Into the fire

Chapter 27

The angry roaring thundered out across the land, the enraged fury of lithic giants hammering throughout Darda Erynian and under the Rissanin River and into the Greatwood beyond, the earth juddering for miles uncounted-loam, soil, detritus, muck, glades, hills, vales, fens, streams, pools, meres, swards, bushes, trees, all shuddering in response. And on the very edge of the aggregate, Tip, Beau, Rynna, Pysks, and foxes, all were knocked from their feet in the jolting, bellowing blast of wrath. Warrows and Pysks slapped hands over their ears, while foxes turned their own back and down, yet the roaring thundered through flesh and bones to deafen them regardless. And just over the crest of the vale and down in the woods below-horses and Harlingar, foxes and Pysks, and War-rows afoot-all reeled under the onslaught, and animals tried to flee, those who had not run away during the death throes of the Gargon.

Exactly how long the rage lasted, none on the ridge or beyond could say, yet of a sudden the bellowing ceased altogether, to be replaced by a low, anguished groaning. And in distant places throughout the forest and elsewhere in Mithgar, other aggregates of Eio Wa Suk took up the mournful cry.

On the valeside, as Pysks stroked foxes and soothed them, the animals wide-eyed and jittery, Tip struggled to his feet and helped Rynna to stand as well. He then called out to Beau, but Beau sat on the ground and looked down into the vale and paid him no heed, for with their hearing aggrieved neither Tip nor Beau nor Rynna could comprehend a word said. Tip stepped to the buccan and held out a hand, yet Beau waved any aid away and simply remained sitting, though he did say something that neither Tip nor Rynna understood.

And so, Tip and Rynna took places beside him, and all peered down into the aggregate below, seeking any sign of movement, Tip with his arm about his dammia as they waited for their hearing to return.

Moments later, up the back of the ridge came three Pysks riding, shadow gathered 'round. Coming after was Farly the Warrow as well as Linde and another Harlingar, the Vanadurin astride horses.

The gathered darkness about one of the Pysks vanished as she stopped before Rynna and said something, but Rynna touched her ear and shook her head.

The Pysk nodded in understanding, and called out to the others, and Farly turned and spoke to the Vanadurin and then sat down beside Beau, Jordians and Pysks dismounting to wait as well.

As April stars wheeled through the dark velvet sky above, they sat and gazed into the valley where Groaning Stones mourned. How long they waited, none could strike a mark, yet after a lengthy while, again the Pysk stepped before Rynna and said, "Ya e a va dep a vis eh ve crued a Eio WaSuk."

Although the Fox Rider's voice seemed muted, Tip realized he could now discern the words.

Rynna turned to Tip. "The Fox Riders are going down into the aggregate to see what has befallen the Groaning Stones."

"Then we should also go," said Tip. "You never know what might be lurking therein."

"You need not worry about the Pysks, love," replied Rynna. "Those tiny arrows of theirs are quite lethal."

"Should they face danger," said Linde, "Sten and I ride with them." She gestured toward the male Vanadurin who had ridden back with her.

"Nevertheless…" said Tip, rising to his feet and helping Rynna up. Then he turned to Beau. "We're going back down into the vale, bucco."

An unwilling look swept over Beau's features, but he stood, though reluctantly, and laded his sling with a nearby pebble and said, "If we must."

The Pysk spoke again to Rynna, and she in turn said to Linde, "Leave your horses behind. Their heavy tread might anger the Stones. And walk softly, please."

Linde nodded, then said, "It is dark down there and unlike Waldana and Pyska, Sten and I will need light to see by."

Beau took a small hooded lantern from his pack and lit it, raising the shield a crack. "Here," he said, and held it out to Linde. But Sten stepped forward and took the light.

Then Tip, Rynna, and Farly all nocked arrows, and Linde and Sten each took a saber in hand.

And so, stepping lightly, down into the aggregate they went-six shadows, four Warrows, and two Jordians-while all about them arose a dolorous collective groan.

"Oh my," said Rynna, disheartened, as she looked through the starlight at the huge, vine-covered Stone, the great long monolith broken in twain where it had fallen to the ground. Lying on its side, some eight feet up and eight feet across it was, and nearly sixty feet in length altogether, including the ten feet or so that had ripped out of the valeside when it had pitched forward and down. And now it lay sundered-like a toppled broken obelisk from an ancient age unknown.

And the vale was filled with a low moaning, grievous in tone and timbre.

No longer enshadowed, Pysks had dismounted to step to the Stone and touch it and lay their cheeks against it, and tears coursed down their faces. One looked at Rynna and spoke awhile and then turned back to the monolith. Rynna then stepped to Tip and Beau, and above the doleful groaning she said, "Tynvyr tells me that this was one of the greater Stones. She named it the Grandsire of the Vale, saying it always seemed to be the patriarch of this aggregate, standing as protectorate over all. She tells me that many a warning did this Stone relay, many a summons too-musters, rallyes, conclaves, assemblies, forgatherings. It will be sorely missed by all the Hidden Ones and by those it sheltered so well."

"Sheltered?" asked Beau.

"In its covering of vines," replied Rynna, gesturing at a half-formed nest a pair of springtime birds had begun.

"Oh," said Beau.

" 'Round here!" called Farly above the lamenting of Stones, the buccan and Harlingar on the opposite side of the broken monolith.

To the near end and around went Tip, Rynna, Beau, and the Fox Riders, to find Farly and Linde and Sten staring by lanternlight at the remains of the Gargon, the monster crushed by the fallen Stone, only its head and shoulders and one arm out from under. And the smell of vipers rose up all 'round, foxes snorting as if to rid themselves of the foul odor.

"Lor' but it's ugly," said Farly, peering down at the dead creature.

"Huah!" exclaimed Beau. "It looks just like the one Tip and Imongar slew back at Dendor."

Farly looked at Tip in wonder. "You slew a Gargon?"

Tip shook his head. "Imongar did. Shot it with a great ballista. Put a spear through its heart."

"She couldn't have done it without Tip, though," said Beau.

"And it looked like this one, you say?" asked Farly, peering back at the creature.

"Yes," said Tip, "ugly thing that it is."

"King Agron put its head on a pike and carried it into battle," added Beau. "It seemed to dishearten the Foul Folk to see such a powerful one of their own be reduced to nought but a pate on a pole."

Linde glanced at Rynna. "Would you like to do such?"

"Oh no," replied Rynna, looking at Tip and Beau and Farly, the buccen all shaking their heads, No.

"Well then, if you have no use of it…" said Linde.

"Please…" responded Rynna, stepping aside and sweeping a hand at the remains not crushed.

Linde waved them back and with Sten holding the lantern nigh, she took her saber to the monster, with little effect. She looked at her blade and then back at the creature. "Hmm, this is like hacking a log."

"It took a Dwarven battle-axe to lop through the other one's neck," said Tip.

Linde turned to Sten and took the lantern and said, "Ride and tell the others what we have seen, that the Gar-gon is slain by this Stone. Tell them as well the Spawn have fled, though some did not live to escape this vale. When that is done, fetch Thurl. He yet has an axe. Though not Dwarven, mayhap 'twill do."

Sten nodded and turned to make his way up and out from the vale, the man stepping softly as deep lamentation rose up all 'round.

"Over here," hissed Rynna.

Tip stepped to her side and looked where she pointed.

"I think this one is a Human," said Rynna, no longer flinching from the sight of those slain by the rage of the Stones.

Bones and organs shattered, blood oozing over ruptured flesh, a man lay dead among several Ghuls, the Foul Folk slain as well. Limp they lay, somewhat formless, like split bags of mush-filled skin. As to the man, he had been pale white with long white hair, and like all the other dead, he reeked of blood and feces and urine and vomit.

"A surrogate, I think," said Tip.

"Surrogate?"

"Someone whom Modru can possess. I think they are all without wit, and this gives Foul Modru a way to see and hear and speak. He commands his far-flung armies through the use of such empty men."

"Oh my," said Rynna, her hand flying to her mouth. "How dreadful."

On they went, continuing their count of those felled by the wrath of the Stones.

After a while Rynna said, "Madness."

"Madness?"

"Modru. Instead of such a hideous means, I would think he would choose those wise in the ways of war to lead his armies."

Tip shook his head. "I think he does not trust command to anyone but himself."

Rynna frowned, then said, "Either that, or he believes but for him all others to be fools."

Tip nodded and said, "Madness indeed."

"With your count and ours," said Tip, "if I've toted it right, some seven hundred Spawn did not escape this vale."

"Oh my," said Beau, looking back down into the valley from the ridge where they all now stood. "No wonder the Foul Folk fear the Groaning Stones."

Rynna spoke with Tynvyr, then turned to the others. "She tells me that never have so many been slaughtered by Eio Wa Suk, yet never before has a Stone died to kill a Spawn."

"How did he do it?" asked Beau. "-Grandsire, I mean. How did he manage to move at all? It isn't as if rocks or such can stir about under their own power."

Tears came into Rynna's eyes. "As to how he managed to move, that I cannot say, yet Eio Wa Suk are not ordinary rocks as you well can see."

"As I can see and hear," said Beau, the sad groaning rising up from the vale.

"Aye, and hear," agreed Rynna. "As to Grandsire, I believe he forfeited his own life to save those of the Pysks we were with; had we been alone, Beau, you and Tip and I, then perhaps he would yet be… alive. See here, I am not certain at all the Groaning Stones sense aught but Fox Riders and other Stones and the trembling of the land. Mayhap he knew of the Gargon by means other than its heavy tread, but I do believe he sensed the fear of the Pysks and thought them trapped, not knowing even as he pitched over, that we had broken free and were turning to run. Yet no matter the which of it, he is dead, the Gargon is dead, and the remaining Foul Folk are gone."

Tynvyr spoke to Farly, and he in turn said, "The Fox Riders will hold a funeral within a day or so."

"Not for the Foul Folk, I would hope," replied a Vana-durin man, striding up the slope toward them, a bloody axe in hand. Following came Sten, the Gargon's head on a spear.

"Nay, Thurl," said Linde. "They mourn the broken Stone, as we will mourn our own slain, though how we will bury them properly…" Linde's words trailed off, and she rubbed her fingers across her eyes, wiping away tears.

They stood without speaking for a moment, the sound of woe filling the air. Finally, Tip said, "What about the Spawn that got away? Shouldn't we gather the Dylvana and Baeron and lay them by the heels?"

Rynna shook her head. "The Dylvana and Baeron, most are not in Darda Erynian or Darda Stor: those of the Blackwood are struggling to free Crestan Pass, while Baeron of the Greatwood are at Drimmen-deeve, fighting to break the siege of that Dwarvenholt."

"The Lian from Darda Galion, then," said Tip, "can they not come?"

Rynna shook her head. "They struggle in the Grimwall and along the wold between there and the Argon River, as well as protect the borders of the Larkenwald. In the main, though, they strive to rid Drimmen-deeve of the besetting Swarm, but Modru's forces are formidable."

Beau blurted, "Both Crestan Pass and Drimmen-deeve are yet beset by the Riipt? Oh my, that was so more than a year agone… almost two, by now."

Tip looked about. "With the Dylvana elsewhere, who protects Darda Erynian?"

Rynna turned up her hands. "Why, we do."

"We?"

"The Hidden Ones and a handful of Warrows, along with the Dylvana and Baeron who were assigned to remain behind. But spread throughout this forest and the Greatwood as we are, a sparse few protect any given region. Even so, Spawn give us wide berth."

"The Gargon didn't," said Thurl, looking up at the head on the pike.

"Aye," agreed Rynna, "it did not."

"Why didn't it attack before?" asked Beau. "I mean, it seemed to have no fear of the Blackwood, so what kept it at bay?"

Rynna shook her head. "The Gargon, it was not here even a sevenday past."

Linde cocked an eyebrow, but remained silent.

"We make occasional scouting trips to see to the whereabouts of the Spawn," explained Rynna, "as we were doing this night." She reached out and took Tip's hand. "When last we went they were holding Eryn Ford, with no Gargon in sight."

Linde sighed. "Would that you had warned us of the numbers holding the ford. We would have crossed elsewhere: upriver most likely."

Farly shook his head. "We did not even know you were nigh. Oh, word came that a force of Vanadurin was circling 'round the north of Darda Erynian and down the eastern flank, but when you came to the Landover Road we lost track of your brigade. We thought you had turned easterly, through Riamon Gape."

Linde shook her head. "We struck southerly, taking the shortest way to the ford. Besides, tales of Blackwood are dire, and we were eager to ride well away from its eaves."

"Your mistake," said Farly.

Linde nodded morosely. "Aye, and nine hundred paid with their lives." Again she wiped her eyes, then said, " 'Neath green turves they need be honored, yet there are nine hundred slain and but ninety-seven of us, and Foul Folk yon stand across the way."

Rynna looked up at the warrior maiden. "In mounds would you bury them?"

As Linde canted her head in assent, Tip's thoughts returned to Mineholt North, to the Daelsmen's rites, for they too buried their dead in mounds.

Rynna spoke with Tynvyr some moments, and then said to Linde, "Fear not, for the Pysks will arrange all."

Linde frowned. "But how-?"

Rynna pushed forth a hand, palm out. "I did not question, yet I believe it will be done."

The faint light of the oncoming dawn began to illume the eastern sky. Rynna looked at the pale glow and said, "Come. We must get to a sheltered place, where wounds can be treated and all can rest and recover. 'Tis a new day, and much is yet to be done."

And so as the sky slowly brightened, they passed across the ridge and down into the forest beyond, while in the vale behind, huge Stones groaned a doleful dirge.

"Are we going to where the Springwater Warrows live?" asked Tip.

"In time," said Rynna, smiling. "But first we will stop at our bowers. There's someone I want you to meet."

"Bowers?" asked Beau, striding alongside.

"Aye, shelters at a place where we camp when on patrol.

This night-or rather this morn-you will stay with Farly or Nix, while Tip"-Rynna reached out and took his hand-"will stay with me."

"Oh, right," said Beau, looking sidewise at Tip and grinning.

"This someone you want me to meet," said Tip, "is it family? An uncle or aunt or some such?"

"Some such," said Rynna.

"Well, for that I am glad," replied Tip. "Would that I could find relatives, too, what with my own dam and sire now being gone, just as are yours, my dammia. Kith and kin and kind and friends: all are important, or so I have come to believe."

And on they went as the sun rose and morning light filled the sky.

As the Vanadurin made camp in the small grassy dell, and Beau went off with Farly, Rynna led Tipperton up the western slope of the hollow and to the edge of the woods, where a modest shelter woven of saplings stood hidden back among the trees.

Rynna, smiling a secretive smile, stepped inside, Tipper-ton following. As Tip set his bow against one wall and removed his quiver and lute and pack and set them to the earthen floor beside it, he looked about at the sparse furnishings-a straw-filled pallet, some cooking gear, a few supplies, and such. Quietly, Rynna set her own bow and quiver aside and then stepped silently across sunlight shining through the doorway and moved into the dimness beyond, where sat a large open oblong woven basket of withes. And she looked down and her face softened and she whispered. "Come, Tipperton, I want you to see."

"What is it?" asked Tip. Suddenly a fleeting memory flitted across his mind but vanished ere he could capture it, leaving behind the uncanny sensation that this had happened before, yet just where…

Rynna smiled and gestured at the basket. "Come and see."

Tip stepped to the damman, and there asleep in a rumple of blanket -it was a wee Warrow child, nought but a tot "This is Lark."

– who opened her eyes, her glorious green eyes "Lark?"

– and smiled, oh how she smiled "Your dammsel, Tipperton. Your daughter."

"My… my…"

"Your dammsel," repeated Rynna, taking her up, "or rather I should say ours."

"Ours?" breathed Tipperton, wide-eyed, and he tentatively reached out to touch the wee youngling, but drew back and looked at Rynna.

"Well, go on," said Rynna, laughing. "It isn't as if she'll break."

Tip stroked the back of a finger across the child's cheek, the tot looking askance at him in response. "She's so soft."

"Here," said Rynna, holding out the moppet.

"Oh my, but I don't-"

"Nonsense."

Tentatively, Tipperton took the child, and he grinned down at her. Lark looked up at him and frowned, as though to ask just who this stranger was, but then smiled as if finding him worthy of her aspect.

And Tip looked up at Rynna. "She's grinning."

"Oh, Tipperton, she is grinning because her da is here."

Upon hearing a familiar word-"Da. Da. Da-da. Da-da-da-da…" chirped Lark, the words finally running together into a trill.

Tipperton looked up at Rynna in wonderment, and Rynna said, "She's been saying that for a week now, almost as if she knew you were coming."

"She can talk?"

"She's beginning to say words, love."

"Lark, my Lark," breathed Tipperton. Then he looked at Rynna. "When?"

"She was born a year ago tomorrow, and I could not have asked for a finer birthday gift than her sire coming home."

"Home?" Tip looked about at the bower, then smiled back down at the wee child.

"Anywhere we three are, Tipperton," replied Rynna.

Lark squealed and reached up a tiny hand, striving to clutch Tip's nose, and then she struggled and fussed, and Tip shifted her to a more upright position against his chest.

Lark then seized a button on Tip's jacket, thoroughly fascinated by its roundness.

Tip grinned, but then frowned. "Say, love, she hasn't been here all alone, has she?"

"Of course not, Tip," said Rynna, glancing 'round, "though just where Prym or Melli have gotten to… Well, no doubt one or the other is-"

A shadow darkened the doorway, and an eld damman bearing an armful of clean white cloths hurried into the bower. Her face gladdened upon seeing Rynna returned, and she one-arm embraced the young damman, saying, "Rynna, Rynna, you are back and safe. And oh my, but these Big Men on horses, well, did they ever give me a start, coming into the glade as they did. But I saw the Fox Riders were with them and Nix, too, and so I ran down to greet him, this armful of nappies and all." She turned to Tipperton. "He's my bucco, you know. -Nix I mean."

Rynna grinned. "Aunt Melli, this is my buccaran, Tipperton."

"Lark's da? Him that went off to foreign lands? Oh, how wonderful." Melli stepped forward and would have embraced Tip, but for the tot in his arms, and so she settled for a kiss on his cheek.

"Now you two rest, for Nix told me of the Gargon and all-as if I didn't see that horrible thing's head bobbing about on a pike-and I'll make a bit of breakfast." She turned to Tip. "Will hot tea and a rasher or two along with some eggs do? -And a crust of bread, of course."

"Oh, Melli, the crust alone would do," said Tip, "but tea and eggs and a couple of rashers, I cannot think of aught better."

Lark held her arms out to be taken by Melli and gurgled her approval as well.

As darkness fell, Beau arose from his pallet in Farly's hut and stepped out into the woods to relieve himself. As he came back, he could see movement across the glade. His eyes flew wide, and he rubbed them in disbelief, for the far end of the canted field was now covered entirely with mounds, each some eight or ten feet high and twice as wide at the base, each hillock veiled with a strawlike yellowish grass, or what seemed to be grass… and they were moving, these mounds, moving westerly, small creatures and Fox Riders faring alongside, heading in the direction where stood the aggregate of Stones, and farther off the eaves of the forest and the open wold beyond.

With his heart thudding, Beau watched in wonder and recalled when last he'd seen mounds like these: it was when he and Tip and Loric and Phais had ridden north through the Blackwood nearly two years ago. I told Tip then I saw one of them move, and now here they march across Black-wood like an army off to battle. Beau wondered whether he should go waken Tip… or Rynna… or Nix or Farly, but in the end decided not. Long he watched as the Living Mounds crossed the distant sward, and when the last of the massive column passed in among the trees to disappear from view, Beau went back into the hut and lay down on his pallet.

Sleep was a long time coming.

In the middle of the night with moonlight glowing down through the doorway, as Tip and Rynna slept soundly, Lark, using the edge of her withy-woven bassinet, pulled up and stood and jiggled. Just outside, a tall creature- seeming nought but entangled twigs and tendrils and greenery-turned and stooped and entered the bower, and paused to look down on the two lovers dreaming in one another's arms, and then it took up the restless wee youngling and crooned it to sleep as well.

And Tynvyr passed by the bower woven of saplings and paused to listen to Prym's singing, the voice of the Vred Tre rustling like leaves in the wind.