Once upon a dreadful time

Michelle looked at the oncoming miasma. It did not seem to affect the throng, but men began retching, and horses nigh foundered, and Michelle gasped as a nauseating whiff filled her nostrils. Sprites flew thither and yon, crying out to the allies; and some of the wee beings fell to the ground, overcome by the dreadful vapor.

And from the slopes above the plain, there came a horn cry, as Emile sounded the retreat, for the Sprites had borne the alarm to him as well.

Hacking and wheezing, some vomiting, taking up their wounded and leaving their dead behind, the men began to withdraw, snatching up fallen Sprites as they fled. Yet the throng did not pursue, for they had had enough of battle.

And in the heart of the swamp under black, roiling skies riven by flares of lightning, Orbane released Hradian, and she fell to the flet beside Crapaud. And Orbane looked about at the lovely putrescence and laughed, for his spell was complete: he had raised the Sickness, the great contamination, and now nothing and no one could stand in his way, and he would be ruler of all.

March

Under the flare of lightning and the judder of thunder raging in the black skies above, from the ridge Emile and the others watched as the miasmic cloud spread out over the battlefield.

They could see little within the bilious depths, yet now and again they glimpsed shadowy movement therein, which showed that Goblins and Bogles and Trolls yet lived. And then the yellow-green vapor began to withdraw back into the swamp, and when the field was finally clear of its dreadful presence, the ground was bare of all plant and animal life, and no corpses of horses or men or even foe remained, nor did any of the surviving throng.

All bodies were gone, though some weaponry yet remained.

“They’ve dragged our dead away,” spat Laurent.

“For what purpose?” asked Blaise.

Leon sighed and shook his head. “Goblins and such savor human flesh, and Trolls love the meat of horses.”

“You mean they’ve taken them for food?”

Laurent spat an oath, and Leon nodded but said, “Either that, or the terrible cloud has destroyed all.”

“It is the Sickness,” said Peti.

“Sickness?” asked Emile.

“Oui. . the dreadful contamination that lies in the under-bottom of each and every swamp. Somehow Orbane has raised it up.”

“The Goblins and Bogles and Trolls seemed unaffected by it,” said Luc, “but it nearly did us in. It is a great pollution-a dreadful weapon.”

At these words, a murmur of agreement muttered among the men, but for Michelle it triggered an elusive thought along the margins of her mind. Of a sudden she snared it and said, “I think Orbane does not intend it as a battlefield weapon.” Emile turned to her. “Non?”

“Non.”

“Then what other use could he possibly have for such a dreadful thing?”

Michelle glanced from Luc to Emile to his sons, finally settling on Laurent. “Recall what I said that Camille had told me about the River of Time.”

Laurent nodded. “That if Orbane ever got free, he would pollute it.” Michelle said, “And Luc has rightly named the cloud just that: a pollution.”

“How does Camille know this thing?” asked Emile.

Laurent looked at Michelle, and she said, “The Fates are the ones who told her.”

“Just what is this River of Time Orbane would despoil?” asked Blaise.

Michelle said, “As Camille tells it, it seems that somewhere in Faery, time flows in a silvery river, and along this flow is where the Three Sisters fashion the Tapestry of Time: Skuld weaving what she sees of the future; Verdandi fixing present events into the weft and warp of the fabric; Urd binding all forever into the past. Camille speculates the river flows out of Faery to spread over the mortal world, for time itself does not seem to touch Faery, though some say it originates herein.”

“And just what would polluting the River of Time do to Faery?” asked Emile, “-or to the mortal world, for that matter?”

Michelle shrugged. “That I do not know, Sieur, yet if Time itself is despoiled in some manner, the result cannot be pleasant. Too, it seems to me that the greater harm, whatever it is, will occur to the mortal world.”

“Why is that?” asked Blaise.

“Because, if Camille is right, Time spreads over the mortal world, while in Faery it is confined.”

Roel slammed a fist into palm. “Confined or not, I say it is enough that Skuld, Verdandi, and Urd each tell that dreadful calamity will befall Faery, too.”

“I agree with Roel,” said Luc, “for we here cannot know what effect the contamination of that arcane river will bring-

it is beyond our ken. Yet if Orbane is to use the Sickness to pollute Time’s flow, he will have to move it from this swamp to wherever the river is.”

Sieur Emile pursed his lips and then asked, “But where along the river would he go to do this deed?”

Luc frowned. “I do not think he would go somewhere along the course, Sieur Emile, but to the headwaters instead, for from there he could foul the river its entire length.”

“Mais oui,” said Emile, nodding. He turned to Michelle.

“Just where is this river?”

Michelle turned up her hands.

“We know,” said Peti.

“The Sprites know?”

“Oui. It is a place we avoid, for we would not suffer the ravages of Time.”

“Ravages or no, Sieur Emile,” said Leon, “we must needs somehow foil Orbane’s plan.”

“But our forces are devastated,” said Bailen.

“Nevertheless,” said Leon.

“First,” said Luc, “we need to know if indeed the Sickness is at Orbane’s beck. Then we need to know whether he will march or not. If he does march and the pollution goes with him, then we need to know if this river is indeed his goal. Lastly, we need to know whether or no we have the wherewithal to stop him.”

“What is the count of our able-bodied?” asked Emile.

“The armsmasters are taking the tally now,” said Leon.

Emile nodded then said, “Peti, the Sprites need fly above the swamp and keep track of the foe.”

“Oh, my,” said Peti, alarmed.

But Trit took her hand and said, “We will just have to fly at height, well above the corruption.”

Peti nodded, then looked at Emile, and he said, “When and if they begin to move, we must know which route they take, and if it is toward this River of Time then we need to get ahead of them and plan an ambush or trap, or find some other means of thwarting Orbane.”

“What about the dreadful miasma?” asked Bailen. “I mean, if Orbane does move the contamination, how do we counter that?”

Emile looked from face to face, but none knew the answer.

. .

The tally of able-bodied came to just over four thousand. In addition, there were some six hundred wounded who had made it free of the battleground, and they were being attended by chirurgeons and healers. Some three thousand four hundred men had been lost in the battle-four of every ten men. Five Sprites had been felled by the bilious pall, half their total, though the men had managed to take up three of them during the retreat; even so, the loss of just two Sprites had been keenly felt by all. Of the fifty knights Leon had brought with him, thirty-five were yet hale. As to the enemy casualties, none knew the count.