Once Upon an Autumn Eve fs-3

by Dennis L McKiernan

  “Then I’ll just close this,” said Zoe. She stepped to the window and latched the shutters, then drew up the sash and locked the frame into place. She pulled the drapes to, then curtseyed and said good-night and slipped from the room.

  When she was gone, Liaze threw herself onto the bed and released her pent-up grief.

  14

  Riddles

  Weeping off and on, Liaze did not sleep the remainder of that night, and just ere first light she arose and donned her leathers, wincing a bit from the darkening bruise on her breast. She strapped on a long-knife. She took up her bow and quiver of arrows and started for the door, but turned and stepped back and retrieved Luc’s silver horn. Then she went into the hallway beyond.

  “My lady,” said Didier, one of the wards at the door. Patrice, the other guard, bobbed his head. “Zacharie says we are to accompany you, wherever you go.”

  “Non,” said the princess. “I need to be alone to think.”

  “We can stand off a good distance,” said Patrice.

  Liaze sighed. “Very well, but at a good distance: I want no distractions.”

  “How far, my lady?” said Didier.

  “A hundred paces or more.”

  “A hundred paces? But, my lady-”

  Liaze lifted the silver horn. “At need I will call.”

  The warders looked at one another, and reluctantly agreed, and Patrice said, “As you wish, Princess.”

  Down the stairs they went, and the manor was silent, and those whose duties began this early were creeping about, despair on their faces, as if they were in mourning. And as the princess went by, some opened their mouths as if to speak, but they knew not what to say, while others simply curtseyed and lowered their gazes and hurried away on their errands.

  Out from the manor Liaze went with her two guards, and she strode across the lawn toward the willow grove, the early light of dawn just barely in the skies.

  As they reached the golden leaves and drooping branches, Liaze said, “Wait here.”

  Didier raised his hands in protest. “But my lady, we will not be able to see-”

  “I will be within a hundred paces, or thereabout, and I have the horn,” said Liaze, cutting off his objection. “I need to be alone, and the pool with its welling water is soothing unto me.”

  Again the guards looked at one another, and Patrice said, “As you will, Princess.”

  “But please, my lady,” said Didier, “keep the horn at hand, always within reach.”

  “I will,” said Liaze, then she turned on her heel and walked in among the golden leaves, soon to be lost to sight.

  With willow branches swaying behind her, Liaze came to the glade, and in the light of dawn she saw a crone at the water’s edge, weeping.

  A witch?

  Liaze raised the horn, preparing to blow, but then she hesitated.

  Wait! It is said witches are unable to weep ought but falsely, shedding no tears whatsoever.

  She scanned the crone’s face, and real tears flowed down.

  Loosening the keeper on her long-knife and nocking an arrow to string, Liaze stepped toward the side of the pool across from the crone.

  As she took station on the flat rock opposite, the hag looked up and uttered a wail. “My shoe, my shoe,” she cried, and pointed at the wooden sabot floating in the welling water. “Will you fetch my shoe?” And she wailed and buried her face in her hands.

  Liaze looked over her shoulder and listened for racing footsteps.

  The guards. They’ll come running at the crone’s keening.

  But they did not.

  The ugly, withered old woman looked up and again wailed. “My shoe, my shoe; please, oh please, fetch it.”

  Liaze frowned. A hag who has lost her shoe: where have I heard that be-?-Borel!

  Her heart pounding with hope, Liaze slipped the arrow back into the quiver and stepped ’round to the rill flowing outward and waited. Soon the shoe came drifting toward the outlet and into the stream. She stooped and took up the sabot, its straps tattered, and part of the wooden sole missing. With her long-knife yet unfettered-just in case-she stepped across the rill and walked about the remainder of the pool to the crone and held out the wooden shoe.

  “Why, thank you my dear,” said the hag, smiling a single-toothed grin. “Would you slip it on my foot? I am old, and bending to do it myself causes a pain in my weary bones.”

  Liaze set aside her bow and knelt and slid the shoe onto the crone’s knobby, dirty, and hammertoed foot.

  And in the pale dawn light shining silver above and down into the glade, the hag transformed into a slender and beautiful woman, her eyes argent as was her hair. And from somewhere nearby there came the sound of an unseen loom.

  “Lady Skuld,” cried Liaze, and she threw herself into the woman’s arms and wept as if her heart would break.

  “There, there,” said Skuld, holding Liaze close, and rubbing her back, and rocking her ever so gently.

  “Luc, he’s gone, snatched away by a witch,” sobbed Liaze.

  “I know. I know,” said Skuld. “And on the happiest night of your life, until she and her shadow came.”

  Snuffling, Liaze drew back and looked with amber eyes into those of silver. “You know?”

  “Indeed, child, I know.”

  Liaze got control of her breathing and wiped her nose on a sleeve of her leathers. “Of course you know, Lady Wyrd. You are the weaver of the future. Oh, Lady Skuld, I have always believed that I was strong, but here I am”-Liaze wiped her cheeks with both hands-“weeping like a lost child.”

  Skuld nodded and said, “It is good for one to know there are times one can lose all strength. It signifies one is only Human… or Elf

  … or of another race. Yet, heed, the force of your will must surely return if you do not give in to despair.”

  Liaze disengaged and said, “Lady Skuld, I throw myself upon your mercy.”

  “You threw yourself upon Fate, as well,” said Skuld, smoothing out her dress.

  A wan smile flickered at the corners of Liaze’s mouth but then vanished. And she said, “Oh, Lady Wyrd, will you help me?”

  “Perhaps, for I am bound by the Law: it requires a favor from you-which you have done. Then there comes a riddle from me, a riddle to be answered by you. If you accomplish that, then, lastly, I am permitted to give you a bit of guidance, perhaps obscure to you, but quite clear to me. It is the Way of the Three Sisters.”

  “I know the Law,” said Liaze. “You helped Camille and then Borel, and all I ask is that you help me.”

  “Very well,” said Skuld. “This then I pose.”

  Before Skuld could speak her riddle, Liaze said, “My Lady Skuld, ere you ask, I must warn you I know of the riddles you and your sisters put to Camille, as well as those put to Borel. I also know the riddle of the Sphinx.”

  Skuld canted her head in assent and said, “Indeed you do, Liaze. Yet the one I will put to you is none of those.”

  Liaze nodded, and then she scrambled to her knees and braced herself as if for a physical challenge. “I am ready.”

  Skuld took a deep breath and said:

  I cry in alarm,

  I cry in delight,

  I speak of many things.

  I cry for arms,

  In the midst of a fight,

  Or in joy for what the day brings.

  I cry at the grave

  While others weep,

  And I cry when day is done.

  I cry for the brave

  Their vows to keep.

  And I cry at the rise of the sun.

  Name me.

  At first Liaze’s heart sank, but then her eyes opened in revelation. “You are a trumpet, a bugle, a clarion,” she said, and she raised Luc’s silver horn.

  “Quite right,” said Skuld, smiling.

  “Then, Lady Wyrd, obscure or plain, I would have guidance, please, for I would find my heart mate.”

  Skuld nodded and said:

  In the long search fo
r your lost true love

  You surely must ride with Fear,

  With Dread, with Death, with many Torn Souls,

  Yet ride with no one from here.

  For should you take a few with you,

  Most Fear would likely slay.

  Instead ride with the howling one

  To aid you on the way.

  He you will find along your quest.

  He is the one who loudly cried.

  He will help you defeat dread Fear,

  But will not face Fear at your side.

  You must soothe as you would a babe,

  And speak not a loud word;

  Silence is golden in some high halls;

  Tread softly to not be heard.

  In the dark of the moon but two moons from now

  A scheme will be complete,

  For on a black mountain an ever-slowing heart

  Will surely cease to beat.

  “Oh,” cried Liaze at this last verse as Lady Skuld fell silent. “The dark of the moon two moons from now is all the time I have?” Liaze’s eyes filled with tears.

  Skuld sighed, then added, “I now remind you of something you already know: you will meet both perils and help along your trek, but beware and make certain you know which is which.

  “And this I will add as well: take Deadly Nightshade with you; a bird shall point the way.”

  In that very moment beyond the willow grove the rim of the sun rose above the edge of the world, and Lady Skuld vanished along with the sound of the loom, leaving behind the song of the brook singing in the glade.

  15

  Outset

  iaze stepped from the willow grove, emerging at the point where Didier and Patrice waited.

  “My lady,” said Patrice, bowing, “we heard you coming, and-Oh, my, have you been weeping? — Ow!” He leaned down and rubbed his leg where Didier had kicked him.

  “Yes, Patrice,” said Liaze, “I wept some, but I did not wail as loudly as did the crone.”

  “Crone?” said Didier, jerking about to stare at the grove while reaching for the hilt of his sword.

  “Did you not hear her?” asked Liaze.

  Both Didier and Patrice shook their heads, and Patrice said, “All was silent, my lady.”

  Liaze looked down at the trump hanging at her side, and she wondered if it, too, would not have been heard had she sounded it while Lady Skuld was present in the glade.

  “About this crone…” said Didier.

  “It was Lady Skuld in disguise,” said Liaze, now starting for the manor.

  “Lady Wyrd?” blurted Patrice alongside. “Oh, but I am glad I didn’t see her, for I would rather not know my fate.”

  “Patrice, you fool,” said Didier, “she only comes at great need and not for just any piddling thing.”

  “Wull, how do you know I am not in great need?”

  “It takes more than personal tragedy,” said Didier. “Something greater has to hang in the balance.”

  At these words, Liaze stopped in her tracks. Didier and Patrice stuttered on a number of steps before stopping as well. Then they turned and started back, just as the princess strode onward. Reversing course again, they marched at her side.

  Liaze said, “Exactly right, Didier. She would not have come unless something greater hung in the balance. Losing Luc, though an extreme blow to me, is but a personal tragedy. There is more to this than we know. Something critical in the scheme of things.”

  She picked up the pace and headed toward the forecourt lawn where a large group of men were gathered. “Come, I have to confer with my armsmaster and steward.”

  As the princess drew nigh she could hear Remy call out, “All right, men, pair up. And remember, the slightest thing, no matter how insignificant it might seem, if it has even a remote chance of pointing toward the witch or the Goblin or ought else, send for Claude, for he is our best tracker. He will look at what you espied, and say whether or no it was of unnatural origin.”

  The men nodded and selected partners, and stepped to Zacharie to get their sector assignments.

  “Didier, Patrice, join them,” said Liaze.

  “But, Princess, Zacharie told us to-”

  “Never mind that. There are no Goblins in the manor, and whatever houseguard remains within will be more than enough to protect me.”

  “As you wish, Princess,” said Patrice, bowing. Didier bowed too, and then they went to Zacharie.

  Liaze paused a moment at Remy’s side. “I need to speak with you and Zacharie. When you are free, come find me.”

  “Where, Princess?”

  “I’ll be in the kitchen with Cook for some moments, breaking my fast, after which I’ll be in the armory.”

  As Liaze entered the manse, Zoe leapt up from a bench in the reception hall. “Oh, Princess, I couldn’t find you, and none knew where you went, though some of the staff said you had gone to the willow grove.”

  “You needn’t have worried,” said Liaze, “for I was protected by Didier and Patrice.”

  “That’s what Zacharie said, and Remy had men standing by, just in case.”

  Liaze sighed. “Zoe, I would have you find Eugene and tell him to come to me in the armory.”

  As Remy and Zacharie entered the armory, the princess was selecting arrows and placing them in two quivers: one to carry across her back, the other to hang from a saddle.

  “My lady,” said Zacharie. Then he looked at what she was doing and lifted an eyebrow in query, but she did not respond.

  Eugene strode in, the stable master puffing a bit, as if he had run most of the way. “Princess, you wished to see me?”

  “Oui, Eugene.” Her gaze swept across the three men. “I will be going on a long journey, and, Eugene, I would have you make ready supplies for me and Pied Agile and Deadly Nightshade-grain for them, food for me, cooking and camping gear, and the like. I suspect I’ll need three or four packhorses to bear it all.”

  “Mares or geldings,” said Eugene, “else the chevalier’s horse is likely to run any pack animals off.”

  “My lady,” said Zacharie, “where is it you plan to go? To a seer?”

  “Non, Zacharie. I am going after Luc.”

  “Oh, Princess,” protested Zacharie, but Remy interrupted and said, “When we find something to show the way, there’ll be no need for you to ride after Luc, for my warband and I will-”

  “Non, Remy, Zacharie,” said Liaze. “I must go alone.”

  “Alone?” burst out Remy and Zacharie and Eugene together, and all began raising objections, each trying to be heard above the others.

  Liaze pushed out a hand for silence, and when it fell, she said, “Lady Skuld was at the willow pool at dawn, and this is what she said. …”

  “… And lastly, she told me a bird would point the way.”

  As she fell silent, Remy ran a hand through his red hair. “I know not what Skuld meant when she said you must ride with fear and dread and death and torn souls, except, perhaps, she might be telling you to go with caution; nor do I know why fear would kill any who accompany you, for we are stalwart and true, and have faced Goblins and Trolls without blenching; nor do I know who this ‘howling one’ might be, other than some Wolf or Dog; I do understand about treading softly, for that’s only prudence, but I know not where a black mountain lies; and as to a bird pointing the way, what bird? Princess, each of those things either I know or know not, yet of this I am certain: for you to go alone is folly, and my warband and I should ride with-”

  “Do you argue with Lady Wyrd?” asked Liaze, looking first at Remy, then Zacharie, and finally Eugene.

  Eugene looked away, and Zacharie sighed, and Remy, tears of frustration in his eyes, shook his head. And Zacharie said, “When do you plan on leaving?”

  Liaze turned up her hands. “Soon, Zacharie, soon. Tomorrow or the next at the very latest, for the dark of the moon two moons from now rides a course that cannot be stayed.”

  Remy frowned and said, “My lady, I now ask you a que
stion you once asked me: since we know not whence the witch did fly, which way would you go?”

  “I don’t know, Armsmaster. I don’t know. I simply must trust to Fate.”

  In that moment a footman entered-a young lad, Cook’s son. He bowed and said, “My lady, the funeral pyres are set.”

  For a moment Liaze frowned in puzzlement, but then her visage cleared. Ah, me, I had forgotten-Adrien and Paul-the two who were crushed by the witch’s terrible shadow.

  “Thank you, Gaston,” she said. “We will be there shortly.”

  As the lad bowed and left, Liaze turned to Zacharie. “After the funeral, have the entire staff-searchers included-gather in the welcoming hall. We shall see if any know of a black mountain, or the one who howls, or of ought else in Lady Skuld’s rede.”

  Even as the pyres were burning and many wept in grief, Jean, the falconer, stepped to Liaze’s side and said, “My lady, one of the peregrines comes… from the Summerwood by the course of his flight.”

  Liaze looked up in the direction Jean pointed, and the grey-and-white raptor came winging in swift and true.

  Liaze sighed. I had completely forgotten we flew them yestermorn, bearing news of my betrothal to

  Luc. She turned to Jean and said, “Bring the message to the welcoming hall.”

  Jean nodded and set out for the falcon mews.

  There was an uproar in the welcoming hall, shouts of protest and cries of alarm.

  You can’t go away alone, Princess!

  Take the warband!

  Oh, my lady, please stay.

  ’Tis much too perilous, Princess Liaze…

  Liaze let the clamor run its course, and then she raised her hands for silence. When it came, she quietly said, “It is the only way, for I would not go against Lady Skuld’s words.” She looked at Didier standing nearby and added, “As I was reminded, there is much more at stake than a personal tragedy, else Lady Wyrd would not have come. I must go.”

  A murmur swirled among the staff, some nodding, others wiping away tears, yet all seemed to agree that an appearance by Lady Skuld could not be ignored.

  Liaze cleared her throat, and a hush fell once again. “Do any of you know of a black mountain, or of one who howls, or can any shed light upon any part of Skuld’s rede? If so, speak now.”