Into the Forge

Chapter 30

"Kill them all." The words wrenched out of Tipperton, anguish and rage distorting the buccan's features as tears spilled down his face. "We've got to kill them all."

"What?" said Beau, his own eyes welling in grief. "Kill who?"

"All the Rucks, Hloks, all the Foul Folk, all the River-men, the Hyrinians, Chabbains, Kistani, Modru, Gyphon, all of them."

"But Tip-"

"No, Beau," sobbed Tipperton, wiping his nose on his sleeve, "no buts. We'll just go kill them, kill them all."

Phais knelt by the weeping Waerling and embraced him. He tried to push her away, yet she held him in spite of his resistance. And suddenly he clung to her and sobbed as if his world had come to an end. "Weep, my friend, weep," she whispered, stroking his hair.

Pulling his wits together, Beau wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. He looked at Ruar. "How-? When did this happen?"

"Down the Rissanin they came sneaking, did the Horde, along the border 'tween the Greatwood and Darda Erynian, to eliminate this thorn in their side. And last night Caer Lindor was betrayed, sentries slain by traitors inside, by Rivermen, and the west gate flung wide unto the Horde massed and hidden among the bordering trees of the Great-wood. Into the bailey they rushed and swarmed up to the battlements, seizing nearly all before the defenders mustered. Valiantly they fought, yet they were o'erwhelmed, and so Silverleaf led the battle to the east gate, for the Horde yet swarmed inward through the west. With a handful he held it until those who were not already slain could escape, their numbers but few. Silverleaf was among the last to leave, and he bears the wounds to show it, or so the Groaning Stones relay. The Horde did not pursue, but instead stood on the walls and jeered, and even now Trolls ply hammers and mauls and rams to destroy the battlements from within. Caer Lindor will be a ruin ere another day has passed."

"And the Warrows?"

Ruar shook his head. "All were slain in the taking of the gate to win free."

Silence fell but for Tipperton's soft weeping. Yet at last Beau drew in a great shuddering breath. "Does this mean our plans are changed? That we'll be marching south instead of north? That we'll engage the Horde at Caer Lindor instead of the Swarm besieging Mineholt North?"

"Nay, Beau," replied Ruar. "Our mission is north and east, and-"

"No," gritted Tipperton, choking back his sobs and pushing free of Phais. "We should go south, not north, and throw these vile ones down."

Ruar shook his head. "Nay, Tipperton, for the Horde has bitten off more than it can chew. The Hidden Ones are enraged that the Foul Folk have encroached upon the Greatwood and stand on the borders of Darda Erynian, and even now the muster is underway: Fox Riders, Living Mounds, Groaning Stones, Vred Tres, Sprygt, Tomte, Ande-Fey and Peri of all kind. Modru will rue the day he sent Foul Folk into their domain."

With fire in his eye, Tipperton looked up at the Coron. "Then I would go with them and slay these killers."

Ruar shook his head. "Thou hast a promise to fulfill."

Crying "To Neddra with this worthless coin!" Tipperton jerked the thong at his neck, snapping the leather in two, and threw token and all across the chamber, the coin to strike the wall and land with a faint ching. "I will avenge my Rynna."

His eyes wide, Beau stepped toward the coin as Phais said, "Thou must not take on the mantle of the Foul Folk, Tipperton, and become as one of them, with nought but hatred filling thy heart."

"But I want them dead," gritted Tip.

Loric squatted and looked at Tip level in the eye. "The Fey will see that just retribution is extracted."

As Beau took up the coin and broken strand, Tip stared back at Loric but said nought.

Loric took Tip by the shoulders. "This will I say: seldom do the Hidden Ones rise up as one, yet when they do, nothing can stay their hand within the margins of their domain."

"Then why don't they march on Modru?"

Loric shook his head and released the buccan. "Given their history, given the wrongs done to them in the past, they would avoid all contact with outsiders, avoid acting upon aught that does not directly overstep the boundaries they have set."

Beau retied the broken leather and bore thong and coin back across the room and held it out to Tipperton.

Tip struck at the offering but missed, for Beau twitched it aside.

Again Beau held it forth.

Tip pushed it away, saying, "Oh, Beau, can't you see that this has changed everything?"

Beau shook his head. "No it hasn't, Tip, not one whit."

Tip looked at him, anguish filling his gaze, and he turned up his hands in silent query.

Beau peered down at the coin and then back at Tipperton. "Let me ask you this, Tip: if it were you who had fallen instead of Rynna, would you expect her to abandon her command, to abandon her post, to set aside her sworn mission, and come to avenge your death?"

"But I didn't die," cried Tipperton.

"No you didn't, Tip, but she did, and that's a cruel fact. But this is a fact, too: she would expect no less of you than you would expect of her. She had a mission she kept to the end; you have a mission yet to fulfill. What would she ask of you?"

Again Beau held out the coin.

Tip looked down at the floor and then directly into Beau's eyes, sapphire meeting amber.

Again Beau said, "What would she ask of you?"

With a sob Tip reached out and took the coin. He looked at it long moments; then drawing a deep breath, he turned to Ruar. "I will fulfill my promise to a dead Kings-man, Coron Ruar, yet hear me: on this mission to Mineholt North, I would be a scout, and when it comes to battle, I would ride among the warriors and take as much revenge upon the Foul Folk as battle will allow."

Ruar raised an eyebrow. "I have heard it said that Waerlinga make the best of scouts."

Tipperton knelt upon one knee and held out the coin and thong to Ruar. "Then accept my service, Coron of the Dylvana."

The Coron took the offering and slipped it over the Waerling's bowed head. "Rise, Sir Tipperton, for so do I accept thy terms and count thee as scout and warrior among mine host."

With single-minded intensity, Tip began fletching arrows to fit his draw, and he urged Beau to go to the Elven forge and cast lead bullets for his sling. But Beau had pledged to Ruar his healing skills for the mission to Mine-holt North, and the buccan spent his days foraging for herbs and roots and leaves of mint and whatever else he could find that he could strip and peel and dry and grind to stock his medical supplies.

And whenever Beau went afield he was accompanied by Alor Melor, a slender Dylvana, some five foot two in height, with russet-colored hair and amber eyes. As Beau had said to Ruar, "I don't fancy being out there in the woods all alone with the Hidden Ones about. I mean, even though you say they are to be trusted, still, if one of them didn't get the word that Beau Darby was a friend, well then, Beau Darby just might come up among the missing."

Ruar had laughed but nevertheless had called to Melor and asked him to accompany Beau on the buccan's jaunts into the woods.

Melor himself was a healer, though he did carry a spear and seemed quite adept in its use, for when Beau had asked Melor to show him the way of such a weapon, Melor had demonstrated:

" 'Tis known as one of the great weapons," said Melor, flourishing the spear. "Thou canst stab with it-hai!-or use its blade as a cutting weapon-uwah!-nigh as well as a sword, though I must admit it has a long helve for such. Too, thou canst wield it in place of a quarterstaff-an e da!-or as a lance ahorse-cha! Lastly, thou canst cast it at a foe"-Melor hurled the weapon and spitted a shock of hay-"yet I would not advise flinging any weapon away except if no other choice presents itself."

"Huah," exclaimed Beau, "here all along I thought a spear was for throwing and little else."

"Nay, my friend"-Melor drew the spear from the hay and brushed stray stems from the blade-"that is the last of its uses."

Together Melor and Beau ranged far and wide across the glades and among the trees, and down in the fens as well. And Beau soon had his medicks well stocked, for Melor was an excellent herbalist and guide.

Tipperton, on the other hand, when he wasn't fletching, spent candlemarks at the target field, honing his already superb skill into one even the Elves admired.

And in the evenings he attended meetings held just for the scouts-poring over maps and listening to detailed descriptions of nearly every inch of the terrain 'tween here and there.

As days eked past, Tip's woe turned inward, and his eyes held an anguish deep… yet there, too, burned a simmering fire of rage. During the days he managed to set aside his heartache and devote his attention to preparing for war. Yet at night, at night, and alone in his bed, did grief in the darkness come sit at his side and fill the world entire.

At last, a fortnight and a day after the four had come to Bircehyll, Tip and Beau, Phais and Loric, along with the Elven host, they all set forth in a long cavalcade, astride horses-but for two ponies-with pack animals and spare mounts drawn behind.

They were heading for a rendezvous point some hundred miles away as the raven flies-longer by the route they would take-and ten days from now the Baeron were scheduled to come. As to the place they would meet, it was a clearing along the Landover Road, a principal east-west tradeway, anchored at one end at the high point of Crestan Pass in the Grimwalls and threading eastward through Darda Erynian and Riamon and Garia and Aralan and onward to lands far beyond.

And so, north they rode up through the heart of Darda Erynian, the cavalcade moving slowly among the thickset trees.

"I say," murmured Beau as they fared 'round the perimeter of an open glade, "did you notice, Tip, no shadows flickering out along our flanks?"

"Shadows?"

"Yar. When we first rode through these woods to Caer Lindor and then on to Bircehyll, it seemed that just beyond the corners of my vision there were flickers of movement, but each time I tried to see what was what, all I saw were shadows."

"Hmm. Perhaps that's all it was: shadows… shifting shadows."

Beau shook his head. "Me, I think it was Hidden Ones dogging our passage."

"And they're not doing it now?"

"Nar. They're all gone down south to deal with the Horde."

At this reminder Tip's eyes brimmed, and he and Beau rode onward another league or so in silence. But then out of the clear blue Beau added, "That, or they don't think we need watching, what with a whole Elven army at our beck."

"What are you saying, Beau: that the Hidden Ones were protecting us before?"

"Wull, from what Phais and Loric and Ruar have said, perhaps they are a bit more friendly than I thought." Beau threw up a quick hand of denial. "Oh, not that I think they're to be taken lightly-oh, no, I still believe they're as dangerous as can be-but with Phais and Loric along and showing no concern over the fact that we were in Black-wood, mayhap th- Oh, my goodness, I just remembered."

"What?"

"My dream. The one where Phais was talking to a shadow as a red fox stood by. Perhaps it wasn't a dream after all."

Tip rode onward, considering, yet ere he came to any conclusions, word was passed back chain that Ruar would have the remaining scouts up front to receive their assignments, and all thoughts of Hidden Ones flew from the buccan's mind as he spurred his pony forward.

Tipperton was paired with a scout named Vail, and together they rode out on the left flank, the buccan following the Dylvana, for she knew how to avoid the dwelling places of the Hidden Ones.

"We would not want to disturb them," said Vail, smiling, a sparkle in her dark blue eyes.

At four foot six, Vail was the tiniest Elf Tipperton had yet seen, though she towered over him by just short of a full four hands, fourteen inches in all. She was dressed in varying shades of green, including the dark leather band that held her black hair back from her face. Her feet were shod in soft boots, their leather also dyed a deep green. Like Tip, her weapon of choice was a bow, though a long-knife was girted at her waist.

Together, Tip on his gelded brown pony, Vail on a black and white palfrey mare, they roamed the woodlands out of sight of the main host.

Now and again Vail would stop and lean over to look at tracks, at times dismounting. In these places Tipperton would dismount as well, and together they would examine the spoor.

"Hast thou hunted a bit?" asked Vail as they examined a rather large track pressed into the soft earth.

"Coneys mostly," said Tip, "and marmots, though now and again I'd try for a pheasant or two."

Vail nodded, then pointed at the print. "This is a bear's track, likely black and likely a female if full grown, for were it younger, 'twould not be placed so firmly. Too, 'tis fresh-within this day-the edges mark it so. And see the spacing of this print from the next and the one after? It was walking cautiously. Mayhap a boar bear was nearby. And see this turned-up leaf…?"

And thus did Tipperton's education in tracking begin, and in the next days Vail took every opportunity to instruct him, including the tracking of the scouts preceding them on the fore left flank of the host.

In early morn some seven days after leaving Bircehyll, the cavalcade reached the clearing along the south side of Landover Road, a field commonly used as an overnight respite by merchant caravans passing through Darda Erynian. Yet even though the merchants used this ground, they did not stay overlong, for crowding 'round was Black-wood, a place of dire repute. Elsewhere along this route caravans camped on the road itself until they were free of this sinister place.

Yet when the Elven host arrived, a hundred or so wains were drawn up in the mead. And standing by were the wagoners: huge men and great strapping women, Baeron all, most of the males nearly seven feet tall, the females a hand or so shorter.

"Lor', but look at those monsters," said Beau.

"Monsters?" asked Melon Beau pointed. "Have you ever seen any so big?"

Off to one side and confined in simple rope pens were the large, powerful draft horses used to pull the wains, the dark brown animals fully eighteen hands high, each having white, feathered hair on its fetlocks.

Melor laughed. "Ah, Beau, at first I thought you meant the Baeron."

Beau grinned and said, "Well, they're mighty big, too." Then added, "I say, let's go see what's in the wagons." And leading the Elf, the buccan headed off into the rows of wains of the caravan, hence did not see Tipperton and Vail as they came into the clearing and dismounted.

After signaling for Dylvana pickets to take up ward, and seeing to the encampment of his host, Ruar sought out the Baeron leader and was directed to a redheaded woman named Bwen, who simply towered over the Coron. Together they called a small council of Baeron and Dylvana.

And Tipperton watched from a distance as the group conferred. After a while and much discussion, Ruar turned and spoke to Eilor, leader of the Dylvana scouts. And Eilor rose to his feet and stepped from the circle, his eye seeking and finding. In all he called four outriders together: Tipperton, Vail, Elon, and Lyra.

"Many of the Baeron are battling foe in the Grimwall, yet sundry of the clans will join us to break the siege at Mineholt North. There are yet three days ere the Baeron are due, time enough with remounts to ride the length of the Landover Road east and west to the margins of Darda Erynian and look for aught untoward. Vail, Tipperton, ye shall ride west unto the Rimmen Road Ford; with Tipper-ton's light weight, I deem four horses in all should suffice. Elon, Lyra, run east to the Landover Gape at the Rimmen Ring; thy goal lies more distant, yet we will ride that way when the remainder of the Baeron arrive, hence we will meet ye along the way; even so, I ask that ye twain take three remounts each should ye need a swift return ere then. All of ye, take care as ye approach these ends, for they are each just beyond the bounds of the darda, hence not subject to the protection of the Hidden Ones. -Be there aught ye would ask?"

Vail looked at Tipperton and he shook his head, and both Elon and Lyra merely shrugged, and so they moved toward the herd of spare mounts to choose the horses they would take.

"Is there enough time for me to find Beau?" asked Tip, trotting at Vail's side.

"A candlemark or so."

Tip scanned about. "I think I saw him at one of the wagons, somewhere over there."

"Go then. I'll meet thee at the road."

Tipperton turned on his heel and hurried toward the parked wains. Yet there were a hundred or so of the vehicles, and though Tip swiftly ranged among the rows he didn't see Beau. Yet just as he was about to give up- "Hiyo, Tip," came a call.

Beau stood in the back of one of the covered wagons, this a hospital wain, Melor at his side.

"Isn't it grand, Tip?" said Beau, gesturing toward the interior of the wagon. "They've herbs and simples and all, and medicks I've never seen."

As Tip trotted to the wagon, he reached for the thong about his neck. "Beau, I'm off to the west, scouting, and I'd feel better if you'd keep the coin… just in case."

Beau took a deep breath and blew it out, then reached down for the token. As Tip handed it over, Beau said, "Listen, bucco, I really don't think the coin any safer with me than with you. In fact, I'd feel better if you kept it 'round your own neck, for with it reminding you there's a mission to do, well, I think it more likely you'll be less rash."

"Oh, Beau-"

"Don't give me that 'Oh, Beau' look. I'll keep it this time, but once we're underway from this place and toward Mineholt North, it's yours and yours alone to give over to Agron, and that's that."

Tip turned up both hands, then said, "Thanks, Beau." And without another word trotted off toward the road.

Fretting, Beau watched him go, then turned to Melon "D'y' suppose he'll be more likely to take care of himself if he thinks he's the one who has to deliver the coin?"

Just as Tip reached the road, so too came the three Elven scouts, and within moments they set forth, Elon and Lyra riding east, Vail and Tipperton running west, she upon her own light and easy-gaited horse, the buccan upon one of the three remounts tethered behind.

In midafternoon Vail and Tip reached the edge of Darda Erynian some forty-three miles away, and here the Dara stopped to change mounts once again. As both she and the buccan took a moment to stretch their legs, Vail said, "For the next six leagues we must be wary, for now we leave the protection of Darda Erynian."

"What about the ford itself?" asked Tip. "I've heard it might be held by the Rupt."

Vail turned up a hand. "Not likely, Tipperton. -Oh, they did try, yet the Baeron drove them from it." Vail pointed westward. " 'Tis Crestan Pass the Foul Folk command."

Tip peered across the open land lying ahead. Far to the west and rearing up beyond the horizon he could see the snowcapped tips of the distant Grimwall Mountains, the chain reaching away to north and south. The Rimmen Road itself ran westerly toward this range. "That's where Crestan Pass is," said the buccan, his eye seeking but failing to find the place where road and mountain met, his words a statement rather than a query, for he had studied the war maps long and hard. Tip sighed. "To think: it's but a ride of a day or three from Arden Vale up the Crossland Road to the peak of the col where the Landover Road begins… up there at the top of Crestan Pass." Again Tip sighed. "Oh, my, but I've come so far to reach a place so close to where I started."

Vail shrugged.

Tip laughed bitterly and, at Vail's raised eyebrow, said, "Is it often the case that much of life is spent running in great large circles?"

Vail smiled in empathy and said, "At times, Tipperton. At times."

They stood and peered westward a long moment more, and then mounted up and rode out into the open wold.

In late afternoon the trees bordering the Argon River came into view, and the Landover Road fell down a long and gentle slope toward the unseen flow ahead.

Vail slowed the horses and turned to Tipperton. "Be wary, my friend, and keep a sharp eye." As Tip set an arrow to string, Vail urged her horse onward, drawing the other three behind.

The sun was just sinking beyond the distant Grimwall as they neared the band of riverside trees, and Tip's heart leapt as a huge figure stepped out into the road… but then Tip calmed when Vail called out a greeting-"Is bred an la e!"-and the buccan saw that it was another of these tall Baeron men.

"It is at that!" he called, and Vail kicked the horses into a trot.

As they sat on the east bank of the Argon, nigh where the road crossed the ford, Bren gestured toward the Grim-walls and said in his deep rumble, "We fight to free Crestan: Baeron on this side, the Elves of Arden Vale opposite, the Spawn trapped in between. Yet the winning goes slowly: they are deeply entrenched and have hurled us back several times."

"I hear the Foul Folk tried to hold this ford too," said Tipperton.

Bren's hand dropped to the mace at his side. "They did at that, but we hammered them free. 'Twas a shame to pollute the waters with their dark blood, though not a shame to kill Wrg."

A grim look came into Tipperton's eye. "I pity them not."

Vail looked long at the buccan, her expression unfathomable, and Tipperton became uncomfortable under her intense scrutiny. Finally she turned to Bren. "Hast thou aught word I should bear to my Coron?"

The big man took a deep breath. "Just this: from the tidings you bring and from what I know, I deem we fight this war in too many places. Modru controls all the choke points: Crestan Pass, the Black Hole, Gunarring Gap, even the Straits of Kis-"

"I say," interrupted Tip, "where's this, um, Black Hole?"

" 'Tis Drimmen-deeve he speaks of, Tipperton."

"Oh."

"Drimmen-deeve to Elves," rumbled Bren, "and Kraggen-cor to the Dwarves, but to the Baeron and other men it is the Black Hole."

"I see," said the buccan. "But I interrupted."

Bren shrugged. "There's not that much to say. Just that those of us who can should come together and choose which of Modru's forces to crush, for he too is spread thin. And by fighting in one place at a time we could break through Crestan, or lift the siege on the Black Hole, or some such… allowing more and more of the allies of the High King to unite, and then when we've enough, we can go cast down Modru himself in Gron."

Vail nodded. " 'Tis a splendid strategy thou hast proposed, Bren, and when we leave on morrow morn I will indeed bear thy words unto my Coron."

Bren grunted in acknowledgement, and in that moment one of the Baeron called; stew and bread and tea were ready.

There was no moon in the night, yet Tipperton sat by a river with stars glimmering in its depths, and he watched the water flow by, ever there, ever new, ever the same, the buccan remembering… remembering… as tears spilled down and down.