Into the fire

Chapter 35

The next morning the Warrows stood on the high northern bluffs of the headland and watched as a swift Fjordlander Dragonship set sail from the docks below. With spike-bearing, round wooden shields fixed at hand along its top wale and its square sail set by a beitass to catch at the wind, a crew of Human warriors with axes in their belts rowed the longship out of Hile Bay and toward the ocean beyond, soon to slip eastward through the indigo waters of the dark blue Avagon Sea. Amidships stood half a dozen horses separated one from the other by slender poles affixed thwartwise from wale to wale, and at the prow stood Vanidar, Aravan right behind, the warleader and his trusted advisor sailing away from the caer.

As they slid from sight 'round the shoulder of the headland, Rynna sighed and said, "Well, there they go, Sil-verleaf and Aravan, off to see King Blaine."

"Do you think his plan will really work?" asked Linnet. "-Using Dragonships for pontoons?"

"I don't see why not," said Nix. Then he pointed down at the long stone wharf. "Look, even now workers bear planks to the shipwrights below." On the jetty, men carted great loads of lumber toward the shipyard.

"Huah," grunted Beau. "Like a string of ants haling choice bits of fruit home to the hill."

"Well, as to the work these ants do, let us hope it bears sweet fruit as well," said Linnet.

"The fruit this will bear is more like to be bitter," said Rynna, "yet it is a crop we must harvest regardless."

Dinly yawned long and loud. "Oh my, but I don't think I got enough rest last night, and we rose ere the sun this day. And speaking of last night, Ryn, could you say again just how all this came about. I was rather sleepy, you know, and I think I may have missed something in the telling."

"Well, Dinly, speaking of getting up early, what say we have some breakfast, and Rynna can tell us then," said Beau. He looked at Linnet. "I could use a good wake-up cup of hot tea."

They stepped to their ponies and mounted and rode toward the camp, faring down the slope Silverleaf and his captains had ridden up the evening before…

Bearing the flags of Darda Galion, Darda Erynian, Arden Vale, and Kraggen-cor, seven rode away from the camp of the legion and toward Caer Pendwyr above-War-leader Vanidar, Corons Eiron and Ruar, Chieftains Urel and Durul, DelfLord Volki, and Commander Rynna. Rynna felt somewhat out of place, having no flag of her own, but neither did the Baeron, and they seemed no less for the lack. Up the long slope they rode, to come at last to a steep embankment, the earthworks stretching out left and right, spanning the width of the headland. In three places along the rampart there stood heavy-timbered, wooden gates: center left, center right, and midmost. And above the gates stood warders, sentries in red-and-gold tabards. Vanidar had chosen to ride to the center gate, and now he and the others paused below.

"We have come in answer to the High King's call," said Silverleaf to the warders above, "and Lord Steward Voren has summoned us unto council. I am Warleader Vanidar, Lian Guardian"-he gestured to those behind-"and these are those whose armies I serve."

Rynna's eyes widened. These are those whose armies he serves? Hmph! Eight Warrows. Some army.

"Welcome, my Lord Vanidar," called down the gate captain, "we were told to expect you"-his gaze widened at the sight of Rynna-"though not the Elfchild you bring."

Before Vanidar could respond, Rynna said, "No Elfchild am I, but the commander of the force of Warrows."

Now the captain's eyes widened, and he breathed, "Waerlings." Recovering, he turned and spoke a command to unseen soldiers below, and Rynna could hear the rumble of a drawbar being pulled.

Through the gateway they rode, and beyond the earthen dike were pitched row after row of tents, among which flew standards from poles, demarcating where soldiers from various lands were encamped.

Riding alongside Ruar, Rynna said, "I see most of the flags bear a golden griffin on a scarlet field."

" Tis Pellarion," replied the coron. "The High King's flag."

"Well, they greatly outnumber the others."

"As it should be," replied Ruar. "The remainder are but token forces, left here to show the unity of the Free Folk."

Riding at hand, Coron Eiron barked a laugh. At Rynna's inquiring look, he said, "I see that Lord Steward Voren has had the good sense to separate the Fjordlanders from the Jutlanders and from the Gelenders as well."

Rynna looked to where Eiron pointed: a blue-and-white streamer flew at one corner of the camp far to the right; while far to the left and diagonally across the whole of the ground flew a green, orange, and yellow banner; and entirely opposite at the third corner set a red, blue, and white flag.

Eiron shook his head. "Uneasy sits this truce, I would say."

"Truce?"

"Aye, for they are eld enemies but temporarily united against a common foe."

Ruar shook his head. "Humans."

Eiron cocked an eyebrow. "Forget not, Alor, we were once as mad as men."

Ruar reluctantly nodded, as across the encampment they rode.

They came to another wall, this one of stone and high, and once again were permitted entry through a warded gate, beyond which lay the city proper, with its cobblestone ways and buildings of stone and brick and tile, stucco and clay, most of which seemed to be joined to one another, though here and there were stand-alone structures. Narrow streets and alleyways twisted this way and that, the pave stones of variegated color. Shops occupied many first floors, with dwellings above. Glass windows displayed merchandise, the handiwork of crafters and artisans: milliners, coppersmiths, potters, jewelers, weavers, tanners, cobblers, coopers, clothiers, tailors, seamstresses, furniture makers, and the like.

Rynna's gaze widened at the sight of the many and varied shops, and more than one of each kind, for she had not dreamt that such could exist, so different from the village of Springwater. And onward they rode, Rynna's head turning this way and that, marvelling at the plentitude.

Footway traffic was light in the eve, and they saw only one horse-drawn wain trundling through the streets, and this a water wagon. And Eiron said, "Pendwyr is a city without wells, and water is borne from shafts and springs down on the Plains of Pellar."

"Doesn't that make the city vulnerable to siege?" asked Rynna.

Eiron shook his head. "See the tile roofs? They are fitted with gutters and channels cunningly wrought to guide rainwater into cisterns for storing. The water from the plains merely augments the supply."

"It must rain often, then," observed Rynna.

"Aye," said Eiron. "Seldom does the city need rely wholly upon water from the plains."

"What about water needed to quench fires? Have they enough to do so?"

Eiron laughed. "Look about, wee one. This is a city of stone and brick and other such… things which do not burn."

Rynna gazed 'round, and the only wood her eye easily found was that of the brightly painted doors and shutters.

Eiron then said, "After the Chabbains destroyed Gleeds by fire-and were themselves destroyed-High King Rolun moved his court to the fort on this headland. And thinking upon the city just lost, 'Never again,' he declared, and he decreed that all buildings in Pendwyr must be made of stone, of brick, of that which would not burn."

"So it was then; so it is now," said Volki with an air of finality, and on through the city they fared.

Past shops and stores, past restaurants and cafes and tea shops, past inns and taverns, past large dwellings and small squares, past greengrocers and chirurgeons and herbalists they rode. And they crossed through several open-market squares, empty now that the day was done.

Finally they came to another gateway in a high stone wall running the width of the narrow peninsula. Again, Vanidar identified himself to the warders, and again they were permitted ingress. Beyond this wall the character of the buildings changed, for here were located a great courthouse, a tax hall, a large building housing the city guard with a jail above, a firehouse, a library, a census building, a hall of records, a cluster of university buildings, and other such- here was the face of government, the agencies and offices of the realm. Although impressed by the scale of the buildings within this quarter, it seemed cold and cheerless to Rynna and not nearly as marvelous as the city behind.

And as they rode forward, Caer Pendwyr loomed ahead, the citadel tall with castellated walls all 'round and towers at each corner, all enclosing the castle of the High King. When she and the others drew near the caer, Rynna could see that it sat on a freestanding spire of stone towering up from the Avagon Sea below. The fortified pinnacle was connected to the headland by a pivot bridge, a span which could be swivelled aside by a crew in the castle to sever the fortress from the headland.

At the moment the bridge spanned the gulf, guards at either end.

They gave their names to a captain, and he summoned two pages, sending one to fetch Lord Voren to the north turret chamber and the other to guide them on their way.

They were led through corridors and up spiralling stairs to a room high within an outer turret, and although Rynna was thoroughly turned about, Volki declared that indeed they were in the north tower, the one overlooking Hile Bay.

No sooner had they arrived but the page who had been sent to fetch Lord Voren stepped to the door and breathlessly announced the steward's impending arrival. Moments later an elderly man came in-stooped in shoulder, but bright of eye-his head bald but for stray wisps of white hair all 'round.

"Come and sit about the table. No need to stand, eh?

And do my old eyes deceive me? Or is it a Waerling in your midst?"

The old man smiled at Rynna, and he beckoned her to a chair at his side. "Come, come, wee one, I would have you at hand."

"But my lord, I am just a Warrow amid corons and chieftains and a DelfLord and a warleader, and I-"

"Nonsense," snapped the man. "I see Elves and Dwarves and even huge Baeron nearly every day-well, perhaps not every day, but certainly several times a year-but Waer-lings, now, that's a different matter altogether. Besides, the page said you were a commander, and that's certainly good enough for me."

Silverleaf broke out in laughter. "Ah, little Ryn, resist not Lord Voren, for he has the right of it."

"Have you had aught to eat? No?" Voren turned to the page. "Boy, have food sent… and tea. On your way now, hop to."

As the page fled down the hallway, Voren turned to the others and said, "Now, about this army you bring…"

"How did the foe evade getting slaughtered as they came to the Argon?" asked Volki, the Dwarf stroking his black beard shot through with silver.

Voren pointed at the map at the point of the Argon Ferry. "Some were slain fighting a rearguard action, but most escaped. It seems they had floats waiting for them."

"Floats waiting?"

Lord Voren turned up a hand. "Perhaps they made them in anticipation of invading Pellar."

"They had not already done so? -Invaded Pellar, I mean?" asked Rynna.

Voren shook his head. "Oh, they sent token forces, but nothing of real threat." Voren gestured about. "It seems instead of capturing his city, they were more intent on capturing the King himself."

Rynna frowned. "Capturing?"

Voren nodded. "If the High King fell into the hands of Modru, 'twould be a terrible blow. But he outwitted them all and sent the foe fleeing across the Argon."

A scowl on his face, Volki nodded. "And how did the King cross in the teeth of their opposition?"

"They did not oppose him-"

"They made no opposition at the Argon?" interjected Rynna.

"-but fled instead," continued Lord Voren, "abandoning their floats and craft."

"Abandoning? They did not burn them?" Coron Eiron looked 'round at the others, all just as puzzled as he.

"Nay, they did not. King Blaine sent a company of Fjordlanders over and they fetched the floats and used them to ferry the host across. Even so, it took several days to get all to this side, to get all to the Pellarion shore. By then the foe had a good lead, and they fled across the land and over the Ironwater to Garia beyond."

"The King did not trap them against the near shore of that river either?" asked Durul.

Voren shook his head. "Nay. They were across when he arrived… and were arrayed to do battle on the opposite shore."

"Hmm," mused Ruar. "They did not oppose him at the Argon, a wider river to cross, yet they now do so at the Ironwater. This is a puzzle indeed."

"Aye," growled Volki. "The Ironwater is no Argon: a thousand feet across at most is the Ironwater, while the Argon alongside Pellar measures a mile or more."

"Forget not, Lord Ruar, DelfLord Volki, H?l's Crucible is at their backs. King Blaine believes they are afraid to cross that wasteland. He holds them at siege."

"This H?l's Crucible," said Rynna, "if they are afraid to cross it, just what is it like?"

"Oh, a terrible place, wee one," said Voren. "Look at the map, but heed me, for this is what it does and does not tell: surrounded by hills and separated from the Avagon Sea by a high shield wall, H?l's Crucible is a hideous rift in the earth, ten leagues wide and forty long and some thousand feet deep here at the narrow seaward end but plunging down a mile or more here where it flares out wide, a vast chasm running all the way to the northwesterly end. In most places the sides are sheer or bear steeply down; in a few places, however, slopes lead down and in. Nothing grows in the depths therein, for the land is hot, baked, cracked as if raging fire burns 'neath. And down across that broad, yawning stretch of arid wasteland, there are leagues upon leagues of jagged black stone, broken, shattered, deep chasms and great heaps and long, jumbled runs, gaping crevices and holes disappearing into darkness within the mesh of stone. Were any to try to cross these parts of the shattered waste it would take them weeks to go but a few leagues, and even could they reach the opposite side, their clothing, their boots, their very skin would be in tatters. Beyond the black stone, there are places here and there where scalding water now and then snoots into the sky, and elsewhere are holes which vomit yellow melt onto wide flats of soft tawny stone. There are long, glittering ridges of clusters of crystal sharp as the sharpest of blades, as well as jagged fissures exhaling foul fumes and glowing with fire deep in their unplumbed abyssal depths. Across the 'scape, bubbling pools of boiling mud or thick, seeping black tar seek to trap the unwary, while smoldering crevices cleft in the barren earth spew out billowing smoke, black or yellow or grey. A hideous stench wafts over all. And some days the air is deadly down in the great rift, for the belch of foul smoke and tainted vapors fill low pockets within the basin-at times H?l's Crucible entire-to thicken the air and kill all creatures therein, men included. For all these reasons and more, this is why Modru's armies fear to cross that land."

Volki cleared his throat and pointed to the place on the map where lay the city of Rhondor at the northwestern end of the rift. "Nevertheless, there are days when the wind blows the great cleft and its pockets sufficiently clear for the miners of Rhondor to quarry the worthy minerals within: white foran, yellow siarka, many-colored solas-"

"They are not afraid of the deadly air?" asked Rynna.

Volki shook his head. "Just as we Chakka do in some of our mines, they too bear yellow-wings in cages to warn them of such. And the ores and rocks and crystals of Rhondor are of value dear."

Rynna looked across at the Dwarf. "Regardless as to the worth of what is mined therein, it sounds as if it is a hideous place to be, yellow-wings or no."

"Aye, little one, you have the right of it," said Voren, "and that's why the foe stands at siege."

"I take it the King has no floats at hand," said Urel.

"A few, chieftain, yet Blaine will not use them in that small number, for to throw his host a handful at a time against a waiting foe guarantees nought but defeat, and he will not do so. Hence, for the moment, he holds siege on this side, for there is no food where the enemy awaits, and their supplies are running low."

Silverleaf, who had been standing at the high window and looking down into the harbor below, turned about and said, "If he could win across with few losses, would King Blaine engage the foe?"

"Indeed, Lord Vanidar, he would."

Silverleaf smiled and said, "Well then, if thou wilt but lend me all thy shipwrights and all thy lumber and a few warriors from the host at camp before thy door, I have a plan."

"… And so, that's how it came about," concluded Rynna. "Silverleaf explained his plan, and all the others embellished on it, and then I came and told you."

She looked about at the others and took a sip of tea.

"And a good plan it is," said Alver. "Right, Dinly?"

But that buccan-the one who had requested Rynna to retell the events of the meeting-that buccan, full of warm breakfast fare, had nodded off to sleep.

A sevenday passed and then another, yet Silverleaf and Aravan had not reappeared, and the army on the plains merely waited. The shipyards, however, were a hive of activity, the wrights working throughout the nights as well as the days: fifty of the Dragonships were measured and fitted thwartwise with wide, raftlike sections of heavy planks pinned to the underbracing, to span across from topwale to topwale and jut a yard beyond either side. Other raftlike sections of braced planking were made freestanding and later guided down atop those on the ships, where they were held in place by great wooden screws fitted through wide auger holes.

Too, sixteen of the huge Gothonian ships were made ready for sailing, the crews of the chosen vessels glad of something to do.

And even though not engaged in this work, the time fled swiftly for the Warrows, for on each of these days, by their commander's leave, they explored the city of Pendwyr, marvelling over the wonder of it all, Rynna herself in their midst. Never had they seen such a vast array of shops and dwellings, of inns and hostels, of places of goods and crafts. Even so, many of the businesses were but lightly staffed, and some were closed altogether. "What with the blockade and the burning of the ships in Arbalin," had explained Beth, a serving maid at the Red Moon, "it's the war and all. You should see it when peace is at hand and goods and people come in from all over the world. Now it's mostly soldiers and mariners, and a rowdy bunch at that, especially if Fjordlanders and Jutlanders happen to find one another in the same saloon."

"We have heard they do not get along," said Rynna.

"Not get along is putting it mildly, miss. If it weren't for the city watch, it'd come to murther, if you ask me. Though I am glad they are here, they need something to do beside stand ward at the city."

Rynna smiled to herself and looked at Tipperton, only to find him smiling, too. And then she said, "It's the war, all right, and I'd like to see the city in peacetime, when it is full to the brim. But tell me, Beth, what do you lack the most?"

"Oh, that's easy, miss: music. The playing of harps and flutes and lutes and drums. And the singing of songs. With war raging across the land, minstrels and bards are hard to come by, most having joined in the fight."

That night, the seventh after Silverleaf's army had arrived, and for the next nine nights as well, the Red Moon was filled with song, Tipperton and Rynna and Jaith and dark-haired Elissan playing and singing melodies-lute, pennywhistle, harp, and timbrel-ringing out the tunes.

And the inn was crowded with warriors, come to hear them play. And not a fight broke out on any of these nights, the soldiers at times singing along. Even Fjordlanders and Jutlanders caroled together, though from opposite sides of the room, Gelenders between joining in.

During one of the pauses for rest, as Tipperton and Beau quaffed an ale at the bar, Jaith and Rynna and Elissan huddled together at a table and now and again burst into laughter. And when Tipperton returned to the stage, and took up his lute, Rynna with her pennywhistle stepped to his side and said, "Keeping secrets, eh, of a certain bath in Arden vale?"

As Tip blushed furiously and glanced at Elissan, Rynna played the opening notes of "The Maiden and the Lad," and those in the tavern laughed and applauded at the familiar refrain. The buccan caught up with the song in the middle of the first chorus as the audience sang along.

Three days later a page came riding into the encampment, seeking Commander Rynna among others, and he handed her an invitation for the morrow night. Rynna called the Warrows together. "We are invited by Lord Steward Voren to a Winterday feast at the caer to celebrate Year's Long Night."

Dinly grinned. "Your entire Warrow army?"

Rynna laughed and nodded and said, "My entire War-row army."

Linnet's face fell. "Oh, but I was hoping to join Beau and watch the Dwarves in their mid-of-night Winterday celebration to Elwydd. I mean, though I am not Chak-Sol as is Beau, when DelfLord Volki noted I was an adherent of Elwydd he granted me permission to do so. I would not care to miss it."

Tip frowned. "And I was hoping that you and I, Rynna, could step the turn of the seasons with the Dylvana and Lian at midnight as well."

"Wull, me now, I'd like to join the feast at the caer," said Nix, Dinly and Alver and Farly all nodding their agreement.

Rynna smiled and held up the invitation. "Fear not, for Lord Voren writes that the banquet will be over in good time for all folk to worship Year's Long Night in their very own special ways."

In the evening candlemarks of Winterday, as snow fell upon the land, and Warrows and Lian and Dylvana and Baeron and Dwarves made their way to the caer, muted singing could be heard drifting down from dwellings above the shops and from taverns and inns and hostels. It was Winterday, the First of Yule, and in spite of the war, folk would celebrate. Even so, some dwellings were quiet, though'candles burned within, for those inside had lost kindred to battle, and this Yule was not happy for them.

Through the streets and past the second stone wall they rode, the looming facades of government staring coldly down as they fared by. Finally, across the swing-bridge they rode and into the courtyard beyond, where pages took charge of their mounts.

They were guided to a great banquet hall, a majordomo announcing the guests as they were ushered in. And as Rynna stepped forward, the majordomo called out, "Ladies and lords and honored guests, I present Commander Rynna Fenrush Thistledown and her entire army of Waerlings: Sir Tipperton Thistledown, Sir Beau Darby and Lady Linnet Fenrush Darby, Sir Nix Fenrush, Sir Farly Bourne, Sir Alver Bruk, and Sir Dinly Rill."

A murmur went 'round the chamber as Rynna and Tipperton, followed by the others, trod down three steps to the main floor, for though they were dressed in their very best leathers, still the Warrows seemed more like wee creatures of the woodlands than warriors of renown. With banquet tables ringed 'round the perimeter, the central space of the hall was open, and across the wide marble floor they fared toward the place reserved for them. All eyes were upon the Warrows as they made their way past, for as Lord Voren had said, seldom did Waerlings come unto the High King's court. At the table they found their chairs sitting on blocks, raising the seats to a comfortable height for ones of their modest stature. Even so, like small children, they had to clamber up to take unto their places, much to the amusement of the other guests and to the embarrassment of the staff who had presumably thought of everything, though it was clear they had not. Still the Warrows seemed completely unfazed at having to climb up the chairs, happily chattering among themselves as they settled in.

The feast was well under way, when the great hall doors boomed open, conversation falling to nought, the majordomo rushing in to hammer the floor with his long staff and announce these late arrivals. But ere the words could leave the herald's lips, Rynna cried out, "Silverleaf, Ara-van, you are back," as the two Lian strode across the wide vestibule and down the steps to the main floor.

"Lord Vanidar and Lord Aravan," announced the house steward, rapping his stave to the floor, but his words were lost in the babble of greetings.

Shaking snow from his cloak, Silverleaf strode to the central floor, and there he raised his hands. When silence fell, he said, "High King Blaine is well and sends his greetings and good wishes on this Winterday."

As this news was met with a resounding cheer, Rynna caught Aravan's eye.

[Our plan?] she mouthed silently.

He nodded.

Rynna turned to Tip and the others and grinned and said in Twyll, [Ready your slings and arrows, my entire Warrow army, for the King has agreed to the scheme.]

Across the sea in ships they sailed, an army of eight thousand six hundred and eight. And among the flotilla were fifty Dragonships, twenty-five of which were crewed by Fjordlanders, the remaining twenty-five by Jutes, three thousand warriors altogether, who would leave their ships upon the Ironwater and stand ward against the foe. All of the longboats bore the raftlike planking, more than enough altogether to carry out Silverleaf's plan.

As to the remaining five thousand six hundred and eight warriors, they were spread among the sixteen huge Gothon-ian ships, their horses and ponies as well, including the spare mounts and draft animals, and the wagons and wains, too.

The huge ships themselves were nearly two hundred feet long stem to stern, and some sixty feet across at the beam. Each had five decks altogether, the top deck and four below. And of these four lower decks, three were primarily for horses and ponies and feed and water, though some wains and supplies were kept there as well; the remaining deck housed warriors and sailors and wagons and wains and supplies. When the huge ships had been loaded, four at a time they had been maneuvered by sail and by rowers in towing dinghies to come alongside the long, stone dock, and wide doors in the sides of the ships had been opened and long gangways run out. Up these great ramps the horses and ponies had been led by the warriors and into the rows of narrow stalls, as many as four hundred steeds in all, their number spread over the three horse decks, the associated warriors to be clustered into but one. Wagons and wains had then been towed up, and the warriors brought their goods last of all.

It took three days altogether to simply lade all ships with their complement of horses and ponies and warriors and wagons and supplies, but they sailed on the very next tide, just after sunrise the following day. And when they reached the waters of the Avagon Sea, easterly they turned, the swift Dragonships surrounding the wallowing Gothonian vessels as would paladins protect dowager queens.

A sevenday or so it would take them to reach the Iron-water, given a favorable wind. And so they fared easterly and easterly some more, to finally swing to the north, the goal of the great ships the port of Adeo just this side of the Ironwater, while the goal of the Dragonships lay beyond.

Three days they sailed through the blue waters of the Avagon Sea, the wind brisk and following and the weather holding fair. In the distance larboard of the fleet lay the coast of Pellar, the land slowly slipping hindward as the great ships and their escort plowed on. Often the Warrows would gather in the bow of their huge weltering craft and watch the dolphins glide through the pellucid blue waters 'neath.

In the afternoon of the fourth day out, they were joined at the bowsprit rail by Volki and Gildor and Riatha. For long moments all watched as the dolphins swam before and under and 'round the prow, now and again falling back to come leaping across the low ripples and waves pushed outward by the bow.

"Would that we could play as do they," said Linnet, her voice wistful.

"They know nought of war," said Volki.

Riatha looked at Volki. "But they do, DelfLord. -Know of war, that is."

"They do?" said Tipperton, his eyes widening.

Riatha smiled. "Indeed, for at times they do battle with sharks and other predators, especially when protecting their young. Ask Aravan; he knows."

Volki growled. "But they do not wield weapons and great engines of siege and other such. It is not as if sharks come knocking at their door, as did the Foul Folk knock at ours."

Rynna frowned. "How so, DelfLord?"

"With a great ram, they came, and battered for entry to Kraggen-cor."

Gildor raised an eyebrow. "Great ram?"

"Aye. Ogru-driven and under a shield of brass and iron cladding, on wheels it came, its iron head shaped like a mighty fist, mounted on the end of a massive wooden beam," replied Volki, clenching his left hand and thrusting it forward to demonstrate.

"Ai," groaned Gildor. "An evil thing is that ram. Whelm they call it, though I name it Vile."

"You know of it?" asked Tipperton.

Gildor nodded, as did Riatha, and Gildor said, "Many a gate has it sundered and many a city has fallen before its hard knock. Dark was the day long past when it tore through the gates of Duellin."

"It was on Atala, neh?" asked Tip.

Riatha nodded.

Tip glanced at Gildor, then back to Riatha. "Were you there when the ram tore through the gates?"

Riatha shook her head. "Nay. Though Rein, my mother, was"-Riatha touched the hilt of her jade-handled sword- "and she bore Dunamfs, the blade forged in Duellin by Dwynfor, the greatest swordsmith of all."

Volki grunted and nodded. "Even we Chakka hold Dwynfor to be the master of all bladesmiths."

"But what of Whelm and the gate?" asked Nix.

"And who attacked Duellin and why?" added Farly.

Riatha's silver-grey eyes darkened. " 'Twas Modru, his lackeys that is."

"I knew it," gritted Volki.

"Argh," growled Dinly. "Modru again. Someday someone will kill Modru, and that will be that."

Gildor shook his head. "Be not so certain, my friend, for monsters are always aborning… or are being fashioned by monsters of their own."

"Monsters or not," said Farly, looking at Riatha, "again I ask: why would Modru attack Duellin? Just out of pure spite?"

Riatha made a small negating gesture. "Although spite may have been part of it, it is not all. This is what my mother has said:

"Nigh the beginning of the First Era, Modru came unto Duellin to purchase blades from Dwynfor-axes, swords, lances, pikes, and the like-but Dwynfor would not craft him any, for even then Modru was among the shunned. And so Modru turned to other smiths, Gilian not the least, yet she nor any within the city would aid the Black Mage.

"Enraged and swearing vengeance, Modru sailed away. And some centuries later, there came the invasion of the isle by Spaunen and Rovers and men from far-off Jung. And among the engines they brought with them was Whelm.

"Boom! it knocked for entry, Boom! and Boom! and Boom! Driven by Trolls, at last the heavy gates of Duellin fell before the sinister fist.

"And the Rupt and Rovers and Jungarians poured through the breech.

"Hard-fought was the battle, every street, every building, every stride yielded in nought but furious struggle. Even so, the Spaunen and Kistanians and men of Jung slowly gained sway, for they far outnumbered the defenders of Duellin.

"And they hammered their way toward the armories of Dwynfor and Gilian and other bladesmiths of renown.

"Three-quarters of the city was lost ere the Lian of Darda Immer arrived, and together with the defenders of Duellin they hurled the invaders back into the sea.

"And they sailed away defeated and took the mighty fist with them.

"So says Rein, Lian Guardian of that time; so says Rein my mother."

Silence fell upon the gathering, broken only by the creak of rope and timber and the shssh of water along the hull. Finally Beau said, "Tell me, DelfLord Volki, did Whelm hammer down the doors of Drimmen-deeve?"

Volki shook his head. "Nay. Though battered to their limit, the great gates of daun yet stand."

"Ai," declared Gildor, "mighty are the workings of the Drimma to withstand such an evil token of power."

"Chakka cor," said Volki.

Rynna looked at Tipperton, her eyebrows raised. "Dwar-ven might," translated the buccan.

"Where is Whelm now?" asked Linnet. "Destroyed, I hope."

Volki shrugged. "I know not where lies Whelm, for the Squam took it away when they were routed. Yet when we caught up with them, Whelm was not at hand. I think it lies abandoned and lost among the crags of the Grimwalls."

Again they fell to silence, wind snapping the canvas above. But at last Gildor touched the hilts of his sword and long-knife and said, "Bale and Bane were forged in Duellin."

Riatha drew her jade-handled sword from its tooled green scabbard and said, "As was Dunamis." The shadowy blade glittered as if filled with stars.

Volki's eyes widened and he gasped, "Dark silveron! Your sword is made of dark silveron, Lady Riatha."

Beau looked at Tip in puzzlement and Tipperton shrugged, and Gildor, seeing the exchange, said, "Shadow starsilver is the rarest of all metals, my friends."

Volki nodded. "There are veins of starsilver in Kraggen-cor, and this is what Modru was after when he set siege on my realm."

"He wanted starsilver to forge his own blades?" asked Nix.

Volki turned up a hand. "After hearing the tale of his attempt at Duellin, it seems most likely, for no other metal yields such mighty weapons as does silveron, and silveron lies deep within my domain." Volki glanced with reverence at Riatha's blade, and added, "But only now and again do we find a nugget of the dark, and never any vein. Keep care of that weapon, my lady, for it is precious beyond all compare."

Riatha nodded and sheathed the blade.

Gildor sighed. "Alas, no more will Atalarian blades be forged in Duellin, for the isle is now gone into the sea."

After a moment Rynna asked, "Lady Riatha, was Talar the only one to escape?"

Riatha shook her head. "There were others, though precious few. Talar said he came across one in Gothan: Othran was his name, a Seer, a Mage. He was terribly damaged, yet refused aid, for he said he had a quest to fulfill and he was borne away east toward Rian. What was the quest, Othran did not say, and Talar did not know."

"My goodness," said Alver, "a quest, you say. I wonder how important it could have been to refuse aid and all."

Ere any could answer or speculate, orders were called out and sailors ran forth on the deck, unbelaying ropes and haling on them and swinging the yardarms around, all to a purpose-the changing of course-for they had finally rounded the Pellarion Cape and now swung north for the Ironwater.

The evening skies were dark with scudding clouds when the ships finally dropped anchor at the abandoned port of Adeo, its long stone pier crumbling in ruin, though it was sturdy enough for the task at hand. The Warrows stood adeck and watched as the first two great vessels were maneuvered to the dock, while a frigid wind blew steadily out of the north and east.

Standing nearby, Volki growled, "It is an ill wind which blows from Garia."

Beau took a deep breath. "You don't suppose it's Modru now, do you, raising a winter storm? They say he's master of the cold, you know."

Volki turned up his hands but otherwise did not reply.

And the Warrows all, they looked at the sky and shivered with a chill not born of the wind and drew their cloaks tightly 'round.

And still the raw wind blew, driving darkling clouds above.

It was Year's End Day, the last day of December, the last day of the two thousand one hundred ninety-eighth year of the Second Era of Mithgar. On the morrow their own ship would be haled to the dock, and their steeds and goods unladed… on the morrow, Year's Start Day, the first of January, two thousand one hundred ninety-nine, the very first day of the fifth deadly year of a great and terrible war.