Into the fire

Chapter 23

"His face is flush, as if-" On his knees in the snow beside Tipperton's still form, Beau bent over and placed his cheek against the unconscious buccan's forehead. As Beau did so, he looked across at Dalavar. "He's fevered, all right." Beau straightened up. "What do you imagine- Oh lor'. Look. His sleeve. It's torn. I think he's been wounded. Help me get him out of his jacket. Just that arm. I don't want him to freeze out here."

Swiftly, Dalavar and Beau pulled Tip's arm from the jacket sleeve, Tip moaning but not wakening. Greylight, Seeker, and Beam gathered 'round, the great Silver Wolves providing a windbreak, while on the rim above, Trace, Longshank, and Shimmer stood ward.

"He's treated it," said Beau, carefully unwrapping the cloth bandaged about the limb, "and with gwynthyme. See the pulp? Oh Adon, but his arm, it's all inflamed and swollen. What could he have-? Oh my, deep gouges, festered."

" 'Tis a Vulg bite," said Dalavar.

"Vulg bite?" Beau drew in a deep breath. "Vulg venom." He glanced up at the Draega on the rim above. "I'll need my kit. It's in the saddlebags."

Dalavar raised his face and spoke something akin to a growl. Trace and Longshank came bounding down the ramp of snow, whiteness churning in their wake.

As Beau dragged his saddlebags from the backs of the 'Wolves he said. "From the looks of Tip's wounds, he was bitten some days back." Beau rummaged through the pouches and hauled out his kit and a bundle of sprigs. "Even so, it's Vulg venom, and Dara Phais took long to recover from her poisoned wound, and so may Tip. I must dose him with more golden mint… tea, preferably, and for that we'll need a fire and a place to work out of the snow." Beau glanced up at Dalavar.

The Wolfmage gestured toward the small cave. "Yon is the only place free of snow. I will bear Tipperton back within." Dalavar stooped and took up Tip's limp form. As he stood, he looked at Greylight and spoke another growling word, and the great Silver Wolf turned and bounded away, Seeker following.

Catching up his saddlebags, Beau headed for the entrance to the cave, the wee buccan breasting through the snow. Following him and bearing Tipperton, Dalavar said, "Vulg bites are not only poison, they are foul as well. This wound may be clear of venom, but festered with the taint of the Vulg's mouth. A wound such as this needs cleansing in addition to gwynthyme."

"We'll want hot water," said Beau, finally reaching the entrance. "Oh my," he said as he stepped inside, his face wrinkling in disgust, "but this place smells like an outhouse."

"Tipperton was trapped here long," said Dalavar, stooping and following Beau in, "days at least. Regardless of the odor, 'tis out of the snow."

Gently, the Wolfmage lay the buccan down, and then moved to the entrance of the small cave and stepped outside and began knocking down snow hanging overhead and clearing it away. "As soon as Greylight and Seeker return we'll build the fire here," he called in to Beau.

Beau nodded but did not reply as he unrolled clean cloth and laid out gwynthyme and bandages and a cup. And he set his waterskin at hand as well. Then he turned and looked about; and he gathered up Tip's belongings-saddlebags, lute, bow, quiver of arrows-and arranged them nearby. Too, he espied Tip's cup sitting in a small crevice, the container nearly full, a drop forming on the stone above.

Well, at least you had water, bucco, though precious little from the looks of it.

The droplet fell: tink

Sighing, Beau turned just as Beam entered the small cave and lay down next to Tipperton.

"Doesn't the odor bother you, girl?" asked Beau.

Beam did not reply.

Beau shook his head and looked out at Dalavar, the Wolfmage still clearing snow from the entrance. "I say, Dalavar," called Beau, "just how did Greylight find this place? How did he find Tip? The smell of the Warrow? The rank smell of this cave? What?"

Dalavar shook his head, then said, "None of those, Beau. Instead, Greylight said he heard him singing."

"Singing?"

Dalavar nodded.

Beau cocked his head. "And he told you this?"

Dalavar nodded again.

"And Greylight said it was 'singing' he heard?"

Yet again, Dalavar nodded.

Beau frowned. "How would Greylight even know what singing was?"

Dalavar stooped and looked inside, looked at Beau in surprise. "Why, all Wolves sing, my friend… and laugh as well. Have you not heard them at night? Have you not seen them grin?"

"Oh my, but I never thought of it that w-"

Beam's ears flicked forward and her head came up from between her paws. A shadow darkened the entrance to the cave, and Greylight, a long pine bough in his mouth, stood before the opening, Seeker standing just behind, that Draega with a leafless limb of some sort long twisted by the wind. At a signal from Dalavar they dropped the branches and bounded away.

Dalavar shook the snow from the bough and the limb and stooped inside and began breaking off stems. "This will get us started," said the Wolfmage. "Greylight, Seeker, Longshank, and Trace have gone for more."

"Here," said Beau, turning toward his saddlebags, "I'll get out my flint and steel and tinder, and then we'll have us a-"

But at that moment a ruddy flicker lighted the hollow. Beau turned back to see Dalavar feeding barren twigs into a small flame. How the Wolfmage had started the blaze, Beau could not say. Even so, he took up Tip's tin cup and added a bit of water to it and said, "Here, set this to boil." Dalavar arranged three rocks about the tiny fire and set the cup atop, the flames licking the tin bottom.

After soaking the wounds and cleaning away the yellowish skims of forming scabs and draining the pus as best he could, Beau said, "Oh Adon, Tip may lose his arm." Tears welled up in Beau's eyes and he turned to the Wolfmage. "Oh, Dalavar, I-I've never cut off a limb before, though I've seen it done on the battlefield. It was awful, the knives, the saws… the screaming. And now I may have to do the same, though I don't even have… I don't even have…" Beau's words choked to a halt, and he could not bring himself to say what it was he didn't have.

Beau turned to see Beam licking Tip's wounds. "Here, now, Beam," protested Beau, starting to rise, but Dalavar reached out a hand and stopped the buccan.

"Let her treat him, Beau. You've done all the cleansing you can. Now let her do her best. When she is finished, lay on your poultice and bandage him. On the morrow, we shall see."

Sometime nigh mid of night, Tipperton opened his eyes and in the flicker of firelight looked up to see Beau smiling down.

"Oh, hullo, Beau," he rasped, his voice but a whisper. "I was having the most horrible drea-" Tipperton glanced about, his eyes flying wide in panic at the sight of the great 'Wolf lying at his side, and he scrabbled feebly at the rubble, trying but failing to get away, moaning.

"Tip, Tip, it's not a Vulg," said Beau, embracing Tipperton to keep him from flailing. "Not a Vulg. It's a Draega, a Silver Wolf instead. Her name is Beam. She's a friend."

Yet thrashing, Tip looked wildly at Beau. "Shh, shh, Tip," soothed Beau. "She's not a Vulg, not a Vulg, but a friend instead; a Silver Wolf. Remember the song Phais sang in Bridgeton; Draega are deadly foe of the Vulgs."

Allayed by Beau, his panic subsiding, Tip timorously looked at the 'Wolf, and Beam cocked her head side to side and looked back.

Beau reached down and turned Tip's face toward him.

"Dalavar says not to look them directly in the eye; they don't take kindly to such boldness."

Now Tip glanced at the stone overhead and rasped, "Oh my, I'm still in the cave. It wasn't a dream after all."

"No, bucco. It wasn't a dream."

Tip strained to reach… to reach… but fell back. "My cup, Beau. It's in a crack somewhere."

Beau snatched up his waterskin and filled one of the tin cups, then supported Tip and aided him to drink. After that cup and two more, Tip looked up at Beau cradling him. "Oh, Beau, it's so good to see you. How did you get here? Did you come across Agron's army? Are they all right? The blizzard… the slide…"

Tears filled Beau's eyes. "Oh, bucco, I bring ill news. King Agron, his army, we think they're all dead. The avalanche…"

Tip fell asleep weeping.

Beau came awake in time to add another branch to the dying embers, rekindling the small fire. As he turned he found Tip struggling to sit upright, sucking air through his teeth from the pain.

"Here, bucco, let me help," said Beau, scrabbling over rubble and past Beam in order to get to Tip, where he helped Tip to sit up and slide hindward to place his back against the side wall of the cave for support, the wounded buccan groaning a bit from the pain of movement.

Tip smiled weakly. "You wouldn't happen to have something to eat, now would you? I'm rather famished. Thirsty, too."

Beau snatched up his waterskin and a saddlebag and, as he filled a cup with water, said, "I've some crue and jerky."

"Crue please. I don't have the strength for jerky."

Tip took the cup and drank it all down, then Beau handed him a biscuit. As Tip took a bite, he laughed softly.

Beau looked across at him. "What?"

Tip chewed long moments and then swallowed. "I was just remembering what you said at a morning meal just before we entered Drearwood, Beau." As Beau frowned in puzzlement, Tip said, "You asked, 'Is anything else as tasteless as a crue biscuit?' and then added, 'And jerky is called jerky 'cause it's so accursed tough that it'll jerk your teeth out by the roots just trying to gnaw off a simple bite.' That's what you said, bucco. But let me tell you, right now this crue biscuit tastes quite scrumptious." Tip took another bite.

Beau smiled and watched as Tip chewed, a cup at hand in the event Tip asked for more water.

Tip glanced at Beam and then turned to Beau. "Where did she come from? I mean, when last I saw you, you were lying abed in a prison, just back from Death's door. And the plague, what of the plague? And by the bye, I ate all of the gwynthyme and silverroot, or most of it, that is: two bundles, five roots. Oh, some of the gwynthyme I put on the Vulg bite."

"It probably saved your life, Tip. -The gwynthyme, I mean. Just as it saved mine." Of a sudden Beau's eyes widened and he said, "Oh my."

Tip looked left and right, then asked around a mouthful of crue. "What?"

"Well, it just struck me, Tip: Modru's plague…"

Tip waited, and then gestured with the remainder of the biscuit.

"Oh," said Beau, as if returning from wherever his thoughts had taken him. "Modru's plague, it needed gwynthyme and silverroot to allay it. Silverroot I had, but no gwynthyme. Bekki knew where there was some. You and Bekki harvested it. The plague was put down. You had some gwynthyme with you when you were Vulg bitten and it kept you from dying. Dalavar and the Draega came because Dalavar wanted to see the one who had found the cure for the plague. He helped me to come after you. And it was the Silver Wolves who found you, buried behind snow in this cave."

Beau fell silent, and Tip cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh, Tip, don't you see? Everything is connected. Because of Modru's Plague, Greylight found you,"

"Greylight?"

"Another of the Draega."

Tip glanced at Beam, and then said, "Beau, it was a long chain of events that put me here, and a long chain that brought you to this same place. As to cause and effect, there is no direct link between Modru's plague and our being together at this place at this time. No, this chain was forged link by link, and it easily could have gone a different direction."

"But don't you see, it didn't, Tip. It didn't. All the links led to this place and no other."

Tip sighed and took the last bite of the biscuit, but managed to say, "Just where is this Dalavar you've mentioned several times?"

Beau looked at the opening of the cave. "Oh, he took my rope and knife and went off with several of the Draega. Said he would be back before daylight."

Beau filled the cup with water and handed it to Tip, then crawled forward to place another branch on the fire. As he did so there came a clink of tin on stone, and Beau turned to find Tip asleep, the empty tin cup by his side. Beau crawled back and eased the sleeping buccan away from the wall to lie down next to Beam.

Dalavar returned just ere dawn. He said something to Beam, and that great 'Wolf went out from the small cave, and Trace came inward to take her place.

"I have made a travois, Beau, and as soon as Tipperton is strong enough to travel, we will head for Jallorby."

"D' y' think we can drag him back across the Gronfangs? I mean, some of that passage was right hard."

Dalavar smiled. "I have asked my friends if they would be willing to harness up and haul him. Eaeh of them said yes."

Beau looked at Tip. "He ate something and I think his fever is down, though he is still quite flush. And with that arm… well, it could be awhile. We could run out of food."

Dalavar barked a laugh. "With six Draega hunting? Not likely, my friend."

Beau smiled then frowned. "I'm a bit worried about the fire, what with Vulgs about and Foul Folk. I mean, won't they see the smoke?"

Dalavar's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "As to the fire, the breeze blows what little smoke there is back the way we came, and I think with the avalanche now blocking this way into Gron, this passage is now abandoned by Modru's lackeys both within and without, for we scented no spoor of Spawn when we went to make the travois."

In that moment, Greylight appeared at the mouth of the cave and dropped a hare to the snow. "Ah," said Dalavar, "your breakfast meal is here."

In late midmorn Tip awakened to the smell of coney sizzling on a spit above the fire, Beau squatting and turning it now and again.

"I have to pee, Beau, and I'd rather not foul this nest anymore."

"Oh, Tip, but you are too-"

"Look, bucco, I'm going to go out there if I have to crawl."

"No need for that," said Dalavar, stepping into view and entering the hollow, the Mage stooping and moving inward. He took up the buccan and bore him outward, saying, "I'm Dalavar of Darda Vrka, though some know me as the Wolfmage."

"… and so, in the howl of the blizzard the Vulgs jumped us. I killed one with an arrow, though he bit me, and Auly killed the other one, though he was slain in doing so." Tip paused and leaned back against the stone wall, gathering the remnants of his strength to continue. Beau gave him a drink of gwynthyme tea. Tipperton took a sip and then whispered on. "My pony was dead, and Auly's horse was gone. More Vulgs were coming, and so I grabbed what I could and fled. I thought they would search for me down in the pass, so I climbed the slope and by pure happenstance found this cave and crawled inside." Again Tip paused and took another sip of tea. After a while, and in spite of Beau's protestations, Tip took up the tale once more, his voice trembling with the effort. "A bit later I realized that I was bitten, a Vulg bite, a poison bite, and, Beau, I swear, I heard you trying to remind me of the gwynthyme. I could make no tea such as this, but I ate some mint and I chewed some and spit the juice onto the wound and made a poultice, and… and… Oh well, you know the rest." Tip paused, his breathing thready.

"Fortune turned Her smiling face your way, Waerling," said Dalavar, "for without Her favor you would not have found this cave and would now be buried out yon."

Tip's eyes brimmed and he whispered, "Like thirty thousand others, Dalavar. Thirty thousand."

A grim look came over Dalavar's features. "Modru has much to answer for."

"If I could get my hands on him, I'd kill him dead," growled Beau.

Dalavar looked at both Warrows. "Leave vengeance for these deaths to me, my wee friends. Modru and I have crossed paths before, to his regret… though in that case as in yours, Tipperton, Fortune smiled down on me."

Tip sighed and murmured, "Fortune may have turned Her smile toward me in the end, but She was glaring ere then."

"Be glad that Her hidden face remained turned away, else death under snow would have been sweet by compare."

Beau shuddered. "Oh, enough of this talk of Fortune's three faces and of dooms dire. Instead, let us have a look at that wound."

Frowning slightly as Trace licked the gashes, Tip whispered, "Won't it hurt him if some of the Vulg poison yet lies in the bite?"

Dalavar shook his head. "Nay. Draega are not harmed by Vulg venom. Too, if some trace of the poison remained, then you would now be dead."

With exhausted eyes, Tip glanced at Beau, and Beau said, "Besides, Tip, the swelling has gone down a bit, I think due to the ministrations of Beam-she cleaned the wound yester. So let Trace do what he will and on the morrow we shall see again."

Tip fell asleep watching.

"How many of the 'Wolves are there?" asked Tip, taking a bite of rabbit left over from the day before.

"Seven," said Beau, "though I haven't seen Shifter in a while. He's like the others, only a bit darker of fur."

Longshank lay at the feet of the wounded buccan, watching with interest as Tip nibbled the cold meat.

They sat in silence for a while. Finally Tip finished off the bit of leg and looked at Beau. "Do you think a rabbit bone will hurt this 'Wolf?"

Beau shrugged. "Longshank? I don't see why it should. I mean. Wolves, regular Wolves, that is, they eat coneys raw, bones and all. And surely a Silver Wolf can outdo one of them."

Tip held out the bone toward Longshank, and very gently the great beast took it from him, and then with a snap and a crunch it was gone.

"Well, that was short work, Longshank," said Tip.

"Water?" asked Beau, filling a cup.

Tip nodded, and Beau handed the cup to him and then filled another for himself.

As Tipperton took a small sip, he looked across the cup at the exit from the cave. "I say, Beau, when will we be leaving?"

Beau frowned, then said, "As soon as you can walk out from here and pee on your own."

"Oh," said Tip, disappointed. Then-"Now that you mention it, Beau…"

On the sixth day after being freed by the Draega, Tip managed to totter from the cave without any aid. When he returned on shaking legs he smiled and declared, "Time to go."

Dalavar took one look at the buccan standing and sweating and trembling, then the Wolfmage turned to Beau. "We have a travois."

Beau shrugged. "On the morrow?"

Dalavar nodded. "On the morrow."

With a grunt, Tipperton sat down, unable to stand any longer.

The following dawn, Dalavar scrambled up to the rim above and, using Tipperton's rope, hauled up all the gear. Beau's bindle blanket was then used to complete the bed of the travois. Then Dalavar hauled up the buccen: Tipperton first, then Beau.

Longshank came to be harnessed to the travois, and Tip and his bow and lute were roped in. As Dalavar stepped out somewhere ahead, Beau settled all saddlebags across Draega backs-Beam, Trace, and Seeker each carrying pouches. And when that was done, Beau leapt astraddle Shimmer.

Greylight looked at Beau, and then turned and trotted away, the other Draega following… and 'round a bend they caught up to Shifter, the dark 'Wolf waiting there.

And across the snow-covered slopes they went: Shifter and Greylight in the lead, followed by Seeker then Long-shank haling the travois, with Shimmer and Beam after, and Trace bringing up the rear.

"Where's Dalavar?" called Tip back to Beau coming after.

Beau shrugged. "He comes and goes-rather abruptly at times-but will show up tonight. At least he always has."

It took nearly three days altogether for the pack just to reach the eastern end of the pass, some eleven or twelve leagues of travel, for in many places the going was slow, the travois a hindrance over the precipitous ways. And both Beau and Tipperton were glad to see the long, rolling stretches of Jord lying before them when they came down from the steeps. Even so, even though they had reached the relative flats, still the going was slow, for Longshank would not jounce the wee buccan he was drawing behind.

And so another two days, nearly three altogether, they fared ere the lights of Jallorby came into view, for they had pressed on into the night. And just after mid of night came, six great Silver Wolves trotted to the marge of that town, where they found Dalavar waiting.

He led them all to the White Horse Inn; and there he unladed the travois and set Tip on the edge of the porch as Beau retrieved the saddlebags.

"Well, let's go in," said Beau, "and have some hot mulled wine."

Dalavar shook his head. "Nay, my wee comrades, go on alone; my friends and I, we have many missions to attend to and we must be on our way. Yet I deem ere this war is ended, we shall meet again."

"You're leaving?" asked Beau, his face chapfallen.

"Aye."

Beau stepped to Shimmer and hugged her. "Farewell, sweet Shimmer, and take care."

She lapped him with her tongue.

One by one the great 'Wolves came to each of the buc-cen and suffered their touch, all but Greylight, that is, the pack leader standing aloof.

And Tipperton hugged each of them, and Longshank, last in line, gave a single tentative lick to the buccan's cheek. "Take care, my friend," whispered Tipperton. "Perhaps one day we'll share another rabbit."

Beau stepped up to the porch and helped Tip to stand and then said, "Farewell, Dalavar, and we thank you for all you have done. And I say, but where has Shifter gotten to? I would tell him good-bye."

Dalavar smiled and then said, "Ah, but you already have." And a gloom gathered about Dalavar, enveloping him, his shape changing, growing large, silvery-grey, with black claws and glistening fangs, the shifting form dropping to all fours, and where Dalavar had been now grinned a Draega, though one somehow darker than the others. And a silveron nugget dangled on a thong around Shifter's neck.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Beau, as Tip gasped in wonder.

Yipping and yammering, the great Silver Wolves milled about, and of a sudden and almost as one they turned and sped from the town.

And in the wee candlemarks of Year's Start Day, the first day of January, the first day of the two thousand one hundred ninety seventh year of the Second Era of Mithgar, the very first day of the third year of a great and terrible war, Tip stood with Beau's support on the porch of the White Horse Inn, the buccen watching as seven Silver Wolves loped away to the west under a sky of cold, crystalline stars.

When they were gone from sight, Beau looked at Tip and said, "Well, bucco, let's go get that mulled wine."