Once Upon a Winter's Night

by Dennis L McKiernan

  Even so, the Redcap Goblins had bladed weapons—spears and tulwars and scimitars—and nearly all of the slaves did not, though a few here and there had managed to wrest a blade away from a downed Goblin. And so the tide turned, for bronze sheared through hands and arms and legs, necks and guts, and slaves fell, pierced or hacked or slashed, and red blood streamed in rivulets across the floor.

  But then—Boom! Doom!—the great doors to the castle came crashing inward, and, led by a tiny sparrow, the Dwarves, with their axes and war hammers and maces swinging, rushed into the fray, Big Jack and Lady Bronze among them and slaying Goblins with every strike.

  Redcaps fought with fury, yet the iron of the Dwarves shattered goblin bronze, and Redcaps shrieked and tried to flee, only to be cut down from behind. Te’efoon and Dre’ela fled screaming up the stairs, but, just as they reached the high landing above, Scruff flew into the face of Te’efoon, and she reeled back and lost her balance, and she reached out to grab on to anything to save her from the long fall, her talons snatching Dre’ela’s necklaces of stolen gold, and shrieking, together they tumbled over the edge to plummet headfirst to the stone floor below, skulls cracking open like rotten melons, necks snapping like twigs.

  Chirping, Scruff flew back down to Camille and alighted on her shoulder, yet she paid little heed; all the battles had ended but one, and Camille cried out in distress, for with battering fists, Olot hammered back the Bear, staggering the massive bruin. Yet this enraged the Bear, and, mad with unbridled fury and striking mighty blows, he savaged the Troll cham, smashing him to the floor. But Olot threw up a hand and squealed, “Remember my curse: if you kill me, then you yourself are slain.”

  “Oh, Bear,” cried Camille, “I would not have you die.”

  And in that moment the Bear hesitated, but Big Jack shouted, “Well, Troll, I am not so cursed!” And with a single blow of Lady Bronze, Olot’s head went flying.

  And with the last bane gone, the Bear vanished, and there stood Alain.

  And so it was at that very instant, at the instant Camille’s Alain had been set free, it was high noon above, with the new moon lagging on one side of the zenith and the sun just passing beyond, and in that moment the island could truly be said to lie east of the sun and west of the moon there at that time and place.

  Yet even as Camille rushed into Alain’s arms, she looked about at the dead and the dying—slain Goblins and slaughtered slaves and three very dead Trolls—and at the grief-stricken survivors, those with loved ones dead, and at the wounded crying out for aid. And Camille burst into tears and clutched at Alain and buried her face in his shoulder, for even more death had come, and it was all because of her, or so it was she did think.

  Both Kolor and Lanval called for the untouched survivors to begin binding the wounds of the injured. And as most of the Dragonship crew and many of the household of Summerwood Manor set to the task, both the captain and the steward turned toward Alain and Camille. But then Kolor started and gasped in disbelief, and he breathed, “Maiden, Mother, and Crone, but am I seeing true?” And he pointed at the dais, where an ebon-cloaked, hooded figure appeared . . .

  . . . and then another . . .

  . . . and then one more . . .

  . . . and all the Dwarves did kneel.

  36

  Pledge

  Dark as ravens, the three figures stood unmoving, the hoods and hems of their black cloaks outlined respectively in silver, gold, and jet. Two held staves; one did not. All in the hall before them fell silent, but for the groans of the wounded and the sobbing of Camille. Then the silver-trimmed figure stepped to the edge of the dais and said, “Weep not, Camille, for you did well.”

  Camille looked up into Alain’s face and then disengaged from his embrace and turned toward the dais. “Lady Sorcière,” she gasped, and wiped at her tears ineffectually.

  The figure cast back her hood, revealing silver eyes and silver hair, and Camille curtseyed low and said, “Forgive me, Lady Skuld, I took you for someone else.”

  Even as Skuld smiled enigmatically, the other two figures cast back their hoods, revealing golden-eyed, yellow-haired, matronly Verdandi, and black-eyed, white-haired, toothless, ancient Urd. And all the Dwarves dropped their gazes, for surely it would be unwise to stare into the face of Destiny, be it beginning, middle, or end.

  And though the three Fates now stood before the assembly, Camille thought she could faintly hear the sound of three looms weaving.

  Amazement in his eyes, for there stood Wyrd and Lot and Doom, Alain bowed, and all former slaves who were able bowed and curtseyed as well, Big Jack lowering Lady Bronze and bowing, too.

  “Pish, tush,” said Verdandi, waving a negligent hand.

  “This is no time for formalities. Instead, care for the wounded.”

  As Dwarves and Humans resumed the task of tending the injured, Skuld looked at Camille and said, “Although what Fate gives, most assuredly Fate can take away, we three would be most appreciative if you would return the gifts to the givers.”

  “Oh, indeed,” said Camille, and she took the carding comb from her pocket. “Here is one”—she stepped forward and gave over the golden comb to Skuld—“but I’ll have to get the other two, for the shuttle and bobbin are on—”

  —Yet of a sudden the shuttle was now in Verdandi’s hand and the bobbin in Urd’s. Camille was relieved, for now she wouldn’t have to touch Dre’ela’s corpse. And then the golden gifts vanished, as if returned whence they had come.

  Camille looked back at Alain, and he yet held wonder in his eyes, for not only were the three Fates standing before him, but it appeared his love had had dealings with them. She held out her hand and he stepped to her and took it, and together they faced the three Sisters.

  With her stave in hand, Verdandi lifted the gold-trimmed hem of her cloak and stepped down from the dais and looked up at Big Jack and said, “Would you walk with me?” Big Jack bobbed his head and offered his arm, and together they moved among the those who were injured, Lady Verdandi saying a word here and touching a cheek there, and all seemed the better for it.

  “Here, you, up off your knees,” snapped Urd, gesturing at Kolor. “A hand if you please.”

  Kolor leapt to his feet and aided Urd to step down from the dais, the crone then leaning on him as she shuffled among the slain, prodding Goblins and Trolls with her walking staff, as if to make certain they were truly dead.

  But Skuld remained on the dais, and she looked at Camille and said, “It would please me much if you would give me the other gift as well, for truly it is mine.”

  Camille frowned. “But my lady, what other gift—?” Camille furiously thought: The only other gifts I was given are—

  In her left hand, Camille yet held on to the stave, and she gave it over to Lady Skuld. And lo! the moment Skuld took the staff, the splits and cracks and splinters vanished, and the vine blossomed again.

  “Then you are the Lady of the Mere,” said Camille in wonder, “and Lady Sorcière, too.”

  Skuld nodded. “As I said, there at the beginning of the River of Time, my sisters and I are bound by rules, and no matter that I am Skuld or the Lady of the Mere or Lady Sorcière, I must follow those rules. Did you not pledge service to me there on the edge of the mere, and answer riddles ere I responded to your need, telling you where to find your love as well as giving you the staff and the sparrow?”

  At mention of the wee bird, sudden tears came to Camille’s eyes, and she reached for Scruff on her shoulder to return that gift as well. But Skuld thrust out a hand of negation and said, “No, you will yet need the sparrow for the great peril which is yet to come.”

  Even as Camille’s heart leapt to her throat, Alain put a protective arm about her. Then he gestured at the dead Goblins and Trolls. “But Olot and his minions are slain, my lady. Of what peril do you speak?”

  “Camille yet owes me a service, Prince Alain, and it will be more perilous than that which she did for you.”

  A look of hardness came
into Alain’s grey eyes, as if he would challenge Lady Wyrd Herself, or face dangers dire, but at that moment Camille quietly asked, “What would you have me do?’

  “No, my love,” said Alain, “not you alone, but we two together.” He turned to Lady Skuld. “What would you have us do?”

  Camille bowed her head, dreading the answer, but Skuld smiled and said, “Fear not, Camille, for I would not ask either you or Alain to betray your consciences. As to the service itself, it is impending, for the one who would pollute Time’s River beyond all repair is yet to come, and there is one before him who stands athwart your path, an acolyte who even now prepares the way for his return.

  “But that event wends down the River of Time and will not wash over the worlds for yet long whiles.”

  In that moment Verdandi as well as Urd returned to the dais, Big Jack handing Verdandi up, Kolor handing Urd. And the three then stood side by side, and the sound of weaving looms again came faint on the air.

  Skuld looked with silver eyes at Camille and said, “Remember this, Camille: even though what I have seen is now woven in the tapestry of time, great efforts by the determined can alter those events. Heed, you and Alain and any who walk at your side have time to prepare and mayhap even change that which I have foreseen, for it is only when Verdandi weaves and Urd binds that the pattern of the tapestry is fixed.”

  “I remember,” said Camille.

  Skuld turned to her sisters and asked, “Is there aught you would add?”

  Verdandi looked at Camille and Alain and said, “For now, return to Summerwood Manor, and enjoy the immediate days.”

  Urd cackled and winked at the two, then pointed a shaking finger at Camille, and said, “Remember all I have told you, child, all . . . and act.”

  The clack of shuttle and slap of treadle and thud of batten swelled, and of a sudden the Sisters vanished, the sound of weaving no more.

  “Maiden, Mother, and Crone,” breathed Kolor. “Maiden, Mother, and Crone.”

  37

  Restoration

  Camille, aiding Renaud to splint Blanche’s broken arm, found herself next to Kolor, who was helping Big Jack bind a wound across a woman’s back. “How did you get here so quickly,” she asked, “from your station asea?”

  “We were not there,” replied Kolor.

  Camille glanced at Kolor and frowned. “Not there?”

  “Did I not say when you went ashore that should we not hear from you in a timely manner, we would not stay hidden long?” As Camille nodded, Kolor said, “Well, when we had not seen any signal for two full days and nights, we slipped into the cove just ere this dawn, and then—”

  “And then we argued about what to do,” growled Big Jack. “I was all for—”

  Kolor snorted. “He was all for an immediate raid, but the Goblins were locked up in this great fortress, and if the prince were prisoner within, well . . .—This is a formidable redoubt and—”

  Big Jack’s jaw jutted out. “And if we’d gone over th’ wall in th’ dark like I wanted to—”

  “But the dawn was already upon us, Jack.”

  “All because of your dithering,” shot back Big Jack.

  Kolor sighed and said to Camille, “But then you and the others were marched from the town to the citadel, mayhap to be locked up as well. I thought Big Jack was going to attack the fortress all by himself, yet we managed to talk him out of it, for we believed surely you would think of something to do, Camille, or so it was we hoped.”

  Big Jack nodded, but made no comment as Kolor continued: “Long we waited, and long we watched as load after load of rubbish, it seems, were hauled out of the castle and thrown from the bridge into the moat. As the sun neared the zenith with the yet-to-be new moon still in its grasp, we heard the distant sound of a gong, and all the walls were abandoned, and lo! the bridge was left down with the gate wide ajar. Now we debated whether or no we had been seen and whether ’twas a Redcap ruse to draw us into a passage with murder holes above.”

  Fashioning a sling, Renaud grunted and shook his head. “We were all in, and they thought no one else was about, and so, what was there left for them to ward against? Nothing, they believed.”

  Kolor nodded in agreement and said, “As we discovered when we heard another distant gong, and shortly thereafter, Camille, your wee bird came flying straight for us, and we knew you were in trouble, and that no signal would come, though mayhap you’d sent the sparrow.”

  Camille shook her head. “Scruff did it all on his own.” She looked at the bird, delight in her eyes. “And he flew, oh, how he flew. It was marvelous.”

  “Indeed,” said Kolor, “and we were quite surprised, him with his wing and all.—Regardless, Big Jack took off running, little Scruff leading the way, and we were right behind. And a bit of trouble we found you in, too.”

  “There, Blanche,” said Renaud. “All done.”

  Her forearm now splinted and in the sling, Blanche turned to Kolor. “Thank you, Captain, you and your crew. Thanks to you as well, Jack. Without your aid, we would have all been slain.” She looked at Renaud, tears in her eyes, and whispered, “All.” She pulled Renaud to her and kissed him.

  Her own eyes tearing, Camille looked for Alain. He was kneeling and speaking to Jules, the lad with his head bandaged and but a stump for a hand. But then Renaud said, “Come, my lady. More need our aid.”

  Camille turned and followed the blacksmith, and they stopped at the side of a bleeding man, moaning and rocking and holding close the corpse of a woman slain.

  At last all of the wounds had been bound, broken bones splinted, and the injured were moved to suitable quarters in the seaside town and made comfortable.

  Then those who had escaped unscathed began the task of removing the dead from the citadel, to be buried or set upon pyres or slipped into the sea, as was the custom of their folk, wherever they were from. Forty-six Humans had died, twenty-one of these from Summerwood Manor. No Dwarves had been slain in the battle, though three had been slightly wounded. All eighty-two Goblins and the three Trolls had been slaughtered, and these were dragged to a bluff and hurled into the sea.

  And even as this was being done, a Dwarven horn sounded, and hurtling through the sky came a Dragon on the wing. Dwarves scrambled to arm themselves, though what they might do against a terrible, fire-breathing Dragon, none could say. But Camille called out, “Kolor, Kolor, stand down your crew. ’Tis Raseri come to the isle.” But Kolor was not in the courtyard, was instead casting Goblins into the sea, and the Dwarves left on guard took up axes and maces and shields.

  Raseri circled ’round the towers, then settled down atop the wall castellations, his rudden scales with black running through gleaming dully in the afternoon sun.

  And lo! upon Raseri’s back rode an Elf, all alabaster and gold. And Camille called out in amaze, “Rondalo, Rondalo, do my eyes deceive, is it truly you?”

  Rondalo, a sword girted at his waist, leapt to the banquette and strode along the wall and down one of the ramps.

  Camille grabbed Alain’s hand and crossed the courtyard, tugging the prince after.

  Even as Rondalo approached, he pressed a hand to his forehead, a look of distress in his eyes.

  “What is it, Rondalo?” asked Camille as she came to a stop before him.

  Rondalo looked about, then he said, “Iron.”

  On the wall above, “Iron!” boomed Raseri, then he bellowed at the sky: “IRON!”

  At this great shout, Dwarves flinched back, and Big Jack came running out through the doors of the castle, Lady Bronze in his grasp. Then he looked up to see Raseri, and though Jack blenched, onward he came to stand ward at Camille’s side.

  Yet pressing his hand to his temple, Rondalo said, “My lady, we came to help, but we saw as we circled above, these iron-bearing Dwarves had already dealt with the Goblins and Trolls.”

  Raseri flexed his great claws and said, “Too bad we arrived too late to join in the battle.”

  “But how did you—? No, wait.
Lord Rondalo, may I present Prince Alain of the Summerwood. Prince Alain, Lord Rondalo. Without his help I would not have found you.”

  Both Rondalo and Alain bowed to one another, a look of resignation in Rondalo’s gaze, a look of reservation in Alain’s.

  “And on the wall above is Raseri, also without whom I would have failed.”

  Alain grinned and said, “We met once, apast. Even so, Lord Raseri, I thank you for your aid.” Alain bowed, and Raseri dipped his head.

  “Lord Rondalo, Lord Raseri, this is Big Jack, who aided me as well.”

  Big Jack bowed to Rondalo and Raseri, and then he said to Rondalo, “You came with th’ Dragon?”

  As Rondalo nodded, Camille said, “But you and he are mortal enemies; I do not understand.”

  Rondalo smiled and said, “It is Raseri’s to tell.”

  The Dragon lowered his long neck down and said, “I thought many long days about what you said, Camille, especially the Keltoi tale you told of me and my battle with Audane on his wedding night, and then the coming of Chemine.

  “I followed the trace of Rondalo’s taste until I came upon the bard in a village where the cattle were quite stampeded, perhaps because I snacked on a couple. Then—after some back and forthing, and shoutings, and brandishings of blade, and blowings of fire—I spoke to Rondalo about what you had said, and together we agreed that perhaps you were right. We declared a truce and I flew Rondalo to Les Îles, where we put the premise before Chemine. And since neither Chemine nor I can remember aught of a battle between Rondalo’s sire and me, nor of anything ere we found ourselves in Faery, we both thought you might have had the right of it. Chemine in turn consulted seers and such, but they were of no aid. Finally, we three decided you indeed had the right of it: it was a Keltoi tale the gods made manifest. Chemine’s hatred of me then abated greatly, as did that of Rondalo, and so we declared the truce would last for a year and a day and a whole moon beyond, a time we picked because of you.”