Once upon a dreadful time

Prospect

After an overnight stay at Sieur Emile’s manse in the Springwood, Avelaine set out with a small escort of her father’s retainers for the coastal city of Port Mizon in King Avelar’s realm, for she was going home to her husband- My handsome and daring Vicomte Chevell.

The group rode at haste, remounts in tow, for Avelaine was now anxious to return; with the bodeful incidents of the last few days-the witch Hradian’s spying and her trickery to freely obtain the key to the Castle of Shadows to set loose the wizard Orbane-and with the threat of war looming, Avelaine on her journey from the Castle of the Seasons had come to realize just how hazardous a place Faery could be. And with her newfound comprehension, she felt the urgency to return to her truelove Chevell. It would not be erelong before he set out to lead the king’s fleet to destroy the corsairs of Brados.

It was yet early morn when she and her escort came upon Springwood Manor, and there she paused to find her brother Roel to bid him au revoir and to caution him to take care. She found the manse in a state of activity as the staff bustled here and there, preparing for the arrival of raw recruits to be trained in the art of combat and war. Too, the smiths and bow masters were hard at work to make weaponry for various members of the warband and the houseguard to take to various villages in the Springwood, where they would call the nearby men together and prepare them for battle as well.

Roel broke off from his planning and came running downstairs to the welcoming hall to greet Avelaine. “Avi, the king sent a falcon and said you were on your way. It is good to see you. Will you stay this eve?”

“No, Rollie. I must get back to my Chevell, for I’ve come to realize just how dreadfully dire many things have become.

And of a sudden I grasp that this sea venture my love embarks upon, instead of being the lark he would make of it, is hazardous in the extreme. And if war is to be visited upon Faery, then I would be at his side in the time we have left. Oh, Rollie, I’m afraid I thought with the death of the Changeling Lord and our escape from his realm, that the rest of Faery would always be charming, with wee people popping out from under bushes, and Sprites flying here and there, and Elves and Fairies and other such being nought but good.”

“Avi, Faery is indeed a marvelous place, but a perilous one as well. Yet I hope you never lose your sense of wonder at the splendid things herein. Even so, you are right: Chevell’s mission is a hazardous one, and you do need to be with him ere he sets sail. Still, can you not at least stay for a meal?”

“Non. As soon as the horses are watered and given some grain, we are off for the sunwise border.”

“Take care where you cross, little sister, else you just might fall in the ocean.”

She laughed. “I well know the place, brother of mine, to make entry into King Avelar’s realm. Unlike you, I’ll cross at leisure, rather than while running for my life; hence do I plan to stay out of the rolling waters of that sea where you and Celeste nigh went for a swim, yet, thanks to the Fates, you did not.” Now it was Roel who laughed, but then he sobered. “Speaking of the Fates, little sister, I met one on the way here.”

“You did?”

“Oui. And so did Laurent and Blaise. Did you not get the messages we sent?”

“Non. I was already on the way.”

“Ah, well then, let me tell you what they said. . ”

. .

“. . and so you see, their redes are quite puzzling. Have you any glimmer of what they might mean? — Other than the obvious, that is?” Avelaine shook her head. “Non, Rollie. But, oh, what terrible words they spoke.” Roel sighed and nodded in agreement. “The coming days might be grim, Avi, and here you are with child; you must needs take care of yourself.”

“I know, Rollie, I know.”

A grizzled retainer came into the manor and stood nigh and waited to be recognized. Avelaine turned to him. “Oui, Malon?”

“The horses, they be ready, Vicomtesse.”

Avelaine nodded, and, following Malon, she and Roel walked out to the forecourt. Another retainer led a horse to her.

Avelaine took Roel by the hands and said, “You are the one to take care, Rollie, for if it comes to the worst of it, you will be in battle.”

Roel shrugged, and then he fiercely embraced his sister and kissed her on the forehead, and she kissed him on the cheek.

She mounted up and, with a bright smile, wheeled about and rode away, finally letting tears spill down her cheeks.

Roel watched her go, his vision blurred by tears unshed, for well he knew that perhaps this would be the last time they would see one another. And when she and her band disappeared into the surrounding woodland, Roel turned on his heel and ran back into the manor, where men were making ready for war.

. .

Lady Michelle sat at breakfast with Sieur Laurent. She looked across the table and said, “It seems you have things well underway.”

“Oui, yet there is much to do-training, equipping, forging, fletching, and the like. All the other manors are doing likewise.

Yet I feel we are at somewhat of a disadvantage, for I know nought of this foe and his manner of battle, and I think that my brothers are just as ignorant of his means as am I. Perhaps even Luc has no knowledge of this wizard and his method of waging war. Tell me, my lady, what can you say of Orbane? What is his aim?”

Michelle turned up a hand. “I know only that of which my father has spoken, for I was not yet born when last Orbane inflicted his evil upon Faery. Still, he and his armies of Goblins and Bogles and Trolls came close to conquering all.” Michelle fell silent for a moment, but then added, “-Oh, as to his aim, this I do know: Camille says the Fates told her if Orbane gets loose, he would pollute the River of Time, yet what that might mean, I cannot say.”

“River of Time?”

“Oui. It seems that somewhere in Faery, time flows in a silvery river, and along this flow is where the Three Sisters fashion the Tapestry of Time: Skuld weaving what she sees of the future; Verdandi fixing present events into the weft and warp of the fabric; Urd binding all forever into the past.”

“Hmm. .” Laurent paused for a sip of tea, and then said,

“Where is this river?”

“That I do not know.”

“Then where does it empty into the ocean?”

“Again, I do not know, yet Camille speculates it flows out of Faery to spread over the mortal world, for time itself does not seem to touch Faery, though some say it originates herein.”

“And so, polluting the River of Time would harm the mortal world?”

“If Camille is right, then I suppose it would.” Laurent clenched a fist. “We must not let that happen.” A sad smile passed over Michelle’s face, and she nodded but said nought.

Laurent frowned and said, “The riddles of the Fates said nought about any River of Time.”

“But they did speak of conflict,” said Michelle, who had heard of the redes upon reaching her manse. “And I fear for the lives of all the young men should war come.” Laurent pushed out a hand of negation. “My lady, we will not strip the Winterwood of all vigorous young men, for some must stay to defend the realm, as well as to care for those who need tending.”

There came a polite cough, and Michelle turned to see the steward of the Winterwood-a dark-haired, light-blue-eyed, slender man-standing at the entrance to the overlook chamber.

“Arnot?”

“Princess, an Ice Sprite has brought word that Raseri and Rondalo were located late yesternight, and even now they are on their way to the Black Wall of the World.” Michelle cried, “Wonderful!” and clapped her hands. “We must get word to the king, as well as to the other manors.”

“I will send falcons, my lady.”

“Oh, do so immediately, Arnot.”

Arnot inclined his head and then hurried away.

Michelle turned to Laurent. “How utterly splendid. Perhaps it won’t come to war after all.”

“We cannot be certain of that, my lady, even though this is indeed good news.”

. .

In midmorn, a hawkmaster rushed down from the falcon-tower mews, a message capsule in hand. He hurried to the yard where King Valeray and Sieur Emile and the warband were looking over the first group of recruits.

“A message, my lord, from the Winterwood.” Valeray opened the capsule and drew out the tissue-thin scroll. Moments later he whooped. Sieur Emile and the others looked at him. “ ’Tis marvelous news: Raseri and Rondalo are on their way to the Black Wall of the World to intercept Hradian.”

Sieur Emile smiled, but then grew somber. “Let us hope they get there in time.”

“Indeed,” said Valeray. “Now I must take these good tidings to the others.”

Valeray found Celeste and Saissa and Borel in the grass court getting ready to set out to pass among the faire-goers, for with the arrival of men to undergo training, uneasy was the mood.

Upon hearing this, Saissa insisted that she and others go among the folks and reassure them, for as she said, “They should enjoy themselves while they can.”

Upon hearing the falcon-borne message, Saissa asked, “When were they found?”

“Yesternight, late,” said Valeray.

“Then, by now they might have reached the Black Wall. We can but hope for their success.”

“May Mithras watch over them,” said Celeste as she looked past Borel to see three-summers-old Duran running across the sward, his toy horse Asphodel in hand.