The Perils of Untying Love – Episode 14

Take it from me, the easiest time to come up with a plan isn’t while you’re fearing for your life. Which, if the armed and dangerous knight next to you gets their way, will take place a great deal sooner than you’re comfortable with.

The bakery was only a dozen paces or so behind us when said knight began muttering under her breath and casting baleful glances in my direction.

“Do you mind?” I said, glaring at her. “You’re spoiling the walk.”

Given my situation, you might think antagonising her was the last thing I should be doing. But, me being nice hadn’t softened her heart, so I reckoned a bit of bravado – to give her the impression I wasn’t scared of her – might do the trick. Besides which, her mumblings were distracting. I needed every ounce of my brain working on how to avoid my upcoming appointment with her blade.

Hettgur gave me a less-than-reassuring smile and patted the sword at her hip.

At that moment, Trewla stopped and smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand.

“Just a minute,” she said. “I left something in the bakery.”

“What was it?” I said, genuinely puzzled. It wasn’t like she’d been carrying anything.

“Wait here,” she said as though I hadn’t spoken. “I won’t be a minute.”

She hurried back to the bakery and went inside.

I suppose I shouldn’t have minded. It gave me a bit more time to thrash my brain cells into action. But being left alone with Hettgur sent my thoughts into a downward spiral concerning what she intended to do to me once I returned the spells in my head to Wenzel’s spellbook.

I stood with my back to her, trying shut out the impatient tapping of her foot on the cobbles while I pummelled my thoughts into order. I’d barely got anywhere with that when the bakery door opened and Trewla came out.

“Did you find it?” I said as she rejoined us.

She gave me a hard look like she didn’t think I should be asking questions. “No. It wasn’t there after all.”

Hettgur grunted. “No more hold ups.” She put her hand on my back and pushed me ahead. “Get moving.”

I trudged along, my boot scraping on the cobbles, my mind whirring. What if I pretended to trip and hurt myself? I could say I needed to lie down, that the pain was too much for me to carry on….

I doubted Hettgur would be fooled, and I tossed that notion aside.

But thinking of spells set my thoughts on another path… I’d used magic to save my hide on more than one occasion. My heart lifted but sank again when I realised my personal spellbook in my memory was obscured by the chaos of letters, glyphs, and runes of Wenzel’s spells which were swarming over it like scurrying ants.

Mentally crossing that option off my ever-shortening list of ways to save myself, I looked around and realised we’d come to the troll’s bridge. The last time I’d tried to cross, the troll had stopped me and demanded I pay a toll.

My pulse quickened. I was saved. I had no money on me.

It wasn’t to be. The troll climbed on to the bridge, took one look at the expression on Hettgur’s face, and dived back where he’d come from.

On trembling legs – mine anyway – we entered the walled area next to the keep. Only minutes remained before we’d be in the library.

The sands of time were slipping through my fingers. I had to think of something.

“Lunch!” I said in an unnaturally loud voice. “You must be hungry. I’m sure you could do with a bite to eat.”

Politely accepting my gracious invitation didn’t seem to be the knight’s top concern, for she growled and bared her teeth. “I’m not hungry.”

My stomach sank into my boots. I had nothing left. I’d run out of ideas.

Defeated, I dragged my heels along the path that led to the library.

Trewla hadn’t said a word the whole way. Her interest in restoring Wenzel’s spellbook seemed to outweigh what would happen to me once that was achieved.

I didn’t have a hope… Unless! Unless Grimmon was going to make a last moment appearance and challenge Hettgur to a duel.

You can tell my mind was fraying. Any notion that lily-livered goblin would save me was like a drowning man clutching at straws.

Needless to say, when we reached the library building Grimmon wasn’t standing before the door barring our way.

A trickle of sweat ran down my temple as we went inside.

If I’d thought the atmosphere in the library was oppressive before… well, that had been a fraction of what I felt this time. The open floor was like an arena. The books crammed on the shelves loomed over us like an audience gathered to witness my death.

Across the room, with all the charm of an executioner’s scaffold, was the table where I’d cut away the string binding the book I’d thought was a manual of romantic poetry.

“Well, here we are,” said Trewla brightly.

My mouth turned into a desert as she marched ahead. My feet turned to lead, and I shuffled to a stop.

Hettgur’s sword hissed from its scabbard and she gave me shove towards where Trewla stood.

When we reached the table, Trewla turned to us, her eyes wide. “It’s gone!”

For a second I had no idea what she was talking about. Then I saw.

The tabletop was still strewn with lengths of string, but in the centre was an empty space where Wenzel’s blank-paged spellbook had been.

I gaped at the vacant spot.

“Somebody must have put it back on the shelf,” said Hettgur.

“No.” Trewla pointed at a nearby shelf. There was an empty slot between the two volumes from where I’d taken the string-bound book.

To say I was dazed and confused was an understatement. What was going on? And, more importantly, how was Hettgur going to react?

I soon found out.

“What have you done with it?” The knight bunched the front of my shirt in her hand and put the point of her sword under my chin. “I don’t know how, but I know you’re responsible.”

“He couldn’t have taken it, “ said Trewla. “We’ve been with him the whole time.” She wiped the back of her hand across her brow. “I thought it was safe to leave the book here. How silly of me because now someone’s stolen it.”

“Really?” said Hettgur. My shirt creaked as she tightened her fist.

“Yes. Stolen. Gone.”

As bewildered as I was, that didn’t sound right to me.

“Perhaps they borrowed it,” I said. “This is a library, after all.”

“No! Why would anybody borrow a blank book?” Trewla stepped behind Hettgur out of the knight’s line of vision and shook her head at me. “It’s definitely been stolen.”

Hettgur’s arm flexed and she lifted me onto my toes. “Looks like you’re going to have to put the spells into a different book.”

“That won’t work,” said Trewla quickly. “It has to be Wenzel’s spellbook.”

She was right. I knew from what Wenzel had planted in my brain that the spells could only be returned to where they had come from. No other book would do.

With the point of a sword pricking my throat, I couldn’t confirm Trewla’s words. Nodding in agreement would have resulted in my head being punctured like a grape on a cocktail stick.

Hettgur took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes. “So, until that book is found, the spells stay in this reprobate’s head?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Trewla, her eyes downcast. “Such a tragic outcome. Sorry Hettgur.”

With a scowl, the knight released me. “Don’t think this is the end.” She tapped a finger on my chest. “For the time being, you get to keep your head. But the moment that book is found, I’ll come looking for you.”

“When we find it I’ll let you know,” said Trewla, sweetly.

A grunt rattled Hettgur’s throat. “Be sure you do.” She huffed. “I’m a warrior, not a seeker of lost books, so I’ll be off.” She sheathed her sword and strode out of the door.

My legs went limp and I collapsed into a nearby chair.

“That was lucky,” I said. “I thought I was a goner.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it, you idiot!” Trewla folded her arms.

“What do you mean?”

“I took the book to save your miserable skin! Or rather, I got Cosferas to take it.”

“Oh…” My jaw dropped. “Cosferas? How?”

“When we left the bakery I saw him duck back inside it. I’d been trying to think of a way to get to the spellbook before you and Hettgur, but when I saw the brownie I had a better idea. I went back into the bakery and persuaded him to come here and remove the spellbook before we arrived.”

“Persuaded him? I wouldn’t have thought he’d be likely to help.”

“More bribed than persuaded, I suppose. I promised I’d get Cook to supply him with cakes and buns for a year.” She gave me a direct look. “Which, to seal the deal, I told him you are going to help her bake.”

“Me? I don’t know how.”

“You are going to have to learn. Think of it as payment for what you’ve put me through.”

I was flabbergasted. What an imposition. How could she have made such a promise? I was about to point that out when something occurred to me.

“What’s Cosferas going to do with the spellbook? Did you tell him to get rid of it?”

“Of course not! Why in the world would I do that?”

“Because I’m rather keen not to see Hettgur again!”

“Well, all those spells in that head of yours aren’t going to be any good if they stay there.”

“But Hettgur–”

“–isn’t going to know anything. We’re not going to tell her we’ve got the spellbook and that you’ve put all Wenzel’s spells back where they belong.”

“Really?”

“Why would I have gone to all the trouble of bribing the brownie if I was going to let Hettgur have your head anyway?”

She had a point.

I was beginning to feel better. What Trewla had done meant she had feelings for me after all. I grinned.

“I didn’t do it for you,” she said. “I wouldn’t want anybody’s head chopped off.”

I didn’t believe that. My grin broadened.

It was soon wiped off my face when she rubbed her hands together and said, “Good. It’s time for you to return the spells.”

She lifted her head. “Cosferas!” she shouted. “You can come out now.”

We waited a few seconds. Nothing happened.

She whipped her head from side to side, peering into the rafters. “He promised he’d be in here hiding with the spellbook when we arrived.” She cupped her hand at the side of her mouth. “Cosferas!” This time her shout had an edge to it.

Silence. The brownie didn’t appear.

More shouting by Trewla followed, but of Cosferas there was no sign.

“I think he’s gone,” I said.

I can’t say I was sorry. I felt a great deal safer with Wenzel’s spellbook out of the way.

Trewla put her hands on her hips. “He’s up to something. If he thinks he can double-cross me, he’d better think again.”

I tutted like I was sympathising with her. “I know things haven’t turned out like you wanted. But don’t worry, I have something here that will cheer you up.”

I stood and pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from my pocket.

“Here’s the poem I wrote for you,” I said, straightening the creases. “You haven’t had a chance to hear it.”

Holding the paper at arm’s length I puffed out my chest and raised one hand in an oratory pose.

She winced. “Not now. Please.”

“It’s really, really good.”

Her shoulders slumped.

“Go on then,” she said in a defeated tone.

*** The End ***

The Perils of Untying Love – Index of Episodes