Liaze helped Gwyd sit up, the Brownie groaning. “I dona want t’get t’ma feet right now, but-” Of a sudden Gwyd began to chuckle, and, even as he clutched his ribs, he pointed.
Liaze and Twk both turned and looked, and now Twk started twittering. “What, Gwyd, what?” asked Liaze.
“Jester,” said Twk, breaking into full-fledged giggles.
Its head under one wing, the rooster had gone back to sleep.
“Wi’ desperation all about,” said Gwyd, now cackling and groaning at the same time while pressing a hand to his chest, “and wi’ life and death in the balance, it mattered not one whit t’the bird that I were about t’be done in.” He paused and moaned and tried to catch his breath, but broke into guffaws, and held his ribs and gasped, “Oh, oh, but it hurts t’laugh.”
“Well, at least one of us remained calm in the face of dire peril,” said Twk, his gleeful laughter rising, “even if it was my chicken.”
In relief and in the release of tension, the trio sat and guffawed at Jester, the bird paying no heed whatsoever, and that made them laugh all the harder.
Finally, Liaze said, “Gwyd, let us get you back to our camp and use some of that rib-mending simple of yours.”
“Aye, Princess, if ye’ll help me t’ma feet.”
As Liaze eased Gwyd up, he gasped and said, “Y’r fingers, Princess, they be bloody.”
“The harp,” said Liaze, by way of explanation.
“Ah,” said Gwyd, “y’did play long, aye, a lot longer than ye played of recent, longer e’en than ye played f’r Lord Fear, and ye plucked hard so the snake would feel it. Weel, I hae somethin t’fix y’up.” Gwyd gestured at his pockets.
They stepped back to the harp with its now-scarlet strings, and Twk wakened Jester, the bird ruffling his feathers at being so rudely interrupted in whatever chicken dream he had been having.
Liaze knelt and wrenched the silver instrument back and forth to free the foot, and took it up, along with her bow and quiver, and then lent a steadying hand to the Brownie.
“What about the fire?” asked Twk.
“There’s nought out here but dust,” said Gwyd. “Leave it be. It’ll soon burn itself out.”
As they turned to start away, Liaze took one last look at the golden apple tree, where, once again coiled about the trunk, the monstrous snake coldly stared back at her.
Slowly they made their way ’round the wall and to the stream and horses.
The princess fetched a cup as Gwyd gently lowered himself down beside the rill and fished about in his belt pockets. Liaze dipped the cup in the stream, and, as he had done before, Gwyd dropped in a pinch of powder and swirled it about, and then drank it all.
“Now, Princess, f’r you.” The Brownie replenished the water and dropped another powder within, and bade Liaze to soak her fingers. After a while, he bandaged each one, and when that was done he said, “Now, let us hae a fire, f’r I dona want t’make a mistake.”
With Liaze collecting brushwood, and Twk fetching dry grass, soon, in spite of her bandages, the princess had a campfire ablaze.
“Now, lass, the decanters and bridge.”
Liaze fetched the carven crystals and handed them to Gwyd, and in the moonlight and by firelight, the Brownie examined the runes and selected a decanter and handed it to her. “This be the one.”
Liaze peered at the deep-set runes and nodded in agreement, and showed the carvings to Twk as well.
“And you say this powers the magic?” asked the Pixie.
“That’s what I am told,” said Liaze.
Gwyd rummaged through his pockets and withdrew the golden apple and handed it to Liaze. “Carve this up and drop it into the crystal, if ye please.”
“All of it? Stem, pips, and bottom tip, too?”
“Aye, lass. Cut the whole o’ it into chunks; the size doesna matter, j’st as long as ye can slip them into the neck.”
Liaze withdrew her long-knife and, somewhat clumsily, carved the apple into pieces and dropped each one in. When the full of the apple was inside, Gwyd examined the runes on the bridge, and pointed at one end and said, “This be the cap f’r that decanter.”
Once again, Liaze examined the runes and nodded in agreement, and she showed them to Twk.
“Hmm…” mused the Pixie. “Just how oddly shaped signs carved into crystal can do miraculous things, I’ll never understand.”
“Nor will I,” said Liaze, as she capped the decanter with the rune-matched end of the bridge.
They sat and peered at the pieces of apple within, but nothing seemed to be happening. Liaze smiled. “A watched pot doesn’t boil.”
“Weel,” said Gwyd, “I wouldna say that, m’lady. But as to this decanter turning the apple t’cider, recall it takes a day all t’gether, a full twenty-four candlemarks.”
Even with this admonition, they continued to stare at the contents. Finally Gwyd said, “How did I manage t’escape? What happened that the snake missed me?”
“The princess saved you,” said Twk.
Gwyd looked at Liaze. “Did ye, now? Wi’ one o’ y’r arrows?”
Liaze shook her head. “No, Gwyd. You see, I remembered that serpents sense the body heat of their victims, and I flung a torch between you and him just as he was to strike, and the snake went after the burning brand. It seems it was barely enough of a delay to give you time to get over the wall.”
“Mithras, but it was a close thing,” said the Pixie. “I thought you a deader for sure.”
“So did I, Twk,” said the Brownie. “So did I.”
Liaze glanced at the waning gibbous moon nearing the zenith and stood and stepped to the horses. “Let us set camp and get some rest, for dawn will soon come.”
Jester’s crowing announced the arrival of the sun, and Liaze groaned awake. Too little rest and much to do, and but ten more nights till the dark of the moon. Oh, Mithras, but we have a long way to go and not enough time to get there.
She sat up and looked at the capped decanter, now some quarter full with a yellowish slush.
To one side, Gwyd roused, and he, too, glanced at the decanter. “It be workin, Princess,” he muttered.
From his perch on a bush, again Jester crowed; the chicken sat alongside Twk, the Pixie in a nestlike bower in the bush. Yawning and stretching, Twk said, “Come on, red rooster, let’s get you fed and saddled.”
“Good advice,” said Liaze, and she got to her feet and, after taking care of her immediate needs, she laded the geldings and saddled the stallion and the mare.
She fed them some grain, and fed Jester too, and then broke her own fast along with Gwyd and Twk.
“Princess, it be seven days back t’the inn, and another seven t’the black mountain by y’r reckonin,” said Gwyd. “That be fourteen days in all, and there be but ten left till the moon be dark. How can we possibly get there in time?”
“We’ll just have to press hard,” said Liaze, “and pray to Mithras the horses can hold up. We have this going for us, though: the farther we travel, the lighter the lade of the geldings.”
“Och, aye,” said Gwyd. “The grain be the heaviest o’ their burden, and the horses… they be eatin it up on the way.”
“They need it,” said Liaze, “for we drive them to their limits.”
“Perhaps,” said Twk, “in some of the towns we go through, we can get fresh mounts.”
Liaze shook her head. “I think we cannot afford the time it would take to bargain for such. Besides, I know these horses, for five of them are from my own estates, and I would never yield up Nightshade. Non, these are all worthy steeds, capable of long travel. I would rather have them than some unknown animal.”
“Still,” said Gwyd, “we took plenty o’ coinage fra the Trolls, and so, should it come t’it, there be nae need t’bargain; we’ll j’st board our own and take fresh mounts and pay whate’er be wanted.”
Liaze sighed and nodded.
By pressing the horses a bit harder, they arrived at the twilight border and crossed over into the wide river
