Into the fire

Chapter 36

In all it took five more days to off-load the horses and ponies and warriors and wains and supplies from the ships. And all the time the chill wind blew from Garia, yet no snow flew on its wings, though the sky was laden with heavy clouds and a foul stench rode on the air, smelling of sulfer and slag and bearing an iron tang like that of fresh-spilled blood.

" Tis the smell of H?l's Crucible, or so I am told," said Talar on the morn of the first day, the Elf standing at the ship's taffrail and watching the off-loading.

"No wonder the foe facing King Blaine refuse to retreat any farther," said Dinly, his nose wrinkled in disgust, "what with that reek awaiting them."

" 'Tis more than just a mere reek, wee one," said Riatha, leaning on the railing at her brother's side.

"More than a reek?"

"Aye. 'Tis the smell of death shouldst thou become ensnared within those foul vapors with no clean air to breathe."

"Oh my," said Dinly, turning to Rynna. As she nodded in agreement, Dinly added, "I must have fallen asleep when you told us of that."

"Come on, bucco," said Nix, gesturing at a nearby great coil of rope, "sit with me and I'll tell you again what Ryn said, but you must promise me you'll remain awake this time."

As the two buccen moved away, the others turned to watch as another huge, weltering craft was maneuvered to the crumbling stone dock.

Finally all the ships were unladed, but even so each horse or pony had to wait a full day after reaching dry land to overcome the effects of the wallowing ships, for as Wag-onleader Bwen amid her curses said, "There is something about boats which steeds do not like, and a day or so is needed for them to regain the touch of their hooves."

It was on the morn of this sixth day of the new year as the last of the off-loaded horses and ponies rested and regained their hooves that Aravan and an escort took up mounts unladed in the days before and rode away. Northwesterly up the Sea Road they went along the banks of the Ironwater and toward the High King's camp some thirty leagues hence. There they would tell King Blaine that all was ready for the plan to go forth.

And still the Fjordlander and Jutlander Dragonships rode at anchor, their platforms yet mounted thwartwise wale to wale. Yet on the morrow the swift craft would weigh anchor and sail a half mile north to the mouth of the river and turn northwesterly and in, heading upstream for the chosen place.

On the morrow as well, would Silverleaf's legion ride along the Sea Road to the rendezvous point.

But this night in the abandoned port city of Adeo would Silverleaf's legion wait.

In the middle of the night Beau startled awake, sitting up with a jolt. Beside him Linnet stirred and opened her eyes. "What is it, love?" she asked.

"I dunno," said Beau, looking about the encampment, with its low-banked fires and shadowy shapes scattered among the abandoned structures. "I thought I heard…"

Beau lay back down. "Hullo, there it is again."

"What?"

"Put your ear to the earth, love."

Linnet's eyes widened as she laid her head down and listened to the ground. From within there came a faint, deep knelling, rhythmic, patterned, as if someone were delving… or signalling.

Beau raised up on one elbow. "Do you know if there are any Groaning Stones about?"

Without taking her ear from the ground, Linnet said, "This is not a Stone talking. It sounds more like- Oh my, it's gone."

Beau pressed his own ear to the earth and listened a moment to the uneasy silence of the land, then said, "Well, it wasn't the drum of running hooves either, for I've heard them in the ground, and they sound more like a thudding than this did." Beau frowned and then cocked an eyebrow. "I say, you don't suppose someone's digging a tunnel, do you?"

Linnet stood. "Let's get Rynna and go talk with Delf-Lord Volki. He would know the sound of delving."

"It had a cadence, you say?"

"Yes, DelfLord," replied Linnet.

"And it was a deep knelling and not a tapping?"

Linnet nodded.

Volki turned to Bragga and Helki, two of his Chakka counsellors and said, "Utruni," his word a statement, not a question.

They both nodded in agreement.

Linnet looked at Beau, her eyes wide. "Stone Giants?"

Volki grunted. "Aye, Stone Giants… for what you have described is what we call Utruni signalling. It is much like hammer-signalling through stone-"

"Hammer-signalling?" asked Rynna, Tip at her side.

"Aye. We Chakka often signal each other by hammer tapping on stone, though in this case I deem it to be Stone Giants sending the messages. We at times hear the knells sounding within the stone of our Chakkaholts."

"Can you read these signals of theirs?" asked Tipperton.

Regretfully, Volki shook his head.

"But why are they here?" asked Linnet.

"There is no guarantee they are nearby," said Bragga, running a hand through his black hair. "Utruni signals can come from afar, carried league upon league by the living stone below."

Volki nodded, his dark eyes casting back gleams in the firelight. "Some tell that the knells of Stone Giants can sound across the whole of the world."

Tip sighed and looked at Beau. "I was hoping that they'd come to help."

Helki stroked his grey beard. "Ah, would that it were, for it is said that evil flees when the Earthmasters are nigh."

Beau frowned. "Earthmasters? Utruni? Stone Giants?"

Helki nodded.

"Let's hope that evil does flee, then," said Beau.

Helki shrugged. "It may be nought but an eld Chakias' tale."

Rynna frowned and glanced at Tip. "Old wives' tale," he supplied.

Rynna's eyes flashed with ire and she turned on Helki. "Eld Chakias' tale, indeed. Hear the words of this old wife, Lord Helki, and heed: many a tale has a basis in fact, told by old wives or not."

Helki held up his hands in surrender as Volki broke out in loud laughter. Finally, Volki mastered his humor and said to Rynna, "Ah, commander, are you certain you are not a Chakian in disguise?"

Of a sudden the storm left her eyes, and Rynna grinned. "From what Tip tells me, I'm too short, though perhaps not by much."

"Ah, but just as wonderfully beautiful," said Tip.

Volki started, as did Helki and Bragga, and a stern look came over Volki's face and he said, "Chak-Sol Tipperton, we do not speak of such."

Tipperton frowned in puzzlement and glanced at Rynna, but nodded in assent.

A momentary uncomfortable silence followed, broken by Beau, who yawned, then said, "Well, Stone Giants or not, for me it's bed."

Volki nodded. "Indeed, we all need rest, for we ride on the morrow at dawn."

"But what about the Utruni?" asked Linnet.

Volki turned up his hands. "What would you have us do, Lady Linnet?"

Linnet looked at Beau and then Rynna and Tip. "Well… uh… hmm. I suppose there is nothing we can do one way or another."

Volki grinned. "Exactly so."

At last dawn came on this the seventh day of the new year, and the Dragonships raised sails and set out for the mouth of the Ironwater, and the column of warriors mounted up to ride, Dwarves and Warrows on their ponies, Elves on fiery steeds, and Baeron on their massive horses of war, Bwen and her wagons coming last of all.

Northwesterly they fared up the tradeway known as the Sea Road, a route with one end anchored at the harbor of Adeo and the other terminus at Dael in Riamon, with the city of Rhondor at the far end of H?l's Crucible nought but the first port of call.

Northwesterly they went and northwesterly, at a leisurely gait, the fleet of Dragonships now riding upstream alongside, keeping pace, Elven scouts on their fiery steeds riding far to the flank and fore and rear. And although Commander Rynna had objected, saying that her Warrow scouts should be out as well, Silverleaf had pointed out that- unlike the hill country of the opposite shore-the terrain on this side of the river was relatively flat, where fleet horses would serve best. And so the Warrows rode their ponies among the Dwarven host.

All day they maintained the deliberate pace, and when evening fell they had ridden some twenty-five miles altogether-halfway to their goal.

The Dragonships pulled into the southern shore and the legion made camp for the night.

And still a chill wind blew out of Garia, pushing grey clouds overhead.

Again at dawn they rode northwesterly, and when evening fell they had reached the point on the Ironwater chosen by Silverleaf and Aravan weeks past, for here the riverbanks rose up steeply some eight feet or so on either side, and the river itself flowed gently a thousand or so feet wide.

By hooded lanterns and stealth in the night, the first of the Dragonships-a Jutlander craft-drew parallel to the shore and moored at the nearside upjutting bank, and the upper platform was eased out to meet the land, the great wooden screws set to hold it fast to the platform aboard the ship, while at the landward end capped piles were driven through the holes and into the earth to anchor all to the shore. Then a second Dragonship-a Fjordlander- was moored alongside the first, and its upper platform slid out and fixed between, bridging from ship to ship, the heavy wooden screws holding it fast. The third Dragonship-a Jutlander-drew alongside the second, and once again the upper platform was fixed to span across. And so it went into the night, Fjordlanders and Jutlanders alternating craft and plying oars against the gentle flow of the current to anchor a boat-length or so upstream and then pay out the mooring line to ease back and set the ship in place, with Dragonship after Dragonship positioning alongside one another and platform after platform bridging the gaps between.

Long did the Warrows watch, but then Rynna commanded that they all get some rest. "Remember, sometime in darkness ere the dawn, we will ride across, for there's twisting hill country beyond, where once again we will scout, and I would have a rested 'army' of worth rather than exhausted Warrows of burden."

And so, they took to their bedrolls, sleep coming quickly, and none of the Warrows heard the faint knelling deep within the earth, though Volki and his advisors did. They looked at one another and nodded in agreement-it was Utruni signalling indeed.

Just after mid of night the final ship-a Fjordlander craft-was drawn into place, and an extra platform was brought forward and anchored to the land of the far bank by capped pilings driven deeply.

In all it had taken thirty-six Dragonships and seventy-three platforms to span from shore to shore, eighteen of them Jutlander craft, eighteen Fjordlander. The remaining Dragonships rode at anchor, ready to fill in should there be a need. And in the dark of the night, Fjordlanders and Jutlanders stood on the far bank, gripping their axes and their sharp-spiked, round wooden shields, warding the foothold in enemy territory even as the legion rode by the light of hooded lanterns across the Dragonship pontoon bridge and to the opposite shore.

First crossed Dylvana and Lian, able to see in darkness better than Dwarves or Warrows or men, the Elves on their fiery steeds, swords unsheathed, spears abristle, bows nocked with arrows in hand, some Guardians in gleaming breastplate, but most in nought but leather.

Following the Elves came the Dwarves on their ponies, armed with crossbows and axes and war hammers at the ready, and armored in black-iron chain mail, with black-iron helms on their heads. They would set a perimeter ward inside that of the Elves. And across with them rode the Warrows.

Then came the Baeron on their massive horses, the huge men with their maces and morning stars and flails, and they began riding across to take up a perimeter ward with the others.

And by this time it was dawn, and Warrows and Elven scouts rode into the jagged hills beyond.

Yet just as the last of the Baeron started across, there sounded from the hills ahead a resonant horn cry, and over a craggy mound came Tipperton flying, his black-oxen horn sounding the alarm. From other points came ponies at a gallop, Warrows crouching low, Elves riding behind.

And in the hills aft there sounded flat horns blowing and thousands of voices yawling-Rakkal Rakka!-and over the crests and down came charging afoot a flood of sun-darkened men dressed in black on black-pantaloons and quilted vests and brants overrobes and turbans with shawls flying out behind. Like a dark tide they ran down the slopes, howling and brandishing scimitars and tabar axes and short spears, dhals and sipars in hand, the small, round shields painted black, a clenched crimson fist centermost. Down they hurtled, some sounding the charge with trumps made of rams' horns while others waved red flags, each crimson banner marked with a clenched left fist of black. And howling Rakka! Rakka! Rakka!… they raised their weapons to strike as they rushed toward the defenders below.

In through the perimeter flew the Warrows, Elven scouts behind. The Baeron, yet mounted upon their massive horses, drew together at the ready and Urel and Durul called out to Silverleaf, yet what they said, Tipperton haling his pony to a halt did not hear.

And Dwarves and Lian and Dylvana, and Jutlanders and Fjordlanders braced for the onslaught.

Even as the Fists of Rakka charged down onto the flats, a sleet of arrows and crossbow bolts flew from the legion to hurtle into oncoming foe, sun-darkened men falling, pierced through, but undaunted the enemy came on. Another hail flew forth, and more of the foe fell, but still the men of Thyra and Sarain and Hurn shouted their war cries and plunged on. Silverleaf signalled to Larana and she blew her bugle, and the Baeron, now in formation, spurred their horses forward, the massive chargers flying in a wide wedge through the perimeter and toward the oncoming enemy, Elves and Dwarves and Fjordlanders and Jutes afoot running after the great galloping steeds.

And with clash and clang and shouts of Adon! and El-wydd! and Garlon! and Fyrra! and Rakka! the two armies collided, the great horses of the Baeron smashing into and through and over the ranks of the foe, though riders and horses were felled, brought down by spear and axe and blade.

Swords rived, axes hewed, spears pierced, mace and flail and hammer smashed and crushed. Blood and viscera and bone and brain flew wide, amid cries and shrieks and shouts of rage.

And from the rear flew arrows and sling bullets, sent winging by the Warrows now afoot. And everywhere they flew, enemies fell, yet there were only eight of the Wee Folk and myriad of the foe.

Though the Baeron on their horses had smashed through the enemy and beyond, still the Allies were outnumbered and were hurled back. Hindward they reeled, back toward the bridgehead, their perimeter growing ever shorter as they drew in toward the span. And the wee Warrows fell back and back, yet winging deadly slings and arrows. But then they had to cease: the perimeter became too crowded with allies for buccen and dammen to safely loose missiles past. Yet as the legion fell back, the tighter became the perimeter, the more difficult to break through, and the enemy's advance slowed and slowed, though the fierce struggle went on.

From the rear of the foe the Baeron again formed up and charged, and smashed into the enemy ranks, laying death about with their maces and flails and hammers, shattering skulls and arms, crushing necks, smashing ribs, and the horses flailed about with deadly hooves and trampled on any who fell.

Dwarven axes hewed, hammers bashed, and men fell screaming, and Fjordlander and Jutlander axes hewed as well, the spiked, round shields slamming into men to pierce the enemy through.

Elven spears stabbed over the heads of the Dwarves to take the enemy down, and gleaming Elven long-knives and swords-keen beyond reckoning, especially one of dark sil-veron-cut through sipar and dhal to hew flesh and blood and bone, arms and hands and heads flying wide, viscera spilling out.

Yet so, too, did the blades of the Fists of Rakka hew, tabars and scimitars and spears hacking and hewing and piercing. Dwarves fell, men, too, along with Elves cut down, and Tipperton and Beau and Rynna and Linnet wept to see such slaughter, as did Farly and Nix and Alver and Dinly, the Warrows ineffective now that they couldn't loose arrow or bullet at all.

And still the sun-darkened men drove inward, the Allies pressed back and back, some to come in among the gathered horses and ponies of Elf and Dwarf and Warrow. The steeds squealed and milled in fright, though some of the Elven horses lashed out with hoof and laid about with teeth, striking among the enemy, though now and again the one attacked was an ally instead.

"If we can get to ponies," shouted Tipperton, "we can lead steeds across the bridge and out of harm's way."

"You heard him," called Rynna. "Find a pony to ride." Warrows sprang forward and darted and dodged down among milling horses and horselings and fighting men and Dwarves and Elves, and they caught up ponies and leapt astride. But even as the Warrows did so, among the Allies came racing black-robed foe, a wedge of the enemy plunging for the bridge, lit oil lanterns in hand.

"They're going to burn the bridge!" shouted Tipperton, spurring forward, but only Beau and Alver heard him, those two buccen galloping after.

Even as he rode, Tipperton strung an arrow to bow, and he felled one of the Fists of Rakka, as a sling bullet took another in the back of the head, crashing into skull and brain, the black-robed man to tumble, his lantern smashing on the ground, flaming oil bursting outward.

Tipperton loosed a second arrow, and another man fell dead, even as Alver's shaft slammed into the back of yet one more. But, staggering, the arrow-struck man turned and triggered his heavy crossbow-"Alver, look out!" cried Tipperton-the bolt to crash into Alver's chest and knock him over the rear cantle to crash unto the ground, his pony to run on without him.

Tipperton screamed in rage and nocked an arrow, but it was Beau's sling bullet that hammered into the man's eye and slew him.

Now the remaining men hurled their lanterns toward the bridge, some to smash onto wooden platforms, others to crash into Dragonships, still others missing altogether to plummet into the water below.

Though not burning with the intensity of Dwarven liquid fire, still oil was aflame on the span and in two of the boats below, and black-robed men stood athwart the path.

As Tipperton flew another arrow into the Fists of Rakka, from the far shore and westward there came a resonant horn cry, and the buccan turned to see -riders galloping, thousands of riders in the near distance, men and Elves racing along the Sea Road from the west, and in the lead rode Aravan and a redheaded warrior in scarlet-and-gold armor as well as a warrior with a white horsehair gaud flying out behind, and a host coming after.

"Aravan! Linde!" Tipperton cried, and he raised his own black-oxen horn to his lips and blew a ringing blast, and it was answered by Linde's pealing horn. And athwart the bridge the black-robed men quailed back to hear such a sound. And they turned to see the oncoming host, and fled back toward their own.

As Beau dismounted and ran to Alver, Tipperton pursued the fleeing burn squad and felled man after man, and now he was joined in the slaughter by Rynna and Linnet and Farly and Nix and Dinly, all winging arrows into the running men, and not a one survived.

Yet still the battle raged at the fore, Baeron and Fjordlanders and Jutlanders and Elves and Dwarves all crushing and slashing and hacking and piercing and felling black-robed men. But the Fists of Rakka gave as good as they got and slaughtered allies in turn.

But then from beyond the crest of the hills there sounded the cry of rams' horns, and at this signal the enemy struggled to break free, fighting to get clear of the melee. And Silverleaf signalled to Larana, and she blew the call to disengage, and men and Elves backed away in response, though Larana had to sound the call several times ere the Dwarves relinquished the fight.

And even as they disengaged, thundering across the bridge and through the flames came Aravan and Linde and the redheaded man in scarlet and gold, the host riding after.

And still the Fists of Rakka fled the field.

Again the legion flew arrows and bolts into the fleeing enemy, the Warrows' shafts quite deadly, as were the arrows cast from Silverleaf s white-bone bow.

"My Lord High King," cried Silverleaf as Aravan and Linde and the redheaded man came riding nigh, "shall we pursue?"

Tipperton's mouth fell open. So this is King Blaine, at last!

He saw a slender man perhaps in his fifties, his hair flaming red, his eyes a grim steel-blue. He looked to be some six feet tall, though mounted on a horse as he was it was difficult to say. He was accoutered in scarlet-and-gold armor, and a golden griffin was embossed on his crimson shield, and gripped in his hand was a scarlet morning star.

"Nay, Vanidar, for the enemy pacing us on this side of the Ironwater is not far behind."

The enemy on this side? Tipperton looked at Rynna and mouthed [The Southerlings?]

She nodded in agreement.

And still the High King's host thundered across the bridge and through the fire, even as Fjordlanders and Jutes sought to extinguish the flames.

"Then, my lord, we should take up arms and make ready to meet them at last," said Silverleaf.

"Aye, Vanidar, do prepare. And while I deploy the host as it comes across this splendid bridge of yours, send scouts to see to the foe's whereabouts."

"We stand ready, my lord," said Rynna.

Turning to see who had spoken, "Waerlings!" called the King, his eyes widening, seeing the Wee Folk for the first time.

Linde and Aravan turned as well, and Linde said, "Ho, Sir Tipperton, I thought I recognized your horn."

The King's eyes widened again. "Sir Tipperton? The one who aided in the liberation of Mineholt North and delivered the coin to Agron?"

Tipperton nodded but added, "With Beau and Phais and Loric and Bekki, my lord, as well as with a host of others."

"And did you not aid Mage Imongar to slay the Gargon?"

" 'Twas her hand loosed the spear, my lord. I did but little to aid."

The High King smiled and said, " 'Tis not the way she tells it, Sir Tipperton, but regardless, well done." Then his eye took in the other Warrows, and he turned to Silverleaf. "These are your scouts, Lord Vanidar? I could not ask for better."

"Nay, thou couldst not," called a voice, and Tipperton looked up to see Phais and Loric riding nigh. The Dara and Alor leapt down and embraced the wee Warrow, and looked upon Rynna in wonder, for she had been said to be slain.

Yet war has little time for reunions, and ere other than mere greetings could be said "Aye, my lord," replied Silverleaf, "the Waerlinga are indeed worthy scouts, yet in this task I deem swift horses are needed rather than quick ponies."

Nix started to protest, but Rynna silenced him with a glance and said, "Nevertheless, Alor Vanidar, though Hyree and Kistan and Chabba come along the river, still someone needs keep track of the Fists of Rakka, and they fled into the twisting ways of the hills yon, and who better than we Warrows to keep pace with them therein?"

Silverleaf inclined his head. "So be it, Commander Rynna, send thy scouts after. Yet heed: as to thee, I would have thee remain in camp, for should we get the chance ere the foe arrives, a council of captains must needs be called."

Rynna's face fell, yet she nodded her agreement and turned to the other Warrows. "Tipperton, take Linnet with you. Nix, you ride with Dinly. Farly will take- I say, where is Alver?"

"He's dead," said Beau, just then coming in among the Warrows. "Slain by crossbow bolt."

Tipperton's heart plunged. I had forgotten entirely. Oh, Alver, Alver.

Tears welled in Rynna's eyes, and she angrily wiped them away.

"I can ride with Farly," said Beau.

Rynna shook her head. "No, Beau, you will need be here to help with the wounded. Farly will go with Nix and Dinly. Nix, ride west of Tipperton and-"

"But what about Alver?" asked Dinly. "Are we to just leave him lying while we ride off to-"

"I'll see that he's-" Beau began -but Rynna said, "This is war, Dinly. Remember Springwater, and know we cannot hope to escape unscathed. There have been and may yet be times when we can do nought but ride away from the dead… or even from the wounded. For you this is one of those times."

Dinly sighed and reluctantly nodded.

Rynna looked at the ground and then said, "Replenish your quivers and take that which is needed to scout. Dinly, you will ride back and report as soon as there is aught of significance to recount."

Tipperton stepped to Rynna and kissed her gently, then turned to Linnet as she embraced Beau. "Let's go."

Linnet kissed her own buccaran and hugged Rynna, then strode off with Tip toward the supply wagons on the far shore, Dinly, Nix, and Farly following.

And so, even as Elven scouts-Darai Vail and Arylin, Alori Flandrena and Elon-set forth along the shoreline upstream, Tipperton and Linnet and Farly and Dinly took to the craggy hills, while behind, Rynna and Beau stood and watched them ride over the crests and beyond.

And still the High King's host poured across the bridge, their numbers forty thousand in all. Even riding swiftly and in pairs, it would take until sundown and perhaps past for the full of the army to reach the eastern shore.

Last to cross would be a brigade of Red Hills Dwarves, their ponies having been outstripped in the race down the Ironwater to the Dragonboat bridge. Even so, even though no enemy was in sight, still DelfLord Okar and his fierce band stood ready to fight.

Even as the King's army crossed the span to take up positions to await the coming of the Lakh of Hyree and the Rovers of Kistan and the Askars of Chabba, the wounded members of Silverleaf s legion were borne to a place where Beau and other healers could tend the stricken. Later, after the King's host had all crossed the bridge, then the wounded would be carried to the far side of the Ironwater to be tended there, the worst of them to be carted down to the port of Adeo and laded aboard the ships.

A count of the wounded and dead was taken, and altogether the Fists of Rakka had slain over nine hundred warriors in Silverleaf's legion: two hundred fifty-six Baeron, one hundred forty-three Lian, one hundred twenty-eight Dylvana, one hundred forty-four Dwarves, one hundred ninety-seven Fjordlanders, one hundred eighty-two Jutes… and one Warrow. Another eighteen hundred or so allies had suffered grievous wounds and would no longer engage in battle in the near days to come.

As to the black-robed men, altogether twelve hundred had been slain outright, and another three thousand had been felled with deep wounds, and they lay afield and moaned in agony and called out in a strange tongue. These latter were questioned by the King's men, but even though suffering dreadful injury they yielded no useful information, for although hissing in distress, still they called upon Rakka to strike these infidels down and to grant themselves a glorious death in the service of Rakka, for by doing so they would win an eternal place beyond the sky in the paradise of Janni.

And whelmed as they were by wounded allies, Beau and Melor and Aris and the other healers had time to tend only their own; the injured foe would have to wait.

"Why did they disengage?"

Vanidar looked 'round the hastily called captains' council-all captains having been summoned across the bridge to advise the King. Vanidar's gaze slid past DelfLord and coron and chieftain and skipskaptein and kapitan and field marshal and the like, and past Mage Farrin and High King Blaine himself to finally settle on Commander Rynna, for 'twas she who had asked. "A mystery that," said Silverleaf,

"and I know not why they withdrew, for they had us outnumbered, and were driving us back and ever back." Sil-verleaf turned to King Blaine. "I deem they could have won the bridgehead and destroyed the way across ere you, my lord, arrived. Yet they withdrew, regardless."

"A tight fist is harder to crush than a loosely clasped one," growled DelfLord Volki. "And we were becoming a tight fist. Regardless, though, they would not have broken through the Chakka at the bridgehead itself."

Across the circle, DelfLord Okar clenched a fist in agreement.

"Perhaps thou art right, Lord Volki," replied Coron Ruar, "yet I, too, deem it a mystery they did not smash on through and tear down the bridge."

Volki snorted but otherwise did not reply.

"They did try to burn the bridge," said Rynna.

"It was but a small oil fire, neh?" asked Farrin, representing the Mages. At Rynna's nod, he added, "Not likely to have caused much damage unless it had been let burn."

Coron Eiron said, "I agree, but they withdrew ere then. Nay, I deem the Fists of Rakka made only a minor effort to take the bridge from us ere they ran unto the hills."

"Tell that to my slain warriors," gritted Chieftain Urel, the great Baeran scowling.

"That the Fists of Rakka were even in these hills came as a surprise," said King Blaine, "for I thought them in Alban still. Could they have marched across Garia and then H?l's Crucible and by happenstance have been here?"

Those in council looked at one another, but none had an answer.

"That the Fists of Rakka were at this place-or even that they ran-is not the only mystery here," declared Field Marshal Burke, the leader of the men of Wellen, as he peered northwesterly through the glum day. "Where are the Hyrinians and Kistanians and Chabbains? Shouldn't they have come by now?"

All eyes turned to King Blaine. "We must needs wait on the scouts to report back."

"Even though the Fists of Rakka have withdrawn, and even though the Lakh and Rovers and the Askars are yet to arrive, still much of the day remains," said Chieftain Durul, "and so we must expect an attack. Too, in the night there is every chance they will try to take the bridge, either to use it themselves or to destroy it outright."

King Blaine nodded and gestured at the riders yet crossing the bridge. "Aye, but when my host is finally across, the foe will not find it easy to win through forty thousand men."

Silverleaf smiled at Okar's remark and added, "Thy numbers are grown beyond that, my lord, for the legion I command is at your hest as well."

Volki growled and said, "Forty thousand men? Men? You forget, King Blaine, in addition to men, Chakka and Dylvana and Lian and Baeron serve as well."

Rynna glared at Volki, and he quickly added, "Waer-ans, too."

DelfLord Okar said, "And the Chakka of the Red Hills, who have been with you since Gunnaring Gap, several Lian from there also."

"And Magekind," said Farrin. "Our numbers are small, but you must add us in."

King Blaine laughed and threw up his hands. "I stand corrected by each and every one of you, for all Free Folk serve"-his eye singled out Rynna-"Waerlings not the least. Aye, the foe will not find it easy to win past us to the bridge."

"Perhaps not aland, my lord," said Skipskaptein Arnson, leader of the Fjordlanders, "but there is yet the water. I deem we should set craft upstream and down, for the enemy may try to swim the river and hole the hulls or send down floats afire."

"Ja," replied Kapitan Dolf. "The upstream side guard we will. The side downstream yours to guard it will be."

Arnson glared at the Jutlander, but nodded in agreement.

Blaine canted his head in assent. "That settled, the rest will be according to plan, lest someone has a new tactic to discuss."

Farrin cleared his throat. "This wind, my lord, I remind you: it has the taint of darkness."

Rynna's eyes widened. Taint of darkness? Oh my.

Silverleaf spoke: "Modru?"

Farrin shook his head. "I know not, for Modru and I have never crossed paths."

"Know you yet what it means?" asked the King.

Farcin shook his head. "If it is Modru, then mayhap a storm is brewing, but I cannot be certain."

Blaine frowned. "Then there's nought we can do until we face whatever the wind may bring."

"Clearly, my lord, we can prepare for a blizzard," said Phais, looking back along the Sea Road, where a thousand supply wagons and their escort now trundled into view. "In yon train are spare warm garments and blankets for those who need such." She gestured at the hijls nearby. "And should a tempest come, yon crags will provide shelter of a sort."

"Agreed," said King Blaine. "My lords, make certain each warrior in your command is well prepared for a blizzard should one come riding on this tainted wind."

A murmur muttered about the council circle, but then Blaine held up his hand and asked, "Is there aught else we need discuss?"

Silence fell among the captains as the High King gazed to each and every one. When he looked at Volki, the Delf-Lord said, "We need deal with the dead; honor is due to each."

Silverleaf sighed. "Aye. Collect them on the far side of the river. But any honors due are to come after the fighting is done."

Volki nodded, as did they all, for in war the dead must wait for the living.

Even as the Dwarf agreed, a runner came to the circle. "Milord, a rider approaches!"

"Whereaway?" asked the King, standing.

"From the northwest along the river, this side."

"One of the scouts?"

"I know not, milord."

"Then we shall wait."

And still the King's army rode across the bridge.

Within moments Elon rode in among the host and was directed to the council. The Dylvana scout dismounted and said, "My lords, the Hyrinians, Kistanians, and Chabbains have turned northeasterly into the hills-"

Rynna's heart leapt to her throat. The hills are where my Tipperton is, and Linnet and Nix and Farly and Dinly.

"Toward H?l's Crucible?" interjected Captain Donal of Gelen, a frown on his ruddy face.

"Aye," replied Elon.

Arth of the Wilderland, leader of the remnant of the Beacontor muster, grunted in surprise and brushed back a stray lock of red hair from his youthful brow, then asked, "Scouts yet follow them?"

"Darai Vail and Arylin and Alor Flandrena yet shadow, but there is more to report: glad tidings."

"Glad tidings?" asked Silverleaf.

"Aye, for no more than two leagues hence, allies come along this side of the Ironwater: King Loden of Riamon and DelfLord Bekki of Mineholt North bring their forces to join with ours: nine hundred Drimma and some two thousand men."

"Hai!" called King Blaine. "Most welcome will they be."

"On this side of the river, you say?" asked Lugar of Trellinath.

Elon turned to the marshal, elderly yet hale. "They crossed at Rhondor to harass the foe and turn their attention away, hoping to give King Blaine's army a chance to cross over."

"Ha!" barked Kapitan Dolf. "Good it is that they did not, for as we have heard thirty thousand are the enemy, and fallen soon would have been the Riamoners and der Zwergs."

DelfLord Volki snorted, then muttered to Rynna at his side, "Pah! Bekki's nine hundred Chakka alone could have held the foe at bay while the King and his men crossed at their ease."

Rynna smiled briefly, but, fretting, wondering, her thoughts were upon Tipperton and the others…

"There they are," hissed Linnet, pointing.

Tipperton raised up to peer over the stony prominence. In the gorge below marched the Fists of Rakka, heading easterly.

Tip glanced at his sketch of the area, a sketch made long past at the map table of Coron Ruar, for when it was drawn, Tipperton did not know whence the war would take him, and so he had lightly traced all he could. Yet much detail was missing, and only the broadest outlines indicated what lay ahead.

"The only thing east is H?l's Crucible," he murmured. "But given what we have heard of that place, surely they couldn't be heading there."

"Perhaps they have no choice, now that the High King is on this side of the river," replied Linnet.

"Perhaps not," said Tipperton, folding his sketches back into their waterproof wrapping. "Do you see any sign of Nix and Farly and Dinly? We will need send word back."

Linnet shook her head.

And so they watched and waited, and some candlemarks later, they slipped back downslope and retrieved their ponies and rode eastward after the marchers as the day waned.

In the night nigh the bridgehead the cries and moaning among the wounded Fists of Rakka dwindled and dwindled to finally cease altogether, and Dwarves came back into camp and cleaned their knives of blood.

And still a cold wind blew from Garia and across the legion and host.