Once upon a dreadful time

That which a child does bear;

Ask the one who rides the one

To send seven children there.

At the wall there is a need

For seven to stand and wait,

Yet when they are asked to run,

They must fly at swiftest gait.

The whole must face the one reviled

Where all events begin:

Parent and child and child of child

Else shall dark evil win.”

And as the timbre of looms fell, Laurent frowned and said,

“But, my lady, I do not understand. Can you not say it plain?”

“Non, I cannot,” replied the silver-eyed demoiselle. “But this I can tell you for nought: If you do not give this message to the one for whom it is intended, then all will be lost forever.” And with that dire pronouncement, again the clack of shuttles and thud of battens intensified, and then vanished as did Lady Skuld.

Alarums

In the Springwood, Summerwood, and Autumnwood, Sprites took to wing, and as they flew through these three forests, more and more of these tiny beings were alerted, and each of these fey creatures warned two more, and each of those in turn warned two, and so their numbers doubled and doubled and redoubled again, until all were bearing the alarum throughout the woodlands.

And some went to the Root Dwellers, while others spied from leafy surround upon the crows massed along the starwise borders, and they counted the numbers of the ebon-feathered birds and noted the trees where they waited and ferreted out the most likely roosting spots therein. Back and forth among the Forests of the Seasons flew the wee messengers, and plans were laid, even as long, slender thorns were harvested and given to all who would engage.

Then some of the larger Root Dwellers, those the crows would not attack, slipped through the starwise twilight bound and relayed those plans to the Sprites of Valeray’s realm.

And the diminutive beings flew throughout the Springwood and Summerwood and Autumnwood, to all the hamlets and villages and crofts and mines and strongholds and manors and other such. And to the Humans and Gnomes and Dwarves and other beings therein they relayed the dreadful news that a means for freeing Orbane had come into the witch Hradian’s hand, and for the realms to prepare for his escape. They told them as well that the prince or princess or even the king would send word as to where to assemble should that event come about. Many gasped, for they thought that after his imprisonment Orbane would ne’er again be of concern, and others wept, remembering the last time he had been on the loose, while still others girded their loins and sharpened their weapons and oiled their armor of old, for if the wizard got free, then once again all Enfer would break loose upon this peaceful realm.

And Sprites flew across various twilight borders to other realms, and they alerted their kindred there, and those in turn bore the messages onward, warning the inhabitants of their respective domains, and carrying the news beyond.

Doubling and doubling and doubling again, it was as Peti had said: like wildfire did the word spread.

And as evermore Sprites flew onward they kept an eye out for Raseri the Dragon and Rondalo the Elf, but of these two they saw nought.

Yet Faery is endless, or so some have claimed, hence no one could gauge whether or no the word would reach all corners of that magical place, and if it would come soon or late or not at all.

Puzzles

Following Jerome, among the green-leafed trees of the Summerwood galloped Blaise and Regar, along with Regar’s tricorn passengers-Flic, Fleurette, and Buzzer. Across grassy glades they ran, and down into sunlit dells, and through long, enshadowed woodland galleries, and past stony cliffs over which crystalline water tumbled in roaring falls. Now and again they would pause to change mounts, and then take up the run once more.

They passed through the village of Fajine, where folk had gathered in the square and hailed the riders.

Blaise and the others paused a moment, and someone called out, “Is it true what the Sprite who came just said: that Orbane is free?”

Blaise frowned. “I think what you heard is not the message they bore.”

“He’s right,” called a man. “The Sprite only told us that Orbane might be set free and to be ready for such an event, should Prince Alain send word.”

“Regardless,” said another. “Has Orbane been set free?” Blaise shook his head. “That we cannot say. Yet the witch Hradian has the means to set him loose. So alert your fighting men, and be ready to assemble at Summerwood manor should the call to muster come.”

Somewhere within the small gathering a woman burst into tears. And Prince Regar added, “We have sent for one who might be able to stop the witch, yet we cannot be certain of success.”

Ere any could ask more, Blaise spurred his mount, and away galloped the riders, remounts in tow.

A candlemark later as the noontide drew on, they paused at a meandering wooded stream to water the horses and to give them grain and a bit of a breather.

“That was fast,” said Regar.

“What was?” asked Blaise.

“That the Sprites had reached the village ere we got there.”

“Not very,” said Flic. “I mean, those people acted as if the messenger had just come, and had I been bearing the warning, I would have been long gone from there.”

Blaise laughed and said, “Lord Borel once told me of this penchant of yours to speak of just how swift you are.” As Flic sputtered and searched for a reply, Fleurette said,

“Well, it’s true. Flic is the fastest Sprite I have ever seen.”

“And I suppose you have seen many, Lady Fleurette?”

“I have. And in the Sprite races, Flic has never lost.”

“Then I apologize, Sieur Flic, for you must be swift indeed.”

Somewhat mollified, Flic started to speak, but in that moment, from beyond an upstream turn there came the cry of

“Oh, help! Oh, help!”

With a shing! Blaise drew his sword, even as Regar swiftly strung his bow and nocked an arrow. Jerome drew his own blade.

Flic, his epee in hand, said, “Let me go see.” And ere any could object, he darted away, Buzzer flying in his wake.

Moments later, Flic and Buzzer returned, the Sprite’s epee now sheathed. “It is a silly woman up in a tree. She says she cannot get down.”

“Are you certain it is just a woman, and not the witch in disguise?”

“I have Fey sight,” protested Flic. “Were she glamoured, I would have seen it, just as I would have seen it had I been at the faire when Hradian came englamoured.”

“As would have I,” said Fleurette.

Blaise nodded, though he did not sheathe his sword. “Well then, let me go see what is to be done.”

“I’ll go as well,” said Regar, and he did not unnock the arrow from his bow.

“Sieur Blaise,” said Jerome-