The Witch's Apprentice: Chapter 30

The top of the mountain

Hello and welcome back to The Witch’s Apprentice. if you’re new here, I recommend starting from chapter 1. Otherwise, welcome back!

In the last chapter, Henry and his friends finally got a lead on who stole their gold and Elisa’s gryphon feather, as they found a gaggle of glimmerkin living in a cave.

Duldren quickly answered their riddle, and according to the ancient accords between glimmerkin and the dwarves, the glimmerkin were forced to answer their questions. That morning, their leader, the mysterious Caraghal, had set off up the mountain to propose to someone named Gloiwean.

We pick up the story at the foot of the secret trail described by the glimmerkin.

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Chapter 30: The top of the mountain

“This must be it,” Henry said, pointing at a crooked tree. Its bark was pitch black, just as the glimmerkin had described, its gnarled roots stretching across the rocky ground like grasping fingers. Beside it, nestled against the mountainside, sat the rock shaped like an open mouth, its jagged edges looking like stone teeth.

Elisa stepped forward first, hesitation flickering in her eyes as she examined the solid wall of stone beyond it. “I don’t see a path.”

“Maybe we just step past it?” Henry said, recalling the glimmerkin’s instructions.

"I don't know," Elisa said with a frown. But the moment she stepped forward, the air shimmered and a path revealed itself, climbing up the rocky slope.

Duldren grunted. “Fae tricks.” He squinted at the path as if expecting it to disappear again. When it didn’t, he gave a reluctant nod. “Well, let’s see where it’s going.”

They followed the trail as it climbed higher into the mountains, the terrain getting more treacherous with every step. The scent of damp stone filled the air, mixing with the sharp smell of pine. Gravel shifted under their boots, and the wind howled through the peaks, carrying a biting chill.

They followed the path for almost an hour, the land growing increasingly barren, trees thinning, until only bare rock surrounded them.

For almost an hour, they followed the path winding ever upward. The land grew harsher, the trees thinning until only bare rock surrounded them. Then, as they rounded a bend a narrow canyon cut through the path, walls plunging deep into the shadows below. A rickety rope bridge swayed gently in the wind, its frayed ropes creaking under the strain of time. Wooden planks, darkened and cracked with age, stretched across the gap, some missing entirely, leaving gaping holes over the abyss.

Elisa exhaled slowly. “That... does not look safe.”

Duldren snorted. “You think? That thing looks like it’ll snap if a bird lands on it, let alone us.”

Girk eyed the bridge, his golden eyes scanning the frayed ropes. “I’ll check it out,” he said, and lifted off with a powerful beat of his wings.

He glided across the canyon, the wind ruffling his feathers as he circled above the bridge, eyeing the ropes. He landed smoothly on the other side and turned back, arms crossed.

“Well?” Henry called.

Girk tilted his head, as if considering. “It’s probably fine,” he said.

“Probably?” Duldren repeated, eyes narrowing.

“Most of the rope’s still holding,” Girk continued, flicking a talon against one of the wooden posts securing it. “A bit frayed, but I’ve seen worse.”

Henry sighed and tested the first few planks with his boot. They creaked under his weight but held. “Guess we don’t have a choice.”

Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the bridge. The wood groaned under his weight, the entire structure swaying with the wind. Far below, a river snaked through the canyon, no more than a thread of silver at this height. Don’t look down, he reminded himself, gripping the side ropes tightly as he took careful, measured steps forward.

Elisa followed next, moving lightly, her balance steady. The wind tugged at her cloak, but she kept her eyes forward, her focus unshaken.

Then came Duldren. The dwarf muttered under his breath before stepping onto the bridge. The second his boots hit the planks, the entire structure groaned ominously.

“Lovely,” Duldren grumbled as he eyed the bridge with deep suspicion. “I swear, if this thing snaps, I’m haunting all of you.”

“Don't worry. You’ve got this.” Girk said with a smirk. “Just don’t look down. Or sideways. Or breathe too hard.

Duldren shot him a glare. “Not funny!”

“Not even a little bit?” Girk asked putting on his best innocent face.

Before Duldren could respond, a powerful gust of wind howled through the canyon, rattling the bridge. The entire structure lurched, the ropes groaning under the strain. Duldren let out a string of curses, his knuckles whitening as he clung to the sides.

“Don’t stop,” Henry called. “Just keep moving.”

Gritting his teeth, Duldren pushed forward, each step more forceful than the last. The planks creaked ominously beneath him. His legs trembled with the effort, and he shot a murderous glare at the party on the far side, as if daring them to say a word. Then the plank snapped.

The dwarf lurched, barely catching himself on the ropes as his foot dangled over the abyss. He let out a sharp breath, nostrils flaring. “Girk, I swear on my ancestors, if you say one gods-damned word…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Girk said, feathers twitching as he shifted his stance.

With a growl of frustration, Duldren pulled himself up and stomped forward, crossing the last few steps in record time. He barely took a breath before turning on Girk, face flushed.

“You.” He jabbed a thick finger at him. “Not. A. Word.”

Girk held up his hands, his beak twitching with suppressed amusement. “I was just trying to motivate you. And it worked,” he said gesturing at the bridge. ”You crossed it in no time.”

Duldren scowled at him. “Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“More of an observation.”

Duldren muttered something about birdfolk and their damned beaks but didn’t argue further.

Henry let out a breath and looked up the trail. The mountain rose ahead, the path winding higher. Somewhere up there, Caraghal was waiting.

“Let’s go,” he said. “The sooner we find him, the sooner we get our stuff back.”

As the path climbed higher, the air grew thinner and colder. The wind howled between jagged peaks, carrying the scent of snow and damp stone. Loose gravel crunched beneath their boots, and the occasional gust sent dust swirling into the air.

They pressed on in silence, the cold wind tugging at their cloaks. But then a deep, throaty growl rumbled through the mountain pass.

Henry froze mid-step. The sound was low and heavy, too deep to be the wind.

Duldren frowned. “That sounded like a bear.”

Girk tilted his head, his feathers shifting. “Might be,” he admitted, though he didn’t sound convinced.

Another growl came, followed by a low muttering, barely audible over the wind. Then, a faint crack of wood breaking.

Henry raised a hand. Keeping close to the rock wall, he crept forward, his heartbeat steady but alert. Another gust brought the scent of wet earth and something musky. Up ahead, past a bend, a flickering light danced on the stone.

He paused, forcing a slow breath through his nose to calm his racing heart, then leaned out slowly to peer around the corner.

A yeti covered in thick white fur, knelt beside a fireplace, its massive hands fumbling with a bundle of dry twigs. The fire sputtered, struggling to catch in the cold air. The yeti muttered to itself in a gravelly, guttural voice, its words deep and rumbling, but completely unintelligible.

But that wasn’t what made Henry’s stomach turn.

Above the unlit fire, tied to a wooden spit, hung a glimmerkin.

The tiny creature dangled helplessly, its iridescent wings pinned against its back. Its wide, golden eyes darted around frantically as it squirmed, trying to free itself.

Without wasting a second, Henry slipped behind the rock and rushed back to the others.

“There’s a yeti up there,” he whispered. “It’s trying to light a fire. And it looks like he’s having a glimmerkin for lunch.”

Elisa’s eyes widened. “A glimmerkin? Is it still alive?”

“Yeah, for now.”

Girk frowned. “Poor thing. What’s the plan?”

Henry ran a hand through his hair, thinking fast. “We need to scare the yeti off. Girk, if you fly in from above, and distract it, I’ll slip in and cut the glimmerkin loose.”

Duldren exhaled sharply. “You think that’s enough to scare a yeti?”

Girk smirked. “Depends how loud I yell.”

Henry nodded. “Elisa, Duldren, hang back and be ready if it goes sideways.”

Elisa swallowed hard but nodded. Duldren grunted. “It’s already wrong,” he muttered, tightening his grip on his axe.

Girk stretched his wings and launched into the air, vanishing into the swirling mist above. Henry took a steadying breath, then crept forward.

The yeti was still hunched over the fire, grumbling as it rubbed sticks together. The glimmerkin’s eyes widened when it saw Henry approaching, but it remained silent, either too scared to cry out or smart enough to trust him.

Then, a deafening screech tore through the air.

Girk plummeted from the sky, wings flared, his talons raking through the air just inches from the yeti’s head.

The yeti let out a startled roar, rearing back on its haunches as it swatted wildly at the air.

Henry didn’t waste the opportunity. He darted forward, pulling his dagger and sawing through the bindings holding the glimmerkin in place. The ropes gave way, and the tiny creature tumbled free, catching itself midair with a flutter of wings.

The yeti, still reeling, let out another roar, this one more of frustration than aggression. It took one look at the freed glimmerkin, at Girk circling overhead, and let out a huff before bounding up the mountainside, disappearing into the mist.

With the yeti gone, the only sound left was the soft crackle of the fire. The glimmerkin hovered before them, breathless, its glowing skin flickering in the firelight. “That was far too close,” it gasped.

Henry grinned. “You’re welcome. I assume you’re Caraghal.”

The glimmerkin nodded reluctantly. “I suppose this is the part where I apologize,” he muttered, avoiding their eyes.

Duldren crossed his arms. “Damn right it is.”

Caraghal sighed and produced a small pouch, tossing it at Duldren’s feet. The heavy clink of gold filled the air. Then, more reluctantly, he held out the gryphon feather.

“This was supposed to be my gift to Gloiwean,” he admitted. “I was going to propose to her.”

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