And the chill wind blew, buffeting Liaze and the horses, agitating them all. For the most part the animals plodded along with their heads low and their ears laid back, as if seeking somehow to get out of the wind but failing. And now and again Nightshade would snap at one of the geldings; and they would temporarily shy away, but then return to plod side by side with the stallion, as if all sought warmth from one another.
What a dreadful domain! Inhospitable dirt and sparse-rare I would say-patches of weed; and its growth is misshapen, warped as if the wind always blows. And so far, no streams, no pools, no water at all, just a bleak gray realm running up to the fangs of dark mountains. Oh, Mithras, of all the splendid lands along my sunwise border, why did the crows have to pick this one? ’Tis a place I’ve ne’er before seen, hence the way through the shadowlight border from my realm to this one must be somewhat narrow. ’Tis well I had the Sprites to lead the way, else I would likely have missed this land altogether-ha! — as if one could ever hope to enter such a drab demesne.
Throughout the day she rode, occasionally stopping in the lee of a hillock, or down in a dent in the land, where she would give the animals grain-food to help keep them warm. And when she did so, all the horses would huddle together, their tails to the wind, their heads low. And though Nightshade was a well-trained steed, still he was a stallion, and he took a nip at Liaze, and she slapped him on the nose and barked, “No!”
She did not worry overmuch about the animals getting cold, for, living in the Autumnwood as they had, with its chill nights and cool days, they had a fair bit of shag, the start of a winter coat, though it would never become full-blown in that realm.
And as for water, fortunately Liaze that morning had filled all the skins to the stoppers, and she meted out shares to the steeds.
After these pauses, Liaze would ride onward, and she came to hate the ceaseless wind. And the mountains seemed no closer when day came toward the end.
She found shelter in the lee of a hill, and there she unladed the horses and tethered them to thin weeds-knowing they would not hold in the event of something unexpected. Then she fed them some grain and thoroughly rubbed them down and curried out the knots, and, even though the horses clustered together for warmth, as an extra precaution Liaze covered each with a blanket against the night chill.
She had no fire that eve, for there was nought to burn, and, after she ate a cold meal of hardtack and jerky, she rolled up in her own blanket and spent a miserable night, and was certain that she would never get to sleep.
Yet in the morning…
… she awakened with her cheek to the ground. Liaze groaned, for the wind yet blew, and she did not immediately rise. And as she lay, in the low-angled sunlight aglance across the land, she saw in the wintry soil- What are these? They look like… hmm… pockmarks?
With her blanket wrapped ’round her shoulders, Liaze rose and stepped to the first of the impressions, then lay down once more to see- A line of them, along the lee edge of the hill. Just dimples, more or less, running toward the mountains, getting shallower and disappearing once they leave the windbreak.
Liaze rolled over and looked the opposite way. Hmm… They continue toward, or perhaps come from, the way I rode. Yet they were not made by me.
Now the princess studied the mark nearest her. It was nought but a shallow depression. Liaze pressed her hand into the dent; the spread of her fingers did not quite cover the pock. She frowned. Could this be a hoofprint? If so, it is quite eroded by the wind. Once again she lay down and sighted along the line of the impressions; she rose up slightly and looked at the pattern. It could be a horse at a trot. Then Liaze’s eyes widened in hope. Oh, please, Mithras, let it be Luc’s trail, for if the crows fly opposite the path he took when he rode from his woodcutter’s cote and to the Autumnwood…
Liaze did not finish that thought, for she leapt to her feet and rummaged through the supplies and fed the horses some grain and watered them. Then she ate a quick meal. After relieving herself, swiftly she stowed the blankets and laded the cargo on the packhorses and saddled Nightshade and Pied Agile.
Once more she lay down and looked along the line of marks. They headed in the general direction of the twin fangs.
She mounted her horse and rode toward the mountains, her eye upon the soil, and as she left the lee of the hill and fared into the buffeting flow, she could no longer see any dimples in the land.
If those pocks are the remains of hoofprints, and if the rider-oh, let it be Luc-rode as I do now, then he would have sought every windbreak he could find, and mayhap at those places there will be more marks I can use as a trail.
After a while Liaze saw in the distance ahead a dip in the land, and she angled Pied Agile toward it, for it would provide some proof against the constant blow.
At last she came to the dent, and she despaired, for it was too shallow to provide ought more than scant shelter. Nevertheless, she dismounted and stepped to the fore, then lay down and looked for a dimple. But the sunlight was no longer aglance upon the land, and if there were any depressions whatsoever, Liaze could find them not.
Sighing in disappointment, once again she mounted, and continued onward.
She rode some distance before veering rightward to come to the next windbreak-a sheltering knoll-where she found a very limited set of pockmarks, and they yet pointed toward the twin fangs.
Onward Liaze rode, and now and again in dips in the land and along the flanks of hills she managed to locate more marks, yet whether they were hoofprints or merely wind erosions of spinning air, she could not say. Even so, she continued on toward the twin pinnacles, presumably along the line of flight of the messenger crows, or so she sincerely did hope.
That night when she camped, the mountains seemed much closer. At this place she ran out of water, for she had to let the horses drink from the supply, and they drained it all. And in this land she had seen no streams nor pools, and-other than the scraggly weeds-no living things whatsoever: no birds, no beasts, nor any small creatures, and no insects, no reptiles… nothing.
And the wind yet blew and was like to drive the princess mad, and the animals were even more agitated, especially Nightshade, who bit at the geldings more often, and tried several times to nip Liaze.
The princess spent another miserable, fireless, cold night.
In midafternoon of the next day, Liaze rode in among foothills, and-lo! — she came unto a stream. The horses eagerly pushed forward, yet Liaze held them back and dismounted and tethered them unto a twisted stalk. She stepped to the rill and stooped down and took up a handful of water and sniffed; it had a faint acrid smell. She cautiously tasted; it was slightly bitter.
’Tis nought worse than some other streams I’ve drunk from.
Nevertheless, she took a small swallow and waited. After a while, when nought untoward had disturbed her stomach, she knelt on hands and knees and quenched her thirst. Again she waited, and after another while, she led the horses to the water, and they drank deeply, while Liaze filled the waterskins to the stoppers.
Once more she looked for pockmarks, but she found none nearby. If a rider and his steed took from this stream, it was elsewhere… or perhaps his marks have faded away.
As Liaze fed the horses a bit of grain, she looked up at the mountains. The twin-spired peak lay straight ahead, yet there seemed no way through, certainly no way between them.
Taking her bow and quiver, and leaving the horses tethered and munching barley, Liaze trudged to the top of the hill at hand. She stood in the wind, her cloak pressed tightly against one side and flapping about on the other. She shaded her eyes and peered for a passable col. Ah, that looks like a possibility. She let her gaze slide along the range, where- Oh, my, two of them: one to the left and one to the right, each with what seems a trail up and perhaps over, and yet in Faery taking the wrong one could lead to a place altogether elsewhere. One sinistral and one dextral; which, I wonder, is the correct choice?