Stephen Lawhead - The Realms Thereunder

“That’s okay,” Freya said. Looking into the ancient knight’s face, with its creases and scars, she felt her argument start to evaporate. “But it’s just that I really don’t mind going back and waiting in the room for the doorway to open again. You wouldn’t have to wait with me-I’m pretty sure I could find my own way back. It’s just that I’m pretty tired and-and a little scared-and I really don’t mind waiting. I’d prefer waiting, in fact, instead of, um . . .”

She trailed off, having said everything she wanted to say. Swi?gar continued to look at her, so she added, “Please?”

“I am sorry, ??eling, but that is not possible,” he said, standing up. “We continue our journey in this direction.”

“But you said,” Freya said, hurrying after him, “that the wall opened up at a special time, when the sun-”

“At a certain time,” Swi?gar agreed, with a nod of his head,

“and for a certain person. You have already started your journey and you may not stop now. You must continue or fail.”

“I don’t understand,” said Freya.

“The moment at which you found us was no time at all; it was what is called a ‘time between times.’ It was the evening- the ‘even-time’-when light and dark are equal. It is a sacred time. It has a strong pull to a certain type of person. The place you found us could be called a ‘place between places,’ and you yourself are a person between destinies. You have started along a path that you cannot go back on.” He smiled at her. “But there will be more paths to choose from and soon. Perhaps one of those will lead you to the place you seek, perhaps somewhere better,” he said. “Come.”

Freya became conscious of her steps; her feet falling one in front of the other seemed heavy, jarring her.

“When the time, place, and person are all in an efenheort ,” Swi?gar continued as he walked, like a teacher giving a lesson, “which is a sort of unstable harmony-then fantastic things can happen. One must be careful when one finds oneself at a place between places, say a beach or a crossroads, during either dawn or dusk. If his soul is at a spiritual crossroads, his mind lost, and his body wandering-what we might call a ‘person between persons’- then he may pass through the barriers between worlds as a pillar of smoke passes through a field of mist.”

“There are many instances,” Ecgbryt, from behind, informed them. “A restless fisherboy, with conflicting thoughts in his head and dreams churning in his heart, will cast off his bark into the sea before sunrise, when the wind sweeps the spray off the waves. Soon he finds himself far and away on distant adventures with thieves who live beneath the waves, pirate kings, and magic treasure.”

“A young princess, not a girl, nor yet a queen,” Swi?gar continued, “riding at dawn in the forest strays along deer paths and comes to the foot of a hill where the trees thin and finds the entrance to an Elfin court. She will rule there for many years and then return to our realm, still but a young girl, though wiser, and with many mystical virtues and gifts.”

“A wandering rhymer,” Ecgbryt rejoined, “old, and in the twilight of his own life, will come to a crossed road and converse with a mysterious gentleman who reveals himself to be the devil. They pass the night riddling under the gallows, and at dawn-at the even-time-the winner will demand a prize from the loser.”

“Such is the universe,” Swi?gar resumed. “A vast multitude of spheres all spinning and dancing in the most intricate and bewildering patterns. At the right time, and in the right place, when the spheres are close enough, a man can step from one to the other, as easily as crossing a brook.

“So it is vitally important to be aware of those times of ‘evening’ in your life,” he said gravely, “and to consider carefully which path you decide to take, for the path will change not just you but your entire world.”

Daniel’s eyes were wide. These were thoughts that he had not thought before, could never have thought before.

“Of course,” said Ecgbryt, “there are places that are more enchanted than others. Take the Scot’s land, for instance, or the Norsemen’s land. There are entire seasons of even-times, and complete holdings and folds that belong neither wholly to earth, sea, air, or ice. All manner of unnatural and magical acts have flowed from those places like water from a spring. And as for the Eire folk-well!

Their entire race, land, and history is ensorcelled from one end of time to the other!”

The scraping of their footsteps continued uninterrupted for a short while. Daniel threw a look to Freya, who still appeared miserable. “Well,” she huffed in a low, pained voice. “Someone might have warned us that this sort of thing could happen.”

“What?” said Ecgbryt. “Does no one tell stories of such things happening anymore?”

“So when we went through the arch,” Daniel said slowly, “we actually entered another world?”

“Not exactly, no,” Swi?gar replied. “The place where we slept was not in one world nor another. Imagine a tide pool set in the shore of the universe alongside the sea of time-an eddy where time spins in upon itself. In such a place we remained as we were when we were first laid to rest. All who cross from one world to the next must, by necessity, pass through one of these pools. That is why, when you hear of people returning from one of those other worlds, they have sometimes been gone a day, sometimes a hundred years. There is little accounting for it, but even so there is reason-”

Swi?gar’s explanation was cut short by a loud, piercing scream that rattled down the tunnel, knocking against the walls. The group halted immediately.

“What was-” Daniel’s question was smothered out of him by Swi?gar’s massive hand on his chest as it pushed him against the wall. Freya was pulled over and pressed next to him.

“Here, lifiendes, take this,” Swi?gar said, pressing his round shield into Daniel’s arms. “Stay behind it.” Daniel hoisted it up in front of Freya and himself. They poked the top of their heads up from behind the rim, their eyes large and fearful.

“What’s happening?” Freya asked.

Ecgbryt dropped his torch; it still burned, casting oversized shadows on the walls of the tunnel. He drew his axe from his belt and swung his shield from his back to his arm. Swi?gar likewise dropped his torch and raised his spear, gripping it with both hands. They stood, waiting, for long seconds that felt like minutes.

Another scream came from behind them-human, but wild, savage. Swi?gar swung his spear around and faced the sound. Daniel had read about banshees-spirits that wailed on rooftops when someone was about to die. I bet it sounds the same , he thought, shuddering.

Just then, Ecgbryt leapt into the darkness, his axe glimmering momentarily in the torchlight. There was the sound of a scuffle and a shriek and then silence.

“ Hw?t , brother, is it well?” Swi?gar asked without turning his head. Before an answer could come, there was a snarl from the tunnel beyond the tall knight, and a dark figure sprang into the torchlight. It seemed to hang in the air for a long, fear-filled moment and then descend. It was dark and human-shaped, though thin and wiry. Its arms and elbows were like knotted ropes. Its legs were thick and shaggy, its hands raised; long, sharp fingers curled into talons. Its mouth was open in a snarl showing black gums from which sprouted thin, needle-like teeth.

Faster than they were able to follow, Swi?gar thrust his spear at the terrible shape. There was a howl and Freya felt a spray of blood on her face. The creature dropped, clutching the spear, now caught in its chest. Another leapt from behind it and crouched low, next to the torch. Daniel could see its hairless head, pale and white, face fixed in a snarl of rage, a feral hate burning in its eyes. It sprung high up in the air just as Swi?gar yanked his spear from the first beast. He spun the shaft around in his hands so that the blunt end crashed down on the creature’s head.