And now they came to a great pile of boulders, the marker for crossing out of the Changeling realm, the twilight bound no more than a furlong past. But a host of shapeshifters barred the way, and they swept forward in a wide arc, the ends to come together to entrap their victims. And about Celeste and the others the ring slowly closed.
Roel said, “Let us make our last stand atop these rocks; there lies some shelter against arrows, and it will be difficult for creatures to come at us except from above. Celeste, with your remaining shafts, you can guard that way. The rest of us will watch the ramps.
And now, my loved ones, let us give them a battle of which the bards would ever sing if they only knew.” All nodded in agreement with Roel’s words, and up onto the great pile they clambered, Roel helping Laurent to the crest, Celeste and Avelaine aiding Blaise.
Now they took shelter from the Changeling arrows behind boulders ajumble, and they waited.
Quickly Avelaine tore a strip from her dress and bandaged Blaise’s side, but the blood yet seeped through.
And cautiously the shapeshifters closed in.
Celeste looked at her arrows. Not counting the broken one of gray, she had but three remaining, and two of those were blunt tipped.
Horns sounded, signaling among the Changeling ranks, and some lines delayed while others moved forward, making ready for a final rush.
Roel gripped Coeur d’Acier and looked on. Laurent held his sword in his left hand, for his right wrist was the one broken. Blaise struggled to his feet and stood swaying but ready. Avelaine gripped Roel’s long-knife and remained at Blaise’s side.
At last the signal for the attack sounded.
And as they charged, Celeste raised her own horn to her lips and called out the war cry of Springwood Manor.
And-lo! — it was answered in kind. And she whirled to see Anton and the full warband of Springwood come charging on horses through the border, and elements of the warbands from Autumnwood and Winterwood and Summerwood manors along with Vicomte Chevell and crew members of the Sea Eagle. And horns blew and war cries sounded. Borel and his Wolves led the charge, Alain in the fore as well, and he leapt from his horse and a darkness came over him, and a huge grizzled Bear smashed into the Changeling ranks.
And Celeste fell to her knees and wept with joy as all around chaos reigned.
47
Return
Horses, men, Wolves, and a Bear: they crashed into and through and over the ranks of the Changelings.
Swords rived, spears impaled, arrows and bolts pierced, hooves trampled, fangs rent, and claws savaged. Shapechangers screamed and fell slain in pools of slime and slurry, and surviving Changelings broke and fled, only to be hauled down from behind, though a handful outran the pursuers. Some rose up to flap away, and several of these were brought to earth by bolt or arrow-including one brought down by the last pointed shaft from Celeste’s bow-and only a few escaped.
The warband formed a protective ring about the great jumble of boulders, and up clambered Borel and Alain, the latter no longer a Bear. And they embraced Celeste and held her close, and she wept in relief, as did they.
And Borel said, “Oh, Celeste, we thought we had lost you, that you had drowned, but then your letter came, and we set out straightaway, warbands and horses, to help you rescue Roel’s sister. But we were too late for that.”
“But you did rescue Avelaine, for this is she,” said Celeste, pointing to the maiden, “as well as rescue the rest of us.”
Then up came Vicomte Chevell, and he roared in laughter and said that he and his men would not have missed this for all the world, and he eyed in admiration the twice-rescued beautiful demoiselle Avelaine, and she blushed most modestly.
Clambering up came Anton of the Springwood, and Remy of the Autumnwood, and Jules of the Winterwood, and Bertran of the Summerwood: armsmasters all.
Accompanied by Gilles the Healer, a tall, slender, dark-haired man climbed up, one who had been exceptionally devastating in the fight; it was the chevalier Luc, betrothed of Princess Liaze of the Autumnwood, though Borel introduced him by his full title: Comte Luc du Chateau Bleu dans le Lac de la Rose et Gardien de la Cle.
There at the top of the mound, Gilles treated the wounds of Blaise, Laurent, and Roel, and the scrapes of Celeste and Avelaine, while down at the base of the boulders, Chirurgeon Burcet treated the ten or so warriors who had been injured in the battle with the Changelings.
Finally, aiding Blaise and Laurent, down they all clambered, and when they reached the ground Celeste said, “Come, let us leave this dreadful place and find an inn, for hot food and good wine I would have, and a bath and clean clothes, but mostly I would have sleep.” And so they set out and along the way, they stayed in inns and wayside manors and even in a bordello. And they ate hot meals and drank fine wines and took long baths and slept, and, of course, Celeste and Roel made sweet love.
When they came to the swamp, the men groaned, for they would have to pass through this distressing place again.
Late in the day they at last emerged from the mire and came to the Bridge of the Red Knight. Yet that fearsome warrior was not there, nor was his helm on a pike.
Why he was absent, they knew not, though Celeste proposed that he stood ward against only someone passing the opposite way.
After they had crossed over and had made their way down to the river below, as all men bathed in their turn to remove the muck of the mire, Luc said, “The toughest battle I ever fought was against the knight of the bridge.”
“He was indeed hard to kill,” replied Roel
“I agree,” said Laurent.
“Ah, oui,” added Blaise.
And these four chevaliers all eyed one another in speculation and broke out in laughter, and they all agreed that sooner or later, lances and chargers ready, they would take to the lists against one another, and then unto the fields.
The great warband was welcomed in Le Bastion, and they stayed there for a sevenday, and fetes were held every eve as they told and retold their many tales. It was during this time that Celeste learned that Luc’s steed Deadly Nightshade at the command of Liaze had been the one who actually killed Iniqui-“. . kicked the witch into the fire he did, well-trained knight’s warhorse that he is.” Too, Alain and Borel and all others had learned that Nefasi had been slain by the gray arrow loosed by Celeste.
“It means that there is but Hradian left of the four acolytes,” said Borel.
“But there is yet Orbane,” said Alain, “and even though he is entrapped in an inescapable prison, one day, I deem, he will have to be dealt with.” They paused at the ruins of the manor devastated by Lokar the Ogre, and Celeste laid a wreath of wildflowers at the door and prayed to Mithras to give the manor peace.
On they went, and finally, two full fortnights in all after the battle in the Changeling realm, they came to Port Cient.
Roel and Celeste stood on a candlelit veranda in the twilight and looked out over the harbor. There rode the Sea Eagle at anchor, her crew readying her for the voyage home. In the garden below the balcony, Vicomte Chevell and Avelaine sat in quiet conversation, and Chevell said,
“Lady Avelaine, might I come courting?”
“Oh, my lord, I am most sorry, but I am betrothed to another.”
“Betrothed?”
“Oui. He is someone I do not love, yet my parents arranged it so.”
“Non, Avelaine,” called down Roel.
When Avelaine turned and looked up at him, Roel said, “I did not mean to eavesdrop, Avi, but you are no longer betrothed. Maslin did not wait for you, but married another. You are free to choose for yourself.” Avelaine squealed in joy, and she blew a kiss to Roel.