Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Summer Day

“I remember the dream,” said Chelle. “We were in the Springwood, and they came, and you introduced them to me, and me to them: Slate, Dark, Render, Shank, Trot, Loll, and Blue-eye.”

“You remember their names,” said Borel, his eyes widening in admiration.

“I could not forget them,” said Chelle.

Borel threw an arm about her, and in the light of the half-risen full moon he pointed across the vale and up. “There is your mansion, my love, there atop the far bluff.”

“Oh, how lovely,” said Chelle, “and it sits like a great aerie atop its widespread cliff.” She giggled. “My lord, with eagle eyes we will perch high above and-”

“Sstt!” hissed Borel and pointed, and Chelle could see Sprites fleeing within the ice, scattering, fear on their tiny faces.

Borel released the keepers on his long-knife and sword and whipped them from their sheaths, and in that moment the air before them began to waver, to ripple, as of heat rising from the ground, yet this ground was cold, icy, such heat not present. And then stepping through the undulance as if passing through a door, with her ebon cloak swirling about her came a tall, stark woman, her eyes dark, her hair black, her features haughty, imperious.

“Rhensibe!” sissed Chelle.

And even as Borel started to raise his sword, with a casual wave of her onyx-nailed hand Rhensibe cast a spell, and neither Chelle nor Borel could move.

“I have come to set matters straight,” she said, a sneer in her voice. “You thought you could escape your just doom, my pretty and oh-so-blessed Michelle, yet you see I am here to make certain you do not, for I and my sisters-Hradian, Nefasi, and Iniqui-we four acolytes of Orbane, we each have sworn that all those who conspired to prevent my master from executing his grand plan shall suffer as have we. And among our many vows, not only will I and my sisters ultimately set Orbane free, we have pledged that Valeray and his get will agonize dreadfully.

“In the matter of you, Michelle, an oracle foretold that you would bring joy unto one of Valeray’s sons, and so we took it upon ourselves not only to prevent that but to destroy Roulan, Valeray’s ally.

“And so, though it is a full moon later than planned, I have come to slay you, and as an added windfall, I will let you watch as I kill this fool of a prince.”

Rhensibe looked at the black nails on her hands-sharp as talons-and she smirked at Chelle and said, “All it will take is a slight prick from my beautiful, ebon, and quite venomous clutch, and he will die a most satisfying and agonizing death.” And laughing in her wickedness, she reached forth with her left hand and stepped toward Borel.

Chelle tried to scream, but could not.

And sweat broke out on Borel’s brow as he tried to raise his sword, yet all was in vain.

Rhensibe sneered at their futile efforts and flexed her black claws and brought them up to Borel’s throat and — running full speed, Slate slammed into the witch, smashing her sideways and down, and racing Wolves followed and leapt upon her and their snarling and rending and tearing drowned out her terrified shrieks. Blood flew wide to stain white snow, and Rhensibe’s shrill screams chopped short as Render tore out her throat, and the rest of the pack ripped her apart-hands, arms, legs, feet, viscera, her face, her head. And Borel, the paralysis long lifted, made no move whatsoever to save her, but looked on coldly instead, while Chelle turned aside and only glanced now and then.

Finally, Borel growled a word, and the pack stepped back, all but Blue-eye, who yet stood-hackles raised, fangs exposed-over the remains.

And Borel looked at the moon, just then standing full on the horizon. He took Chelle in his arms and said, “She would have killed you at the rise of the full moon; it is only fitting that she die in its light.”

Chelle nodded but said nought, and Borel softly said, “Let us go.”

And they mounted up and rode away, the pack trotting alongside, and they left Rhensibe’s remains lying in the snow for the scavengers to find.

Borel and Chelle rode down the slope of the vale, their escort of Wolves ranging to left and right and fore and aft. Across the way and atop the great bluff, men bearing lanterns and arms came running from the manor and down the path. Borel grinned and said, “ ’Tis Arnot and the house guard. They must have heard Rhensibe’s screams.”

On rode the prince and his lady, and, with hooves knelling on ice, they crossed the river at the foot of the bluff. As the men reached the base of the path and turned to cross the vale, “Bonjour, Arnot!” called Borel. “I am come home!”

“My prince, is it you? Is it truly you?” came a cry. And Borel and Chelle spurred forward, and in but moments they rode among the men, and Borel leapt down and embraced a slender, dark-haired man and said, “Arnot.”

“ Grace des dieux, it is you!” said Arnot. “Oh, my prince, we did not know what to think. Are you hale?”

“Indeed, my friend, I am well.”

A small man stepped forward and doffed the cap from his red hair and bowed, as did all the men ’round.

“Gerard,” said the prince.

“My lord, we are glad you are back,” said Gerard.

“I am glad to be back as well,” said Borel.

Arnot then looked up at Chelle and said, “And is this the girl of your dreams?”

“In more ways than you can imagine,” said Borel, smiling even as Chelle blushed.

“My Lady Michelle, may I present Arnot, steward of Winterwood Manor. Arnot, meet Lady Michelle, daughter of Duke Roulan, and soon to be mistress of this demesne.”

Arnot bowed as did the rest of the men, and Chelle canted her head in acknowledgement.

“My lord,” said Gerard, “the Wolves howled, and then there were screams and snarls; is there ought amiss?”

“Nothing at all anymore,” said Borel. “I will speak of it later. But now let us go to the manor, for we are famished.” He turned to Gerard. “Has Madame Chef something for us to demolish?”

Gerard grinned. “If she has not at this moment, then soon, my lord, very soon.”

Arnot turned and said, “Redieu, run ahead and tell Madame Mille that the prince has returned with Lady Michelle, and they are hungry. Notify Albert as well, for surely wine is wanted.”

A skinny youth bobbed his head and bolted away.

“Come, my prince,” said Arnot, “let us to the manor. The entire staff will be overjoyed to hear of your safe return.”

Leading the horses-Chelle yet amount-Borel walked beside Arnot, and they and the men and the Wolves all started for the pathway up.

“Separate quarters, my lord?” said Arnot.

“Adjoining, Arnot,” said Borel, “for we are betrothed, and as soon as the banns are posted and her sire is rescued, we will be married.”

“What of notifying a king?” said Arnot. “I mean, your sire will no doubt-”

“Though I will also tell my sire, we have already notified a king, Arnot, and he has approved.”

“Which king, my lord, if I may ask?”

“King Arle, formerly of the Riders Who Cannot Dismount, but now of Nione and the lands ’round.”

Arnot’s eyes flew wide in startlement. “The king of the Riders Who Cannot Dismount? But they are cursed.”

“Not anymore, my friend,” said Borel, as they reached the beginning of the path upward. “The curse is broken.”

“How, my lord?”

“Prince Borel did it,” said Chelle, coming alongside on foot.

Borel turned and grinned at her, and Chelle said, “I dismounted, for I would join this converse.”

And as they strolled up the pathway to the manor, Chelle told Arnot how the curse was broken, and mentioned that King Arle and his men had saved both of their lives.