The Lady of the Mere, a seer, and she lives not far from here, or so Alain did say. Perhaps she can help. But wait; Alain also said, “.. she only appears in circumstances dire.” Then he said the disappearance of his sire and dam would not seem to be one of those events. Since that is the case, what chance have I that she will be about, even should I find the mere? I mean, if the disappearance of a king and queen was not enough to cause her to show… — Ah, fille, if you do not try, then you will never know.
Bearing her rucksack and bedroll and waterskin, Camille spent the day walking through the woodland surrounding Summerwood Manor, her path spiralling ever outward in a pattern she hoped would swiftly bring her to the Lady of the Mere. And from time to time she called out for aid, yet no one answered, though birds and small animals flew and scuttled away from this creature disturbing their lives, a doe and a fawn fleeing as well.
As twilight fell across the land, adding its silvery light to that of the ever-present twilight of Faery, Camille made a small camp on a hill rising above the forest, and she was dismayed to see the manor standing what seemed to be but a stone’s throw away, yet, in truth, it was full mile or two off. Even so, she cried herself to sleep that night.
For three days did Camille search without success, for she knew not how far or which way the mere of the lady did lie. Too, she could have easily passed by a small pool without ever knowing it was there. And Camille’s spirits fell into a pit of despair at the futility of her quest.
And on the eve of that fourth day of fruitless searching, with her head in her hands she sat on the remains of a long-fallen tree and quietly wept.
“Why do you weep, Lady Camille?” came a voice.
18
Startled, Camille gasped, her tears stemmed. And she looked up to see a Lynx Rider stepping out from the tall grass, his cat following. Reaching nearly to his knees, a brace of voles dangled from the rider’s belt, and he carried his bow in hand. He stopped before Camille, and she thought from the markings on his face, she knew him.
“Lord Kelmot?”
Kelmot bowed. “At your service, my lady.” Then he turned and signalled the lynx, who sat, and began licking a paw and washing its face and ears.
“May I aid you, my lady?” asked the tiny lord.
He smiled, again revealing a mouthful of catlike teeth, and as close as he was, in spite of the failing light, Camille could see that his eyes were catlike as well-yellow and with a vertical slit of a pupil.
“My lord, I am most desperate,” said Camille, “for I seek the Lady of the Mere, and I know not where I must go.”
Kelmot took a deep breath. “My lady, I can take you there; yet heed: none seek the Lady of the Mere unless somewhat dire is afoot, and even then she may not appear.”
Camille burst into tears anew, and though Lord Kelmot was nonplused, his lynx merely looked up from its grooming, and then went back to washing itself. Finally, Camille regained control of her weeping, and though tears yet welled in her eyes, oft to break free and stream down her face, she haltingly told him of her disastrous attempt to put an end to the curse, speaking of the candle and her mother’s urgings, of Alain’s remark concerning the geas, of her readings in the great library, and her hesitancy to light the candle within the darkened room but then succumbing, and of the wax falling onto Alain, and the wind and the screams therein, and of Alain becoming the Bear, and the disappearances of all in the thunderous blow, and of the wind itself vanishing, leaving nought but destruction in its wake, and of her search for anyone yet within the manse, but finding all were gone.
Full night had fallen when she came to tale’s end, a waning half-moon high in the sky, and Kelmot, now seated on the ground, looked up at her and nodded as if unto himself. “Ah, so that was it. The night my sons and I came to the manse because of the poacher’s wife, Steward Lanval told us the prince would be wearing a mask, yet he did not tell us why; but now you, my lady, have; ’twas all because of a curse.” The tiny Lynx Rider then frowned and shook his head. “There is great magic at work here, and none I know has such at his command, most certainly not a Troll, for they are not natural wizards. Tell me, my lady, was there about him some token, some item of power?”
Camille thought back to the only time she had seen Olot, there in the Winterwood. Slowly she shook her head. “Nay, Lord Kelmot, I think no-Oh, wait. There was about his neck on a leather thong an amulet of sorts. But it was quite insignificant, or at least seemed so.”
“An amulet?”
“Yes. Small and round and dull, almost as if made of clay.”
Kelmot gasped and then looked about as if seeking eavesdroppers. “It must have been one of the Seals of Orbane,” he whispered. “I thought them long-lost or long-gone.”
“My lord?”
Kelmot took a deep breath and let it out. “Orbane was a great wizard, yet evil grasped his heart. As to that which you thought was but a clay amulet, it was a seal holding within a great and fearsome power; there were seven seals in all, each one capable of invoking a terrible curse when broken-speak the curse, break the seal, and such will it be.”
“Though you numbered them seven, I saw but one. What of the other six seals?”
“Two were destroyed when we trapped Orbane in the Castle of Shadows in the Great Darkness beyond the Black Wall of the World. The missing five: we thought them gone, used up by Orbane or perhaps lost. But it seems we were wrong, for nought else I know of has the power to do that which you described-the wind, the vanishment, Prince Alain cursed to be the Bear in the day. Too, it would explain how Olot, and indeed his daughter, could cause such great harm, and it’s just like a Troll and his spawn to use such for their own vengeful ends. Most certainly they had at least two of the seals: the daughter one, the sire another. Wherefrom, I cannot say.”
Camille frowned. “Lord Kelmot, you say Alain was cursed to be the Bear in the day, but on our journeys he was the Bear in the night as well; even so, at Summerwood Manor, he was Alain at night, and not the Bear.”
In the moonlight, Kelmot shrugged. “Mayhap at night he had a choice as to which he would be; while in the day he had none.”
Camille frowned and added, “Then again, perhaps it is only Summerwood Manor where he could become Alai-No, wait. He was also Alain when he was on the ridge with Olot in the Winterwood, or at least I think it was Alain.”
“And that was nighttime as well?”
“Yes.”
They fell silent for a moment, but the lynx suddenly stood and faced away, its ears twitching.
“Something is amiss,” said Kelmot. He called the cat to him and mounted. “I will see.” And up a tall pine went the lynx, Kelmot riding.
After a while, down they came. Kelmot pointed and said, “Yon lies the manor, and toward it across the grounds I saw black shapes scuttling: Goblins, I ween.”
Camille’s heart lurched. “Oh, my. I was right. Olot sent his Redcaps to fetch me.”
“Fear not, Lady Camille. I and mine will handle these interlopers.” At a word from Kelmot, somewhat between a spit and a growl, the cat bounded into the tall grass.
“But wait, my lord,” called Camille after, “what of the Lady of the Mere?”
“I shall return,” came Kelmot’s cry, and then he was gone.
Moments after he vanished, Camille heard a forlorn calling, and she looked up to see silhouetted against the glowing half-moon, five great birds winging away; they were the black swans of Summerwood Manor, and two were missing from the flight. Distressed, Camille sat for long moments, certain that the Goblins had slain two of the swans out of hand.
Even so, weary as she was, at last she nodded off to sleep. How long she was aslumber she did not know, yet something awakened her, but what, she could not say. Still, she had a foreboding, as if something evil were afoot. She glanced all about in the silvery light shedding down from above, yet no Goblin or aught else did she spy. And she glanced up at the moon, now three-quarters down the sky, and of a sudden she gasped, for another black silhouette crossed the half-lit face, yet no swan was this, but a sinister knot of darkness, streaming tatters and tendrils of shadow flapping in the wind behind. And though Camille knew not what she had just seen, shudders ran up her spine.