Once upon a dreadful time ou-4 Page 16

  There came a polite cough, and Michelle turned to see the steward of the Winterwood-a dark-haired, light-blue-eyed, slender man-standing at the entrance to the overlook chamber.

  “Arnot?”

  “Princess, an Ice Sprite has brought word that Raseri and Rondalo were located late yesternight, and even now they are on their way to the Black Wall of the World.” Michelle cried, “Wonderful!” and clapped her hands. “We must get word to the king, as well as to the other manors.”

  “I will send falcons, my lady.”

  “Oh, do so immediately, Arnot.”

  Arnot inclined his head and then hurried away.

  Michelle turned to Laurent. “How utterly splendid. Perhaps it won’t come to war after all.”

  “We cannot be certain of that, my lady, even though this is indeed good news.”

  . .

  In midmorn, a hawkmaster rushed down from the falcon-tower mews, a message capsule in hand. He hurried to the yard where King Valeray and Sieur Emile and the warband were looking over the first group of recruits.

  “A message, my lord, from the Winterwood.” Valeray opened the capsule and drew out the tissue-thin scroll. Moments later he whooped. Sieur Emile and the others looked at him. “ ’Tis marvelous news: Raseri and Rondalo are on their way to the Black Wall of the World to intercept Hradian.”

  Sieur Emile smiled, but then grew somber. “Let us hope they get there in time.”

  “Indeed,” said Valeray. “Now I must take these good tidings to the others.”

  Valeray found Celeste and Saissa and Borel in the grass court getting ready to set out to pass among the faire-goers, for with the arrival of men to undergo training, uneasy was the mood.

  Upon hearing this, Saissa insisted that she and others go among the folks and reassure them, for as she said, “They should enjoy themselves while they can.”

  Upon hearing the falcon-borne message, Saissa asked, “When were they found?”

  “Yesternight, late,” said Valeray.

  “Then, by now they might have reached the Black Wall. We can but hope for their success.”

  “May Mithras watch over them,” said Celeste as she looked past Borel to see three-summers-old Duran running across the sward, his toy horse Asphodel in hand.

  Darkness

  Dawn came to the village that lay a league or two from the Black Wall of the World, and a young man bearing a knapsack and a walking stave came down to the common room of the inn where he ate a hasty meal. He then paid his fare and set out ere the sun broached the horizon.

  Up the hill past the hamlet he hied, and over the crest, and just beyond he threw off the glamour concealing him. . and Hradian mounted her besom and sped toward the ebony darkness looming into the sky.

  With one hand she clutched the amulet that would set her master free, and she gloated over her victory in obtaining it in the manner she had, and she reveled over the vengeance she would exact from Valeray and all his get for the deaths of her sisters.

  On toward the Black Wall she hurtled, and her heart began to pound, for beyond that towering shade a dreadful darkness lay, and had it not been for her sister Iniqui she would not have known the way to the Castle of Shadows, and to get lost in the blackness would spell her doom. Only incredible fortune would allow someone astray therein to find his way back unto Faery.

  Yet Iniqui, unearthing ancient scrolls and tomes and a grimoire or two-perhaps one of them even Orbane’s-had studied the darkness and the castle within, and she not only had found a description of the key-the amulet-she had also found the way to and from the dreadful prison, a straight course, oui, but one at an angle to the wall itself: down and leftward was the way.

  This sinister and sinking path she had shown to her sisters, and now Hradian was the only one left of the four acolytes- But I will make those murderers pay, and dearly. Oh, but the revenge my master will visit upon them will be so very sweet.

  And I will be the one to loose him upon them as well as upon the entire world.

  Just before Hradian reached the blackness, she took a sight on the sun, whose limb just then rose o’er the rim of the world, and she arced leftward and downward.

  Oh, Sister Iniqui, let me pray to the gods of Enfer that the way to the castle remains true, and it has not drifted from its place in the Great Darkness beyond.

  And, gritting her teeth and trembling, into the blackness she plunged.

  She could see nought beyond the tip of her broom in the darkness nigh absolute. Yet on she hurtled, the strain of keeping her flying spell active causing beads of sweat to gather on her brow and runnel down her face. For the Great Darkness seemed to sap magical energies, and not long could even the most powerful of warlocks or witches or wizards withstand the depletion. And as to the darkness itself, it stretched away in all directions-sinister, dextral, forward, hindward, upward, downward-the blackness extending outward forever, its limit unreachable, no matter the course but one.

  And within this Great Darkness floated a castle, supported by nought, a castle it is said of many dimensions, but Iniqui’s scrolls and tomes and grimoires did not tell how this was known. Oh, they did speak of a Keltoi tale-teller who told of it in a riddle, yet how such a place had come to be-a Castle of Shadows in the Great Darkness beyond the Black Wall of the World-none could say. And it was a terrible prison- inescapable, it was claimed. Yet e’en could one win his way free, then what? Unless he knew the course, the single way to escape the darkness, and the means to follow it, he would be lost forever. Might as well remain in the castle, instead.

  Ah, but I have the key, and I know how to use it. Quite simple it is, yet in its simplicity lies its secret. Oh, how Orbane will reward me, for I alone will set him free.

  On she hurtled in a straight line, down and leftward from the wall. And but for her beating heart and the sapping of her spell, she had no way of measuring how long the flight.

  . . And on she went. .

  . . and on.

  But then in the distance ahead- A faint glow! Oh, Iniqui, the gods of Enfer have smiled upon me, and I have found the way.

  On she flew, the glow nearing, and now she could see the stone bridge. Out it jutted from the dark castle for no more than fifty strides, where it abruptly ended, as if shorn off from another half standing elsewhere far away. Along its low stone walls stood ever-burning torches, barely casting a glow, the light itself seemingly sucked away by the ebon surround.

  Weary, Hradian alit upon the stone of the bridge, and above her loomed the massive bulk of the castle, great dark blocks milled from rock and assembled into walls and turrets and buttresses and roofing. Massive and strong it seemed, unbreachable.

  Hradian looked up at the dark stone faintly glinting in the torchlight. What’s this? There was but a single tower when Iniqui led us here, yet now it is of a size to host a multitude. Did my master somehow change it to what it has become? Ah, faugh, it is of no import. Instead, I must set my master free.

  Clutching the amulet, Hradian strode forward, toward a gaping archway, its opening filled with shadowlight, much like that of the twilight walls. And as she reached it, she paused.

  Iniqui, if you are wrong about this key, and if my vision of its 180 / DENNIS L. MCKIERNAN

  use was in error, then I, too, shall be imprisoned forever. If that happens, then when I am dead, I will hunt down your ghost and rend it to shreds.

  And with that bitter vow, into the shadowlight of the entry-way she trod.

  Into a great throne chamber she entered: hundreds of strides it was to the fore and hundreds to left and right, and the ceiling was far above. Wide stairways to either side led up to balconies, with archways into corridors leading off to quarters beyond.

  Likewise, archways on this level also led into corridors, down which, presumably, other rooms lay. Ever-lit lanterns illuminated all.

  But Hradian did not see these stairways and balconies and arches and corridors, for in the center of the chamber stood a dais, and upon that block of
stone sat a throne, and in the throne lounged a person, and his eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of Hradian striding toward him. He stood, his crimson cloak swirling about his somber garb. Tall and dark he was and slender, his hair black as midnight, his eyes of the same color as well. His face was long and saturnine, his nose narrow and hooked, hawklike. His fingers were lengthy and tapered, as if made for grasping. His mouth seemed to be one that would naturally curve into a sardonic sneer. Cruelly handsome he was, yet for the nonce his face registered shock at the appearance of a woman nearing.

  Hradian came and abased herself at the foot of the dais. “My lord.”

  “Hradian, is it you?”

  Yet on her hands and knees, Hradian looked up and simpered. “Oui, my lord.”

  “They have imprisoned you as well?”

  “Non, my lord. Instead, I have come to set you free.”

  “Ah, you fool, you have come to your doom; this place is inescapable.”

  “Non, my lord, if my studies are true, it is not, for you see I-”

  Rage flashed over Orbane’s features. “Silence!” he shouted.

  Hradian flinched and jerked her face toward the floor and curled in upon herself and trembled at his wrath.

  Orbane seethed. “Do you not know that I, with all my power, have tried and yet failed innumerable times?”

  “Yes, my lord. That I know, and yet. .”

  “And yet?” he demanded.

  Hradian cast a sideways glance upward. “My lord, may I rise?”

  With a gesture, Orbane allowed her to her feet.

  “And now, my lord, may I show you something?” Orbane sighed. “Very well.”

  “Please, my lord, take my hand.”

  Orbane stepped down from the dais and held out a hand, the look on his face one of exasperation. Hradian took his fingers in hers and led him toward the archway to the bridge. And as they neared-“This won’t work, Hradian, we’ll simply-” Of a sudden they were standing beyond the archway and out on the torchlit span.

  Orbane gasped in surprise. Then he turned to Hradian and swept her up with a joyous whoop and whirled her about. But then with a moan he laid her to the pave of the bridge and pushed her skirt up and away from her legs, and shoved down his pants and dropped atop her, forcing himself within. And amid grunts and groans and shrieks of joy, he swived her there on the stone.

  . .

  Panting, his member yet erect, he looked about. “Where are your sisters? I would reward them as well.”

  “Dead. Slain by the get of Valeray. Oh, Master, I would have my revenge. You must kill them for me.”

  “Rhensibe, Nefasi, and Iniqui all dead?”

  “Oui, my lord. Murdered by the children of he who stole two of your very own clay amulets, the seals that were used by the Firsts to cast you herein, hence Valeray is the one the most responsible for your imprisonment.”

  Orbane clenched a fist, and rage flashed across his features.

  “Then I shall-” Of a sudden he paused, and a look of cunning replaced that of wrath. “No, not kill him or his get. Instead, I have something even more fitting in mind. Take me to them, Hradian. Your revenge and mine will be sweet.”

  “My lord, I am wearied by my journey here. Can we not retire to the quarters within and once again-”

  “Non, for I would go and go now. I have seen enough of that place.”

  “Very well, my lord.”

  Hradian took up her besom and straddled it. Orbane straddled it right behind. He embraced her, his hands upon her breasts, his fingers kneading and tweaking. “Now, Hradian. Let us go.”

  With moans of desire, Hradian mumbled arcane words, and up and away they flew: sinister, upward, at an angle from the castle, coursing along the only line leading toward Faery.

  . .

  With the sun now risen, Raseri neared the Black Wall. “See you any sign of the witch?”

  “Non,” replied Rondalo. “The skies are clear for as far as my sight reaches.”

  “Then set an arrow to your bow, for I plan on entering the Great Darkness and flying the track to the Castle of Shadows.

  If she is within, I will burn her to a crisp, yet on the off chance I miss, you can feather her through and through.” As Rondalo nocked a shaft to string, with Raseri’s great wings churning, through the Black Wall they went.

  “Mithras, but I cannot see,” cried Rondalo. “My bow will be useless.”

  “That is of little matter, for I see dimly,” replied Raseri.

  “Even so, should she escape back into Faery, well then your bow will serve, that is if I give you a chance, for I intend to rend her to shreds.”

  And on into the darkness they flew, sinister and downward at an angle and on the line toward their goal.

  . .

  Flying with two was even more draining upon Hradian’s power.

  And yet she persevered, as Orbane’s hands caressed her body, for he knew lust would increase her efficacy, raise her energy.

  And he ran his questing fingers here and there, teasing, touching, and now and then she gasped as if on the verge.

  But then ahead in the darkness, black on black a darker form loomed, and Hradian jerked her besom to the left even as a great gout of flame shot past. She shrilled in terror, and Orbane shouted in alarm.

  And then the massive shape was beyond her.

  “Faster!” shrieked Orbane. “ ’Tis a Dragon in this endless void.”

  Driven by fear, Hradian urged her besom to greater speed, yet she could hear the whoosh of immense wings overhauling.

  And from hindward came a cry, “Raseri, I saw them by your flame. I am ready.”

  “ ’Tis Raseri and Rondalo, my lord,” shouted Hradian,

  “friends of the whore Camille, Valeray’s daughter-in-law. I have spied upon them. Can you not throw a spell to ward off the Drake?”

  “I need more power than the Great Darkness will yield,” cried Orbane. “Get me to Faery and then-” But Hradian heard the Drake take in a great breath, and she jerked rightward, even as more flame shot past. And something whistled by in the black.

  With her hair now singed and the twigs of her besom smoldering, Hradian goaded more speed from her broom. Yet the sound of wings grew louder, and Hradian dived just as great long claws went raking past and a huge tail lashed above.

  Once more the Dragon hurtled by, and Hradian flew up and back on the track, and before her the massive form wheeled and again turned toward her. This time Hradian waited until the last moment, and she jerked the broom upward as flame shot below her, and again something whistled in the darkness, and there came a meaty thuck! and Orbane groaned.

  “My leg. There’s an arrow through my leg.” With a cry of rage to offset the pain, he snapped the shaft in twain, throwing away one piece and wrenching out the other to cast it away as well.

  Once more the thunder of wings drew nigh, but in that very moment Hradian and Orbane burst through the Black Wall and into the light of Faery.

  And right behind came Raseri and Rondalo, and even as the Dragon took in a breath to burn wizard and witch to cinders, and Rondalo drew to the full for a shot that could not miss, Orbane twisted about and gestured at the Drake and shouted arcane words, and a roaring, whirling, ebon wind enveloped Elf and Dragon alike and bore them off through the Black Wall of the World and into the Great Darkness beyond.

  Omens

  Lisane bolted upright in her bed.

  What wakened me?

  She peered out through the window of her chamber. Beyond willow branches dangling down and gently swaying in the breeze, she could see Thale cropping grass, his lustrous horn gleaming in the early morning light.

  Lisane slipped out from under the covers and padded to her small kitchen, where she set a kettle on to boil above the tiny hearth fire.

  Something dreadful is afoot, I can feel it. I must see what I can see. First I’ll lay out the square-four and four-for it is the most stable of all, and speaks of the here and now.

&nb
sp; She opened a small cedarwood box, and removed a taroc deck wrapped in blue silk cloth. She spread the silk upon the oaken plank that served as her table, then took up the taroc deck and began to shuffle, all the while concentrating upon the question as to what the day might bring. She dealt out cards, sixteen in all, four across and four down, their faces hidden. Then one by one she began turning them up: first the upper left corner, the Hierophant droit; then the upper right, the Naif, also droit; then the lower right, the Lovers, this card, too, facing her; and finally, still moving deasil, the lower left, the Sun, droit.

  Oh, my, four of the major arcana, and all upright, all facing me, all droit. The Hierophant: at times she represents me.

  The Naif: perhaps someone I know, or perhaps not. Lovers: two paths; a time for choice, the outcome of which is vital. Too, it could mean- Ah, but wait, the Sun: happiness, joy. This is an odd configuration. Let me see the other cards.

  Swiftly Lisane turned the remaining cards over.

  Oh, Mithras, so many swords. Conflict. And yet-

  In that moment the kettle began to whistle, and Lisane stepped to the fire and took the vessel from the hook and poured steaming water over the waiting leaves in the teapot.

  When she returned to the table and looked at the layout, of a sudden she said, “I see. I am to get visitors today, on an urgent mission and peril follows. Oh, my, what’s this? One of them will steal the heart of the Hierophant. Is it my heart the arrangement speaks of?”

  Lisane shook her head to try to clear it of these fey thoughts.

  Perhaps I’d better try the wheel.

  She took up the cards and once again began to shuffle, this time concentrating upon seeking events to come near and afar.

  Cutting the deck thrice, she began laying out a pattern upon the blue silk. When she was done, a great circular array of cards lay, rings within rings, concentric, the cards facing oppose, away from the center; or inward, droit, toward.

  Once again there are so many swords, so very many swords, here about the center. It could mean great conflict, and even combat, fighting, bloodshed. It can also mean confrontation, a great physical effort, a testing of wit, any number of things: conflicts of the heart and mind and body and spirit and soul; conflicts from within and without.