The Dragonstone

CHAPTER 1 4

Back through Darda Galion they rode-Arin and her companions-back through the soft shadows of this dimlit wood. Across mossy swales they fared and alongside and through the streams of the forested land-some quick running, where the water foamed white and tumbled loudly among rocks; others gliding quietly between low ferny banks, or high stone walls, and whispering a fluid song of flow.

The hush of the soaring Eldwood stole over Arin even as she rode, and she nodded in a doze and lost track of time in the timeless twilight.

And morning and eve the argent songbirds sang their melodies of dawn and dusk and caroled beauty throughout the land, filling the forest with song.

Across the swift-flowing Quadrill they fared, and then the slower Rothro, as they made their way back along the route they had ridden just days before.

At last they came to the march-ward camp, where they spent the night… and Silverleaf told of the felling of the nine. The warders shouted in dismay and railed at the vile deed wreaked by the Spaunen there along the Grimwall flank. Many would have ridden straightaway to join Aldor's force of retribution, but they could not abandon their posts, and so they seethed with impotent rage.

The next morn dawned to a steady rain and glum Tarol accompanied the seven to the dock where they summoned the ferry of Olorin Isle, barely seen in the blowing mist.

They transferred from one Riverman ferry to the other and finally reached the eastern bank of the mighty Argon.

Northeastward they rode through the southernmost tip of Darda Erynian to come that rainy eve to the banks of the River Rissanin.

The next day dawned to overcast skies, but the rain had ceased. Up the westward bank of the river they fared, and the day slowly cleared as they rode. And just as eve drew nigh they sighted in midriver the grey stone towers of Caer Lindor glowing orange in the setting sun.

They crossed the western pontoon bridge to come to that fortress isle, a legacy of the Elven Wars of Succession, a relic of the elder days, when neither man nor Fey nor Dwarf nor Mage nor aught other bestrode the world of Mithgar, and only the Elves walked the land, and they yet filled with madness. But those days were long past and the Elves now sane, yet the huge, square fortress still remained. It was an outpost in event of future want, but served these days as a way station for travelers in need. Yet located where it was, on the border between the warded Blackwood to the north and the Greatwood to the south, seldom did many come this way, and they mostly Elves or Baeron, though now and again a venturesome soul or two would come trekking past.

On this eve six Dylvana and a Lian came across the bridge seeking mules or pack horses as well as provisions for a long journey to the east. But of their mission they said nought, though they did tell the warriors of the Elven garrison of the felling of the nine.

That night, in spite of the grim news, they were cheered somewhat by two Waerlinga, whom, it seems, were on a float trip down the Rissanin and then the Argon beyond- "On our way to look at the Avagon," said Tindel, the tall one, standing some three feet three, simply towering over Brink by a full two inches.

"Going to see the sea," added Brink, his tilted sapphirine eyes atwinkle, "and perhaps ship out on an Arbalinian trader."

"He wants to go as cabin crew," said Tindel, disparagingly, jerking a thumb toward Brink.

"W'll it's not likely they'll take us on as pilots, y'ninny," responded Brink. "Nor as loaders or haulers or any other such. Or would you be the captain?"

"We c'd be lookouts, I say," said Tindel, pointing a finger toward one of his own gemlike eyes, amber in the lanternlight. "Especially at night."

"What, and get up on one of those tall masts? Not me, bucco. If you want to climb atop a high swaying pole, well, that's your own doings. But as for me…"

And so it went between these two, squabbling, the best of friends.

And the Elves smiled at their antics.

The next morning, towing six mules laden with supplies, Arin and her companions prepared to set forth. As they came to the eastern pontoon bridge leading across the Rissanin and into the Greatwood, they saw the Waerlinga readying to cast off their cargo-laden float.

Arin handed over the tether of her mule to Melor and then rode down to the raft. "Beware of Bellon Falls, wee ones; ye wouldn't want to get swept over."

"Bellon Falls?" asked Brink.

"Aye. On the Argon-some twenty leagues south of where the Rissanin joins that river."

Brink scratched his head. "Twenty leagues? Sixty miles?"

"Yes, you ninny," answered Tindel. "Twenty leagues; sixty miles." Tindel then turned to Arin. "But what's this about a falls?"

"Where the Argon flows over the Great Escarpment. It plummets a thousand feet into the Cauldron below."

"A thousand feet!" exclaimed Brink. He reached into a map case and hauled out a roll of parchment and peered at it a moment, then shook his head and said, "No falls. No escarpment. No Cauldron. We're going to have to get this map corrected, Tin."

Arin's eyes flew wide in astonishment. Imagine these two setting out on a float trip without knowing the perils of the river before them.

"Thank you, Lady Arin," said Brink.

"Ar, yar, thanks," added Tindel. Then he jerked his head toward the fortress. "Come on, Brink. Daylight's aburning."

As the Waerlinga trudged back toward the caer, Arin could hear Tindel proclaiming, "I told you you couldn't trust a Riverman, Brink. Why, we almost drowned in those rapids upstream, and now we discover the map we bought also doesn't show the falls or escarpment or…"

Arin rejoined her comrades across the pontoon bridge, and just before entering the woods she looked back at the Waerlinga. They waved a cheery good-bye, then disappeared under the raised portcullis and through the gateway beyond.

Arin turned and followed her companions into the green galleries of the Greatwood. Swiftly Caer Lindor was lost in the foliage behind. And as they entered the timberland, Arin wondered what unexpected rapids and cataracts sheer and unknown perils lay on her own path ahead.