Once upon a dreadful time

sweet.”

“My lord, I am wearied by my journey here. Can we not retire to the quarters within and once again-”

“Non, for I would go and go now. I have seen enough of that place.”

“Very well, my lord.”

Hradian took up her besom and straddled it. Orbane straddled it right behind. He embraced her, his hands upon her breasts, his fingers kneading and tweaking. “Now, Hradian. Let us go.”

With moans of desire, Hradian mumbled arcane words, and up and away they flew: sinister, upward, at an angle from the castle, coursing along the only line leading toward Faery.

. .

With the sun now risen, Raseri neared the Black Wall. “See you any sign of the witch?”

“Non,” replied Rondalo. “The skies are clear for as far as my sight reaches.”

“Then set an arrow to your bow, for I plan on entering the Great Darkness and flying the track to the Castle of Shadows.

If she is within, I will burn her to a crisp, yet on the off chance I miss, you can feather her through and through.” As Rondalo nocked a shaft to string, with Raseri’s great wings churning, through the Black Wall they went.

“Mithras, but I cannot see,” cried Rondalo. “My bow will be useless.”

“That is of little matter, for I see dimly,” replied Raseri.

“Even so, should she escape back into Faery, well then your bow will serve, that is if I give you a chance, for I intend to rend her to shreds.”

And on into the darkness they flew, sinister and downward at an angle and on the line toward their goal.

. .

Flying with two was even more draining upon Hradian’s power.

And yet she persevered, as Orbane’s hands caressed her body, for he knew lust would increase her efficacy, raise her energy.

And he ran his questing fingers here and there, teasing, touching, and now and then she gasped as if on the verge.

But then ahead in the darkness, black on black a darker form loomed, and Hradian jerked her besom to the left even as a great gout of flame shot past. She shrilled in terror, and Orbane shouted in alarm.

And then the massive shape was beyond her.

“Faster!” shrieked Orbane. “ ’Tis a Dragon in this endless void.”

Driven by fear, Hradian urged her besom to greater speed, yet she could hear the whoosh of immense wings overhauling.

And from hindward came a cry, “Raseri, I saw them by your flame. I am ready.”

“ ’Tis Raseri and Rondalo, my lord,” shouted Hradian,

“friends of the whore Camille, Valeray’s daughter-in-law. I have spied upon them. Can you not throw a spell to ward off the Drake?”

“I need more power than the Great Darkness will yield,” cried Orbane. “Get me to Faery and then-” But Hradian heard the Drake take in a great breath, and she jerked rightward, even as more flame shot past. And something whistled by in the black.

With her hair now singed and the twigs of her besom smoldering, Hradian goaded more speed from her broom. Yet the sound of wings grew louder, and Hradian dived just as great long claws went raking past and a huge tail lashed above.

Once more the Dragon hurtled by, and Hradian flew up and back on the track, and before her the massive form wheeled and again turned toward her. This time Hradian waited until the last moment, and she jerked the broom upward as flame shot below her, and again something whistled in the darkness, and there came a meaty thuck! and Orbane groaned.

“My leg. There’s an arrow through my leg.” With a cry of rage to offset the pain, he snapped the shaft in twain, throwing away one piece and wrenching out the other to cast it away as well.

Once more the thunder of wings drew nigh, but in that very moment Hradian and Orbane burst through the Black Wall and into the light of Faery.

And right behind came Raseri and Rondalo, and even as the Dragon took in a breath to burn wizard and witch to cinders, and Rondalo drew to the full for a shot that could not miss, Orbane twisted about and gestured at the Drake and shouted arcane words, and a roaring, whirling, ebon wind enveloped Elf and Dragon alike and bore them off through the Black Wall of the World and into the Great Darkness beyond.

Omens

Lisane bolted upright in her bed.

What wakened me?

She peered out through the window of her chamber. Beyond willow branches dangling down and gently swaying in the breeze, she could see Thale cropping grass, his lustrous horn gleaming in the early morning light.

Lisane slipped out from under the covers and padded to her small kitchen, where she set a kettle on to boil above the tiny hearth fire.

Something dreadful is afoot, I can feel it. I must see what I can see. First I’ll lay out the square- four and four-for it is the most stable of all, and speaks of the here and now.

She opened a small cedarwood box, and removed a taroc deck wrapped in blue silk cloth. She spread the silk upon the oaken plank that served as her table, then took up the taroc deck and began to shuffle, all the while concentrating upon the question as to what the day might bring. She dealt out cards, sixteen in all, four across and four down, their faces hidden. Then one by one she began turning them up: first the upper left corner, the Hierophant droit; then the upper right, the Naif, also droit; then the lower right, the Lovers, this card, too, facing her; and finally, still moving deasil, the lower left, the Sun, droit.

Oh, my, four of the major arcana, and all upright, all facing me, all droit. The Hierophant: at times she represents me.

The Naif: perhaps someone I know, or perhaps not. Lovers: two paths; a time for choice, the outcome of which is vital. Too, it could mean- Ah, but wait, the Sun: happiness, joy. This is an odd configuration. Let me see the other cards.

Swiftly Lisane turned the remaining cards over.

Oh, Mithras, so many swords. Conflict. And yet-

In that moment the kettle began to whistle, and Lisane stepped to the fire and took the vessel from the hook and poured steaming water over the waiting leaves in the teapot.

When she returned to the table and looked at the layout, of a sudden she said, “I see. I am to get visitors today, on an urgent mission and peril follows. Oh, my, what’s this? One of them will steal the heart of the Hierophant. Is it my heart the arrangement speaks of?”

Lisane shook her head to try to clear it of these fey thoughts.

Perhaps I’d better try the wheel.

She took up the cards and once again began to shuffle, this time concentrating upon seeking events to come near and afar.

Cutting the deck thrice, she began laying out a pattern upon the blue silk. When she was done, a great circular array of cards lay, rings within rings, concentric, the cards facing oppose, away from the center; or inward, droit, toward.

Once again there are so many swords, so very many swords, here about the center. It could mean great conflict, and even combat, fighting, bloodshed. It can also mean confrontation, a great physical effort, a testing of wit, any number of things: conflicts of the heart and mind and body and spirit and soul; conflicts from within and without.