Chapter Nine

“RIGHT, NOW REMEMBER TO ASK YOUR GRANDMOTHER to send along some of those candied apples you like so well or to cough up her recipe,” Agathe was telling Bissori the following morning as we gathered together to set out.

I sat atop Atriel, my goodbyes to a sleepy Eldar made, and gazed up at the steep inclines we would be climbing by day’s end. I scanned the skies for snow in the air as well as the shape of a raven. Neither were seen. That worried me. Not the lack of snow, for that was a blessing. I was chilled to my bones already, and we had not yet started properly. Too many years spent in the warmer climes had made me softer than ripe squash.

“I’ll ask, but you know she’ll tell me to bugger off,” Bissori replied as he hoisted himself up onto the back of a stout gray mule that he called Cornbread. “You know, she plans to take her recipes into the stone with her. Now kiss me and let us be on our way.”

Agathe rose to her toes to plant a kiss on her husband’s hairy face. Several kisses. I glanced shyly at Beirach atop his gelding in full dark bark armor. He looked resplendent. Tezen was sleeping in my hair, using my braids as a hammock, her snores and snorts floating into my ear.

“All right, you feisty wench, enough. You keep kissing me like that and the lads will have to wait for me to take you inside and give you a good riving,” Bissori chuckled, tapped his heels to Cornbread’s side, and took off at a clip.

“Thank you for keeping my brother,” I said once again before Atriel took her head. Well rested and filled with sweet hay, she had energy to spare today.

“He’ll be up and about in a tenday, you’ll see,” Agathe called while waving us goodbye.

During my morning prayers, I’d asked the goddess to watch over Eldar. Then I requested she guide us to the sacred door. Thoughts beyond how to battle a necromancer, and one that was possibly the offspring of the man I loved, were far removed from my grasp. My powers were measly, my knowledge of dark arts meager. What I could add to this upcoming encounter, I could not assume to guess.

We rode along with Bissori doing the talking for all of us. Tezen awoke at midday with a sour temperament and a dyspeptic stomach. The midday meal was eaten under a tall mountain pine with the sun on our faces. The landscape was changing gradually. Where once we were moving through the Verboten forest and into the valley the woods hugged, now we were scaling a rocky environ. The trees were thinning out, the oaks and elms replaced by sturdy but slim evergreens and tenacious bushes with bright berries of red, yellow, and dark green. Also, the temperature was slowly dropping. Not low enough that one saw their breath but dipping enough that I pulled a thick brown bear pelt from my bags, thankful yet again for Beirach’s cousin and her husband. It was their skins that now kept me warm. I did my best not to dwell on the fact that this pelt keeping the elements from my back once did the same for a rock bear. Keeping my druidic ideals intact was not always easy or practical.

Night arrived quickly, the skies darkening in the late afternoon to drop some rain on us. The pelts kept us dry and warm, although the smell of wet rock bear wasn’t pleasant. Bissori rode us up to a small copse of stately mountain pines as the rain began to pelt down with gusto.

“We’ll set up camp under these trees,” the dwarf announced over his shoulder. Cornbread seemed happy with the sight of the trees, for she hee-hawed loudly and made for the circle of pines with speed. Our horses plodded along, manes and tails soaked, unhappy about the weather. I could not blame them. We took care of our steeds, staking them inside the evergreens to keep an eye on them. “Fire will keep the cliff wolves away…or should. Might be we want to set up shifts for a watch just to be sure.”

I took my shift in the middle of the night, Beirach and Tezen snoring away as Bissori roused me from my sleep.

“Quiet as a holy sister’s curly gates,” the dwarf said around a yawn, then crawled into his bedding of furs. He joined the duo of snorers, making it a hearty trio. Half asleep I pulled myself from my bedroll. The rain had stopped, thankfully, and the skies were clear. Using the base of a pine for a backrest, I plopped down with my bear pelt pulled around me and listened. For hours. The side of the mountain was as dark as sin. A few howls bounced along the rocky hillsides but nothing that upset the horses or Cornbread.

I had several hours to mull over how I had come to be on this cold mountainside facing down a threat to all druid kind. As a child, I never would have imagined my life taking this path, yet here I was. And while this was not how I envisioned my life’s journey, it had led me to meeting Beirach, the man who had won me over with his spirit, gentleness, and bravery. The goddess did move in mysterious ways, but her wisdom could not be denied, for she had directed me to my true heart’s desire. I hoped against hope that I could somehow make a difference when the shite got deep as Tezen was known to say. I resigned myself to putting my fate in Danubia’s hands. She had always carried my future, anyway. I just had to have faith.

A roaring snore reached my ears, a deep one, masculine, that I knew to be Beirach. Bissori then cut loose. Tezen joined in. I chuckled to myself, snuggling into my pelt, and enjoyed the rumbling melodies as the night crept along and the cliff wolves brayed at the fat moons overhead.

Dawn brought with it stiff backs, cold toes, and a dwarf who liked to sing as he urinated over the side of a drop-off.

“He can’t carry a tune for shit,” Tezen stated while dousing the campfire with tiny cups of water. When her efforts were getting her nowhere, I kicked some snowy dirt over the flames. “Thanks. You big folk need to build smaller fires.”

She darted off to chatter with Beirach, who seemed to be intent on what he was carrying in his saddlebags.

“Right, now that I’ve drained my dragon, let’s go over what we’ll be doing today,” Bissori announced as he strode back into camp. “We’ll be reaching Mother Moth before sunset. The yeti lookouts will know we’re there before we get a peek at the falls. I’ll be hanging back. Them and my people have this kind of pact that we don’t dig under their camps and they don’t cut off our heads.”

“Seems like a fair pact,” I mumbled while tightening the girth strap on my saddle. Beirach hummed in agreement.

“People say us dwarves got rocks for brains, but that ain’t true. We just tend to be rockheaded at times. So, I suggest you get your sparkly offerings out ahead of time. When we get near the falls, you wave them bastards over your heads like the king’s banners. That’ll be the sign to the outlooks that you come to barter for entrance to see Mother Moth.”

“I have nothing particularly shiny to offer them,” I confessed. “I packed only what little I could find that seemed sturdy or practical. As well as my herbs and potions for sickness or healing.”

“It’s okay,” Tezen said as she flitted down to give my nose a fast squeeze. “I got some trinkets from home that will get their attention.”

“Reckon you have some lovely treasures, my lady, but being so small and yeti having rather poor eyesight, they won’t be able to see what you’re offering from a distance. I brung some fool’s gold and a couple pewter mugs that—”

“I will offer them this,” Beirach broke in as he withdrew the golden flute.

“Oh well, that will get their furry peckers right hard. They love music. Can’t play a lick since they don’t read well but they do love to listen to it,” Bissori said as he clambered up onto his mule.

“Beirach, no, that flute has special meaning to you,” I insisted, walking over to where he stood beside Methril, the musical instrument in his hand. It was a beautiful flute crafted out of soft gold with small swirls worked around the fingerholes. “That belonged to your wife.”

“Yes, it did, and she is gone. She’s been gone for many years. My heart has healed and is now filled with a new love.” He looked down at me, his light blue gaze sincere. “If passing this to a yeti assures we are admitted to the falls and the white oaks, then I am sure Saffanah would insist we give away her flute. She would not wish her people to be further maimed by our son.”

“We do not know that it is—”

He smiled sadly at me. “I know. In my heart I know.” I moved closer so I could touch his face. He turned his nose into my palm, eyes closed, and placed a soft kiss on my hand.

“Very well then. We shall offer them her flute for passage over their lands.” I rose to my toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you.” He slid the flute back into his saddlebag.

“Well, now that we got the payment settled, I’ll also pass along that riding up on them with weapons drawn and armored will get you a crossbow bolt in the eyeball. We want to keep calm and show them that you’re friends. They don’t got a big trust of people.”

I threw my leg over my horse, then settled into the saddle. “I remember seeing a few at court when we would visit the capital. They clung to the sides of the banquet rooms, taller than any others in attendance, shy creatures it seemed.”

“That’s a yeti. Big as split pine conifers, as furry as a dog’s ass, and as meek as a mouse outside of their hunting grounds. Once you get them back on the mountain, they’re not ones to feck about with. My people and them live in a kind of truce state with an occasional skirmish every hundred years or so but mostly peaceful. Course we know how to deal with the buggers, and they know how to deal with us charmers.”

Beirach chuckled lifelessly as we began our climb. The day wore on slowly, and the horses grew more and more anxious the steeper the mountainside became. With temperatures falling throughout the day, it led us into lands coated with snow and ice. The tops of the Witherhorn range were thick with clouds that clung to the tips, fragile flakes tumbling down from the sky to coat the horses’ coats and our pelts within an hour.

We paused for a fast lunch of dry beaver meat—which I declined—and some black beans spread on flat bread, which I enjoyed. Water now was not an issue, for we could simply melt snow in our mouths. The horses did the same, but Beirach said we should find open water for them before nightfall. The rumble of Mother Moth could be heard if we stood silently and tipped our heads.

“This is as far as the horses can safely go,” Bissori called out after we rode for several more miles after lunch. The going was perilous now, our horses’ hooves sliding out from under them more frequently. Snow now fell steadily, clinging to our lashes and Bissori’s thick black beard. Our guide dismounted and began pulling plate armor from his saddlebags. I looked at Beirach with confusion. “We’ll pass under a rock outcropping and that’ll be where the first yeti will be sitting. They’ll call down to us in their tongue. Any of you talk yeti?” We shook our heads. Tezen was hiding in my braids, the snow caked to the thin plaits running down my back. “Okay, well, it’ll sound like a dog with his nuts caught in a door. When you hear it, you’ll know. I know a few sounds but nothing to run a full conversation with them. I brung a few bobs and bits. My stock is depleted. Stop dead and hold that flute over your head. If they like it, and I wager they will, they’ll bark down at us. Sit still. Wait for them to come to us. You hand over the flute, I’ll drop my earrings, and they’ll give us a rock.”

“A rock?” Beirach asked and got a bob of a fur-hatted dwarven head.

“A rock. They like them. It’ll be painted. They may speak to you in elvish like we all do down off the mountain, or they may not. Most likely not as the ones who speak other languages will be the clan chieftains. You think one of you can give me a hand here? Ain’t easy armoring up alone.”

“I’m sorry, cousin, but…what in all the depths of hell are you doing?” Beirach asked as a strong wind blew the falling flakes sideways. “I distinctly heard you tell Agathe that you were dropping us off and then heading home. She wants a recipe?”

“Oh that.” He lowered the intricate bronzed breastplate to rest on his toes. “That was our way of saying not to get dead. Agathe ain’t one for sappy talk, bless her. She and me talked when you two were getting frisky in the steam hut.” Even in the cold temperatures, my cheeks grew warm. Momentarily. “Since you ain’t heard from that crusty old cunt Umeris, we both knew you’d need a good sword arm.”

“Hey, I’m a great warrior!” Tezen called from my braids.

“No disrespect, my lady. A second fighter. How’s that? Now, can someone help with the chain mail and chest plate? I can do the rest alone.”

“But…this is not necessary, Bissori. We cannot ask you to risk your life when the curse is not aimed at your people,” Beirach argued from the back of his horse, fully armored, as was I and Tezen.

“You didn’t ask…I volunteered. And if you elves are being hurt, then it does affect my people since you’re half elf and my cousin by marriage. Plus, all you druids are good for the plants and animals. Now would you stop jawing at me and help?” Bissori snapped, his beard now heavy with snow, ice crystals forming and melting on his bushy mustache with each breath.

“Agathe will castrate us if anything happens to you.” Beirach sighed, dismounting then clapping Bissori on the back after a robust hug.

“Then best not let me get a nick, eh? Given the looks on your faces when you snuck back in last night, you’ll be wanting your peckers for further fornication.”

Tezen giggled madly. I tried to wiggle down into my cloak and armor to hide my face but only my chin would fit. Was there no way to hide a night of passion from curious eyes?

“Why did you not don your armor when we all did after breaking our fast?” I asked, the wind howling about us ripping my words away so quickly I had to inquire twice.

“Too heavy for Cornbread to carry once I suited up. She ain’t no war horse. Plus, it’s colder than a witch’s tuppy to sit in hammered bronze for half a damn day,” he replied, and I nodded. My leather armor seemed to keep in some body heat, not enough surely, but some.

The process to armor up a dwarf went somewhat quickly after I stopped asking questions. “Glad we left the horses behind before we started the climb up,” Bissori called through a helm that resembled a wild boar. He looked quite fearsome with his mace, shield, and finely made dwarven armor. “Wind break will keep them sheltered. If we get a rock, then we’ll push on, following the sound of the falls. The white oaks sit just through the waters. We’ll have to walk through the tears of Mother Moth, which will suck a troll’s sack as the dousing will be bitter cold. That’s as far as I know for certain. I heard rumors that the gilded doors are a ways in, but them are only rumors. I don’t know many people who ventured into yeti lands or to the door and come back alive.”

“Then we shall hope that we are some of the lucky ones,” Beirach said while I slipped from Atreil’s back.

I checked the snowy sky again as we led our steeds along a narrow ledge. No sign of Nin. It should not have taken the raven this long to return. Umeris surely would not abandon us to face a mad necromancer alone. Would he? No. If the forest elves fell, the loss would be felt across Melowynn. Nature would fall into disarray, the woods would be without wardens, the goddess would wither away with no children to pray to her. Life on Melowynn would be forever changed, for once the woods died so did the creatures that called them home. Once the creatures were gone, those who shared this world with them would suffer. Even if we were considered lesser than, the titled ones would not let us be wiped out. Umeris would send help. We were his people, even if our skin tone was different.

Bissori found the crevice in the side of the mountain. It was large enough for our horses and Cornbread to rest comfortably out of the elements. Tucked in the back of the icy crack was a cold firepit.

“Probably a hunting party,” Bissori offered. “The yeti are really fond of the crag goats that live on the mountains.”

I recalled hearing the yeti were strictly carnivores at one of the court dinners I’d attended several years ago. It made sense. Growing vegetables on the side of a snowy mountain would be difficult. Hopefully, they disliked the taste of elf.

We pushed on then, leaving our steeds behind. After a short walk, I was glad we’d not brought the horses. The path was no wider than a washboard, and the rocks were coated with snow and ice. Each step was perilous. We moved with great care, our backs to the side of the mountain for what seemed an eternity, my heart thumping madly with fear. I was not afraid of heights. I lived in a tower after all. What I was scared of was falling from a great height.

“The first sentry post is just up ahead,” Bissori shouted back to us, then led us from a thin walkway to a wider path. I glanced up, the snow hitting me in the face, and saw a massive stone ledge jutting out from the side of the mountain. It looked oddly out of place as if an ancient immortal had thrown it in a fit of pique. “Get out your gewgaws.”

Beirach held his flute in his hand. I had nothing shiny to trade for passage, so I took a moment to wipe the slush from my cheeks and study the area and sky. Still no sign of a raven. I sighed heavily, took a step, and nearly went on my face when my boot caught on something buried under the snow.

“Watch them rocks,” Bissori shouted as he began to walk forward, his hands up over his head, clutching what looked to be silver and gold necklaces and shiny blue earrings. I glanced down to ensure nothing else lay in my path when I found the body of a frozen rock squirrel. Snow-covered and stiff, I bent down to brush some of the white fluff from its furry back. Once a bit of snow was cleared, I sat back on my heels in confusion. A dead animal in this environment was nothing unusual, I was sure. Perhaps the squirrel had been injured or sick and had simply passed over to the goddess. But there was something about the wide-open eyes of the little rodent that hit me like a lance between the ribs. The squirrel was stone. Its eyes not white from frost but gray as granite. Bissori began to bark out a yeti greeting. The winds whipped around us. I shot to my feet, peeling off the glove on my right hand, then casting it over the side of the mountain. My shouts to the men in front were blown away. I dashed ahead, grabbed Bissori by the arm, and spun him to face me.

“The squirrel is stone!” I yelled into his face. He seemed lost for a moment. Beirach, standing a mere foot from me, turned to look at us, horror seeping into his expression. “The squirrel is stone!”

“Damnation,” Bissori growled, lowered his hands, and studied the ledge so far above us. “We’ll need to climb up and check on them sentries.”

“I’ll do it.” Tezen pushed free of my braids, then took to the air. Her tiny wings beat fiercely as she fought the icy winds. Beirach took my exposed hand. I ripped it free. If the curse was on my skin, I did not wish for him to touch me. He reached for my hand again.

“If we are one of heart, then we are one in all things,” he said and placed his lips to my palm. I wanted to slap him and kiss him all at once. Tears welled in my eyes. “They will freeze, my love. No tears. We face our future as one.”

“Foolish romantic ass,” I whispered as our pixie warrior returned, her purple hair white with snow. “What did you see?”

“Poor bastards. They’re all stone, four of them…just standing there…their mouths open as if yelling out a warning, big clubs in hand. I think…” She paused to catch her breath after landing on my shoulder and grabbing a braid to keep her from being blown away. “I think he’s beat us.”

“Then we push on,” Beirach stated, his tone as cold as the weather.

“On we go then,” Bissori called, tucking the jewelry he’d brought as a trade into his armor. Snow had covered them before we could heft ourselves up to a higher ledge. A low roar now joined the wailing winds, a low thunderous sound. “That’ll be Mother Moth. We have a wee way to go now, lots of climbing. I’ll go first. Kenton, you follow, and Beirach, bring up the rear.”

I nodded and began to climb, placing my hands and feet where Bissori did as best as I could. Rumor had it dwarves climbed like the crag goats that called this wild mountain range home and I now saw that being true. Even in a heavy armor plate, Bissori was agile and strong. I struggled, slipping several times, my bare hand numb from the cold. Beirach caught me after every misstep.

“We’re close now,” Bissori called as he hoisted his body over a sharp chockstone. He reached down to help me up and over the huge rock, tugging me from the edge as Beirach followed right behind. When I caught my breath, I could hear it now, the falls, louder than before. “That’s the song of Mother Moth. We’re to trudge along a bit now, see this path?” He waved a hand at a wide crack in the side of the mountain. “Inside we go.”

“Are you sure of this route?” Beirach asked, his sight on a rather snowy but obvious walkway that led in a westerly way around the mountain and out of sight.

“I ain’t sure of nothing, just using my sense of the rock. And it tells me to go inside. Ain’t like we got a map or anything. Most dumb fools who wander into yeti lands get roasted on a spit for not making offers to the tribe. Dead men don’t make maps.”

“If his rock sense is telling him to go in, then we should follow,” I said, my bare hand tucked under my armpit. “Nothing is quite as keen a directional device as a dwarf’s rock sense. It’s how they navigate so well under the Witherhorn.”

“Smart kid.” Bissori smiled.

“Yes, of course, I did not mean to question your skills, cousin. My mind is elsewhere…” Beirach replied softly. We all knew he was lost in a place that none of us, for we did not have children, could truly understand. I could only imagine such a horrid situation. Having a child that you raise and teach and place all your love into, only to have to face them down and make them atone for evil things they may have done. I could not imagine the pain. Just thinking of Aelir moving from the bright, bubbly boy he now was into a creature bent on wiping out innocent people made me want to weep, and Aelir was not my flesh and blood.

I would cling to the hope that this dark mage was not Maverus tenaciously.

We formed a line, then stepped into the dark crack in the side of the mountain. Tezen left my hair then, flitting about with her picks out. A few steps inside and one could barely hear their own thoughts for the sound of the falls. The air here was cold, my breath fogging in front of me as I strode along. Beirach’s staff lit the narrow passage, the blue antler glowing with divine power. Bissori paused, his helm shining sapphire from Beirach’s magicks. Before the dwarf was a wall of water pounding downward from high above. The air here was moist, the cold droplets sheeting on flesh and armor.

“Gird yourselves,” Bissori shouted back to us.

“We cannot see what is on the other side!” Tezen yelled, diving back into my hair to tie a braid around her middle. “What if there is nothing but a fall?”

“Then we kiss the stone,” Bissori bellowed before dashing through the wall of icy water. I glanced at Beirach. He took my naked hand.

“The goddess has led us this far. She will see us safely to the end,” he said and took a step, his grip tight on my hand. “Hold tight to me.”

“Always,” I replied, inhaled deeply, and plunged forward. The blast of water nearly swept me off my feet. I wrapped my hand protectively around Tezen, secured by a mere braid as icy cold torrents flowed over us. My breath stalled in my lungs and my boots slid this way and then that. Unable to see well, or at all, I felt a tug on my arm.

Danubia protect us.

I stepped forward. The ground was slick with water atop ice. Beirach pulled me to the side out of the deluge. I fell into him, grasping at his bark armor with one hand as I tucked a squirming pixie against my neck.

“That was invigorating!” Bissori roared to my left. I blinked water from my eyes, a chill the likes I have never felt creeping to my bones. “My stones are up in my throat! Ah-ha! What a leap of faith!”

“I hate the cold,” Tezen whimpered and sneezed several times in a row. I released her, then broke into shudders that made my teeth clatter. “I vow on my pert titties that I will never leave the flatlands again!”

“We need to move from this mist,” Beirach said, his voice shaky with cold.

Tezen crawled into my armor, her tiny wings sticking to my wet skin. There wasn’t much body heat to share, but I’d give her what I could. Nose running, braids sodden, my clothing and armor stuck to me, I fumbled along a thin ledge that ran around a maw of darkness that the falls cascaded into. On the other side of the cavern was a wider shelf and there stood a sight that I would never forget, no matter how aged I became. Beside me, Bissori stood gaping at the huge double white doors set into a framework of ivory wood. On either side of the door were two ancient white oaks reaching skyward, with icy blue leaves on crystal branches. The trees illuminated the cave with a soft sapphire light that pulsed with the rhythm of Mother Moth’s waterfall. In the air above us, moving in undulating clouds, were hundreds of white moths. I stared up in wonderment.

“We have reached the great oaks,” Beirach whispered in awe. I went to my knees, uncaring if I rested in icy cold water, and bowed my head. He joined me, laying his staff to the wet rocks, to bow his head and join me in prayer.

“Holiest Danubia,

Bless my eyes as I gaze upon the wonders of your divinity,

I bow before you in supplication and appreciation of your guiding hand,

Lead me onward, for my journey in thy name is not yet done.”

An odd sort of sound fell from the leaves of the twin oaks. Sharp claps as if someone was applauding our prayers. My eyes lifted from the ground to the trees, scanning the large hand-sized leaves then growing wide when I spied a form seated on a thick branch the height of three elms high. A shiv of dread slid into my side as the form levitated down to the snowy rock floor, his ebony robes flowing outward. His feet were bare, blackened, and never touched the floor when his descent stopped. A dark hood sat upon his head, shadowing his face from our view. The applause stopped when he removed a missive from one deep pocket of his robes and a gray raven statue from another.

“I see you still bend a knee to that ineffectual deity, Father ,” he said as he placed the raven on the ground with the utmost care, the gems from six druid temples sitting cold and lifeless in their slots in the doorframe. “Amazing how a man so supposedly learned, supplicates himself to a whore who would not save his own wife.”