Once Upon an Autumn Eve

27

As night drew down and Liaze unladed the animals and fed them each a ration of oats and then set them to graze, the wee brown man cleared a patch of ground and lay stones in a ring, and then he gathered a bit of dry grass and twigs and branches, and shortly he had a blaze going. Liaze handed him a small pot, and he asked for water, and soon steam rose in the air. He scrabbled through the pouches in his peculiar belt, and finally found what he was looking for. It appeared to Liaze to be nothing more than a few small dried leaves. The man crumbled two of them into the bubbling water, and added a pinch of sulphurous powder taken from another belt pouch.

“Is that tea?” asked Liaze, frowning, as she handed the man a biscuit of hardtack.

“I still canna ken y’r soft words, lady, but gi’e me a moment and I’ll be as fit as new.” He gobbled up the biscuit, washing the dry tack down with wine, all the while watching the bubbling pot, the liquid of which was turning a sickly yellowish green.

Finally he removed the vessel from the fire and after a moment, while it yet simmered, he drank it all, his face screwing into a knot of disgust.

“Hoo. Brrr. Nasty,” he said, a shiver racking his spine. He took deep breaths and looked somewhat ill, and Liaze thought he would vomit. Yet he managed to keep the concoction down.

“Might I hae a second biscuit, please?” he said. “It’ll help settle ma stomach.” Liaze reached into the food sack and drew out another. This one he gobbled up as well. And when it was gone, he said, his voice softer, “All right, m’lady, ma hearin, it be comin back.”

Liaze looked from the empty pot to the little man. “Good, for I have much to tell you. But first, are you a healer?”

“Nae. J’st a bit o’ an herbalist.”

“What did you drink?”

“Oh, that? A mere somethin t’get rid o’ the ringin and bring back ma hearin. Now, what be it ye want t’tell me? Oh, and pardon ma manners, lady. Thank ye f’r savin ma sanity and gettin me out o’ that horrible place. I be Gwyd, Manor Brunie, at y’r service.”

“You are a Brownie? Oh, my. What with the tatters you wear looking much like grass and leaves, I thought you a Ghillie Dhu.”

“Ghillie Dhu? Ghillie Dhu?” Incensed, Gwyd leapt to his feet and in the firelight he drew himself up to his full three-foot height. “Can ye nae see ma clothes? Brun they be. See ma skin, ma hair, ma eyes: brun they be! Brun! I’ll hae ye ken I be a respectable Manor Brunie. Ghillie Dhu, pfaa!”

Liaze smiled and said, “I apologize, Gwyd, for thinking of you as something you are not. I am Liaze, Princess of the Autumnwood.”

“Princess? Oh, my.” Gwyd dropped to one knee and dipped his head. “I dinna mean t’rail at ye, m’lady, ye bein a princess no less, and what in Faery be ye doin out here, in the wilderness and all? Ah, but I suppose that’ll be one o’ the thin’s y’ll be tellin me. In the meanwhile, hae ye any more o’ them fair biscuits, now?”

Liaze laughed and handed Gwyd another helping of hardtack, and he plopped down once more.

“Tell me Gwyd, how long were you imprisoned?”

“Nigh a whole moon by ma count, though I might hae lost track down in that dungeon deep, what wi’ there bein no day and night t’tell by.”

“A moon? A moon in that cage?”

Gwyd nodded.

“What have you been living on?”

“Raw rats mostly, and drinkin seep water, though now and again I took great pleasure in a beetle or a crawlin worm. Spiders, now, they’re a bit bitter, but I ate them when I could.”

As revulsion swept over Liaze’s face, she realized whence came the small bones and bits of fur she had seen in the cage. And she shuddered at the thought of eating raw rats and spiders and worms and beetles.

Gwyd looked at her contorted visage and smiled and said, “The stayin alive was the easy part. ’Twas the noise that nearly drove me mad. And the terrible thin’ was, it was ma verra own howls taken up by that cursed place. Why the rats nae did flee fra the howlin, I’ll ne’er ken, but they nae left the castle at all.” He took another slug of wine, emptying the bottle, then cocked his head and looked at her. “And speakin o’ the howlin, j’st how did ye manage t’quieten it down?”

“I soothed as I would a babe,” said Liaze, “and that’s part of what I want to talk to you about.”

“Soothed as ye would a babe? Now that be somethin that ne’er would o’ entered ma own mind.” Gwyd got up and stepped to the second bottle of wine. He broke off the neck against the same rock and then returned to the fire. Liaze shook her head when he offered her the first drink. Yet standing, Gwyd took a swift gulp and said, “Princess, before you begin on y’r story, would ye wait until I take me a bath? I smell something terrible t’ma own sel’, and so it must be e’en worse f’r ye. And hae ye got something t’wrap masel’ in, f’r ma clothes need washin too?”

Liaze smiled and fetched a cloth and pointed off toward the stream that flowed downslope and toward the vale.

By the time Gwyd returned, Liaze had brewed a pot of tea and offered him some, but the Brownie stuck to the wine.

Gwyd hung his wet garments on a nearby limb, and then settled down by the fire and looked at Liaze. “Weel then, m’lady, whater’er it be ye would tell me, say on.”

Liaze nodded and said, “It concerns the quest I’m on, and it all started at a pool in a willow grove on my estate. Eve had fallen and I had just taken a swim when I heard a horn sounding an alert. Moments later a wounded chevalier on yon black horse you see agraze came crashing through the willow branches and…”

“… And so you see, Gwyd, that’s why I think you are the so-called howling one of the rede.”

The waning gibbous moon had risen and the second bottle of wine was empty by the time Liaze finished her tale.

“Tell me this rede again, m’lady,” said Gwyd, and he braced himself as if for an ordeal, for when she had first spoken Lady Wyrd’s words he had cried out in alarm. She had asked him why, but he had put her off until the telling was done.

Liaze nodded and in a somber voice said:

In the long search for your lost true love

You surely must ride with Fear,

With Dread, with Death, with many Torn Souls,

Yet ride with no one from here.

For should you take a few with you,

Most Fear would likely slay.

Instead ride with the howling one

To aid you on the way.

He you will find along your quest.

He is the one who loudly cried.

He will help you defeat dread Fear,

But will not face Fear at your side.

You must soothe as you would a babe,

And speak not a loud word;

Silence is golden in some high halls;

Tread softly to not be heard.

In the dark of the moon but two moons from now

A scheme will be complete,

For on a black mountain an ever-slowing heart

Will surely cease to beat.

As Liaze fell silent, “Weel then,” said Gwyd, “I ken nothin about a black mountain, but I do agree I be the howlin one, and since ye set me free, and because Lady Skuld said so, it seems I hae nae choice but t’accompany ye. Yet as the rede says, I’ll not face Fear at y’r side, f’r he be a dreadful thin’, he be.”

“A dreadful thing? Know you what that part means, Gwyd?”

“Aye, I do.” Gwyd looked about for more wine, yet only broken-necked bottles did he find. One after another he turned up both and caught a drop from each and then muttered, “I should hae brought more out wi’ me.”

“Gwyd, I ask: what does it mean I must ride with Fear?”

The Brownie sighed. “Let me tell ye ma own tale, startin wi’ the most recent first. Then I’ll get t’Lord Fear hisself.”

“I was the Manor Brunie at Laird Duncan’s mansion. But then Redcap Goblins and Trolls came and occupied the place, and ma laird and lady barely escaped alive. I stayed behind, tryin t’think o’ a way t’oust the greedy poltroons.

“I slipped about unseen by the brutes-we Brunies can be verra sneaky-and I list t’their Goblin talk. It seems they were fleein a mighty warrior when they came upon ma laird’s manor, and they thought it e’en better than the castle they fled when the mighty warrior got loose. Y’see, it seems this warrior had been gi’en t’them as their pris’ner, and he had slain two o’ their Redcaps as he broke free. Then, as he was gettin away, he killed two o’ their Trolls as he escaped on a raft, accompanied by a Sprite and a wee little bee. They recked he would nae doubt return wi a warband, and so they fled.”

Liaze laughed and said, “Oh, Gwyd, ’tis my brother Borel whom they fear. And, indeed, he did slay Goblins and Trolls as he escaped their prison. They were Hradian’s lackeys or minions or allies-I know not which.”

Gwyd frowned. “Hradian?”

“A witch. One of Orbane’s acolytes.”

Gwyd made a warding sign at the mention of Orbane, but he motioned Liaze to go on. Liaze nodded and said, “Hradian: she is the one responsible for Borel being imprisoned in the first place. She cast a great spell that bore him away, and when he awoke, in the Troll prison he was, shackled to a wall. But as you know, he escaped, and slew some of his jailors in doing so.”

“Weel,” said Gwyd, “if he comes back and tracks them down, he won’t slay these.”

“Why not?”

“They have some o’ ma elixir o’ life-givin’.”

“Life-giving?”

“Aye. It be made fra the golden apples in a faraway realm, fermented in ma laird’s own special crystal decanters. Brandy it be, and wondrous, but only if given wi’in moments o’ death, or j’st ere dyin.”

“Oh, could we get the elixir, perhaps it will save Luc’s life. Where lies this estate?”

Gwyd gestured at the moonlit twilight border looming in the near distance. “Yon way, I think, though I be not at all certain. Y’see, I was carried away in a sack and didn’t see nought, but if I be right, it be not too far.”

Liaze nodded and said, “Go on with your tale, for I would hear of this Lord Fear you named.”

“Weelanow, Princess, I was caught by the Trolls while tryin t’steal that very life-givin brandy. I thought they were goin t’kill me, but instead they brought me here. It seems in their flight fra y’r brother, they had come upon this cursed place, and they knew how terrible it was. Jeerin and jibin, they bound me and gagged me and threw me in that sack I told ye about and haled me t’that cursed castle yon.

“I knew somethin was up when I heard a great deal o’ snickerin and sneerin, but it was a bloody lot more than j’st two Trolls and a handful o’ Redcaps could make. It was the castle o’ course, echoin back their own cruel glee.

“They dumped me fra the sack and locked me in the cage where y’found me. And then they went away, leavin me bound and gagged, and leavin their derision behind.

“But among the snickerin and sneerin I could hear them takin bottles, and it had t’be wine they were after, f’r why else would they bring me all this way j’st t’throw me into a cage? Nae, ’twas the grape that brought them here, and they took me along f’r the jape o’ it.

“When I got free o’ ma bonds, and ripped the gag fra ma mouth, I called after them, shouted what a filthy lot they be, and so the castle yelled back at me as t’what a filthy lot I maself be.

“I tried everythin I could think of t’quieten the castle adown, but nothin seemed t’work. O’ course, I didn’t try soothin, like y’did. Anyway, I took it as long as I could, and finally I howled out louder than what I had yelled before, and that be the way it hae been f’r nearly a moon. Like t’drive me mad, it did, and I ween ye came j’st in time.”

“In my case,” said Liaze, “I nearly went mad from an ever-blowing wind and then, later on, from silence. I cannot imagine what it must have been like, living in a constant howl as you were, especially for an entire moon.”

“What made it worse,” said Gwyd, “was that it was ma own howl screamin in ma own ears.”

Liaze nodded and reached out and patted Gwyd on the arm. “I am both sorry and not sorry that I found you thus, for I need you to go with me.-Now tell me of the one you call Lord Fear.”

“Ah, him,” said Gwyd, shuddering. “Weel, this be the way o’ that. Y’see, Laird Duncan’s manor was the second home I’ve lost, f’r I used t’be the Brunie o’ a splendid inn. But then Lord Dread and his hideous band came, and everyone fled but me. They sat around drinkin a strange black ale, one I ne’er saw ere then. Me, I hid till Lord Fear got up and he and his followin were gone… but nae gone f’r good, f’r he and his riders continued thereafter t’stop at the end o’ their day-or night, I should say, f’r ’twas always night when they came. I continued t’hide when Lord Death, Lord Dread, Lord Terror, Lord Fear stopped by, and I was ever glad when he and his ghastly bunch rode on toward their mountain fastness each day j’st ere dawn. But I was alone, and the inn fell into disuse, what wi’ him and his band comin there every night. Finally, I could take it no longer, and I fled.”

“When was this?”

“Long past.”

“Is Lord Fear still stopping there at night?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I must ride with him.”

“Oh, m’lady, no matter what the rede says, I think that would be t’y’r doom.”

Liaze shook her head, and again she quoted lines from Lady Wyrd’s rede:

In the long search for your lost true love

You surely must ride with Fear,

With Dread, with Death, with many Torn Souls…

“Gwyd, know you what means the phrase ‘with many Torn Souls’?”

“It be his ghastly band, m’lady. They be not men but the souls o’ men instead.”

Liaze gasped. “Can this be true?”

“Aye, f’r Lord Fear rides the Wild Hunt.”

Liaze paled. “Oh, I see.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Liaze took a deep breath and said, “Nevertheless, I must ride with him.”

“There be only one way I ken how that be done,” said Gwyd.

“Tell me.”

“He must find ye in the open at night, on the moors or in the fields or along a lonely stretch o’ road.”

“Know you such a place, Gwyd?”

The Brownie frowned in thought, and then said, “As I was journeyin away fra the inn and-though I didna ken it at the time-toward Laird Duncan’s manor, I crossed a bleak moor and j’st as I got t’the woods on the far side, Lord Death came ridin past. Mayhap it be a place he oft travels nigh. If that be so, we can wait there, and each night y’can stand on the moor until he comes.”

“It does not seem like a certain plan,” said Liaze.

“Nae, Princess, it does not, but hae ye a better one?”

“Can I not merely wait at the inn?”

“Then, m’lady, he would slay ye outright, f’r ye will not hae passed his test.”

“His test?”

“Aye. Ye must suffer his dogs wi’out fleein or e’en flinchin, else they’ll take y’r soul. Those that survive his test are then asked if they would ride wi’ him. That be the only moment y’can politely turn him adown, or take him up on his offer. But those that do are doomed t’ride wi’ him f’r e’er.”

“Ah, there must be some way to ride with him and not suffer that doom.”

“If so, I ken not what it be,” said Gwyd.

“Well, on our way to Laird Duncan’s manor and then to that bleak moor, we’ll just have to think of one,” said Liaze.

“Laird Duncan’s manor? Y’plan on goin into what be now a Troll hole?”

“How else are we going to get the elixir of life-giving?” asked Liaze.

Gwyd laughed aloud and then sobered. “Ah, m’lady, ’twill be dangerous, but, oh my, what a splendid thin’ t’do.” Again he broke out in laughter, while Liaze nodded and smiled.