Into the fire

Chapter 5

"And you said this was going to be the easy part," hissed Beau as he lay bellydown in the snow, sling in hand.

"Beau, I only said that the land would be gentle, with rolling hills and such," replied Tip, peering at the campsite below, arrow ready, "and nothing about maggot-folk at all."

On the far side of the Crystal River-the border 'tween Garia and Aven-a small company of Foul Folk stirred. In the still air the smoke from their fire rose straight into the sky. It was this plume which had alerted the comrades as they had ridden northward in the morning, the sixth after coming into Garia.

Tip turned to Bekki. "Why do you think they're guarding the ford? I mean, it's winter and the river frozen. We can cross anywhere."

"Who knows the minds of Grg?" replied Bekki, his knuckles white on his war hammer.

"Gyphon," said Beau. "Modru."

Bekki scowled at Beau but said nothing.

"Mayhap they were sent by Modru to wait for the turning of spring," said Phais, "for then this will be the singular crossing in the region."

"They could be deserters," said Beau, "like those we saw in Riamon."

"Deserters or no, warders or no, still we must pass them by," said Loric, "for they are too many to engage."

Bekki hissed in exasperation but said, "Aye. Still, I do not like running from Grg."

"We'll not be running," said Tip.

"Nevertheless," growled Bekki.

Phais pointed leftward. "Yon, toward the slopes of the Rimmen Ring, there on the far flank of the second hill west, there where the river curves 'round, we should be able to cross over unseen."

Carefully they backed away from the crest and fared downslope to the animals.

Steel-shod hooves knelled on the ice.

"Can they hear the river ringing?" hissed Beau. "-The Rupt, I mean."

"Mayhap," said Loric, spurring his horse. "Swift now!"

Across the frozen river they dashed, two horses and three ponies, their riders astride, drawing two pack animals behind. Up the far bank and into the hill country beyond they galloped, and if there was any pursuit, the comrades saw it not, for the Spawn were afoot and could not catch the running steeds even if they ran after.

"Foul Folk in Aven," said Tipperton as the snow drifted gently down. "It does not bode well."

"I think in this war they'll be everywhere," replied Beau. "I mean, way back when we first saw the fire on Beacontor, Tip, you said it could signal wide war, and now we find it is true. Indeed, wide war does burn on Mithgar; we can certainly testify to that."

Bekki reached across the small sheltered fire for the pot of tea. "Aye. War burns, yet we skulk past the foe."

"We should do nought to jeopardize the mission," said Phais, "or delay it."

"Indeed," replied Bekki, setting the pot back on the fire, snowflakes sissing in the flames. "Even so, as I have said before, it galls me to leave living foe behind; there is no honor in that."

"Nor at need is there any disgrace," said Phais.

Bekki looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Mayhap not, yet the sooner we deliver the coin, the sooner we can engage."

"Wisely, I hope, and not rashly," said Tip.

"Ha!" barked Bekki. "This from the one who said 'Rescue me from behind' and leapt up in the face of the Grg."

Tip turned to Loric and appealed, "Did you think that was rash?"

Loric sighed. "Let us merely say 'twas precipitous."

Tip turned to Bekki to smile in triumph, only to find the Dwarf grinning.

"Wull," said Beau, "let's just hope that we don't find any more Foul Folk lurking between here and Dendor. I mean, Tip promised me a gentle trip across Aven, and a gentle trip I would have."

"The village is ablaze," said Phais. "We'll have to swing 'round."

"But what if they need help?" asked Beau, peering at the smudge in the sky.

"Just as we did in Valon," said Tip, "we'll have to pass burning towns by."

Beau looked at Bekki. "I'm beginning to agree with you, Bekki: the sooner we get rid of that blasted coin, the sooner we can help. In that, we are much alike."

Bekki glanced at the healer's satchel behind Beau's saddle and shook his head. "Alike? I think not. For you would engage to save lives, my friend, whereas I mean to quench them instead."

Wide of the conflagration they rode, slipping past the foe. And the next day they did likewise, for another hamlet was in flames, this one filled with Foul Folk running amok.

Beau sighed. "Oh, Tip, it is as you feared: Rucks and such are indeed in Aven, slaying, looting, destroying all."

Tipperton shook his head grimly. "I wonder, Beau, given the foe are here, just what does it portend for Dendor beyond?"

Instead of ten days from the Crystal River to Dendor it took two weeks for the five to cross the two hundred miles between, for Spaunen patrols swept the land. Often the companions had to wait for night to avoid being spied on the plains. And on one of these days they were seen by a lone Ruck running westerly, going where for what reason none knew. And Loric ahorse rode him down from behind and slew him ere any alarm could be raised.

Yet north and north they went through weather foul and fair, avoiding discovery, swinging wide of their intended route, lying low for candlemarks on end, but coming ever back to the course.

And no longer did they build campfires, much to Beau's dismay. "Tea," he said. "I need my tea, and the Foul Folk are keeping me from it. If for no other reason, Bekki, you can kill them for depriving me of such."

Closer they came and closer still until at last they rode up through the hills which would bring them to the ridge above Dendor, and Tip's heart lay uneasy within his breast. And the closer they came the more he dreaded looking down upon the plain.

And Loric glanced at Phais, her lips drawn grim. "Dost thou hear, chier?"

She nodded.

"What?" asked Beau. "What do you hear?"

"Drums," replied Phais, "bugles, shouting, and the clash of arms."

"Drums?" asked Tip. "Like those that pounded before the gates of Mineholt North?"

"Aye," replied Loric. "Spaunen drums."

"Lor'," said Tip. "I can't hear them, nor the shouts nor clash of arms, but my heart is pounding so."

"As is mine," said Phais.

"And mine," said Beau.

Bekki only nodded.

"I fear what it betokens," said Loric.

"Look!" cried Tip, and he pointed to a trail of dark smoke blowing high across the sky.

"Oh my," said Beau.

"Vash!" gritted Loric, and he spurred forward, the other four following after.

On they rode up through the hills, and now all could hear the drums and bugles and shouts and the clash of arms… and still smoke plumed in air filled with the odor of char…

… and still the dread grew…

… and Tip looked at Beau to see another buccan blanched nearly white, a face reflecting his own.

At last they topped the final hill to look down on the plain below, and there stood the walled city of Dendor, some of it ablaze, though most not, and bucket brigades battled the flames. Yet the fires were not what drew the eye, for the city itself was beringed by battle, armies washing to and fro-Rupt and men in chaotic struggle, red slaughter on the land.

To Tip's eye, all seemed a howling madness, as riders on horses charged the enemy, running regiments alongside on foot, only to be met by Ghuls on Helsteeds, with Hloks and Rucks in escort. Lance, barbed spear, saber, tulwar, bilaxe, glaive, hammer, club, mace, scimitar, falchion, flail, whip, mattock,…: they clove, bludgeoned, pierced, slashed, crushed, gutted, punctured, hammered, ripped, and broke men and Rupt alike. And arrows flew in swarms of hissing doom, black shafts to be answered by white fletch-ings, deadly in their flight. Horses fell flailing, men screamed, hewn down, and Rucks and Hloks shrieked in death.

And behind the Ruptish foe, giant trebuchets and towers and great rams stood ready, should there be a need. Yet these were not advanced to the fore, there where fury reigned.

"Oh Adon," moaned Tip, his heart hammering in dread, "but I hoped to never witness such again."

"Do you see it?" asked Loric.

Beau, his face pale and drawn, looked at the grim-lipped Alor. "Do I see what?"

But Loric's gaze was fixed on the field, and he did not reply.

"Aye," groaned Phais, "there it is," and she pointed a trembling hand.

Tipperton's sight followed the line of her outstretched arm to see On the west side of the city, men quailed back from the foe, most to turn and run toward the gates of Dendor behind.

And alone midst the advancing Spawn strode a monster, grey in the midday light, and it walked upright on two legs, like an Ogru but no Ogru this…

… and then Tip knew why his heart hammered so, for it could be nought but a Gargon, a fear caster, and before it the men broke and ran, though some simply fell to their knees in terror, unable even to flee.

Even this far away Tip could tell it was massive, for the creature stood half again as tall as a man, and Tip thought he could detect the glint of scales on its flesh, though at this distance he could not be sure. And it ponderously stalked forward in a circle of emptiness, for not even the Foul Folk could stand to be near, so great was its terrible power.

And it seemed invincible, spreading terror as it went.

Yet of a sudden the fleeing men slowed and turned, and gripped their weapons, those they had not cast aside. And the men who had fallen to their knees scrambled up and ran back to join the ranks.

"See, chier, atop the walls," cried Phais.

"Aye," replied Loric.

"What is it?" demanded Tip, discerning nought but a milling throng along the banquette, though he did see men wheeling a ballista toward the point of attack, the giant bow laded with a spear. "Is it a trick? Do they lure the Gargon within range?"

"Nay, wee one," replied Loric, "'tis a Mage on the wall instead. -Or mayhap more than one."

"What do they do?" cried Beau, scanning the ramparts, unable to single out anyone who might be a Mage.

"Quench the power of the Draedan," said Phais.

"But my heart yet pounds," said Tipperton.

"As does mine," said Bekki. "As does mine."

"For their protection to reach up here would drain them beyond their means," said Loric. "They but shield the men below, those on the point of attack, lessening their fear."

A Ruptish horn blatted, the advancing Spawn stopped, and the Gargon roared in thwarted fury, echoes of rage ringing from the nearby hills.

The horn blatted again, and the advancing foe withdrew.

Yet elsewhere about the city, battle seethed and the slaughter grew, shouting men and yawling Rupt slaying one another.

Time passed, measured in death, but at last the outnumbered men were driven back and back and back again, until they fled across the stone bridges above a dry moat and through the gates and into the streets beyond, portals slamming to behind, great bars clanging down.

And now the city of Dendor was under siege, none to pass either in or out through the clutching grip of cold iron.

In spite of a heart pounding in dread-"Dahet malum scaths!"-Tipperton cursed in the ancient Warrow tongue of Twyll, his rage cresting above fear, for this day was precisely one year to the day after a deadly skirmish at his small mill in the Wilderland, one year to the day from when he had accepted a small pewter coin to deliver, one year to the day after making a vow to honor a dying man's wish-one year to the day precisely-and on this day he had finally reached the threshold of completing his hard quest… only to find that he and his comrades were now completely shut out.