Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a dreadful time

“And what you and your sisters have seen is dreadful?” asked Roel.

“Indeed.”

“Then, my Lady Who Fixes the Past, tell me what I must do.”

“Heh. You know the rules, Roel. First you must answer a riddle, and then I will give you advice.” Roel sighed and said, “Say on, Lady Doom, say on.” Urd took a deep breath, and the clack and thud of shuttles and battens swelled:

“They stood there as if long dead,

Their children buried alive,

And someone well might wonder:

Did any of them survive?

Parents awoke at my passing;

New vigor seemed to flow;

Some children then did rise up,

Most all with a healthy glow.

Now my riddle is done;

I’ve given you sufficient hint.

Tell me, Roel, who am I,

And what is this grand event.”

The sound of looms abated, and Roel’s heart fell. Devereau started to speak, yet with a gesture Urd silenced him and said,

“This is for Roel alone to answer here in the Springwood.” Here in the Springwood? Is that another hint? Roel frowned in deep thought. What is it vis-a-vis this demesne that might give a clue to the answer? He looked about in the twilight to see burgeoning trees and flowers and new leaves, and sprouts pressing upward. It was a woodland of eternal-

“Spring, my lady Doom, bringing with it resurrection and life anew. The ones standing as if long dead are the trees and shrubs and grasses and other such in their winter sleep. And the buried children are seeds in the ground. And when spring comes they quit their slumber, vigor flows, and seeds sprout. And so, my lady Urd, I say the answer to your riddle is the coming of spring and the awakening of life.”

Fretting, he looked up at her, and Urd said, “Exactly so, Roel.

It is spring and rebirth, indeed.”

Devereau shook his head. “And here I thought it had to do with parents grieving over children trapped in a collapsed mine or cave and the ones who came to dig them out.”

“Heh!” crowed Urd. “Fooled you, eh?”

“Oui, Lady Doom.”

“That’ll teach you to stop and think ere speaking, laddie.”

“Lady Urd,” said Roel, “have you a rede now to give us?”

“Impatient, are we?”

“Somewhat, my lady Doom, yet I am at your behest.” Urd nodded and cackled, her toothless smile wide, and once again the clack of shuttles and thud of battens intensified.

“ ’Pon the precipice will ye be held, As surely as can be,

Yet can ye but touch the deadly arcane, The least shall set ye free.”

And as the sound of weaving fell, Roel frowned but remained silent, yet Devereau said, “But, Lady Doom, I, for one, do not understand. Will you not tell us more?”

“Non, I will not,” replied the black-eyed crone. “But this I can tell you for nought: If you do not solve this rede, Roel, then all as we now know it to be will come to a horrible end.” And after laying that terrible responsibility upon Roel, again the clack and thud intensified, and then vanished as did Lady Urd.

Just after dusk, Laurent and Edouard spurred up a wide, snow-laden pathway along the face of a high bluff, and as they crested the rise, they came into the lights of a great mansion-Winterwood Manor-the walls of which were fashioned of massive dark timbers cut square, and its roof was steeply pitched. A full three storeys high, with many chimneys scattered along its considerable length, the manse spanned the entire width of the flat. All along its breadth the windows were protected with heavy-planked shutters, most of them closed as if for a blow. Even so, enough were open so that warm and yellow lanternlight shone out onto a stone courtyard cleared of snow. Atop the lofty river bluff it sat like a great aerie, not only for surveying the wide vale below but also the white world beyond.

With remounts trailing behind, the knight and his guide crossed the flat and came unto the courtyard and clattered upon the stone of the broad forecourt, where lit lanterns illuminated their way, and warmly dressed men were on hand to greet them.

Reining to a halt, from his sweat-lathered horse Laurent somewhat stiffly dismounted, and to the men who took the steeds in hand he said, “Rub them down well, and feed them extra rations, for they did run most gallantly.”

“Oui, Sieur,” said one of the men, while another asked, “Is it true the word Ice Sprites brought? Does the witch Hradian really have the means to set Orbane free?”

“Sadly, so,” said Laurent.

“Enough,” commanded one of the men, tall and spare and somber. “We must let Sieur Laurent and Edouard warm themselves and have a meal. There will be plenty of time to learn exactly what is afoot.”

The men touched their caps in obeisance and led the horses away, as Arnot, the steward of Winterwood, escorted Laurent and Edouard ’neath a sheltering portico to the great double doors, and they passed along a short corridor to come to a broad welcoming hall. And there assembled were a somber gathering of members of the mansion household-maids, servants, footmen, seamstresses, bakers, kitchen- and waitstaff, laundresses, gamekeepers, and others-men and women deeply concerned, though they managed smiles in welcome and bowed or curtseyed accordingly.

Ere Arnot could shoo them away, Laurent stepped across the heavy-planked floor to a wide marble circle inset in the wood, within which was a great hexagonal silver inlay depicting a delicate snowflake. Laurent looked at the anxious faces and said,

“The message the Sprites have brought is true: the witch Hradian does indeed have a key to the Castle of Shadows. We do not know if she has the means or the knowledge to use it, but if she does, then without doubt she will set Orbane free.” Some in the hall gasped, while others’ faces grew grim. A few shed tears.

Laurent went on: “Regardless, we must needs prepare for such an eventuality, hence able-bodied men throughout the Forests of the Seasons must stand ready, for surely Orbane will raise his own forces to become master of the whole of Faery.

“All is not bleak, for even now the word is spreading across the realms, and others will answer the call. We will have al1 lies, and powerful ones at that, one of whom is your very own prince who will be here in but a few days.

“So, let me ask that you go about your business in the knowledge that we will meet the challenge. Dark times might be coming, but brighter times lie beyond.” Then Laurent smiled and said, “Now, I wonder, could Edouard and I have a warm meal, with a soothing hot bath afterward?”

For a moment none said ought, but then a redheaded woman snapped, “Well, you heard Sieur Laurent. To my kitchen, tout de suite !”

As the staff bustled away, Laurent turned to Arnot and said,

“Steward, I would have you join Edouard and me, for I bear messages from Prince Borel, and I would have you know all that has come to pass. Much will be afoot in the coming days, and we must make ready.”

Outside a soft snow began to fall, as if the Winterwood paid no heed to these matters of men.

. .

In the dining chamber of Autumnwood Manor, Luc set down his glass of wine and turned to Zacharie, steward of the realm.

“The princess will be here within a few days. She and the warband will start their journey as soon as the ceremonies are concluded at the faire. In the meanwhile, we need send falcons to the other manors and King Valeray’s castle as well, reporting our safe arrival.” Luc frowned and added, “And I would also tell them of Moissonneur’s strange reply.”

“Strange reply? The Reaper?” asked Zacharie, a tall, gaunt man with dark hair and pale blue eyes.