Once Upon an Autumn Eve (13 page)

“Now, Jean,” said Liaze, “release the bird.”

Jean removed the hood from the crow, and the bird looked about and ruffled its feathers. Jean loosened his hold and cast the dark messenger into the air.

Up it flew and circled about as if taking a bearing, and then it shot off and over the trees, and Liaze watched the line of its flight through the chill autumn air for as long as it could be seen.

“Rémy, it looks to be heading along Luc’s track when he rode knight-errantry into the Autumnwood, but going in the direction whence Luc came,” Liaze said.

“Yes, Princess,” the armsmaster replied. “But as we said last night, keeping on the exact course of a messenger bird cannot be done.”

“Nevertheless, I go, and, should I come out somewhere else altogether, Lady Skuld said I would find help along the way.”

Liaze took a deep breath and waved to those gathered on the lawn and called out “
Au revoir!
For we shall meet again!” She then heeled her horse in the flanks and rode across the lawn and into the woods, towing the other animals after.

Behind her the weeping intensified, though both the warband and the houseguard managed a respectable cheer. And as the princess vanished among the trees, Zoé turned to Rémy and said, “Oh, Rémy, where is she bound?”

“Sunwise, Zoé,” said Rémy. “She rides for the sunwise marge of the Autumnwood, for that’s the way the crow flew. Beyond that, only time and the Fates will tell.”

16

I
nto the greens and reds and golds and umbers and russets and browns of the Autumnwood rode Liaze: into the embrace of yew and cedar and pine, and of oak and maple and elm, and of cherry and apple and other such trees, all of them readying themselves for a slumber that never comes; into the fragrance of fruits and grains and berries and other ripened harvest everlasting she went, as well as into the bouquet of autumnal blossoms abloom in the sweet loam. Liaze did not look back toward the manor at the members of the staff calling out their good-byes, for to do so would reveal her tears and belie the face of courage she wore. And so, towing a stallion and four gelding packhorses, on she rode, deeper into the woodland, until she could no longer hear the sounds of weeping and farewell.

At last Liaze wiped away the tears on her cheeks, and after a moment she found her voice and reached forward and patted her mount’s neck. “Where will we end up, Pied Agile, eh? Somewhere on the far side of the daystar, I think. May our goal not be too distant, for time is short, and a black mountain I must find, or so Skuld’s rede would have it be:

“It must be Luc’s heart she speaks of, or so it is I deem. . . .

“So it is I fear. . . .

“And we have but this day and fifty-six more ere the dark of the moon two moons from now falls due. Why is it time has so little meaning in Faery except when peril is involved?

“Oh, Agile, I feel the need to gallop!—But where? Along the course a crow did fly is the only thing I know. And even then, I cannot be certain I will hew to its line. And with the twilight boundaries being what they are, an error one way or the other could put me in a realm remote from where I should go.”

As she rode onward, in the trees of the surround and down among the grasses and undergrowth, furtive movement and rustlings kept pace with her progress. And from the corners of her eyes, Liaze could now and then catch glimpses of wee folk trotting alongside or riding small animals or flitting among the branches of the leafy overhead.

Of a sudden, Liaze slapped a palm to her brow. “Ahhh! How stupid of me!” Yet faring at an amiable gait, she looked up into a tree, and called out, “Be there any Sprites among you?”

Moments later, one of the tiny, iridescent-winged creatures flew down and managed to stay hovering in front of Liaze, even though the princess was yet moving forward, the wee being drifting backwards to match her pace. Liaze could see the Sprite was a female, for, as with all of her Kind—male and female alike—she wore no garments whatsoever. Flaming red hair this tiny Sprite had, and she held a strung bow in hand, and a miniscule quiver of arrows was strapped to her thigh.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Ah, good,” said Liaze. “You know me.”

The Sprite cocked her head and asked, “Doesn’t everyone?”

Liaze laughed and the Sprite giggled in return. “And your name, little one?” asked Liaze.

“Feuille, my lady.”

“Ah me, Feuille, I was so stupid this morning—”

A look of shock briefly registered on the face of the hovering Sprite. “My lady, I know not what to say. How could you possibly be, um . . .”

“Stupid,” said Liaze.

“Your word, not mine,” said Feuille, even so, she grinned.

Liaze gestured to her forebow. “Alight, Feuille, and I’ll tell you why I am so stupid.”

The just-under-two-inch-tall Sprite settled on the very tip of the high-arched saddlebow, and Liaze said, “This morning I set loose a messenger bird, one I meant to follow: a crow.”

“A corvus?”
Feuille leapt into the air, her wings beating frantically. “That was
your
crow with the message capsule? Oh, Princess, why did you—?”

“Shush, tiny one, and settle down,” said Liaze. “It was not
my
crow, but rather one that belongs to a witch, a witch, I add, who has done me great harm, and one who might do the world great harm as well.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Feuille lit once more on the forebow. “Crows are our deadly enemies, Princess. Why, if they get a chance, they’ll take Sprites right out of the air or from nests or perches and swallow them whole. Why do you think I have this bow, these arrows? Crows, that’s why. The whole of Autumnwood Spritedom has been on alert these last several days, for there have been entirely too many of those black killers flying above your demesne.”

“Ah, good!” exclaimed Liaze.

Again, Feuille’s face registered shock. “Good? You think that’s good?”

“Oh, not that crows fly over the Autumnwood, Feuille. Rather that the entirety of Spritedom is alert for them. You see, I need to follow the line of those messengers, and if the Sprites know the birds’ course, that will be an immense help to me in running down their mistress.”

“Oh, well, that’s different, my lady,” said Feuille, relaxing. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“Well, that’s why I was so stupid,” said Liaze, “for, in hindsight, before releasing the witch’s bird I should have thought to ask the Sprites of Autumnwood to follow the crow and let me know whence it flew.”

“Hindsight you say, my lady? Well in hindsight many things are, um, er . . .”

“Stupid,” said Liaze, smiling. “Still, I am so glad I met you, Feuille, for Lady Skuld said—”

“Lady Skuld?”
blurted Feuille, nearly taking to flight. But at a small calming gesture from Liaze the Sprite took a deep breath for one of her size and let it out and managed to settle.

“You met Lady Wyrd herself?” Feuille took another deep breath. “Oh, my, something hazardous must be on the wing.”

“Indeed, Feuille, though I know not what it might be. Regardless, she told me that I would meet both perils and help along my trek, but that I should beware and make certain I know which is which. And you, Feuille, and the rest of Spritedom, are surely an aid.”

“You are our liege, Princess. Of course we will aid.”

“Then about these crows . . .”

“My lady, most have been flying in the direction you follow. I will dart ahead and speak with other Sprites and determine the line and thereby I’ll keep you on course.”

“Oh, no, Feuille, for I cannot have you accompany me more than but a short way.”

“Princess, why not? I am certain that I can be of help.”

“Oh, you most assuredly could, yet let me tell you of Lady Skuld’s rede. . . .”

 

“Hmm . . .” mused Feuille. And then she chanted:

Feuille frowned in puzzlement. “What does that mean?”

“I think I’ll not know until I meet the so-called howling one,” said Liaze.

“Well, I propose that I wing ahead and find the next Sprite who watched the flight of the crows, and then that one can fly onward to the next and so on, and altogether, we Sprites can, um . . .” Feuille cast about for the right word.

“Hand me from Sprite to Sprite along the line,” suggested Liaze. “I believe it is called a relay.”

“Ah, yes,” said Feuille, “a relay. And that is exactly what we’ll do: pass you from wing to wing to keep you on the course of the witch’s messenger.”

“Let us hope such a plan will keep you and the others out of Fear’s way,” said Liaze.

“I am not certain that Fear would do any of us in,” said the Sprite. “Nevertheless, we will not go against Lady Wyrd’s rede.”

Feuille took to wing and hovered a moment in the air and said, “As you ride on, I will go ahead and locate the next Sprite who watched the crows over these past few days. Then we will find you farther along, Princess, and there I’ll hand you off to whoever it is that will fly the next leg.”

 

“This is Brindille,” said Feuille. “She has sent her mate, Rameau, ahead to find the next guide. But she will keep you on the line until you meet up with him.”

“Merci,
Feuille,” said Liaze, humbly.

“May your quest bear sweet nectar, my lady,” said Feuille, and she flew up and darted back in the direction whence she had first come.

“Au revoir, Feuille, tiny guide,” Liaze called after the winging Sprite, but she had disappeared among the foliage from which she had taken her name. Liaze then turned to Brindille, and that female Sprite said, “After me, my lady,” and off she flew.

Throughout the morning a succession of Sprites led the way toward the sunwise border of the Autumnwood, and as Liaze rode, other wee ones followed along in the underbrush or scampered among the branches above.

Liaze stopped several times to let the horses take water at running streams, and she also fed them each a bit of grain from the goods stored in the packs.

And the sun rode up in the sky and across, and Liaze herself paused for a meal as the golden orb reached the zenith, the princess sharing her repast with Arbuste, who only took a few crumbs from one of her biscuits, though he did enjoy a spot of honey from the drop she dripped into the jar lid.

As the sun slid down the sky, onward she fared, now with Buton her guide, and then Pomme, and then others; and she crossed a long stretch of open land with Fleur, a Field Sprite, her escort.

Dusk found her in the forest again, where she made camp and unladed the packhorses and unsaddled Nightshade and Pied Agile and rubbed all six of the animals down, curried away the knots of hair, and fed and watered them. Liaze then took a short meal herself, and a long drink of water. She fell asleep the moment her head touched the bedroll beside the small fire.

 

The next day, the first escorting Sprite—Cerise—told her that waiting Sprites now went all the way to the twilight border of her realm, and tears welled in Liaze’s eyes and she could not speak for a while. But at last she managed a whispered “
Merci beaucoup,
Cerise.”

For two more days did Liaze ride along the line of the Sprites, once faring through a shallow fen, guided by a Marsh Sprite who kept her and the horses to solid land. It was at the edge of a birch thicket on the far shore of the bog that she met a Ghillie Dhu—Breoghan, his name—the small, knobby man dressed all in twigs and leaves such that he seemed part of the copse itself, and who traded mushrooms for a biscuit or two and had lunch with his sovereign. They spoke of a limited number of things, mostly that which the Ghillie Dhu encountered within his section of the woods: newts and beetles and the loam of the forest, and how the moles seemed to improve the soil, loosening it as they did, though at the temporary loss of rootstock as well as a diminishment of earthworms. Breoghan pointed out that even though some folk considered the moles to be miserable pests, these tunneling creatures—with the help of field voles—also ate a terrible kind of predatory flatworm, all to the good of the woodland.

Liaze rode on afterward, a succession of Sprites yet showing the way. And on the fourth morning after she had set out from Autumnwood Manor, the sole remaining guide, a Field Sprite named Pétale, finally brought her to the twilight border rearing up into the sky along the sunwise marge of the Autumnwood.

“My lady,” he said, “this is the last we saw of the murdering crows. Their flight went straight on, through the border and toward the mountains beyond.”