* * * * *
The first day was pleasant riding with sunshine and a cool breeze. By noon the next day, the air had chilled. They could see Little Smoky's breath. They neared the mountain pass. Snowflakes swirled through the air and began to stick on Mica's hat brim. Little Smoky's hooves slipped on the frozen ruts as she toiled toward the crest.
Liam shivered and pulled his scarf further up around his neck. The wind blew snow in his eyes. The cart bumped and lurched over exposed stones slicked with ice. The only one who seemed unaffected was Willow. The cold did nothing to dampen her spirit or quiet her cheerful laugh.
The weather worsened as they topped the pass and began to descend. The road narrowed. To their right, dark granite slabs formed a wall of stone. On the other side the crumbling edge gave way to a sheer drop. Mica leaned hard on the brake to keep the cart from running against Little Smoky’s heels. The wood squealed in protest and the cart skidded sideways.
Liam gripped the sideboard with numb fingers. The cart tipped toward the edge. With a jarring thump it straightened and he remembered to breathe. Just as he relaxed his grip, there was a large CRACK. The cart pitched into the mountainside.
Liam slammed into the sideboard, pain shooting through his ribs. Little Smoky snorted and shied sideways. Mica hauled on the reins and set the brake, but the cart continued to slide. Willow sprang from the cart and caught the bridle. She placed her hand on the donkey's neck and spoke softly. Little Smoky snorted and stood still.
Mica climbed down and knelt by the wheel.
Liam peered over the side holding his ribs. “What's wrong?”
“The spoke is cracked,” he said. “Another bump like that will split it sure.”
Liam stood and looked down the trail and then back up the pass. Their tracks were already filling with snow. The road was deserted. He shivered at the thought of having to spend the night here on the mountainside.
“We need to find shelter,” said Willow. “Night will be coming soon.”
To lighten the load on the wheel, they decided to walk. Mica led Little Smoky with Willow by his side. Liam trudged behind, rubbing his bruised ribs. The snow continued to fall, the wind whipping it into drifts that caught at their feet. The cloudy sky darkened and the sun slipped behind the mountain peak.
Liam was looking down, watching his feet to avoid tripping when he ran into the stopped cart. With a grunt he looked up. Willow was pointing off to the side.
He followed as she led them off the road stopping in front of a long abandoned stone cottage. It was built from natural stone that blended with the mountainside. Only eleven eyes could have spotted it in the swirling snow. Large patches of the thatched roof were missing exposing weathered rafters.
Rocks were missing from the chimney and a lopsided door hung from one hinge.
Mica handed Liam his sword. “Check out the house hero. There might be a mouse or two to slay. I think that's a lean-to in the back for Lit' Smoky.” He clucked to the donkey and led her around the cabin.
Liam pulled on the door. It shifted and tilted, but the hinge held. Dim light filtered through the holes in the roof. Snow dusted the floor and a small drift covered the hearth.
A layer of dust coated the walls. Cobwebs hung like veils from the rafters. In front of the fireplace some wandering traveler had placed a crude bench made of stumps topped with a rough plank. Beside it was a pile of rubbish and broken pottery. Willow pushed the rags around and a mouse scurried past her feet and darted into a hole in the wall. She pulled out an old broom with worn bristles.
“Not a palace, but a fire would make it merrier,” she said.
“I'll go find some firewood,” Liam said. He leaned the sword against the hearth and went back outside. Snow was still falling lightly, but the wind was finally dying down. He followed the cart's track around the back of the cabin where Mica was brushing down Smoky.
A short distance beyond stood a stand of trees. He waved at Mica as he passed. Under the trees the thick pine bows sheltered the ground and dry wood was easy to find. Filling his arms he headed back to the cabin.
The last rays of the sun silhouetted the mountaintop highlighting a lone pine, its top blackened by an old lightning strike. While he stood staring at the tree, Mica called from the lean-to. “We'd all be a lot warmer if that wood was on the fire.”
Liam smiled to himself and hurried inside. Willow had cleared the floor near the fireplace where the roof was still intact. It wasn't long before she had a cheerful fire burning. Mica had brought in provisions from the cart.
Mica and Willow shared the bench while they ate. Liam sat on the hearth listening to them discuss the problem with the cart. Absently he fed the fire with branches. The pine scent tugged at his mind and he thought again about the lone tree.
He dropped the branch he was holding and jumped up. “I've seen that tree before,” he said.
Mica and Willow looked at him in surprise.
“The tree on the hill. The pine. The one hit by lightning. It's right outside the door.”
“There's no tree outside the door hero,” Mica said.
“Not this door. The glass doors in the wardrobe.”
Mica and Willow looked at each other. “May have hit his head when the wheel broke,” Mica said tapping the side of his head.
“No, I'm fine. When I was in the potion room I found a wardrobe with glass doors. They led to that pine tree up there on the hill.”
They looked at him in stunned silence.
“Don't you see? I can use the door to get home and bring back a wheel. I will leave a note in the cart under the bench. Maybe Hodekin could meet us at the door with a new wheel.”
The Doormaster's Apprentice Page 14