Once upon a Summer Day

47

With the sun now set, twilight crept ’cross the Endless Sands, and even as Buzzer, preparing to sleep, took station upon the tricorn, Borel said, “My Lady Michelle, the kiss, forgive me for being so bold.”

Chelle reddened and said, “Nay, my lord, ’tis I who must beg forgiveness.”

Borel grinned and said, “Then shall we forgive one another? Or instead shall we continue to repeat the offense in the many days to come?”

Chelle laughed, and in spite of his weariness, Borel stood and offered his hand and raised Chelle to her feet.

As she stood, “My lord, you are wounded!”

“Nought but scratches,” said Borel, even as he winced when Chelle reached out to touch a gash in his leathers.

“We must bandage you,” said Chelle.

“When we are on the other side of the twilight border,” said Borel, gesturing.

She looked about, her eyes widening in shock. “Where are we?”

“The Endless Sands, Lady Chelle,” said Flic.

“Oh, my, a Sprite!” said Chelle, seeing the wee Fey for the first time.

With a flourish, Flic bowed and said, “At your service, Demoiselle. I am Flic, wielder of Argent and companion of Buzzer. I am, as well, Prince Borel’s tagalong.”

“Without Flic and Buzzer, I never would have found you,” said Borel.

Chelle frowned. “And Buzzer is…?”

Carefully, Borel removed his hat and pointed at the now-sleeping bee and said, “Our guide.”

“I remember a dream,” said Chelle, smiling. “But it was in among thorn trees where I saw a Sprite and a bee.”

Borel nodded. “These are the same you saw there, and that was quite far from here.”

Again Chelle looked ’round. “And these are the Endless Sands?”

Borel replaced his hat and said, “Indeed, Chelle.”

“How did I get here, and what is that great green mound? It looks like a vast tangle of thorns.”

Borel sighed. “There is much to tell, my lady, but this I will say: the greenery about is your sire’s estate, and within that tangle lies your manor.”

Chelle shook her head. “This cannot be Roulan Vale, not here in the Endless Sands.”

“Mademoiselle,” said Flic, “we believe the estate was borne here by a great black wind.”

“A black wind?” said Chelle. “I remember no black wind.”

“Perhaps you were already in an enchanted sleep,” said Borel, “a sleep we believe was cast by the sorciere Rhensibe.”

“Rhensibe?” gasped Chelle, then her eyes narrowed. “That wicked Fairy. Yes, I remember. She threw the spell during the celebration of my majority.” Chelle glanced at the moon. “But it was nigh noon today, not in the twilight.”

“Chelle,” said Borel, taking her hands in his, “ ’twas not this day the spell was cast, but in a time now gone.”

“A time now gone? When?”

“As mortals would reckon, eleven years and eleven moons past,” said Flic.

Chelle’s hand flew to her mouth. “Eleven years…?” Her words fell to a whisper even as Borel embraced her.

“And eleven moons,” said Flic.

She looked up into Borel’s face unbelieving. “ ’Tis true,” he softly said.

She rested her head against his breast for a moment, and then she said, “My pere and mere, are they well?”

“Chelle,” said Borel, “they, too, were enspelled by the enchanted sleep, as were all your guests and the staff.”

“Where are they?”

“Trapped within that tangle of thorns in your pere’s manor, held by the same magie that ensorcelled you.”

“We must set them free,” said Chelle, pulling away and starting toward the mound.

“Non, non, my love,” cried Borel, quickly catching her and drawing her back. “The thorns are enchanted and they will strike down any who come nigh.”

“But you got in,” said Chelle, tugging against his grip.

“Oui, yet the sword I used was special, and it is gone, destroyed in turn by the very same vines it destroyed. And the path it made through that tangle is now grown shut.”

Chelle stopped resisting and cried, “Oh, Borel, we must get through and break the spell.”

“Oui. But the spinning wheel yet turns the spindle, and we need find a way to counteract its magie.”

“Spinning wheel?” said Flic.

“Do you remember the squeaking and the music?” asked Borel.

“Oui,” replied the Sprite.

Borel said, “There is a magique spinning wheel turning an enchanted spindle, and the spindle casts the spell. That is what we must overcome.”

“How did you do so?” asked Flic.

“Buzzer kept me from falling asleep-”

“Buzzer?” said Flic.

“Oui. She stung me repeatedly, and the pain barely fended away the charm.”

“Aha!” said Flic. “Perhaps that’s what Lady Urd whispered to Buzzer-instructions to keep you awake, and Buzzer did so by the only means at her command.”

“That might be so, Flic, yet at the moment we are helpless. We have no way to get in, and even had we the means to break through the thorn barrier, we would need a way to counteract the wheel.”

“Perhaps we can simply put wax in our ears,” said Flic. “That way we won’t hear the-”

A prolonged, shrill, enraged scream shattered the air, yet whence it came, they could not say.

“Rhensibe,” gritted Borel, turning to Chelle. “She has discovered you are free.”

Chelle gasped and said, “We must flee before she can cast a snare.”

“My lord, look! Something dark and dreadful!” cried Flic, and he pointed at the moon.

Silhouetted against the silver orb, like hideous dark cloaks flapping in the wind, an eldritch black swarm came flying across the sky.

“Where can we run?” said Chelle, looking about even as she pulled a long ribbon from her hair and hiked up her dress and tied it ’round her waist.

“Back through the twilight border,” said Borel, stringing his bow.

“Then let us away,” said Chelle.

And so, out from the green vale they sped and into the Endless Sands, Chelle following Borel, for he knew the way, Flic flying above, Argent in hand.

And the footing was uncertain in the loose sand, yet still they made good headway toward the sheer cliffs.

Behind them, the flapping shadowy swarm reached the great entanglement of thorns and circled ’round and ’round the turret hidden within.

And still Borel and Chelle and Flic made for the high cliffs and the footpath up to the twilight wall above, for they would flee through the narrow portal in the bound.

Like great black leaves blowing in a desert wind, behind them the swarm of Shadows arrowed away from the hidden turret and raced toward those who thought to escape.

And even as Borel and Chelle and Flic came to the pathway up, the first of the Shadows overtook the fugitives. And like smothering black cloths they wrapped themselves about the heads of the runners, and Borel found he could not breathe, for the Shadow, the creature, cut off all air. And he began to suffocate.

Yet of a sudden and with a thin wail the Shadow vanished, and Flic flourished Argent and skewered another Shadow, and it vanished as well. Still another of the black creatures enwrapped itself about the Sprite, only to disappear into oblivion like its dark brethren, for ’twas silver did them in.

“Yahh!” cried Flic, and he pierced a Shadow wrapping itself about Chelle, and it perished whining.

“Run!” shouted Flic. “I will hold them off.”

Up the pathway ran Borel, Chelle in tow, while all about them darted Flic, Argent stabbing and stabbing.

As they reached the top of the outjut, Borel looked back to see a vast horde of Shadows streaming from the desert and toward the cliffs, and he groaned, for there were entirely too many for Flic alone to fend away. Borel slung his bow and said to Chelle, “Come, and follow me exactly. Listen to what I say, else we’ll both plunge to our doom over the cliff or into molten stone.”

Chelle nodded, and Borel took her hand and said, “We must sidle along the very rim of the fall.”

“Let us away, my lord,” said Chelle grimly.

And so they began to edge along the brim of disaster, while Flic darted and stabbed, yet the Shadows came on.

Hand in hand, into the darkness of the border went Borel and Chelle, feeling carefully of the rim ere taking a step.

And the Shadows began to sacrifice themselves against Flic, each one wrapping about and carrying him a bit farther away ere the silver of Argent did it in.

Darker and darker became the dusky wall as Borel and Chelle sidled inward, for this place was ensorcelled to be deeply obscure instead of the usual dim twilight, and even as they reached the depths of the blackness, a Shadow enwrapped itself about Borel’s head.

He could not breathe, and yet he went onward, and at last his foot encountered what he had been searching for. Down he stooped, and he managed to take up the rope yet tied to the black oak beyond the wall, and he pulled Chelle after as he followed the line outward.

The moment he stepped beyond the border, with a feeble, high-pitched shriek the Shadow vanished, for Flic had broken free of the swarm. Once more Flic stabbed, and he slew the dark creature who had enwrapped Chelle. And both she and Borel stood gasping the sweet, sweet air.

But once more the Shadows began flooding Flic, and even as he was carried away a bit at a time, and with Shadows flying about, Borel heard a horn, and in the near distance he saw a cavalcade of horses charging through the moonlit dusk.

And with horns blowing, the riders came, horses in tow, baying dogs running alongside.

A Shadow blotted out Borel’s view, and once more he could not breathe. But of a sudden the black creature released him, and Shadows flew amok.

Borel heard Flic cry out in agony, and the Sprite flew away into the woods.

And then the horses thundered ’round, men with swords waving.

Again and again the Shadows tried to fly in to suffocate Chelle and Borel as well as the men on horseback and even the excited and barking dogs, but always the wraith-like creatures veered away, unable to come nigh.

And then Borel saw why: it was King Arle and the Riders Who Cannot Dismount. And they bore iron, and that was why the Shadows could not close, and why Flic flew away… though with his silver epee the Sprite was in no danger from the black, flapping creatures.

And dogs barked and leapt snapping at Shadows as the men on horseback milled ’round and held the black creatures at bay. Surrounded by iron, Chelle and Borel held each other and watched as the dark wraiths were repelled.

Even so, the Shadows continued to try, but their attempts were in vain.

And as if from another world altogether, there came an enraged and distant scream much like the one before, and the Shadows flew back to vanish through the slot and into the Endless Sands.

Borel turned to thank Arle, and in that same moment-“No!” cried Borel-the king swung his leg over his saddlebow and leapt from his steed and strode forward and embraced the prince.