Once Upon a Winter's Night

by Dennis L McKiernan

  “. . . and then Lady Urd said,“ ‘There are winds that do not blow,

  But flow across the sea;

  A master of one might know

  Where such a place doth be.’

  “And so, by happenstance, I came unto Leport and found the four winds—East-, South-, West-, and last of all, your ship, Captain, the North Wind—but none of the masters of any of the four seem to know where lies the place I seek, in spite of Lady Urd’s words.”

  Kolor slowly shook his head. “ ’Twas not by ‘happenstance’ you came to Leport, Camille, for the Fates—Maiden, Mother, and Crone—all had a hand in your coming. And heed, though the Fates control Destiny, ’tis said they must not interfere, must remain aloof, and can only give gifts for services rendered. Still, at times, at dire times, they do take a hand, and I can only conclude that times are dire, for they did take a hand with you. Yet we do not know what portends, but for their words that one might come who will pollute the River of Time beyond redemption. Yet even though dire times are in the offing, even then the Sisters cannot give gifts unless a riddle is answered properly. ’Tis then and only then they can bestow such gifts upon the one they would aid. Then the one given the gift can ask a question, and even then it may or may not be answered, and if answered, the reply comes in the form of a riddle. In your case, Camille, all such did happen: three favors, three riddles, three answers, three gifts, three questions, three replies couched in riddles.”

  “But Captain, the three gifts they gave—comb, shuttle, and spool—but for the gold they contain, are quite ordinary.” Camille looked at Kolor and then Big Jack and asked, “What good can they possibly do?”

  Kolor shrugged, and Big Jack turned up his hands.

  Camille stared into her mug of tea grown cold and said, “Regardless of the gifts and riddles, my quest seems come to an end, for none knows of the place I seek.”

  Long silence fell over the trio, but then Kolor said, “ ’Tis true I know of no place which lies east of the sun and west of the moon, but there is a place which might have something to do with your tale: ’tis an island nearly beyond the rim of the world itself, and it is an evil place, peopled by Trolls and Redcap Goblins and their Human thralls, or so the escaped slave we picked up at sea told us ere he died.”

  “Escaped slave?” asked Jack.

  Kolor nodded. “On one of our voyages we came across a Human adrift on a log, and when we plucked him from the sea, we found his leg to be gone from the knee down, torn off by the same creature that had destroyed his raft. He had managed to bind the stump, but, in spite of the salt of the sea, it had gone bad in the long, hot days ere we got to him, and he was out of his mind. Yet among his babblings he said he had been the pilot of the Swan, but the ship met ill fortune, and he and his crew had been castaway upon a place he named Troll Isle. There they had been seized by Goblins, Redcaps that is, and made into thralls, joining the other Human slaves castaway there before.

  “We treated him as best we could, but he was too far gone, the stump of his leg poisoning all the rest of him. Yet he had moments of lucidity, or so it seemed, and he talked about the isle:

  “Mountainous it is, he said, some forty miles across or so, covered with forest for the most part, but for the slave-tended fields. A formidable citadel sits above a ramshackle town, and one might think the fortress worthy of conquering, for within might lie great treasure, but the escapee said not—only Troll gold was therein.

  “He was one of the field slaves, and over a long, long period, he managed to slip away enough times to make a raft and provision it with food and water.

  “Then one night he went to the cove where he kept it hidden, and pushed off and away. By the time we found him, he had sailed for several moons, driven by the winds when they blew, drifting on the currents when not, living off the sea and rain when his own supplies gave out.

  “I asked him where was this isle, and he marked it on one of my charts, and if it is truly where he said, then he had made a remarkable journey from there to where we took him up from the sea.

  “He died babbling, muttering nonsense, and screaming of Goblins and Trolls, and there was nought whatsoever we could do but wait and then give him back to the sea.

  “As to the island itself, I only know it as a place on a chart; my crew and I have never been there, for if we are to believe the dying man’s description, it is warded by a mighty fortress peopled by well-armed Goblins and Trolls, and, because of that, and because of what the escapee said, I deem there is no cargo of worth or booty of value to be had, and the only gold therein is Troll gold, a low-grade fusion of iron and brimstone, its glittering promise totally false, for it is of little worth.

  “Yet since much of your misery and that of your Prince Alain seems to be entwined with the acts of Redcaps and Trolls—”

  “Olot,” gritted Big Jack, making a fist.

  Kolor grunted and continued, “—then maybe this island is the place you truly seek, though, Faery or no, I think it will not lie east of the sun and west of the moon.”

  Camille turned up her hands. “Captain, think you that we can give credence to a man dying of delirium?”

  “That I cannot say, Lady Camille. Yet, if his tale is true, if he was indeed a pilot, then there may be an island of Trolls and Goblins and Human thralls at the place he marked on my chart, and Trolls and Redcaps seem to be at the bottom of all.”

  Camille sighed and shook her head. She pondered for long moments, no one saying aught, but finally she looked out the window and said, “To do nought whatsoever will in itself accomplish nought. Your isle seems to be the only choice I have left.—List, if you will bear me there, I will pay you with the golden gifts: comb, shuttle, and spool.”

  Kolor blenched, and he thrust his hands out in refusal, saying, “No, no, Camille. I would not take what the Fates have given you.”

  “Oh, would that I yet had the jewels I did sew into my garments, but they were stolen, and so I have little to—”

  “Lady Camille, since the Fates themselves sent you to me, it means that my ship and crew and I have been commissioned by the Dread Sisters Themselves to be at your behest. Aye, we will bear you to that wicked place, if it is truly there, for the Fates so decree, but we will do so reluctantly, for I would not willingly put you in such peril extreme.”

  Big Jack, who had said little, glanced at Camille’s stave. “When, Cap’n Kolor? When will you take us there? What I mean t’ say is: time grows short.”

  Kolor looked at the big man. “You mean to go as well?” Big Jack glanced at Camille and nodded. “I was told t’ protect her, and protect her I will.”

  “Oh, Jack,” said Camille, “you don’t have to go. It’s likely to be—”

  “Quite dangerous,” said Big Jack. “All th’ more reason for me t’ go.” Then he turned to Kolor. “As I said, time is short. When do we go?”

  Kolor took up the split and cracked stave—the blossoms gone, the carved vine withered—and examined it closely. Then he started, his eyes flying wide, and turned the stick into the lanternlight to see it more clearly. “ ’Twas the dark of the moon when we docked, yet look.” He laid the staff down on the table and pointed to the dark disk just below the grip at the top. A hairline-thin pale crescent marked the disk along the right-hand perimeter.

  “And a whole moon beyond,” breathed Big Jack. “And a whole moon beyond. . . .”

  Captain Kolor sucked air in between clenched teeth and he looked at Camille and said, “Oh, my lady, I am sorry; I neglected the import of Lady Sorcière’s words.”

  Camille felt her heart plunging. “Sieur?”

  Kolor sighed and shook his head and tapped the stave. “A whole moon beyond is not enough time, for the isle is far, and the winds are against us; we simply cannot reach it in a moon.”

  33

  Asea

  Tears welled in Camille’s eyes. “Cannot reach . . . ?” Kolor shook his head. “Not in a moon.” He looked into his mug of ale, peering at the foa
m.

  Big Jack reached out his enormous hand and enveloped Camille’s, and he said, “Captain—”

  But Kolor thrust out a palm to stop Big Jack’s words; the Dwarf’s brow furrowed in concentration as he peered into his mug as if trying to capture an elusive thought. And then his eyes widened in remembrance, and he grimaced and murmured, “Unless . . .”

  Camille and Big Jack waited, but Kolor said no more.

  “Unless what, Captain?” said Camille.

  Kolor took a deep breath and dipped a finger into the froth and raised it up and stared at the pale lather. Then he licked his finger clean and looked over at her. “Unless we sail across the Sea of Mist.”

  Camille frowned. “The Sea of Mist?”

  Kolor let out a lengthy sigh. “ ’Tis said it is a short lay of water, Camille, though I’ve never been there. Too, they say therein a terrible monster dwells—a breaker of ships, a killer of all who attempt to cross. No vessel has ever won through, but if we could sail those waters and out, then mayhap we could reach the island in just under a moon.”

  “If no ship has ever won through,” said Big Jack, “then how do you know it’s but a short stretch across?”

  Kolor glanced at Scruff sleeping in Camille’s pocket. “ ’Tis said a message bird was loosed at dawn to fly from side to side, and from the time it took, the lay was judged. Even so, ships are not birds, and those waters are deadly.”

  “What kind of monster is it?” asked Camille.

  Kolor turned up his hands. “I know not, lady, for none has ever survived to say.”

  “Then how do you know it is a ‘breaker of ships’?”

  “Wreckage drifts out, Camille. And before you ask, reefs and shoals could account for such wrack, but there are no signs of grounding on the remnants.”

  “Monster, reefs, shoals, or no, if it’ll get us to the isle in a moon, then that’s what we should do,” declared Big Jack, “sail the Misty Sea.”

  Camille held up a cautioning hand. “Oh, Jack, I don’t know whether—”

  “Camille,” said Kolor, “a commission was I given by the Fates, and I would not go against Them.”

  Camille looked at the Dwarf. “Is there no other way?”

  Kolor glanced at Big Jack and said, “Not any that will get us there in a moon.”

  Big Jack looked to Camille for affirmation, and she sighed and then silently nodded.

  “Done and done!” Big Jack declared.

  “May the Three Sisters truly be with us,” said Kolor.

  “When do we leave?” asked Big Jack.

  Kolor looked out through the window at the rising dawnlight. “It will take the full of this day to reprovision, but we can set sail as soon as that is done.”

  “What about the tide?” asked Big Jack.

  “No need to wait for the outflow, not with the Nordavind, ” said Kolor, standing. “Now I must recall my crew and tell them of the task the Fates have cast our way.”

  As Camille rose to her feet, Kolor added, “Rest this day, lady, and bid your farewells.”

  Big Jack said to Kolor, “I will fetch th’ lady when all is ready.”

  Kolor nodded, then turned toward the door, Camille and Big Jack following. And as they stepped from the Bald Pelican, with a new day on the air, Scruff awakened and scrambled to Camille’s shoulder and demanded to be fed.

  As she broke fast with Scruff and Big Jack in the common room of the Blue Marlin, Camille said, “Jack, will you tell Madam Maquereau at the Red Lantern that we will be leaving on a voyage, and that I will not be singing there again?”

  “Uh-huh,” said Big Jack, shovelling eggs into his mouth.

  “Also, if you can find Jordain, tell him as well what it is we do.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” said Big Jack, bobbing his head. Then, speaking around the mouthful of eggs, he added, “Though with th’ Nordavind in port replenishing her stores, I suppose Harbormaster Jordain already knows.”

  They finished the meal in silence, Scruff pecking away at the barley seeds. Then, after Big Jack was gone, Camille settled her bill with the desk clerk, paying for that day as well, and she asked that Aicelina prepare a bath for her, the last she would have for many days to come.

  When Aicelina knocked on Camille’s door, Camille gave the girl a silver for herself, saying, “You have served me well, Aicelina. Scruff, too, bringing his grain as you have.” Then Camille gave her another silver and said, “We are going on a long journey, a moon there and back, and I will need more grain for him, and since we will be going by water, the grain will need protection from spray.”

  “Oui, mademoiselle,” said Aicelina. “I shall have them put it in a double sack, the outer one tarred. And what grain would you have?”

  “A mix of oats, barley, rye, wheat, and millet.”

  “And how much?”

  Camille shrugged, then said, “Enough to last the full journey, and a bit more, should something go awry. Three moons in all should do it.”

  “I shall purchase ten pounds,” said Aicelina, then looked at the silver in hand. “Oh, mademoiselle, it will not take a silver or even a bronze for such a small amount.”

  “Keep whatever is left over, Aicelina.”

  Aicelina’s eyes widened and she bobbed a curtsey. “Thank you, mademoiselle. I shall fetch it now.” The girl started to turn away, but then turned back. “Oh, and your bath is ready.” Then she was gone.

  Night had fallen when came a tap on the door. Camille opened the panel, and in the lanternlight stood Big Jack, an enormous bronze battle-axe over his shoulder. “Th’ North Wind is ready, Lady Camille. Captain Kolor says t’ come.”

  Camille fastened her cloak ’round her shoulders and took up her bedroll and waterskin and rucksack, the stave affixed in the loops. Then she fetched sleeping Scruff from his perch on the back of a chair, and, blowing out the lantern, said, “Let’s go.”

  At the dock Jordain stood waiting. “Camille, I know you feel you must do this thing, yet to sail the Sea of Mist is tantamount to throwing yourself from a cliff.”

  “We have no choice,” said Camille.

  “Besides,” said Big Jack, hefting his battle-axe, its keen edge glinting in the light of the dockside lanterns, “it’s not like we’re going in unprepared; I’ve got Lady Bronze here, and th’ Dwarves . . . well . . . you know Dwarves.”

  “Fear not, Harbormaster,” said Kolor, just then stepping forward, “the Fates are on our side, or so I do believe.”

  Jordain shook his head. “Nevertheless—”

  “Harbormaster,” said Kolor, “there is no other way.”

  Jordain sighed and said, “Then I can but wish all of you well, especially you, my lady.” And he took Camille’s hands in his and kissed them, then released her and stepped back.

  Moments later: “Åres rede!” called Kolor, and Dwarves took up spruce oars from the trestles.

  Then Kolor called to the docksmen, “Cast off fore! Cast off aft!” and the mooring hawsers were uncinched and dropped into the water.

  As Dwarves hauled in the lines, “Skubbe av!” Kolor called.

  And fore and aft, oars were used to shove away from the dock.

  “Roers, åres til vann!”

  Dwarves fitted the oars through holes in the upper starboard and larboard strakes and slid them out into the water. Kolor said, “Brekki,” and a brown-haired Dwarf stepped forward and began rhythmically chanting “Strøk! . . . Strøk! . . . Strøk! . . .” And as the Nordavind backed away from the pier, Camille in the prow raised a hand in au revoir to Jordain, and the harbormaster sighed and waved in return.

  Soon Kolor commanded Brekki to turn the craft, and the oar-chief called for the rowers on the starboard to back water, while those on the larboard stroked ahead. And when she was turned about, the oars were shipped aboard and square sails were raised on all four masts and the beitass poles angled to catch the wind. Swiftly the craft surged forward and toward the harbor mouth. Past lanternlit ships moored at anchor glided the Nordavind
, sailor’s songs and sea chanteys drifting o’er the water from some. Camille looked back at the town of Leport, brightly lit in the night, her eye finding the Red Lantern, and she wondered if anyone therein did sing. Onward sailed the ship, most of the eighty Dwarves looking aft as well, for their shore leave had been quite brief—but from mid of night to dawn. Yet they knew the Fates could not be denied, and so they groaned and watched Leport recede—they, too, singling out the Red Lantern—until they sailed past the harbor mouth and out into open water, the North Wind asea at last, its ultimate goal a point in the ocean marked on a chart by a dying, delirious man, a place where might or might not lie an island of Goblins and Trolls.

  Camille sighed and turned to face forward, looking across the starlit deeps, wondering what peril or joy or grief lay in the waters ahead.

  “There,” said Kolor, pointing. To the fore and standing across their course reared a great wall of twilight, a border of Faery there in the sea.

  For nearly a fortnight in all they had sailed across the deeps, the pale arc on the dark disk on Lady Sorcière’s staff growing every day, keeping pace with the moon, turning from crescent to half and beyond, and now it was nearly full, a thin bow of darkness yet remaining along the left perimeter. And in that fortnight the Nordavind had sailed through stormy and fair weather alike, in seas smooth and choppy and raging, the wind brisk and agale and nonexistent, and there Dwarves did row. Camille had fared quite well, no matter the seas or the weather or wind, but Big Jack had, as he said, spewed his guts more than once. And in these days Camille had discovered that the amenities aboard a Dragonship were nonexistent, for she had not even the meager privacy that a burlap curtain in her père’s crowded cottage had given. She had learned to relieve herself over the side just as did everyone else, and to take care of her courses as best she could, though for the most part, Big Jack and the Dwarves looked the other way. Scruff, however, seemed disgruntled out upon the sea, for it held no beetles or grubs to scratch up, no trees to perch in, and no flopping dust whatsoever. And still every day Camille had treated his injured wing with the salve, working the joint tenderly, Scruff’s small peeps quite unsettling to her as she did so.