Once Upon an Autumn Eve

36

Liaze dismounted from Pied Agile, and Gwyd jumped to the ground from Nightshade. Twk wakened Jester and mounted the wee saddle, and the rooster fluttered to the ground. Untying the tethers, Liaze said, “Glass mountain or no, we cannot delay. I will ride to the top and awaken Luc.”

“What if you cannot rouse him?” asked Twk.

Liaze looked at Gwyd. “If I cannot awaken him, will the life-giving elixir aid?”

“Aye, it should, but if he be in an enchanted sleep, ye’ll hae t’go slow, else he’ll strangle.”

“How much should I give him?”

“A sip should do,” replied Gwyd, “a spoonful or so.”

Liaze slipped the decanter of elixir into the stallion’s saddlebags.

“Oh, Princess,” said Twk, “will you be safe?”

“As long as I do not step on the slopes, or so Urd implied.”

“And what about Nightshade?” asked the Pixie. “He will be setting foot upon the mountain; will he be safe?”

“Remember the rede, Twk. Urd said ‘Do not dismount as ye try,’ ” said Gwyd, now lighting a second lantern.

“Ah, I see,” said Twk. “The princess has to ride to the top, else Lady Doom would not have told her to not dismount. Horse steps: those are the ‘precious steps’ of her rede.”

At these words, Gwyd fell into reflection, as if trying to catch an elusive thought.

Liaze checked her bow and quiver, and she took up her lantern and mounted Nightshade and set off up the slope of the obsidian mountain, glass chips flying in his wake. And even as the stallion clattered up the slant, now and again a hoof slipped, but the steed fared on.

Up he went and up, his breath blowing white in the air upon the frigid black mountain, Liaze urging the stallion higher, and still his shod hooves skittered now and again.

On the ground below, by the lamp Liaze bore, the Brownie and Pixie watched, and they sucked in air at every slip and slide. Of a sudden, Gwyd said, “Precious steps! Lady Doom said ‘precious steps’! Oh, Twk, now I ken what those words mean.”

Gwyd raced to the packhorse, and, struggling, he unladed the gelding. By lantern light he fetched the shoeing hammer and nails from the gear, and he threw the rucksack on the ground and took out silver coins.

“Nightshade has stopped about a third of the way up,” cried Twk, then, “Oh no! He’s sliding backwards.”

Gwyd only spared a quick glance at what was happening above as he stepped to Pied Agile. The Brownie lifted a forefoot and cleaned away the dirt and mud and then began driving new nails through pure silver coins and into the hoof, affixing the soft metal in place upon the bronze shoe.

“Gwyd, Gwyd, we’ve lost,” cried Twk. “The princess has turned about and is riding down. You were right: it is a glass mountain and entirely too slick for a horse to reach the top.”

Gwyd moved to the opposite forefoot, where once again he drove nails through silver coins and into Pied Agile’s hoof. “Be nae certain about that, Twk,” he said. “I ken what Lady Doom meant when she said ‘precious steps.’ And wouldna ye ken, she as much as told me what she meant by those words when she mentioned t’me that I bore treasure-the coins fra the Goblins and Trolls.”

“I don’t understand,” said Twk. “How are coins going to help?”

“Well, laddie buck, I hear silver be a counter f’r some forms o’ magic, and I ween this mountain hae a charm o’er it.”

“A charm?”

“Aye, how else can somethin this cold cause one t’die by fire?”

“But why Pied Agile?” asked Twk. “Why not put the silver on Nightshade’s hooves? I mean, he’s bigger and stronger.”

“Aye, but we canna waste the time. Anyway, Pied Agile’s name in the old tongue means Nimble Foot in the new. She’ll reach th’top, I ween.”

Liaze, tears of frustration on her face, came riding back to the Brownie and Pixie. “I can’t make it up,” she said.

“Dona be certain, lass,” said Gwyd, finishing the last of Nimble Foot’s hooves. “Y’see, I ken what the words ‘precious steps’ mean in Lady Doom’s rede. I ween ye’ll get up this glass mountain yet. Pied Agile now be shod in silver, a metal more precious than shoes o’ bronze.”

Moments later and full of new hope, Liaze mounted Pied Agile, the elixir in the mare’s saddlebags. Off she set, Pied Agile at a trot, and onto the obsidian slopes.

But even as she did so, Gwyd was nailing gold coins to Nightshade’s hooves. “Gold be e’en a softer metal than bronze or silver. Mayhap it will cling t’the glass better should the princess need another try.”

Up the glass mountain fared Liaze on Nimble Foot, black glass chips scattering in the mare’s wake, and soon she passed the mark set by the stallion.

“Oh, Mithras,” cried Twk, “I believe she’s going to make it.”

Still Gwyd hammered hard bronze nails through malleable gold and into Nightshade’s hooves.

“She’s nearly two thirds of the way there,” cried Twk. “And still she-Oh, no! No! Oh, Mithras, no! Gwyd, Gwyd, she’s stopped, and Pied Agile is sliding hindward.”

Gwyd finished with Nightshade’s last hoof. “Well, Twk, the black now be ready for another go. Bronze we tried, and silver-the moon metal-and now we try wi’ e’en more precious gold-the metal o’ the sun. If this doesna work, I ween we be defeated. Pray t’Mithras that the third time be the charm.”

Liaze managed to turn Pied Agile, and back down the glass mountain she rode.

“Nightshade be shod wi’ gold, Princess,” cried Gwyd when she rode into earshot.

Frustrated once more, “What makes you think it will be any better than silver?” asked Liaze.

“It be a softer metal, and Nightshade be a heavier horse than Pied Agile. I ween wi’ his weight and the softness o’ the coinage, it’ll cling better than both bronze and silver.”

“Mithras, let it be so, for there is scant time left ere the full dark of the moon,” said Liaze, dismounting and transferring the elixir to Nightshade and swinging up into the saddle.

Once again the princess rode onto the slopes, while Gwyd and Twk watched, their hearts pounding in anxiety, their breaths bated in fear. And they gasped at every perceived slip, whether or not Nightshade had done so.

Up rode the princess, now on precious steps of gold, the metal conforming to the arced ripples of obsidian, the shiny surface like glass.

Up she rode and up, up past the place where Nightshade had faltered before, up past the place where Pied Agile had slipped, and on up.

And Liaze’s heart soared as Nightshade’s steps of gold fared onward.

Yet just ere the white-blowing stallion reached the truncated top of the glass mountain, there came a steepening of the slant: no more than twenty feet all told.

“Hai!” cried the princess, kicking Nightshade in the flanks and leaning into the saddle, and the stallion leapt forward, and though his hooves were slipping the final few steps, up and onto the flat he clattered.

Liaze’s eyes brimmed with the release of tension, and she wiped away the tears and sprang to the hard glass surface.

And by her lantern she could see her Luc lying motionless upon an icy bed ’neath the open-sided pavilion.

Oh, Luc, please, my love, be alive.

Liaze snatched the elixir from the saddlebag, and she stepped to the black slab and knelt beside Luc.

Mithras, he is not breathing.

She placed her ear against his chest and listened for his heartbeat. Nought!

Quickly, she stood and uncapped the decanter and opened Luc’s lips, and slowly, drop by drop- Oh, please, please, Mithras, let Lady Verdandi be right when she said a golden draught will surely save — Liaze dripped the elixir into his mouth.

Drop by drop.

But nought seemed to be occurring.

Drop by drop.

Tears welled in Liaze’s eyes. Oh, Mithras, am I too late in this dark of the moon? Is he dead? Oh, my love, my love.

Drop by drop.

But he lay cold and unmoving.

Liaze wiped her free hand across her eyes and looked at the rune-marked crystal. Fully a quarter of the elixir was gone, and still he lay unmoving.

Oh, please, my love, let this not be.

Liaze burst into tears and leaned over and kissed Luc’s cold lipsPlease, my love, oh please — and, distraught, she sank down beside him and lay her head on his chest… in that moment he drew in a long, shuddering breath.

“Oh, Luc, Luc,” Liaze cried, leaping to her feet. And she spun about, her arms spread wide, her face raised to the heavens, and she called out, “Oh, thank you, Mithras, thank you!”

— But her joyful cry was lost ’neath a shrill scream, and of a sudden, Liaze could not move. And down and down and riding a besom spiraled a woman in black.

It was a witch, and fury filled her face.