“Oui, Maman,” said Liaze, the others nodding in agreement.
But Michelle added, “I do not discern the feeling of malice unless Borel is with me. And yet it does not emanate from him but from somewhere else. I think it is directed at him, though he does not detect ought.”
“None of the men seem to be aware,” said Saissa, “at least Valeray does not.”
. .
In the armory, with its racks of arms and armor, of hauberks and helms and shields, of bows and arrows and crossbows and quarrels and darts and spears, of halberds and hammers and maces and axes and morning stars, of daggers and poniards and dirks and swords and other such weaponry, some bronze and glittery, others dark and dull, Emile watched as his eldest son hefted one of the tournament lances, long and slender, its point bluntly padded. “Ha! With this one I will unhorse you other three,” said Laurent.
“Pah!” snorted Blaise, replacing a battle-axe in a stand of the weapons. “You and what other hundred knights?” Emile laughed, as did the others, all but King Valeray, who merely smiled.
“You appear troubled,” said Emile. “Is something weighing on your mind?”
“It’s just these sensings the women have,” replied Valeray.
“Sensings?”
“As if something or someone evil is spying in on us-on Borel and Michelle, on Liaze and Luc, on Alain and Camille, on Celeste and Roel, and on Saissa and me.”
“Are you certain that it is not some sort of womanly vapours? My own Simone is at times given to such, and-”
“Non, Emile, these are no vapours, no caprice d’une femme.
My daughters and daughters-in-law and my wife, they truly sense this malevolent thing, this spying, yet, for me, I detect nought whatsoever.”
“Neither do we, Papa,” replied Alain, with Borel and Luc and Roel signifying their agreement.
Borel said, “Though I do not perceive ought amiss, sometimes Slate seems to sense evil is nigh.”
“Slate?” asked Emile.
“One of my Wolves,” said Borel. Then he smiled and added,
“I suggested to Chelle that women are perhaps closer to Wolves than are men.”
Valeray barked a laugh, yet quickly grew serious again. “Ah, me, but this is no humorous matter. Saissa says that it’s as if some evil, unseen creature has invaded our chambers, and we must do something about it.”
. .
“Do you sense anything, Avelaine?” asked Simone.
“Non, Maman.”
Simone turned her gaze toward the others. “Yet the five of you do?”
“Oui, Simone,” said Saissa. “I have told Valeray that it’s as if a vile but invisible being is at hand.”
“Vile but invisible being?” gasped Simone. “Oh, Mithras, then something must be done. Why, it could be anywhere.” Avelaine gasped and put a hand to her abdomen, yet said nought.
Camille took note of the gesture but said, “Alain and I believe it is Hradian. Somehow she is spying upon us, seeking a way to gain revenge.”
. .
“Revenge for what?” asked Emile, taking up a dagger and gauging its balance and heft.
“The death of her three sisters,” replied Alain, “acolytes all.” Emile frowned. “Acolytes? Of what religion?”
“No religion, Papa,” said Roel, hanging a shield back on its hook. “Instead those three dead were acolytes of Orbane, a foul wizard. Only his fourth one remains.”
Emile raised a puzzled eyebrow and turned up a hand. “Perhaps someone had better explain, for Simone and Laurent and Blaise and I are newly come unto Faery.”
Laurent and Blaise both nodded in agreement.
“Very well,” said Valeray, glancing at Borel and Alain.
“Mayhap it will do us all good to review just why it might be Hradian-the last acolyte-and what she might have in mind.”
. .
Saissa stood and stepped to the sideboard. “Anyone else for more tea?”
Shortly, with some cups replenished and others not, Saissa resumed her seat. She took a sip of tea and set her cup aside, then looked about the women and said, “It all began many summers ago, just how many, I remember not, but it was a goodly while back in a time ere I had met Valeray, ere the time our children were born.” Momentarily, Saissa seemed lost in reflection, a hint of a smile on her face. She nodded and then came to herself and continued: “Regardless, the wizard Orbane grew in power, and he had about him four acolytes, four sisters, witches all. And though at the time we knew not their names, they were Rhensibe, Hradian, Nefasi, and Iniqui.
“Orbane sought power o’er the whole of Faery, and he assembled a great army to march across the realms and take command of all. But he was opposed by the Firsts, and-”
. .
Emile laid down the keen, bronze sword. “The Firsts?”
“The first of each kind in Faery, Papa,” said Roel.
“This speaks to the beginnings of Faery, then?”
“Oui,” replied Alain. “You see, just as once upon a time there was no mortal world, well then, too, once upon a time there was no Faery. But the gods saw fit to create it and populate it with beings. The first being of each kind is named a First.
My wife, Camille, has a conjecture about such.”
. .
In the green room Saissa looked at Camille and said, “Why don’t you explain it, my dear?”
“Oh, please do,” said Simone, “for I deem it is something that Reydeau didn’t teach us.”
“Reydeau?” asked Liaze.
Celeste said, “I sent Reydeau to tutor Simone and her family and staff of the ways of Faery so that they would know what to expect herein.”
“Ah, I see.” Liaze turned to Camille and added, “I did not mean to interrupt.”
“Please, Camille,” said Simone, “please go on. I would hear of the beginnings of Faery.”
“Very well,” said Camille, “though it is but speculation on my part.” She took a sip of tea and set her cup aside.
. .
Alain looked at Emile and said, “It was when I had gone missing, and Camille was in search of me, though the only clue she had was to look for a place east of the sun and west of the moon. None she asked knew where such might be. But then she came across an Elf named Rondalo. He told her that his mother Chemine was a First, and she might know just where such a locale lay. Yet she did not, but she said there was one other who might know-Raseri the Dragon, who she thought might have been the very first First to have come unto Faery.
Chemine suggested that Rondalo guide Camille to the Drake.
Rondalo was bitterly opposed, for he was a sworn enemy of Raseri; it seems the Dragon had slain Rondalo’s sire Audane.
Even so, given Camille’s plight, Rondalo at last agreed to guide her to Raseri’s lair.”
. .
Camille smiled in memory and said, “And so I met the Dragon.
We spoke of many things, during which Raseri told me that he remembered nought of killing Rondalo’s pere or anything of his life ere he found himself in Faery. Still, he said he must have slain Audane, though he could call nothing to mind of the battle. His speaking of it spurred my supposition, there at the Dragon’s lair. . ”
. .
Camille shook her head in puzzlement. “Tell me then, are all Firsts as are you: knowing nought of what went before you each came unto Faery?”
“So it seems,” said Raseri, peering toward the oncoming light.
Camille fell silent and took another bite of biscuit. Around the mouthful she said, “Have you heard of the Keltoi?”
“Indeed. Most in Faery know of the legend. Wandering bards all-those whose tales caught the ear of the gods, and they in turn made Faery manifest.”
Camille swallowed and took a drink of water. “Well then, Raseri, answer me this:
“What if it is true that, as they wandered across the face of the world, the Keltoi did tell their tales, and the gods did listen, and they so enjoyed what they heard they made
Faery manifest so that they could be entertained by the stories that followed?
Mayhap long past, ’round a campfire a gifted Keltoi began a tale, the first one the gods listened to, and it went something like this:
“Once upon a time there was a terrible Drake named Raseri, a Drake who breathed flame. And in a hard-fought duel with an Elf named Audane, Raseri slew the Elf. Yet it was Audane’s wedding night, and he had lain with his bride ere the battle, and some ten moons after the terrible death, Audane’s grieving widow, a Water Fairy named Chemine, birthed a son. And Chemine gave over unto the wee lad Audane’s silvery sword, the one with the arcane runes hammered down the length of its blade, and she said, ‘One day, my Rondalo, you will battle with vile Raseri, foul murderer of your sire.’ ” Camille fell silent, and Raseri cocked his head and said,
“Mayhap ’tis true that such did happen. Even so, where does that lead?”
“Oh, don’t you see, Raseri, ere that tale perhaps there was no before, no existence whatsoever for Faery, no existence even for you. Mayhap that’s when Faery began. Perhaps that’s when you were born full-grown. Mayhap there was no Audane, yet even if there was, if the legend of the Keltoi and the gods is true, then it is no fault of yours he was slain. Instead ’tis completely the fault of the Keltoi who told that story, the first the gods had heard, and this blood vengeance, this sword-oath Rondalo swore, should instead have been sworn ’gainst the tale-teller, or the gods who made it true, for in truth they are the ones in combination who did murder Audane.”
Raseri grunted, but otherwise did not reply, and Camille ate the remainder of her biscuit in silence, her thoughts tumbling one o’er the other.
Finally Raseri said, “If you have the truth of it, Camille, then much needs setting aright.”
“Wh-what?” said Camille, shaken from her musings.
“I said, have you the truth of it, then much needs setting aright. Even so, there is this to consider: although the Keltoi, or gods, or in combination, are responsible for much grief and rage, they gave me, they gave all of us, life as well. Without them we would not be. Hence, if the legend is true, we owe them our very existence. Those tales, though fraught with peril and desperation and fury and sorrow such as they are, without them we would not be.”
Camille nodded, somewhat abstractedly, and Raseri tilted his head to one side and said, “You seem preoccupied, Camille.
What were your thoughts that I so interrupted?” Camille glanced at Scruff and then at the Drake, then out to where Rondalo might be, and she shrugged and said, “I was just wondering whose silver tongue or golden pen is telling the tale we find ourselves in.”
Raseri’s booming laughter echoed among the peaks, but when he looked down at Camille, she wasn’t laughing at all.
. .
“. . and so you see, Simone,” said Camille, glancing at Avelaine as well. “If I am right, then each of the Firsts is the first of its kind to have been spoken of in a Keltoi bard’s tale, one whose story was made manifest.”
. .
In the armory, as Alain fell silent, Blaise said, “Did this Rondalo fellow ever fight Raseri?”
“Non,” said Alain. “After Raseri bore Camille to someone even older than he, the Dragon flew to see Chemine and told her of Camille’s conjecture. Chemine and Rondalo and Raseri made a truce, and, as it so happens, Rondalo and Raseri became the best of friends, and these days they go adventuring together.”
“Huah!” grunted Emile. “An Elf and a Dragon adventuring together. How odd.”
“Only in Faery,” said Roel.
Emile nodded and then turned to Valeray. “Well then, now that I know what a First is, tell me of this person Orbane.” Valeray said, “Orbane is one of the Firsts as well, evil wizard that he is.”
“But why would the gods do such?” asked Emile. “I mean, why would they make manifest a vile wizard who wished to rule all of Faery?”
“Because of the adventures he would spawn,” said Valeray. “Terrible as they were, it would be entertainment for the gods.”
Laurent slammed a gauntleted fist into a gauntleted palm and gritted, “Gods be damned.”
“Oh, Laurent, tempt them not,” said Roel, “else something might befall you as befell Avelaine.”
Laurent looked at his brother and wrenched off the gauntlets and flung them to the table where others lay. “Pah! That was the Lord of the Changelings and no god who stole our sister.”
“Nevertheless. .” said Roel.
Laurent took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I hear, little brother. I hear.”
Emile said, “What of this war with Orbane, Lord Valeray? I assume this monstrous mage was defeated.” Valeray nodded and said, “Many of the Firsts-Raseri the Firedrake, Jotun the Giant, Adragh the Pwca, Tisp the Sprite, and others-banded together to oppose Orbane and his conquest. Yet he was too powerful for them, and something had to be done. My friend, Duke Roulan, Michelle’s sire, came up with the seed of a scheme. You see, at the time he and I were neither duke nor king, but thieves instead. Yet we were caught up in the war against Orbane, for his minions were ruining our business. And so. .”
. .
“What we need,” said Roulan, “is a way to turn Orbane’s own power against him.”
Valeray nodded. “But how?”
“Well, Val, I know where one of his castles is located, though it is said to be warded by a witch; but surely you can get in and discover something of his own that we can use against him.”
“We. .?”
“Well, perhaps not we directly, but certainly the Firsts could.”
“I don’t know, Roully. I would think the castle well guarded, and it might-” Of a sudden, Valeray fell into thought. “Guile.
We can use guile. Though if Orbane is in residence, it’s the end for us both. But if he’s elsewhere, and the witch stands ward, well. .”
Roulan pushed out a hand of negation. “You know Orbane is off opposing the Firsts, and this castle is one of his lesser. What is it you have in mind?”
Valeray smiled and said, “Remember how we fooled the mayor, and. .”
A moon or so later, at a grey stone castle on a bald hill in the midst of a dark forest, a hag knocked for entry. From the battlements above, the Troll guard shouted down for her to go away, yet she croaked that she was a soothsayer who had private words for Lord Orbane within.
After repeated demands by the crone and threats by the Troll, disturbed by the racket without, the mistress of the castle appeared. It was a witch who announced she was in command of this holt.
“I have a dreadful message to give to the dark one, and I would see him,” called up the hag.
“Dreadful message?”
“I am a soothsayer and I have seen, and I’ll only speak with Lord Orbane.”
“Seen what?”
“Oh, Mistress, this is not for your ears, and I certainly cannot say it in front of your warders; it might dishearten them.
Besides, I am tired and need a rest, and I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea. I would have you take me to Lord Orbane.”
“He is absent,” called down the witch. “So you will have to tell it to me, and I can get word to him.”
“Tell it to you?”
The witch drew herself up to her full height. “I am Nefasi, Orbane’s acolyte, and he trusts me with his very life.”
“Ah, Mistress Nefasi, I do not know whether to tell you or not.”
“I can always force it out of you.”
“Heh. Maybe. Maybe not. Yet perhaps as Orbane’s acolyte. .
— But if I tell you, it must be in a place of protection-a place of power and transmutation-ere I will divulge the message dire.”
The crone and the witch haggled, but finally, fearing the worst for her master, the witch allowed the hag to enter the castle for the message she would tell.
Accompanied by well-armed Troll guards, by winding ways and up stairwells and past many rooms-ways and wells and rooms the crone committed to memory-Ne
fasi took the aged soothsayer into Orbane’s own alchemistry chamber, where a pentagon of protection was permanently inscribed upon the floor. There did Nefasi cast a spell, one that temporarily rendered the Trolls deaf and mute, and then told the old soothsayer to speak. And so, surrounded by unhearing and unspeaking guards, with the crone and the witch sitting at a table within the pentagon, the hag looked about and then whispered, “Orbane will be defeated by his own hand.”
At these bodeful words, Nefasi’s gaze flicked briefly toward a small locked chest sitting atop a table, a chest the soothsayer clearly noted, though the crone did not let Nefasi see that she had. Nefasi asked if there were more to the sooth divined, and the beldame shook her head. Nefasi rewarded the soothsayer with a single gold piece and sent her on her way, and in spite of the hag’s grumblings, the witch did not give her the promised cup of tea.
That very same night, his disguise now gone, Valeray scaled the outside wall to the alchemistry room, and he picked the lock and found within the chest two clay amulets. Valeray was disappointed, for it seemed that they were nought but trinkets. Regardless, he wrapped them well and stood in the window and, using a sling, he cast them to Roulan who was waiting at the edge of the woods. Then down clambered the thief, and soon he and his accomplice were riding agallop to the waiting Firsts. Yet even as Valeray and Roulan passed through that dark forest, they were seen and recognized as strangers and pursued.
They managed to reach the Firsts, and the hounding enemy was routed.
. .
King Valeray took up a sword and sighted down its length, saying, “Despite their lowly appearance, Emile, the clay amulets were descried by Lisane the Elf who is a true seer, and she told the Firsts what they were: powerful magical artifacts cast by Orbane himself. Lisane called them Seals of Orbane, and said that likely there were at least seven of these dreadful relics about, for it seems the residue of power on the seals indicated such. In any event, the magic within-curses all-would be loosed when the clay seal was broken, and it would obey the desires of the one breaking the seal to the detriment of the one who was the target of those desires. These two seals were used against their maker: the first to destroy Orbane’s protection, the second to cast Orbane into the Castle of Shadows in the Great Darkness beyond the Black Wall of the World, where he remains still, for the Castle of Shadows is inescapable.” Valeray fell silent, but Alain said, “Because of Hradian, three of those seals were used against us: one to make my sire and dam seemingly vanish; one to curse me to be a bear by day, though I could be a man at night; and one to snatch me and my household away and betroth me to a Troll if my truelove ever saw my human face.” He paused a moment and smiled unto himself and added, “But Camille took care of that.”
Once upon a dreadful time ou-4 Page 4