Once Upon an Autumn Eve Read Free Page A

boots and hunting leathers and the silken undergarments ’neath.
    And in the silvery light of the half-moon above, she stepped to the edge of the pool and stood a moment, her reflection in the slow-welling water that of an athletic woman, trim and tall with auburn hair and firm, high breasts, her roseate nipples erect in the crisp autumn air, her narrow waist flaring into slim hips and down into long, sleek legs, a reddish triangle captured between.
    And then she dived into the pool, her entry smooth with little splash, and she swam down and through the crystalline water and across, the moonlight from above illumining the lucid depths below, where more large, flat white stones scattered upon the bottom with white sand between brightened the whole of the basin.
    To the other end she swam and up, and surfaced, blowing, the chill water bracing, invigorating. She stroked to a large rock at the verge, the pool deep at its edge, and with her arms and a kick or two, she levered herself up onto the brink of the slab, and twisted about to sit with her feet in the water.
    And that’s when she heard the sound of pounding hooves, and the nearby call of a silver clarion, answered by distant blares of horns less precious.
    And even as she stood and turned, an ebon horse bearing a rider came pounding through the golden willow branches and up the rill, water splatting aside. And it hammered to the rim of the pool, where it skidded to a halt, the horse squatting on its haunches to stop, spray flying.
    And the rider, a broken sword in hand, blood streaming down his face, fell from his horse as if slain.
    And the raucous blats of following horns drew nearer.

2
    Conflict
    With the blare of horns drawing closer, Liaze glanced across the pool to where lay her bow, and then at the fallen rider and the dark horse at his side, the steed blowing and snorting, its eyes rolling, whites flaring in the moonlight. Making up her mind, she stepped toward the downed man, but the ears of the black flattened, and it bared its teeth.
    It has been trained.
    “Doucement, mon beau! Du calme!” Liaze demanded in the old tongue, trying to find a command the horse would obey. When she struck upon “Recules!” the black horse’s ears flicked forward and then back. “Recules-toi!” she said, and the horse backed away, still blowing.
    Swiftly, Liaze stepped to the collapsed rider where he lay on the mossy bank and knelt at his side and rolled him over. At the movement, his eyes opened, and he looked up at her, his gaze momentarily widening. “Ange?” he said, and then he swooned.
    Liaze only had time to note that he had dark hair and his forehead bore a brutal wound, and he wore a light chain shirt— A chevalier —when horns blatted just outside the grove, and someone nigh at hand barked guttural commands as running feet thudded past.
    Liaze again glanced at her bow lying too far away. Then she looked at the horse and back at the wounded chevalier.
    She sat the man up, and in that moment a dark form—swart and some four foot tall, skinny-armed and bandy-legged—came crashing through the willow branches. And even as it yelled in triumph at the sight of easy prey—a downed man and a naked woman—it charged toward her, cudgel raised. Liaze snatched up the damaged sword, nought but a jagged half-blade, and spitted the onrushing creature through and through, the Goblin to shriek and collapse, its ruddy hat falling from its head.
    Redcaps! Here in the Autumnwood! And he called out!
    Once more horns blatted, and from the direction of the manor clarion cries answered.
    And as nearby feet now pounded toward the willow grove, again she sat the man up, and, struggling, got him to his feet, and somehow she managed to lift him onto the horse’s withers in spite of the black’s skitting and shying.
    Harsh shouts and raucous blares sounded in the willow grove, and Redcaps poured forth from the dangling branches. And among the Goblins a massive form moved. A