A Journey into No Man's Land

With another passport or security check I'm back in no man's land. I'm almost at home here these days. In some airports this can be a sizeable territory with shops and eateries. In others, like this one, it's a narrow strip of ground between here and there, arrival and departure, home and abroad. A nameless place where all that people do is wait, wait for its gates to open to a better place. It's a surrealistic place to be sure. Like a country within a country and the border is a pane of glass and an imaginary line between desks. Heavily policed, too. No visa relaxation to be expected here. Entry only by invitation, i.e. valid passport and a valid ticket. A oneway street, like the ticking clock; you come in by one door, you leave by another. It's a continuous transit: nothing stays except maybe the vague feeling of excitement for leaving or going somewhere or coming back somewhere else. After doing my time here I am discharged with a hiss of compressed air and a roar of engines.
After being hurled through the free stratosphere I touch down in no man's land a second time. Its gate keepers eye new arrivals suspiciously. Their watchful eyes scrutinise me and my credentials. Data rushes down optical fibre cables in search for answers. Do we want this man here? Then no man's land spits me out at the other end. I have completed the circle but I am bound to return here. These days no man's land is never far.

The Lady Hawk

After my take on scary stories here's something different, a fairy tale. Inspired by the beautiful and magical film Ladyhawke. Even after many years and countless viewings it never fails to enchant me. Enjoy.

Once upon a time, in a far-away world, in a far-away kingdom, there was a boy called Navarre. He was the son of the man-at-arms in the service of a noble man. Being an old soldier, his father was a strict man, hardened by war and life. From an early age he taught Navarre the ways of war and how to overcome your enemy with sword and bow. Still, for all his father's tutoring Navarre was not like him. He was kind of heart, still unspoilt by hardship or toil.
One day it came to pass that Navarre's father received a gift from his lord for his many years loyal service. The gift was not gold nor land but a hawk because Navarre's father enjoyed hunting. It was a beautiful bird with shiny brown feathers on its back and wings and milky white plumes on its belly. Most of all Navarre was struck by its keen eyes and piercing gaze. Navarre's father named the bird Aquila, the ancient word for hawk.
So, in the months that followed Navarre's father began riding out for the hunt with the bird. He also began to train Navarre in handling it for he said: "Hunting, tracking down your enemy, leaving him no escape and then overcoming him is the art of war. The most important lesson you must learn, son." Navarre obeyed his father's wish but it pained him to see this noble creature of the skies held captive on the ground. And there was something else that was curious: The bird was difficult. More often than not it would ignore the commands Navarre's father gave it or do something else. Navarre's father grew more and more furious with it. Time and again he swore that he would give it one more chance before he would wring its little neck. In these moments it was Navarre that took care of the bird, that assured his father that his lord would be displeased if he found his expensive present with a twisted neck. And so it went on.
Then one night Navarre had a dream. Later he could not remember the details of it. He recalled he had dreamt of a woman, the most beautiful woman had ever seen. She had had rich, auburn hair and milky white skin. But it was her eyes that had enchanted Navarre. They had been green and mysterious, so keen that they could pierce him like a spear yet so deep that he had felt he could lose himself in them and never find his way out. Framed against the sky she had looked down on him and it had looked as if she was flying. She had spoken soft words to him of kindness and love and many things he could not recall. He only remembered her name: Isabeau. Navarre had never been in love but from that moment he was, for, as he used to say much later, he had gazed into face of love itself.
The next day, Navarre went to tell his father about his strange vision. His father was training with Aquila again and, as usual, he was in a sour mood because the bird was obstinate.
"Father", Navarre said, "I had a very strange dream this night. I dreamt of a beautiful woman. I don't remember much of it but-"
"If you don't remember much of it, then what good does it do you", his father interrupted, "you should not be musing about some damsel but keep your mind on the moment. Otherwise you'll turn out like this bird: useless."
"But father", Navarre exclaimed, "she was not some damsel. She had a name: Isabeau."
His father took a deep breath for a harsh retort but it was never uttered. The moment Navarre spoke that name the hawk perked up, spread its wings and before Navarre's father could stop it flew to Navarre's arm and perched there. At first Navarre was too surprised to speak, then he stroked the hawk's chest as he often did.
"Is that your name", he asked gently, "Isabeau? Do you want to be called Isabeau?" The bird did not reply but perched there nursing its feathers.
"Go back to father, Isabeau", he whispered, "don't make him angry."
And again the bird spread its wings and obeyed his wish.
From that day on, Navarre spent most of his free time with the bird. It continued to be difficult with his father but as soon as Navarre appeared and called it by its name it would fly to him. In the end, his father grudgingly gave up on it and the hawk became Navarre's. The name Aquila was never spoken again.
It turned out that the more time Navarre spent with the bird the more he grew to love it. On some days he would spend all his waking moments with it. Over years Isabeau became Navarre's friend in ways his father never could. He told the bird about his dreams, about the beautiful woman of his dream that was also called Isabeau. He loved watching the bird groom its feathers, perch surveying the horizon but most of all he loved seeing it fly, drawing majestic circles in the sky. He felt that in those moments Isabeau was freer than he could ever be in his father's service. And as Navarre grew into a man a new dream grew in him. He wished to fly only once like a bird, to join Isabeau in the sky.
When his father heard of this he was cross, as was his way. "An idle phantasm" he called it. "Fly like a bird", he scoffed, "many have tried that. They now all lie crushed at the bottom of some deep ravine - and good riddance. You'd need some powerful magic for tricks like that. And there's no wizard I ever met that could work such a spell. And besides they are all greedy bastards. For such a powerful enchantment they would make you pay more gold than you'll ever see in your life. You may as well give it up now."
"But then it is possible", Navarre insisted.
At this and without warning his father slapped him in the face - something he had not done since Navarre had been a boy.
"You will stop your idle star-gazing this very moment, boy", his father snapped, "all this time I have let it pass but enough is enough. I have toiled hard all my life to earn my keep. I will not have a moony scallywag for a son. This fancy of yours ends now and to start with I will wring that useless bird's neck - something I should have done years ago!"
At this, Navarre's blood turned cold. With a single step he blocked his father's way.
"You will not touch her", he said with a firm voice.
His father's face darkened.
"How dare you speak to your elder like this! Must I put you in your place again?"
"I have honoured you all my life, father. But if you harm that bird-", his voice trailed off.
"Then what? Will you raise your hand against me? Me, your father?"
Navarre lowered his head. "I do not know what I will do", he mumbled.
"You will do nothing! I have brought you up to be a soldier, so you will heed my command. Now, make way, I say."
But Navarre did not move. He stood, his feet planted firmly, blocking the door. With a snarl his father tried to shove him aside. Navarre caught him, pulling him back from the door. His father was a strong man. He lunged at Navarre pinning him against the wall. His eyes were ablaze with fury. But Navarre had also grown into a strong man. With a cry he freed himself pushing his father back and in the heat of the moment he took a step after him and struck him hard across the face. The older man tumbled against the wall, his eyes wide in surprise, his hand clutching his jaw. This time, though, he made no move to retaliate, he just stared at his son. Navarre recoiled to the opposite wall, panting, his heart in turmoil. It was to late for regrets - what was done was done.
That moment Navarre's mind was made up.
"I am leaving you, father. This very night I will. You know you cannot stop me - I am not the little boy I used to be. I will go and find the wizard that can make my wish come true and I will earn every gold coin it takes."
With that Navarre took his armour and his sword. At the door his father stopped him once more.
"You will fail. Because you're a fool. This fancy will lead you nowhere - only to grief and pain and misery. But don't you come back to me then. Once you walk through that door it will be closed to you. Forever."
Navarre looked his father in the eye, not a boy looking up to his father but a man steadily holding another man's gaze.
"Farewell, father", he said calmly but with a hint of sadness in his voice and closed the door behind him. That was the last time he saw the old man. He took his father's best horse, then he went to fetch Isabeau and together they rode into the night.
Many years passed as Navarre and Isabeau travelled the land, low and high, near and far. They met many a wizard on their journerys but it was as if his father's prophecy was to come true. Most merely told them that such an enchantment was beyond them while others smirked cunningly and demanded many thousand gold coins for such a favour. Slowly, Navarre despaired. He earned more gold and the next time he asked for the price it had risen again.
His only companion and friend was always the hawk. Navarre talked to it, confided in it and people thought him a madman. He became known only as the Lone Wolf. Still, his heart was as kind and pure as it had been when he was a boy. It was the love for Isabeau, he would later say, that kept him alive and on his feet.
Then one day, he met an old man on the road. He looked almost like a beggar, dressed in thread-bare robes, leaning on a gnarled staff, carrying only a small satchel. Still his eyes were clear and keen as their gazes met. Navarre hailed him and offered to share his traveller's lunch, as was custom. The old man gladly accepted. Imperius, he said his name was as they ate. Then he noticed the bird perching on a nearby tree stump.
"What a beautiful bird you have", he remarked, "and you do not keep it on a string? What if it flies away and never comes back?"
Navarre smiled. "Isabeau is my friend. She would never fly away."
"Isabeau? Such an unusual name for a hawk. Most nobles call their birds Arrow or Slingshot."
At that Navarre told him his story. He had longed to tell it. He cared not if another old man thought him a fool. But Imperius only listened and nodded never interrupting until Navarre had finished his tale.
"A bird that knows its own name? A bird that chooses its owner", he wondered, "most unusual. But I have travelled far and wide and have seen many unsual things."
With that he produced a small crystal from his robe and gazing through it studied the bird. Then his eyes went wide with amazement and his jaw dropped.
"That is no bird", he exclaimed, "it is a woman. She has merely been transformed."
Navarre looked at him sadly.
"Don't toy with my feelings, old man. Don't tread on my dreams. They are all that I have left."
Imperius drew himself up to his full height.
"I do not lie, young one. I have the power to see things for what they truly are. For I was once Imperius the Great. My magic has served kings. And normally I would ask a kingly reward for my services but your story has moved me. Let me amass my power and tomorrow at dawn I will turn her back."
So it was done. The next morning Imperius said his incantations, waved his staff through the air and with a flash and a shower of sparks and feathers the hawk was gone. In its place there stood before them the most beautiful woman they had ever beheld. Her hair was auburn like the feathers on the hawks back and her skin was as milky as the feathers on its belly. But her eyes were as dark and green as the heart of the forest. It was the woman from Navarre's dream.
He fell to his knees before her and tears were in his eyes as she looked down on him gently.
"All my life have I looked for you", he said, "all my life I have sought but you. Never have I loved another woman but you. Maybe in truth my life never had another meaning but this quest. I regret not dreaming idle dreams nor being called a fool many times over just to be with you. Tell me your name so I may at last call you my love."
And she smiled and laid her gentle hand on his cheeks.
"But you know it already, my dear Navarre. You have always called me by that name. I was enchanted so long ago I can hardly recall and have been a hawk ever since. I had almost forgotten how it is to be human. But you called me by my name and cared for me and showed me nothing but kindness and love. You made me feel human again. You let me remember. You made me feel alive when the last bit of me had almost died. And now you have saved me again. For that and so much more I loved you and I always will. I am Isabeau."