And then the horses thundered ’round, men with swords waving.
Again and again the Shadows tried to fly in to suffocate Chelle and Borel as well as the men on horseback and even the excited and barking dogs, but always the wraith-like creatures veered away, unable to come nigh.
And then Borel saw why: it was King Arle and the Riders Who Cannot Dismount. And they bore iron, and that was why the Shadows could not close, and why Flic flew away… though with his silver epee the Sprite was in no danger from the black, flapping creatures.
And dogs barked and leapt snapping at Shadows as the men on horseback milled ’round and held the black creatures at bay. Surrounded by iron, Chelle and Borel held each other and watched as the dark wraiths were repelled.
Even so, the Shadows continued to try, but their attempts were in vain.
And as if from another world altogether, there came an enraged and distant scream much like the one before, and the Shadows flew back to vanish through the slot and into the Endless Sands.
Borel turned to thank Arle, and in that same moment-“No!” cried Borel-the king swung his leg over his saddlebow and leapt from his steed and strode forward and embraced the prince.
48
“Why didn’t you tell me that you wanted to find the Endless Sands?” asked Arle upon hearing Borel’s tale. “My men and I have ridden over much of Faery in the untold time since cursed. I could have saved you days.”
“Oh,” groaned Borel, smacking himself on the forehead. “ That’s what Lady Lot meant when she said I had missed an opportunity. Ah, me, I was so intent on finding the King Under the Hill that it simply didn’t occur to me to ask.”
Chelle merely smiled, but Flic said, “Had I been at your side, my lord, it would never have occurred to me either, but that is neither here nor there, for iron had driven me off.”
They were sitting in a small grove a goodly distance away from the other eight riders, for Flic could only bear to be at hand if no iron were nearby. And so, Arle had shed his armor and weaponry-all but his bow and arrows-and he and Borel and Chelle had walked away from the main campsite to set up a small fire within a horn call should the need arise for the others to come or for Arle to return to his men. And then Flic had flown in, and they had patched up Borel’s many scrapes and wounds from his fight with the thorns. And now they sat and supped and drank and, as requested, Borel told his story to Arle, Chelle hearing it for the first time as well.
Arle looked at Buzzer asleep in the night. “And this was your guide?”
Borel and Flic both nodded, and Arle said, “Incroyable!”
As Arle replenished their cups of wine, including a droplet in a tiny upturned leaf for Flic, “And you, Lord Arle,” said Borel, “what is your tale?”
“Ah, my friend, we broke the curse, just as you said we would. The Fairy King’s little dog leapt down of its own volition the moment we came upon a bitch in heat.”
“There is more of a tale here for the telling,” said Chelle.
Arle laughed. “Indeed, there is, Lady Michelle. Would you like to hear it?”
Chelle nodded, and Arle said, “You see, I am from the mortal world, and one day twelve of my chevaliers and I went ahunting. We jumped up a White Hart, and into Faery it fled, and we…”
“… And so, following Prince Borel’s advice, we rode into town, and stopped in the square and, frightened by our ghastly appearance, the citizens rushed to comply when we asked that they bring all the bitches in town who were in heat.” Arle broke out laughing. “One of the men brought us his wife.
“Regardless, three female dogs were fetched, and nearly as soon as they came into scent range of the Fairy King’s little dog, he leapt down and almost immediately-begging your pardon, Lady Chelle-almost immediately began copulating.
“We sat there and watched a moment, and then Roubaix leapt down from his horse, and lo! neither he nor his mount fell into dust, and we knew the curse was laid to rest.
“Ah, me, but it was good to get off my steed and take a bath and eat my first meal in-I don’t know-in summers beyond count.”
“My lord,” said Flic, “you mean you didn’t eat or drink or, or, um, relieve yourselves all the time you were cursed?”
“Non, for it was part of the curse that we and our mounts had no needs whatsoever while the dog was with us,” said Arle.
“Well, that answers that,” said Flic, looking at Borel, the prince grinning at the Sprite.
“Flic, Flic,” said Arle, “that is what is so diabolique about the spell. You see, with no need to procure food or water or ought else, we would ride forever unless we deliberately chose to dismount. And of course, should we do that, a thousand years would catch up with us all at once.”
“Oh, how dreadful,” said Chelle.
They sat in silence for a moment, and then Chelle said, “But that is not all the story, surely. I mean, you now have horses with you and dogs and goods. How came you to acquire those?”
“Ah, that. There is a citadel above the town of Nione, a goodly sized ville just a half day’s ride from here. Three years past, the former chevaliers of that stronghold rode off on a campaign against nearby Trolls and haven’t been seen since. A representative of that town happened to be where we found the bitch-the dog, not the wife-and he asked us to come and be their protectors, for we have weapons of steel, and that’s most certainly good enough to lay the Trolls by the heels. He gave us funds, and we bought what we would need to get us there: packhorses, supplies, other goods.”
“What of the dogs?” asked Chelle.
Arle laughed. “I told the merchant I would use them to track, but the truth is I love to hunt, though I’ll not pursue White Harts ever again.”
“I should think not,” said Chelle, laughing.
“Ah, so it is to Nione you go?” asked Borel.
“Oui.” Arle looked at Borel. “You and your party are welcome to join us, my prince.”
Of a sudden Chelle looked at Borel. “Are weapons of iron-of steel-such that they can break through the tangle of thorn? If so, we can rescue those within.”
Borel said, “There is still Rhensibe to deal with, and the wheel yet turns the ensorcelling spindle.”
“I said this before and I’ll say it again: can we not simply put wax in our ears?” asked Flic. “That would shut out the sound.”
Borel said, “I tried stopping my ears, Flic, but Rhensibe’s spell overcame that. After all, it is magie at work here, and I think we will need a magicien in our company to cope with the arcane.”
Chelle’s face fell, and she glumly nodded in agreement. Then she said, “But we must find one as soon as we can, Borel.”
Borel nodded and took her hand and sealed the agreement with a kiss on her fingers, and then he turned to Arle. “My lord, when we find someone powerful enough to go against Rhensibe, will you aid us?”
“Prince Borel, I and my men will aid you in any way we can, for if it were not for you, we would yet be cursed. But again I ask, won’t you join us in my citadel, my friend? As I say, it is not far.”
Borel glanced at Flic and then said to Arle, “My lord, because of your iron and my Spritely friend here, this I ask: how far is the citadel above the town? That is, how far away from the ville will iron be from Flic?”
Arle shrugged. “A mile more or less I was told.”
Flic said, “A mile is certainly enough to allay the twist of aethyr.”
Borel grinned and said to Arle, “This then I propose: We will accompany you as far as your town of Nione, yet for the sake of my Spritely friend, we will stay in the ville, while you go up to your citadel. I need to purchase a bronze long-knife, and acquire three horses and the supplies we will need to return to the Winterwood. Shortly thereafter we will ride to the Summerwood, for my brother is betrothed, and the wedding comes soon, and I would be there when that happens.”