There was no noise as we mounted. No rattle of harnesses. No sound at all. I turned to the master of the horses, who stood looking at me. "To the Seelie Court," I shouted over the din. The apparition nodded.

Just then, I had a strange tingling sensation, as if someone unseen was watching me. I looked around, and there, in the distance, atop one of the far hills, were the hounds, stags and wolves. They swirled to- gether, writhing like a thousand snakes, and disap- peared from my sight. I shuddered at their terrible power.

The horses lunged forward, jerking us in our seats. From then on we were no longer in control. As if we ever truly had been.

We thundered down bare fields and into muddy flats. Fences were hurdled without a falter. Streams and meadows slipped away. Sparks flew as hooves struck rocky expanses. Lather foamed up on the horses, but they never slowed. My cheeks became chilled and chapped; my hands ached from holding onto the reins. Tears streamed from my eyes.

We overtook cars on the road, causing accidents. Still we did not slow.

Then we were at the shore. We pounded across the sand, plumes of it spraying into the air. Then into the tide, never slowing as we rode up and over the water. Galloping across the top of the ocean as though it were a puddle.

Across the water I saw a misty turquoise glow. As we came closer, I saw that there was an island surrounded by this light. In moments we were on the beach thundering across the sand.

This was not one of the Aran Islands, for we had passed those as we sped across the bay. This was one of the isles of fable. From legends I had helped create and had forgotten in the long expanse of time.

This place must be Hy-Breasail, the island believed to rise from the sea only once every seven years. I barely had time to realize this before the Horses surged across the beach and went crashing into the forest.

A path opened up before us. Whether it was there to begin with or the Horses created it as they went, I cannot say. The trail began to climb upward. We plunged on through the forest, shattering the silence with our passing, At last we burst forth into a great open plain and stopped.

Though it was autumn in Tir na n6g, here spring held sway. I could smell it in the air, could feel the warm and gentle caress of the breeze. It was balm to my sore, chapped face.

I looked about and saw a castle perched on a cliff above us. So much a part of the island it was that there was no telling where the castle began and the rock it sat upon ended. As I watched, lights appeared on the pathway below the castle. They bobbed and floated downward toward us.

Closer and closer they came, and we waited for them, silent and patient.

At last they appeared on the edge of the clearing, riming it in gold and silver light.

Such a congregation of the Sleagh Maith. It almost made me forget my own mission, so good was it to gaze upon them again. The sprites and sprig- gans, brownies and hags, boogies, leprechauns, gnomes, and goblins all clustered around, throwing their crooked shadows against the rocky cliff behind them.

I could hear their shrill cries and nasty whispers. They knew who I was even if there were those who would have it otherwise. There was but a moment for these impressions. They parted and a procession of elves appeared. Each was dressed in tight-fitting dun-colored leather garments. Some bad tattoos marking their arms and faces. Others had datajacks glistening in shaved skulls. I ignored them as they surrounded us.

I glanced over at Caimbeul. He was a bit paler than normal, but after the night we'd had so far, that was to be expected. He looked up at me and gave a little smile. I found myself smiling back, oddly happy at that moment.

"This is hardly a laughing matter," came a voice from beyond the edge of the faerie light. All the elves and faeries bowed down immediately. I squinted into the darkness. A ghost-like form moved forward. As it stepped into the ring of light, I saw that it was a woman. She was dressed in a white flowing gown. Her fiery hair was pulled back se- verely from her face, but left to cascade down her back almost to her heels. The brilliant blue eyes were unchanged. The skin as pale and white as milk.

Alachia.

Silence stretched out between us. I hadn't seen her in the flesh since 1941.

"So," she said at last. "You've come. And the hard way, too."

"Well, we can't all have the prerogatives of age. I wish to speak to Lady Brane Deign," I said. "She rules here now."

Alachia smiled. It was chilling.

"Power is a fluid thing," she said. "You'd do well to remember that."

Once that sort of remark from her would have frightened me. But that was far in the past. Now there was a larger threat at work. Not just to me, but to the survival of the world. And then, I was older now, too.

"Perhaps you should mind your own advice," I said. "You've let so much pass through your own hands."

"Caimbeul," she said brightly, ignoring my last remark. "How good it is to see you again. But really, you need to improve your choice of companions. You know what they say about the company you keep."

She slipped past me and took his arm, leading him away from me toward the castle.

"Do come, Aina," she called over her shoulder. "We mustn't keep Lady Brane waiting."

I watched her lead him into the night until all I saw was the white blur of her dress.

She opens her eyes. The world is upside-down. No, it's her perspective that's off. But isn't that al- ways the way of it?

Sitting up, she sees that she's been lying on the ground. The fall leaves covering her rustle and slide away, revealing her naked body. How she came to be here in this wood she doesn't remember. But she thinks she should know.

Then comes the pain.

It burns and stings like a thousand hornets. Her skin is on fire and she cannot stop it. As she looks on, small, round welts appear on her flesh. Sharp points burst through the welts, puckering the skin.

Thorns.

No mortal being could have traversed the path to Lady Brane Deigh's castle. But then, it wasn't designed for mortals. The Sleagh Meath loved anything that might confuse or baffle mortals and so If took great delight in the corkscrew turns, disappear- ing paths, and other annoying tricks to fool the unwary traveler.

But I had seen all these games before. The Seelie Court was but another incarnation of something much older and more sinister. How many of them re- membered, or even knew, the full story?

Politics was a tricky business, and I'd done my best to stay out of it for most of my life. But now it seemed I had no choice. I was the only one who ap- peared to be willing to take the chance. No, I was the only one willing to see the threat of the Enemy for what it was-the ruination of the world.

I had to grasp hold of this thought because all my old fears came back to me in this place. Once I fool- ishly thought that power would protect me from harm. How I discovered the error of that belief is another tale.

For now, I kept up with Alachia's lead. She glided over the rocks as though they weren't there. Each turn was taken with a casual nonchalance, and all the while I could hear her keeping up a steady banter with Caimbeul.

I knew their history was a long one, and I won- dered if she knew how much my life had been en- twined with his. And how far back it extended. Part of me hoped she didn't know, relishing the secret. And a part wanted her to know. Wanted her to know that even when she wielded so much power that most of my people trembled before her, I had won a small victory over her.

But there was no more time to wonder over such childish things-we had reached the gate of the castle.