Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Spring morn

“And this Orbane. .?”

“Ah, him. One or the other of the Fates-perhaps all three-told Camille that he would pollute the River of Time itself, if he ever got free.”

“And this pollution would. .?”

“I know not the effect, yet if the Fates think it dreadful, then I cannot but believe it would be terrible indeed.” Roel frowned. “Why do not the acolytes simply set him free? I mean, you have told me he is imprisoned in a castle beyond the Wall of the World. Why not simply storm the gates and free the wizard? During the war, my comrades and I assailed many a fortress-castles, palaces, bastions-and with our siege engines we were quite successful. So, why not simply attack with the proper forces and equipment and set Orbane loose from his shackles?”

Celeste shrugged. “I think the Castle of Shadows isn’t like an ordinary palace or fortress. And as to the Wall of the World itself, perhaps it cannot be breached. Besides, what the castle actually is, I do not know. Mayhap it is simply lost beyond the Black Wall of the World, and not easily found. Perhaps it is a moving castle, and when approached it simply vanishes. . goes elsewhere. When we have freed your sister and found your brothers, we will ask my sire these questions. Perhaps he has some answers.”

Roel smiled. “Moving castle, eh? That would make it difficult.”

Celeste laughed. “ ’Tis Faery, love.” On they rode, and the way became hilly, then rocky, and in the distance ahead they could see the twilight boundary rearing up into the sky. They came into a land of cliffs and massifs and deep gorges. And that eve they spent on the left bank of a swift-running deep river, with high stone walls rearing up o’erhead.

Swirling mist cloaked the next dawn as Celeste and Roel got under way. And still the passage was rugged.

The gorge they followed was narrow, and became even more strait. And the river roared, the sound trapped as it was between opposing sheer stone walls. And the horses became somewhat skittish, especially the mares, and only by patting the animals on the necks and speaking to them soothingly did Celeste and Roel move forward. Finally, just ahead the river filled the entire width, and on the left wall and barely seen through the hanging vapor a wide ledge rose up out from the water, and at its far end a narrow path led up and along the face of the stone bluff.

“ ’Tis good we are on this side of the flow,” said Celeste, “for I think we must follow that upward way.

Even so, we need turn or cross over somewhere; else we will stray too far from our course.”

“If we are to climb that path, we must reach it first, and here the river is narrow, the water likely deep,” said Roel. “Yet given the curve of the gorge, mayhap along the left wall it will be shallow enough to reach the trail upward. Let me go first.”

Roel tried to urge his mount forward, but the mare snorted and balked and laid back her ears and refused to enter the water, refused to go any farther into the roaring gap.

Roel ground his teeth and said, “Ah, me, would that I had my stallion. A splendid horse, he would brave anything.” Roel dismounted and tried to lead the mare into the flow, but with white, rolling eyes, the horse jerked back.

Now Celeste rode forward, her mare likewise balking at the thundering run, though it seemed a bit less skittish than Roel’s horse.

But Celeste leaned forward and laid a soothing hand alongside the neck of her mount and called out calming words. And hesitantly, and with the whites of her eyes showing, and snorting in dread, still the mare entered the rush, and Celeste’s placid gelding packhorse, though nervous, followed.

Roel’s mare stomped and whinnied and belled, calling out to the other mare, as if to tell her to come to her senses and return to the safety of this side. But Celeste urged her horse forward, and clinging to the wall, ahead they went, and the water roared and clutched at the animals’ legs, rising over hoof and fetlock, pastern and hock, and unto their very bellies.

And still Roel’s mare cried out, and Roel, knowing that the herd instinct was strong, mounted the horse and heeled her. And now the animal, though her sides heaved with fright and her eyes rolled white and she snorted in terror, entered the roaring water as well.

Ahead, Celeste finally reached the ledge, and up onto the broad shelf she rode, up into the mist, and Roel’s mare with his gelding in tow soon followed.

Roel’s mare calmed when she came up out of the water and onto the flat, for once again the herd was whole.

Roel dismounted and looked straight up the sheer stone wall. How high it went-a hundred feet or a thousand or more-he could not tell, for the fog shrouded all. He turned to Celeste and said, “The path looks steep, the way narrow. Best we lead the horses.” She nodded.

Roel took the reins of his mare in hand and said,

“Ready?”

“Ready,” replied Celeste.

And with Roel in the fore, afoot they began leading the horses higher into the swirling mist.

Whiter it got and thicker, and the roar of the river diminished, for sounds seemed muffled in the vapor’s grasp. Wetness clung to everything: animal, man, gear, path, and sheer-rising stone. The way narrowed, and in places Celeste feared for all of their safety, and she wondered how she and Roel would cope had they to unlade the packhorses, for there was not space to do such.

Up they went and up, along the slender and twisting path, and the higher they got, the more nervous became the horses, even the geldings.

“Roel, is your mare reluctant?”

“Oui, but I know not why. Surely they do not fear heights.”

“Ever since we entered this gorge, the horses have been edgy,” called Celeste. “I thought it the water and the noise, yet now I am not certain, for that is far below, and should by now be forgotten.”

“Mayhap ’tis the narrowness,” said Roel.

“Perhaps, though I doubt it.”

In spite of her reservations, it seemed to be true, for the animals continued to grow more uneasy along the constricted path. But then the way widened, yet even so, still the horses snorted and huffed, as if sensing an un shy;seen danger, and both Roel and Celeste had to murmur soothing words to somewhat calm the steeds. Finally they came to a broad flat, though the walls of the bluff yet rose on high.

“A bridge,” called Roel, still in the lead, but stopping.

“I can make out a bridge straddling the gorge.” And still the mist swirled, obscuring here, revealing there, and then shifting anew.

The flat was wide enough for Celeste to pull her unwilling mount forward until she stood next to Roel.

And through the swirling mist she could see glimpses of a lengthy stone span reaching from one side of the gorge to the other. “Ah, perhaps that’s what the Br in WdBr means: bridge.”

“Mayhap,” said Roel. “But what does the Wd mean?

Surely it can’t be ‘wide,’ meaning ‘wide bridge.’ ’Tis a bit too strait for that.”

“It matters not, love,” said Celeste, “for, in spite of this fog, somewhere just ahead must lie the twilight bound.”

“Well, then,” said Roel, and he started forward, Celeste following.

And as they moved toward the near end of the span, Roel could see along the length of the bridge short poles jutting up from the stone railings to either side, round objects affixed thereon.

Within ten strides he reached the stone structure, and there his mare flattened her ears and refused to take another step and pulled back on the reins. The gelding as well drew hindward, and together they hauled Roel back to where Celeste and the other animals stood.

“They sense something, love,” said Celeste.