construction was simple, there was a breath-taking majesty to it that made
him feel as if it had a slumbering life of its own, as peaceful and gentle as
Rhiannon.

'Fairyland,' he said. 'That's what you're talking about.'

'It has always existed, though for many generations of your kind the
doors were locked.' Her brow furrowed as she examined his face closely;
Mallory had the strangest feeling she was looking deep into his mind.
'Does it trouble you?' she asked.

'I'm not surprised by anything anymore.'

Her smile returned. She motioned for him to follow her into the trees
where the perfume of summer vegetation was more heady. Enough
moonlight broke through the cover to allow them to see the nocturnal
animals scurrying out of their path and the ghostly imprint of owls in the
branches over their heads. Mallory was surprised to see glitter trails
moving through the treetops, which he at first took to be fireflies, but
which eventually revealed themselves to be tiny gossamer-winged people
frolicking amongst the branches. They, too, made him feel powerfully
happy, as if they radiated an energy field that altered his emotions. For the
first time in ages he felt at ease. In his swirl of feelings, he suddenly felt like
crying, and he hadn't cried in a long while. The thought of going back to
the bleakness of his own home depressed him immensely.

'I think I'd like to stay here a while,' he ventured.

She shook her head, looked away into the dark. 'You have a job to do,
Mallory. Every Fragile Creature has work of the greatest importance to do
before they finally depart die Fixed Lands. A task that is unique to them,
so important it is stitched into the fabric of Existence. And you cannot rest
- none of you can rest - until your personal task has been completed.' She
paused. 'There is always time to rest, when the work is done.'

'What task?' he asked. 'What use can I be?'

When she turned her face back to him, there was something profound
locked in her eyes and her smile, but it was too enigmatic for him to
decipher. She carried on amongst the trees in silence until they reached a
large clearing where the moon appeared to have come down to earth, so
milky and luminescent was the light reflected on the metallic items
scattered all around. Swords were embedded in the ground. Shields lay
like seashells; helms and breastplates, axes, spears and other weapons
Mallory didn't recognise had been discarded there. It was the detritus of
some great battle.

'These remain here, so even at this, the most gentle of all the Courts .
.
.
especially
at this
Court ...
we never forget,' Rhiannon said gravely.
'Suffering is always only a whisper away. Peace and happy days never
last. Pain and war and despair will always rise up.'

'That's a depressing view of life,' Mallory said.

She disagreed forcefully. 'Peace and happy days have their potency
because
of this dark side. Without it, the things we treasure would tarnish
with boredom. They shine because we know the dark is always over the
next rise.'

'So you're justifying war
. . .
and suffering .
.
. ?' He was deeply
surprised by her position after what he had seen of her so far.

'Justifying? No. Accepting. It is the way of Existence. There is a
meaning for everything that happens. We deal with the unpleasant things
in the same way that we celebrate the wondrous. And we must always deal
with them. Never turn our backs, let them gain an upper hand, throw
Existence out of balance so the darkness gains ascendancy, for that is what
the darkness always wants.'

He had a feeling she was no longer talking in abstract terms; indeed, was
talking directly to him.

'We must be vigilant,' she continued, 'all of us, and even the gentlest
must take a stand, on their own terms, when needs call.'

She moved amongst the weapons of the dead before selecting a sword.
She nodded knowingly as she weighed it in her hands, then handed it to
him. Moonlight limned its edges so that it appeared as if a faint blue light
was leaking out of the very fabric of the blade. Its handle was inlaid with
silver and was carved with two entwining dragons, like the flag he saw
flying over the pagan camp.

'I have a sword,' he said.

'Your sword is built to despatch the threats of the Fixed Lands. This is a
sword of my people. It has a power that transcends the space it holds.
Three great swords were forged from the very stuff of Existence, so our
stories tell us. Three swords that can cleave the very foundations of life.
One is the Sword of Nuada Airgetiamh - that stands alone and will not be
seen again until the Dragon-Brother returns. The second is lost, believed
corrupted, a danger to all who wield it. This is the third, and it is linked to
your land in a fundamental way. Keep it close. It will bring you light and
warmth in the dark days ahead.'

'You're talking as if it's alive.'

'It is, in the way that all things are alive, from the stones of the field to
the clouds of the sky.' She proffered the sword. Mallory hesitated before
taking it, but when it slipped into his fingers it felt instantly comfortable. A
tingling warmth spread through his palm into his arm. It felt as if the
dragons on the handle were shifting to accommodate the unique musculature of his hand. 'It is called Llyrwyn.'

'It has a name?' Mallory said wryly.

'There is a reason it has a name, and that reason should be clear, if not
now, then in good time.'

'Why are you giving me a sword?'

'I told you, there is a meaning to everything that happens. You are not
here by chance. In the terms of your world, you may have arrived a little
earlier or a little later, but you would always have come here, to this spot.
For the sword.'

Mallory turned the blade over in his hand curiously. The faint blue glow
wasn't a product of the moonlight at all - it truly was coming from the
weapon. 'I don't understand.'