Once Upon a Dreadful Time

by Dennis L McKiernan

  But at last, as the sinking sun touched the distant horizon, Hradian began to circle down, for in the distance ahead and looming up into the sky an ebon barrier stood; it seemed a black beyond black, so dark it was. Yet even though it was within easy flight, she had not the vigor to broach it this eve, for flying into the Great Darkness required almost as much arcane power as did her flight to come unto this place. Instead she spiralled down toward a small town below, where she would spend the night, resting and regaining her strength.

  Down coiled Hradian and down, to finally come alight upon a knoll, the village a short walk beyond. She cast a glamour upon herself, and a young man with a stave in hand and pack on his back headed downslope through the dusk and toward the only hostel in the hamlet.

  26

  Bee Dance

  After an overnight stay at Summerwood Manor, early the following morn Blaise and Regar and Flic and Fleurette and Buzzer took breakfast in one of the white gazebos sprinkled across the broad estate. The two men downed eggs and rashers and toast and butter and jams and good strong hot tea, while the Sprites and the bee alternated between honey and preserves, though both Flic and Fleurette also ate tiny bits of toast dipped in the sweets. The day was cloudless, the sky blue, and alongside the gazebo a clear and slow-flowing stream meandered, passing under the branches of a large willow overhanging the lucid water. A small cluster of black swans awkwardly waddled down the bank and entered the drift, where it seemed elegance overtook them as they coursed away downcurrent on an errand of their own.

  As he watched the graceful dark birds, “The messenger falcons flew at dawn,” said Blaise. “Mayhap soon we’ll know whether others met up with one or more of the Fates.”

  “If so,” said Fleurette, “we can expect more redes to confound us.”

  “Non,” said Regar, “for you and Flic and Buzzer and I will be away by then.”

  “Then you’re leaving for the halls of the Fairy King ere any falcons arrive?” asked Blaise.

  Regar turned and looked past the manse and toward the stables beyond, where four horses were being readied for travel. “Oui, for as Flic said yester, our mission cannot wait.”

  “Even so,” said Flic, “I could tarry here for part of the day and learn the contents of whatever missives might come from one of the other demesnes.”

  Fleurette shook her head. “Oh, Flic, you know Buzzer will not fly a course unless you are along. Besides, neither Regar nor I can speak Bee, and should we need to change direction, well, we’d be at a loss. Still, I could wait for messages to arrive and catch up with you later.”

  As Flic’s face fell at the thought of leaving Fleurette behind, Regar said, “Non, Wee Flower, I think we should all go, for who knows whether or no falcons will ever come? There is this as well: with you starting out to find us a half day or more behind, you could easily stray from whatever line Buzzer takes, and even a small error can lead to a wide miss; non, Fleurette, I would not have you flitting about seeking us in a woodland, especially one where the witch’s crows are at large.”

  “But most are massed at the starwise border,” said Fleurette.

  Regar shook his head. “Even so, we know not what lies before us. Mayhap there are more along the way we will travel.”

  Fleurette glanced at the silver épée at Flic’s side and said, “I could carry a thorn. Too, given the nature of our kindred Sprites, mayhap by now no crows remain anywhere within the four forests.”

  “That we do not know,” said Flic, peering toward distant trees and the clear skies above. Then he added, “Regar is correct. We should all go together.”

  A silence fell among them, and they continued to break their fast. And soon the horses were led across the sward toward the gazebo. One was fitted with a small rack, several modest bags of provisions affixed thereon. Of the other three horses, two were completely unladen, while one was fully equipped with tack, saddlebags included.

  Followed by Buzzer, Flic flew up and landed on one of the bags and said to the hostler, “I say, have you enough honey packed away in these? Buzzer will require quite a bit, you know; we don’t want to have to stop along the way to gather nectar because we’ve run out.”

  “Three full jars, wee sieur.” The stableman held his hands in such a way to indicate the size.

  “Perhaps it is enough,” said Flic, frowning, for as yet he did not know just how far hence the halls of the Fairy King lay. He looked at Buzzer and then flew back to the gazebo. “Prince Regar, are we ready to leave?”

  Regar downed the last of his tea and stood. “As soon as you point the way.”

  “Follow me,” said Flic, and he flew to a large flat of flagstone on the path bordering a flowerbed nearby, Buzzer and Fleurette following awing, Blaise and Regar afoot. As soon as the Sprites and bee alighted, Flic said, “Now let me see, nigh the entrance to the halls of the King Under the Hill, there are white phlox and purple thistle and tiny bluebells. Oh, and yellow poppies, but only in spring.” He frowned. “I wonder what season it is there?”

  “It was summer in Valeray’s demesne,” said Fleurette, “and I believe his realm properly follows the march of the sun.”

  “Oh, then,” said Flic, “tiger lilies instead, but only near streams.”

  Flic sank to his knees and it appeared he was speaking to the bee, yet what he said, only Fleurette seemed to have a glimmering. Buzzer began a peculiar wiggling and buzzing dance, Flic paying rapt attention. Back and forth in a straight line the bee wriggled, pausing now and again to thrum her wings. And then Buzzer began dancing in a different direction, and again and again she buzzed and wriggled and paused. Once more and again and several times thereafter she changed the course of the dance, each on a separate tack. Finally, she stopped, and Flic shook his head and growled.

  “What is it?” asked Blaise.

  Flic sighed. “Buzzer knows of a number of places with all four things, some closer than others, but most of them quite far. Now let me think, is there anything more?—Oh, of course, the large dolmen and the light that streams out. But wait, that only happens at night, when Buzzer is quite asleep.” He pondered a bit more, and then said, “Aha! I have it. It’s where we spent a fortnight waiting for Prince Borel to emerge; Buzzer knows him as Slowfoot Who Does Not Fly.”

  Again Flic conversed with the bee, and Buzzer took up the dance once more, now wriggling and buzzing and pausing, this time in a single direction.

  “Good,” said Flic, looking up at Regar. “She has it. Yon is our way.” Flic pointed, aiming more or less in the direction the bee had danced: a bit to sun of duskwise, or as some would name it, more or less west-southwest. “There are a few marges of twilight to cross. Still, it is much shorter than the twisty path that Prince Borel and I took to get there, for we went many other places ere aiming for the halls of the King Under the Hill.”

  Regar smiled and said, “Well then, let us hie.” He turned to Blaise and the two men embraced and pounded one another on the back, and Regar said, “I will do my best to rally my Fairy King grandsire to bring his armies to join in the battle against Orbane, should the wizard get free.”

  Blaise nodded and said, “If Orbane does escape, then, just as we sent the warning throughout the lands, so too shall we send word as to where to assemble.”

  “Well and good,” said Regar. “And even if my grandsire disapproves and refuses to join, certainly I will be there.”

  “And I,” said Flic, flashing his tiny silver épée on high. “Buzzer, too, for we are mighty with our stingers.”

  “And I,” said Fleurette, “even if I have to fight with nought but a thorn.”

  “Oh, Fleurette,” said Flic, “I think it too dangerous for—”

  “Nonsense, Flic,” snapped Fleurette. “Where you go, so go I.”

  Regar turned to Blaise and said sotto voce, “Methinks it will be a very long journey if these two continue to argue over who should and should not join the fight.”

  Blaise laughed and said, “Methinks you are
right, Prince.”

  Regar slapped the tricorn on his helm and mounted the saddled steed.

  Flic and Fleurette, yet squabbling, flew up to stand in the prow of the three-cornered hat, and with a whispered word to Buzzer, the bee flew up and ’round and took a bearing on the sun, then shot off on a direct line a bit to sun of duskwise.

  “May Mithras hold you in his hand,” said Blaise.

  “You as well, my friend,” replied Regar. And he spurred away following the beeline, with remounts and the pack animal in tow.

  Across the sward they cantered, veering to go out one of the gates in the long wall surrounding the immediate estate. Then they hewed back to the line Buzzer flew, and toward the far wooded rise of the wide vale they angled.

  Blaise watched until they at last disappeared among the boles of the green-leafed forest. Then he turned and headed back toward the manor, for there was much planning to do to make ready for an oncoming war.

  27

  Redes

  rom Springwood Manor at dawn, four messenger falcons took flight; they were conveying missives to the other three manors of the Forests of the Seasons as well as to Valeray’s castle. Likewise did four falcons fly from Summerwood Manor, and four each from the Autumnwood and Winterwood. The message capsules held tidings of arrivals, with three sets bearing reports of meetings with the Three Sisters and of the redes they spoke, and one set—those from the Autumnwood—speaking of the Reaper’s odd words. Not long thereafter—ere midmorn had come—the skies above the various manors and o’er the Castle of the Seasons were filled with the skrees of arriving raptors turning on wings to come unto the mews, and shortly thereafter falconers came running with message capsules to be opened by stewards and king alike.

  In the manors, stewards read the words and then took the messages to the knights, while in the castle, the king summoned queen and prince and princess alike, as well as Sieur Émile and Lady Simone.

  “Hmm . . .” mused Valeray as he passed the messages about, “If Skuld and Verdandi and Urd are involved, then dire events lie before us.”

  “Yet,” said Camille, “if Raseri is found in time to intercept Hradian, then mayhap all can be avoided.”

  Saissa sighed. “I would not hold hope for such, Camille, for it would appear from the words of the redes that Raseri will not be found.”

  “I agree,” said Céleste. “Look at this one from Blaise. He tells that Lady Lot said:

  “Grim are the dark days looming ahead Now that the die is cast. Fight for the living, weep for the dead.

  “That certainly sounds to me as if war with Orbane is inevitable. I mean, Verdandi says ‘the die is cast,’ and so what else would we interpret it to mean?”

  A pall fell upon the gathering, and Borel said, “Then should we not leave now, return to our demesnes and prepare?”

  “What could you do that Laurent isn’t already doing?” asked Simone.

  Borel growled in frustration and said, “At least I would be doing something rather than standing about doing nought.”

  “I would go, too, Brother,” said Alain, “yet surely Blaise is taking all necessary steps, and I could add little.”

  “Your very presence would keep the men’s spirits up,” said Camille.

  “List,” said Liaze, “by riding in haste after the faire is done, we will be at our manors the very next day, all but Camille and Duran and their escort, for of needs they must go at a pace the young prince can withstand. And though I would rather be at my manor with Luc, lending moral support if nought else, there’s little we can do.”

  Alain turned to Valeray. “Sire, can we not forgo the final ceremonies here at the faire?”

  Valeray frowned and looked at Saissa, and she said, “I think it important we show we are steadfast and let things go on as usual, rather than rushing off as if panic-stricken.”

  “Yet, Maman,” said Alain, “if we do nought, then won’t the people think we dillydally in the face of danger?”

  “Ah, but we are not doing nought, for already the call has gone out for recruits. Too, the Sprites are flying and bearing the news, and Luc, Roél, Laurent, and Blaise are even now at the manors making ready for a possible war.”

  Saissa turned to Valeray, and he added, “Surely Orbane, even if set free this very day, cannot assemble his armies of old in less than several fortnights at best. Non, my sons and daughters, it is as your mother says: we need to show our loyal subjects that we are calm and in control, hence all should be present at the closing mark.”

  Again Borel growled in frustration, while Alain took in a deep breath and blew it out. Céleste and Liaze sighed in resigned acceptance, and thus was the matter once again decided.

  “Still, there is something we can do,” said Camille, “and that is to try to puzzle out the meanings of these redes. If we succeed, then it should gain us considerable advantage, else the Sisters would not have told them to Laurent, Blaise, and Roél.”

  Sieur Émile turned to Valeray. “Why those three? I thought only your get received messages from the Fates. So why have they spoken to my sons, rather than to your children?”

  Valeray turned up his hands in puzzlement, but Saissa said, “The Three Sisters have appeared before others, large gatherings for one, so choosing your sons seems no odd event.”

  “Yet,” said Camille, “in every case where they did so, one or more of your children were present, Lady Saissa.”

  “You were alone when they appeared to you, Camille,” said Valeray.

  “Oui, but I came upon them along the shores of the River of Time, where it is said they dwell.—Oh, no, not quite true, for Skuld in her guise of Lady Sorcière, the Lady of the Mere, came to me ere I set out on the quest to find Alain.”

  “Yet that was on the estate of Summerwood Manor,” said Alain. “Mayhap that’s why she appeared.”

  “Argh!” growled Borel. “Who knows the ways of the Fates? Not I, my friends, not I.”

  A silence fell among them, and then Liaze peered at Luc’s message now in hand and said, “What I’d like to know is the significance of the Reaper’s words. ‘My Lord, I will come when the time is right.’ That’s what he said to Luc.” Liaze turned to Valeray. “Papa, do you know ought of what this means, and do these words carry special import?”

  Valeray shrugged. “All I know is in the last war with Orbane, there were reports Moissonneur seemed to be waiting for some special event, yet what that might have been, or this time might be, I cannot say, and he has never spoken ought of it.”

  “Hmph,” grunted Borel. “Mayhap the next time I gut and spit conies for him I’ll ask.—But for me, it’s what Skuld said in the Winterwood that gives me pause.

  “Swift are the children of his namesake, That which a child does bear.

  “Those words have sent something skittering about in my mind, yet I cannot catch hold of it.”

  Borel glanced at Céleste and she turned up a hand and shrugged. Then she said, “Urd’s rede to my Roél is the most mysterious of all, I think:

  “Yet can ye but touch the deadly arcane, The least shall set ye free.

  “I wonder just what that might mean.”

  None had an answer for Céleste.

  “You know the most dreadful things said by the three Fates?” asked Liaze. “It was their parting words.”

  Liaze turned to Borel and he looked at the message he held. “Skuld said to Laurent, ‘If you do not give this message to the one for whom it is intended, then all will be lost forever.’ ”

  Liaze then looked at Alain and he peered at his missive. “Verdandi told Blaise, ‘Heed my rede, all of it, and make certain you do not send word prematurely, else the world will be fallen to ruin.’ ”

  Liaze then looked at Céleste, and she glanced at her message. “Urd said, ‘If you do not solve this rede, Roél, then all as we now know it to be will come to a horrible end.’ ”

  “Oh my,” said Simone, and she peered ’round the table from face to face to see nought but grim
visages looking back.

  28

  Dragonflight

  In the light of a waxing crescent moon, Ziv popped from icicle to frozen pond to ice-clad limb to—

  What’s this?

  The Ice Sprite sensed in the distance afar a great frozen mass, more than he had ever felt before.

  ’Tis a long jump, but—

  Of a sudden he was there. How far he had flashed, he had no notion, and he found himself in a vast conglomeration of ice. Ah, a glacier. He cast about with his Ice-Sprite perception. Its mass was nearly beyond his comprehension. Oh, my, we’ve none this size in the Winterwood. Ziv peered out through the frozen surface; there were mountains all ’round.

  Ziv was far from his home and well into his mission of spreading the warning to all who could understand his unspoken language: the shaman of the snow-dwellers; the sages of the reindeer herders; the wise women of the seal- and whale-hunters; the ice-talkers of the high-mountain dwellers; others. Too, he looked for Raseri, for Rondalo, for Lady Chemine. Yet he thought they wouldn’t be found in the icy reaches where Sprites of his kind travelled.

  But even as he rejected his chances, he saw a great winged shape slide across the arc of the sinking moon and toward one of the peaks. Could it be the Drake he sought? Dark and ruddy it seemed, with splashes of ebon blackness glittering here and there among its deep crimson scales. Its vast leathery wings were stretched out wide as it turned through the air as if to come to a landing on that particular mountain crest.

  Ziv threw his senses toward the apex, seeking ice thereon.