Once upon a dreadful time

to win our way through that.”

“You four?” asked Regar. “You four will go after Orbane?” A rakish grin crossed Luc’s face as he glanced at the three others. “We four.”

We four! they responded.

“But as you say, Prince Luc,” said Auberon, “first you have to win your way through an entire throng.” The Fey Lord turned to Emile. “My archers will stand to the fore, for with each arrowcast, we will bring one of them down. . until we run out of shafts, that is, for there are more of the foe than we bargained for.”

“And I will stand with your archers,” said Michelle, sitting ahorse to one side, with her Wolves gathered ’round.

“It will be perilous, my lady,” said Auberon.

“Nevertheless,” replied the princess.

Auberon looked to Emile for a countering word, but he merely shook his head and said, “I lost that argument long past, my lord. Besides, she will have seven Wolves and a warrior named Galion to protect her.”

“Trained Wolves?”

“Oh no, my lord,” replied Chelle. “It is Borel’s pack. We work as a team.”

Auberon smiled and said, “And where is your prince, my lady?”

“Trapped with the others in the Castle of Shadows,” said Chelle, “or so it is we think.”

Regar took in a sharp breath at this news, and both Flic and Fleurette burst into tears. “What others?” asked Regar.

“The entire royal family,” said Chelle. “Valeray, Saissa, Borel, Liaze, Alain, Celeste, Camille, and Duran-all trapped, borne away on a black wind. Mayhap Raseri and Rondalo, too, for a black wind bore them away as well.” Auberon gestured at the roiling sky. “He was always master of the winds; the rage above declares it, if nought else.”

“You’ve got to get them out,” said Fleurette, choking back her tears.

Luc jerked a nod and said, “As soon as I retrieve the key to the castle and we find someone to fly it through the Great Darkness to set the prisoners free. Hradian has the amulet, and we deem she is marching at Orbane’s side.”

“This is ill news, and mayhap there is more,” said Auberon,

“but it will have to wait. I must needs cast a great spell, and then deploy my archers.”

. .

As they rode back down to the midst of the army, Regar glanced across at Luc and Roel, Blaise and Laurent. “My mother once told me of an old legend about four deadly horsemen: the fable tells that the rider on the white horse was Plague himself, while the one on red was War; the one on black-or was it grey? Ah, never mind-was Famine, while the one on grey was Death.” Blaise laughed and said, “Well, then, I must be War, for I ride a red horse. Whereas, Laurent on white is Plague. That leaves Luc on black to be Famine or Death and Roel to be vice versa, whichever it is the legend says. But as for me, I would pick Roel to be Death.”

“And why is that, other than simple family pride.”

“Because he has a special sword-Coeur d’Acier.”

“Heart of Steel?” Regar frowned and declared, “But iron and steel are forbidden in Faery.”

Blaise smiled. “Oui, I know, though I’ve been told there are a few exceptions-the arms and armor of the Dwarves of the ship Nordavind being one, and the weapons of King Arle and his riders being another, now that they’ve broken their curse, though they’ll not take iron or steel into the Halls of the Fairy Lord ever again. Yet did I not say Roel’s sword is special? The steel, you see, is bound by arcane runes flashed in silver, hence I am told it does not twist the aethyr, whatever that might be.

It was given to Roel by Sage Geron, who got it from a source he will not or perhaps cannot name. Regardless, with the sword Roel cut through the Changeling Lord’s magical protection and took off his head, and thereby set Laurent and me free from an enchantment.”

“It overcame a spell of protection?”

“Oui,” said Blaise. “I think it’s the steel that did it, or perhaps the runes.”

“Mayhap both together,” said Regar. “ ’Tis a powerful weapon indeed.”

“Then can we name Roel ‘Death’?”

Regar laughed and said, “As you will, Blaise, as you will.

But regardless of what you call one another, I hope that when you four go after Orbane, you are just as deadly as are your namesakes.”

“So do I,” replied Blaise, as Roel and Luc merely shook their heads and Laurent snorted and spurred forward to come alongside Auberon.

“A splendid high-stepper of a mount you have, my lord,” said Laurent. “Are all Fairy horses such as he?”

“To a lesser degree,” replied Auberon. He patted the white animal’s neck. “Asphodel is quite special.”

“Asphodel? Ah, then that’s where Duran gets the name for his toy hor-” Of a sudden, Laurent’s words jerked to a halt, and he frowned in puzzlement and then his face lit up in revelation.

“My lord, I do not know what all of this means, but Lady Wyrd gave me a rede.”

“Skuld?”

“Oui, my lord, and I think it has to do with Asphodel.”

“Asphodel? Say on, Laurent. Say on.”

“The rede goes like this.” Laurent paused in recollection and then intoned:

“Swift are the get of his namesake,

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.”

Laurent paused and Auberon frowned and said, “I do not understand.”

“My lord, Prince Duran, the child of Alain and Camille, has a toy horse named Asphodel. And so the first two lines of the rede refer to that: Swift are the get of his namesake, that which a child does bear. Thus the get of Asphodel are swift, or so I would surmise. Does he have any offspring?”

“Oui, he has sired seven colts.”

Laurent clenched a fist and grinned in triumph. “Then list, the next lines say: Ask the one who rides the one to send seven children there. Hence, my lord, I ask, can you send the seven colts somewhere?”

“Oui, I only need to give the command. But where?”

“To the Black Wall of the World, my lord, for the next lines say: At the wall there is a need for the seven to stand and wait.

Hence they are to go to the Black Wall of the World, for what other wall could it be? And when they get there they are to wait.”

“Ah,” said Auberon, then frowned. “But wait for what?”

“I don’t know, my lord, but Lady Wyrd’s words must mean something, else she would not have said them. She also said that if I did not give this message to the one for whom it is intended, then all will be lost forever. And you, my lord, are surely the one for whom it is intended.”

Auberon slowly nodded. “Sieur, I do not know what is intended, yet if Skuld said those words, then indeed I must heed them.”

Auberon raised his silver horn to his lips and blew a call, silent to the human ears, though Asphodel nickered and all the Fey glanced toward their lord.

And even as Laurent looked on, out from among the Fairy horses, seven trotted forth. White they were, each