Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a dreadful time

. .

Gesturing at the sky and shouting out arcane words, Orbane stood on the flet, Hradian beside him, and directly high above a cloud began to form-a dark cloud, an ominous cloud, a great tower of blackness slowly building up and up. And soon lightning began to flash within its bowels and thunder boomed, yet no rain came flashing down. And still Orbane called to the sky, and the monstrous dark began to spread, even as it continued to grow upward.

And Hradian sagged under the drain on her vigor. “Crapaud,” she managed to croak, and the bloated creature waddled to her side. “Crapaud,” she whispered as she touched him on his forehead, “lend me your power.” And the great toad belched but once and then fell somnolent.

. .

Angling in from sunwise and following Sprites, the Chateau Bleu contingent slowly merged with that from the Forests of the Seasons and others. And Leon, sighting the crimson and gold flag of the Autumnwood, gave over command to the chateau armsmaster and then spurred his horse toward the banner.

“My Lord,” said Leon as he fell in alongside Prince Luc, “I turn over to you le Bataillon du Chateau Bleu .”

“Non, Leon,” replied Luc, “ ’tis yours to retain, for I am in command of the Autumnwood battalion. It is Sieur Emile in charge of this legion, and, just as are all the others, your force will be at his disposal. He is seasoned in war, and he and his sons-Roel, Blaise, and Laurent-have been in many campaigns. And so, the Battalion of the Blue Chateau is yours to command under his leadership. Now come, let us ride forward to meet him.”

Luc heeled his horse into a canter, and with Leon coursing alongside, ahead to the van they went, where they dropped into a walk aflank of Sieur Emile.

After the introductions had been made, Emile broke into a broad smile. “You bring fifty chevaliers? Mithras, but that is splendid news. I was beginning to wonder if we could prevail with the few we have.”

“Forget not, Sire,” said Roel, “there might be more on the way. And certainly the Fairy King will bring his fey knights to our side.”

And on they rode, and they were joined by Laurent and Blaise, as well as Petain and Georges, two of the commanders they had acquired on the march. And they spoke of strategy and tactics, and of the best way to use the windfall of a half-hundred chevaliers, Leon giving and taking in the discussion among his battle peers.

. .

They crossed the twilight marge in midafternoon, to come under dark and ominous skies. And the silver needle and the Sprites who had been in this region before agreed that the great swamp lay a point to sun of duskwise, hence in that direction did they fare.

The land itself was of rolling hills, dotted here and there with small groves and thickets, while rough grass and wild weed covered the rest. In the distance starwise, low mountains loomed and streams flowed down from the heights.

Accompanied by the Wolves, Michelle yet rode on point, now escorted not only by Galion but also by two of the knights of Chateau Bleu. Sprites ranged out before them, now and then flitting back to say what lay ahead. And as they went onward, the cast above, dark as it was, grew even blacker, and lightning raged and thunder roared, and light stuttered within the ebon gloom above, and dimness lay over all.

In late afternoon they approached a long rise in the land that went up and up to a broad ridge, running down from the distant mountains to starwise to stretch horizontal for a way, only to drop off sharply into hills leftward. And waiting on the near side of the crest of the ridge, as foretold by the Sprites, were another two thousand men. A man named Bailen led them, and he rode forth to meet with Sieur Emile.

“Just beyond that rise,” said Bailen, lifting his voice to be heard above the roar of thunder, “the land gently falls for a league or so to come to a broad plain, and another league on lies the swamp. Except for my hidden warders, I have kept my men on this side of the slope so as not to alert Orbane as to our numbers. -Would you care to see, my lord?”

“Indeed,” replied Emile. “For much needs to be planned.” And so he and Bailen rode upslope and dismounted just this side of the crest. They walked to the top, and, under black, roiling skies, Emile took in the view. The ridge slowly fell away and into a shallow, ever-widening valley. Off to the right the land rose steeply; to the left it turned into rolling hills, where the ridge itself dropped sharply to join them. But in between and at the bottom of the league-long slope lay the broad plain.

And some two leagues away from where Emile took in the view stood the beginnings of the mire.

The swamp was vast and fed by streams and rivers flowing down from the mountains to starwise and the hills sunwise; the morass stretched out for as far as the eye could see.

“How is the land on the plain? Soft, treacherous, or does it provide good footing?”

“My lord, I do not know, for I got here but this morn, and I would not give our presence away to the foe.”

“What say the Sprites?”

“My lord, they are not of a size to gauge the pack of the soil, for to them even soft loam seems good footing.”

“I and my Wolves can go in the night,” said Michelle softly.

Emile turned to see the princess had come up to take a look as well.

“My lady,” said Emile, “I would not have you-”

“We have been through this argument before, Sieur, and again I say, there is none better to take on this task.”

“Oui, but-”

“Sieur, I insist.”

Emile took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Then I will send Galion to-”

“Sieur, non! Where one person and seven Wolves can go in stealth, two-and-seven more than doubles the risk. My pack will not be seen, and I have been training with them, whereas Galion has not.”

“But, Princess-”

“Sieur Emile!”

Again Emile took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Finally he said, “No unnecessary risks.”

“No unnecessary risks,” agreed Michelle.

. .

Splatting through the swamp, the Serpentine scout rode at a gallop, his scaled steed running flat out. The vertical pupils of the rider’s viperous eyes were open to the full, and his way in the dismal mire was lighted by the nearly continuous barrage of lightning above.

At last he came to where he could see the witch’s cote standing on stilts and surrounded by a quag of turgid water, and he called out for her to attend.

Hradian barely heard the cry, for, just moments before, Orbane had completed his spell casting. The dark pall above was now more than sufficient to carry out his plan. And so he let her enthrallment lapse, and she in turn released Crapaud. She was drained of nearly all energy, and she lay in a collapsed heap, sweat streaming from her body.

“See what he wants, Acolyte,” demanded Orbane.

Hradian crawled to the edge of the flet, and she croaked out,

“Speak,” her voice but barely above a whisper.

“My lord and master Orbane, there is an army of some eight or ten thousand humans just beyond the dawnwise brim of the swamp.”

“My lord,” whispered Hradian, “he says-”

“I heard what he said, Fool!” raged Orbane. Then he shouted out, “Humans? Only humans? No others?”

“Some Sprites, my lord.”

“Ah, good,” murmured Orbane. “Then my sire is not with them. I heard his horn this morning, but it will take a while for the Fey to assemble, and by the time that is done, I will have succeeded. Yet these pests of humans now think to beleaguer me. Bah! Without my father they will easily fall. And I must keep them from delaying the lifting up of the putrescence.” Then he shouted to the Serpentine scout, “Bring Bolok to me!