Into the Forge

Chapter 14

Pale dawn light filtered in through windows as a soft tapping sounded on the chamber door. Clambering down from the lofty Elven bed and wrapping himself in a blanket, Beau tiptoed through the seeping light and across the cold wooden floor, hissing a wordless complaint with each chill step. Unlatching the door, he opened the portal to find Loric and Phais on the threshold, freshly laundered clothing in hand.

"Oooum," Beau yawned and stood back out of the way and motioned the Elves inside.

"Time to break fast, my friends," said Loric, moving across to the bed and holding a bundle out to Tipperton, that buccan sitting up and rubbing his eyes, "after which we will find ye suitable quarters, a place to stay until the season turns."

Tip reached out and took the clothing, saying, "Oh, Loric, do you mean for us to remain in Arden Vale until spring?"

"Indeed," replied Loric, catching up the bedside lantern to light it.

Beau, footing his way back across the cold floor, said, "Say, now, that's a while off, and if we're to deliver this coin anytime soon, we need to get cracking."

Phais closed the door after and followed Beau as a yellow glow filled the room, banishing the dimness. "Ye cannot go in this season, my friends, for winter bars the way."

Beau groaned. "I just knew it would be blocked in the winter." He clambered onto the bed beside Tip and under the remaining cover, flopping and flapping the one he had used for wrap in a futile attempt to spread overtop all.

"Thou art right, wee one," said Phais, handing Beau's clothing to him. "The city of Dendor lies far beyond the Grimwall, and the most direct and swiftest way through the chain is now barricaded with snow."

Beau, sorting through his bundle and mumbling to himself, said, "Dendor in Aven, that's where Agron lives."

Tip pulled his jerkin over his head. "And the straight way east is now blocked and we'll have to wait till spring?"

Loric nodded. "After the thaw, when the road through Crestan Pass is clear."

"Say, now," said Beau, "the thaw, that's what-two, three months off? Isn't there another way? Slower, perhaps, but passable? I mean, the Kingsman who was delivering the coin, well, wouldn't he have known about this Crestan Pass, it being blocked and all?"

Loric shrugged and looked at Phais, and she said, " 'Twould seem so. Yet mayhap he was riding south for Gunarring Gap, to circle 'round and then north."

Tip glanced at Beau. "If we had our ponies, we could go that way."

Beau nodded, his lips pursed in regret.

"But we do not," continued Tipperton, now struggling to slip into his breeks under the cover.

Seeing his plight, Phais smiled and then deliberately turned her back to the bed. And both buccen threw off the blankets and quickly began to dress, Beau saying, "Well then, bucco, I suppose we'll just have to walk, though it'll take us awhile to reach Dendor. Oh, my aching feet."

Tip, pulling on his socks, said, "I suppose you are right, Beau. But by the time we get there, the import of the coin may have little or no meaning."

"Be not distressed, wee ones," said Loric, "for Alor Tala-rin has heard thy tale and knows of the need to deliver the token in a timely manner. Even so, he cannot perform miracles; he cannot banish the ice and snow standing across thy way. Still, knowing Talarin, he will find means to aid ye."

Both buccen hopped down from the bed and sat on the floor to pull on their boots. Phais turned back 'round and said, "After breaking our fast, we'll look at the maps and decide what to do, for I deem that waiting for the thaw and riding directly east will prove to be more expedient than traveling far south through Gunnar and all the way northward again."

Fully dressed, the buccen caught up their quilted jackets and followed Loric and Phais to another long, low building, where they found Elvenkind at meal. Taking up trenchers and spoons and knives and a cup, they moved through a serving line and received biscuits and butter and a flagon of milk and bowls of porridge sprinkled with pine nuts. They took places at a long table, both Tip and Beau kneeling on the bench rather than sitting, for the table was sized for Elvenkind rather than Waerlinga. Loric passed an earthenware jug of milk to pour over the porridge, along with a small crock of honey to sweeten the meal. Too, Phais filled their cups with hearty tea, adding milk and honey to the drink.

They ate for a while in silence, but then Tipperton looked across at Loric and said, "Tell me this: thrice yesternight you named Lady Rael crystal seer. Why so?"

Loric remained silent for a moment, and Tip thought he wasn't going to answer, but at last he said, "Dara Rael is a rarity among Lian: she can at times divine things to come."

"Oh," replied Tip. "Like Lady Arin? They said she had wild magic and could see the future in flames."

Loric nodded, adding, "Aye, Dara Arin was indeed a flame seer, though it was the Mages themselves who named her talent 'wild magic' "

"And Lady Rael has this same kind of wild magic?"

Loric pursed his lips, then said, "Mayhap. But instead of flames, Dara Rael divines her auguries using a crystal as her focus."

"Huah," grunted Beau. "It must be a rather dull life when you already know what's going to happen each day."

Phais laughed. "Nay, Sir Beau. Dara Rael does not know the everyday future. Instead she catches rare glimpses of portentous events, or occasionally speaks a rede, and not even she knows at times what they may foreordain."

"Oh, my," said Beau, now disappointed. "I mean, it would have been nice to know how our mission will turn out."

Phais sighed. "Would that it were so for all, for then mayhap we could take certain steps to thwart Modru."

"According to Delon's 'Lay of Arin and Egil One-Eye,' they took steps to prevent a foreseen disaster," said Tipperton.

At a puzzled frown from Loric, Tip continued: "What I am leading to is that if Lady Rael has foreseen anything of what is to come, then like Arin and her band, we could take steps to turn aside disaster."

Loric shook his head. "Not even Arin Flameseer could tell to what end her venture would lead. Whether or no she averted calamity, none knows."

"Even after all this time?"

"Even so."

"Say," said Beau, "if she had gotten together with Lady Rael, perhaps together they could have ciphered it out."

"But they did meet, Sir Beau," said Loric.

"They did?" exclaimed Tipperton.

"Aye," said Loric. "In Darda Galion. An ill-starred day, that, for 'twas when the Nine were felled."

"Yet well fated, too, for 'twas the same day Dara Rael and Alor Talarin pledged their troth," added Phais.

"Oh, my," said Beau. "Sorrow and joy mixed."

"Indeed," said Phais, "as is oft the case."

Tip took a deep breath and expelled it, and they finished their meal in silence.

Talarin peered down at the map lying open on the table. At hand, both Tipperton and Beau stood on chairs and gazed at the map as well.

Beau glanced up at Talarin. "So the southern route is three hundred leagues and some longer? I say, that's a bit over nine hundred miles, eh?"

Talarin nodded, adding, "Mayhap e'en a thousand." Then he looked across at Phais. "Thou art right, Dara. To wait for the thaw and travel directly east proves swifter than to ride south now through the remainder of winter and then angle northerly for Aven."

"Not if we use enough remounts," said Loric.

Talarin shook his head. "Given the state of Modru's gathering, we have none to spare, I fear, for war will be upon us soon."

Tipperton made a negating gesture. "Look, even if you could spare the horses, we couldn't use them; they're altogether too big for the likes of us. I mean, simply hoisting a saddle up on one would be a chore, the great, tall things they are."

"We could stand on stumps," said Beau.

Tip grinned. "Oh, right. And I suppose we'd have to camp only where stumps are, eh? That or chop down a tree each night."

"Perhaps we could carry a ladder," suggested Beau.

Tip laughed, then sobered. "I'm sorry, Beau, but I was envisioning one of us on a ladder leaned against the horse, and him shifting 'round to see what this fool was about, and then fool and ladder splatting to the ground. No, my friend, stumps, slopes, rocks, ladders-Warrows learned long past that ponies are for the likes of us."

Talarin turned to the buccen. "None of us knows the import of the coin ye intend to convey, yet if that slain band of Kingsmen were taking it unto Agron, it must bear some weight. Hence, this will I do: when the season permits, I will send ye forth on swift horses with an escort." Now Talarin looked across the table at Loric and Phais. "I am of a mind to ask ye twain to accompany the Waerlinga unto Dendor."

Loric glanced briefly at Phais and then asked Talarin, "E'en in these troubled times, Alor, with Modru at Arden's door?"

"Even so," replied Talarin.

At these words both Loric and Phais canted their heads, and Phais said, "It has been awhile since Alor Loric and I rode together in common cause 'gainst the Ruptish foe."

A grim look came over Talarin's face. "As did we all." Then he looked at the buccen. "Will ye accept our aid?"

Relief crossed both Tip and Beau's faces, and Tip said, "Oh, yes." He turned to Loric and Phais and grinned.

"Four horses," said Loric. "One for Phais, one for me, and two to hale the Waerlinga after, along with our supplies."

Beau glanced at Tip and sighed. "Until we can get some good ponies, I suppose we'll just have to get used to being hauled by Elves across the 'scape on the back of great beasts. Tethered tagalongs, that's what we are."

Phais laughed and Loric smiled. Talarin, grinning, said, "Even so, my friends, 'tis better to-" Of a sudden he paused, holding up a hand for silence, his head cocked as if listening.

Tip frowned, wondering just what taa-raa

– there sounded the distant belling of a bugle echoing from the stone canyon walls of Arden Vale and down through the evergreen trees.

Again the bugle sounded.

" 'Tis from the north entry and urgent," said Loric.

Talarin nodded, stepping across the chamber and taking up a sword and buckling it on. He looked at the Warrows. "If ye have weaponry, best fetch it now."

Tip's eyes widened and he turned to Loric and Phais, but they were gone, the door to the chamber swinging shut behind. "Come on, Beau," he said, springing for the door, "my bow and your sling are back in the room."

Beau groaned but followed on Tipperton's heels.

Out they darted and across the snow to the building housing the guest quarters, as somewhere in the distance a bugle sounded stridently.

Swiftly Tipperton strung his bow and strapped the quiver of arrows to his thigh. Beau rummaged through his pack. "Barn rats, Tip, I can't find my-! Oh. Here it is. Now bullets, bullets, where in the world-? Ah." Taking up the pouch, Beau swung 'round just in time to see Tip vanish through the door. "Hoy! Wait for me!"

Still the bugle sounded.

Beau caught up with Tipperton, that buccan with an arrow nocked and looking about for suitable cover. At hand, Elves, some girted with swords, others bearing spears or bows or long-knives or other such, took places all 'round, their stations seeming at random yet anything but.

Talarin strode by. "Sir Tipperton, take stance by that tree yon. Sir Beau, there by the boulder where thy sling will do best."

"Ha," muttered Beau as he ran to the rock, "perhaps if we are attacked by a tree…"

Again the bugle sounded, and now they could hear the pounding of a horse. Moments later a rider on a black horse flashed into view, emerging from the pines.

Tip looked hard at the rider-golden hair flying, harnessed sword across his back, a long-knife girted to his thigh, a bugle in his hand. Now Tip stepped away from his cover and called to Beau, "It's Vanidor."

"Vanidor? But what's he doing up here?"

Tip shrugged and moved toward Talarin, who had stepped into the open before the gathering hall.

The hard-driven horse thundered across the clearing, snow flying from hooves. Haled up short, the steed skidded to a halt next to Talarin, the rider dismounting at one and the same time.

"Vanidor," called Beau, grinning and stepping toward the Elf, who glanced with weary eyes briefly at the Waer-ling, his brow creasing in puzzlement. But then Talarin embraced the Elf, saying, "Alor Gildor."

"Athir," replied the Elf, returning the embrace, then stepping back. "Vi didron iyr velles. "

Talarin glanced down at the Waerlinga, and then said in the common tongue, "111 news, Gildor?"

Now Gildor, haggard, his face drawn, distress lurking deep within his eyes, replied, "Aye, Father, ill news indeed, for Modru sends Draedani through Kregyn to join his marching Hordes."

Talarin blanched, and nearby Elves moaned in fear.