Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Summer Day

“How extraordinary, Flic. Ha! And you say I’m clever?”

They ate a moment more, and then Borel’s eyes widened in revelation. “I say, Flic, mayhap that’s the way of the Castle of Shadows beyond the Black Wall of the World.”

“My lord?”

“It would explain why Orbane is trapped, why he cannot get out.”

“See?” said Flic, “I told you you were clever.”

“Which way, my lord,” said Flic, “right or left?”

They had finished breaking their fast, and now they stood facing the twilight border.

“In,” said Borel.

“No, my lord, I mean after we come back out. Which way, then?”

“Ah,” said Borel, “I suppose one way is as good as another.”

“Not if we choose the wrong way,” said Flic.

“Indeed,” said Borel, frowning. “We’ll let Dame Fortune decide.” He spit in his palm and slapped two fingers into the gob. “Dextral,” he said, for the spit flew rightward.

In through the twilight border they went, and Flic and Buzzer flew up beyond seeing, while Borel shuffled a long, deeply trenched 1 in the sand.

He had just finished when Buzzer and Flic came flying back. “Nought, my lord.”

Out through the twilight border they went, and Borel said, “I will trot five hundred paces, and then we’ll go back in.” And off he loped, Flic and Buzzer atop his hat resting.

Once more they penetrated the twilight marge, and as Borel trenched out a 2, Flic and Buzzer flew high and then returned. “Ne rien,” said Flic.

“Nothing at all?” said Borel.

“Oh, I did see the un you made in the sand,” said Flic, and I think it might be a bit farther away than you ran on the woodland side of the bound, though I am not certain.”

Borel turned up a hand and said, “Farther or not, if it stays that way, we’ll cover more ground by running on good firm ground than trying to run through loose sand.”

Off they went once more, and again, and again, and again…

They searched all day, twice having to backtrack because they had gone beyond being able to see the trenched number. They had only stopped for a short midday meal, and then had continued. But their search was futile, and now the nearly full moon had risen and the sun was setting.

“One day,” gritted Borel. “One day is all that is left.”

Flic nodded and said, “Though Buzzer cannot aid, still we can search by the light of the nearly full moon, my lord.”

Borel growled and said, “We don’t even know whether we are going the right way, Flic.”

“Nevertheless, my lord, we cannot stop.”

“Oh, I do not intend to stop,” said Borel, “yet I wonder whether we should have gone leftward instead of rightward. -Regardless, let us press on.”

With Flic and Buzzer back on the hat, again Borel trotted, and Flic said, “Uh-oh. Ahead, my lord.”

“I see her,” said Borel.

In the fore, on the far side of a wide stream, a lovely demoiselle sat in the gathering twilight.

“It might be one of those Fey, my prince.”

“Indeed,” said Borel, “for there is but one of the Fates we have yet to meet.”

“But what if it’s not her?” said Flic. “What if instead it’s a deadly creature of some sort?”

“ ’Tis a chance I must take,” replied Borel.

“Then Buzzer and I will get off at that tree this side, my lord,” said Flic, “for I would not tempt Fate by getting too close. But if it is a trap, Argent and I will be ready.”

Even as the Sprite and the bee flew to a limb, Borel splashed across the stream and then bowed. “My lady, need you assistance?”

The black-haired, black-eyed, slender, and stunningly beautiful demoiselle sighed and said, “My slippers and hose will get wet should I cross in them. And should I remove them, my delicate feet will be bruised. Will you bear me over, my most handsome sieur?”

“Oh, indeed, Demoiselle.”

Borel turned his back and said, “Hop on, my lady, and we shall hie.”

Her silvery laugh answered him. “Sieur, most handsome sieur, you are no horse, and I am no rider. I would have you bear me across held ever so securely in your strong arms.”

Borel turned about. “You are not afraid I will fall?”

“Oh, la!” she said, placing a delicate hand on his wrist and looking up into his ice-blue eyes with her own eyes of black depths so deep one could surely drown in them. “With you so devilishly handsome and debonair? I saw how well you carry yourself; your swagger speaks of duels fought and never lost. You move as would a Wolf, and they are never off their nimble feet, except of course when they rest beside a mate. But since you have no mate, per se, you should take your ease by lying with a lover, n’est-il pas ainsi? ”

“Perhaps,” said Borel, grinning, and he swept the demoiselle up in his arms.

As he turned to wade across the stream, her heady perfume, almost a musk, filled him with desire. And even as he stepped into the water, somehow her hands were within his leather jacket and rubbing across his chest and down his abdomen and lower still. And her breath was sweet and her lips inviting, and her eyes were filled with the heat of passion, and she raised her mouth toward his.

“No,” he said, his voice but a whisper, and he turned his head aside as he waded. “My heart belongs to another.” Yet in spite of himself, he began to harden.

“Ah, but, mon cheri,” she whispered, her voice husky with need, “it would be a mere dalliance, and not as if it were something serious. Will you not lie with me?”

“Non, mademoiselle,” Borel replied, and he waded on.

“Do you not find me beautiful, desirable? Do you not want me?” Then she laughed, somehow her hands down in his leathers. “Ah, yes, I see you do.”

“Mademoiselle, that you excite me, I cannot deny, yet-”

“She is a succubus!” shouted Flic, drawing Argent and taking to wing.

But even as the Sprite darted toward the prince, Borel reached the opposite bank and knelt to set the demoiselle to her delicate feet, and the moment he did so, she transformed into a barefoot, toothless, doddering crone in black robes, and as if from a distance, there came the sound of a loom.

Even as Flic cried out and reversed course, “Lady Doom,” said Borel, yet kneeling.

In the twilight the black-eyed, wrinkled crone gaped a gummy smile and said, “Heh.”

“She Who Forever Fixes the Events of Time Into the Past,” said Borel.

The crone nodded but said, “More like the dustbin of history, Prince Borel.”

“Lady Urd,” said Borel, standing and bowing, and as he did so he took her hand and kissed her fingers.

“Heh, bold,” said Urd, again flashing a toothless grin. “but I think a kiss on the hand is not nearly as thrilling as bold caresses, eh?” She cackled in glee.

Borel laughed. “Indeed not.”

Sobering, Urd said, “You did very well, my lad, for you were sorely tested. Others would have certainly succumbed.”

“My Lady Urd, to, um, lie with Fate seems a rather risky proposition.”

“Heh. Perhaps not to lie with Fate is even more risky… a woman scorned, you see.”

“Madame, as I say, my heart-”

“Yes, yes,” snapped Urd, “given to another. I know.”

“Lady Urd, are you here to help me?”

“Of course, and you have borne me across water, as you did Skuld and Verdandi, my two elder sisters.”

“Don’t forget, he fed them, too,” shouted Flic, “and so my prince is well ahead in the favor game.”

“Cheeky little thing, isn’t he,” said Urd, her mouth grinning widely, her gums showing.

“Yes, my lady,” said Borel.

“Nevertheless he is right, Prince Borel: you are ahead in the favor game.”

“Will it buy your help?” asked Borel.