Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Spring morn

The warband formed a protective ring about the great jumble of boulders, and up clambered Borel and Alain, the latter no longer a Bear. And they embraced Celeste and held her close, and she wept in relief, as did they.

And Borel said, “Oh, Celeste, we thought we had lost you, that you had drowned, but then your letter came, and we set out straightaway, warbands and horses, to help you rescue Roel’s sister. But we were too late for that.”

“But you did rescue Avelaine, for this is she,” said Celeste, pointing to the maiden, “as well as rescue the rest of us.”

Then up came Vicomte Chevell, and he roared in laughter and said that he and his men would not have missed this for all the world, and he eyed in admiration the twice-rescued beautiful demoiselle Avelaine, and she blushed most modestly.

Clambering up came Anton of the Springwood, and Remy of the Autumnwood, and Jules of the Winterwood, and Bertran of the Summerwood: armsmasters all.

Accompanied by Gilles the Healer, a tall, slender, dark-haired man climbed up, one who had been exceptionally devastating in the fight; it was the chevalier Luc, betrothed of Princess Liaze of the Autumnwood, though Borel introduced him by his full title: Comte Luc du Chateau Bleu dans le Lac de la Rose et Gardien de la Cle.

There at the top of the mound, Gilles treated the wounds of Blaise, Laurent, and Roel, and the scrapes of Celeste and Avelaine, while down at the base of the boulders, Chirurgeon Burcet treated the ten or so warriors who had been injured in the battle with the Changelings.

Finally, aiding Blaise and Laurent, down they all clambered, and when they reached the ground Celeste said, “Come, let us leave this dreadful place and find an inn, for hot food and good wine I would have, and a bath and clean clothes, but mostly I would have sleep.” And so they set out and along the way, they stayed in inns and wayside manors and even in a bordello. And they ate hot meals and drank fine wines and took long baths and slept, and, of course, Celeste and Roel made sweet love.

When they came to the swamp, the men groaned, for they would have to pass through this distressing place again.

Late in the day they at last emerged from the mire and came to the Bridge of the Red Knight. Yet that fearsome warrior was not there, nor was his helm on a pike.

Why he was absent, they knew not, though Celeste proposed that he stood ward against only someone passing the opposite way.

After they had crossed over and had made their way down to the river below, as all men bathed in their turn to remove the muck of the mire, Luc said, “The toughest battle I ever fought was against the knight of the bridge.”

“He was indeed hard to kill,” replied Roel

“I agree,” said Laurent.

“Ah, oui,” added Blaise.

And these four chevaliers all eyed one another in speculation and broke out in laughter, and they all agreed that sooner or later, lances and chargers ready, they would take to the lists against one another, and then unto the fields.

The great warband was welcomed in Le Bastion, and they stayed there for a sevenday, and fetes were held every eve as they told and retold their many tales. It was during this time that Celeste learned that Luc’s steed Deadly Nightshade at the command of Liaze had been the one who actually killed Iniqui-“. . kicked the witch into the fire he did, well-trained knight’s warhorse that he is.” Too, Alain and Borel and all others had learned that Nefasi had been slain by the gray arrow loosed by Celeste.

“It means that there is but Hradian left of the four acolytes,” said Borel.

“But there is yet Orbane,” said Alain, “and even though he is entrapped in an inescapable prison, one day, I deem, he will have to be dealt with.” They paused at the ruins of the manor devastated by Lokar the Ogre, and Celeste laid a wreath of wildflowers at the door and prayed to Mithras to give the manor peace.

On they went, and finally, two full fortnights in all after the battle in the Changeling realm, they came to Port Cient.

Roel and Celeste stood on a candlelit veranda in the twilight and looked out over the harbor. There rode the Sea Eagle at anchor, her crew readying her for the voyage home. In the garden below the balcony, Vicomte Chevell and Avelaine sat in quiet conversation, and Chevell said,

“Lady Avelaine, might I come courting?”

“Oh, my lord, I am most sorry, but I am betrothed to another.”

“Betrothed?”

“Oui. He is someone I do not love, yet my parents arranged it so.”

“Non, Avelaine,” called down Roel.

When Avelaine turned and looked up at him, Roel said, “I did not mean to eavesdrop, Avi, but you are no longer betrothed. Maslin did not wait for you, but married another. You are free to choose for yourself.” Avelaine squealed in joy, and she blew a kiss to Roel.

Then she turned to Chevell and cast down her eyes most modestly and said, “Oui, my lord, you may indeed woo me, though you have my heart even now.” Across the brine sped the Sea Eagle , and the lookout above called out, “Land ho!” And within a candlemark the Eagle rode at anchor in the harbor at Port Mizon.

Vicomte Chevell escorted Celeste and Roel, Borel and Alain and Luc, and Avelaine and Laurent and Blaise to stand before King Avelar. When he had heard the full of their tale, Avelar praised them highly for what they had done, especially Celeste and Roel for ridding Faery of the Changeling Lord.

There was great joy in Port Mizon that eve, and the next four nights as well, but on the fifth day, during a noontide meal at the palace, even as Celeste spoke of their plans to set out for the Springwood on the morrow, a page came in and whispered to the king. Avelar nodded and the page sped away, and moments later a man in robes strode in, a roll of cloth under his arm.

“What is it, Sage Gabon?”

“My king, the map, it is- Here. Let me show you.” He unrolled the cloth. It was blank on both sides.

Startled, Chevell said, “This is the treasured map?”

“Oui. . or perhaps I should say it was,” replied Gabon.

Celeste reached into the breast pocket of her leathers and pulled out the vellum chart she had borne so very many days. Spreading it out, she gasped, for it, too, was blank.

Now Borel did the same with his copy of the map, and it was blank as well.

Blaise and Laurent also drew forth their copies to find those vellums unmarked.

“What does this mean? I wonder,” asked Avelar.

“Hsst!” said Demoiselle Avelaine. “Listen. What is that?”

In the subsequent quietness, all heard a faint sound of looms weaving, which faded into silence.

“Huah!” exclaimed Roel and shook his head. “I ween we now know just who the cartographers were. Cryptic, a cipher in places, a chart that only they could see would be needed, first by you, my lord, then by my brothers, then by Celeste and me, and finally by the warbands who rescued us. And it is-or rather was-on woven cloth.”

Avelar looked at Roel in puzzlement, and Celeste said, “My lord, Roel deems, as do I, that the Ladies Wyrd, Lot, and Doom have reclaimed the patterns woven into that piece of fabric, as well as those we drew.”

“But why?”

“Mayhap, my lord, so that Faery itself-or, that is, a great portion of it-will now remain a mystery.” Avelar held up his hands in a modest gesture of surrender and said, “Who are we to question the Three Sisters?”

Chevell laughed and said, “ ’Tis better this way, forever would I rather sail off into the unknown than to follow the tried and true.”

Avelaine gazed at her vicomte, and there was nought but adoration in her eyes.

Just after dawn of the following day, siblings and siblings-to-be and the warbands and a pack of Wolves set out for the Springwood, Vicomte Chevell riding at Avelaine’s side, Celeste and Roel together, with Luc and Blaise and Laurent laughing at some bon mot as out through the gates they rode.