“My lady,” said Emile, “I would not have you-”
“We have been through this argument before, Sieur, and again I say, there is none better to take on this task.”
“Oui, but-”
“Sieur, I insist.”
Emile took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Then I will send Galion to-”
“Sieur, non! Where one person and seven Wolves can go in stealth, two-and-seven more than doubles the risk. My pack will not be seen, and I have been training with them, whereas Galion has not.”
“But, Princess-”
“Sieur Emile!”
Again Emile took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Finally he said, “No unnecessary risks.”
“No unnecessary risks,” agreed Michelle.
. .
Splatting through the swamp, the Serpentine scout rode at a gallop, his scaled steed running flat out. The vertical pupils of the rider’s viperous eyes were open to the full, and his way in the dismal mire was lighted by the nearly continuous barrage of lightning above.
At last he came to where he could see the witch’s cote standing on stilts and surrounded by a quag of turgid water, and he called out for her to attend.
Hradian barely heard the cry, for, just moments before, Orbane had completed his spell casting. The dark pall above was now more than sufficient to carry out his plan. And so he let her enthrallment lapse, and she in turn released Crapaud. She was drained of nearly all energy, and she lay in a collapsed heap, sweat streaming from her body.
“See what he wants, Acolyte,” demanded Orbane.
Hradian crawled to the edge of the flet, and she croaked out,
“Speak,” her voice but barely above a whisper.
“My lord and master Orbane, there is an army of some eight or ten thousand humans just beyond the dawnwise brim of the swamp.”
“My lord,” whispered Hradian, “he says-”
“I heard what he said, Fool!” raged Orbane. Then he shouted out, “Humans? Only humans? No others?”
“Some Sprites, my lord.”
“Ah, good,” murmured Orbane. “Then my sire is not with them. I heard his horn this morning, but it will take a while for the Fey to assemble, and by the time that is done, I will have succeeded. Yet these pests of humans now think to beleaguer me. Bah! Without my father they will easily fall. And I must keep them from delaying the lifting up of the putrescence.” Then he shouted to the Serpentine scout, “Bring Bolok to me!
Now!”
. .
Given the dark of the overcast, night came on uncertain feet.
Yet at the point when the blackness was complete but for the lightning above, Michelle and Slate and Dark and Render, Shank, Trot, Loll, and Blue-eye slipped up the rise and over and down and headed toward the plain below. The Sprite Trit rode in the prow of her tricorn.
Down they went and down, the Wolves raising their muzzles and taking in the air, taking in scent, and by the stutter of lightning they could see the way ahead.
They came to the edge of the flat, and there Michelle paused, and under the violent coruscations of the churning skies they could see the dark beginnings of the vast swamp to the fore.
“Oh, my,” said Trit in dismay, in between thunderous booms. “What a dreadful place that is.”
“Dreadful? Why so?”
“Princess, at the bottom of every swamp lies great sickness, a sickness whose very vapors can cause the ague and boils and other such horrible manifestations of its terrible strength, and even a short exposure to this ghastly effluence is deadly to Sprites and lethal to humans if either remain too long in its grasp.”
“What of its effects upon Goblins and Bogles and Trolls and other such beings?”
“Oh, my lady, it harms them not, for Goblins and Trolls are akin to Bogles, who themselves live in swamps.”
“And the Serpentines?”
“The Serpentines and their mounts are more snake than people and steeds, and such corruption harms them not.”
“Well then, Trit, if we can choose our battleground, let it be on this plain and not in the midst of the mire.”
“But only if the soil is firm,” said Trit, “or so Sieur Emile said.”
“Let us test it,” said Michelle, and she gave a soft growl, and Slate led the Wolves onto the plain, Michelle following after and probing with a slender, sharp staff.
. .
Among the roars of thunder, “Bolok, you are the
“Humans?”
“Oui. There is an army of them on the dawnwise marge of the swamp. Ten thousand or so.”
Bolok laughed. “Ten thousand? Why, my Trolls alone could slaughter them all.”
“Non, Bolok, for I need make certain that you protect me on my way to the goal. Hence you will use all under my command to do this ragtag army in.”
“All, my lord? All forty thousand?”
“Oui, all forty thousand. And heed me, more are on the way; if they arrive in time, then throw them into the battle as well, for you must keep the ragtags from disturbing me as I maintain the darkness above and cast the second great spell.”
“As you will, my lord,” said Bolok.
“Then go, and go now, and destroy them all or, at a minimum, keep them at bay.” Bolok laughed and turned and waded through the scum-laden waters to round up the throngs and give them their orders.
. .
In the hollow hills, Regar and Auberon waited as the Fey army came together, Fairies riding from all directions upon their splendid mounts. They wore silver-chased bronze armor polished to a high sheen, and their weapons were bows and arrows as well as long spears, pointed at both ends, one tip for lancing, the other for stabbing down upon a foe. Girted at their waists were finely honed sabers, and strapped to their thighs were keen long-knives.
“My lord,” said Regar, “are we not ready to ride?”
“Nearly,” said Auberon.
Regar stopped his pacing. “Do you know where we should go?”
“When we looked through the queen’s silver mirror, I recognized a witch named Hradian, and behind her and my son I could see what appeared to be a swamp, and that’s where the witch has an abode. Too, I believe I know the goal of my son, and there is a pass he must fare through to get from the swamp to his target. It is in that pass where we’ll make our stand.”
“Well and good,” said Regar. “I will be glad when this day is come to an end and the army is ready to hie, for I am in haste to ride.”
“As am I,” said the Fairy King, “and this day is nearly done.”
“Hai!” exclaimed Regar, eager to be off, for somewhere Blaise and the others were waiting, yet what Regar had temporarily forgotten was that time steps at a different pace in the Halls of the Fairy King.
. .
Michelle looked across the assembly of leaders, and raised her voice to be heard. And in a lull in the thunderous skies she said,
