Once upon a Spring morn

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 Roel 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.

Besides, we need tack for Avelaine and Laurent and Blaise.”

“Speaking of needs,” said Celeste, “we need select enough supplies to feed us and the horses coming and going, and your siblings on the way back. How many days will we be in the Changeling Lord’s realm?” The hostler gasped upon hearing this. “Oh, Sieur, mademoiselle, you must not go unto the land of the Changeling Lord. Terrible things live therein, hideous things. They will kill you, Sieur, and take your demoiselle captive and do dreadful things to her-use her until she is worn beyond living.”

“You mean breed me?” asked Celeste.

“If you are a virgin, mademoiselle, then oui, they will use you to strengthen their line. If you are not a virgin, then they will merely use you for pleasure, one after another after another. Yet virgin or no, into the land of the Changelings you must not go.”

“We have no choice, Sieur,” said Celeste. “Three lives hang in the balance-a sister and two brothers.”

“Yours as well,” said the hostler, shaking his head.

Roel looked at Celeste, anguish in his eyes. “Cherie, I beg of you, stay here. I will go on alone.”

“Non, my love,” replied Celeste, “where you go, so go I.”

“Ah, zut!” declared the hostler. “Sieur, mademoiselle, it is but madness to venture into that dreadful realm, no matter the reason.”

Roel looked at Celeste, a plea in his eyes, but she shook her head in silent answer to his wordless appeal.

He sighed and turned to the hostler and said, “Mayhap indeed we are insane, yet go there we must.” The man then looked at the sword at Roel’s side and said, “If you are bound to take this unwise course, then this I will tell you: turn not your back upon any therein, for to do otherwise is perilous. This I tell you, too: the only sure way to kill a Changeling is to cut off its head, though an arrow through an eye will work as well.”

“Merci, Hostler,” said Roel. Then he turned to Celeste and said, “We have but the rest of this day and all of tomorrow up until midnight to reach the Changeling Lord’s tower and save Avelaine. And then we need to find Laurent and Blaise, and surely it will take no more than three days for the five of us to get back from there.”

Celeste nodded and she and Roel selected just enough supplies to last the journey to there and back and but a single day more, and they evenly distributed the goods among the six steeds to equal the loads. The remainder of their supplies they left with the stableman.

At last all was ready, and, with an au revoir to the hostler, out from the town they went. Behind them, the man watched them leave and smiled unto himself, and then stepped back in among the stalls, and the sound of looms weaving swelled and then vanished, and gone was the hostler as well.

Sunwise across the shallows splashed the horses, and upon emerging on the far bank Celeste and Roel broke into a run, two of the mounts bearing weight, four running but lightly burdened. Roel set their gait at a varied pace, and the leagues hammered away beneath their hooves. All day they ran thus: trotting, cantering, galloping, and walking unburdened, and then doing it all over again. Roel and Celeste changed mounts every two candlemarks or so, pausing now and then to stretch their legs and feed the horses some grain or to take water from the streams flowing down from nearby hills.

Long they rode into the late day, past sundown and well beyond, taking the risk of running at speed in spite of the darkness. When they stopped at last, it was nearly mid of night. They had covered some forty leagues or so, yet they had not come unto the twilight bound. But ere the two cast themselves to the ground to sleep, the horses were unladed and rubbed down and given grain and drink.

At dawn the next day, once more they set forth upon the sunwise track. Celeste was weary nearly beyond measure, and she wondered whether the horses could hold the pace; yet the steeds bore up well, for even though they had run swift and far, still half of the time they’d carried no burden. It was she and Roel who felt the brunt of the journey, for they had spent weeks on the quest, and little rest and but few hot meals had they had in those long