Once upon a Summer Day

44

And like the wind the Fairy horse did run, as away from the dolmen he sped. In a flash, it seemed, Asphodel was past the twilight border and into the stony green highlands, the ones Borel and Flic and Buzzer had come through but a fortnight ago-or, depending upon who might be asked, perhaps that very same eve.

O’er the hills and tors ran the steed, silver bells sounding the way, and straight into the woodlands he sped, slowing down not one whit, for the Fairy horse was like a zephyr weaving among the trees. Across rivers and streams he passed, silver-shod hooves leaving nought but ripples ringing outward in Asphodel’s wake.

Now Borel could hear the surf booming against the leagues-long cliffs, and when the racing mount came to the sheer drop, over the rim he leapt.

Down they plummeted, down through the air, down toward the waves below, and Borel’s knuckles grew white upon the reins he gripped. Yet gentle as a feather did the steed land, and o’er the combers he ran, Asphodel’s heels kicking up white foam behind.

“By all the gods above,” shouted Borel, “but what a wondrous steed!”

And across the waters they sped, and below the ruins of the tower high above where the white lady had died, and they saw no sign of her, but of course no storm raged. Yet even had a tempest whelmed upon sea and land, the white lady would not be there, for by Borel’s hand she had been put to rest at last, or so had said Lady Lot. And on beyond the ruins they angled, and soon they were upon the open waters of the wide ocean, with land no longer in sight.

A ship they passed and then another, men adeck shouting and pointing, and the vessels changed course.

“We run like the Pooka does o’er the waves,” cried Flic, shrieking to be heard above the wind of their flight.

Long did they course upon the vast sea and through numerous twilight borders, passing from roiling waters to smooth, from cold oceans to warm, from stormy seas to calm. And as they ran, the gibbous moon sailed serenely above, paying no heed to the miraculous scene below. And somewhere during this passage, Flic fell quite asleep.

Nigh mid of night and beyond another tenebrous border, a headland appeared in the distance. Up the slopes the Fairy horse sped, and to the fore mighty mountains did loom afar, and when the steed came unto them, up sheer massifs and o’er vast chasms and among jagged crags he leapt.

Over the range they passed and through another twilight marge to race across a vast bog, the steed running so lightly he left not a track therein. Finally Asphodel emerged through another bound and came to a fiery land, with the ground arumble and mountains spewing flame.

Past that land, across a great plain they ran, while the moon continued to slide down the sky. Another border they breached, and another and another, and Borel had lost all count, as over snow they raced and lakes and ponds and ice and through the streets of towns and cities and within jungles and across lands desolate of life.

The moon set, but the sun was not yet risen, and another candlemark they ran.

At last, even as the dawn graced the skies, they emerged from a woodland and crossed a grassy field to come to a twilight border, and here the white horse bedecked with silver bells halted.

And Asphodel was not breathing hard.

“We have reached the Endless Sands?” asked Borel.

With a nicker, the Fairy horse tossed his head, his silver bells ringing faintly.

Flic, awakened by the sudden stop, took to wing and passed through the border and back. “Sands as far as the eye can see,” he called.

Asphodel snorted as if to say, You doubted?

“Do you see Roulan’s estate?” called Borel.

“Non,” said Flic. “As I say, nothing but sand. ’Tis a desert without end.”

“Noble steed, can you take us to Roulan’s estate in the Endless Sands?”

The Fairy horse blew and shook his head, silver jingling.

“Can you take us to the turret where Lady Michelle is held?”

Once more Asphodel shook his head, silver bells again ringing.

“Is it because you know not where she lies?”

A whuffle, and a toss of the head was the steed’s answer.

Flic hovered before the Fairy horse. “Is it because magie is involved that you do not know?”

Another whuffle and a toss of head.

Flic looked at Borel and said, “It seems we are on our own.”

“I agree,” said Borel, even as Buzzer took to wing and flew to hover beside the Sprite.

Borel dismounted and stepped to the fore and turned and bowed and said, “I thank you, Asphodel, marvelous steed.”

Again the mount tossed his head, and as the rim of the sun lipped the horizon, the Fairy horse faded away, and neither Borel nor Flic could see ought of him. And hoof-beats receded and silver bells grew faint as Asphodel swiftly galloped off, back the way he had come.

When the bells could no longer be heard, Borel whispered, “Fare you well, noble steed.” Then he turned to Flic and said, “I would see these sands,” and he stepped into the twilight border, and the Sprite and the bee followed.

As they broke fast on the woodland side of the marge, Flic said, “What be our strategy, my lord? How do we go about finding what we are meant to find in yon Endless Sands? I mean, Lady Skuld would not have sent us here if there were nought to discover, nor would Lady Verdandi have told us how to reach this place before the full moon rises if there were nought to see, to do. So, what be our strategy?”

Borel took a deep breath. “Now that I’ve flown upon the back of a Pooka o’er Faery, and upon an Eagle in a dream, I think the best way to search for something among the sands is to fly up high and simply look about. And since you can fly…”

“I see,” said Flic, licking honey from a finger. “I scout from above.”

“Oui,” said Borel, chewing a biscuit. “And there is this as well: because the boundaries of Faery are quite tricky, I would have us enter the Endless Sands, have you fly as high as is safe and look and come back down. If you’ve seen nought, then we’ll return to this side, to move on solid ground instead of slogging through loose sand as we make our way somewhat down the marge and enter again, and repeat the process.”

“But, my lord, a small move along this side of the border can shift us greatly along the other side… and vice versa I add.”

Borel nodded. “Rightly so, Flic, yet if that be the case I can only hope that a small move on this side is a greater move on the other.”

“How will we know?” asked Flic.

Swallowing a bite of jerky, Borel said, “We’ll leave a marker lying in the sand here, and then come back to this side, move along the border a bit, and then go in and see. If all is well, we’ll continue doing so. And by leaving markers at each crossing, we’ll know if we’ve gone too far and need to double back.”

“What kind of markers, my lord? I have nothing whatsoever to leave except Argent and his scabbard and belt, and I will certainly not abandon them. I mean, after all, my epee might be needed ere we are done. And there is this, too: if it is you who leaves something behind in the sand, and if the search is long, then you will be as naked as I ere we are finished.”

Borel took a bite of jerky and chewed a moment, then said, “Right you are. What would you suggest instead?”

“I think I will be able to see a marking in the sand itself. And with your huge feet, my lord, you should be able to shuffle about and leave tracks deep enough for me to espy.”

Borel laughed, then sobered. “Though the sand is quite loose and some likely to spill back in, still there is no wind, and so a mark might last long enough for us to search. Hence, with my very huge feet I’ll scrape out a deep number in the sand at each crossing- un, deux, trois, and so on-so that we’ll know if somehow the twilight borders have managed to circle us ’round.”

“Circle us ’round?”

“Yes, Flic. You see, I think if we have so-called Endless Sands, then perhaps somewhere within will be margins such that when one steps through he comes to the opposite side of the sands and so they merely seem endless rather than truly being so.”

“I do not understand,” said Flic, taking up another finger of honey and licking it clean.

“Think of it this way, Flic: say you are in a room filled with sand, but there are two dark arches on opposite sides of the room. And when you step out through one arch, you come in through the other, thus entering the very same roomful of sand. Time after time you walk across the room and go out the far arch, only to enter the near one, and thereby enter the same room of sand. Now I ask you, wouldn’t the sand seem endless?”

“Oui, my lord.”

“Yet had you left a special marker in the sand-an object, a particular track, or the like-you would pass it again and again, and thereby know the sand is not truly endless, but only seems so.”

Flic clapped his hands. “How clever you are, my lord.”

Borel frowned. “Had I been clever, then perhaps I would know what Lady Lot meant when she said I had already missed one chance to find the sands.”

“Ah, those Fates: what do they know?”

“Everything,” said Borel. “At least everything in its due time.”

“Pish,” said Flic, snorting. “I mean, look, you answered their riddles right off.”

“Ah, Flic, they posed me riddles the answers to which I already knew,” said Borel. “And what’s more, they knew that I knew, or knew I would cipher it out. I think they are simply bound by some unwritten law or higher power or unbreakable edict to require a service, pose a riddle, and then render aid with another riddle.”

“Well, my lord, that’s easy for you to say. As for me, I would have failed to answer the one about me falling behind and then passing the Sprite in second place. I mean, not that I would ever fall behind”-Flic growled-“and certainly not twice as the Fates would have it.”

Borel smiled and said, “That may be, Flic, but again I say, the riddles were simple. The true test was in bearing them across the water.”

They ate in silence for a while, but then Flic said, “Oh, my goodness.”

“What?” asked Borel.

“Just this, my prince: if somehow someone were dropped into the room of sand where there were but two dark arches, and if there were no other way out, then he would be trapped forever.”

“How extraordinary, Flic. Ha! And you say I’m clever?”

They ate a moment more, and then Borel’s eyes widened in revelation. “I say, Flic, mayhap that’s the way of the Castle of Shadows beyond the Black Wall of the World.”

“My lord?”

“It would explain why Orbane is trapped, why he cannot get out.”

“See?” said Flic, “I told you you were clever.”

“Which way, my lord,” said Flic, “right or left?”

They had finished breaking their fast, and now they stood facing the twilight border.

“In,” said Borel.

“No, my lord, I mean after we come back out. Which way, then?”

“Ah,” said Borel, “I suppose one way is as good as another.”

“Not if we choose the wrong way,” said Flic.

“Indeed,” said Borel, frowning. “We’ll let Dame Fortune decide.” He spit in his palm and slapped two fingers into the gob. “Dextral,” he said, for the spit flew rightward.

In through the twilight border they went, and Flic and Buzzer flew up beyond seeing, while Borel shuffled a long, deeply trenched 1 in the sand.

He had just finished when Buzzer and Flic came flying back. “Nought, my lord.”

Out through the twilight border they went, and Borel said, “I will trot five hundred paces, and then we’ll go back in.” And off he loped, Flic and Buzzer atop his hat resting.

Once more they penetrated the twilight marge, and as Borel trenched out a 2, Flic and Buzzer flew high and then returned. “Ne rien,” said Flic.

“Nothing at all?” said Borel.

“Oh, I did see the un you made in the sand,” said Flic, and I think it might be a bit farther away than you ran on the woodland side of the bound, though I am not certain.”

Borel turned up a hand and said, “Farther or not, if it stays that way, we’ll cover more ground by running on good firm ground than trying to run through loose sand.”

Off they went once more, and again, and again, and again…

They searched all day, twice having to backtrack because they had gone beyond being able to see the trenched number. They had only stopped for a short midday meal, and then had continued. But their search was futile, and now the nearly full moon had risen and the sun was setting.

“One day,” gritted Borel. “One day is all that is left.”

Flic nodded and said, “Though Buzzer cannot aid, still we can search by the light of the nearly full moon, my lord.”

Borel growled and said, “We don’t even know whether we are going the right way, Flic.”

“Nevertheless, my lord, we cannot stop.”

“Oh, I do not intend to stop,” said Borel, “yet I wonder whether we should have gone leftward instead of rightward. -Regardless, let us press on.”

With Flic and Buzzer back on the hat, again Borel trotted, and Flic said, “Uh-oh. Ahead, my lord.”

“I see her,” said Borel.

In the fore, on the far side of a wide stream, a lovely demoiselle sat in the gathering twilight.

“It might be one of those Fey, my prince.”

“Indeed,” said Borel, “for there is but one of the Fates we have yet to meet.”

“But what if it’s not her?” said Flic. “What if instead it’s a deadly creature of some sort?”

“ ’Tis a chance I must take,” replied Borel.

“Then Buzzer and I will get off at that tree this side, my lord,” said Flic, “for I would not tempt Fate by getting too close. But if it is a trap, Argent and I will be ready.”

Even as the Sprite and the bee flew to a limb, Borel splashed across the stream and then bowed. “My lady, need you assistance?”

The black-haired, black-eyed, slender, and stunningly beautiful demoiselle sighed and said, “My slippers and hose will get wet should I cross in them. And should I remove them, my delicate feet will be bruised. Will you bear me over, my most handsome sieur?”

“Oh, indeed, Demoiselle.”

Borel turned his back and said, “Hop on, my lady, and we shall hie.”

Her silvery laugh answered him. “Sieur, most handsome sieur, you are no horse, and I am no rider. I would have you bear me across held ever so securely in your strong arms.”

Borel turned about. “You are not afraid I will fall?”

“Oh, la!” she said, placing a delicate hand on his wrist and looking up into his ice-blue eyes with her own eyes of black depths so deep one could surely drown in them. “With you so devilishly handsome and debonair? I saw how well you carry yourself; your swagger speaks of duels fought and never lost. You move as would a Wolf, and they are never off their nimble feet, except of course when they rest beside a mate. But since you have no mate, per se, you should take your ease by lying with a lover, n’est-il pas ainsi? ”

“Perhaps,” said Borel, grinning, and he swept the demoiselle up in his arms.

As he turned to wade across the stream, her heady perfume, almost a musk, filled him with desire. And even as he stepped into the water, somehow her hands were within his leather jacket and rubbing across his chest and down his abdomen and lower still. And her breath was sweet and her lips inviting, and her eyes were filled with the heat of passion, and she raised her mouth toward his.

“No,” he said, his voice but a whisper, and he turned his head aside as he waded. “My heart belongs to another.” Yet in spite of himself, he began to harden.

“Ah, but, mon cheri,” she whispered, her voice husky with need, “it would be a mere dalliance, and not as if it were something serious. Will you not lie with me?”

“Non, mademoiselle,” Borel replied, and he waded on.

“Do you not find me beautiful, desirable? Do you not want me?” Then she laughed, somehow her hands down in his leathers. “Ah, yes, I see you do.”

“Mademoiselle, that you excite me, I cannot deny, yet-”

“She is a succubus!” shouted Flic, drawing Argent and taking to wing.

But even as the Sprite darted toward the prince, Borel reached the opposite bank and knelt to set the demoiselle to her delicate feet, and the moment he did so, she transformed into a barefoot, toothless, doddering crone in black robes, and as if from a distance, there came the sound of a loom.

Even as Flic cried out and reversed course, “Lady Doom,” said Borel, yet kneeling.

In the twilight the black-eyed, wrinkled crone gaped a gummy smile and said, “Heh.”

“She Who Forever Fixes the Events of Time Into the Past,” said Borel.

The crone nodded but said, “More like the dustbin of history, Prince Borel.”

“Lady Urd,” said Borel, standing and bowing, and as he did so he took her hand and kissed her fingers.

“Heh, bold,” said Urd, again flashing a toothless grin. “but I think a kiss on the hand is not nearly as thrilling as bold caresses, eh?” She cackled in glee.

Borel laughed. “Indeed not.”

Sobering, Urd said, “You did very well, my lad, for you were sorely tested. Others would have certainly succumbed.”

“My Lady Urd, to, um, lie with Fate seems a rather risky proposition.”

“Heh. Perhaps not to lie with Fate is even more risky… a woman scorned, you see.”

“Madame, as I say, my heart-”

“Yes, yes,” snapped Urd, “given to another. I know.”

“Lady Urd, are you here to help me?”

“Of course, and you have borne me across water, as you did Skuld and Verdandi, my two elder sisters.”

“Don’t forget, he fed them, too,” shouted Flic, “and so my prince is well ahead in the favor game.”

“Cheeky little thing, isn’t he,” said Urd, her mouth grinning widely, her gums showing.

“Yes, my lady,” said Borel.

“Nevertheless he is right, Prince Borel: you are ahead in the favor game.”

“Will it buy your help?” asked Borel.

“You have met the first requirement by doing a favor for me, but still you must answer a riddle before I can aid, for I am bound,” said Urd.

“Then you do know I have the answer to the riddle of the Sphinx as well as the answers to the riddles you and your sisters posed to Camille, and those most recent riddles posed by the Ladies Skuld and Verdandi?”

“Of course, of course,” said Urd.

“Then ask away, Lady Doom,” said Borel.

Urd looked afar at Flic, and the Sprite groaned but yelled out, “I would not fall behind!”

“Heh,” barked Urd. “Cheeky indeed. Well, here it is, young man: “If Flic were in a Spritely contest

For several objects to find,

But in some manner unknown to him

He had fallen behind-”

— Urd looked at Flic and cackled, and Flic groaned and turned his back to her- “And there was a single object left

Down in a dip on a dint-filled plain,

How should he go about searching

And be the one to win?”

“I wouldn’t fall behind, I wouldn’t fall behind, I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t,” muttered Flic on his limb beside now-sleeping Buzzer.

“My Lady Doom,” said Borel, “one way is to fly very high so as to see down into every dip on that dint-filled plain.”

“Indeed,” said Urd, again cackling at Flic.

“My lady, the aid?” said Borel.

“Eh, eh, yes, of course,” said Urd. “Now let me see, there is something you need to know, and it is this: “The Endless Sands run forever,

But search as you have this day,

And you will find her never,

Yet there is indeed a way:

“Seek the black oak sinister

Beside the twilight wall,

Behind it a narrow portal,

Yet beware the fall.

“And this I will tell you for nought: it lies afar and you cannot rest.”

“Can you say no more, Lady Urd?” called Flic. “I mean, he fed two of your sisters, and so he is ahead.”

Urd nodded, and held out her hand, and of a sudden Buzzer appeared therein, and she whispered to the sleeping bee, yet what she said neither Borel nor Flic could hear.

She handed the bee to Borel and said, “Now the scales are balanced. But I warn you: remember all you were told, else you will fail in the end.”

“But which way do we go, Lady Urd?” cried Flic, yet the sound of the loom swelled, and then vanished as did the Lady Doom.