Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Spring morn

And she hugged him all the harder.

And he kissed her and kissed her again-her eyes, her cheeks, her throat, her lips-and she mastered her sobbing long enough to take his face in her hands and fervently kiss him on the mouth, and then she laid her head against his chest and quietly wept again.

And Roel looked through the smoke and ’round the chamber.

“The Ogre, by the smell of it, is he-?”

“Dead,” said Celeste, her voice small. “I slew him.”

“You slew him?” Roel’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“Oui.” She looked up at him. “Oh, Roel, let us flee, for I do not wish to spend another moment in this dreadful place.”

“Oui, cherie,” said Roel. “Indeed, let us leave.” He looked about.

“We need to climb,” said Celeste, disengaging, “for a great boulder blocks the way.”

“Up through the smoke, then,” said Roel, grinning, and he pulled the wet, smoldering straw from the fire to diminish the column somewhat, and then he gestured for her to begin.

Celeste grabbed the rope, and even as she looked above, “Wait,” she said, and she turned and ran back to the bed. Up she clambered and onto the cot, and strode to the cheek of the Ogre. And there she grasped the hilt of her long-knife and pulled it free. “This will teach you, Lokar, to leave princesses be.”

She wiped the blade clean against his beard and sheathed and secured the weapon. Down from the bed she scrambled and back to Roel, and, together, Celeste first, Roel coming after, up the rope they went.

Warband

Back in the drawing room, Borel passed the letter ’round, and all read Celeste’s words:

My dears:

I hope this finds all in good health and spirits, and I pray to Mithras that Anton and the warband came through the battle unscathed, though I fear some took wounds. If so, please keep them safe, and give them the best of care.

As for Roel and me, when we fled from the attack of the Redcaps and Bogles and Trolls, we escaped through the twilight border on the sunwise bound of my demesne. As you know, that bound is perilous, and perhaps we gave you a scare. You might have thought we drowned, since there is nought but ocean where we crossed. Yet when Roel and I eluded pursuit through that dusky marge, we fell (no doubt thanks to the Fates) upon a passing ship, the Sea Eagle, captained by Vicomte Chevell, a former colleague of Papa’s (as the Fates would have it).

Strangely enough, he happened to be after the very same chart Roel and I and Anton and the warband had gone to see (here again, I deem the Fates were involved). The map had been stolen by rovers who raided Port Mizon (as it turned out, it was the Changeling Lord himself who had arranged for the pirates to steal the chart).

To shorten this letter let me merely say we managed to recover the map, and I made a copy of a key part of it, the section that shows the way to the Changeling realm (and I deem this is why the Changeling Lord wanted the chart taken, for he would prevent those whose loved ones had been stolen from finding their way unto him).

Regardless, by the time you read this, know that Roel and I will be well on our way to rescue his sister, Avelaine, and his brothers, Laurent and Blaise. Pray to Mithras that we get there before mid of night on the night of the dark of the moon, else Avelaine is doomed.

Do not fret, for know we are hale and in good spirits, and we deem the Fates are with us. Know as well that you are in our thoughts.

With love, I remain,

Celeste

Princesse de la Foret de Printemps

“By Mithras, we must do something,” declared Valeray. “We cannot just idly sit by and let them face the bloody Changeling Lord by themselves.”

“I agree,” said Borel.

“We have elements of our warbands with us,” said Alain, “as well as the full Springwood warband at our behest. That makes a formidable force.”

“Oui,” said Luc, “yet the dark of the moon is but a fortnight hence, which gives us little time. I say we gather remounts for all and ride to Port Mizon.”

“Mizon?” asked Saissa. “Why th-? Oh, I see: Mizon is where lies the map, and you will need a copy to find your own way.”

“Seek Chevell,” said Valeray, “for he knows where Celeste and Roel debarked. He is a good man and will aid.” Valeray glanced from Luc to Alain to Borel and said, “Let us fetch the warband leaders. There is much planning to be done ere we can be ready to leave.”

“Sire, you are not going,” said Borel.

“What?”

“I am sorry, Papa, but with your broken foot, you will only be a burden, and as Luc has pointed out, time is short, and we must hie.”

“But, but-”

“He is right, love,” said Saissa, stepping to a nearby bellpull, “and you know it.”

Borel turned to Liaze and Michelle and Camille.

“You will not go either. Camille, if you are indeed with child, we cannot risk it. But even if not, to you and Michelle and Liaze I say, we will be freer and faster if we do not have to worry about you, especially in the midst of battle.”

Even as the three began to protest, Valeray growled,

“Borel is right: we must stay.” In that moment a servant knocked on the door in answer to the bellpull, and shortly thereafter Armsmasters Anton of the Springwood, Remy of the Autumnwood, Jules of the Winterwood, and Bertran of the Summerwood entered the room.

The very next day, out rode the combined warband, Borel and his Wolves at the fore, Alain at Borel’s side, Comte Luc just behind, along with Anton and Remy and Jules and Bertran. Remounts trailed after, just one apiece, yet they hoped to get more in Port Mizon.

A horn sounded, and away they galloped, Quint on point and running sunwise.

With tears in their eyes, Liaze and Camille and Michelle watched them go, as did members of the various staffs of the four Forests of the Seasons.

And when the last man disappeared into the woodland, Michelle sighed and said, “May Mithras protect them all.”

“Oui,” said Liaze.

Camille turned to the two and said, “Let us find Hierophant Georges and see what he knows of familiars.”

“Familiars?” asked Michelle.

“Oui, for I suspect the crow Anton spoke of is a familiar of some witch.”

“One of the acolytes?” asked Liaze.

“Mayhap,” replied Camille, “for with Rhensibe and Iniqui dead there are two acolytes left, and who better to want revenge upon the house of Valeray?”

“Hradian and Nefasi both,” said Liaze.

“Oui,” said Michelle. She looked up at the balcony where Valeray and Saissa stood to watch the warband go. “ ’Twas Valeray who fooled Nefasi into revealing where she kept the Seals of Orbane. Let us see what he knows of familiars, too.”

And into the manor they strode.

The warband reached Port Mizon in the noontide on the fourth day after setting out. There they exchanged all horses for fresh ones, most coming from King Avelar’s stables. Avelar called Vicomte Chevell unto him and arranged for the Sea Eagle to transport the warband and their animals to Port Cient, for that’s where Celeste and Roel had debarked to ride to the Changeling realm.

Borel and Lieutenant Florien were given access to the treasured map, and they copied down all that Celeste had drawn, for Florien had aided her in that task, just as he now aided her brother.

Some two days after and in the wee hours, they laded the Eagle . And when they were done, the holds and even the decks were jammed with men and horses, and, of course, Borel’s Wolves.

At dawn they weighed anchor, and halyards were haled, and the sails bellied full, and the ship got under way.

Memories

Hacking and wheezing, they came out through a smoke-filled cleft nigh the crest of a rocky tor, and Celeste filled her lungs with sweet, fresh air, and she wept to see open skies. Roel embraced her from behind, and Celeste clasped her hands to his and said, “I thought I might be trapped forever.” Roel kissed her on the nape of the neck. “And I thought I might never find you.”