Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Spring morn

Roel stepped to writhing Achilles and with Coeur d’Acier simply pinked his left heel, and said, “First blood.”

The hall erupted in argument, some men shouting, others laughing, and a few saying it was a gambit worthy of Odysseus himself. What do you mean? cried others. Clearly they should forfeit the match.

When quiet fell, Celeste said, “According to the rules, I was to select a target of my choice, and my choice was Achilles’ left heel, for only there is he vulnerable.”

Again argument erupted, and finally all eyes turned to Chiron. “Indeed it was clever, and certainly within the rules as stated. And since both archers struck their targets of choice, that match is declared a tie. Yet Roel drew first blood; hence he is clearly the winner, and so the contest of the teams goes to the princess and her knight.”

Odysseus clapped, as did many others, yet a few grumbled at the outcome. But Achilles finally got to his feet and shook Roel’s hand and bowed to the princess, and she kissed Achilles and Philoctetes each on the cheek.

Celeste turned to Chiron and said, “Then the black portal is ours to enter and go to the City of the Dead?” Chiron nodded but said, “Yes, Princess, you and your knight have earned that right, yet there is one final test.”

“A final test? But we have met your three challenges.

Surely you cannot force another upon us.” Chiron held out a hand to stop her words. “Princess, it is not I, nor we, who force this test, but Lord Hades himself instead.”

Celeste sighed. “Go on, Chiron. Tell us of this final deed.”

Chiron gestured to the far end of the hall and said,

“There are two dark exits: one leads to Tartarus, from which there is no return; the other leads to the Waste City of Senaudon. You must choose between them, for at no time whatsoever do we know which is which.” Celeste looked at Roel and said, “Love?”

“We must chance it, cherie; else my sister is lost forever. Yet I can go alone.” Celeste shook her head. “Never, Roel.” Then she grinned and said, “Let us retrieve the horses and choose.”

And so Celeste took up the blunt arrow she had used on Achilles. And then she and Roel fetched their mounts and led them into the hall, where they followed ONCE UPON A SPRING MORN / 309

Chiron to the far extent. There he bade the princess and the knight to stand in a modest circle inset in the floor.

“Now you must put all else out of your minds except the desire to open the portals, and then, together, say the word Phainesaton !”

“Wait,” said Roel, and he stepped to his mount and took up his shield from its saddle hook. Then he stepped back into the circle where Celeste yet stood, the princess with an arrow now nocked to her bow. He drew Coeur d’Acier and glanced at Celeste. At a nod from him, they spoke in unison- Phainesaton!

Before them appeared two black doorways, seeming much like the gate in Meketaten’s tomb, or the ebon at the heart of Faery’s twilight bounds.

Roel turned to Celeste and said, “Choose.” And Celeste said, “Left is right, and right a mistake.” And leading their horses, into the leftmost portal they went.

Senaudon

Out onto a decrepit stone pave emerged Celeste and Roel, out between two ancient pillars, the fluted columns raddled with cracks, and a cold swirling wind groaned about the stone. The animals followed after, snorting and blowing in the sulfur-tinged sobbing air, and Celeste, pulling them and squinting against the acrid whorl, turned and looked behind to see not one but two black portals just then fading from view.

Scribed in the riven stone at her feet was a faint outline of an ages-old circle, much like the one they had left.

“Is this Tartarus?” asked Roel, as left and right and fore and aft he scanned for foes, yet there were none.

“I know not, Roel, but if it is, then we will be trapped forever. Yet there is hope that it is not, for I did see two portals when we emerged, as well as what is perhaps an invoking circle scribed on the floor. I would think these things would not be in Tartarus.”

Roel grunted but said nought.

Celeste added, “If we need come back this way, once more we will have to choose.”

Roel nodded, and still cautious-sword in hand, shield on his arm-he started forward, Celeste at his side. Across the broken pave they trod, cracked pillars standing along its perimeter, to come to the last of its extent, and they found themselves on a dark hilltop.

Outward they gazed across the world into which they had come. The land before them was sere and dark and of ash and cinder and sloped down toward widespread stone ruins lying just past the base of the hill. Far beyond those shambles and over the horizon, crimson light stuttered across the dull gray sky and a deep rumbling rolled o’er the blackened ’scape.

“Oh, but what a dreadful place,” said Celeste, her face twisted in revulsion against the reek of cinder and char and brimstone borne on the coiling wind. “Perhaps it is Tartarus after all.”

“If not, then yon,” said Roel, pointing down at the ruins, “must be the City of the Dead-Senaudon.” Celeste turned her gaze toward the remains.

The town itself had once been walled about, yet much of that barricade had fallen, and great gapes yawned through the stone. Crumbling houses and broken buildings made up the city proper, though here and there parts of such structures yet stood, some nearly whole.

And but for rubble lying strewn, empty were the streets within.

Roel intoned: “‘It is held in the hands of an idol in a temple on the central square of the City of the Dead.’ ” He glanced at Celeste. “That’s what the Abulhol said.

Hence, if it is Senaudon, the arrow must lie”-Roel turned and pointed downward-“there.” Celeste’s gaze followed Roel’s outstretched arm, and arranged about a square in the heart of the shambles a large group of imposing buildings remained, though holes gaped in their roofs.

Again the distant ruddy sky flashed bright, and the ground shuddered, and across the land a wave of thunder came rolling.

Roel glanced at Celeste. “Come, let us ride.” They mounted, and with packhorses in tow, down they rode, down through the twisting wind, down toward the vestige of what had once been a mighty city, now nought but a city of ruin.

And Roel yet gripped Coeur d’Acier, and his shield remained on his arm. Celeste held her bow, a keen arrow nocked to string.

The horses’ hooves crunched through ash and cinder, and small puffs of dark dust rose with every step taken, only to be borne away on the chill wind. As Celeste and Roel neared the broken walls, they could hear a banging, a thumping-and in the coiling air at the main entry into the city a gaping char-blackened gate swung loose on its hinges and thudded against its support.

The horses shied, but at Roel’s command and that of Celeste, forward through the opening they went and into the rubble-strewn cobblestone streets. To either side stood broken houses, doors agape, shutters banging in the groaning air.

Celeste’s horse flinched leftward, and the princess looked rightward to see what had affrighted it, and there in deep shadows of an alley she saw- “Roel!” she hissed, and pointed. In the darkness a form lurked: manlike it was, but no living man this, for bones showed through gapes in its desiccated skin, its flesh stretched tight like wetted parchment strung on a ghastly frame and then dried taut in sunlight. And the being shambled toward them, and it snuffled, as if trying to catch an elusive scent, and the creature emitted a thin wail, but the sound was lost in the sob of the wind.

“Keep riding,” said Roel, and they continued onward, heading for the city square.