_The Coming of Too Much Magic_
In Erl that had sighed for magic there was indeed magic now. The
pigeon-loft and old lumber-lofts over stables were all full of trolls,
the ways were full of their antics, and lights bobbed up and down the
street at night long after traffic was home. For the will-o'-the-wisps
would go dancing along the gutters, and had made their homes round the
soft edges of duck-ponds and in green-black patches of moss that grew
upon oldest thatch. And nothing seemed the same in the old village.
And amongst all these magical folk the magical half of Orion's blood,
that had slept while he went amongst earthly men, hearing mundane talk
each day, stirred out of its sleep and awakened long-sleeping thoughts
in his brain. And the elfin horns that he often heard blowing at evening
blew with a meaning now, and blew stronger as though they were nearer.
The folk of the village watching their lord by day saw his eyes turned
away towards Elfland, saw him neglecting the wholesome earthly cares,
and at night there came the queer lights and the gibbering of the
trolls. A fear settled on Erl.
At this time the parliament took counsel again, twelve grey-beard
quaking men that had come to the house of Narl when their work was ended
at evening; and all the evening was weird with the new magic of Elfland.
Every man of them as he ran from his own warm house on his way to the
forge of Narl had seen lights leaping, or heard voices gibbering, which
were of no Christom land. And some had seen shapes prowling which were
of no earthly growing, and they feared that all manner of things had
slipped through the border of Elfland to come and visit the trolls.
They spoke low in their parliament: all told the same tale, a tale of
children terrified, a tale of women demanding the old ways again; and as
they spoke they eyed window and crevice, none knowing what might come.
And Oth said: "Let us folk go to the Lord Orion as we went to his
grandfather in his long red room. Let us say how we sought for magic,
and lo we have magic enough; and let him follow no more after witchery
nor the things that are hidden from man."
He listened acutely, standing there amongst his hushed comrade
neighbours. Was it goblin voices that mocked him, or was it only echo?
Who could say? And almost at once the night all round was hushed again.
And Threl said: "Nay. It is too late for that." Threl had seen their
lord one evening standing alone on the downs, all motionless and
listening to something sounding from Elfland, with his eyes to the East
as he listened: and nothing was sounding, not a noise was astir; yet
Orion stood there called by things beyond mortal hearing. "It is too
late now," said Threl.
And that was the fear of all.
Then Guhic rose slowly up and stood by that table. And trolls were
gibbering like bats away in their loft, and the pale marsh-lights were
flickering, and shapes prowled in the dark: the pit-pat of their feet
came now and then to the ears of the twelve that were there in that
inner room. And Guhic said: "We wished for a little magic." And a gust
of gibbering came clear from the trolls. And then they disputed awhile
as to how much magic they had wished in the olden time, when the
grandfather of Orion was lord in Erl. But when they came to a plan this
was the plan of Guhic.
"If we may not turn our lord Orion," he said, "and his eyes be turned to
Elfland, let all our parliament go up the hill to the witch Ziroonderel,
and put our case to her, and ask for a spell which shall be put against
too much magic."
And at the name of Ziroonderel the twelve took heart again; for they
knew that her magic was greater than the magic of flickering lights, and
knew there was not a troll or thing of the night but went in fear of her
broom. They took heart again and quaffed Narl's heavy mead, and
re-filled their mugs and praised Guhic.
And late in the night they all rose up together to go back to their
homes, and all kept close together as they went, and sang grave old
songs to affright the things that they feared; though little the light
trolls care, or the will-o'-the-wisps, for the things that are grave to
man. And when only one was left he ran to his house, and the
will-o'-the-wisps chased him.
When the next day came they ended their work early, for the parliament
of Erl cared not to be left on the witch's hill when night came, or even
the gloaming. They met outside Narl's forge in the early afternoon,
eleven of the parliament, and they called out Narl. And all were wearing
the clothes they were wont to wear when they went with the rest to the
holy place of the Freer, though there was scarcely a soul he had ever
cursed that was not blessed by her. And away they went with their old
stout staves up the hill.
And as soon as they could they came to the witch's house. And there they
found her sitting outside her door gazing over the valley away, and
looking neither older nor younger, nor concerned one way or the other
with the coming and going of years.
"We be the parliament of Erl," they said, standing before her all in
their graver clothes.
"Aye," she said. "You desired magic. Has it come to you yet?"
"Truly," they said, "and to spare."
"There is more to come," she said.
"Mother Witch," said Narl, "we are met here to pray you that you will
give us a goodly spell which shall be a charm against magic, so that
there be no more of it in the valley, for overmuch has come."
"Overmuch?" she said. "Overmuch magic! As though magic were not the
spice and essence of life, its ornament and its splendour. By my broom,"
said she, "I give you no spell against magic."
And they thought of the wandering lights and the scarce-seen gibbering
things, and all the strangeness and evil that was come to their valley
of Erl, and they besought her again, speaking suavely to her.
"Oh, Mother Witch," said Guhic, "there is overmuch magic indeed, and the
folk that should tarry in Elfland are all over the border."
"It is even so," said Narl. "The border is broken and there will be no
end to it. Will-o'-the-wisps should stay in the marshes, and trolls and
goblins in Elfland, and we folk should keep to our own folk. This is the
thought of us all. For magic, if we desired it somewhat, years ago when
we were young, pertains to matters that are not for man."
She eyed him silently with a cat-like glow increasing in her eyes. And
when she neither spoke nor moved, Narl besought her again.
"O Mother Witch," he said, "will you give us no spell to guard our homes
against magic?"
"No spell indeed!" she hissed. "No spell indeed! By broom and stars and
night-riding! Would you rob Earth of her heirloom that has come from the
olden time? Would you take her treasure and leave her bare to the scorn
of her comrade planets? Poor indeed were we without magic, whereof we
are well stored to the envy of darkness and Space." She leaned forward
from where she sat and stamped her stick, looking up in Narl's face with
her fierce unwavering eyes. "I would sooner," she said, "give you a
spell against water, that all the world should thirst, than give you a
spell against the song of streams that evening hears faintly over the
ridge of a hill, too dim for wakeful ears, a song threading through
dreams, whereby we learn of old wars and lost loves of the Spirits of
rivers. I would sooner give you a spell against bread, that all the
world should starve, than give you a spell against the magic of wheat
that haunts the golden hollows in moonlight in July, through which in
the warm short nights wander how many of whom man knows nothing. I would
make you spells against comfort and clothing, food, shelter and warmth,
aye and will do it, sooner than tear from these poor fields of Earth
that magic that is to them an ample cloak against the chill of Space,
and a gay raiment against the sneers of nothingness.
"Go hence. To your village go. And you that sought for magic in your
youth but desire it not in your age, know that there is a blindness of
spirit which comes from age, more black than the blindness of eye,
making a darkness about you across which nothing may be seen, or felt,
or known, or in any way apprehended. And no voice out of that darkness
shall conjure me to grant a spell against magic. Hence!"
And as she said "Hence" she put her weight on her stick and was
evidently preparing to rise from her seat. And at this great terror came
upon all the parliament. And they noticed at the same moment that
evening was drawing in and all the valley darkening. On this high field
where the witch's cabbages grew some light yet lingered, and listening
to her fierce words they had not thought of the hour. But now it was
manifestly growing late, and a wind roamed past them that seemed to come
over the ridges a little way off, from night; and chilled them as it
passed; and all the air seemed given over to that very thing against
which they sought for a spell.
And here they were at this hour with the witch before them, and she was
evidently about to rise. Her eyes were fixed on them. Already she was
partly up from her chair. There could be no doubt that before three
moments were passed she would be hobbling amongst them with her
glittering eyes peering in each one's face. They turned and ran down the
hill.