Written by Neil Fraser
Chill winds flurried about the little group as they trudged across the endless plain. The long grass hissed in the wind. Niani rode in a remote daze, as she had since she’d decided to leave the caravan and strike off across the plain. Mnesse was the only one not wrapped up. She seemed to enjoy the cold weather. Voklaynn didn’t. Sitting glumly on the seat of the little cart, she huddled into the fur robe as much as she could. Her thin skin and all too vulnerable blood absorbed cold, so she shivered intermittently.
“There!” cried out Niani suddenly.
The noblewoman pointed ahead. There was a small hut, possibly a survival hut, looming up out of the dark ahead.
“How did you know it was there?” asked Mnesse.
Niani gave a curious little smile and shrugged.
The donkeys pulled the cart into a ramshackle shelter. Voklaynn unharnessed them from the cart and led them into a roomy stable. Though they were thick furred, the two little animals appreciated the warmth and a break from the incessant wind. Holes in the walls let in cold air, but they were soon plugged with various cloths. In a short time, Mnesse had a fire burning and a pot of tea water boiling. She glanced at Voklaynn sidelong, secretly amused at something.
With a casual air, Voklaynn wolfed her food and gulped her tea, even though it was still steaming hot. Mnesse smiled again. Niani stared remote into the distance. Mnesse mimed a kiss but ducked as Voklaynn threw a pillow at her. In almost the same movement Voklaynn swept up her robe and ran from the hut. Mnesse’s laughter followed.
He awaited her some distance from the hut, eagerly approaching her as she ran toward him.
“Beloved, my loved one!”
His bell tone sounded in her head. She threw her arms around the steel velvet of his neck, burying her face in the indescribable fragrance of his pure fur. Warmth flooded her, as he felt her chill.
“Shall we sit again and share?” he asked, nuzzling at her neck and shoulder.
“No!” Voklaynn answered in the same soundless manner. He had taught her well.
“No?” His distress and fear were poignant, so she caressed him again.
“No!” was her decisive reply. “I want us to share our dream together.”
She hugged him, eyes wide in wonder. He shuddered and a wave of happiness flooded from him. She continued.
“If we must part forever, then I will have something which will always remind me of you, and of what we possessed.”
His reply was worried.
“What you ask has never been done before. Always it has been the horned parent who took the seed, but you are the only lover who has ever asked, so you shall take him.” He stroked against her like a cat, almost purring. “I love you” he concluded.
“And I love you” Voklaynn responded, “but what about our dream?”
“It is already” he proclaimed. “Open your eyes, Bride of my Soul.”
The Summer Country was not the heaven of Toleki legend, but a land of enchantment and perfect beauty, a sort of Fairyland. Voklaynn looked around her. The plain was covered by a soft close nap of emerald grass interspersed with tiny brightly coloured flowers. They blazed like tiny stars on the ground underfoot. The sky was a perfect blue, the sun a gigantic shimmering ball of molten copper. The river to one side was slow, serene and deep as it sang its way sweetly to the sea. To the other side climbed rampart over tower of mountain, pine-covered then snowy at the tips. The agonizing white of the frost glinted like sharp diamonds in the sun.
Voklaynn was not cold and this amazed her, even more as she realized her nakedness. The milk of her skin lay over the royal blue of her veins and she felt no embarrassment or shame. Such could not be in the Summer Country.
“How do I love thee?” came a soft, slow and warm voice. “In ten thousand million ways do I.”
She recognized his voice even though he had never spoken aloud to her before. She turned slowly in fear, then burgeoning joy.
“Thy beauty is beyond beauty, Thy perfection paramount. My heart beats faster in the anticipation of Thy glance. I worship at Thy feet!”
The only other truly white man she had seen was the un-named Wizard of Ulleran, but he had been all bones, sharp angles and red the colour of freshly shed blood. The man she now looked upon was clean, fresh ivory with eyes like new bluebells, a diamond bump on his forehead and hair to his knees the colour of old cream satin. Also naked, he was perfect beauty and absolute masculinity.
“I am Thine” he whispered. Wordlessly Voklaynn moved into his embrace.
The time they spent together was more than a honeymoon, but less than a marriage. There was no marriage because there was no home, no place to live, no duties of a married person for either one of them. The intensity of emotion and the physical response was at times overwhelming, at other times as gentle and caressing as the hair he cast about her. Her lover was concerned only with and for her. His passion consumed him but did not envelop or own her.
Time passed. How much time she never knew. Days certainly, weeks probably, months perhaps. What little she saw of the Summer Country taught her it was an idealized and perfect version of Anfar itself. This was a pure holiday and Voklaynn forgot all her mundane responsibilities. She was adored for who and what she was and did not attempt to follow the passage of something as ephemeral as time.
“Tonight,” he whispered, “tonight is the night of mystery. Then shalt Thou and I be as one and exchange, for a time, essences of our souls to create a third creature. One who is Thy child and mine also. This shall be unique in all the world, for Thou shalt be the upbringer.” His embrace enfolded her.
“Come let us run together as before, my Soul Bride.”
As before, Voklaynn knew the power and majesty of running on fours, not as a beast but as a Queen of the Lesser Children (Animals). Always he ran with her, the length and breadth of the Summer Country.
They ceased their play at a spot Voklaynn recognized as the place where she had first seen him in human form.
“Before we give ourselves to each other, Soul Bride, I give Thee my name, such as would be the sounds in the speech of Thy mouth. I am Tintagel.”
What followed at length and in time was nothing that can be spoken of in words, but forever after Voklaynn could draw the song from her soul and listen to it in her mind, replaying the intensity that was so like, so unlike, so much more than mere physical lovemaking. Tintagel gave all of himself to her, accepted all of her to himself. This was a time and an age again. But, as has been said, all things end. Yet Voklaynn knew that this could not end. This was in the world at the Creation and would be until the end and she was part of it. So was he and so was that they had in pure love made. She was content and full of joy.
“Part of me is part of Thee forever, part of Thee is me. We must part forever, but we shall never be apart. I will send the one we have made together to Thee. I will never see Thee again, or Thou me, but look for me in the child. I love Thee forever and I love Thee wholly.” His voice whispered to silence as the wind grew and the dawn rose.
“Look for the child, our child in the dark of the year, after the Day of No Dawning, after the Foreign Flood (Invasion), after the Changes. Look for me in our child. Fare Thee well, oh my Love!” And he was gone.
The clear and vivid light told Voklaynn she was in the Summer Country, so she knew she was dreaming. How else could one such as she pass into this happy realm if not through magic or dreams? She knew no magic, so she must be dreaming. The fallen leaves underfoot were as vibrant in colour as before they fell from the trees. Dead leaves did not fade in this place. The air was too invigorating for a mortal and she would soon sicken of it, she was no Faerie. This thought saddened her and she raised her eyes to the sky and sighed. A hint of a scent in the air caused her pulse to race. He was near. A full-skirted, midnight blue gown settled coolly about her with the whisper of liquid, covering her nakedness. The small but brilliant sapphires on the gown flashed and glowed in the sunlight. Her heart beat faster as he came from nowhere and knelt at her feet to complete her.
“Beloved,” he whispered. “I have called you, for I have missed you. They would have me abandon you. How could I abandon my very existence?”
He kissed her hand, held between his. His clothes were all cloud grey, yet shimmered to quite another colour as she watched. She sank to her knees and gathered him into her embrace, trying to make him physically part of her.
“Do not abandon me” she pleaded. “Call me as often as you wish, as often as you can. I am here for you. When you are gone from me there will be no other, only our son.”
He saw the fear in her eyes and knew she loved him.
“I cannot abandon you, but the vigilance of the Powers demands that I stay from you for your safety’s sake. They demand I fulfil my other duty and watch me, lest I leave my Guardianship of the Woods. I fear They may send me to guard the Wood of the Shadowed Ones (Elves), who have hunted down and slain all the other Guards. My fear is not for myself, for my life is worth little to me, but for you without a lover and our son without a father.”
She whispered into the fragrance of his long hair. “Who are They? Why would anyone want to tear us apart?” Her voice was steady, serene. How could they be sundered? “We are one.” There was steel in her tone, rigid and strong beyond compare. She was a leopardess defending her cub, a guard hound defending her charge.
“They are the Powers, less remote than the Great Six but mighty enough” he replied. “This is their land.”
He contrived to hold her closer. Despite the awkwardness of their position, she felt no discomfort. She knew she would wake rested as if she had slept on a down mattress.
“Tell me more of the Great Six,” she asked. “I know of Starrion, Noction, the Dragon and the Cow, but I am not a Priestess and there is much I do not understand. Tell me of the Powers who would keep us apart and how the Summer Country came to be theirs. Tell me of your home so that I may understand some of these mysteries.” He settled more comfortably on the grass and she leaned against him
“The Great Six are the Gods of the elements. Starrion is Light, Noction is Dark, Raven is Air, Dragon is Fire, Cow is Earth and Hippocampus is Water. Who can understand the Six? They have been, are and will be. They are as they are. They are infinite in breadth as are all things to those who are true of the soul.”
“There are those who gave up their essence to grasp power and terror for themselves, becoming Power and Terror. We call them Demons, but I know not what your Bright Steel Spirited Folk (Toleki) call them. They are Power and Terror only. There are also those of like degree who gave up their essence to power and rulership, some say law and justice as well, becoming Powers. They are still themselves, but only secondarily. The Powers have never been much interested in the Lands Beyond the Curtain (Anfar Refinli). They have made the Summer Country what it is, what you now see. Do you not tell tales of the Powers on your side of the Curtain?”
She shook her head. “We only have tales of the Demons.”
His eyes widened slightly at her comment, but he continued.
“As the Powers are, so is the Summer Country. If They pass away it is said that the Summer Country will also pass away. They are it and it is They. Some say the Snakes of the Air (Dragons) are Powers, but I believe otherwise. Who knows their substance, or that of the Ones Outside the World, But In It (Saurians)? The mysteries of the Summer Country are many. It is a strange and mysterious place even to one such as I. Above all it is the draught of the soul for those of us who are rooted here. We of Faerie need the Summer Country as a tree needs water. Unicorns, fays, satyrs, nymphs, night Djin and giants of the mountains, we are all Faerie.”
“Those who are not of Faerie can travel back through the Curtain. The Ones Outside the World, But In It, the Slow Ones of the Mighty Minds (Mystics), the Snakes of the Air and certain of the Small Ancient Ones (Gelflings) can all travel back through the Curtain. The Small Ancient Ones are at least a quarter Faerie, though a sad Folk. The Summer Country is as the Lands Beyond the Curtain, but more so. How can I say more? You have seen both. How can you explain more?”
She sat quietly absorbing what he had said, then she remembered that he had called her to him. “I am here with you because you called me. How do I call you when I need you? Teach me how to cross through the Curtain. Is this a dream or is it real? Who are the Singers Beyond the Mounts? Are the Shadowed Ones the Elves? You have answered my loneliness and my heartache, but you raise so many more questions!”
He sighed and looked at her expectant face. “Call me in need as you would call anyone who would spring to your defence, save that I would die for you. Call me in your mind at your need and I will come, though it cost me everything. The cry in your soul will be echoed in my soul and my Guardianship will be neglected for your need. I cannot teach you to slip between the Curtain, alas for my failure. I can do so, but I know not how, I just .. can. Can I teach you to breathe? To know when to use an alicorn? All this is I, but I grieve that I cannot teach you.” He buried his face in the fragrance of her hair and wept softly in his sorrow. She held him as a mother, foreshadowing later times.
He spoke further in time. “Is this a dream or is it real? Is the Land Beyond the Curtain real or is it a dream? What is a dream? Is it not real if you are in it? Is not the Land Beyond a dream to you now? If this is a dream what am I? No, there is no dream and no reality. The Faerie are no more than you beyond the Curtain. Such questions are great ones and only the Great Six, perhaps the Powers and possibly the Slow Ones of the Mighty Minds know the songs sung in answer.”
“The Singers Beyond the Mounts (Phalithran) are as your folk, but kinder to their land and not as Steel Spirited. Their song is love, but as lovers, they can be fierce. I believe the Shadowed Ones are those your folk call the Melreshi, but the Singers name them Thelessan. The Women of the Beneath Mountains (Khagraz / Dwarrow) are those who dwell in darkness, but in nobility, and who garden the stone. They love the Land Beyond with great ferocity and sorrow at the attitudes of the Steel Spirited. They love the nymphs of Faerie and many nymphs have left Faerie to dwell amongst them as Queens.”
There was quiet between the lovers for a while. Tintagel had told Voklaynn much about the Summer Country, much that puzzled her, but she was determined to learn about his land. She held him a while longer before she asked her most important question.
“The last time we were together Tintagel, you told me to look for our son in the dark of the year, after the Day of No Dawning, after the Foreign Flood, after the Changes. Well, I have waited a day too long for a dawning. I have watched men change into animals and now the foreign invaders threaten our island. The dark of the year is close by and I do not know where to look for our son. Tell me where I must look for him so that I may find him and keep him safe with me.”
“You will find our baby son awaiting you. I shall send you a messenger who is brusque but true. She will lead you to our son. With him, you shall always have me with you, but I must seek you out to be with you. I am jealous.” He kissed her deeply, holding her tightly to him.
“The choices of the unicorn are five,” he said, beginning the Litany. “The first is to continue the relationship, but the unicorn will fade when the woman takes her first lover. The second is to continue the relationship for a time, then share a dream and part forever. The third is for the woman to become a unicorn and then both return to the Summer Country, paired forever. The fourth is to continue the relationship forever, but the woman cannot take any other lover. The fifth is for the unicorn to be rejected. Together we made the second choice.” He kissed her again, breathing in her scent. “But then you made a suggestion and I agreed with a word, a word that must not be broken for it was the word of a Lover to his True Love. We made a Sixth Choice!”
“How so, my Tintagel?” she murmured, so close no louder sound was needed. He smiled.
“The consequences of the Second Choice are these; we Love together, our mystical seeds are shared and our child, a unicorn spirit, is born in human form. I take our child and raise him, then in time I die. But in all the time that unicorns have chosen Lovers, you were the only one who asked about after the Love. I agreed to your demand at the time, but lightly and with no second thought. Now I have had time to consider and I have finally understood. Why should I give you up and die after raising our son? Why do you have to be bereft of your firstborn? This consequence of the Second Choice is ill indeed. Perhaps those former unicorns died of their grief, as I would be were I torn apart. What of the Beloved, what was her fate after she was abandoned? No, the Powers are wrong in this,” he finished, shaking his beautiful head. “I am going to pass our son un-named to you, even though I have been banned from doing this. When you name our son you will have power over his well-being. Until he is named They cannot find him.”
“What of you, my heart?” There was fear in her voice.
“Fear not!” he said proudly. “I would lose my alicorn before I would lose you. In times of change and uncertainty in the Land Beyond the Curtain the Summer Country is also wracked. It was so when your people arrived in the Lands Beyond the Curtain, when the Singers Beyond the Mounts came and worst of all when the Shadowed Ones of the Woods and the Women of the Beneath Mountains came. This time the changes and uncertainty are more shattering than ever before. In this confusion, all we have done will slip away like water beneath a bridge, our deeds as unalterable as the water. Then I will run free and come to you as often as I can.” Then he slumped and she could see bright tears welling in his eyes. “I am rooted in the Summer Country, as you are in the Lands Beyond the Curtain. I cannot stay forever with you, nor you with me. For the moment I must stay beyond the attention of the Powers, so I cannot come to you to drink of your soul.”
He slipped into a lying position, drawing her down with him onto the fresh green grass.
“Perhaps,” he whispered, touching his lips against the shell of her ear, “we could make an Eighth Choice and create another child.”
“What was the Seventh Choice?” she asked, puzzled. “You have mentioned only six.” She began to remove his clothes, her hands gentle but insistent. He drew her gown away from her pale skin, joy in his voice as he answered her question.
“The Seventh Choice is this, as no others have made the Second Choice and lain together again.” He drew her close and they entwined.
Later they walked together, clothes loose and dishevelled. The leaves crackled and rustled beneath their bare feet. The simple joy of being able to caress each other delighted them. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“You mentioned changes. What has caused these changes? I have heard of others coming to the southeastern coasts.” She waved vaguely in no particular direction. He looked into her eyes, the red eyes of an albino, an outcast, his Beloved.
“They are the Black Fired Souls (Ogres), tall, fierce, destructive and proud. I deem they are more proud than your folk. These Black Fired Souls are dark, but not shadowed with lies as are those of the Woods. It seems to me that these Black Fired Souls and your Bright Steel Spirited Folk knew each other long turnings ago. They bring beasts with them, the least of which are as Black Fired of Soul as their masters. They are the foes for the future after the Shadowed Woods slip into legends and tales. The Mountains have seen the coming of these Black Fired Souls. The Mountains have told their kin.” He kissed the crown of her head and was reluctant to go on. “This is not a thing to talk about now.”
She could sense his reserve, he knew something but did not want to burden her. She twisted in his arms and looked into the crystal blue of his eyes.
“What is it, my Love?” He hesitated.
“You are … fond of the Ones Outside the World, But In It?” She knew instinctively who he meant.
“Saurians? Fond isn’t the right word, but it seems our fates are intertwined. Why, how and to what end I don’t know. Why do you ask?” He hesitated again.
“Their fates are unknown. They are beyond the reach of the Powers, perhaps beyond the reach of the Great Six, as maybe are you.” He was sombre, but he held her tightly, denying any abandonment of her. He was true to his earlier words. “Many of the Ones Outside the World died defending a building of utmost importance against the landing of the Black Fired Souls. This building was despoiled or damaged, it is hard to know which. The Ones Outside the World are confused. There is one who knows of the bindings between us and who has been waiting to speak to you. He says he is your Black Advocate. Were it possible to give feelings to the Outsiders, I would say he is upset and disapproving of me, of us. Is that of importance to you?” There was fear in his voice. Not fear of losing her, for he knew the security of his position, but for how she would feel. What hurt her caused him agony.
“I do not know what the Saurians want from me and I am not moved by their disapproval of us. However, I must speak with my Black Advocate before he executes himself. No, I must not be flippant. The Saurian may take my jest as a command and I do not wish anything to spoil the time we have together.” Tintagel smiled at her.
“The only thing that can spoil our time together is the time of our parting, a sorrow so poignant it can hardly be borne. In the meantime, I shall wait here for you.”
The Black Saurian was among the trees ahead. He was not dead any more if ever he had been. He stood like a monolith, indeed One Outside the World, But In It. She had become more attuned to the differences in Saurian appearance and noticed the beginnings of some small changes in his armour, his scales and his spines. He stood quietly watching her approach in the dappled sunlight, a flutter of azure silks and sparkling sapphires.
“I am the Evil One” he began abruptly. “I am here to speak to you. There are strange matters afoot and it seems … correct to talk to you. I am the Evil One and others may not.” He ended as abruptly and as enigmatically as he had begun, watching her from deep, dark, unreadable eyes.