Once upon a Spring morn ou-2

by Dennis L McKiernan

  And neither the horses nor the Wolves would set hoof or paw upon the stone of the bridge.

  “We would pass!” called Borel.

  The monstrous knight did not reply.

  Donning his helm, Luc dismounted and took up his shield and sword, saying, “I will go parley with him.” With a bit of blood running from his left arm and his shield cloven in twain, Luc returned through the swirling fog and said, “We can go onward now.” And across the bridge they all went, the horses no longer skittish and shy, the Wolves padding forward without delay.

  At the far end, the Red Knight’s empty helm sat on one of the pikes, but as to where his slain body had gone, none could say.

  They came to the twilight border and passed on through to find themselves in a dank swamp, and slime floated on the water therein. And now no matter how hard they pressed, they could move no faster than a swift walk, and at times they moved much slower.

  And there was but a single day remaining ere the dark of the moon.

  40

  Escape

  Torches aflame and shrieking a war cry, toward the squalling mob drove Celeste, with Roel shouting and charging after, fire in his hands as well. And the mares and geldings smashed into the throng, and brittle bones shattered under the onslaught. Corpses fell and were trampled under, never to rise again. The horses screamed at the touch of the undead things, and yet they hammered ahead, trying to get free of the deadly and draining chill. The princess and her knight laid about with their torches and tattered clothing blazed up, and dangling flesh burst into flame, and burning creatures mewled thin wails and fled back into the horde, only to spread the fire as more of the undead caught flame and squealed and ran into others and those into others still. The corpses gave way before horse and flambeau in fear of hoof and blaze, and some took up rubble and threw it at these living things to try and bring them down. But Celeste and Roel and the horses crashed onward, and finally the princess was free of the mob. . and Roel broke free right after.

  Yet bearing their torches, up through the streets they galloped, a howling throng running after. Past broken shy; down houses and collapsed buildings and other wrack and ruin they fled, and beings emerged from the side streets and alleyways and reached out to grasp with their deadly cold hands. But the two and their horses ran onward, sometimes smashing over the corpses, bones snapping and popping like dried sticks under the pounding hooves.

  Out through the gate flashed Celeste and Roel, and across the barren cinders and ashes and up the hill toward the ruins of fractured stone columns and broken pave high above.

  And the horde of the undead corpses came yowling after.

  And in the distance beyond the horizon where the leaden sky glowed red, the air flashed bright crimson, and the ground rumbled and thunder rolled o’er the land.

  Celeste and Roel galloped up and up, guiding the horses by knees alone. Finally they reached the crest of the hill, the horses to clatter onto the fragmented stone.

  Celeste and Roel leapt down, and casting the flambeaus aside, they took the horses by the reins.

  Behind them, skeletal beings, some seeming nought but fleshless bones, came swarming up the hill.

  Celeste pointed ahead at the broken stone floor.

  “There, Roel, there lies the circle.” Together they stepped into the ring, and as before, at a nod from Roel, in unison they said Phainesaton!

  Nothing happened. .

  No portals appeared. .

  And the horde came howling up the hill.

  Again Roel nodded. .

  . . and again they said Phainesaton!

  And again no portals appeared.

  Roel looked over his shoulder, and he drew Coeur d’Acier.

  And the undead things came on, their squalling growing louder.

  “Why do not the doorways manifest?” asked Celeste, even as she took up a torch.

  “I know not,” said Roel. “Mayhap-”

  “Oh, wait,” said Celeste, “I think I might know why.” Roel looked at her.

  “Remember what Chiron said: ‘Now you must put all else out of your minds except the desire to open the portals, and then, together, say the word Phainesaton! ’

  Roel, the word alone is not enough; we must have the intent. Hence, we need to calm our thoughts, no matter that a mob comes.”

  In the distance, a huge blast of scarlet flared the entire sky red, and the ground gave a violent jolt, and even as Celeste and Roel and the horses fought to keep their feet, one of the huge pillars on the left side of the ruins toppled and crashed down, stone bursting apart.

  Under a now-ruddy sky above, as the aftershocks diminished and died, Roel said, “If the portals do not appear, we must flee from here, and return later when the liches are gone.”

  “Agreed,” said Celeste.

  WHOOOM! A vast wave of thunder from the distant explosion at last rolled across the hill.

  The horses belled in fright and shied, but Roel and Celeste managed to keep control.

  And the howls of the oncoming throng grew louder.

  Celeste said, “Flee we will, if necessary, but now let us clear our minds of all but the need to open the way.” Roel nodded and Celeste looked down and took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, and she brought her gaze up to where she had last seen the gateways and then glanced at Roel and-

  The mob topped the hill and rushed toward the living beings standing in the ruins.

  — He nodded, and together they said Phainesaton!

  Two black doorways appeared before them.

  Squalling, living dead ran forward.

  One of the geldings screamed as an undead thing laid a hand upon its flank.

  “Left is right and right a mistake,” shouted Celeste, and together she and Roel fled through the leftmost portal, corpse folk hurtling after.

  41

  Hades

  Through the portal and into the Hall of Heroes dashed Celeste and Roel, the horses clattering after, and right behind them howling undead poured into the great chamber as well.

  Across the gymnasium a circle of men turned at the sound of the din, and Chiron shouted, “Cymry!” Achilles snatched up a bronze sword and Ajax a warbar and others took up weapons nearby, all but Heracles, who came running forward armed with nought but his bare hands.

  Roel spun about and with shield and sword took on the first of the horde, and even as he struck and fragmented the enemy, the portals began to fade. Celeste flew blunt arrows into the throng to bring down corpse after corpse.

  Heracles waded in and smashed left and right, Achilles and Ajax charging after. And then the remainder of the heroes reached the mob, yet-lo! — Heracles’

  fists and the champions’ weapons did not break the undead apart, though the squalling foe fell to the blows.

  Only the weapons of Celeste and Roel seemed to deal death to the undead. Mayhap it was because, unlike the weapons of Erebus, the arrows were from Faery and the sword was from the mortal world; yet whatever the reason, wherever they struck, the wailing undead fell slain.

  Yet it seemed the frigid grasps of the living corpses had no effect upon the heroes of the Elysian Fields, whereas in the midst of the melee whenever one touched Roel he felt the dreadful cold.

  On went the battle and the portals closed and no more undead Cymry came through. And soon all the corpse foe lay stunned or shattered, depending on who or what had dealt the blow.

  With the fight now over, laughing and slapping one another on the back, Heracles and the men began gathering up the defeated, and they bore them out to the crevice to Tartarus and without ceremony cast them in.

  Likewise, they took up the splintered remains of those slain by Roel and Celeste and cast those to Tartarus as well. Then they unstopped wineskins and passed them about, hailing one another as well as Celeste and Roel.

  And Philoctetes said to Celeste, “Those arrows of yours: quite deadly,” and he helped her reclaim them from the floor.

  “Thanks to the Fates,” said Cel
este.

  “Ah, yes,” said Philoctetes, “they do work well,” and he glanced toward Achilles, who was sharing a wineskin with Ajax.

  Chiron joined them, and Celeste said, “We did not intend to bring enemies into your domain.” Chiron smiled and said, “Princess, I believe the men enjoyed it.” Heracles laughed and said, “I haven’t had that much fun since I performed the twelve labors.” He handed his wineskin to Roel.

  As Roel started to tip it up for a small swallow, Celeste said, “No, love. Mayhap ’tis like unto the Elf King’s domain in Faery, and we should forgo food and drink.”

  “Ah, oui,” replied Roel, and he passed the skin to Odysseus.

  After drinking, Odysseus said, “Did you find that which you went for?”

  Celeste nodded and pulled the gray arrow from her quiver and held it up for all to see. From across the hall Achilles looked, and tears sprang into his eyes, and Ajax threw an arm about him in comfort. Celeste sighed and put the arrow away.

  Roel turned to Chiron and said, “We cannot tarry and celebrate with you, for our mission is urgent, and it’s to the mortal world and Faery we must go.” Chiron frowned. “Charon will not ferry you back across the Styx and the Acheron; his trip is one-way only. I’m afraid once in the underworlds you cannot return.”

  Odysseus shook his head. “Are you forgetting about me, about Aeneas, Theseus, and others?”

  “Nay, Odysseus,” replied Chiron. “Yet Lord Hades himself has closed those ways out of Erebus.” A debate broke out among the men, and Celeste called for quiet, and when it fell she said, “Lord Thoth himself told us how.”

  “Lord Thoth?” asked Chiron. “Oh, yes, I remember.

  You did tell us that he had helped you to come unto Erebus, yet not how you could return.” And so Celeste told the way it was to be done, and the men and Chiron clapped and laughed and saluted her cleverness, for it was worthy of Odysseus himself. Roel merely shook his head in admiration, for such means had not occurred to him.

  Celeste and Roel took their leave of the heroes, and out from the hall they strode. Mounting up, across the plains they fared, out from sunlit Elysium to come once more under the leaden skies of the Asphodel Fields.

  On they rode, and at last in the distance ahead they once again saw the great dark dwelling they had seen as they had ridden opposite less than eight candlemarks prior. Toward this massive palace they went.

  Up out from the plains it towered, its ebon stone rising in tiers toward the somber vault o’erhead. Toward a wide entryway at ground level they fared, the opening yawning darkly wide.

  “We must take our horses with us,” said Celeste as they came upon black basalt pave.

  “Oui,” replied Roel.

  Now they rode into the enshadowed gape, and Celeste turned to Roel and said, “Oh, my love, I do hope Lord Thoth is right.”

  Roel grimly nodded but said nought.

  Dark stone pillars lined the way, and hooves rang and echoed from the gloom-laden surround.

  Following the directions given by Chiron, they came to a broad stair climbing up into darkness; dismounting, they led the horses clattering upward.

  Into a long ebon hall they emerged, torches in sconces lighting the corridor with eternal flame, or so Chiron had said.

  Rightward along this hallway they trod, their horses trailing after, to come at last to a wide archway.

  Across a polished black marble floor they went and toward the far wall, where before ebon curtains sat two thrones, a beautiful maiden upon one, a dark male on the other.

  This pair was in deep converse and did not look up even as Celeste and Roel came to stand before them.

  Celeste cleared her throat and said, “My Lord Hades, my Lady Persephone.”

  Now the pair looked toward the two, and rage crossed Hades’ features, and he shouted, “Mortals!

  Again! Will this never end?”

  And with a bellowing shout, he swept the back of his hand outward, and as if from a mighty blow, into roaring blackness Celeste and Roel hurtled.

  42

  Desperate Run

  When the great rush of blackness subsided, Celeste and Roel found themselves and their horses standing in sand before the great stone Sphinx outside the City of Meketaten’s Tomb. And in that moment the first rays of the rising sun struck the face of the Abulhol, and it looked down at them and smiled, rock grinding on rock with the grin.

  “Ah, summarily ejected by Hades, eh?” it asked.

  “Oui,” said Celeste. “Just as Lord Thoth said Hades would do.”

  “Did you find what you sought?”

  “Oui,” replied Celeste. “The gray arrow is ours, and for that I say merci, my lord, for your aid; without it we would have failed.”

  With a grating of stone upon stone, the Abulhol inclined its head in acknowledgment.

  Roel frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the morning sun. “I do not understand, Lord Sphinx. It was just after dawn when we went into Erebus. Have we come back the same dawn we entered?” Slowly the Abulhol shook its head. “Nay, Chevalier.

  Two days have elapsed since you first broached the realm of the dead.”

  “Two days?” exclaimed Roel. “We spent but ten candlemarks at most therein.”

  “Time marches at a different pace in the netherworlds,” said the Sphinx.

  Celeste gasped in dismay and said, “Oh, Roel, that means there are but three days left ere the dark of the moon, and we have far to go.”

  “Then I suggest you set out,” said the Abulhol.

  After a quick glance at her map, Celeste pointed sunwise and said, “Yon.”

  “South it is,” cried Roel, and he and Celeste sprang to their mounts and rode into the dunes, the Sphinx murmuring after, “May the smiling face of Atum be turned your way.” Then it closed its eyes and went back to sleep.

  Across the sands they fared, stopping now and again to feed and water the horses as well as themselves. It was at one of these pauses when Celeste remarked that during the time they were in Erebus, even though two days in the world had elapsed, they had not felt the need for food or water.

  “Mayhap one never gets hungry or thirsty in Erebus,” said Roel.

  “In Tartarus they do,” said Celeste. “Remember Tantalus, love.”

  “Ah, oui,” said Roel. “Yet mayhap it is his eternal punishment for the deeds he did. Perhaps none else suffers such pangs.” Celeste nodded, and they mounted and rode onward, up and over and down tall golden dunes-great still waves of sand-and across long stretches of gritty flats, the surface baked hard, and through rocky wadis, some salt encrusted, which spoke of leaching streams of ages agone, and then back into dunes again.

  They ran out of water in midafternoon, and only sand and grit did they see; there were no wells, no piles of rocks, no birds to follow across the waste where they might find an oasis or a pool.

  Yet in the evening in the distance ahead they espied a looming wall of twilight, and within a candlemark they reached it. It took them another candlemark to find the fallen obelisk at the crossover point, and back into Faery they passed. They came into a world of green trees and lush grasses and cool air. The sky above was deep violet with dusk, and almost immediately they came upon a stream. They let the horses drink, and they drank as well and replenished their waterskins.

  “We have to press on,” said Roel as they brushed the animals clean in those places where grit would chafe,

  “for we cannot tarry.”

  “Yet we must not enfeeble the horses,” said Celeste, examining the legs of her mare. “Else we will most certainly lose any chance we have.”

  “I know, my love,” said Roel, shaking sand from the saddle blankets.

  “What we need are remounts,” said Celeste.

  “Oui, remounts for getting to the tower ere midnight of the dark of the moon, horses which will become mounts for Avelaine and Laurent and Blaise on the way back. Is there a city or ville between here and the next boundary?”

  As R
oel resaddled the mares and laded the goods on the geldings, Celeste unfolded the vellum chart and studied it in the failing light. “Ah,” she said at last. She stabbed her finger to the map. “I think this must be a town along the way. Perhaps there we can get horses.” Roel looked. On the chart were the initials FdTn. “A town?”

  “Oui. That would be my guess. I mean, it doesn’t seem to be by a twilight border, and though I don’t have a notion as to what the Fd might mean, I think the Tn might stand for ‘town.’ It is slightly out of the way, but if it has horses, that will more than make up for the extra distance.” Roel sighed and said, “Once again, whoever made the original map seemed to want some of it to be in cipher.

  Yet if the scale of this chart is anywhere close, without remounts we haven’t a chance. Let us go to whatever this FdTn might be.”

  With their own horses flagging, in the noontide of the next day Celeste and Roel topped a hill to see a goodly-sized town along the banks of a river meandering through a wide valley below. And as the waterway wended past the ville itself, it broadened to nearly three or four times its width elsewhere.

  “Ford Town,” said Roel. “The Fd stands for ‘ford.’ ” Down the slope they rode, and soon they came in among the buildings, and after inquiries, they reached a stable. Roel traded their mares and geldings for three fresh mounts. And spending some of the gold given them by Vicomte Chevell of the Sea Eagle, Roel purchased three more, bringing the total of their horses to six: two were to be ridden, while the other four would trail behind on long tethers as remounts to share the task of bearing the princess and the knight on a headlong run into danger. He also purchased additional tack so that when shifting from one horse to another they would not have to switch gear, saying, “It will save time.