“Mithras!” exclaimed Flic, aghast. “What should we do?”
“As I said before you arrived, Flic, we have no choice but to raise our armies, warn the realms, and notify the Firsts.”
“My lord,” said Camille, “there is something else we simply must try: summon the one who can intercept Hradian and recover the amulet.”
“And that would be. .?”
“Raseri, my lord. Raseri.”
“Know you where he might be?”
“Non, yet Chemine might know, for her son Rondalo rides with the Drake.”
Valeray nodded and said, “We will need a swift messenger.”
“Sprites,” said Flic. “We are the swiftest messengers and, not only can we reach Chemine ere anyone, we can also alert the realms and notify the Firsts and, can we alert all Sprites, surely one of us will know where flies Raseri and Rondalo, or if not, can find them swiftly. What do we say to Raseri?”
“He must be told to fly to the Black Wall of the World, there to wait and intercept Hradian and recover the key-a simple silver amulet on a silver chain and set with a blue stone,” said Camille.
“Then let us Sprites bear the word,” said Flic.
“Well and good,” Valeray. “I will summon those of this demesne and give them the charge to rally all Sprites everywhere to spread the alarm throughout Faery and especially to alert the Firsts.”
“Oh, my,” said Camille.
“What is it, cherie?” asked Alain.
“What if Hradian anticipated that we would ask the Sprites to carry warnings to all, and that’s why she raised the crows.”
“My lady, your meaning?” asked Laurent.
But it was Flic who answered: “Crows are terrible enemies of Sprites. Whenever one of those black devils gets a chance, it will try to snatch up one of us.”
“And. .?” asked Laurent.
“And tear us to shreds and swallow us down,” growled Flic.
“Then we need to send messengers the crows cannot deter,” said Blaise.
“People, you mean?” asked Laurent.
“Wait a moment,” protested Flic. “What makes you think Sprites are not people?”
“I meant Humans,” said Laurent.
Flic huffed, but said nought.
“We will send both,” said Valeray.
“My lord,” asked Regar, “is one of these Firsts the Fairy King?”
“Oui. And he has a splendid army; it was key in delaying Orbane’s conquest until we could find a way of stopping him.”
“Then I would like the duty of bearing the warning to him.”
“Know you the way?”
“Non.”
“But I do,” said Flic. “Lord Borel and I went to his Halls Under the Hills when we were saving Lady Michelle.”
“Then you and Regar will take on that task,” said Valeray.
He turned to the others and asked, “Who knows the way to Lady Chemine?”
“I do,” said Camille, “and so does Scruff. We also have been to Raseri’s lair.”
Even as Valeray winced at the thought of sending Camille on such a mission, “My lord,” said Luc, “methinks should you send Lady Camille to find Raseri and Regar to the Fairy King, by the time they succeed it will simply be too late. Non, Flic had the right of it when he said Sprites are the swiftest of messengers. We Humans would simply slow them down.”
“But the crows. . ” said Liaze.
“We can fly at night,” said Flic, “when the crows are not likely to be awake.”
“My lord,” said Alain. “You say we are to raise armies, and that I am most willing to do, yet, though we have been in skirmishes, I have no experience in warcraft and neither does my armsmaster-battle, oui, but warcraft, non. Celeste has Roel and Liaze Luc, both war-trained and knights bold. I would ask that Blaise be my war commander.”
“And I Laurent,” said Borel.
“But who will organize the army of the Castle of the Seasons?” asked Saissa.
“Sieur Emile,” said Luc. “He has fought in many a campaign, I hear.” Laurent and Blaise and Roel all nodded.
“He can command the combined army as well,” said Luc.
“Let it be so,” said Valeray.
. .
Dinner was called, and to the gold room they went, where they were joined by Sieur Emile and Lady Simone and Vicomtesse Avelaine. Valeray took a moment to introduce Regar and Flic to them and to tell of the calamity that had come to pass.
Upon hearing the ill news, Michelle turned to Regar and said, “In addition to the Fairy King and his army, we need enlist the aid of the distaff side-the good Fairies themselves-for they are most wise in the ways of magic.” Even as Regar nodded, Valeray shook his head and said, “For some reason those so-named good Fairies refused to use their powers in the last war.”
“What of the rumor that Orbane has some Fairy blood flowing in his veins?” asked Saissa.
Valeray shrugged. “ ’Tis but a rumor.”
“Still, I will ask for their help,” said Regar.
“What of magekind?” asked Camille. “Will they not rally round?”
Again Valeray shook his head. “As to the mages, all of those who opposed Orbane were slain in that dreadful war. I think they will refuse.”
A pall fell upon the gathering, and they sat quietly throughout the meal, but afterward their spirits seemed to recover, and once again they took up the task of how to deal with Orbane, should he be set free of his prison.
And the planning continued deep into the night. .
. . As did the revelry outside the walls, where gaiety and laughter and singing and games and trysts lasted through much of the darktide as well, the minstrels and jugglers and stilt-walkers and vendors and faire-goers and lovers and others completely unaware of the doom about to fall.
Entrails
Across bound after bound flew Hradian through the dark.
The fingernail-thin sliver of a moon had long set, and only the glittering stars illumined the night in those realms where the sky was clear. But in one, rain hammered at her mercilessly and she cursed the gods above, and in another she raged through blinding snow, and in still another she hacked and coughed as she veered among sulphurous fumes spewed from mountains of fire. Muttering maledictions, she hurtled across clear but frigid air above snowy peaks, only to shout, “It’s about time!” as she sped beyond another marge to come into warm summer.
Yet soon, above chill desert sands she flew, ranting because the heat of the day had fled in the darkness. And so it was as onward she went o’er realm after realm, moaning, cursing, raving, screaming, or laughing in glee at her very own cleverness.
But at last in the silvery light of dawn she passed through a final marge to come into the odiferous reek of the great mire.
In the bogland below, bubbles slowly rose to the slime-laden surface to plop and eject their hoards of miasma; things slithered and wriggled and splashed, some with sinewy bodies and grasping claws, others with no legs or hard shells and great jaws, still others with slimy skins and long tongues. Black willows spread clenching and avaricious roots through the reeking muck and dangled long whiplike branches down, and dark cypress wrenched up out from the sump and ooze to spread gray-lichen-wattled branches wide. Mossy fallen logs decayed in the quag to add heat to the rot of the swamp bottom, with dead creatures putrefying alongside until something happened by to rip and rend at the rancid flesh.
And above this foetid morass flew Hradian, heading for the center of the vast mire, where her cottage lay.
Weary, at last she spiralled down to alight upon the flet of her cote, where a great bloated toad squatted.
“I have it, Crapaud-the key! The key!” cried Hradian, dancing about in spite of her fatigue. “Oh, Crapaud, we were so clever, so very clever, and our potion worked to perfection. We became the slut Liaze to all eyes, to all senses, we did. And, oh, how we duped that fool Luc, into thinking we were her.” Hradian flashed the silver amulet on high, and cried, “And now we have the key.