Into the fire

Chapter 34

Under a high blue October sky, the army of Dylvana, Baeron, and Lian, along with eight Warrows, rode down the marge of the Greatwood. East-southeast they fared overland, the Rimmen Spur off to their left, Darda Stor to their right.

Tipperton, Beau, Alver, and Dinly rode together within the vanguard, while Rynna, Linnet, Nix, and Farly-being the most familiar with the territory-rode at the fore of the column to help lead the way.

On the morrow, all of the Warrows but two would ride scout, for the previous eve at the riverside camp, Vail had called them all together and had said…

"This will be the way of it: all but Sir Beau and Commander Rynna will ride scout-"

"What?" objected Rynna. "I am not to patrol? Look, I understand why Beau will not ride scout, for he is a healer and-"

"Hoy, now!" interjected Beau. "For a year and a half I have ridden scout along the marge of the Blackwood and up in the Rimmen Spur. Right?"

Linnet vigorously nodded. "Yes, and a better scout you could not-"

"Hold!" barked Vail. Then more softly, "Hold." She turned to Beau. "Healers are rarer than scouts, and Alor Melor has asked for thine aid. Is it not so?"

Beau sighed and reluctantly nodded, and Linnet put an arm about him and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"But what about me?" asked Rynna. "I am no healer."

Vail looked at the damman. "Nay, thou art not. Yet heed, thou art the commander of the Waerlinga, and as such thy place is with the other captains of this band and not out riding scout."

Rynna's jaw jutted out, and she glanced at Tip, fire glinting in her eye.

But Vail took in a deep breath and let it out and looked from Rynna to Beau. "I understand how ye both feel, for I, too, would rather be riding scout as in the days of yore"-she smiled at Tipperton, her partner of past-"yet as chief scout my place is with the vanguard, as is thy place, commander, just as it is with Beau."

Rynna glanced at Beau and looked at Tip and then turned to Vail and reluctantly agreed as well. But even as she did so a Dylvana runner came. "Commander Rynna, Chief Scout Vail, ye are requested to attend the council of captains in four candlemarks."

Vail nodded and said, "Even now it begins." She glanced at Rynna and, at the damman's nod, said to the runner, "We will be there."

Vail and the Warrows watched the runner go, and then Vail said to the six who would scout, "This will be the way of it: some days ye will ride patrol, other days ye will not. But most nights ye will camp with the column."

"Camp with the column?" asked Tipperton. "But does that give us time to get to and from station?"

Vail nodded. "Aye, for ye will ride on near-point and flank and rear, no more than league or two out from the column will ye range-"

"Two leagues? But what about the wide rangers and those on far-point?"

"Here alongside Darda Stor, a league or two is enough. 'Tis only after we reach the Plains of Pellar will any need range wide and far, and those tasks will be assigned to Dylvana, for they ride swift steeds, not ponies."

Vail looked at Tip, but he raised no more questions, and so she continued: "And speaking of swift steeds, each of ye will be paired with a Dylvana, for should there be a need to flee, the pony can be abandoned, and both scouts take flight on the horse. Thy added weight will not overslow them so."

"But in the woods a quick pony is just as fast as a horse," protested Nix. "I'd rather keep my steed, if you don't mind, than to cling to a Dylvana and flop along ragtag behind."

"Indeed," replied Vail. "Ponies are mayhap e'en swifter in the close woods than a horse. Yet in the open, a horse will outrun both pony and Helsteed."

"Helsteed?" asked Alver, looking at Dinly.

"Alver, if it's Helsteeds we're fleeing," said Dinly, "ragtag or not, I'll be most happy to flop along behind a Dylvana on a running Elven horse."

Smiling at Dinly's comment, Vail began assigning the posts they would ride…

These duties they would take up on the morrow, but for the nonce two dammen and two buccen rode at the fore of the vanguard, and four buccen rode within.

"How long will it take us to get there?" asked Beau.

Tipperton frowned. "If I remember correctly, Caer Pen-dwyr lies some nine hundred miles away as the raven flies, but by the route Vail indicated, we'll travel nigh a thousand altogether."

Beau groaned. "Why is it that we always seem to be crossing leagues and leagues of nothing but leagues and leagues merely to get where we're going. I mean, I felt like Tip and I had travelled half the world just to deliver a coin, and then another half the world from Dendor to Gron and from there to Blackwood. And here we go again, traipsing off to Caer Pendwyr, travelling half the world once more."

"Hoy now," said Nix, "that's three halves."

"Yar," agreed Dinly, chortling, "just how many halves does the world have?"

"A hundred and three," said Beau, glumly, "and we'll no doubt see them all."

In the lead, Coron Ruar glanced back at the Waerlinga and smiled and wondered why they were laughing.

As they rode a bit farther, Beau looked about and then said, "Well, Tip, at least we're among a lot of not-men."

Alver frowned. "Not-men?"

"Indeed," said Beau. "Elves and Warrows are not-men… and perhaps some of the Baeron."

"The Baeron aren't men?" asked Dinly, peering around at some of the huge riders on their huge horses.

Beau nodded. "Did you ever look at their eyes? Dark yellow, they are, like those of Wolves and Bears."

"But your eyes are amber, too," said Dinly, "just as are Linnet's and Rynna's and mine. And we're certainly not Wolves or Bears."

"Perhaps we're too small," snorted Alver. "More like ferrets or some such, eh. Beau?"

"You're one to talk, green-eyed Alver," shot back Beau, "I'd say you're more like to be a lizard."

Again the Warrows burst into laughter.

And once more Ruar looked back at them and marvelled at how they could be so merry while riding to deadly war.

East-southeast they fared for four days, the Warrows, all but Rynna and Beau, now riding scout. Tip was teamed with Dara Lyra, a scout he had ridden with once before: on the way to lift the siege from Mineholt North, together they had ambushed a Rucken sentry as a vital part of a plan to deliver Braeton from a segment of Spawn. And now they were allied again to ride the land on the right flank of the column and a bit to the fore.

On the morning of the fifth day of setting out, the column turned southerly on a trace of a road and entered the Greatwood proper. It was an old trade route they followed, now grown over with disuse, yet it was mostly low scrub and small saplings which sought to impede the way, and so the wagons had little trouble following the brushy path, especially those which came last, as through the woodland they fared.

The forest was dressed in scarlet and gold, the leaves turning hue in the crisp fall air, though dashes of green lingered here and there. And down below the crimson and auric leaves, wherever shade fell so fell a chill, hinting of winter to come. Voles and limb-runners and other such small animals scurried thither and yon, collecting the last of provender to tide them over until the renewal of spring. Only a few birds were seen, and only now and again would one be heard to call, and that in the distance and brief, for most had already flown away to warmer climes abroad. The air itself seemed preternaturally still, all summer insects gone, but for a lone bee or two, searching out the last of what little nectar remained.

And down the overgrown two-track fared the column, hooves plodding, wagon wheels creaking and rumbling over uneven soil, all pressing down the rank weeds and brush and saplings into the humus beneath.

"One nice thing about this time of the year, Melor," said Beau, watching a limb-runner hie for its den, its cheeks stuffed with acorns or some such, "no midges, no gnats, no biting flies."

"Mayhap the very best time of all the seasons," said Melor, "with its pleasant days and cool nights."

"I'll agree to the days, Melor, but the nights are downright chill. In fact, the air is quite changeable."

As if to verify Beau's words, a sudden brisk breeze stirred across the forest above, the leaves whisking and rattling in response.

Beau drew his cloak about and looked up through the branches at the blue sky above. "What are the chances of a cloudburst, eh?"

"I would that it not rain, Beau, else the wagons are like to mire. Remember the trek across Riamon?"

"Yar, but it was September then and not October as now."

"Even so…"

Beau frowned and scanned the sky above, seeking clouds, finding none, as they plodded onward through the crisp woods on their southerly course to Pellar.

In the evening of the second day after entering the forest, they reached the edge of The Clearing, a place of significance to the Baeron, for here in normal times they came each mid-year, to sing of deeds done and to dance and to tell great tales and engage in contests, and to meet prospective mates, and to celebrate Summerday.

"I have been here before," said Tip, as he and Lyra moved across the yellowed grass of the great expanse the following morn.

"Oh?"

"Aye. Rynna and I rode to a Baeron village along the western brim. There we organized the watch on the eastern wold to guide travellers past the Spawn."

"Thou didst well, Tipperton."

"Oh, it was Aravan's idea to do so."

"Aravan?"

"Yes. By pure chance we came upon Galarun and Aravan and their company nigh Caer Lindor, and guided them past the Rupt on the wold. This was when Galarun and the others were on their way to get the silver sword."

A look of sorrow crossed Lyra's face. "I see."

They rode in silence awhile longer, then Lyra said, "This woodland village: whence?"

Tip frowned. "Some twenty-five, thirty miles ahead. We should pass it on the way; it lies on the flank we ride."

The following morning they espied smoke rising in the sky.

"Oh my," said Tipperton. "That's near where lies the village."

Lyra nodded. "We go in caution, then. And should there be a need to flee, abandon thy pony for my horse."

Tipperton took a deep breath and patted his steed alongside the neck. "All right, but only at need."

Cautiously they rode forward, keeping to the tree line at the western fringe of The Clearing. Unconsciously and without taking his searching gaze from the broad lea ahead and the forest to their right, Tipperton loosened his bow in its saddle scabbard and made certain that his arrows were at hand.

Finally, Lyra said, "See the rising tendrils? I ween these are morning campfires, Tipperton."

"Not a burning village?"

"Nay. More like a gathering."

Tipperton nodded, but did not relax his vigilance.

Following one of the pickets, Tip and Lyra rode in among an encampment of Baeron-nearly four hundred all told-mustering for the march unto Caer Pendwyr in answer to the High King's call.

The two were escorted to meet with the newly elected chieftain of this group. As they came unto the central fire, a huge man looked up from a map. "If the morning light does not deceive, 'tis Tipperton Thistledown I see."

"Urel," cried Tip, dismounting. "I did not know if you escaped the fall of Caer Lindor."

"I did," rumbled the man, rubbing his chest as if soothing an old wound, "but it was touch-and-go. Had it not been for Silverleaf, I would not have survived. Yet had it not been for me bearing him out the west gate with Rutcha on my heels, then neither would have he." Urel laughed hugely, then said, "Come, sit with me and introduce me to your friend and have some tea. And after you tell me what you are doing in The Clearing, we'll trade war stories. I'll tell you of my adventures in Silverleaf s company, and you can tell me whether or no you delivered that coin, and what happened along the way."

The train of Dylvana and Baeron and Warrows arrived that evening at the camp in the lea, and after an evening meal, Ruar called a council.

"You've come at a good time," said Urel, "for our rendezvous here in The Clearing is set to be done on the day of the last-quarter moon."

"On the morrow," said Coron Ruar, Vail at his side canting her head in agreement.

"Aye," agreed Urel. "And if you will delay travel by one day, we will fare to Caer Pendwyr with you."

Ruar nodded and glanced at Chieftain Durul, who nodded likewise. And then the coron turned to Rynna. Somewhat surprised by his unspoken question, nevertheless Rynna said, "Indeed."

Ruar turned back to Urel. "You have how many, fifty or so beyond three hundred?"

"Aye, nearly four hundred," said Urel. "But not all Greatwood Baeron are gathering here; some will meet us at the southern bound, down along the Glave Hills in Pellar."

"How many of you then will there be?" asked Coron Ruar.

"Including those who are yet to arrive and those we will meet in the south, mayhap a thousand, all told."

"Ah, then will our combined forces number some three thousand three hundred altogether," said Ruar.

"Three thousand three hundred and eight," said Beau, and Ruar broke out laughing, and was joined by Bwen's guffaws.

"Three thousand three hundred and eight, indeed," the coron replied.

When Urel and others looked at Beau and Ruar and Bwen in puzzlement, Bwen said, "After the planning is done, I'll tell you the tale of Bekki and Brandt… a story of two thousand two hundred… and five."

"Yar," said Beau grinning, "only this time it's eight War-rows I'm adding to the total, and not two Warrows, two Elves, and a Dwarf."

They waited a day at the campsite as by ones and twos other Baeron arrived, but on the morning of the next day as planned, even as the last-quarter moon set in the west and the sun rose in the east, once again the column set forth, the ranks swelled by the four hundred Baeron from The Clearing.

South-southwest they fared all that day and the next, an occasional Baeron drifting in from the forest to join the column on the trek across the broad lea. And nigh the close of the second day, under lowering skies, they came to the trees of the Greatwood again, where they set camp that eve.

A drizzling rain fell through the night, to become blowing mist on the following morn, the vaporous air swirling chill, the moisture nought but damp cold sinking unto the bones. Beau clutched his cloak tightly 'round as he rode, and from the far rear he could hear Bwen cursing as another wagon became mired.

Beau looked up at Melor and said, "Hmph. The very best time of all the seasons, eh?"

Melor did not reply.

All that day and three more they went, the wains miring often on the narrow trace, yet it was the only lane through the crowded weald to the open land atop the long arc of the Great Escarpment ahead. At last on the evening of the fourth day they came to the fringe of the woods, the forest ending, the terrain before them open. Some twenty miles straight ahead the, wold ended abruptly at the rim of the Great Escarpment, where stone plummeted down the sheer face, the land at the base to run another five or so miles unto the banks of the River Argon. Yet they would not travel to the brink and down, but would turn southeasterly instead and follow a route parallel to the steep precipice. For as the sheer bluff angled out from Bellon Falls some fifty leagues north and west, the mighty bluff curved southeasterly and away, two hundred and fifty miles or so in a long bend, the last hundred miles of which the cliff and the land atop slowly fell down a long, long slope to eventually descend to the level of the banks of the Argon flowing in the land below. And it was down this gradual decline the column would fare, heading toward Pellar.

And so the next day they turned leftward, faring down the gradual cant of the land, the river some twenty-five miles to their right but nigh a hundred miles straight ahead.

"Look," said Tipperton, haling his pony to a halt and leaping to the ground.

Lyra, too, dismounted to examine the track the buccan had found.

"Horses," said Tip, examining the spoor. "Heading south."

"Ponies, too," said Lyra.

"Oh?" Tipperton moved to where she knelt.

As Tipperton squatted to look at the trace of smaller hooves, Lyra stood and peered westerly. "There are more," she said. Tipperton got to his feet and looked to where she pointed, his gaze falling upon a wide southerly track beaten through the yellowing grass.

"Another column moving south," said Tipperton, "five or so miles rightward of ours and two or three days ahead. Many horses; many ponies."

Vail looked up from the map. "Come, let us speak to the council."

"With such a mix of steeds I would suggest it is Lian and Dwarves," said Urel. "When I fought in the Grimwalls in Silverleaf s company and alongside DelfLord Volki-as recent as three months past-his Dwarves rode ponies. Wouldn't abide horses except to pull wagons or a plow. It's them and their ponies, I would guess."

"From the Black Hole then, is that what you think?" asked Bwen.

"Aye, though they name it Kraggen-cor."

"Black Hole, Kraggen-cor, or Drimmen-deeve: by any name I think it is Drimma, marching to answer the High King's call," said Vail.

"Along with Lian from Darda Galion," said Riatha.

Tipperton frowned and looked at his map. "How did they cross the Argon? If it was by the ferry at Olorin Isle, given their number, they would have had to make many trips across and back. Too, then they would have had to cross the Rissanin thereafter, and there is no ferry there, though they could have come through Caer Lindor." Tip turned to Urel. "Did any of the border watch report such?"

Urel shook his head. "Nay. But you've got to recall, most of them were making their way to the rendezvous when this force would have come across the Argon to this side."

Eyes turned to Riatha. "I would say they mayhap added many ferries and first made the crossing at Olorin Isle, after which they moved the barges to the Rissanin where they were used to cross again."

Bwen glanced at the map and asked, "Why not cross but once… farther down the Argon?" Her finger stabbed to the map just below the Rissanin.

Melor smiled. "Even though Bellon Falls lies twenty leagues downstream, the closer to that mighty cataract, the more perilous is the Argon, for the Rissanin, the Rothro, the Quadrill, and the Cellener all add their flow to that of the Great River. Nay, I ween Dara Riatha is right, for 'tis better to make two crossings than to chance being swept over the brim of Bellon and into the Cauldron below."

"Regardless as to how one would cross," said Ruar, "we need to know who fares ahead." He turned to Vail. "Send scouts, but tell them to be wary until we know just who it is to the fore."

Vail nodded, but at Tip's hopeful look, she shook her head. "Nay, Tipperton, this is a deed which calls for fleet horses, not ponies."

Moments later, Cein and Arylin rode swiftly away from the camp, each Dylvana drawing two remounts behind. Tipperton watched them go, then he turned to Vail. "I do hope it's Lian and Dwarves they find and not some column of foe." Vail nodded but did not reply.

Not quite a full day later, as camp was being set, Cein and Arylin came riding back. And soon the word was spread: the column ahead was indeed Lian from Darda Galion and Chakka from Kraggen-cor. And though Delf-Lord Volki was impatient to move onward, he and Coron Eiron and their combined forces would wait at their present camp by the River Argon for the Baeron and Dylvana to arrive.

"Good," said Beau by the fire that night. "More not-men."

Two more days they fared down the long slope to come to the river at last, where Coron Eiron's seven hundred Lian were encamped with Volki's twelve hundred Dwarves. And as Tipperton and the Warrows rode in among the waiting forces-"Ho, Little Ryn!" called a voice.

Rynna was off her pony and running ere Tipperton saw who was calling. And as his dammia hurled herself into the Lian's arms to be swung 'round and 'round, "Silverleaf!" Tipperton cried.

But Vanidar did not hear him, so engaged was he with Rynna.

And as Tip dismounted, he saw Aravan standing nearby, the Alor's face yet cast with gloom.

"So you pledged to this rapscallion, eh?"

Rynna looked across the fire at Tipperton and grinned. "Oh, Silverleaf, he's no rapscallion, and I do love him so."

"So I remember from the days at Caer Lindor," said Silverleaf, "those hand-in-hand strolls on the wall." He glanced at Riatha and turned to Tipperton. "And as for being a rascal, nay, he is not, but the Hero of Dendor, or so I have heard."

"Don't forget Mineholt North," said Beau 'round a mouthful of crue.

Tipperton looked up from the silver strings of his lute and said, "You can't believe everything you hear. I was just one small cog in the millworks."

"But a cog without which the mill would not run," said Riatha, "or so do the legends say."

Tip's eyes widened. "Legends…?"

Riatha nodded and gestured about the encampment. "Lady Bwen speaks of thee highly, as do others. And tales of thy feats at Dendor sing of heroic deeds."

Tip shook his head and said, "If you would cant legends of Warrows, then sing of Beau who found the cure for the plague. Sing of Rynna who saved me and Beau and led a Gargon to its death among the Groaning Stones. Sing of the Springwater Warrows who, though assailed by a Horde, delayed the advance until those who had survived the initial onslaught could reach the safety of Blackwood. Sing of those Warrows who died at the fall of Caer Lindor, the result of the Rivermen's treachery. Sing of Farly and Nix and Linnet and Alver and Dinly, heroes no less than any here."

As Tipperton fell silent, Riatha reached over her shoulder and drew the jade-handled sword from the green scabbard harnessed across her back and held it on high, its dark blade glinting as of starlight captured within. "Hal to the resolute Waerlinga, wherever they may be."

Silverleaf raised up his white-bone longbow, and Aravan hefted his crystal-bladed, black-hafted spear, and together with Riatha they cried, Hal to the resolute Waerlinga, wherever they may be!

While Alver and Dinly grinned, and Nix and Farly and Linnet looked at one another and shrugged, and Beau and Rynna and Tipperton sighed in resignation, elsewhere in the camp, Baeron and Dylvana and Lian and Dwarves turned at this call, and many nodded in agreement or raised a cup in salute.

Urged onward by Volki, the DelfLord impatient to get under way, by dawn the column was again moving southeasterly along the wold above the banks of the wide River Argon.

Nine days altogether they followed this route, the waterway to their right, the Greatwood to their left, the leaves turning russet and brown and cascading to the ground in these early days of November.

And on the eve of the ninth day they came to the northern reach of the Glave Hills, the northern reach of Pellar.

"How far is there left to go?" asked Dinly.

Tip looked at his map. "We've come nearly halfway, I'd judge: five hundred miles, altogether, with another five hundred to go."

Beau counted up on his fingers. "And we've been on the way for, let me see, twenty-eight days, I make it. So, that would put us in Caer Pendwyr, when?Ah, eight days into December?"

Linnet nodded, adding, "Two days after Elwydd's moon passes the next first quarter, then it is we should see the city."

"If nothing untoward happens ere then," said Rynna.

"What could happen?" asked Alver.

Rynna shrugged. "I've come to realize that Dame Fortune is quite fickle."

A silence fell among the Warrows.

Finally, Beau said, "I say, did you take note of Lady Riatha's sword, what with its dark blade and all, sparkling like stars trapped within."

"Perhaps it's one of those tokens of power," said Tipperton.

"Like Aravan's spear?" asked Rynna.

"That's a token of power?" asked Dinly. "I mean, I saw it had a crystal blade and a black haft, but I didn't think it, um, special."

"Oh, it's very special," said Rynna. "A dark crystal bound by argent silveron to an ebon staff. When I asked him about it, he would only say that it had a truename."

Dinly frowned. "Truename?"

"Aye. A word which invokes its power."

"Power?"

"It, um, burns when it touches flesh; I have seen it do such in battle… in the days before Caer Lindor fell."

Dinly sucked in a breath between his teeth and whispered, "Magic," as Tipperton said, "Oh my."

Beau's gaze fell upon the saddlebags where his red journal was stored. "Wizard's work, eh?"

Rynna turned up a hand. "He did not say."

Beau frowned, then said, "I wonder if Lady Riatha's sword or Silverleaf's white bow have truenames, and if so, what do you think they might do if and when invoked?" Warrows looked at one another, yet none had an answer.

The next day as the column fared southerly, nearly six hundred Baeron emerged from the hills to join the march. They were those who had assembled in the south of the Greatwood and had waited to rendezvous with their brethren from the north. They fell in with Urel's group.

South went the column and south, the wagons and horses and ponies… and a thousand Dylvana, eight hundred Lian, twelve hundred Dwarves, twenty-two hundred Baeron, and eight Warrows, yielding altogether a total count of five thousand two hundred… and eight.

South-southwest they fared down the western reach of the Glaves, and on the evening of the fourth day of travel they came at last to the Plains of Pellar.

"Four hundred miles to go," said Tipperton, glancing up from his map and across the fire at Bwen. "From here the way should ease a bit."

Bwen wetted a finger and held it up in the wind and glanced up at the dark clouds scudding northeasterly across the full of the moon. She shook her head and said, "Not if the wind is bringing with it the November rains to come."

Braec grunted his agreement and then said, "Pray that it snows instead."

The rain began falling in the night, and by morning the ground was thoroughly soaked. Even so, Bwen spread the wagons wide in a long line such that none followed in the track of another. The vanguard was divided in twain: one to ride at the west end of the wagons, the other at the east. The main body of riders came behind the wagons, for as Bwen said, "I'll not have you out there in front churning up the good earth for my wheels to fall in."

Only the scouts were allowed to lead, and then only after Bwen lost the argument with Chieftain Durul.

Even so, the wains mired often, but the spare great horses of the Baeron swiftly pulled them free.

For two more days it rained off and on, the air damp with icy November chill, but the following morn dawned clear. Still the land was soft, and so, spread widely, south they went and south for days, the land drying as they fared, and on the fifth day Bwen declared that once more they could roll as a column, and on southward they went. And as they rode, Dinly said to Beau, "I see what you meant."

Frowning in puzzlement, Beau looked at Dinly.

"About travelling over half the world," clarified Dinly, gesturing at the wide featureless plain, nought but yellow grass and scrub and occasional stands of trees for as far as the eye could see. "I mean, could anything be duller than riding and camping and riding and camping and riding and camping and doing it for days on end? I mean, we hardly need to go out on near-scout; you can practically see everything there is to see without setting foot from here."

Beau looked out across the gently rolling land and nodded and said, "Still, Dinly, I'd rather have dull than war."

Linnet looked across at her buccaran and grinned. "With you, love, I think nothing will ever be dull. Peaceful, perhaps, but never dull."

Farther back in the column Rynna sighed, and Tipperton looked over at her. "Ryn?"

"Oh, I was just thinking: every step we take is but one more step farther away from Lark."

As Tipperton nodded, Rynna added, "Just one more reason Modru deserves to die… he and all of his ilk… Gyphon included."

A fortnight in all the march fared across the Plains of Pellar, striking for Caer Pendwyr, and in all that time though they covered mile after mile nothing seemed to change. Yet on the fifteenth day…

"Look rightward, Tipperton."

On patrol, Tipperton and Lyra, as expected, had come upon Pendwyr Road.

Tipperton looked up from the tradeway and toward the northwest, where a league or so hence-"Riders," said Tip, "and not just a few."

"A column," said Lyra.

"Coming to answer the King's call?"

Lyra did not respond, but instead shaded her eyes and peered at the oncoming force.

Tip glanced back northeasterly, where out on the plains fared his own column. "Shall we ride back and warn-"

"Nay, Tipperton. Those coming along Pendwyr Road are Elves."

"Elves? But how can you-? Oh, right. Elven eagle eyes."

"They bear a banner: green on grey."

"Green on grey… Arden Vale! Let's go meet them."

Lyra shook her head. "They will be here soon enough."

"Well, if we're not going to meet them, then this." Tipperton raised his black-oxen horn to his lips and blew a ringing blast.

Long moments later and made faint by the distance, from the road northwest there returned a clarion cry.

That one to be followed by a third horn cry, this one from the plains to the northeast.

Lyra looked back toward their own column, then laughed.

"What?" said Tip.

"Thy call," said Lyra. "Weapons ready, the vanguard comes at haste."

Across the plains at a dead run came flying the Elven horses, with the ponies of the Dwarves and the great thundering mounts of the Baeron galloping after.

"Oops," said Tip, looking at his horn.

Ruar called out, "Hai, but it was good to run at last."

Both Urel and Durul patted the necks of their great horses and nodded in agreement, while DelfLord Volki growled.

Tipperton tried to look anywhere but at those staring down at him, including Rynna, giggling, along with laughing Beau.

Silverleaf grinned. "What say, Tipperton, that thou and I go to greet my cousins from Arden Vale?"

Tipperton looked up at Lyra, and she shrugged, then nodded.

The buccan leaped upon his pony and he and Vanidar spurred away, but ere they had gone more than a few loping strides, Tipperton looked over his shoulder at those behind and raised his black-oxen horn to his lips and blew another blast.

On the road aft the milling vanguard erupted in ringing cheers, while DelfLord Volki growled again, though his face broke into a smile.

Led by Alor Talarin, the force of Lian from Arden Vale numbered four hundred strong. And he merged his tally with the larger column, raising the whole of the combined legion to five thousand six hundred… and eight.

And though there were two chieftains and two corons and a Dwarven DelfLord among the host thus formed, and a Warrow commander as well, it was Silverleaf elected warleader.

Along Pendwyr Road they fared, heading for the distant city, Tip and Beau renewing acquaintances, among whom were Darai Alaria, Aris, and Jaith, and Alori Arandar, In-arion, Duron, and Flandrena.

When they camped that night, Aris and Jaith came unto the Warrow campfire. And Aris embraced Beau and said how wonderful it was for him to have found a cure for the plague, and they spoke of herbs and simples long into the night. And Jaith had brought a small harp, and she sat with Tipperton and they played and sang many tunes, Rynna and her pennywhistle joining in now and again.

And Linnet drew Rynna aside and whispered in her ear, and Rynna grinned and said for her to fear not, "… These are but old friends, my cousin, and though your mate and mine seem at times unaware of others about, 'tis you whom Beau will hold this night just as Tip will surely hold me."

Four days later, on the eve of the second of December, the column came unto the last of the empty plains below the city of Caer Pendwyr.

"Hmm," mused Rynna, frowning, "I would have expected more than just our legion to have answered the High King's call."

"Maybe we are the first," said Tip, though his heart was heavy with doubt.

Rynna nodded, but then added, "And maybe we are the last. We'll find out soon enough."

Even as she said so, emissaries came riding downslope from the headland above, and within two candlemarks, as the Warrows were rubbing down their ponies, a Dylvana rider came galloping, to stop at the Warrow campsite. "Warleader Vanidar requests thy presence, Commander Rynna."

"Silverleaf wants me now?"

"Aye," replied the rider, "and with thy pony." Without further word he spurred his horse and galloped onward.

Rynna looked at Tipperton as she cast a saddle blanket on the back of her steed and said, "Duty calls, love."

As the legion made camp on the plains, Silverleaf took with him six representatives-Corons Eiron and Ruar, Chieftains Urel and Durul, DelfLord Volki, and Commander Rynna-and up the slope and into the city they rode to confer with the steward there.

"We've come all this way just to find out he's not here?" asked Dinly.

"What good is a High King's call if he won't stay put?" growled Alver.

"I was afraid of this when I saw we were the only ones here," said Farly. "-Our legion, that is."

"Wull, if he's not here," asked Dinly, "just where is he?"

"Hush," said Nix, suppressing a yawn. "Let Rynna speak."

Overhead cold stars wheeled through the wee hours of the morning. Silverleaf and the others had returned late, and Rynna had awakened the Warrows to hear what had befallen.

And now as Rynna added another stick to the fire, she said, "The King's steward, Lord Voren, says Blaine is east of here, some seven hundred miles, along the Ironwater River."

"Oh no," groaned Dinly, looking at Beau. "Another half the world away. I don't, uh, I…"

Rynna glared Dinly to silence. "He pursued the Souther-lings from Gunarring Gap to there. They fled before the King and his host-those who broke the siege at the gap.

"East they ran, did the foe, the King close after: across Valon and over the Argon River they fled; across Pellar; and over the Ironwater, where they now stand.

"And the King holds on this side of the river, for the enemy wards the opposite shore, and to try to cross in the face of the foe is nought but begging for death."

"Oi, now wait a moment," said Farly. "They made no opposition at the Argon?"

Rynna shook her head. "The very same question I asked, Farly, but Lord Voren said no."

"Yet now they ward the Ironwater?" asked Farly. "Less wide, less formidable than the Argon?"

"Indeed," replied Rynna.

"Why there and not the Argon?" asked Tip.

"Voren thinks it's because H?l's Crucible is at their backs, and it daunts them to think of fleeing across that wasteland dire."

Tip flipped through his maps and frowned. "Well, Lord Voren is right about that. -I mean, H?l's Crucible is just beyond the Ironwater."

"Does the King have a plan?" asked Nix.

"Aye," replied Rynna. "Blaine believes the foe will soon have no choice but to abandon warding the opposite shore. Since they cannot live off that barren land, and with little in the way of supplies and nought but H?l's Crucible at their backs, the King simply waits, rather like a siege, only this time 'tis the foe held at bay."

Beau sighed. "I suppose we've got a long ride ahead of us; as Dinly says, another half a world away."

Rynna grinned and shook her head. "No, Beau, not this time."

Linnet frowned at Rynna. "No? Are we just going to sit here?"

"That's what I'd like to know, too," chimed in Nix. "Are we to abandon the High King? Leave him deadlocked with the foe?"

"On the contrary," said Rynna. "You see, Silverleaf has a plan."