Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Foreword
Chapter 1 - Revenge
Chapter 2 - Awareness
Chapter 3 - Gathering
Chapter 4 - Preparation
Chapter 5 - Suspicions
Chapter 6 - GlAmours
Chapter 7 - faire
Chapter 8 - Disaster
Chapter 9 - Success!
Chapter 10 - Sighting
Chapter 11 - Traces
Chapter 12 - Affirmation
Chapter 13 - Entrails
Chapter 14 - Tocsin
Chapter 15 - Messengers
Chapter 16 - Riddles
Chapter 17 - Alarums
Chapter 18 - Puzzles
Chapter 19 - Reaper
Chapter 20 - Warnings
Chapter 21 - Conundrums
Chapter 22 - Manors
Chapter 23 - A Murder of Crows
Chapter 24 - Leave-taking
Chapter 25 - Pilgrimage
Chapter 26 - Bee Dance
Chapter 27 - Redes
Chapter 28 - Dragonflight
Chapter 29 - Prospect
Chapter 30 - Darkness
Chapter 31 - Omens
Chapter 32 - Putrescence
Chapter 33 - Mizon
Chapter 34 - Blow
Chapter 35 - Pack
Chapter 36 - Seers
Chapter 37 - Changeling
Chapter 38 - Under the Hill
Chapter 39 - Visions
Chapter 40 - Imprisoned
Chapter 41 - Corsairs
Chapter 42 - Distant Drums
Chapter 43 - Throngs
Chapter 44 - Geas
Chapter 45 - Compass
Chapter 46 - Uncertain Trek
Chapter 47 - Dark of the Moon
Chapter 48 - flotsam
Chapter 49 - Gathering Storm
Chapter 50 - Clash
Chapter 51 - March
Chapter 52 - Gap
Chapter 53 - Straits
Chapter 54 - AwAy
Chapter 55 - Crucible
Chapter 56 - Reckoning
Chapter 57 - Seal
Chapter 58 - Restoration
Chapter 59 - Renemal
Chapter 60 - Fini
Afterword
About the Author
By Dennis L. McKiernan
Caverns of Socrates
Books in the Faery Series
Once Upon a Winter’s Night
Once Upon a Summer Day
Once Upon an Autumn Eve
Once Upon a Spring Morn
Once Upon a Dreadful Time
Books in the Mithgar Series
The Dragonstone
Voyage of the Fox Rider
HÈL’S CRUCIBLE
Book 1: Into the Forge
Book 2: Into the Fire
Dragondoom
The Iron Tower
The Silver Call
Tales of Mithgar (a story collection)
The Vulgmaster (the graphic novel)
The Eye of the Hunter
Silver Wolf, Black Falcon
Red Slippers: More Tales of Mithgar (a story collection)
ROC
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, October 2007
Copyright © Dennis L. McKiernan, 2007
All rights reserved
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
McKiernan, Dennis L., 1932-
Once upon a dreadful time / Dennis L. McKiernan.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-0-451-46172-8
I. Title.
PS3563.C376O56 2007
813’.54—dc22 2007001187
Set in Trump Mediaeval
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To lovers of fairy tales . . . And to all who seek wonder
Acknowledgments
My dear Martha Lee, my heart, once more I am most grate-ful for your enduring support, careful reading, patience, and love. You are ma chérie.
And again I thank the members of the Tanque Wordies Writers’ Group—Diane, Frances, John—for your encouragement throughout the writing of this Faery tale.
And thank you, Christine J. McDowell, for your help with the French language.
(I would add, though, that any errors in usage of French are entirely mine. Of course, the errors in English are mine as well.)
Foreword
This is the fifth and final tale in my five-book Faery series. The first four—Once Upon a Winter’s Night and Once Upon a Summer Day and Once Upon an Autumn Eve and Once Upon a Spring Morn—were based upon known fairy tales. Oh, each of those known tales, as penned by those who collected them together, was but five to ten pages long, yet in my tellings they became quite lengthy novels.
This fifth story has its origins within the events in the previous four tales. The book does stand alone; however, I do recommend that the first four be read ere taking on this tale. And, whereas the first four stories are at base love stories, this fifth one is a tale of war, though love and lovers are herein.
Oh, I did not leave out the knights and witches and dragons and ogres and giants and other fantastic beings, for they are scattered throughout the scope of this tale as the many heroes and he
roines struggle on. Yet this story is a bit different from the others, though wonder and marvel still abound. But it is the culmination of the other four, for they all led to this tale. And as with the first four tales, this story, too, contains a sprinkling of French, a very romantic language.
Would that I were one of those Keltoi bards of old to stand before the fire and tell you a grand and sweeping saga, one that would not only hold you rapt and cause you to laugh with joy, but also to gasp in alarm and weep with sadness and cry out for vengeance at times. But we have no fire, and I do not stand before you, and I’m certainly not a Keltoi bard. Regardless, I do hope you enjoy the story held within these pages.
—Dennis L. McKiernan
Tucson, Arizona, 2007
Principal Dramatis Personae
Alain (Prince of the Summerwood, Camille’s husband; Duran’s father; able to shapeshift into a Bear, son of Valeray and Saissa, brother of Borel, Céleste, and Liaze)
Auberon (the Fairy King, also known as Gwynn, as the Fey Lord, and as the High Lord, the Fey King, and other names depending upon who is speaking; Regar’s grandsire)
(Vicomtesse) Avélaine (daughter of Sieur Émile and Lady Simone, sister of Laurent and Blaise and Roél; affectionately known as Avi by her family; wife of Vicomte Chevell)
(Sieur) Blaise (chevalier, son of Sieur Émile and Lady Simone, middle brother of Roél and Laurent, brother to Avélaine)
(Prince) Borel (Prince of the Winterwood; has at his beck a pack of Wolves; Michelle’s husband, son of Valeray and Saissa, brother of Alain, Céleste, and Liaze)
Buzzer (a bumblebee, companion of Flic, a Sprite)
(Princess) Camille (Alain’s wife, Duran’s mother)
(Princess) Céleste (Princess of the Springwood; wife of Roél, daughter of Valeray and Saissa, sister of Alain and Borel and Liaze)
(Vicomte) Chevell (captain of the Sea Eagle, out of Port Mizon, husband of Avélaine)
Crapaud (an overlarge, bloated toad; Hradian’s familiar)
(Prince) Duran (Prince of the Summerwood, child of Alain and Camille; Duran is three years old at the time of this tale)
(Sieur) Émile (chevalier, husband of Lady Simone, father of Laurent, Blaise, Roél, and Avélaine)
(the) Fates (Skuld, Verdandi, and Urd; Maiden, Mother, and Crone; Ladies/Sisters Wyrd, Lot, and Doom; the Three Sisters; the three Fates; weavers of the future, the present, and the past)
(the) Firsts (the first of each Kind to appear in Faery. For example, Raseri was the first Dragon; Adragh the first Pwca; Jotun the first Giant; Chemine the first Water Fairy; etc.)
Fleurette (a female Field Sprite, friend of bees, Flic’s love)
Flic (a male Field Sprite, friend of bees, companion of Buzzer; Fleurette’s love)
(Queen) Gloriana (the Fairy Queen, also known as Mab, Titania, and other names, depending upon who is speaking)
(Witch) Hradian (a witch; an acolyte of Orbane, along with her sisters Rhensibé, Iniquí, and Nefasí)
(Sieur) Laurent (chevalier, son of Sieur Émile and Lady Simone, eldest brother of Roél and Blaise and Avélaine)
(Princess) Liaze (Princess of the Autumnwood; wife of Luc, daughter of Valeray and Saissa, sister of Alain, Borel, and Céleste)
Lisane (a female Elf, one of the Firsts, a seer)
(Prince) Luc (Prince in the Autumnwood, Comte at Château Bleu, a chevalier, husband of Liaze)
(Princess) Michelle/Chelle (wife of Borel; Lord Roulan’s daughter.)
Orbane (powerful wizard, vile in intent, trapped in the Castle of Shadows in the Great Darkness beyond the Black Wall of the World; creator of the Seven Seals of Orbane)
Raseri (a Firedrake, Dragon, one of the Firsts)
Reaper (the huge man who sits under an oak in the Autumnwood; a.k.a. Moissonneur; redheaded, dressed in coarse-spun crofter’s clothes, wields a huge scythe)
(Prince) Regar (illegitimate grandson of the Fairy King)
(Prince) Roél (chevalier, husband of Céleste, son of Sieur Émile and Lady Simone, youngest brother of Sieurs Laurent and Blaise and Demoiselle Avélaine; affectionately known as Rollie by his family)
Rondalo (an Elf, son of Chemine, rider of Raseri)
(Queen) Saissa (Alain, Borel, Céleste, and Liaze’s mother, wife of Valeray)
(Lady) Simone (wife of Sieur Émile, mother of Laurent, Blaise, Roél, and Avélaine)
(King) Valeray (father of Alain, Borel, Céleste, and Liaze, husband of Saissa)
(Borel’s) Wolf pack (in hierarchical order: Slate [male], Dark [female], Render [m], Shank [m], Trot [m], Loll [f], Blue-eye [m])
“Do all fairy tales begin ‘Once upon a time’?”
“How else, my child, how else?”
1
Revenge
ith the deaths of her three sisters, the witch Hradian—sometimes a crone, other times not—had fled across many twilight bounds of Faery to a distant realm, this one a swamp filled with Bogles and Corpse-candles and other beings of hatred and dread and spite. And in that miasma-filled mire, she lived in a cottage perched upon stilts barely above the slough and its crawling sickness, her dwelling nought but a hovel deep in the grasp of dark shadows cast by a surround of lichen-wattled black cypress trees, their trunks wrenching up out of the slime-laden bog, their limbs covered with a twiggy gray moss dangling down like snares set to strangle the unwary.
And Hradian ranted and fumed and spied and plotted and contrived, yet rejected scheme after scheme, for it seemed all were too risky to her very own life and limb. After all, her three sisters—Rhensibé, Nefasí, and Iniquí—had been more powerful than she, and they had all lost their lives. So her malice and bile and frustration and rage grew for over four years—as the days are counted in the mortal realm—for she would have her revenge against those who had done her and her sisters wrong. But it seemed no matter her craving for retribution, her designs would come to nought.
But then . . .
. . . Once upon a dreadful time . . .
On a moonless night, a tallow candle flickered in the darkness, a tendril of greasy smoke rising up to contribute its dole to the smudge-covered ceiling. And in the wavering shadows, Hradian, now a crone accoutered in tattered black, with black lace frills and trim and danglers, stared into a wide bowl, the vessel filled with an inky fluid—a dark mirror of sorts. Seething with rage, she muttered words, strange and arcane, and stared into the ebon depths, seeking answers, seeking revenge, seeking to see her enemies. A visage swam into view, that of a raven-haired, grey-eyed man, and, as the image cleared, beside him stood a blond, blue-eyed demoiselle. The femme held a boy, some moons more than three summers old. And they all three were laughing.
“Alain, Prince of the Summerwood,” hissed Hradian, “and his whore Camille—the one who saved him. And now they have a brat, a son.” Hradian leaned back and ground her teeth in fury. “It should have been Dre’ela’s child, but, oh no, Camille had to come along and spoil everything.” Hradian slammed the butt of a fist to the table, the black liquid sloshing in response. “Stupid, stupid Trolls—Dre’ela, Olot, Te’efoon—dead at the hands of that little slut! All my plans concerning the Summerwood brought to nought.” The witch hunched forward and stared down into the yet-rippling darkness, and when it settled and showed once again Alain and Camille and their child, Hradian twisted her hand into a clawlike shape, her black talons hovering over the image, and she spat, “I’ll find a way.” In that very moment, Camille’s visage took on an aspect of alarm, and she clutched the boy close and looked about as if seeking a threat. “Sst!” hissed Hradian, and she jerked away, and with a gesture the vision in the bowl vanished. “Must be careful, my love,” whispered Hradian to herself, glancing ’round with her sly, leering eyes. “You can’t be giving any warnings, else they’ll be on guard.”
Once more she bent over the bowl, and again she muttered esoteric words, and now there swam into view the
image of a man with silver-white hair and ice-blue eyes. In the distance beyond that man, Wolves came racing through snow. “Murderer,” gritted Hradian, and she reached up and fondled her left ear, the one scored as if nicked by an arrow or cut by a blade. “You killed my sister Rhensibé, you and your curs. I told her it would be best to strike directly, but, oh no, she wanted a more subtle revenge against Valeray and Saissa and their spawn. But you, Borel, Prince of the Winterwood, you spoiled all.” In that moment the pack reached the man and milled around, all but the lead Wolf, a huge male, who stood stock still and stared directly up and into Hradian’s eyes, as if seeing the witch through her own arcane mirror. Hradian drew away from the ebon surface, and, with a wave of her hand, the image vanished. “No warnings, my love. Remember, no warnings.”
Yet leaning back against the chair, the witch sighed in weariness, for unlike her sister Iniquí—now dead—Hradian had never found it easy to cast these far-seeing spells. Groaning, she stood and straightened her back. With tatters and danglers streaming from her black dress like cobwebs and shadows, she made her way to her cot and, not bothering to undress, fell onto it exhausted. “Morrow night, yes, morrow night for another casting, in the dark of the moon. Then mayhap I can find the key to my revenge against Valeray and Saissa and all their brood.”
The following eve, once more Hradian leaned forward and stared into the bowl and whispered cryptic words, while outside dark fog coiled across the turgid bog and slithered among the twisted trees, and only now and again was the silence interrupted by a chopped-off scream as something lethal made a kill. But with her whispered incantation, Hradian found herself peering into Autumnwood Manor, where Princess Liaze—auburn-haired and amber-eyed—and her consort Prince Luc—dark-haired and blue-eyed—formerly a comte ere his marriage to the princess, seemed to be making ready for a journey. And as the prince bent over to take up a boot to place in the portmanteau, from his neck dangled an amulet of some sort—silver and set with a gem, sparkling blue in the lantern light. “Where to, I wonder?” muttered Hradian. “Where do you plan to go?”