Once upon a dreadful time

Camille called Scruff to her shoulder pocket, and then all the women mounted, Celeste with the bow sitting foremost, and Alain lifted Duran up to Camille, along with Asphodel.

The Drake then slithered to the end of the span and leapt outward into the darkness and plummeted down, all riders but Scruff and Duran gasping in fear. Raseri unfurled his mighty wings and soared upward again. Scruff then fell asleep, for all about was a darkness deeper than that of night.

And with his wings hammering through the blackness, Raseri flew along the single course that would take them to freedom.

“The last time I did this,” he bellowed, “I nearly caught Hradian and Orbane. Mayhap the next I see them, the ending will be different.”

And on he flew. .

. . to finally burst through the Black Wall of the World and fly into the silver light of dawn.

And waiting below stood seven white steeds.

“Oh, my,” exclaimed Camille, “now I understand.”

“Understand what?” asked Saissa.

“Lady Skuld’s rede, spoken to Laurent, as well as the one Verdandi told to Blaise. -Raseri, land next to the horses, for they are the get of Asphodel and are meant for us.” Raseri spiralled down, to come to ground nigh the steeds.

“Now go, Raseri, fetch the others, and hurry,” said Camille,

“for we are needed elsewhere.”

Without questioning the princess, Raseri said, “Ward your eyes,” and Camille covered Duran’s and closed her own. And the Dragon took to flight, his mighty pinions driving down great blasts of air-dust and grit and grass flying ’round-as he winged his way upward. Then he shot back through the Black Wall of the World and vanished.

The horses came trotting, and Duran laughed in glee for here were some “real” Asphodels, and for the first time the women could see that arms and armor-swords, long-knives, lances, bows and arrows, along with breastplates and helms and greaves-were affixed to the saddles, along with garb to be worn. And they cast off the dresses in which they had been garbed ever since the closing ceremonies of the Faire and donned the apparel given, and it all fitted nicely, though how someone could have known just what sizes were needed was anyone’s guess. Saying that but for the bow she knew little of combat, Camille gave her own armor to wee Duran, and lo! it diminished to fit the child. And then they knew Fairy magic was at hand.

As she strapped on a greave, Liaze asked, “You have solved both Skuld and Verdandi’s redes?”

“I think so, or at least enough to know what we must do, for Urd’s rede applies as well. Or at least a part of each does.”

“And that is. .?” asked Saissa.

“We must mount these children of Asphodel, all of us, and ride to the headwaters of the River of Time, for that’s where Orbane will go, for he intends to pollute it beyond all redemption.” Liaze’s eyes flew wide. “Ah, oui. You are right, Camille.” Saissa frowned in puzzlement. Liaze noted her mere’s bafflement and said, “Camille is right, for the one rede says:

“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.”

“Ah,” said Saissa, enlightened. She gestured at the white horses, one nuzzling Duran, the young prince laughing, Scruff now chirping in joy and circling about. “And these are the seven children.

And they are here at the Black Wall, for here is a need.”

“A need for us to face the one reviled,” said Celeste.

“Orbane.”

“And we must go where all events begin,” said Camille,

“and that is at the headwaters of the River of Time.” Saissa said in dismay, “But surely we need not take wee Duran.”

“We have no choice, Maman,” said Liaze, “for the words tell us that all must go: ‘Parent and child and child of child,’ and that includes Duran.”

“But why?”

“For his limit to be found,” said Camille.

“Limit? What limit? Whose limit?” asked Saissa.

And Camille intoned:

“Grim are the dark days looming ahead Now that the die is cast.

Fight for the living, weep for the dead; Those who are first must come last.

Summon them not ere the final day

For his limit to be found.

Great is his power all order to slay, Yet even his might has a bound.”

Camille looked at her son and added, “I deem we are needed along with the Firsts to somehow thwart Orbane.”

“The Firsts?” asked Celeste. But then she said, “Oh, I see:

‘Those who are first must come last,’ and that means the Firsts.”

“But what of Urd?” asked Liaze. “I do not see how what she said applies.”

“But for one thing, or perhaps two,” replied Camille, “I am not certain either. Yet here’s what she said to Roel:

“ ’Pon the precipice will ye be held, As surely as can be,

Yet can ye but touch the deadly arcane, The least shall set ye free.”

Camille looked at Liaze and Celeste and then Saissa, and each frowned in puzzlement. “And what parts of the rede do you think apply?” asked Celeste.

“I think ‘the precipice’ means the linn where the River of Time begins.” Camille now looked at Duran and said, “And perhaps ‘The least shall set ye free,’ somehow might mean Duran.”

Saissa sighed. “And that’s why he must go.”

“Oui, Maman,” said Camille, grimly, “that’s why he must go.”

In that moment, Raseri hammered through the Black Wall of the World, and spiralled down to deposit Valeray, Borel, and Alain.

And when all had been explained, Borel said, “Then it’s to the headwaters of the River of Time we all go.”

“I will guide,” said Raseri.

“But shouldn’t we fly ahead?” asked Rondalo, still astride.

Borel laughed. “If these colts run as fast as does their sire, then it will be all you can do to keep up.”

“Pah!” snorted Raseri. “Let us test your words.” And so all mounted up, Camille and Duran and Scruff together upon one of the colts, and just as the limb of the morning sun broke across the rim of the world, away they all flew, Raseri in the air above, Asphodel’s colts galloping across the lands below.

Although they were headed for the linn of the River of Time, Camille fretted, deeply concerned: Did we soon enough discover the way out of the Castle of Shadows, or-Oh, Mithras-

are we already too late?