. .
Camille smiled in memory and said, “And so I met the Dragon.
We spoke of many things, during which Raseri told me that he remembered nought of killing Rondalo’s pere or anything of his life ere he found himself in Faery. Still, he said he must have slain Audane, though he could call nothing to mind of the battle. His speaking of it spurred my supposition, there at the Dragon’s lair. . ”
. .
Camille shook her head in puzzlement. “Tell me then, are all Firsts as are you: knowing nought of what went before you each came unto Faery?”
“So it seems,” said Raseri, peering toward the oncoming light.
Camille fell silent and took another bite of biscuit. Around the mouthful she said, “Have you heard of the Keltoi?”
“Indeed. Most in Faery know of the legend. Wandering bards all-those whose tales caught the ear of the gods, and they in turn made Faery manifest.”
Camille swallowed and took a drink of water. “Well then, Raseri, answer me this:
“What if it is true that, as they wandered across the face of the world, the Keltoi did tell their tales, and the gods did listen, and they so enjoyed what they heard they made Faery manifest so that they could be entertained by the stories that followed?
Mayhap long past, ’round a campfire a gifted Keltoi began a tale, the first one the gods listened to, and it went something like this:
“Once upon a time there was a terrible Drake named Raseri, a Drake who breathed flame. And in a hard- fought duel with an Elf named Audane, Raseri slew the Elf. Yet it was Audane’s wedding night, and he had lain with his bride ere the battle, and some ten moons after the terrible death, Audane’s grieving widow, a Water Fairy named Chemine, birthed a son. And Chemine gave over unto the wee lad Audane’s silvery sword, the one with the arcane runes hammered down the length of its blade, and she said, ‘One day, my Rondalo, you will battle with vile Raseri, foul murderer of your sire.’ ” Camille fell silent, and Raseri cocked his head and said,
“Mayhap ’tis true that such did happen. Even so, where does that lead?”
“Oh, don’t you see, Raseri, ere that tale perhaps there
Raseri grunted, but otherwise did not reply, and Camille ate the remainder of her biscuit in silence, her thoughts tumbling one o’er the other.
Finally Raseri said, “If you have the truth of it, Camille, then much needs setting aright.”
“Wh-what?” said Camille, shaken from her musings.
“I said, have you the truth of it, then much needs setting aright. Even so, there is this to consider: although the Keltoi, or gods, or in combination, are responsible for much grief and rage, they gave me, they gave all of us, life as well. Without them we would not be. Hence, if the legend is true, we owe them our very existence. Those tales, though fraught with peril and desperation and fury and sorrow such as they are, without them we would not be.”
Camille nodded, somewhat abstractedly, and Raseri tilted his head to one side and said, “You seem preoccupied, Camille.
What were your thoughts that I so interrupted?” Camille glanced at Scruff and then at the Drake, then out to where Rondalo might be, and she shrugged and said, “I was just wondering whose silver tongue or golden pen is telling the tale we find ourselves in.”
Raseri’s booming laughter echoed among the peaks, but when he looked down at Camille, she wasn’t laughing at all.
. .
“. . and so you see, Simone,” said Camille, glancing at Avelaine as well. “If I am right, then each of the Firsts is the first of its kind to have been spoken of in a Keltoi bard’s tale, one whose story was made manifest.”
. .
In the armory, as Alain fell silent, Blaise said, “Did this Rondalo fellow ever fight Raseri?”
“Non,” said Alain. “After Raseri bore Camille to someone even older than he, the Dragon flew to see Chemine and told her of Camille’s conjecture. Chemine and Rondalo and Raseri made a truce, and, as it so happens, Rondalo and Raseri became the best of friends, and these days they go adventuring together.”
“Huah!” grunted Emile. “An Elf and a Dragon adventuring together. How odd.”
“Only in Faery,” said Roel.
Emile nodded and then turned to Valeray. “Well then, now that I know what a First is, tell me of this person Orbane.” Valeray said, “Orbane is one of the Firsts as well, evil wizard that he is.”
“But why would the gods do such?” asked Emile. “I mean, why would they make manifest a vile wizard who wished to rule all of Faery?”
“Because of the adventures he would spawn,” said Valeray. “Terrible as they were, it would be entertainment for the gods.”
Laurent slammed a gauntleted fist into a gauntleted palm and gritted, “Gods be damned.”
“Oh, Laurent, tempt them not,” said Roel, “else something might befall you as befell Avelaine.”
Laurent looked at his brother and wrenched off the gauntlets and flung them to the table where others lay. “Pah! That was the Lord of the Changelings and no god who stole our sister.”
“Nevertheless. .” said Roel.
Laurent took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I hear, little brother. I hear.”
Emile said, “What of this war with Orbane, Lord Valeray? I assume this monstrous mage was defeated.” Valeray nodded and said, “Many of the Firsts-Raseri the Firedrake, Jotun the Giant, Adragh the Pwca, Tisp the Sprite, and others-banded together to oppose Orbane and his conquest. Yet he was too powerful for them, and something had to be done. My friend, Duke Roulan, Michelle’s sire, came up with the seed of a scheme. You see, at the time he and I were neither duke nor king, but thieves instead. Yet we were caught up in the war against Orbane, for his minions were ruining our business. And so. .”
. .
“What we need,” said Roulan, “is a way to turn Orbane’s own power against him.”
Valeray nodded. “But how?”
“Well, Val, I know where one of his castles is located, though it is said to be warded by a witch; but surely you can get in and discover something of his own that we can use against him.”
“We. .?”
“Well, perhaps not we directly, but certainly the Firsts could.”
“I don’t know, Roully. I would think the castle well guarded, and it might-” Of a sudden, Valeray fell into thought. “Guile.
We can use guile. Though if Orbane is in residence, it’s the end for us both. But if he’s elsewhere, and the witch stands ward, well. .”
Roulan pushed out a hand of negation. “You know Orbane is off opposing the Firsts, and this castle is one of his lesser. What is it you have in mind?”
Valeray smiled and said, “Remember how we fooled the mayor, and. .”
A moon or so later, at a grey stone castle on a bald hill in the midst of a dark forest, a hag knocked for entry. From the battlements above, the Troll guard shouted down for her to go away, yet she croaked that she was a soothsayer who had private words for Lord Orbane within.
After repeated demands by the crone and threats by the Troll, disturbed by the racket without, the mistress of the castle appeared. It was a witch who announced she was in command of this holt.
“I have a dreadful message to give to the dark one, and I would see him,” called up the hag.
“Dreadful message?”
“I am a soothsayer and I have seen, and I’ll only speak with Lord Orbane.”
