condense and collect those vapors, and-”
“Och, Twk,” said Gwyd. “Indeed, all that need be done, yet list, thanks to the lass here, we hae the gear wi’ us t’do so.”
Liaze frowned. “Gwyd, how many apples does it take to-Oh, wait, I recall you saying that each time you went to the garden, you had but moments to get just one and then flee. Is a single apple sufficient to make a golden draught?”
“That be the wonder o’ Mithras’ fruit,” said Gwyd. “Though an ordinary apple by itself would only make a wee dram o’ brandy, one o’ the golden ones seems to entirely turn into brandy in the end-juice, peel, pulp, and all. Only the stem and pips and the very tip end at the bottom o’ the apple remain unaffected.”
“Pips?” asked Twk. “Why, if you have seeds, Gwyd, can’t you simply plant them and raise your own crop of Mithras’ fruit?”
“Ah, laddie, believe me, I hae tried that, but they dinna grow anywhere but in the soil o’ the garden where we go.”
Liaze shook her head and said, “Be that as it may, we at least understand the first four lines of Lady Lot’s rede.”
“We do?” asked Twk.
“Yes,” said Liaze. And she chanted:
Upon a bed ’neath ebon sky,
One plans for one to slowly die.
But if ye three are truly brave,
A golden draught will surely save.
“The ‘bed ’neath ebon sky’ of Verdandi’s rede is on the black mountain spoken of in her sister’s rede.”
“Her sister Skuld, you mean?” asked Twk.
“Oui, in Skuld’s rede,” said Liaze, “and I know where that cold mountain lies.”
“Aye, lass, go on,” said Gwyd.
“Then there is this,” said Liaze. “When Verdandi said, ‘One plans for one to slowly die,’ I believe she means that the witch who stole Luc away is the one who plans for him to die. Hark back to Skuld’s rede, where she said that one would die in the dark of the moon two moons from now, and that surely is the slow death of Verdandi’s rede.”
“Aye,” said Gwyd, “I see where ye are takin this, lass, f’r the third and fourth lines o’ her rede tell us we must be brave t’get the apple t’make the life-givin’ elixir.”
Liaze nodded. “That’s what I think as well, for she did say ‘if ye three are truly brave / A golden draught will surely save.’ ”
“Aye, and-whoosh now-we’ll hae t’be truly brave t’face the unsleepin serpent.”
Twk shrugged and said, “I do not question the bravery of the princess, for did she not face Lord Fear himself and triumph? As for you and me, Gwyd, perhaps we’ll manage in spite of the serpent. Regardless, even though it seems we have ciphered the meaning of the first four lines of Verdandi’s rede, what of the last six lines?”
They strode in silence a few more steps, but then Liaze said, “We’ve walked far enough; ’tis time to ride. Think on the rede as we press onward, and pray to Mithras that we resolve the quandary ere we reach the garden of the serpent. We cannot afford to yet be puzzling when we get there, for the dark of the moon comes toward us at a steady pace, and time dwindles even as we talk. Let us ride.”
Liaze quickly shifted the tethers about so that Pied Agile would take the lead. She lifted Twk and Jester back onto one of the geldings and boosted Gwyd into Nightshade’s saddle, and then mounted Pied Agile and led the train onward at a trot.
Walking, trotting, cantering, galloping, stopping at streams to take water, pausing to feed the horses and Jester grain and to take a meal themselves, onward they fared throughout the remainder of that day, passing through hamlets and across farmland and through forests.
They pressed on well into the evening, using the bright gibbous moon to light the way, ere at last making camp.
The next day, as the sun passed the zenith, they came unto the twilight wall, and Liaze said, “Gwyd, it has taken us one day, from noon to noon, to reach the place it would take you four days in all at a swift pace afoot. Hence, if the remainder of the trip continues in this fashion, what would take you a moon to reach the garden, we should be able to accomplish in a sevenday, but only if the horses hold out. Oh, Gwyd, it is but a desperate hope that we can reach the garden and get an apple and then return and push on to the black mountain ere the coming dark of the moon.”
“Aye,” replied Gwyd, “desperate indeed.”
And on they rode to enter a realm of high moors, and Gwyd had them angle a bit leftward, though they kept riding in the general direction of the sunup bound.
Under Gwyd’s guidance, the following day they crossed the next twilight border to come into rolling prairie. In the distance a great blot of darkness covered the land, and it slowly moved across the hill-sides.
“What might that be, Gwyd?” asked Liaze, shading her eyes and peering intently, puzzlement in her gaze.
“That be a great herd o’ shaggy beasties,” said the Brownie. “There be nae reason to worry, lass, f’r they be gentle, though I dona think we should pass among them, f’r they hae young’ns and might get riled.”
Swinging wide, they passed around the herd whose numbers seemed countless, and on they pressed. Within that day, they came to the following border and entered hill country, where rain swept across the land in blowing sheets. Gwyd and Liaze pulled cloaks tightly ’round and cast their hoods over their heads, and Liaze spread a weatherproof cloth o’er Twk and Jester; in the dimness under, the rooster went to sleep.
That eve they stopped when daylight was gone, for, under the dark overcast, the moon shone not.
Two days later, in unremitting rain, they came unto the third border and crossed over into a mountainous region of high peaks and low valleys.
“Princess,” said Twk, “because of the rain, we’ve lost some time. Can we make it up?”
“Twk, we are among mountains,” said Liaze, “but if the terrain is gentle in the valleys, perhaps we can do so.”
“The terrain nae be gentle,” said Gwyd, “f’r in a day or two we need climb to one o’ the cols above.”
Liaze groaned in despair, but on they pushed.
Another two days passed, and walking the horses to give them relief, they climbed the col and reached a high plateau; and in midafternoon they came to a sheer precipice. Mayhap a thousand feet below, a wide vale stretched out, and a river snaked its way toward a looming wall of twilight in the near distance.
“Beyond that bound lies the garden,” said Gwyd. Then he pointed sinistral. “The way down the face o’ the cliff be yon.”
Leftward they turned to come to the path downward. “Oh, no,” said Liaze, her face falling. “It is too narrow for the horses. Is there no other way?”
Gwyd slapped himself in the forehead. “Och, Princess, it ne’er occurred t’me that the size o’ the beasties would make a difference. I hae always come afoot.”
“How far the garden?” asked Twk. “If it’s close enough, perhaps we can leave the steeds here.”
“Four days f’r me afoot,” said Gwyd. “A day or so ahorse.”
Liaze looked at the three-foot-tall Brownie and the tiny Pixie and his rooster. She shook her head, saying, “Even running, we can’t go afoot, else we’ll not make it to the garden and back in time; we must find another way.”
“I ne’er looked f’r one,” said Gwyd, “but ye be right, lass. Untether me, and I’ll take the dextral.”
“I’ll go sinistral,” said Liaze, dismounting and loosing the lines. “Twk, you and the geldings will come with me.”
As the princess retied the packhorses to the stallion, she said, “Remember, Gwyd, it need be wide enough all the way down for Nightshade.”
“What about the packhorses?” asked Gwyd. “They be wider wi’ their gear.”
“If necessary, we can leave the geldings and goods here,” said Liaze.
“Och, aye,” said Gwyd, and he turned Pied Agile and trotted away along the plateau to the right.
Liaze called out after him, “I’ll sound the horn should I find a way.”
