"I greet thee, Sir Knight," she said in a rich, husky voice as she neared him. "Wilt thou dally with me awhile?"

"Gladly!" Magnus reached out, but hesitated, not daring to touch so divine a creature.

She saw, and smiled with a strange delight, and stepped in to sway closer, her lips almost touching his, but not quite. "Wilt thou not, then, carry me away?"

"Aye, far away, where there will be no world but our own!" Magnus turned and gave a high whistle. She laughed, and took up the pitch, making it high and eerie, avoiding the order of notes.

Magnus's horse stepped forth from the forest. Little wonder its nostrils were flared, its eyes wild, for Magnus had just teleported it from the place where he had left it grazing, near the forest village of Wealdbinde, to the verge of this meadow. The poor beast was alarmed and confused, though it hadn't really noticed much change just a very strange sensation.

Magnus wasn't thinking of that, though. He wasn't thinking of anything, except the faerie child.

He caught her by the waist and swung her high, up to the saddle, then sprang up behind her. The horse danced sideways, disconcerted by the woman, but settled as Magnus kicked his heels against its sides, then began to trot.

"Faster!" the girl cried. "Faster! Faster!"

Magnus kicked the horse into a canter, and the girl clapped her hands. Magnus made a frantic grab at her waist to keep her from falling. She laughed, a high, manic cry. "Faster! Faster!"

Magnus spurred the horse into a gallop, and they rocketed around the meadow three times-widdershins, he was to realize later-and the wood seemed to change around them in some subtle fashion.

"Away!" the girl cried, and Magnus felt the overwhelming urge to please her. He swerved the horse into the forest path. It whinnied in fear and protest, but Magnus had thought only for the girl's wishes, and for the thrill that went through him as he heard her wild, shrill laughter. They went careering through the wood, somehow missing overhanging branches and narrowly avoiding slamming into tree trunks. The girl leaned from side to side, and just as Magnus, in a panic for her safety, would reach to hold her, she would lean far to the other side, all the while singing in a high, lilting, eerie tone, a song in a language Magnus did not recognize, clear and wild and thrilling every fiber of his being.

At last the trees opened out to show them a lake, with steep hillsides sloping down toward the water. "Enough!" the lady cried, and Magnus reined in. He leaped down to help her alight, not noticing that the poor horse was lathered and white-eyed. He only turned aside from it, leaving it to stray where it would as he accompanied her along the hillside. "Yon!" She halted suddenly, pointing down.

"What, lady?" Magnus looked, but saw nothing save fading grass.

"Beneath the ground! A tuber sweet! Pray dig it for me, for I crave it!"

Without the slightest thought of denial, he was on his knees and digging with his knife. Sure enough, the roots were there, and he ran down to the lake to wash them, then came running back with his offering.

"I thank thee." She took the tuber, bit of it, then held it out to him with a merry glint in her eye. "Partake!"

He did, at her word, and found the taste sweet, but strange and exotic. When he looked up, the world about them seemed to have become dim and dun; only she had color and life.

"Come!" She moved past him, almost dancing, and he followed.

She paused by a hollow tree. "Honey! Surely the bees may spare some! Fetch it for me!"

He didn't even consider arguing, just thought sleepy thoughts at the bees as he reached in and took out a honeycomb. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the unconscious bees that fell from it, but she took the comb, stuck out her dainty tongue and dribbled sweetness onto it, then proffered the comb to him. He dribbled honey into his own mouth and found it far sweeter than any he had ever tasted, with a strange wild tang-and looking at her, found that her form seemed almost to glow.

She danced away from him, laughing, and he followed, frantic at the thought that she might slip away from him. She seemed to know where she was going--and, sure enough, they came to a little grotto carpeted with green moss and bordered by crocuses and tulips, its rocky sides bedecked with stones, roses and anemones and poppies growing out of its myriad crannies. Magnus was delighted to see spring flowers in the autumn, but she was the fairest blossom of all.

"I thirst," she said. "Fetch me water."

"Where is there a spring?" Magnus looked about. "There is none, but there is dew on the rocks."

At her word, he turned to sweep the moisture from the stones, and was amazed to see it gather in large drops on his palm. She caught up his hand to sip the water from it, and the touch of her lips waked echoes in his chest and loins. But she pushed his hand up and said, "Drink," and he did, licking the last of the droplets-and looked at her, and could have sworn that the glow of her eyes was all there was in the world. She swayed close to him, murmuring something in the strange language-and, though he knew not the words, a thrill charged through him, for he understood her well, that she had said, in her most intimate form, "I love thee true." He reached out to take her in his arms, but she turned and twisted, and he held only empty air, her tinkling laugh resounding through his head.

Suddenly, though, a sadness seemed to sweep over her. She folded herself to the ground, drooping and dispirited. "What doth ail thee, lady!" Magnus cried, dropping to his knees before her. "Tell me what will cheer thee, and thou shalt have it, though I must needs scour the world for it!" She looked up, with a shy, sly smile. "'A crown of flowers would cheer me, knight." She pointed. "Those flowers, yon." Magnus turned on the instant, and was busy plaiting roses and moss roses and violets into a fragrant circlet. He set it on her head, and was rewarded by a single laugh before she drooped again. "I have no bracelets!"

"Thou shalt have them!" He turned to pluck flowers for her and returned, plaiting them into ringlets and slipping them over her slender, dainty hands. She looked up with a mischievous smile, then wilted again, sinking back against a pillow of ferns. Her body moved, restless and bewitching, with a twist of hips and an arch of back. Magnus stared, no thought in him but that slender body and the delights it promised-but her eyes streamed tears, and the movements of her breasts were sobs.

"Oh, what saddens thee!" Magnus dropped to his knees beside her. "Tell me, tell me what I may do to gladden thee!" But she only shook her head and twisted her whole body, lips parted for a soft and racking moan. Magnus couldn't bear it; his passion drove him, and he leaned to kiss her lips, ever so gently....

Her body stilled, but the moan came again, desperate, demanding.

Magnus kissed her once more, his lips moving over hers, then lifted his head to see the tears had stopped, but the eyes drew him more deeply than ever. He lowered his lips to hers, and kissed, and her lips parted beneath his, her tongue touched his lips lightly, briefly, and he knelt, almost paralyzed by the sensation. She pushed his head up a little, gazing deeply into his eyes, then drew his head down again, and this time her tongue found his, and the kiss deepened and lasted. Little by little, Magnus stretched his form beside her on the moss, eyes closed, her mouth his whole world, drawing him down, down, into darkness.

For a timeless interval, he drifted, aware no longer of her kiss, but somehow of her presence. Then, in the night, a glimmer appeared, a diffuse glowing cloud that fluxed and thickened into whorls that took on human shape and form. He was shocked to see a dozen men or more, and behind them others in a band that seemed to stretch out forever. They were knights, though beyond them he seemed to see fur-clad barbarian warriors with stone-edged spears. Those in the front rank, though, wore crowns and coronets around their helmets, and their shields were emblazoned with elaborate coats of arms. All were gaunt, hollow-eyed and hollow-cheeked, and pale, very pale, but their orbs burned as they marched toward him, and he seemed to hear a whole whispering chorus saying: