“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.
28
Troll Hole
Just after sunrise, Liaz
e awakened to the clink of glass as well as a voice from afar, and when she sat up Gwyd was removing wine bottles from a basket and wrapping them in cloth. At her wide-eyed look, Gwyd said, “Weel, Princess, I got t’thinkin I should go back and get some bottles o’ refreshment f’r the trail ahead . . . as weel as somthin t’wrap them in t’keep them safe from the jostlin, and so I did.”
Liaze smiled and shook her head. Then she turned toward the distant sound. “And that is . . . ?”
“Och, it be a message f’r any who might come by. Y’see, when I was leavin, j’st ere steppin out the door, I simply called out, ‘Warnin: this castle be cursed. It be best t’stay away.’ O’ course that now be what the place itself be sayin, and it might keep folks fra the door. Besides, if I e’er come back this way, there might still be some o’ this glorious and verra-weel-aged wine in the cellars f’r the takin.”
Liaze laughed and said, “Clever of you, Gwyd.” She got to her feet and kicked up the fire and set a pot of water on the flames for brewing tea. And while the liquid was heating, she took up a small pouch and went among the bushes to relieve herself and then down to the stream to wash and take care of her feminine needs. When she returned to the fire, the tea was steeping, for Gwyd—Brownie true—had taken care of the undone. Too, he had set out jerky and hardtack for their morning meal.
Liaze did not show gratitude to Gwyd, for as with all of his Kind, any offer of a reward or even a simple “merci” would drive a Brownie away. Just handing him the hardtack biscuits yestereve was coming close to breaking the Brownie proscription; but since they were not offered as a gift or a reward, but rather as something needed, Gwyd had accepted them and gladly.
“Would that I hae some eggs, Princess, then we would hae ourselves a feast.”
Liaze smiled and said, “The first town we come across, we’ll take a room at an inn, and, even if just for a day, we’ll eat sumptuously and rest in comfort, and then be on our way.”
Gwyd’s face fell into a troubled frown, as if trying to determine whether or not this was a gift or an offer of recompense. Finally he shrugged, and his visage once more took on its normal good-natured grin.
They ate jerky and hardtack and drank strong tea, and finally they broke camp—Liaze lading and saddling the animals, Gwyd quenching the fire and rolling the blankets into bedrolls and tying them with leather thongs.
Liaze looked at the diminutive Brownie—three feet tall at most—and she knew there wasn’t a way to shorten the stirrups enough on Pied Agile’s saddle to fit his small stature. Instead, she fashioned a second set of stirrups from a length of rope strung high along the sides between the forebow and cantle.
“Y’dinna expect me t’steer that great big thin’, now, do ye?” asked Gwyd.
“No, Gwyd. I’ll tether her behind Nightshade and tow you along.”
“Ah, weel and good. Me, I prefer a pony, and should we come across any—”
“Ah, Gwyd, there might come a time when we need to run at speed, and a pony would slow us down.”
“Ah, woe,” said the Brownie. “Then I be sentenced t’this great galootin beastie until our venture be done, eh?”
“It seems so,” said Liaze. “Now here, let me give you a boost up.”
Again Gwyd frowned, once more trying to determine if this were a gift of sorts.
“ ’Tis necessary,” said Liaze, as if reading his mind.
“Ah, weel then,” said Gwyd, and he offered himself for a lift.
Once upon the mare, Gwyd let out a crow. “Ah, if ma adopted cousin, a Pixie named Twk, could only see me now. I mean, here I am on a great horse, while Twk himself rides a saddled rooster.”
“A saddled rooster?”
“Aye. And Twk takes great glee in keepin the poor rooster awake and causin him t’crow at all hours o’ the night and disturbin folks fra their sleep. Ha! Those so disturbed always say the rooster must be pixilated, but they nae hae any idea j’st how right they be. Ah, but I do miss wee Twk and his pranks.”
Liaze laughed and said, “Mayhap we will meet him along the way, for it sounds as if he is a clever wit, and perhaps a wit such as his would come in handy, for we need a scheme to defeat Lord Fear after I have taken my ride.”
Liaze mounted up on Nightshade, and she turned him toward the vale with its twilight border at the far end.
Downslope they rode, the mare with Gwyd astride, and the geldings following. And as they wended toward the dell, Gwyd fell silent, the Brownie immersed in deep thought.
Into the vale they went, and Liaze stopped and let the horses take draughts from the brook running along the bottom. And she filled the waterskins to the full. As she did so, Gwyd said not a word, rapt as he was in his own pondering.
On down the dell they went, and then through the twilight at the end, and they came out on the crest of a tall hill, the slope falling away into a land of rolling plains, and in the distance a river glittered in the morning sunlight. Farmsteads dotted the ’scape, and leftward afar a forest spread o’er long slopes.
“Well?” said Liaze.
Gwyd made no response.
Liaze turned in the saddle and said, “Gwyd?”
“Huh?” The Brownie was jerked from his thoughts. “What?”
“Is this the place? If not, we can ride back through the border and try somewhere else.”
Gwyd looked about. “Ah, yes, Princess. Duncan’s manor be in those distant woods.”
“Hmm . . . Well then, we’ll head that way, but once I reach the line of trees, you’ll have to guide us toward the mansion.”
“Aye,” said Gwyd, and once again he fell to pondering.
It was nigh midday when they came to the forest. At Liaze’s call, Gwyd surfaced from his thinking, and he said, “Tell me, Princess, can ye sing?”
Liaze looked at him and frowned. “What has this to do with stealing the elixir?”
“Nought,” replied the Brownie. “Regardless, can ye sing?”
“I’ve been known to carol a ballade or two, not as well as Camille or Alain, but I’m a fair hand at it.”
“Can ye play a harp?”
Liaze sighed. “Oui. My père and mère thought it proper that all of us—Borel, Alain, Celeste, and I—learn several instruments: harpsichord, flute, lute, harp, and drum. But what does—?”
“I might ken a way t’break Lord Fear’s hold o’er ye, but y’ll hae t’do y’r part while I do mine.”
Liaze’s eyes flew wide in surprise. “You do? You have a way?”
“I nae be certain, and I’ll hae t’ponder on it some more, but I think it j’st might work, given the Fates be on our side.”
“Oh, tell me, tell me,” urged Liaze.
“Nae. Gi’e me more time t’think on it. But I’ll tell ye this: we need t’steal not only the elixir and the crystal decanters fra the Trolls and Goblins, but also the silver harp I left behind—’twas ma own—and we’ll need t’take one o’ the laird’s red scarves.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you,” said Liaze, her words not a question.
“Ah, Princess, I dinna want t’get y’r hopes up. Besides I need t’take consultation wi’ them what might know. Then I’ll tell ye what I hae in mind.”
Liaze sighed in exasperation, but Gwyd said, “Go straight on f’r a ways. Up ahead we’ll stop and get some good rest—e’en sleep if we can—while we wait f’r night, cause we’ll nae be goin in t’the place until the wee marks. Then we need approach the manor fra the downwind side so as not t’be scented, especially the animals, f’r Trolls and Redcaps prize horse flesh above e’en that o’ Humans, though I think they would find ye a tasty morsel.”
Liaze shuddered to hear of the dietary habits of these Folk, and she said, “Then let us make certain that they do not sniff us out.”
In the moonlight they quietly slipped from tree to bush to tree and then to the low stone wall surrounding the mansion, Gwyd leading the way, for he knew every nook and cranny and rock and plant on the laird’s manor grounds.
As they crouched by the wall, and as Gwyd peered through a slot where a brick was missing, Liaze softly said, “Tell me, Gwyd, with Trolls and Redcaps about, how think you the farmsteads nearby deal with such?”
Without taking his gaze away from the manor, Gwyd said, “I would think they ne’er go out alone at night—in fact put up barricades and stay wi’in—and they are nae doubt weel armed by now.”
Liaze nodded and said, “My thoughts exactly. Yet, were these Trolls and Goblins in my demesne, I would take a warband and clean out this vipers’ nest. Is there no one nearby to do the same?”
“ ’Twould hae been the laird’s t’do, f’r he was the first one raided and taken by surprise.”
“Were there no guards posted?”
Gwyd shook his head. “ ’Twasn’t needed ere the Trolls came, and then it were too late.—And speakin o’ guards, there do be a Redcap makin rounds.”
Gwyd moved aside and let Liaze peer through the slot. In the moonlight a Goblin shuffled alongside the building.
Liaze and Gwyd waited and watched, and finally, after several rounds, they determined that this Redcap seemed to be the only sentry.
“We’ll wait until he turns the corner on his next pass,” said Gwyd, “then we’ll make f’r the door t’the root cellar.”
“The root cellar?”
“Aye, it connects t’the wine cellars, and they in turn lead up and in. And we can slip through the halls and t’the second floor and t’the laird’s study, f’r that be where the elixir be kept as weel as the crystal decanters. Too, ma own quarters be in the cellars, and that’s where ma harp lies, assumin o’ course they have nae melted it adown f’r the silver it bears.”
“And the red scarf?”
“Next t’the laird’s study there be a dressin’ room, and several should be inside.”
“Ha, then, the most dangerous part is getting from the cellar to the study and back, eh?”
“Aye.”
“Then let’s have at it, my friend.”
As they waited, Gwyd said, “It be nae meet t’blame the laird f’r nae bein ready. He took a bad wound in his escape, and where he went I know not. But I hae nae doubt as soon as he be mended, he’ll be out raisin a warband. Yet all his weapons and armor and such lie in yon manor, and it’ll take a bit o’ time t’gather up the men and the gear he needs in order t’-take this place back and t’slay all o’ those what took it away in the first place.”
Once Upon an Autumn Eve Page 18
