Marc Chadbourn - The Devil in green

In confusion, he went to the window. He was in a wing of a low building made of stone with a timber and thatched roof that stretched out for a hundred feet on either side; the architecture was unfamiliar. It was in a large clearing in a wood. Close-clipped grass ran down to the trees, and here and there torches blazed. There was no sign of life.

Instinctively, Mallory went for his sword — it was no longer there.

'No weapons are allowed in the Court of Peaceful Days.'

Mallory whirled at the sound of the voice, though it was melodic and gende. A woman stood in the open doorway, smiling enigmatically. When Mallory looked into her face, it took a while before he understood what he was seeing. At first he thought it was his mother, who had died ten years ago, then the Virgin Mary, then the dinner lady who was always kind to him during his lonely, troubled days at school. Finally, her features settled into those of a woman in her late forties, long black hair framing a face that was still beautiful, with lines of happiness around her mouth and eyes. She was wearing a dark blue dress that appeared to be made of velvet yet reflected the light of the torches filtering through the window. A mysterious quality to her made him feel instantly at ease.

'Where is this place?'

'The Court of Peaceful Days.'

'I heard you the first time. But where is it? I walked for a while.' His day's journey came back to him in flashes, impossible to place in any context. 'On the way to Bath?'

'It is further away than you could have walked in a lifetime.'

Her smile melted him instantly; he could no longer resist. 'My injuries-?'

'We healed you. They were minor.'

'They didn't feel minor.'

'To us they were.' She stretched out a supple arm; her hand was pale and delicate. 'Come. Let us walk outside.'

He took it, despite himself. Though he had almost recovered, he still felt as if he was existing in a dream. 'Who are you?'

'My name is Rhiannon. The Court of Peaceful Days is my home.'

'I'm Mallory.'

'I know.' She led him out into a long stone corridor. Guards were posted at regular intervals, dressed in a strange golden armour designed with an avian style. She nodded to each of them as she passed. Outside in the warm night she let go of his hand and they walked side by side across the grass until they reached a fountain of fire. The flames gushed out of a spout in the centre and rolled down into a surrounding pool, swirling like liquid against all the laws of physics. Even close to it, Mallory could feel no heat.

'Where is this place?' he whispered, suddenly overcome by awe.

'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.