XXXV

The Firebird flew on ahead of me, shedding a broken flicker of red-gold over the tops of the waves.  I followed, reading in my book all the while.  As I read, I discovered that the little volume contained, among other things, practical instructions for walking on the water.  By heeding its precepts, I found that I could increase my pace and improve my surefootedness.  My feet began to move faster, my steps grew lighter.  In time I became convinced that the glow on the horizon was getting brighter.  There could be no doubt about it now! I was drawing nearer to my goal!

After a while I looked up and saw a dim figure approaching at a great distance.  It, too, was walking upon the waves, moving steadily towards me.  As it moved closer I could see that it was wrapped in a white shroud.  Nearer and nearer it came.  A ghost! I thought.  A ghost walking over the water to meet me!  I stopped and stood still, frozen with dread.

At last its face began to emerge out of the dusk, horribly pale in the diffuse light.  When I was able to discern its features, my mouth dropped open in surprise and dismay.  For what I saw coming over the waves to meet me was myself:  the self I had dragged out of the house at the beginning of my journey; the self I had cast away and sown in the ground as seed; the self I had seen lying cold and dead upon a stone slab in the cleft of the rock.  Deathly pale it was, yet it came briskly up to meet me, took hold of my arm with one cold, white hand, and spoke.

“You fool!” it hissed.  “What do you think you’re doing?”  The mouth moved, but the rest of the face remained stiff and expressionless as a plaster mask.  The eyes were set like glass in their sockets, unmoving and unseeing.  Up from its chest came a throaty laugh, but the mouth showed not the slightest trace of a smile.  Instead, it merely hung open in a kind of distorted half-frown, one side slightly lower than the other.

I stammered in its presence, groping for an answer, anxious somehow to justify and explain my actions.

“I’m travelling to the place of the rising sun,” I said, “in search of Christmas morning and the rider of the eight-legged horse.”

“Travelling? How?”

“I have travelled by a number of different means.  At the moment I am walking.”

“Walking?” it replied in a shrill, irritated voice.  “Walking on water?  Who told you you could do that?”

“It says so right here in this little book.”  I produced the book and turned to the passage I had just been reading.

“Ha!” laughed the ghost, half closing its staring eyes.  “You haven’t changed a bit!  You’ve always lived your life in books, haven’t you?  You incurable romantic!  You stupid idiot!  You’re playing at being something you’re not!  Just look at you!  Don’t you think it’s time you grew up?”

“You don’t understand,” I countered.  “This wasn’t my idea!  The rider of the eight-legged horse invited me.  He enticed me to follow him.  The Firebird persuaded me to come out when I was unwilling.  He pierced my heart and put his flame within me!”

“Did you read all that in your book?” scoffed the phantom.  “And now I think you quite believe it!”

“It happened to me!” I protested.

“No!” screeched the ghost.  “No it didn’t!”  And suddenly its face and voice became so hideous that I stumbled three steps backward and sank up to my knees in the water.

“Give me that book!” it screamed.  Once again it seized my arm with one of its cold, strong hands and tried to wrench the book from my grasp with the other.

It was then that I realized my disadvantage.  This was, after all, my Old Self – the self I had been before I set out on my journey – before I began to grow gradually younger and smaller.  I was no longer any match for it in size or strength.

The phantom grappled with me and threw me down upon my back in the water.  I began to sink, but still I did not let go of the book.  Then it flung itself on top of me. I saw its mouth, full of jackal’s teeth, open in a wild cry as it shoved my face beneath the surface of the waves.  Through the rush and gurgle in my ears I heard it shouting, “Down!  Down!  Down!”  Salt water choked me.  It burned my eyes and throat.

Now I am down indeed, I thought, and I fear I may never rise again.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXXIV

Though glad to be free of the yacht and back in the water, I was nevertheless shaken by my experience with the three strange men.  A feeling of disorientation overwhelmed me.  It was as if I had entirely lost my bearings.  I tried to swim, but to no avail.  Again and again I sank beneath the water, so that I began to fear that I might drown.

If only I had not so foolishly thrown away my cloak, I thought in despair, and my lamp and basket of apples.

Then I thought of the words of the lady who met me in the cleft of the rock:  how she had told me that I had all I needed for my journey in the little book.  I drew it from the breast of my nightgown and found it whole, sound, and dry.  Opening it quickly, I read the first words that came to my eye, devouring them as a famished traveler gobbles his food:  “Look up,” they said, “for help draws near.”

I did look up and found the sky all ablaze.  In the next moment the Firebird swooped down and caught me up in his terrible talons.  His grip was frightfully strong as with a great roar of flame he soared up into the air, then leveled off and began to glide in wide circles above the surface of the sea.

“Firebird!” I cried in exultation.  “Are you now going to carry me the rest of the way?”

“No,” he answered in a voice like a waterfall.  “I have lifted you out of the water only to set you down again.”

“But I can’t swim!” I protested.  “And I’ve lost the cloak that once kept me afloat.  How can I go on?”

“You shall walk,” he said.

“Walk?  What do you mean?”

“Child,” he answered, “I have come to tell you that you have done well.  You have chosen to remain true – true to your own smallness and weakness.  You have trusted in your Guide rather than in yourself.  In that weakness I will set you down upon the surface of the water and you shall walk upon it; and in the end you will find that none of the devices and machinations of men shall be able to outdo you.”

So he did as he had said.  He flew down and set me on the water once again; and to my surprise I stood upon it and walked.  It was a strange sensation at first and difficult to get used to – like trying to get your sea-legs aboard ship, only without a ship.  Several times I lost my balance, stumbled, and fell as I tried to step over the uneven and constantly shifting surface of the waves.  But I did not sink, and after each fall I was quickly able to rise again.  In the end I found that, with careful concentration and the right mindset, I was able to find smooth and solid footing just beneath the surface, and thus walk steadily forward while the waves broke and sloshed over and around my feet.

“You are doing well,” said a familiar voice at my ear.  It was the small gray bird with the eyes of burning blue.

“Yes, thank you,” I said.  “I think so too.”

“Walk straight on,” said the bird, “towards the glow on the horizon.  The place is not far now.  When you get there you must not stop, but go straight through.  Remember my words and listen for my voice.  If you meet with trouble, look up and I will be there.  Remember the Book.”

A moment later the Firebird reappeared in the sky and began to lead the way forward.  I followed, walking on the water and feeling as if I were making great progress, onward and ever onward towards the place of the rising sun.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXXIII

After a while I looked up from the book and saw another vessel approaching – neither a boat nor a raft nor a three-masted ship this time, but a sleek, smooth-lined yacht with three men aboard.  As they drew near, one of them fixed me in the beam of a bright searchlight.

“Look there!” I heard him cry.  “A child!  A child afloat on the open sea!”

“You’re right!” agreed one of his companions.  “And such a tiny child at that!  How pitiful!”

“On the contrary,” put in a third voice, “how absurd!”

They went on talking in this way for a few minutes, then lowered a small lifeboat from the side of the yacht and rowed over to me.  Before I knew what was happening two pairs of large hands had laid hold of me and pulled me into the boat.

“Wait!” I cried.  “I want to stay where I am!  Leave me alone!”

“We can’t do that!” laughed a man with a broad, kind face and a shock of thick, curly, reddish-brown hair.  “I’d say we found you just in time,” he added, patting my wet head and wrapping a big woolly blanket over my shoulders.

When we reached the yacht, his companions – a neatly dressed younger man and a small, dark figure in a white smock-coat – hauled me aboard while the big kindly fellow said, “What in creation were you doing out there, child?”

“I’m making my journey to the rising sun!” I spluttered when at last I stood looking up at them, dripping and shivering, from the polished deck of the yacht.  “I’m following the Firebird!  The current itself was carrying me along!”

“How interesting!” smiled the broad-faced man in a kind, indulgent tone.

“How absurd!” snapped the figure in the white smock-coat, shaking his head as he stroked his sharp little bearded chin.

The neatly dressed younger man drew a pen from his breast pocket and noted something down in a black book he carried under his arm.

“I know it sounds crazy,” I continued, “but it’s true!  I was instructed to let the current take me straight into the sunset, right through its flaming circle and out the other side!  It’s the only way to reach the sunrise of Christmas morning!  That’s where I’m going to meet the rider of the eight-legged horse!”

The young man squinted up at me from his black book.  “What a ridiculous notion!” he sneered.

“Ridiculous, yes, Jack,” said the man in the smock-coat, “but it actually reflects a modicum of understanding.”

“More importantly, Dr. Roger,” volunteered the broad faced man, putting an arm around my shoulder and regarding me with an understanding smile, “it contains a beautifully mythologized representation of a deeper spiritual truth.”

“I care nothing for your literary musings, Ralph,” replied Dr. Roger with a wave of his hand.  “This child’s tale is founded upon the ancient and outmoded belief in a flat earth.  The scientific fact of the matter is that, because the earth is actually round, one can indeed reach the sunrise by traveling into the sunset – in other words, sail from today into tomorrow.  But it can only be done by achieving a rate of speed sufficient to outstrip the rate of the earth’s rotation.  This yacht is equipped to do just that.”  He glared at me for a moment, then continued.  “We intend to do exactly what you propose, but we intend to do it in the only way possible:  through the power of science and technology.”

“It’s an inspiring concept, isn’t it?” said Ralph, one hand still resting on my shoulder.  “A journey into tomorrow!  A poetic image, a living symbol of the indomitable, questing spirit of man!”

“Also a very expensive concept,” added Jack, glancing up at me from his ledger book.  “It requires money and planning and organization.  I don’t suppose you’ve ever given much thought to that side of the question, have you?”

By this time I was so thoroughly confused that I had to fight to keep back the tears.

“No, I haven’t,” I said in answer to Jack’s question.  “I don’t care about all that.  All I want is to be allowed to continue my journey!  Won’t you please put me back in the water?”

To my great surprise, the three men drew off to one side of the deck and conferred earnestly with one another for several minutes.  At length they returned and stood facing me in solemn silence.

“It’s like this,” said Jack.  “We have our doubts about you.  We don’t think you’re capable of appreciating everything that’s involved in a journey of this kind.”

“Certainly not,” said Dr. Roger, shaking his head and stroking his bearded chin.

“I’m afraid I have to agree,” added Ralph sadly – “though I think you have a lot of the right kind of inspiration.  I’ll always regard you as a kindred spirit.”

“In short,” Jack concluded, “we have decided that it will not be possible for you to remain on board this yacht.  I’m afraid we must ask you to leave.”

With that, Ralph picked me up as if I were nothing but a rag doll and tossed me overboard into the dark, churning water.

“Goodbye, dear friend,” he waved.  “And good luck!”

Then the powerful engines of the yacht began to rev.  They revved and roared until the sound became deafening.  In the next instant the craft leapt away, covering me in a deluge of foam and spray, and sped off into the red-gold glow on the horizon.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXXII

“There lies your course,” said the golden lady.  “Quickly now – step down into the pool.”

My reflection shattered into a thousand pieces as I put my foot into the water.  She took hold of me by both shoulders and guided me out into the midst of the stream.

“Let the current carry you,” she said.  “When you have come to the edge of the sea, to the place where the sun is now sinking in the west, you must pass directly through its fiery circle and out the other side.  There you will find Christmas morning breaking.  There you will see the one you seek.”

Though the water was cold, I found that it did not chill me in the least.  Leaning forward into it, I swam a few strokes, then turned back to wave a final farewell.  The golden-haired lady was gone.  In her place I saw the sparrow bound upward into the air and then go darting past my head, down the watery corridor, and out into the ruddy sky at the tunnel’s end.  Plunging ahead, I began swimming after it.

At the end of the tunnel the stream cascaded down a short fall of smooth white stones.  I was plunged head-first into the sea and came up spluttering, blowing, and shaking the hair from my eyes.  Clutching the little book tightly to my chest, I fought furiously with one arm and both legs to stay afloat.

This is hopeless! I thought as my mouth filled with brine and my head went under a second time.

Then something hard struck me on the back of the head.  I lashed out with my free hand and got hold of the object, only to find that it was one of the logs from the wrecked raft.  With a great effort, I pulled myself up over it and clung to its rough rounded surface with all my strength.

This at least should keep me from sinking, I said to myself with a feeling of relief.

A red glow was flickering and playing over the tops of the dancing waves.  In the sky above me and not far ahead flew the Firebird, its tail of flame streaming out behind like the tail of a comet.   The warming glow returned to my heart and a smile played at the corners of my mouth.  Then the powerful current spun the log around and sent me once more out into the depths of the open sea.

For some time all went well.  The Firebird remained just ahead of me in the sky, cleaving the dark air like a winged pillar of flame.  For my part, I had no reason to trouble myself about keeping up with the pace it set:  the sea-current carried me forward without the least effort on my part.

As I drifted onward the ruddy light continued to grow on the horizon.  I passed the time by reading in the little book, being wonderfully strengthened and refreshed by its words.  Gradually there grew within me a strange sense that I had no more need of food or drink or covering of any kind.  The book, the guidance of the Firebird, the motion of the strong sea-current – these, it seemed, were all I required as I continued my journey towards the setting and the rising of the sun.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXXI

At length the voice spoke again, directly above me this time:

“Arise.  Now that you have seen what you have seen, it is time that you be up and going again.  Christmas morning is poised upon the horizon, and he has promised to meet you there.”

I opened my eyes.  There above me I saw the sweet young face of the lady with the golden hair and the circlet of spring flowers smiling down upon me.  She touched my brow with her slender fingers and I rose and stood upon the floor and gazed up at her in amazement.

There was a sweet and heady fragrance in the air.  Looking around, I saw the reason for this.  Everywhere I glanced, on all sides, brilliant flowers of every hue were growing right out of the rock itself, bigger and brighter and more brilliant that any flowers I had ever seen in my life.  In another way, too, they were different from the flowers I had known before.  Like the body I had seen in the orb of light, they not only put down roots into the floor of the cave, but also sent strong stalks shooting upwards to pierce the ceiling of the chamber.

“What kind of flowers are these?” I asked.  “I’ve never seen anything like them!  How can they grown down here, away from the light of the sun?”

“These are the seeds and roots of the flowers of your experience.  When the stalks break through the ceiling of the cavern, then they appear in the open air of the visible world above.  Which is to say that the flowers you remember are really only a very small part of the whole – just the tip of the iceberg.  The flowers you see here are the larger unseen truth behind the flowers of the upper world.”

A small underground rivulet gurgled up out of the rock and flowed through the cavern near at hand.  Very close to where we stood I saw a small, clear pool fed by its waters.

“Go to the pool,” said the lady.  “Look into its waters and tell me what you see.”

I stepped quickly to the pool, leaned over its pure, glassy surface, and gasped with surprise.  The face I saw reflected there was not my own face as I remembered it, but rather that of a little child.

“What does this mean?” I cried.  “Am I really growing younger?”

“Yes!” the lady laughed.  “It is all part of the journey you are making.  It comes of eating the golden apples I gave you.  Are you displeased?”

“No.  Only confused.  And yet I remember now that the man I met on the raft spoke to me of this very thing.  He too had been wounded by the Firebird, I think.”

For a moment I stood gazing down at the reflection in the pool.  Then, turning and looking up into the lady’s face, I said, “But what should I do now?  Shall I stay here with you?  Is this to be my new home?”

My heart beat faster as I said the words.  I loved the lady with the golden hair and wanted desperately to remain in her company.  After what I had done, I could hardly believe that I was actually seeing her standing there before me, alive again and smiling at me as if nothing untoward had happened.

“No,” she said.  “You must go on.  You must continue your journey to the place of the rising sun.

“But how?” I cried.  “I have foolishly lost all the good gifts you and your sisters gave me!”

There was a tear in the corner of her eye as she spoke.  “You have indeed lost much, but not all.  In fact, everything you need for the journey is with you at this very moment.  It remains where you have kept it from the very beginning – close to your heart.”

“The book?” I whispered wonderingly.  Reaching inside my gown, I found it there next to my skin, intact and whole and completely legible in spite of having been exposed to the rain and the seawater.

“The words of the book are all you need,” she said.  “That, and the help of a friend who will never desert you.  Look!”

I followed her pointing finger with my eyes to a place where the cavern narrowed to a tunnel through which flowed the little subterranean stream.  At the end of the tunnel appeared a patch of blue sky.  I could hear the splash of sea-waves echoing down its length.  And there in the sky at the tunnel’s end burned a bright reddish star with a long flashing tail.

“The Firebird!” I whispered; and immediately the warm glow returned to the wound in my heart.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXX

The longer I stared, the more I became convinced.  Yes.  The body I was seeing was indeed my own – the very same body I had dragged out into the chill night air when the small gray bird led me in search of the rider of the eight-legged horse.  I found this discovery mildly surprising, but was not shocked or disturbed by it in any way.  I remembered how the body had been changed into a sack of seed and how I had sown all of it in the field surrounding the grassy hill.  I recalled all of this as one might recall something read in a book a long time ago.

As I watched, I heard a voice speaking from some hidden recess of the cavern.  It was distant and faint, yet I knew somehow that it was speaking to me.

“Whose body is this?” it said.

“My own,” I replied.  “It is myself.”

Strangely, when I spoke my voice seemed to come not out of my own mouth but from the picture in the orb of light.  It, too, sounded distant and detached.

“Does this body live?” the voice asked.  It was sweet and melodious, the voice of a lady.

“No,” I answered flatly.  “It is dead, buried, scattered abroad.”

“But who buried it?”

“I did.  I did it myself.”

There was a long silence during which I contemplated the body on the slab and my own last words concerning it.  At last the voice spoke again:

“How is it that you have come to this place?”

“I threw myself down,” I returned.  “I wanted to destroy myself.”

“And do you see now,” the voice responded, apparently drawing nearer, “why you cannot do that?”

Another silence.  Then the voice again:

“Can this body live again?”

“I don’t know,” I answered.  “No, I don’t think so.”

“But look closer!”

I did, and saw a very strange thing.  From the fingers and toes of the body grew long tendrils which extended downwards into the floor of the cavern and penetrated the rock like the roots of a plant.  And from the top of its head rose a slender green shoot that reached up towards me through the shadows of the sparkling stalactites.

“Now look to yourself!” said the voice, even closer this time.

Once more I tried to see my hand in front of my face.  At first there was nothing; but then, very slowly, something began to emerge from the blackness.  In the beginning it was nothing more than a mist, a blur of faint light.  Then it grew and took on color – the color of flesh.  At last it came sharply into focus.  What I saw was a hand indeed, but not the hand I had expected to see.  It was very small and very fair, the hand of a very small child.

And now the light was growing all around me, so that I could see not only my hand but my whole body, wrapped in a long white gown.  I saw, too, the stone walls and dripping ceiling of the chamber in which I lay.  Gone was the orb of light; and when I sat up to look for it, I found that I was lying on a slab of stone exactly like the one in the vision.  I would have risen, but I felt extremely weak and exhausted with the mere effort of sitting up.  So I lay back down again upon the cold stone and closed my eyes.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXIX

I had expected, even hoped, to be dashed upon craggy rocks and instantly killed at the bottom of this narrow ravine.  Imagine my surprise, then, when I found myself falling slowly and ever more slowly until I seemed to be floating like a feather down into the darkness.  The blackness grew thicker as I descended, so that at last I was able to see nothing of myself or of my surroundings.  And yet the air itself became curiously lighter, warmer, and more pleasantly fragrant as I drifted deeper into the chasm.

Down, down I floated for a long, long time, until at last I came to rest upon something.  What this something was, I could not tell.  It was neither soft nor hard, though it felt quite solid and firm.  I lay on my back in utter darkness thinking, This must be how it feels to be a body at the bottom of a grave or a lifeless stone on the ocean floor.  Not an inch did I stir.  Looking back I cannot say for certain whether I was or was not able to move; I only know that I never did.  So intense was the quiet inside me that it was almost frightening.  No longer could I feel the pain of the wound in my heart.

Gradually I entered into a state I can hardly describe, absolutely motionless and unmoved.  I did not know whether I was alive or dead, awake or asleep.  Indeed, I did not know whether I would be able to discern the difference between waking and sleeping, since I could see nothing with my eyes.  I could, however, feel the soft movements of the fragrant air, and they led me to suppose that I was lying in a large, open chamber of some kind.  If my sense of the passage of time had been confused while I floated on the ocean, it now failed me altogether.

Eventually a small point of light appeared within my field of vision, so small and faint at first that I could not be sure that I was actually seeing anything at all.  It grew until it became a small glowing orb, but still I could not make up my mind whether the sensation were real or imaginary.  Perhaps it is a dream, I vaguely thought.  Perhaps I am dead after all.

The orb of light continued to grow, yet curiously it did not illumine anything around it.  Except for the bright globe itself, all was complete blackness.  But as it swelled in size I began to notice changes in its appearance.  No longer did it seem to be of a single hue but variegated, and the colors within its sphere were constantly moving, shifting, and forming new patterns, like a kaleidoscope.  In time these patches of color, blurred at first, began to grow sharper.  At length they focused themselves into shapes that remained constant, though as yet I could not tell what they were.

At last the circle of light grew so large and clear that I could no longer doubt what I was seeing.  I seemed to be looking down, as if through a big round picture window, upon a huge underground cavern.  The whole scene was softly lit.  Sparkling stalagmites and stalactites stretched from ceiling to floor, some creating massive ribbed and fluted columns of many colors, others taking the form of pearly curtains and screens of the most delicate and lacy design, so that the place resembled nothing so much as a grand cathedral.  In the very center of my field of view and, as it were, directly below me, was a large rectangular slab of stone.  Upon the slab lay a body.

As I looked, I became convinced that the body was mine.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXVIII

“Rise,” came the voice of the small gray bird at my ear.  “Be comforted.”

“What comfort can I have?” I sobbed.  “I have lost everything.  What can I do?”

“There is only one thing to do,” he answered.  “You must continue your journey to the place of the rising sun.  There is no way back and no other way forward.  In this you must find comfort.”

In spite of my tears I raised my head and laughed.

“Comfort!” I cried bitterly.  “That is no comfort!  Don’t you see?  I cannot continue this journey!  I have neither the courage, the strength, nor the wisdom.  I have proven to you and to myself that I am not good enough!”

He was starting to reply – saying something about someone who had all strength and wisdom and power – but suddenly I was on my feet and in a red rage.  The bird fluttered up from my shoulder and hovered above my head.  I stooped and scooped up some loose pieces of rock that lay at my feet.

“Get out of here!” I shouted, hurling a handful at the birds.  “Get away from me!  What do I want with you anyhow?  I know that you hate me!  That’s clear to me now!  Not that I blame you for it.  But I want you to go!  Go away!  I am not fit for your company!”

There was a great rustling and fluttering of wings as they all beat a hasty retreat before my mad onslaught.  But they did not go far.  Instead, they flew in cautious circles round about the rock, not far above my head.  This, of course, only infuriated me all the more.  As if crazed with anger, I hurled rock upon rock after them into the air, trying madly to drive them off.  So blind, so careless was the fit into which I had fallen that it came to me as a shock when one of my missiles actually found its mark.  In the next moment I saw the sparrow plummet from the sky to the dark rock several yards in front of me.

Instantly my anger dropped away from me like a loosened garment.  Chilled in the grip of a sudden and naked horror I stood dumbfounded, feeling as if I had been pierced to the heart with a knife of frozen fire.  In the shock of the moment my knees buckled under me.  I fell and scraped my arms and legs against the rock.  Then, scrambling to my feet, I ran to the spot where the tiny bird had landed.

What was my surprise when I reached the place and found not the sparrow stretched lifeless upon the ground, but the beautiful young lady who had given me the basket of apples!  Her rich golden hair spilled unbound over the bare blackness of the rock.  Scattered nearby lay the fragments of her circlet of spring flowers.  The light in her fair eyes was gone, and she lay on her back with her right arm twisted unnaturally beneath her body.  All down her right side the kirtle of pure white linen was stained with dark blood.

“What have I done?” I cried, flinging myself upon her and tearing my hair with both hands.  “How could I have been so cruel and hateful?”

For a long time I lay there, weeping and wailing uncontrollably, gouging my cheeks with my nails, trying frantically but unsuccessfully to rouse her.

At last, black with despair, I got up and cast about for a way to destroy myself.  Not far away I saw huge cleft in the rock, a yawning chasm slicing straight down into the depths of the earth.

Without another thought, I cast myself down into it.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXVII

“Tell the truth!” said the small gray bird sharply.

As he spoke, he fluttered upwards into the air above my head and flashed his eyes at me terribly.  Small as he was, I cowered before him, awed at the sight.  The outline of his form grew indistinct and began to shimmer and vibrate.  An aura as of fire seemed to glow about his head.  It was as if he were on the verge of some great transformation.  But the transformation did not come.  Instead, he fluttered down and perched quietly on my shoulder again.

“Did you forget us and our gifts?” asked the dove.  “Did you not remember the one you were seeking?”  Here voice was sad and gentle, and I thought I caught the glint of a tear in her eye.

“No, I did not forget,” I answered.  “It’s just that – well, here you all are, obviously quite real and alive, and I hardly know what to say.  But when I was alone and could not see you …”

“What then?” asked the grim raven.

“Why, other things – the things I could see – seemed far more real to me then,” I said.  I felt pleased that I had been able to put my thoughts into words.

“What things?” asked the sparrow, cocking her head to one side and regarding me out of one eye.

“The endless sea,” I said.  “The sun that would not rise.  The sense of dread in my own heart.  The faces and words of the raftsmen.”

“What about my cloak?” croaked the raven.  “Did it no longer keep you warm?”

“And my lamp?” asked the dove.  “Did its light ever go out?”

“And my basket of apples?” chirped the sparrow.  “Did you ever find it empty?”

“Only once,” I said, looking from one to the other.  “At the very end, I gave up the basket to the steersman, and when he handed it back, it was empty.  Other than that, none of these gifts ever failed me.”

“But if they never failed you,” asked the raven, “how could you give them up so easily?”

“It was not easy,” I answered slowly.  “But at the time they seemed less important to me than the saving of my life.”

The dove cooed sadly.  “Did you not see,” she said, “that it was these gifts and these gifts alone that had preserved your life up to that very moment?”

I was tired of attempting to make a defense for my actions.  Even before the birds had come I was already regretting the loss of the three gifts.  Now as they spoke I was smitten with the full realization of my foolishness.  I fell down with my face to the rock and began to cry.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

I awoke to find myself lying unharmed upon a shelf of the rock.  The storm had passed and the raging of the sea had subsided.  Above me the stars were once again visible in a deep blue sky.

I searched the water, but not a trace could I see of any of the raftsmen.  Gone, too, was the man with the young face, the old eyes, and the scar across his chest.  Here and there I saw logs and other fragments of the raft bobbing in the dark water.

All at once a thought struck me and I sat bolt upright.  Crawling and groping frantically along the ledge, I scanned the waves below, straining my eyes to see in the half-light.  At last I gave up and lay back against the rock in despair.  My lamp, my cloak, my basket of apples – all were now lost to me, and I had little hope of ever finding them again.

Now what? I moaned as I lay there staring up at the black pinnacle above me.  And as I stared, I became aware that something was moving up there on the very peak of the rock.  At last, as my eyes came into focus, I realized what I was seeing:  four birds strutting and preening against the dark background of the star-studded sky.

I was up again in an instant.  “The raven!” I said under my breath.  “The dove!  The sparrow!  And …”

Even as I spoke, the smallest of the four came fluttering down to perch upon my shoulder.  It was the small gray bird with the eyes of burning blue.

“Oh!” I cried.  “I’m so glad to see you!  You’ve come back to help me at last!”

The bird said nothing in reply.  Instead, he merely sat staring at me out of deep and unblinking eyes.

After a moment he chirped loudly.  At his signal the other three birds leapt lightly from the topmost point of the rock and began descending to us through the clear air.  The sparrow came with the quick, darting, flitting movements of its kind.  The dove glided gracefully on soft rose-colored wings.  But the raven soared, wheeled, and swooped in a majestic arc, then circled the rock slowly several times before coming to rest on a narrow ledge just above my head.

I clapped my hands in delight.  “This is wonderful!” I said.  “Is it now that you are going to restore to me my cloak, my lamp, and my basket of apples?”

They all regarded me out of still eyes for what seemed a very long time.  At last the raven spoke:

“We have come to hear you give an account of the treasures we entrusted to your care.  Do you mean to tell us they are lost?”

“Wh-why, yes,” I stammered, taken aback by her response.  “They were lost in the storm when the raft was wrecked upon this rock!”

The dove cocked her head and looked at me quizzically out of one eye.  “Raft?” she said, in her soft, silvery voice.

“Yes,” I replied.  “A raft with several men aboard.  They were rowing back to land, and I – well, I loaned them the use of my cloak in exchange for passage.  It was for a good cause.  To warm a sick man.  Or at least I thought he was sick at the time.”

“But what made you think of seeking passage back to land?” chirped the sparrow.

Words failed me at this point.  It had all seemed so obvious and logical when I was alone in the sea.  Everything the raftsmen said had made complete sense to me at the time.  But now as I sat facing the four silent birds, all of my reasons for doing what I had done escaped me.  I could not for the life of me think of anything sensible to say in answer to the sparrow’s question.

“I cannot tell,” I said at last.

* * * * * * * * * *

XXV

Suddenly the raftsmen’s cries of alarm rang out above the howling of the gale.  I looked out from beneath the edge of the tarp and a flash of lightning showed me the reason for their dismay:  directly ahead a huge pointed mass of black rock rose up out of the sea.  Quick and sharp as the lightning itself, a bolt of cold terror flashed through my heart.  But the man beside me went on talking in a calm, quiet voice as if nothing had happened.  Perhaps he is insane, I thought.

“My story is probably much like your own,” he was saying.  “So is theirs, though they won’t admit it now.  All of us started out with a burning desire to reach the place of the rising sun, but people have a way of changing.  I’ve been traveling for a long time now, and have become a very old man along the way.  I’m sure you wouldn’t think so to see me.  But the farther I travel, the younger I get.”  His smooth young face smiled, but something in his eyes impressed me with the thought that they belonged in a frame of wrinkles and bristling white hair.  “You yourself must have been quite young when you started out,” he added, “from the look of you now.”

As he spoke, the cries of the men became more desperate.  “It’s all over!” I heard the steersman shout.  “We’re lost!  Every man for himself!”

I threw the tarpaulin and cloak aside and help my lamp aloft.  Above us loomed the great rock, the air above it filled with the black shapes of wheeling and soaring seabirds.  A huge wave nearly overturned the raft, then sent it shooting towards the craggy face of the outcrop at breakneck speed.  Men were jumping into the water on all sides.

“Well,” I shouted bitterly, “it seems you’re going to have your way!  Not that your story has convinced me.  I hope you’re happy!”

Again he smiled through the rain.  “Does this mean anything to you?” he asked, pulling open his ragged shirt.  There across his chest, over the place of his heart, was a long white scar.  I stared, remembering my own wound; and as I did, it grew burning hot.

I was about to speak when the sky above flashed bright white and the thunder exploded as if in my ear.  A huge wall of water arched over us and fell upon the raft in a rush and roar or foam and spray.  All in a moment my friend and I were swept into the sea while the raft was smashed to pieces against the face of the great black rock.  Then the waves closed over my head and I knew no more.

* * * * * * * * * *

XXIV

“Disagreed?” I said stupidly.  “Disagreed about what?”

“About turning back.”

I freed his hands, wincing at the sight of his rope burns.  Gingerly he rubbed them together over the yellow flame of the lamp.

“I don’t know what they’ve told you,” he continued in a moment.  His voice, deep, resonant, and seasoned, seemed ill-matched to his frail body.  “I have no idea what they’ve said or how they persuaded you to come aboard.  But the truth is that you and I would be better off by far if we could only throw ourselves into the sea.”

“In this storm?” I said in disbelief.

“Yes.  This raft is headed in the wrong direction.”

I could only stare.  He was obviously suffering from pain, weakness, and hunger, and his face was as grim as his words.  Yet his eyes seemed to twinkle somehow, almost as if he delighted in having found a listening ear.

“It’s true,” he nodded.  “I suppose you’ve been told that the other way leads to the end of the world and certain destruction.  But the truth is just the opposite.”

I was quiet for a moment, pondering his words.

“When I started out,” I said at last, speaking very slowly, “I believed as you do.  I believed that I had been led this way and that someone had instructed me to throw myself into the sea.  I was convinced that if I did so I would eventually come to the place of the rising sun and Christmas morning, and that the rider of the eight-legged horse would meet me there.  But in time I found that my hopes were false, just as these men say.  So I bargained with them for passage back to land.”

“Your hopes were not false!” he said earnestly.  “It’s all true, I tell you!  Every bit of it!”

“But they said that I was traveling west, not east – toward the setting sun, not the rising sun!  And everything I’ve experienced thus far seems to bear out the truth of their words.  I’ve floated in the ocean for a very long time now and never once have I seen the slightest change in the approaching daylight, nor any sign that the sun is indeed rising.  I have felt for some time that the sun is actually moving away from me just as rapidly as I’m pursuing it.  And that’s exactly what the men said!”

“Ah!” he responded, stroking his beard.  “In that they were absolutely right.”

He must have read the confusion in my face, for now at last he smiled and laughed out loud.

“Yes,” he said.  “Once you cast yourself upon these waters there is only one way to reach the sunrise:  by going straight on into the sunset, right through it, and out the other side!  To turn back is certain death.”  He moved closer and dropped his voice to a whisper.  “This raft’s present course leads only to sheer glassy cliffs against which the furious surf pounds unceasingly.  If we continue to travel in the direction these men have chosen, this raft and all aboard will be dashed to pieces at the foot of those cliffs.  There is no going back that way!”

I had to acknowledge that these words rung true.  I remembered looking down from the top of those glassy blue cliffs.  As I pictured them in my mind’s eye, I realized that no sea-going vessel could possibly find a safe landing there.  And yet I was reluctant to believe it somehow.  There has to be a haven or harbor somewhere! I thought.  Besides, this idea of plunging into the sunset and out the other side is preposterous!

He shook his head and clucked his tongue.  “I tried to tell them,” he said, his eyes glowing, “but they wouldn’t listen.  Though they knew the truth, they could not bear to hear it.  So they silenced me.  But now, together, we can escape from this doomed raft!  This is our chance!  Under cover of the storm we can slip into the sea and be saved!”

This was too much for me.  “Are you crazy?” I hissed.  “Can’t you hear the wind and the rain?  Can’t you feel the tossing of the waves?  And you really want to jump overboard?  Why should I trust what you say?  How do you know all this?”

We stared at one another in silence as the raft pitched sickeningly down the slope of a wave.  The twinkle in his eye became a burning flame.

“Don’t you know it yourself?” he asked quietly.  “If you don’t know these things for yourself, why are you here at all?”

I could not answer him.

 *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXIII

I sat down heavily beside the man under the tarpaulin, staring into the basket in disbelief.  But no one paid any attention to me, for suddenly an icy wind arose and filled the ragged sail with a snap like the crack of a whip.  As if from nowhere dark clouds came tearing across the sky and covered the stars.  The red glow on the horizon faded and disappeared.  Instantly the men aboard the raft leaped into action.

“Strike that sail!” the steersman shouted into the howling wind.  He was on his feet, gripping the steering oar with both hands and twisting his leathery neck to look up at the sky.  “Ship oars!  We’ll have to try to ride it out!”

Next came a blinding flash and a din of thunder, and the rain began to fall, driven into our faces by a cutting wind.  Everyone took cover as best he could.  I looked longingly at my cloak as the man beneath it stirred and groaned as if in pain.

Never had I seen anything like the sudden fury with which the storm descended upon us.  Rain, thunder, lightning, and wind I had known before, but the boiling and heaving of the sea were entirely new and terrifying to me.  As I watched, a mountain of water surged up on one side, sucked us down into a deep trough, then broke over the raft in an angry avalanche of brine and foam.  The men lashed themselves to the logs of the deck.  The steersman tied himself to a post and clung to the steering oar, trying desperately to hold the raft steady.  In terror I pitched myself face down next to the man called John, pulled the edge of my cloak and the tarp over myself, and lay there trembling beside him.

In a moment I heard him moan again.  It’s all up with me now, I thought.  If I am not drowned in the storm, I will certainly die of this man’s disease.

Remembering that my lamp was still burning on the deck, I raised myself on one elbow, making a little tent of the tarpaulin, and drew the light inside.  In the glow of its flame I turned to examine the person who lay beside me.  What I saw made me gasp in surprise.

It was not his appearance that startled me, unusual though it was.  He was rather small, and his ragged clothes were much too large for him.  Like the rest of them, he was thin and starved-looking.  He had apparently been asleep or unconscious, but did not otherwise seem to be ill.  His dark hair and beard were unkempt and matted with dirt and sea scum, but his beard was short as compared with those of his companions, and behind it I thought I could see the face of a very young man.

As I looked, he opened his eyes and glanced up.  Though the face seemed young, the eyes most certainly did not.  They were eyes that had seen much and suffered much — eyes full of weariness and pain.  For a moment I could do nothing but stare into them.

Altogether he presented a strange and arresting sight.  And yet it was not his eyes nor his face nor yet his beard nor anything else about his appearance that gave me such a shock.  It was the fact that he had been bound and gagged.

His renewed groans brought me back to myself.  Quickly as I could, I tore the rag away from his mouth.

“What does this mean?” I said.  “Why have they tied and gagged you?”

He coughed, spat, and answered hoarsely:

“I disagreed with them,” he said.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXII

All this while I had been wondering what had happened to the gray bird with the burning blue eyes.  He was no longer on my shoulder, nor was he anywhere to be seen.  Has he too abandoned me, I asked myself, and just at the moment when I need his help most?

Yet though I hesitated, I felt sure that the steersman’s suggestion was not unreasonable:  my cloak to help a sick man in exchange for passage to land.  It seemed a fair trade.

“Yes,” I said at last.  “Of course, he may have the cloak.  He needs it more than I.”

“Take hold of the rope, then,” called the steersman, “and I’ll pull you aboard.”

Again I was hesitant, remembering the eyes of the dark lady who had given me the cloak, eyes like bright stars in a velvet sky.  And as I thought of her, it seemed to me that a dark shadow, like the wingspan of a great black bird, passed over me for a bare instant.

“Such a small child,” I heard one of the men mutter as they pulled me dripping from the water and onto the raft.  “She won’t take up much space at any rate.”

Once on board I proceeded to remove the cloak of heaven blue.  But I stopped short in surprise in reaching up to undo the silver brooch, for the sleeved seemed to have grown to twice their original length, and it required some trouble to free my hands for the task.

“What ails you now?” asked the steersman, for again I paused upon looking down and seeing the hem of the cloak lying piled in blue folds around my feet.  The men laughed as the hood fell forward over my face and covered my eyes.

“I – I don’t understand,” I stuttered.  “It fit perfectly when I first put it on!”

“Well, howsomever that may be,” said one of the raftsmen as he took the cloak, “it should be quite large enough to cover old John.”  And he threw the cloak over the sleeping figure.

Without my cloak I stood shivering on the deck, close to the place where the man called John lay.  I still held my little lamp of red clay.  In its light I saw the ring of hollow faces all around me, their eyes yellow in the glow, like the eyes of wolves or cats.

“What’s in the basket?” one of them wanted to know.

“Just apples,” I said, my voice quavering slightly – whether with fear or the cold I could not tell.

“Just apples!” cried the steersman.  “And here we are, all half starved to death.  How many apples, if you please?”

“Seven,” I answered, not bothering to look.

“Not enough to go around,” he growled.  “Still, we’ll have to divvy ‘em up as best we can.”

I handed him the basket without argument.  There would have been no point in protesting.  As in the matter of the cloak, I saw no harm in sharing my apples with them.  And yet also as before, I felt a cold shadow pass over me as I released the basket into his hand.

“You may be surprised,” I said.  “These apples are quite large.”

But when he reached into the basket and drew out a piece of the golden fruit I could only stand open-mouthed with shock.  In in hand, the it looked no larger than any ordinary apple.

“Seven, eh?” he mused with a wry laugh.  “Quite large, you say?  Well, we’ll just have to make do as best we can.”

He drew a knife out of his pocket and began cutting the apple into pieces.  The pieces were then shared all around by the men.  I myself got a piece – a very small piece, since, as the steersman explained, I was the smallest on board.  The fruit tasted as sweet to me as ever.  Even such a small bit of it warmed and refreshed me beyond all expectation.  But as the glow returned to the wound in my heart, I found that it was mixed with a sense of painful regret – whether over the smallness of my piece of apple or for some other reason, I did not know.

When the pieces of apple had all been shared out, the steersman passed the basket back to me.  “It’s yours to keep, I suppose,” he said grimly.  “Not much use to the rest of us now.”

I smiled a knowing smile as I took it from his hand.  But my smile faded when I looked inside.  The basket was completely empty.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

XXI

I had drifted closer to the raft by now and could see the men more clearly.  All were thin and gaunt in appearance, and seemed exhausted with the toil of rowing.  Their clothes were in tatters, soaked with sea water and encrusted with salt.  Some had blood-stained rags wrapped around their heads, arms, or legs.  One of the company lay in the middle of the raft under a soiled canvas tarpaulin, apparently too weak or too ill to move.  Never in my life had I seen such a haggard group of faces.  Despair flickered in their eyes like a dying flame.  The cold, hopeless expressions with which they regarded me struck me to the heart.

“How can this be?” I stammered.  “I already told you – the Firebird directed me this way!  The three ladies provided my needs for the journey.  The Watchers in the Valley told me that he is coming and that he would surely meet me at the rising of the sun!”

“Where is the sign of his coming?” growled one of the gray figures aboard the raft.

Behind him another man laughed bitterly.  “Perhaps he comes for you but not for us,” he said.

Hopelessness flooded in upon me like the wide ocean.  These men are right, I thought.  What they are telling me is nothing new.  I have thought and felt all these same things myself.  Their faces alone are proof enough of what they say.  Where I am going, they have already been and have nothing to show for it.

“Will you take me with you?” I said.  “Will you help me get back to land?”

Again the steersman scowled.  “Things are tight aboard this vessel,” he said.  “Overcrowded already.”

A sudden breath of wind ruffled the ragged sail and caused me to shiver all over beneath his stern gaze.

“Still,” he went on thoughtfully, “What you’ve got, we need.  Take John here,” he added, pointing to the man lying under the tarpaulin.  “That cloak of yours would do him good.”

With that, he uncoiled a length of rope and tossed the end to me across the water.

 *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *